Part 9

Hymen. 5.

_Some colour of Reason thy Counsel might bear, Cou'd a Man have no more than his Wife to his share; Or were I a Monarch so cruelly just, To oblige a poor Wife to be true to her Trust; But I have not pretended, for many Years past, By marrying of People, to make 'em grow chaste._

6.

_I therefore advise thee to let me go on, Thou'd find I'm the Strength and Support of thy Throne; For hadst thou but Eyes, thou wouldst quickly perceive it, How smoothly the Dart Slips into the Heart Of a Woman that's Wed; Whilst the shivering Maid Stands trembling, and wishing, but dare not receive it._

Chorus.

_For Change,_ &c.

_The Mask ended, enter ~Young Fash~, ~Coupler~, and ~Bull~._

Sir _Tun._ So, very fine, very fine, i'faith; this is something like a Wedding; now if Supper were but ready, I'd say a short Grace; and if I had such a Bedfellow as _Hoyden_ to night----I'd say as short Prayers.

_Seeing Young Fash._ How now----what have we got here? A Ghost? Nay, it must be so; for his Flesh and Blood cou'd never have dar'd to appear before me. [_To him._] Ah, Rogue----

_Lord Fop._ Stap my Vitals, _Tam_ again?

Sir _Tun._ My Lord, will you cut his Throat? Or shall I?

_Lord Fop._ Leave him to me, Sir, if you please. Pr'ythee, _Tam_, be so ingenuous now, as to tell me what thy Business is here?

_Young Fash._ 'Tis with your Bride.

_Lord Fop._ Thau art the impudent'st Fellow that Nature has yet spawn'd into the Warld, strike me speechless.

_Young Fash._ Why you know my Modesty wou'd have starv'd me; I sent it a-begging to you, and you wou'd not give it a Groat.

_Lord Fop._ And dost thau expect by an excess of Assurance to extart a Maintenance fram me?

_Young Fash._ [_Taking Miss by the Hand._] I do intend to extort your Mistress from you, and that I hope will prove one.

_Lord Fop._ I ever thaught _Newgate_ or _Bedlam_ wou'd be his Fartune, and naw his Fate's decided. Pr'ythee, _Loveless_, dost knaw of ever a Mad Doctor hard by?

_Young Fash._ There's one at your Elbow will cure you presently.

_To Bull._ Pr'ythee, Doctor, take him in hand quickly.

_Lord Fop._ Shall I beg the Favour of you, Sir, to pull your Fingers out of my Wife's Hand?

_Young Fash._ His Wife! Look you there; now I hope you are all satisfy'd he's mad.

_Lord Fop._ Naw is it not impassible far me to penetrate what Species of Fally it is thou art driving at?

_Sir Tun._ Here, here, here, let me beat out his Brains, and that will decide all.

_Lord Fop._ No, pray, Sir, hold, we'll destray him presently according to Law.

_Young Fash._ [_To_ Bull.] Nay, then advance, Doctor: come, you are a Man of Conscience, answer boldly to the Questions I shall ask: Did not you marry me to this young Lady, before ever that Gentleman there saw her Face?

_Bull._ Since the Truth must out, I did.

_Young Fash._ Nurse, sweet Nurse, were not you a Witness to it?

_Nurse._ Since my Conscience bids me speak----I was.

_Young Fash._ [_To Miss._] Madam, am not I your lawful Husband?

_Miss._ Truly I can't tell, but you married me first.

_Young Fash._ Now I hope you are all satisfy'd?

Sir _Tun._ [_Offering to strike him, is held by ~Lov~. and ~Wor~._] Oons and Thunder, you lye.

_Lord Fop._ Pray, Sir, be calm, the Battle is in Disarder, but requires more Canduct than Courage to rally our Forces. Pray, Dactar, one word with you.

_To_ Bull [_Aside._] Look you, Sir, tho' I will not presume to calculate your Notions of Damnation, fram the Description you give us of Hell, yet since there is at least a passibility you may have a Pitchfark thrust in your Backside, methinks, it shou'd not be worth your while to risk your Saul in the next Warld, for the sake of a beggarly yaunger Brather, who is nat able to make your Bady happy in this.

_Bull._ Alas! my Lord, I have no worldly Ends; I speak the Truth, Heaven knows.

_Lord Fop._ Nay, pr'ythee, never engage Heaven in the matter; far, by all I can see, 'tis like to prove a Business for the Devil.

_Young Fash._ Come, pray, Sir, all above-board, no corrupting of Evidences; if you please, this young Lady is my lawful Wife, and I'll justify it in all the Courts of _England_; so your Lordship (who always had a Passion for Variety) may go seek a new Mistress, if you think fit.

_Lord Fop._ I am struck dumb with his Impudence, and cannot passitively tell whether ever I shall speak again, or nat.

Sir _Tun._ Then let me come and examine the Business a little, I'll jerk the Truth out of 'em presently; here, give me my Dog-Whip.

_Young Fash._ Look you, old Gentleman, 'tis in vain to make a Noise; if you grow mutinous, I have some Friends within Call, have Swords by their Sides, above four Foot long; therefore be calm, hear the Evidence patiently, and when the Jury have given their Verdict, pass Sentence according to Law: Here's honest _Coupler_ shall be Foreman, and ask as many Questions as he pleases.

_Coup._ All I have to ask is, whether Nurse persists in her Evidence? The Parson, I dare swear, will never flinch from his.

_Nurse._ [_To Sir ~Tun~. kneeling._] I hope in Heaven your Worship will pardon me; I have served you long and faithfully, but in this thing I was over-reach'd; your Worship, however, was deceiv'd as, well as I; and if the Wedding-Dinner had been ready, you had put Madam to Bed with him with your own Hands.

Sir _Tun._ But how durst you do this, without acquainting of me?

_Nurse._ Alas! if your Worship had seen how the poor Thing begg'd, and pray'd, and clung, and twin'd about me, like Ivy to an old Wall, you wou'd say, I who had suckled it, and swaddled it, and nurst it both wet and dry, must have had a Heart of Adamant to refuse it.

Sir _Tun._ Very well.

_Young Fash._ Foreman, I expect your Verdict.

_Coup._ Ladies and Gentlemen, what's your Opinions?

_All._ A clear Case, a clear Case.

_Coup._ Then, my young Folks, I wish you Joy.

Sir _Tun._ [_To_ Young Fash.] Come hither, Stripling; if it be true, then, that thou hast marry'd my Daughter, pr'ythee tell me who thou art?

_Young Fash._ Sir, the best of my Condition is, I am your Son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am Brother to that Noble Peer there.

Sir _Tun._ Art thou Brother to that Noble Peer----Why then, that Noble Peer, and thee, and thy Wife, and the Nurse, and the Priest----may all go and be damn'd together.

[_Exit Sir ~Tun~._

_Lord Fop._ [_Aside._] Naw, for my part, I think the wisest thing a Man can do with an aking Heart, is to put on a serene Countenance; for a Philosaphical Air is the most becoming thing in the Warld to the Face of a Person of Quality; I will therefore bear my Disgrace like a Great Man, and let the People see I am above an Affrant. [_To_ Young Fash.] Dear _Tam_, since Things are thus fallen aut, pr'ythee give me leave to wish thee Jay. I do it _de bon Cœur_, strike me dumb: you have marry'd a Woman beautiful in her Person, charming in her Airs, prudent in her Canduct, canstant in her Inclinations, and of a nice Marality, split my Wind-pipe.

_Young Fash._ Your Lardship may keep up your Spirits with your Grimace, if you please; I shall support mine with this Lady, and two thousand Pound a-year.

_Taking Miss._] Come, Madam:

We once again, you see, are Man and Wife, And now, perhaps, the Bargain's struck for Life: If I mistake, and we shou'd part again. At least you see you may have choice of Men: Nay, shou'd the War at length such Havock make, That Lovers shou'd grow scarce, yet for your sake, Kind Heaven always will preserve a Beau--

_Pointing to_ Lord Fop.] You'll find his Lordship ready to come to. } } _Lord Fop._ Her Ladyship shall stap my Vitals, if I do. }

EPILOGUE,

Spoken by

Lord =Foppington=.

Gentlemen and Ladies,

_These People have regal'd you here to-day (In my Opinion) with a saucy Play; In which the Author does presume to shew, That Coxcomb,_ ab Origine--_was Beau. Truly I think the thing of so much weight, } That if some sharp Chastisement ben't his Fate, } Gad's Curse, it may in time destroy the State. } I hold no one its Friend, I must confess, Who wou'd discauntenance you Men of Dress. Far, give me leave t'abserve, good Clothes are Things Have ever been of great Support to Kings: All Treasons come fram Slovens; it is nat Within the reach of Gentle Beaux to plat; They have no Gall; no Spleen, no Teeth, no Stings, Of all Gad's Creatures, the most harmless Things. Thro' all Recard, no Prince was ever slain By one who had a Feather in his Brain, They're Men of too refin'd an Education, To squabble with a Court--for a vile dirty Nation. I'm very pasitive, you never saw A tho'ro' Republican a finish'd Beau. Nor truly shall you very often see A ~Jacobite~ much better drest than he: In short, thro' all the Courts that I have been in, Your Men of Mischief--still are in faul Linen. Did ever one yet dance the ~Tyburn~ Jigg, With a free Air, or a well pawder'd Wig? Did ever Highway-man yet bid you stand, With a sweet bawdy Snuff-Box in his Hand? Ar do you ever find they ask your Purse As Men of Breeding do?----Ladies, Gad's Curse, This Author is a Dag, and 'tis not fit You shou'd allow him e'en one Grain of Wit: To which, that his Pretence may ne'er be nam'd, My humble Motion is----he may be damn'd._

THE

PROVOK'D WIFE.

A

COMEDY.

PROLOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. _Bracegirdle_.

_Since 'tis th' Intent and Business of the Stage, To copy out the Follies of the Age; To hold to every Man a faithful Glass, And shew him of what Species he's an Ass: I hope the next that teaches in the School, Will shew our Author he's a scribbling Fool. And that the Satire may be sure to bite, } Kind Heav'n! inspire some venom'd Priest to write, } And grant some ugly Lady may indite. } For I wou'd have him lash'd, by Heavens! I wou'd, Till his Presumption swam away in Blood. Three Plays at once proclaim a Face of Brass, } No matter what they are; That's not the Case-- } To write three Plays, e'en that's to be an Ass. } But what I least forgive, he knows it too, For to his Cost he lately has known you-- Experience shews, to many a Writer's Smart, You hold a Court where Mercy ne'er had part; So much of the old Serpent's Sting you have, You love to Damn, as Heaven delights to Save. In foreign Parts, let a bold Volunteer, } For Public Good, upon the Stage appear, } He meets ten thousand Smiles to dissipate his Fear. } All tickle on th' adventuring young Beginner, And only scourge th' incorrigible Sinner; They touch indeed his Faults, but with a Hand So gentle, that his Merit still may stand; Kindly they buoy the Follies of his Pen, That he may shun 'em when he writes again. But 'tis not so in this good-natur'd Town, } All's one, an Ox, a Poet, or a Crown; } Old ~England~'s Play was always knocking down._ }

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.

_Constant_, Mr. _Verbruggen_. _Heartfree_, Mr. _Hudson_. Sir _John Brute_, Mr. _Betterton_. _Treble_, a Singing-Master, Mr. _Bowman_. _Rasor_, Valet de Chambre to Sir _John Brute_, Mr. _Bowen_. Justice of the Peace, Mr. _Bright_. Lord _Rake_, } Companions to Col. _Bully_, } Sir _John Brute_. Constable _and_ Watch.

WOMEN.

Lady _Brute_, Mrs. _Barry_. _Belinda_, her Niece, Mrs. _Bracegirdle_. Lady _Fancyfull_, Mrs. _Bowman_. _Madamoiselle_, Mrs. _Willis_. _Cornet_ and _Pipe_, Servants to Lady _Fancyfull_.

THE PROVOK'D WIFE.

+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.

+SCENE+, _Sir ~John Brute~'s House_.

_Enter Sir ~John~, solus._

What cloying Meat is Love--when Matrimony's the Sauce to it! Two Years Marriage has debauch'd my five Senses. Every thing I see, every thing I hear, every thing I feel, every thing I smell, and every thing I taste--methinks has Wife in't. No Boy was ever so weary of his Tutor, no Girl of her Bib, no Nun of doing Penance, or old Maid of being chaste, as I am of being married. Sure there's a secret Curse entail'd upon the very Name of Wife. My Lady is a young Lady, a fine Lady, a witty Lady, a virtuous Lady,--and yet I hate her. There is but one thing on Earth I loath beyond her: That's Fighting. Would my Courage come up to a fourth part of my Ill-Nature, I'd stand buff to her Relations, and thrust her out of doors. But Marriage has sunk me down to such an Ebb of Resolution, I dare not draw my Sword, tho' even to get rid of my Wife. But here she comes.

_Enter ~Lady Brute~._

_Lady Brute._ Do you dine at home to-day, Sir _John_?

_Sir John._ Why, do you expect I should tell you what I don't know myself?

_Lady Brute._ I thought there was no harm in asking you.

_Sir John._ If thinking wrong were an excuse for Impertinence, Women might be justify'd in most things they say or do.

_Lady Brute._ I'm sorry I have said any thing to displease you.

_Sir John._ Sorrow for things past is of as little importance to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to be to you.

_Lady Brute._ My Enquiry was only that I might have provided what you lik'd.

_Sir John._ Six to four you had been in the wrong there again; for what I lik'd yesterday I don't like to-day; and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like to-morrow.

_Lady Brute._ But if I had ask'd you what you lik'd?

_Sir John._ Why then there wou'd have been more asking about it than the thing was worth.

_Lady Brute._ I wish I did but know how I might please you.

_Sir John._ Ay, but that sort of Knowledge is not a Wife's Talent.

_Lady Brute._ Whate'er my Talent is, I'm sure my Will has ever been to make you easy.

_Sir John._ If Women were to have their Wills, the World wou'd be finely govern'd.

_Lady Brute._ What reason have I given you to use me as you do of late? It once was otherwise: You marry'd me for Love.

_Sir John._ And you me for Money: So you have your Reward, and I have mine.

_Lady Brute._ What is it that disturbs you?

_Sir John._ A Parson.

_Lady Brute._ Why, what has he done to you?

_Sir John._ He has married me.

[_Exit Sir ~John~._

_Lady ~Brute~ sola._

The Devil's in the Fellow, I think----I was told before I married him, that thus 'twou'd be: But I thought I had Charms enough to govern him; and that where there was an Estate, a Woman must needs be happy; so my Vanity has deceiv'd me, and my Ambition has made me uneasy. But there's some Comfort still; if one wou'd be reveng'd of him, these are good times; a Woman may have a Gallant, and a separate Maintenance too--The surly Puppy--yet he's a Fool for't: for hitherto he has been no Monster: But who knows how far he may provoke me? I never lov'd him, yet I have been ever true to him; and that, in spite of all the Attacks of Art and Nature upon a poor weak Woman's Heart, in favour of a tempting Lover. Methinks so noble a Defence as I have made, shou'd be rewarded with a better Usage--Or who can tell?----Perhaps a good part of what I suffer from my Husband, may be a Judgment upon me for my Cruelty to my Lover.----Lord, with what pleasure could I indulge that Thought, were there but a Possibility of finding Arguments to make it good!----And how do I know but there may?--Let me see----What opposes?--My matrimonial Vow----Why, what did I vow? I think I promis'd to be true to my Husband. Well; and he promis'd to be kind to me. But he han't kept his Word----Why then I'm absolv'd from mine--Ay, that seems clear to me. The Argument's good between the King and the People, why not between the Husband and the Wife? O, but that Condition was not exprest--No matter, 'twas understood. Well, by all I see, if I argue the matter a little longer with myself, I shan't find so many Bug-bears in the Way as I thought I shou'd. Lord, what fine Notions of Virtue do we Women take up upon the Credit of old foolish Philosophers! Virtue's its own Reward, Virtue's this, Virtue's that----Virtue's an Ass, and a Gallant's worth forty on't.

_Enter ~Belinda~._

_Lady Brute._ Good-morrow, dear Cousin.

_Bel._ Good-morrow, Madam; you look pleas'd this Morning.

_Lady Brute._ I am so.

_Bel._ With what, pray?

_Lady Brute._ With my Husband.

_Bel._ Drown Husbands; for your's is a provoking Fellow: As he went out just now, I pray'd him to tell me what time of Day 'twas; and he ask'd me if I took him for the Church-Clock, that was oblig'd to tell all the Parish.

_Lady Brute._ He has been saying some good obliging things to me too. In short, _Belinda_, he has us'd me so barbarously of late, that I cou'd almost resolve to play the downright Wife--and cuckold him.

_Bel._ That would be downright indeed.

_Lady Brute._ Why, after all, there's more to be said for't than you'd imagine, Child. I know, according to the strict Statute-Law of Religion, I shou'd do wrong: But if there were a Court of Chancery in Heav'n, I'm sure I shou'd cast him.

_Bel._ If there were a House of Lords, you might.

_Lady Brute._ In either I should infallibly carry my Cause. Why, he is the first Aggressor, not I.

_Bel._ Ay, but you know we must return Good for Evil.

_Lady Brute._ That may be a Mistake in the Translation--Pr'ythee be of my Opinion, _Belinda_; for I'm positive I'm in the right; and if you'll keep up the Prerogative of a Woman, you'll likewise be positive you are in the right, whenever you do any thing you have a mind to. But I shall play the Fool, and jest on, till I make you begin to think I'm in earnest.

_Bel._ I shan't take the Liberty, Madam, to think of any thing that you desire to keep a Secret from me.

_Lady Brute._ Alas, my Dear, I have no Secrets. My Heart cou'd never yet confine my Tongue.

_Bel._ Your Eyes, you mean; for I'm sure I have seen them gadding, when your Tongue has been lock'd up safe enough.

_Lady Brute._ My Eyes gadding! Pr'ythee after who, Child?

_Bel._ Why, after one that thinks you hate him, as much as I know you love him.

_Lady Brute._ _Constant_ you mean.

_Bel._ I do so.

_Lady Brute._ Lord, what shou'd put such a thing into your Head?

_Bel._ That which puts things into most People's Heads, Observation.

_Lady Brute._ Why what have you observ'd, in the Name of Wonder?

_Bel._ I have observed you blush when you met him; force yourself away from him; and then be out of humour with every thing about you: In a Word, never was poor Creature so spurr'd on by Desire, and so rein'd in with Fear.

_Lady Brute._ How strong is Fancy!

_Bel._ How weak is Woman!

_Lady Brute._ Pr'ythee, Niece, have a better Opinion of your Aunt's Inclination.

_Bel._ Dear Aunt, have a better Opinion of your Niece's Understanding.

_Lady Brute._ You'll make me angry.

_Bel._ You'll make me laugh.

_Lady Brute._ Then you are resolv'd to persist?

_Bel._ Positively.

_Lady Brute._ And all I can say----

_Bel._ Will signify nothing.

_Lady Brute._ Tho' I should swear 'twere false--

_Bel._ I should think it true.

_Lady Brute._ Then let us both forgive; [_Kissing her._] for we have both offended: I, in making a Secret; you, in discovering it.

_Bel._ Good Nature may do much: But you have more Reason to forgive one, than I have to pardon t'other.

_Lady Brute._ 'Tis true, _Belinda_, you have given me so many Proofs of your Friendship, that my Reserve has been indeed a Crime: But that you may more easily forgive me, remember, Child, that when our Nature prompts us to a thing our Honour and Religion have forbid us; we wou'd (wer't possible) conceal even from the Soul itself, the Knowledge of the Body's Weakness.

_Bel._ Well, I hope, to make your Friend amends, you'll hide nothing from her for the future, tho' the Body shou'd still grow weaker and weaker.

_Lady Brute._ No, from this Moment I have no more Reserve; and for a Proof of my Repentance, I own, _Belinda_, I'm in danger. Merit and Wit assault me from without; Nature and Love sollicit me within; my Husband's barbarous Usage piques me to Revenge; and _Satan_, catching at the fair Occasion, throws in my way that Vengeance, which of all Vengeance pleases Women best.

_Bel._ 'Tis well _Constant_ don't know the Weakness of the Fortification; for o' my Conscience he'd soon come on to the Assault.

_Lady Brute._ Ay, and I'm afraid carry the Town too. But whatever you may have observ'd, I have dissembled so well as to keep him ignorant. So you see I'm no Coquette, _Belinda_: And if you follow my Advice, you'll never be one neither. 'Tis true, Coquetry is one of the main Ingredients in the natural Composition of a Woman; and I, as well as others, cou'd be well enough pleas'd to see a Crowd of young Fellows ogling, and glancing, and watching all Occasions to do forty foolish officious Things: Nay, shou'd some of 'em push on, even to hanging or drowning, why--'faith--if I shou'd let pure Woman alone, I shou'd e'en be but too well pleas'd with it.

_Bel._ I'll swear 'twould tickle me strangely.

_Lady Brute._ But after all, 'tis a vicious Practice in us, to give the least Encouragement but where we design to come to a Conclusion. For 'tis an unreasonable thing to engage a Man in a Disease, which we beforehand resolve we never will apply a Cure to.

_Bel._ 'Tis true; but then a Woman must abandon one of the supreme Blessings of her Life. For I am fully convinc'd, no Man has half that Pleasure in possessing a Mistress, as a Woman has in jilting a Gallant.

_Lady Brute._ The happiest Woman then on Earth must be our Neighbour.

_Bel._ O the impertinent Composition! She has Vanity and Affectation enough to make her a ridiculous Original, in spite of all that Art and Nature ever furnish'd to any of her Sex before her.

_Lady Brute._ She concludes all Men her Captives; and whatever Course they take, it serves to confirm her in that Opinion.

_Bel._ If they shun her, she thinks 'tis Modesty, and takes it for a Proof of their Passion.

_Lady Brute._ And if they are rude to her, 'tis Conduct, and done to prevent Town-talk.

_Bel._ When her Folly makes 'em laugh; she thinks they are pleased with her Wit.

_Lady Brute._ And when her Impertinence makes 'em dull, concludes they are jealous of her Favours.

_Bel._ All their Actions and their Words, she takes for granted, aim at her.

_Lady Brute._ And pities all other Women, because she thinks they envy her.

_Bel._ Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better Subject; for I'm weary of this. Do you think your Husband inclined to Jealousy?

_Lady Brute._ O, no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord, how wrong Men's Maxims are! They are seldom jealous of their Wives, unless they are very fond of 'em; whereas they ought to consider the Women's Inclinations; for there depends their Fate. Well, Men may talk; But they are not so wise as we----that's certain.

_Bel._ At least in our Affairs.

_Lady Brute._ Nay, I believe we shou'd out-do 'em in the Business of the State too: For, methinks, they do and undo, and make but bad Work on't.

_Bel._ Why then don't we get into the Intrigues of Government as well as they?

_Lady Brute._ Because we have Intrigues of our own, that make us more Sport, Child. And so let's in and consider of 'em.

[_Exeunt._