Chapter 39

Enter _Curtius_ and _Pietro_, disguis’d as before.

_Cur._ I wonder we hear no news yet of the Prince, I hope he’ll come; _Pietro_, be the Bravoes ready, And the Curtezans?

_Piet._ My Lord, they’ll be here immediately, all well dress’d too.

_Cur._ They be those Bravoes that belong to me?

_Piet._ Yes, Sir, the same; But _Antonio_ is their Patron.

_Cur._ They be stout and secret; ‘tis well, Is the Music and all things ready? For I’ll not be seen till my Part is to be play’d. What Arms have they?

_Piet._ Pistols, Sir, would you have other?

_Cur._ No, I have not yet consider’d how to kill him, Nor scarce resolv’d to do so any way. What makes this strange Irresolution in me? --Sure ‘tis the force of sacred Amity, Which but too strictly was observ’d by me. --My Prince, and Friend, my Wife, and Sister too; Shall not those last, the powerful first out-do? My Honour, and my Love, are there ingag’d, And here, by ties of Duty, I’m oblig’d: I satisfy but these, if he must bleed; But ruin the whole Dukedom in the Deed, The hopeful Heir of all their noble Spoils, And Joy and Recompence of all their Toils. --Why, so was _Cloris_, _Laura_ too, to me, Which both were ravish’d from me, Prince, by thee. [Knocks within.

_Piet._ Sir, they be the Bravoes and Curtezans. [_Pietro_ goes out.

_Cur._ ‘Tis well, I need not talk with them, They understand their work.

_Piet._ They do, my Lord, and shall be ready at your stamp; They are all _Neapolitans_, you know, Sir.

_Cur._ Are they the better for that?

_Piet._ Much, Sir, a _Venetian_ will turn to your Enemy, If he will give him but a Souse more than you have done; And your _Millanoise_ are fit for nothing but to Rob the Post or Carrier; a _Genovese_ too Will sooner kill by Usury than Sword or Pistol; A _Roman_ fit for nothing but a Spy.

_Cur._ Well, Sir, you are pleasant with my Countrymen.

_Piet._ I’ll be so with my own too, Sir; and tell you, That a _Maltan_, who pretends to so much Honour And Gravity, are fit only to rob their Neighbours With pretence of Piety, --And a _Cicilian_ so taken up with Plots, How to kill his Vice-Roy, that it keeps them From being Rogues to a less degree. But I have done, Sir, and beg your pardon.

_Cur._ Didst leave the Letter, I commanded thee, For _Laura_?

_Piet._ I did, my Lord.

Enter _Lorenzo_.

_Lor._ Well, here’s the Prince just coming.

_Cor._ Pray, Sir, conduct him in, I’m ready for him.

[Ex. _Cur._ and _Piet._

Enter the Prince, conducted by two Women in Masquerade, with Lights, he endeavouring to take off their Masks. [Ex. two Women. [He walks about while this Song is singing.

_What is the recompence of War, But soft and wanton Peace? What the best Balsam to our Scars, But that which _Venus_ gave to _Mars_, When he was circled in a kind Embrace?_

_Behold a Prince, who never yet Was vanquished in the Field; Awhile his Glories must forget, And lay his Laurels at the feet Of some fair Female Power, to whom he’ll yield._

_Fred._ What’s this the Preparation?

_Lor._ Yes, so it should seem; but had you met With so many defeats as I have done to night, You would willingly excuse this Ceremony.

Musick for the Dance.

Enter _Antonio_ with _Ismena_, _Alberto_ with _Clarina_, _Laura_ and _Cloris_ with two Men more, and all dress’d in Masquerade, with Vizards; they dance. The Prince sets down: the Dance being done, they retire to one side; and _Alberto_ comes and presents him _Clarina_, and bows and retires; who puts off her Mask, and puts it on again, and retires.

_Fred._ She’s wondrous fair; Sure in his whole Cabal he cannot show a fairer--

_Lor._ She resembles _Clarina_; I wish your Highness Would see further, and then perhaps this would Fall to my lot, for I love her for likeness sake. [_Antonio_ presents _Ismena_, and retires as the other.

_Fred._ This I confess out-does the others; An Innocency dwells upon her Face, That’s strangely taking, is it not, _Lorenzo_?

_Lor._ To say truth, she is very fine indeed. [They present _Laura_.

_Fred._ Hah! I am amaz’d; see, _Lorenzo_, Dost thou not know that Face?

_Lor._ O’ my Conscience and Soul, ‘tis my own Sister _Laura_; Why, how now, Mistress, Do things go thus with you, i’faith? [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him.

_Ant._ Sir, she understands you not.

_Lor._ Is it not _Laura_ then?

_Ant._ No, Sir, it is a Stranger.

_Fred._ Let her be what she will, I’ll have her. [_Fred._ seems to talk, when she answers in Grimaces.

_Lor._ There have been Examples in the World Of the good Offices done by a Brother to a Sister; But they are very rare here, And therefore will surely be the more acceptable. Well, Sir, have you fix’d, that I may chuse?

_Fred._ I have, and had he thousands more, [_Lor._ goes to _Clar._ I would refuse them all for this fair Creature.

Enter _Pietro_.

_Piet._ Sir, all things are ready as you desire, But my Master must first speak with you alone.

_Fred._ About the Price, I’ll warrant you; Let him come in: [All go out but _Fred_, to him _Cur._ --Are you the Master of the Ceremony?

_Cur._ I am.

_Fred._ Be speedy then, and by my Impatiency To be with that agreeable Stranger, Guess at my Approbation of the Ladies, and which I chuse.

_Cur._ Your mighty Heat, Sir, will be soon allay’d.

_Fred._ Shall it?

_Cur._ Yes, Sir, it shall, for you must die.

_Fred._ Sure thou art mad to tell me so, whoe’er thou be’st, Whilst I have this about me. [Draws.

_Cur._ That, Sir, you draw in vain; stand off-- [Offers a Pistol.

_Fred._ What new conceited Preparation’s this?

_Cur._ Sir, when you know this Face, it will inform you. [Pulls off his false Beard.

_Fred._ _Curtius_! I am betray’d, oh Villain! [Offers to fight.

_Cur._ Ho, within there-- [He calls, and all the masked Men come out, and offer their Pistols at _Frederick_.

_Fred._ Hold, I am the Prince of _Florence_.

_Cur._ These, Sir, are Rogues, and have no sense of ought, But Mischief in their Souls; Gold is their Prince and God,--go, be gone-- [They withdraw. --See, Sir, I can command them.

_Fred._ _Curtius_, why dost thou deal thus treacherously with me? Did I not offer thee to fight thee fairly?

_Cur._ ‘Tis like the Injuries, Sir, that you have done me; Pardon me if my Griefs make me too rude, And in coarse terms lay all your Sins before you. --First, Sir, you have debauch’d my lovely Sister, The only one I had; The Hope and Care of all our noble Family: Thou, Prince, didst ravish all her Virtue from her, And left her nothing but a desperate sense of Shame, Which only serv’d to do her self that Justice, Which I had executed, had she not prevented me.

_Fred._ In this, upon my Soul, you do me wrong.

_Cur._ Next, (Oh, how unlike a brave and generous Man!) Without a Cause, you cast me from your Bosom; Withdrew the Honour of your promis’d Friendship, And made me partner in my Sister’s Fate; Only with this difference, that she You left to act a Murder on her self; And mine you would have been so kind to’ve done With your own hand, but my respect prevented it. --Next, Sir, you ravish’d _Laura_ from me, And under a pretence of sacred Friendship, You prov’d your self the worst of Enemies; And that’s a Crime you dare not say was Ignorance, As you perhaps will plead your Sin to _Cloris_ was.

_Fred._ _Cloris_, why, what hast thou to do with _Cloris_?

_Cur._ She was my Sister, _Frederick_.

_Fred._ Thy Sister!

_Cur._ Yes, think of it well, A Lady of as pure and noble Blood, As that of the great Duke thy Father, Till you, bad Man, infected it. --Say, should I murder you for this base Action, Would you not call it a true Sacrifice? And would not Heaven and Earth forgive it too?

_Fred._ No, had I known that she had been thy Sister, I had receiv’d her as a Gift from Heaven; And so I would do still.

_Cur._ She must be sent indeed from Heaven, If you receive her now.

_Fred._ Is _Cloris_ dead? Oh, how I was to blame! [Weeps. --Here thou mayst finish now the Life thou threaten’st.

_Cur._ Now, Sir, you know my Justice and my Power; Yet since my Prince can shed a Tear for _Cloris_, I can forgive him; here, Sir,--send me to _Cloris_, [Kneels, and offers his Sword. That Mercy possibly will redeem the rest Of all the Wrongs you’ve done me; And you shall find nothing but Sorrow here, And a poor broken Heart that did adore you.

_Fred._ Rise, _Curtius_, and divide my Dukedom with me; Do any thing that may preserve thy Life, And gain my Pardon; alas, thy Honour’s safe, Since yet none knows that _Cloris_ was thy Sister, Or if they do, I must proclaim this truth; She dy’d thy Prince’s Wife.

_Cur._ These Tidings would be welcome to my Sister, And I the fitting’st Man to bear that News.

[Offers to stab himself; is held by _Frederick_, _Laura_, and _Cloris_, who come in with _Isabella_, dress’d like _Philibert_, and the rest.

_Lau._ Stay, _Curtius_, and take me with thee in the way.

_Cur._ _Laura_, my dearest _Laura_! how came you hither?

_Lau._ Commanded by your Letter; have you forgot it?

_Fred._ _Curtius_, look here, is this not _Cloris’. Face?

_Cur._ The same; Oh my sweet Sister, is it thee? [_Curtius_ goes to embrace her, she goes back.

_Fred._ Do not be shy, my Soul, it is thy Brother.

_Cur._ Yes, a Brother who despis’d his Life, When he believ’d yours lost or sham’d: But now the Prince will take a care of it.

_Clo._ May I believe my Soul so truly bless’d?

_Fred._ Yes, _Cloris_, and thus low I beg thy pardon [Kneels. For all the Fears that I have made thee suffer.

Enter all the rest, first _Antonio_ and _Alberto_, without their Vizors.

_Clo._ Rise, Sir, it is my Duty and my Glory.

_Alb._ Sir, we have Pardons too to beg of you.

_Fred._ _Antonio_ and _Alberto_, what, turn’d Bravoes?

_Cur._ I am amaz’d.

_Ant._ You’ll cease your Wonder, Sir, when you shall know, --Those Braves which formerly belong’d to you, Are now maintain’d by me; which _Pietro_ hir’d For this night’s service; and from them we learnt What was to be done, (though not on whom) But that we guess’d, and thought it but our duty To put this Cheat on _Curtius_; Which had we seen had been resolv’d to kill you, Had been by us prevented: The Ladies too would needs be Curtezans To serve your Highness.

_Fred._ I’m much oblig’d to them, as you. --_Cloris_, a while I’ll leave thee with thy Brother, Till I have reconcil’d thee to my Father: To marry me, is what he long has wish’d for, And will, I know, receive this News with Joy. [Exit Prince.

_Lor._ Here’s fine doings; what am I like to come to if he Turn honest now? This is the worst piece of Inconstancy He ever was guilty of; to change ones Humour, or so, Sometimes, is nothing: but to change Nature, To turn good on a sudden, and never give a Man Civil warning, is a Defeat not be endur’d; I’ll see the end on’t though. [Goes out.

_Alb._ Here, _Antonio_--imagine how I love thee, Who make thee such a Present. [Gives him _Clarina_, who is dressed just as _Ismena_ was, and _Ismena_ in a Masquing Habit.

_Ant._ _Clarina_, can you pardon my Offence, And bless me with that Love, You have but justly taken from me?

_Clar._ You wrong me, Sir, I ne’er withdrew my Heart, Though you, but too unkindly, did your Confidence.

_Ant._ Do not upbraid me; that I was so to blame, Is shame enough: pray pardon, and forget it.

_Clar._ I do.

_Ant._ _Alberto_, to shew my Gratitude in what I may, I beg you would receive _Ismena_ from me.

_Alb._ Who’s this?

_Ant._ Ismena, whom I promis’d thee.

_Alb._ It is _Clarina_; do you mock my Pain? [Shows _Ismena_.

_Ant._ By Heaven, not I; this is _Clarina_, Sir.

_Alb._ That thy Wife _Clarina!_ A Beauty which till now I never saw.

_Ant._ Sure thou art mad, didst thou not give her me but now, And hast not entertain’d her all this night?

_Alb._ Her Habit and her Vizard did deceive me; I took her for this lady,--Oh bless’d Mistake!

_Ism._ I see you’re in the dark, but I’ll unfold the Riddle, --Sir, in the Passage from the Monastery, Attended only by my Confessor, A Gentleman, a Passenger, in the same Boat, Address’d himself to me; And made a many little Courtships to me: I being veil’d, he knew not who receiv’d them, Nor what Confusion they begot in me. At the first sight, I grew to great esteems of him, But when I heard him speak-- I’m not asham’d to say he was my Conqueror.

_Alb._ Oh, Madam, was it you? Who by your Conversation in that Voyage, Gave me Disquiets, Which nothing but your Eyes could reconcile again?

_Ism._ ‘Twas I whom you deceiv’d with some such Language. --After my coming home I grew more melancholy, And by my silence did increase my Pain; And soon _Clarina_ found I was a Lover, Which I confess’d at last, and nam’d the Object. She told me of your Friendship with _Antonio_, And gave me hopes that I again should see you: --But _Isabella_ over-heard the Plot, Which, Sir, _Antonio_ did contrive with you, To make a feigned Courtship to _Clarina_, And told us all the story.

_Alb._ Oh, how I’m ravish’d with my Happiness!

_Ism._ _Clarina_, Sir, at first was much inrag’d, And vow’d she would revenge her on _Antonio_; But I besought her to be pleas’d again, And said I would contrive a Counter-Plot, Should satisfy her Honour and Revenge. Thus, Sir, I got a Garment like to hers; And to be courted, though but in jest, by you, I run all hazards of my Brother’s Anger, And your opinion of my Lightness too.

_Clar._ ‘Twas a Temptation, Sir, I would not venture on, Lest from the reasons of a just Revenge, And so much Beauty as _Alberto_ own’d, My Virtue should not well secure your Interest.

_Ant._ But why, _Ismena_, was that killing Plot, When I was hid behind the Arras? for now I confess all.

_Ism._ To make _Alberto_ confident of my Love, And try his Friendship to the utmost point. --_Alberto_ too I found had some reserves, Which I believ’d his Amity to you.

_Alb._ Yes, Madam, whilst I took you for his Wife, I thought it crime enough but to adore you; But now I may with honour own my Passion: I will, _Ismena_, confidently assure you, That I will die, unless you pity me.

_Ism._ She that durst tell you, Sir, how much she lov’d, When you believ’d it was a Sin to do so, Will now make good that Promise with _Antonio’s_ leave.

_Ant._ With perfect Joy, _Ismena_, I resign thee, [_Ant._ gives him _Ism._

_Alb._ By double Ties you now unite our Souls; Though I can hardly credit what I see, The Happiness so newly is arriv’d. [To _Ant._

Enter _Prince_, _Lorenzo_, and _Guilliam_, who comes up scraping to _Cloris_.

_Fred._ My Father is the kindest Man on Earth, And _Cloris_ shall be welcome to his Bosom; Who’ll make him happy in my Reformation. --Here, _Curtius_, take _Laura_, who, I find, Had rather be my Sister than my Mistress: The Duke commands it so.

_Cur._ Till you have pardon’d me my late Offences, I must deny myself so great a Happiness. [_Cur._ kneels.

_Fred._ Rise, you have it.

Enter _Salvator_.

_Sal._ Is here not a Runegado belongs to me?

_Lau._ No, Sir, my Faith’s entire, And _Curtius_ has the keeping of it.

_Sal._ Who made him Master of it, hau?

_Lau._ Heaven, my Inclinations and the Prince.

_Sal._ Three powerful Opposers; Take her, since it must be so, And mayst thou be happy with her.

_Fred._ _Alberto_, would this Court afforded A Lady worthy thee.

_Alb._ Sir, I’m already sped, I humbly thank you.

_Lor._ Sped, quoth ye? Heaven defend Me from such Fortune.

_Fred._ _Lorenzo_, I had forgot thee; thou shalt e’en marry too.

_Lor._ You may command me any thing but marrying.

_Isab._ What think you then of a smooth-fac’d Boy?

_Lor._ A Pox on him, sure he will not tell now, will he?

_Isab._ My Lord, I beg your leave to challenge _Lorenzo_.

_Fred._ What, to a Duel, _Philibert_?

_Lor._ _Phil._ _Phil._ hold, do not ruin the Reputation Of a Man that has acquir’d Fame amongst the female Sex; I protest I did but jest.

_Isab._ But, Sir, I’m in earnest with you.

_Fred._ This is not _Philibert_.

_Isab._ No, Sir, but _Isabella_--that was _Philibert_. [Pointing to _Cloris_.

_Clo._ Yes, Sir, I was the happy Boy to be belov’d, When _Cloris_ was forgotten.

_Fred._ Oh, how you raise my Love and Shame! But why did _Isabella_ change her Habit?

_Clo._ Only to take my place, lest you should miss me, Who being with _Laura_, at the Lodgings of _Clarina_, And comparing the Words of her Letter With what the Bravoes had confess’d to _Antonio_, We found the Plot which was laid for you, And join’d all to prevent it.

_Fred._ ‘Twas sure the work of Heaven.

_Isab._ And now, Sir, I come to claim a Husband here.

_Fred._ Name him, and take him.

_Isab._ _Lorenzo_, Sir.

_Lor._ Of all Cheats, commend me to a Waiting-Gentlewoman; I her Husband?

_Ant._ I am a Witness to that Truth.

_Fred._ ‘Tis plain against you; come, you must be honest.

_Lor._ Will you compel me to’t against my will? Oh Tyranny, consider, I am a Man of Quality and Fortune.

_Isab._ As for my Qualities, you know I have sufficient, And Fortune, thanks to your Bounty, considerable too.

_Fred._ No matter, he has enough for both.

_Lor._ Nay, Sir, an you be against me, ‘Tis time to reform in my own defence; But ‘tis a thing I never consider’d, or thought on.

_Fred._ Marry first, and consider afterwards.

_Lor._ That’s the usual way, I confess; Come, _Isabella_, since the Prince commands it, I do not love thee, but yet I’ll not forswear it; Since a greater Miracle than that is wrought, And that’s my marrying thee; Well, ‘tis well thou art none of the most beautiful, I should swear the Prince had some designs on thee else.

_Clo._ Yes, _Guilliam_, since thou hast been so faithful, I dare assure thee _Lucia_ shall be thine. [_Clo._ speaks aside to _Guil._ _Guil._ bows.

_Fred._ Come, my fair _Cloris_, and invest thy self In all the Glories which I lately promis’d: --And, Ladies, you’ll attend her to the Court, And share the Welcomes which the Duke provides her; Where all the Sallies of my flattering Youth Shall be no more remember’d, but as past. Since ‘tis a Race that must by Man be run, I’m happy in my Youth it was begun; It serves my future Manhood to improve, Which shall be sacrific’d to War and Love.

_Curtain Falls._

EPILOGUE,

Spoken by _Cloris_.

Ladies, the Prince was kind at last, But all the Danger is not past; I cannot happy be till you approve My hasty condescension to his Love. ‘Twas want of Art, not Virtue, was my Crime; And that’s, I vow, the Author’s Fault, not mine. She might have made the Women pitiless, But that had harder been to me than this: She might have made our Lovers constant too, A Work which Heaven it self can scarcely do; But simple Nature never taught the way To hide those Passions which she must obey. E’en humble Cottages and Cells, Where Innocence and Virtue dwells, Than Courts no more secure can be From Love and dangerous Flattery. Love in rural Triumph reigns, As much a God amongst the Swains, As if the Sacrifices paid Were wounded Hearts by Monarchs made: And this might well excuse th’ Offence, If it be so to love a Prince. But, Ladies, ‘tis your Hands alone, And not his Power, can raise me to a Throne; Without that Aid I cannot reign, But will return back to my Flocks again.

_Guilliam_ advances.

_Guil._ How, go from Court! nay, zay not zo. Hear me but speak before you go: Whoy zay the Leadies should refuse ye, The Bleads I’m sure would better use ye-- So long as ye are kind and young, I know they’ll clap ye right or wrong.

* * * * * * * * *

NOTES: The Amorous Prince

NOTES ON THE TEXT.

+Dramatis Personæ+

p. 123 _Dramatis Personæ._ I have added to the list ‘_Salvator_, Father to _Lorenzo_ and _Laura_.’ ‘Ismena’ is spelled ‘Ismenia’ throughout by 1724.

+ACT I: Scene i+

p. 124, l. 10 _Should those._ 4to 1671 reads ‘Dwell’st perceive us’ as a separate line. Throughout the play, except in lines as this specially noted, I carefully follow the metrical division of 4to 1671. 1724 prints many speeches and whole scenes as prose which the quarto gives as verse. It is noticeable that the edition of 1711 follows the quarto.

p. 125, l. 17 _Bays._ 1724 ‘Bay’.

+ACT I: Scene ii+

p. 127, l. 31 _Exit Pietro._ 1724 ‘Exit.’ which would tend to a confusion here.

p. 131, l. 1 _Thinking._ 4to 1671 ends this line at ‘Life’ and makes ‘Might ... Virtue’ a second line.

+ACT I: Scene iii+

p. 133, l. 15 _accompted._ 1724 ‘accounted’.

p. 134, l. 34 _a my._ 1724 ‘on my’.

p. 137, l. 15 _They retire._ 4to 1671 ‘Exeunt.’

+ACT I: Scene iv+

p. 137, l. 16 _Scene IV. The Same._ All previous editions ‘Scene IV.’

p. 140, l. 28 _fixt._ 1724 ‘fit’.

p. 141, l. 2 _me alone._ 1724 ‘me all alone’.

p. 141, l. 28 _Ism. I can._ 1724 wrongly gives this speech to Isabella.

p. 144, l. 4 _if there need an Oath between us--_ 1724 ‘is there need of Oaths between us?’

+ACT II: Scene i+

p. 144, l. 15 _Gal. My Lord._ All previous editions give Galliard’s lines with speech-prefix ‘Ser.’

p. 145, l. 30 _An._ 4to 1671 ‘And’.

p. 146, l. 30 _Exit._ I have supplied this stage direction.

+ACT II: Scene ii+

p. 146, l. 31 _Antonio’s House._ I have added the locale.

p. 147, l. 10 _hurt ones._ 4to 1671 ‘hurts one’. 1724 ‘hurt one’.

p. 147, l. 16 _Cure._ 1724 ‘spare’.

+ACT II: Scene iii+

p. 152, l. 18 _The Street._ I have supplied this locale.

p. 152, l. 32 _being retir’d._ 1724 ‘retires’.

p. 154, l. 34 _Pag._ All previous editions here give speech-prefix ‘Boy’. The alteration from ‘Page’ to ‘Boy’ is quite unnecessary.

p. 155, l. 13 _Lor. and Page run._ All previous editions ‘Lor. runs away’, but obviously the Page accompanies his master.

+ACT II: Scene iv+

p. 156, l. 1 _Antonio’s House._ I have supplied this locale.

p. 157, l. 10 _Puts on the Veil._ 1724 merely reads ‘Exeunt.’

+ACT II: Scene v+

p. 157, l. 12 _A Chamber._ I have supplied the locale.

p. 157, l. 29 _Exit Page._ I have added this stage direction.

p. 158, l. 17 _you will believe._ 1724 omits ‘will’.

+ACT III: Scene i+

p. 160, l. 7 _A Room._ I have supplied the locale.

p. 161, l. 23 _you’re._ 1671 ‘your’.

+ACT III: Scene ii+

p. 163, l. 19 _A Street._ I have supplied this locale.

+ACT III: Scene iii+

p. 171, l. 30 _Galliard._ 4to 1671 has ‘with a Galliard’, and to Galliard’s lines gives speech-prefix ‘Serv.’

p. 172, l. 6 _and his Page._ I have marked the Page’s entrance here. It is not noted by previous editions.

p. 173, l. 16 _Ex. Page._ 4to 1671 ‘Ex. Boy.’

p. 174, l. 6 _Bone Mine._ 4to 1671 ‘Bon Meen’.

p. 174, l. 13 _with Musick._ I have added these words.

+ACT IV: Scene i+

p. 176, l. 30 _did not hate._ 1724 omits ‘not’.

p. 177, l. 22 _never._ 4to 1671 ‘ever’.

p. 177, l. 32 _Joys._ 4to 1671 ‘Joy’.

p. 178, l. 10 _Ism. Know it was._ Both 4to 1671, and 1724 read ‘No, it was’, which does not give sense. There can be little doubt ‘Know’ is the correct reading.

p. 178, l. 18 _slight._ 1724 ‘flight’.

+ACT IV: Scene ii+

p. 178, l. 29 _A Street._ I have added this locale, which no previous edition marks.

+ACT IV: Scene iii+

p. 183, l. 25 _Frederick’s Chamber._ I have added this locale.

p. 184, l. 22 _oft._ 1724 ‘soft’.

p. 185, l. 35 _Exeunt Musick._ I have inserted this stage direction.

p. 186, l. 3 _Exit Page._ I have supplied this.

+ACT IV: Scene iv+

p. 187, l. 23 _A Street._ I have added this locale.

p. 188, l. 3 _Antonio’s Valet._ 4to 1671 simply ‘Vallet.’ 1724 ‘Valet.’ The servant is obviously Antonio’s man.

p. 188, l. 27 _foutering._ 1724 ‘soutering’.

p. 189, l. 2 _To some Tune like him._ Only in 4to 1671.

p. 189, l. 9 _And quite unveil’d._ Only 4to 1671 gives this line.

+ACT IV: Scene v+

p. 190, l. 31 _Antonio’s House._ I have supplied the locale.

+ACT V: Scene i+

p. 193, l. 10 _Laura’s Chamber._ I have added the locale.

+ACT V: Scene ii+

p. 197, l. 30 _A Grove._ I have supplied this locale.

p. 199, l. 36 _Teresia’s._ 4to 1671 ‘_Teretia’s_’.

p. 200, l. 3 _certain ‘tis._ 4to 1671 ‘it is certain’.

+ACT V: Scene iii+

p. 200, l. 28 _What Arms._ 4to 1671 gives this line to Pietro.

p. 201, l. 21 _Millanoise._ 1724 ‘Milanese’.

p. 201, l. 22 _Genovese._ 1724 ‘Genoese’.

p. 201, l. 27 _a Maltan who pretends._ 1724 ‘the Maltese, who pretend’.

p. 201, l. 30 _a Cicilian._ 1724 ‘the Sicilians’.

p. 201, l. 31 _his._ 1724 ‘their’. The alterations made by 1724 and the confusion of plurals and singular in this passage, which I have left untouched, are noticeable.

p. 202, l. 27 _sets._ 1724 ‘_sits_’.

p. 203, l. 5 _others._ 1724 ‘other’.

p. 203, l. 12 _O’._ 4to 1671 ‘A’.’

p. 204, l. 20 _their._ 4to 1671 ‘_the_’.

p. 206, l. 33 _Visors._ 1724 ‘_Vizards_’.

p. 207, l. 5 _Braves._ 1724 ‘Bravoes’.

p. 209, l. 19 _’.was a Temptation._ 1724 quite erroneously gives this speech to Cloris.

p. 212, l. 13 _Clo. speaks aside to Guil._ 1724 ‘Aside to Guil.’

p. 212, l. 24 _Curtain Falls._ Only in 4to 1671.

+Epilogue+

p. 213, l. 5 _E’en humble._ 4to 1671 omits ‘E’en’.

p. 213, l. 22 _Leadies._ 1724 ‘Ladies’.

NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.

+Prologue+

p. 121 _Great Johnson’s way._ cf. what Mrs. Behn says in her ‘Epistle to the Reader’ prefacing _The Dutch Lover_ (Vol. I, p. 224), of the Jonsonian enthusiast: ‘a man the most severe of Johnson’s Sect.’

p. 121 _Nokes and Angel._ The two celebrated low comedians. Angel died in the spring of 1673. He was a great farceur, but gagged unmercifully, to the no small annoyance of the poets.

p. 121 _Cataline._ Jonson’s tragedy was revived with great splendour at the King’s House, Friday, 18 December, 1668, and remained a stock play until the retirement of Hart (who excelled in Catiline) at the Union in 1682. Michael Mohun was famous in Cethegus, and Mrs. Corey in Sempronia. Pepys found the play itself rather dull as a whole ‘though most fine in clothes, and a fine Scene of the Senate, and of a fight, as ever I saw in my life.’ A year before its actual production his crony, Harry Harris, a member of the rival theatre had ‘talked of _Catiline_ which is to be suddenly acted at the King’s House; and there all agree that it cannot be well done at that house, there not being good actors enough; and Burt acts Cicero, which they all conclude he will not be able to do well. The King gives them £500 for robes, there being, as they say, to be sixteen scarlet robes.’ (11 December, 1667.) In the first quarto (1672), of Buckingham’s _The Rehearsal_, Bayes refers to _Catiline_ saying that his design in a certain scene is ‘_Roman_ cloaths, guilded Truncheons, forc’d conceipt, smooth Verse, and a Rant.’ The words ‘Roman cloaths’ are omitted in all subsequent editions.

p. 121 _the Comick Hat._ In 1670 there was produced at the Theatre Royal, Dryden’s _The Conquest of Granada_, Part I. The witty prologue was ‘spoken by Mrs. Ellen Gwyn’ (who acted Almahide) ‘in a Broad-Brimm’d Hat, and Waist Belt’. It commences thus:--

This jest was first of t’other house’s making, And five times tried, has never fail’d of taking; For ‘twere a shame a poet should be kill’d Under the shelter of so broad a shield. This is the hat, whose very sight did win ye To laugh and clap as tho’ the devil were in ye. As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you’ll be So dull, to laugh, once more, for love of me.

Two slightly different explanations are given of the jest. Theatrical tradition has it that Dryden supplied Nell Gwynne, who was plump and petite, with this hat of the circumference of a cart wheel, in ridicule of a hat worn by Nokes of the Duke’s company whilst playing Ancient Pistol. It is again said that in May, 1670, whilst the Court was at Dover to receive the Duchess of Orleans, the Duke’s Company played there Shadwell’s _The Sullen Lovers_, and Caryl’s _Sir Salomon; or, The Cautious Coxcomb_, in which latter comedy Nokes acted Sir Arthur Addle, a bawling fop. The dress of the French gallants attending the Duchess was characterised by an excessively short laced scarlet or blue coat, a very broad waist-belt and a wide-leaved hat. Nokes appeared on the stage in a still shorter coat, a huger waist-belt, and a hat of preposterous dimensions. The Duke of Monmouth buckled his own sword to the actor’s side, and, according to old Downes, our comedian looked more like a dressed-up ape or a quiz on the French than Sir Arthur Addle. The English Court was straightway convulsed with laughter at this mimicry, which seems, to say the least, in highly questionable taste. When Nell Gwynne appeared and burlesqued the biter, Charles II, who was present at the first performance of _The Conquest of Granada_, well nigh died of merriment, and her verve in delivering Dryden’s witty lines wholly completed her conquest of the King. Nell Gwynne did not appear on the boards after 1670.

p. 121 _The Jig and Dance._ cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477: _A Jigg_ (_The Town Fop_). The Jig is in this prologue clearly distinct from a dance. Act IV, sc. iii (p. 185): ‘Cloris dances a Jig’-- (i.e. the simple dance).

+ACT I: Scene iii+

p. 133 _Capriol._ Capriole (French) signifies a leap made by a horse without advancing.

+ACT I: Scene iv+

p. 140 _Clarina why thus clouded?_ Similar expressions in Davenant’s _The Siege of Rhodes_ (4to 1663), Part 1, the Second Entry:--

_Mustapha._ I bring the morning pictur’d in a cloud.

And in Sir William Barclay’s _The Lost Lady_ (folio, 1639), Act II:--

Enter _Phillida_ veiled who talks to _Ergasto_ aside and then goes out. _Cleon._ From what part of the town comes this fair day In a cloud that makes you look so cheerfully?

are burlesqued in _The Rehearsal_, III, v:--

_Vols._ Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud? Thou bring’st the Morning pictur’d in a Cloud.

+ACT III: Scene ii+

p. 164 _... is welcome._ Buckingham parodies this in _The Rehearsal_, IV, iii:--

_Cordelia._ My lieges, news from _Volscius_ the prince. _Usher._ His news is welcome, whatso’er it be. _Smith._ How, sir, do you mean that? Whether it be good or bad?

+ACT III: Scene iii+

p. 172 _tabering._ Beating on; tapping; drumming. This rare word occurs in _Nahum_, II, vii: ‘Her maids shall lead her as with the voice of doves tabering upon their breasts.’

+ACT IV: Scene ii+

p. 180 _Hansel’d._ To handsel is to inaugurate with some ceremony of an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin the New Year by presenting a new comer with a gift.

p. 183 _She leapt into the River._ _The Rehearsal_, Act V, burlesques this:-- ‘_The Argument of the Fifth Act_ ... _Cloris_ in despair, drowns herself: and Prince _Pretty-man_, discontentedly, walks by the River side.’

+ACT IV: Scene iv+

p. 188 _foutering._ Fouter (Fr. foutre; Lat. futuere), _verbum obscaenum_. cf. the noun in phrase ‘to care not a fouter’ (footra, footre, foutre), _2 Henry IV_, V, iii. To ‘fouter’ is also used (a vulgarism and a provincialism) in a much mitigated sense = to meddle about aimlessly, to waste time and tongue doing nothing, as of a busybody.

p. 189 _Niperkin._ This would seem to be a slang expression, as Grose gives it meaning ‘a small measure’. It was also used for the actual stone jug. cf. D’Urfey, _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719): ‘Quart-pot, Pint-pot, nipperkin.’ _N.E.D._, quoting this passage, explains as ‘a small quantity of wine, ale, or spirits.’

p. 190 _Camphire Posset._ Camphor had a high reputation as an antaphrodisiac. cf. Dryden, _The Spanish Friar_ (1681), Act I, where Gomez says of his wife: ‘I’ll get a physician that shall prescribe her an ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate incontinency’. also Congreve, _The Way of the World_ (1700), IV, xii: ‘You are all camphire and frankincense, all chastity and odour.’

* * * * * * * * *

Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Amorous Prince_

p. 121 _The Jig and Dance._ cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477: _A Jigg (The Town Fop)_.

_Town Fop_ note:

p. 43 _A Jigg._ There were, in Post-Restoration times, two interpretations of the word Jig. Commonly speaking it was taken to mean exactly what it would now, a simple dance. Nell Gwynne and Moll Davis were noted for the dancing of Jigs. cf. Epilogue to Buckingham’s _The Chances_ (1682):--

The Author dreads the strut and meen Of new prais’d Poets, having often seen Some of his Fellows, who have writ before, When Nel has danc’d her Jig, steal to the Door, Hear the Pit clap, and with conceit of that Swell, and believe themselves the Lord knows what.

Thus at the end of Lacy’s _The Old Troop_ (31 July, 1668), we have ‘a dance of two hobby horses in armour, and a Jig.’ Also shortly before the epilogue in Shadwell’s _The Sullen Lovers_ (1668) we read, ‘Enter a Boy in the habit of Pugenello and traverses the stage, takes his chair and sits down, then dances a Jig.’

But it must be remembered that beside the common meaning there was a gloss upon the word derived from Elizabethan stage practice. In the prologue to _The Fair Maid of the Inn_ (licensed 1626), good plays are spoken of as often scurvily treated, whilst

A Jigge shall be clapt at, and every rhime Prais’d and applauded by a clam’rous chyme.

The Pre-Restoration Jig was little other indeed than a ballad opera in embryo lasting about twenty-five minutes and given as an after-piece. It was a rhymed farce in which the dialogue was sung or chanted by the characters to popular ballad tunes. But after the Restoration the Jig assumed a new and more serious complexion, and came eventually to be dovetailed with the play itself, instead of being given at the fag end of the entertainment. Mr. W. J. Lawrence, the well-known theatrical authority to whom I owe much valuable information contained in this note, would (doubtless correctly) attribute the innovation to Stapylton and Edward Howard, both of whom dealt pretty freely in these Jigs. Stapylton has in Act V of _The Slighted Maid_ (1663) a ‘Song in Dialogue’ between Aurora and Phoebus with a chorus of Cyclops, which met with some terrible parody in _The Rehearsal_ (cf. the present editor’s edition of _The Rehearsal_, p. 145). Indeed all extrinsic songs in dialogue, however serious the theme, were considered ‘Jigs’. A striking example would be the Song of the Spirits in Dryden’s _Tyrannic Love_, Act IV.

In Post-Restoration days a ballad sung in the streets by two persons was frequently called a Jig, presumably because it was a ‘song in dialogue’. Numerous examples are to be found amongst the Roxburgh Ballads.

The Jig introduced in _Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ would seem to have been the simple dance although not improbably an epithalamium was also sung.

* * * * * * * * *

Errors and Irregularities: The Amorous Prince

In the Notes, alternation between .’ and ‘. at paragraph-end is as printed. The abbreviation “cf.” is always lower-case.

_Cur._ Never, I hope. [. missing] Enter _Curtius_. / _Cur._ How! the Prince! [Enter _Curtuis_.] _Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you; [; unchanged] [Aside to her. / [Ex. _Isab._ [Aside. / [Ex. _Page_ and _Guil._ with Musick. [_brackets before “Exit” added for consistency in e-text_] They set _Ism._ in a Chair [they] _Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same [Gulliam] ‘Tis something cold, I’ll go take a Niperkin of Wine, [, as shown] _Lau._ Forward, dear _Cloris_. [, for .] [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him. [_text unchanged: error for Head?_] But my Master must first speak with you alone, [, for .]

Notes on Text

p. 180 ... an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin [kind.]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

THE WIDOW RANTER.

ARGUMENT.

Bacon, General of the English in Virginia, has fought with great success against the Indians and repeatedly beaten back their tribes, although the Supreme Council, by whom the Colony is governed, have refused him a commission, and, in spite of his victories, persist in treating him as a rebel and a traitor. This Council indeed is composed of a number of cowards and rogues, who through sheer malice and carping jealousy attribute Bacon’s prowess to his known passion for Semernia, the Indian Queen, and who feign to think that he fights merely with the hope of slaying her husband, the King Cavernio. These rascals are none the less mightily afraid of the general’s valour and spirit, so they determine to entice him from his camp under various specious pretexts, and then, once he is completely in their power, to have him executed or assassinated. With this object in view they send a friendly letter asking him to attend the Council, to accept a regular commission, and to raise new forces. On his way to the town Bacon is attacked by an ambush of soldiers, whom he beats off with the help of one of his lieutenants, Fearless, backed by Lieutenant Daring and a troop of his own men, who capture Whimsey and Whiff, two very prominent justices, instigators of the plot. He accordingly appears before the Council with a couple of prisoners. The populace, who are all for their hero, realizing the treachery, raise a riot, and throw the Councillors into a state of the utmost confusion and alarm. They spur themselves to action, however, and under the leadership of Colonel Wellman, Deputy Governor, proceed to take the field against Bacon, who is declared an open and lawless rebel. When he appears the soldiers, none the less, join themselves to their hero, and as at the same moment news is brought that the Indians have risen and are attacking the town, Bacon is induced to lead the troops against the foe; and in a pitched battle Cavernio is slain. That night whilst his army is revelling after their victory the Council and their party with infamous treachery suddenly attack the camp. There are further skirmishes with a remnant of the Indian fugitives, and in one of these frays Bacon accidentally wounds Semernia, who is flying disguised in man’s attire. He recognizes her voice, and she sinks into his arms to die. As he is weeping over her body Fearless rushes in with drawn sword shouting that the day is all but lost. Bacon, his mistress dead, deeming that his men are overcome by the attack from the town and that he will himself be captured, takes poison which he carries concealed in the pommel of his sword, whilst Daring and his soldiers are heard shouting ’.ictory! Victory!’ The hero, however, expires at the moment his men have conquered, but the Council speedily come to terms, naming with a commission Daring as General, whilst Colonel Wellman announces his intention of weeding this body of rogues and cowards against the arrival of the new Governor who is expected from England.

Daring, upon his commission, is wedded to the Widow Ranter, first mistress and then wife of old Colonel Ranter, recently deceased, a wealthy, buxom virago who has followed her soldier during the fighting in man’s attire and even allowed herself to be taken prisoner by a young gallant, Hazard, just landed from England, and who has occupied his time in an amour with a certain Mrs. Surelove. Hazard, upon his arrival, meets an old acquaintance, Friendly, who loves and is eventually united to Crisante, daughter to Colonel Downright; whilst Parson Dunce, the Governor’s chaplain, is made to marry Mrs. Flirt, the keeper of a hostelry, a good dame with whom he has been a little too familiar on a promise of matrimony.

SOURCE.

The admirable comic scenes and characters of _The Widow Ranter_ are original invention, but Mrs. Behn has founded the serious and historical portion of her play upon a contemporary pamphlet, _Strange News from Virginia being a full and true account of the Life and Death of Nathaniel Bacon esq. London: printed for Wm. Harris, 1677_. With regard to the catastrophe and Bacon’s love for the Indian Queen, Mrs. Behn has quite legitimately departed from the narrative, but otherwise she keeps fairly closely to her sources. There is also a _History of Bacon and Ingram’s Rebellion in Virginia in 1675-76_, written at the time but first published in 1867.

The _Dictionary of National Biography_ gives a very ample yet concise account of Bacon, with valuable references to original documents. He was the son of Sir Thomas Bacon of Friston Hall, Suffolk. Born in 1642, about 1673 he married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edward Duke, Bart., and shortly afterwards in a spirit of roving adventure emigrated to Virginia. Here he was elected a member of the Council, and his estates being especially exposed to Indian raids the volunteer colonists chose him General. The Governor, however, delayed to send the necessary commission, and Bacon having in this interval attacked a band of Indian marauders was promptly declared a rebel. The Governor was thereupon forced to yield by a general revolt, and in a second expedition Bacon defeated the Indians with terrific slaughter. A little later when reinforcements had arrived the Governor again declared him an outlaw, but after a brief struggle was himself obliged to take refuge at sea, whilst Jamestown fell into the hands of the victorious General, who not being able to garrison the houses, burned it to the ground. In the midst of his success, whilst he was busied with new plans for the welfare and protection of the colonists, Bacon died suddenly, 1676. He left one daughter, Mary, who married Hugh Chamberlain, M.D., physician to Queen Anne. Mrs. Behn has drawn his character with remarkable accuracy. Even his enemies were obliged to allow he possessed extraordinary ability, and he won all by the grace and charm of his manner. Oldys, in a MS. note on Langbaine (Mrs. Behn), attributes to the colonist _A Historical Discourse of the Government of England_ (1647), but the date of publication sufficiently shows that the antiquary is palpably in error.

Langbaine in his note on _The Widow Ranter_ abruptly and sweepingly remarks ‘Plot from the known story of Cassius,’ which the _Biographia Dramatica_ yet more erroneously expands as follows: ‘The tragedy part of it, particularly the catastrophe of Bacon, is borrowed from the well-known story of Cassius, who, on the supposition of his friend Brutus being defeated, caused himself to be put to death by the hand of his freedman Dandarus.’ C. Cassius Longinus was defeated at Philippi (B.C. 42), by Antony, and ignorant that the left wing commanded by Brutus had conquered Octavius, he straightway commanded his freedman Pindarus to put an end to his life. It is strange that both authorities should have made this mistake, the more so as Bacon expressly alludes to the fate of Hannibal, from whose history, and not that of Cassius, Mrs Behn doubtless borrowed the idea of her hero’s suicide. Cassius is indeed alluded to but casually, and not by Bacon’s self. Hannibal had fled to the court of Prusias, King of Bithynia, who, unable to resist the demands of the Romans, eventually sent troops to arrest his guest. The great Carthaginian, however, having provided himself with poison in case of such an event, swallowed the venomed drug to prevent himself falling into the hands of his enemies. Dullman, Timorous Cornet, Whimsey, Whiff, and the other Justices of the Peace who appear in this play are aptly described in _Oroonoko_, where Mrs. Behn speaks of the Governor’s Council ‘who (not to disgrace them, or burlesque the Government there) consisted of such notorious villains as Newgate ever transported; and, possibly, originally were such who understood neither the laws of God or man, and had no sort of principles to make them worthy of the name of men; but at the very council-table would contradict and fight with one another, and swear so bloodily, that it was terrible to hear and see them. (Some of them were afterwards hanged, when the Dutch took possession of the place, others sent off in chains.)’

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

When _The Widow Ranter; or, The History of Bacon in Virginia_ was produced at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1690--the year after Mrs. Behn’s death--owing to the slipshod and slovenly way in which it was put on, or rather, ‘murdered’, to use the phrase of the dedication, it did not meet with the success so capital a piece fully deserved. Such ample and needless omissions were made that the intrigue soon became hopelessly fogged, many incidents seeming absolutely disjointed and superfluous. For not only were heavier scenes, including the apparition of Cavernio, cut, but the essential comic relief was woefully maltreated. The Court House opening of Act III was expunged in its entirety, whilst other episodes were so mangled and the speeches so pruned that they proved practically unintelligible. Again, the play was badly cast. Indifferent performers such as Barnes, Baker, Cudworth, were entrusted with rôles they were incapable of acting, whilst Daring, the dashing, gallant, and handsome young officer, who is loved by the Widow, was alloted to Sanford, of all men most supremely unfitted for the part. Indeed, it would seem that the casting was done on purpose perversely and malignly to damn the play. Samuel Sanford, who had joined Davenant’s company within a year of their opening, had been forced by nature, being low of stature and crooked of person, rather than by choice, into a line denoted by such characters as Iago, Creon in Dryden and Lee’s _Oedipus_, Malignii, Osmund the wizard in _King Arthur_. ‘An excellent actor in disagreeable characters’ Cibber terms him, and old Aston sums him up thus: ‘Mr. _Sanford_, although not usually deem’d an Actor of the first Rank, yet the Characters allotted him were such, that none besides, then, or since, ever topp’d; for his Figure, which was diminutive and mean, (being Round-shoulder’d, Meagre-fac’d, Spindle-shank’d, Splay-footed, with a sour Countenance and long lean Arms) render’d him a proper Person to discharge _Jago_, _Foresight_ and _Ma’lignij_, in the _Villain_.--This Person acted strongly with his Face,--and (as King _Charles_ said) was the best _Villain_ in the World.’ The performance of an actor with such a marked personality and unpleasantly peculiar talents as are thus enumerated, in the rôle of Daring must been grotesque and distasteful to a degree. In such an accumulation of unfortunate circumstances there could have been no other event than the failure of the play, which was so complete as effectually to bar any chance of subsequent revival. Indeed, there seems to have been only one feature of any merit: Betty Currer, the original Aquilina in _Venice Preserv’d_, acted the name part with the greatest spirit and abandon.

To the much Honoured

MADAM WELLDON.

Madam

Knowing Mrs. _Behn_ in her Life-time design’d to Dedicate some of her Works to you, you have a Naturall Title, and claim to this and I could not without being unjust to her Memory, but fix your Name to it, who have not only a Wit above that of most of your Sex; but a goodness and Affability Extreamly Charming, and Engaging beyond Measure, and perhaps there are few to be found like you, that are so Eminent for Hospitallity, and a Ready and Generous Assistance to the distress’d and Indigent, which are Quallities that carry much more of Divinity with them, than a Puritannicall outward Zeal for Virtue and Religion.

Our Author, Madam, who was so true a Judge of Wit, was (no doubt of it) satisfyed in the Patroness she had pitcht upon: If ever she had occasion for a Wit and Sense like yours ‘tis now, to Defend this (one of the last of her Works) from the Malice of her Enemies, and the ill Nature of the Critticks, who have had Ingratitude enough not to Consider the Obligations they had to her when Living; but to do those Gentlemen Justice, ‘tis not (altogether) to be Imputed to their Critticism, that the Play had not that Success which it deserv’d, and was expected by her Friends; The main fault ought to lye on those who had the management of it. Had our Authour been alive she would have Committed it to the Flames rather than have suffer’d it to have been Acted with such Omissions as was made, and on which the Foundation of the Play Depended: For Example, they thought fit to leave out a Whole Scene of the _Virginian Court of Judicature_, which was a lively resemblance of that Country-Justice; and on which depended a great part of the Plot, and wherein were many unusuall and very Naturall Jests which would at least have made some sort of People laugh: In another Part of the Play is Omitted the appearance of the Ghost of the _Indian King_, kill’d by _Bacon_, and tho’ the like may have been Represented in other Plays, yet I never heard or found but that the sight was very agreeable to an Audience, and very Awfull: besides the Apparition of the Ghost was necessary, for it was that which struck a Terror in the Queen, and frighten’d her from heark’ning to the Love of _Bacon_, believing it a horrid thing to receive the Caresses and Embraces of her Husbands Murderer: And Lastly, many of the Parts being false Cast, and given to those whose Tallants and Genius’s suited not our Author’s Intention: These, Madam, are some of the Reasons that this Play was unsuccessfull, and the best Play that ever was writ must prove so: if it have the Fate to be Murder’d like this.

However, Madam, I can’t but believe you will find an hours diversion in the reading, and will meet with not only Wit, but true Comedy, (tho’ low) by reason many of the Characters are such only as our _Newgate_ afforded, being Criminals Transported.

This play, Madam, being left in my hands by the Author to Introduce to the Publick, I thought my self oblig’d to say thus much in its defence, and that it was also a Duty upon me to choose a Patroness proper for it, and the Author having pitcht upon your Name to do Honour to some of her Works, I thought your Protection, could be so usefull to none, as to this, whose owning it may Silence the Malice of its Enemies; Your Wit and Judgment being to be Submitted to in all Cases; Besides your Natural Tenderness and Compassion for the Unfortunate, gives you in a manner another Title to it: The Preference which is due to you upon so many Accounts is therefore the Reason of this present Address, for at the Worst, if this Play should be so Unfortunate as not to be thought worthy of your Acceptance; Yet it is certain, that its worth any Man’s while to have the Honour of subscribing himself,

Madam, Your Most Obedient Humble, Servant, G. J.

THE WIDOW RANTER:

Or, the History of Bacon in _Virginia_.

PROLOGUE,

By Mr. _Dryden_.

Heaven save ye, Gallants; and this hopeful Age, Y’ are welcome to the downfal of the Stage: The Fools have laboured long in their Vocation; And Vice (the Manufacture of the Nation) O’er-stocks the Town so much, and thrives so well, That Fops and Knaves grow Drugs, and will not sell. In vain our Wares on Theaters are shown, When each has a Plantation of his own. His Cruse ne’er fails; for whatsoe’er he spends, There’s still God’s plenty for himself and Friends. Shou’d Men be rated by Poetick Rules, Lord, what a Poll would there be rais’d from Fools! Mean time poor Wit prohibited must lie, As if ‘twere made some _French_ Commodity. Fools you will have, and rais’d at vast expence; And yet as soon as seen, they give offence. Time was, when none would cry that Oaf was me, But now you strive about your Pedigree: Bauble and Cap no sooner are thrown down, But there’s a Muss of more than half the Town. Each one will challenge a Child’s part at least, A sign the Family is well increas’d. Of Foreign Cattle there’s no longer need, When we’re supply’d so fast with _English_ Breed, Well! Flourish, Countrymen; drink, swear and roar, Let every free-born Subject keep his Whore; And wandring in the Wilderness about, At end of Forty Years not wear her out. But when you see these Pictures, let none dare To own beyond a Limb or single share: For where the Punk is common, he’s a Sot, Who needs will father what the Parish got.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

MEN.

_Indian King_ called _Cavernio_, Mr. _Bowman_. _Bacon_, General of the _English_, Mr. _Williams_. Colonel _Wellman_, Deputy Governor, Mr. _Freeman_. Col. _Downright_, a loyal honest Colonel, Mr. _Harris_. _Hazard_ } Two Friends known to one another Mr. _Alexander_, _Friendly_ } many Years in _England_, Mr. _Powell_. _Daring_ } Lieutenant Generals to _Bacon_ Mr. _Sandford_, _Fearless_ } Mr. _Cudworth_. _Dullman_, a Captain, Mr. _Bright_. _Timorous Cornet_, } Mr. _Underhill_, _Whimsey_, } Justices of the Peace, Mr. _Trefuse_, _Whiff_, } and very great Cowards, Mr. _Bowen_, _Boozer_, } Mr. _Barns_. _Brag_, a Captain. _Grubb_, One complain’d of by Capt. _Whiff_, for calling his Wife Whore. A Petitioner against _Brag_, Mr. _Blunt_. Parson _Dunce_, formerly a Farrier, fled from _England_, and Chaplain to the Governour, Mr. _Baker_. _Jeffery_, Coachman to _Widow Ranter_. _Cavaro_, an _Indian_, Confidant to the _Indian King_. _Jack_, a Sea-Boy.

Clerk; Boy; An Officer; Messenger; Seaman; 2nd Seaman; A Highlander.

WOMEN.

_Indian Queen_, call’d _Semernia_, belov’d by _Bacon_, Mrs. _Bracegirdle_. Madam _Surelove_, belov’d by _Hazard_, Mrs. _Knight_. Mrs. _Chrisante_, Daughter to Colonel _Downright_, Mrs. _Jordan_. _Widow Ranter_, in love with _Daring_, Mrs. _Currer_. Mrs. _Flirt_, a Tapstress, Mrs. _Cory_. Mrs. _Whimsey_. Mrs. _Whiff_. _Jenny_, Maid to _Widow Ranter_. _Nell_, Maid at the Inn. _Anaria_, Confidante to the _Indian Queen_. Maid to Madam _Surelove_.

Priests, Indians, Bailiffs, Soldiers, Rabble, Negroes, with other Attendants.

SCENE, _Virginia_: in _Bacon’s_ Camp, _James-Town_ and the surrounding Country.