SCENE II.--_The Cock in Bow Street. A table and bottles.

_Enter_ MANLY _and_ FIDELIA.

_Man._ How! saved her honour by making her husband believe you were a woman! 'Twas well, but hard enough to do, sure.

_Fid._ We were interrupted before he could contradict me.

_Man._ But can't you tell me, d'ye say, what kind of man he was?

_Fid._ I was so frightened, I confess, I can give no other account of him, but that he was pretty tall, round-faced, and one, I'm sure, I ne'er had seen before.

_Man._ But she, you say, made you swear to return to-night?

_Fid._ But I have since sworn, never to go near her again; for the husband would murder me, or worse, if he caught me again.

_Man._ No, I will go with you, and defend you to-night, and then I'll swear, too, never to go near her again.

_Fid._ Nay, indeed, sir, I will not go, to be accessory to your death too. Besides, what should you go again, sir, for?

_Man._ No disputing, or advice, sir, you have reason to know I am unalterable. Go therefore presently, and write her a note, to inquire if her assignation with you holds; and if not to be at her own house, where else; and be importunate to gain admittance to her to-night. Let your messenger, ere he deliver your letter, inquire first if her husband be gone out. Go, 'tis now almost six of the clock; I expect you back here before seven, with leave to see her then. Go, do this dextrously, and expect the performance of my last night's promise, never to part with you.

_Fid._ Ay, sir; but will you be sure to remember that?

_Man._ Did I ever break my word? Go, no more replies, or doubts. [_Exit_ FIDELIA.

_Enter_ FREEMAN.

Where hast thou been?

_Free._ In the next room with my Lord Plausible and Novel.

_Man._ Ay, we came hither, because 'twas a private house; but with thee indeed no house can be private, for thou hast that pretty quality of the familiar fops of the town, who, in an eating-house, always keep company with all people in't but those they came with.

_Free._ I went into their room, but to keep them, and my own fool the squire, out of your room; but you shall be peevish now, because you have no money. But why the devil won't you write to those we were speaking of? Since your modesty, or your spirit, will not suffer you to speak to 'em, to lend you money, why won't you try 'em at last that way?

_Man._ Because I know 'em already, and can bear want better than denials, nay, than obligations.

_Free._ Deny you! they cannot. All of 'em have been your intimate friends.

_Man._ No, they have been people only I have obliged particularly.

_Free._ Very well; therefore you ought to go to 'em the rather, sure.

_Man._ No, no. Those you have obliged most, most certainly avoid you, when you can oblige 'em no longer; and they take your visits like so many duns. Friends, like mistresses, are avoided for obligations past.

_Free._ Pshaw! but most of 'em are your relations; men of great fortune and honour.

_Man._ Yes; but relations have so much honour as to think poverty taints the blood, and disown their wanting kindred; believing, I suppose, that as riches at first make a gentleman, the want of 'em degrades him. But damn 'em! now I am poor, I'll anticipate their contempt, and disown them.

_Free._ But you have many a female acquaintance whom you have been liberal to, who may have a heart to refund to you a little, if you would ask it: they are not all Olivias.

_Man._ Damn thee! how couldst thou think of such a thing? I would as soon rob my footman of his wages. Besides, 'twere in vain too: for a wench is like a box in an ordinary, receives all people's money easily, but there is no getting, nay, shaking any out again; and he that fills it is sure never to keep the key.

_Free._ Well, but noble captain, would you make me believe that you, who know half the town, have so many friends, and have obliged so many, can't borrow fifty or a hundred pounds?

_Man._ Why, noble lieutenant, you who know all the town, and call all you know friends, methinks should not wonder at it; since you find ingratitude too. For how many lords' families (though descended from blacksmiths or tinkers) hast thou called great and illustrious? how many ill tables called good eating? how many noisy coxcombs wits? how many pert cocking[125] cowards stout? how many tawdry affected rogues well-dressed? how many perukes admired? and how many ill verses applauded? and yet canst not borrow a shilling. Dost thou expect I, who always spoke truth, should?

_Free._ Nay, now you think you have paid me; but hark you, captain, I have heard of a thing called grinning honour, but never of starving honour.

_Man._ Well, but it has been the fate of some brave men; and if they won't give me a ship again, I can go starve anywhere with a musket on my shoulder.

_Free._ Give you a ship! why, you will not solicit it.

_Man._ If I have not solicited it by my services, I know no other way.

_Free._ Your servant, sir; nay, then I'm satisfied, I must solicit my widow the closer, and run the desperate fortune of matrimony on shore. [_Exit._

_Enter_ VERNISH.

_Man._ How!--Nay, here is a friend indeed; and he that has him in his arms can know no wants. [_Embraces_ VERNISH.

_Ver._ Dear sir! and he that is in your arms is secure from all fears whatever: nay, our nation is secure by your defeat at sea, and the Dutch that fought against you have proved enemies to themselves only in bringing you back to us.

_Man._ Fy! fy! this from a friend? and yet from any other 'twere insufferable: I thought I should never have taken anything ill from you.

_Ver._ A friend's privilege is to speak his mind, though it be taken ill.

_Man._ But your tongue need not tell me you think too well of me; I have found it from your heart, which spoke in actions, your unalterable heart. But Olivia is false, my friend, which I suppose is no news to you.

_Ver._ He's in the right on't. [_Aside._

_Man._ But couldst thou not keep her true to me?

_Ver._ Not for my heart, sir.

_Man._ But could you not perceive it at all before I went? Could she so deceive us both?

_Ver._ I must confess, the first time I knew it was three days after your departure, when she received the money you had left in Lombard-street in her name; and her tears did not hinder her, it seems, from counting that. You would trust her with all, like a true generous lover.

_Man._ And she like a mean jilting--

_Ver._ Traitorous--

_Man._ Base--

_Ver._ Damned--

_Man._ Covetous--

_Ver._ Mercenary whore.--[_Aside._] I can hardly hold from laughing.

_Man._ Ay, a mercenary whore indeed; for she made me pay her before I lay with her.

_Ver._ How!--Why, have you lain with her?

_Man._ Ay, ay.

_Ver._ Nay, she deserves you should report it at least, though you have not.

_Man._ Report it! by Heaven, 'tis true!

_Ver._ How! sure not.

_Man._ I do not use to lie, nor you to doubt me.

_Ver._ When?

_Man._ Last night, about seven or eight of the clock.

_Ver._ Ha!--[_Aside._] Now I remember, I thought she spake as if she expected some other rather than me. A confounded whore, indeed!

_Man._ But what, thou wonderest at it! nay, you seem to be angry too.

_Ver._ I cannot but be enraged against her, for her usage of you: damned infamous, common jade!

_Man._ Nay, her cuckold, who first cuckolded me in my money, shall not laugh all himself: we will do him reason, shan't we?

_Ver._ Ay, ay.

_Man._ But thou dost not, for so great a friend, take pleasure enough in your friend's revenge, methinks.

_Ver._ Yes, yes; I'm glad to know it, since you have lain with her.

_Man._ Thou canst not tell who that rascal, her cuckold, is?

_Ver._ No.

_Man._ She would keep it from you, I suppose.

_Ver._ Yes, yes.

_Man._ Thou wouldst laugh, if thou knewest but all the circumstances of my having her. Come, I'll tell thee.

_Ver._ Damn her! I care not to hear any more of her.

_Man._ Faith, thou shalt. You must know--

_Re-enter_ FREEMAN _backwards, endeavouring to keep out_ NOVEL, Lord PLAUSIBLE, JERRY BLACKACRE, _and_ Major OLDFOX, _who all press upon him._

_Free._ I tell you he has a wench with him, and would be private.

_Man._ Damn 'em! a man can't open a bottle in these eating-houses, but presently you have these impudent, intruding, buzzing flies and insects in your glass.--Well, I'll tell thee all anon. In the mean time prithee go to her, but not from me, and try if you can get her to lend me but a hundred pounds of my money, to supply my present wants; for I suppose there is no recovering any of it by law.

_Ver._ Not any: think not of it. Nor by this way neither.

_Man._ Go try, at least.

_Ver._ I'll go; but I can satisfy you beforehand it will be to no purpose. You'll no more find a refunding wench--

_Man._ Than a refunding lawyer; indeed their fees alike scarce ever return. However, try her; put it to her.

_Ver._ Ay, ay, I'll try her; put it to her home with a vengeance. [_Exit._

_Nov._ Nay, you shall be our judge, Manly--Come, major, I'll speak it to your teeth; if people provoke me to say bitter things to their faces, they must take what follows; though, like my lord Plausible, I'd rather do't civilly behind their backs.

_Man._ Nay, thou art a dangerous rogue, I've heard, behind a man's back.

_L. Plau._ You wrong him sure, noble captain; he would do a man no more harm behind his back than to his face.

_Free._ I am of my lord's mind.

_Man._ Yes, a fool, like a coward, is the more to be, feared behind a man's back, more than a witty man; for as a coward is more bloody than a brave man, a fool is more malicious than a man of wit.

_Nov._ A fool, tar,--a fool! nay, thou art a brave sea-judge of wit! a fool! Prithee when did you ever find me want something to say, as you do often?

_Man._ Nay, I confess thou art always talking, roaring, or making a noise; that I'll say for thee.

_Nov._ Well, and is talking a sign of a fool?

_Man._ Yes, always talking, especially too if it be loud and fast, is the sign of a fool.

_Nov._ Pshaw! talking is like fencing, the quicker the better; run 'em down, run 'em down, no matter for parrying; push on still, sa, sa, sa! No matter whether you argue in form, push in guard or no.

_Man._ Or hit or no; I think thou always talkest without thinking, Novel.

_Nov._ Ay, ay; studied play's the worse, to follow the allegory, as the old pedant says.

_Old._ A young fop!

_Man._ I ever thought the man of most wit had been like him of most money, who has no vanity in showing it everywhere, whilst the beggarly pusher of his fortune has all he has about him still only to show.

_Nov._ Well, sir, and make a pretty show in the world, let me tell you; nay, a better than your close hunks. A pox, give me ready money in play! what care I for a man's reputation? what are we the better for your substantial thrifty curmudgeon in wit, sir?

_Old._ Thou art a profuse young rogue indeed.

_Nov._ So much for talking, which, I think, I have proved a mark of wit; and so is railing, roaring, and making a noise; for railing is satire, you know; and roaring and making a noise, humour.

_Re-enter_ FIDELIA; _she takes_ MANLY _aside, and shows him a paper._

_Fid._ The hour is betwixt seven and eight exactly: 'tis now half an hour to six.

_Man._ Well, go then to the Piazza, and wait for me: as soon as it is quite dark, I'll be with you. I must stay here yet a while for my friend.--[_Exit_ FIDELIA.] But is railing satire, Novel?

_Free._ And roaring and making a noise, humour?

_Nov._ What, won't you confess there's humour in roaring and making a noise?

_Free._ No.

_Nov._ Nor in cutting napkins and hangings?

_Man._ No, sure.

_Nov._ Dull fops!

_Old._ O rogue, rogue, insipid rogue!--Nay, gentlemen, allow him those things for wit; for his parts lie only that way.

_Nov._ Peace, old fool! I wonder not at thee; but that young fellows should be so dull, as to say there's no humour in making a noise, and breaking windows! I tell you there's wit and humour too in both; and a wit is as well known by his frolic as by his smile.

_Old._ Pure rogue! there's your modern wit for you! Wit and humour in breaking of windows: there's mischief, if you will, but no wit or humour.

_Nov._ Prithee, prithee, peace, old fool! I tell you, where there's mischief, there's wit. Don't we esteem the monkey a wit amongst beasts, only because he's mischievous? and, let me tell you, as good-nature is a sign of a fool, being mischievous is a sign of a wit.

_Old._ O rogue, rogue! pretend to be a wit, by doing mischief and railing!

_Nov._ Why, thou, old fool, hast no other pretence to the name of a wit, but by railing at new plays!

_Old._ Thou, by railing at that facetious noble way of wit, quibbling!

_Nov._ Thou callest thy dulness gravity; and thy dozing, thinking.

_Old._ You, sir, your dulness, spleen; and you talk much and say nothing.

_Nov._ Thou readest much, and understandest nothing, sir.

_Old._ You laugh loud, and break no jest.

_Nov._ You rail, and nobody hangs himself; and thou hast nothing of the satire but in thy face.

_Old._ And you have no jest, but your face, sir.

_Nov._ Thou art an illiterate pedant.

_Old._ Thou art a fool with a bad memory.

_Man._ Come, a pox on you both! you have done like wits now: for you wits, when you quarrel, never give over till ye prove one another fools.

_Nov._ And you fools have never any occasion of laughing at us wits but when we quarrel. Therefore let us be friends, Oldfox.

_Man._ They are such wits as thou art, who make the name of a wit as scandalous as that of bully: and signify a loud-laughing, talking, incorrigible, coxcomb, as bully a roaring hardened coward.

_Free._ And would have his noise and laughter pass for wit, as t'other his huffing and blustering for courage.

_Re-enter_ VERNISH.

_Man._ Gentlemen, with your leave, here is one I would speak with; and I have nothing to say to you. [_Puts all out of the room except_ VERNISH.

_Ver._ I told you 'twas in vain to think of getting money out of her. She says, if a shilling would do't, she would not save you from starving or hanging, or what you would think worse, begging or flattering; and rails so at you, one would not think you had lain with her.

_Man._ O, friend, never trust for that matter a woman's railing; for she is no less a dissembler in her hatred than her love; and as her fondness of her husband is a sign he's a cuckold, her railing at another man is a sign she lies with him.

_Ver._ He's in the right on't: I know not what to trust to. [_Aside._

_Man._ But you did not take any notice of it to her, I hope?

_Ver._ So!--Sure he is afraid I should have disproved him by an inquiry of her: all may be well yet. [_Aside._

_Man._ What hast thou in thy head that makes thee seem so unquiet?

_Ver._ Only this base impudent woman's falseness; I cannot put her out of my head.

_Man._ O, my dear friend, be not you too sensible of my wrongs; for then I shall feel 'em too with more pain, and think 'em unsufferable. Damn her, her money, and that ill-natured whore too, Fortune herself! But if thou wouldst ease a little my present trouble, prithee go borrow me somewhere else some money. I can trouble thee.

_Ver._ You trouble me, indeed, most sensibly, when you command me anything I cannot do. I have lately lost a great deal of money at play, more than I can yet pay; so that not only my money, but my credit too is gone, and know not where to borrow: but could rob a church for you.--[_Aside._] Yet would rather end your wants by cutting your throat.

_Man._ Nay, then I doubly feel my poverty, since I'm incapable of supplying thee. [_Embraces him._

_Ver._ But, methinks, she that granted you the last favour, (as they call it,) should not deny you anything.

_Nov._ [_Looking in._] Hey, tarpaulin, have you done? [_Retires again._

_Ver._ I understand not that point of kindness, I confess.

_Man._ No, thou dost not understand it, and I have not time to let you know all now; for these fools, you see, will interrupt us: but anon, at supper, we'll laugh at leisure together at Olivia's cuckold, who took a young fellow, that goes between his wife and me, for a woman.

_Ver._ Ha!

_Man._ Senseless, easy rascal! 'twas no wonder she chose him for a husband; but she thought him, I thank her, fitter than me, for that blind bearing office.

_Ver._ I could not be deceived in that long woman's hair tied up behind, nor those infallible proofs, her pouting swelling breasts: I have handled too many sure not to know 'em. [_Aside._

_Man._ What, you wonder the fellow could be such a blind coxcomb?

_Ver._ Yes, yes--

_Nov._ [_Looking in again._] Nay, prithee, come to us, Manly. Gad, all the fine things one says in their company, are lost without thee.

_Man._ Away, fop! I'm busy yet. [NOVEL _retires._] You see we cannot talk here at our ease: besides, I must be gone immediately, in order to meeting with Olivia again to-night.

_Ver._ To-night! it cannot be, sure--

_Man._ I had an appointment just now from her.

_Ver._ For what time?

_Man._ At half an hour after seven precisely.

_Ver._ Don't you apprehend the husband?

_Man._ He! snivelling gull! he a thing to be feared! a husband! the tamest of creatures!

_Ver._ Very fine! [_Aside._

_Man._ But, prithee, in the mean time, go try to get me some money. Though thou art too modest to borrow for thyself, thou canst do anything for me, I know. Go; for I must be gone to Olivia. Go, and meet me here, anon.--Freeman, where are you? [_Exit._

_Ver._ Ay, I'll meet with you, I warrant; but it shall be at Olivia's. Sure, it cannot be: she denies it so calmly, and with that honest modest assurance, it cannot be true--and he does not use to lie--but belying a woman when she won't be kind, is the only lie a brave man will least scruple. But then the woman in man's clothes, whom he calls a man--well, but by her breasts I know her to be a woman--but then again, his appointment from her, to meet him again to-night! I am distracted more with doubt than jealousy. Well, I have no way to disabuse or revenge myself, but by going home immediately, putting on a riding-suit, and pretending to my wife the same business which carried me out of town last, requires me again to go post to Oxford to-night. Then, if the appointment he boasts of be true, it's sure to hold, and I shall have an opportunity either of clearing her, or revenging myself on both. Perhaps she is his wench, of an old date, and I am his cully, whilst I think him mine; and he has seemed to make his wench rich, only that I might take her off his hands. Or if he has but lately lain with her, he must needs discover by her my treachery to him; which I'm sure he will revenge with my death, and which I must prevent with his, if it were only but for fear of his too just reproaches; for I must confess, I never had till now any excuse but that of interest, for doing ill to him. [_Exit._

_Re-enter_ MANLY _and_ FREEMAN.

_Man._ Come hither; only, I say, be sure you mistake not the time. You know the house exactly where Olivia lodges, 'tis just hard by.

_Free._ Yes, yes.

_Man._ Well then, bring 'em all, I say, thither, and all you know that may be then in the house; for the more witnesses I have of her infamy, the greater will be my revenge: and be sure you come straight up to her chamber without more ado. Here, take the watch; you see 'tis above a quarter past seven; be there in half an hour exactly.

_Free._ You need not doubt my diligence or dexterity; I am an old scourer, and can naturally beat up a wench's quarters that won't be civil. Shan't we break her windows too?

_Man._ No, no; be punctual only. [_Exeunt._