Chapter 52

_Enter Lady_ Galliard, _pursued by Sir_ Charles, _and Footman_.

L. _Gal_. Sirrah, run to my Lord Mayor’s, and require some of his Officers to assist me instantly; and d’ye hear, Rascal, bar up my Doors, and let none of his mad Crew enter. [_To the Footman who is going_.

Sir _Char_. William, you may stay, William.

L. _Gal_. I say, obey me, Sirrah.

Sir _Char_. Sirrah, I say--know your Lord and Master.

_Will_. I shall, Sir. [_Goes out_.

L. _Gal_. Was ever Woman teaz’d thus? pursue me not.

Sir _Char_. You are mistaken, I’m disobedient grown, Since we became one Family; and when I’ve us’d you thus a Week or two, you will Grow weary of this peevish fooling.

L. _Gal_. Malicious thing, I wo’not, I am resolv’d I’ll tire thee out merely in spite, to have the better of thee.

Sir _Char_. I’m as resolv’d as you, and do your worst, For I’m resolv’d never to quit thy House.

L. _Gal_. But, Malice, there are Officers i’th’ City, that will not see me us’d thus, and will be here anon.

Sir _Char_. Magistrates! why, they shall be welcome, if they be honest and loyal; if not, they may be hang’d in Heaven’s good time.

L. _Gal_. Are you resolv’d to be thus obstinate? Fully resolv’d to make this way your Conquest?

Sir _Char_. Most certainly, I’ll keep you honest to your Word, my Dear-- I’ve Witness--

L. _Gal_. You will?

Sir _Char_. You’ll find it so.

L. _Gal_. Then know, if thou darest marry me, I will so plague thee, be so reveng’d for all those Tricks thou hast play’d me-- Dost thou not dread the Vengeance Wives can take?

Sir _Char_. Not at all: I’ll trust thy Stock of Beauty with thy Wit.

L. _Gal_. Death, I will cuckold thee.

Sir _Char_. Why, then I shall be free o’th’ Reverend City.

L. _Gal_. Then I will game without cessation, till I’ve undone thee.

Sir _Char_. Do, that all the Fops of empty Heads and Pockets may know where to be sure of a Cully; and may they rook ye till ye lose, and fret, and chafe, and rail those youthful Eyes to sinking; watch your fair Face to pale and withered Leanness.

L. _Gal_. Then I will never let thee bed with me, but when I please.

Sir _Char_. For that, see who’ll petition first, and then I’ll change for new ones every Night.

_Enter_ William.

_Will_. Madam, here’s Mr. _Wilding_ at the Door, and will not be deny’d seeing you.

L. _Gal_. Hah, _Wilding_! Oh, my eternal Shame! Now thou hast done thy worst.

Sir _Char_. Now for a Struggle ‘twixt your Love and Honour! --Yes, here’s the Bar to all my Happiness, You wou’d be left to the wide World and Love, To Infamy, to Scandal, and to _Wilding_; But I have too much Honour in my Passion, To let you loose to ruin: Consider and be wise.

L. _Gal_. Oh, he has toucht my Heart too sensibly. [_Aside_.

Sir _Anth_. [_within_.] As far as good Manners goes I’m yours; But when you press indecently to Ladies Chambers, civil Questions ought to askt, I take it, Sir.

L. _Gal_. To find him here, will make him mad with Jealousy, and in the Fit he’ll utter all he knows: Oh, Guilt, what art thou! [_Aside_.

_Enter Sir_ Anth. Wild, _and_ Dres.

_Dres_. Prithee, dear _Wilding_, moderate thy Passion.

_Wild_. By Heaven, I will; she shall not have the Pleasure to see I am concern’d--Morrow, Widow; you are early up, you mean to thrive, I see, you’re like a Mill that grinds with every Wind.

Sir _Char_. Hah, _Wilding_, this that past last Night at Sir Timothy’s for a Man of Quality? Oh, give him way, _Wilding’s_ my Friend, my Dear, and now I’m sure I have the Advantage of him in my Love. I can forgive a hasty Word or two.

_Wild_. I thank thee, _Charles_--what, you are married then?

L. _Gal_. I hope you’ve no Exception to my Choice. [_Scornfully_.

_Wild_. False Woman, dost thou glory in thy Perfidy? [_To her aside angrily_. --Yes, Faith, I’ve many Exceptions to him-- [_Aloud_. Had you lov’d me, you’d pitcht upon a Blockhead, Some spruce gay Fool of Fortune, and no more, Who would have taken so much Care of his own ill-favour’d Person, He shou’d have had no time to have minded yours, But left it to the Care of some fond longing Lover.

L. _Gal_. Death, he will tell him all! [_Aside_.] Oh, you are merry, Sir.

_Wild_. No, but thou art wondrous false, False as the Love and Joys you feign’d last Night. [_In a soft Tone aside to her_.

L. _Gal_. Oh, Sir, be tender of those treacherous Minutes. [_Softly to him_. --If this be all you have to say to me-- [_Walking away, and speaking loud_.

_Wild_. Faith, Madam, you have us’d me scurvily, To marry, and not give me notice. [_Aloud_. --Curse on thee, did I only blow the Fire To warm another Lover? [To her softly aside.

L. _Gal_. Perjur’d--was’t not by your Advice I married? --Oh, where was then your Love? [_Softly to him aside_.

_Wild_. So soon did I advise? Didst thou invite me to the Feast of Love, To snatch away my Joys as soon as tasted? Ah, where was then you Modesty and Sense of Honour? [_Aside to her in a low Tone_.

L. _Gal_. Ay, where indeed, when you so quickly vanquisht? [_Soft_. --But you, I find, are come prepared to rail. [_Aloud_.

_Wild_. No, ‘twas with thee to make my last Effort against your scorn. [_Shews her the Writings_. And this I hop’d, when all my Vows and Love, When all my Languishments cou’d nought avail, Had made ye mine for ever. [_Aloud_.

_Enter Sir_ Anthony, _pulling in Sir_ Tim. _and_ Diana.

Sir _Anth_. Morrow, _Charles_; Morrow to your Ladyship: _Charles_, bid Sir _Timothy_ welcome; I met him luckily at the Door, and am resolv’d none of my Friends shall pass this joyful Day without giving thee Joy, _Charles_, and drinking my Lady’s Health.

_Wild_. Hah, my Uncle here so early? [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. What, has your Ladyship serv’d me so? How finely I had been mump’d now, if I had not took Heart of Grace, and shew’d your Ladyship Trick for Trick? for I have been this Morning about some such Business of Life too, Gentlemen: I am married to this fair Lady, the Daughter and Heiress of Sir _Nicholas Gett-all_, Knight and Alderman.

_Wild_. Ha, married to _Diana_! How fickle is the Faith of common Women! [_Aside_.

Sir _Tim_. Hum, who’s here, my Lord? What, I see your Lordship has found the way already to the fair Ladies; but I hope your Lordship will do my Wedding-dinner the Honour to grace it with your Presence.

_Wild_. I shall not fail, Sir. A Pox upon him, he’ll discover all. [_Aside_.

L. _Gal_. I must own, Sir Timothy, you have made the better Choice.

Sir _Tim_. I cou’d not help my Destiny; Marriages are made in Heaven, you know.

_Enter_ Charlot _weeping, and_ Clacket.

_Charl_. Stand off, and let me loose as are my Griefs, Which can no more be bounded: Oh, let me face The perjur’d, false, forsworn!

L. _Gal_. Fair Creature, who is’t that you seek with so much Sorrow?

_Charl_. Thou, thou fatally fair Inchantress. [_Weeps_.

_Wild. Charlot_! Nay, then I am discover’d.

L. _Gal_. Alas, what wou’dst thou?

_Charl_. That which I cannot have, thy faithless Husband. Be Judge, ye everlasting Powers of Love, Whether he more belongs to her or me.

Sir _Anth_. How, my Nephew claim’d! Why, how now, Sirrah, have you been dabling here?

Sir _Char_. By Heaven, I know her not.--Hark ye, Widow, this is some Trick of yours, and ‘twas well laid: and Gad, she’s so pretty, I cou’d find in my Heart to take her at her word.

L. _Gal_. Vile Man, this will not pass your Falshood off. Sure, ‘tis some Art to make me jealous of him, To find how much I value him.

Sir _Char_. Death, I’ll have the Forgery out;--Tell me, thou pretty weeping Hypocrite, who was it set thee on to lay a Claim to me?

_Charl_. To you! Alas, who are you? for till this moment I never saw your Face.

L. _Gal_. Mad as the Seas when all the Winds are raging.

Sir _Tim_. Ay, ay, Madam, stark mad! Poor Soul--Neighbour, pray let her lie i’th’ dark, d’ye hear.

Sir _Char_. How came you, pretty one, to lose your Wits thus?

_Charl_. With loving, Sir, strongly, with too much loving. --Will you not let me see the lovely false one? [_To L_. Gal. For I am told you have his Heart in keeping.

L. Gal_. Who is he? pray describe him.

_Charl_. A thing just like a Man, or rather Angel! He speaks, and looks, and loves, like any God! All fine and gay, all manly, and all sweet: And when he swears he loves, you wou’d swear too That all his Oaths were true.

Sir _Anth_. Who is she? some one who knows her and is wiser, speak--you, Mistress. [_To_ Clacket.

Mrs. _Clack_. Since I must speak, there comes the Man of Mischief: ’.is you, I mean, for all your Leering, Sir. [_To_ Wild.

_Wild_. So.

Sir _Tim_. What, my Lord?

Mrs. _Clack_. I never knew your Nephew was a Lord: Has his Honour made him forget his Honesty?

[Charlot. _runs, and catches him in her Arms_.

_Charl_. I have thee, and I’ll die thus grasping thee; Thou art my own, no Power shall take thee from me.

_Wild_. Never; thou truest of thy Sex, and dearest, Thou soft, thou kind, thou constant Sufferer, This moment end thy Fears; for I am thine.

_Charl_. May I believe thou art not married then?

_Wild_. How can I, when I’m yours? How cou’d I, when I love thee more than Life? Now, Madam, I am reveng’d on all your Scorn, [_To L_. Galliard. --And, Uncle, all your Cruelty.

Sir _Tim_. Why, what, are you indeed my Nephew Thomas?

_Wild_. I am _Tom Wilding_, Sir, that once bore some such Title, till you discarded me, and left me to live upon my Wits.

Sir _Tim_. What, and are you no Polish Embassador then incognito?

_Wild_. No, Sir, nor you no King Elect, but must e’en remain as you were ever, Sir, a most seditious pestilent old Knave; one that deludes the Rabble with your Politicks, then leaves ‘em to be hang’d, as they deserve, for silly mutinous Rebels.

Sir _Tim_. I’ll peach the Rogue, and then he’ll be hang’d in course, because he’s a Tory. One comfort is, I have cozen’d him of his rich Heiress; for I’m married, Sir, to Mrs. _Charlot_.

_Wild_. Rather _Diana_, Sir; I wish you Joy: See here’s _Charlot_. I was not such a Fool to trust such Blessings with the Wicked.

_Sir Charl_. How, Mrs. Dy Ladyfi’d! This is an excellent way of disposing an old cast-off Mistress.

Sir _Tim_. How, have I married a Strumpet then?

_Dia_. You give your Nephew’s Mistress, Sir, too coarse a Name. ‘Tis true, I lov’d him, only him, and was true to him.

Sir _Tim_. Undone, undone! I shall ne’er make Guildhall-Speech more: but he shall hang for’t, if there be e’er a Witness to be had between this and Salamanca for Money.

_Wild_. Do your worst, Sir; Witnesses are out of fashion now, Sir, thanks to your Ignoramus Juries.

Sir _Tim_. Then I’m resolv’d to disinherit him.

_Wild_. See, Sir, that’s past your Skill too, thanks to my last Night’s Ingenuity; they’re [shews him the Writings.] sign’d, seal’d, and deliver’d in the presence of, &c.

Sir _Tim_. Bear Witness, ‘twas he that rob’d me last night.

Sir _Anth_. We bear witness, Sir, we know of no such matter we. I thank you for that, Sir; wou’d you make Witnesses of Gentlemen?

Sir _Tim_. No matter for that, I’ll have him hang’d, nay, drawn and quarter’d.

_Wild_. What, for obeying your Commands, and living on my Wits?

Sir _Anth_. Nay, then ‘tis a clear Case, you can neither hang him or blame him.

_Wild_. I’ll propose fairly now; if you’ll be generous and pardon all, I’ll render your Estate back during Life, and put the Writings in Sir Anthony Meriwill’s and Sir _Charles_ his Hands--I have a Fortune here that will maintain me, Without so much as wishing for your Death.

_All_. This is but Reason.

_Sir Charl_. With this Proviso, that he makes not use on’t to promote any Mischief to the King and Government.

_All_. Good and Just. [_Sir_ Tim. _pauses_.

Sir _Tim_. Hum, I’d as good quietly agree to’t, as lose my Credit by making a Noise.--Well, _Tom_, I pardon all, and will be Friends. [Gives him his Hand.

_Sir Charl_. See, my dear Creature, even this hard old Man is mollify’d at last into good Nature; yet you’ll still be cruel.

L. _Gal_. No, your unwearied Love at last has vanquisht me. Here, be as happy as a Wife can make ye--One last look more, and then--be gone, fond Love.

[_Sighing and looking on_ Wilding, _giving Sir_ Charles _her Hand_.

_Sir Charl_. Come, Sir, you must receive _Diana_ too; she is a cheerful witty Girl, and handsome, one that will be a Comfort to your Age, and bring no Scandal home. Live peaceably, and do not trouble your decrepid Age with Business of State.

Let all things in their own due Order move, Let Caesar be the Kingdom’s Care and Love; Let the hot-headed Mutineers petition, And meddle in the Rights of just Succession: But may all honest Hearts as one agree To bless the King, and Royal Albany.

[_Exeunt_.

EPILOGUE.

Written by a Person of Quality: Spoken by Mrs. _Boteler_.

_My Plot, I fear, will take but with a few, A rich young Heiress to her first Lover true! ’.is damn’d unnatural, and past enduring, Against the fundamental Laws of Whoring. Marrying’s the Mask, which Modesty assures, Helps to get new, and covers old Amours; And Husband sounds so dull to a Town-Bride, Ye now-a-days condemn him e’er he’s try’d; E’er in his Office he’s confirmed Possessor, Like Trincaloes you chuse him a Successor, In the gay Spring of Love, when free from Doubts, With early Shoots his Velvet Forehead sprouts, Like a poor Parson bound to hard Indentures, You make him pay his First-fruits e’er he enters. But for short Carnivals of stain good Cheer, You’re after forc’d to keep Lent all the Year; Till brought at last to a starving Nun’s Condition, You break into our Quarters for Provision; Invade Fop-corner with your glaring Beauties, And ‘tice our Loyal Subjects from their Duties. Pray, Ladies, leave that Province to our Care; A Fool is the Fee-simple of a Player, In which we Women claim a double share. In other things the Men are Rulers made; But catching Woodcocks is our proper Trade. If by Stage-Fops they a poor Living get, We can grow rich, thanks to our Mother-Wit, By the more natural Blockheads of the Pit. Take then the Wits, and all their useless Prattles; But as for Fools, they are our Goods and Chattels. Return, Ingrates, to your first Haunt the Stage; We taught your Youth, and helped your feeble Age. What is’t you see in Quality we want? What can they give you which we cannot grant? We have their Pride, their Frolicks, and their Paint. We feel the same Touth dancing in our Blood; Our Dress as gay--All underneath as good. Most Men have found us hitherto more true, And if we’re not abus’d by some of you, We’re full as fair--perhaps as wholesom too. But if at best our hopeful Sport and Trade is, And nothing now will serve you but great Ladies; May question’d Marriages your Fortune be, And Lawyers drain your Pockets more than we: May Judges puzzle a clear Case with Laws, And Musquetoon at last decide the Cause_.

THE FEIGN’D CURTEZANS; OR, A NIGHT’S INTRIGUE.

ARGUMENT.

Marcella and Cornelia, nieces to Count Morosini and sisters to Julio, who is contracted to Laura Lucretia, a lady of quality, sister of Count Octavio, in order to avoid Marcella’s marriage with this nobleman, secretly leave Viterbo where they live, and accompanied only by their attendants, Petro and Philippa, come to Rome, and there pass for courtezans under the names of Euphemia and Silvianetta. Their beauty wins them great renown in the gay world, and Sir Harry Fillamour, who loves Marcella, and Frank Galliard, two English travellers, are keenly attracted by this reputation. Sir Harry, however, is anxious for matrimony, Galliard for an intrigue. Marcella in her turn is already enamoured of Fillamour whom she has met at Viterbo. Morosini and Octavio follow the fugitives to Rome, whilst Laura Lucretia, who loves Galliard, disguises herself in male attire and takes a house on the Corso next door to the supposed courtezans. Fillamour and Galliard encounter the two ladies in the gardens of the Villa Medici, and Fillamour takes Marcella for a courtezan, whilst Galliard engages with Cornelia. Octavio passing with his followers spies and attacks his rival. A general mêlée ensues. Julio, who has not seen his family for seven years, next appears, having taken Cornelia for a cyprian and followed her from St. Peter’s. Marcella, in boy’s attire, then gives Fillamour a letter from herself, signed under her own name, making an appointment for that night; but at the same time Galliard, claiming a former promise, drags his friend off to visit Euphemia. The intrigue is complicated by the ridiculous amours of two foolish travellers, Sir Signal Buffoon and Mr. Tickletext, a puritan divine, his tutor. These, unknown to each other, make assignations with the two bona robas by means of Petro, who dupes them thoroughly by his clever tricks, and pockets their money. Whilst Galliard and Sir Harry are serenading the ladies, Octavio, Julio and their bravos attack them. After the scuffle Laura Lucretia coming from her house leads in Julio, mistaking him for Galliard, and he her for Silvianetta. Next Sir Harry and Galliard arrive in safety at the sisters’ house, and Marcella, as a courtezan, tempts her lover, who, however, refuses to yield and leaves her, to her secret joy. Tickletext has been placed by Petro in bed to await, as he supposes, Silvianetta, when Galliard in error entering the room in the dark gropes his way to the bed and finding a man, closes with him. The tutor escapes, and Cornelia coming in in the course of her wooing by Galliard informs him she is not really a courtezan as he supposed. In anger her gallant departs. Whilst he is telling Sir Harry this tale Cornelia, dressed as a page, follows him and delivers Fillamour a challenge as from Marcella’s brother, Julio, summoning him to the Piazza di Spagna. Julio himself, newly come from Laura Lucretia, meeting Galliard relates to him how he passed the night with Silvianetta, which confirms the opinion the Englishman had already formed of her treachery and deceit. Laura Lucretia overhears and sends her maid to bring her Galliard; but whilst he is with her, Cornelia, who has jealously followed, feigning to be Julio’s page, gives the amorous dame a letter as from her betrothed. The trick fails, Cornelia is laughed at as a saucy lad, repulsed and obliged to retire. Sir Harry is then met by Marcella dressed as a man and calling herself Julio. Julio himself happens to be at the Piazza di Spagna and he interrupts the quarrel. Octavio and Morosini speedily join him, as Crapine has tracked the runaways to their lodging. All these hurry into the courtezans’ house, where they find Fillamour and Galliard. Mutual explanations follow. Octavio nobly renounces Marcella in favour of Fillamour who claims her hand, whilst Cornelia gives herself to Galliard in sober wedlock. Tickletext and Sir Signal are then discovered to be concealed in the room, and their mutual frailties exposed. It is promised that the money of which Petro has choused them shall be restored, and everything is forgiven, since “‘twas but one night’s intrigue, in which all were a little faulty.”

SOURCE.

The plot of _The Feign’d Curfezans_; or, _A Night’s Intrigue_ is wholly original. It is one of those bustling pieces, quick with complicated intrigue, of the Spanish _comedias de capa y espada_ school, which Mrs. Behn loved, and which none could present more happily or wittily than she. To quote the _Biographia Dramatics_, ‘the play contains a vast deal of business and intrigue; the contrivance of the two ladies to obtain their differently disposed lovers, both by the same means, viz. by assuming the characters of courtezans, being productive of great variety.’ Some incidents, indeed, recall _The Rover_; and the accident of Tickletext being discovered in bed by Galliard is similar to that when Carlo comes upon Fetherfool in the same circumstance, _Rover_ II, Act iv, iv. On the whole, however, _The Feign’d Curtezans_ is the better play, and may not unjustly claim to be, if not Mrs. Behn’s masterpiece (a title it disputes with _The Rover_, Part I, and _The Lucky Chance_), at least one of the very best and wittiest of her sparkling comedies.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

_The Feign’d Curtezans_; or, _A Night’s Intrigue_ was produced at the Duke’s Theatre, Dorset Garden, in 1679. The cast was a star one, and Downes remarks that it was ‘well acted’. but though favourably received it does not, for some unaccountable reason, seem to have met with the triumphant success it certainly deserved. It continued to be played from time to time, and there was a notable revival on 8 August, 1716, at Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Galliard was acted by J. Leigh; Sir Harry, Smith; Sir Signal, Bullock; Tickletext, Griffin; Pedro, Spiller; Julio, Bull jun. Cornelia, Mrs. Cross; Marcella, Mrs. Thurmond; Laura Lucretia, Mrs. Spiller. It was performed three times that season, but soon after disappears from the repertory.

TO MRS. ELLEN GUIN.

Madam,

’.is no wonder that hitherto I followed not the good example of the believing Poets, since less faith and zeal then you alone can inspire, had wanted power to have reduc’t me to the true worship: Your permission, _Madam_, has inlightened me, and I with shame look back on my past Ignorance, which suffered me not to pay an Adoration long since, where there was so very much due, yet even now though secure in my opinion, I make this Sacrifice with infinite fear and trembling, well knowing that so Excellent and perfect a Creature as your self differs only from the Divine powers in this; the Offerings made to you ought to be worthy of you, whilst they accept the will alone; and how Madam, would your Altars be loaded, if like heaven you gave permission to all that had a will and desire to approach ‘em who now at distance can only wish and admire, which all mankinde agree to do; as if Madam, you alone had the pattent from heaven to ingross all hearts and even those distant slaves whom you conquer with your fame, pay an equall tribute to those that have the blessing of being wounded by your Eyes, and boast the happiness of beholding you dayly; insomuch that succeeding ages who shall with joy survey your History shall Envy us who lived in this, and saw those charming wonders which they can only reade of, and whom we ought in charity to pity, since all the Pictures, pens or pencills can draw, will give ‘em but a faint Idea of what we have the honour to see in such absolute Perfection; they can only guess She was infinitely fair, witty, and deserving, but to what Vast degrees in all, they can only Judge who liv’d to Gaze and Listen; for besides Madam, all the Charms and attractions and powers of your Sex, you have Beauties peculiar to your self, an eternal sweetness, youth and ayr, which never dwelt in any face but yours, of which not one unimitable Grace could be ever borrow’d, or assumed, though with never so much industry, to adorn another, they cannot steal a look or smile from you to inhance their own beauties price, but all the world will know it yours; so natural and so fitted are all your Charms and Excellencies to one another, so intirely design’d and created to make up in you alone the most perfect lovely thing in the world; you never appear but you glad the hearts of all that have the happy fortune to see you, as if you were made on purpose to put the whole world into good Humour, whenever you look abroad, and when you speak, men crowd to listen with that awfull reverence as to Holy Oracles or Divine Prophesies, and bears away the precious words to tell at home to all the attentive family the Graceful things you utter’d and cry, _but oh she spoke with such an Ayr, so gay, that half the beauty’s lost in the repetition_. ‘Tis this that ought to make your Sex vain enough to despise the malicious world that will allow a woman no wit, and bless our selves for living in an Age that can produce so wondrous an argument as your undeniable self, to shame those boasting talkers who are Judges of nothing but faults.

But how much in vain Madam, I endeavour to tell you the sence of all mankinde with mine, since to the utmost Limits of the Universe your mighty Conquests are made known: And who can doubt the Power of that Illustrious Beauty, the Charms of that tongue, and the greatness of that minde, who has subdu’d the most powerfull and Glorious Monarch of the world: And so well you bear the honours you were born for, with a greatness so unaffected, an affability so easie, an Humour so soft, so far from Pride or Vanity, that the most Envious & most disaffected can finde no cause or reason to wish you less, Nor can Heaven give you more, who has exprest a particular care of you every way, and above all in bestowing on the world and you, two noble Branches, who have all the greatness and sweetness of their Royal and beautiful stock; and who give us too a hopeful Prospect of what their future Braveries will perform, when they shall shoot up and spread themselves to that degree, that all the lesser world may finde repose beneath their shades; and whom you have permitted to wear those glorious Titles which you your self Generously neglected, well knowing with the noble Poet; ‘tis better far to merit Titles then to wear ‘em.

Can you then blame my Ambition, Madam, that lays this at your feet, and begs a Sanctuary where all pay so great a Veneration? ‘twas Dedicated yours before it had a being, and overbusy to render it worthy of the Honour, made it less grateful; and Poetry like Lovers often fares the worse by taking too much pains to please; but under so Gracious an Influence my tender Lawrells may thrive, till they become fit Wreaths to offer to the Rays that improve their Growth: which Madam, I humbly implore, you still permit her ever to do, who is,

Madam, Your most Humble, and most Obedient Servant, _A. Behn_.

THE FEIGN’D CURTEZANS; or, A Night’s Intrigue.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by Mrs. _Currer_.

_The Devil take this cursed plotting Age, ’. has ruin’d all our Plots upon the Stage; Suspicions, New Elections, Jealousies, Fresh Informations, New Discoveries, Do so employ the busy fearful Town, Our honest Calling here is useless grown: Each Fool turns Politician now, and wears A formal Face, and talks of State-affairs; Makes Acts, Decrees, and a new Model draws For Regulation both of Church and Laws; Tires out his empty Noddle to invent What Rule and Method’s best in Government: But Wit, as if ‘twere Jesuitical, Is an Abomination to ye all. To what a wretched pass will poor Plays come? This must be damn’d, the Plot is laid in_ Rome; _’.is hard--yet-- Not one amongst ye all I’ll undertake, E’er thought that we should suffer for Religion’s sake: Who wou’d have thought that wou’d have been th’ occasion Of any contest in our hopeful Nation? For my own Principles, faith let me tell ye, I’m still of the Religion of my Cully; And till these dangerous times they’d none to fix on, But now are something in mere Contradiction, And piously pretend these are not days, For keeping Mistresses, and seeing Plays: Who says this Age a Reformation wants, When_ Betty Currer’s _Lovers all turns Saints? In vain, alas, I flatter, swear, and vow, You’ll scarce do any thing for Charity now: Yet I am handsom still, still young and mad, Can wheedle, lye, dissemble, jilt--egad, As well and artfully as e’er I did; Yet not one Conquest can I gain or hope, No Prentice, not a Foreman of a Shop, So that I want extremely new Supplies; Of my last Coxcomb, faith, these were the Prize; And by the tatter’d Ensigns you may know, These Spoils were of a Victory long ago: Who wou’d have thought such hellish Times to have seen, When I shou’d be neglected at Eighteen? That Youth and Beauty shou’d be quite undone, A Pox upon the Whore of_ Babylon.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

_ITALIANS_.

_Morosini_, an old Count, Uncle to _Julio_. Mr. _Norris_. _Julio_, his Nephew, a young Count, contracted to _Laura Lucretia_. Mr. _Crosby_. _Octavio_ a young Count, contracted to _Marcella_, deformed, revengeful. Mr. _Gillo_. _Crapine_, _Morosini’s_ Man. _Petro_, supposed Pimp to the two Curtezans. Mr. _Leigh_. _Silvio_, Page to _Laura Lucretia_. _Antonio_, an Attendant to _Laura Lucretia_. Page to _Julio_.

_ENGLISH_.

Sir _Harry Fillamour_, in love with _Marcella. Mr. _Smith_. Mr. _Galliard_, in love with _Cornelia_. Mr. _Betterton_. Sir _Signal Buffoon_, a Fool. Mr. _Nokes_. Mr. _Tickletext_, his Governour. Mr. _Underbill_. _Jack_, Sir _Signal’s_ Man. Page to _Fillamour_.

WOMEN.

Laura Lucretia_, a young Lady of Quality, contracted to _Julio_, in love with _Galliard_, and Sister to _Octavio_. Mrs. _Lee_. _Marcella_, Mrs. _Currer_. and _Cornelia_, Mrs. _Barry_. Sisters to _Julio_, and Nieces to _Morosini_, and pass for Curtezans by the names of _Euphemia_ and _Silvianetta_. _Philippa_, their Woman. Mrs. _Norris_. _Sabina_, Confident to _Laura Lucretia_. Mrs. _Seymour_.

Pages, Musick, Footmen, and Bravos.

SCENE, _Rome_.