The Dramatic Works of Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar

silent? Oh, I am bewildered in all passions ! but thus my anger melts.- Weeps.]— Here, take this poniard, for my very spirits faint, and I want strength to hold it; thou hast disarmed my soul.

[Gives the dagger. Lord Touch. [Aside.] Amazement shakes mewhere will this end?

Mask. So, 'tis well-let your wild fury have a vent; and when you have temper, tell me.

Lady Touch. Now, now, now I am calm, and can hear you.

Mask. [Aside.] Thanks, my invention; and now I have it for you.-[Aloud] First tell me what urged you to this violence? for your passion broke in such imperfect terms, that yet I am to learn the cause.

Lady Touch. My lord himself surprised me with the news you were to marry Cynthia :-that you had owned your love to him, and his indulgence would assist you to attain your ends.

Cyn. [Aside to Lord TOUCHWOOD.] How, my lord!

Lord Touch. [Aside to CYNTHIA.] Pray forbear all resentments for a while, and let us hear the

rest.

Mask. I grant you in appearance all true; I seemed consenting to my lord; nay, transported with the blessing. But could you think that I, who had been happy in your loved embraces, could e'er be fond of an inferior slavery.

Lord Touch. [Aside.] Ha! O poison to my ears! what do I hear!

Cyn. Nay, good my lord, forbear resentment, let us hear it out.

Lord Touch. Yes, I will contain, though I could burst.

Mask. I that had wantoned in the rich circle of your world of love, could I be confined within the puny province of a girl! No-yet though I dote on each last favour more than all the rest; though I would give a limb for every look you cheaply throw away on any other object of your love; yet so far I prize your pleasures o'er my own, that all this seeming plot that I have laid has been to gratify your taste, and cheat the world, to prove a faithful rogue to you.

Lady Touch. If this were true!-but how can it be?

Mask. I have so contrived that Mellefont will presently, in the chaplain's habit, wait for Cynthia in your dressing-room: but I have put the change upon her that she may be otherwhere employed. Do you procure her night-gown, and, with your hoods tied over your face, meet him in her stead; you may go privately by the back stairs, and, unperceived, there you may propose to reinstate him in his uncle's favour, if he'll comply with your desires; his case is desperate, and I believe he'll yield to any conditions.-If not, here take this; you may employ it better than in the heart of one who is nothing when not yours. [Gives the dogger.

Lady Touch. Thou canst deceive everybody,nay, thou hast deceived me; but 'tis as I would wish.-Trusty villain! I could worship thee!

Mask. No more.-There wants but a few minutes of the time; and Mellefont's love will carry him there before his hour.

Lady Touch. I go, I fly, incomparable Maskwell!

SCENE XVIII.

MASKWELL.

So, this wasa pinch indeed; my invention was upon the rack, and made discovery of her last plot: I hope Cynthia and my chaplain will be ready, I'll prepare for the expedition.

SCENE XIX.

CYNTHIA and Lord TovCHWOOD.

Cyn. Now, my lord.

Lord Touch. Astonishment binds up my rage! Villany upon villany! Heavens, what a long track

of dark deceit has this discovered! I am confounded when I look back, and want a clue to guide me through the various mazes of unheard-of treachery. My wife! damnation ! my hell!

Cyn. My lord, have patience, and be sensible how great our happiness is that this discovery was not made too late.

Lord Touch. I thank you, yet it may be still too late, if we don't presently prevent the execuWhere's tion of their plots.-Ha, I'll do't. Mellefont, my poor injured nephew?-How shall I make him ample satisfaction?

Cyn. I dare answer for him.

Lord Touch. I do him fresh wrong to question his forgiveness; for I know him to be all goodness. -Yet my wife! damn her!-She'll think to meet him in that dressing-room;-was't not so? and Maskwell will expect you in the chaplain's chamber. For once, I'll add my plot too.-Let us haste to find out, and inform my nephew; and do you quickly as you can bring all the company into this gallery.-I'll expose the strumpet and the villain.

SCENE XX.

Lord FROTH and Sir PAUL.

Lord Froth. By heavens, I have slept an age -Sir Paul, what o'clock is't? Past eight, on my conscience! my lady's is the most inviting couch; and a slumber there is the prettiest amusement ! But where's all the company?—

Sir Paul. The company, gadsbud, I don't know, my lord, but here's the strangest revolution, all turned topsy-turvy; as I hope for Providence.

Lord Froth. O heavens, what's the matter? where's my wife?

Sir Paul. All turned topsy-turvy, as sure as a

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Sir Paul. Nay, only about poetry, I suppose,

my lord; making couplets.

Lord Froth. Couplets!

Sir Paul. O, here they come.

Lady Froth. Mr. Brisk, my coach shall set you down. [A great shrick from the corner of the stage. All. What's the matter?

SCENE XXI.

Lord FROTH, Sir PAUL, Lady FROTH, and BRISK. Brisk. My lord, your humble servant:-sir Paul, yours. The finest night!

Lady Froth. My dear, Mr. Brisk and I have been star-gazing, I don't know how long.

Sir Paul. Does it not tire your ladyship; are not you weary with looking up?

Lady Froth. Oh, no, I love it violently.-My dear, you're melancholy.

Lord Froth. No, my dear; I'm but just awake. Lady Froth. Snuff some of my spirit of hartshorn.

Lord Froth. I've some of my own, thank you, my dear.

Lady Froth. Well, I swear, Mr. Brisk, you understood astronomy like an old Egyptian.

Brisk. Not comparably to your ladyship; you are the very Cynthia of the skies, and queen of

stars.

SCENE XXIII.

Lord FROTH, Sir PAUL, Lady FROTH, BRISK, Lady PLYANT, CARELESS, CYNTHIA; Lady TOUCHWOOD runs out affrighted, Lord TOUCHWOOD after her, disguised in a parson's habit.

Lady Touch. O, I'm betrayed!-Save me! help me!

Lord Touch. Now, what evasion, strumpet?
Lady Touch. Stand off! let me go.

Lord Touch. Go, and thy own infamy pursue thee-[Exit Lady TOUCHWOOD.]-You stare as you were all amazed.-I don't wonder at it-but too soon you'll know mine, and that woman's shame.

SCENE XXIV.

Lord TOUCHWOOD, Lord FROTH, Lady FROTH, Sir PAUL, Lady PLYANT, Cynthia, BRISK, CARELESS; MELLEFONT disguised in a parson's habit, and pulling in MASKWELL. Servants.

Mel. Nay, by heaven, you shall be seen!--Careless, your hand. [To MASKWELL.] Do you hold down your head? Yes, I am your chaplain; look in the face of your injured friend, thou wonder of all falsehood!

Lord Touch. Are you silent, monster?

Mel. Good heavens! how I believed and loved this man!-Take him hence, for he's a disease to my sight.

Lord Touch. Secure that manifold villain. [Servants seize him.

Care. Miracle of ingratitude! Brisk. This is all very surprising, let me perish! Lady Froth. You know I told you Saturn looked a little more angry than usual.

Lord Touch. We'll think of punishment at leisure, but let me hasten to do justice, in rewarding virtue and wronged innocence.-Nephew, I I hope I have your pardon, and Cynthia's. Mel. We are your lordship's creatures.

Lord Touch. And be each other's comfort.-Let me join your hands.-Unwearied nights and wishing days attend you both; mutual love, lasting health, and circling joys, tread round each happy year of your long lives.

Let secret villany from hence be warn'd;
Howe'er in private mischiefs are conceived,
Torture and shame attend their open birth;
Like vipers in the womb, base treachery lies,
Still gnawing that whence first it did arise;
No sooner born, but the vile parent dies.

[Exeunt omnes.

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MRS. MOUNTFORD.

COULD poets but foresee how plays would take,
Then they could tell what epilogues to make;
Whether to thank or blame their audience most:
But that late knowledge does much hazard cost:
'Till dice are thrown, there's nothing won nor lost.
So, till the thief has stolen, he cannot know
Whether he shall escape the law or no.
But poets run much greater hazards far,
Than they who stand their trials at the bar,
The law provides a curb for its own fury,
And suffers judges to direct the jury:
But in this court, what difference does appear!
For every one's both judge and jury here;
Nay, and what's worse, an executioner.
All have a right and title to some part,
Each choosing that in which he has most art.
The dreadful men of learning all confound,
Unless the fable's good, and moral sound.
The vizor-masks that are in pit and gallery,
Approve or damn the repartee and raillery.
The lady critics, who are better read,
Inquire if characters are nicely bred ;

If the soft things are penn'd and spoke with grace:
They judge of action, too, and time, and place;
In which we do not doubt but they're discerning,
For that's a kind of assignation learning.

Beaux judge of dress; the witlings judge of songs;
The cuckoldom, of ancient right, to cits belongs.
Poor poets thus the favour are denied

Even to make exceptions, when they're tried.
"Tis hard that they must every one admit ;
Methinks I see some faces in the pit
Which must of consequence be foes to wit.
You who can judge, to sentence may proceed;
But though he cannot write, let him be freed
At least from their contempt who cannot read.

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CHARLES, EARL OF DORSET AND MIddlesex,

LORD CHAMBERLAIN OF HIS MAJESTY'S HOUSEHOLD, AND KNIGHT OF THE MOST NOBle okdek of the garter, &c. MY LORD.-A young poet is liable to the same vanity and indiscretion with a young lover; and the great man who smiles upon one, and the fine woman who looks kindly upon t'other, are both of them in danger of having the favour published with the first opportunity.

But there may be a different motive, which will a little distinguish the offenders. For though one should have a vanity in ruining another's reputation, yet the other may only have an ambition to advance his own. And I beg leave, my Lord, that I may plead the latter, both as the cause and excuse of this dedication.

Whoever is king, is also the father of his country; and as nobody can dispute your Lordship's monarchy in poetry; so all that are concerned ought to acknowledge your universal patronage; and it is only presuming on the privilege of a loyal subject, that I have ventured to make this my address of thanks to your Lordship; which, at the same time, includes a prayer for your protection.

I am not ignorant of the common form of poetical dedications, which are generally made up of panegyrics, where the authors endeavour to distinguish their patrons by the shining characters they give them above other men. But that, my Lord, is not my business at this time, nor is your Lordship now to be distinguished. I am contented with the honour I do myself in this epistle, without the vanity of attempting to add to or explain your Lordship's character. I confess it is not without some struggling that I behave myself in this case as I ought; for it is very hard to be pleased with a subject, and yet forbear it. But I choose rather to follow Pliny's precept, than his example, when in his panegyrie to the Emperor Trajan he says-" Nec minus considerabo quid aures ejus pati possint, quam quid virtutibus debeatur."

I hope I may be excused the pedantry of a quotation, when it is so justly applied. Here are some lines in the print (and which your Lordship read before this play was acted) that were omitted on the stage, and particularly one whole scene in the third Act, which not only helps the design forward with less precipitation, but also heightens the ridiculous character of Foresight, which indeed seems to be maimed without it. But I found myself in great danger of a long play, and was glad to help it where I could. Though notwithstanding my care, and the kind reception it had from the town, I could heartily wish it yet shorter; but the number of different characters represented in it would have been too much crowded in less room.

This reflection on prolixity (a fault for which scarce any one beauty will atone) warns me not to be tedious now, and detain your Lordship any longer with the trifles of, my Lord, your Lordship's most obedient, and most humble servant, WILL. CONGREVE.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

SIR SAMPSON LEGEND, Father to VALENTINE and BEN.
VALENTINE, fallen under his Father's displeasure by
his expensive way of living, in love with ANGELICA.
SCANDAL, his Friend, a free speaker.

TATTLE, a half-witted Beau, vain of his amours, yet
valuing himself for secrecy.

BEN, SIR SAMPSON's younger Son, half home-bred, and
half sea-bred, designed to marry Miss PRUE.
FORESIGHT, an illiterate old fellow, peevish and posi-
tive, superstitious, and pretending to understand
Astrology, Palmistry, Physiognomy, Omens, Dreams,
&c. Uncle to ANGELICA.
JEREMY, Servant to VALENTINE.
TRAPLAND, a Scrivener.

BUCKRAM, a Lawyer.
SNAP, a Bailiff.

ANGELICA, Niece to FORESIGHT, of a considerable For
tune in her own hands.

MRS. FORESIGHT, second Wife to FORESIGHT.
MRS. FRAIL, Sister to MRS. FORESIGHT, a Woman of
the Town.

MISS PRUE, Daughter to FORESIGHT by a former Wife,
a silly awkward country Girl.
Nurse to MISS PRUE.

JENNY, Maid to ANGELICA.

Steward, Sailors, and Servants.

SCENE, LONDON

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN, AT THE OPENING OF THE NEW HOUSE, BY MR. BETTERTON.

THE husbandman in vain ret.ws his toil,

To cultivate each year a hungry soil;
And fondly hopes for rich and generous fruit,

When what should feed the tree devours the root;
The unladen boughs, he sees, bode certain dearth,
Unless transplanted to more kindly earth.
So, the poor husbands of the stage, who found
Their labours lost upon ungrateful ground,
This last and only remedy have proved;
And hope new fruit from ancient stocks removed.
Well may they hope, when you so kindly aid,
Well plant a soil which you so rich have made.
As Nature gave the world to man's first age,
So from your bounty we receive this stage;
The freedom man was born to you've restored,
And to our world such plenty you afford,
It seems like Eden, fruitful of its own accord.
But since in Paradise frail flesh gave way,
And when but two were made, both went astray;
Forbear your wonder and the fault forgive,
If in our larger family we grieve

One falling Adam, and one tempted Eve.
We who remain would gratefully repay

What our endeavours can, and bring, this day,

The first-fruit offering of a virgin play.

We hope there's something that may please each taste,

And though of homely fare we make the feast,
Yet you will find variety at least.

There's humour, which for cheerful friends we got,
And for the thinking party there's a plot.
We've something too, to gratify ill-nature,
(If there be any here,) and that is satire;
Though satire scarce dares grin, 'tis grown so mild,
Or only shows its teeth as if it smiled.
As asses thistles, poets mumble wit,
And dare not bite, for fear of being bit.

They hold their pens, as swords are held by fools,
And are afraid to use their own edge-tools.
Since the Plain Dealer's scenes of manly rage,
Not one has dared to lash this crying age.
This time the poet owns the bold essay,
Yet hopes there's no ill-manners in his play :
And he declares by me, he has design'd
Affront to none, but frankly speaks his mind.
And should the ensuing scenes not chance to hit,
He offers but this one excuse, 'twas writ
Before your late encouragement of wit.

ACT I.

SCENE I-VALENTINE'S Lodging. VALENTINE discovered reading, JEREMY waiting: several books upon the table.

Val. Jeremy! Jer. Sir?

Val. Here, take away; I'll walk a turn, and digest what I have read.

Jer. [Aside.] You'll grow devilish fat upon this paper diet. [Takes away the books. Val. And d'ye hear, go you to breakfast.There's a page doubled down in Epictetus that is a feast for an emperor.

Jer. Was Epictetus a real cook, or did he only write receipts?

Val. Read, read, sirrah! and refine your appetite; learn to live upon instruction; feast your mind, and mortify your flesh; read, and take your nourishment in at your eyes; shut up your mouth, and chew the cud of understanding; so Epictetus advises.

Jer. O Lord! I have heard much of him, when I waited upon a gentleman at Cambridge. Pray what was that Epictetus?

Val. A very rich man-not worth a groat. Jer. Humph, and so he has made a very fine feast where there is nothing to be eaten? Val. Yes.

Jer. Sir, you're a gentleman, and probably understand this fine feeding; but if you please, I had rather be at board-wages. Does your Epictetus, "r your Seneca here, or any of these poor rich

rogues, teach you how to pay your debts without money? Will they shut up the mouths of your creditors? Will Plato be bail for you? or Diogenes, because he understands confinement, and lived in a tub, go to prison for you? 'Slite, sir, what do you mean? to mew yourself up here with three or four musty books, in commendation of starving and poverty?

Val. Why, sirrah, I have no money, you know it; and therefore resolve to rail at all that have; and in that I but follow the examples of the wisest and wittiest men in all ages; these poets and philosophers whom you naturally hate, for just such another reason, because they abound in sense, and you are a fool.

Jer. Ay, sir, I am a fool, I know it; and yet, heaven help me, I'm poor enough to be a wit ;but I was always a fool when I told you what your expenses would bring you to; your coaches and your liveries, your treats and your balls; your being in love with a lady that did not care a farthing for you in your prosperity; and keeping company with wits that cared for nothing but your prosperity, and now, when you are poor, hate you as much as they do one another.

Val. Well, and now I am poor I have an oppor tunity to be revenged on 'em all; I'll pursue Angelica with more love than ever, and appear more notoriously her admirer in this restraint, than when I openly rivalled the rich fops that made court to her; so shall my poverty be a mortification to her pride, and perhaps make her compassionate

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