Chapter 61

[_To them_] SHARPER.

VAIN. Faith, that’s a sure way: but here’s one can sell you freedom better cheap.

SHARP. Vainlove, I have been a kind of a godfather to you yonder. I have promised and vowed some things in your name which I think you are bound to perform.

VAIN. No signing to a blank, friend.

SHARP. No, I’ll deal fairly with you. ’Tis a full and free discharge to Sir Joseph Wittal and Captain Bluffe; for all injuries whatsoever, done unto you by them, until the present date hereof. How say you?

VAIN. Agreed.

SHARP. Then, let me beg these ladies to wear their masks, a moment. Come in, gentlemen and ladies.

HEART. What the devil’s all this to me?

VAIN. Patience.

SCENE the Last

[_To them_] SIR JOSEPH, BLUFFE, SYLVIA, LUCY, SETTER.

BLUFF. All injuries whatsoever, Mr. Sharper.

SIR JO. Ay, ay, whatsoever, Captain, stick to that; whatsoever.

SHARP. ’Tis done, these gentlemen are witnesses to the general release.

VAIN. Ay, ay, to this instant moment. I have passed an act of oblivion.

BLUFF. ’Tis very generous, sir, since I needs must own—

SIR JO. No, no, Captain, you need not own, heh, heh, heh. ’Tis I must own—

BLUFF.—That you are over-reached too, ha, ha, ha, only a little art military used—only undermined, or so, as shall appear by the fair Araminta, my wife’s permission. Oh, the devil, cheated at last! [LUCY _unmasks_.]

SIR JO. Only a little art-military trick, captain, only countermined, or so. Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got—now, but all’s forgiven.

VAIN. I know whom you have not got; pray ladies convince him. [ARAM. _and_ BELIN. _unmask_.]

SIR JO. Ah! oh Lord, my heart aches. Ah! Setter, a rogue of all sides.

SHARP. Sir Joseph, you had better have pre-engaged this gentleman’s pardon: for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his mistress, I know not how Heartwell may take the loss of his wife. [SYLVIA _unmasks_.]

HEART. My wife! By this light ’tis she, the very cockatrice. O Sharper! Let me embrace thee. But art thou sure she is really married to him?

SET. Really and lawfully married, I am witness.

SHARP. Bellmour will unriddle to you. [HEARTWELL _goes to_ BELLMOUR.]

SIR JO. Pray, madam, who are you? For I find you and I are like to be better acquainted.

SYLV. The worst of me is, that I am your wife—

SHARP. Come, Sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear. A fine lady, and a lady of very good quality.

SIR JO. Thanks to my knighthood, she’s a lady—

VAIN. That deserves a fool with a better title. Pray use her as my relation, or you shall hear on’t.

BLUFF. What, are you a woman of quality too, spouse?

SET. And my relation; pray let her be respected accordingly. Well, honest Lucy, fare thee well. I think, you and I have been play-fellows off and on, any time this seven years.

LUCY. Hold your prating. I’m thinking what vocation I shall follow while my spouse is planting laurels in the wars.

BLUFF. No more wars, spouse, no more wars. While I plant laurels for my head abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home.

HEART. Bellmour, I approve thy mirth, and thank thee. And I cannot in gratitude (for I see which way thou art going) see thee fall into the same snare out of which thou hast delivered me.

BELL. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention; but there is a fatality in marriage, for I find I’m resolute.

HEART. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you. For my part, I have once escaped; and when I wed again, may she be—ugly, as an old bawd.

VAIN. Ill-natured, as an old maid—

BELL. Wanton, as a young widow—

SHARP. And jealous, as a barren wife.

HEART. Agreed.

BELL. Well; ’midst of these dreadful denunciations, and notwithstanding the warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting durance.

BELIN. Prisoner, make much of your fetters. [_Giving her hand_.]

BELL. Frank, will you keep us in countenance?

VAIN. May I presume to hope so great a blessing?

ARAM. We had better take the advantage of a little of our friend’s experience first.

BELL. O’ my conscience she dares not consent, for fear he should recant. [_Aside_.] Well, we shall have your company to church in the morning. May be it may get you an appetite to see us fall to before you. Setter, did not you tell me?—

SET. They’re at the door: I’ll call ’em in.

A DANCE.

BELL. Now set we forward on a journey for life. Come take your fellow-travellers. Old George, I’m sorry to see thee still plod on alone.

HEART. With gaudy plumes and jingling bells made proud, The youthful beast sets forth, and neighs aloud. A morning-sun his tinselled harness gilds, And the first stage a down-hill greensward yields. But, oh— What rugged ways attend the noon of life! Our sun declines, and with what anxious strife, What pain we tug that galling load, a wife. All coursers the first heat with vigour run; But ’tis with whip and spur the race is won.

[_Exeunt Omnes_.]

EPILOGUE. Spoken by MRS. BARRY.

As a rash girl, who will all hazards run, And be enjoyed, though sure to be undone, Soon as her curiosity is over, Would give the world she could her toy recover, So fares it with our poet; and I’m sent To tell you he already does repent: Would you were all as forward to keep Lent. Now the deed’s done, the giddy thing has leisure To think o’ th’ sting, that’s in the tail of pleasure. Methinks I hear him in consideration: What will the world say? Where’s my reputation? Now that’s at stake. No, fool, ’tis out o’ fashion. If loss of that should follow want of wit, How many undone men were in the pit! Why that’s some comfort to an author’s fears, If he’s an ass, he will be tryed by’s peers. But hold, I am exceeding my commission: My business here was humbly to petition; But we’re so used to rail on these occasions, I could not help one trial of your patience: For ’tis our way, you know, for fear o’ th’ worst, To be beforehand still, and cry Fool first. How say you, sparks? How do you stand affected? I swear, young Bays within is so dejected, ’Twould grieve your hearts to see him; shall I call him? But then you cruel critics would so maul him! Yet may be you’ll encourage a beginner; But how? Just as the devil does a sinner. Women and wits are used e’en much at one, You gain your end, and damn ’em when you’ve done.