Chapter 14

Enter _Florinda_ and _Callis_ in Masques, with _Stephano_.

Flor. I’m dying with my fears; _Belvile’s_ not coming, As I expected, underneath my Window, Makes me believe that all those Fears are true. [Aside. —Canst thou not tell with whom my Brother fights?

Steph. No, Madam, they were both in Masquerade, I was by when they challeng’d one another, and they had decided the Quarrel then, but were prevented by some Cavaliers; which made ’em put it off till now—but I am sure ’tis about you they fight.

65 Flor. Nay then ’tis with _Belvile_, for what other Lover have I that dares fight for me, except _Antonio?_ and he is too much in favour with my Brother—If it be he, for whom shall I direct my Prayers to Heaven? [Aside.

Steph. Madam, I must leave you; for if my Master see me, I shall be hang’d for being your Conductor.—I escap’d narrowly for the Excuse I made for you last night i’th’ Garden.

Flor. And I’ll reward thee for’t—prithee no more. [Exit. Steph.

Enter Don _Pedro_ in his Masquing Habit.

Pedro. _Antonio’s_ late to day, the place will fill, and we may be prevented. [Walk about.

Flor. _Antonio!_ sure I heard amiss. [Aside.

Pedro. But who would not excuse a happy Lover. When soft fair Arms confine the yielding Neck; And the kind Whisper languishingly breathes, Must you be gone so soon? Sure I had dwelt for ever on her Bosom. —But stay, he’s here.

Enter _Belvile_ drest in _Antonio’s_ Clothes.

Flor. ’Tis not _Belvile_, half my Fears are vanisht.

Pedro. _Antonio!_—

Belv. This must be he. [Aside.] You’re early, Sir,—I do not use to be out-done this way.

Pedro. The wretched, Sir, are watchful, and ’tis enough You have the advantage of me in _Angelica_.

Belv. _Angelica!_ Or I’ve mistook my Man! Or else _Antonio_, Can he forget his Interest in _Florinda_, And fight for common Prize? [Aside.

Pedro. Come, Sir, you know our terms—

Belv. By Heaven, not I. [Aside.] —No talking, I am ready, Sir. [Offers to fight. _Flor_. runs in.

66

Flor. Oh, hold! whoe’er you be, I do conjure you hold. If you strike here—I die— [To _Belv._

Pedro. _Florinda!_

Belv. _Florinda_ imploring for my Rival!

Pedro. Away, this Kindness is unseasonable. [Puts her by, they fight; she runs in just as _Belv._ disarms _Pedro_.

Flor. Who are you, Sir, that dare deny my Prayers?

Belv. Thy Prayers destroy him; if thou wouldst preserve him. Do that thou’rt unacquainted with, and curse him. [She holds him.

Flor. By all you hold most dear, by her you love, I do conjure you, touch him not.

Belv. By her I love! See—I obey—and at your Feet resign The useless Trophy of my Victory. [Lays his sword at her Feet.

Pedro. _Antonio_, you’ve done enough to prove you love _Florinda._

Belv. Love _Florinda!_ Does Heaven love Adoration, Pray’r, or Penitence? Love her! here Sir,—your Sword again. [Snatches up the Sword, and gives it him. Upon this Truth I’ll fight my Life away.

Pedro. No, you’ve redeem’d my Sister, and my Friendship.

Belv. Don _Pedro!_

[He gives him _Flor._ and pulls off his Vizard to shew his Face, and puts it on again.

Pedro. Can you resign your Claims to other Women, And give your Heart intirely to _Florinda?_

Belv. Intire, as dying Saints Confessions are. I can delay my happiness no longer. This minute let me make _Florinda_ mine:

Pedro. This minute let it be—no time so proper, 67 This Night my Father will arrive from _Rome_, And possibly may hinder what we propose.

Flor. Oh Heavens! this Minute! [Enter Masqueraders, and pass over.

Belv. Oh, do not ruin me!

Pedro. The place begins to fill; and that we may not be observ’d, do you walk off to St. _Peter’s_ Church, where I will meet you, and conclude your Happiness.

Belv. I’ll meet you there—if there be no more Saints Churches in _Naples_. [Aside.

Flor. Oh stay, Sir, and recall your hasty Doom: Alas I have not yet prepar’d my Heart To entertain so strange a Guest.

Pedro. Away, this silly Modesty is assum’d too late.

Belv. Heaven, Madam! what do you do?

Flor. Do! despise the Man that lays a Tyrant’s Claim To what he ought to conquer by Submission.

Belv. You do not know me—move a little this way. [Draws her aside.

Flor. Yes, you may even force me to the Altar, But not the holy Man that offers there Shall force me to be thine. [_Pedro_ talks to _Callis_ this while.

Belv. Oh do not lose so blest an opportunity! See—’tis your _Belvile_—not _Antonio_, Whom your mistaken Scorn and Anger ruins. [Pulls off his Vizard.

Flor. _Belvile!_ Where was my Soul it cou’d not meet thy Voice, And take this knowledge in?

[As they are talking, enter _Willmore_ finely drest, and _Frederick_.

Will. No Intelligence! no News of _Belvile_ yet—well I am the most unlucky Rascal in Nature—ha!—am I deceiv’d—or is it he—look, _Fred_.—’tis he—my dear _Belvile_.

68 [Runs and embraces him. _Belv._ Vizard falls out on’s Hand.

Belv. Hell and Confusion seize thee!

Pedro. Ha! _Belvile!_ I beg your Pardon, Sir. [Takes _Flor._ from him.

Belv. Nay, touch her not, she’s mine by Conquest, Sir. I won her by my Sword.

Will. Did’st thou so—and egad, Child, we’ll keep her by the Sword. [Draws on _Pedro_, _Belv._ goes between.

Belv. Stand off. Thou’rt so profanely leud, so curst by Heaven, All Quarrels thou espousest must be fatal.

Will. Nay, an you be so hot, my Valour’s coy, And shall be courted when you want it next. [Puts up his Sword.

Belv. You know I ought to claim a Victor’s Right, [To Pedro. But you’re the Brother to divine _Florinda_, To whom I’m such a Slave—to purchase her, I durst not hurt the Man she holds so dear.

Pedro. ’Twas by _Antonio’s_, not by _Belvile’s_ Sword, This Question should have been decided, Sir: I must confess much to your Bravery’s due, Both now, and when I met you last in Arms. But I am nicely punctual in my word, As Men of Honour ought, and beg your Pardon. —For this Mistake another Time shall clear. —This was some Plot between you and Belvile: But I’ll prevent you. [Aside to _Flor._ as they are going out.

[_Belv._ looks after her, and begins to walk up and down in a Rage.

Will. Do not be modest now, and lose the Woman: but if we shall fetch her back, so—

Belv. Do not speak to me.

Will. Not speak to you!—Egad, I’ll speak to you, and will be answered too.

69 Belv. Will you, Sir?

Will. I know I’ve done some mischief, but I’m so dull a Puppy, that I am the Son of a Whore, if I know how, or where—prithee inform my Understanding.—

Belv. Leave me I say, and leave me instantly.

Will. I will not leave you in this humour, nor till I know my Crime.

Belv. Death, I’ll tell you, Sir—

[Draws and runs at _Will._ he runs out; _Belv._ after him, _Fred._ interposes.

Enter _Angelica_, _Moretta_, and _Sebastian_.

Ang. Ha—_Sebastian_—Is not that _Willmore?_ haste, haste, and bring him back.

Fred. The Colonel’s mad—I never saw him thus before; I’ll after ’em, lest he do some mischief, for I am sure _Willmore_ will not draw on him. [Exit.

Ang. I am all Rage! my first desires defeated For one, for ought he knows, that has no Other Merit than her Quality,— Her being Don _Pedro’s_ Sister—He loves her: I know ’tis so—dull, dull, insensible— He will not see me now tho oft invited; And broke his Word last night—false perjur’d Man! —He that but yesterday fought for my Favours, And would have made his Life a Sacrifice To’ve gain’d one Night with me, Must now be hired and courted to my Arms.

Moret. I told you what wou’d come on’t, but _Moretta’s_ an old doating Fool—Why did you give him five hundred Crowns, but to set himself out for other Lovers? You shou’d have kept him poor, if you had meant to have had any good from him.

Ang. Oh, name not such mean Trifles.—Had I given him all My Youth has earn’d from Sin, 70 I had not lost a Thought nor Sigh upon’t. But I have given him my eternal Rest, My whole Repose, my future Joys, my Heart; My Virgin Heart. _Moretta!_ oh ’tis gone!

Moret. Curse on him, here he comes; How fine she has made him too!

Enter _Willmore_ and _Sebast._ _Ang._ turns and walks away.

Will. How now, turn’d Shadow? Fly when I pursue, and follow when I fly!

Stay gentle Shadow of my Dove, [Sings. And tell me e’er I go, Whether the Substance may not prove A fleeting Thing like you.

There’s a soft kind Look remaining yet. [As she turns she looks on him.

Ang. Well, Sir, you may be gay; all Happiness, all Joys pursue you still, Fortune’s your Slave, and gives you every hour choice of new Hearts and Beauties, till you are cloy’d with the repeated Bliss, which others vainly languish for—But know, false Man, that I shall be reveng’d. [Turns away in a Rage.

Will. So, ’gad, there are of those faint-hearted Lovers, whom such a sharp Lesson next their Hearts would make as impotent as Fourscore—pox o’ this whining—my Bus’ness is to laugh and love—a pox on’t; I hate your sullen Lover, a Man shall lose as much time to put you in Humour now, as would serve to gain a new Woman.

Ang. I scorn to cool that Fire I cannot raise, Or do the Drudgery of your virtuous Mistress.

Will. A virtuous Mistress! Death, what a thing thou hast found out for me! why what the Devil should I do with a virtuous Woman?—a fort of ill-natur’d Creatures, that take a Pride to torment a Lover. Virtue is but an Infirmity in Women, a Disease that renders even the 71 handsom ungrateful; whilst the ill-favour’d, for want of Solicitations and Address, only fancy themselves so.—I have lain with a Woman of Quality, who has all the while been railing at Whores.

Ang. I will not answer for your Mistress’s Virtue, Tho she be young enough to know no Guilt: And I could wish you would persuade my Heart, ’Twas the two hundred thousand Crowns you courted.

Will. Two hundred thousand Crowns! what Story’s this?—what Trick?—what Woman?—ha.

Ang. How strange you make it! have you forgot the Creature you entertain’d on the Piazza last night?

Will. Ha, my Gipsy worth two hundred thousand Crowns!—oh how I long to be with her—pox, I knew she was of Quality. [Aside.

Ang. False Man, I see my Ruin in thy Face. How many vows you breath’d upon my Bosom, Never to be unjust—have you forgot so soon?

Will. Faith no, I was just coming to repeat ’em—but here’s a Humour indeed—would make a Man a Saint—Wou’d she’d be angry enough to leave me, and command me not to wait on her. [Aside.

Enter _Hellena_, drest in Man’s Clothes.

Hell. This must be _Angelica_, I know it by her mumping Matron here—Ay, ay,’tis she: my mad Captain’s with her too, for all his swearing—how this unconstant Humour makes me love him:—pray, good grave Gentlewoman, is not this _Angelica?_

Moret. My too young Sir, it is—I hope ’tis one from Don _Antonio_. [Goes to _Angelica_.

Hell. Well, something I’ll do to vex him for this. [Aside.

Ang. I will not speak with him; am I in humour to receive a Lover?

Will. Not speak with him! why I’ll be gone—and wait your idler minutes—Can I shew less Obedience to the thing I love so fondly? [Offers to go.

72 Ang. A fine Excuse this—stay—

Will. And hinder your Advantage: should I repay your Bounties so ungratefully?

Ang. Come hither, Boy,—that I may let you see How much above the Advantages you name I prize one Minute’s Joy with you.

Will. Oh, you destroy me with this Endearment. [Impatient to be gone. —Death, how shall I get away?—Madam,’twill not be fit I should be seen with you—besides, it will not be convenient—and I’ve a Friend—that’s dangerously sick.

Ang. I see you’re impatient—yet you shall stay.

Will. And miss my Assignation with my Gipsy. [Aside, and walks about impatiently.

Hell. Madam, [_Moretta_ brings _Hellena_, who addresses her self to _Angelica_. You’l hardly pardon my Intrusion, When you shall know my Business; And I’m too young to tell my Tale with Art: But there must be a wondrous store of Goodness Where so much Beauty dwells.

Ang. A pretty Advocate, whoever sent thee, —Prithee proceed—Nay, Sir, you shall not go. [To _Will._ who is stealing off.

Will. Then shall I lose my dear Gipsy for ever. —Pox on’t, she stays me out of spite. [Aside.

Hell. I am related to a Lady, Madam, Young, rich, and nobly born, but has the fate To be in love with a young _English_ Gentleman. Strangely she loves him, at first sight she lov’d him, But did adore him when she heard him speak; For he, she said, had Charms in every word, That fail’d not to surprize, to wound, and conquer—

Will. Ha, Egad I hope this concerns me. [Aside.

Ang. ’Tis my false Man, he means—wou’d he were gone. This Praise will raise his Pride and ruin me—Well, 73 Since you are so impatient to be gone, I will release you, Sir. [To _Will._

Will. Nay, then I’m sure ’twas me he spoke of, this cannot be the Effects of Kindness in her. [Aside.

—No, Madam, I’ve consider’d better on’t, And will not give you cause of Jealousy.

Ang. But, Sir, I’ve—business, that—

Will. This shall not do, I know ’tis but to try me.

Ang. Well, to your Story, Boy,—tho ’twill undo me. [Aside.

Hell. With this Addition to his other Beauties, He won her unresisting tender Heart, He vow’d and sigh’d, and swore he lov’d her dearly; And she believ’d the cunning Flatterer, And thought her self the happiest Maid alive: To day was the appointed time by both, To consummate their Bliss; The Virgin, Altar, and the Priest were drest, And whilst she languisht for the expected Bridegroom, She heard, he paid his broken Vows to you.

Will. So, this is some dear Rogue that’s in love with me, and this way lets me know it; or if it be not me, she means some one whose place I may supply. [Aside.

Ang. Now I perceive The cause of thy Impatience to be gone, And all the business of this glorious Dress.

Will. Damn the young Prater, I know not what he means.

Hell. Madam, In your fair Eyes I read too much concern To tell my farther Business.

Ang. Prithee, sweet Youth, talk on, thou may’st perhaps Raise here a Storm that may undo my Passion, And then I’ll grant thee any thing.

Hell. Madam,’tis to intreat you, (oh unreasonable!) You wou’d not see this Stranger; 74 For if you do, she vows you are undone, Tho Nature never made a Man so excellent; And sure he’ad been a God, but for Inconstancy.

Will. Ah, Rogue, how finely he’s instructed! [Aside.] —’Tis plain some Woman that has seen me _en passant._

Ang. Oh, I shall burst with Jealousy! do you know the Man you speak of?—

Hell. Yes, Madam, he us’d to be in Buff and Scarlet.

Ang. Thou, false as Hell, what canst thou say to this? [To _Will._

Will. By Heaven—

Ang. Hold, do not damn thy self—

Hell. Nor hope to be believ’d. [He walks about, they follow.

Ang. Oh, perjur’d Man! Is’t thus you pay my generous Passion back?

Hell. Why wou’d you, Sir, abuse my Lady’s Faith?

Ang. And use me so inhumanly?

Hell. A Maid so young, so innocent—

Will. Ah, young Devil!

Ang. Dost thou not know thy Life is in my Power?

Hell. Or think my Lady cannot be reveng’d?

Will. So, so, the Storm comes finely on. [Aside.

Ang. Now thou art silent, Guilt has struck thee dumb. Oh, hadst thou still been so, I’d liv’d in safety. [She turns away and weeps.

Will. Sweetheart, the Lady’s Name and House—quickly: I’m impatient to be with her.— [Aside to _Hellena_, looks towards _Angel._ to watch her turning; and as she comes towards them, he meets her.

Hell. So now is he for another Woman. [Aside.

Will. The impudent’st young thing in Nature! I cannot persuade him out of his Error, Madam.

Ang. I know he’s in the right,—yet thou’st a Tongue That wou’d persuade him to deny his Faith. [In Rage walks away.

75 Will. Her Name, her Name, dear Boy— [Said softly to _Hell._

Hell. Have you forgot it, Sir?

Will. Oh, I perceive he’s not to know I am a Stranger to his Lady. [Aside. —Yes, yes, I do know—but—I have forgot the— [_Angel._ turns. —By Heaven, such early confidence I never saw.

Ang. Did I not charge you with this Mistress, Sir? Which you denied, tho I beheld your Perjury. This little Generosity of thine has render’d back my Heart. [Walks away.

Will. So, you have made sweet work here, my little mischief; Look your Lady be kind and good-natur’d now, or I shall have but a cursed Bargain on’t. [_Ang._ turns towards them. —The Rogue’s bred up to Mischief, Art thou so great a Fool to credit him?

Ang. Yes, I do; and you in vain impose upon me. —Come hither, Boy—Is not this he you speak of?

Hell. I think—it is; I cannot swear, but I vow he has just such another lying Lover’s look. [_Hell._ looks in his Face, he gazes on her.

Will. Hah! do not I know that Face?— By Heaven, my little Gipsy! what a dull Dog was I? Had I but lookt that way, I’d known her. Are all my hopes of a new Woman banisht? [Aside. —Egad, if I don’t fit thee for this, hang me. —Madam, I have found out the Plot.

Hell. Oh Lord, what does he say? am I discover’d now?

Will. Do you see this young Spark here?

Hell. He’ll tell her who I am.

Will. Who do you think this is?

Hell. Ay, ay, he does know me.—Nay, dear Captain, I’m undone if you discover me.

Will. Nay, nay, no cogging; she shall know what a precious Mistress I have.

76 Hell. Will you be such a Devil?

Will. Nay, nay, I’ll teach you to spoil sport you will not make.—This small Ambassador comes not from a Person of Quality, as you imagine, and he says; but from a very errant Gipsy, the talkingst, pratingst, cantingst little Animal thou ever saw’st.

Ang. What news you tell me! that’s the thing I mean.

Hell. Wou’d I were well off the place.—If ever I go a Captain-hunting again.— [Aside.

Will. Mean that thing? that Gipsy thing? thou may’st as well be jealous of thy Monkey, or Parrot as her: a German Motion were worth a dozen of her, and a Dream were a better Enjoyment, a Creature of Constitution fitter for Heaven than Man.

Hell. Tho I’m sure he lyes, yet this vexes me. [Aside.

Ang. You are mistaken, she’s a Spanish Woman Made up of no such dull Materials.

Will. Materials! Egad, and she be made of any that will either dispense, or admit of Love, I’ll be bound to continence.

Hell. Unreasonable Man, do you think so? [Aside to him.

Will. You may Return, my little Brazen Head, and tell your Lady, that till she be handsom enough to be belov’d, or I dull enough to be religious, there will be small hopes of me.

Ang. Did you not promise then to marry her?

Will. Not I, by Heaven.

Ang. You cannot undeceive my fears and torments, till you have vow’d you will not marry her.

Hell. If he swears that, he’ll be reveng’d on me indeed for all my Rogueries.

Ang. I know what Arguments you’ll bring against me, Fortune and Honour.

Will. Honour! I tell you, I hate it in your Sex; and those that fancy themselves possest of that Foppery, are 77 the most impertinently troublesom of all Woman-kind, and will transgress nine Commandments to keep one: and to satisfy your Jealousy I swear—

Hell. Oh, no swearing, dear Captain— [Aside to him.

Will. If it were possible I should ever be inclin’d to marry, it should be some kind young Sinner, one that has Generosity enough to give a favour handsomely to one that can ask it discreetly, one that has Wit enough to manage an Intrigue of Love—oh, how civil such a Wench is, to a Man than does her the Honour to marry her.

Ang. By Heaven, there’s no Faith in any thing he says.

Enter _Sebastian_.

Sebast. Madam, _Don Antonio_—

Ang. Come hither.

Hell. Ha, _Antonio!_ he may be coming hither, and he’ll certainly discover me, I’ll therefore retire without a Ceremony. [Exit _Hellena_.

Ang. I’ll see him, get my Coach ready.

Sebast. It waits you, Madam.

Will. This is lucky: what, Madam, now I may be gone and leave you to the enjoyment of my Rival?

Ang. Dull Man, that canst not see how ill, how poor That false dissimulation looks—Be gone, And never let me see thy cozening Face again, Lest I relapse and kill thee.

Will. Yes, you can spare me now,—farewell till you are in a better Humour—I’m glad of this release— Now for my Gipsy:

For tho to worse we change, yet still we find New Joys, New Charms, in a new Miss that’s kind. [Ex. _Will._

Ang. He’s gone, and in this Ague of My Soul The shivering Fit returns; Oh with what willing haste he took his leave, As if the long’d for Minute were arriv’d, 78 Of some blest Assignation. In vain I have consulted all my Charms, In vain this Beauty priz’d, in vain believ’d My eyes cou’d kindle any lasting Fires. I had forgot my Name, my Infamy, And the Reproach that Honour lays on those That dare pretend a sober passion here. Nice Reputation, tho it leave behind More Virtues than inhabit where that dwells, Yet that once gone, those virtues shine no more. —Then since I am not fit to belov’d, I am resolv’d to think on a Revenge On him that sooth’d me thus to my undoing. [Exeunt.