Mock. Zauns! Roe. Hold off, stale iniquity!-[To LEANTHE.] Madam, you'll pardon this? Trudge. Indeed I won't live with that stranger. You promised to marry me, so you did. Ah, sir, Neddy's a brave boy, God bless him; he's a whole armful; Lord knows I had a heavy load of him. Love. Guilty or not guilty, Mr. Mockmode? Mock. 'Tis past that; I am condemned, I'm hanged in the marriage noose.-[To TRUDGE.] Hark ye, madam, was this the doctor that let you blood under the tongue for the quinsy? Trudge. Yes, that it was, sir. Mock. Then he may do so again; for the devil take me if ever I breathe a vein for ye !-Mr. Lyric, is this your poetical friendship? Lyr. I had only a mind to convince you of your squireship. Love. Now, sister, my fears are over. But where's Lucinda? how is she disposed of? Lean. The fear she lay under of being discovered by you, gave me an opportunity of imposing Pindress upon her instead of this gentleman, whom she expected to wear one of Pindress's nightgowns as a disguise. To make the cheat more current, she disguised herself in my clothes, which has made her pass on her maid for me; and I by that opportunity putting on a suit of her's, passed upon this gentleman for Lucinda, my next business is to find her out, and beg her pardon, endeavour her reconcilement to you, which the discovery of the mistakes between both will easily effect. [Exit. Roe. [To LYRIC.] Well, sir, how was your plot carried on? Lyr. Why this squire, (will you give me leave to call you so now?) this squire had a mind to personate Lovewell, to catch Lucinda. So I made Trudge to personate Lucinda, and snap him in this very garden. [To MOCKMODE.] Now, sir, you'll give me leave to write your epithalamium? Mock. My epithalamium! my epitaph, screechowl, for I'm buried alive. But I hope you'll return my hundred pound I gave you for marrying me? Roe. No, sir; it belongs to this gentlewoman[Gives it to TRUDGE] you have divorced her, and must give her separate maintenance. There's another turn of plot you were not aware of, Mr. Lyric. Re-enter LEANTHE, with LUCINDA and PINDRESS. Luc. You have told me wonders! Lean. Here are these can testify the truth.This gentleman is the real Mr. Mockmode, and much such another person as your dream represented. Roe. I hope, madam, you'll pardon my dissembling, since only the hopes of so great a purchase could cause it. Luc. Let my wishing you much joy and happiness in your bride testify my reconciliation; and at the request of your sister, Mr. Lovewell, I pardon your past jealousies.-You threatened me, Mr. Lovewell, with an Irish entertainment at my wedding. I wish it present now, to assist at your sister's nuptials. Lean. At my last going hence I sent for 'em, and they're ready. Love. Call 'em in then. [An Irish entertainment of three men and three women, dressed after the Fingallian fashion. I Luc. I must reward your sister, Mr. Lovewell, for the many services done me as my page. therefore settle my fortune and myself on you, on this condition, that you make over your estate in Ireland to your sister, and that gentleman. Love. 'Tis done; only with this proviso, brother, that you forsake your extravagances. Roe. Brother, you know I always slighted gold, But for bright virtue's sake I here embrace it. Exeunt omnes EPILOGUE. WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY JO. HAYNES, IN MOURNING. I COME not here, our poet's fate to see, Must still kind Fortune through all weathers steer 'em, And beauties bloom there spite of edar rerum, Seduced me first to be a wicked player. I knew that stage must down where not one whore is. But can you have the hearts though? (Pray now speak,) After all our services, to let us break? [Mocking the late singers. When their male-throats no longer drew your money: We got ye a eunuch's pipe, signor Rampony. on; The females found a damn'd blot in his scutcheon. An Italian now we've got of mighty fame, His voice is like the music of the spheres, [201. a time He's a handsome fellow too, looks brisk and trim: If he don't take ye, then the devil take him! Besides, lest our white faces always mayn't delight ye, We've pick'd up gipsies now to please or fright ye. Lastly, to make our house more courtlier shine, As travel does the men of mode refine, So our stage-heroes did their tour design; Oh Collier! Collier! thou'st frighted away Miss She, to return our foreigner's complaisance, souse: We've lost the only touch-hole of our house. Losing that jewel, gave us a fatal blow : I'll then grow wiser, leave off playing the fool, Don Sigismondo Fideli.-There's music in his They'll have no occasion then I'm sure to play, name; They'll have such comings in another way. THE CONSTANT COUPLE: OR, TRIP TO THE JUBILEE. A Comedy. Sive favore tuli, sive hanc ego carmine famam ; OVID. Trist. iv. 10. TO THE HONOURABLE SIR ROGER MOSTYN, BART., OF MOSTYN-HALL IN FLINTSHIRE. SIR.-'Tis no small reflection on pieces of this nature, that panegyric is so much improved, and that dedication is grown more an art than poetry; that authors, to make their patrons more than men, make themselves less; and that persons of honour are forced to decline patronising wit, because their modesty cannot bear the gross strokes of adulation. But give me leave to say, Sir, that I am too young an author to have learned the art of flattery; and, I hope, the same modesty which recommended this play to the world, will also reconcile my addresses to you, of whom I can say nothing but what your merits may warrant, and all that have the honour of your acquaintance will be proud to vindicate. The greatest panegyric upon you, Sir, is the unprejudiced and bare truth of your character, the fire of youth, with the sedateness of a senator, and the modern gaiety of a fine English gentleman, with the noble solidity of the ancient Briton. This is the character, Sir, which all men, but yourself, are proud to publish of you, and which more celebrated pens than mine should transmit to posterity. The play has had some noble appearances to honour its representation; and to complete the success, I have presumed to prefix so noble a name to usher it into the world. A stately frontispiece is the beauty of a building. But here I must transverse Ovid :—materia superabit opus. I am, honourable Sir, your most devoted and humble servant, G. FARQUHAR. PREFACE TO THE READER. AN affected modesty is very often the greatest vanity, and authors are sometimes prouder of their blushes than of the praises that occasioned them. I shan't therefore, like a foolish virgin, fly to be pursued, and deny what I chiefly wish for. I am very willing to acknowledge the beauties of this play, especially those of the third night, which not to be proud of were the height of impudence. Who is ashamed to value himself upon such favours, undervalues those who conferred them. As I freely submit to the criticisms of the judicious, so I cannot call this an ill play, since the town has allowed it such success. When they have pardoned my faults 'twere very ill manners to condemn their indulgence. Some may think (my acquaintance in town being too slender to make a party for the play) that the success must be derived from the pure merits of the cause I am of another opinion: I have not been long enough in town to raise enemies against me; and the English are still kind to strangers. I am below the envy of great wits, and above the malice of little ones. I have not displeased the ladies, nor offended the clergy; both which are now pleased to say, that a comedy may be diverting without smut and profaneness. Next to those advantages, the beauties of action gave the greatest life to the play, of which the town is so sensible, that all will join with me in commendation of the actors, and allow (without detracting from the merit of others) that the Theatre Royal affords an excellent and complete set of comedians. Mr. Wilks's performance has set him so far above competition in the part of Wildair, that none can pretend to envy the praise due to his merit. That he made the part, will appear from hence, that whenever the stage has the misfortune to lose him, Sir Harry Wildair may go to the Jubi'ce. A great many quarrel at the Trip to the Jubilee for a misnomer: I must tell them, that perhaps there are greater trips in the play; and when I find that more exact plays have had better success, I'll talk with the critics about decounis, &c. However, if I ever commit another fault of this nature, I'll endeavour to make it more excusable. POETS will think nothing so checks their fury No, no, your thoughts, like theirs, lie quite another way. The ladies safe may smile: for here's no slander, No smut, no lewd-tongued beau, no double-entendre. 'Tis true, he has a spark just come from France, But then so far from beau-why, he talks sense! Like coin oft carried out, but-seldom brought from thence. There's yet a gang to whom our spark submits, Your elbow-shaking fool, that lives by's wits, That's only witty though, just as he lives, by fits. Who, lion-like, through bailiffs scours away, Hunts, in the face, a dinner all the day, At night, with empty bowels, grumbles o'er the play. And now the modish prentice he implores, Next to our mounted friends, we humbly move, Snaps rope like thread; but when his fortune's told him, He'll hear perhaps of rope will one day hold him : Well, that's all! Now, gentlemen, for the play. On second thoughts, I've but two words to say; Such as it is for your delight design'd, Hear it, read, try, judge, and speak as you find. ANOTHER 'Tis hard, the author of this play in view, 'Twas malice all: no malice like to theirs, PROLOGUE. Our plays are farce, because our house is cramm'd; Their plays all good; for what ?--because they're damn'd. Because we pleasure you, you call us tools; By their good-nature, they are wits, true blue; The fair are better pleased with flesh and blood. [Runs SCENE I.-The Park. ACT I. Enter VIZARD with a letter, Footman following. Viz. Angelica, send it back unopened! say you? Foot. As you see, sir. Viz. The pride of these virtuous women is more insufferable than the immodesty of prostitutes! After all my encouragement, to slight me thus ! Foot. She said, sir, that imagining your morals sincere, she gave you access to her conversation; but that your late behaviour in her company has convinced her, that your love and religion are both hypocrisy, and that she believes your letter like yourself, fair on the outside, foul within; so sent it back unopened. Viz. May obstinacy guard her beauty till wrinkles bury it! Then may desire prevail to make her curse that untimely pride her disappointed age repents!-I'll be revenged the very first opportunity.-Saw you the old lady Darling, her mother? Foot. Yes, sir, and she was pleased to say much in your commendation. Viz. That's my cue.-An esteem grafted in old age is hardly rooted out, years stiffen their opinions with their bodies, and old zeal is only to be cozened by young hypocrisy.-Run to the lady Lurewell's, and know of her maid whether her ladyship will be at home this evening.-[Exit Footman.] Her beauty is sufficient cure for Angelica's [Pulls out a book, reads, and walks about. scorn. Enter Alderman SMUGGLER. Smug. Ay, there's a pattern for the young men o'th' times!-At his meditation so early, some book of pious ejaculations, I'm sure. Viz. [Aside.] This Hobbes is an excellent fellow!-[Aloud.] O uncle Smuggler! To find you in this end o'th' town is a miracle. Smug. I have seen a miracle this morning indeed, cousin Vizard. Viz. What is it, pray, sir? Smug. A man at his devotion so near the court. -I'm very glad, boy, that you keep your sanctity untainted in this infectious place; the very air of this park is heathenish, and every man's breath I meet scents of atheism. Viz. Surely, sir, some great concern must bring you to this unsanctified end of the town. Smug. A very unsanctified concern truly, cousin. Smug. A lawsuit, boy.-shall I tell you?—My ship the Swan is newly arrived from St. Sebastian, laden with Portugal wines : now the impudent rogue of a tide waiter has the face to affirm, 'tis French wines in Spanish casks, and has indicted me upon the statute.-O conscience! conscience! these tidewaiters and surveyors plague us more with the French wines, than the war did with French privateers. Enter Colonel STANDARD. Ay, there's another plague of the nation-a red coat and feather. Viz. Colonel Standard, I'm your humble ser vant. Stand. Maybe not, sir. Stand. Because-I'm disbanded. Stand. This very morning, in Hyde Park, my brave regiment, a thousand men that looked like lions yesterday were scattered, and looked as poor and simple as the herd of deer that grazed beside 'em. Smug. [Singing.] Tal, al, deral-I'll have a bonfire this night as high as the Monument. Stand. A bonfire! thou dry, withered, ill nature had not these brave fellows' swords defended you, your house had been a bonfire ere this about your ears.-Did we not venture our lives, sir? Smug. And did not we pay you for your lives, sir?-Venture your lives! I'm sure we ventured our money, and that's life and soul to me.-Sir, we'll maintain you no longer. Stand. Then your wives shall, old Actæon. There are five-and-thirty strapping officers gone this morning to live upon free quarter in the city. Smug. O Lord! O Lord! I shall have a son within these nine months born with a leading staff in his hand.-Sir, you are Stand. What, sir? Smug. Sir, I say that you are- Smug. Disbanded, sir, that's all.-I see my lawyer yonder. [Exit. Viz. Sir, I'm very sorry for your misfortune. Stand. Why so? I don't come to borrow money of you; if you're my friend, meet me this evening at the Rummer, I'll pay my way, drink a health to my king, prosperity to my country; and away for Hungary to-morrow morning. Viz. What! you won't leave us? Stand. What a soldier stay here! to look like an old pair of colours in Westminster-hall, ragged and rusty no, no.-I met yesterday a broken lieutenant, he was ashamed to own that he wanted a dinner, but begged eighteenpence of me to buy a new sheath for his sword. Viz. Oh! but you have good friends, colonel! Stand. Oh, very good friends! my father's a lord, and my elder brother a beau. Viz. But your country may perhaps want your sword again. Stand. Nay, for that matter, let but a single drum beat up for volunteers between Ludgate and Charing Cross, and I shall undoubtedly hear it at the walls of Buda. Viz. Come, come, colonel, there are ways of making your fortune at home. - Make your addresses to the fair, you're a man of honour and courage. Stand. Ay, my courage is like to do me wondrous service with the fair. This pretty cross cut over my eye will attract a duchess. I warrant 'twill be a mighty grace to my ogling.-Had I used the stratagem of a certain brother colonel of mine, I might succeed. Viz. What was it, pray? Stand. Why, to save his pretty face for the |