Chapter 63

Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_, _Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of both Sexes.

_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I’m lost in Love! I’ve seen a Man,--or rather ‘tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so dress’d! so shap’d! and danc’d with such an Air!

_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where’s this Wonder to be seen?

_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and Movement of uncommon Fashion?

_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I’m sure my dear Man is none of ‘em. [Sighs.

_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir’d burns easily, and soft, but I am all impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.

_Mir._ _Endimion_, where’s Sir _Morgan_?

_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.

_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business for you e’er the Morning.

_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.

_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and watches for a tender Look.

_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by what you’ve said already?

_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love. [Aside.

_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis’d--and yet I blush to tell you I was pleas’d, and blest the dear necessity that forc’d me.

_Oliv._ Ha! ‘tis the Man I love--and courts _Mirtilla_, and she receives him with inviting Looks. ‘Sdeath, she’s a common Lover! already I’m arriv’d to Jealousy!

Enter _George_ in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast, goes to _Mirtilla_, sees one courting her.

_Geo._ What gilded thing is that?--I must disturb ‘em--’Tis I, _Mirtilla_, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps, are taken up with different Thoughts--

_Mir._ _Lejere!_ How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and gay have pow’r to warm--How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious Love declares for _Frederick_; ‘tis great to enslave a Prince. [Aside. --_Lejere_--wait till I give the word--perhaps it may be late--go mix your self i’th’ Crowd, you may be else suspected-- [Goes from him.

_Ter._ I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape, and Mein. [Looking round about _George_. Let me see--What’s this written on his Back?--To be lett ready furnish’d-- [Reading it. A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who’s within here? [Claps him on the Back.

_Geo._ Who’s there? [Exit _Olivia_.

_Ter._ Love and Fortune.

_Geo._ Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring’st ’.m?

_Ter._ A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your Person and Parts--if thou be’st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me see thy Face; and if I’m not mistaken, ‘tis ten to one, but we may go near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.

_Geo._ And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as ever you met with--Look ye, am I the Man?

_Ter._ Let me see--a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor low, and extremely well fashion’d. [Reads all this in her Tablets. --Ay, ay, you are the Man--

_Geo._ I am glad on’t, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou art not the Woman--

_Ter._ Heav’n! what Woman, Sir?

_Geo._ Why, any Woman that’s pretty, witty, young, and good-natur’d.

_Ter._ I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.

_Geo._ Faith, and that’s kind; but every thing in its due time: I love to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there’s as much Pleasure in the Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to’t, and the first Stage is a handsom Face.

_Ter._ Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.

_Geo._ To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to engage him a long while.

_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call’d little Freedoms, Kissing, Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where Whip and Spur laid by, all tir’d and dull, you lazily lie down and sleep.

_Geo._ No, I’m a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new Discoveries.

_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?

_Geo._ Yes, I once discover’d it in my Voyage round the World.

_Ter._ Sure ‘tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as ‘tis approach’d.

Enter Sir _Rowland_.

_Geo._ Faith, let’s set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that will recompense our pains.-- [Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from him. Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I’ll have you in my Eye. [The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to _Mirtilla_.

_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.

_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador’d! and at your Feet behold your Slave making eternal Vows?

_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--

_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a Deity?

_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?

_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe. [Aside.

_Mir._ Alas, the Foe’s within that will betray me, Ambition, and our Sex’s Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--

_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.

_Mir._ Anon I’ll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir. [Pointing to _Manage_.

_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call’d to Witness. By Heav’n, gay Sir, I’ll watch you.

_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry’d?

_Geo._ Marry’d--that’s a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design, keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.

_Ter._ Nay, truth is, ‘tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter’d Bully of Seventy, unmarry’d, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy, out-of-humour’d Husband at Eight and Twenty.

_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.

_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.

_Geo._ Good.

_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.

_Geo._ Very good.

_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love. [Pulls off her Mask.

_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design’d for my Mother! now, what a Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou’d fain cuckold my Father. [Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.

_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.

_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company, I’ll take the Air a little, and return. [Goes out with _Manage_.

_Geo._ Is this design’d or real?--perhaps she is retir’d for me--Mrs. _Manage_.-- [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.

_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal. [Aside.

_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?

_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I’ll wait on her for your admittance. [Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn’s_ Cloke, goes out, and _Welborn_ enters into the Company dress’d like the _Prince_.

_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but I’ll trace the Mystery.

Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here’s nothing but gaping and peeping in one another’s Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame ‘em into Action. [Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_ enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.

_Wel._ Ha! what’s this, Sir, a Challenge?

_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.

_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be, [Reads. She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.

_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear Reason from her--

_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty Bargains; not but I shou’d be glad to hear Reason from any of the Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?

_Oliv._ Yes.

_Wel._ Then I’ll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that jilts her Husband, will her Lover.

_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.

_Wel._ What, she’s parted from the Fool! then she’s expensive, and for want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets with.

_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.

_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she’s raving on her Honour; then if she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng’d.

_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.

_Wel._ How!

_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.

_Wel._ Not so--but--

_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--

_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--

Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.

_Wise Coxcombs be damn’d, here’s a health to the Man, That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._

Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?

Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv’d to shew our selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.

L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.

Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look’st as magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her Prime, or so, de see. [Sings.

L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct you.

Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father’s an old Toast, de see; and I hope to see him hang’d.

Sir _Row._ Here’s a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang’d!

Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang’d, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why, what a Pox shou’d Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.

Sir _Row._ A damn’d Rogue, I’ll disinherit him immediately.

L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?

Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.

Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir, swallow me that Word, or I’ll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you have drunk.

Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you’re a Blunderbuss.

Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.

Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you’re the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.

Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so, I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to hang thee, and that’s fair and civil.

Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I’m drunk enough to ravish, I’ll cuckold my old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.

Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I’ll kill the Dog, because I’ll have the Law on my side--Come on, Sir. [Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in and parts ‘em.

_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!

Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.

_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty ‘twas. [Pulls off his Vizard.

Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I’ll go and cut off the Intail of my Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--

[Exeunt all but _George_.

_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder that she sends not to me: my Love’s impatient, and I cannot wait--while the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I’ll softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there-- [Exit.