Chapter 78

_Enter_ Scaramouch _groping_.

_Scar_. So, I have got rid of my Rival, and shall here get an Opportunity to speak with _Mopsophil_; for hither she must come anon, to lay the young Lady’s Night-things in order; I’ll hide my self in some Corner till she come. [_Goes on to the further side of the Stage_.

_Enter_ Harlequin _groping_.

_Har_. So, I made my Rival believe I was gone, and hid my self till I got this Opportunity to steal to _Mopsophil’s_ Apartment, which must be hereabouts; for from these Windows she us’d to entertain my Love. [_Advances_.

_Scar_. Ha, I hear a soft Tread,--if it were _Mopsophil’s_, she wou’d not come by dark.

[Harlequin _advancing runs against a Table, and almost strikes himself backwards_.

_Har_. What was that?--a Table, there I may obscure my self. [_Groping for the Table_. What a Devil, is it vanish’d?

_Scar_. Devil,--vanish’d! What can this mean? ‘Tis a Man’s Voice.--If it should be my Master the Doctor now, I were a dead Man;--he can’t see me; and I’ll put my self into such a Posture, that if he feel me, he shall as soon take me for a Church Spout as a Man.

[_He puts himself into a Posture ridiculous, his Arms a-kimbo, his Knees wide open, his Backside almost touching the Ground, his Mouth stretched wide, and Eyes staring_. Har. _groping thrusts his Hand into his Mouth, he bites him, the other dares not cry out_.

_Har_. Ha, what’s this? all Mouth, with twenty rows of Teeth.--Now dare not I cry out, lest the Doctor shou’d come, find me here, and kill me--I’ll try if it be mortal.

[_Making damnable Faces and signs of Pain, he draws a Dagger_. Scar. _feels the Point of it, and shrinks back, letting go his Hand_.

_Scar_. Who the Devil can this be? I felt a Poniard, and am glad I sav’d my Skin from pinking. [_Steals out_.

[Harlequin _groping about, finds the Table, on which there is a Carpet, and creeps under it, listening_.

_Enter_ Bellemante, _with a Candle in one Hand, and a Book in the other_.

_Bell_. I am in a _Belle_ Humor for Poetry to-night; I’ll make some Boremes on Love. [_She writes and studies_. _Out of a great Curiosity,--A Shepherd did demand of me_.-- No, no,--_A Shepherd this implor’d of me_. [_Scratches out, and writes a-new_. Ay, ay, so it shall go.--_Tell me, said he, can you resign?-- Resign_, ay, what shall rhyme to _Resign?--Tell me, said he_.-- [_She lays down the Tablets, and walks about_.

[Harlequin _peeps from under the Table, takes the Book, writes in it, and lays it up before she can turn_.

[_Reads_.] Ay, ay, so it shall be,--_Tell me, said he, my_ Bellemante; _Will you be kind to your_ Charmante? [_Reads those two lines, and is amaz’d_. Ha, Heav’ns! What’s this? I am amaz’d! --And yet I’ll venture once more. [_Writes and studies_. --_I blushed and veil’d my wishing Eyes_. [_Lays down the Book, and walks as before_. --_Wishing Eyes_! [Har. _writes as before_. [_She turns and takes the Tablet_. --_And answer’d only with my Sighs_. Ha! What is this? Witchcraft, or some Divinity of Love? Some Cupid sure invisible. Once more I’ll try the Charm. [_Writes_. --Cou’d I a better way my Love impart? [_Studies and walks_. --_Impart_-- [_He writes as before_. --_And without speaking, tell him all my Heart_. --’Tis here again, but where’s the Hand that writ it? [_Looks about_. --The little Deity that will be seen But only in his Miracles. It cannot be a Devil, For here’s no Sin nor Mischief in all this.

_Enter_ Charmante. _She hides the Tablet, he steps to her, and snatches it from her and reads_.

_Char_. reads.

_Out of a great Curiosity, A Shepherd this implor’d of me. Tell me, said he, my_ Bellemante, _Will you be kind to your_ Charmante? _I blush’d, and veil’d my wishing Eyes, And answer’d only with my Sighs. Cou’d I a better way my Love impart? And without speaking, tell him all my Heart_.

_Char_. Whose is this different Character? [_Looks angry_.

_Bell_. ‘Tis yours for ought I know.

_Char_. Away, my Name was put here for a blind. What Rhiming Fop have you been clubbing Wit withal?

_Bell_. Ah! _mon Dieu!--Charmante_ jealous?

_Char_. Have I not cause?--Who writ these Boremes?

_Bell_. Some kind assisting Deity, for ought I know.

_Char_. Some kind assisting Coxcomb, that I know. The Ink’s yet wet, the Spark is near I find.--

_Bell_. Ah, _Malheureuse_! How was I mistaken in this Man?

_Char_. Mistaken! What, did you take me for an easy Fool to be impos’d upon?--One that wou’d be cuckolded by every feather’d Fool; that you’d call a _Beau un Gallant Homme_. ‘Sdeath! Who wou’d doat upon a fond She-Fop?--a vain conceited amorous Coquette. [_Goes out, she pulls him back_.

_Enter_ Scaramouch _running_.

_Sea_. Oh Madam! hide your Lover, or we are all undone.

_Char_. I will not hide, till I know the thing that made the Verses. [_The Doctor calling as on the Stairs_.

_Doct. Bellemante_, Niece,--_Bellemante_.

_Scar_. She’s coming, Sir.--Where, where shall I hide him? --Oh, the Closet’s open! [_Thrusts him into the Closet by force_.

_Enter_ Doctor.

_Doct_. Oh Niece! Ill Luck, Ill Luck, I must leave you to night; my Brother the Advocate is sick, and has sent for me; ‘tis three long Leagues, and dark as ‘tis, I must go.--They say he is dying. Here, take my Keys, [_Pulls out his Keys, one falls down_. and go into my Study, and look over all my Papers, and bring me all those mark’d with a Cross and figure of Three, they concern my Brother and I.

[_She looks on_ Scaramouch, _and makes pitiful Signs, and goes out_.

--Come, _Scaramouch_, and get me ready for my Journey; and on your Life, let not a Door be open’d till my Return.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ Mopsophil. Har. _peeps from under the Table_.

_Har_. Ha! _Mopsophil_, and alone!

_Mop_. Well, ‘tis a delicious thing to be rich; what a world of Lovers it invites: I have one for every Hand, and the Favorite for my Lips.

_Har_. Ay, him wou’d I be glad to know. [_Peeping_.

_Mop_. But of all my Lovers, I am for the Farmer’s Son, because he keeps a Calash--and I’ll swear a Coach is the most agreeable thing about a Man.

_Har_. Ho, ho!

_Mop_. Ah, me,--What’s that?

[_He answers in a shrill Voice_.

_Har_. The Ghost of a poor Lover, dwindled into a Heyho.

[_He rises from under the Table, and falls at her Feet_. Scaramouch _enters. She runs off squeaking_.

_Scar_. Ha, My Rival and my Mistress!--Is this done like a Man of Honour, Monsieur _Harlequin_, to take advantages to injure me? [_Draws_.

_Har_. Advantages are lawful in Love and War.

_Scar_. ‘Twas contrary to our League and Covenant; therefore I defy thee as a Traytor.

_Har_. I scorn to fight with thee, because I once call’d thee Brother.

_Scar_. Then thou art a Poltroon, that’s to say, a Coward.

_Har_. Coward! nay, then I am provok’d, come on.

_Scar_. Pardon me, Sir, I gave the Coward, and you ought to strike.

[_They go to fight ridiculously, and ever as_ Scaramouch _passes_, Harlequin _leaps aside, and skips so nimbly about, he cannot touch him for his Life; which after a while endeavouring in vain, he lays down his Sword_.

--If you be for dancing, Sir, I have my Weapons for all occasions.

[Scar. _pulls out a Flute Doux, and falls to playing_. Har. _throws down his, and falls a dancing; after the Dance, they shake hands_.

_Har_. _Ha mon bon ami_.--Is not this better than duelling?

_Scar_. But not altogether so heroick, Sir. Well, for the future, let us have fair play; no Tricks to undermine each other, but which of us is chosen to be the happy Man, the other shall be content.

_Ela_. [_Within_.] Cousin _Bellemante_, Cousin.

_Scar_. ‘Slife, let’s be gone, lest we be seen in the Ladies Apartment.

[Scar. _slips_ Harlequin _behind the Door_.

_Enter_ Elaria.

_Ela_. How now, how came you here?--

_Scar_. [_Signs to_ Har. _to go out_.] I came to tell you, Madam, my Master’s just taking Mule to go his Journey to Night, and that Don _Cinthio_ is in the Street, for a lucky moment to enter in.

_Ela_. But what if any one by my Father’s Order, or he himself should by some chance surprize us?

_Scar_. If we be, I have taken order against a Discovery. I’ll go see if the old Gentleman be gone, and return with your Lover. [_Goes out_.

_Ela_. I tremble, but know not whether ‘tis with Fear or Joy.

_Enter_ Cinthio.

_Cin_. My dear _Elaria_-- [_Runs to imbrace her, She starts from him_. --Ha,--shun my Arms, _Elaria_!

_Ela_. Heavens! Why did you come so soon?

_Cin_. Is it too soon, whene’er ‘tis safe, _Elaria_?

_Ela_. I die with Fear--Met you not _Scaramouch_? He went to bid you wait a while; what shall I do?

_Cin_. Why this Concern? none of the House has seen me. I saw your Father taking Horse.

_Ela_. Sure you mistake, methinks I hear his Voice.

_Doct_. [_Below_.]--My Key--The Key of my Laboratory. Why, Knave _Scaramouch_, where are you?

_Ela_. Do you hear that, Sir?--Oh, I’m undone! Where shall I hide you?--He approaches. [_She searches where to hide him_. Ha! my Cousin’s Closet’s open,--step in a little. [_He goes in, she puts out the Candle_.

_Enter the_ Doctor. _She gets round the Chamber to the Door, and as he advances in, she steals out_.

_Doct_. Here I must have dropt it; a Light, a Light there.

_Enter_ Cinthio, _from the Closet, pulls_ Charmante _out, they not knowing each other_.

_Cin_. Oh, this perfidious Woman! No marvel she was so surpriz’d and angry at my Approach to Night.

_Cha_. Who can this be?--but I’ll be prepar’d. [_Lays his Hand on his Sword_.

_Doct_. Why, _Scaramouch_, Knave, a Light! [_Turns to the Door to call_.

_Enter_ Scaramouch _with a Light, and seeing the two Lovers there, runs against his Master, puts out the Candle, and flings him down and falls over him. At the entrance of the Candle_, Charmante _slipt from_ Cinthio _into the Closet_. Cinthio _gropes to find him; when_ Mopsophil _and_ Elaria, _hearing a great Noise, enter with a Light_. Cinthio _finding he was discovered falls to acting a Mad-man, _Scaramouch _helps up the Doctor, and bows_.

Ha,--a Man,--and in my House,--Oh dire Misfortune! --Who are you, Sir?

_Cin_. Men call me _Gog Magog_, the Spirit of Power; My Right-hand Riches holds, my Left-hand Honour. Is there a City Wife wou’d be a Lady?--Bring her to me, Her easy Cuckold shall be dubb’d a Knight.

_Ela_. Oh Heavens! a Mad-man, Sir.

_Cin_. Is there a tawdry Fop wou’d have a Title? A rich Mechanick that wou’d be an Alderman? Bring ‘em to me, And I’ll convert that Coxcomb, and that Blockhead, into Your Honour and Right-Worshipful.

_Doct_. Mad, stark mad! Why, Sirrah, Rogue--_Scaramouch_ --How got this Mad-man in?

[_While the_ Doctor _turns to_ Scaramouch, Cinthio _speaks softly to_ Elaria.

_Cin_. Oh, thou perfidious Maid! Who hast thou hid in yonder conscious Closet? [_Aside to her_.

_Scar_. Why, Sir, he was brought in a Chair for your Advice; but how he rambled from the Parlour to this Chamber, I know not.

_Cin_. Upon a winged Horse, ycleped _Pegasus_, Swift as the fiery Racers of the Sun,--I fly--I fly--See how I mount, and cut the liquid Sky. [_Runs out_.

_Doct_. Alas, poor Gentleman, he’s past all Cure.--But, Sirrah, for the future, take you care that no young mad Patients be brought into my House.

_Scar_. I shall, Sir,--and see,--here’s your Key you look’d for.

_Doct_. That’s well; I must be gone--Bar up the Doors, and upon Life or Death let no man enter. [_Exit_ Doctor, _and all with him, with the Light_.

Charmante _peeps out--and by degrees comes all out, listning every step_.

_Char_. Who the Devil cou’d that be that pull’d me from the Closet? but at last I’m free, and the Doctor’s gone; I’ll to _Cinthio_, and bring him to pass this Night with our Mistresses. [_Exit_.

_As he is gone off, enter_ Cinthio _groping_.

_Cin_. Now for this lucky Rival, if his Stars will make this last part of his Adventure such. I hid my self in the next Chamber, till I heard the Doctor go, only to return to be reveng’d. [_He gropes his way into the Closet, with his Sword drawn_.

_Enter_ Elaria _with a Light_.

_Ela_. _Scaramouch_ tells me _Charmante_ is conceal’d in the Closet, whom _Cinthio_ surely has mistaken for some Lover of mine, and is jealous; but I’ll send _Charmante_ after him, to make my peace and undeceive him. [_Goes to the Door_. --Sir, Sir, where are you? they are all gone, you may adventure out. [Cinthio _comes out_. Ha,--_Cinthio_ here?

_Cin_. Yes, Madam, to your shame: Now your Perfidiousness is plain, false Woman, ’.is well your Lover had the dexterity of escaping, I’ad spoil’d his making Love else. [_Goes from her, she holds him_.

_Ela_. Prithee hear me.

_Cin_. But since my Ignorance of his Person saves his Life, live and possess him, till I can discover him. [_Goes out_.

_Ela_. Go, peevish Fool-- Whose Jealousy believes me given to change, Let thy own Torments be my just Revenge.

[_Exit_.

_The End of the First Act_.