The City Bride (1696) Or, The Merry Cuckold

Chapter 3

Chapter 36,852 wordsPublic domain

_Enter_ Friendly solus.

_Fri._ Was ever Fortune like to this of mine? Who for the Smile of a vile simple Woman, have acted thus against my very Soul, all to please a Creature, whose next Command perhaps will higher mount, it may be light on my self, as now it did on _Bonvile_.

_Enter_ Clara.

_Cla._ Ha! _Friendly_ here alone. Now, now, my Fears begin.

[_Aside_.

So, Sir, you are return'd I see.

[_To him._

_Fri._ Madam, I am, and like those noble Knights in former times, after subduing all their Ladies Foes, returning with the joyful News of Conquest, receive her trembling to their longing Arms, and claim her as their own, so I----.

_Cla._ What mean you, Sir?

_Fri._ Madam, You are obeyed, your hard Commands fulfilled; at your Request I've kill'd my Friend, nay and my best of Friends.

_Cla._ How? kill'd your Friend for me.

_Fri._ Indeed 'tis true.

_Cla._ Then thou art truly wretched: But say, say quickly, who's this unhappy Man whom thy Mistake hath thus untimely kill'd?

_Fri._ _Bonvile._

_Cla._ _Bonvile_ said you? My Blood with an unusual Course runs backward from my Heart! Horror has seiz'd my Soul! A thick-black Mist has overcast my Sight, and I am not the same: but speak, O speak again, Was it _Bonvile_?

_Fri._ Why shou'd you seek to iterate my Guilt, by a Rehearsal of that dreadful Name? Too sure, alas! It was: _Bonvile_'s the Friend I've kill'd.

_Cla._ Curs'd be the Tongue that spoke it, but doubly curs'd the Hand that did the barbarous Fact.

_Fri._ Why Madam, was it not your Command to kill my Friend; nay more, my best of Friends?

_Cla._ Yes, and I thought my self your best of Friends.

_Fri._ I hope you wou'd not have had me murder'd you?

_Cla._ No, Monster, no.

_Fri._ These are Riddles.

_Cla._ Fool, our whole Sex is made of nothing else: Thou mayst sooner untie the Gordian Knot, expound the Problems of the monstrous _Sphynx_, and read what is decreed in the mysterious Book of Fate, than unfold a Woman's sly malitious Meaning.

_Fri._ Very well; she first set me on to do this most accurs'd of Deeds, and now upbraids me; nay wou'd hang me for 't: These are the Tricks of all her damning Sex. O Woman, Woman, Woman, dear devilish Woman, farewel.

[_Offers to go._

_Cla._ Stay _Friendly_, all I have said was only to try your Constancy; and whether you'd repent of what you've done. But tell me truly, is _Bonvile_ surely dead?

_Fri._ Indeed he is.

_Cla._ 'Tis bravely done, and I adore thee for 't. By Heaven I love thee now, even unto Dotage!

_Fri._ Was ever Change like this? The subtlest Labyrinth Wit cou'd ere invent, affords not half so many Turnings as a Woman's Mind.

[_Aside._

What mean you, Madam, by this seeming Transport?

_Cla._ O _Friendly_, _Friendly_, I am all o're Extasy! Thou hast done a Deed that ravishes my Soul. At once thou hast kill'd my dear and only Friend, and slain the fatal'st Enemy I had.

_Fri._ What more Riddles Madam, pray explain your self.

_Cla._ I will; I will declare a Secret which till now I never did disclose: I lov'd that _Bonvile_ whom thou now hast slain, not as I ought to do, but with a Woman's Love, which he never did know: And Yesterday when I beheld the fatal Marriage ended, then like a Merchant walking on the _Downes_, sees a rich Vessel of his own engaged, and after took, and born away a Prize: So I, after I'd seen my _Bonvile_ lost, (for so he was to me) resuming all the Malice of a Woman, resolved never to entertain one Thought of Love again; but lead a Life as _Lapland_ Witches do, only on others Ruines: Then when you approached me with the hateful Sound of Love, to dash your Hopes, and put a Period to your growing Passion, I bid you kill your best and dearest Friend?

_Fri._ True.

_Cla._ Now the best Friend to one in Love, is Love it self.

_Fri._ O my curs'd Stars, that wrap'd me up in such a black Mistake, What have I done?

_Cla._ Done! Why you have done bravely, why do you tremble?

_Fri._ An inward Guilt lies heavy on my Soul, and Horror with all her dreadful Forms still haunts my Sight. And did you love this _Bonvile_?

_Cla._ The Queen of Beauty never doted more on her beloved _Adonis_ than I on him.

_Fri._ And now as much you hate him: O the unheard-of Inconstancy of Women! All that they have is feign'd; their Teeth, their Hair, their Blushes, and their Smiles; nay their very Conscience (if any such they have) is feign'd; all counterfeit and false: Let them wash, patch and daub themselves with all the Helps for Nature that Art cou'd e're invent, still they are Women: And let 'em rob all _India_ of its store to adorn themselves therewith, still are they not all that thing call'd Woman: I know not what to do, for I love and hate this Creature both at once.

_Cla._ What ails my _Friendly_?

_Fri._ But _Bonvile_ yet must feel his Enemies Rage; shall he succeed in Love, whilst I am cross'd in mine? No, it must not, cannot, nay it shall not be.

_Four Heads I have, to make a Plot not common; Malice, Revenge, the Devil, and a Woman._

[_Offers to go._

_Cla._ What will you leave me then?

_Fri._ Leave thee; yes, forever: Fly thee as I wou'd a Blast from Hell: Thou art thy self a Hell; thy base detested hateful Woman's Breath infects the purest Air:

_May my Friend's Blood, which I for thee have spilt, Light on thy Head, and your's be all the Guilt._

[_Exeunt_ severally.

_Enter_ Compasse _new clothed_, Pettifog, _and two or three Men Neighbors._

_Comp._ Gentlemen and Neighbours, as you have been Witnesses to our Divorce, so shall ye now be Evidences to our next Meeting, which I look for every Minute.

1st _Neigh._ I came for that Intent, Neighbour.

_Comp._ I thank you: well, I do not think but you'll all see me come off with as smooth a Forehead, and make my Wife as honest a Woman as a Man wou'd desire sometimes, I mean of her Rank; and a teeming Woman, as you know she has been: Nay, I do not think but the Child too will be found to be as lawful a Child as any Couple of unmarried People can beget.

2d _Neigh._ We long to see it Neighbour _Compasse_, that so some of us may do the like upon the same occasion.

_Comp._ You're in the right, old Stitch of the World: But soft, see where she comes with a whole Bundle of as good sound Maidens as her self.

_Enter_ Peg _new cloth'd, with three or four Women Neighbours._

Stand aside a little, and mind me I pray.

_Omnes._ Agreed, agreed.

_Comp._ Good Morrow fair Maid.

_Peg._ In truth Sir you are mistaken in both, for I am neither fair, nor yet a Maid.

_Comp._ No, what are you then I pray, a Wife?

_Peg._ That indeed I was, but alas,--I am now a Widow.

_Comp._ A Widow say you? Nay then I must make bold with you; for look you, your Case is somewhat like mine, I being a Husband without a Wife.

1st _Neigh._ Aye neighbour, this is something like.

_Pett._ They begin well, let them go on.

_Comp._ How long have you been a Widow, good Woman? Nay pray do not weep forsooth.

_Peg._ I can't choose but cry, to think of the great Loss I had.

_Comp._ Why, was he an honest Man?

_Peg._ Honest quoth a', I vow and protest he was as honest a Man as e're broke Bread. O I shall never have such another.

[_Cries out._

_Comp._ By my Faith now Mistress you have had a great Loss indeed, for an honest Man is not to be found every where, nor in every Street.

_Pett._ The Rogue's witty.

2d _Neigh._ Aye, aye, let 'em go on.

_Comp._ And how long is it since you lost this honest Husband?

_Peg._ O dear, his Memory is too fresh; and the Sight of you doubles my Sorrow.

_Comp._ The Sight of me, say you; why, was he so like me?

_Peg._ As one Apple to another; your two Hands are not more alike.

_Comp._ Nay then I cannot blame thee to weep: An honest Man he was I warrant him; and you have had a mighty Loss, that's the Truth on't: But was he proportioned like me, so well limb'd, and of such a wholesom Complexion, heh!

_Peg._ No Twins were ever more alike.

_Comp._ Well I love, his Memory is still better and better: and how many Children did he leave behind him?

_Peg._ Only one, Sir.

_Comp._ A Boy or a Girl?

_Peg._ A dainty fine Boy, Sir.

_Comp._ Just my own case still; my Wife (rest her Soul) left me a Boy too, a lusty chopping Boy of his Age (as they tell me, for I never saw it).

_Peg._ So is mine.

_Comp._ And what Profession was your Husband of?

_Peg._ A Seaman.

_Comp._ Heigh! my own Faculty too! And can you like a Man of that Profession again?

_Peg._ Yes surely, for his dear sake, whom I lov'd so tenderly, I shall always esteem a Sailer.

_Comp._ Shall you so? why then here's your Man: What say you, Is't a Match?

_Peg._ Dear me, I am so ashamed, and yet to speak the Truth, I do like you hugely, and wou'd like you better still, if it were not for one thing, which a little troubles me.

_Comp._ What's that?

_Peg._ Why, you know sometimes we are forc'd to endure the Absence of our Husbands a long while, mehappen many Years, and then if there be any Slip in us, (as long Vacations will make Lawyers hungry) the World is apt to censure and scandalize us; and brand us with wanton Living and Incontinency; when alas! if they wou'd but consider our Condition, and the mighty Longings we often naturally have for Flesh and Blood, they wou'd not blame us, so they wou'd not.

_Comp._ Come, come, no Matter, canst thou love me, Widow?

_Peg._ Ah, if I durst but speak my Mind, I know what I wou'd say.

_Comp._ Durst, why who do you fear? here's none but an honest Gentleman, some few Friends and Neighbours; let them hear a God's Name what you wou'd say, and never blush for the Matter.

1st _W. Neigh._ Aye, aye, speak Neighbour, pray speak your Mind, and fear not.

_Peg._ I shall be thought too weak to yield at first Sight.

2d _W. Neigh._ Paw! paw! that's only Nicety.

_Peg._ Well then I do love him dearly and dearly, so I do.

[_Runs and kisses him_.

_Comp._ And I thee with all my Heart and Soul.

[Comp. _kisses_ Peg.

Now we'll be merry, and have a Song, shall we not my Neighbours?

3d _Neigh._ Marry will we, Neighbour _Luff_ and Mrs. Bride, will ye give us a Song?

_Peg._ With all my Heart, come Neighbour.

A DIALOGUE.

Man:

_Faith and Troth I love thee dearly, Tho I do but bluntly woo, Prithy then resolve me clearly, Whether I am beloved by you. Long I shall not keep a pother, Like a senseless whining Beau; If you won't I'll court another Who will never say me no._

Woman:

_Friend, your self, nor Humour neither With my Fancy disagree, Yet I must find clearer Weather Er'e I venture out to Sea. Court another at your Pleasure Win her in the Honey-moon, She may chance repent at leisure, For believing you too soon._

Man:

_Leave your damn'd Fantastick Trials, Which procure a Lover's Pain, Pox upon these sham-Denials, 'Tis but spending time in vain. With Embraces happy make me, Nature fram'd you to be kind; Kiss me, and the Devil take me If I ever change my Mind._

Woman:

_I'll pursue the good old Fashion, Practise still by those are wise, Throughly try my Lover's Passion, E're I let him grasp the Prize. Spite of Oaths you wou'd forsake me, Shou'd I let you once embrace: If I kiss, the Devil take me, Till the Parson has said Grace._

Chorus.

_Since then Nation Has made it a Fashion, Let's send for a Black Coat, whilst we're in the Mind. But it is damn'd Slavery, And Priestly Knavery, That Parsons must conjure e're Lovers be kind._

_Com._ So, so, here now shall we be Man and Wife again to Morrow, as good as ever. What thô we met as Strangers, we may happen to love ne're the worse for all that--Gentlemen and Neighbours, I invite ye all to my Wedding.

_Omnes._ We'l not fail you, and wish you Joy.

_Com._ Did I not tell you that I would fetch it cleverly off? Let any Man call me Cuckold if he dares now.

_Petti._ 'Tis slander in him I assure you who-ever does.

_Com._ Nay it will be _Petti Lacenary_ at least, and without Compass of the General Pardon too: And for the Child, let me hear him that dares say, I am not the Father.

_Petti._ Sure none will dare dispute it.

_Com._ Or that my Wife that is to be, is not as honest a Woman as some other Mens Wives are.

_Petti._ No question of that.

_Com._ O how fine and smooth my Brows are now!

_1 M. Neigh._ Aye but when you're married, they'll come to themselves again I warrant ye.

_Com._ My Friends, if you please, you may call me Mr. Bridegroom now, for the Guests are all bidden to the Wedding.

_1 M. Neigh._ We know it, Mr. Bridegroom, they are Indeed, and we'll not fail you upon our Words.

_Comp._

_Come then, brisk Widow, e're the next Ebb and Tide, I'le be thy Bridegroom, and thou sha't be my Bride._

_Exeunt omnes._

_The End of the Fourth ACT._

ACT the Fifth.

_Enter_ Arabella _on one Side_.

Summerfield _meeting her from the other_.

_Ara._ Mr. _Summerfield_, I now am truly happy, my Prayers at last are heard; and Heaven has restored my Husband to my Arms.

_Sum._ I just now heard the joyful News, and thought to have been my self the welcome Messenger of his Return, but find I'me come too late; have you seen him?

_Art._ No; as yet I have not.

_Sum._ 'Tis somewhat strange!

_Ara._ Others perhaps may judg it so, but my uncommon Joy for his Return, admits no other Thought, but those of Transport for his Safety.

_Sum._ O happy _Bonvile_! How I admire and wonder at thy Choice!

_Enter_ Friendly.

Madam, a Wife like you, exceeds the greatest Blessing sure on Earth.

_Fr._ The nearest way to a secure Revenge, is private Malice, which, like _Aside._ a Spark long lying hid amongst neglected Ashes, by the least Blast of Wind becomes it self a Flame--Ha!, who have we here? Thrice blest Occasion! which thus have offered me at once the Scope of my revengeful Wishes. 'Tis _Arabella_ and her Darling _Summerfield_, one who, in the Bridegroom's Absence, is grown thus intimate with his beloved Bride. A strong Foundation on which I'll now erect a brave Revenge; I'll step aside and observe them.

[_Retires to one side of the Stage._

_Ara._ Sir, I hope he'll soon be here, and return the Kindness you have shown me; so I take my leave, with hourly expectation of a much-long'd for Husband.

_Sum._ And I, with a Gratitude never to be forgotten, kiss your fair Hand, and hope that all things will answer your Expectation. [_Exit_ Arabella.

_Fri._ Ay, 'tis so, now must I counterfeit a friendly Face to make a farther Discovery.

[_Aside._

Sir, your humble Servant: without Offence, may I be so bold as to beg the Favour of your Name?

_Sum._ The Question I must confess is somewhat familiar, and in my Opinion improper for a Stranger at first sight; but yet I ne're disown'd it to a Gentleman--'tis _Summerfield_.

_Fri. Summerfield!_ Sir, I kiss your Hand;, and must congratulate your good Success, but more admire your Valour. Had we many such noble Commanders on board our Fleet, we need not fear it where e're it sails.

_Sum._ Pray, Sir, stretch not your Love into Flattery, 'twill make me then suspect your Kindness. And the Author of this Story was too much my Friend I see, since he has given you this so very partial Account, the more to augment my Fame.

_Fri._ O! that's your Modesty, Sir: But if I might be so happy as to be honour'd with your Acquaintance----

_Sum._ Sir, the Honour (if any) would be wholly on my Side; therefore I desire to know your Name.

_Fri._ _Friendly_, Sir.

_Sum._ An Acquaintance; I suppose, of Mr. _Bonvile's_.

_Fri._ One that thinks himself much honour'd in being stiled his Friend.

_Sum._ I have often heard your Name indeed before; but till now Fortune never afforded me the sight of you.

_Fri._ You of all Men ought to bless Fortune, who still has been indulgent to you on all Occasions; and scatter'd her Favours on you, with as prodigal a Hand as thô you were her sole Care and only Minion.

_Sum._ What mean you, Sir? Again you exceed the Bounds of Love and Friendship; I never thought any of _Bonvil's_ Friends cou'd be guilty of so base and vile a thing as Flattery: But, pray, unfold your meaning.

_Fri._ 'Tis this; I just now saw you part with the Bride, with such courteous Actions, as spoke no small Esteem in her kind Favour; and therein I think you the happiest of Men.

_Sum._ How!

_Fri._ Mistake me not, I only as a Friend applaud your Happiness, bless the Influence of your kinder Stars, and praise your Fortune that hath given you this sweet Occasion.

_Sum._ What Occasion, Sir?

_Fri._ Of being serviceable to the fair Virgin Bride in her extreamest need, after her being so unkindly left, nay, on her Wedding Day, by an ungrateful Husband, in doing her those neglected Duties, her Youth and Beauty justly did demand.

_Sum._ On my Life some Plot against the Bride: I'll sound him 'till I find the very Bottom--[_Aside._]--Sir, you are merry: But suppose the Case your own, wou'd you have miss'd so tempting an Occasion?

_Fri._ No, Sir, they're too precious to be omitted: But I hear you two call Cousins, comes your Kindred by the _Merryman's_ or the _Bonvile's_?

_Sum._ Neither! we were wholly Strangers 'till of late, and 'tis a word of Courtesy only interchange'd between us for some private Reasons.

_Fri._ This goes as I cou'd wish. [_Aside._]

_Sum._ I desire you not to grow too inward with me, on so short an Acquaintance: Not that I'de have you think the Lady of so base a Disposition to grant me any thing beyond the Rules of Decency and Honour. The only Favour I e're receiv'd from her, was a Present of those Bracelets she wears about her Arms, and that Chain of Gold and Pearl she has about her Neck; all which either of us may own without a Blush.

_Fri._ How, the Chain and Bracelet, say you! Those were the first Tokens of her Husband's Love.

_Sum._ Methinks you look concern'd at what I've said; yet I have said no more than what I am obliged in Honour to maintain, and will: therefore I hope, as you'r a Gentleman, you'l not turn Informer.

_Fri._ O pray think not so poorly of me.

_Enter a Servant who whispers_ Summerfield.

_Sum._ Tell her I'le wait on her immediately.

[_Exit Servant._

Sir, some Business of Importance calls me hence; therefore some other time I hope I shall have the Happiness of enjoying your Company longer.

[_Exit_ Sum.

_Fri._ Sir, your humble Servant. Tell her I'll wait on her immediately, said he; this must be _Arabella_ that he's going to: Better still.

_The Work's begun, now I am made or lost; He runs the best who holds out to the Post: And all the Comfort in Adversity, Is to see others as miserable as me._

Who have we here? Old _Merryman_! As I live 'tis he!

_Enter Justice_ Merryman.

_Mer._ O Master _Friendly,_ you're happily returned: But where's my Son-in-Law?

_Fri._ Alas, Sir, the unhappy _Bonvile_ is----

_Mer._ Is, is, what is he? Heh! speak; is he living, or is he dead; or what's become of him?

_Fri._ O! that I had the Marble _Niobes_ Heart! Or that I had suck'd the Milk of Wolves and Tigers; so that I might have told, without the least remorse of Sorrow, what now I dare not, nay, I cannot speak, for fear at once I melt my self in Tears, and break your aged Heart.

[_Seems to weep._

_Mer._ Then I suppose he's killed; say, is he not? Hast thou inticed him from his Bride for this, thou inhumane Wretch? Yet speak, and tell me truly, for I'm prepared to hear the worst of Ills; Is he then slain?

_Fri._ No, Sir, but dangerously wounded.

_Mer._ Not mortally, I hope; but whereabouts is he so desperately wounded? In his Arms, his Legs, or Body?

_Fri._ Neither, Sir, but in as perfect Health as when he left you.

_Mer._ Strange! sure thou art all o're a Mystery, and form'st these Riddles to try my Wit.

_Fri._ No, Sir, for all I have said, you in effect will surely find I told you he was wounded, did I not?

_Mer._ Yes, you did.

_Fri._ And so he is.

_Mer._ But where, whereabout, I ask you once again?

_Fri._ I see you force the unwilling Secret from me--Why, he's wounded.

_Mer._ He's wounded, he's wounded, but where, where is he wounded?

_Fri._ In his Fame, Honour and Reputation, more mortal than a thousand fleshy Wounds.

_For such slight Baubles, Cures are oft obtain'd; But injur'd Honour ne're can be regain'd._

_Mer._ How! how! how's this? wounded in his Honour, fay'll thou? Tell me the Villain that has defam'd him, and this good old Sword shall slit the Rascal's Wind-pipe.

_Fri._ O, Sir, your Daughter, your Daughter, Sir----

_Mer._ Ha! what's that? what's that? is she injur'd too?

_Fri._ No, no Sir, my falling Tears quite drown my feeble Voice, I cannot utter what I fain would speak--Your Daughter's false, false to her _Bonvile_! And by the help of her beloved _Summerfield_, has robb'd my Friend of all he cou'd call Dear, I mean his Fame.

[_Seems to weep._

_Mer._ A Pox o' your Crocodile's Tears. Why, Sirrah, Sirrah, do you call my Daughter Whore? Hey, Swords and Daggers, Blunderbusses and Pistols, shall I bear this? Hark you, you my Friend, and no Friend, what a Kin do you take me to be to this Gentlewoman, Heh?

_Fri._ Her Father, Sir.

_Mer._ Audacious Villain, O that I had thee in some private Corner, where none you'd either see or hear us, this Sword shou'd justify my Daughter's Honour; I'de Whore you with a Pox to you, so I wou'd.

_Fri._ Your Pardon, Sir, I only did inform you as a Friend, that by your fatherly Admonitions, you might refrain her from her undecent Course.

_Mer._ Pox o' your friendly Intelligence.

_Fri._ The Jewels which her Husband did present her, as the first Sign and Confirmation of the happy Contract, she to my certain Knowledg has given to----

_Mer._ To whom, to whom thou wicked Slanderer? tell me, Sarrah, quickly, quick, quick.

_Fri._ To _Summerfield_.

_Mer._ Ha, ha, ha, the Fool makes me laugh; Ha, ha, ha, why 'twas but just now that I saw e'm on her Neck and Arms.

_Fri._ She was no Woman, had she not the Sense to get them against her Husband's coming.

_Mer._ But pray tell me, how is't possible that she cou'd part with 'em, when they are lock't on, and the Key with her Husband?

_Fri._ O, Sir, that's no Question to be ask'd in these Times: Women _have found a way to make use of other Keys besides their Husbands: And no doubt but_ Summerfield _has got a Key will open your Daughter's lock as well as_ Bonvile's.

_Mer._ Sirrah you lie, you lie Sirrah; and I'le tell thee thou ly's, again and again, so I will. Nay, and I were to pay a 100 Pounds for every Lie I give thee, as Men do Twelve-pence for every Oath they swear, I wou'd spend all the Thousands I am worth, in giving thee the Lie. 'Tis likely indeed, that such a brave Gentleman as _Summerfield_, that fought at Sea like a Dragon to save my Life, should shorten my Days on Land in ruining my Daughter; therefore once more I tell you you Lie.

_Fri._ 'Tis very well.

_Me._ Do you hear Sir, have you told this Lie to any body else but me?

_Fri._ I am no Informer, Sir.

_Mer._ Why then for fear you shou'd, do ye see, draw, [_Draws_] Draw, I say, I am not so old but I can make a shift to cut your Throat still; I'le spoil your Carking, I'le warrant ye.

_Enter_ Bonvile _and_ Clara.

A Pox on't, here's my Son-in-Law come to hinder me, Duce take him cou'd he not stay a little longer? D'ye hear Sir, begon, leave this Place immediately, or I'le--I'le--I'le--Gad I cou'd find in my Heart, so I cou'd, but be gone.

_Fri._ _Bonvile_ here with _Clara_ too, excellent. This goes to _Arabella_, and may it encrease the Storm.

[_Exit_ Frie.

_Bon._ My Father in Anger.

_Mer._ O Son, Son, Son! dear Boy, welcome home, Od's bobs you are.

_Bon._ I humbly thank you, Sir; but am sorry to see you so disturb'd.

_Mer._ Nothing, nothing, only Mr. _Friendly_ and I have had a Word or two, that's all, that's all.

_Bon._ About my going with him, I suppose; but that's past, and I hope, Sir, you'l be so kind as at my Request to pardon him.

_Mer._ Indeed Son it was something else; By the Lord _Harry_ I can't forbear laughing at the Coxcomb, Ha, ha, ha; He told me, Ha, ha, ha, that one _Summerfield_, a very honest Fellow as ever liv'd, is grown exceeding familiar with my Daughter, your Wife.

_Bon._ Ha! my Wife.

_Mer._ Yes, your Wife, and that he had received Love-Tokens from her.

_Bon._ How, Love-Token from her!

_Mer._ Aye, aye, Love-Tokens I call'd 'em when I was a young Man: Nay, the Rogue was so impudent to tell me, that she had given him those Jewels which are lock'd about her Neck; Ha, ha, ha.

_Bon._ The Jewels about her Neck, said you?

_Mer._. Aye, what ails you Man that you change Colour so? 'Tis all a Lie Boy I warrant thee: And hadst thou not come just in the Nick of Time, I think o' my Conscience I shou'd have cut his Throat.

_Bon._ As I will your Daughters if I find her false: Death, Hell, and Furies, am I made a Monster already?

_Cla._ What, Sir, are you return'd for this?

_Mer._ Hark y' son, hark you; suppose that this Mr. _Friendly_ shou'd have a secret Inclination to your spouse, d' ye see; and therefore, by reason he can't obtain his Desire, possesses you with Jealousy to make a Breach 'twixt you and your Wife. Od's bobs, I don't know, I can't tell what shou'd be the meaning of his carrying you away on your Wedding-Day, else, heh, Son, heh.

_Cla._ Has the Italian Plague then infected you, that you stand thus unmov'd?

_Enter_ Summerfield _leading_ Arabella.

But see here's your Bride.

_Bon._ And her beloved Adulterer with her! Death and Damnation, must I stand still and see this?

_Mer._ Hey day! what the Matter now?

_Ara._ _Bonvile_ here with _Clara_! Alas too true I find what before I scarce dar'd to think was so. Is _Bonvile_ then a Traitor, and false to _Arabella_?

[_Aside._

_Cla._ Madam, at last I've found the pretious Jewel that you so long have sought in vain.

[To _Arab._

_Ara._ Wear it your self Madam, I lost it, and it must be mine no more.

_Cla._ What means this sudden Alteration?

_Mer._ Ods bodikins, as you say, what does she mean? Are ye both mad, heh?

_Sum._ Sir, I'm come to pay my Respects to you, and humbly beg a farther Knowledg of----.

_Bon._ Of whom, sweet Sir, my Wife or me?

_Sum._ Ha! your Wife.

_Bon._ Yes Sir, my Wife, I think the word needs no explaining.

_Mer._ Pray, Sir, at my Request bear with him, he's strangely out of Order I assure you.

_Bon._ The Jewels are as I left 'em ; but the Jewel of her Heart is lost and thrown away.--Madam, I sent you my Will, did you receive it.

_Ara._ Yes, I did.

_Bon._ Let me see it.

_Ara._ You shall.

[_Exit_ Ara.

_Bon._ Sir, I desire a Word or two in private with you,

[_to_ Summer.

_Sum._ With all my Heart, Sir.

_Mer._ What's that, what's that, I'll have no Whispering, Gentlemen.

_Enter_ Arabella _with the Will._

_Ara._ There's your Will, Sir.

[_Throws it down,_ Bonvile _takes it up._

_Bon._ 'Tis well now as you've chang'd your Mind, I'll change this too, and find another to supply your Place: There's no harm done, the Marriage is not yet consummated, and you are free to enjoy any, so am I.

_Ara._ As you please for that: A Man may make a Garment for the Moon, count all the Stars which twinckle in the Skies, or empty the vast Ocean, Drop by Drop, sooner than please a Mind so light, so various as yours.

_Mer._ Ods bobs, what's this you talk of, altering your Will?

_Bon._ Yes, Sir, I am so resolved, and will see 't perform'd within this Hour: My Lawyer lives hard by, and so farewel.

[_Exit. Bon._

_Mer._ Farewel thou peevish Boy, I can alter my Will too so I can, marry can I; I had left him 20000 Pound after my Death, and he shall see I can find another Executor too. Within this Hour did he say, Gad I'll be with one as soon as he, unless he rides Post to the Devil, and that's the nearest way to a Lawyer.

_Sum._ I'll follow him, and asswage his Passion.

_Mer._ By no means, Sir.--But now I think on't, I'll go with you, and find him out: But did you ever see the like, did you ever see the like? Come Sir, come follow me

[_Exit._ Merr. & Summer.

_Cla._ Dear _Arabella_ what can all this mean?

_Ara._ Can you be doubtful of the Effect, who are your self the Cause?

_Cla._ I the Cause, Inform me how?

_Ara._ O _Clara, Clara_, your Syrens Voice has drawn my _Bonvile_ from these spotless Virgins Arms, and made me ever wretched!

_Cla._ Who (if thou ever lov'dst me) tax'd me with a Crime so foul, as I abhor to hear it only named?

_Ara._ _Friendly._.

_Cla._ O _Arabella_, forgive and pity me, who am indeed the innocent, unhappy Cause of all those Griefs which now afflict you both; which I'll relate in brief, if you will please to withdraw one Moment with me.

_Ara._ With all my Heart.

_Cla._ Come then:

_And since your Ruine I did first conspire, I'll all appease, thus Fire's expell'd by Fire._

[_Exeunt._

_Enter Justice_ Merryman _and_ Summerfield.

_Mer._ Sir, do you take me for your Friend?

_Sum._ Why d' you ask me such a Question, Sir? 'twere base Ingratitude to entertain any other Thought.

_Mer._ Why then d' ye see, Sir; as you are my Friend, you must not fight my Son _Bonvile_.

_Sum._ Not fight him Sir! you amaze me.

_Mer._ Aye, aye, aye; that's all one: I understand your dumb Signs and your low Whispers, the French Mode all over, to smile and grin a Man in the Face, and at the same time privately cut his Throat. Therefore prithe be ruled by me, and don't fight him, for shou'd you kill him, my poor Girl wou'd break her Heart, quite break her Heart. [_Sobs and cries._] I grant that you are wrong'd, and so I dare swear is my dear Child: but he's her Husband, and must be born with, ods bobs he must.

_Sum._ Heaven be my Witness, I ne're entertain'd a Thought like it!

_Mer._ That's well, that's well, I am heartily glad on't, ods bobs I am heartily glad.

[Enter _Friendly_.

But here comes one that has made all this Mischief; and him I'll fight my self for all I'm a Justice of the Peace. Come, come, Sir, Draw, draw; you'll belie my Daughter again wil you? Come, draw, I say, Draw.

[_Draws._

_Fri._ Sir, as I am a Gentleman, I scorn to deny my Words, but there's my Author, whether good or ill.

_Mer._ Who, he? He, do ye mean him?

_Fri._ Yes, Sir.

_Sum._ True, Sir, I am; For, at his Return to Town from _Barn-Elms_, it was my Chance to meet him; and after a ceremonious Complement or two, I found him diving into my private Thoughts concerning the Bride your Daughter: I, not to be behind-hand with him, join'd Wit with Wit to sound his shallow Soul. I told him then, how her Jewels once were mine; but the manner of my obtaining them, I for my own sake did conceal from him; and now, if you're disposed, I'll here relate it.

_Enter_ Bonvile _leading_ Arabella, Clara _and_ Spruce, _Mr._ Venter _and Mrs._ Venter.

_Mer._ Let it be before all this Company then: What, and my Son and Daughter too so loving again? Nay then all's well, ods bobs it is, and they shall hear it, ods bobs they shall.

_Bon._ I have heard the Story, Sir, already; and _Friendly_, you I pardon too, for Enemies in War take all Occasions to undo each other; yet tho I am your Enemy, I'll be generous still, and make you Master of your wish'd for Mistress.

[_To_ Clara.]

Come, Madam, receive this worthier Passion of your _Friendly_, whom I know you both admire and love.

[_Gives her to_ Friendly.

Next I must obtain your Pardon for my Rashness.

_Sum._ Sir, 'tis what I first ought to have begg'd of you: And that the World may'nt tax this innocent Lady of a Crime to her purest Thoughts unknown, I'll here begin my Story from my first Acquaintance to this happy Hour.

_Mer._ Prithy do.

_Sum._ The first time that I e're beheld her Face, I wou'd have robb'd her.

_Mer._ Ah Rogue! What, a Thief, a Thief, what wou'd you have robb'd her of?

_Sum._ Not her Honour, I assure you, Sir, but only of those Jewels which she wears.

_Mer._ Ods bobs, thou wert an honest Thief, for that I faith he was.

_Sum._ They being fast, I cou'd not get 'em off without some Harm and Pain to her: which for the _Indies_ I'd not have done. And she, in answer to my Civility, brought me home, and ransom'd them with the full Price in Gold, (with which I made my Venture) and the more to hide my Shame, she honour'd me with the Title of her Kinsman.

_Mer._ Ay, ay, and so she might well; for she was a little cunning Thief too, to steal the Gold she gave you from her Husband; 'twas all his now, but that's no matter, proceed.

_Sum._ The rest you know already, Sir.

_Mer._ Ay, so I do, ods bobs I do, thy Valour my brave Boy, thy Valour, for which I'll do for thee, that thou shalt never need to rob again I warrant thee; ods bobs I will. But come, come, we lose time, for we have another Wedding yet to be perform'd, but that shall be done within.

Sum. _Then farewel all ye treacherous Paths of Vice, Which lead Men blindfold to their End, In time like me repent you that are wise, And by Restraint your vicious Courses end._

Ara. _Were I to ask of Heaven its greatest Bliss On Earth, it cou'd bestow not one like this. After a Storm the Sun still shines most bright, And from the Chaos sprung the purer Light._

Bon. _A Day like this sure yet has never been, Wherein such various Changes e're were seen. Fortune to Day that work'd my Overthrow, Has made me happy in a Minute now. Bless'd with a vertuous Wife my Days I'll spend, And ne're trust Man, lest I mistake my Friend._

EPILOGUE,

Spoke by the City-Bride.

_You met with good Intention to be witty, And rally the Grave Cuckolds of the City; But disappointed of your Recreation, I in your Looks can read the Play's Damnation. Lord! how ye stare to find an honest Bride, A thing you think a Monster in_ Cheapside. _Whither you boast that you so often come, And leave your footmen to perform at home. Yet 'tis no little Comfort t' us howe're, You oftner bring th' Estate than get the Heir. Unjustly therefore you your Fortune blame, She's kinder to your Blood that to your Name._

_After all this, I know you think it Pity, That I shou'd break the Custom of the City: I hear a Beau cry, 'tis some damn'd Mistaker; A_ Cheap-side _Vertue, City Cuckold maker. This is a Fault no Gentleman can pardon, It gives_ Cheapside _the Sins of_ Covent-Garden: _We must refine on Vice, and take new Measures, Since dull chain'd Cits invade our darling Pleasures._

_Take my Advice, employ at home your Backs, Or_ Locket's _Revels may revenge_ Pontack's: _This Cuckolding to you's a losing Trade, That pay for making, and for being made. The Ladies will my Character excuse, And not condemn a Vertue which they use._

_If any here be guilty of Transgression, 'Tis of Necessity, not Inclination: They'd be contented in their proper Houses, Cou'd they reform their unperforming Spouses. Yet if some wanton Appetites there be, How many are there that can fast like me. Those are enow, if I have their Applause, The Poet has his End, and I my Cause.

FINIS.

PUBLICATIONS OF THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

FIRST YEAR (1946-47)

Numbers 1-4 out of print.

5. Samuel Wesley's _Epistle to a Friend Concerning Poetry_ (1700) and _Essay on Heroic Poetry_ (1693).

6. _Representation of the Impiety and Immorality of the Stage_ (1704) and _Some Thoughts Concerning the Stage_ (1704).

SECOND YEAR (1947-1948)

7. John Gay's _The Present State of Wit_ (1711); and a section on Wit from _The English Theophrastus_ (1702).

8. Rapin's _De Carmine Pastorali_, translated by Creech (1684).

9. T. Hanmer's (?) _Some Remarks on the Tragedy of Hamlet_ (1736).

10. Corbyn Morris' _Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, etc._ (1744).

11. Thomas Purney's _Discourse on the Pastoral_ (1717).

12. Essays on the Stage, selected, with an Introduction by Joseph Wood Krutch.

THIRD YEAR (1948-1949)

13. Sir John Falstaff (pseud.), _The Theatre_ (1720).

14. Edward Moore's _The Gamester_ (1753).

15. John Oldmixon's _Reflections on Dr. Swift's Letter to Harley_ (1712); and Arthur Mainwaring's _The British Academy_ ( 1712).

16. Nevil Payne's _Fatal Jealousy_ (1673).

17. Nicholas Rowe's _Some Account of the Life of Mr. William Shakespeare_ (1709).

18. "Of Genius," in _The Occasional Paper_, Vol. III, No. 10 (1719); and Aaron Hill's Preface to _The Creation_ (1720).

FOURTH YEAR (1949-1950)

19. Susanna Centlivre's _The Busie Body_ (1709).

20. Lewis Theobold's _Preface to The Works of Shakespeare_ (1734).

21. _Critical Remarks on Sir Charles Grandison, Clarissa, and Pamela_ (1754).

22. Samuel Johnson's _The Vanity of Human Wishes_ (1749) and Two _Rambler_ papers (1750).

23. John Dryden's _His Majesties Declaration Defended_ (1681).

24. Pierre Nicole's _An Essay on True and Apparent Beauty in Which from Settled Principles is Rendered the Grounds for Choosing and Rejecting Epigrams_, translated by J. V. Cunningham.

FIFTH YEAR (1950-51)

25. Thomas Baker's _The Fine Lady's Airs_ (1709).

26. Charles Macklin's _The Man of the World_ (1792).

27. Frances Reynolds' _An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Taste, and of the Origin of Our Ideas of Beauty, etc._ (1785).

28. John Evelyn's _An Apologie for the Royal Party_ (1659); and _A Panegyric to Charles the Second_ (1661).

29. Daniel Defoe's _A Vindication of the Press_ (1718).

30. Essays on Taste from John Gilbert Cooper's _Letters Concerning Taste_, 3rd edition (1757), & John Armstrong's _Miscellanies_ (1770).

SIXTH YEAR (1951-1952)

31. Thomas Gray's _An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard_ (1751); and _The Eton College Manuscript._

32. Prefaces to Fiction; Georges de Scudéry's Preface to _Ibrahim_ (1674), etc.

33. Henry Gally's _A Critical Essay_ on Characteristic-Writings (1725).

34. Thomas Tyers' A Biographical Sketch of Dr. Samuel Johnson (1785).

William Andrews Clark Memorial Library: University of California

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY

_General Editors_

H. RICHARD ARCHER William Andrews Clark Memorial Library

E.N. HOOKER University of California, Los Angeles

R.C. BOYS University of Michigan

JOHN LOFTIS University of California, Los Angeles

The Society exists to make available inexpensive reprints (usually facsimile reproductions) of rare seventeenth and eighteenth century works. The editorial policy of the Society continues unchanged. As in the past, the editors welcome suggestions concerning publications. All income of the Society is devoted to defraying cost of publication and mailing.

All correspondence concerning subscriptions in the United States and Canada should be addressed to the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, 2205 West Adams Boulevard, Los Angeles 18, California. Correspondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to any of the general editors. The membership fee is $3.00 a year for subscribers in the United States and Canada and 15/- for subscribers in Great Britain and Europe. British and European subscribers should address B. H. Blackwell, Broad Street, Oxford, England.

Publications for the sixth year [1951-1952]

(At least six items, most of them from the following list, will be reprinted.)

THOMAS GRAY: _An Elegy Writt in a Country Church Yard_ (1751). Introduction by George Sherburn.

JAMES BOSWELL, ANDREW ERSKINE, and GEORGE DEMPSTER: _Critical Strictures on the New Tragedy of Elvira_ (1763). Introduction by Frederick A. Pottle.

_An Essay on the New Species of Writing Founded by Mr. Fielding_ (1751). Introduction by James A. Work.

HENRY GALLY: _A Critical Essay on Characteristic Writing_ (1725). Introduction by Alexander Chorney.

[JOHN PHILLIPS]: _Satyr Against Hypocrits_ (1655). Introduction by Leon Howard.

_Prefaces to Fiction._ Selected and with an Introduction by Benjamin Boyce.

THOMAS TYERS: _A Biographical Sketch of Dr. Samuel Johnson_ ([1785]). Introduction by Gerald Dennis Meyer.

Publications for the first five years (with the exception of NOS. 1-4, which are out of print) are available at the rate of $3.00 a year. Prices for individual numbers may be obtained by writing to the Society.

THE AUGUSTAN REPRINT SOCIETY _WILLIAM ANDREWS CLARK MEMORIAL LIBRARY_ 2205 WEST ADAMS BOULEVARD, LOS ANGELES 18, CALIFORNIA

Make check or money order payable to THE REGENTS OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.