LOVE AND A BOTTLE. A Comedy. Vade, sed incultus, qualem decet exulis esse. OVID. Trist. i. 1. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE PEREGRINE, LORD MARQUIS OF CARMARTHEN, &c. MY LORD,-Being equally a stranger to your Lordship, and the whole nobility of this kingdom, something of a natural pulse and aspiring motion in my inclinations has prompted me, though I hazard a presumption, to declare my respect. ad be the success how it will, I am vain of nothing in this piece but the choice of my patron; I shall be so far thought judicious author, whose principal business is to design his works an offering to the greatest honour and merit. Jeannot here, my Lord, stand accused of any sort of adulation but to myself, because compliments due to merit harm upon the giver, and the only flattery is to myself, whilst I attempt your Lordship's praise. I dare make no essay your Lordship's youthful bravery and courage, because such is always guarded with modesty, but shall venture to esent you some lines on this subject, which the world will undoubtedly apply to your Lordship. Courage the highest gift, that scorns to bend To mean devices for a sordid end. Courage an independent spark from Heaven's bright throne, By which the soul stands raised, triumphant, high, alone. Above all vice, it stoops not to be proud. Courage, the mighty attribute of powers above, By which those great in war, are great in love. The spring of all brave acts is seated here, As falsehoods draw their sordid birth from fear. The best and noblest part of mankind pay homage to royalty, what veneration then is due to those virtues and dowments which even engaged the respect of royalty itself, in the person of one of the greatest emperors in the world, chose your Lordship not only as a companion, but a conductor! He wanted the fire of such a Briton to animate his cold Russians, and would therefore choose you his leader in war, in travel. He knew the fury of the Turk could be only stopped by an English nobleman, as the power of France was an English king. A sense of this greatness which might deter others, animates me to address your lordship; resolved at my first muse should take a high and daring flight, I aspired to your Lordship's protection for this trifle, which stown myself now proud of, affording me this opportunity of humbly declaring myself, my Lord, your Lordship's t devoted servant, G. FARQUHAR. PROLOGUE. BY J. H. SPOKEN BY MR. POWELL, A Servant attending with a Bottle of Wine. As stubborn atheists, who disdain'd to pray, Implore your mercy in our suppliant prayers. Sure none sit here that will refuse their glass! Oh, there's a damning soldier-let me think— Come on then; foot to foot be boldly set, [friends ACT I. SCENE I.-Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. Enter ROEBUCK, repeating the following line. Roe. Thus far our arms have with success been crown'd. Heroically spoken, faith, of a fellow that has not one farthing in his pocket! If I have one penny to buy a halter withal in my present necessity, may I be hanged! though I'm reduced to a fair way of obtaining one methodically very soon, if robbery or theft will purchase the gallows. But hold-can't I rob honourably, by turning soldier? Enter Cripple begging. Crip. One farthing to the poor old soldier, for the Lord's sake! Roe. Ha!-a glimpse of damnation just as a man is entering into sin, is no great policy of the devil. But how long did you bear arms, friend? Crip. Five years, an't please you, sir. Roe. And how long has that honourable crutch borne you? Crip. Fifteen, sir. Roe. Very pretty! five year a soldier, and fifteen a beggar !-This is hell right! an age of damnation, for a momentary offence. Thy condition, fellow, is preferable to mine; the merciful bullet, more kind than thy ungrateful country, has given thee a debenture in thy broken leg, from which thou canst draw a more plentiful maintenance than I from all my limbs in perfection. Prithee, friend, why wouldst thou beg of me? dost think I'm rich? Crip. No, sir, and therefore I believe you charitable. Your warm fellows are so far above the sense of our misery, that they can't pity us; and I have always found it, by sad experience, as needless to beg of a rich man as a clergyman. Our greatest benefactors, the brave officers, are all disbanded, and must now turn beggars like myself; and so, times are very hard, sir. Roe. What, are the soldiers more charitable than the clergy? Crip. Ay, sir; a captain will say dam'me, give me sixpence; and a parson shall whine God bless me, and give me not a farthing: now think the officer's blessing much the best. Roe. Are the beaux never compassionate? Crip. The great full wigs they wear stop ears so close, that they can't hear us; and if they should, they never have any farthings about Roe. Then I am a beau, friend; therefore leave me. Begging from a generous soul that not to bestow, is more tormenting than robbery a miser in his abundance. Prithee, friend, be th charitable for once; I beg only the favour wi rich friends bestow, a little advice. I am as post as thou art, and am designing to turn soldier. Crip. No, no, sir. See what an honourable p I am forced to stand to; my rags are scarecr sufficient to frighten any one from the field; ra turn bird of prey at home. [Showing his crea Roe. Grammercy, old devil! I find hell ha pimps of the poorer sort as well as of the weal I fancy, friend, thou hast got a cloven foot insta of a broken leg.—'Tis a hard case that a man mal never expect to go nearer heaven than some st of a ladder. But 'tis unavoidable: I have wants to lead, and the devil to drive; and if 1 meet my friend Lovewell (which I think impo ble, being so great a stranger in town), Fortune, t hast done thy worst; I proclaim open war aga thee. I'll stab thy next rich darling that I see; And killing him, be thus revenged on thee. [Retires to the back part of the stage, as into the making some turns across the stage in disori Exit Cripple. Enter LUCINDA and PINDRESS. Luc. Oh! these summer mornings are so cately fine, Pindress, it does me good to be abra Pin. Ay, madam, these summer mornings as pleasant to young folks as the winter nights married people, or as your morning of beauty to Mr. Lovewell. Luc. I'm violently afraid the evening of my beauty will fall to his share very soon; for I'm inclinable to marry him. I shall soon lie under an eclipse, Pindress. pertinent chat has diverted us from our business. I'm afraid Lovewell has missed us for want of the sign. But whom have we here? An odd figure! some gentleman in disguise, I believe. Pin. Had he a finer suit on, I should believe him in disguise; for I fancy his friends have only Pin. Then it must be full moon with your lady-known him by that this twelvemonth. ship. But why would you choose to marry in summer, madam? Luc. I know no cause, but that people are aptest to run mad in hot weather, unless you take a woman's reason. Pin. What's that, madam? Luc. Why, I am weary of lying alone. Pin. Oh, dear madam, lying alone is very dangerous! 'tis apt to breed strange dreams. Luc. I had the oddest dream last night of my courtier that is to be, Squire Mockmode. He appeared crowded about with a dancing-master, pushing-master, music-master, and all the throng of beau-makers; and methought he mimicked foppery so awkwardly, that his imitation was downright burlesquing it. I burst out a-laughing so heartily, that I wakened myself! Pin. But dreams go by contraries, madam. Have not you seen him yet? Luc. No; but my uncle's letter gives account that he's newly come to town from the university, where his education could reach no farther than to puzzle fat ale, smoke tobacco, and chop logic.Fangh! it makes me sick! Pin. But he's very rich, madam; his concerns oin to yours in the country. Luc. Ay, but his concerns shall never join to nine in the city for since I have the disposal of by own fortune, Lovewell's the man for my noney. Pin. Ay, and for my money: for I've had above wenty pieces from him since his courtship began. le's the prettiest sober gentleman! I have so trong an opinion of his modesty, that I'm afraid, aadam, your first child will be a fool! Luc. Oh, God forbid! I hope a lawyer undertands business better than to beget anything non onepos.-The walks fill apace; the enemy aproaches, we must set out our false colours. [Put on their masks. Pin. We masks are the purest privateers !Madam, how would you like to cruise about a ittle? Luc. Well enough, had we no enemies but our ops and cits: but I dread these blustering menf-war, the officers, who, after a broadside of amme's and sinkme's, are for boarding all masks hey meet as lawful prize. Pin. In truth, madam, and the most of 'em are awful prize, for they generally have French ware nder hatches. Luc. Oh, hideous! o' my conscience, girl, hou'rt quite spoiled! An actress upon the stage would blush at such expressions. Pin. Ay, madam, and your ladyship would seem to blush in the box, when the redness of Four face proceeded from nothing but the contraint of holding your laughter. Did you chide me for not putting a stronger lace in your stays, when you had broke one as strong as a hempen ord with containing a violent tihee at a smutty est in the last play? Lue. Go, go, thou'rt a naughty girl! thy im Luc. His mien and air show him a gentleman, and his clothes demonstrate him a wit. He may afford us some sport. I have a female inclination to talk to him. Pin. Hold, madam, he looks as like one of those dangerous men-of-war you just now mentioned as can be; you had best send out your pinnace before to discover the enemy. Luc. No, I'll hail him myself. -[Moves towards ROEBUCK.] What, sir, dreaming? [Slaps him on the shoulder with her fan. Roe. Yes, madam. Roe. Yes faith, lady, very often when my sleep's haunted by such pretty goblins as you! You are a sort of dream I would fain be reading: I'm a very good interpreter indeed, madam. Luc. Are you then one of the wise men of the East? Roe. No, madam, but one of the fools of the West. Luc. Pray, what do you mean by that? Roe. An Irishman, madam, at your service. Luc. Oh, horrible! an Irishman! a mere wolfdog, I protest ! Roe. Ben't surprised, child; the wolf-dog is as well-natured an animal as any of your country bulldogs, and a much more fawning creature, let me tell ye. [Lays hold of her. Luc. Pray, good Cæsar, keep off your paws; no scraping acquaintance, for Heaven's sake! Tell us some news of your country; I have heard the strangest stories-that the people wear horns and hoofs ! Roe. Yes, 'faith, a great many wear horns: but we had that, among other laudable fashions, from London. I think it came over with your mode of wearing high topknots; for ever since, the men and wives bear their heads exalted alike. They were both fashions that took wonderfully. Luc. Then you have ladies among you? Roe. Yes, yes, we have ladies, and whores, colleges and playhouses, churches and taverns, fine houses and bawdy-houses: in short, everything that you can boast of, but fops, poets, toads, and adders. Luc. But have you no beaux at all? Roe. Yes; they come over like the woodcocks, once a year. Luc. And have your ladies no springes to catch 'em in? Roe. No, madam; our own country affords us much better wildfowl. But they are generally stripped of their feathers by the playhouse and taverns; in both which they pretend to be critics; and our ignorant nation imagines a full wig as infallible a token of a wit as the laurel. Luc. Oh Lard! and here 'tis the certain sign of a blockhead. But why no poets in Ireland, sir? Roe. Faith, madam, I know not, unless St. Patrick sent them a-packing with other venomous creatures out of Ireland. Nothing that carries a sting in its tongue can live there. But since I have described my country, let me know a little of England, by a sight of your face. Luc. Come you to particulars first. Pray, sir, unmask, by telling who you are; and then I'll unmask, and show who I am. Roe. You must dismiss your attendant then, madam; for the distinguishing particular of me is a secret. Pin. Sir, I can keep a secret as well as my mistress; and the greater the secrets are, I love 'em the better. Luc. Can't they be whispered, sir? rity of an incensed father, the dull and oftenrepeated advice of impertinent relations, the continual clamours of a furious woman, and the shrill bawling of an ill-natured bastard. From all which, good Lord deliver me! Love. And so you left them to grand-dadda?— Ha ha ha! Roe. Heaven was pleased to lessen my affliction, by taking away the she brat; but the t'other is, I hope, well, because a brave boy, whom I christened Edward, after thee, Lovewell; I made bold to make my man stand for you, and your sister seat her maid to give her name to my daughter. Love. Now you talk of my sister, pray how Roe. Oh yes, madam, I can give you a hint, by does she? which you may understand 'em. [Pretends to whisper, and kisses her. Luc. Sir, you're impudent! Roe. Nay, madam, since you're so good at minding folks, have with you! [Catches her fast, carrying her off. Luc. Pin. Help! help! help! Enter LOVEWELL, BRUSH following. Love. Villain, unhand the lady, and defend thyself! [Draws. Roe. What, knight-errants in this country!— Now has the devil very opportunely sent me a throat to cut; pray Heaven his pockets be well lined.-[Quits LUCINDA, who goes off with PINDRESS.] Have at thee! St. George for England! -[They fight; after some passes, ROEBUCK starts back and pauses.] My friend Lovewell! Love. My dear Roebuck!-[Fling down their swords, and embrace.] Shall I believe my eyes? Roe. You may believe your ears; 'tis I, by Gad! Love. Why, thy being in London is such a mystery, that I must have the evidence of more senses than one to confirm me of its truth.-But pray unfold the riddle. Roe. Why 'faith, 'tis a riddle. You wonder at it before the explanation, then wonder more at yourself for not guessing it.-What is the universal cause of the continued evils of mankind? Love. The universal cause of our continued evil is the devil, sure! Roe. No, 'tis the flesh, Ned.-That very woman that drove us all out of Paradise, has sent me apacking out of Ireland. Love. How so? Roe. Only tasting the forbidden fruit, that was all. Love. Is simple fornication become so great a crime there as to be punishable by no less than banishment? Roe. Egad, mine was double fornication, Ned! —The jade was so pregnant to bear twins, the fruit grew in clusters; and my unconscionable father, because I was a rogue in debauching her, would make me a fool by wedding her. But I would not marry a whore, and he would not own a disobedient son, and so Love. But was she a gentlewoman? Roe. Psha! no; she had no fortune. She wore indeed a silk manteau and high-head; but these are grown as little signs of gentility now-a-days as that is of chastity. Love. But what necessity forced you to leave the kingdom? Roe. I'll tell you.-To shun the insulting autho Roe. Dear Lovewell, a very miracle of beauty and goodness!-But I don't like her. Love. Why? Roe. She's virtuous;- and I think beauty and virtue are as ill joined as lewdness and ugliness. Love. But I hope your arguments could not make her a proselyte to this profession? Roe. Faith, I endeavoured it, but that plaguy honour-damn it for a whim !-Were it as honour able for women to be whores, as men to be whore masters, we should have lewdness as great a mark of quality among the ladies, as 'tis now amon the lords. Love. What, do you hold no innate principl of virtue in women? Roe. I hold an innate principle of love in then Their passions are as great as ours, their reason weaker. We admire them, and consequently they must us. And I tell thee once more, that ba women no safeguard but your innate principle of virtue, honest George Roebuck would have lan with your sister, Ned, and should enjoy a countess before night. Love. But methinks, George, 'twas not fair ta tempt my sister. Roe. Methinks 'twas not fair of thy sister, Ned to tempt me. As she was thy sister, I had ne design upon her; but as she's a pretty woman. could scarcely forbear her, were she my own. Love. But, upon serious reflection, could not you have lived better at home by turning th whore into a wife, than here by turning other men's wives into whores? There are merchants ladies in London, and you must trade with them, for aught I see. Roe. Ay, but is the trade open? is the man facture encouraged, old boy? Love. Oh, wonderfully!-a great many por people live by't. Though the husbands are for engrossing the trade, the wives are altogether for encouraging interlopers. But I hope you havi brought some small stock to set up with ? Roe. [Aside.] The greatness of my wants, which would force me to discover 'em, makes me blush to own 'em.-[Aloud.] Why faith, Ned. I had a great journey from Ireland hither, and would burden myself with no more than just necessary charges. Love. Oh, then you have brought bills? Roe. No, faith, exchange of money from Dubin hither, is so unreasonable high, thatLove. What? Roe. That-Zoons, I have not one farthing!-Now you understand me. Love. No faith, I never understand one that comes in forma pauperis; I han't studied the law so long for nothing.-But what prospect can you propose of a supply? Roe. I'll tell you. When you appeared, I was just thanking my stars for sending me a throat to eut, and consequently a purse: but my knowledge of you prevented me of that way, and therefore I think you're obliged in return to assist me by some better means. You were once an honest fellow; but so long study in the inns may alter a man strangely, as you say. Love. No, dear Roebuck, I'm still a friend to thy virtues, and esteem thy follies as foils only to set them off. I did but rally you; and to convince you, here are some pieces, share of what I have about me: take them as earnest of my farther supply. You know my estate sufficient to maintain 13 both, if you will either restrain your extravacancies, or I retrench my necessaries. Roe. Thy profession of kindness is so great, hat I could almost suspect it of design. But ome, friend, I am heartily tired with the fatigue f my journey, besides a violent fit of sickness, hich detained me a month at Coventry, to the xhausting my health and money. Let me only ecruit by a relish of the town in love and a bottle, nd then-O avens! and earth! As they are going off, ROEBUCK starts back surprised. Love. What's the matter, man? Roe. Why, death and the devil! or, what's orse, a woman and a child.-Oons! don't you Mrs. Trudge with my bastard in her arms ossing the field towards us?-Oh, the indefatible whore, to follow me all the way to London! Love. Mrs. Trudge! my old acquaintance? Poe. Ay, ay, the very same; your old acquaintce; and for aught I know, you might have abbed about getting the brats. Love. 'Tis but reasonable then I should pay are at the reckoning. I'll help to provide for r; in the mean time, you had best retire.-Brush, nduct this gentleman to my lodgings, and run m thence to widow Bullfinch's, and provide a iging with her for a friend of mine.-Fly! and me back presently.-[Exeunt ROEBUCK and USH.] So, my friend comes to town like the eat Turk to the field, attended by his concubines d children; and I'm afraid these are but parts of > retinue. But hold-I shan't be able to sustain e shock of this woman's fury. I'll withdraw till + has discharged her first volley, then surprise T. [Retires behind. Enter TRUDGE, with a child crying. Trudge. Hush, hush, hush!-And indeed it was young traveller !-And what would it say? It ys that daddy is a false man, a cruel man, and an grateful man. In troth so he is, my dear child. What shall I do with it, poor creature?-Hush, sh, hush!-Was ever poor woman in such a nentable condition? immediately after the pains one travail, to undergo the fatigues of another! But I'm sure he can never do well; for though can't find him, my curses, and the misery of this he, will certainly reach him. Love. [Coming forward.] Methinks I should ow that voice. What, Mrs. Trudge! and in ondon! Whose brave boy hast thou got there? Trudge. Oh Lord! Mr. Lovewell! I'm very ad to see you, and yet am ashamed to see you. at indeed he promised to marry me, [Crying] and you know, Mr. Lovewell, that he's such a handsome man, and has so many ways of insinuating, that the frailty of woman's nature could not resist him. Love. What's all this?-a handsome man! ways of insinuating! frailty of nature !—I don't understand these ambiguous terms. Trudge. Ah, Mr. Lovewell! I'm sure you have seen Mr. Roebuck, and I'm sure 'twould be the first thing he would tell you. I refer it to you, Mr. Lovewell, if he is not an ungrateful man, to deal so barbarously with any woman that had used him so civilly. I was kinder to him than I would have been to my own born brother. Love. Oh, then I find kissing goes by favour, Mrs. Trudge. Trudge. Faith, you're all alike, you men are alike. Poor child! he's as like his own dadda as if he were spit out of his mouth. See, Mr. Lovewell, if he has not Mr. Roebuck's nose to a hair; and you know he has a very good nose; and the little pigsny has mamma's mouth.-Oh, the little lips! and 'tis the best-natured little dear!-[Smuggles and kisses it.] And would it ask its godfather blessing?-Indeed, Mr. Lovewell, I believe the child knows you. Love. Ha ha! ha! well, I will give it my blessing. [Gives it gold. Re-enter LUCINDA and PINDRESS, who seeing the others instantly abscond. Come, madam, I'll first settle you in a lodging, and then find the false man, as you call him. [Exit with TRudge. Luc. [Coming forward.] The false man is found already!-Was there ever such a lucky discovery? My care for his preservation brought me back, and now behold how my kindness is returned !— Their fighting was a downright trick to frighten me from the place, thereby to afford him opportunity of entertaining his whore and brat. Pin. Your conjecture, madam, bears a colour; for looking back, I could perceive 'em talking very familiarly; so that they could not be strangers as their pretended quarrel would intimate. Luc. 'Tis all true as he is false.-What, slighted! despised! my honourable love trucked for a whore! O villain! epitome of thy sex!-But I'll be revenged. I'll marry the first man that asks me the question; nay, though he be a disbanded soldier, or a poor poet, or a senseless fop;-nay, though impotent, I'll marry him. Pin. O madam! that's to be revenged on yourself. Luc. I care not, fool! I deserve punishment for my credulity, as much as he for his falsehood.And you deserve it too, minx; your persuasions drew me to this assignation: I never loved the false |