Ran. But as 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. Ran. 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 company. Ran. With all our hearts :-but who have you married? Lucy? Dap. What do you think I would marry a wench? I have married an heiress worth thirty thousand pounds, let me perish! Vin. An heiress worth thirty thousand pounds! Dap. Mr. Vincent, your servant; you here too? Ran. Nay, we are more of your acquaintance here, I think.-Go, we'll follow you, for if you have not dismissed your parson, perhaps we may make him more work. [Exeunt. SCENE VI.-The Dining-room in Mulberrygarden House. Enter Sir SIMON ADDLEPLOT, GRIPE, Lady FLIPPANT, Mrs. MARTHA, JOYNER, Mrs. CROSSBITE, and LUCY. Sir Sim. 'Tis as I told you, sir, you see. Gripe. Oh, graceless babe! married to a wit! an idle, loitering, slandering, foul-mouthed, beggarly wit! Oh, that my child should ever live to marry a wit! Joyn. Indeed, your worship had better seen her fairly buried, as they say. so. Cros. If my daughter there should have done Sir Sim. Mrs. Joyner, do not let me lose the widow too :-for if you do, (betwixt friends,) I and my small annuity are both blown up: it will follow my estate. [Aside to Joyner. Joyn. I warrant you. [Aside. Flip. Let us make sure of sir Simon to-night, [Aside to JOYNER. Joyn. You need not fear it.-Aside.] Like the lawyers, while my clients endeavour to cheat one another, I in justice cheat 'em both. or Gripe. Marry a wit! Enter DAPPERWIT, RANGER, LYDIA, VALENTINE, CHRISTINA, and VINCENT. DAPPERWIT stops them, and they stand all behind. Dap. What, is he here! Lucy and her mother! [Aside. Gripe. Tell me how thou camest to marry a wit. Mar. Pray be not angry, sir, and I'll give you a good reason. Gripe. Reason for marrying a wit! Mar. Indeed, I found myself six months gone with child, and saw no hopes of your getting me a husband, or else I had not married a wit, sir. Joyn. Then you were the wit. Gripe. Had you that reason? nay, then―― [Holding up his hands. Dap. How's that! [Aside. Ran. Who would have thought, Dapperwit, you would have married a wench? Dap. [To RANGER.]-Well, thirty thousand pounds will make me amends; I have known my betters wink, and fall on for five or six.- [To GRIPE and the rest.] What! you are come, sir, to give me joy? you Mrs. Lucy, you and you? well, unbid guests are doubly welcome.-Sir Simon, I made bold to invite these ladies and gentlemen.-For you must know, Mr. Ranger, this worthy sir Simon does not only give me my wedding supper, but my mistress too; and is, as it were, my father. Sir Sim. Then I am, as it were, a grandfather to your new wife's Hans en kelder; to which you are but, as it were, a father! there's for you again, sir ha, ha! Ran. Ha! ha! ha! [TO VINCENT Dap. Fools sometimes say unhappy things, if we would mind 'em; but-what! melancholy at your daughter's wedding, sir? Gripe. How deplorable is my condition! Dap. Nay, if you will rob me of my wench, sir, can you blame me for robbing you of your daughter? I cannot be without a woman. Yet Gripe. My daughter, my reputation, and my money gone!-but the last is dearest to me. at once I may retrieve that, and be revenged for the loss of the other; and all this by marrying Lucy here I shall get my five hundred pounds again, and get heirs to exclude my daughter and frustrate Dapperwit; besides, 'tis agreed on all hands, 'tis cheaper keeping a wife than a wench. [Aside. Dap. If you are so melancholy, sir, we will have the fiddles and a dance to divert you; come ! 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 D 2 NEWLY AFTER THE REMOVAL OF THE DUKE'S COMPANY FROM LINCOLN'S-INN-FIELDS TO THEIR NEW THEATRE NEAR SALISBURY-COURT. OUR author (like us) finding 'twould scarce do Where punk in vizor dare not rant and tear And never was it heard of, that the city But still with claps opposed the hissing faction. 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. 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 !— 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? Prue. No, faith, he's but a monsieur. But 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 couain, 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 ever 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, 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? Mons. And handsome, as 'tis thought, but— Hip But! what are your exceptions to him Mons. I can't tell you, because they are innumerable, innumerable, mon foy! Hip. Has he wit? Mons. Ay, ay, they say, he's witty, brave, and de bel humeur, and well-bred, with all thatbut Hip. But what? does he want judgment? Hip. For what? Mons. For, jarnie! if I think it. Mons. Why?-why his tailor lives within Ludhis valet de chambre is no Frenchman gate and he has been seen at noon day to go into an English eating-house 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. 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. 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, if 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! |