Part 16

The _Provok'd Husband_, is, at least, an Instance, that any _English_ Comedy may, to an unusual number of Days, bring many Thousands of His Majesty's good Subjects together, to their Emolument and Delight, with Innocence. And however little Share of that Merit my unequal Pen may pretend to, yet I hope the just Admirers of Sir _John Vanbrugh_ will allow I have, at worst, been a careful Guardian of his Orphan Muse, by leading it into Your Majesty's Royal Protection.

The Design of this Play being chiefly to expose, and reform the licentious Irregularities that, too often, break in upon the Peace and Happiness of the Married State; Where could so hazardous and unpopular an undertaking be secure, but in the Protection of a =Princess=, whose exemplary Conjugal Virtues have given such illustrious Proof of what sublime Felicity that holy State is capable?

And though a Crown is no certain Title to Content; yet to the Honour of that Institution be it said, the Royal Harmony of Hearts that now inchants us from the Throne, is a Reproach to the frequent Disquiet of those many insensible Subjects about it, who (from his Majesty's paternal Care of his People) have more Leisure to be happy: And 'tis our =Queen's= peculiar Glory, that we often see Her as eminently rais'd above her Circle, in private Happiness, as in Dignity.

Yet Heaven, =Madam=, that has placed you on such Height, to be the more conspicuous Pattern of your Sex, had still left your Happiness imperfect, had it not given those inestimable Treasures of your Mind, and Person, to the only Prince on Earth that could have deserved them: A Crown received from Any, but the Happy Monarch's Hand, who invested you with This, which You now adorn, had only seemed the Work of _Fortune_: But _Thus_ bestow'd, the World acknowledges it the due Reward of =Providence=, for One You once so gloriously Refused.

But as the Fame of such elevated Virtue has lifted the Plain Addresses of a whole Nation into Eloquence, the best repeated Eulogiums on that Theme are but Intrusions on your Majesty's greater Pleasure of secretly deserving them. I therefore beg leave, to subscribe myself,

May it please Your =Majesty=,

_Your Majesty's most Devoted_,

_Most Obedient, and_

_Most Humble Servant_,

=Colley Cibber=.

TO THE

READER.

Having taken upon me in the prologue to this play, to give the auditors some short account of that part of it which Sir _John Vanbrugh_ left unfinished, and not thinking it adviseable in that place, to limit their judgment by so high a commendation as I thought it deserved; I have therefore, for the satisfaction of the curious, printed the whole of what he wrote, separately, under the single title he gave it of _A Journey to London_, without presuming to alter a line.

Yet when I own, that in my last conversation with him, (which chiefly turned upon what he had done towards a comedy) he excused his not shewing it me, 'till he had reviewd it, confessing the scenes were yet undigested, too long, and irregular, particularly in the lower characters, I have but one excuse for publishing what he never designed should come into the world, as it then was, viz. I had no other way of taking those many faults to myself, which may be justly found in my presuming to finish it.

However, a judicious reader will find in his original papers, that the characters are strongly drawn, new, spirited, and natural, taken from sensible observations on high and lower life, and from a just indignation at the follies in fashion. All I could gather from him of what he intended in the _catastrophe_, was, that the conduct of his imaginary fine lady had so provoked him, that he designed actually to have made her husband turn her out of his doors. But when his performance came, after his decease, to my hands, I thought such violent measures, however just they might be in real life, were too severe for comedy, and would want the proper surprise, which is due to the end of a play. Therefore with much ado (and 'twas as much as I could do with probability) I preserved the lady's chastity, that the sense of her errors might make a reconciliation not impracticable; and I hope the mitigation of her sentence has been since justified by its success.

My inclination to preserve as much as possible of Sir _John_, I soon saw had drawn the whole into an unusual length; the reader will therefore find here a scene or two of the lower humour that were left out, after the first day's presentation.

The favour the town has shewn to the higher characters in this play, is a proof, that their taste is not wholly vitiated, by the barbarous entertainments that have been so expensively set off to corrupt it: but, while the repetition of the best old plays is apt to give satiety, and good new ones are so scarce a commodity, we must not wonder, that the poor actors are sometimes forced to trade in trash for a livelihood.

I cannot yet take leave of the reader, without endeavouring to do justice to those principal actors, who have so evidently contributed to the support of this comedy: And I wish I could separate the praises due to them from the secret vanity of an author: For all I can say will still insinuate, that they could not have so highly excelled, unless the skill of the writer had given them proper occasion. However, as I had rather appear vain, than unthankful, I will venture to say of Mr. _Wilks_, that in the last act, I never saw any passion take so natural a possession of an actor, or any actor take so tender a possession of his auditors----Mr. _Mills_ too, is confess'd by every body, to have surprised them, by so far excelling himself----But there is no doing right to Mrs. _Oldfield_, without putting people in mind of what others, of great merit, have wanted to come near her----'Tis not enough to say, she _Here Out-did_ her usual _Excellence_. I might therefore justly leave her to the constant admiration of those spectators, who have the pleasure of living while she is an actress. But as this is not the only time she has been the life of what I have given the public, so perhaps my saying a little more of so memorable an actress, may give this play a chance to be read, when the people of this age shall be ancestors----May it therefore give emulation to our successors of the stage, to know, That to the ending of the year 1727, a cotemporary comedian relates, that Mrs. _Oldfield_ was, then, in her highest excellence of action, happy in all the rearly-found requisites, that meet in one person to complete them for the stage----She was in stature just rising to that height, where the _graceful_ can only begin to shew itself; of a lively aspect and a command in her mein, that like the principal figure in the finest paintings, first seizes, and longest delights the eye of the spectators. Her voice was sweet, strong, piercing, and melodious: her pronunciation voluble, distinct, and musical; and her emphasis always placed where the spirit of the sense, in her periods, only demanded it. If she delighted more in the Higher Comic, than in the Tragic strain, 'twas because the last is too often written in a lofty disregard of nature. But in characters of modern practised life, she found occasions to add the particular air and manner which distinguished the different humours she presented. Whereas in tragedy, the manner of speaking varies, as little as the blank verse it is written in----She had one peculiar happiness from nature, she looked and maintained the _agreeable_, at a time when other fine women only raise admirers by their understanding----The spectator was always as much informed by her eyes as her elocution; for the look is the only proof that an actor rightly conceives what he utters, there being scare an instance, where the eyes do their part, that the elocution is known to be faulty. The qualities she had _acquired_ were the _genteel_ and _elegant_. The one in her air, and the other in her dress, never had her equal on the stage; and the ornaments she herself provided, (particularly in this play) seemed in all respects the _paraphernalia_ of a woman of quality. And of that sort were the characters she chiefly excelled in; but her natural good sense and lively turn of conversation made her way so easy to ladies of the highest rank, that it is a less wonder, if on the stage she sometimes _was_, what might have become the finest woman in real life to have supported.

_Theatre-Royal_. _Jan. 27_, 172⅞

C. CIBBER.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by Mr. _Wilks_.

_This play took birth from principles of truth, To make amends for errors past, of youth. A bard, that's now no more, in riper days, Conscious review'd the licence of his plays: And tho' applause his wanton muse had fir'd, Himself condemn'd what sensual minds admir'd. At length, he own'd, that plays should let you see Not only, What you are, but ought to be; Though vice was natural, 'twas never meant The stage should shew it, but for punishment! Warm with that thought, his Muse once more took flame, Resolv'd to bring licentious life to shame. Such was the piece his latest pen design'd, But left no traces of his plan behind. Luxuriant scenes unprun'd or half contriv'd; Yet thro' the mass his native fire surviv'd: Rough, as rich ore, in mines the treasure lay, Yet still 'twas rich, and forms at length a play. In which the bold compiler boasts no merit, But that his pains have sav'd your scenes of spirit. Not scenes that would a noisy joy impart, But such as hush the mind and warm the heart. From praise of hands no sure account he draws, But fixt attention is sincere applause: If then (for hard you'll own the task) his art Can to those embryon-scenes new life impart, The living proudly would exclude his lays, And to the buried bard resign the praise._

Dramatis Personæ.

MEN.

Lord _Townly_, of a regular life, Mr. _Wilks_.

Mr. _Manly_, an admirer of Lady _Grace_, Mr. _Mills_ sen.

Sir _Francis Wronghead_, a country gentleman, Mr. _Cibber_, sen.

Squire _Richard_, his son, a mere whelp, Young _Wetherelt_.

Count _Basset_, a gamester, Mr. _Bridgewater_.

_John Moody_, servant to Sir _Francis_, } Mr. _Miller_. an honest clown, }

WOMEN.

Lady _Townly_, immoderate in her } Mrs. _Oldfield_. pursuit of pleasures, }

Lady _Grace_, sister to Lady _Townly_, } Mrs. _Porter_. of exemplary virtue, }

Lady _Wronghead_, wife to Sir _Francis_, } Mrs. _Thurmond_. inclin'd to be a fine lady, }

Miss _Jenny_, her daughter, pert and } Mrs. _Cibber_. forward, }

Mrs _Motherly_, one that lets lodgings, Mrs. _Moore_.

_Myrtilla_, her niece, seduced by the } Mrs. _Grace_. count, }

Mrs. _Trusty_, Lady _Townly_'s woman, Mrs. _Mills_.

Masqueraders, Constable, Servants, &c.

_The ~+SCENE+~ Lord ~Townly~'s House, and sometimes Sir ~Francis~'s Lodgings._

THE

=Provok'd Husband=;

OR,

_A_ =Journey= _to_ =London=.

+ACT+ I. +SCENE+ I.

+SCENE+, _Lord ~Townly~'s Apartment._

_Lord ~Townly~, solus._

Why did I marry!--Was it not evident, my plain, rational scheme of life was impracticable, with a woman of so different a way of thinking?--Is there one article of it, that she has not broke in upon?--Yes,--let me do her justice--her reputation--That--I have no reason to believe is in question--but then how long her profligate course of pleasures may make her able to keep it--is a shocking question! and her presumption while she keeps it--insupportable! for on the pride of that single virtue she seems to lay it down, as a fundamental point, that the free indulgence of every other vice, this fertile town affords, is the birth-right prerogative of a woman of quality--Amazing! that a creature so warm in the pursuit of her pleasures, should never cast one thought towards her happiness--Thus, while she admits no lover, she thinks it a greater merit still, in her chastity, not to care for her husband; and while she herself is solacing in one continual round of cards and good company, he, poor wretch! is left, at large, to take care of his own contentment----'Tis time, indeed, some care were taken, and speedily there shall be----Yet let me not be rash----Perhaps this disappointment of my heart may make me too impatient; and some tempers when reproached grow more untractable.--Here she comes--Let me be calm a while.

_Enter Lady ~Townly~._

Going out so soon after dinner, Madam?

Lady _Town._ Lard, my Lord! what can I possibly do at home?

Lord _Town._ What does my sister, Lady _Grace_, do at home?

Lady _Town._ Why, that is to me amazing! Have you ever any pleasure at home!

Lord _Town._ It might be in your power, Madam, I confess, to make it a little more comfortable to me.

Lady _Town._ Comfortable! and so, my good Lord, you would really have a woman of my rank and spirit stay at home to comfort her husband! Lord! what notions of life some men have!

Lord _Town._ Don't you think, Madam, some ladies' notions full as extravagant?

Lady _Town._ Yes, my Lord, when the tame doves live cooped within the penn of your precepts, I do think 'em prodigious indeed!

Lord _Town._ And when they fly wild about this town, Madam, pray what must the world think of 'em then?

Lady _Town._ Oh! this world is not so ill-bred as to quarrel with any woman for liking it.

Lord _Town._ Nor am I, Madam, a husband so well-bred, as to bear my wife's being so fond of it; in short, the life you lead, Madam----

Lady _Town._ Is, to me, the pleasantest life in the world.

Lord _Town._ I should not dispute your taste, Madam, if a woman had a right to please nobody but herself.

Lady _Town._ Why, whom would you have her please?

Lord _Town._ Sometimes her husband.

Lady _Town._ And don't you think a husband under the same obligation?

Lord _Town._ Certainly.

Lady _Town._ Why then we are agreed, my Lord--For if I never go abroad 'till I am weary of being at home----which you know is the case----is it not equally reasonable, not to come home till one's weary of being abroad!

Lord _Town._ If this be your rule of life, Madam, 'tis time to ask you one serious question?

Lady _Town._ Don't let it be long a coming then----for I am in haste.

Lord _Town._ Madam, when I am serious, I expect a serious answer.

Lady _Town._ Before I know the question?

Lord _Town._ Psha----have I power, Madam, to make you serious by intreaty?

Lady _Town._ You have.

Lord _Town._ And you promise to answer me sincerely?

Lady _Town._ Sincerely.

Lord _Town._ Now then recollect your thoughts, and tell me seriously, Why you married me?

Lady _Town._ You insist upon truth, you say?

Lord _Town._ I think I have a right to it.

Lady _Town._ Why then, my Lord, to give you, at once, a proof of my obedience and sincerity----I think----I married--to take off that restraint, that lay upon my pleasures, while I was a single woman.

Lord _Town._ How, Madam! is any woman under less restraint after marriage, than before it?

Lady _Town._ O my Lord! my Lord! they are quite different creatures! Wives have infinite liberties in life, that would be terrible in an unmarried woman to take.

Lord _Town._ Name one.

Lady _Town._ Fifty, if you please!----to begin then, in the morning----A married woman may have men at her toilet, invite them to dinner, appoint them a party, in a stage box at the play; ingross the conversation there, call 'em by their christian names; talk louder than the players;----From thence jaunt into the city----take a frolicksome supper at an _India_ house----perhaps in her _gaieté de cœur_ toast a pretty fellow--Then clatter again to this end of the town, break with the morning, into an assembly, croud to the hazard-table, throw a familiar _levant_ upon some sharp lurching man of quality, and if he demands his money, turn it off with a loud laugh, and cry----you'll owe it him to vex him! ha! ha!

Lord _Town._ Prodigious!

[_Aside._

Lady _Town._ These now, my Lord, are some few of the many modish amusements, that distinguish the privilege of a wife, from that of a single woman.

Lord _Town._ Death! Madam, what law has made these liberties less scandalous in a wife, than in an unmarried woman?

Lady _Town._ Why, the strongest law in the world, custom----custom time out of mind, my Lord.

Lord _Town._ Custom, Madam, is the law of fools: but it shall never govern me.

Lady _Town._ Nay, then, my Lord, 'tis time for me to observe the laws of prudence.

Lord _Town._ I wish I could see an instance of it.

Lady _Town._ You shall have one this moment, my Lord; for I think, when a man begins to lose his temper at home; if a woman has any prudence, why----she'll go abroad 'till he comes to himself again.

[_Going._

Lord _Town._ Hold, Madam--I am amazed, you are not more uneasy at the life we lead! You don't want sense; and yet seem void of all humanity: for, with a blush I say it, I think, I have not wanted love.

Lady _Town._ Oh! don't say that, my Lord, if you suppose I have my senses.

Lord _Town._ What is it I have done to you? what can you complain of?

Lady _Town._. Oh! nothing in the least: 'Tis true, you have heard me say; I have owed my Lord _Lurcher_ an hundred pounds these three weeks----but what then?----a husband is not liable to his wife's debts of honour, you know,----and if a silly woman will be uneasy about money she can't be sued for, what's that to him? as long as he loves her, to be sure she can have nothing to complain of.

Lord _Town._ By heaven, if my whole fortune thrown into your lap, could make you delight in the chearful duties of a wife, I should think myself a gainer by the purchase.

Lady _Town._ That is, my Lord, I might receive your whole estate, provided you were sure I would not spend a shilling of it.

Lord _Town._ No, Madam; were I master of your heart, your pleasures would be mine; but different as they are, I'll feed even your follies to deserve it----Perhaps you may have some other trifling debts of honour abroad that keep you out of humour at home----at least it shall not be my fault, if I have not more of your company----There, there's a bill of five hundred----and now, Madam----

Lady _Town._ And now, my Lord, down to the ground I thank you----Now am I convinc'd, were I weak enough to love this man, I should never get a single guinea from him.

[_Aside._

Lord _Town._ If it be no offence, Madam----

Lady _Town._ Say what you please, my Lord; I am in that harmony of spirits, it is impossible to put me out of humour.

Lord _Town._ How long then in reason do you think that sum ought to last you?

Lady _Town._ Oh, my dear, dear Lord! now you have spoiled all again! How is it possible I should answer for an event, that so utterly depends upon fortune? But to shew you that I am more inclined to get money, than to throw it away----I have a strong prepossession, that with this five hundred, I shall win five thousand.

Lord _Town._ Madam, if you were to win ten thousand, it would be no satisfaction to me.

Lady _Town._ O! the churl! ten thousand! what! not so much as wish I might win ten thousand!----Ten thousand! O! the charming sum! what infinite pretty things might a woman of spirit do, with ten thousand guineas! O' my conscience, if she were a woman of true spirit--she--she might lose 'em all again.

Lord _Town._ And I had rather it should be so, Madam; provided I could be sure, that were the last you would lose.

Lady _Town._ Well, my Lord, to let you see I design to play all the good housewife I can; I am now going to a party of _Quadrille_, only to piddle with a little of it at poor two guineas a fish, with the Dutchess of _Quiteright_.

[_Exit Lady ~Townly~._

Lord _Town._ Insensible creature! neither reproaches, or indulgence, kindness or severity, can wake her to the least reflection! Continual licence has lull'd her into such a lethargy of care, that she speaks of her excesses with the same easy confidence, as if they were so many virtues. What a turn has her head taken?----But how to cure it----I am afraid the physic must be strong that reaches her----Lenitives, I see, are to no purpose----take my friend's opinion----_Manly_ will speak freely----my sister with tenderness to both sides. They know my case----I'll talk with 'em.

_Enter a Servant._

_Serv._ Mr. _Manly_, my Lord has sent to know, if your Lordship was at home.

Lord _Town._ They did not deny me?

_Serv._ No, my Lord.

Lord _Town._ Very well; step up to my sister, and say, I desire to speak with her.

_Serv._ Lady _Grace_ is here, my Lord.

[_Exit Serv._

_Enter Lady ~Grace~._

Lord _Town._ So, Lady fair; what pretty weapon have you been killing your time with!

Lady _Grace._ A huge folio that has almost killed me--I think I have half read my eyes out.

Lord _Town._ O! you should not pore so much just after dinner, child.

Lady _Grace._ That's true, but any body's thoughts are better than always one's own, you know.

Lord _Town._ Who's there?

_Enter Servant._

Leave word at the door I am at home to nobody but Mr. _Manly_.

Lady _Grace._ And why is he excepted, pray, my Lord?

Lord _Town._ I hope, Madam, you have no objection to his company?

Lady _Grace._ Your particular orders upon my being here, look, indeed, as if you thought I had not.

Lord _Town._ And your Ladyship's enquiry into the reason of those orders, shews, at least, it was not a matter indifferent to you!

Lady _Grace._ Lord! you make the oddest constructions, brother!

Lord _Town._ Look you my grave Lady _Grace_----in one serious word--I wish you had him.

Lady _Grace._ I can't help that.

Lord _Town._ Ha! you can't help it! ha! ha! The flat simplicity of that reply was admirable!

Lady _Grace._ Pooh! you teize one, brother!

Lord _Town._ Come, I beg pardon, child----this is not a point, I grant you, to trifle upon; therefore, I hope you'll give me leave to be serious.

Lady _Grace._ If you desire it, brother! though upon my word, as to Mr. _Manly_'s having any serious thoughts of me--I know nothing of it.

Lord _Town._ Well----there's nothing wrong, in your making a doubt of it----But, in short, I find, by his conversation of late, that he has been looking round the world for a wife; and if you were to look round the world for a husband, he's the first man I would give to you.

Lady _Grace._ Then, whenever he makes me an offer, brother, I will certainly tell you of it.

Lord _Town._ O! that's the last thing he'll do; he'll never make you an offer, 'till he's pretty sure it won't be refus'd.

Lady _Grace._ Now you make me curious. Pray! did he ever make an offer of that kind to you?

Lord _Town._ Not directly; but that imports nothing; he is a man too well acquainted with the female world, to be brought into a high opinion of any one woman, without some well examined proof of her merit: Yet I have reason to believe, that your good sense, your turn of mind, and your way of life, have brought him to so favourable a one of you, that a few days will reduce him to talk plainly to me: Which as yet, (notwithstanding our friendship) I have neither declin'd nor encouraged him to.

Lady _Grace._ I am mighty glad we are so near in our way of thinking: For, to tell you the truth, he is much upon the same terms with me: You know he has a satirical turn; but never lashes any folly, without giving due encomiums to its opposite virtue: and upon such occasions, he is sometimes particular, in turning his compliments upon me, which I don't receive, with any reserve, lest he should imagine I take them to myself.

Lord _Town._ You are right, child, when a man of merit makes his addresses: good sense may give him an answer, without scorn, or coquetry.

Lady _Grace._ Hush! he's here----

_Enter Mr. ~Manly~._

_Man._ My Lord! your most obedient.