Ran. Butas last night by following (as I thought) her, I found you, so this night, by following you. in vain, I do resolve, if I can find her again, to keep her for ever. Lyd. Now I am obliged, and brought into debt, by his inconstancy :-faith, now cannot I hold out any.longer; I must discover myself. [Aside. Ran. But, madam, because I intend to see you no more, I'll take my leave of you for good and all; since you will not speak, I'll try if you will squeak. [Goes to throw her down, she squeaks. Lyd. Mr. Ranger! Mr. Ranger! Vin. Fy! Fy! you need not ravish Christina sure, that loves you so. Ran. Is it she! Lydia all this while!-how am I gulled! and Vincent in the plot too! [Aside. Lyd. Now, false Ranger! Ran. Now, false Christina too!-you thought I did not know you now, because I offered you such an unusual civility. Lyd. You knew me !-I warrant you knew, too, that I was the Christina you followed out of the Park last night! that I was the Christina that writ the letter too! Ran. Certainly, therefore I would have taken my revenge, you see, for your tricks. Val. Is not this the same woman that took refuge in your house last night, madam? [To CHRISTINA. Chri. The very same. Val. What, Mr. Ranger, we have chopped, and changed, and hid our Christinas so long and often, that at last we have drawn each of us our own? Ran. Mr. Valentine in England!-the truth on't is, you have juggled together, and drawn without my knowledge; but since she will have it so, she shall swear me for good and all now. [Goes to take her by the hand. Lyd. Come not near me. Ran. Nay, you need not be afraid I would ravish you, now I know you. Lyd. And yet, Leonore, I think 'tis but justice to pardon the fault I made him commit? [Apart to LEONORE, RANGER listens. Ran. You consider it right, cousin; for indeed you are but merciful to yourself in it. Lyd. Yet, if I would be rigorous, though I made a blot, your oversight has lost the game. Kan. But 'twas rash woman's play, cousin, and ought not to be played again, let me tell you. Enter DAPPERWIT. Dap. Who's there? who's there? Dap. Mr. Ranger, I am glad I have met with you, for I have left my bride just now in the house at Mulberry-garden, to come and pick up some of my friends in the Park here to sup with us. Ran. Your bride! are you married then? where is you bride? Dap. Here at Mulberry-garden, I say, where you, these ladies and gentlemen, shall all be welcome, if you will afford me the honour of your Gripe. Tell me ho wit. Mar. Pray be not a good reason. Gripe. Reason for Mar. Indeed, I fo with child, and saw n husband, or else I ha Joyn. Then you w Dap. How's that Ran. Who would would have married Dap. [To RANG pounds will make me ters wink, and fall o and the rest.] What joy? you Mrs. Luc guests are doubly bold to invite these you must know, N Simon does not only but my mistress t father. Sir Sim. Then I your new wife's Ha but, as it were, a sir Gripe. Indeed, you have put me so upon a merry pin, that I resolve to marry too. Flip. Nay, if my brother come to marrying once, I may too; I swore I would, when he did, little thinking Sir Sim, I take you at your word, madam. Flip. Well, but if I had thought you would have been so quick with me — Gripe. Where is your parson? Dap. What you would not revenge yourself upon the parson? Gripe. No, I would have the parson revenge me upon you; he should marry me. Dap. I am glad you are so frolic, sir; but who would you marry? [Pointing to Lucy. Gripe. That innocent lady? Dap. We were not married here :-but you cannot be in earnest. Gripe. You'll find it so; since you have robbed me of my housekeeper, I must get another. Dap. Why, she was my wench! Gripe. I'll make her honest then. Cros. Upon my repute he never saw her before: -but will your worship marry my daughter then? Gripe. I promise her and you, before all this good company, to-morrow I will make her my wife. Dap. How! Ran. Our ladies, sir, I suppose, expect the Dap. But will you marry her to-morrow?— Gripe. I will, verily. Dap. I am undone then! ruined, let me perish! By none but thee our projects are cross-bit. Chri. I am afraid then you would give me my revenge, and make me jealous of you; and I had rather suspect your faith than you should mine. Ran. Cousin Lydia, I had rather suspect your faith too, than you should mine; therefore let us e'en marry to-morrow, that I may have my turn of watching, dogging, standing under the window, at the door, behind the hanging, or Lyd. But if I could be desperate now and give you up my liberty, could you find in your heart to quit all other engagements, and voluntarily turn yourself over to one woman, and she a wife too? could you away with the insupportable bondage of matrimony? Ran. You talk of matrimony as irreverently as my lady Flippant: the bondage of matrimony! no The end of marriage now is liberty, And two are bound-to set each other free. EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY DAPPERWIT: Now, my brisk brothers of the pit, you'll say For I have wit and judgment, just like you; D 2 NEWLY AFTER THE REMOVAL OF THE DUKE'S COMPANY FROM LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS T SALISBURY-COURT. OUR author (like us) finding 'twould scarce do Where punk in vizor dare not rant and tear And never was it heard SCENE I. THE GENTLEMAN DANCING-MASTER, Prue. Nor to drink a pint of wine with a friend at the Prince in the Sun!— Hip. Nor to hear a fiddle in good company!Prue. Nor to hear the organs and tongs at the Gun in Moorfields !— Hip. Nay, not suffered to go to church, because the men are sometimes there!-Little did I think I should ever have longed to go to church. 37 they talk of; where, they say, there will be no hopes of coming near a man. Prue. But you can marry nobody but your cousin, miss your father you expect to-night; and be certain his Spanish policy and wariness, which has kept you up so close ever since you came from Hackney school, will make sure of you within a day or two at farthest. Hip. Then 'tis time to think how to prevent Prue. Or I either ;-but between two maids-him-stay-- Prue. Nor come near a man! Hip. Nor hear of a man!— Prue. No, miss; but to be denied a man! and to have no use at all of a man! Hip. Hold, hold!-your resentment is as much greater than mine, as your experience has been greater. But all this while, what do we make of my cousin, my husband elect, as my aunt says? We have had his company these three days; is he no man? But Pruer No, faith, he's but a monsieur you'll resolve yourself that question within these three days; for by that time he'll be your husband, if your father come to-night : Hip. Or if I provide not myself with another in the mean time for fathers seldom choose well; and I will no more take my father's choice in a husband, than I would in a gown, or a suit of knots. So that if that cousin of mine were not an ill-contrived, ugly, freakish fool, in being my father's choice I should hate him. Besides, he has almost made me out of love with mirth and good-humour; for he debases it as much as a jack-pudding, and civility and good breeding more than a city dancing master. Prue. What! won't you marry him then, madam? Hip. Would'st thou have me marry a fool, an idiot? Prue. Lord! 'tis a sign you have been kept up indeed, and know little of the world, to refuse a man for a husband only because he's a fool! Methinks he's a pretty apish kind of a gentleman, like other gentlemen, and handsome enough to lie with in the dark, when husbands take their privileges; and for the day-times, you may take the privilege of a wife. Hip. Excellent governess! you do understand the world, I see. Prue. Then you should be guided by me. Hip. Art thou in earnest then, damned jade? -would'st thou have me marry him ?-Well, there are more poor young women undone, and married to filthy fellows by the treachery and evil counsel of chambermaids, than by the obstinacy and covetousness of parents. Prue. Does not your father come on purpose out of Spain to marry you to him? Can you release yourself from your aunt or father any other way? Have you a mind to be shut up as long as you live? For my part, though you can hold out upon the lime from the walls here, salt, old shoes, and oatmeal, I cannot live so I must confess my patience is worn out. Hip. Alas, alas, poor Prue! your stomach lies another way: I will take pity of you, and get me a husband very suddenly, who may have a servant at your service. But rather than marry my cousin, I will be a nun in the new protestant nunnery Prue. In vain, vain, miss! Hip. If we knew but any man, any man, though he were but a little handsomer than the devil, so that he were a gentleman! Prue. What if you did know any man? if you had an opportunity, could you have confidence to speak to a man first? but if you could, how could you come to him, or he to you? nay, how could you send to him? for though you could write, which your father in his Spanish prudence would never permit you to learn, who should carry the letter?-But we need not be concerned for that, since we know not to whom to send it. Hip. Stay it must be so- I'll try how Enter MONSIEUr de Paris. Mons. Serviteur! serviteur! la cousine; I come to give the bon soir, as the French say. Hip. O, cousin! you know him; the fine gentleman they talk of so much in town. Prue. What! will you talk to him of any man else? Mons. Monsieur Taileur, Monsieur Esmit, Monsieur Hip. These are Frenchmen Mons. Non, non; voud you have me say Mr. Taylor, Mr. Smith? Fi! fi teste non!- Hip. But don't you know the brave gentleman they talk of so much in town? Mons. Who? Monsieur Gerrard ? Hip. What kind of man is that Mr. Gerrard ? and then I'll tell you. Mons. Why he is truly a pretty man, a pretty man-a pretty so so-kind of man, for an Englishman, Hip. How a pretty man? Mons. Why, he is conveniently tall--but-- Mons. And not ill-shaped-but- Hip. But what? Hip. Say you so, cousin! Mons. Then for being well-bred, you shall judge:-First, he can't dance a step, nor sing a French song, nor swear a French oate, nor use the polite French word in his conversation; and in fine, can't play at hombre but speaks base good Englis, with the commune home-bred pronunciation; and in fine, to say no more, he never carries a snuff-box about with him. Hip. Indeed! Mons. And yet this man has been abroad as much as any man, and does not make the least show of it, but a little in his mien, not at all in his discour, jarnie! He never talks so much as of St. Peter's church at Rome, the Escurial, or Madrid; nay, not so much as of Henry IV., of Pont-neuf, Paris, and the new Louvre, nor of the Grand Roy. Hip. 'Tis for his commendation, if he does not talk of his travels. Mons. Auh! auh!-cousine-he is conscious to himself of his wants, because he is very envious; for he cannot endure me. Hip. [Aside.] He shall be my man then for that.-Ay, ay! 'tis the same, Prue.-[Aloud.] No, I know he can't endure you, cousin. Mons. How do you know it who never stir out? teste non ! Hip. Well-dear cousin,-if you will promise me never to tell my aunt, I'll tell you. Mons. I won't, I won't, jarnie! Hip. Nor to be concerned yourself, so as to make a quarrel of it. Mons. Non, non Hip. Upon the word of a gentleman ? Mons. Foy de chevalier, I will not quarrel. Prue. Lord, miss! I wonder you won't believe him without more ado. Hip. Then he has the hatred of a rival for you. Mons. Mal a peste! Hip. You know my chamber is backward, and has a door into the gallery which looks into the back yard of a tavern, whence Mr. Gerrard once spying me at the window, has often since attempted to come in at that window by the help of the leads of a low building adjoining; and, indeed, 'twas as much as my maid and I could do to keep him out. Mons. Au, le coquin ! Hip. But nothing is stronger than aversion; for I hate him perfectly, even as much as I love you Prue. I believe so, faith!-but what design have we now on foot? [Aside. Hip. This discovery is an argument, sure, of my love to you. Mons. Ay, ay, say no more, cousin, I doubt not your amour for me, because I doubt not your judgment. But what's to be done with this fanfaron? I know where he eats to-night-I'll go find him out, ventre bleu ! Hip. O, my dear cousin, you will not make a quarrel of it? I thought what your promise would come to! Mons. You'd have a man of honour Hip. Keep his promise. Mons. And lose his mistress?-That were not for my honour, ma foy! Hip. Cousin, though you do me the injury to think I could be false, do not do yourself the injury to think any one could be false to you. Will you be afraid of losing your mistress? To show such a fear to your rival, were for his honour, and not for yours, sure. Mons. Nay, cousin, I'd have you know I was never afraid of losing my mistress in earnest.-Let me see the man can get my mistress from me, jarnie! --But he that loves must seem a little jealous. Hip. Not to his rival: those that have jealousy hide it from their rivals. Mons. But there are some who say, jealousy is no more to be hid than a cough :-but it should never be discovered in me, if I had it, because it is not French at all-ventre bleu ! Hip. No, you should rally your rival, and rather make a jest of your quarrel to him; and that, I suppose, is French too. Mons. 'Tis so, 'tis so, cousine; 'tis the veritable French method; for your Englis, for want of wit, drive every thing to a serious grum quarrel, and then would make a jest on't, when 'tis too late, when they can't laugh, jarnie' Hip. Yes, yes, I would have you rally him soundly do not spare him a jot.-But shall you see him to-night? Mons. Ay, ay. Hip. Yes; pray be sure to see him for the jest's sake. Mons. I will-for I love a jest as well as any bel esprit of 'em all-da: Hip. Ay, and rally him soundly; be sure you rally him soundly, and tell him just thus :-that the lady he has so long courted, from the great window of the Ship tavern, is to be your wife tomorrow, unless he come at his wonted hour of six in the morning to her window to forbid the bans; for 'tis the first and last time of asking; and if he come not, let him for ever hereafter stay away, and hold his tongue. Mons. Ha ha! ha! a very good jest, teste bleu ! Hip. And if the fool should come again, I would tell him his own, I warrant you, cousin. My gentleman should be satisfied for good and all, I'd secure him.. Mons. Bon, bon. Prue. Well, well, young mistress; you were not at Hackney school for nothing, I see; nor taken away for nothing.-A woman may soon be too old, but is never too young to shift for herself. [Aside. Mons. Ha ha! ha! cousine, dou art a merry grig, ma foy!-I long to be with Gerrard; and I am the best at improving a jest-I shall have such divertisement to-night, teste bleu ! Hip. He'll deny, may be, at first, that he ever courted any such lady. Mons. Nay, I am sure he'll be ashamed of it, I shall make him look so sillily, teste non !-I long to find him out.-Adieu, adieu, la cousine. Hip. Shall you be sure to find him? Mons. Indubitablement, I'll search the town over, but I'll find him: ha! ha! ha!-[Exit MONSIEUR, and returns.]-But I'm afraid, cousine, it I should tell him you are to be my wife to-morrow, he would not come: now, I am for having him come for the jest's sake, ventre!— Hip. So am I, cousin, for having him come too, for the jest's sake. ha! Mons. Well, well, leave it to me :-ha: ha! |