Part 8

_Coup._ Wou'd the Pox had the Doctor----I'm quite out of Wind [_To Lo._] Set me a Chair, Sirrah. Ah----[_Sits down._] [_To Young Fash._] Why the Plague can'st not thou lodge upon the Ground-Floor?

_Young Fash._ Because I love to lie as near Heaven as I can.

_Coup._ Pr'ythee let Heaven alone; ne'er affect tending that way: Thy Center's downwards.

_Young Fash_. That's impossible. I have too much ill Luck in this World, to be damn'd in the next.

_Coup._ Thou art out in thy Logick. Thy Major is true, but thy Minor is false; for thou art the luckiest Fellow in the Universe.

_Young Fash_. Make out that.

_Coup._ I'll do't: Last Night the Devil ran away with the Parson of _Fat-goose_ Living.

_Young Fash._ If he had run away with the Parish too, what's that to me?

_Coup._ I'll tell thee what it's to thee. This Living is worth five hundred Pound a-year, and the Presentation of it is thine, if thou can'st prove thyself a lawful Husband to Miss _Hoyden_.

_Young Fash._ Say'st thou so, my Protector! then I'gad I shall have a Brace of Evidences here presently.

_Coup._ The Nurse and the Doctor?

_Young Fash._ The same: The Devil himself won't have Interest enough to make them withstand it.

_Coup._ That we shall see presently: Here they come.

_Enter ~Nurse~ and ~Chaplain~; they start back, seeing ~Young Fashion~._

_Nurse._ Ah Goodness, _Roger_, we are betray'd.

_Young Fash._ [_Laying hold on them._] Nay, nay, ne'er flinch for the matter; for I have you safe. Come to your Trials immediately; I have no time to give you Copies of your Indictment. There sits your Judge.--

_Both kneeling._ Pray, Sir, have Compassion on us.

_Nurse._ I hope, Sir, my Years will move your Pity; I am an aged Woman.

_Coup._ That is a moving Argument, indeed!

_Coup._ [_To Bull._] Are not you a rogue of Sanctity?

_Bull._ Sir, with respect to my Function, I do wear a Gown. I hope, Sir, my Character will be consider'd; I am Heaven's Ambassador.

_Coup._ Did not you marry this vigorous young Fellow to a plump young buxom Wench?

_Nurse._ [_To Bull._] Don't confess, _Roger_, unless you are hard put to it, indeed?

_Coup._ Come, out with't--Now is he chewing the Cud of his Roguery, and grinding a Lye between his Teeth.

_Bull._ Sir,----I cannot positively say----I say, Sir----positively I cannot say----

_Coup._ Come, no Equivocation, no Roman Turns upon us. Consider thou stand'st upon Protestant Ground, which will slip from under thee like a _Tyburn_ Car; for in this Country we have always ten Hangmen for one Jesuit.

_Bull._ [_To Young Fash._] Pray, Sir, then will you but permit me to speak one word in private with Nurse?

_Young Fash._ Thou art always for doing something in private with Nurse.

_Coup._ But pray let his Betters be serv'd before him for once. I would do something in private with her myself; _Lory_, take care of this Reverend Gownman in the next Room a little. Retire, Priest. [_Exit ~Lo~. with ~Bull~._]--Now, Virgin, I must put the matter home to you a little: Do you think it might not be possible to make you speak Truth?

_Nurse._ Alas! Sir, I don't know what you mean by Truth.

_Coup._ Nay,'tis possible thou may'st be a Stranger to it.

_Young Fash._ Come, Nurse, you and I were better Friends when we saw one another last; and I still believe you are a very good Woman in the bottom. I did deceive you and your young Lady, 'tis true, but I always design'd to make a very good Husband to her, and to be a very good Friend to you. And 'tis possible in the end, she might have found herself happier and you richer, than ever my Brother will make you.

_Nurse._ Brother! Why is your Worship then his Lordship's Brother!

_Young Fash._ I am; which you should have known, if I durst have staid to have told you; but I was forc'd to take Horse a little in haste, you know.

_Nurse._ You were, indeed, Sir: poor young Man, how he was bound to scaure for't. Now won't your Worship be angry, if I confess the Truth to you; when I found you were a Cheat (with respect be it spoken) I verily believ'd Miss had got some pitiful Skip-Jack Varlet or other to her Husband, or I had ne'er let her think of marrying again.

_Coup._ But where was your Conscience all this while, Woman? Did not that stare you in the Face with huge Saucer-eyes, and a great Horn upon the Forehead? Did not you think you should be damn'd for such a Sin? Ha!

_Young Fash._ Well said, Divinity, press that home upon her.

_Nurse._ Why, in good truly, Sir, I had some fearful Thoughts on't, and cou'd never be brought to consent, till Mr. _Bull_ said it was a _Peckadilla_, and he'd secure my Soul for a Tythe-Pig.

_Young Fash._ There was a Rogue for you.

_Coup._ And he shall thrive accordingly: He shall have a good Living. Come, honest _Nurse_, I see you have Butter in your Compound; you can melt. Some Compassion you can have of this handsome young Fellow.

_Nurse._ I have, indeed, Sir.

_Young Fash._ Why, then, I'll tell you what you shall do for me. You know what a warm Living here is fallen; and that it must be in the Disposal of him who has the Disposal of Miss. Now if you and the Doctor will agree to prove my Marriage, I'll present him to it, upon condition he makes you his Bride.

_Nurse._ Naw the Blessing of the Lord follow your good Worship both by Night and by Day! Let him be fetch'd in by the Ears; I'll soon bring his Nose to the Grindstone.

_Coup._ [_Aside._] Well said, old Whit-Leather. Hey; bring in the Prisoner there.

_Enter ~Lory~ with ~Bull~._

_Coup._ Come, advance, holy Man! Here's your Duck does not think fit to retire with you into the Chancel at this time; but she has a Proposal to make to you in the Face of the Congregation. Come, _Nurse_, speak for yourself; you are of Age.

_Nurse._ _Roger_, are not you a wicked Man, _Roger_, to set your Strength against a weak Woman, and persuade her it was no Sin to conceal Miss's Nuptials? My Conscience flies in my Face for it, thou Priest of _Baal_; and I find by woful Experience, thy Absolution is not worth an old Cassock: therefore I am resolved to confess the Truth to the whole World, tho' I die a Beggar for it. But his Worship overflows with his Mercy, and his Bounty: He is not only pleas'd to forgive us our Sins, but designs thou sha't squat thee down in _Fat-goose_ Living; and, which is more than all, has prevail'd with me to become the Wife of thy Bosom.

_Young Fash._ All this I intend for you, Doctor. What you are to do for me, I need not tell you.

_Bull._ Your Worship's Goodness is unspeakable: Yet there is one thing seems a Point of Conscience; and Conscience is a tender Babe. If I shou'd bind myself, for the sake of this Living, to marry _Nurse_, and maintain her afterwards, I doubt it might be look'd on as a kind of Simony.

_Coup._ [_Rising up._] If it were Sacrilege, the Living's worth it: Therefore no more Words, good Doctor: but with the [_Giving ~Nurse~ to him._] Parish----here----take the Parsonage-house. 'Tis true, 'tis a little out of Repair; some Dilapidations there are to be made good; the Windows are broke, the Wainscot is warp'd, the Ceilings are peel'd, and the Walls are crack'd; but a little Glasing, Painting, White-wash, and Plaster, will make it last thy time.

_Bull._ Well, Sir, if it must be so, I shan't contend: What Providence orders, I submit to.

_Nurse._ And so do I, with all Humility.

_Coup._ Why, that now was spoke like good People. Come, my Turtle-Doves, let us go help this poor Pigeon to his wandering Mate again: and after Institution and Induction, you shall all go a-cooing together.

[_Exeunt._

_Enter ~Amanda~, in a Scarf, &c. as just returned, her Woman following her._

_Aman._ Pr'ythee, what care I who has been here?

_Wom._ Madam, 'twas my Lady _Bridle_, and my Lady _Tiptoe_.

_Aman._ My Lady _Fiddle_, and my Lady _Faddle_. What dost stand troubling me with the Visits of a parcel of impertinent Women? When they are well seam'd with the Small Pox, they won't be so fond of shewing their Faces----There are more Coquettes about this Town--

_Wom._ Madam, I suppose, they only came to return your Ladyship's Visit, according to the Custom of the World.

_Aman._ Wou'd the World were on Fire, and you in the middle on't! Be gone: leave me.

[_Exit Wom._

_~Amanda~ sola._

At last I am convinc'd. My Eyes are Testimonies of his Falshood. The base, ungrateful, perjur'd Villain---- Good Gods--What slippery Stuff are Men compos'd of! Sure the Account of their Creation's false, And 'twas the Woman's Rib that they were form'd of. But why am I thus angry? This poor Relapse shou'd only move my Scorn. 'Tis true, the roving Flights of his unfinish'd Youth Had strong Excuses from the Plea of Nature: Reason had thrown the Reins loose on his Neck, And slipt him to unlimited Desire. If therefore he went wrong, he had a Claim To my Forgiveness, and I did him right. But since the Years of Manhood rein him in, And Reason, well digested into Thought, Has pointed out the Course he ought to run; If now he strays, 'Twou'd be as weak and mean in me to pardon, As it has been in him t' offend. But hold: 'Tis an ill Cause indeed, where nothing's to be said for't. My Beauty possibly is in the Wain: Perhaps Sixteen has greater Charms for him: Yes, there's the Secret. But let him know, My Quiver's not entirely empty'd yet, I still have Darts, and I can shoot 'em too; They're not so blunt, but they can enter still; The Want's not in my Power, but in my Will. Virtue's his Friend; or, thro' another's Heart, I yet cou'd find the way to make his smart.

[_Going off, she meets ~Worthy~._

Ha! He here? Protect me, Heaven, for this looks ominous.

_Wor._ You seem disorder'd, Madam; I hope there's no Misfortune happen'd to you?

_Aman._ None that will long disorder me, I hope.

_Wor._ Whate'er it be disturbs you, I wou'd to Heaven 'twere in my Power to bear the Pain, till I were able to remove the Cause.

_Aman._ I hope ere long it will remove itself. At least, I have given it warning to be gone.

_Wor._ Wou'd I durst ask, Where 'tis the Thorn torments you? Forgive me, if I grow inquisitive; 'Tis only with desire to give you Ease.

_Aman._ Alas! 'tis in a tender Part. It can't be drawn without a World of Pain: Yet out it must; for it begins to fester in my Heart.

_Wor._ If 'tis the Sting of unrequited Love, remove it instantly: I have a Balm will quickly heal the Wound.

_Aman._ You'll find the Undertaking difficult: The Surgeon who already has attempted it, has much tormented me.

_Wor._ I'll aid him with a gentler Hand--if you will give me leave.

_Aman._ How soft soe'er the Hand may be, there still is Terror in the Operation.

_Wor._ Some few Preparatives would make it easy, could I persuade you to apply 'em. Make Home Reflections, Madam, on your slighted Love: Weigh well the Strength and Beauty of your Charms: Rouse up that Spirit Women ought to bear, and slight your God, if he neglects his Angel. With Arms of Ice receive his cold Embraces, and keep your Fire for those who come in Flames. Behold a burning Lover at your Feet, his Fever raging in his Veins. See how he trembles, how he pants! See how he glows, how he consumes! Extend the Arms of Mercy to his Aid: his Zeal may give him Title to your Pity, altho' his Merit cannot claim your Love.

_Aman._ Of all my feeble Sex, sure I must be the weakest, shou'd I again presume to think on Love. [_Sighing._]--Alas! my Heart has been too roughly treated.

_Wor._ 'Twill find the greater Bliss in softer Usage.

_Aman._ But where's that Usage to be found?

_Wor._ 'Tis here, within this faithful Breast; which if you doubt, I'll rip it up before your Eyes; lay all its Secrets open to your View; and then you'll see 'twas sound.

_Aman._ With just such honest Words as these, the worst of Men deceiv'd me.

_Wor._ He therefore merits all Revenge can do: his Fault is such, the Extent and Stretch of Vengeance cannot reach it. O make me but your Instrument of Justice; you'll find me execute it with such Zeal, as shall convince you I abhor the Crime.

_Aman._ The Rigour of an Executioner has more the Face of Cruelty than Justice: And he who puts the Cord about the Wretch's Neck, is seldom known to exceed him in his Morals.

_Wor._ What Proof then can I give you of my Truth?

_Aman._ There is on Earth but one.

_Wor._ And is that in my Power?

_Aman._ It is: And one that would so thoroughly convince me, I should be apt to rate your Heart so high, I possibly might purchase't with a part of mine.

_Wor._ Then, Heav'n, thou art my Friend, and I am blest; for if 'tis in my Power, my Will I'm sure will reach it. No matter what the Terms may be, when such a Recompence is offer'd. O tell me quickly what this Proof must be! What is it will convince you of my Love?

_Aman._ I shall believe you love me as you ought, if from this Moment, you forbear to ask whatever is unfit for me to grant.----You pause upon it, Sir----I doubt on such hard Terms, a Woman's Heart is scarcely worth the having.

_Wor._ A Heart like yours, on any Terms is worth it; 'twas not on that I paus'd: But I was thinking [_Drawing nearer to her._] whether some things there may not be, which Women cannot grant without a Blush, and yet which Men may take without Offence. [_Taking her Hand._] Your Hand I fancy may be of the Number: O pardon me, if I commit a Rape upon it, [_Kissing it eagerly._] and thus devour it with my Kisses!

_Aman._ O Heavens! let me go.

_Wor._ Never, whilst I have Strength to hold you here. [_Forcing her to sit down on a Couch._] My Life, my Soul, my Goddess----O forgive me!

_Aman._ O whither am I going? Help, Heaven, or I am lost.

_Wor._ Stand neuter, Gods, this once I do invoke you.

_Aman._ Then, save me, Virtue, and the Glory's thine.

_Wor._ Nay, never strive.

_Aman._ I will; and conquer too. My Forces rally bravely to my Aid, [_Breaking from him._] and thus I gain the Day.

_Wor._ Then mine as bravely double their Attack. [_Seizing her again._] And thus I wrest it from you. Nay, struggle not; for all's in vain: On Death or victory; I am determin'd.

_Aman._ And so am I. [_Rushing from him._] Now keep your distance, or we part for ever.

_Wor._ [_Offering again._] For Heaven's sake----

_Aman._ [_Going._] Nay then, farewel.

_Wor._ [_Kneeling and holding by her Clothes._] O stay, and see the Magick Force of Love: Behold this raging Lion at your Feet, struck dead with Fear, and tame as Charms can make him. What must I do to be forgiven by you?

_Aman._ Repent, and never more offend.

_Wor._ Repentance for past Crimes is just and easy; but sin no more's a Task too hard for Mortals.

_Aman._ Yet those who hope for Heaven, must use their best Endeavours to perform it.

_Wor._ Endeavours we may use, but Flesh and Blood are got in t'other Scale; and they are pond'rous things.

_Aman._ Whate'er they are, there is a Weight in Resolution sufficient for their Balance. The Soul, I do confess, is usually so careless of its Charge, so soft, and so indulgent to Desire, it leaves the Reins in the wild Hand of Nature, who, like a _Phaeton_, drives the fiery Chariot, and sets the World on Flame. Yet still the Sovereignty is in the Mind, whene'er it pleases to exert its Force. Perhaps you may not think it worth your while to take such mighty pains for my Esteem; but that I leave to you.

You see the Price I set upon my Heart; } Perhaps 'tis dear: But spite of all your Art, } You'll find on cheaper Terms we ne'er shall part. }

[_Exit ~Amanda~._

_~Worthy~ solus_.

Sure there's Divinity about her; and she'as dispens'd some portion on't to me. For what but now was the wild Flame of Love, or (to dissect that specious Term) the vile, the gross Desires of Flesh and Blood, is in a Moment turn'd to Adoration. The coarser Appetite of Nature's gone, and 'tis, methinks, the Food of Angels I require: how long this Influence may last, Heaven knows. But in this Moment of my Purity, I cou'd on her own Terms accept her Heart. Yes, lovely Woman, I can accept it. For now 'tis doubly worth my Care. Your Charms are much increas'd, since thus adorn'd. When Truth's extorted from us, then we own the Robe of Virtue is a graceful Habit.

Cou'd Women but our secret Counsels scan, Cou'd they but reach the deep Reserves of Man, They'd wear it on, that That of Love might last; For when they throw off one, we soon the other cast. Their Sympathy is such---- The Fate of one, the other scarce can fly-- They live together, and together die.

[_Exit._

_Enter ~Miss~ and ~Nurse~._

_Miss._ But is it sure and certain, say you, he's my Lord's own Brother?

_Nurse._ As sure, as he's your lawful Husband.

_Miss._ I'cod, if I had known that in time, I don't know but I might have kept him; For, between you and I, Nurse, he'd have made a Husband worth two of this I have. But which do you think you shou'd fancy most, Nurse?

_Nurse._ Why, truly, in my poor fancy, Madam, your first Husband is the prettier Gentleman.

_Miss._ I don't like my Lord's Shapes, Nurse.

_Nurse._ Why in good truly, as a body may say, he is but a Slam.

_Miss._ What do you think now he puts me in mind of? Don't you remember a long, loose, shambling sort of a Horse my Father call'd _Washy_?

_Nurse._ As like as two Twin-Brothers.

_Miss._ I'cod, I have thought so a hundred times: 'Faith, I'm tired of him.

_Nurse._ Indeed, Madam, I think you had e'en as good stand to your first Bargain.

_Miss._ O but, Nurse, we han't considered the main thing yet. If I leave my Lord, I must leave my Lady too: and when I rattle about the Streets in my Coach, they'll only say, there goes Mistress----Mistress----Mistress what? What's this Man's Name, I have married, Nurse?

_Nurse._ 'Squire _Fashion_.

_Miss._ 'Squire _Fashion_ is it?----Well, 'Squire, that's better than nothing: Do you think one cou'd not get him made a Knight, Nurse?

_Nurse._ I don't know but one might, Madam, when the King's in a good Humour.

_Miss._ I'cod, that wou'd do rarely. For then he'd be as good a Man as my Father, you know.

_Nurse._ By'r Lady, and that's as good as the best of 'em.

_Miss._ So 'tis, faith; for then I shall be my Lady, and your Ladyship at every Word, that's all I have to care for. Ha, Nurse! But hark you me, one thing more, and then I have done. I'm afraid, if I change my Husband again, I shan't have so much Money to throw about, Nurse.

_Nurse._ O, enough's as good as a Feast: Besides, Madam, one don't know, but as much may fall to your share with the younger Brother, as with the elder. For tho' these Lords have a power of Wealth, indeed; yet as I have heard say, they give it all to their Sluts and their Trulls, who joggle it about in their Coaches, with a Murrain to 'em, whilst poor Madam sits sighing and wishing, and knotting and crying, and has not a spare Half-Crown to buy her a _Practice of Piety_.

_Miss._ O, but for that, don't deceive yourself, Nurse. For this I must [_Snapping her Fingers._] say for my Lord, and a----for him: He's as free as an open House at _Christmas_. For this very Morning he told me, I shou'd have two hundred a-year to buy Pins. Now, Nurse, if he gives me two hundred a-year to buy Pins, what do you think he'll give me to buy fine Petticoats?

_Nurse._ Ah, my Dearest, he deceives these faully, and he's no better than a Rogue for his pains. These _Londoners_ have got a Gibberidge with them, would confound a Gipsey. That which they call Pin-money, is to buy their Wives every thing in the varsal World, down to their very Shoe-tyes? Nay, I have heard Folks say, That some Ladies, if they will have Gallants, as they call 'em, are forc'd to find them out of their Pin-money too.

_Miss._ Has he serv'd me so, say ye?----Then I'll be his Wife no longer, that's fixt. Look, here he comes, with all the fine Folks at 's heels. I'cod, Nurse, these _London_ Ladies will laugh till they crack again, to see me slip my Collar, and run away from my Husband. But, d'ye hear? Pray take care of one thing: When the Business comes to break out, be sure you get between me and my Father, for you know his Tricks; he'll knock me down.

_Nurse._ I'll mind him, ne'er fear, Madam.

_Enter Lord ~Foppington~, ~Loveless~, ~Worthy~, ~Amanda~, and ~Berinthia~._

_Lord Fop._ Ladies and Gentlemen, you are all welcome. [_To_ Lov.] _Loveless_----That's my Wife; pr'ythee do me the favour to salute her: And do'st hear, [_Aside to him._] if thau hast a mind to try thy Fartune, to be reveng'd of me, I won't take it ill, stap my Vitals.

_Lov._ You need not fear, Sir, I'm too fond of my own Wife, to have the least Inclination for yours.

[_All salute Miss._

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] I'd give a thausand Paund he wou'd make Love to her, that he may see she has sense enough to prefer me to him, tho' his own Wife has not: [_Viewing him._]--He's a very beastly Fellow, in my Opinion.

_Miss._ [_Aside._] What a Power of fine Men there are in this _London_! He that kist me first, is a goodly Gentleman, I promise you: Sure those Wives have a rare time on't, that live here always.

_Enter Sir ~Tunbelly~, with Musicians, Dancers, ~&c.~_

Sir _Tun._ Come, come in, good People, come in; come, tune your Fiddles, tune your Fiddles.

_To the Hautboys._] Bag-pipes, make ready there. Come, strike up.

[_Sings._

_For this is ~Hoyden~'s Wedding-day; And therefore we keep Holy-day, And come to be merry._

Ha! there's my Wench, I'faith: Touch and take, I'll warrant her; she'll breed like a tame Rabbit.

_Miss._ [_Aside._] I'cod, I think my Father's gotten drunk before Supper.

Sir _Tun._ [_To ~Lov~. and ~Wor~._] Gentlemen, you are welcome. [_Saluting ~Aman~. and ~Ber~._] Ladies, by your leave. Ha----They bill like Turtles. Udsookers, they set my old Blood a-fire; I shall cuckold some body before Morning.

_Lord Fop._ [_To Sir ~Tun~._] Sir, you being Master of the Entertainment, will you desire the Company to sit?

Sir _Tun._ Oons, Sir,----I'm the happiest Man on this side the _Ganges_.

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] This is a mighty unaccountable old Fellow. [_To Sir ~Tun~._] I said, Sir, it wou'd be convenient to ask the Company to sit.

Sir _Tun._ Sit----with all my heart: Come, take your places, Ladies; take your places, Gentlemen: Come, sit down, sit down; a Pox of Ceremony, take your places.

[_They sit, and the Mask begins._

Dialogue between _Cupid_ and _Hymen_.

Cupid. 1.

_Thou Bane to my Empire, thou Spring of Contest, Thou Source of all Discord, thou Period to Rest; Instruct me what Wretches in Bondage can see, That the Aim of their Life is still pointed to thee._

Hymen. 2.

_Instruct me, thou little impertinent God, From whence all thy Subjects have taken the Mode To grow fond of a Change, to whatever it be, And I'll tell thee why those wou'd be bound, who are free._

Chorus.

_For Change, we're for Change, to whatever it be, We are neither contented with Freedom nor Thee. Constancy's an empty Sound, Heaven, and Earth, and all go round, All the Works of Nature move, And the Joys of Life and Love Are in Variety._

Cupid. 3.

_Were Love the Reward of a pains-taking Life, Had a Husband the Art to be fond of his Wife; Were Virtue so plenty, a Wife cou'd afford, These very hard Times, to be true to her Lord; Some specious Account might be given of those Who are ty'd by the Tail, to be led by the Nose._

4.

_But since 'tis the Fate of a Man and his Wife, To consume all their Days in Contention and Strife: Since whatever the Bounty of Heaven may create her, He's morally sure he shall heartily hate her; I think 'twere much wiser to ramble at large, And the Volleys of Love on the Herd to discharge._