THE WORKS OF

APHRA BEHN.

VOL. I.

T*

Seven Hundred and Sixty
Copies Printed. No. hK

~ 3?cior j£c iu

THE WORKS

OF

APHRA BERN

EDITED BY
MONTAGUE SUMMERS

VOL. I

THE ROVER (PART i) ; OR, THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS
THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS

THE DUTCH LOVER
THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, THE GOOD OLD CAUSE

LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
STRATFORD-ON-AVON : A. H. SULLEN

MCMXV

PR

3311

vl

To FRANCIS JAMES,

THIS THE FIRST COLLECTED EDITION OF

APHRA BEHN.

CONTENTS.

PAGE

PREFACE

XV

INTRODUCTION

THE ROVER (PART I) ; OR, THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS i
THE ROVER (PART II) ; OR, THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 109

THE DUTCH LOVER

. 215

THE ROUNDHEADS; OR, THE GOOD OLD CAUSE . . 33'
NOTES 42?

PREFACE.

IT is perhaps not altogether easy to appreciate
the multiplicity of difficulties with which the
first editor of Mrs. Behn has to cope. Not only
is her life strangely mysterious and obscure, but
the rubbish of half-a-dozen romancing biographers
must needs be cleared away before we can even
begin to see daylight. Matter which had been for
two centuries accepted on seemingly the soundest
authority is proven false ; her family name itself
was, until my recent discovery, wrongly given ;
the very question of her portrait has its own vexed
(and until now unrecognized) dilemmas. In fine
there seems no point connected with our first
professional authoress which did not call for the
nicest investigation and the most incontrovertible
proof before it could be accepted without suspicion
or reserve. The various collections of her plays
and novels which appeared in the first half of the
eighteenth century give us nothing ; nay, they
rather cumber our path with the trash of discredited
Memoirs. Pearson's reprint (i 87 1) is entirely value
less : there is no attempt, however meagre, at
editing, no effort to elucidate a single allusion ;
moreover, several of the Novels — and the Poems
in their entirety — are lacking. I am happy to give
(Vol. V) one of the Novels, and that not the least
important, 'The History of the Nun, for the first
time in any collected edition. Poems, in addition

V

K

xiv PREFACE

to those which appeared in Mrs. Behn's lifetime,
and were never reprinted after, have been gathered
with great care from many sources (of which some
were almost forgotten).

It is hoped that this new issue of Mrs. Behn
may prove adequate. Any difficulties in the editing
have been more than amply compensated for by
the interest shown by many friends. Foremost,
my best thanks are due to Mr. Bullen, whose
life-long experience of the minutiae of editing our
best dramatic literature, has been ungrudgingly at
my service throughout, to the no 'small advantage
of myself and my work. Mr. Edmund Gosse, C.B.,
has shown the liveliest interest in the book from
its inception, and I owe him most grateful recogni
tion for his kindly encouragement and aid. Nay,
more, he did not spare to lend me treasured items
from his library so rich in first, and boasting unique
editions of Mrs. Behn. Mr. G. Thorn Drury, K.C.,'
never wearied of answering my enquiries, and in'
[iscussion solved many a knotty point. To him
I am obliged for the transcript of Mrs. Behn's
ater to Waller's daughter-in-law, and also the
itire on Dryden. He even gave of his valuable
time to read through the Memoir and from the
superabundance of his knowledge made sugges
tions of the first importance. The unsurpassed
library of Mr T. J. Wise, the well-known biblio
grapher was freely at my disposal. In other cases
where I have received any assistance in clearing
fficulty 1 have made my acknowledgement in
the note itself °

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN.

THE personal history of Aphra Behn, the first
Englishwoman to earn her livelihood by author
ship, is unusually interesting but very difficult to
unravel and relate. In dealing with her biography
writers at different periods have rushed headlong
to extremes, and we now find that the pendulum
has swung to its fullest stretch. On the one hand,
we have prefixed to a collection of the Histories
and Novels, published in 1696, 'The Life of Mrs.
Behn written by one of the Fair Sex', a frequently
reprinted (and even expanded) compilation crowded
with romantic incidents that savour all too strongly
of the Italian novella, with sentimental epistolo-
graphy and details which can but be accepted
cautiously and in part. On the other there have
recently appeared two revolutionary essays by
Dr. Ernest Bernbaum of Harvard, * Mrs. Behn's
Oroonoko\ first printed in Kittredge Anniversary
Papers, 1913 ; and — what is even more particularly
pertinent — cMrs. Behn's Biography a Fiction,'
Publications of the Modern Language Association of
America, xxviii, 3 : both afterwards issued as separate
pamphlets, 1913. In these, the keen critical sense of
the writer has apparently been so jarred by the patent
incongruities, the baseless fiction, nay, the very
fantasies (such as the fairy pavilion seen floating
upon the Channel), which, imaginative and invented
flotsam that they are, accumulated and were heaped

xvi MEMOIR OF MRS. BERN

about the memory of Aphra Behn, that he is apt to
regard almost every record outside those of her
residence at Antwerp1 with a suspicion which is in
many cases surely unwarranted and undue. Having
energetically cleared away the more peccant rubbish,
Dr. Bernbaum became, it appears to us, a little
too drastic, and had he then discriminated rather
than swept clean, we were better able wholly to
follow the conclusions at which he arrives. He
even says that after '1671'* when 'she began to
write for the stage . . . such meagre contemporary
notices as we find of her are critical rather than
biographical '. This is a very partial truth ; from
extant letters,3 to which Dr. Bernbaum does not
refer, we can gather much of Mrs. Behn's literary life
and circumstances. She was a figure of some note
and even if we had no other evidence it seems im
possible that her contemporaries should have glibly
accepted the fiction of a voyage to Surinam and a
Dutch husband named Behn who had never existed
Ayfara, or Aphara4 (Aphra), Amis or Amies, the
daughter of John and Amy Amis or Amies, was

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Sometime in the eighteenth I n ,V * * .the 'nscriPt10", gives Aphara.
inscription and L2K£ S? lUJ tToTor?- " W"
Great Poetess, O thy stupendous lays

Ti, Fhe world ^mires and the Muses praise

The name was then Aphara The «;„ a • ":, Pralse-

*

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xvii

baptized together with her brother Peter in the
Parish Church of SS. Gregory and Martin, Wye,
10 July, 1640, presumably by Ambrose Richmore,
curate of Wye at that date.1 Up to this time Aphra's
maiden name has been stated to be Johnson, and
she is asserted to have been the daughter of a barber,
John Johnson. That the name was not Johnson
(an ancient error) is certain from the baptismal
register, wherein, moreover, the { Quality, Trade,
or Profession ' is left blank ; that her father was a
barber rests upon no other foundation than a MS.
note of Lady Winchilsea.2 Mr. Gosse, in a most
valuable article (Atben<eum, 6 September, 1 8 84), was
the first to correct the statement repeatedly made
that Mrs. Behn came from £ the City of Canterbury
in Kent '. He tells how he acquired a folio volume
containing the MS. poems of Anne, Countess of
Winchilsea,3 'copied about 1695 under her eye
and with innumerable notes and corrections in her
autograph '. In a certain poem entitled The Circuit
of Apollo^ the following lines occur : —

Her works usually have Mrs. A. Behn. One Quarto misprints 'Mrs. Anne
Behn'. There are, of course, many variants of the name. Afara, and Afra
are common. Oldys in his MS. notes on Langbaine writes Aphra or Aphora,
whilst the Muses Mercury, September, 1707, has a special note upon a poem
by Mrs. Behn to say 'this Poetess' true Name was Apharra.' Even Aphaw
(Behen, in the 1682 warrant,) and Fyhare (in a petition) occur.

1 He died in 1642.

2 The Vicar of Wye, the Rev. Edgar Lambert, in answer to my
inquiries courteously writes : 'In company with Mr. C. S. Orwin, whose
book, The History of Wye Church and College, has just been published, I have
closely examined the register and find no mention of "Johnson", nor of the
fact that Aphara Amis' father was a "barber".'

3 Anne Finch, Countess of Winchilsea (1660-1720), sometime Maid
of Honour to Queen Mary of Modena. She had true lyric genius. For
a generous appreciation see Gosse, Gossip in a Library (1891).

4 Then unprinted but now included in the very voluminous edition of
Lady Winchilsea's Poems, ed. M. Reynolds, Chicago, 1903.

I b

XV111

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN
And standing where sadly he now might descry
From the banks of the Stowre the desolate Wye,
He lamented for Behn, o'er that place of her birth,
And said amongst Women there was not on the earth,
Her superior in fancy, in language, or witt,
Yet own'd that a little too loosely she writt.

To these is appended this note : c Mrs. Behn was
Daughter to a Barber, who liv'd formerly in Wye,
a little Market Town (now much decay'd) in Kent.
Though the account of her life before her Works
pretends otherwise ; some Persons now alive Do
testify upon their Knowledge that to be her
Original.' It is a pity that whilst the one error
concerning Aphra's birthplace is thus remedied,
the mistake as to the nature of her father's calling
should have been initiated.

Aphra Amis, then, was born early in July, 1 640,
at Wye, Kent. When she was of a tender age the
Amis family left England for Surinam ; her father,
who seems to have been a relative of Francis, Lord
Willoughby of Parham, sometime administrator of
several British colonies in the West Indies, having
been promised a post of some importance in these
dependencies. John Amis died on the voyage out,
but his widow and children necessarily continued
their journey, and upon their arrival were accom
modated at St. John's Hill, one of the best houses
in the district. Her life and adventures in Surinam
Aphra has herself realistically told in that wonder
fully vivid narrative, Oroonoko.1 The writer's bent

1 In ' Mrs. Behn's Oroonoko' Dr. Bernbaum elaborately endeavours to show
that this story is pure fiction. His arguments, in many cases advanced with
no little subtlety and precision, do not appear (to me at least) to be convinc
ing. We have much to weigh in the contrary balance : Mrs. Behn's manifest

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xix

had already shown itself. She kept a journal as
many girls will, she steeped herself in the inter
minable romances fashionable at that time, in
the voluminous Pharamond^ Cleopatre, Cassandre,
Ibrahim^ and, above all, Le Grand Cyrus, so loved
and retailed to the annoyance of her worthy husband
by Mrs. Pepys ; with a piece of which Dorothy
Osborne was * hugely pleased'.

It was perhaps from the reading of La Calprenede
and Mile de Scuderi Aphra gained that intimate
knowledge of French which served her well and
amply in after years during her literary life ; at any
rate she seems early to have realized her dramatic
genius and to have begun a play drawn from one
of the most interesting episodes in Cleopatre, the
love story of the Scythian King Alcamene, scenes
which, when they had c measured three thousand
leagues of spacious ocean ', were, nearly a quarter
of a century later, to be taken out of her desk and
worked up into a baroque and fanciful yet strangely
pleasing tragi-comedy, 'The Young King.

first-hand knowledge of, and extraordinary interest in, colonial life ; her
reiterated asseverations that every experience detailed in this famous novel is
substantially true ; the assent of all her contemporaries. It must further be
remembered that Aphra was writing in 1688, of a girlhood coloured by and
seen through the enchanted mists of a quarter of a century. That there are
slight discrepancies is patent ; the exaggerations, however, are not merely
pardonable but perfectly natural. One of Dr. Bernbaum's most crushing
arguments, when sifted, seems to resolve itself into the fact that whilst
writing Oroonoko Mrs. Behn evidently had George Warren's little book, An
Impartial Description of Surinam (London, 1667), at hand. Could anything
be more reasonable than to suppose she would be intimately acquainted with
a volume descriptive of her girlhood's home? Again, Dr. Bernbaum bases
another line of argument on the assumption that Mrs. Behn's father was a
barber. Hence the appointment of such a man to an official position in
Surinam was impossible, and, ' if Mrs. Behn's father was not sent to Surinam,
the only reason she gives for being there disappears". We know from recent
investigation that John Amis did not follow a barber's trade, but was probably
of good old stock. Accordingly, the conclusions drawn by Dr. Bernbaum
from this point cannot now be for a moment maintained.

xx MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

In Surinam she witnessed the fortunes and fate of
the Royal Slave, Oroonoko, of whom she writes
(with all due allowance for pardonable exaggeration
and purely literary touches), so naturally .and feel
ingly, that £one of the Fair Sex' with some acerbity
makes it her rather unnecessary business to clear
Aphrafromanysuspicionofaliaison. It was Surinam
which supplied the cognate material for the vivid
comedy, the broad humour and early colonial life,
photographic in its realism, of 'The Widow Ranter ;
or, The History of Bacon in Virginia. Mistakes there
may be, errors and forgetfulness, but there are a
thousand touches which only long residence and
keen observation could have so deftly characterized.

We now approach a brief yet important period
in Mrs. Behn's life, which unless we are content
to follow (with an acknowledged diffidence and due *
reservations) the old Memoir and scattered tradi
tion, we find ourselves with no sure means what
soever of detailing. It seems probable, however,
that about the close of 1 663, owing no doubt to the
Restoration and the subsequent changes in affairs,
the Amis family returned to England, settling
m London, where Aphra, meeting a merchant of
Dutch extraction named Behn, so fascinated him by
her wit and comeliness that he offered her his hand
and fortune. During her married life she is said to
have been in affluence, and even to have appeared
at the gay licentious Court, attracting the notice of
and amusing the King himself by her anecdotes
and cleverness of repartee ; but when her husband '
died, not impossibly of the plague in the year of
mortality, 1665, she found herself helpless, without

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxi

friends or funds. In her distress it was to the
Court she applied for assistance ; and owing to her
cosmopolitan experience and still more to the fact
that her name was Dutch, and that she had been by
her husband brought into close contact with the
Dutch, she was selected as a meet political agent to
visit Holland and there be employed in various secret
and semi-official capacities. The circumstance that
her position and work could never be openly recog
nized nor acknowledged by the English government
was shortly to involve her in manifold difficulties,
pecuniary and otherwise, which eventually led tp
her perforce abandoning so unstable and unsatis
factory a commission.

In the old History of the Life and Memoirs of
Mrs. Behn (1696; and with additions 1698, &c.),
ushered into the world by Charles Gildon, a romance
full as amorous and sensational as any novel of the
day, has been woven about her sojourn at Antwerp.
A 'Spark whom we must call by the name of
Vander Albert of Utrecht is given to Aphra as
a fervent lover, and from him she obtains political
secrets to be used to the English advantage. He
has a rival, an antique yclept Van Bruin, ca Hogen
Mogen . . . Nestorean' admirer, and the intrigue
becomes fast and furious. On one occasion Albert,
imagining he is possessing his mistress, is cheated
with a certain Catalina ; and again when he has
bribed an ancient duenna to admit him to Aphra's
bed, he is surprised there by a frolicsome gallant.1

1 Both these incidents are the common property of Italian novelle and
our own stage. Although not entirely impossible, they would appear highly
suspicious in any connection.

xxii MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

There are even included five letters from Mrs. Behn
and a couple of ridiculous effusions purporting to
be Van Bruin's. It would seem that all this pure
fiction, the sweepings of Aphra's desk, was intended
by her to have been worked up into a novel ; both
letters and narrative are too good to be the unaided
composition of Gildon himself, but possibly Mrs.
Behn in her after life may have elaborated and told
him these erotic episodes to conceal the squalor
and misery of the real facts of her early Dutch
mission. It is proved indeed in aim and circum
stance to have been far other.

Her chief business was to establish an intimacy
with William Scott, son of Thomas Scott, the
regicide who had been executed 17 October, 1660.
This William, who had been made a fellow of All
Souls by the Parliamentary Visitors of Oxford, and
graduated B.C.L. 4 August, 1648, was quite ready
to become a spy in the English service and to
report on the doings of the English exiles who
were not only holding treasonable correspondence
with traitors at home and plotting against the King,
but even joining with the Dutch foe to injure their
native land. Scott was extremely anxious for his
own pardon and, in addition, eager to earn any
money he could.

Aphra then, taking with her some forty pounds
in cash, all she had, set sail with Sir Anthony
Desmarces1 either at the latter end of July or early
in August, 1 666, and on 1 6 August she writes from
Antwerp to say she has had an interview with
William Scott (dubbed in her correspondence

1 He was at Margate 25 July, and at Bruges 7 August.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxiii

Celadon), even having gone so far as to take coach
and ride a day's journey to see him secretly.
Though at first diffident, he is very ready to under
take the service, only it will be necessary for her
to enter Holland itself and reside on the spot, not
in Flanders, as Colonel Bampfield, who was looked
upon as head of the exiled English at the Hague,
watched Scott with most jealous care and a growing
suspicion. Aphra, whose letters give a vivid picture
of the spy's life with its risks and impecuniosity,
addresses herself to two correspondents, Tom
Killigrew and James Halsall, cupbearer to the King.
On 27 August she was still at Antwerp, and
William Scott wrote to her there but did not
venture to say much lest the epistle might miscarry.
He asks for a cypher, a useful and indeed necessary
precaution in so difficult circumstances. It was about
this time that Mrs. Behn began to employ the name
of Astrea, which, having its inception in a political
code, was later to be generally used by her and
recognized throughout the literary world. Writing
to Halsall, she says that she has been unable to
effect anything, but she urgently demands that
money be sent, and confesses she has been obliged
even to pawn her ring to pay messengers. On
31 August she writes to Killigrew declaring she
can get no answer from Halsall, and explaining
that she has twice had to disburse Scott's expenses,
amounting in all to .£20, out of her own pocket,
whilst her personal debts total another ^25 or ^30,
and living itself is ten guilders a day. If she is to
continue her work satisfactorily, ^80 at least will be
needed to pay up all her creditors ; moreover, as a

xxiv MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

preliminary and a token of good faith, Scott's official
pardon must be forwarded without compromise or
delay. Scott himself was, it seems, playing no easy
game at this juncture, for a certain Carney, resident
at Antwerp, £ an unsufFerable, scandalous, lying,
prating fellow', piqued at not being able to ferret
out the intrigue, had gone so far as to molest poor
Celadon and threaten him with death, noising up
and down meanwhile the fact of his clandestine
rendezvous with Aphra. No money, however, was
forthcoming from England, and on 4 September
Mrs. Behn writing again to Killigrew tells him
plainly that she is reduced to great straits, and unless
funds are immediately provided all her work will
be nugatory and vain. The next letter, dated
14 September, gives Halsall various naval informa
tion. On 1 7 September she is obliged to importune
Killigrew once more on the occasion of sending him
a letter from Scott dealing with political matters.
Halsall, she asserts, will not return any answer,
and although she is only in private lodgings she
is continually being thwarted and vilipended by
Carney, c whose tongue needs clipping '. Four days
later she transmits a five page letter from Scott to
Halsall. On 25 September she sends under cover
yet another letter from Scott with the news of De
Ruyter's illness. Silence was her only answer.
Capable and indeed ardent agent as she was, there
can be no excuse for her shameful, nay, criminal,
neglect at the hands of the government she was
serving so faithfully and well. Her information1

»7hcro u° n0t appear t0 be an? Sounds for the oft-repeated assertion
that Mrs. Behn communicated the intelligence when the Dutch were

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxv

seems to have been received with inattention and
disregard ; whether it was that culpable careless
ness which wrecked so many a fair scheme in the
second Charles' days, or whether secret enemies
at home steadfastly impeded her efforts remains an
open question. In any case on 3 November she
sends a truly piteous letter to Lord Arlington,
Secretary of State, and informs him she is suffering
the extremest want and penury. All her goods are
pawned, Scott is in prison for debt, and she her
self seems on the point of going to the common
gaol. The day after Christmas Aphra wrote to Lord
Arlington for the last time. She asks for a round
^zooas delays have naturally doubled her expenses
and she has had to obtain credit. Now she is only
anxious to return home, and she declares that if she
did not so well know the justness of her cause and
complaint, she would be stark wild with her hard
treatment. Scott, she adds, will soon be free.1 Even
this final appeal obtained no response, and at length
— well nigh desperate — Mrs. Behn negotiated in
England, from a certain Edward Butler, a private
loan of some £150 which enabled her to settle her
affairs and start for home in January, 1667.

But the chapter of her troubles was by no means
ended. Debt weighed like a millstone round her

D

neck. As the weary months went by and Aphra
was begging in vain for her salary, long overdue, to
be paid, Butler, a harsh, dour man with heart of

planning an attack (afterwards carried out) on the Thames and Medway
squadrons, and that her warning was scoffed at.

1 Had he been imprisoned for political reasons it is impossible that
there should have been so speedy a prospect of release.

xxvi MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

stone, became impatient and resorted to drastic
measures, eventually flinging her into a debtor's
prison. There are extant three petitions, undated
indeed, but which must be referred to the early
autumn of 1668, from Mrs. Behn to Charles II.
Sadly complaining of two years' bitter sufferings,
she prays for an order to Mr. May1 or Mr. Chiffinch2
to satisfy Butler, who declares he will stop at nothing
if he is not paid within a week. In a second docu
ment she sets out the reasons for her urgent claim
of £150. Both Mr. Halsall and Mr. Killigrew
know how justly it is her due, and she is hourly
threatened with an execution. To this is annexed a
letter from the poor distracted woman to Killigrew,
which runs as follows : —

Sr.

if you could guess at the affliction of my soule you
would I am sure Pity me 'tis to morrow that I must
submitt my self to a Prison the time being expird &
though I indeauerd all day yesterday to get a ffew days
more I can not because they say they see I am dallied wth
all & so they say I shall be for euer: so I can not reuoke
my doome I haue cryd myself dead & could find in my
hart to break through all & get to ye king & neuer rise
till he weare pleasd to pay this ; but I am sick & weake >
& vnfitt for yt ; or a Prison ; I shall go to morrow : But j
[ will send my mother to ye king wth a Pitition for
I see euery body are words : & I will not perish in a Prison
from whence he swears I shall not stirr till ye uttmost I
farthing be payd : & oh god, who considers my misery
& charge too, this is my reward for all my great promises, &
my indeauers. Sr if I have not the money to night you

Baptist May, Esq. (1629-98), Keeper of the Privy Purse.
William Chiffinch, confidential attendant and pimp to Charles II.

*Vf / &£^,

/ ,/,/ Ayr- : "' ' /' 7

/ / y </^ / / / / • s'-iuf--

"/•

)~ •'

y f'i

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxvii

must send me som thing to keepe me in Prison for I will
not starue. A. Behn.

Endorsed :

For Mr. Killigrew this.

There was no immediate response however, even
to this pathetic and heart-broken appeal, and in yet
a third petition she pleads that she may not be left
to suffer, but that the ^150 be sent forthwith to
Edward Butler, who on Lord Arlington's declaring
that neither order nor money had been transmitted,
threw her straightway into gaol.

It does not seem, however, that her imprison
ment was long. Whether Killigrew, of whom later
she spoke in warm and admiring terms, touched
at last, bestirred himself on her behalf and rescued
her from want and woe, whether Mrs. Amy Amis
won a way to the King, whether help came by some
other path, is all uncertain. In any case the debt
was duly paid, and Aphra Behn not improbably
received in addition some compensation for the
hardships she had undergone.

'The rest of her Life was entirely dedicated to
Pleasure and Poetry ; the Success in which gain'd
her the Acquaintance and Friendship of the most
Sensible Men of the Age, and the Love of not a
few of different Characters ; for tho' a Sot have no
Portion of Wit of his own, he yet, like old Age,
covets what he cannot enjoy.'

More than dubious and idly romancing as the
early Memoirs are, nevertheless this one sentence
seems to sum up the situation thenceforth pretty
aptly, if in altogether too general terms. Once
extricated from these main difficulties Mrs. Behn

no doubt took steps to insure that she should
not, if it lay in her power, be so situated again.
I would suggest, indeed, that about this period,
f^9, she accepted the protection of some admirer.
Who he may have been at first, how many more
there were than one, how long the various amours
endured, it is idle to speculate. She was for her
period as thoroughly unconventional as many
another woman of letters has been since in relation
to later times and manners, as unhampered and free
as her witty successor, Mrs. de la Riviere Manley,
who lived for so long as Alderman Barber's kept
mistress and died in his house. Mrs. Behn has
given us poetic pseudonyms for many of her lovers,
Lycidas, Lysander, Philaster, Amintas, Alexis, and
the rest, but these extended over many years, and
attempts at identification, however interesting, are
fruitless.1

There has been no more popular mistake, nor
yet one more productive, not merely of nonsense
and bad criticism but even of actual malice and
evil, than the easy error of confounding an author
\with the characters he creates. Mrs. Behn has not
been spared. Some have superficially argued from
the careless levity of her heroes : the Rover,
Cayman, Wittmore, Wilding, Frederick ; and
again from the delightful insouciance of Lady
Fancy, Queen Lucy, and the genteel coquette
Mirtilla, or the torrid passions of Angelica Bianca,
Miranda and la Nuche ; that Aphra herself was
little better, in fact a great deal worse, than a

1 Amintas repeatedly stands for John Hoyle. In Our Cabal, however I
(•vide Vol. VI, p. 160), Hoyle is dubbed Lycidas.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxix

common prostitute, and that her works are undi
luted pornography.

In her own day, probably for reasons purely
political, a noisy clique assailed her on the score of
impropriety ; a little later came Pope with his jaded
couplet

The stage how loosely does Astrea tread
Who fairly puts all characters to bed ;

and the attack was reinforced by an anecdote of Sir
Walter Scott and some female relative who, after
having insisted upon the great novelist lending her
Mrs. Behn, found the Novels and Plays too loose for
her perusal, albeit in the heyday of the lady's youth
they had been popular enough. As one might expect,
Miss Julia Kavanagh, in the mid- Victorian era1
(English Women of Letters^ 1863), is sad and sorry at
having to mention Mrs. Behn — 'Even if her life

emained pure,2 it is amply evident her mind was,
"tainted to the very core. Crossness was congenial
to her. . . . Mrs. Behn's indelicacy was useless
d worse than useless, the superfluous addition of
a corrupt mind and vitiated taste ".' One can afford

o smile at and ignore these modest outbursts, but
it is strange to find so sound and sane a critic as
r. Doran writing of Aphra Behn as follows: 4No

ne equalled this woman in downright nastiness save

1 The Retrospective Review, however (Vol. I, November, 1852), has an
article, ' Mrs. Behn's Dramatic Writings,' which warmly praises her comedies.
The writer very justly observes that 'they exhibit a brilliance of conversation

.• I in the dialogue, and a skill in arranging the plot and producing striking

* situations, in which she has few equals.' He frequently insists upon her

'great skill in conducting the intrigue of her pieces', and with no little

acumen declares that 'her comedies may be cited as the most perfect models

of the drama of the latter half of the seventeenth century.'

2 Which it certainly was not secundum mid-Victorian morals.

XXX

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

RavenscroftandWycherley. . . . With Dryden shel
vied in indecency and was not overcome. . . . She!
was a mere harlot, who danced through uncleanness
and dared them [the male dramatists] to follow.'
Again, we have that she was c a wanton hussy'; her
ctrolloping muse' shamefacedly c wallowed in the
mire' ; but finally the historian is bound to confess
fshe was never dull'.

The morality of her plays is an fond that of many I
a comedy of to-day : that the situations and phrasing
in which she presents her amorous intrigues and
merry cuckoldoms do not conform with modern
exposition of these themes we also show yet would
not name, is but our surface gloss of verbal reticence ;
we hint, point, and suggest, where she spoke out
broad words, frank and free ; the motif is one and
the same. If we judge Mrs. Behn's dramatic output
in the only fair way by comparing it legitimately
with the theatre of her age, we simply shall not find |
that superfluity of naughtiness the critics lead us to
expect and deplore. There are not infrequent scenes
of Dryden, of Wycherley,of Vanbrugh, Southerne,
Otway, Ravenscroft, Shadwell, D'Urfey, Crowne,
full as ^daring as anything Aphra wrote ; indeed,
in some instances, far more wanton. Particu
larizing, it has been objected that although in most
Restoration comedies the hero, however vicious
(even such a mad scrapegrace as Dryden's Woodall), |
is decently noosed up in wedlock when the curtain
is about to fall, Mrs. Behn's Willmore (Rover II),
Cayman (The Lucky Chance), Wittmore (Sir Patient
Fancy) end up without a thought of, save it be jest
at, the wedding ring. But even this freedom can

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

xxxi

)e amply paralleled. In the Duke of Buckingham's
fclever alteration of 'The Chances (1682), we have
Don John pairing off with the second Constantia
jvithout a hint of matrimony ; we have the intrigue
)f Bellmour and Laetitia in Congreve's 'The Old
bachelor (1693), the amours of Horner in The
i| Country Wife (1675), of Florio and Artall in Crowne's
O/jy Politics (1683), and many another beside. As
"or the cavilling crew who carped at her during
icr life Mrs. Behn has answered them and she
ras thoroughly competent so to do. jndeed, as
he somewhat tartly remarked to Otway on the
>ccasion of certain prudish dames pleasing to take
ence at The Soldier s Fortune, she wondered at
lie impudence of any of her sex that would pretend
o understand the thing called bawdy. A clique
re shocked at her ; it was not her salaciousness
[ hey objected to but her success.

In December, 1670, Mrs. Behn's first play,1 The
rcd Marriage ; or, the Jealous Bridegroom, was pro-
luced at the Duke's Theatre, Lincoln's Inn Field's,
rith a strong cast. It is a good tragi-comedy of the
stard Fletcherian Davenant type, but she had
lot hit upon her happiest vein of comedy, which,
lowever, she approached in a much better piece,
rhe Amorous Prince, played in the autumn of 1671
)y the same company. Both these had excellent
•uns for their day, and she obtained a firm footing

1 Mr. Gosse in the Dictionary of National Biography basing upon the
ireface to The Young King, says that after knocking in vain for some time at
he doors of the theatres with this tragi-comedy that could find neither
lanager nor publisher, she put it away and wrote The Forc'd Marriage,
vhich proved more successful. Dr. Baker follows this, but I confess I can-
i lot see due grounds for any such hypothesis.

xxxii MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

in the theatrical world. In 1 673* The Dutch Lover2

was ready, a comedy which has earned praise for its

skilful technique. She here began to draw on her

own experiences for material, and Haunce van Ezel

owes not a little to her intimate knowledge of the

Hollanders.

These three plays brought her money, friends,
and reputation. She was already beginning to be
a considerable figure in literary circles, and the first
writers of the day were glad of the acquaintance off
a woman who was both a wit and a writer. There
is still retailed a vague, persistent, and entirely I
baseless tradition that Aphra Behn was assisted in i
writing her plays by Edward Ravenscroft,3 the well
known dramatist. Mrs. Behn often alludes in her
prefaces to the prejudice a carping clique entertained
against her and the strenuous efforts that were made
to damn her comedies merely because they were
'writ by a woman'. Accordingly, when her plays
succeeded, this same party, unable to deny such
approved and patent merit, found their excuse in
spreading a report that she was not inconsiderably
aided in her scenes by another hand. Edward

1 The Duke's Company opened at their new theatre, Dorset Garden,
9 November, 1671.

3 410, 1673. Mrs. Behn's accurate knowledge of the theatre and
technicalties theatrical as shown in the preface to this early play is certainly
remarkable. It is perhaps worth noting that her allusion to the popularity
of i Henry IV was not included in Sbaksfere Allusion-Book (ed. Furnivall and
Munro, 1909), where it should have found a place.

3 In view of the extremely harsh treatment Ravenscroft has met with
at the hands of the critics it may be worth while emphasizing Genest's
opinion that his 'merit as a dramatic writer has been vastly underrated'.
Ravenscroft has a facility in writing, an ease of dialogue, a knack of evoking
lighter and picturing the ludicrous, above all a vitality which many a
greater name entirely lacks. As a writer of farce, and farce very nearly
akin to comedy, he is capital.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxxiii

Ravenscroft's name stands to the epilogue of
Sir Timothy Tawdrey^ and he was undoubtedly well
acquainted with Mrs. Behn. Tom Brown (I suggest)
hints at a known intrigue,1 but, even if my surmise
be correct, there is nothing in this to warrant the
oft repeated statement that many of her scenes
are actually due to his pen. On the other hand,
amongst Aphra's intimates was a certain John
Hoyle, a lawyer, well known about the town as
a wit. John Hoyle was the son of Thomas Hoyle,
Alderman and Lord Mayor of, and M.P. for York,
who hanged himself2 at the same hour as Charles I
was beheaded. In the Gray's Inn Admission Register
we have : £ 1659/60 Feb. 27. John Hoyle son and
heir of Thomas H. late of the city of York, Esq.
deceased.' Some eighteen years after he was admitted
idtlto the Inner Temple : 1 1678/9 Jan. 26. Order that
:: John Hoyle formerly of Gray's Inn be admitted

1 Letters from the Dead to the Living: The Virgin's [Mrs. Bracegirdle]
Answer to Mrs. Behn. 'You upbraid me with a great discovery you chanc'd
:o make by peeping into the breast of an old friend of mine; if you give
rourself but the trouble of examining an old poet's conscience, who went
ately off" the stage, and now takes up his lodgings in your territories, and
[ don't question but you'll there find Mrs. Behn writ as often in black
aracters, and stand as thick in some places, as the names of the generation
Adam in the first of Genesis' How far credence may be given to anything
>f Brown's is of course a moot point, but the above passage and much that
• :; | bllows would be witless and dull unless there were some real suggestion of
candal. Moreover, it cannot here be applied to Hoyle, whereas it very well fits

avenscroft. This letter which speaks of 'the lash of Mr. C r' must

ive been written no great time after the publication of Jeremy Collier's
4 Short Fie<w of the Immorality of the English Stage (March, 1698), probably
n 1701-2. Ravenscroft's last play, The Italian Husband, was produced at
Jncoln's Inn Fields in 1697, and he is supposed to have died a year or two
ater, which date exactly suits the detail given by Brown. Ravenscroft's first
lay, Matnamoucbi, had been produced in 1672, and the 'an old poet' would
e understood.

.-:ti-i|J * This occurrence is ths subject of some lines in The Rump (1662) :
the happy Memory of Alderman Hoyle that hang'd himself.'

C I

xxxiv MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

to this society ad eundem statum. (Inner <Temph\
Records, iii, 131.) There are allusions not a few
to him in Mrs. Behn's poems ; he is the Mr. J. H.I
of Our Cabal; and in 'A Letter to Mr. Creech at
Oxford, Written in the last great Frost,' which
finds a place in the Miscellany of 1 68 5, the following
lines occur : —

To Honest H — le I shou'd have shown ye,
A Wit that wou'd be proud t' have known ye ;
A Wit uncommon, and Facetious,
A great admirer of Lucretius.

There can be no doubt he was on terms of the
closest familiarity1 with Mrs. Behn, and he (if any),
not Ravenscroft, assisted her (though we are not
to suppose to a real extent) in her plays. There
is a very plain allusion to this in Radcliffe's Thel
Ramble: News from Hell (1682) : —

Amongst this Heptarchy of Wit
The censuring Age have thought it fit,
To damn a Woman, 'cause 'tis said
The Plays she vends she never made.
But that a Greys Inn Lawyer does 'em
Who unto her was Friend in Bosom,
So not presenting Scarf and Hood
New Plays and Songs are full as good.2

Unfortunately Hoyle was reputed to be addicted
to the grossest immorality, and rumours of a sinister

to verses made on Mrs.

1 The Muses Mercury, December, 1707, refers
Behn 'and her very good friend, Mr. Hoyle'.

2 My attention was drawn to these lines by Mr. Thorn Drury, who was,
indeed, the first to suggest that Hoyle is the person aimed at. I have to thank
him, moreover, for much valuable information on this important point.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxxv

ascription were current concerning him.1 There
5, in fact, printed a letter2 of Mrs. Behn's wherein
he writes most anxiously to her friend stating that
be gravest scandals have reached her ears, and

O *

egging him to clear himself from these allega-
ions. Hoyle was murdered in a brawl 26 May,
692, and is buried in the vault belonging to the
finer Temple, which is presumably in the ground
ttached to the Temple Church. The entry in the
Register runs as follows : 'John Hoyle, esq., of the
nner Temple was buried in the vault May ye 29,
692.' Narcissus Luttrell in his Diary, Saturday,
8 May, 1692, has the following entry : {Mr. Hoil
f the Temple on Thursday night was at a tavern
nth other gentlemen, and quarrelling with Mr.
•fats' eldest son about drinking a health, as they
ame out Mr. Hoil was stabb'd in the belly and
ell down dead, and thereon Pitts fled; and the next
norning was taken in a disguise and is committed

1 cf. Luttrell's Diary, February, 1686-7, which records that an indict-
lent for misconduct was actually presented against him at the Old Bailey,
ut the Grand Jury threw out the bill and he was discharged. The person
•nplicated in the charge against Hoyle seems to have been a poulterer.
:. A Faithful Catalogue of our Most Eminent Ninnies, said to have been written
y the Earl of Dorset in 1 68 3, or (according to another edition of Rochester's
forks in which it occurs) 1686. In any case the verses cannot be earlier
lan 1687.

Which made the wiser Choice is now our Strife,
i Hoyle his he-mistress, or the Prince his wife :
;;;£ Those traders sure will be belov'd as well,

As all the dainty tender Birds they sell.

'he 'Prince' is George Fitzroy, son of Charles II by the Duchess of
Cleveland, who was created Duke of Northumberland and married Catherine,
aughter of Robert Wheatley, a poulterer, of Bracknell, Berks ; and relict
f Robert Lucy of Charlecote, Warwickshire.

* Familiar Letters of Love, Gallantry, etc. There are several editions,
have used that of 1718, 2 vols.

xxxvi MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

to Newgate.'1 30 June> l692> the same record!
says- 'This day Mr. Pitts was tryed at the
Bailey for the murder of Mr. Hoil of the Temple,!
and the jury found it manslaughter but the nextl
heir has brought an appeal.'

In September, 1 676, <Tbe Town Fop was acted withfc
applause, and the following year Mrs. Behn was!
very busy producing two comedies (of which one|
is a masterpiece) and one tragedy. The Debauchee^
which was brought out this year at the Duke's
House, a somewhat superficial though clever altera-l
tion of Brome's Mad Couple Well Match' d, is no
doubt from her pen. It was published anony
mously, 4to, 1677, and all the best critics with one
accord ascribe it to Mrs. Behn. In the autumn of
1677 there was produced by the Duke's Company
a version of Middleton's No Wit, No Help Like at
Romans, entitled, The Counterfeit Bridegroom ; or, |
The Defeated Widow (4to, 1677) ; it is smart andi
spirited. Genest was of opinion it is Aphra's work. I
He is probably right, for we know that she repeatedly
made use of Middleton, and internal evidence fully

1 In his MS. Commonplace Book (now in the possession of G. Thorn
Drury, Esq., K.C.), Whitelocke Bulstrode writes : —
'27 May 92.

«Mr Hoyle of yc Temple, coming this morning about two of ye Clock frB
yc Young Divel Tavern, was killed w"1 a sword ; He died Instantly : It
proceeded fro a quarrell about Drincking a Health ; Killed by Mr Pitt of
Graies Inne y* Dranck wth them. Mr Hoyle was an Atheist, a Sodomite
professed, a corrupter of youth, & a Blasphemer of Christ.'

The Young (or Little) Devil Tavern was in Fleet Street, on the south
side, near Temple Bar, adjoining Dick's Coffee House. It was called Young
(or Little) to distinguish it from the more famous house, The Devil
(or Old Devil) Tavern, which stood between Temple Bar and the Inner
Temple Gate.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxxvii

bears out our stage historian.1 Both Abdelazer* and
The Town Fop evidence in a marked degree her
intimate knowledge of the earlier dramatists, whilst
The Rover (I) is founded on Killigrew. None the
less, here she has handled her materials with rare
skill, and successfully put new wine into old bottles.
The critics, however, began to attack her on this
point, and when The Rover (I ) appeared in print
(4to 1677), she found it necessary to add a postscript,
defending her play from the charge of merely being
' Tbomaso alter'd '. With reference to Abdelazerthere.
is extant a very interesting letter3 from Mrs. Behn
to her friend, Mrs. Emily Price. She writes as
follows : —

My Dear,

In your last, you inforrrTd me, that the World treated me
as a Plagiery, and, I must confess, not with Injustice :
But that Mr. Otway shou'd say, my Sex wou'd not prevent
my being pull'd to Pieces by the Criticks, is something
odd, since whatever Mr. Otway now declares, he may
very well remember when last I saw him, I receiv'd more
than ordinary Encomiums on my Abdelazer. But every
one knows Mr. Otway 's good Nature, which will not
permit him to shock any one of our Sex to their Faces.

1 Betterton's adaption of Marston's The Dutch Courtesan, which the
actor calls The Revenge ; or, A Match in Neivgate, has sometimes been
erroneously ascribed to Mrs. Behn by careless writers. She has also been given
The Woman Turn d Bully, a capital comedy with some clever characterization,
which was produced at Dorset Garden in June, 1675, and printed without
author's name the same year. Both Prologue and Epilogue, two pretty
songs, Oh, the little Delights that a Lover takes ; and Ah, botu charming is the
\bade, together with a rollicking catch 'O London, wicked London-Town !'
which is 'to be sung a I'yvronge, in a drunken humour', might all well be
Mrs. Behn's, and the whole conduct of the play is very like her early manner.
Beyond this, however, there is no evidence to suggest it is from her pen.

3 The overture, act-tunes, incidental music, were composed by Henry
Purcell. - Familiar Letters of Love, Gallantry, etc., Vol. I (1718), pp. 3 1-2.

xxxviii MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

But let that pass : For being impeach'd of murdering mj
Moor, I am thankful, since, when I shall let the Work
know, whenever I take the Pains next to appear in Print
of the mighty Theft I have been guilty of; But howevei
for your own Satisfaction, I have sent you the Garder
from whence I gather'd, and I hope you will not thinl
me vain, if I say, I have weeded and improv'd it. I hope tc
prevail on the Printer to reprint The Lust's Dominion, &c.
that my theft may be the more publick. But I detain you.
I believe I sha'n't have the Happiness of seeing my deal
Amillia 'till the middle of September: But be assur'c
I shall always remain as I am,

Yours, A. Behn.

Rover (I) is undoubtedly the best knowr
of Aphra Behn's comedies. It long remained <
popular favourite in the theatre, its verve, bustk
and wit, utterly defiant of the modest Josephs anc
qualmy prudes who censured these lively scenes
Steele has mention of this in an archly humorous
paper, No. 51, Spectator, Saturday, 28 April, 1711.
He pictures a young lady who has taken offence
at some negligent expression in that chastest o!
ice-cold proprieties, The Funeral, and he forthwith.
more or less seriously proceeds to defend his
play by quoting the example of both predecessors
and contemporaries. Amongst the writers whc
are c best skilled in this luscious Way ', he informs
us that 'we are obliged to the Lady who writ
Ibrahim * for introducing a preparatory Scene to the
'• very Action, when the Emperor throws his Hand
kerchief as a Signal for his Mistress to follow him

1 Ibrahim, the Thirteenth Emperor of the Turks, produced in 1696 (410
1696), a commendable tragedy by Mrs. Mary Fix, nee Griffiths (1666-1720?)
The plot is based on Sir Paul Ricaut's continuation of the Turkish history

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xxxix

into the most retired Part of the Seraglio. . . .
This ingenious Gentlewoman in this piece of
Baudry refined upon an Author of the same Sex,
who in The Rover makes a Country Squire strip to
his Holland Drawers. For Blunt is disappointed,
and the Emperor is understood to go on to the
utmost. ... It is not here to be omitted, that in one
of the above-mentioned Female Compositions the
Rover is very frequently sent on the same Errand ;
as I take it above once every Act. This is not
wholly unnatural ; for, they say, the Men-Authors
draw themselves in their Chief Characters, and the
Women- Writers may be allowed the same Liberty.'

Early in 1678, in either the first or second week
of January, Sir Patient Fancy was received with
great applause. A hint from Brome, more than a
hint from Moliere, much wit, vivacity, and clever
ness make up this admirable comedy. Throughout
the whole of her career it is amply evident that
Mrs. Behn, an omnivorous reader, kept in constant
touch with and profited by the French literature
and theatre of her day. The debt of the English
stage to France at this period is a fact often not
sufficiently acknowledged, but one which it would
really be difficult to over-emphasize. No adequate
critical knowledge of much of our English song,
fiction and drama of the Restoration can be attained
without a close study of their French models and
originals.

During the latter part of this year Mrs. Behn
found time to revise and write up the romantic
scenes she had composed two decades before as a
girl in Surinam, and the result was a tragi-comedy,

xl MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

The] Young King, which won considerable favour. |
Produced in March or early April,1 1679, it was
not published till 1683, but a second edition was
called for in i698.2

In March, The Feign d Courtezans, one of Mrs. j
Behn's happiest efforts, appeared on the boards \
of the Duke's House. Not one tittle is borrowed, j
and its success gives striking proof of the capacity
of her unaided powers. When printed, the comedy
was dedicated in adulatory terms to Nell Gwynne.
With the great Betterton, handsome WTill Smith,
Nokes, Underhill, Leigh, an inimitable trio, the
famous Mrs. Barry, pretty and piquante Betty
Currer, the beautiful and serenely gracious Mrs.
Mary Lee, in the cast, it had a perfect galaxy of
genius to give it life and triumph.

In 1 68 1 a second part continued the adventures
of The Rover, and surprisingly good the sequel is.

From 1678 to 1683 were years of the keenest
political excitement and unrest. Fomented to frenzy
by the murderous villainies of Gates and his accom
plices, aggravated by the traitrous ambition and
rascalities of Shaftesbury, by the deceit and weak
ness of Monmouth, and the open disloyalty of the
Whiggish crew, party politics and controversy waxed
hotter and fiercer until riots were common and a

1 The date is fixed by the Epilogue 'at his R.H. second exile into
landers'. The Duke of York sailed for Antwerp 4 March, 1679. He
returned in August owing to the King's illness.

* This fact sufficiently explodes the quite untenable suggestion that

Ihe Young King in earlier days could find neither producer nor publisher.

t the quarto did not appear until four years after the play had been

i the stage is no argument of non-success. Ravenscroft's Mamamoucbi

•as produced early in 1672, and 'continu'd Acting 9 Days with a full house'.

t specially delighted the King and Court. It was not printed, however,

until 1675.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xli

revolution seemed imminent. Fortunately an appeal
in a royal declaration to the justice of the nation at
large allayed the storm, and an overwhelming out
burst of genuine enthusiasm ensued. Albeit the
bill against him was thrown out with an * ignoramus '
by a packed jury 24 November, 1681, a year later,
28 November, 1 682, Shaftesbury found it expedient
to escape to Holland,. Monmouth, who had been
making a regal progress through the country, was
arrested. Shortly after he was bailed out by his
political friends, but he presently fled in terror lest
he should pay the penalty of his follies and crimes,
inasmuch as a true bill for high treason had been
found against him. It was natural that at such a crisis
the stage and satire (both prose and rhyme), should
become impregnated with party feeling ; and the
Tory poets, with glorious John Dryden at their
head, unmercifully pilloried their adversaries. In
1682 Mrs. Behn produced three comedies, two of
which are mainly political. The Roundheads, a
masterly pasquinade, shows the Puritans, near an
cestors of the Whigs, in their most odious and veri-
tablecolours. The City Heiress lampoons Shaftesbury
and his cit following in exquisite caricature. The
wit and humour, the pointed raillery never coarsen
ing into mere invective and zany burlesque, place
this in the very front rank of her comedies.1 The False

1 Gould in The Play House, a Satyr, stung by Mrs. Behn's success,
derides that

clean piece of Wit

The City Heiress by chaste Sappho Writ,
Where the Lewd Widow comes with Brazen Face,
Just seeking from a Stallion's rank Embrace,
T' acquaint the Audience with her Filthy Case.
Where can you find a Scene for juster Praise,
In Shakespear, Johnson, or in Fletcher's Plays?

xlii MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

Count, the third play of this year, is non-political,
and she has herein borrowed a suggestion from
Moliere. It is full of brilliant dialogue and point,
whilst the situations are truly ludicrous and enter
taining. As might well be surmised, The Round
heads and The City Heiress were not slow to wake
the rancour of the Whigs, who looked about for
an opportunity of vengeance which they shortly
found. On 10 August, 1682, there was produced
at the Duke's Theatre an anonymous tragedy
Romulus and Hersilia; or, The Sabine War. It is
a vigorous play of no small merit and attracted
considerable attention at the time.1 Mrs. Behn
contributed both Prologue and Epilogue, the former
being spoken by that sweet-voiced blonde, winsome
Charlotte Butler, the latter by Lady Slingsby, who
acted Tarpeia. There was matter in the Epilogue
which reflected upon the disgraced Duke of Mon-
mouth, for whom, in spite of his known treachery
and treasons, Charles still retained the fondest
affection. Warm representations were made in
high quarters, and the following warrant was
speedily issued : —

Whereas the Lady Slingsby Comoedian and Mrs. Aphaw
Behen have by acting and writeing at his Royall Highnesse
Theatre committed severall Misdemeanors and made
abusive reflections upon persons of Quality, and have
written and spoken scandalous speeches without any

1 Publication was delayed. Brooks' Impartial Mercury, Friday, 1 7 Nov.,
1682, advertises: 'To be published on Monday next, the last new play
called Romulus.' The 4to is dated 1683. A broad sheet, 1682, gives both
Prologue 'spoken by Mrs. Butler, written by Mrs. Behn,' and Epilogue
« spoken by the Lady Slingsby.' The 410 gives ' Prologue, spoken by Mrs.
Butler,' 'Epilogue, Writ by Mrs. A. Behn. Spoken by Tarpeia.'

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xliii

License or Approbation of those that ought to peruse
and authorize the same, These are therefore to require
you to take into yor Custody the said Lady Slingsby and
Mrs. Aphaw Behen and bring them before mee to answere
the said Offence, And for soe doeing this shalbe yor
sufficient Warr1. Given undr my hand and scale this
12th day of August, 1682.

To Henry Legatt Messenger

of His Matics Chamber, etc.

The lines particularly complained of ran as follows:

of all Treasons, mine was most accurst ;
Rebelling 'gainst a KING and FATHER first.
A Sin, which Heav'n nor Man can e're forgive ;
Nor could I Act it with the face to live.

There's nothing can my Reputation save

With all the True, the Loyal and the Brave;

Not my Remorse or death can Expiate

With them a Treason 'gainst the KING and State.

Coming from the mouth of the perjured Tarpeia
they were of course winged with point unmistak
able. It is not probable, however, that either
authoress or actress was visited with anything more
than censure and a fright. In any case their deten
tion : (if brought about) must have been very short-
liv'd, for the partizans of Monmouth, although
noisy and unquiet, were not really strong, and they
met with the most effective opposition at every
turn.

In this same year the Whigs in spite of their
utmost efforts signally failed to suppress, and could

1 Curtis' Protestant Mercury, August 12-6, 1682, notices that both
Lady Slingsby and Mrs. Behn have been ordered into custody in respect of
this Epilogue.

xliv MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

only retard the production of Dryden and Lee's
excellent tragedy Th e Duke of Guise ^ first performed
4 December. The play created a furore, and its
political purport as a picture of the baffled intrigues
of Shaftesbury in favour of Lucy Walter's over
weening son is obvious, nor is it rendered less so
by Dryden's clever and caustic Vindication of the
Duke of Guise (1683). It is interesting to note that
Lady Slingsby, who played the Queen Mother,
Catherine de' Medici, in this play, has some very
sardonic speeches put in her mouth; indeed, as
Henri III aptly remarks, cshe has a cruel wit'.

In 1684 were published the famous Love Letters
between a Nobleman and his Sister. The letters,
supposed to have passed between Forde, Lord Grey,1
and his sister-in-law Lady Henrietta Berkeley, fifth
daughter of the Earl, are certainly the work of
Mrs. Behn. Romantic and sentimental, with now
and again a pretty touch that is almost lyrical in its
sweet cadence, they enjoyed the same extraordinary
popularity which very similar productions have
attained at a recent date. A third edition was
called for in 1707.

Mrs. Behn was also busy seeing her poems
through the press. The title page is dated 1684,
and they were issued with a dedication to the Earl

1 Forde, Lord Grey of Werke, Earl of Tankerville, who succeeded to
the title in 1675, was married to Lady Mary Berkeley. He eloped, however,
with Lady Henrietta Berkley, and great scandal ensued. When he and his
minions were brought to trial, 23 November, 1682, his mistress and a
number of staunch Whigs boldly accompanied him into court. He was
iound guilty, but as his friends banded together to resist, something very
like a riot ensued. He died 25 June, 1701. Lady Henrietta Berkeley, who
never married, survived her lover nine years.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xlv

of Salisbury.1 In the same volume is included her
graceful translation of the Abbe Tallemant's Le
Voyage de risk d' Amour ^ entitled, A Voyage to 'The

I Isle of Love.

The following undated letter (preserved at Bay-

jfordbury) addressed to Jacob Tonson, and first

[published in the Gentleman s Magazine, May, 1836,
pleads hard for an extra payment of five pounds

[for her book. She writes : —

Deare Mr. Tonson

I am mightly obleg'd to you for yc service you have don

me to Mr. Dryden ; in whose esteeme I wou'd chuse to

j be rather then any bodys in the world; and I am sure

[ never, in thought, word, or deed merritted other from

him, but if you had heard wl was told me, you wou'd

have excus'd all I said on that account. Thank him most

nfinitly for ye hon. he offers, and I shall never think lean

io any thing that can merritt so vast a glory ; and I must

nwe it all to you if I have it. As for Mr. Creech, I would

I lot have you afflict him wth a thing can not now be

ihelp'd, so never let him know my resentment. I am

troubled for ye line that's left out of Dr. Garth,2 and wish

|for man wou'd write it in ye margent, at his leasure, to all

| /mi sell.

As for ye verses of mine, I shou'd really have thought
em worth thirty pound ; and I hope you will find it

1 Astrea with her soft gay sighing Swains
And rural virgins on the flowery Plains,
The lavish Peer's profuseness may reprove
Who gave her Guineas for the Isle of Love.

— Contemporary Satire. — (Harleian MSS.)

2 This of course cannot be correct, but it is so transcribed. In the

"anscript of this letter made by Malone, and now in the possession of

j! ). Thorn Drury, Esq., K.C., over the word 'Garth's' is written 'Q', and

c the foot of the page a note by Mitford says : 'This name seems to have

een doubtful in the MSS.' I have thought it best not to attempt any

; mendation.

xlvi MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

worth 25/; not that I shou'd dispute at any other time
for 5 pound wher I am so obleeged; but you can not
think w* a preety thing ye Island will be, and wl a deal
of labor I shall have yet with it : and if that pleases,
I will do the 2d Voyage, wch will compose a little book as
big as a novel by it self. But pray speake to yor Bror
to advance the price to one 5lb more, 'twill at this time
be more then given me, and I vow I wou'd not aske it if
I did not really believe it worth more. Alas I wou'd not
loose my time in such low gettings, but only since I am
about it I am resolv'd to go throw wth it tho I shou'd give
it. I pray go about it as soone as you please, for I shall
finish as fast as you can go on. Methinks y° Voyage
shou'd com last, as being ye largest volume. You know
Mr. Couly's Dauid is last, because a large poem, and
Mrs. Philips her Plays for ye same reason. I wish I had
more time, I wou'd ad something to ye verses yl I have a
mind too, but, good deare Mr. Tonson, let it be 5lb more,
for I may safly swere I have lost ye getting of 5<Dlb by it,'
tho that's nothing to you, or my satisfaction and humour:
but I have been wthout getting so long y* I am just on ye
poynt of breaking, espesiall since a body has no creditt at
ye Playhouse for money as we usd to have, fifty or 60
deepe, or more ; I want extreamly or I wo'd not urge this j

Yors A. B.

Pray send me ye loose papers to put to these I have, and
let me know wch you will go about first, yc songs and
verses or that. Send me an answer to-day.

It is probable that about this date, 1683-4, she
penned her little novel The Adventure of the Black
Lady^ and also that excellent extravaganza The
King of Bantam.1 Both these and The Unfortunate

1 Neither of these was printed until eight years after her death. They
first appear, each with its separate title page, 1697, bound up in the Third
Edition, < with Large Additions,' of All the Histories and Novels, Written by the
Late Ingenious Mrs. Bebn, Entire in One Volume, 1698. After Nos. vii, viii, ix,

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xlvii

Happy Lady are written as if they had certainly
ibeen completed before the death of Charles II,
:in which case they must have lain by, MSS, in
!Mrs. Behn's desk.

The King, at the height of his power, after a short
'illness, died 6 February, 1 6 8 5, an event that together
,with the accession of James naturally evoked a
plethora of State Poems, to which flood Mrs. Behn
:ontributed. Her Pindarics rank high amongst the
semi-official, complimentary, threnodic or pastoral
bseudo-Dithyrambs, of which the age was so boun
teous; but it needed the supreme geniusofaDryden
;ustainedly to instil lyric fire and true poetry into
phese hybrid forms.1 The nadir is sounded by the
plumbeous productions of Shadwell, Nahum Tate,
i ind c Persons of Quality '. Aphra's Pindarick on the

I Death of Charles I I ran through two editions in 1 68 5,
ind her Poem to the Queen Dowager Catherine was

! Memoirs of the Court of the King of Bantam, The Nun; or, the Perjured Beauty,

I "be Adventure of the Black Lady follows a note : ' These last three never
[ efore published.' Some superficial bibliographers (e.g. Miss Charlotte E.

Morgan in her unreliable monograph, The English Novel till 1749) have
ostulated imaginary editions of 1683-4 for The Little Black Lady and The
'ing of Bantam. The Nun } or, the Perjured Beauty is universally confounded
/ith The History of the Nun (vide Vol. V, p. 259, Introduction to that novel)
: nd dated 1689.

With reference to The King of Bantam we have in the 1698 collected
!• dition of the Novels the following 'Advertisement to the Reader. The Stile
b f the Court of the King of Bantam, being so very different from Mrs. Behn's

II sual way of Writing, it may perhaps call its being genuine in Question ; to
M bviate which Objection, I must inform the Reader, that it was a Trial of
|l kill upon a Wager, to shew that she was able to write in the Style of the
U lelebrated Scarron, in Imitation of whom 'tis writ, tho' the Story be true.
|l need not say any thing of the other Two, they evidently confessing their
\ i dmirable Author.'

1 Swift, although he amply fulfilled Dryden's famous prophecy, 'Cousin

wife, you will never be a Pindaric poet', was doubtless thinking of these

j! 'indarics when in The Battle of the Books he wrote : 'Then Pindar slew — ,

I 1 nd — , and Oldbam, and — , and Afra the Amazon light of foot.'

xlviii MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

published the same year. James II was crowned i
on St. George's Day, and she greeted her new
monarch and old patron with a Poem on the Happy
Coronation of His Sacred Majesty. A little later she)
published a Miscellany of poems by various hands :
amongst whom were Etheredge, Edmund Arwaker, j
Henry Crisp, and Otway, including not a fewj
from her own pen, 'Together with Reflections on
Morality, or Seneca Unmasqued. Translated from
the Maximes of the Duke de la Rochefoucauld',
a number of clever apophthegms tersely turned.

The following note,1 however, affords ample
evidence that at this juncture, maugre her diligence
and unremitting toils, she was far from being in
easy circumstances : —

' Where as I am indebted to Mr. Bags the sum of six pownd
for the payment of which Mr. Tonson has obleged him self.
Now I do here by impowre Mr. Zachary Baggs, in case
the said debt is not fully discharged before Michaelmas
next, to stop what money he shall hereafter have in his
hands of mine, upon the playing my first play till this
aforesaid debt of six pownd be discharged.
Witness my hand this 1st August, — 85.

A. Behn.'

Early in 1686 a frolicksome comedy of great
merit, 'The Lucky Chance, was produced by her at the
Theatre Royal, the home of the United Companies.
A Whiggish clique, unable to harm her in any other
way, banded together to damn the play and so
endeavoured to raise a pudic hubbub, that happily
proved quite ineffective. The Lucky Chance^ which
| contends with The Rover f/J, and The Feign d

1 First published in The Gentleman's Magazine, May, 1836.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN xlix

Courtezans for the honour of being Mrs. Behn's
highest flight of comic genius, has scenes admittedly
wantoning beyond the bounds of niggard propriety,
:but all are alive with a careless wit and a brilliant
humour that prove quite irresistible. Next appeared
those graceful translations from de Bonnecorse's
La Montre . . . seconde partie contenant La Boe'te et
LeMiroir, which she termed 'The Lover s Watch and
The Lady's Looking-Glass.

In 1687 the Duke of Albemarle's voyage to

Jamaica1 to take up the government in the West

Indies gave occasion for a Pindaric, but we only have

Dne dramatic piece from Mrs. Behn, 'The Emperor

\if the Moon, a capital three act farce, Italian in

sentiment and origin. For some little time past her

icalth had begun to trouble her.2 Her three years

)f privation and cares had told upon her physically,

ind since then, 'forced to write for bread and not

ishamed to own it,' she had spared neither mind nor

)odily strength. Graver symptoms appeared, but

'•et she found time to translate from Fontenelle

•is version of Van Dale's De Oraculis Etbnicorum

Ls The History of Oracles and the Cheats of the Pagan

priests, a book of great interest. There was also

mblished in 1687 an edition in stately folio of

Eesop's Fables with his Life in English, French and

r^atiny c illustrated with One hundred and twelve

| jiculptures' and 'Thirty One New Figures repre-

enting his Life ', by Francis Barlow, the celebrated

1 Christopher Monck, second Duke of Albermarle, was appointed
'Overnor-General of Jamaica, 26 November, 1687. He died there early
, the following autumn.

2 ' Sapfbo famous for her Gout and Guilt,' writes Gould in The
iefessf a Satyr.

I d

1 MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

draughtsman of birds and animals. Each plate toj
the Life has a quatrain appended, and each fable j
with its moral is versified beneath the accompanying!
picture. In his brief address to the Reader Barlow]
writes : 'The Ingenious Mrs. A. Behn has been so
obliging as to perform the English Poetry, which]
in short comprehends the Sense of the Fable and
Moral; Whereof to say much were needless, since
it may sufficiently recommend it self to all Persons
of Understanding.' To this year we further assign
the composition of no fewer than four novels, Tbel
Unfortunate Bride, 'The Dumb Firgin, 'The Wandering
Beauty, 'The Unhappy Mistake. She was working at
high pressure, and 1688 still saw a tremendous
literary output. Waller had died 2 1 October, 1687,
at the great age of eighty-one, and her Elegiac
Ode to his Memory begins : —

How to thy Sacred Memory, shall I bring
(Worthy thy Fame) a grateful Offering ?
I, who by Toils of Sickness, am become
Almost as near as thou art to a Tomb ?
While every soft and every tender strain
Is ruffl'd, and ill-natur'd grown with Pain.

This she sent to his daughter-in-law with the
following letter1 : —

Madam,

At such losses as you have sustain'd in that of yo1
Glorious ffather in Law Mr. Waller, the whole world
must wait on your sighs & mournings, tho' we must
allow yours to be the more sensible by how much more
(above your Sex) you are Mistriss of that Generousi

1 Now published for the first time by the courtesy of G. Thorn Drury.
Esq., K.C., who generously obliged me with a transcript of the original.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN li

Tallent that made him so great & so admird (besids
what we will allow as a Relation) tis therfore at your
ffeet Madam we ought to lay all those Tributary Garlands,
we humbler pretenders to the Muses believe it our Duty
to offer at his Tombe — in excuse for mine Madam I can
only say I am very ill & have been dying this twelve
month, that they want those Graces & that spiritt wch
possible I might have drest em in had my health & dulling
vapors permitted me, howeuer Madam they are left to
your finer judgment to determin whether they are worthy
the Honour of the Press among those that cellibrat Mr.
Wallers great fame, or of being doomed to the fire &
whateuer you decree will extreamly sattisfy

Madam

I humbly beg pardon yor most Devoted &

for my yll writing most Obeadient

Madam for tis with Seruant

a Lame hand scarce A. BEHN.

able to hold a pen.

Her weakness, lassitude, and despondency are
more than apparent ; yet bravely buckling to her
work, and encouraged by her success with Fon-
tenelle, she Englished with rare skill his theory
of the System of Several New Inhabited Worlds,
prefixing thereto a first-rate c Essay on Translated
Prose.' She shows herself an admirable critic, broad-
minded, with a keen eye for niceties of style. The
Fair Jilt (licensed 17 April, I688),1 Oroonoko, and
Agnes de Castro ^ followed in swift succession. She
also published Lycidus, a Voyage from the Island oj
Love, returning to the Abbe Tallemant's dainty
preciosities. On 10 June, James Francis Edward,

1 In the original edition of The Fair Jilt (1688), we have advertised :
'There is now in the Press, Oroonoko ; or, The History of the Royal Slave.
Written by Madam Bebn.'

Hi MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

Prince of Wales, was born at St. James's Palace, and
Mrs. Behn having already written a Congratulatory
Poem1 to Queen Mary of Modena on her expecta
tion of the Prince, was ready with a Poem on his
Happy Birth.

One of the most social and convivial of women,
a thorough Tory, well known to Dryden, Creech,
Otway and all the leading men of her day, warm
helper and ally of every struggling writer, Astrea
began to be completely overpowered by the con
tinual strain, the unremittent tax upon both health
and time. Overworked and overwrought, in the
early months of 1689 she put into English verse
the sixth book (of Trees] from Cowley's Sex Libri
Plantarum (1668). Nahum Tate undertook Books
IV and Vand prefaced the translation when printed.
As Mrs. Behn knew no Latin no doubt some friend,
perhaps Tate himself, must have paraphrased the
original for her. She further published The Lucky
Mistake and The History of the Nun; or, The Fair Vow
Breaker? licensed 22 October, 1688. On the after
noon of 1 2 February, Mary, wife of William ot
Orange, had with great diffidence landed at White
hall Stairs, and Mrs. Behn congratulated the lady in
her Poem To Her Sacred Majesty Queen Mary on her
Arrival in England. One regrets to find her writing on
such an occasion, and that she realized the impro
priety of her conduct is clear from the reference to
the banished monarch. But she was weary, depressed,

1 In the second edition (1688), of this Congratulatory Poem to Queen
Mary of Modena we have the following advertisement: — 'On Wednesday
next will be Published the most Ingenious and long Expected History of
Oroonoko; or, the Royal Slave. By Mrs. Bebn.'

3 The title page has 1689, but it was possibly published late in 1688.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN liii

and ill, and had indeed for months past been racked
with incessant pain. An agonizing complication of
disorders now gave scant hope of recovery. It is
in the highest degree interesting to note that during
her last sickness Dr. Burnet, a figure of no little
importance at that moment, kindly enquired after
the dying woman. The Pindaric in which she
thanks him, and which was printed March, 1689,
proved the last poem she herself saw through the
press. At length exhausted nature failed altogether,
1 and she expired 16 April, 1689, the end hastened
! by a sad lack of skill in her physician. She is buried
in the east cloisters of Westminster Abbey. A black
marble slab marks the spot. On it are graven * Mrs.
Aphra Behn Dyed April, 16, A.D. 1689,' and two
lines, 'made by a very ingenious Gentleman tho'
no Poet':—1

Here lies a Proof that Wit can never be
Defence enough against Mortality.2

'She was of a generous and open Temper, some
thing passionate, very serviceable to her Friends
in all that was in her Power ; and could sooner
forgive an Injury, than do one. She had Wit,
Honour, Good-Humour, and Judgment. She was
Mistress of all the pleasing Arts of Conversation,

1 Traditionally said to be John Hoyle.

2 Sam Briscoe, the publisher, in his Dedicatory Epistle to Familiar
Letters of Love, Gallantry, etc. (2. vols., 1718), says : 'Had the rough Days of
K. Charles II newly recover' d from the Confusion of a Civil War, or the
tempestuous Time of James the Second, had the same Sence of Wit as our
Gentlemen now appear to have, the first Impressions of Milton's Paradise
Lost had never been sold for Waste Paper ; the Inimitable Hudibras had never
suffered the Miseries of a Neglected Cavalier ; Tom Brown the merriest and
most diverting' st man, had never expir'd so neglected ; Mr. Drydens Religion
would never have lost him his Pension ,• or Mrs. Bebn ever had but two Lines
upon her Grave-stone.'

liv MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

but us'd 'em not to any but those who love Plain-
dealing.' So she comes before us. A graceful,
comely woman,1 merry and buxom, with brown
hair and bright eyes, candid, sincere, a brilliant
conversationalist in days when conversation was no
mere slipshod gabble of slang but cut and thrust
of poignant epigram and repartee ; warm-hearted,
perhaps too warm-hearted, and ready to lend a help
ing hand even to the most undeserving, a quality
which gathered all Grub Street round her door.
At a period when any and every writer, mean or
great, of whatsoever merit or party, was continually
assailed with vehement satire and acrid lampoons,
lacking both truth and decency, Aphra Behn does
not come off scot-free, nobody did ; and upon
occasion her name is amply vilified by her foes.
There are some eight ungenerous lines with a side
reference to the 'Conquests she had won' in Buck
ingham's A Trial of the Poets for the Bays, and a page
or two of insipid spiritless rhymes, The Female
Laureat, find a place in State Poems. The same
collection contains 4 Satyr on the Modern 'Translators.
( Odi Imitatores servum pecus,' &c. By Mr. P — r,2
1684. It begins rather smartly : —

Since the united Cunning of the Stage,

Has balk'd the hireling Drudges of the Age ;

'She was a most beautiful woman, and a more excellent poet'.
Col. Colepeper. Adversaria, Vol. ii (Harleian MSS.)

2 This piece finds a place in the unauthorised edition of Prior's Poems,
1707, a volume the poet himself repudiated. In the Cambridge edition of
Prior's Works (1905-7), reason is given, however, to show that the line»
are certainly Prior's, and that he withdrew this and other satires (says Curll,
the bookseller), owing to 'his great Modesty'. The Horatian tag (Epistle*
i, xiv, 19) is of course ' O Imitatores servum pecus'.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN Iv

Since Betterton of late so thrifty 's grown,
Revives Old Plays, or wisely acts his own ;

the modern poets

Have left Stage-practice, chang'd their old Vocations,
Atoning for bad Plays with worse Translations.

In some instances this was true enough, but when
the writer attacks Dryden he becomes ridiculous
md imprecates

May he still split on some unlucky Coast,

And have his Works or Dictionary lost :

That he may know what Roman Authors mean,

No more than does our blind Translatress Behn*

The Female Wit, who next convicted stands,

Not for abusing Ovid's verse but Sand's:

She might have learn'd from the ill-borrow'd Grace,

(Which little helps the Ruin of her Face)

That Wit, like Beauty, triumphs o'er the Heart

When more of Nature's seen, and less of Art :

Nor strive in Ovid's Letters to have shown

As much of Skill, as Lewdness in her own.

Then let her from the next inconstant Lover,

Take a new Copy for a second Rover.

Describe the Cunning of a jilting Whore,

From the ill Arts herself has us'd before ;

Thus let her write, but Paraphrase no more.

These verses are verjuiced, unwarranted, unfair.
Tom Brown too in his Letters from the Dead to the
Living has a long epistle 'From worthy Mrs. Behn

1 In his Preface Concerning Ovid's Epistles affixed to the translation of
he Heroides (Ovid's Epistles), 'by Several Hands' (1680), Dryden writes:
The Reader will here find most of the Translations, with some little
-atitude or variation from the Author's Sence: That of Oenone to Paris, is
n Mr. Cowley's way of Imitation only. I was desir'd to say that the
Vuthor who is of the Fair Sex, understood not Latine. But if she does not,
am afraid she has given us occasion to be asham'd who do.'

Ivi MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

the Poetess, to the famous Virgin Actress,' (Mrs.
Bracegirdle), in which the Diana of the stage is
crudely rallied. < The Virgin's Answer to Mrs. Behn '
contains allusions to Aphra's intrigue with some
well-known dramatic writer, perhaps Ravenscroft,
and speaks of many an other amour beside. But
then for a groat Brown would have proved Barbara
Villiers a virgin, and taxed Torquemada with
unorthodoxy. Brown has yet another gird at
Mrs. Behn in his The Late Converts Exposed, or the
Reason of Mr. Bays 's Changing bis Religion &c.
Considered in a Dialogue (1690, a quarto tract;
and reprinted in a Collection of Brown's Dialogues,
8vo, 1704). Says Eugenius : 'You may remember
Mr. Bays, how the famed Astrea^ once in her
Life-time unluckily lighted upon such a Sacred
Subject, and in a strange fit of Piety, must needs
attempt a Paraphrase on the Lord's Prayer. But
alas poor Gentlewoman ! She had scarce travell'd
half way, when Cupid served her as the Cut-Purse
did the Old Justice in Bartbolmew Fair, tickled her
with a Straw in her Ear, and then she could
not budge one foot further, till she had humbly
requested her Maker to grant her a private Act
of Toleration for a little Harmless Love, other
wise called Fornication.' There is a marginal note
to this passage : ' Mrs. Behn s Miscell. Printed by
Jos. Hindmarsh' In a Letter from the Dead Thomas
Brown to the Living Heraclitus (1704), a sixpenny
tract, this wag is supposed to meet Mrs. Behn in
the underworld, and anon establishes himself on
the most familiar terms with his l dear Afra ' ;
they take, indeed, can extraordinary liking to one

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN Ivii

another's Company' for 'good Conversation is not
j so overplentiful in these Parts.' A bitterer attack
I yet, An Epistle to Julian (c. 1686-7), paints her as
i ill, feeble, dying : —

Doth that lewd Harlot, that Poetick Quean,

Fam'd through White Fryers, you know who I mean,

Mend for reproof, others set up in spight,

To flux, take glisters, vomits, purge and write.

Long with a Sciatica she's beside lame,

Her limbs distortur'd, Nerves shrunk up with pain,

And therefore I'll all sharp reflections shun,

I Poverty, Poetry, Pox, are plagues enough for one.
In truth, Aphra Behn's life was not one of mere
pleasure, but a hard struggle against overwhelming
adversity, a continual round of work. We cannot
1 1 but admire the courage of this lonely woman,
who, poor and friendless, was the first in England
to turn to the pen for a livelihood, and not only
: won herself bread but no mean position in the
world of her day and English literature of all
time. For years her name to a new book, a comedy,
a poem, an essay from the French, was a word
to conjure with for the booksellers. There are
anecdotes in plenty. Some true, some not so
reliable. She is said to have introduced milk-punch
into England.1 We are told that she could write

1 'Old Mr. John Bowman, the player, told me that Mrs. Behn was
the First Person he ever knew or heard of who made the Liquor call'd
Milk Punch.' — Oldys ; MS. note in Langbaine. In a tattered MS. recipe
book, the compilation of a good housewife named Mary Rockett, and dated
! : 171 1, the following directions are given how to brew this tipple. 'To make
Milk Punch. Infuse the rinds of 8 Lemons in a Gallon of Brandy 48 hours
then add 5 Quarts of Water and 2 pounds of Loaf Sugar then Squize the Juices
of all the Lemons to these Ingredients add 2 Quarts of new milk Scald
hot stirring the whole till it crudles grate in 2 Nutmegs let the whole
infuse i Hour then refine through a flannel Bag.'

Iviii MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

a page of a novel or a scene of a play in a room full
of people and yet hold her own in talk the while.1
Her popularity was enormous, and edition after
edition of her plays and novels was called for.

In 1690, there was brought out on the stage
a posthumous comedy, 'The Widow Ranter.* But
without her supervision, it was badly cast, the script
was mauled, and it failed. In 1696 Charles Gildon,
who posed as her favourite protege (and edited her
writings), gave 'The Tounger Brother. He had, how
ever, himself tampered with the text. The actors
did it scant justice and it could not win a permanent
place in the theatrical repertory. In May, 1738,
The Gentleman's Magazine published The Apotheosis
• of Milton, a paper, full of interest, which ran through
several numbers. It is a Vision, in which the writer,
having fallen asleep in Westminster Abbey, is
conducted by a Genius into a spacious hall, 'sacred
to the Spirits of the Bards, whose Remains are
buried, or whose Monuments are erected within
this Pile. To night an Assembly of the greatest
Importance is held upon the Admission of the Great
Milton into this Society.' The Poets accordingly
appear either in the habits which they were wont
to wear on earth, or in some suitable attire. We
have Chaucer, Drayton, Beaumont, Ben Jonson,

1 'She always Writ with the greatest ease in the world, and that in
the midst of Company, and Discourse of other matters. I saw her my self
write Oroonoko, and keep her own in Discoursing with several then present
in the Room.' — Gildon : An Account of the Life of the Incomparable Mrs.
Behn, prefixed to The Younger Brother (410 1696). Southerne says, with
reference to Oroonoko, 'That she always told his Story, more feelingly than
she writ it.'

1 It is ushered in by one 'G.J. her friend'. This was almost certainly
George Jenkins.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN lix

and others who are well particularized, but when

I we get to the laureates and critics of a later period

there are some really valuable touches. In 1738

there must have been many alive who could well

remember Dryden, Shadwell, Otway, Prior, Philips,

' Sheffield Duke of Buckinghamshire, Dennis, Atter-

;bury, Lee, Congreve, Rowe, Addison, Betterton,

iGay. In the course of his remarks the guide

'exclaims to the visitor: 'Observe that Lady dressed

Jin the loose Robe de Chambre with her Neek and

1 Breasts bare; how much Fire in her Eye! what

a passionate Expression in her Motions ; And how

.much Assurance in her Features! Observe what

| an Indignant Look she bestows on the President

'Chaucer], who is telling her, that none of her Sex

I has any Right to a Seat there. How she throws her

Eyes about, to see if she can find out any one of

the Assembly who inclines to take her Part. No !

mot one stirs ; they who are enclined in her favour

ire overawed, and the rest shake their Heads ; and

now she flings out of the Assembly. That extra-

Drdinary Woman is Afra Behn.' The passage is

lot impertinent, even though but as showing

low early condemnatory tradition had begun to

ncrustate around Astrea. Fielding, however, makes

lis Man of the World tell a friend that the best way

'or a man to improve his intellect and commend

limself to the ladies is by a course of Mrs. Behn's

levels. With the oncoming of the ponderous

md starched decorum of the third George's reign

o o

ler vogue waned apace, but she was still read and
quoted. On 12 December, 1786, Horace Walpole
vrites to the Countess of Upper Ossory, CI am

Ix MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN

going to Mrs. Cowley's new play,1 which I suppose
is as instructive as the Marriage of Figaro, for 1 am
told it approaches to those of Mrs. Behn in Spartan
delicacy ; but I shall see Miss Farren, who, in my
poor opinion is the first of all actresses.' Sir Walter
Scott admired and praised her warmly. But the
pinchbeck sobriety of later times was unable to
tolerate her freedom. She was condemned in no
small still voice as immoral, loose, scandalous ; and
writer after writer, leaving her unread, reiterated
the charge till it passed into a byword of criticism,
and her works were practically taboo in literature,
a type and summary of all that was worst and foulest
in Restoration days. The absurdities and falsity or
this extreme are of course patent now, and it was
inevitable the recoil should come.

It is a commonplace to say that her novels are
a landmark in the history of fiction. Even Macaulay
allowed that the best of Defoe was 'in no respect
. . . beyond the reach of Afra Behn'. Above all
Oroonoko can be traced directly and indirectly,
perhaps unconsciously, in many a descendant.
Without assigning her any direct influence on
Wilberforce, much of the feeling of this novel is
the same as inspired Harriet Beecher Stowe. She
has been claimed to be the literary ancestress of
Bernardin de Saint-Pierre and Chateaubriand ; nor
is it any exaggeration to find Byron and Rousseau in
her train. Her lyrics, it has been well said, are often

1 The School for Greybeards, produced at Drury Lane, 25 November.
1786. It owes much of its business to The Lucky Chance. Seethe)
Theatrical History of that comedy (Vol. iii, p. 180). Miss Farren acted)
Donna Seraphina, second wife of Don Alexis, one of the Greybeards. Shej
also spoke the epilogue.

MEMOIR OF MRS. BEHN Ixi

f ' quite bewildering beauty', but her comedies
^present her best work and she is worthy to be
inked with the greatest dramatists of her day,
dth Vanbrugh and Etheredge ; not so strong as
Vycherley, less polished than Congreve. Such faults
s she has are obviously owing to the haste with which
rcumstances compelled her to write her scenes,
"hat she should ever recover her pristine reputa-
on is of course, owing to the passing of time with
s change of manners, fashions, thought and style,
npossible. But there is happily every indication that
-long neglected and traduced — she will speedily
indicate for herself, as she is already beginning to
o, her rightful claim to a high and honourable
lace in our glorious literature.

THE TEXT.

THE text of the dramatic work is primarily based upon the edition of 1724, j
four volumes, by far the best and most reliable edition of the collected theatre.
Each play, however, has been carefully collated with the original quartos,!
some of which are of excessive rarity, and if, in the case of any divergence, I
the later reading is preferred, reason why is given in the Textual Notes
upon that specific passage. To the Dramatis Personae are in each case added :
those characters which hitherto were negligently omitted : I have, further,!
consistently numbered the scenes and supplied (where necessary) the locales.
In the order of the plays the 1724 edition has been followed as preserving]
the traditional and accepted arrangement. The only change herein made is the
transferring of The Emperor of the Moon from Vol. IV to Vol. Ill, and the
placing of The Amorous Prince before The Widow Ranter, so that the two
posthumous plays may thus be found in their due order together at the end
of Vol. IV.

With regard to metrical division, I have (unless a special note on any one
particular line draws attention to the contrary) in this difficult matter fol
lowed the first quartos, as at this point 1724. proves not so satisfactory, and
prints much as prose which the earlier separate editions give as verse. A i
notable instance may be found in The Amorous Prince. To the above rule I
I adhere so strictly as even not to divide into lines several scenes in The
Widow Ranter and The Tounger Brother which are palpably blank verse, but 1
yet which are not so set in the quartos of 1690 and 1696. I felt that the j
metrical difficulties and kindred questions involved were so capable of almost i
infinite variations, that to attempt a new and decisive text in this matter
would not merely be hazardous but also unproductive of any real benefit or
ultimately permanent result.

The valuable Dedications and Prefaces, never before given in the collected
editions, are here reprinted for the first time from the originals. With i
regard to the novels the first separate edition has in every case been i
collated. When impossible, however, so to do (as in the exception ofi
Oroonoko), the earliest accessible text has been taken, and if any difficulty
arose, all editions of any value whatsoever were likewise consulted.

For La Montre (The Lover's Watch), the original edition of 1686 was
used. Any difference in text which has been adopted from later editions
is duly noted in the textual apparatus to that piece. The Poems have in
every case been printed from the first — which are generally the only —
editions. Where they appeared as broadsides, these, when traceable, have i
been collated.

( Ixiii )

THE PORTRAITS OF MRS. BEHN.

OF Mrs. Behn there exist three portraits, one by Mary Beale, a second by
John Riley, and the third by Sir Peter Lely.

The Beale portrait has been engraved : 'Aphra Behn. From a Picture
by Mary Beale in the collection of His Grace the Duke of Buckingham.
Drawn by T. Uwins. Engraved by J. Fittler, A.R.A. London, i March,
1822. Published by W. Walker, 8 Grays Inn Square.' The original oil
painting was purchased at the Stow Sale in 1848 (No. 57 in the sale

[ catalogue), by J. S. Caldwell, a literary antiquarian, Linley Wood, Stafford
shire. A letter which I wrote to The Times Literary Supplement (26 November,
1914) on the subject of these portraits brought me a most courteous per-
-nission from Major-General F. C. Heath Caldwell, the present owner of
Linley Wood, to view the picture.

With regard to the well-known and most frequently reproduced portrait
sy Riley, this, engraved by R. Wise, figures as frontispiece to The Unfortunate

YBrlde (title page, 1700, and second title page, 1698). It is also given before
'.he Novels (1696, 1698, and other editions). Engraved by B. Cole, the

I same portrait fronts the Plays, 4 vols., 1724, and the Novels, z vols., 1735.
[t again appears 'H. R. Cook, Sculp.', published i August, 1813, by

I f. W. H. Payne, when it was included as an illustration to the Lady's

j Monthly Museum.

The portrait by Sir Peter Lely, which is reproduced as frontispiece to

j :his edition of Mrs. Behn, was exhibited at the South Kensington Portrait

i Exhibition of 1866 by Philip Howard, Esq., of Corby Castle, the head of
:he Corby branch of the Howard family.

The portrait of Mrs. Behn which appears as frontispiece to the Plays,
i vols., 1716, is none other than Christina of Sweden from Sebastian

I Bourdon's drawing now in the Louvre.

A so-called portrait of Mrs. Behn, 'pub. Rob' Wilkinson', no date, is of

\ 10 value, being, at best, a bad pastiche from some very poor engraving.

THE ROVER; OR,

THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS.

PART I.

(3)

ARGUMENT.

DURING the exile of Charles II a band of cavaliers, prominent amongst whom
are Willmore (the Rover), Belvile, Frederick, and Ned Blunt, find themselves
at Naples in carnival time. Belvile, who at a siege at Pampluna has rescued
a certain Florinda and her brother Don Pedro, now loves the lady, and the
tender feeling is reciprocated. Florinda's father, however, designs her for
the elderly Vincentio, whilst her brother would have her marry his friend
Antonio, son to the Viceroy. Florinda, her sister Hellena (who is intended
for the veil), their cousin Valeria, and duenna Callis surreptitiously visit the
carnival, all in masquerade, and there encounter the cavaliers. Florinda
arranges to meet Belvile that night at her garden-gate. Meanwhile a picture
of Angelica Bianca, a famous courtezan, is publicly exposed, guarded by
bravos. Antonio and Pedro dispute who shall give the 1000 crowns she
demands, and come to blows. After a short fray Willmore, who has boldly
pulled down the picture, is admitted to the house, and declares his love,
together with his complete inability to pay the price she requires. Angelica,
none the less, overcome with passion, yields to him. Shortly after, meeting
Hellena in the street, he commences an ardent courtship, which is detected
by the jealous Angelica, who has followed him vizarded. Florinda that
night at the garden-gate encounters Willmore, who, having been toping in
the town, is far from sober, and her cries at his advances attract her brother
and servants, whom she eludes by escaping back to the house.' After a brawl,
Willmore has to endure the reproaches of Belvile, who has appeared on the
scene. During their discussion Antonio makes as about to enter Angelica's
house before which they are, and Willmore, justling him to one side, wounds
him. He falls, and the officers who run up at the clash of swords, arrest
Belvile, who has returned at the noise, as the assailant, conveying him by
Antonio's orders to the Viceroy's palace. Antonio, in the course of conversa
tion, resigns Florinda to his rival, and Belvile, disguised as Antonio, obtains
Florinda from Don Pedro. At this moment Willmore accosts him, and the
Spaniard perceiving his mistake, soon takes his sister off home. Angelica
next comes in hot pursuit of Willmore, but they are interrupted by Hellena,
dressed as a boy, who tells a tale of the Rover's amour with another dame
and so rouses the jealous courtezan to fury, and the twain promptly part
quarrelling. Florinda, meanwhile, who has escaped from her brother, run
ning into an open house to evade detection, finds herself in Ned Blunt's
apartments. Blunt, who is sitting half-clad, and in no pleasant mood owing
to his having been tricked of clothes and money and turned into the street
by a common cyprian, greets her roughly enough, but is mollified by the
present of a diamond ring. His friends and Don Pedro, come to laugh at
his sorry case, now force their way into the chamber, and Florinda, whom
her brother finally resigns to Belvile, is discovered. She is straightway
united to her lover by a convenient priest. Willmore is then surprised by
the apparition of Angelica, who, loading him with bitter reproaches for his
infidelity, is about to pistol him, when she is disarmed by Antonio, and
accordingly parts in a fury of jealous rage, to give place to Hellena who
adroitly secures her Rover in the noose of matrimony.

(4)

SOURCE.

THE entire plan and many details of both parts of The Rover are taken
openly and unreservedly from Tom Killigrew's Thomaso, or The Wanderer,
an unacted comedy likewise in two parts, published for the first time in his
collected works by Henry Herringman (folio, 1663-4). It is to be noticed,
however, that whilst Killigrew's work is really one long play of ten closely
consecutive acts, the scene of which is continually laid in Madrid, without
any break in time or action, Mrs. Behn, on the other hand, admirably con
trives that each separate part of The Rover is complete and possesses perfect
unity in itself, the locale being respectively, and far more suitably, in two
several places, Naples and Madrid, rather than confined to the latter city
alone. Mrs. Behn, moreover, introduces new characters and a new intrigue
in her second part, thus not merely sustaining but even renewing the interest
which in Thomaso jades and flags most wearily owing to the author's pro
lixity and diffuseness.

Killigrew, a royalist to the core, participated in the protracted exile of
Charles II, and devoting this interim to literature, wrote Thomaso whilst at
Madrid, probably about the year 1654-5. Although undeniably interesting
in a high degree, and not ill written, it shares in no small measure the salient
faults of his other productions, boundless and needless verbosity, slowness of
action, unconscionable length.

For all its wit and cleverness, such blemishes would, without trenchant
cutting, have been more than sufficient to prohibit it from any actual per
formance, and, indeed, Thomaso may be better described as a dramatic romance
than a comedy intended for the boards. Clumsy and gargantuan speeches,
which few actors could have even memorized, and none would have ventured
to utter on the stage, abound in every scene. This lack of technical acumen
(unless, as may well be the case, Killigrew wrote much of these plays without
any thought of presentation) is more than surprising in an author so intimately
connected with the theatre and, after the Restoration, himself manager of
the King's Company.

Nor is Thomaso without its patent plagiarisms. Doubtless no small part
is simply autobiographical adventuring, but, beside many a reminiscence of
the later Jacobeans, Killigrew has conveyed entire passages and lyrics whole
sale without attempt at disguise. Thus the song, ' Come hither, you that
love,' Act ii, Scene 3, is from Fletcher's Captain, Act iv, the scene in Lelia's
chamber. Again, the procedure and orations of Lopus the mountebank are
but the flimsiest alterations of Folpone, Act ii, Scene I, nor could Killigrew
change Jonson for anything but the worse. He has even gone so far as to
name his quack's spouse Celia, a distinct echo of Corvino's wife.

In dealing with these two plays Mrs. Behn has done a great deal more
than merely fit the pieces for the stage. Almost wholly rewriting them, she
has infused into the torpid dialogue no small portion of wit and vivacity,
whilst the characters, prone to devolve into little better than prosy and
wooden marionettes, with only too apparent wires, are given life, vigour,
movement, individuality and being. In fact she has made the whole completely
and essentially her own. In some cases the same names are retained. We
find Phillipo, Sancho, Angelica Bianca, Lucetta, Callis, in Killigrew. But
as Willmore is a different thing altogether to Thomaso, so Ned Blunt is an

THEATRICAL HISTORY 5

infinitely more entertaining figure than his prototype Edwardo. Amongst
other details Killigrew, oddly and stupidly enough, gives his English gentle
men foreign names: — Thomaso, Ferdinando, Rogero, Harrigo1. This jar
is duly corrected in The Rover.

Mrs. Behn has further dealt with the Lucetta intrigue in a far more
masterly way than Killigrew's clumsily developed episode. In Thomaso it
occupies a considerable space, and becomes both tedious and brutally un
pleasant. The apt conclusion of the amour in The Rover with Blunt's
parlous mishap is originally derived from Boccaccio, Second Day, Novel 5,
where a certain Andreuccio finds himself in the same unsavoury predicament
as the Essex squireen. However, even this was by no means new to the
English stage. In Blurt Master Constable, Lazarillo de Tormes, at the house
of the courtezan Imperia, meets with precisely the same accident, Act Hi,
Scene 3, Act iv, Scenes 2 and 3, and it is probable that Mrs. Behn did not
go directly to the Decameron but drew upon Middleton, of whom she made
very ample use on another occasion, borrowing for The City Heiress no small
portion of A Mad World, My Masters, and racily reproducing in extenso
therefrom Sir Bounteous Progress, Dick Folly-Wit, the mock grandee, and
that most excellent of all burglaries good enough for Fielding at his best.

In dealing with Thomaso Astrea did not hesitate, with manifest advantage,
to transfer incidents from Part II to Part I, and vice versa. Correcting,
pruning, augmenting, enlivening, rewriting, she may indeed (pace the memory
of the merry jester of Charles II) be well said to have clothed dry bones
with flesh, and to have given her creation a witty and supple tongue.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

THE first part of The Rover was produced at the Duke's House, Dorset
Gardens, in the summer of 1677, and licensed for printing on 2 July of the
same year. It met, as it fully deserved, with complete success, and remained
one of the stock plays of the company. Smith, the original Willmore, and
the low comedian Underhill as Blunt were especially renowned in their
respective roles. Another famous Willmore was Will Mountford, of whom
Dibdin relates, 'When he played Mrs. Behn's dissolute character of The
Rover, it was remarked by many, and particularly by Queen Mary, that it
was dangerous to see him act, he made vice so alluring.'

Amongst the more notable representations of the eighteenth century we
find: — Drury Lane ; 1 8 February, 1703. Willmore by Wilks; Hellena,
Mrs. Oldfield ; repeated on 15 October of the same year. Haymarket; 20
January, 1707. Willmore by Verbruggen ; Blunt, Underhill; Hellena,
Mrs. Bracegirdle ; Angelica, Mrs. Barry ; Florinda, Mrs. Bowman. Drury
Lane j zz April, 1708. Willmore by Wilks; Blunt, Estcourt ; Frederick,
Cibbcr ; Hellena, Mrs. Oldfield ; Angelica, Mrs. Barry ; Florinda, Mrs.
Porter. Drury Lane; 30 December, 1715. Willmore, Wilks ; Blunt, Johnson ;
Hellena, Mrs. Mountfort ; Angelica, Mrs. Porter. Drury Lane j 6 March,

1 There is a strange commixture here. The character is familiarly
addressed as 'Hal', the scene is Madrid, and he rejoices in the Milanese
(not Italian) nomenclature Arrigo=Henry in that dialect.

6 THEATRICAL HISTORY

1716. Don Pedro, Quin ; Frederick, Ryan; Florinda, Mrs. Horton.
Lincoln's Inn Fields} 5 April, 1725. 'Never acted there.' Performed for
Ryan's benefit. Willmore, Ryan ; Belvile, Quin ; Blunt, Spiller ; Hellcna,
Mrs. Bullock ; Angelica, Mrs. Parker. Co-vent Garden ; 9 November, 1 748.
Willmore, Ryan ; Blunt, Bridgewater; Hellena, Mrs. Woffington ; Angelica,
Mrs. Horton. To make this performance more attractive there was
also presented 'a musical entertainment", entitled, Apollo and Daphne,
which had been originally produced at Lincoln's Inn Fields in 1726.
Covenf Garden; 19 February, 1757. 'Not acted twenty years.' Willmore,
Smith ; Belvile, Ridout ; Frederick, Clarke ; Don Antonio, Dyer ; Blunt,
Shuter ; Hellena, Mrs. Woffington ; Angelica, Mrs. Hamilton ; Florinda,
Mrs. Elmy. This, the latest revival, was performed with considerable
expense, and proved successful, being repeated no less than ten times during
the season. Wilkinson says that Shuter acted Blunt very realistically, and,
as the stage directions of Act iii require, stripped to his very drawers.

On 8 March, 1790, J. P. Kemble presented at Drury Lane a pudibond
alteration of The Rover, which he dubbed Love in Many Masks (8vo, 1790).
It was well received, and acted eight times ; in the following season once.
Willmore was played by Kemble himself; Belvile, Wroughton ; Blunt,
Jack Bannister; Stephano, Suett ; Hellena, Mrs. Jordan; Angelica, Mrs.
Ward ; Florinda, Mrs. Powell ; Valeria, Mrs. Kemble ; Lucetta, Miss
Tidswell. It is not entirely worthless from a purely technical point of view,
but yet very modest and mediocre. As might well be surmised, the raciness
and spirit of The Rover entirely evaporate in the insipidity of emasculation.
This is the last recorded performance of Mrs. Behn's brilliant comedy in
any shape.

(7)

THE ROVER;

or, the Banish'd Cavaliers.

PART I.

PROLOGUE,

Written by a Person of Quality.

WITS, like Physicians, never can agree,
When of a different Society ;
And Rabel's Drops were never more cryJd down
By all the Learned Doctors of the Town,
Than a new Play, whose Author is unknown :
Nor can those Doctors with more Malice sue
(And powerful Purses) the dissenting Few,
Than those with an insulting Pride do rail
At all who are not of their own Cabal.

If a Toung Poet hit your Humour right,
You judge him then out of Revenge and Spite ,•
So amongst Men there are ridiculous Elves,
Who Monkeys hate for being too like themselves:
So that the Reason of the Grand Debate,
Why Wit so oft is damnd, when good Plays take,
Is, that you censure as you love or hate.
Thus, like a learned Conclave, Poets sit
Catholic k Judges both of Sense and Wit,
And damn or save, as they themselves think fit.
Yet those who to others Faults are so severe,
Are not so perfect, but themselves may err.
Some write correct indeed, but then the whole
(Bating their own dull Stuff itr? Play) is stole:

PROLOGUE

As Bees do suck from Flowers their Honey-dew,
So they rob others, striving to please you.

Some write their Characters genteel and fine,
But then they do so toil for every Line,
That what to you does easy seem, and plain,
Is the hard issue of their labouring Brain.
And some tV Effects of all their Pains we see,
Is but to mimick good Extempore.

Others by long Converse about the Town, \

Have Wit enough to write a lend Lampoon,
But their chief Skill lies in a Baudy Song.
In short, the only Wit that's now in Fashion
Is but the Gleanings of good Conversation.
As for the Author of this coming Play, \

I ask'd him what he thought fit I should say,
In thanks for your good Company to day :
He calFd me Fool, and said it was well known,
You came not here for our sakes, but your own.
New Plays are stujffd with Wits, and with Debauches,
That croud and sweat like Cits in Ma-flta Coaches.

9)

DRAMATIS PERSONS.

MEN.

Don Antonio, the Vice-Roy's Son, Mr. Je-vorne.

Don Pedro, a Noble Spaniard, his Friend, Mr. Medburne.

Bel-vile, an English Colonel in love with Florinda, Mr. Betterton.

Wdlmore, the ROVER, Mr. Smith.

Frederick, an English Gentleman, and Friend to ) -- _ ,.
D i -f j DT / Mr. Crosbie.

Bel-vile and Blunt,

Blunt, an English Country Gentleman, Mr. Underbill.

Stephana, Servant to Don Pedro, Mr. Richards.

Philippo, Lucetta's Gallant, Mr. Perciiial.

Sancho, Pimp to Lucetta, Mr. 7oi6« Lee.

Bisky and Sebastian, two Bravoes to Angelica.
Diego, Page to Don Antonio.
Page to Hellena.
Boy, Page to Bel-vile.
Blunfs Man.
Officers and Soldiers.

WOMEN.

Florinda, Sister to Don Pedro, Mrs. Betterton.

Hellena, a gay young Woman design'd for a Nun, / ,, „

. a- / rv • j f Mrs. Barrev.

and Sister to Florinda, \

Valeria, a Kinswoman to Florinda, Mrs. Hughes.

Angelica Bianco, a famous Curtezan, Mrs. G-win.

Morctta, her Woman, Mrs. Leigh.

Callis, Governess to Florinda and Hellena, Mrs. Norris.

Lucetta, a jilting Wench, Mrs. Gilloiv.

Servants, other Masqueraders, Men and Women.

SCENE Naples, in Carnival-time.

10

THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT i

ACT I.

SCENE I. A chamber.
Enter Florinda and Hellena.

Flor. What an impertinent thing is a young Girl bred
in a Nunnery ! How full of Questions ! Prithee no more,
Hellena ; I have told thee more than thou understand'st
already.

Hell. The more's my Grief; I wou'd fain know as much
as you, which makes me so inquisitive ; nor is't enough to
know you're a Lover, unless you tell me too, who 'tis you
sigh for.

Flor. When you are a Lover, I'll think you fit for a
Secret of that nature.

Hell. 'Tis true, I was never a Lover yet — but I begin
to have a shreud Guess, what 'tis to be so, and fancy it very
pretty to sigh, and sing, and blush and wish, and dream and
wish, and long and wish to see the Man ; and when I do,
look pale and tremble; just as you did when my Brother
brought home the fine English Colonel to see you — what
do you call him ? Don Belvile.

Flor. Fie, Hellena.

Hell. That Blush betrays you — I am sure 'tis so — or is
it Don Antonio the Vice-Roy's Son ? — or perhaps the
rich old Don Vincentio, whom my father designs for your
Husband ? — Why do you blush again ?

Flor. With Indignation ; and how near soever my
Father thinks I am to marrying that hated Object, I shall
let him see I understand better what's due to my Beauty,
Birth and Fortune, and more to my Soul, than to obey
those unjust Commands.

Hell. Now hang me, if I don't love thee for that dear
Disobedience. I love Mischief strangely, as most of our

iC. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 1 1

3cx do, who are come to love nothing else — But tell me,
lear Florinday don't you love that fine Anglese? — for I
/ownext to loving him my self, 'twill please me most that
ou do so, for he is so gay and so handsom.

Flor. Hellena, a Maid design'd for a Nun ought not to
e so curious in a Discourse of Love.

Hell. And dost thou think that ever I'll be a Nun ? Or at
east till I'm so old, I'm fit for nothing else. Faith no, Sister;
id that which makes me long to know whether you love
3elviley is because I hope he has some mad Companion
r other, that will spoil my Devotion ; nay I'm resolv'd to
rovide my self this Carnival, if there be e'er a handsom
ellow of my Humour above Ground, tho I ask first.

Flor. Prithee be not so wild.

Hell. Now you have provided your self with a Man,
ou take no Care for poor me — Prithee tell me, what dost
lou see about me that is unfit for Love — have not I a world
f Youth? a Humour gay? a Beauty passable? a Vigour
esirable ? well shap'd ? clean limb'd ? sweet breath'd ? and
ense enough to know how all these ought to be employ'd
) the best Advantage : yes, I do and will. Therefore lay
side your Hopes of my Fortune, by my being a Devotee,
id tell me how you came acquainted with this Be/vile ;
ir I perceive you knew him before he came to Naples.

Flor. Yes, I knew him at the Siege of Pampelona^ he
as then a Colonel of French Horse, who when the Town
as ransack'd, nobly treated my Brother and my self, pre-

rving us from all Insolencies ; and I must own, (besides
'eat Obligations) I have I know not what, that pleads

ndly for him about my Heart, and will suffer no other

enter — But see my Brother.

Enter Don Pedro, Stephano, with a Masquing Habit,
and Callis.

Pedro. Good morrow, Sister. Pray, when saw you your
Don Vincentiol

12 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT i

Flor. I know not, Sir — Callis, when was he here r for
I consider it so little, I know not when it was.

Pedro. I have a Command from my Father here to tell
you, you ought not to despise him, a Man of so vast a
Fortune, and such a Passion for you — Stephana, my things-

[Puts on his Masquing Habit.

Flor. A Passion for me ! 'tis more than e'er I saw, or
had a desire should be known — I hate Vincentio, and I
would not have a Man so dear to me as my Brother
follow the ill Customs of our Country, and make a Slave
of his Sister — And Sir, my Father's Will, I'm sure, you
may divert.

Pedro. I know not how dear I am to you, but I wish
only to be rank'd in your Esteem, equal with the English
Colonel Belvile — Why do you frown and blush? Is there
any Guilt belongs to the Name of that Cavalier ?

Flor. I'll not deny I value Behlle : when I was expos'd
to such Dangers as the licens'd Lust of common Soldier
threatned, when Rage and Conquest flew thro the City —
then Belvile, this Criminal for my sake, threw himself intc
all Dangers to save my Honour, and will you not allow
him my Esteem ?

Pedro. Yes, pay him what you will in Honour — but yoi
must consider Don Vincentios Fortune, and the Jointure
he'll make you.

Flor. Let him consider my Youth, Beauty and Fortune:
which ought not to be thrown away on his Age anc
Jointure.

Pedro. 'Tis true, he's not so young and fine a Gentle
man as that Belvile — but what Jewels will that Cavaliei
present you with ? those of his Eyes and Heart ?

Hell. And are not those better than any Don Vincentii
has brought from the Indies ?

Pedro. Why how now ! Has your Nunnery-breeding
taught you to understand the Value of Hearts and Eyes

Hell. Better than to believe Vincentio deserves Valu<

. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 13

om any woman — He may perhaps encrease her Bags,
ut not her Family.

Pedro. This is fine — Go up to your Devotion, you are
ot design'd for the Conversation of Lovers.
Hell. Nor Saints yet a while I hope. [Aside.

't not enough you make a Nun of me, but you must cast
y Sister away too, exposing her to a worse confinement
an a religious Life ?

Pedro. The Girl's mad — Is it a Confinement to be

rry'd into the Country, to an antient Villa belonging to

e Family of the Vincentlo's these five hundred Years,

d have no other Prospect than that pleasing one of seeing

her own that meets her Eyes — a fine Air, large Fields

d Gardens, where she may walk and gather Flowers?

Hell. When ? By Moon-Light ? For I'm sure she dares

ot encounter with the heat of the Sun ; that were a Task

ily for Don Vincentio and his Indian Breeding, who

ves it in the Dog-days — And if these be her daily Diver-

sements, what are those of the Night? to lie in a wide

'oth-eaten Bed-Chamber with Furniture in Fashion in

e Reign of King Sancho the First ; the Bed that which

s Forefathers liv'd and dy'd in.

Pedro. Very well.

Hell. This Apartment (new furbisht and fitted out for
e young Wife) he (out of Freedom) makes his Dressing-
om ; and being a frugal and a jealous Coxcomb, instead of
V^alet to uncase his feeble Carcase, he desires you to do that
ffice — Signs of Favour, I'll assure you, and such as you
ust not hope for, unless your Woman be out of the way.
Pedro. Have you done yet ?

Hell. That Honour being past, the Giant stretches it
If, yawns and sighs a Belch or two as loud as a Musket,
rows himself into Bed, and expects you in his foul
icets, and e'er you can get your self undrest, calls you
ith a Snore or two — And are not these fine Blessings
a young Lady ?

14 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT

Pedro. Have you done yet?

Hell. And this man you must kiss, nay, you must kis:
none but him too — and nuzle thro his Beard to find his
Lips — and this you must submit to for threescore Years
and all for a Jointure.

Pedro. For all your Character of Don Vincent'io, sh<
is as like to marry him as she was before.

Hell. Marry Don Vincentiol hang me, such a Wed
lock would be worse than Adultery with another Man
I had rather see her in the Hostel de Dieit, to waste he
Youth there in Vows, and be a Handmaid to Lazers am
Cripples, than to lose it in such a Marriage.

Pedro. You have consider'd, Sister, that Behile has m
Fortune to bring you to, is banisht his Country, despis'i
at home, and pity'd abroad.

Hell. What then ? the Vice-Roy's Son is better thai
that Old Sir Fisty. Don Vincentio ! Don Indian ! he think
he's trading to Gambo still, and wou'd barter himself (tha
Bell and Bawble) for your Youth and Fortune.

Pedro. Callis, take her hence, and lock her up all thi
Carnival, and at Lent she shall begin her everlastin
Penance in a Monastery.

Hell. I care not, I had rather be a Nun, than be oblig'
to marry as you wou'd have me, if I were design'd for''

Pedro. Do not fear the Blessing of that Choice — yo
shall be a Nun.

Hell. Shall I so? you may chance to be mistaken i
my way of Devotion — A Nun ! yes I am like to mak
a fine Nun ! I have an excellent Humour for a Grate
No, I'll have a Saint of my own to pray to shortly, if
like any that dares venture on me. \_AttA

Pedro. Callis, make it your Business to watch this wil
Cat. As for you, Florinda, I've only try'd you all th
while, and urg'd my Father's Will ; but mine is, that yo!
would love Antonio, he is brave and young, and all that cal
compleat the Happiness of a gallant Maid — This Absencl

!c. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 15

!>f my Father will give us opportunity to free you from
\rmcentw, by marrying here, which you must do to morrow.
Flor. To morrow !

Pedro, To morrow, or 'twill be too late — 'tis not my
friendship to Antonio^ which makes me urge this, but
)ve to thec, and Hatred to Vincentio — therefore resolve
m't to morrow.
Flor. Sir, I shall strive to do, as shall become your
ister.
Pedro. I'll both believe and trust you — Adieu.

[Ex. Fed. and Steph.

Hell. As become his Sister ! — That is, to be as resolved
mr way, as he is his — [Hell, goes to Callis.

Flor. I ne'er till now perceiv'd my Ruin near,
/e no Defence against Antonio's Love,
)r he has all the Advantages of Nature,
ic moving Arguments of Youth and Fortune.
Hell. But hark you, CW//V, you will not be so cruel to
:k me up indeed : will you?

Call. I must obey the Commands I hate — besides, do
lu consider what a Life you are going to lead ?

lell. Yes, Callis, that of a Nun : and till then I'll be
lebted a World of Prayers to you, if you let me now
j , what I never did, the Divertisements of a Carnival.
What, go in Masquerade ? 'twill be a fine fare-
11 to the World I take it — pray what wou'd you do
:re?

lell. That which all the World does, as I am told,
mad as the rest, and take all innocent Freedom —
er, you'll go too, will you not ? come prithee be not
-We'll out-wit twenty Brothers, if you'll be ruled
me — Come put off this dull Humour with your
>thes, and assume one as gay, and as fantastick as the
my Cousin Valeria and I have provided, and let's
.ble.
"lor. Callis, will you give us leave to go?

1 6 THE ROVER; OK [ACT

Call. I have a youthful Itch of gong my self. \_Asid. '
— Madam, if I thought your Brother night not know ill
and I might wait on you, for by my r/oth I'll not tnul
young Girls alone.

Flor. Thou see'st my Brother's gone already, and the
shalt attend and watch us.

Enter Stephano.

Steph. Madam, the Habits are come, and your Cous i
Valeria is drest, and stays for you.

Flor. 'Tis well — I'll write a Note, and if I chance I
see Belvile, and want an opportunity to speak to him, thl
shall let him know what I've resolv'd in favour of him.

Hell. Come, let's in and dress us. i [Exeutl

SCENE II. A Long Street.

t
Enter Belvile, melancholy, Blunt and Freder ick.

Fred. Why, what the Devil ails the Colonel, ien a tir
when all the World is gay, to look like mere Le nt thul
Hadst thou been long enough in Naples to have been -in lotJ
I should have sworn some such Judgment had befallrf" th<

Belv. No, I have made no new Amours since I cai !
to Naples. ^

Fred. You have left none behind you in Paris. 1

Beh. Neither. •— J

Fred. I can't divine the Cause then ; unless the ol
Cause, the want of Mony.

Blunt. And another old Cause, the want of a Wench—
Wou'd not that revive you r

Belv. You're mistaken, Ned.

Blunt Nay, 'Sheartlikins, then thou art past Cure.

Fred. I have found it out ; thou hast renew'd th I
Acquaintance with the Lady that cost thee so many Sigh
at the Siege of Pampelona — pox on't, what d'ye call he
— her Brother's a noble Spaniard — Nephew to the dea*.
General— Florinda—*y, Florindu — And will nothing

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 17

serve thy turn but that damn'd virtuous Woman, whom
on my Consicience thou lov'st in spite too, because thou
seest little or no possibility of gaining her?

Belv. Thou art mistaken, I have Interest enough in
that lovely Virgin's Heart, to make me proud and vain,
were it not abated by the Severity of a Brother, who
perceiving my Happiness —

Fred. Has civilly forbid thee the House?

Belv. 'Tis so, to make way for a powerful Rival, the
Vice-Roy's Son, who has the advantage of me, in being
a Man of Fortune, a Spaniard, and her Brother's Friend ;
which gives him liberty to make his Court, whilst I have
recourse only to Letters, and distant Looks from her Win
dow, whicli are as soft and kind as those which Heav'n
sends down on Penitents.

Blunt. Hey day ! 'Sheartlikins, Simile ! by this Light
the Man is quite spoil'd — Frederick, what the Devil are
we made of, that we cannot be thus concern'd for a
Wench ? — 'Sheartlikins, our Cupids are like the Cooks
of the Camp, they can roast or boil a Woman, but they
have none of the fine Tricks to set 'em off, no Hogoes to
make the Sauce pleasant, and the Stomach sharp.

Fred. I dare swear I have had a hundred as young,
kind and handsom as this Florinda ; and Dogs eat me, if
they were not as troublesom to me i'th' Morning as they
were welcome o'er night.

Blunt. And yet, I warrant, he wou'd not touch another
Woman, if he might have her for nothing.

Belv. That's thy Joy, a cheap Whore.

Blunt. Why, 'dsheartlikins, I love a frank Soul — When
did you ever hear of an honest Woman that took a Man's
Mony ? I warrant 'em good ones — But, Gentlemen, you
may be free, you have been kept so poor with Parliaments
and Protectors, that the little Stock you have is not worth
preserving — but I thank my Stars, I have more Grace than
to forfeit my Estate by Cavaliering.

I C

j8 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT i

Belv. Methinks only following the Court should be
sufficient to entitle 'em to that.

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, they know I follow it to do it no
good, unless they pick a hole in my Coat for lending you
Mony now and then ; which is a greater Crime to my
Conscience, Gentlemen, than to the Common-wealth.

Enter Willmore.

Will. Ha ! dear Be/vile! noble Colonel !

Belv. Willmore ! welcome ashore, my dear Rover ! —
what happy Wind blew us this good Fortune?

Will. Let me salute you my dear Fred, and then
command me — How is't honest Lad ?

Fred. Faith, Sir, the old Complement, infinitely the
better to see my dear mad Willmore again — Prithee why
earnest thou ashore ? and where 's the Prince ?

Will. He's well, and reigns still Lord of the watery
Element — I must aboard again within a Day or two, and
my Business ashore was only to enjoy my self a little this
Carnival.

Belv. Pray know our new Friend, Sir, he's but bashful,
a raw Traveller, but honest, stout, and one of us.

[Embraces Blunt.

Will. That you esteem him, gives him an Interest here.

Blunt. Your Servant, Sir.

Will. But well — Faith I'm glad to meet you again
in a warm Climate, where the kind Sun has its god-like
Power still over the Wine and Woman. — Love and Mirth
are my Business in Naples ; and if I mistake not the Place,
here's an excellent Market for Chapmen of my Humour.

Belv. See here be those kind Merchants of Love you
look for.

Enter several Men in masquing Habits, some playing on
Mustek, others dancing after ; Women drest like Curtezans,
with Papers pinnd to their Breasts, and Baskets of Flowers
in their Hands.

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 19

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, what have we here !

Fred. Now the Game begins.

Will. Fine pretty Creatures ! may a stranger have leave
to look and love? — What's here — Roses for every Month!

\_Reads the Paper.

'Blunt. Roses for every Month ! what means that ?

Belv. They are, or wou'd have you think they're
Curtezans, who here in Naples are to be hir'd by the Month.

Will. Kind and obliging to inform us — Pray where
do these Roses grow ? I would fain plant some of 'em
in a Bed of mine.

Worn. Beware such Roses, Sir.

Will. A Pox of fear : I'll be bak'd with thee between
a pair of Sheets, and that's thy proper Still, so I might but
strow such Roses over me and under me — Fair one, wou'd
you wou'd give me leave to gather at your Bush this idle
Month, I wou'd go near to make some Body smell of it all
the Year after.

Belv. And thou hast need of such a Remedy, for thou
|;J stinkest of Tar and Rope-ends, like a Dock or Pesthouse.

[ The Woman puts her self into the Hands of a Man, and
' Exit.

Will. Nay, nay, you shall not leave me so.

Belv. By all means use no Violence here.

Will. Death ! just as I was going to be damnably in
love, to have her led off! I could pluck that Rose out of
[ his Hand, and even kiss the Bed, the Bush it grew in.

Fred. No Friend to Love like a long Voyage at Sea.

Blunt. Except a Nunnery, Fred.

Will. Death ! but will they not be kind, quickly be
kind ? Thou know'st I'm no tame Sigher, but a rampant
Lion of the Forest.

Two Men drest all over with Horns of several sorts, making
Grimaces at one another, with Papers pi nn'd on their Backs,
advance from the farther end of the Scene.

20 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT i

Belv. Oh the fantastical Rogues, how they are dress'd !
'tis a Satir against the whole Sex.

Will. Is this a Fruit that grows in this warm Country ?

Belv. Yes : 'Tis pretty to see these Italian start, swell,
and stab at the Word Cuckold, and yet stumble at Horns
on every Threshold.

Will. See what's on their Back — Flowers for every
Night. [Reads.

— Ah Rogue ! And more sweet than Roses of ev'ry
Month ! This is a Gardiner of Adams own breeding.

[ They dance.

Belv. What think you of those grave People ? — is a
Wake in Essex half so mad or extravagant?
, Will. I like their sober grave way, 'tis a kind of legal
i authoriz'd Fornication, where the Men are not chid for't,
nor the Women despis'd, as amongst our dull English;
even the Monsieurs want that part of good Manners.

Belv. But here in Italy a Monsieur is the humblest
best-bred Gentleman — Duels are so baffled by Bravo's
that an age shews not one, but between a Frenchman and
a Hang-man, who is as much too hard for him on the
Piazza, as they are for a Dutchman on the new Bridge —
But see another Crew.

Enter Y\orinda, Hellena, oW Valeria, drest like Gipsies; Callis
flWStephano, Lucetta, }*\\\\\^\>oand§a.nc\\o in Masquerade.

Hell. Sister, there's your Englishman, and with him a
handsom proper Fellow — I'll to him, and instead of telling
him his Fortune, try my own.

Will. Gipsies, on my Life — Sure these will prattle
if a Man cross their Hands. [Goes to Hellena] — Dear
pretty (and I hope) young Devil, will you tell an amorous
Stranger what Luck he's like to have ?

Hell. Have a care how you venture with me, Sir, lest
I pick your Pocket, which will more vex your English
Humour, than an Italian Fortune will please you.

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 1\

Will. How the Devil cam'st thou to know my Country
and Humour?

Hell. The first I guess by a certain forward Impudence,
which does not displease me at this time ; and the Loss of
your Money will vex you, because I hope you have but
very little to lose.

Will. Egad Child, thou'rt i'th' right; it is so little, I
dare not offer it thee for a Kindness — But cannot you
divine what other things of more value I have about me,
that I would more willingly part with ?

Hell. Indeed no, that's the Business of a Witch, and
I am but a Gipsy yet — Yet, without looking in your Hand,
I have a parlous Guess, 'tis some foolish Heart you mean,
an inconstant English Heart, as little worth stealing as
your Purse.

ill. Nay, then thou dost deal with the Devil, that's
certain — Thou hast guess'd as right as if thou hadst been
one of that Number it has languisht for — I find you'll be
better acquainted with it ; nor can you take it in a better
time, for I am come from Sea, Child ; and f^enusnot being
[propitious to me in her own Element, I have a world of
Love in store — Wou'd you would be good-natur'd, and
I take some on't off my Hands.

He/1. Why — I could be inclin'd that way — but for a
I foolish Vow I am going to make — to die a Maid.

Will. Then thou art damn'd without Redemption ;
land as I am a good Christian, I ought in charity to divert
;o wicked a Design — therefore prithee, dear Creature, let
Tie know quickly when and where I shall begin to set a
nelping hand to so good a Work.

Hell. If you should prevail with my tender Heart (as I
sgin to fear you will, for you have horrible loving Eyes)
here will be difficulty in't that you'll hardly undergo for
ly sake.

Will. Faith, Child, I have been bred in Dangers, and
fear a Sword that has been employ'd in a worse Cause,

22 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT i

than for a handsom kind Woman — Name the Danger-
let it be any thing but a long Siege, and I'll undertake it.

Hell. Can you storm ?

Will. Oh, most furiously.

Hell. What think you of a Nunnery-wall ? for he that
wins me, must gain that first.

Will. A Nun ! Oh how I love thee for't ! there's no
Sinner like a young Saint — Nay, now there's no denying
me : the old Law had no Curse (to a Woman) like dying
a Maid ; witness Jephtha's Daughter.

Hell. A very good Text this, if well handled ; and I
perceive, Father Captain, you would impose no severe
Penance on her who was inclin'd to console her self before
she took Orders. 9

Will. If she be young and handsom.

Hell. Ay, there's it — but if she be not —

Will. By this Hand, Child, I have an implicit Faith,
and dare venture on thee with all Faults — besides, 'tis
more meritorious to leave the World when thou hast tasted
and prov'd the Pleasure on't ; then 'twill be a Virtue in
thee, which now will be pure Ignorance.

Hell. I perceive, good Father Captain, you design only
to make me fit for Heaven — but if on the contrary you
should quite divert me from it, and bring me back to the
World again, I should have a new Man to seek I find ;
and what a grief that will be — for when I begin, I fancy
I shall love like any thing : I never try'd yet.

Will. Egad, and that's kind — Prithee, dear Creature,
give me Credit for a Heart, for faith, I'm a very honest
Fellow — Oh, I long to come first to the Banquet of Love;
and such a swinging Appetite I bring — Oh, I'm impatient.
Thy Lodging, Sweetheart, thy Lodging, or I'm a dead man.

Hell. Why must we be either guilty of Fornication or,
Murder, if we converse with you Men ? — And is there
no difference between leave to love me, and leave to lit
with me ?

sc. u] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 23

Will, Faith, Child, they were made to go together.

Lucet. Are you sure this is the Man ? [Pointing to Blunt.

Sancho. When did I mistake your Game?

Lucet. This is a stranger, I know by his gazing ; if he
be brisk he'll venture to follow me; and then, if I under
stand my Trade, he's mine : he's English too, and they say
that's a sort of good natur'd loving People, and have gener
ally so kind an opinion of themselves, that a Woman with
any Wit may flatter 'em into any sort of Fool she pleases.

Blunt. 'Tis so — she is taken — I have Beauties which
my false Glass at home did not discover.

[She often passes by Blunt and gazes on him ; he struts,
and cocks, and walks, and gazes on her.

Flor. This Woman watches me so, I shall get no
Opportunity to discover my self to him, and so miss the
intent of my coming — But as I was saying, Sir — by this
Line you should be a Lover. [Looking in his Hand.

Belv. I thought how right you guess'd, all Men are in
love, or pretend to be so — Come, let me go, I'm weary
of this fooling. [Walks away.

Flor. I will not, till you have confess'd whether the
Passion that you have vow'd Florinda be true or false.

[She holds him, he strives to get from her.

Belv. Florinda ! [ Turns quick towards her.

Flor. Softly.

Belv. Thou hast nam'd one will fix me here for ever.

Flor. She'll be disappointed then, who expects you this
Night at the Garden-gate, and if you'll fail not — as let me
see the other Hand — you will go near to do — she vows to
die or make you happy. [Looks on Callis, who observes ' 'em.

Belv. What canst thou mean ?

Flor. That which I say — Farewel. [Offers to go.

Belv. Oh charming Sybil, stay, complete that Joy,
which, as it is, will turn into Distraction ! — Where must
I be ? at the Garden-gate ? I know it — at night you say —
I'll sooner forfeit Heaven than disobey.

24 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT i

Enter Don Pedro and other Masquers, and pass
over the Stage.

Call. Madam, your Brother's here.

Flor. Take this to instruct you farther.

\_Glves him a Letter ', and goes off.

Fred. Have a care, Sir, what you promise ; this may be
a Trap laid by her Brother to ruin you.

Belv. Do not disturb my Happiness with Doubts.

[Opens the Letter.

Will. My dear pretty Creature, a Thousand Blessings
on thee; still in this Habit, you say, and after Dinner at
this Place.

Hell. Yes, if you will swear to keep your Heart, and
not bestow it between this time and that.

Will. By all the little Gods of Love I swear, I'll leave
it with you ; and if you run away with it, those Deities of
Justice will revenge me.

[Ex. all the Women except Lucetta.

Fred. Do you know the Hand ?

Belv. 'Tis Florinda's.
All Blessings fall upon the virtuous Maid.

Fred. Nay, no Idolatry, a sober Sacrifice I'll allow you.

Belv. Oh Friends ! the welcom'st News, the softest
Letter ! — nay, you shall see it ; and could you now be
serious, I might be made the happiest Man the Sun shines on.

Will. The Reason of this mighty Joy.

Belv. See how kindly she invites me to deliver her from
the threaten'd Violence of her Brother — will you not
assist me ?

Will. I know not what thou mean'st, but I'll make
one at any Mischief where a Woman's concern'd — but
she'll be grateful to us for the Favour, will she not ?

*Belv. How mean you ?

Will. How should I mean ? Thou know'st there's but
one way for a Woman to oblige me.

Belv. Don't prophane — the Maid is nicely virtuous.

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 25

Will. Who pox, then she's fit for nothing but a Hus
band ; let her e'en go, Colonel.

Fred. Peace, she's the Colonel's Mistress, Sir.
Will. Let her be the Devil ; if she be thy Mistress, I'll
serve her — name the way.

Belv. Read here this Postcript. [Gives him a Letter.

Will. [Reads.] At Ten at night — at the Garden-Gate

— of which, if I cannot get the Key, I will contrive a way

lover the Wall — come attended with a Friend or two. — Kind

heart, if we three cannot weave a String to let her down

la Garden- Wall, 'twere pity but the Hangman wove one

'for us all.

Fred. Let her alone for that : your Woman's Wit, your
jfair kind Woman, will out-trick a Brother or a Jew, and
contrive like a Jesuit in Chains — but see, Ned Blunt is
|>toln out after the Lure of a Damsel. \_Ex. Bluntfl/WLucet.
Belv. So he'll scarce find his way home again, unless
/e get him cry'd by the Bell-man in the Market-place,
land 'twou'd sound prettily — a lost English Boy of Thirty.
Fred. I hope 'tis some common crafty Sinner, one that
fit him; it may be she'll sell him for Peru, the
Rogue's sturdy and would work well in a Mine ; at least
[ hope she'll dress him for our Mirth ; cheat him of all,
j:hen have him well-favour'dly bang'd, and turn'd out
jiaked at Midnight.

Will. Prithee what Humour is he of, that you wish
lim so well ?

Belv. Why, of an English Elder Brother's Humour,
:ducated in a Nursery, with a Maid to tend him till
JMfteen, and lies with his Grand-mother till he's of Age;
me that knows no Pleasure beyond riding to the next
!rair, or going up to London with his right Worshipful
rather in Parliament-time; wearing gay Clothes, or making
lonourable Love to his Lady Mother's Landry-Maid ;
J;ets drunk at a Hunting-Match, and ten to one then gives
sme Proofs of his Prowess — A pox upon him, he's our

26 THE ROVER : OR, [ACT i, sc. n

Banker, and has all our Cash about him, and if he fail we
are all broke.

Fred. Oh let him alone for that matter, he's of a
damn'd stingy Quality, that will secure our Stock. I know
not in what Danger it were indeed, if the Jilt should
pretend she's in love with him, for 'tis a kind believing
Coxcomb; otherwise if he part with more than a Piece of
Eight — geld him : for which offer he may chance to be
beaten, if she be a Whore of the first Rank.

Eelv. Nay the Rogue will not be easily beaten, he's stou
enough ; perhaps if they talk beyond his Capacity, he ma]
chance to exercise his Courage upon some of them ; else
I'm sure they'll find it as difficult to beat as to please him

Will. 'Tis a lucky Devil to light upon so kind a Wench

Fred. Thou hadst a great deal of talk with thy little
Gipsy, coud'st thou do no good upon her? for mine was
hard-hearted.

Will. Hang her, she was some damn'd honest Person
of Quality, I'm sure, she was so very free and witty. I
her Face be but answerable to her Wit and Humour, I
would be bound to Constancy this Month to gain her. In
the mean time, have you made no kind Acquaintance since
you came to Town ? — You do not use to be honest
long, Gentlemen.

Fred. Faith Love has kept us honest, we have been al.
fir'd with a Beauty newly come to Town, the famous
Paduana Angelica Bianca.

Will. What, the Mistress of the dead Spanish General

Eelv. Yes, she's now the only ador'd Beauty of all the
Youth in Naples, who put on all their Charms to appeal
lovely in her sight, their Coaches, Liveries, and themselves
all gay, as on a Monarch's Birth-Day, to attract the Eye:
of this fair Charmer, while she has the Pleasure to behok
all languish for her that see her.

Fred. 'Tis pretty to see with how much Love the Mei
regard her, and how much Envy the Women.

ACT ii, sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 27

mil. What Gallant has she?

Belv. None, she's exposed to Sale, and four Days in
the Week she's yours — for so much a Month.

Will. The very Thought of it quenches all manner of
Fire in me — yet prithee let's see her.

Belv. Let's first to Dinner, and after that we'll pass the
Day as you please — but at Night ye must all be at my
'Devotion.

Will. I will not fail you. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. The Long Street.

Enter Belvile and Frederick in Masquing-Habitsy and Will-
more in his own Clothes, with a Wizard in his Hand.

Will. But why thus disguis'd and muzzl'd ?

Belv. Because whatever Extravagances we commit in

| these Faces, our own may not be oblig'd to answer 'em.

Will. I should have chang'd my Eternal Buff too : but

i no matter, my little Gipsy wou'd not have found me out

ithen : for if she should change hers, it is impossible I

should know her, unless I should hear her prattle — A Pox

jon't, I cannot get her out of my Head : Pray Heaven, if

ever I do see her again, she prove damnable ugly, that I

may fortify my self against her Tongue.

Belv. Have a care of Love, for o' my conscience she
was not of a Quality to give thee any hopes.

Will. Pox on 'em, why do they draw a Man in then ?

She has play'd with my Heart so, that 'twill never lie

'still till I have met with some kind Wench, that will play

1 the Game out with me — Oh for my Arms full of soft,

white, kind — Woman ! such as I fancy Angelica.

Belv. This is her House, if you were but in stock to
get admittance ; they have not din'd yet ; I perceive the
Picture is not out.

28 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT n

Enter Blunt.

Will. I long to see the Shadow of the fair Substance,
a Man may gaze on that for nothing.

Blunt. Colonel, thy Hand — and thine, Fred. I have
been an Ass, a deluded Fool, a very Coxcomb from my
Birth till this Hour, and heartily repent my little Faith.

Belv. What the Devil's the matter with thee Ned?

Blunt. Oh such a Mistress, Fred, such a Girl !

Will. Ha ! where ? Fred. Ay where !

Blunt. So fond, so amorous, so toying and fine ! and all
for sheer Love, ye Rogue ! Oh how she lookt and kiss'd !
and sooth'd my Heart from my Bosom. I cannot think"
I was awake, and yet methinks I see and feel her Charms
still — Fred. — Try if she have not left the Taste of her
balmy Kisses upon my Lips — [Kisses him.

Belv. Ha, ha, ha ! Will. Death Man, where is she?

Blunt. What a Dog was I to stay in dull England so
long — How have I laught at the Colonel when he sigh'd
for Love ! but now the little Archer has reveng'd him,
and by his own Dart, I can guess at all his Joys, which then
I took for Fancies, mere Dreams and Fables — Well, I'm
resolved to sell all in Essex^ and plant here for ever.

Belv. What a Blessing 'tis, thou hast a Mistress thou
dar'st boast of; for I know thy Humour is rather to have
a proclaim'd Clap, than a secret Amour.

Will. Dost know her Name ?

Blunt. Her Name? No, 'sheartlikins : what care I for
Names ? —

She's fair, young, brisk and kind, even to ravishment : and
what a Pox care I for knowing her by another Title ?

Will. Didst give, her anything ?

Blunt. Give her ! — Ha, ha, ha ! why, she's a Person
of Quality — That's a good one, give her ! 'sheartlikins
dost think such Creatures are to be bought? Or are we
provided for such a Purchase ? Give her, quoth ye ? Why
she presented me with this Bracelet, for the Toy of a

c. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 29

Diamond I us'd to wear: No, Gentlemen, Ned Blunt is

hot every Body — She expects me again to night.

i Will. Egad that's well ; we'll all go.

j Blunt. Not a Soul : No, Gentlemen, you are Wits ; I

jm a dull Country Rogue, I.

j Fred. Well, Sir, for all your Person of Quality, I shall

!Je very glad to understand your Purse be secure; 'tis our

jbhole Estate at present, which we are loth to hazard in

ne Bottom : come, Sir, unload.

I Blunt. Take the necessary Trifle, useless now to me,
ijiat am belov'd by such a Gentlewoman — 'sheartlikins
lloney ! Here take mine too.

| Fred. No, keep that to be cozen'd, that we may laugh.
I Will. Cozen'd ! — Death ! wou'd I cou'd meet with one,
Iliat wou'd cozen me of all the Love I cou'd spare to night.
I Fred. Pox 'tis some common Whore upon my Life.
| Blunt. A Whore ! yes with such Clothes ! such Jewels !
|| ch a House ! such Furniture, and so attended ! a Whore !

I Belv. Why yes, Sir, they are Whores, tho they'll neither
I itertain you with Drinking, Swearing, or Baudy ; are
•Chores in all those gay Clothes, and right Jewels; are
•Chores with great Houses richly furnisht with Velvet
Ibds, Store of Plate, handsome Attendance, and fine
[JJoaches, are Whores and errant ones.

Will. Pox on't, where do these fine Whores live ?
I Belv. Where no Rogue in OfHce yclep'd Constables
j re give 'em laws, nor the Wine-inspired Bullies of the
I] own break their Windows ; yet they are Whores, tho
is Essex Calf believe them Persons of Quality.

I Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, y'are all Fools, there are things
•rout this Essex Calf, that shall take with the Ladies,
ijlyond all your Wits and Parts — This Shape and Size,

Ipntlemen, are not to be despis'd ; my Waste tolerably

lig, with other inviting Signs, that shall be nameless.
" Will. Egad I believe he may have met with some

1 rson of Quality that may be kind to him.

30 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT n|

Belv. Dost thou perceive any such tempting things

about him, should make a fine Woman, and of Quality,!

pick him out from all Mankind, to throw away her Youth

and Beauty upon, nay, and her dear Heart too? — no, no,!

Angelica has rais'd the Price too high.

Will. May she languish for Mankind till she die, and

be damn'd for that one Sin alone.

Enter two Bravoes, and bang up a great Picture of Angelica's.
against the Balcony, and two little ones at each side of tht\
Door.

Belv. See there the fair Sign to the Inn, where a Mar.
may lodge that's Fool enough to give her Price.

[Will, gazes on the Picture\

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, Gentlemen, what's this?

Belv. A famous Curtezan that's to be sold.

Blunt. How ! to be sold ! nay then I have nothing t<|
say to her — sold ! what Impudence is practis'd in thij
Country? — With Order and Decency Whoring's esrabl
lished here by virtue of the Inquisition — Come let's btl
gone, I'm sure we're no Chapmen for this Commodity.

Fred. Thou art none, I'm sure, unless thou could's
have her in thy Bed at the Price of a Coach in the Street

Will. How wondrous fair she is — a Thousand Crown
a Month — by Heaven as many Kingdoms were too little
A plague of this Poverty — of which I ne'er complain
but when it hinders my Approach to Beauty, whic
Virtue ne'er could purchase. [Turns from the Picturi

Blunt. What's this? — [Reads'] A Thousand Crowns
Month !

— 'Sheartlikins, here's a Sum ! sure 'tis a mistake.
— Hark you, Friend, does she take or give so much b|;
the Month !

Fred. A Thousand Crowns ! Why, 'tis a Portion fc
the Infanta.

Blunt. Hark ye, Friends, won't she trust ?

::. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 31

Brav. This is a Trade, Sir, that cannot live by Credit. .

Enter Don Pedro in Masquerade, followed by Stephano.

I Belv. See, here's more Company, let's walk off a while.
[Pedro Reads. [Exeunt English.

\nter Angelica and Moretta in the Balcony, and draw a
Silk Curtain.

Ped. Fetch me a Thousand Crowns, I never wish to
liy this Beauty at an easier Rate. [Passes off.

Ang. Prithee what said those Fellows to thee?

Brav. Madam, the first were Admirers of Beauty only,
lit no purchasers; they were merry with your Price and
jcture, laught at the Sum, and so past off.

Ang. No matter, I'm not displeas'd with their rallying ;
leir Wonder feeds my Vanity, and he that wishes to buy,

/es me more Pride, than he that gives my Price can
ce me Pleasure.

Brav. Madam, the last I knew thro all his disguises

be Don Pedro, Nephew to the General, and who was

th him in Pampelona.

Ang. Don Pedro! my old Gallant's Nephew! When
j; Uncle dy'd, he left him a vast Sum of Money; it is

who was so in love with me at Padua, and who us'd

make the General so jealous.

Moret. Is this he that us'd to prance before our Win-
and take such care to shew himself an amorous Ass?
am not mistaken, he is the likeliest Man to give your

•;ce.

\Ang. The Man is brave and generous, but of an Humour

j uneasy and inconstant, that the victory over his Heart

(is soon lost as won ; a Slave that can add little to the

iumph of the Conqueror : but inconstancy's the Sin of

Mankind, therefore I'm resolv'd that nothing but Gold

ij.ll charm my Heart.

\Moret. I'm glad on't ; 'tis only interest that Women of

32 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT n

our Profession ought to consider : tho I wonder what hasl
kept you from that general Disease of our Sex so long, ]|
mean that of being in love.

Ang. A kind, but sullen Star, under which I had th
Happiness to be born ; yet I have had no time for Love :
the bravest and noblest of Mankind have purchas'd m
Favours at so dear a Rate, as if no Coin but Gold wer
current with our Trade — But here's Don Pedro again
fetch me my Lute — for 'tis for him or Don Antonio the
Vice-Roy's Son, that I have spread my Nets.

Enter at one Door Don Pedro, and Stephano ; Don Antonic
and Diego [his page~\-> at the other Door, with Peopl
following him in Masquerade^ antickly attired, some wit/
Musick : they both go up to the Picture.

Ant. A thousand Crowns ! had not the Painter flatter'c
her, I should not think it dear.

Pedro. Flatter'd her ! by Heaven he cannot. I hav
seen the Original, nor is there one Charm here more thai
adorns her Face and Eyes; all this soft and sweet, with ;
certain languishing Air, that no Artist can represent.

Ant. What I heard of her Beauty before had nYd nr
Soul, but this confirmation of it has blown it into a flame

Pedro. Ha!

Pag. Sir, I have known you throw away a Thousan<
Crowns on a worse Face, and tho y' are near your Mar
riage, you may venture a little Love here ; Florinda—
will not miss it.

Pedro. Ha! Florinda I Sure 'tis Antonio. [asid<

Ant. Florinda! name not those distant Joys, there1
not one thought of her will check my Passion here.

Pedro. Florinda scbrn'd ! and all my Hopes defeated c
the Possession of Angelica! [A noise of a Lute above. An!
gazes up.] Her Injuries by Heaven he shall not boast o

[Song to a Lute abou

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 33

SONG.

When Damon first began to love,
He languisht in a soft Desire,
And knew not how the Gods to move,
To lessen or increase his Fire,
For Cadia in her charming Eyes
Wore all Love's Sweety and all his Cruelties.

II.

But as beneath a Shade he lay,
Weaving of Flowers for Caelia's Hair,
She chanced to lead her Flock that way.
And saw the anfrous Shepherd there.
She gaz'd around upon the Place,
And saw the Grove (resembling Night)
To all the Joys of Love invite ,
Whilst guilty Smiles and Blushes drest her Face.
At this the bashful Youth all Transport grew,
And with kind Force he taught the Virgin how
To yield what all his Sighs cotfd never do.

Ant. By Heav'n she's charming fair !

[Angelica throws open the Curtains, and bows to
Antonio, who pulls off his Wizard, and bows and
blows up Kisses. Pedro unseen looks in his Face.
Pedro. 'Tis he, the false Antonio!
Ant. Friend, where must I pay my offering of Love ?

[To the Bravo.
My Thousand Crowns I mean.

Pedro. That Offering I have design'd to make,
And yours will come too late.

Ant. Prithee be gone, I shall grow angry else,
And then thou art not safe.

Pedro. My Anger may be fatal, Sir, as yours ;
And he that enters here may prove this Truth.

I D

34 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT n

Ant. I know not who thou art, but I am sure thou'rt
worth my killing, and aiming at Angelica.

[ They draw and fight.
Enter Willmore and Blunt, who draw and part 'em.

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, here's fine doings.

Will. Tilting for the Wench I'm sure — nay gad, if
that wou'd win her, I have as good a Sword as the best
of ye — Put up — put up, and take another time and place,
for this is design'd for Lovers only. [They all put up.

Pedro. We are prevented ; dare you meet me to mor
row on the Molo ?
For I've a Title to a better quarrel,
That of Florinda, in whose credulous Heart
Thou'st made an Int'rest, and destroy'd my Hopes.

Ant. Dare?
I'll meet thee there as early as the Day.

Pedro. We will come thus disguis'd, that whosoever
chance to get the better, he may escape unknown.

Ant. It shall be so. [Ex. Pedro and Stephano.

Who shou'd this Rival be? unless the English Colonel,
of whom I've often heard Don Pedro speak ; it must be
he, and time he were removed, who lays a Claim to all
my Happiness.

[Willmore having gaz'd all this while on the
Picture, pulls down a little one.

Will. This posture's loose and negligent,
The sight on't wou'd beget a warm desire
In Souls, whom Impotence and Age had chill'd.
— This must along with me.

Brav. What means this rudeness, Sir ? — restore the
Picture.

Ant. Ha ! Rudeness committed to the fair Angelica!—
Restore the Picture, Sir.

Will. Indeed I will not, Sir.

Ant. By Heav'n but you shall.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 35

Will. Nay, do not shew your Sword ; if you do, by
this dear Beauty — I will shew mine too.

Ant. What right can you pretend to't ?

Will. That of Possession which I will maintain — you
perhaps have 1000 Crowns to give for the Original.

Ant. No matter, Sir, you shall restore the Picture.

Ang. Oh,Moretta! what's the matter ?

[Ang. and Moret. above.

Ant. Or leave your Life behind.

Will. Death ! you lye — I will do neither.

Ang. Hold, I command you, if for me you fight.

[ They fight, the Spaniards join with Antonio, Blunt
laying on like mad. They leave off and bow.

Will. How heavenly fair she is ! — ah Plague of her Price.

Ang. You Sir in Buff, you that appear a Soldier, that
first began this Insolence.

Will. 'Tis true, I did so, if you call it Insolence for a
Man to preserve himself; I saw your charming Picture,
and was wounded : quite thro my Soul each pointed
Beauty ran ; and wanting a Thousand Crowns to procure
my Remedy, I laid this little Picture to my Bosom —
which if you cannot allow me, I'll resign.

Ang. No, you may keep the Trifle.

Ant. You shall first ask my leave, and this.

[Fight again as before.

Enter Belv. and Fred, who join with the English.

Ang. Hold ; will you ruin me ? — Biskey, Sebastian, part
lem. \The Spaniards are beaten off.

Moret. Oh Madam, we're undone, a pox upon that
ude Fellow, he's set on to ruin us : we shall never see
ood days, till all these fighting poor Rogues are sent to
le Gallies.

Enter Belvile, Blunt and Willmore, with his shirt bloody.

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, beat me at this Sport, and I'll
e'er wear Sword more.

g6 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT n

Belv. The Devil's in thee for a mad Fellow, thou art
always one at an unlucky Adventure. — Come, let's be
gone whilst we're safe, and remember these are Spaniards,
a sort of People that know how to revenge an Affront.

Fred. You bleed ; I hope you are not wounded. [70 Will.

Will. Not much : — a plague upon your Dons, if they
fight no better they'll ne'er recover Flanders. — What the
Devil was't to them that I took down the Picture ?

Blunt. Took it ! 'Sheartlikins, we'll have the great one
too ; 'tis ours by Conquest. — Prithee, help me up, and
I'll pull it down. —

Ang. Stay, Sir, and e'er you affront me further, let me
know how you durst commit this Outrage — To you I
speak, Sir, for you appear like a Gentleman.

Will. To me, Madam ? — Gentlemen, your Servant.

[Belv. stays him.

Belv. Is the Devil in thee? Do'st know the danger of
entring the house of an incens'd Curtezan ?

Will. I thank you for your care — but there are other
matters in hand, there are, tho we have no great Tempta
tion. — Death ! let me go.

Fred. Yes, to your Lodging, if you will, but not in
here. — Damn these gay Harlots — by this Hand I'll have
as sound and handsome a Whore for a Patacoone. —
Death, Man, she'll murder thee.

Will. Oh ! fear me not, shall I not venture where a
Beauty calls? a lovely charming Beauty? for fear of
danger ! when by Heaven there's none so great as to long
for her, whilst I want Money to purchase her.

Fred. Therefore 'tis loss of time, unless you had the
thousand Crowns to pay.

Will. It may be she may give a Favour, at least I shall have
the pleasure of saluting her when I enter, and when I depart.

Belv. Pox, she'll as soon lie with thee, as kiss thee, and
sooner stab than do either — you shall not go.

I sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 37

Ang. Fear not, Sir, all I have to wound with, is my
| Eyes.

Blunt. Let him go, 'Sheartlikins, I believe the Gentle
woman means well.

Belv. Well, take thy Fortune, we'll expect you in the
next Street. — Farewell Fool, — farewell —

Will. B'ye Colonel — [Goes in.

Fred. The Rogue's stark mad for a Wench. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Fine Chamber.

Enter Willmore, Angelica, and Moretta.

Ang. Insolent Sir, how durst you pull down my Picture ?

Will. Rather, how durst you set it up, to tempt poor
amorous Mortals with so much Excellence ? which I find
you have but too well consulted by the unmerciful price
you set upon't. — Is all this Heaven of Beauty shewn to
move Despair in those that cannot buy? and can you
think the effects of that Despair shou'd be less extravagant
than I have shewn ?

Ang. I sent for you to ask my Pardon, Sir, not to
aggravate your Crime. — I thought I shou'd have seen you
at my Feet imploring it.

Will. You are deceived, I came to rail at you, and
talk such Truths, too, as shall let you see the Vanity of
that Pride, which taught you how to set such a Price on

l. For such it is, whilst that which is Love's due is
eanly barter'd for.

Ang. Ha, ha, ha, alas, good Captain, what pity 'tis your
difying Doctrine will do no good upon me — Moretta,
etch the Gentleman a Glass, and let him survey himself,
to see what Charms he has, — and guess my Business.

\_Aside in a soft tone.

Moret. He knows himself of old, I believe those
Breeches and he have been acquainted ever since he was
Deaten at Worcester.

38 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT n

Ang. Nay, do not abuse the poor Creature. —

Moret. Good Weather-beaten Corporal, will you march
off? we have no need of your Doctrine, tho you have of
our Charity ; but at present we have no Scraps, we can
afford no kindness for God's sake; in fine, Sirrah, the
Price is too high i'th' Mouth for you, therefore troop, I say.

Will. Here, good Fore- Woman of the Shop, serve me,
and I'll be gone.

Moret. Keep it to pay your Landress, your Linen stinks
of the Gun-Room; for here's no selling by Retail.

Will. Thou hast sold plenty of thy stale Ware at a
cheap Rate.

Moret. Ay, the more silly kind Heart I, but this is an
Age wherein Beauty is at higher Rates. — In fine, you
know the price of this.

Will. I grant you 'tis here set down a thousand Crowns
a Month — Baud, take your black Lead and sum it up,
that I may have a Pistole-worth of these vain gay things,
and I'll trouble you no more.

Moret. Pox on him, he'll fret me to Death : — abom
inable Fellow, I tell thee, we only sell by the whole Piece.

Will. 'Tis very hard, the whole Cargo or nothing —
Faith, Madam, my Stock will not reach it, I cannot be
your Chapman. — Yet I have Countrymen in Town,
Merchants of Love, like me ; I'll see if they'l put for a
share, we cannot lose much by it, and what we have no use
for, we'll sell upon the Friday's Mart, at — Who gives more ?
I am studying, Madam, how to purchase you, tho at present
I am unprovided of Money.

Ang. Sure, this from any other Man would anger me —
nor shall he know the Conquest he has made — Poor angry
Man, how I despise this railing.

Will. Yes, I am poor — but I'm a Gentleman,
And one that scorns this Baseness which you practise.
Poor as I am, I would not sell my self,
No, not to gain your charming high-priz'd Person.

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 39

Tho I admire you strangely for your Beauty,
Yet I contemn your Mind.
— And yet I wou'd at any rate enjoy you ;
At your own rate — but cannot — See here
The only Sum I can command on Earth ;
I know not where to eat when this is gone :
Yet such a Slave I am to Love and Beauty,
This last reserve I'll sacrifice to enjoy you.
—Nay, do not frown, I know you are to be bought,
And wou'd be bought by me, by me,
For a mean trifling Sum, if I could pay it down.
Which happy knowledge I will still repeat,
And lay it to my Heart, it has a Virtue in't,
And soon will cure those Wounds your Eyes have made.
— And yet — there'ssomethingso divinely powerful there —
Nay, I will gaze — to let you see my Strength.

\_Holds her, looks on her, and pauses and sighs.
By Heaven, bright Creature — I would not for the World
Thy Fame were half so fair as is thy Face.

[Turns her away from him.

Ang. His words go thro me to the very Soul. {Aside.
— If you have nothing else to say to me.

Will. Yes, you shall hear how infamous you are —
For which I do not hate thee :

But that secures my Heart, and all the Flames it feels
Are but so many Lusts,
I know it by their sudden bold intrusion.
The Fire's impatient and betrays, 'tis false —
For had it been the purer Flame of Love,
I should have pin'd and languished at your Feet,
E'er found the Impudence to have discover'd it.
I now dare stand your Scorn, and your Denial.

Moret. Sure she's bewitcht, that she can stand thus
tamely, and hear his saucy railing. — Sirrah, will you be gone?

Ang. How dare you take this liberty? — Withdraw.

[To Moret.

40 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT n

— Pray, tell me, Sir, are not you guilty of the same
mercenary Crime ? When a Lady is proposed to you for
a Wife, you never ask, how fair, discreet, or virtuous she
is ; but what's her Fortune — which if but small, you cry
— She will not do my business — and basely leave her, tho
she languish for you. — Say, is not this as poor ?

Will. It is a barbarous Custom, which I will scorn to
defend in our Sex, and do despise in yours.

Aug. Thou art a brave Fellow ! put up thy Gold, and

know,

That were thy Fortune large, as is thy Soul,
Thou shouldst not buy my Love,
Couldst thou forget those mean Effects of Vanity,
Which set me out to sale ; and as a Lover, prize
My yielding Joys.

Canst thou believe they'l be entirely thine,
Without considering they were mercenary ?

Will. I cannot tell, I must bethink me first — ha,
Death, I'm going to believe her. [Aside.

Ang. Prithee, confirm that Faith — or if thou canst not
— flatter me a little, 'twill please me from thy Mouth.

Will. Curse on thy charming Tongue! dost thou return
My feign'd Contempt with so much subtilty ? {Aside.
Thou'st found the easiest way into my Heart,
Tho I yet know that all thou say'st is false.

[Turning from her in a Rage.

Ang. By all that's good 'tis real,
I never lov'd before, tho oft a Mistress.
— Shall my first Vows be slighted ?

Will. What can she mean ? [Aside,

Ang. I find you cannot credit me. [/» an angry tone.

Will. I know you take me for an errant Ass,
An Ass that may be sooth'd into Belief,
And then be us'd at pleasure.
—But, Madam I have been so often cheated
By perjur'd, soft, deluding Hypocrites,

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 41

That I've no Faith left for the cozening Sex,
Especially for Women of your Trade.

Ang. The low esteem you have of me, perhaps
May bring my Heart again:
For I have Pride that yet surmounts my Love.

\_She turns with Pride, he holds her.
Throw off this Pride, this Enemy to Bliss,
I And shew the Power of Love : 'tis with those Arms
jl can be only vanquisht, made a Slave.

Ang. Is all my mighty Expectation vanisht ?
— No, I will not hear thee talk, — thou hast a Charm
In every word, that draws my Heart away.
'And all the thousand Trophies I design'd,
[Thou hast undone — Why art thou soft?

"hy Looks are bravely rough, and meant for War.
! Could thou not storm on still?
I then perhaps had been as free as thou.

Will, Death ! how she throws her Fire about my Soul !

[Aside.

-Take heed, fair Creature, how you raise my Hopes,
rhich once assum'd pretend to all Dominion,
^here's not a Joy thou hast in store
|[ shall not then command :
For which I'll pay thee back my Soul, my Life.
I Come, let's begin th' account this happy minute.
Ang. And will you pay me then the Price I ask?
Will. Oh, why dost thou draw me from an awful

Worship,
Jy shewing thou art no Divinity?
Conceal the Fiend, and shew me all the Angel ;
>.eep me but ignorant, and I'll be devout,
L.nd pay my Vows for ever at this Shrine.

[Ktut/Sj and kisses her Hand.

Ang. The Pay I mean is but thy Love for mine.
—Can you give that?

Intirely — come, let's withdraw: where I'll renew

42 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT in

my Vows, — and breathe 'em with such Ardour, thou shalt
not doubt my Zeal.

Ang. Thou hast a Power too strong to be resisted.

\_Ex. Will, and Angelica.

Moret. Now my Curse go with you — Is all our Project
fallen to this? to love the only Enemy to our Trade?
Nay, to love such a Shameroon, a very Beggar ; nay, a
Pirate-Beggar, whose Business is to rifle and be gone, a
No-Purchase, No-Pay Tatterdemalion, an English Picca-
roon ; a Rogue that fights for daily Drink, and takes a
Pride in being loyally lousy — Oh, I could curse now, if
I durst — This is the Fate of most Whores.

Trophies^ which from believing Fops we
Are Spoils to those who cozen us again.

ACT III.
SCENE I. A Street.

Enter Florinda, Valeria, Hellena, in Antick different Dresses
from what they were in before^ Callis attending.

Flor. I wonder what should make my Brother in so ill
a Humour: I hope he has not found out our Ramble this
Morning.

Hell. No, if he had, we should have heard on't at both
Ears, and have been mew'd up this Afternoon ; which I
would not for the World should have happen'd — Hey ho !
I'm sad as a Lover's Lute.

Val. Well, methinks we have learnt this Trade ol
Gipsies as readily as if we had been bred upon the Road
to Loretto : and yet I did so fumble, when I told the
Stranger his Fortune, that I was afraid I should have tolc
my own and yours by mistake — But methinks Hellene
has been very serious ever since.

Flor. I would give my Garters she were in love, to bf
reveng'd upon her, for abusing me — How is't, Hellena I

Hell. Ah ! — would I had never seen my mad Monsieu:

I sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 43

— and yet tor all your laughing I am not in love — and yet
• this small Acquaintance, o'my Conscience, will never out
of my Head.

Val. Ha, ha, ha — I laugh to think how thou art fitted

I 1 with a Lover, a Fellow that, I warrant, loves every new
[Face he sees.

Hell. Hum — he has not kept his Word with me here
— and may be taken up — that thought is not very pleasant
•to me — what the Duce should this be now that I feel ?
Val. What is't like ?
Hell. Nay, the Lord knows — but if I should be hanged,

III cannot chuse but be angry and afraid, when I think that

I mad Fellow should be in love with any Body but me —
I' What to think of my self I know not — Would I could

II meet with some true damn'd Gipsy, that I might know
[Imy Fortune.

Val. Know it ! why there's nothing so easy ; thou wilt
ove this wandring Inconstant till thou find'st thy self hanged
bout his Neck, and then be as mad to get free again.

Flor. Yes, Valeria ,• we shall see her bestride his Bag
gage-horse, and follow him to the Campaign.

Hell. So, so ; now you are provided for, there's no care
aken of poor me — But since you have set my Heart a
vishing, I am resolv'd to know for what. I will not die
)f the Pip, so I will not.

Flor. Art thou mad to talk so ? Who will like thee well
enough to have thee, that hears what a mad Wench thou art ?

Hell. Like me ! I don't intend every he that likes me
Ri .hall have me, but he that I like : I shou'd have staid in
he Nunnery still, if I had lik'd my Lady Abbess as well as
.•:,.: he lik'd me. No, I came thence, not (as my wise Brother
: '..:•.. magines) to take an eternal Farewel of the World, but
o love and to be belov'd ; and I will be belov'd, or I'll get
>ne of your Men, so I will.

Val. Am I put into the Number of Lovers ?

Hell. You ! my Couz, I know thou art too good natur'd

44 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT in

to leave us in any Design : Thou wou't venture a Cast,
tho thou comest offa Loser, especially with such a Gamester
— I observ'd your Man, and your willing Ears incline that
way ; and if you are not a Lover, 'tis an Art soon learnt
— that I find. [Sighs.

Flor. I wonder how you learnt to love so easily, I had
a thousand Charms to meet my Eyes and Ears, e'er I cou'd
yield ; and 'twas the knowledge of Belvile's Merit, not
the surprising Person, took my Soul — Thou art too rash
to give a Heart at first sight.

Hell. Hang your considering Lover ; I ne'er thought
beyond the Fancy, that 'twas a very pretty, idle, silly kind
of Pleasure to pass ones time with, to write little, soft,
nonsensical Billets, and with great difficulty and danger
receive Answers ; in which I shall have my Beauty prais'd,
my Wit admir'd (tho little or none) and have the Vanity
and Power to know I am desirable ; then I have the more
Inclination that way, because I am to be a Nun, and so shall
not be suspected to have any such earthly Thoughts about
me — But when I walk thus — and sigh thus — they'll think
my Mind's upon my Monastery, and cry, how happy 'tis
she's so resolv'd ! — But not a Word of Man.

Flor. What a mad Creature's this !

Hell. I'll warrant, if my Brother hears either of you
sigh, he cries (gravely) — I fear you have the Indiscretion
to be in love, but take heed of the Honour of our House,
and your own unspotted Fame ; and so he conjures on till
he has laid the soft-wing'd God in your Hearts, or broke
the Birds-nest — But see here comes your Lover : but
where's my inconstant ? let's step aside, and we may learn
something. [Go aside.

Enter Belvile, Fred, and Blunt.

Belv. What means this ? the Picture's taken in.

Blunt. It may be the Wench is good-natur'd, and will

be kind gratis. Your Friend's a proper handsom Fellow.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 45

Belv. I rather think she has cut his Throat and is fled :
I am mad he should throw himself into Dangers — Pox on't,
I shall want him to night — let's knock and ask for him.

Hell. My heart goes a-pit a-pat, for fear 'tis my Man
they talk of. [Knock, Moretta above.

Moret. What would you have ?

Belv. Tell the Stranger that enter'd here about two
Hours ago, that his Friends stay here for him.

Moret. A Curse upon him for Moretta^ would he were
at the Devil — but he's coming to you. [Enter Wilmore.

Hell. I, I, 'tis he. Oh how this vexes me.

Belv. And how, and how, dear Lad, has Fortune smil'd ?
Are we to break her Windows, or raise up Altars to her ! hah !

Will. Does not my Fortune sit triumphant on my Brow?
dost not see the little wanton God there all gay and smiling ?
ave I not an Air about my Face and Eyes, that dis-
inguish me from the Croud of common Lovers ? By

eav'n, Cupid's Quiver has not half so many Darts as her
Eyes — Oh such a Bona Roba, to sleep in her Arms is lying
n Fresco, all perfum'd Air about me.

Hell. Here's fine encouragement for me to fool on. [Aside.

Will. Hark ye, where didst thou purchase that rich
Canary we drank to-day ? Tell me, that I may adore the
Spigot, and sacrifice to the Butt : the Juice was divine, into

hich I must dip my Rosary, and then bless all things

t I would have bold or fortunate.

Belv. Well, Sir, let's go take a Bottle, and hear the Story
)f your Success.

Fred. Would not French Wine do better ?

Will. Damn the hungry Balderdash ; cheerful Sack has

generous Virtue in't, inspiring a successful Confidence,
ives Eloquence to the Tongue, and Vigour to the Soul ;

d has in a few Hours compleated all my Hopes and

ishes. There's nothing left to raise a new Desire in me
ome let's be gay and wanton — and, Gentlemen, study,
tudy what you want, for here are Friends, — that will

46 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT in

supply, Gentlemen, — hark ! what a charming sound they
make — 'tis he and she Gold whilst here, shall beget new
Pleasures every moment.

Blunt. But hark ye, Sir, you are not married, are you ?

Will. All the Honey of Matrimony, but none of the
Sting, Friend.

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, thou'rt a fortunate Rogue.

Will. I am so, Sir, let these inform you. — Ha, how
sweetly they chime ! Pox of Poverty, it makes a Man a
Slave, makes Wit and Honour sneak, my Soul grew lean
and rusty for want of Credit.

Blunt. 'Sheartlikins, this I like well, it looks like my
lucky Bargain ! Oh how I long for the Approach of my
Squire, that is to conduct me to her House again. Why !
here's two provided for.

Fred. By this light y're happy Men.

Blunt. Fortune is pleased to smile on us, Gentlemen, —
to smile on us.

Enter Sancho, and pulls Blunt by the Sleeve. They go aside,

Sancho. Sir, my Lady expects you — she has remov'd all
that might oppose your Will and Pleasure — and is im
patient till you come.

Blunt. Sir, I'll attend you — Oh the happiest Rogue !
I'll take no leave, lest they either dog me, or stay me.

\_Ex. with Sancho

Belv. But then the little Gipsy is forgot ?

Will. A Mischief on thee for putting her into mj ;
thoughts; I had quite forgot her else, and this Night';
Debauch had drunk her quite down.

Hell. Had it so, good Captain ? [Claps him on the Back

Will. Ha ! I hope she did not hear.

Hell. What, afraid of such a Champion !

Will. Oh ! you're a fine Lady of your word, are yoij
not ? to make a Man languish a whole day —

Hell. In tedious search of me.

c. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 47

Will. Egad, Child, thou'rt in the right, hadst thou seen
krhat a melancholy Dog I have been ever since I was a
Lover, how I have walkt the Streets like a Capuchin, with
ay Hands in my Sleeves — Faith, Sweetheart, thou wouldst
1'ity me.

Hell. Now, if I should be hang'd, I can't be angry with
I im, he dissembles so heartily — Alas, good Captain, what
•ains you have taken — Now were I ungrateful not to
J3ward so true a Servant.

Will. Poor Soul ! that's kindly said, I see thou bearest

I Conscience — come then for a beginning shew me thy
ear Face.

Hell. I'm afraid, my small Acquaintance, you have
lean staying that swinging stomach you boasted of this
Biorning ; I remember then my little Collation would have
Bone down with you, without the Sauce of a handsom

II ace — Is your Stomach so quesy now ?

I Will. Faith long fasting, Child, spoils a Man's Appetite
-yet if you durst treat, I could so lay about me still.
Hell. And would you fall to, before a Priest says Grace ?
Will. Oh fie, fie, what an old out-of-fashion'd thing
[list thou nam'd ? Thou could'st not dash me more out
] : Countenance, shouldst thou shew me an ugly Face.

Whiht be is seemingly courting Hellena, enter Angelica,
Moretta, Biskey, and Sebastian, all in Masquerade :
Ang. sees Will, and starts.

Ang. Heavens, is't he ? and passionately fond to see
lother Woman ?

Moret. What cou'd you expect less from such a
vaggerer ?

Ang. Expect ! as much as I paid him, a Heart intire,
Hiich I had pride enough to think when e'er I gave
i would have rais'd the Man above the Vulgar,
Lade him all Soul, and that all soft and constant.

Hell. You see, Captain, how willing I am to be Friends

48 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT n

with you, till Time and Ill-luck make us Lovers; an
ask you the Question first, rather than put your Modest
to the blush, by asking me : for alas, I know you Captain
are such strict Men, severe Observers of your Vows t
Chastity, that 'twill be hard to prevail with your tende
Conscience to marry a young willing Maid.

Will. Do not abuse me, for fear I should take thee a
thy word, and marry thee indeed, which I'm sure will b
Revenge sufficient.

Hell. O' my Conscience, that will be our Destiny, be
cause we are both of one humour ; I am as inconstant a
you, for I have considered, Captain, that a handsom Woma
has a great deal to do whilst her Face is good, for then i
our Harvest-time to gather Friends ; and should I in thes
days of my Youth, catch a fit of foolish Constancy, I wer
undone ; 'tis loitering by day-light in our great Journey
therefore declare, I'll allow but one year for Love, one yea
for Indifference, and one year for Hate — and then — g
hang your self — for I profess myself the gay, the kind, an
the inconstant — the Devil's in't if this won't please you.

Will. Oh most damnably ! — I have a Heart with a hoi
quite thro it too, no Prison like mine to keep a Mistress in

Ang. Perjur'd Man ! how I believe thee now ! [ds

Hell. Well, I see our Business as well as Humours ar
alike, yours to cozen as many Maids as will trust you
and I as many Men as have Faith — See if I have not a
desperate a lying look, as you can have for the heart c
you. [Putts off her Vizard i he start.

— How do you like it, Captain ?

Will. Like it ! by Heav'n, I never saw so much Beaut)
Oh the Charms of those sprightly black Eyes, that strangel
fair Face, full of Smiles and Dimples ! those soft roun
melting cherry Lips ! and small even white Teeth ! not t
be exprest, but silently adored ! — Oh one Look more, an
strike me dumb, or I shall repeat nothing else till I am mac

[He seems to court her to pull off her Vizard: she refuse

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 49

Ang. I can endure no more — nor is it fit to interrupt
him ; for if I do, my Jealousy has so destroy'd my Reason,
— I shall undo him — Therefore I'll retire. And you Sebas
tian [To one of her Bravoei\ follow that Woman, and learn
who 'tis ; while you tell the Fugitive, I would speak to him
instantly. [ To the other Bravo. [Exit.

[This while Flor. is tatting to Bel vile, who stands
sullenly. Fred, courting Valeria.

Val. Prithee, dear Stranger, be not so sullen ; for tho you
have lost your Love, you see my Friend frankly offers you
hers, to play with in the mean time.

Belv. Faith, Madam, I am sorry I can't play at her Game.

Fred. Pray leave your Intercession, and mind your own
Affair, they'll better agree apart ; he's a model Sigher in
Company, but alone no Woman escapes him.

Flor. Sure he does but rally — yet if it should be true —
I'll tempt him farther — Believe me, noble Stranger, I'm no
common Mistress — and for a little proof on't — wear this
Jewel — nay, take it, Sir, 'tis right, and Bills of Exchange
may sometimes miscarry.

Belv. Madam, why am I chose out of all Mankind to
be the Object of your Bounty ?

Val. There's another civil Question askt.

Fred. Pox of 's Modesty, it spoils his own Markets, and
hinders mine.

Flor. Sir, from my Window I have often seen you ; and
Women of Quality have so few opportunities for Love,
that we ought to lose none.

Fred. Ay, this is something ! here's a Woman ! — When
shall I be blest with so much kindness from your fair
Mouth ? — Take the Jewel, Fool. [Aside to Belv.

Belv. You tempt me strangely, Madam, every way.

Flor. So, if I find him false, my whole Repose is gone.

[Aside.

Belv. And but for a Vow I've made to a very fine Lady,
this Goodness had subdu'd me.

50 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT in

Fred. Pox on't be kind, in pity to me be kind, for I am
to thrive here but as you treat her Friend.

Hell. Tell me what did you in yonder House, and I'll
unmasque.

Will. Yonder House — oh — I went to — a — to — why,
there's a Friend of mine lives there.

Hell. What a she, or a he Friend ?

Will. A Man upon my Honour ! a Man — A She
Friend ! no, no, Madam, you have done my Business, I
thank you.

Hell. And was't your Man Friend, that had more
Darts in's Eyes than Cupid carries in a whole Budget of
Arrows ?

Will. So—

Hell. Ah such a Bona Roba '. to be in her Arms is lying
in Fresco, all perfumed Air about me — Was this your Man
Friend too ?

Will. So—

Hell. That gave you the He, and the She — Gold, that
begets young Pleasures.

Will. Well, well, Madam, then you see there are Ladies
in the World, that will not be cruel — there are, Madam,
there are —

Hell. And there be Men too as fine, wild, inconstant
Fellows as your self, there be, Captain, there be, if you go
to that now — therefore I'm resolv'd —

Will. Oh!

Hell. To see your Face no more —

Will. Oh!

Hell. Till to morrow.

Will. Egad you frighted me.

Hell. Nor then neither, unless you'l swear never to see
that Lady more.

Will. See her ! — why ! never to think of Womankind
again ?

Hell. Kneel, and swear. \_Kneels, she gives him her hand.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 51

Hell. I do, never to think — to see — to love — nor He
with any but thy self.

Hell. Kiss the Book.

Will. Oh, most religiously. [Kisses her Hand.

Hell. Now what a wicked Creature am I, to damn a
proper Fellow.

Call. Madam, I'll stay no longer, 'tis e'en dark. [To Flor.

Flor. However, Sir, I'll leave this with you — that when

I'm gone, you may repent the opportunity you have lost

by your modesty. [Gives him the Jewel, which is her

Picture, and Ex. he gazes after her.

Will. 'Twill be an Age till to morrow, — and till then
I will most impatiently expect you — Adieu, my dear pretty
Angel. [Ex. all the Women.

Belv. Ha ! Florinda's Picture ! 'twas she her self — what
a dull Dog was I ? I would have given the World for one
minute's discourse with her. —

Fred. This comes of your Modesty, — ah pox on your
[Vow, 'twas ten to one but we had lost the Jewel by't.

Belv. Willmore! the blessed'st Opportunity lost! —
\Florinda, Friends, Florinda!

Will. Ah Rogue ! such black Eyes, such a Face, such
n Mouth, such Teeth, — and so much Wit!

Belv. All, all, and a thousand Charms besides.

Will. Why, dost thou know her ?

Belv. Know her ! ay, ay, and a Pox take me with all
my Heart for being modest.

Will. But hark ye, Friend of mine, are you my Rival ?
• md have I been only beating the Bush all this while ?

Belv. I understand thee not — I'm mad — see here —

[Shews the Picture.

Will. Ha ! whose Picture is this ? — 'tis a fine Wench.

Fred. The Colonel's Mistress, Sir.

Will. Oh, oh, here — I thought it had been another
(Prize — come, come, a Bottle will set thee right again.

[Gives the Picture back.

52 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT in

Beh. I am content to try, and by that time 'twill be
late enough for our Design.
Will. Agreed.

Love does all day the Soul's great Empire keep,

But Wine at night lulls the soft God asleep. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. Lucetta's House.
Enter Blunt and Lucetta with a Light.

Luc. Now we are safe and free, no fears of the coming
home of my old jealous Husband, which made me a little
thoughtful when you came in first — but now Love is all
the business of my Soul.

Blunt. I am transported — Pox on't, that I had but some
fine things to say to her, such as Lovers use — I was a Fool
not to learn of Fred, a little by Heart before I came —
something I must say. — [Aside.

'Sheartlikins, sweet Soul, I am not us'd to complement,
but I'm an honest Gentleman, and thy humble Servant.

Luc. I have nothing to pay for so great a Favour, but
such a Love as cannot but be great, since at first sight of
that sweet Face and Shape it made me your absolute Captive.

Blunt. Kind heart, how prettily she talks ! Egad I'll show
her Husband a Spanish Trick; send him out of the World,
and marry her : she's damnably in love with me, and will
ne'er mind Settlements, and so there's that sav'd. [Aside.

Luc. Well, Sir, I'll go and undress me, and be with you
instantly.

Blunt. Make haste then, for 'dsheartlikins, dear Soul,
thou canst not guess at the pain of a longing Lover, when
his Joys are drawn within the compass of a few minutes.

Luc. You speak my Sense, and I'll make haste to pro
vide it. [Exit.

Blunt. 'Tis a rare Girl, and this one night's enjoyment
with her will be worth all the days I ever past in Essex.—
Would she'd go with me into England, tho to say truth,
there's plenty of Whores there already. — But a pox on 'em

|,c. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 53

hey are such mercenary prodigal Whores, that they want
|uch a one as this, that's free and generous, to give 'em
i^ood Examples : — Why, what a House she has ! how rich
l.nd fine !

Enter Sancho.

Sancho. Sir, my Lady has sent me to conduct you to her
Chamber.

Blunt. Sir, I shall be proud to follow — Here's one of
|ier Servants too: 'dsheartlikins, by his Garb and Gravity
ne might be a Justice of Peace in Essex, and is but a Pimp
iere. [Exeunt.

The Scene changes to a Chamber with an Alcove-Bed in it,
a Table, &c. Lucetta in Bed. Enter Sancho and Blunt,
who takes the Candle of Sancho at the Door.
Sanch. Sir, my Commission reaches no farther.
Blunt. Sir, I'll excuse your Complement : — what, in
iled, my sweet Mistress?

Luc. You see, I still out-do you in kindness.
Blunt. And thou shalt see what haste I'll make to quit
hores — oh the luckiest Rogue ! [ Undresses himself.

Luc. Shou'd you be false or cruel now !
Blunt. False, 'Sheartlikins, what dost thou take me for
I Jew ? an insensible Heathen, — A Pox of thy old jealous
lusband : and he were dead, egad, sweet Soul, it shou'd
[e none of my fault, if I did not marry thee.
Luc. It never shou'd be mine.
Blunt. Good Soul, I'm the fortunatest Dog !
I Luc. Are you not undrest yet ?
i Blunt. As much as my Impatience will permit.

[Goes towards the Bed in his Shirt and Drawers.

Luc. Hold, Sir, put out the Light, it may betray us else.

Blunt. Any thing, I need no other Light but that of

line Eyes ! — 'sheartlikins, there I think I had it. [Aside.

[Puts out the Candle, the Bed descends, he

gropes about to find it.
-Why — why — where am I got ? what, not yet r — where

54 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT in

are you sweetest ? — ah, the Rogue's silent now — a pretty
Love-trick this — how she'll laugh at me anon ! — you need
not, my dear Rogue ! you need not ! I'm all on a fire already
— come, come, now call me in for pity — Sure I'm en
chanted ! I have been round the Chamber, and can find
neither Woman, nor Bed — I lockt the Door, I'm sure she
cannot go that way ; or if she cou'd, the Bed cou'd not-
Enough, enough, my pretty Wanton, do not carry the Jest
too far — Ha,betray'd ! Dogs ! Rogues ! Pimps ! help ! help !
[Lights on a Trap, and is let down.

Enter Lucetta, Philippo, and Sancho with a Light.

Phil. Ha, ha, ha, he's dispatcht finely.

Luc. Now, Sir, had I been coy, we had mist of this Booty.

Phil. Nay when I saw 'twas a substantial Fool, I was
mollified ; but when you doat upon a Serenading Coxcomb,
upon a Face, fine Clothes, and a Lute, it makes me rage.

Luc. You know I never was guilty of that Folly, my
dear Philippo^ but with your self — But come let's see what
we have got by this.

Phil. A rich Coat ! — Sword and Hat ! — these Breeches
too — are well lin'd ! — see here a Gold Watch ! — a Purse —
ha ! Gold ! — at least two hundred Pistoles ! a bunch of
Diamond Rings ; and one with the Family Arms ! — a Gold
Box ! — with a Medal of his King ! and his Lady Mother's
Picture ! — these were sacred Reliques, believe me ! — see,
the Wasteband of his Breeches have a Mine of Gold ! —
Old Queen Bess's. We have a Quarrel to her ever since
• Eighty Eighty and may therefore justify the Theft, the
Inquisition might have committed it.

Luc. See, a Bracelet of bow'd Gold, these his Sister ty'd
about his Arm at parting — but well — for all this, I fear his
being a Stranger may make a noise, and hinder our Trade
with them hereafter.

Phi!. That's our security ; he is not only a Stranger to
us, but to the Country too — the Common-Shore into which

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 55

he is descended, thou know'st, conducts him into another
Street, which this Light will hinder him from ever rinding
again — he knows neither your Name, nor the Street where
your House is, nay, nor the way to his own Lodgings.

Luc. And art not thou an unmerciful Rogue, not to
afford him one Night for all this ? — I should not have been
such a Jew .

Phil. Blame me not, Lucetta, to keep as much of thee
as I can to my self — come, that thought makes me wanton,
— let's to Bed, — Sancho, lock up these.

This is the Fleece which Fools do bear,

Designed for witty Men to sheer. [Exeunt.

The Scene changes, and discovers Blunt, creeping out of a
Common Shore, his Face, &c., all dirty.

Blunt. Oh Lord ! [Climbing up.

I am got out at last, and (which is a Miracle) without a
Clue — and now to Damning and Cursing, — but if that
would ease me, where shall I begin ? with my Fortune,
my self, or the Quean that cozen'd me — What a dog was I
to believe in Women ! Oh Coxcomb — ignorant conceited
Coxcomb ! to fancy she cou'd be enamour'd with my Person,
at the first sight enamour'd — Oh, I'm a cursed Puppy, 'tis
lain, Fool was writ upon my Forehead, she perceiv'd it,
— saw the Essex Calf there — for what Allurements could
here be in this Countenance ? which I can indure, because
I'm acquainted with it — Oh, dull silly Dog ! to be thus
oth'd into a Cozening ! Had I been drunk, I might fondly
,ve credited the young Quean ! but as I was in my right
its, to be thus cheated, confirms I am a dull believing
'nglish Country Fop. — But my Comrades ! Death and the
evil, there's the worst of all — then a Ballad will be sung
o Morrow on the Prado, to a lousy Tune of the enchanted
quire, and the annihilated Damsel — But Fred, that Rogue,
d the Colonel, will abuse me beyond all Christian patience
had she left me my Clothes, I have a Bill of Exchange

56 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT in

at home wou'd have sav'd my Credit — but now all hope
is taken from me — Well, I'll home (if I can find the way)
with this Consolation, that I am not the first kind believing
Coxcomb ; but there are, Gallants, many such good Natures
amongst ye.

And tho youve better Arts to hide your Follies,
Adsheartlikins fare all as errant Cullies.

SCENE III. The Garden, in the Night.
Enter Florinda undress' 'd, with a Key, and a little Box.

Flor. Well, thus far I'm in my way to Happiness ; I
have got my self free from Callis ; my Brother too, I find
by yonder light, is gone into his Cabinet, and thinks not
of me : I have by good Fortune got the Key of the Garden
Back-door, — I'll open it, to prevent Belvile's knocking, —
a little noise will now alarm my Brother. Now am I as
fearful as a young Thief. [Unlocks the Door.~\ — Hark, —
what noise is that ? — Oh, 'twas the Wind that plaid amongst
the Boughs. — Belvile stays long, methinks — it's time — stay
— for fear of a surprize, I'll hide these Jewels in yonder
Jessamin. [She goes to lay down the Box.

Enter Willmore drunk.

Will. What the Devil is become of these Fellows,
Belvile and Frederick ? They promis'd to stay at the next
corner for me, but who the Devil knows the corner of a full
Moon ? — Now — whereabouts am I ? — hah — what have we
here? a Garden ! — a very convenient place to sleep in —
hah — what has God sent us here? — a Female — by this
light, a Woman ; I'm a Dog if it be not a very Wench.—

Flor. He's come ! — hah — who's there ?

Will. Sweet Soul, let me salute thy Shoe-string.

Flor. 'Tis not my Belvile — good Heavens, I know him
not. — Who are you, and from whence come you ?

Will. Prithee — prithee, Child — not so many hard Ques
tions — let it suffice I am here, Child — Come, come kiss me.

sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 57

Flor. Good Gods ! what luck is mine ?

Will. Only good luck, Child, parlous good luck. — Come
hither, — 'tis a delicate shining Wench, — by this Hand
she's perfum'd, and smells like any Nosegay. — Prithee,
dear Soul, let's not play the Fool, and lose time, — precious
time — for as Gad shall save me, I'm as honest a Fellow as
breathes, tho I am a little disguis'd at present. — Come, I
say, — why, thou may'st be free with me, I'll be very secret.
I'll not boast who 'twas oblig'd me, not I — for hang me if
I know thy Name.

Flor. Heavens ! what a filthy beast is this !

Will. I am so, and thou oughtst the sooner to lie with

'.lie for that reason, — for look you, Child, there will be no

|5in in't, because 'twas neither design 'd nor premeditated ;

tis pure Accident on both sides — that's a certain thing

I low — Indeed should I make love to you, and you vow
fidelity — and swear and lye till you believ'd and yielded
—Thou art therefore (as thou art a good Christian) oblig'd

In Conscience to deny me nothing. Now — come, be
Icind, without any more idle prating.

Flor. Oh, I am ruin'd — wicked Man, unhand me.

Will. Wicked! Egad, Child, a Judge, were he young and
| igorous, and saw those Eyes of th ine, would know 'twas they
|;ave the first blow — the first provocation. — Come, prithee
let's lose no time, I say — this is a fine convenient place.

Flor. Sir, let me go, I conjure you, or I'll call out.

Will. Ay, ay, you were best to call Witness to see how

I 1 nely you treat me — do. —

Flor. I'll cry Murder, Rape, or any thing, if you do
ot instantly let me go.

| Will. A Rape ! Come, come, you lye, you Baggage, you

re : What, I'll warrant you would fain have the World

j| elieve now that you are not so forward as I. No, not

I ou, — why at this time of Night was your Cobweb-door set

I pen, dear Spider — but to catch Flies? — Hah come — or I

||iall be damnably angry. — Why what a Coil is here. —

58 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT in

Flor. Sir, can you think —

Will. That you'd do it for nothing ? oh, oh, I find what
you'd be at — look here, here's a Pistole for you — here's a
work indeed — here — take it, I say. —

Flor. For Heaven's sake, Sir, as you're a Gentleman —

Will. So — now — she would be wheedling me for more

— what, you will not take it then — you're resolv'd you
will not. — Come, come, take it, or I'll put it up again ;
for, look ye, I never give more. — Why, how now, Mistress,
are you so high i'th' Mouth, a Pistole won't down with
you? — hah — why, what a work's here — in good time —
come, no struggling, be gone — But an y'are good at a
dumb Wrestle, I'm for ye, — look ye, — I'm for ye. —

[She struggles with him.

Enter Belvile and Frederick.

Bel. The Door is open, a Pox of th is mad Fellow, I'm angry
that we've lost him, I durst have sworn he had follow'd us.
Fred. But you were so hasty, Colonel, to be gone.
Flor. Help, help, — Murder ! — help — oh, I'm ruin'd.
Belv. Ha, sure that's Florindas Voice.

\_Comes up to them.

— A Man ! Villain, let go that Lady. [A noise.

[Will, turns and draws, Fred, interposes.
Flor. Belvile! Heavens ! my Brother too is coming, and
'twill be impossible to escape. — Belvile, I conjure you to
walk under my Chamber-window, from whence I'll give
you some instructions what to do — This rude Man has
undone us. [Exit.

Belvile!

Enter Pedro, Stephano, and other Servants with Lights.

Fed. I'm betray 'd ; run, Stephano, and see if Florinda be

safe. [Exit Steph.

So whoe'er they be, all is not well, I'll to Florinda's

Chamber. [They fight, and Pedro's Party beats 'em out ;

going out, meets Stephano.

sc. iv] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 59

Steph. You need not, Sir, tiie poor Lady's fast asleep,
and thinks no harm : I wou'd not wake her, Sir, for fear
of frightning her with your danger.

Fed. I'm glad she's there — Rascals, how came the
Garden-Door open ?

Steph. That Question comes too late, Sir : some of my
Fellow-Servants Masquerading I'll warrant.

Ped. Masquerading ! a lend Custom to debauch our
Youth — there's something more in this than I imagine.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Changes to the Street.

Enter Belvile in Rage, Fred, holding him^ and Willmore
melancholy.

Will. Why, how the Devil shou'd I know Florinda ?

Belv. Ah plague of your ignorance ! if it had not been
Florinda^ must you be a Beast ? — a Brute, a senseless
Swine ?

Will. Well, Sir, you see I 'am endu'd with Patience —
I can bear — tho egad y're very free with me methinks, —
I was in good hopes the Quarrel wou'd have been on my
side, for so uncivilly interrupting me.

Belv. Peace, Brute, whilst thou'rt safe — oh, I'm dis
tracted.

Will. Nay, nay, I'm an unlucky Dog, that's certain.

Belv. Ah curse upon the Star that rul'd my Birth ! or
whatsoever other Influence that makes me still so wretched.

Will. Thou break'st my Heart with these Complaints ;
there is no Star in fault, no Influence but Sack, the cursed
Sack I drank.

Fred. Why, how the Devil came you so drunk ?

Will. Why, how the Devil came you so sober ?

Belv. A curse upon his thin Skull, he was always be-
rore-hand that way.

Fred. Prithee, dear Colonel, forgive him, he's sorry for
lis fault.

60 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT in

Belv. He's always so after he has done a mischief — a
plague on all such Brutes.

Will. By this Light I took her for an errant Harlot.

Belv. Damn your debaucht Opinion: tell me, Sot, hadst
thou so much sense and light about thee to distinguish her
to be a Woman, and could'st not see something about her
Face and Person, to strike an awful Reverence into thy
Soul ?

Will. Faith no, I consider'd her as mere a Woman as
I could wish.

Belv. 'Sdeath I have no patience — draw, or I'll kill you.

Will. Let that alone till to morrow, and if I set not all
right again, use your Pleasure.

Belv. To morrow, damn it.
The spiteful Light will lead me to no happiness.
To morrow is Antonio's, and perhaps
Guides him to my undoing; — oh that I could meet
This Rival, this powerful Fortunate.

Will. What then ?

Belv. Let thy own Reason, or my Rage instruct thee.

Will. I shall be finely inform'd then, no doubt ; hear
me, Colonel — hear me — shew me the Man and I'll do his
Business.

Belv. I know him no more than thou, or if I did, I
should not need thy aid.

Will. This you say is Angelica's House, I promis'd the
kind Baggage to lie with her to Night. \Offers to go in.

Enter Antonio and his Page. Ant. knocks on the Hilt of his
Sword.

Ant. You paid the thousand Crowns I directed ?
Page. To the Lady's old Woman, Sir, I did.
Will. Who the Devil have we here?
Belv. I'll now plant my self under Florinda's Window,
and if I find no comfort there, I'll die.

\_Ex. Belv. and Fred.

jijiC. iv] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 61

Enter Moretta.

Moret. Page !
Page. Here's my Lord.

Will. How is this, a Piccaroon going to board my
I irrigate ! here's one Chase-Gun for you.

[Drawing his Sword, justles Ant. who turns and

draws. They fight, Ant. falls.
Moret. Oh, bless us, we are all undone !

[Runs in, and shuts the Door.
Page. Help, Murder !

[Bel vile returns at the noise of fighting.
Belv. Ha, the mad Rogue's engag'd in some unlucky
Adventure again.

Enter two or three Masqueraders.

Masq. Ha, a Man kill'd !

Will. How ! a Man kill'd ! then I'll go home to sleep.
\_Puts up, and reels out. Ex. Masquers another way.

Belv. Who shou'd it be ! pray Heaven the Rogue is
fe, for all my Quarrel to him. [As Belvile is groping
about, enter an Officer and six Soldiers.

Sold. Who's there ?

Offic. So, here's one dispatcht — secure the Murderer.

Belv. Do not mistake my Charity for Murder :
came to his Assistance. [Soldiers seize on Belvile.

Offic. That shall be tried, Sir. — St. Jago, Swords drawn
i the Carnival time ! [Goes to Antonio.

Ant. Thy Hand prithee.

Offic . Ha, Don Antonio ! look well to the Villain there. —
;ow is't, Sir?

Ant. I'm hurt.

Belv. Has my Humanity made me a Criminal?

Offic. Away with him.

Belv. What a curst Chance is this !

[Ex. Soldiers with Belv.

Ant. This is the Man that has set upon me twice —

62 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT iv

carry him to my Apartment till you have further Orders
from me. [To the Officer. Ex. Ant. led.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A fine Room.

Discovers Belvile, as by Dark alone.

Beh. When shall I be weary of railing on Fortune,

who is resolv'd never to turn with Smiles upon me ? — Two

such Defeats in one Night — none but the Devil and that

mad Rogue could- have contriv'd to have plagued me with

O i c»

— I am here a Prisoner — but where ? — Heaven knows —
and if there be Murder done, I can soon decide the Fate
of a Stranger in a Nation without Mercy — Yet this is
nothing to the Torture my Soul bows with, when I think
of losing my fair, my dear Florlnda. — Hark — my Door
opens — a Light — a Man — and seems of Quality — arm'd
too. — Now shall I die like a Dog without defence.

Enter Antonio in a Night-Gowny with a Light ; his Arm
in a Scarf) and a Sword under his Arm : He sets the
Candle on the Table.

Ant. Sir, I come to know what Injuries I have done
you, that could provoke you to so mean an Action, as tc
attack me basely, without allowing time for my Defence.

Belv. Sir, for a Man in my Circumstances to plead
Innocence, would look like Fear — but view me well, and
you will find no marks of a Coward on me, nor any thing
that betrays that Brutality you accuse me of.

Ant. In vain, Sir, you impose upon my Sense,
You are not only he who drew on me last Night,
But yesterday before the same House, that of Angelica.
Yet there is something in your Face and Mein —

Belv. I own I fought to day in the defence of a Friend
of mine, with whom you (if you're the same) and youi
Party were first engag'd.
Perhaps you think this Crime enough to kill me,

c. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 63

3ut if you do, I cannot fear you'll do it basely.
Ant. No, Sir, I'll make you fit for a Defence with this.

[Gives him the Sword.

Beh. This Gallantry surprizes me — nor know I how
o use this Present, Sir, against a Man so brave.

Ant. You shall not need ;

Kor know, I come to snatch you from a Danger
That is decreed against you;
I'erhaps your Life, or long Imprisonment :
JVnd 'twas with so much Courage you offended,
1 cannot see you punisht.

Beh. How shall I pay this Generosity ?
Ant. It had been safer to have kill'd another,
Than have attempted me :

| To shew your Danger, Sir, I'll let you know my Quality ;
Bind 'tis the Vice-Roy's Son whom you have wounded.

Beh. The Vice-Roy's Son !
)eath and Confusion ! was this Plague reserved
to compleat all the rest? — oblig'd by him!
"he Man of all the World I would destroy. [Aside.

Ant. You seem disorder'd, Sir.

j Belv. Yes, trust me, Sir, I am, and 'tis with pain
[j hat Man receives such Bounties,
j^ho wants the pow'r to pay 'em back again.
• Ant. To gallant Spirits 'tis indeed uneasy;
-But you may quickly over-pay me, Sir.
: Belv. Then I am well — kind Heaven ! but set us even,
•'hat I may fight with him, and keep my Honour safe.

[Aside.

-Oh, I'm impatient, Sir, to be discounting
j'he mighty Debt I owe you; command me quickly —
Ant. J have a Quarrel with a Rival, Sir,
bout tne Maid we love.
Beh. Death, 'tis Florinda he means —
hat Thought destroys my Reason, and I shall kill him —

[Aside.

64 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

Ant. My Rival, Sir.
Is one has all the Virtues Man can boast of.

Belv. Death ! who shou'd this be ? [Aside

Ant. He challeng'd me to meet him on the Molo,
As soon as Day appear'd ; but last Night's quarrel
Has made my Arm unfit to guide a Sword.

Belv. I apprehend you, Sir, you'd have me kill the Man
That lays a claim to the Maid you speak of.
—I'll do't— I'll fly to do it.

Ant. Sir, do you know her ?

Belv. — No, Sir, but 'tis enough she is admired by you

Ant. Sir, I shall rob you of the Glory on't,
For you must fight under my Name and Dress.

Belv. That Opinion must be strangely obliging that

makes

You think I can personate the brave Antonio,
Whom I can but strive to imitate.

Ant. You say too much to my Advantage.
Come, Sir, the Day appears that calls you forth.
Within, Sir, is the Habit. [Exit Antonio

Belv. Fantastick Fortune, thou deceitful Light,
That cheats the wearied Traveller by Night,
Tho on a Precipice each step you tread,
I am resolv'd to follow where you lead. [Exit

SCENE II. The Molo.

Enter Florinda and Callis in Masques, with Stephano.
Flor. I'm dying with my fears ; Belvilis not coming
As I expected, underneath my Window,
Makes me believe that all those Fears are trie. [Aside
— Canst thou not tell with whom my Brother fights?

Steph. No, Madam, they were both in Masquerade, .
was by when they challeng'd one another, and .hey ha(
decided the Quarrel then, but were prevented by somt
Cavaliers; which made 'em put it off till now — bi-t I an
sure 'tis about you they fight.

pc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 65

Flor, Nay then 'tis with Belvile, for what other Lover

have I that dares fight for me, except Antonio ? and he is

:oo much in favour with my Brother — If it be he, for

whom shall I direct my Prayers to Heaven ? [Aside.

Steph. Madam, I must leave you ; for if my Master see

Tie, I shall be hang'd for being your Conductor. — I escap'd

narrowly for the Excuse I made for you last night i'th'

3arden.

Flor. And I'll reward thee for't — prithee no more.

[Exit. Steph.

Enter Don Pedro in bis Masquing Habit.

Pedro. Antonio's late to day, the place will fill, and we
I nay be prevented. \Walk& about.

Flor. Antonio! sure I heard amiss. [Aside.

Pedro. But who would not excuse a happy Lover.
UVhen soft fair Arms comfine the yielding Neck;
i\nd the kind Whisper languishingly breathes,
j Vlust you be gone so soon r
I Jure I had dwelt for ever on her Bosom.
— But stay, he's here.

Enter Belvile drest in Antonio's Clothes.
Flor. 'Tis not Belvile, half my Fears are vanisht.
Pedro. Antonio ! —

Beh. This must be he. [Aside.

You're early, Sir, — I do not use to be out-done this way.
Pedro. The wretched, Sir, are watchful, and 'tis enough
i^ou have the advantage of me in Angelica.

Belv. Angelica !

3r I've mistook my Man ! Or else Antonio,
(pan he forget his Interest in Florinda,
\nd fight for common Prize? [Aside.

Pedro. Come, Sir, you know our terms —
Belv. By Heaven, not I. [Aside.

— No talking, I am ready, Sir.

[Offers to fight. Flor. rum in.

I F

66 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

Flor. Oh, hold ! whoe'er you be, I do conjure you hold.
If you strike here — I die — [ To Belv.

Pedro. Florinda!

Belv. Florinda imploring for my Rival !
Pedro. Away, this Kindness is unseasonable.

\_Puts her by, they fight ; she runs in just

as Belv. disarms Pedro.

Flor. Who are you, Sir, that dare deny my Prayers?
Belv. Thy Prayers destroy him ; if thou wouldst pre
serve him.
Do that thou'rt unacquainted with, and curse him.

[She holds him.

Flor. By all you hold most dear, by her you love,
I do conjure you, touch him not.

Belv. By her I love !
See — I obey — and at your Feet resign
The useless Trophy of my Victory.

[Lays his sword at her Feet.

Pedro. Antonio, you've done enough to prove you love
Florinda.

Belv. Love Florinda !

Does Heaven love Adoration, Pray'r, or Penitence ?
Love her ! here Sir, — your Sword again.

[Snatches up the Sword, and gives it him.
Upon this Truth I'll fight my Life away.

Pedro. No, you've redeem'd my Sister, and my Friend
ship.

Belv. Don Pedro!

[He gives him Flor. and pulls off his Vizard to

shew his Face, and puts it on again.
Pedro. Can you resign your Claims to other Women,
And give your Heart intirely to Florinda ?

Belv. Intire, as dying Saints Confessions are.
I can delay my happiness no longer.
This minute let me make Florinda mine :

Pedro. This minute let it be — no time so proper,

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 67

iThis Night my Father will arrive from Rome,
(And possibly may hinder what we propose.
Flor. Oh Heavens ! this Minute !

[Enter Masqueraders, and pass over.
Belv. Oh, do not ruin me !

Pedro. The place begins to fill ; and that we may not
be observ'd, do you walk off to St. Peter's Church, where
|[ will meet you, and conclude your Happiness.

Belv. I'll meet you there — if there be no more Saints
• Churches in Naples. [Aside.

Flor. Oh stay, Sir, and recall your hasty Doom :
AJas I have not yet prepar'd my Heart
I To entertain so strange a Guest.

Pedro. Away, this silly Modesty is assum'd too late.
Belv. Heaven, Madam ! what do you do ?
Flor. Do ! despise the Man that lays a Tyrant's Claim
I To what he ought to conquer by Submission.

Belv. You do not know me — move a little this way.

[Draws her aside.

Flor. Yes, you may even force me to the Altar,
put not the holy Man that offers there
Hhall force me to be thine.

[Pedro talks to Callis this while.
Belv. Oh do not lose so blest an opportunity !
i >ee — 'tis your Belvile — not Antonio,
-Vhom your mistaken Scorn and Anger ruins.

[Pulls off his Vizard.
Flor. Belvile!

iVhere was my Soul it cou'd not meet thy Voice,
Vnd take this knowledge in ?

[As they are talking, enter Willmore finely drest,

and Frederick.

Will. No Intelligence ! no News of Belvile yet — well I
m the most unlucky Rascal in Nature — ha! — amldeceiv'd
—or is it he — look, Fred. — 'tis he — my dear Belvile.

68 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT iv

[Runs and embraces him. Belv. Vizard falls out ons
Hand.

Beh. Hell and Confusion seize thee !

Pedro. Ha! Belvile! I beg your Pardon, Sir.

[Takes Flor.from him.

Belv. Nay, touch her not, she's mine by Conquest, Sir.
I won her by my Sword.

Will. Did'st thou so — and egad, Child, we'll keep her
by the Sword. [Draws on Pedro, Belv. goes between.

Belv. Stand off.

Thou'rt so profanely leud, so curst by Heaven,
All Quarrels thou espousest must be fatal.

Will. Nay, an you be so hot, my 'Valour's coy,
And shall be courted when you want it next.

[Puts up his Sword.

Belv. You know I ought to claim a Victor's Right,

[To Pedro.

But you're the Brother to divine Florinda^
To whom I'm such a Slave — to purchase her,
I durst not hurt the Man she holds so dear.

Pedro. 'Twas by Antonio's^ not by Behile's Sword,
This Question should have been decided, Sir :
I must confess much to your Bravery's due,
Both now, and when I met you last in Arms.
But I am nicely punctual in my word,
As Men of Honour ought, and beg your Pardon.
— For this Mistake another Time shall clear.
— This was some Plot between you and Belvile:
But I'll prevent you. [Aside to Flor. as they are going out.
[Belv. looks after her^ and begins to walk up and
down in a Rage.

Will. Do not be modest now, and lose the Woman :
but if we shall fetch her back, so —

Belv. Do not speak to me.

Will. Not speak to you ! — Egad, I'll speak to you, and
will be answered too.

isc. ii ] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 69

Belv. Will you, Sir?

If ill. I know I've done some mischief, but I'm so dull
a Puppy, that I am the Son of a Whore, if I know how,
pr where — prithee inform my Understanding. —

Belv. Leave me I say, and leave me instantly.

Will. I will not leave you in this humour, nor till I
enow my Crime.

Belv. Death, I'll tell you, Sir—

[Draws and runs at Will, he runs out ; Belv.
after him^ Fred, interposes.

Enter Angelica, Moretta, and Sebastian.

Ang. Ha — Sebastian — Is not that Willmore ? haste, haste,
l.n d bring him back.

Fred. The Colonel's mad — I never saw him thus before;
I'll after 'em, lest he do some mischief, for I am sure
Willmore will not draw on him. [Exit.

Ang. I am all Rage ! my first desires defeated
l^or one, for ought he knows, that has no
l)ther Merit than her Quality, —
ller being Don Pedro's Sister — He loves her :
I know 'tis so — dull, dull, insensible —
lie will not see me now tho oft invited ;
jknd broke his Word last night — false perjur'd Man !

—He that but yesterday fought for my Favours,
I'ind would have made his Life a Sacrifice
"o've gain'd one Night with me,
I lust now be hired and courted to my Arms.
I Moret. I told you what wou'd come on't, but Moretta's
j i old doating Fool — Why did you give him five hundred
|!rowns, but to set himself out for other Lovers? You
'iiou'd have kept him poor, if you had meant to have had
ly good from him.
I Ang. Oh, name not such mean Trifles. — Had I given

him all
ly Youth has earn'd from Sin,

jo THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

I had not lost a Thought nor Sigh upon't.
But I have given him my eternal Rest,
My whole Repose, my future Joys, my Heart ;
My Virgin Heart. Moretta! oh 'tis gone!

Moret. Curse on him, here he comes ;
How fine she has made him too !

Enter Willmore and Sebast. Ang. turns and walks away.

Will. How now, turn'd Shadow?
Fly when I pursue, and follow when I fly !

Stay gentle Shadow of my Dove, [Sings.

And tell me ier I go,
Whether the Substance may not prove

A fleeting Thing like you.

There's a soft kind Look remaining yet.

\_As she turns she looks on him.

Ang. Well, Sir, you may be gay ; all Happiness, all Joys
pursue you still, Fortune's your Slave, and gives you every
hour choice of new Hearts and Beauties, till you are cloy'd
with the repeated Bliss, which others vainly languish for
— But know, false Man, that I shall be reveng'd.

[Turns away in a Rage.

Will. So, 'gad, there are of those faint-hearted Lovers,
whom such a sharp Lesson next their Hearts would make
as impotent as Fourscore — pox o' this whining — my
Bus'ness is to laugh and love — a pox on't ; I hate your sul
len Lover, a Man shall lose as much time to put you in
Humour now, as would serve to gain a new Woman.

Ang. I scorn to cool that Fire I cannot raise,
Or do the Drudgery of your virtuous Mistress.

Will. A virtuous Mistress ! Death, what a thing thou
hast found out for me ! why what the Devil should I do
with a virtuous Woman ? — a fort of ill-natur'd Creatures,
that take a Pride to torment a Lover. Virtue is but an
Infirmity in Women, a Disease that renders even the

sc. 11] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 71

handsom ungrateful; whilst the ill-favour'd, for want of
Solicitations and Address, only fancy themselves so. — I
have lain with a Woman of Quality, who has all the while
been railing at Whores.

Ang. I will not answer for your Mistress's Virtue,
jTho she be young enough to know no Guilt :
lAnd I could wish you would persuade my Heart,
'Twas the two hundred thousand Crowns you courted.

Will. Two hundred thousand Crowns ! what Story's
|:his? — what Trick? — what Woman? — ha.

Ang. How strange you make it ! have you forgot the
• Creature you entertain'd on the Piazza last night?

Will. Ha, my Gipsy worth two hundred thousand
i Drowns! — oh how I long to be with her — pox, I knew
I .he was of Quality. \_Aside.

Ang. False Man, I see my Ruin in thy Face.
now many vows you breath'd upon my Bosom,
Mever to be unjust — have you forgot so soon ?

Will. Faith no, I was just coming to repeat 'em — but
icre's a Humour indeed — would make a Man a Saint —
Vou'd she'd be angry enough to leave me, and command
jjne not to wait on her. [Aside.

Enter Hellena, drest in Man's Clothes.
Hell. This must be Angelica^ I know it by her mumping
latron here — Ay, ay, 'tis she : my mad Captain's with
icr too, for all his swearing — how this unconstant Humour
lakes me love him : — pray, good grave Gentlewoman, is
,ot this Angelica ?

Moret. My too young Sir, it is — I hope 'tis one from
)on Antonio. [Goes to Angelica.

He/1. Well, something I'll do to vex him for this. [Aside.
Ang. I will not speak with him ; am I in humour to
:eive a Lover?

Will. Not speak with him ! why I'll be gone — and
lit your idler minutes — Can I shew less Obedience to
le thing I love so fondly? \Qftn to go.

72 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

Ang. A fine Excuse this — stay —

Will. And hinder your Advantage : should I repay your
Bounties so ungratefully ?

Ang. Come hither, Boy, — that I may let you see
How much above the Advantages you name
I prize one Minute's Joy with you.

Will. Oh, you destroy me with this Endearment.

[Impatient to be gone.

— Death, how shall I get away? — Madam, 'twill not be
fit I should be seen with you — besides, it will not be con
venient — and I've a Friend — that's dangerously sick.

Ang. I see you're impatient — yet you shall stay.

Will. And miss my Assignation with my Gipsy.

[Aside, and walks about impatiently.

Hell. Madam, [Moretta brings Hellena, who addresses
You'l hardly pardon my Intrusion, (her self to Angelica.
When you shall know my Business;
And I'm too young to tell my Xale with Art :
But there must be a wondrous store of Goodness
Where so much Beauty dwells.

Ang. A pretty Advocate, whoever sent thee,
— Prithee proceed — Nay, Sir, you shall not go.

\_To Will, who is stealing off.

Will. Then shall I lose my dear Gipsy for ever.
— Pox on't, she stays me out of spite. [Aside.

Hell. I am related to a Lady, Madam,
Young, rich, and nobly born, but has the fate
To be in love with a young English Gentleman.
Strangely she loves him, at first sight she lov'd him,
But did adore him when she heard him speak;
For he, she said, had Charms in every word,
That fail'd not to surprize, to wound, and conquer —

Will. Ha, Egad I hope this concerns me. [Aside.

Ang. 'Tis my false Man, he means — wou'd he were

gone.
This Praise will raise his Pride and ruin me — Well,

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 73

Since you are so impatient to be gone,

I will release you, Sir. [To Will.

Will. Nay, then I'm sure 'twas me he spoke of, this
cannot be the Effects of Kindness in her. [Aside.

— No, Madam, I've consider'd better on't,
And will not give you cause of Jealousy.

Ang. But, Sir, I've — business, that —

Will. This shall not do, I know 'tis but to try me.

Ang. Well, to your Story, Boy, — tho 'twill undo me.

[Aside.

Hell. With this Addition to his other Beauties,
He won her unresisting tender Heart,
He vow'd and sigh'd, and swore he lov'd her dearly ;
And she believ'd the cunning Flatterer,
I And thought her self the happiest Maid alive :
To day was the appointed time by both,
!To consummate their Bliss;
The Virgin, Altar, and the Priest were drest,
And whilst she languisht for the expected Bridegroom,
She heard, he paid his broken Vows to you.

Will. So, this is some dear Rogue that's in love with me,

and this way lets me know it ; or if it be not me, she means

I some one whose place I may supply. [Aside.

Ang. Now I perceive

•The cause of thy Impatience to be gone,
! And all the business of this glorious Dress.

Will. Damn the young Prater, I know not what he
| means.

Hell. Madam,

|j [n your fair Eyes I read too much concern
To tell my farther Business.

Ang. Prithee, sweet Youth, talk on, thou may'st perhaps
Raise here a Storm that may undo my Passion,
!A.nd then I'll grant thee any thing.

Hell. Madam, 'tis to intreat you, (oh unreasonable !)
You wou'd not see this Stranger ;

74 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

For if you do, she vows you are undone,
Tho Nature never made a Man so excellent ;
And sure he'ad been a God, but for Inconstancy.

Will. Ah, Rogue, how finely he's instructed ! [Aside.
— 'Tis plain some Woman that has seen me en passant.

Ang. Oh, I shall burst with Jealousy ! do you know
the Man you speak of? —

Hell. Yes, Madam, he us'd to be in Buff and Scarlet.

Ang. Thou, false as Hell, what canst thou say to this?

[T* Will.

Will. By Heaven—

Ang. Hold, do not damn thy self —

Hell. Nor hope to be believ'd. [He walks about,

they follow.

Ang. Oh, perjur'd Man !
Is't thus you pay my generous Passion back ?

Hell. Why wou'd you, Sir, abuse my Lady's Faith ?

Ang. And use me so inhumanly ?

Hell. A Maid so young, so innocent —

Will. Ah, young Devil !

Ang. Dost thou not know thy Life is in my Power?

Hell. Or think my Lady cannot be reveng'd ?

Will. So, so, the Storm comes finely on. [Aside.

Ang. Now thou art silent, Guilt has struck thee dumb.
Oh, hadst thou still been so, I'd liv'd in safety.

[She turns away and weeps.

Will. Sweetheart, the Lady's Name and House —
quickly : I'm impatient to be with her. —
[Aside to Hellena, looks towards Angel, to watch her turn
ing, and as she comes towards them, he meets her.

Hell. So now is he for another Woman. [Aside.

Will. The impudent'st young thing in Nature !
I cannot persuade him out of his Error, Madam.

Ang. I know he's in the right, — yet thou'st a Tongue
That wou'd persuade him to deny his Faith. [In Rage

walks away.

BC. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 75

Will. Her Name, her Name, dear Boy — [Said soft/y to

Hell. Have you forgot it, Sir ? Hell.

Will. Oh, I perceive he's not to know I am a Stranger
to his Lady. [Aside.

— Yes, yes, I do know — but — I have forgot the —

[Angel, turns.
i — By Heaven, such early confidence I never saw.

Ang. Did I not charge you with this Mistress, Sir r
[Which you denied, tho I beheld your Perjury.
This little Generosity of thine has render'd back my Heart.

[Walks away.

Will. So, you have made sweet work here, my little

mischief;

j Look your Lady be kind and good-natur'd now, or
[ shall have but a cursed Bargain on't. [Ang. turns to-
— The Rogue's bred up to Mischief, wards them.

Art thou so great a Fool to credit him?

Ang. Yes, I do; and you in vain impose upon me.
— Come hither, Boy — Is not this he you speak of?

Hell. I think — it is ; I cannot swear, but I vow he has
| ust such another lying Lover's look.

[Hell, looks in his Face^ he gazes on her.

Will. Hah ! do not I know that Face ? —
;3y Heaven, my little Gipsy ! what a dull Dog was I?
rlad I but lookt that way, I'd known her.
Kre all my hopes of a new Woman banisht? [Aside.

—Egad, if I don't fit thee for this, hang me.
— Madam, I have found out the Plot.

Hell. Oh Lord, what does he say? am I discover'd now ?

Will. Do you see this young Spark here ?

Hell. He'll tell her who I am.

Will. Who do you think this is ?

Hell. Ay, ay, he does know me. — Nay, dear Captain,
'm undone if you discover me.

Will. Nay, nay, no cogging ; she shall know what a
•recious Mistress I have.

76 THE ROVER: OR, [ACT iv

Hell. Will you be such a Devil ?

Will. Nay, nay, I'll teach you to spoil sport you will
not make. — This small Ambassador comes not from a
Person of Quality, as you imagine, and he says ; but from
a very errant Gipsy, the talkingst, pratingst, cantingst little
Animal thou ever saw'st.

Ang. What news you tell me ! that's the thing I mean.

Hell. Wou'd I were well off the place. — If ever I go
a Captain-hunting again. — [Aside.

Will. Mean that thing ? that Gipsy thing ? thou may'st
as well be jealous of thy Monkey, or Parrot as her : a
German Motion were worth a dozen of her, and a Dream
were a better Enjoyment, a Creature of Constitution fitter
for Heaven than Man.

Hell. Tho I'm sure he lyes, yet this vexes me. [Aside.

Ang. You are mistaken, she's a Spanish Woman
Made up of no such dull Materials.

Will. Materials ! Egad, and she be made of any that
will either dispense, or admit of Love, I'll be bound to
continence.

Hell. Unreasonable Man, do you think so ?

[Aside to him.

Will. You may Return, my little Brazen Head, and tell
your Lady, that till she be handsom enough to be belov'd,
or I dull enough to be religious, there will be small hopes
of me.

Ang. Did you not promise then to marry her ?

Will. Not I, by Heaven.

Ang. You cannot undeceive my fears and torments,
till you have vow'd you will not marry her.

Hell. If he swears that, he'll be reveng'd on me indeed
for all my Rogueries.

Ang. I know what Arguments you'll bring against me,
Fortune and Honour.

Will. Honour ! I tell you, I hate it in your Sex ; and
those that fancy themselves possest of that Foppery, are

c. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 77

he most impertinently troublesom of all Woman-kind,
ind will transgress nine Commandments to keep one : and
o satisfy your Jealousy I swear —

Hell. Oh, no swearing, dear Captain — [Aside to him.

Will. If it were possible I should ever be inclin'd to
narry, it should be some kind young Sinner, one that has
jenerosity enough to give a favour handsomely to one that
•an ask it discreetly, one that has Wit enough to manage
,n Intrigue of Love — oh, how civil such a Wench is, to

Man than does her the Honour to marry her.

Ang. By Heaven, there's no Faith in any thing he says.

Enter Sebastian.

Sebast. Madam, Don Antonio —
Ang. Come hither.

Hell. Ha, Antonio! he may be coming hither, and he'll
ertainly discover me, I'll therefore retire without a Cere-
nony. [Exit Hellena.

Ang. I'll see him, get my Coach ready.
Sebast. It waits you, Madam.

Will. This is lucky : what, Madam, now I may be
one and leave you to the enjoyment of my Rival ?

Ang. Dull Man, that canst not see how ill, how poor
That false dissimulation looks — Be gone,
nd never let me see thy cozening Face again,
est I relapse and kill thee.

Will. Yes, you can spare me now, — farewell till you
in a better Humour — I'm glad of this release —
w for my Gipsy :
'or tho to worse we change, yet still we find
ew Joys, New Charms, in a new Miss that's kind.

[Ex. Will.

Ang. He's gone, and in this Ague of My Soul
e shivering Fit returns;
with what willing haste he took his leave,
if the long'd for Minute were arriv'd,

jS THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

Of some blest Assignation.

In vain I have consulted all my Charms,

In vain this Beauty priz'd, in vain believ'd

My eyes cou'd kindle any lasting Fires.

I had forgot my Name, my Infamy,

And the Reproach that Honour lays on those

That dare pretend a sober passion here.

Nice Reputation, tho it leave behind

More Virtues than inhabit where that dwells,

Yet that once gone, those virtues shine no more.

— Then since I am not fit to belov'd,

I am resolv'd to think on a Revenge

On him that sooth'd me thus to my undoing. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. A Street.

Enter Florinda and Valeria in Habits different from
what they have been seen in.

Flor. We're happily escap'd, yet I tremble still.

Val. A Lover and fear ! why, I am but half a one, and
yet I have Courage for any Attempt. Would Hellena
were here. I wou'd fain have had her as deep in this
Mischief as we, she'll fare but ill else I doubt.

Flor. She pretended a Visit to the Augustine Nuns, but
I believe some other design carried her out, pray Heavens
we light on her.

— Prithee what didst do with Callis?

Val. When I saw no Reason wou'd do good on her, I
follow'd her into the Wardrobe, and as she was looking
for something in a great Chest, I tumbled her in by the
Heels, snatcht the Key of the Apartment where you were
confin'd, lockt her in, and left her bauling for help.

Flor. 'Tis well you resolve to follow my Fortunes, for
thoudarest never appear at home again after such an Action.

Val. That's according as the young Stranger and I shall
agree — But to our business — I deliver'd your Letter, your

I ;c. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 79

iSfote to Belvile, when I got out under pretence of going
ro Mass, I found him at his Lodging, and believe me it
|:ame seasonably; for never was Man in so desperate a
Condition. I told him of your Resolution of making your
escape to day, if your Brother would be absent long enough
p permit you ; if not, die rather than be Antonio's.

Flor. Thou shou'dst have told him I was confin'd to my
Chamber upon my Brother's suspicion, that the Business
hn the Molo was a Plot laid between him and I.

VaL I said all this, and told him your Brother was now
rone to his Devotion, and he resolves to visit every Church
I ill he find him ; and not only undeceive him in that, but
aress him so as shall delay his return home.

Flor. Oh Heavens ! he's here, and Behile with him
30. [They put on their Vizards.

Enter Don Pedro, Belvile, Willmore ; Belvile and Don

Pedro seeming in serious Discourse.

\ VaL Walk boldly by them, I'll come at a distance, lest
e suspect us. [She walks by them, and looks back on them.
I Will. Ha ! A Woman ! and of an excellent Mien !i
, Ped. She throws a kind look back on you.

Will. Death, tis a likely Wench, and that kind look
jiall not be cast away — I'll follow her.
1 Beh. Prithee do not.

Will. Do not ! By Heavens to the Antipodes, with such
i Invitation. [She goes out, and Will, fallows her.

| Belv. 'Tis a mad Fellow for a Wench.

Enter Fred.

Fred. Oh Colonel, such News.
Belv. Prithee what ?

Fred. News that will make you laugh in spite of Fortune.
j Beh. What, Blunt has had some damn'd Trick put upon
im, cheated, bang'd, or clapt ?

Fred. Cheated, Sir, rarely cheated of all but his Shirt
id Drawers: the unconscionable Whore too turn'd him

8o THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT iv

out before Consummation, so that traversing the Streets
at Midnight, the Watch found him in this Fresco, and
conducted him home : By Heaven 'tis such a slight, and
yet I durst as well have been hang'd as laugh at him, or
pity him ; he beats all that do but ask him a Question,
and is in such an Humour —

Ped. Who is't has met with this ill usage, Sir?

Be/v. A Friend of ours, whom you must see for Mirth's
sake. I'll imploy him to give Florinda time for an escape.

[Aside.

Ped. Who is he ?

Be/v. A young Countryman of ours, one that has been
educated at so plentiful a rate, he yet ne'er knew the want
of Money, and 'twill be a great Jest to see how simply
he'll look without it. For my part I'll lend him none, and
the Rogue knows not how to put on a borrowing Face, and
ask first. I'll let him see how good 'tis to play our parts
whilst I play his — Prithee, Fred, do go home and keep him
in that posture till we come. [Exeunt.

Enter Florinda from the farther end of the Scene, looking
behind her.

Flor. I am follow'd still — hah — my Brother too advanc
ing this way, good Heavens defend me from being seen
by him. [She goes off.

Enter Willmore, and after him Valeria, at a little distance.
Will. Ah ! There she sails, she looks back as she were
willing to be boarded, I'll warrant her Prize.

[He goes out, Valeria following.

Enter Hellena, just as he goes out, with a Page.

Hell. Hah, is not that my Captain that has a Woman

in chase ? — 'tis not Angelica. Boy, follow those People

at a distance, and bring me an Account where they go in.

— I'll find his Haunts, and plague him every where. —

ha — my Brother ! [Exit Page.

[Bel. Wil. Ped. cross the Stage : Hell, runs off.

• sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 81

Scene changes to another Street. Enter Florinda.
Flor. What shall I do, my Brother now pursues me.
Will no kind Power protect me from his Tyranny?
— Hah, here's a Door open, I'll venture in, since nothing
Bean be worse than to fall into his Hands, my Life and

• Honour are at stake, and my Necessity has no choice.

[She goes in.

mEnter Valeria, and Hellena's Page peeping after Florinda.

Pag. Here she went in, I shall remember this House.

[Exit Boy.

Val. This is Bel-vile9 s Lodgings ; she's gone in as readily
as if she knew it — hah — here's that mad Fellow again, I
dare not venture in — I'll watch my Opportunity.

[Goes aside.

Enter Willmore, gazing about him.

Will. I have lost her hereabouts — Pox on't she must
not scape me so. [Goes out.

Scene changes to Blunt's Chamber, discovers him sitting
on a Couch in his Shirt and Drawers, reading.

Blunt. So, now my Mind's a little at Peace, since I
have resolv'd Revenge — A Pox on this Taylor tho, for
ot bringing home the Clothes I bespoke ; and a Pox of
11 poor Cavaliers, a Man can never keep a spare Suit for
em ; and I shall have these Rogues come in and find me
aked ; and then I'm undone ; but I'm resolv'd to arm my
:lf — the Rascals shall not insult over me too much.

[Puts on an old rusty Sword and Buff-Belt.
Now, how like a Morrice-Dancer I am equipt — a fine
Lady-like Whore to cheat me thus, without affording me
Kindness for my Money, a Pox light on her, I shall
ever be reconciled to the Sex more, she has made me as
ithless as a Physician, as uncharitable as a Churchman,
d as ill-natur'd as a Poet. O how I'll use all Women-
ind hereafter ! what wou'd I give to have one of 'em

I G

82 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT iv

within my reach now ! any Mortal thing in Petticoats,
kind Fortune, send me ; and I'll forgive thy last Night's
Malice — Here's a cursed Book too, (a Warning to all young
Travellers) that can instruct me how to prevent such
Mischiefs now 'tis too late. Well 'tis a rare convenient
thing to read a little now and then, as well as hawk and
hunt. [Sits down again and reads.

Enter to him Florinda.

Flor. This House is haunted sure, 'tis well furnisht and
no living thing inhabits it — hah — a Man ! Heavens how
he's attir'd ! sure 'tis some Rope-dancer, or Fencing-
Master ; I tremble now for fear, and yet I must venture
now to speak to him — Sir, if I may not interrupt your
Meditations — [He starts up and gazes.

Blunt. Hah — what's here ? Are my wishes granted ?
and is not that a she Creature ? Adsheartlikins 'tis ! what
wretched thing art thou — hah !

Flor. Charitable Sir, you've told your self already what
I am ; a very wretched Maid, forc'd by a strange unlucky
Accident, to seek a safety here, and must be ruin'd, if you
do not grant it.

Blunt. Ruin'd ! Is there any Ruin so inevitable as that
which now threatens thee ? Dost thou know, miserable
Woman, into what Den of Mischiefs thou art fall'n?
what a Bliss of Confusion ? — hah — dost not see something
in my looks that frights thy guilty Soul, and makes thee
wish to change that Shape of Woman for any humble
Animal, or Devil ? for those were safer for thee, and less
mischievous.

Flor. Alas, what mean you, Sir ? I must confess your
Looks have something in 'em makes me fear ; but I be
seech you, as you seem a Gentleman, pity a harmless
Virgin, that takes your House for Sanctuary.

Blunt. Talk on, talk on, and weep too, till my faith
return. Do, flatter me out of my Senses again — a harmless

Ij sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 83

i Virgin with' a Pox, as much one as t'other, adsheartlikins.

I Why, what the Devil can I not be safe in my House for you ?

i not in my Chamber? nay, even being naked too cannot

II secure me. This is an Impudence greater than has invaded

• me yet. — Come, no Resistance. \_Pulls her rudely.

Flor. Dare you be so cruel ?

Blunt. Cruel, adsheartlikins as a Gaily-slave, or a Spanish
[i Whore : Cruel, yes, I will kiss and beat thee all over ;
•| kiss, and see thee all over ; thou shalt lie with me too, not
•I that I care for the Injoyment, but to let you see I have
il ta'en deliberated Malice to thee, and will be revenged on
1 one Whore for the Sins of another ; I will smile and deceive
\: thee, flatter thee, and beat thee, kiss and swear, and lye to
I thee, imbrace thee and rob thee, as she did me, fawn on

III thee, and strip thee stark naked, then hang thee out at my
I Window by the Heels, with a Paper of scurvey Verses
Hi fasten'd to thy Breast, in praise of damnable Women —

• Come, come along.

Flor. Alas, Sir, must I be sacrific'd for the Crimes of
III the most infamous of my Sex ? I never understood the Sins
I you name.

Blunt. Do, persuade the Fool you love him, or that one

Bof you can be just or honest ; tell me I was not an easy

1*| Coxcomb, or any strange impossible Tale: it will be

Hfceliev'd sooner than thy false Showers or Protestations.

A Generation of damn'd Hypocrites, to flatter my very

Clothes from my back ! dissembling Witches ! are these

:hc Returns you make an honest Gentleman that trusts,

relieves, and loves you ? — But if I be not even with you

— Come along, or I shall — . [Pulls her again.

Enter Frederick.

Fred. Hah, what's here to do ?

Blunt. Adsheartlikins, Fred. I am glad thou art come,
: :o be a Witness of my dire Revenge.

Fred. What's this, a Person of Quality too, who is upon

84 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT iv

the Ramble to supply the Defects of some grave impotent
Husband ?

Blunt. No, this has another Pretence, some very un
fortunate Accident brought her hither, to save a Life pur
sued by I know not who, or why, and forc'd to take
Sanctuary here at Fools Haven. Adsheartlikins to me of
all Mankind for Protection ? Is the Ass to be cajol'd again,
think ye? No, young one, no Prayers or Tears shall
mitigate my Rage ; therefore prepare for both my Pleasure
of Enjoyment and Revenge, for I am resolved to make up
my Loss here on thy Body, I'll take it out in kindness and
in beating.

Fred. Now, Mistress of mine, what do you think of this?

Flor. I think he will not — dares not be so barbarous.

Fred. Have a care, Blunt, she fetch'd a deep Sigh, she
is inamour'd with thy Shirt and Drawers, she'll strip thee
even of that. There are of her Calling such unconscion
able Baggages, and such dexterous Thieves, they'll flea a
Man, and he shall ne'er miss his Skin, till he feels the Cold.
There was a Country-man of ours robb'd of a Row of
Teeth whilst he was sleeping, which the Jilt made him
buy again when he wak'd — You see, Lady, how little
Reason we have to trust you.

Blunt. 'Dsheartlikins, why, this is most abominable.

Flor. Some such Devils there may be, but by all that's holy
I am none such, I entered here to save a Life in danger.

Blunt. For no goodness I'll warrant her.

Fred. Faith, Damsel, you had e'en confess the plain
Truth, for we are Fellows not to be caught twice in the
same Trap : Look on that Wreck, a tight Vessel when he
set out of Haven, well trim'd and laden, and see how a
Female Piccaroon of this Island of Rogues has shatter'd

O

him, and canst thou hope for any Mercy ?

Blunt. No, no, Gentlewoman, come along, adsheart-
likins we must be better acquainted — we'll both lie with
her, and then let me alone to bang her.

sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 85

Fred. I am ready to serve you in matters of Revenge,
that has a double Pleasure in't.

Blunt. Well said. You hear, little one, how you are
condemn'd by publick Vote to the Bed within, there's no
resisting your Destiny, Sweetheart. \Pulh her.

Flor. Stay, Sir, I have seen you with Belvile, an English
Cavalier, for his sake use me kindly ; you know how, Sir.

Blunt. Belvile! why, yes, Sweeting, we do know Be /vile,
and wish he were with us now, he's a Cormorant at Whore
and Bacon, he'd have a Limb or two of thee, my Virgin
Pullet: but 'tis no matter, we'll leave him the Bones to pick.

Flor. Sir, if you have any Esteem for that Belvile^ I
conjure you to treat me with more Gentleness ; he'll thank
you for the Justice.

Fred. Hark ye, Blunt^ I doubt we are mistaken in this
i matter.

Flor. Sir, If you find me not worth Belvile's Care, use
me as you please; and that you may think I merit better
j treatment than you threaten — pray take this Present —
\_Gives him a Ring: He looks on it.

Blunt. Hum — A Diamond ! why, 'tis a wonderful
j Virtue now that lies in this Ring, a mollifying Virtue;
Udsheartlikins there's more persuasive Rhetorick in't, than
ill her Sex can utter.

Fred. I begin to suspect something ; and 'twou'd anger
\ as vilely to be truss'd up for a Rape upon a Maid of Quality,
when we only believe we ruffle a Harlot.

Blunt. Thou art a credulous Fellaw, but adsheartlikins

[ have no Faith yet ; why, my Saint prattled as parlously

is this does, she gave me a Bracelet too, a Devil on her :

i )ut I sent my Man to sell it to day for Necessaries, and

9 1 prov'd as counterfeit as her Vows of Love.

Fred. However let it reprieve her till we see Belvile.

Blunt. That's hard, yet I will grant it.
Enter a Servant.

Serv. Oh, Sir, the Colonel is just come with his new

86 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT v

Friend and a Spaniard of Quality, and talks of having you
to Dinner with 'em.

Blunt. 'Dsheardikins, I'm undone — I would not see
'em for the World : Harkye, Fred, lock up the Wench in
your Chamber.

Fred. Fear nothing, Madam, whate'er he threatens,
you're safe whilst in my Hands. [Ex. Fred, and Flor.

Blunt. And, Sirrah — upon your Life, say — I am not at
home — or that I am asleep — or — or any thing — away — I'll
prevent them coming this way. [Locks the Door and Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. Blunts Chamber.

After a great knocking as at his Chamber-door , enter B 1 unt softly,
crossing the Stage in his Shirt and Drawers, as before.

Ned, Ned Blunt, Ned Blunt. [Call within.

Blunt. The Rogues are up in Arms, 'dsheartlikins, this
villainous Frederick has betray'd me, they have heard of
my blessed Fortune.
Ned Blunt, Ned, Ned — [and knocking within.

Belv. Why, he's dead, Sir, without dispute dead, he has
not been seen to day ; let's break open the Door — here —
Boy—

Blunt. Ha, break open the Door ! 'dsheartlikins that
mad Fellow will be as good as his word.

Belv. Boy, bring something to force the Door.

\A great noise within at the Door again.

Blunt. So, now must I speak in my own Defence, I'll
try what Rhetorick will do — hold — hold, what do you
mean, Gentlemen, what do you mean ?

Belv. Oh Rogue, art alive ? prithee open the Door, and
convince us.

Blunt. Yes, I am alive, Gentlemen — but at present a
little busy.

I sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 87

Belv. How ! Blunt grown a man of Business ! come,
I come, open, and let's see this Miracle. [within.

Blunt. No, no, no, no, Gentlemen, 'tis no great Business
— but — I am — at — my Devotion, — 'dsheartlikins, will
you not allow a man time to pray ?

Belv. Turn'd religious ! a greater Wonder than the first,
therefore open quickly, or we shall unhinge, we shall.

[within.

Blunt. This won't do — Why, hark ye, Colonel ; to
tell you the plain Truth, I am about a necessary Affair of
Life. — I have a Wench with me — you apprehend me ? the
Devil's in't if they be so uncivil as to disturb me now.

Will. How, a Wench ! Nay, then we must enter and
partake ; no Resistance, — unless it be your Lady of
Quality, and then we'll keep our distance.

Blunt. So, the Business is out.

Will. Come, come, lend more hands to the Door, —
low heave altogether — so, well done, my Boys —

[Breaks open the Door.

£w/^rBelvile,Willmore, Fred. Pedro and Belvile's Page :
Blunt looks simply, they all laugh at him, he lays his hand
on his Sword, and comes up to Willmore.

Blunt. Hark ye, Sir, laugh out your laugh quickly, d'ye
iear, and be gone, I shall spoil your sport else ; 'dsheart-
ikins, Sir, I shall — the Jest has been carried on too long,

•a Plague upon my Taylor — [Aside.

ill. 'Sdeath, how the Whore has drest him ! Faith,
ir, I'm sorry.

Blunt. Are you so, Sir ? keep't to your self then, Sir,
advise you, d'ye hear? for I can as little endure your
ity as his Mirth. [Lays his Hand on's Sword.

Belv. Indeed, Willmore, thou wert a little too rough
m&NedB/unt'sMistress ; call a Person of Quality Whore,

id one so young, so handsome, and so eloquent ! — ha,
ia, ha.

88 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT v

Blunt. Hark ye, Sir, you know me, and know I can be
angry ; have a care — for 'dsheartlikins I can fight too — I
can, Sir, — do you mark me — no more.

Belv. Why so peevish, good Ned? some Disappoint
ments, I'll warrant — What ! did the jealous Count her
Husband return just in the nick ?

Blunt. Or the Devil, Sir, — d'ye laugh ? [They laugh.]
Look ye, settle me a good sober Countenance, and that
quickly too, or you shall know Ned Blunt is not —

Belv. Not every Body, we know that.

Blunt. Not an Ass, to be laught at, Sir.

Will. Unconscionable Sinner, to bring a Lover so near
his Happiness, a vigorous passionate Lover, and then not
only cheat him of his Moveables, but his Desires too.

Belv. Ah, Sir, a Mistress is a Trifle with Blunt^ he'll
have a dozen the next time he looks abroad; his Eyes
have Charms not to be resisted : There needs no more
than to expose that taking Person to the view of the Fair,
and he leads 'em all in Triumph.

Fed. Sir, tho I'm a stranger to you, I'm ashamed at the
rudeness of my Nation ; and could you learn who did it,
would assist you to make an Example of 'em.

Blunt. Why, ay, there's one speaks sense now, and
handsomly ; and let me tell you Gentlemen, I should not
have shew'd my self like a Jack-Pudding, thus to have
made you Mirth, but that I have revenge within my power ;
for know, I have got into my possession a Female, who
had better have fallen under any Curse, than the Ruin I
design her : 'dsheartlikins, she assaulted me here in my own
Lodgings, and had doubtless committed a Rape upon me,
had not this Sword defended me.

Fred. I knew not that, but o' my Conscience thou hadst
ravisht her, had she not redeem'd her self with a Ring
let's see't, Blunt. [Blunt shews the Ring.

Beh. Hah ! — the Ring I gave Florinda when we ex-
chang'd our Vows ! — hark ye, Blunt —

[Goes to whisper to him.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 89

Will. No whispering, good Colonel, there's a Woman
in the case, no whispering.

Beh. Hark ye, Fool, be advis'd, and conceal both the
Ring and the Story, for your Reputation's sake ; don't let
People know what despis'd Cullies we English are : to be
cheated and abus'd by one Whore, and another rather bribe
thee than be kind to thee, is an Infamy to our Nation.

Will. Come, come, where's the Wench ? we'll see her,
let her be what she will, we'll see her.

Ped. Ay, ay, let us see her, I can soon discover whether
she be of Quality, or for your Diversion.

Blunt. She's in Fred's Custody.

Will. Come, come, the Key.

\To Fred, who gives him the Key, they are going.

Belv. Death ! what shall I do ? — stay, Gentlemen — yet
if I hinder 'em, I shall discover all — hold, let's go one at
once — give me the Key.

Will. Nay, hold there, Colonel, I'll go first.

Fred. Nay, no Dispute, Ned and I have the property
of her.

Will. Damn Property — then we'll draw Cuts.

[Belv. goes to whisper Will.

Nay, no Corruption, good Colonel : come, the longest

Sword carries her. — [ They all draw, forgetting Don

Pedro, being a Spaniard, had the longest.

Blunt. I yield up my Interest to you Gentlemen, and
that will be Revenge sufficient.

Will. The Wench is yours — (To Ped.) Pox of his
Toledo, I had forgot that.

Fred. Come, Sir, I'll conduct you to the Lady.

[Ex. Fred, and Ped.

Belv. To hinder him will certainly discover — \Aslde .]
Dost know, dull Beast, what Mischief thou hast done ?
[Will, walking up and down out of Humour.

Will. Ay, ay, to trust our Fortune to Lots, a Devil on't,
'twas madness, that's the Truth on't.

90 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT v

Belv. Oh intolerable Sot !

Enter Florinda, running masqud, Pedro after hery Will.
gazing round her.

Flor. Good Heaven, defend me from discovery. [Aside.

Pedro. 'Tis but in vain to fly me, you are fallen to my
Lot.

Beh. Sure she is undiscover'd yet, but now I fear there
is no way -to bring her off.

Will. Why, what a Pox is not this my Woman, the
same I follow'd but now ?

[Ped. talking to Florinda, who walks up and down.

Fed. As if I did not know ye, and your Business here.

Flor. Good Heaven ! I fear he does indeed — [Aside.

Ped. Come, pray be kind, I know you meant to be so
when you enter'd here, for these are proper Gentlemen.

Will. But, Sir — perhaps the Lady will not be impos'd
upon, she'll chuse her Man.

Ped. I am better bred, than not to leave her Choice free.

Enter Valeria, and is surpriz'd at the Sight of Don Pedro.

Val. Don Pedro here ! there's no avoiding him. [Aside.

Flor. Valerial then I'm undone — [Aside.

Val. Oh ! have I found you, Sir —

[To Pedro, running to him.
— The strangest Accident — if I had breath — to tell it.

Ped. Speak — is Florinda safe ? Hellena well ?

Val. Ay, ay, Sir — Florinda — is safe — from any fears of
you.

Ped. Why, where's Florinda ? — speak.

Val. Ay, where indeed, Sir ? I wish I could inform you,
— But to hold you no longer in doubt —

Flor. Oh, what will she say ! [Aside.

Val. She's fled away in the Habit of one of her Pages,
Sir — but Callis thinks you may retrieve her yet, if you
make haste away ; she'll tell you, Sir, the rest — if you
can find her out. [Aside.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 91

Fed. Dishonourable Girl, she has undone my Aim —
Sir — you see my necessity of leaving you, and I hope you'll
pardon it : my Sister, I know, will make her flight to you ;
and if she do, I shall expect she should be render'd back.

Belv. I shall consult my Love and Honour, Sir.

[Ex. Fed.

Flor. My dear Preserver, let me imbrace thee. [To Val.

Will. What the Devil's all this ?

Blunt. Mystery by this Light.

Val. Come, come, make haste and get your selves
| married quickly, for your Brother will return again.

Belv. I am so surpriz'd with Fears and Joys, so amaz'd
to find you here in safety, I can scarce persuade my Heart
into a Faith of what I see —

Will. Harkye, Colonel, is this that Mistress who has cost
you so many Sighs, and me so many Quarrels with you?

Belv. It is — Pray give him the Honour of your Hand.

[7* Flor.

Will. Thus it must be receiv'd then.

[Kneels and kisses her Hand.
j And with it give your Pardon too.

Flor. The Friend to Be/vile may command me any thing.

Will. Death, wou'd I might, 'tis a surprizing Beauty.

[Aside.

Belv. Boy, run and fetch a Father instantly. [Ex. Boy.

Fred. So, now do I stand like a Dog, and have not a

\ Syllable to plead my own Cause with: by this Hand,

I Madam, I was never thorowly confounded before, nor

shall I ever more dare look up with Confidence, till you

are pleased to pardon me.

Flor. Sir, I'll be reconcil'd to you on one Condition,
that you'll follow the Example of your Friend, in marrying
:a Maid that does not hate you, 'and whose Fortune (I
I believe) will not be unwelcome to you.

Fred. Madam, had I no Inclinations that way, I shou'd
obey your kind Commands.

92 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT v

Belv. Who, Fred, marry ; he has so few Inclinations
for Womankind, that had he been possest of Paradise, he
might have continu'd there to this Day, if no Crime but
Love cou'd have disinherited him.

Fred. Oh, I do not use to boast of my Intrigues.

Belv. Boast ! why thou do'st nothing but boast ; and I
dare swear, wer't thou as innocent from the Sin of the
Grape, as thou art from the Apple, thou might'st yet claim
that right in Eden which our first Parents lost by too much
loving.

Fred. I wish this Lady would think me so modest a Man.

Vol. She shou'd be sorry then, and not like you half so
well, and I shou'd be loth to break my Word with you;
which was, That if your Friend and mine are agreed, it
shou'd be a Match between you and I.

[She gives him her Hand.

Fred. Bear witness, Colonel, 'tis a Bargain.

[Kisses her Hand.

Blunt. I have a Pardon to beg too ; but adsheartlikins
I am so out of Countenance, that I am a Dog if I can say
any thing to purpose. [To Florinda.

Flor. Sir, I heartily forgive you all.

Blunt. That's nobly said, sweet Lady — Belvile, prithee
present her her Ring again, for I find I have not Courage
to approach her my self.

[Gives him the -Ring, he gives it to Florinda.

Enter Boy.

Boy. Sir, I have brought the Father that you sent for.

Belv. 'Tis well, and now my dear Florinda^ let's fly to
compleat that mighty Joy we have so long wish'd and
sigh'd for. — Come, Fred, you'll follow ?

Fred. Your Example, Sir, 'twas ever my Ambition in
War, and must be so in Love.

Will. And must not I see this juggling Knot ty'd ?

Belv. No, thou shalt do us better Service, and be our

he. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 93

(Guard, lest Don Pedro's sudden Return interrupt the
[Ceremony.

Will. Content ; I'll secure this Pass.

[Ex. Bel. Flor. Fred, and Val.

Enter Boy.

Boy. Sir, there's a Lady without wou'd speak to you.

[To Will.

WilL Conduct her in, I dare not quit my Post.
Boy. And, Sir, your Taylor waits you in your Chamber.
Blunt. Some comfort yet, I shall not dance naked at the
I Wedding. [Ex. Blunt and Boy.

\Enter again the Boy, conducting in Angelica in a masquing
Habit and a Vizard, Will, runs to her.

Will. This can be none but my pretty Gipsy — Oh, I
I.ee you can follow as well as fly — Come, confess thy self
•, he most malicious Devil in Nature, you think you have
Hlone my Bus'ness with Angelica —

Ang. Stand off, base Villain — [She draws a Pistol

and holds to his Breast.

Will. Hah, 'tis not she : who art thou ? and what's thy
Business r

Ang. One thou hast injur'd, and who comes to kill thee
Ibr't.

Will. What the Devil canst thou mean?
Ang. By all my Hopes to kill thee —

[Holds still the Pistol to his Breast, he

going back, she following still.

Will. Prithee on what Acquaintance ? for I know thee
lot.

Ang. Behold this Face ! — so lost to thy Remembrance !
l\nd then call all thy Sins about thy Soul, [Pulls off" her
I \nd let them die with thee. Vizard.

Will. Angelica]
Ang. Yes, Traitor.
Does not thy guilty Blood run shivering thro thy Veins ?

94 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT v

Hast thou no Horrour at this Sight, that tells thee,
Thou hast not long to boast thy shameful Conquest ?

Will. Faith, no Child, my Blood keeps its old Ebbs and
Flows still, and that usual Heat top, that cou'd oblige thee
with a Kindness, had I but opportunity.

Ang. Devil ! dost wanton with my Pain — have at thy
Heart.

Will. Hold, dear Virago ! hold thy Hand a little,
I am not now at leisure to be kill'd — hold and hear me —
Death, I think she's in earnest. [Aside.

Ang. Oh if I take not heed,
My coward Heart will leave me to his Mercy.

\_Aside, turning from him.

— What have you, Sir, to say? — but should I hear thee,
Thoud'st talk away all that is brave about me :

[Follows him with the Pistol to his Breast.
And I have vow'd thy Death, by all that's sacred.

Will. Why, then there's an end of a proper handsom
Fellow, that might have liv'd to have done good Service
yet : — That's all I can say to't.

Ang. Yet — I wou'd give thee — time for Penitence.

[ Pausingly.

Will. Faith, Child, I thank God, I have ever took care
to lead a good, sober, hopeful Life, and am of a Religion
that teaches me to believe, I shall depart in Peace.

Ang. So will the Devil : tell me
How many poor believing Fools thou hast undone ;
How many Hearts thou hast betray 'd to ruin !
— Yet these are little Mischiefs to the Ills
Thou'st taught mine to commit : thou'st taught it Love.

Will. Egad, 'twas shreudly hurt the while.

Ang. — Love, that has robb'd it of its Unconcern,
Of all that Pride that taught me how to value it,
And in its room a mean submissive Passion was convey 'd,
That made me humbly bow, which I ne'er did
To any thing but Heaven.

;c. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 95

—Thou, perjur'd Man, didst this, and with thy Oaths,
IvVhich on thy Knees thou didst devoutly make,
Eoften'd my yielding Heart — And then, I was a Slave —
lyet still had been content to've worn my Chains,
KVorn 'em with Vanity and'Joy for ever,
Hadst thou not broke those Vows that put them on.
-'Twas then I was undone.

\_All this while follows him with a Pistol to his Breast.
Will. Broke my Vows ! why, where hast thou lived ?
\mongst the Gods ! For I never heard of mortal Man,
That has not broke a thousand Vows.
Ang. Oh, Impudence !

Will. Angelical that Beauty has been too long tempting,
ot to have made a thousand Lovers languish,
/Vho in the amorous Favour, no doubt have sworn
Jke me; did they all die in that Faith ? still adoring?
do not think they did.

Ang. No, faithless Man : had I repaid their Vows, as
did thine, I wou'd have kill'd the ungrateful that had
bandon'd me.

Will. This old General has quite spoil'd thee, nothing
nakes a Woman so vain, as being flatter'd ; your old Lover
ver supplies the Defects of Age, with intolerable Dotage,
ast Charge, and that which you call Constancy ; and
ttributing all this to your own Merits, you domineer, and
tirow your Favours in's Teeth, upbraiding him still with
he Defects of Age, and cuckold him as often as he deceives
our Expectations. But the gay, young, brisk Lover, that
rings his equal Fires, and can give you Dart for Dart,
e'll be as nice as you sometimes.
Ang. All this thou'st made me know, for which I hate

thee.

lad I remain'd in innocent Security,
shou'd have thought all Men were born my Slaves ;
ind worn my Pow'r like Lightning in my Eyes,
."o have destroy 'd at Pleasure when offended.

96 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT v

— But when Love held the Mirror, the undeceiving Glas

Reflected all the Weaknessof my Soul, and made me know

My richest Treasure being lost, my Honour,

All the remaining Spoil cou'd not be worth

The Conqueror's Care or Value.

— Oh how I fell like a long worship'd Idol,

Discovering all the Cheat !

Wou'd not the Incense and rich Sacrifice,

Which blind Devotion offer'd at my Altars,

Have fall'n to thee?

Why woud'st thou then destroy my fancy'd Power?

Will. By Heaven thou art brave, and I admire thet

strangely.

I wish I were that dull, that constant thing,
Which thou woud'st have, and Nature never meant me
I must, like chearful Birds, sing in all Groves,
And perch on every Bough,
Billing the next kind She that flies to meet me ;
Yet after all cou'd build my Nest with thee,
Thither repairing when I'd lov'd my round,
And still reserve a tributary Flame.
— To gain your Credit, I'll pay you back your Charity,
And be oblig'd for nothing but for Love.

[Offers her a Purse of Gold

Ang. Oh that thou wert in earnest !
So mean a Thought of me,

Wou'd turn my Rage to Scorn, and I shou'd pity thee,
And give thee leave to live ;
Which for the publick Safety of our Sex,
And my own private Injuries, I dare not do.
Prepare — [Follows sti//, as before

— I will no more be tempted with Replies.

Will Sure—

Ang. Another Word will damn thee ! I've heard the

talk too long. [She follows him with a Pistol read

to shoot : he retires still amazd.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 97

Enter Don Antonio, his Arm in a Scarf, and lays hold
on the Pistol.

Ant. Hah ! Angelica !

Ang. Antonio! What Devil brought thee hither?

Ant. Love and Curiosity, seeing your Coach at Door.
Let me disarm you of this unbecoming Instrument of
Death. — [Takes away the Pistol.

Amongst the Number of your Slaves, was there not one
worthy the Honour to have fought your Quarrel ?
— Who are you, Sir, that are so very wretched
To merit Death from her?

Will. One, Sir, that cou'd have made a better End of
in amorous Quarrel without you, than with you.

Ant. Sure 'tis some Rival — hah — the very Man took
lown her Picture yesterday — the very same that set on me
last night — Blest opportunity — {Offers to shoot him.

Ang. Hold, you're mistaken, Sir.

Ant. By Heaven the very same !
— Sir, what pretensions have you to this Lady ?

Will. Sir, I don't use to be examin'd, and am ill at all
Disputes but this — [Draws, Anton, offers to shoot.

Ang. Oh, hold ! you see he's arm'd with certain Death :

[To Will.
— And you, Antonio, I command you hold,

By all the Passion you've so lately vow'd me.

Enter Don Pedro, sees Antonio, and stays.
Ped. Hah, Antonio! and Angelica! [Aside.

Ant. When I refuse Obedience to your Will,
May you destroy me with your mortal Hate.
By all that's Holy I adore you so,
That even my Rival, who has Charms enough
To make him fall a Victim to my Jealousy,
Shall live, nay, and have leave to love on still.

Ped. What's this I hear ? [Aside.

Ang. Ah thus, 'twas thus he talk'd, and I believ'd.

[Pointing to Will.
I H

98 THE ROVER ; OR, [ACT v

— Antonio, yesterday,

I'd not have sold my Interest in his Heart,
For all the Sword has won and lost in Battle.
— But now to show my utmost of Contempt,
I give thee Life — which if thou would'st preserve,
Live where my Eyes may never see thee more,
Live to undo some one, whose Soul may prove
So bravely constant to revenge my Love.

[Goes out, Ant. follows, but Fed. pulls him back.

Ped. Antonio — stay.

Ant. Don Pedro —

Ped. What Coward Fear was that prevented thee
From meeting me this Morning on the Molo ?

Ant. Meet thee ?

Ped. Yes me ; I was the Man that dar'd thee to't.

Ant. Hast thou so often seen me fight in War,
To find no better Cause to excuse my Absence ?
— I sent my Sword and one to do thee Right,
Finding my self uncapable to use a Sword.

Ped. But 'twas Florinda's Quarrel that we fought,
And you to shew how little you esteem'd her,
Sent me your Rival, giving him your Interest.
— But I have found the Cause of this Affront,
But when I meet you fit for the Dispute,
— I'll tell you my Resentment.

Ant. I shall be ready, Sir, e'er long to do you Reason.

[Exit Ant.

Ped. If I cou'd find Florinda, now whilst my Anger's
high, I think I shou'd be kind, and give her to Belvile in
Revenge.

Will. Faith, Sir, I know not what you wou'd do, but
I believe the Priest within has been so kind.

Ped. How ! my Sister married ?

Will. I hope by this time she is, and bedded too, or he
has not my longings about him.

Ped. Dares he do thus? Does he not fear my Pow'r?

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 99

Will. Faith not at all. If you will go in, and thank him
for the Favour he has done your Sister, so ; if not, Sir, my
Power's greater in this House than yours ; I have a damn'd
surly Crew here, that will keep you till the next Tide, and
then clap you an board my Prize ; my Ship lies but a League
off the Molo^ and we shall show your Donship a damn'd
Tramontana Rover's Trick.

Enter Belvile.

Belv. This Rogue's in some new Mischief — hah, Pedro
return'd !

Ped. Colonel Be/vi/e, I hear you have married my Sister.
' Belv. You have heard truth then, Sir.
R Ped. Have I so ? then, Sir, I wish you Joy.
< Belv. How !

Ped. By this Embrace I do, and I glad on't.

Belv. Are you in earnest ?

Ped. By our long Friendship and my Obligations to thee,

I am. The sudden Change I'll give you Reasons for anon.

Come lead me into my Sister, that she may know I now

approve her Choice. [Exit Bel. with Ped.

[Will, goes to follow them. Enter Hellena as before

in Boy's Clothes, and pulls him back.

Will. Ha ! my Gipsy — Now a thousand Blessings on
thee for this Kindness. Egad, Child, I was e'en in despair
of ever seeing thee again ; my Friends are all provided for
within, each Man his kind Woman.

Hell. Hah ! I thought they had serv'd me some such Trick.

Will. And I was e'en resolv'd to go aboard, condemn
my self to my lone Cabin, and the Thoughts of thee.

Hell. And cou'd you have left me behind ? wou'd you
have been so ill-natur'd ?

Will. Why, 'twou'd have broke my Heart, Child — but
since we are met again, I defy foul Weather to part us.

Hell. And wou'd you be a faithful Friend now, if a Maid
shou'd trust you ?

ioo THE ROVER; OR, [ACT v

Will. For a Friend I cannot promise, thou art of a Form
so excellent, a Face and Humour too good for cold dull
Friendship ; I am parlously afraid of being in love, Child,
and you have not forgot how severely you have us'd me.

Hell. That's all one, such Usage you must still look for,
to find out all your Haunts, to rail at you to all that love
you, till I have made you love only me in your own De
fence, because no body else will love.

Will. But hast thou no better Quality to recommend
thy self by ?

Hell. Faith none, Captain — Why, 'twill be the greaterJ
Charity to take me for thy Mistress, I am a lone Child, a
kind of Orphan Lover ; and why I shou'd die a Maid, and
in a Captain's Hands too, I do not understand.

Will. Egad, I was never claw'd away with Broad-SideH
from any Female before, thou hast one Virtue I adore, good*
Nature ; I hate a coy demure Mistress, she's as troublesomV
as a Colt, I'll break none ; no, give me a mad Mistress when:
mew'd, and in flying on[e] I dare trust upon the Wing,
that whilst she's kind will come to the Lure.

Hell. Nay, as kind as you will, good Captain, whilst it
lasts, but let's lose no time.

Will.. My time's as precious to me, as thine can be ;
therefore, dear Creature, since we are so well agreed, let's
retire to my Chamber, and if ever thou were treated with
such savory Love — Come — My Bed's prepar'd for such a
Guest, all clean and sweet as thy fair self; I love to steal a
Dish and a Bottle with a Friend, and hate long Graces —
Come, let's retire and fall to.

Hell. 'Tis but getting my Consent, and the Business is
soon done ; let but old Gaffer Hymen and his Priest say
Amen to't, and I dare lay my Mother's Daughter by as pro
per a Fellow as your Father's Son, without fear or blushing.

Will. Hold, hold, no Bugg Words, Child, Priest and
Hymen : prithee add Hangman to 'em to make up the
Consort — No, no, we'll have no Vows but Love, Child,

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 101

nor Witness but the Lover ; the kind Diety injoins naught
but love and enjoy. Hymen and Priest wait still upon
Portion, and Joynture ; Love and Beauty have their own
Ceremonies. Marriage is as certain a Bane to Love, as
lending Money is to Friendship : I'll neither ask nor give
a Vow, tho I could be content to turn Gipsy, and become
a Left-hand Bridegroom, to have the Pleasure of working
that great Miracle of making a Maid a Mother, if you durst
venture ; 'tis upse Gipsy that, and if I miss, I'll lose my
Labour.

Hell. And if you do not lose, what shall I get ? A Cradle
full of Noise and Mischief, with a Pack of Repentance at
my Back? Can you teach me to weave Incle to pass my
time with ? 'Tis upse Gipsy that too.

Will. I can teach thee to weave a true Love's Knot
better.

Hell. So can my Dog.

Will. Well, I see we are both upon our Guard, and I
see there's no way to conquer good Nature, but by yielding
— here — give me thy Hand — one Kiss and I am thine —

Hell. One Kiss ! How like my Page he speaks ; I am
resolv'd you shall have none, for asking such a sneaking
Sum — He that will be satisfied with one Kiss, will never
die of that Longing ; good Friend single-Kiss, is all your
talking come to this ? A Kiss, a Caudle ! farewel, Captain
single-Kiss. [Going out he stays her.

Will. Nay, if we part so, let me die like a Bird upon a
Bough, at the Sheriff's Charge. By Heaven, both the Indies
shall not buy thee from me. I adore thy Humour and will
marry thee, and we are so of one Humour, it must be a
Bargain — give me thy Hand — [Kisses her hand.

And now let the blind ones (Love and Fortune) do their
worst.

Hell. Why, God-a-mercy, Captain !

Will. But harkye — The Bargain is now made ; but is
it not fit we should know each other's Names ? That when

io2 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT v

we have Reason to curse one another hereafter, and People
ask me who 'tis I give to the Devil, I may at least be able
to tell what Family you came of.

Hell. Good reason, Captain ; and where I have cause,
(as I doubt not but I shall have plentiful) that I may know at
whom to throw my — Blessings — I beseech ye your Name.

Will. I am call'd Robert the Constant.

Hell. A very fine Name ! pray was it your Faulkner or
Butler that christen'd you? Do they not use to whistle
when then call you ?

Will. I hope you have a better, that a Man may name
without crossing himself, you are so merry with mine.

Hell. I am call'd Hellena the Inconstant.

Enter Pedro, Belvile, Florinda, Fred. Valeria.

Ped. Hah! Hellena!

Flor. Hellena!

Hell. The very same — hah my Brother ! now, Captain,
shew your Love and Courage ; stand to your Arms, and
defend me bravely, or I am lost for ever.

Ped. What's this I hear? false Girl, how came yovn
hither, and what's your Business? Speak.

[Goes roughly to her.

Will. Hold off, Sir, you have leave to parly only.

[Puts himself between.

Hell. I had e'en as good tell it, as you guess it. Faith,
Brother, my Business is the same with all living Creatures
of my Age, to love, and be loved, and here's the Man.

Ped. Perfidious Maid, hast thou deceiv'd me too, deceiv'd
thy self and Heaven ?

Hell. 'Tis time enough to make my Peace with that :
Be yo'u but kind, let me alone with Heaven.

Ped. Belvile, I did not expect this false Play from you ;
was't not enough you'd gain Florinda (which I pardon'd)
but your leud Friends too must be inrich'd with the Spoils
of a noble Family ?

sc. i] THE BANISHED CAVALIERS 103

Belv. Faith, Sir, I am as much surpriz'd at this as you
can be : Yet, Sir, my Friends are Gentlemen, and ought
to be esteem'd for their Misfortunes, since they have the
Glory to suffer with the best of Men and Kings ; 'tis true,
he's a Rover of Fortune, yet a Prince aboard his little
wooden World.

Ped. What's this to the maintenance of a Woman or
her Birth and Quality ?

Will. Faith, Sir, I can boast of nothing but a Sword
which does me Right where-e'er I come, and has defended
a worse Cause than a Woman's : and since I lov'd her before
I either knew her Birth or Name, I must pursue my
Resolution, and marry her.

Ped. And is all your holy Intent of becoming a Nun
debauch'd into a Desire of Man ?

Hell. Why — I have consider'd the matter, Brother, and
find the Three hundred thousand Crowns my Uncle left
me (and you cannot keep from me) will be better laid out
in Love than in Religion, and turn to as good an Account
— let most Voices carry it, for Heaven or the Captain ?

All cry, a Captain, a Captain.

Hell. Look ye, Sir, 'tis a clear Case.

Ped. Oh I am mad — if I refuse, my Life's in Danger —

[Aside.

— Come — There's one motive induces me — take her — I
shall now be free from the fear of her Honour ; guard it
you now, if you can, I have been a Slave to't long enough.

[Gives her to him.

Will. Faith, Sir, I am of a Nation, that are of opinion
a Woman's Honour is not worth guarding when she has
a mind to part with it.

Hell. Well said, Captain.

Ped. This was your Plot, Mistress, but I hope you have
married one that will revenge my Quarrel to you —

\To Valeria.

Val. There's no altering Destiny, Sir.

IO4 THE ROVER; OR, [ACT v

Ped. Sooner than a Woman's Will, therefore I forgive
you all — and wish you may get my Father's Pardon as
easily ; which I fear.

Enter Blunt drest in a Spanish Habit, looking very
ridiculously ; his Man adjusting his Band.

Man. 'Tis very well, Sir.

Blunt. Well, Sir, 'dsheartlikins I tell you 'tis damnable
ill, Sir — a Spanish Habit, good Lord ! cou'd the Devil and
my Taylor devise no other Punishment for me, but the
Mode of a Nation I abominate ?

Belv. What's the matter, Ned?

Blunt. Pray view me round, and judge — [Turns round.

Belv. I must confess thou art a kind of an odd Figure.

Blunt. In a Spanish Habit with a Vengeance ! I had
rather be in the Inquisition for Judaism, than in this Doublet
and Breeches ; a Pillory were an easy Collar to this, three
Handfuls high ; and these Shoes too are worse than the
Stocks, with the Sole an Inch shorter than my Foot : In
fine, Gentlemen, methinks I look altogether like a Bag of
Bays stuff'd full of Fools Flesh.

Belv. Methinks 'tis well, and makes thee look en Cavalier:
Come, Sir, settle your Face, and salute our Friends, Lady —

Blunt. Hah ! Say'st thou so, my little Rover ? [To Hell.
Lady — (if you be one) give me leave to kiss your Hand,
and tell you, adsheartlikins, for all I look so, I am your
humble Servant — A Pox of my Spanish Habit.

Will. Hark — what's this ? [Mustek is heard to Play.
Enter Boy.

Boy. Sir, as the Custom is, the gay People in Masquerade,
who make every Man's House their own, are coming up.
Enter several Men and Women in masquing Habits, with
Musick, they put themselves in order and dance.

Blunt. Adsheartlikins, wou'd 'twere lawful to pull off
their false Faces, that I might see if my Doxy were not
amongst 'em.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIE^ B 105

Belv. Ladies and Gentlemen, since you -ire come so

a propos, you must take a small Collation wit'i us.

[Ti'.t/x Masquers.
Will. Whilst we'll to the Good Man within, wh0\ stays

to give us a Cast of his Office. [To. Hell.

— Have you no trembling at the near approach?

Hell. No more than you have in an Engagement or a

Tempest.

Will. Egad, thou'rt a brave Girl, and I admire t"iy Love

and Courage.

Lead on, no other Dangers they can dread, *j
Who venture in the Storms o'th' Marriage-]' •

[Exeunt;

EPILOGUE.

THE banisht Cavaliers! a Roving Blade!

A popish Carnival! a Masquerade !

The Devil's in*t if this will please the Nation,

In these our blessed Times of Reformation,

When Conventicling is so much in Fashion. )

And yet —

That mutinous Tribe less Factions do beget,

Than your continual differing in Wit ;

Tour Judgment's (as your Passions) a Disease : \

Nor Muse nor Miss your Appetite can please ;

You re grown as nice as queasy Consciences, )

Whose each Convulsion, when the Spirit moves,

Damns every thing that Maggot disapproves.

With canting Rule you wou'd the Stage refine,
And to dull Method all our Sense confine.
With th"1 Insolence of Common-wealths you rule, \

Where each gay Fop, and politick brave Fool
On Monarch Wit impose without controul. )

As for the last who seldom sees a Play,
Unless it be the old Black-Fryers way,

1 06 EPILOGUE

Shaking, his empty Noddle o'er Bamboo,

He r"y, — (j';-j ' I' tilth, these Plays will never do.

— Ah, <SVr, in my young days, what lofty Wit,

hat high-st'raind Scenes of Fighting there were writ:
c't en ' slight airy Toys. But tell me, pray,
hat' fas the House of Commons done to day?
en shews his Politicks, to let you see \

State Affairs he'll judge as notably,
he can do of Wit and Poetry.
H The younger Sparks, who hither do resort,
Cry —

Pox -a your gentle things, give us more Sport $
—Damn me, Pm sure "'twill never please the Court.

•Such Fops are never pleased, unless the Play
Be stuff' d with Fools, as brisk and dull as they :
Stich might the Half-Crown spare, and in a Glass
tt home behold a more accomplisht Ass,
Vhere they may set their Cravats, Wigs and Faces,
And practice all their Buffoonry Grimaces ;
See how this — Huff becomes — this Dammy — -flare —
Which they at home may act, because they dare,
But — must with prudent Caution do elsewhere.
Oh that our Nokes, or Xony Lee could show
A Fop but half so much to th1 Life as you.

POST-SCRIPT.

THIS Play had been sooner in Print, but for a Report about the
Town (made by some either very Malitious or very Ignorant)
that "'twas Thomaso altered ; which made the Book-sellers fear
some trouble from the Proprietor of that Admirable Play, which
indeed has Wit enough to stock a Poet, and is not to be piec't or
mended by any but the Excellent Author himself; That I have
stolen some hints from it may be a proof, that I valued it more
than to pretend to alter it : had I had the Dexterity of some
Poets who are not more expert in stealing than in the Art of
Concealing, and who even that way out-do the Spartan-.50jw /
might have appropriated all to myself, but I, vainly proud of
my Judgment hang out the Sign of ANGELICA (the only Stolen
Object) to give Notice where a great part of the Wit dwelt ;
though if the Play of the Novella were as well worth remem-
bringas Thomaso, they might (bating the Name) have as well
said, I took it from thence : I will only say the Plot and Business
(not to boast ori*t) is my own : as for the Words and Characters,
I leave the Reader to judge and compare 'em with Thomaso,
to whom I recommend the great Entertainment of reading it,
tho had this succeeded ill, I should have had no need of imploring
that Justice from the Critics, who are naturally so kind to any
that pretend to usurp their Dominion, they wou'd doubtless
have given me the whole Honour on* t. Therefore I will only
say in English what the famous Virgil does in Latin : I make
Verses and others have the Fame.

THE ROVER; OR,

THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS.

PART II.

(Ill)

ARGUMENT.

'HE exiled cavaliers, Willmorc the Rover, Shift and Hunt, two officers,
Jed Blunt and Fetherfool, his friend, have arrived at Madrid, where they
re welcomed by Beaumond, nephew to the English Ambassador. Both
Villmorc and Beaumond are enamoured of La Ntichc, a beautiful courtezan,
'hilst Shift and Hunt are respectively courting a Giantess and a Dwarf,
wo Mexican Jewesses of immense wealth, newly come to Madrid with an
Id Hebrew, their uncle and guardian. Beaumond is contracted to Ariadne,
ho loves Willmore. Whilst the Rover is complimenting La Nuche, some
laniards, headed by Don Carlo, an aged admirer of the lady, attempt to
:parate the pair. During the scuffle the ladies enter a church, where they
re followed by the gallants. A little later Fetherfool comes to terms with
a Nuchc's duenna, Petronclla, whilst Willmore makes love to Ariadne,
ift next informs Willmore of the arrival of a celebrated mountebank,
the Rover resolves to take the quack's place, which he does in effective
Sguise. Fetherfool and Blunt visit the pseudo-doctor's house, where the
iantess and Dwarf are lodged to be converted to a reasonable si/.e by his
edicaments ; covetous of their great fortunes, the coxcombs also begin to
urt the two Jewesses. La Nuchc comes to consult the mountebank and
eets Ariadne attired as a boy, and Willmore in his own dress. Ariadne, who
it a rendezvous that evening with Willmore, is accidentally anticipated
La Nuche, who runs into the garden during a night brawl between
aumond and the Rover, each of whom is ignorant of his opponent's •

onality. Both the combatants encounter the courtezan in the garden
d are joined by Ariadne. The confusion and mistakes that ensue are
.ented by the arrival of Beaumond's page and eventually all disperse in
:erent directions. La Nuche returns to her house, where Fetherfool — led
by the Duenna — awaits her. Carlo, however, come thither for the same
rpose, enters the chambers, and after they have fallen to fisticuffs,
therfool in a fright escapes through a window. Meanwhile La Nuchc
engaged witli Willmore ; Beaumond interrupts, and both leave her in
tended disdain. Ariadne, purposing to meet the Rover, mistakes
aumond for him in the dark and they hurry away to the quack's house,
re, however, Fetherfool has already arrived and, finding the Giantess
cep, robs her of a pearl necklace ; but he is alarmed by Shift, who takes
r off and promptly weds her, whilst Hunt does the same by the Dwarf,
unt next appears leading Petronclla, veiled, who, filching a casket of
els, has just fled from La Nuclic ; but the hag is discovered and corn
ed to disgorge. The Jewish Guardian is reconciled to the marriages of
wards : Beaumond and Ariadne, Willmore and La Nuche arrive, and the
ious mistakes with regard to identity are rectified, Willmore incidentally
caling himself as the sham mountebank. Beaumond and Ariadne agree
marry, whilst La Nuche gives herself to the Rover.

(112)
SOURCE.

INDUCED by the extraordinary success of The Ro-ver in 1677, Mrs. Behn,
four years later, turned again to Killigrew's Thomaso ; or, The Wanderer, and
produced a sequel to her play. She had, however, already made good use
of the best points of the old comedy, and the remaining material onlj
being that which her judgment first rejected, it is not a matter of surprise
to find the second part of The Rover somewhat inferior to the first. This
is by no means to say that it is not an amusing comedy full of bustle anc
humour. The intrigue of Willmore and La Nuche, together with the
jocantries of the inimitable Blunt, Nick Fetherfool, and the antique
Petronella Elenora, are all alive with the genius of Astrea, although il
may be possibly objected that some of the episodes with the two Monster;
and the pranks of Harlequin are apt to trench a little too nearly on thf
realm of Jarce.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The Second Part of The Rover was produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorse i
Gardens, in 1681. It is noticeable that Will Smith had so distinguish^ |
himself in Willmore, that Betterton, who appeared as Belvile in the firs
part, did not essay a character in the second. The cast was reinforced j
however, by Mrs. Barry, who took the role of La Nuche.

The play was received with great applause ; it suffered none the less thi
fate of most sequels and, being overshadowed by its predecessor, after a fevl
decades disappeared from the boards.

TO HIS
ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE
DUKE, &c.

Great Sir,

I dread to appear in this Humble Dedication to Your Royal Highness,
as one of those Insolent and Saucy Offenders who take occasion by Your
absence to commit ill-mannered indecencies, unpardonable to a Prince of
your Illustrious Birth and God-like Goodness, but that in spight of Seditious
Scandal You can forgive ; and all the World knows You can suffer with a
Divine Patience : the proofs You have early and late given of this, have
been such, as if Heaven design'd 'em only to give the World an undeniable
Testimony of Your Noble Vertues, Your Loyalty and True Obedience (if I
may presume to say so,) both to Your Sacred Brother, and the never
satisfied People, when either one Commanded, or t'other repin'd, With
how chearful and intire a submission You Obey'd ? And tho the Royal Son
of a Glorious Father who was render'd unfortunate by the unexemplary
ingratitude of his worst of Subjects ; and sacrific'd to the insatiate and
cruel Villany of a seeming sanctifi'd Faction, who cou'd never hope to
expiate for the unparallell'd sin, but by an intire submission to the Gracious
Off-spring of this Royal Martyr : yet You, Great Sir, denying Yourself the
Rights and Priviledges the meanest Subject Claims, with a Fortitude worthy
Your Adorable Vertues, put Yourself upon a voluntary Exile to appease
the causeless murmurs of this again gathering Faction, who make their
needless and self-created fears, an occasion to Play the old Game o're
again ; whil'st the Politick self-interested and malitious few betray the
unconsidering Rest, with the delicious sounds of Liberty and Publick Good ;
that lucky Cant which so few years since so miserably reduc'd all the Noble,
Brave and Honest, to the Obedience of the ill-gotten Power, and worse-
acted Greatness of the Rabble ; so that whil'st they most unjustly cry'd
down the oppression of one of the best of Monarchs, and all Kingly
Government : all England found itself deplorably inslav'd by the Arbitrary
Tryanny of many Pageant Kings. Oh that we shou'd so far forget with
what greatness of mind You then shar'd the common Fate, as now and
again to force Your Royal Person to new Perils, and new Exiles ; but such
ingratitude we are punisht with, and You still surfer for, and still forgive it.

This more than Human Goodness, with the incouragement Your Royal
Highness was pleas'd to give the Rover at his first appearance, and the con
cern You were pleas'd to have for his second, makes me presume to lay
him at Your feet ; he is a wanderer too, distrest ; belov'd, the unfortunate,
I I

("4)

and ever constant to Loyalty ; were he Legions he should follow and
suffer still with so Excellent a Prince and Master. Your Infant worth he
knew, and all Your growing Glories ; has seen you like young Cesar in the
Field, when yet a Youth, exchanging Death for Laurels, and wondred at a
Bravery so early, which still made double Conquest, not only by Your
Sword, but by Your Vertues, which taught even Your Enemies
so intire an Obedience, that asham'd of their Rebel Gallantry, Some of

• . j t. • M.. o • • j tr >j Oliver's

they have resign d their guilty Commissions, and Vow d never ~ .

to Draw Sword more but in the Royal Cause ; which Vow a(. Dunkirk

Religiously they kept : a noble Example for the busie and

hot Mutineers of this Age misled by Youth, false Ambition and falser Council.

How careless since Your Glorious Restauration You have been, of Your
Life for the service of Your mistaken Country, the whole World knows,
and all brave men admire.

Pardon me then, Great Sir, if I presume to present my faithful Soldier,
(which no Storms of Fate can ever draw from his Obedience) to so great a
General : allow him, Royal Sir, a shelter and protection, who was driven
from his Native Country with You, forc'd as You were, to fight for his
Bread in a Strange Land, and suffer'd with You all the Ills of Poverty,
War and Banishment ; and still pursues Your Fortunes ; and though he
cannot serve Your Highness, he may possibly have the Honour of diverting
You a few moments : which tho Your Highness cannot want in a place
where all Hearts and Knees are justly bow'd in Adoration, where all con
spire, as all the Earth (who have the blessing of Your presence) ought to
entertain, serve and please You ; yet this humble Tribute of a most Zealous
and Devout Heart, may find amongst Your busier hours of greater moment,
some one wherein it may have the Glory of Your regard, and be capable in
some small degree of unbending Your great mind from Royal Cares, the
weightiest Cares of all ; which if it be so fortunate as to do, I have my end?
and the Glory I design, a sufficient reward for her who does and will
eternally pray for the Life, Health and Safety of Your Royal Highness, as
in Duty all the World is bound to do, but more especially,
Illustrious Sir,

Your Highnesses most Humble,
most Faithful, and

most Obedient Servant,

A. BEHN.

THE ROVER.
PART II.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by Mr. Smith.

IN vain we labour to reform the Stage,

Poets have caught too the Disease o'th' Age,

That Pest, of not being quiet when they're well, "j

That rest/ess Fever, in the Brethren, Zeal ;

In publick Spirits called, Good o' th' Commonweal.)

Some for this Faction cry, others for that,

The pious Mobile for they know not what :

So tho by different ways the Fever seize,

In all 'tis one and the same mad Disease.

Our Author too, as all new Zealots do,

Full of Conceit and Contradiction too,

' 'Cause the first Project took, is now so vain,

T' attempt to play the old Game o'er again :

The Scene is only changed ; for who wou'd lay

A Plot, so hopeful, just the same dull way ?

Poets, like Statesmen, with a little change,

Pass off" old Politicks for new and strange ;

Tho the few Men of Sense decrypt aloud,

The Cheat will pass with the unthinking Croud :

The 'Rabble 'tis we court, those powerful things,

Whose Voices can impose even Laws on Kings.

A Pox of Sense and Reason, or dull Rules,

Give us an Audience that declares for Fools ;

Our Play will stand fair : we've Monsters too,

Which far exceed your City Pope for Show.

(n6)

Almighty Rabble , 'tis to you this Day
Our humble Author dedicates the Play,
From those who in our lofty Tire sit,
Down to the dull Stage-Cullies of the Pit,
Who have much Money, and but little Wit :
Whose useful Purses, and whose empty Skulls
To private Interest make ye Publick Tools ,•
To work on Projects which the wiser frame,
And of fine Men of Business get the Name.
You who have left caballing here of late,
Imploy'd in matters of a mightier weight ;
To you we make our humble Application,
You'd spare some time from your dear new Vocation,
Of drinking deep, then settling the Nation,
To countenance us, whom Commonwealths of old
Did the most politick Diversion hold.
Plays were so useful thought to Government,
That Laws were made for their Establishment ;
Howe'er in Schools differing Opinions jar,
Yet all agree /' th* crouded Theatre,
Which none forsook in any Change or War.
That, like their Gods, unviolated stood,
Equally needful to the publick Good.
Throw then, Great Sirs, some vacant hours away,
And your Petitioners shall humbly pray, &c.

(II?)

DRAMATIS PERSONS.

MEN.

Willmore, The Rover, in love with La Nucbe,
Beaurnond, the English Ambassador's Nephew, in

love with La Nucbe, contracted to Ariadne,
Ned Blunt, an English Country Gentleman,
Nicholas Fetberfool, an English Squire, his Friend,

Shift, an English \ „ . , _ „-

V • Friends and Officers to

Lieutenant, I wi,

„ _ .' frtllmore,

Hunt, an Ensign, )

Harlequin, Willmorf s Man.

Abevile, Page to Beaumond.

Don Carlo, an old Grandee, in love with La Nuche,

Sancho, Bravo to La Nuche.

An old Jeiv, Guardian to the two Monsters,

Porter at the English Ambassador's.

Rag, Boy to Willmore.

Scaramouche.

Mr. Smith.
Mr. Williams.

Mr. Underbill.
Mr. Nokes.
Mr. Wiltshire.

Mr. Richards.

Mr. Norris.
Mr .' Freeman.

WOMEN.

Ariadne, the English Ambassador's Dauehter-in- ) „. „
i • . •<.!. w 11 \ Mrs. Corror.

law, in love with triUmore, )

Lucia, her Kinswoman, a Girl, Mrs. Norris.

La Nuche, a Spanish Curtezan, in love with the Rotter, Mrs. Barry.
Petronella Elenora, her Baud, Mrs. Norris.

Aurelia, her Woman, Mrs. Crofts.

A Woman Giant.
A Dwarf, her Sister.

Footmen, Servants, Musicians, Operators and Spectators.

SCENE, Madrid.

1 1 8 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT i

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter Willmore, Blunt, Fetherfool, and Hunt, two
more in Campain Dresses, Rag the Captain's Boy.

Will. Stay, this is the English Ambassador's. I'll inquire
if Beaumond be return'd from Paris.

Feth. Prithee, dear Captain, no more Delays, unless
thou thinkest he will invite us to Dinner ; for this fine thin
sharp Air of Madrid has a most notable Faculty of provok
ing an Appetite : Prithee let's to the Ordinary.

Will. I will not stay — [Knocks, enter a Porter.

— Friend, is the Ambassador's Nephew, Mr. Beaumond,
return'd to Madrid yet ? If he be, I would speak with him.

Port. I'll let him know so much.

[Goes in, shuts the door.

Blunt. Why, how now, what's the Door shut upon us?

Feth. And reason, Ned, 'tis Dinner-time in the Ambas
sador's Kitchen, and should they let the savoury Steam out,
what a world of Castilians would there be at the Door
feeding upon't. — Oh there's no living in Spain when the
Pot's uncover'd.

Blunt. Nay, 'tis a Nation of the finest clean Teeth —

Feth. Teeth ! Gad an they use their Swords no oftner,
a Scabbard will last an Age.

Enter Shift from the House.

Will. Honest Lieutenant —

Shift. My noble Captain — Welcome to Madrid. What
Mr. Blunt, and my honoured Friend Nicholas Fetherfool Esq.

Feth. Thy Hand, honest Shift — [They embrace him.

Will. And how, Lieutenant, how stand Affairs in this
unsanctify'd Town ? — How does Love's great Artillery, the

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 119

fair La Nuche, from whose bright Eyes the little wanton
God throws Darts to wound Mankind ?

Shift. Faith, she carries all before her still ; undoes hei
Fellow-traders in Love's Art: and amongst the Number, old
Carlo de Minolta Segosa pays high for two Nights in a Week.

Will. Hah — Carlo I Death, what a greeting's here!
Carlo, the happy Man ! a Dog ! a Rascal, gain the bright
La Nuche! Oh Fortune ! Cursed blind mistaken Fortune !
eternal Friend to Fools ! Fortune ! that takes the noble
Rate from Man, to place it on her Idol Interest.

Shift. Why Faith, Captain, I should think her Heart
might stand as fair for you as any, could you be less satirical
— but by this Light, Captain, you return her Raillery alittle
too roughly.

Will. Her Raillery ! By this Hand I had rather be
handsomly abus'd than dully flatter'd; but when she touches
on my Poverty, my honourable Poverty, she presses me
too sensibly — for nothing is so nice as Poverty — But damn
her, I'll think of her no more : for she's a Devil, tho her
Form be Angel. Is Beaumond come from Paris yet ?

Shift. He is, I came with him ; he's impatient of your
Return : I'll let him know you're here. [Exit. Shift.

Feth. Why, what a Pox ails the Captain o'th' sudden ?
He looks as sullenly as a routed General, or a Lover after
hard Service.

Blunt. Oh — something the Lieutenant has told him
ibout a Wench ; and when Cupid's in his Breeches, the
)evil's ever in's Head — how now — What a pox is the
latter with you, you look so scurvily now ? — What, is the
Jentlewoman otherwise provided ? has she cashier'd ye for

ant of Pay ? or what other dire Mischance ? — hah —

Will. Do not trouble me —

Blunt. Adsheartlikins, but I will, and beat thee too, but
['11 know the Cause. I heard Shift tell thee something
ibout La Nuche, a Damsel I have often heard thee Fool
enough to sigh for.

I2O THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT i

Will, Confound the mercenary Jilt !

Blunt. Nay, adsheartlikins they are all so ; tho I thought
you had been Whore-proof; 'tis enough for us Fools,
Country Gentlemen, Esquires, and Cullies, to miscarry in
their amorous Adventures, you Men of Wit weather all
Storms you.

WilL Oh, Sir, you're become a new Man, wise and
wary, and can no more be cozen'd.

Blunt. Not by Woman-kind ; and for Man I think my
Sword will secure me. Pox, I thought a two Months absence
and a Siege would have put such Trifles out of thy Head:
You do not use to be such a Miracle of Constancy.

Will. That Absence makes me think of her so much ;
and all the Passions thou find'st about me are to the Sex
alone. Give me a Woman, 2VW, a fine young amorous
Wanton, who would allay this Fire that makes me rave
thus, and thou shouldst find me no longer particular, but
cold as Winter-Nights to this La Nucbe : Yet since I lost
my little charming Gipsey, nothing has gone so near my
Heart as this.

Blunt. Ay, there was a Girl, the only she thing that
could reconcile me to the Petticoats again after my Naples
Adventure, when the Quean rob'd and stript me.

Will. Oh name not Hellenal She was a Saint to be
ador'd on Holy-days.

Enter Beaumond.

Beau. Willmore! my careless wild inconstant — how
is't, my lucky Rover? [embracing.

Will. My Life ! my Soul ! how glad am I to find thee
in my Arms again — and well — When left you Paris?
Ptfm,that City of Pottage and Crab-Wine, swarming with
Lacquies and Philies, whose Government is carried on by
most Hands, not most Voices — And prithee how does
Belvile and his Lady ?

Beau. I left 'em both in Health at St. Germains.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 121

Will. Faith, I have wisht my self with ye at the old
Temple of Bacchus at St. Clou, to sacrifice a Bottle and a
Damsel to his Deity.

Beau. My constant Place of Worship whilst there, tho
for want of new Saints my Zeal grew something cold,
which I was ever fain to supply with a Bottle, the old
Remedy when Phyllis is sullen and absent.

Will. Now thou talk'st of Phillis^ prithee, dear Harry,
what Women hast in store ?

Beau. I'll tell thee ; but first inform me whom these
two Sparks are.

Will. Egad, and so they are, Child : Salute 'em — They
are my Friends — True Blades, Hal. highly guilty of the
royal Crime, poor and brave, loyal Fugitives.

Beau. I love and honour 'em, Sir, as such —

[Bowing to Blunt.

Blunt. Sir, there's neither Love nor Honour lost.

Feth. Sir, I scorn to be behind-hand in Civilities.

Beau. At first sight I find I am much yours, Sir.

[To Feth.

Feth. Sir, I love and honour any Man that's a Friend
:o Captain Willmore — and therefore I am yours —

Enter Shift.

—Well, honest Lieutenant, how does thy Body ? — When
ihall Ned, and thou and I, crack a Bisket o'er a Glass of
Wine, have a Slice of Treason and settle the Nation, hah?

Shift. You know, Squire, I am devotedly yours.

[They talk aside.

Beau. Prithee who are these ?

Will. Why, the first you saluted is the same Ned Blunt
rou have often heard Belvile and I speak of: the other is
. Rarity of another Nature, one Squire Fetherfool of Croydon^
' . tame Justice of Peace, who liv'd as innocently as Ale and
"ood could keep him, till for a mistaken Kindness to one
if the Royal Party, he lost his Commission, and got the

122 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT i

Reputation of a Sufferer : He's rich, but covetous as an
Alderman.

Beau. What a Pox do'st keep 'em Company for, who
have neither Wit enough to divert thee, nor Good-nature
enough to serve thee ?

Will. Faith, Harry, 'tis true, and if there were no more
Charity than Profit in't, a Man would sooner keep a Cough
o'th' Lungs than be troubled with 'em : but the Rascals
have a blind side as all conceited Coxcombs have, which
when I've nothing else to do, I shall expose to advance
our Mirth ; the Rogues must be cozen'd, because they're
so positive they never can be so : but I am now for softer
Joys, for Woman, for Woman in abundance — dear Hal.
inform me where I may safely unlade my Heart.

Beau. The same Man still, wild and wanton !

Will. And would not change to be the Catholick King.

Beau. I perceive Marriage has not tam'd you, nor a
Wife who had all the Charms of her Sex.

Will. Ay — she was too good for Mortals.

\With a sham Sadness.

Beh. I think thou hadst her but a Month, prithee how
dy'd she ?

Will. Faith, e'en with a fit of Kindness, poor Soul — she
would to Sea with me, and in a Storm — far from Land,
she gave up the Ghost — 'twas a Loss, but I must bear it
with a Christian Fortitude.

Beau. Short Happinesses vanish like to Dreams.

Will. Ay faith, and nothing remains with me but the
sad Remembrance — not so much as the least Part of her
hundred thousand Crowns ; Brussels that inchanted Court
has eas'd me of that Grief, where our Heroes act Tantalus
better than ever Ovid describ'd him, condemn'd daily to
see an Apparition of Meat, Food in Vision only. Faith,
I had Bowels, was good-natur'd, and lent upon the publick
Faith as far as 'twill go — But come, let's leave this mortify
ing Discourse, and tell me how the price of Pleasure goes.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 123

Beau. At the old Rates still ; he that gives most is
happiest, some few there are for Love!

Will. Ah, one of the last, dear Beaumond ; and if a
1 Heart or Sword can purchase her, I'll bid as fair as the best.
iDamn it, I hate a Whore that asks me Mony.

Beau. Yet I have known thee venture all thy Stock for
a new Woman.

Will. Ay, such a Fool I was in my dull Days of Con
stancy, but I am now for Change, (and should I pay as
joften, 'twould undo me) — for Change, my Dear, of Place,
Clothes, Wine, and Women. Variety is the Soul of Pleasure,
h Good unknown ; and we want Faith to find it.

Beau. Thou wouldst renounce that fond Opinion, Will-
Vnore, didst thou see a Beauty here in Town, whose Charms
nave Power to fix inconstant Nature or Fortune were she
I lettering on her Wheel.

Will. Her Name, my Dear, her Name ?

Beau. I would not breathe it even in my Complaints,
ij est amorous Winds should bear it o'er the World, and
| pake Mankind her Slaves;
put that it is a Name too cheaply known,
\nd she that owns it may be as cheaply purchas'd.

Will. Hah ! cheaply purchas'd too ! I languish for her.

Beau. Ay, there's the Devil on't, she is — a Whore.

Will. Ah, what a charming Sound that mighty Word
i; >ears !

Beau. Damn her, she'll be thine or any body's.

Will. I die for her—

Beau. Then for her Qualities —

Will. No more — ye Gods, I ask no more,
|3e she but fair and much a Whore — Come let's to her.

Beau. Perhaps to morrow you may see this Woman.

Will. Death, 'tis an Age.

Feth. Oh, Captain, the strangest News, Captain.

Will. Prithee what ?

Feth. Why, Lieutenant Shift here tells us of two

124 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT i

Monsters arriv'd from Mexico, Jews of vast Fortunes, with
an old Jew Uncle their Guardian; they are worth a hundred
thousand Pounds a piece — Marcy upon's, why, 'tis a Sum
able to purchase all Flanders again from his most Christian
Majesty.

Will. Ha, ha, ha, Monsters !

Beau. He tells you Truth, Willmore.

Blunt. But hark ye, Lieutenant, are you sure they are
not married ?

Beau. Who the Devil would venture on such formidable
Ladies ?

Feth. How, venture on 'em ! by the Lord Harry, and
that would I, tho I'm a Justice of the Peace, and they be
Jews, (which to a Christian is a thousand Reasons.)

Blunt. Is the Devil in you to declare our Designs ? [Aside.

Feth. Mum, as close as a Jesuit.

Beau. I admire your Courage, Sir, but one of them is
so little, and so deform'd, 'tis thought she is not capable of
Marriage ; and the other is so huge an overgrown Giant,
no Man dares venture on her.

Will. Prithee let's go see 'em ; what do they pay for
going in ?

Feth. Pay — I'd have you to know they are Monsters of
Quality.

Shift. And not to be seen but by particular Favour of
their Guardian, whom I am got acquainted with, from
the Friendship I have with the Merchant where they lay.
The Giant, Sir, is in love with me, the Dwarf with Ensign
Hunt, and as we manage Matters we may prove lucky.

Beau. And didst thou see the Show ? the Elephant and
the Mouse.

Shift. Yes, and pleased them wondrously with News I
brought 'em of a famous Mountebank who is coming to
Madrid, here are his Bills — who amongst other his mar
vellous Cures, pretends to restore Mistakes in Nature, to
new-mould a Face and Body tho never so misshapen, to

1C. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 125

;:xact Proportion and Beauty. This News has made me
gracious to the Ladies, and I am to bring 'em word of the
j^rrival of this famous Empirick, and to negotiate the
Business of their Reformation.

Will. And do they think to be restor'd to moderate sizes ?
Shift. Much pleas'd with the Hope, and are resolv'd to
Iry at any Rate.

Feth. Mum, Lieutenant — not too much of their Trans
formation ; we shall have the Captain put in for a Share,
laid the Devil would not have him his Rival : Ned and I
I re resolv'd to venture a Cast for 'em as they are — Hah, Ned.

[Will, and Beau, read the Bill.

Blunt. Yes, if there were any Hopes of your keeping a
lecret.

Feth. Nay, nay, AW, the World knows I am a plaguy
I'ellow at your Secrets ; that, and my Share of the Charge
liall be my Part, for Shift says the Guardian must be brib'd
Isr Consent : Now the other Moiety of the Mony and the
Ipeeches shall be thy part, for thou hast a pretty Knack
Inat way. Now Shift shall bring Matters neatly about, and
1'e'll pay him by the Day, or in gross, when we are married
-hah, Shift.
\ Shift. Sir, I shall be reasonable.

Will. I am sure Fetherfool and Blunt have some wise

ijhesign upon these two Monsters — it must be so — and this

i ill has put an extravagant Thought into my Head — hark

3, Shift. [Whispers to him.

: Blunt. The Devil's in't if this will not redeem my Re-

lutation with the Captain, and give him to understand that

1 1 the Wit does not lie in the Family of the Willmores^ but

j lat this Noddle of mine can be fruitful too upon Occasion.

' Feth. Ay, and Lord, how we'll domineer, Ned^ hah —

'er Willmore and the rest of the Renegado Officers, when

' e have married these Lady Monsters, hah, Ned.

Blunt. — Then to return back to Essex worth a Million.

Feth. And I to Cray den —

126 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT i

Blunt. — Lolling in Coach and Six —

Feth.— Be dub'd Right Worshipful—

Blunt. And stand for Knight of the Shire.

Will. Enough — I must have my Share of this Jest, and
for divers and sundry Reasons thereunto belonging, must
be this very Mountebank expected.

Shift. Faith, Sir, and that were no hard matter, for a
day or two the Town will believe it, the same they look
for : and the Bank, Operators and Musick are all ready.

Will. Well enough, add but a Harlequin and Scaramouch,
and I shall mount in querpo.

Shift. Take no care for that, Sir, your Man, and Ensign
Hunt, are excellent at those two ; I saw 'em act 'em the
other day to a Wonder, they'll be glad of the Employ
ment, my self will be an Operator.

Will. No more, get 'em ready, and give it out, the Man
of Art's arriv'd : Be diligent and secret, for these two
politick Asses must be cozen'd.

Shift. I will about the Business instantly. [Ex. Shift.

Beau. This Fellow will do Feats if he keeps his Word.

Will. I'll give you mine he shall — But, dear Beaumond,
where shall we meet anon ?

Beau. I thank ye for that — 'Gad, ye shall dine with me.

Feth. A good Motion —

Will. I beg your Pardon now, dear Beaumond — I having
lately nothing else to do, took a Command of Horse from
the General at the last Siege, from which I am just arriv'd,
and my Baggage is behind, which I must take order for.

Feth. Pox on't now there's a Dinner lost, 'twas ever an
unlucky Rascal.

Beau. To tempt thee more, thou shalt see my Wife that
is to be.

Will. Pox on't, I am the leudest Company in Christen
dom with your honest Women — but — What, art thou tc
be noos'd then ?

Beau. 'Tis so design 'd by my Uncle, if an old Grandee

Lc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 127

jny Rival prevent it not ; the Wench is very pretty, young,
jind rich, and lives in the same House with me, for 'tis my
Runt's Daughter.

Will. Much good may it d'ye, Harry, I pity you, but 'tis
j he common Grievance of you happy Men of Fortune.
[Goes towards the House-door with Beau.

Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Petronella, Sancho, Women
veiTd a little.

Aur. Heavens, Madam, is not that the English Captain ?

\ Looking on Will.

j La Nu. 'Tis, and with him Don Henrick the Ambas-
lidor's Nephew — how my Heart pants and heaves at sight
If him ! some Fire of the old Flames remaining, which I
liust strive to extinguish. For I'll not bate a Ducat of this
I'rice I've set upon my self, for all the Pleasures Youth or
•love can bring me — for see Aurelia — the sad Memento
If a decay 'd poor old forsaken Whore in Petronella ; con-
i der her, and then commend my Prudence.
Will. Hah, Women !—

Feth. Egad, and fine ones too, I'll tell you that.
Will. No matter, Kindness is better Sauce to Woman
(pan Beauty ! By this Hand she looks at me — Why dost
Ml old me? [Feth. holds him.

j Feth. Why, what a Devil, art mad ?
| Will. Raging,asvigorous Youth kept long from Beauty ;
' ild for the charming Sex, eager for Woman, I long to
ve a Loose to Love and Pleasure.

; Blunt. These are not Women, Sir, for you to ruffle —
Will. Have a care of your Persons of Quality, Ned.

[Goes to La Nuche.

-Those lovely Eyes were never made to throw their
arts in vain.

La Nu. The" Conquest would be hardly worth the Pain.

Will. Hah, La Nuche! with what a proud Disdain she

ing away — stay, I will not part so with you — [Holds her.

128 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT i

Enter Ariadne and Lucia with Footmen.

Aria. Who are these before us, Lucia ?

Luc. I know not, Madam ; but if you make not haste
home, you'll be troubled with Carlo your importunate
Lover, who is just behind us.

Aria. Hang me, a lovely Man ! what Lady's that ? stay.

Pet. What Insolence is this! This Villain will spoil all —

Feth. Why, Captain, are you quite distracted ? — dost
know where thou art? Prithee be civil —

Will. Go, proud and cruel ! [Turns her from him.

Enter Carlo, and two or three Spanish Servants following :

Petronella goes to him.

Car. Hah, affronted by a drunken Islander, a saucy
Tramontane ! — Draw — [ To his Servants whilst he

takes La Nuche.

whilst I lead her off — fear not, Lady, you have the Honour
of my Sword to guard ye.

Will. Hah, Carlo — ye lye — it cannot guard the boasting
Fool that wears it — be gone — and look not back upon this
Woman. [Snatches her from him'] One single Glance
destroys thee —

[They draw and fight ; Carlo getting hindmost of his
Spaniards, the English beat 'em off: The Ladies
run away, all but Ariadne and Lucia.
Luc. Heav'ns, Madam, why do ye stay?
Aria. To pray for that dear Stranger — And see, my
Prayers are heard, and he's return'd in safety — this Door
shall shelter me to o'er-hear the Quarrel. [Steps aside.
Enter Will. Blunt, Feth. looking big, and putting

up his Sword.

Feth. The noble Captain be affronted by a starch'd R
and Beard, a Coward in querpo, a walking Bunch of Gar-
lick, a pickl'd Pilchard ! abuse the noble Captain, and bear
it off in State, like a Christmas Sweet-heart ; these thin
must not be whilst Nicholas Fetherfool wears a Sword.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 129

Blunt. Pox o' these Women, I thought no good would
come on't : besides, where's the Jest in affronting honest
Women, if there be such a thing in the Nation ?

Feth. Hang't, 'twas the Devil and all —

Will. Ha, ha, ha ! Why, good honest homespun Country
Gentlemen, who do you think those were?

Feth. Were ! why, Ladies of Quality going to their
Devotion ; who should they be ?

Blunt. Why, faith, and so I thought too.

Will. Why, that very one Woman I spoke to is ten
Whores in Surrey.

Feth. Prithee speak softly, Man : 'Slife, we shall be
poniarded for keeping thee company.

Will. Wise Mr. Justice, give me your Warrant, and if
I do not prove 'em Whores, whip me.

Feth. Prithee hold thy scandalous blasphemous Tongue,
as if I did not know Whores from Persons of Quality.

Will. Will you believe me when you lie with her ? for
thou'rt a rich Ass, and may'st do it.

Feth. Whores — ha, ha —

Will. 'Tis strange Logick now, because your Band is
better that mine, I must not know a Whore better than you.

Blunt. If this be a Whore, as thou say'st, I understand
nothing — by this Light such a Wench would pass for a
Person of Quality in London.

Feth. Few Ladies have I seen at a Sheriff's Feast have
better Faces, or worn so good Clothes ; and by the Lord
Harry , if these be of the gentle Craft, I'd not give a Real
for an honest Women for my use.

Will. Come follow me into the Church, for thither I
am sure they're gone : And I will let you see what a
wretched thing you had been had you lived seven Years
longer in Surrey, stew'd in Ale and Beef-broth.

Feth. O dear Willmore, name not those savory things,
there's no jesting with my Stomach ; it sleeps now, but if
it wakes, wo be to your Shares at the Ordinary.

I K

130 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT i

Blunt. I'll say that for Fetherfool, if his Heart were but
half so good as his Stomach, he were a brave Fellow.

[Aside, Exeunt.

Aria. I am resolv'd to follow — and learn, if possible,
who 'tis has made this sudden Conquest o'er me.

[A II go off.

[Scene draws, and discovers a Church, a great many People
at Devotion, soft Mustek playing. Enter La Nuche,
Aurelia, Petron. and Sancho : To them Willmore, Feth.
Blunt ; then Ariadne, Lucia ; Feth. bows to La Nuche
and Petronella.

Feth. Now as I hope to be sav'd, Blunt, she's a most
melodious Lady. Would I were worthy to purchase a Sin
or so with her. Would not such a Beauty reconcile thy
Quarrel to the Sex ?

Blunt. No, were she an Angel in that Shape.

Feth. Why, what a pox couldst not lie with her if she'd
let thee ? By the Lord Harry, as errant a Dog as I am,
I'd fain see any of Cupid's Cook-maids put me out of
countenance with such a Shoulder of Mutton.

Aria. See how he gazes on her — Lucia, go nearer, and
o'er-hear 'em. [Lucia listens.

Will. Death, how the charming Hypocrite looks to day,
with such a soft Devotion in her Eyes, as if even now she
were praising Heav'n for all the Advantages it has blest
her with.

Blunt. Look how Willmore eyes her, the Rogue's smitten
heart deep — Whores —

Feth. Only a Trick to keep her to himself — he thought
the Name of a Spanish Harlot would fright us from attempt
ing — I must divert him — how is' t, Captain — Prithee mind
this Musick — Is it not most Seraphical?

Will. Pox, let the Fidlers mind and tune their Pipes,
I've higher Pleasures now.

Feth. Oh, have ye so ; what, with Whores, Captain ? —
'Tis a most delicious Gentlewoman. [Aside.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 131

Pet. Pray, Madam, mind that Cavalier, who takes such
pains to recommend himself to you.

La Nu. Yes, for a fine conceited Fool —

Pet. Catso, a Fool, what else?

La Nu. Right, they are our noblest Chapmen ; a Fool,
and a rich Fool, and an English rich Fool —

Feth. 'Sbud, she eyes me, Ned, I'll set my self in order,
it may take — hah — [Sets himself.

Pet. Let me alone to manage him, I'll to him —

La Nu. Or to the Devil, so I had one Minute's time
to speak to Willmore.

Pet. And accosting him thus — tell him —

La Nu. [in a hasty ToneJ\ — I am desperately in love with
him, and am Daughter, Wife, or Mistress to some Grandee
— bemoan the Condition of Women of Quality in Spain,
who by too much Constraint are oblig'd to speak first — but
were we blest like other Nations where Men and Women
meet — [Speaking so fast, she offering to put In her word, is
still prevented by toother's running on.

Pet. What Herds of Cuckolds would Spain breed —
'Slife, I could find in my Heart to forswear your Service :
Have I taught ye your Trade, to become my Instructor,
how to cozen a dull phlegmatick greasy-brain'd English
man ? — go and expect your Wishes.

Will. So, she has sent her Matron to our Coxcomb ;
she saw he was a Cully fit for Game — who would not be
a Rascal to be rich, a Dog, an Ass, a beaten, harden'd
Coward — by Heaven, I will possess this gay Insensible, to
make me hate her — most extremely curse her — See if she
be not fallen to Pray'r again, from thence to Flattery, Jilting
and Purse-taking, to make the Proverb good — My fair false
Sybil, what Inspirations are you waiting for from Heaven,
new Arts to cheat Mankind ! — Tell me, with what Face
canst thou be devout, or ask any thing from thence, who
hast made so leud a use of what it has already lavish'd on thee ?

La Nu. Oh my careless Rover ! I perceive all your hot

132 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT i

Shot is not yet spent in Battel, you have a Volley in reserve
for me still — Faith, Officer, the Town has wanted Mirth
in your Absence.

Will. And so might all the wiser part for thee, who hast
no Mirth, no Gaiety about thee, and when thou wouldst
design some Coxcomb's ruin ; to all the rest, a Soul thou
hast so dull, that neither Love nor Mirth, nor Wit or Wine
can wake it to good Nature — thou'rt one who lazily work'st
in thy Trade, and sell'st for ready Mony so much Kind
ness ; a tame cold Sufferer only, and no more.

La Nu. What, you would have a Mistress like a Squirrel
in a Cage, always in Action — one who is as free of her
Favours as I am sparing of mine — Well, Captain, I have
known the time when La Nuche was such a Wit, such
a Humour, such a Shape, and such a Voice, (tho to say
Truth I sing but scurvily) 'twas Comedy to see and
hear me.

Will. Why, yes Faith for once thou wert, and for once
mayst be again, till thou know'st thy Man, and knowest
him to be poor. At first you lik'd me too, you saw me gay,
no marks of Poverty dwelt in my Face or Dress, and then
I was the dearest loveliest Man — all this was to my out
side ; Death, you made love to my Breeches, caress'd my
Garniture and Feather, an English Fool of Quality you
thought me — 'Sheart, I have known a Woman doat on
Quality, tho he has stunk thro all his Perfumes; one who
never went all to Bed to her, but left his Teeth, an Eye,
false Back and Breast, sometimes his Palate too upon her
Toilet, whilst her fair Arms hug'd the dismember'd Carcase,
and swore him all Perfection, because of Quality.

La Nu. But he was rich, good Captain, was he not?

Will. Oh most damnably, and a confounded Blockhead,
two certain Remedies against your Pride and Scorn.

La Nu. Have you done, Sir ?

Will. With thee and all thy Sex, of which I've try'd
an hundred, and found none true or honest.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 133

La Nu. Oh, I doubt not the number : for you are one of
those healthy-stomacht Lovers, that can digest a Mistress
in a Night, and hunger again next Morning : a Pox of
your whining consumptive Constitution, who are only
constant for want of Appetite : you have a swinging
Stomach to Variety, and Want having set an edge upon
your Invention, (with which you cut thro all Difficulties)
you grow more impudent by Success.

Will. I am not always scorn'd then.

La Nu. I have known you as confidently put your Hands
into your Pockets for Money in a Morning, as if the Devil
had been your Banker, when you knew you put 'em off
at Night as empty as your Gloves.

Will. And it may be found Money there too.

La Nu. Then with this Poverty so proud you are, you
will not give the Wall to the Catholick King, unless his
Picture hung upon't. No Servants, no Money, no Meat,
always on foot, and yet undaunted still.

Will. Allow me that, Child.

La Nu. I wonder what the Devil makes you so termagant
on our Sex, 'tis not your high feeding, for your Grandees
only dine, and that but when Fortune pleases — For your
parts, who are the poor dependent, brown Bread and old
Adam's Ale is only current amongst ye ; yet if little Eve
walk in the Garden, the starv'd lean Rogues neigh after
her, as if they were in Paradise.

Will. Still true to Love you see —

La Nu. I heard an English Capuchin swear, that if the
King's Followers could be brought to pray as well as fast,
there would be more Saints among 'em than the Church
has ever canoniz'd.

Will. All this with Pride I own, since 'tis a royal Cause
I suffer for ; go pursue your Business your own way, insnare
the Fool — I saw the Toils you set, and how that Face
was ordered for the Conquest, your Eyes brimful of dying
lying Love ; and now and then a wishing Glance or Sigh

134 THE ROVER (PART n) : OR, [ACT i, sc. i

thrown as by chance ; which when the happy Coxcomb
caught — you feign'd a Blush, as angry and asham'd of the
Discovery : and all this Cunning's for a little mercenary
Gain — fine Clothes, perhaps some Jewels too, whilst all
the Finery cannot hide the Whore !

La Nu. There's your eternal Quarrel to our Sex, 'twere
a fine Trade indeed to keep a Shop and give your Ware
for Love : would it turn to account think ye, Captain, to
trick and dress, to receive all wou'd enter ? faith, Captain,
try the Trade.

Pet. What in Discourse with this Railer ! — come away;
Poverty's catching. [Returns from Discourse with Feth.

speaks to San.

Will. So is the Pox, good Matron, of which you can
afford good Penniworths.

La Nu. He charms me even with his angry Looks, and
will undo me yet.

Pet. Let's leave this Place, I'll tell you my Success as
we go.

[Ex. all, some one way, some another, the Forepart of the
Church shuts over, except Will. Blunt, Aria, and Lucia.

Will. She's gone, and all the Plagues of Pride go with her.

Blunt. Heartlikins, follow her — Pox on't, an I'd but as
good a Hand at this Game as thou hast, I'll venture upon
any Chance —

Will. Damn her, come, let's to Dinner. Where's
Fetherfool?

Blunt. Follow'd a good Woodman, who gave him the
Sign : he'll lodge the Deer e'er night.

Will. Follow'd her — he durst not, the Fool wants
Confidence enough to look on her.

Blunt. Oh you know not how a Country Justice may
be improved by Travel ; the Rogue was hedg'd in at home
with the Fear of his Neighbours and the Penal Statutes,
now he's broke loose, he runs neighing like a Stone-Horse
upon the Common.

ACT n, sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 135

Will. However, I'll not believe this — let's follow 'em.

[Ex. Will, and Blunt.

Aria. He is in love, but with a Courtezan — some Com
fort that.

We'll after him — 'Tis a faint-hearted Lover,
Who for the first Discouragement gives over.

[Ex. Ariadne and Lucia.

ACT II.

SCENE I. The Street.

Enter Fetherfool and Sancho, passing over the Stage ; after
them Willmore and¥>\\\\\\., followed by Ariadne and Lucia.

Will. 'Tis so, by Heaven, he's chaffering with her
Pimp. I'll spare my Curses on him for having her, he
has a Plague beyond 'em.

— Harkye, I'll never love, nor lie with Women more,
those Slaves to Lust, to Vanity and Interest.

Blunt. Ha, Captain ! \_Shaking his Head and smiling.

Will. Come, let's go drink Damnation to 'em all.

Blunt. Not all, good Captain.

Will. All, for I hate 'em all—

Aria. Heavens ! if he should indeed ! [Aside.

Blunt. But, Robert, I have found you most inclined to
a Damsel when you had a Bottle in your Head.

Will. Give me thy Hand, Ned — Curse me, despise me,
point me out for Cowardice if e'er thou see'st me court
a Woman more : Nay, when thou knowest I ask any of
the Sex a civil Question again — a Plague upon 'em, how
they've handled me — come, let's go drink, I say — Con
fusion to the Race — A Woman ! — no, I will be burnt
with my own Fire to Cinders e'er any of the Brood shall
lay my Flame —

Aria. He cannot be so wicked to keep this Resolution
sure — [She passes by.

136 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT n

Faith, I must be resolv'd — you've made a pious Resolution,
Sir, had you the Grace to keep it —

[Passing on be pauses, and looks on her.

Will. Hum— What's that ?

Blunt. That — O — nothing — but a Woman — come
away.

Will. A Woman ! Damn her, what Mischief made her
cross my way just on the Point of Reformation !

Blunt. I find the Devil will not lose so hopeful a Sinner.
Hold, hold, Captain, have you no Regard to your own
Soul '. 'dsheartlikins, 'tis a Woman, a very errant Woman.

Aria. Your Friend informs you right, Sir, I am a Woman.

Will. Ay, Child, or I were a lost Man — therefore, dear
lovely Creature —

Aria. How can you tell, Sir?

Will. Oh, I have naturally a large Faith, Child, and
thou'st a promising Form, a tempting Motion, clean Limbs,
well drest, and a most damnable inviting Air.

Aria. I am not to be sold, nor fond of Praise I merit not.

Will. How, not to be sold too ! By this light, Child, thou
speakest like a Cherubim, I have not heard so obliging a
Sound from the Mouth of Woman-kind this many a Day
— I find we must be better acquainted, my Dear.

Aria. Your Reason, good familiar Sir, I see no such
Necessity.

Will. Child, you are mistaken, I am in great Necessity ;
for first I love thee — desperately — have I not damn'd my
Soul already for thee, and wouldst thou be so wicked to
refuse a little Consolation to my Body ? Then secondly, I see
thou art frank and good-natur'd, and wilt do Reason gratis.

Aria. How prove ye that, good Mr. Philospher?

Will. Thou say'st thou'rt not to be sold, and I'm sure
thou 'rt to be had — that lovely Body of so divine a Form,
those soft smooth Arms and Hands, were made t'embrace
as well as be embrac'd ; that delicate white rising Bosom
to be prest, and all thy other Charms to be enjoy 'd.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 137

Aria. By one that can esteem 'em to their worth, can
set a Value and a Rate upon 'em.

Will. Name not those Words, they grate my Ears like
Jointure, that dull conjugal Cant that frights the generous
Lover. Rate — Death, let the old Dotards talk of Rates,
and pay it t'atone for the Defects of Impotence. Let the
sly Statesman, who jilts the Commonwealth with his grave
Politicks, pay for the Sin, that he may doat in secret ; let
the brisk Fool inch out his scanted Sense with a large Purse
more eloquent than he : But tell not me of Rates, who
bring a Heart, Youth, Vigor, and a Tongue to sing the
Praise of every single Pleasure thou shalt give me.

Aria. Then if I should be kind, I perceive you would
not keep the Secret.

Will. Secrecy is a damn'd ungrateful Sin, Child, known
only where Religion and Small-beer are current, despis'd
where Apollo and the Vine bless the Country : you find
none of Jove's Mistresses hid in Roots and Plants, but fixt
Stars in Heaven for all to gaze and wonder at — and tho I
am no God, my Dear, I'll do a Mortal's Part, and gener
ously tell the admiring World what hidden Charms thou
hast : Come, lead me to some Place of Happiness —

Blunt. Prithee, honest Damsel, be not so full of Ques
tions ; will a Pistole or two do thee any hurt?

Luc. None at all, Sir —

Blunt. Thou speak'st like a hearty Wench — and I be
lieve hast not been one of Venus' Hand-maids so long, but
thou understand thy Trade — In short, fair Damsel, this
honest Fellow here who is so termagant upon thy Lady,
is my Friend, my particular Friend, and therefore I would
have him handsomly, and well-favour'dly abus'd — you
conceive me.

Luc. Truly, Sir, a friendly Request — but in what Nature
abus'd ?

Blunt. Nature ! — why any of your Tricks would serve
— but if he could be conveniently strip'd and beaten, or

138 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT n

tost in a Blanket, or any such trivial Business, thou wouldst
do me a singular Kindness; as for Robbery he defies the
Devil : an empty Pocket is an Antidote against that 111.

Luc. Your Money, Sir : and if he be not cozen'd, say
a Spanish Woman has neither Wit nor Invention upon
Occasion.

Blunt. Sheartlikins, how I shall love and honour thee
for't — here's earnest — [ Talks to her with Joy and Grimace.

Aria. But who was that you entertain'd at Church but
now?

Will. Faith, one, who for her Beauty merits that glorious
Title she wears, it was — a Whore, Child.

Aria. That's but a scurvy Name ; yet, if I'm not mis
taken, in those false Eyes of yours, they look with longing
Love upon that — Whore, Child.

Will. Thou are i'th' right, and by this hand, my Soul
was full as wishing as my Eyes : but a Pox on't, you Women
have all a certain Jargon, or Gibberish, peculiar to your
selves; of Value, Rate, Present, Interest, Settlement, Ad
vantage, Price, Maintenance, and the Devil and all of
Fopperies, which in plain Terms signify ready Money,
by way of Fine before Entrance ; so that an honest well-
meaning Merchant of Love finds no Credit amongst ye,
without his Bill of Lading.

O

Aria. We are not all so cruel — but the Devil on't is,
your good-natur'd Heart is likely accompanied with an ill
Face and worse Wit.

Will. Faith, Child, a ready Dish when a Man's Stomach
is up, is better than a tedious Feast. I never saw any Man
yet cut my piece ; some are for Beauty, some are for Wit,
and some 'for the Secret, but I for all, so it be in a kind
Girl : and for Wit in Woman, so she say pretty fond things,
we understand ; tho true or false, no matter.

Aria. Give the Devil his due, you are a very conscien
tious Lover : I love a Man that scorns to impose dull Truth
and Constancy on a Mistress.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 139

Will. Constancy, that current Coin with Fools ! No,
Child, Heaven keep that Curse from our Doors.

Aria. Hang it, it loses Time and Profit, new Lovers
have new Vows and new Presents, whilst the old feed upon
a dull repetition of what they did when they were Lovers ;
'tis like eating the cold Meat ones self, after having given
a Friend a Feast.

Will. Yes, that's the thrifty Food for the Family when
the Guests are gone. Faith, Child, thou hast made a neat
and a hearty Speech : But prithee, my Dear, for the future,
leave out that same Profit and Present, for I have a natural
Aversion to hard words ; and for matter of quick Dispatch
in the Business — give me thy Hand, Child — let us but start
fair, and if thou outstripst me, thou'rt a nimble Racer.

[Lucia sees Shift.

Luc. Oh, Madam, let's be gone : yonder's Lieutenant
Shifty who, if he sees us, will certainly give an Account of
it to Mr. Beaumond. Let's get in thro the Garden, I have
the Key.

Aria. Here's Company coming, and for several reasons
I would not be seen. [Offers to go.

Will. Gad, Child, nor I ; Reputation is tender — there
fore prithee let's retire. [Offers to go with her.

Aria. You must not stir a step.

Will. Notstir ! no Magick Circle can detain meifyou go.

Aria. Follow me then at a distance, and observe where
j I enter ; and at night (if your Passion lasts so long) return,
and you shall find Admittance into the Garden.

[Speaking hastily.
[He runs out after her.
Enter Shift.

Shift. Well, Sir, the Mountebank's come, and just going
to begin in the Piazza ; I have order'd Matters, that you
shall have a Sight of the Monsters, and leave to court 'em,
and when won, to give the Guardian a fourth part of the
Portions.

140 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT n

Blunt. Good: But Mum — here's the Captain, who must
by no means know our good Fortune, till he see us in State.

Enter Willmore, Shift goes to him.

Shift. All things are ready, Sir, for our Design, the House
prepar'd as you directed me, the Guardian wrought upon
by the Persuasions of the two Monsters, to take a Lodging .
there, and try the Bath of Reformation : The Bank's pre
paring, and the Operators and Musick all ready, and the
impatient Town flockt together to behold the Man of
Wonders, and nothing wanting but your Donship and a
proper Speech.

Will. 'Tis well, I'll go fit my self with a Dress, and
think of a Speech the while : In the mean time, go you
and amuse the gaping Fools that expect my coming.

[Goes out.

Enter Fetherfool singing and dancing.

Feth. Have you heard of a Spanish Lady,
How she woo'd an English Man ?

Blunt. Why, how now, Fetherfool?

Feth. Garments gay, and rich as may be,
Deckt with Jewels, had she on.

Blunt. Why, how now, Justice, what run mad out oi
Dog-days ?

Feth. Of a comely Countenance and Grace is she,
A sweeter Creature in the World there could not be.

Shift. Why, what the Devil's the matter, Sir ?

Blunt. Stark mad, 'dshartlikins.

Feth. Of a Comely Countenance — well, Lieutenant, th(
most heroick and illustrious Madona ! Thou saw'st her
Ned : And of a comely Counte — The most Magnetick Fac<
— well — I knew the Charms of these Eyes of mine wen
not made in vain : I was design'd for great things, that'
certain — And a sweeter Creature in the World there couli
not be. [Singing

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 141

Blunt. What then the two Lady Monsters are forgotten ?
the Design upon the Million of Money, the Coach and Six,
and Patent for Right Worshipful, all drown'd in the Joy
of this new Mistress? — But well, Lieutenant, since he is
so well provided for, you may put in with me for a Mon
ster ; such a Jest, and such a Sum, is not to be lost.
Shift. Nor shall not, or I have lost my Aim. [Aside.
Feth. [Putting off his Hat.~\ Your Pardons, good Gen
tlemen ; and tho I perceive I shall have no great need for
so trifling a Sum as a hundred thousand Pound, or so, yet
i Bargain's a Bargain, Gentlemen.

Blunt. Nay, 'dsheartlikins, the Lieutenant scorns to do
i foul thing, d'ye see, but we would not have the Mon-
iters slighted.

Feth. Slighted ! no, Sir, I scorn your Words, I'd have
to know, that I have as high a Respect for Madam
onster, as any Gentleman in Christendom, and so I
esire she should understand.
Blunt. Why, this is that that's handsom.
Shift. Well, the Mountebank's come, Lodgings are taken
t his House, and the Guardian prepar'd to receive you on
he aforesaid Terms, and some fifty Pistoles to the Mounte-
nk to stand your Friend, and the Business is done.
Feth. Which shall be perform'd accordingly, I have it
ady about me.

Blunt. And here's mine, put 'em together, and let's be

peedy, lest some should bribe higher, and put in before us.

[Feth. takes the Money, and looks pitiful ont.

Feth. Tis a plaguy round Sum, Ned, pray God it turn

) Account.

Blunt. Account, 'dsheartlikins, 'tis not in the Power of
lortal Man to cozen 'me.

Shift. Oh fie, Sir, cozen you, Sir ! — well, you'll stay
ere and see the Mountebank, he's coming forth.
\A Hollowing. Enter from the Front a Bank, a Pageant,
which they fix on the Stage at one side, a little Pavilion

142 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT n

ont, Mustek playing, and Operators round below, or
Antickers.

\_Musick plays, and an Ant'ick Dance.

Enter Willmore like a Mountebank, with a Dagger in
one Hand, and a Viol in the other, Harlequin and
Scaramouche ; Carlo with other Spaniards below, and
Rabble; Ariadne and Lucia above in the Balcony,
others on the other side, Fetherfool and Blunt below.

Will, (bowing) Behold this little Viol, which contains in
its narrow Bounds what the whole Universe cannot pur
chase, if sold to its true Value ; this admirable, this miracu
lous Elixir, drawn from the Hearts of Mandrakes, Phenix
Livers, and Tongues of Maremaids, and distill'd by con
tracted Sun-Beams, has besides the unknown Virtue of
curing all Distempers both of Mind and Body, that divine
one of animating the Heart of Man to that Degree, that
however remiss, cold and cowardly by Nature, he shall
become vigorous and brave. Oh stupid and insensible Man,
when Honour and secure Renown invites you, to treat it
with Neglect, even when you need but passive Valour, to
become the Heroes of the Age ; receive a thousand Wounds,
each of which wou'd let out fleeting Life : Here's that can
snatch the parting Soul in its full Career, and bring it back
to its native Mansion ; baffles grim Death, and disappoints
even Fate.

Feth. Oh Pox, an a Man were sure of that now —

Will. Behold, here's Demonstration —

[Harlequin stabs himself, and falls as dead.

Feth. Hold, hold, why, what the Devil is the Fellow mad ?

Blunt. Why, do'st think he has hurt himself?

Feth. Hurt himself! why, he's murder'd, Man ; 'tis flat
Felo de se, in any ground in England, if I understand Law,
and I have been a Justice o'th' Peace.

Will. See, Gentlemen, he's dead —

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 143

Feth. Look ye there now, I'll be gone lest I be taken
as an Accessary. [Going out.

Will. Coffin him, inter him, yet after four and twenty
Hours, as many Drops of this divine Elixir give him new
Life again ; this will recover whole Fields of slain, and all
the Dead shall rise and fight again — 'twas this that made
the Roman Legions numerous, and now makes France so
formidable, and this alone — may be the Occasion of the
loss of Germany. [Pours in Harlequin's Wound, he rises.

Feth. Why this Fellow's the Devil, Ned, that's for certain.

Blunt. Oh plague, a damn'd Conjurer, this —

Will. Come, buy this Coward's Comfort, quickly buy ;

Iwhat Fop would be abus'd, mimick'd and scorn'd, for fear

i of Wounds can be so easily cured ? Who is't wou'd bear

the Insolence and Pride of domineering great Men, proud

| Officers or Magistrates ? or who wou'd cringe to Statesmen

iout of Fear? What Cully wou'd be cuckolded? What

foolish Heir undone by cheating Gamesters? What Lord

1 wou'd be lampoon'd ? What Poet fear the Malice of his

hatirical Brother, or Atheist fear to fight for fear of Death ?

iCome buy my Coward's Comfort, quickly buy.

Feth. Egad, Ned, a very excellent thing this ; I'll lay
put ten Reals upon this Commodity.

[They buy, whilst another Part of the Dance is danced.

Will. Behold this little Paper, which contains a Pouder,
.vhose Value surmounts that of Rocks of Diamonds and
I Hills of Gold ; 'twas this made Fenus a Goddess, and was
Mjiven her by Apollo, from her deriv'd to Helen, and in the
Sack of Troy lost, till recover'd by me out of some Ruins of
Msia. Come, buy it, Ladies, you that wou'd be fair and
Ivear eternal Youth ; and you in whom the amorous Fire
.(remains, when all the Charms are fled: You that dress
lU'oung and gay, and would be thought so, that patch and
H>aint, to fill up sometimes old Furrows on your Brows, and
ii et yourselves for Conquest, tho in vain ; here's that will give
'ou aubern Hair, white Teeth, red Lips, and Dimples on

144 THE ROVER (PART u) ; OR, [ACT u

your Cheeks : Come, buy it all you that are past bewitching
and wou'd have handsom, young and active Lovers.

Feth. Another good thing, Ned.

Car. I'll lay out a Pistole or two in this, if it have the
same Effect on Men.

Will. Come, all you City Wives, that wou'd advance
your Husbands to Lord Mayors, come, buy of me new
Beauty ; this will give it tho now decay'd, as are your Shop
Commodities ; this will retrieve your Customers, and venc
your false and out of fashion'd Wares : cheat, lye, protest
and cozen as you please, a handsom Wife makes all a lawfu
Gain. Come, City Wives, come, buy.

Feth. A most prodigious Fellow !

[They buy^ he sits, the other Part is danced.

Will. But here, behold the Life and Soul of Man ! this
is the amorous Pouder, which Venus made and gave the
God of Love, which made him first a Deity ; you talk ol
Arrows, Bow, and killing Darts ; Fables, poetical Fictions,
and no more : 'tis this alone that wounds and fires the
Heart, makes Women kind, and equals Men to Gods ; 'tis
this that makes your great Lady doat on the ill-favour'd
Fop ; your great Man be jilted by his little Mistress, the
Judge cajol'd by his Semstress, and your Political! by his
Comedian ; your young Lady doat on herdecrepid Husband,
your Chaplain on my Lady's Waiting- Woman, and the
young Squire on the Landry-Maid — In fine, Messieurs,

'Tis this that cures the Lover's Pain,
And Celia of her cold Disdain.

Feth. A most devilish Fellow this !

Blunt. Hold, shartlikins, Fetherfool^ let's have a Dose or
two of this Pouder for quick Dispatch with our Monsters.

Feth. Why Pox, Man, Jugg my Giant would swallow
a whole Cart-Load before 'twould operate.

Blunt. No hurt in trying a Paper or two however.

Car. A most admirable Receit, I shall have need on't.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 145

Will. I need say nothing of my divine Baths of Reforma
tion, nor the wonders of the old Oracle of the Box, which
resolves all Questions, my Bills sufficiently declare their
[Virtue. [Sits down. They buy.

Enter Petronella Elenora carried in a Chair, dresid
like a Girl of Fifteen.

Shift. Room there, Gentlemen, room for a Patient.
Blunt. Pray, Seignior, who may this be thus muzzl'd
by old Gaffer Time?

Car. One Petronella Elenora, Sir, a famous outworn
Curtezan.

Blunt. Elenora ! she may be that of Troy for her An-
riquity, tho fitter for God Priapus to ravish than Paris.

Shift. Hunt, a word; dost thou see that same formal Poli-
:ician yonder, on the Jennet, the nobler Animal of the two ?
Hunt. What of him ?

Shift. 'Tis the same drew on the Captain this Morning,
Imd I must revenge the Affront.

Hunt. Have a care of Revenges in Spain, upon Persons
l)f his Quality.

Shift. Nay, I'll only steal his Horse from under him.
Hunt. Steal it ! thou may'st take it by force perhaps ;
)ut how safely is a Question.

Shift. I'll warrant thee — shoulder you up one side of

lis great Saddle, I'll do the like on t'other; then heaving

. lim gently up, Harlequin shall lead the Horse from between

tis Worship's Legs: All this in the Crowd will not be

;| terceiv'd, where all Eyes are imploy'd on the Mountebank.

Hunt. I apprehend you now —

[Whilst they are lifting Petronella on the Mountebank's
Stage, they go into the Crowd, shoulder up Carlo's
Saddle. Harlequin leads the Horse forward, whilst
Carlo is gazing, and turning up his Mustachios ; they
hold him up a little while, then let him drop : he rises
and stares about for his Horse.
I L

146 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT n

Car. This is flat Conjuration.

Shift. What's your Worship on foot ?

Hunt. I never saw his Worship on foot before.

Car. Sirrah, none of your Jests, this must be by diabolical
Art, and shall cost the Seignior dear — Men of my Garb
affronted — my Jennet vanisht — most miraculous — by St.
Jagoy I'll be revenged — hah, what's here — La Nuche —

[Surveys her at a distance.

Enter La Nuche, Aurelia, Sancho.

La Nu. We are pursu'd by Beaumond, who will certainly
hinder our speaking to Willmore^ should we have the good
fortune to see him in this Crowd — and yet there's no
avoiding him.

Beau. 'Tis she, how carefully she shuns me !

Aur. I'm satisfied he knows us by the jealous Concern
which appears in that prying Countenance of his.

Beau. Stay, Cruel, is it Love or Curiosity, that wings

those nimble Feet? [Holds her.

[Lucia above and Ariadne.]

Aria. Beaumond with a Woman !

Beau. Have you forgot this is the glorious Day that
ushers in the Night shall make you mine ? the happiest
Night that ever favour'd Love !

LaNu. Or if I have,I find you'll take care to remember me.

Beau. Sooner I could forget the Aids of Life, sooner
forget how first that Beauty charm'd me.

La Nu. Well, since your Memory's so good, I need
not doubt your coming.

Beau. Still cold and unconcern'd ! How have I doated,
and how sacrific'd, regardless of my Fame, lain idling here,
when all the Youth of Spain were gaining Honour, valuing
one Smile of thine above their Laurels !

La Nu. And in return, I do submit to yield, preferring
you above those fighting Fools, who safe in Multitudes
reap Honour cheaper.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 147

Beau. Yet there is one — one of those fighting Fools
j which should'st thou see, I fear I were undone; brave,
i handsome, gay, and all that Women doat on, unfortunate
in every good of Life, but that one Blessing of obtaining
i Women : Be wise, for if thou seest him thou art lost —
Why dost thou blush ?

La Nu. Because you doubt my Heart — 'tis Willmore
that he means. [Aside J\ We've Eyes upon us, Don Carlo
(may grow jealous, and he's a powerful Rival — at night I
[shall expect ye.

Beau. Whilst I prepare my self for such a Blessing.

\_Ex. Beau.

Car. Hah ! a Cavalier in conference with La Nuche!
nnd entertain'd without my knowledge ! I must prevent
l:his Lover, for he's young — and this Night will surprise
~ ler. \_Aside.

Will. And you would be restor'd ? [ To Petro.

Pet. Yes, if there be that Divinity in your Baths of
(Reformation.

Will. There are.

New Flames shall sparkle in those Eyes ;

And these grey Hairs flowing and bright shall rise :

These Cheeks fresh Buds of Roses wear,

And all your wither 'd Limbs so smooth and clear ,

As shall a general Wonder move,

And wound a thousand Hearts with Love.

Pet. A Blessing on you, Sir, there's fifty Pistoles for you,
tnd as I earn it you shall have more. [They lift her down.

[Exit Willmore bowing.

Shift. Messieurs, 'tis late, and the Seignior's Patients
tay for him at his Laboratory, to morrow you shall see
he conclusion of this Experiment, and so I humbly take
ny leave at this time.

Enter Willmore, below sees La Nuche, makes up to her,
whilst the last part of the Dance is dancing.

148 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT n

La Nu. What makes you follow me, Sir ?

[She goes from him, he pursues.

Will. Madam, I see something in that lovely Face of
yours, which if not timely prevented will be your ruin : j
I'm now in haste, but I have more to say — [Goes off\

La Nu. Stay, Sir — he's gone — and fill'd me with af
curiosity that will not let me rest till it be satisfied : Follow -.
me, Aurelia, for I must know my Destiny. [Goes out.
[ The Dance ended, the Bank removes, the People go off.

Feth. Come, Ned, now for our amorous Visit to the
two Lady Monsters. [Ex. Feth. and Blunt.

SCENE II. Changes to a fine Chamber.
Enter Ariadne and Lucia.

Aria. I'm thoughtful: Prithee, Cousin, sing some)
foolish Song —

SONG.

Phillis, whose Heart was unconfirfd

And free as Flowers on Meads and Plains,

None boasted of her being kind,

'Mongst all the languishing and amorous Swains :

No Sighs nor Tears the Nymph could move [bis

To pity or return their Love.

Till on a time, the hapless Maid
Retired to shun the heat d'th* Day,
Into a Grove, beneath whose Shade
Strephon, the careless Shepherd, sleeping lay :

But oh such Charms the Youth adorn, [bis

Love is revenged for all her Scorn.

Her Cheeks with Blushes covered were,

And tender Sighs her Bosom warm ;

A softness in her Eyes appear,

Unusual Pains she feels from every Charm :

To Woods and Ecchoes now she cries, [bis

For Modesty to speak denies.

ic. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 149

Aria. Come, help to undress me, for I'll to this Mounte-
jank, to know what success I shall have with my Cavalier.
[ Unpins her things before a great Glass that is fastened.

Luc. You are resolv'd then to give him admittance ?

Aria. Where's the danger of a handsom young Fellow ?

Luc. But you don't know him, Madam.

Aria. But I desire to do, and time may bring it about
without Miracle.

Luc. Your Cousin Beaumond will forbid the Banes.

Aria. No, nor old Carlos neither, my Mother's precious
hoice, who is as sollicitous for the old Gentleman, as my
"ather-in-Law is for his Nephew. Therefore, Lucia, like
. good and gracious Child, I'll end the Dispute between
ny Father and Mother, and please my self in the choice
if this Stranger, if he be to be had.

Luc. I should as soon be enamour'd on the North Wind,
Tempest, or a Clap of Thunder. Bless me from such
Blast.

Aria. I'd have a Lover rough as Seas in Storms, upon
ccasion ; I hate your dull temperate Lover, 'tis such a
usbandly quality, like Beaumond' 's Addresses to me, whom
either Joy nor Anger puts in motion ; or if it do, 'tis
isibly forc'd — I'm glad I saw him entertain a Woman to
ay, not that I care, but wou'd be fairly rid of him.

Luc. You'll hardly mend your self in this.

Aria. What, because he held Discourse with a Curtezan ?

Luc . Why, is there no danger in her Eyes, do ye think ?

Aria. None that I fear, that Stranger's not such a fool

give his Heart to a common Woman ; and she that's
Dncern'd where her Lover bestows his Body, were I the
Ian, I should think she had a mind to't her self.

Luc. And reason, Madam : in a lawful way 'tis your due.

Aria. What all? unconscionable Lucia! I am more
icrciful ; but be he what he will, I'll to this cunning Man,
) know whether ever any part of him shall be mine.

Luc. Lord, Madam, sure he's a Conjurer.

150 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT n

Aria. Let him be the Devil, I'll try his Skill, and to
that end will put on a Suit of my Cousin Endymion ;
there are two or three very pretty ones of his in the Ward
robe, go carry 'em to my Chamber, and we'll fit our selves
and away — Go haste whilst I undress. [Ex. Lucia.

[Ariadne undressing before the Glass.

Enter Beaumond tricking himself, and looks on himself.

Beau. Now for my charming Beauty, fair La Nuche —

hah — Ariadne — damn the dull Property, how shall I free

my self? \_She turns, sees him, and walks from the Glass,

he takes no notice of her, but tricks himself in

the Glass, humming a Song.

Aria. Beaumond! What Devil brought him hither to

prevent me ? I hate the formal matrimonial Fop.

[He walks about and sings.

Sommes nous pas trap heureux,
Belle Irise, que nous ensemble.

A Devil on him, he may chance to plague me till night,
and hinder my dear Assignation. [.Sings again.

La Nuit et le Sombre voiles
Coverie nos desires ardentes ;
Et r Amour et les Etoiles
Sont nos secrets confidents.

Beau. Pox on't, how dull am I at an excuse ?

[Sets his Wig in the Glass, and sings.

A Pox of Love and Woman-kind,
And all the Fops adore 'em.

[Puts on his Hat, cocks it, and goes to her.
How is't, Cuz ?

Aria. So, here's the saucy freedom of a Husband Lover
— a blest Invention this of marrying, whoe'er first found
it out.

Beau. Damn this English Dog of a Perriwig-maker,

sc. ii ] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 151

I what an ungainly Air it gives the Face, and for a Wedding
Perriwig too — how dost thou like it, Ariadne? [Uneasy.

Aria. As ill as the Man — I perceive you have taken
more care for your Perriwig than your Bride.

Beau. And with reason, Ariadne^ the Bride was never
the care of the Lover, but the business of the Parents ; 'tis
a serious Affair, and ought to be manag'd by the grave and
wise : Thy Mother and my Uncle have agreed the Matter,
and would it not look very sillily in me now to whine a
itedious Tale of Love in your Ear, when the business is at
an end ? 'tis like saying a Grace when a Man should give
{Thanks.

Aria. Why did you not begin sooner then ?

Beau. Faith, Ariadne^ because I know nothing of the
j Design in hand; had I had civil warning, thou shouldst
(have had as pretty smart Speeches from me, as any Cox-
i comb Lover of 'em all could have made thee.

Aria. I shall never marry like a Jew in my own Tribe ;
| ['11 rather be possest by honest old doating Age, than by
haucy conceited Youth, whose Inconstancy never leaves a
'Woman safe or quiet.

Beau. You know the Proverb of the half Loaf, Ariadne ;
U Husband that will deal thee some Love is better than one
I who can give thee none : you would have a blessed time
pn't with old Father Carlo.

Aria. No matter, a Woman may with some lawful
pxcuse cuckold him, and 'twould be scarce a Sin.

Beau. Not so much as lying with him, whose reverend
Age wou'd make it look like Incest.

Aria. But to marry thee — would be a Tyranny from
whence there's no Appeal : A drinking whoring Husband !
jtis the Devil —

Beau. You are deceiv'd, if you think Don Carlo more
:haste than I; only duller, and more a Miser, one that
rears his Flesh more, and loves his Money better. — Then
:o be condemn'd to lie with him — oh, who would not

152 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACTII, sc. n

rejoice to meet a Woollen- Waistcoat, and knit Night-Cap
without a Lining, a Shirt so nasty, a cleanly Ghost would
not appear in't at the latter Day ? then the compound of
nasty Smells about him, stinking Breath, Mustachoes stuff
with villainous snush, Tobacco, and hollow Teeth : thus
prepar'd for Delight, you meet in Bed, where you may lie
and sigh whole Nights away, he snores it out till Morning,
and then rises to his sordid business.

Aria. All this frights me not : 'tis still much better than
a keeping Husband, whom neither Beauty nor Honour in
a Wife can oblige.

Beau. Oh, you know not the good-nature of a Man of
Wit, at least I shall bear a Conscience, and do thee reason,
which Heaven denies to old Carlo^ were he willing.

Aria. Oh, he talks as high, and thinks as well of him
self as any young Coxcomb of ye all.

Beau. He has reason, for if his Faith were no better
than his Works, he'd be damn'd.

Aria. Death, who wou'd marry, who wou'd be chaffer'd
thus, and sold to Slavery ? I'd rather buy a Friend at any
Price that I could love and trust.

Beau. Ay, could we but drive on such a Bargain.

Aria. You should not be the Man ; You have a Mis
tress, Sir, that has your Heart, and all your softer Hours :
I know't, and if I were so wretched as to marry thee, must
see my Fortune lavisht out on her ; her Coaches, Dress,
and Equipage exceed mine by far : Possess she all the day
thy Hours of Mirth, good Humour and Expence, thy
Smiles, thy Kisses, and thy Charms of Wit. Oh how you
talk and look when in her Presence ! but when with me,

A Pox of Love and Woman-kind, [Sings.

And all the Fops adore ''em.

How it's,Cuz — then slap, on goes the Beaver, which being
cock'd, you bear up briskly, with the second Part to the
same Tune — Harkye, Sir, let me advise you to pack up your

ACT in, sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 153

Trumpery and be gone, your honourable Love, your matri
monial Foppery, with your other Trinkets thereunto be
longing ; or I shall talk aloud, and let your Uncle hear you.

Beau. Sure she cannot know I love La Nuche. [Aside.
The Devil take me, spoil'd ! What Rascal has inveigled
thee ? What lying fawning Coward has abus'd thee ? When
fell you into this Leudness ? Pox, thou art hardly worth the
loving now, that canst be such a Fool, to wish me chaste,
or love me for that Virtue ; or that wouldst have me a
ceremonious Whelp, one that makes handsom Legs to
Knights without laughing, or with a sneaking modest
Squirish Countenance ; assure you, I have my Maiden
head. A Curse upon thee, the very thought of Wife has
made thee formal.

Aria. I must dissemble, or he'll stay all day to make his
peace again — why, have you ne'er — a Mistress then ?

Beau. A hundred, by this day, as many as I like, they
are my Mirth, the business of my loose and wanton Hours ;
but thou art my Devotion, the grave, the solemn Pleasure
of my Soul — Pox, would I were handsomly rid of thee too.

[Aside.
— Come, I have business — send me pleas'd away.

Aria. Would to Heaven thou wert gone ; [Aside.

You're going to some Woman now.

Beau. Oh damn the Sex, I hate 'em all — but thee —
farewell, my pretty jealous — sullen — Fool. [Goes out.

Aria. Farewel, believing Coxcomb. [Enter Lucia.

Lucia. Madam, the Clothes are ready in your Chamber.

Aria. Let's haste and put 'em on then. [Runs out.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A House.
Enter Fetherfool and Blunt, staring about, after them Shift.

Shift. Well, Gentlemen, this is the Doctor's House, and
your fifty Pistoles has made him intirely yours ; the Ladies

154 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT in

too are here in safe Custody — Come, draw Lots who shall
have the Dwarf, and who the Giant. [They draw.

Feth. I have the Giant.

Blunt. And I the little tiny Gentlewoman.

Shift. Well, you shall first see the Ladies, and then
prepare for your Uncle Moses, the old Jew Guardian, before
whom you must be very grave and sententious : You know
the old Law was full of Ceremony.

Feth. Well, I long to see the Ladies, and to have the
first Onset over.

Shift. I'll cause 'em to walk forth immediately. [Goes out.

Feth. My Heart begins to fail me plaguily — would I
could see 'em a little at a Distance before they come slap
dash upon a Man. [Peeping.

Hah ! — Mercy upon us ! — What's yonder ! — Ah, Ned, my
Monster is as big as the Whore of Babylon — Oh I'm in a
cold Sweat — [Blunt pulls him to peep, and both do so.
Oh Lord ! she's as tall as the St. Christopher in Notre-dame
at Paris, and the little one looks like the Christo upon his
Shoulders — I shall ne'er be able to stand the first Brunt.

Blunt. 'Dsheartlikins, whither art going ? [Pulls him back.

Feth. Why only — to — say my Prayers a little — I'll be
with thee presently. [Offers to go, he pulls him.

Blunt. What a Pox, art thou afraid of a Woman —

Feth. Not of a Woman, Ned, but of a She Gargantua,
I am of a Hercules in Petticoats.

Blunt. The less Resemblance the better. 'Shartlikins,
I'd rather mine were a Centaur than a Woman : No, since
my Naples Adventure, I am clearly for your Monster.

Feth. Prithee, Ned, there's Reason in all things —

Blunt. But villainous Woman — 'Dshartlikins, stand
your Ground, or I'll nail you to't : Why, what a Pox are
you so quezy stomach'd, a Monster won't down with you,
with a hundred thousand Pound to boot. [Pulling him.

Feth. Nay, Ned, that mollifies something ; and I scorn
it should be said of Nich. Fetherfool that he left his Friend

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 155

in danger, or did an ill thing : therefore, as thou say'st,
Ned, tho she were a Centaur, I'll not budg an Inch.
Blunt. Why God a Mercy.

Enter the Giant and Dwarf, with them Shift as an
Operator, and Harlequin attending.

Feth. Oh — they come — Prithee, Ned, advance —

[Puts him forward.

Shift. Most beautiful Ladies.

Feth. Why, what a flattering Son of a Whore's this?

Shift. These are the illustrious Persons your Uncle de
signs your humble Servants, and who have so extraordinary
a Passion for your Seignioraships.

Feth. Oh yes, a most damnable one : Wou'd I were
cleanlily off the Lay, and had my Money again.

Blunt. Think of a Million, Rogue, and do not hang an
Arse thus.

Giant. What, does the Cavalier think I'll devour him ?

[To Shift.

Feth. Something inclin'd to such a Fear.

Blunt. Go and salute her, or, Adsheartlikins, I'll leave
you to her Mercy.

Feth. Oh, dear Ned, have pity on me — but as for saluting
her, you speak of more than may be done, dear Heart,
without a Scaling Ladder. [Exit Shift.

Dwarf. Sure, Seignior Harlequin, these Gentlemen are
dumb.

Blunt. No, my little diminutive Mistress, my small
Epitomy of Woman-kind, we can prattle when our Hands
are in, but we are raw and bashful, young Beginners ; for
this is the first time we ever were in love : we are something
aukard, or so, but we shall come on in time, and mend
upon Incouragement.

Feth. Pox on him, what a delicate Speech has he made
now — 'Gad, I'd give a thousand Pounds a Year for Ned's
concise Wit, but not a Groat for his Judgment in Woman
kind.

156 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT in

Enter Shift with a Ladder, sets it against the Giant, and
bows to Fetherfool.

Shift. Here, Seignior, Don, approach, mount, and salute
the Lady.

Feth. Mount ! why, 'twould turn my Brains to look
down from her Shoulders — But hang't, 'Gad, I will be
brave and venture. [Runs up the Ladder, salutes her, and

runs down again.

And Egad this was an Adventure and a bold one — but since

I am come off with a whole Skin, I am flesht for the next

onset — Madam — has your Greatness any mind to marry ?

[Goes to her, speaks, and runs back ;

Blunt claps him on the Back.

Giant. What if I have?

Feth. Why then, Madam, without inchanted Sword or
Buckler, I'm your Man.

Giant. My Man ? my Mouse. I'll marry none whose
Person and Courage shall not bear some Proportion to mine.

Feth. Your Mightiness I fear will die a Maid then.

Giant. I doubt you'll scarce secure me from that Fear,
who court my Fortune, not my Beauty.

Feth. Hu, how scornful she is, I'll warrant you — why I
must confess, your Person is something heroical and mascu
line, but I protest to your Highness, I love and honour ye.

Dwarf. Prithee, Sister, be not so coy, I like my Lover
well enough ; and if Seignior Mountebank keep his Word
in making us of reasonable Proportions, I think the Gen
tlemen may serve for Husbands.

Shift. Dissemble, or you betray your Love for us.

\_Aside to the Giant.

Giant. And if he do keep his Word, I should make a
better Choice, not that I would change this noble Frame
of mine, cou'd I but meet my Match, and keep up the first
Race of Man intire : But since this scanty World affords
none such, I to be happy, must be new created, and then
shall expect a wiser Lover.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 157

Feth. Why, what a peevish Titt's this; nay, look ye,
Madam, as for that matter, your Extraordinariness may
do what you please — but 'tis not done like a Monster of
Honour, when a Man has set his Heart upon you, to cast
him off — Therefore I hope you'll pity a despairing Lover,
and cast down an Eye of Consolation upon me ; for I vow,
most Amazonian Princess, I love ye as if Heaven and Earth
wou'd come together.

Dwarf. My Sister will do much, I'm sure, to save the
Man that loves her so passionately — she has a Heart.

Feth. And a swinger 'tis — 'Sbud — she moves like the
Royal Sovereign, and is as long a tacking about. [Aside.

Giant. Then your Religion, Sir.

Feth. Nay, as for that, Madam, we are English^ a Nation
I thank God, that stand as little upon Religion as any
Nation under the Sun, unless it be in Contradiction ; and
at this time have so many amongst us, a Man knows not
which to turn his Hand to — neither will I stand with your
Hugeness for a small matter of Faith or so — Religion shall

O * O

shall break no squares.

Dwarf. I hope, Sir, you are of your Friend's Opinion.

Blunt. My little Spark of a Diamond, I am, I was born
a Jew, with an Aversion to Swines Flesh.

Dwarf. Well, Sir, I shall hasten Seignior Doctor to
compleat my Beauty, by some small Addition, to appear
the more grateful to you.

Blunt. Lady, do not trouble your self with transitory Parts,
'Dshartlikins thou'rt as handsom as needs be for a Wife.

Dwarf. A little taller, Seignior, wou'd not do amiss, my
younger Sister has got so much the Start of me.

Blunt. In troth she has, and now I think on't, a little
taller wou'd do well for Propagation ; I should be loth the
Posterity of the antient Family of the Blunts of Essex should
dwindle into Pigmies or Fairies.

Giant. Well, Seigniors, since you come with our Uncle's
liking, we give ye leave to hope, hope — and be happy —

[They go out with Harlequin.

158 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT in

Feth. Egad, arid that's great and gracious —
Enter Willmore and an Operator.

Will. Well, Gentlemen, and how like you the Ladies ?

Blunt. Faith, well enough for the first Course, Sir.

Will. The Uncle, by my indeavour, is intirely yours —
but whilst the Baths are preparing, 'twould be well if you
would think of what Age, Shape, and Complexion you
would have your Ladies form'd in.

Feth. Why, may we chuse, Mr. Doctor?

Will. What Beauties you please.

Feth. Then will I have my Giant, Ned, just such another
Gentlewoman as I saw at Church to day — and about some
fifteen.

Blunt. Hum, fifteen — I begin to have a plaguy Itch
about me too, towards a handsome Damsel of fifteen ; but
first let's marry, lest they should be boiled away in these
Baths of Reformation.

Feth. But, Doctor, can you do all this without the help
of the Devil ?

Will. Hum, some small Hand he has in the Business ? we
make an Exchange with him, give him the clippings of the
Giant for so much of his Store as will serve to build the Dwarf.

Blunt. Why, then mine will be more than three Parts
Devil, Mr. Doctor.

Will. Not so, the Stock is only Devil, the Graft is your
own little Wife inoculated.

Blunt. Well, let the Devil and you agree about this
matter as soon as you please.

Enter Shift as an Operator.

Shift. Sir, there is without a Person of an extraordinary
Size wou'd speak with you.
Will. Admit him.

Enter Harlequin, ushers in Hunt as a Giant.
Feth. Hah — some o'ergrown Rival, on my Life.

[Feth. gets from it.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 159

Will. What the Devil have we here ? [Aside.

Hunt. Bezolos mano's. Seignior, I understand there is a
Lady whose Beauty and Proportion can only merit me :
I'll say no more — but shall be grateful to you for your
Assistance.

Feth. 'Tis so.

Hunt. The Devil's in't if this does not fright 'em from
a farther Courtship. [Aside.

Will. Fear nothing, Seignior — Seignior, you may try
your Chance, and visit the Ladies. [Talks to Hunt.

Feth. Why, where the Devil could this Monster conceal
himself all this while, that we should neither see nor hear
of him?

Blunt. Oh — he lay disguis'd ; I have heard of an Army
that has done so.

Feth. Pox, no single House cou'd hold him.

Blunt. No — he dispos'd himself in several parcels up and
down the Town, here a Leg, and there an Arm ; and
hearing of this proper Match for him, put himself together
to court his fellow Monster.

Feth. Good Lord ! I wonder what Religion he's of.

Blunt. Some heathen Papist, by his notable Plots and
Contrivances.

Will. 'Tis Hunt, that Rogue— [Aside.

Sir, I confess there is great Power in Sympathy — Conduct
him to the Ladies — \_He tries to go in at the Door.

— I am sorry you cannot enter at that low Door, Seignior,
I'll have it broken down —

Hunt. No, Seignior, I can go in at twice.

Feth. How, at twice ! what a Pox can he mean ?

Will. Oh, Sir, 'tis a frequent thing by way of Inchant-
ment. [Hunt being all Doublet^ leaps off from another

Man who is all Breeches, and goes out ;
Breeches follows staging.

Feth. Oh Pox, Mr. Doctor, this must be the Devil.

Will. Oh fie, Sir, the Devil ! no 'tis all done by an

160 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT in

inchanted Girdle — These damn'd Rascals will spoil all by
too gross an Imposition on the Fools. \_Aside.

Feth. This is the Devil, Ned, that's certain — But hark
ye, Mr. Doctor, I hope I shall not have my Mistress
inchanted from me by this inchanted Rival, hah ?

Will. Oh, no, Sir, the Inquisition will never let 'em
marry, for fear of a Race of Giants, 'twill be worse than
the Invasion of the Moors, or the French : but go — think
of your Mistresses Names and Ages, here's Company, and
you would not be seen. [Ex. Blunt and Feth.

Enter La Nuche and Aurelia ; Will, bows to her.

La Nu. Sir, the Fame of your excellent Knowledge,
and what you said to me this day ; has given me a Curiosity
to learn my Fate, at least that Fate you threatened.

Will. Madam, from the Oracle in the Box you may

be resolved any Question — [Leads her to the Table,

where stands a Box full of Balls ; he stares on her.

— How lovely every absent minute makes her — Madam,

be pleas'd to draw from out this Box what Ball you will.

[She draws, he takes it, and gazes on her and on it.

Madam, upon this little Globe is character'd your Fate

and Fortune ; the History of your Life to come and past

— first, Madam — you're — a Whore.

La Nu. A very plain beginning.

Will. My Art speaks simple Truth ; the Moon is your
Ascendent, that covetous Planet that borrows all her Light,
and is in opposition still to Penus ;and Interest more prevails
with you than Love : yet here I find a cross — intruding
Line — that does inform me — you have an Itch that way,
but Interest still opposes : you are a slavish mercenary
Prostitute.

La Nu. Your Art is so, tho call'd divine, and all the
Universe is sway'd by Interest : and would you wish this
Beauty which adorns me, should be dispos'd about for
Charity? Proceed and speak more Reason.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 161

Will. But Venus here gets the Ascent again, and spite
of — Interest, spite of all Aversion, will make you doat upon
a Man — [Still looking <?«, and turning the Ball.

Wild, fickle, restless, faithless as the Winds ! — a Man of
Arms he is — and by this Line — a Captain — [Looking on her.
for Mars and Venus were in conjunction at his Birth —
and Love and War's his business.

La Nu. There thou hast toucht my Heart, and spoke
so true, that all thou say'st I shall receive as Oracle. Well,
grant I love, that shall not make me yield.

Will. I must confess you're ruin'd if you yield, and yet
not all your Pride, not all your Vows, your Wit, your Re
solution, or your Cunning, can hinder him from conquering
absolutely : your Stars are fixt, and Fate irrevocable.

La Nu. No, — I will controul my Stars and Inclinations ;
and tho I love him more than Power or Interest, I will be
Mistress of my fixt Resolves — One Question more — Does
this same Captain, this wild happy Man love me ?

Will. I do not — find — it here — only a possibility in-
courag'd by your Love — Oh that you cou'd resist — but
you are destin'd his, and to be ruin'd.

[Sighs, and looks on her^ she grows in a Rage.

La Nu. Why do you tell me this? I am betray'd, and
every caution blows my kindling Flame — hold — tell me
no more — I might have guess'd my Fate, from my own
Soul have guest it — but yet I will be brave, I will resist
in spite of Inclinations, Stars, or Devils.

Will. Strive not, fair Creature, with the Net that holds
you, you'll but intangle more. Alas ! you must submit
and be undone.

La Nu. Damn your false Art — had he but lov'd me
too, it had excus'd the Malice of my Stars.

Will. Indeed, his Love is doubtful ; for here — I trace
him in a new pursuit — which if you can this Night prevent,
perhaps you fix him.

La Nu. Hah, pursuing a new Mistress ! there thou
I M

1 62 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT in

hast met the little Resolution I had left, and dasht it into
nothing — but I have vow'd Allegiance to my Interest —
Curse on my Stars, they cou'd not give me Love where
that might be advanc'd — I'll hear no more.

[Gives him Money.
Enter Shift.

Shift. Sir, there are several Strangers arriv'd, who talk
of the old Oracle. How will you receive 'em ?

Will. I've business now, and must be excus'd a while.
— Thus far — I'm well ; but I may tell my Tale so often
o'er, till, like the Trick of Love, I spoil the pleasure by
the repetition. — Now I'll uncase, and see what Effects my
Art has wrought on La Nuche, for she's the promis'd Good,
the Philosophick Treasure that terminates my Toil and
Industry. Wait you here. \_Ex. Will.

Enter Ariadne in Mem Clothes^ with Lucia so drest,
and other Strangers.

Aria. How now, Seignior Operator, where's this re
nowned Man of Arts and Sciences, this Don of Wonders?
— hah ! may a Man have a Pistole's Worth or two of his
Tricks? will he shew, Seignior?

Shift. Whatever you dare see, Sir.

Aria. And I dare see the greatest Bug-bear he can con
jure up, my Mistress's Face in a Glass excepted.

Shift. That he can shew, Sir, but is now busied in weighty
Affairs with a Grandee.

Aria. Pox, must we wait the Leisure of formal Grandees
and Statesmen — ha, who's this ? — the lovely Conqueress of
my Heart, La Nuche. [Goes to her, she is tatting with Aurel.

La Nu. What foolish thing art thou ?

Aria. Nay, do not frown, nor fly ; for if you do, I must
arrest you, fair one.

La Nu. At whose Suit, pray ?

Aria. At Love's — you have stol'n a Heart of mine, and
us'd it scurvily.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 163

La Nu. By what marks do you know the Toy, that I
may be no longer troubled with it?

Aria. By a fresh Wound, which toucht by her that gave
it bleeds anew, a Heart all over kind and amorous.

La Nu. When was this pretty Robbery committed ?

Aria. To day, most sacrilegiously, at Church, where
you debauch'd my Zeal ; and when I wou'd have pray'd,
your Eyes had put the Change upon my Tongue, and made
it utter Railings : Heav'n forgive ye !

La Nu. You are the gayest thing without a Heart, I
ever saw.

Aria. I scorn to flinch for a bare Wound or two ; nor
is he routed that has lost the day, he may again rally, renew
the Fight, and vanquish.

La Nu. You have a good opinion of that Beauty, which
I find not so forcible, nor that fond Prattle uttered with
such Confidence.

Aria. But I have Quality and Fortune too.

La Nu. So had you need. I should have guest the first
by your pertness ; for your saucy thing of Quality acts the
Man as impudently at fourteen, as another at thirty : nor
is there any thing so hateful as to hear it talk of Love,
Women and Drinking; nay, to see it marry too at that
Age, and get itself a Play-fellow in its Son and Heir.

Aria. This Satyr on my Youth shall never put me out
of countenance, or make me think you wish me one day
older ; and egad, I'll warrant them that tries me, shall find
me ne'er an hour too young.

La Nu. You mistake my Humour, I hate the Person
of a fair conceited Boy.

Enter Willmore dresty singing.

Will. Vole^ vole dans cette Cage^

Petite Oyseau dans cet bocage.
— How now, Fool, where's the Doctor ?
Shift. A little busy, Sir.

164 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT in

Will. Call him, I am in haste, and come to cheapen
the Price of Monster.

Shift. As how, Sir ?

Will. In an honourable way, I will lawfully marry one
of 'em, and have pitcht upon the Giant ; I'll bid as fair as
any Man.

Shift. No doubt but you will speed, Sir : please you,
Sir, to walk in.

Will. I'll follow — Vole, vole dans cette Cage, &c.

Luc. Why, 'tis the Captain, Madam — [Aside to Aria.

La Nu. Hah — marry — harkye, Sir, — a word, pray.

[As he is going out she pulls him.

Will. Your Servant, Madam, your Servant — Vole,
vole, &c. [Puts his Hat offcarelesly, and walks by, going out.

Luc. And to be marry'd, mark that.

Aria. Then there's one doubt over, I'm glad he is not
married.

La Nu. Come back — Death, I shall burst with Anger
— this Coldness blows my Flame, which if once visible,
makes him a Tyrant —

Will. Fool, what's a Clock, fool ? this noise hinders me
from hearing it strike.

[Shakes his Pockets, and walks up and down.

La Nu. A blessed sound, if no Hue and Cry pursue it.
— what — you are resolv'd then upon this notable Exploit ?

Will. What Exploit, good Madam ?

La Nu. Why, marrying of a Monster, and an ugly
Monster.

Will. Yes faith, Child, here stands the bold Knight, that
singly, and unarm'd, designs to enter the List with Tho-
gogandiga the Giant ; a good Sword will defend a worse
cause than an ugly Wife. I know no danger worse than
fighting for my Living, and I have don't this dozen years
for Bread.

La Nu. This is the common trick of all Rogues, when

O t

they have done an ill thing to face it out.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 165

Will. An ill thing — your Pardon, Sweet-heart, compare
it but to Banishment, a frozen Sentry with brown George
and Spanish Pay ; and if it be not better to be Master of
a Monster, than Slave to a damn'd Commonwealth — I
submit — and since my Fortune has thrown this good in
my way —

La Nu. You'll not be so ungrateful to refuse it ; besides
then you may hope to sleep again, without dreaming of
Famine, or the Sword, two Plagues a Soldier of Fortune
is subject to.

Will. Besides Cashiering, a third Plague.

La Nu. Still unconcern'd ! — you call me mercenary,
but I would starve e'er suffer my self to be possest by a
thing of Horror.

Will. You lye, you would by any thing of Horror : yet
these things of Horror have Beauties too, Beauties thou
canst not boast of, Beauties that will not fade ; Diamonds
to supply the lustre of their Eyes, and Gold the brightness
of their Hair, a well-got Million to atone for Shape, and
Orient Pearls, more white, more plump and smooth, than
that fair Body Men so languish for, and thou hast set such
Price on.

Aria. I like not this so well, 'tis a trick to make her
jealous.

Will. Their Hands too have their Beauties, whose very
mark finds credit and respect, their Bills are current o'er the
Universe ; besides these, you shall see waiting at my Door,
four Footmen, a Velvet Coach, with Six Flanders Beauties
more : And are not these most comely Virtues in a Soldier's
Wife, in this most wicked peaceable Age?

Luc. He's poor too, there's another comfort. [Aside.

Aria. The most incouraging one I have met with yet.

Will. Pox on't, I grow weary of this virtuous Poverty.
There goes a gallant Fellow, says one, but gives him not
an Onion ; the Women too, faith, 'tis a handsom Gen
tleman, but the Devil a Kiss he gets gratis.

1 66 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT in

Aria. Oh, how I long to undeceive him of that Error.

La Nu. He speaks not of me ; sure he knows me not.

[Aside.

Wih. — No, Child, Money speaks sense in a Language
all Nations understand, 'tis Beauty, Wit, Courage, Honour,
and undisputable Reason — see the virtue of a Wager, that
new philosophical way lately found out of deciding all hard
Questions — Socrates, without ready Money to lay down,
must yield.

Aria. Well, I must have this gallant Fellow. [.Aside.

La. Nu. Sure he has forgot this trival thing.

Will. — Even thou — who seest me dying unregarded,
wou'd then be fond and kind, and flatter me. [Soft tone.
By Heaven, I'll hate thee then ; nay, I will marry to be
rich to hate thee : the worst of that, is but to suffer nine
Days Wonderment. Is not that better than an Age of
Scorn from a proud faithless Beauty ?

Lu. Nu. Oh, there's Resentment left — why, yes faith,
such a Wedding would give the Town diversion : we
should have a lamentable Ditty made on it, entitled, The
Captain's Wedding, with the doleful Relation of his being
over-laid by an o'er-grown Monster.

Will. I'll warrant ye I escape that as sure as cuckolding ;
for I would fain see that hardy Wight that dares attempt
my Lady Bright, either by Force or Flattery.

La Nu. So, then you intend to bed her?

Will. Yes faith, and beget a Race of Heroes, the
Mother's Form with all the Father's Qualities.

La Nu. Faith, such a Brood may prove a pretty Liveli
hood for a poor decay'd Officer ; you may chance to get
a Patent to shew 'em in England, that Nation of Change
and Novelty.

Will. A provision old Carlo cannot make for you against
the abandon'd day.

La Nu. He can supply the want of Issue a better way ;
and tho he be not so fine a fellow as your self, he's a better

sc. i] . THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 167

Friend, he can keep a Mistress : give me a Man can feed
and clothe me, as well as hug and all to bekiss me, and tho
his Sword be not so good as yours, his Bond's worth a
thousand Captains. This will not do, I'll try what Jealousy
will do. [Aside.

Your Servant, Captain — your Hand, Sir.

[Takes Ariadne by the Hand.

Will. Hah, what new Coxcomb's that — hold, Sir —

[Takes her from him.

Aria. What would you, Sir, ought with this Lady ?

Will. Yes, that which thy Youth will only let thee guess
at — this — Child, is Man's Meat ; there are other Toys for
Children. [Offers to lead her off.

LaNu. Oh insolent! and whither would'stthou lead me?

Will. Only out of harm's way, Child, here are pretty
near Conveniences within : the Doctor will be civil — 'tis
part of his Calling — Your Servant, Sir —

[Going off with her.

Aria. I must huff now, tho I may chance to be beaten
— come back — or I have something here that will oblige
ye to't. [Laying his hand on his Sword.

Will. Yes faith, thou'rt a pretty Youth ; but at this time
I've more occasion for a thing in Petticoats — go home,
and do not walk the Streets so much ; that tempting Face
of thine will debauch the grave men of business, and make
the Magistrates lust after Wickedness.

Aria. You are a scurvy Fellow, Sir. [Going to draw.

Will. Keep in your Sword, for fear it cut your Fingers,
Child.

Aria. So 'twill your Throat, Sir — here's Company
coming that will part us, and I'll venture to draw.

[Draws, Will, draws.

Enter Beaumond.

Beau. Hold, hold — hah, Willmore! thou Man of con
stant mischief, what's the matter ?

1 68 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT in

La Nu. Beaumond! undone !

Aria. — Beaumond! —

Will. Why, here's a young Spark will take my Lady
Bright from me ; the unmanner'd Hot-spur would not
have patience till I had finish'd my small Affair with her.

[Puts up his Sword.

Aria. Death, he'll know me — Sir, you see we are
prevented. [Draws him aside.

— or — [Seems to talk to kimy Beau, gazes on La Nuche, who

has puWd down her Veil.

Beau. 'Tis she ! Madam, this Veil's too thin to hide the
perjur'd Beauty underneath. Oh, have I been searching
thee, with all the diligence of impatient Love, and am I
thus rewarded, to find thee here incompass'd round with
Strangers, fighting, who first should take my right away ?
— Gods ! take your Reason back, take all your Love ; for
easy Man's unworthy of the Blessings.

Will. Harkye, Harry — the — Woman — the almighty
Whore — thou told'st me of to day.

Beau. Death, do'st thou mock my Grief — unhand me
strait, for tho I cannot blame thee, I must hate thee. —

[Goes out.

Will. What the Devil ails he ?

Aria. You will be sure to come.

Will. At night in the Piazza ; I have an Assignation
with a Woman, that once dispatch'd, I will not fail ye, Sir.

Luc. And will you leave him with her?

Aria. Oh, yes, he'll be ne'er the worse for my use when
he has done with her. [Ex. Luc. and Aria. Will, looks

with scorn on La Nuche.

Will. Now you may go o'ertake him, lie with him —
and ruin him : the Fool was made for such a Destiny —
if he escapes my Sword. [He offers to go.

La Nu. I must prevent his visit to this Woman — but
dare not tell him so. [Aside.

— I would not have ye meet this angry Youth.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 169

Will. Oh, you would preserve him for a farther use.

La Nu. Stay — you must not fight — by Heaven, I cannot
see — that Bosom — wounded. [Turns and weeps.

Will. Hah ! weep'st thou ? curse me when I refuse a
faith to that obliging Language of thy Eyes — Oh give me
one proof more, and after that, thou conquerest all my
Soul ; Thy Eyes speak Love — come, let us in, my Dear,
e'er the bright Fire allays that warms my Heart.

[Goes to lead her out.

La Nu. Your Love grows rude, and saucily demands
it. [Flings away.

Will. Love knows no Ceremony, no repect when once
approacht so near the happy minute.

La Nu. What desperate easiness have you seen in me,
or what mistaken merit in your self, should make you so
ridiculously vain, to think I'd give my self to such a Wretch,
one fal'n even to the last degree of Poverty, whilst all the
World is prostrate at my Feet, whence I might chuse the
Brave, the Great, the Rich ?

[He stands spitefully gazing at her.
— Still as he fires, I find my Pride augment, and when he
cools I burn. [Aside.

Will. Death, thou'rt a — vain, conceited, taudry Jilt,
who wou'st draw me in as Rooks their Cullies do, to make
me venture all my stock of Love, and then you turn me
out despis'd and poor — [Offers to go.

La Nu. You think you're gone now —

Will. Not all thy Arts nor Charms shall hold me longer.

La Nu. I must submit — and can you part thus from
me ? — [Pulls him.

Will. I can — nay, by Heaven, I will not turn, nor look
at thee. No, when I do, or trust that faithless Tongue
again — may I be —

La Nu. Oh do not swear —

Will. Ever curst — [Breaks from her^ she holds him.

La Nu. You shall not go — Plague of this needless
Pride. [Aside.

170 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACTIII, sc. i

— stay — and I'll follow all the dictates of my Love.

Will. Oh never hope to flatter me to faith again.

[His back to her, she holding him.

La Nu. I must, I will ; what wou'd you have me do ?

Will, [turning softly to her.~\ Never — deceive me more,
it may be fatal to wind me up to an impatient height, then
dash my eager Hopes. [Sighing.

Forgive my roughness — and be kind, La Nuche^ I know
thou wo't —

La Nu. Will you then be ever kind and true?

Will. Ask thy own Charms, and to confirm thee more,
yield and disarm me quite.

La Nu. Will you not marry then ? for tho you never
can be mine that way, I cannot think that you should be
another's.

Will. No more delays, by Heaven, 'twas but a trick.

La Nu. And will you never see that Woman neither,
whom you're this Night to visit?

Will. Damn all the rest of thy weak Sex, when thou
look'st thus, and art so soft and charming.

[Offers to lead her out.

La Nu. Sancho — my Coach. [ Turns in scorn.

Will. Take heed, what mean ye ?

La Nu. Not to be pointed at by all the envying Women
of the Town, who'l laugh and cry, Is this the high-priz'd
Lady, now fall'n so low, to doat upon a Captain ? a poor
disbanded Captain ? defend me from that Infamy.

Will. Now all the Plagues — but yet I will not curse
thee, 'tis lost on thee, for thou art destin'd damn'd.

[Going out.

La Nu. Whither so fast ?

Will. Why, — I am so indifferent grown, that I can tell
thee now — to a Woman, young, fair and honest ; she'll
be kind and thankful — farewel, Jilt — now should'st thou
die for one sight more of me, thou should'st not ha't ; nay,
should'st thou sacrifice all thou hast couzen'd other

[ACT iv, sc. i THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 1 7 1

Coxcombs of, to buy one single visit, I am so proud, by

Heaven, thou shouldst not have it — To grieve thee more,

see here, insatiate Woman [Shews her a Purse or hands full

of Gold] the Charm that makes me lovely in thine Eyes:

it had all been thine hadst thou not basely bargain'd with

me, now 'tis the Prize of some well-meaning Whore,

whose Modesty will trust my Generosity. [Goes out.

La Nu. Now I cou'd rave, t'have lost an opportunity

(which industry nor chance can give again — when on the

yielding point, a cursed fit of Pride comes cross my Soul,

land stops the kind Career — I'll follow him, yes I'll follow

j him, even to the Arms of her to whom he's gone.

Aur. Madam, 'tis dark, and we may meet with Insolence.
La Nu. No matter : Sancho, let the Coach go home,
and do you follow me —

Women may boast their Honour and their Pride,

But Love soon lays those feebler Powr^s aside. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The Street^ or Backside of the Piazza dark.
Enter Willmore alone.

Will. A Pox upon this Woman that has jilted me, and
(I for being a fond believing Puppy to be in earnest with

so great a Devil. Where be these Coxcombs too? this
! Blunt and Fetherfool? when a Man needs 'em not, they

are plaguing him with their unseasonable Jests — could I
; but light on them, I would be very drunk to night — but
; first I'll try my Fortune with this Woman — let me see —

hereabouts is the Door. [Gropes about for the Door.

Enter Beaumond, followed by La Nuche, and Sancho.

La Nu. 'Tis he, I know it by his often and uneasy
pauses —

Beau. And shall I home and sleep upon my injury,
whilst this more happy Rover takes my right away ? — no,

172 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT iv

damn me then for a cold senseless Coward.

[Pauses and pulh out a Key.

Will. This Damsel, by the part o'th' Town she lives
in, shou'd be of Quality, and therefore can have no dis
honest design on me, it must be right down substantial
Love, that's certain.

Beau. Yet I'll in and arm my self for the Encounter,
for 'twill be rough between us, tho we're Friends.

[Groping about, finds the Door.

Will. Oh, 'tis this I'm sure, because the Door is open.
Beau. Hah — who's there ? — [Beau, advances to unlock
the Door, runs against Will, draws.
Will. That Voice isof Authority, some Husband, Lover,'
or a Brother, on my Life — this is a Nation of a word and
a blow, therefore I'll betake me to Toledo — [Draws.
[Willmore in drawing hits his Sword against that of
Beaumond, who turns and fights^ La Nuche runs
into the Garden frighted.
Beau. Hah, are you there?
Sane. I'll draw in defence of the Captain —

[Sancho fights for Beau, and beats out Will.
Will. Hah, two to one? [Turns and goes in.

Beau. The Garden Door clapt to ; sure he's got in ;
nay, then I have him sure.

The Scene changes to a Garden^ La Nuche in it ; to her
Beau, who takes hold of her sleeve.

La Nu. Heavens, where am I ?

Beau. Hah — a Woman ! and by these Jewels — should

be Ariadne. \_feels.~\ 'Tis so ! Death, are all Women false ?

[She struggles to get away, he holds her.

— Oh, 'tis in vain thou fly'st, thy Infamy will stay behind

thee still.

La Nil. Hah, 'tis Beaumond' s Voice ! —
Now for an Art to turn the trick upon him ; I must not
lose his Friendship. [Aside.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 173

Enter Willmore softly , peeping behind.

Will. What a Devil have we here, more Mischief yet ;
— hah — my Woman with a Man — I shall spoil all — I
[ever had an excellent knack of doing so.

Beau. Oh Modesty, where art thou ? Is this the effect of
all your put on Jealousy, that Mask to hide your own new
ifalshood in ? New ! — by Heaven, I believe thou'rt old in
[cunning, that couldst contrive, so near thy Wedding-night,
[this, to deprive me of the Rites of Love.

La Nu. Hah, what says he ? {Aside.

Will. How, a Maid, and young, and to be marry'd too !
la rare Wench this to contrive Matters so conveniently:
fOh, for some Mischief now to send him neatly off.

{Aside.

Beau. Now you are silent ; but you could talk to day
f'.oudly of Virtue, and upbraid my Vice : oh how you hated
i young keeping Husband, whom neither Beauty nor
aHonour in a Wife cou'd oblige to reason — oh, damn your
ijHonour, 'tis that's the sly pretence of all your domineering
I nsolent Wives — Death — what didst thou see in me, should
.make thee think that I would be a tame contented Cuck-
pld ? [Going) she holds him.

La Nu. I must not lose this lavish loving Fool — {Aside.

Will. So, I hope he will be civil and withdraw, and
leave me in possession —

Beau. No, tho my Fortune should depend on thee ; nay,
I ill my hope of future happiness — by Heaven, I scorn to
i, narry thee, unless thou couldst convince me thou wer't
lionest — a Whore ! — Death, how it cools my Blood —

Will. And fires mine extremely —

La Nu. Nay, then I am provok'd tho I spoil all —

{Aside.

And is a Whore a thing so much despis'd ?
Turn back, thou false forsworn — turn back, and blush at
j:hy mistaken folly. {He stands amaz'd.

Beau, La Nuchel

174 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT iv

Enter Aria, peeping, advancing cautiously undrest, Luc.
following.

Aria. Oh, he is here — Lucia^ attend me in the Orange-
grove — \_Ex. Lucia.
Hah, a Woman with him !

Will. Hum — what have we here ? another Damsel ? —
she's gay too, and seems young and handsom — sure one
of these will fall to my share ; no matter which, so I am
sure of one.

La Nu. Who's silent now ? are you struck dumb with
Guilt? thou shame to noble Love; thou scandal to all
brave Debauchery, thou Fop of Fortune ; thou slavish Heir
to Estate and Wife, born rich and damn'd to Matrimony.

Will. Egad, a noble Wench — I am divided yet.

La Nu. Thou formal Ass disguis'd in generous Leud-
ness,see — when the Vizor's off, how sneakingly that empty
form appears — Nay 'tis thy own — Make much on't, marry
with it, and be damn'd. [Offers to go.

Will. I hope she'll beat him for suspecting her.

\Iie holds her^ she turns.

Aria. Hah — who the Devil can these be ?

La Nu. What silly honest Fool did you mistake me
for? what senseless modest thing? Death, am I grown so
despicable ? have I deserv'd no better from thy Love than
to be taken for a virtuous Changeling?

Will. Egad, 'twas an Affront. \_Aside.

La Nu. I'm glad I've found thee out to be an errant
Coxcomb, one that esteems a Woman for being chaste
forsooth ! 'Sheart, I shall have thee call me pious shortly,
a most — religious Matron !

Will. Egad, she has reason — \_Aside.

Beau. Forgive me — for I took ye — for another. [Sighing.

La Nu. Oh did you so ? it seems you keep fine Com
pany the while — Death, that I should e'er be seen with
such a vile Dissembler, with one so vain, so dull and sc
impertinent, as can be entertain'd by honest Women !

Isc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 175

Will. A Heavenly Soul, and to my Wish, were I but
Uure of her.

Beau. Oh you do wondrous well t'accuse me first ! yes,
|[ am a Coxcomb — a confounded one, to doat upon so false
h Prostitute ; nay to love seriously, and tell it too : yet such
[in amorous Coxcomb I was born, to hate the Enjoyment
hf the loveliest Woman, without I have the Heart : the
Fond soft Prattle, and the lolling Dalliance, the Frowns,
[:he little Quarrels, and the kind Degrees of making Peace
kgain, are Joys which I prefer to all the sensual, whilst I
Endeavour to forget the Whore, and pay my Vows to Wit,
I o Youth and Beauty.

Aria. Now hang me, if it be not Beaumond.

Beau. Would any Devil less than common Woman
fcave serv'd me as thou didst ? say, was not this my Night?
Iny paid for Night ? my own by right of Bargain, and by
I jOve ? and hast not thou deceiv'd me for a Stranger ?

Will. So — make me thankful, then she will be kind.

\_Hugs himself.

Beau. — Was this done like a Whore of Honour think
I'er and would not such an Injury make me forswear all
I oys of Womankind, and marry in mere spite?

La Nu. Why where had been the Crime had I been kind ?

Beau. Thou dost confess it then.

La Nu. Why not ?

Beau. Those Bills of Love the oftner paid and drawn,
a riake Women better Merchants than Lovers.

La Nu. And 'tis the better Trade.

Will. Oh Pox, there she dasht all again. I find they
lalm upon't, and will agree, therefore I'll bear up to this
Imall Frigate and lay her aboard. [Goes to Ariadne.

La Nu. However I'm glad the Vizor's off; you might
rjj ave fool'd me on, and sworn I was the only Conqueror
j| f your Heart, had not Good-nature made me follow you,
|;p undeceive your false Suspicions of me : How have you
ijworn never to marry? how rail'd at Wives, and satir'd

176 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT iv

Fools oblig'd to Wedlock ? And now at last, to thy eternal
Shame, thou hast betray'd thy self to be a most pernicious
honourable Lover, a perjur'd — honest — nay, a very Hus
band. [Turns away, he holds her.

Aria. Hah, sure 'tis the Captain.

Will. Prithee, Child, let's leave 'em to themselves, they '1
agree matters I'll warrant them when they are alone ; and
let us try how Love and Good-nature will provide for us

Aria. Sure he cannot know me ? — Us ! — pray who are
you, and who am I ?

Will. Why look ye, Child, I am a very honest civi
Fellow, for my part, and thou'rt a Woman for thine ; am
I desire to know no more at present.

Aria. 'Tis he, and knows not me to be the same he
appointed to day — Sir, pursue that Path on your righ
Hand, that Grove of Orange-Trees, and I'll follow you
immediately.

Will. Kind and civil — prithee make haste, dear Child

[Exit. Will

Beau. And did you come to call me back again ?

[Lovingly

La Nu. No matter, you are to be marry 'd, Sir —

Beau. No more, 'tis true, to please my Uncle, I have
talk'd of some such thing ; but I'll pursue it no farther, sc
thou wilt yet be mine, and mine intirely — I hate this
Ariadne — for a Wife — by Heaven I do.

Aria. A very plain Confession. [Claps him on the back

Beau. Ariadne !

La Nu. I'm glad of this, now I shall be rid of him.

[Aside

— How is't, Sir ? I see you struggle hard 'twixt Love anc
Honour, and I'll resign my Place —

[Offers to go, Ariadne pulls her back

Aria. Hold, if she take him not away, I shall disappoin
my Man — faith, I'll not be out-done in Generosity.

[Gives him to La Nuche

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 177

Here — Love deserves him best — and I resign him — Pox
on't I'm honest, tho that's no fault of mine ; 'twas Fortune
who has made a worse Exchange, and you and I should suit
most damnably together. [To Beau.

Beau. I am sure there's something in the Wind, she
being in the Garden, and the Door left open. [Aside.
— Yes, I believe you are willing enough to part with me,
when you expect another you like better.

Aria. I'm glad I was before-hand with you then.

Beau. Very good, and the Door was left open to give
admittance to a Lover.

Aria. 'Tis visible it was to let one in to you, false as
you are.

La Nu. Faith, Madam, you mistake my Constitution,
my Beauty and my Business is only to be belov'd not to
love ; I leave that Slavery for you Women of Quality, who
must invite, or die without the Blessing ; for likely the
Fool you make choice of wants Wit or Confidence to ask
first ; you are fain to whistle before the Dogs will fetch
and carry, and then too they approach by stealth : and
having done the Drudgery, the submissive Curs are turn'd
out for fear of dirtying your Apartment, or that the
Mungrils should scandalize ye ; whilst all my Lovers of the
noble kind throng to adore and fill my Presence daily, gay
as if each were triumphing for Victory.

Aria. Ay this is something ; what a poor sneaking thing
an honest Woman is !

La Nu. And if we chance to love still, there's a differ
ence, your Hours of Love are like the Deeds of Darkness,
and mine like cheerful Birds in open Day.

Aria. You may, you have no Honour to lose.

La Nu. Or if I had, why should I double the Sin by
Hypocrisy ?

[Lucia squeaks within^ crying^ help^ help.

Aria. Heavens, that's Lucia's Voice.

Beau. Hah, more caterwauling ?

I N

178 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT iv

Enter Lucia In haste.

Luc. Oh, Madam, we're undone ; and, Sir, for Heaven's
sake do you retire.

Beau. What's the matter ?

Luc. Oh you have brought the most villainous mad
Friend with you — he found me sitting on a Bank — and
did so ruffle me.

Aria. Death, she takes Beaumond for the Stranger, and
will ruin me.

Luc. Nay, made love so loud, that my Lord your Father-
in-law, who was in his Cabinet, heard us from the Orange-
Grove, and has sent to search the Garden — and should
he find a Stranger with you — do but you retire, Sir, and
all's well yet. [To Beaumond.

Aria. The Devil's in her Tongue. [Aside.

Luc. For if Mr. Beaumond be in the House, we shall
have the Devil to do with his Jealousy.
Aria. So, there 'tis out.

Beau. She takes me for another — I am jilted every where
— what Friend ? — I brought none with me.
— Madam, do you retire — [To La Nuche.

La Nu. Glad of my Freedom too — [Goes out.

[A clashing of Swords within. Enter Willm. fighting,
prest back by three or four Men, and Abevile, Aria.
and Luc. run out.

Beau. Hah, set on by odds ; hold, tho thou be'st my
Rival, I will free thee, on condition thou wilt meet me to
morrow morning in the Piazza by day break. [Puts him
self between their Swords, and speaks to Will, aside.
Will. By Heaven I'll do it.

Beau. Retire in safety then, you have your pass.
Abev. Fall on, fall on, the number is increas'd.

[Fall on Beau.
Beau. Rascals, do you not know me ?

[Falls in with 'em and beats them back, and goes out
with them.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 179

Will. Nay, and you be so well acquainted, I'll leave you
— unfortunate still I am ; my own well meaning, but ill
Management, is my eternal Foe : Plague on 'em, they have
wounded me — yet not one drop of Blood's departed from
me that warm'd my Heart for Woman, and I'm not willing
to quit this Fairy-ground till some kind Devil have been
civil to me.

Enter Ariadne and Lucia.

Aria. I say, 'tis he : thou'st made so many dull Mistakes
to Night, thou darest not trust thy Senses when they're true
— How do you, Sir?

Will. That Voice has Comfort in't, for 'tis a Woman's :
hah, more Interruption ?

Aria. A little this way, Sir.

\_Ex. Aria, and Will, into the Garden.
Enter Beaumond, Abevile in a submissive Posture.

Beau. No more excuses — By all these Circumstances,
I know this Ariadne is a Gipsy. What difference then
beween a money-taking Mistress and her that gives her
Love? only perhaps this sins the closer by't, and talks of
Honour more : What Fool wou'd be a Slave to empty
Name, or value Woman for dissembling well? I'll to
La Nuche — the honester o'th' two — Abevile — get me my
Musick ready, and attend me at La Nuche'' s. \_Ex. severally.

Luc. He's gone, and to his Mistress too.

Enter Ariadne pursued by Willmore.

Will. My little Daphne^ 'tis in vain to fly, unless like
her, you cou'd be chang'd into a Tree : Apollo's self pursu'd
not with more eager Fire than I. [Holds her.

Aria. Will you not grant a Parly e'er I yield ?

Will. I'm better at a Storm.

Aria. Besides, you're wounded too.

Will. Oh leave those Wounds of Honour to my Surgeon,
thy Business is to cure those of Love. Your true bred
Soldier ever fitrhts with the more heat for a Wound or two.

180 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT iv

Aria. Hardly in Venus Wars.

Will. Her self ne'er thought so when she snatcht her
Joys between the rough Encounters of the God of War.
Come, let's pursue the Business we came for : See the kind
Night invites, and all the ruffling Winds are husht and still,
only the Zephirs spread their tender Wings, courting in
gentle Murmurs the gay Boughs ; 'twas in a Night like
this, Diana taught the Mysteries of Love to the fair Boy
Endymion. I am plaguy full of History and Simile to night.

Aria. You see how well he far'd for being modest.

Will. He might be modest, but 'twas not over-civil to
put her Goddessship to asking first ; thou seest I'm better
bred — Come let's haste to silent Grots that attend us, dark
Groves where none can see, and murmuring Fountains.

Aria. Stay, let me consider first, you are a Stranger,
inconstant too as Island Winds, and every day are fighting
for your Mistresses, of which you've had at least four since
I saw you first, which is not a whole day.

Will. I grant ye, before I was a Lover I ran at random,
but I'll take up now, be a patient Man, and keep to one
Woman a Month.

Aria. A Month !

Will. And a fair Reason, Child ; time was, I wou'd
have worn one Shirt, or one pair of Shoos so long as have
let the Sun set twice upon the same Sin : but see the Power
of Love ; thou hast bewitched me, that's certain.

Aria. Have a care of giving me the ascendent over ye,
for fear I make ye marry me.

Will. Hold, I bar that cast, Child ; no, I'm none of
those Spirits that can be conjur'd into a Wedding-ring,
and dance in the dull matrimonial Circle all my Days.

Aria. But what think you of a hundred thousand
Crowns, and a Beauty of sixteen ?

Will. As of most admirable Blessings : but harkye,
Child, I am plaguily afraid thou'rt some scurvy honest
thing of Quality by these odd Questions of thine, and hast
some wicked Design upon my Body.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 181

Aria. What, to have and to hold I'll warrant. — No
Faith, Sir, Maids of my Quality expect better Jointures
than a Buff-coat, Scarf and Feather : such Portions as mine
are better Ornaments in a Family than a Captain and his
Commission.

Will. Why well said, now thou hast explain'd thy self
like a Woman of Honour — Come, come, let's away.

Aria. Explain my self! How mean ye?

Will. — Thou say'st I am not fit to marry thee — and
I believe this Assignation was not made to tell me so, nor
yet to hear me whistle to the Birds.

Aria. Faith no, I saw you, lik'd ye, and had a mind to ye.

Will. Ay, Child—

Aria. In short, I took ye for a Man of Honour.

Will. Nay, if I tell the Devil take me.

Aria. I am a Virgin in Distress.

Will. Poor Heart.

Aria. To be marry'd within a Day or two to one I
like not.

Will. Hum — and therefore wouldst dispose of a small
Virgin Treasure (too good for silly Husbands) in a Friend's
Hands : faith, Child — I was ever a good religious charitable
Christian, and shall acquit my self as honestly and piously
in this Affair as becomes a Gentleman.

Enter Abevile with Mustek.

Abev. Come away, are ye all arm'd for the Business ?

Aria. Hah, arm'd ! we are surpriz'd again.

Will. Fear not. [Draws.

Aria. Oh God, Sir, haste away, you are already wounded :
but I conjure you, as a Man of Honour, be here at the
Garden Gate to night again, and bring a Friend, in case
of Danger, with you ; and if possible I'll put my self into
your Hands, for this Night's Work has ruin'd me — .
[Speaking quick^ and pushing him forwards runs off.

Abev. My Master sure not gone yet — [Peeping advancing.

1 82 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT iv

Will. Rascals, tho you are odds, you'll find hot Work
in vanquishing. \_Falh on ''em.

Abev. Hold, Sir, I am your Page. Do you not know
me ? and these the Musick you commanded — shall I carry
'em where you order'd, Sir ?

Will. They take me for some other, this was lucky.

[Aside.

O, aye — 'tis well — I'll follow — but whither ? — Plague of
my dull Mistakes, the Woman's gone — yet stay — [Calls 'em.
For now I think on't, this Mistake may help me to another
— stay — I must dispose of this mad Fire about me, which
all these Disappointments cannot lay — Oh for some young
kind Sinner in the nick — How I cou'd souse upon her like
a Bird of Prey, and worry her with Kindness. [Aside. —
Go on, I follow. [Exeunt.

Scene changes to La Nuche's House.
Enter Petronella and Aurelia with Light.

Aur. Well, the Stranger is in Bed, and most impatiently
expects our Patrona, who is not yet returned.

Pet. Curse of this Love ! I know she's in pursuit of this
Rover, this English Piece of Impudence ; Pox on 'em, I
know nothing good in the whole Race of 'em, but giving
all to their Shirts when they're drunk. What shall we do,
Aurelia ? This Stranger must not be put off, nor Carlo
neither, who has fin'd again as if for a new Maidenhead.

Aur. You are so covetous, you might have put 'em off,
but now 'tis too late.

Pet. Put off! Are these Fools to be put off think ye?
a fine Fop Englishman^ and an old doating Grandee ? —
No, I cou'd put the old trick on 'em still, had she been
here but to have entertain'd 'em : but hark, one knocks,
'tis Carlo on my Life —

Enter Carlo, gives Petronella Gold.
Car. Let this plead for me.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 183

Pet. Sweet Don, you are the most eloquent Person.

Car. I would regale to night — I know it is not mine,
but I've sent five hundred Crowns to purchase it, because
I saw another bargaining for't ; and Persons of my Quality
must not be refus'd : you apprehend me.

Pet. Most rightly — that was the Reason then she came so
out of Humour home— and is gone to Bed in such asullen Fit.

Car. To Bed, and all alone ! I would surprize her there.
Oh how it pleases me to think of stealing into her Arms
like a fine Dream, Wench, hah.

Aur. 'Twill be a pleasant one, no doubt.

Pet. He lays the way out how he'll be cozen'd. \_Aside.
— The Seigniora perhaps may be angry, Sir, but I'll venture
that to accommodate you ; and that you may surprize her
the more readily, be pleased to stay in my Chamber, till
you think she may be asleep.

Car. Thou art a perfect Mistress of thy Trade.

Pet. So, now will I to the Seigniora's Bed my self, drest
and perfum'd, and finish two good Works at once; earn
five hundred Crowns, and keep up the Honour of the
House. \_Aside.~\ — Softly, sweet Don. \_Lights him out.

Aur. And I will do two more good things, and disap
point your Expectations; jilt the young English Fool, and
have old Carlo well bang'd, if t'other have any Courage.

Enter La Nuche in Rage, and Sancho.

La Nu. Aurelia, help, help me to be reveng'd upon this
wretched unconsidering Heart.

Aur. Heavens, have you made the Rover happy, Madam ?

La Nu. Oh wou'd I had ! or that or any Sin wou'd
change this Rage into some easier Passion : Sickness and
Poverty, Disgrace and Pity, all met in one, were kinder
than this Love, this raging Fire of a proud amorous Heart.

Enter Petronella.

Pet. Heavens, what's the matter?
Aur. Here's Petronella, dissemble but your Rage a little.

184 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT iv

La Nu. Damn all dissembling now, it is too late — ]
The Tyrant Love reigns absolute within,
And I am lost, Aurelia.

Pet. How, Love ! forbid it Heaven \ will Love maintain ye?

La Nu. Curse on your Maxims, will they ease my
Heart ? Can your wise Counsel fetch me back my Rover ?

Pet. Hah, your Rover, a Pox upon him.

La Nu. He's gone — gone to the Arms of some gay
generous Maid, who nobly follows Love's diviner Dictates,
whilst I 'gainst Nature studying thy dull Precepts, and to
be base and infamously rich, have barter'd all the Joys of
human Life — Oh give me Love : I will be poor and love.

Pet. She's lost — but hear me —

La Nu. I won't, from Childhood thou hast trained me
up in Cunning, read Lectures to me of the use of Man,
but kept me from the knowledge of the Right ; taught me
to jilt, to flatter and deceive : and hard it was to learn th'
ungrateful Lessons. But oh how soon plain Nature taught
me Love, and shew'd me all the cheat of thy false Tenents
— No — give me Love with any other Curse.

Pet. But who will give you that when you are poor ?
when you are wretchedly despis'd and poor?

La Nu. Hah !

Pet. Do you not daily see fine Clothes, rich Furniture,
Jewels and Plate are more inviting than Beauty unadorn'd ?
be old, diseas'd, deform'd, be any thing, so you be rich
and splendidly attended, you'll find your self lov'd and
ador'd by all — But I'm an old fool still — Well, Petronella,
had'st thou been half as industrious in thy Youth as in
thy Age — thou hadst not come to this. \_Weeps.

La Nu. She's in the right.

Pet. What can this mad poor Captain do for you,
love you whilst you can buy him Breeches, and then leave
you ? A Woman has a sweet time on't with any Soldier-
Lover of 'em all, with their Iron Minds, and Buff Hearts ;
feather'd Inamorato's have nothing that belongs to Love
but his Wings, the Devil clip 'em for Petronella.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 185

La Nu. True — he can ne'er be constant. [Pausing.

Pet. Heaven forbid he should ! No, if you are so
unhappy as that you must have him, give him a Night or
two and pay him for't, and send him to feed again : But
for your Heart, 'Sdeath, I would as soon part with my
Beauty, or Youth, and as necessary a Tool 'tis for your
Trade — A Curtezan and love ! but all my Counsel's
thrown away upon ye. \Weeps.

La Nu. No more, I will be rul'd — I will be wise, be
rich ; and since I must yield somewhere, and some time,
Beaumond shall be the Man, and this the Night ; he's hand-
som, young, and lavishly profuse : This Night he comes,
and I'll submit to Interest. Let the gilded Apartment be
made ready, and strew it o'er with Flowers, adorn my Bed
of State ; let all be fine ; perfume my Chamber like the
Phoenix's Nest, I'll be luxurious in my Pride to Night, and
make the amorous prodigal Youth my Slave.

Pet. Nobly resolv'd ! and for these other two who wait
your coming, let me alone to manage. [Goes out.

Scene changes to a Chamber , discovers Fetherfool in Bed.

Feth. This Gentlewoman is plaguy long in coming : —
some Nicety now, some perfum'd Smock, or Point Night-
Clothes to make her more lovely in my Eyes : Well, these
Women are right City Cooks, they stay so long to garnish
the Dish, till the Meat be cold — but hark, the Door opens.

Enter Carlo softly^ half undrest.

Car. This Wench stays long, and Love's impatient;
this is the Chamber of La Nuche^ I take it : If she be
awake, I'll let her know who I am ; if not, I'll steal a Joy
before she thinks of it.

Feth. Sure 'tis she, pretty modest Rogue, she comes
i'th' dark to hide her Blushes — hum, I'm plaguy eloquent
o'th' sudden — who's there ? [Whispering.

Car. 'Tis I, my Love.

Feth. Hah, sweet Soul, make haste. — There 'twasagain.

1 86 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT iv

Car. So kind, sure she takes me for some other, or has
some inkling of my Design — [To himself.

Where are you, Sweetest ?

Feth. Here, my Love, give me your Hand —

[Puts out his Hand ; Carlo kneels and kisses it.

Car. Here let me worship the fair Shrine before I dare

approach so fair a Saint. \_Kisses the Hand.

Feth. Hah, what a Pox have we here ? — wou'd I were

well out o' t'other side — perhaps 'tis her Husband, and

then I'm a dead Man, if I'm discover'd.

[Removes to father side. Carlo holds his Hand.

Car. Nay, do not fly — I know you took me for some

happier Person. [Feth. struggles, Car. rises and takes him

in his Arms, and kisses him.

Feth. What, will you ravish me ? [In a shrill Voice.
Car. Hah, that Voice is not La Nuche's — Lights there,
Lights.

Feth. Nay, I can hold a bearded Venus, Sir, as well as
any Man. {Holds Carlo.

Car. What art thou, Rogue, Villain, Slave?

[They fall to Cuffs, and fight till they are bloody, fall
from the Bed and fight on the Floor.

Enter Petronella, Sancho, and Aurelia.

Pet. Heaven, what noise is this ? — we are undone, part
'em, Sancho. [ They part 'em.

Feth. Give me my Sword ; nay, give me but a Knife,
that I may cut yon Fellow's Throat —

Car. Sirrah, I'm a Grandee, and a Spaniard, and will
be reveng'd.

Feth. And I'm an English-man, and a Justice, and will
have Law, Sir.

Pet. Say 'tis her Husband, or any thing to get him
hence. [Aside to Sancho, who whispers him.

These English, Sir, are Devils, and on my Life 'tis unknown
to the Seigniora that he's i'th' House. [To Carlo aside.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 187

Car. Come, I'm abus'd, but I must put it up for fear of
my Honour ; a Statesman's Reputation is a tender thing :
Convey me out the back way. I'll be reveng'd. [Goes out.

Feth. (Aurelia w hispers to him aside.} How, her Husband !
Prithee convey me out ; my Clothes, my Clothes, quickly —

Aur. Out, Sir ! he has lock'd the Door, and designs to
have ye murder'd.

Feth. Oh, gentle Soul — take pity on me — where, oh
what shall I do? — my Clothes, my Sword and Money.

Aur. Quickly, Sancho, tie a Sheet to the Window, and
let him slide down by that — Be speedy, and we'll throw
your Clothes out after ye. Here, follow me to the Window.

Feth. Oh, any whither, any whither. That I could not
be warn'd from whoring in a strange Country, by my
Friend Ned Blunfs Example — if I can but keep it secret
now, I care not. [Exeunt.

Scene, the Street, a Sheet ty*d to the Balcony, and Feth.
sitting cross to slide down.

Feth. So — now your Neck, or your Throat, chuse ye
either, wise Mr. Nicholas Fetherfool — But stay, I hear
Company. Now dare not I budg an Inch.

Enter Beaumond alone.

Beau. Where can this Rascal, my Page, be all this
while ? I waited in the Piazza so long, that I believed he
had mistook my Order, and gone directly to La Nuche's
House — but here's no sign of him —

Feth. Hah — I hear no noise, I'll venture down.

[Goes halfway down and stops.

Enter Abevile, Harlequin, Mustek and Willmore.

Will. Whither will this Boy conduct me? — but since
to a Woman, no matter whither 'tis.

Feth. Hah, more Company ; now dare not I stir up
nor down, they may be Bravoes to cut my Throat.

Beau. Oh sure these are they —

1 88 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACTIV, sc. i

Will. Come, my Heart, lose no time, but tune your
Pipes. [Harlequin plays on his Guittar, and sings.

Beau. How, sure this is some Rival.

[Goes near and listens.

Will. Harkye, Child, hast thou ne'er an amorous Ditty,
short and sweet, hah —

Abev. Shall I not sing that you gave me, Sir?

Will. I shall spoil all with hard Questions — Ay, Child
— that that. [Abev. sings, Beau, listens, and seems

angry the while.

SONG.

A Pox upon this needless Scorn !
Silvia, for shame the Cheat give o 'er ;
The end to which the fair are born,
Is not to keep their Charms in store,
But lavishly dispose in haste.
Of Joys which none but Youth improve'.
Joys which decay when Beauty's past :
And who when Beauty's past will love ?

When Age those Glories shall deface,
Revenging all your cold Disdain,
And Silvia shall neglected pass,
By every once admiring Swain ;
And we can only Pity pay,
When you in vain too late shall burn :
If Love increase, and Youth delay,
Ah, Silvia, who will make return ?

Then haste, my Silvia, to the Grove,
Where all the Sweets of May conspire,
To teach us every Art of Love,
And raise our Charms of Pleasure higher ;
Where, whilst imbracing we should lie
Loosely in Shades, on Banks of Flowers :
The duller World whilst we defy,
Years will be Minutes, Ages Hours.

ACTV, sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 189

Beau. 'Sdeath, that's my Page's Voice: Who the
Devil is't that ploughs with my Heifer !
Aur. Don Henrick, Don Henrick —

[The Door opens. Beau, goes up tai't ; Will, puts him

by, and offers to go in, he pulls him back.
Will. How now, what intruding Slave art thou?
Beau. What Thief art thou that basely, and by dark,
rob'st me of all my Rights ?

[Strikes him, they fight, and Blows light on

Fetherfool who hangs down.

[Sancho throws Fetherfool's Clothes out, Harlequin
takes 'em up in confusion ; they fight out Beaumond,
all go off", but Will, gets into the House : Harlequin
and Feth. remain. Feth. gets down, runs against
Harlequin in the dark, both seem frighted.
Harl. Que questo.

Feth. Ay, un pouer dead Home, murder'd, kill'd.
Harl. (In Italian.} You are the first dead Man I ever
saw walk.

Feth. Hah, Seignior Harlequin!
Harl. Seignior Nicholas !

Feth. A Pox Nicholas ye, I have been mall'd and beaten
within doors, and hang'd and bastinado'd without doors,
lost my Clothes, my Money, and all my Moveables ; but
this is nothing to the Secret taking Air. Ah, dear Seignior,
convey me to the Mountebanks, there I may have Recruit
and Cure under one.

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Chamber.

La Nuche on a Couch in an Undress, Willmore at her Feet,

on his Knees, all unbraced : his Hat, Sword, &c. on the

Table, at which she is dressing her Head.

Will. Oh Gods ! no more !
I see a yielding in thy charming Eyes ;

190 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT v

The Blushes on thy Face, thy trembling Arms,
Thy panting Breast, and short-breath'd Sighs confess,
Thou wo't be mine, in spite of all thy Art.

La Nu. What need you urge my Tongue then to repeat
What from my Eyes you can so well interpret ?

[Bowing down her Head to htm and sighing.
— Or if it must — dispose me as you please —

Will. Heaven, I thank thee ! [Rises with Joy.

Who wou'd not plough an Age in Winter Seas,
Or wade full seven long Years in ruder Camps,
To find out this Rest at last ? — [Leans on, and kisses her Bosom.
Upon thy tender Bosom to repose ;
To gaze upon thy Eyes, and taste thy Balmy Kisses,

[Kisses her.

— Sweeter than everlasting Groves of Spices,
When the soft Winds display the opening Buds :
— Come, haste, my Soul, to Bed —

La Nu. You can be soft I find, when you wou'd con
quer absolutely.

Will. Not infant Angels, not young sighing Cupids
Can be more ; this ravishing Joy that thou hast promis'd me,
Has form'd my Soul to such a Calm of Love,
It melts e'en at my Eyes.

La Nu. What have I done ? that Promise will undo me.
— This Chamber was prepar'd, and I was drest,
To give Admittance to another Lover.

Will. But Love and Fortune both were on my side —
Come, come to Bed — consider nought but Love —

[ They going out, one knocks.

La Nu. Hark !

Beau, (without.} By Heav'n I will have entrance.

La Nu. 'Tis he whom I expect ; as thou lov'st Life
And me, retire a little into this Closet.

Will. Hah, retire !

La Nu. He's the most fiercely jealous of his Sex,
And Disappointment will inrage him more.

K. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 191

Will. Death : let him rage whoe'er he be ; dost think
['11 hide me from him, and leave thee to his Love?
shall I, pent up, thro the thin Wainscot hear

Sighs, your amorous Words, and sound of Kisses?
Sfo, if thou canst cozen me, do't, but discreetly,
\nd I shall think thee true :

have thee now, and when I tamely part
LVith thee, may Cowards huff and bully me. [Knocks again.

La Nu. And must I be undone because I love ye ?
Ifhis is the Mine from whence I fetcht my Gold.

Damn the base Trash : I'll have thee poor, and
mine ;

'is nobler far, to starve with him thou lov'st
'han gay without, and pining all within. [Knocking,

breaking the Door, Will, snatches up his Sword.
La Nu. Heavens, here will be murder done — he must
lot see him. \_As Beau, breaks open the Door, she runs

away with the Candle, they are by dark,
Beau, enters with his Sword drawn.
Will. What art thou ?
Beau. A Man. {They fight.

Enter Petron. with Light, La NuchefoHowing,
Beau, runs to her.

>h thou false Woman, falser than thy Smiles,
/"hich serve but to delude good-natur'd Man,
nd when thou hast him fast, betray 'st his Heart !

Will. Beaumond!

Beau. Willmorel Is it with thee I must tug for Empire ?
or I lay claim to all this World of Beauty.

[Takes La Nuche, looking with scorn on Willmore.

La Nu. Heavens, how got this Ruffian in ?

Will. Hold, hold, dear Harry, lay no Hands on her till
ou can'st make thy Claim good.

Beau. She's mine, by Bargain mine, and that's sufficient.

Will. In Law perhaps, it may for ought I know, but 'tis

192 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT

not so in Love: but thou'rt my Friend, and I'll therefore
give thee fair Play — if thou canst win her take her : But a
Sword and a Mistress are not to be lost, if a Man can
keep 'em.

Beau. I cannot blame thee, thou but acts thy self—
But thou fair Hypocrite, to whom I gave my Heart,
And this exception made of all Mankind,
Why would'st thou, as in Malice to my Love,
Give it the only Wound that cou'd destroy it?

Will. Nay, if thou didst forbid her loving me, I have
her sure.

Beau. I yield him many Charms ; he's nobly born,
Has Wit, Youth, Courage, all that takes the Heart,
And only wants what pleases Women's Vanity,
Estate, the only good that I can boast :
And that I sacrifice to buy thy Smiles.

La Nu. See, Sir — here's a much fairer Chapman — you
may be gone — [To Will.

Will. Faith, and so there is, Child, for me, I carry all
about me, and that by Heaven is thine : I'll settle all upon
thee, but my Sword, and that will buy us Bread. I've two
led Horses too, one thou shalt manage, and follow me thro
Dangers.

La Nu. A very hopeful comfortable Life ;
No, I was made for better Exercises.

Will. Why, every thing in its turn, Child, yet a Man's
but a Man.

Beau. No more, but if thou valuest her,
Leave her to Ease and Plenty.

Will. Leave her to Love, my Dear ; one hour of right-
down Love,

Is worth an Age of living dully on :
What is't to be adorn'd and shine with Gold,
Drest like a God, but never know the Pleasure ?
— No, no, I have much finer things in store for thee.

[Hugs her.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 193

La Nu. What shall I do ?
Here's powerful Interest prostrate at my Feet,

[Pointing to Beau.
Glory, and all than Vanity can boast ;
— But there — Love unadorn'd, no covering but his Wings,

[To Will.

No Wealth, but a full Quiver to do mischiefs,
Laughs at those meaner Trifles —

Beau. Mute as thou art, are not these Minutes mine ?
But thou — ah false — hast dealt 'em out already,
With all thy Charms of Love, to this unknown —
Silence and guilty Blushes say thou hast :
He all disorder'd too, loose and undrest,
With Love and Pleasure dancing in his Eyes,
Tell me too plainly how thou hast deceiv'd me.

La Nu. Or if I have not, 'tis a Trick soon done,
And this ungrateful Jealousy wou'd put it in my Head.

[Angrily.

Beau. Wou'd ! by Heaven, thou hast— he is not to be fool'd,
Or sooth'd into belief of distant Joys,
As easy as I have been : I've lost so kind
An Opportunity, where' Night and Silence both
Conspire with Love, had made him rage like Waves
Blown up by Storms : — no more — I know he has
— Oh what, La Nuche ! robb'd me of all that I
Have languish'd for —

La Nu. If it were so, you should not dare believe it —
\Angrily turns awayy he kneels and holds her.

Beau. Forgive me ; oh so very well I love,
Did I not know that thou hadst been a Whore,
I'd give thee the last proof of Love — and marry thee.

Will. The last indeed — for there's an end of Loving ;
Do, marry him, and be curst by all his Family :
Marry him, and ruin him, that he may curse thee too.
— But hark ye, Friend, this is not fair ; 'tis drawing Sharps
on a Man that's only arm'd with the defensive Cudgel,
i o

194 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT v

I'm for no such dead doing Arguments ; if thou art for me,
Child, it must be without the folly, for better for worse ;
there's a kind of Nonsense in that Vow Fools only swallow.

La Nu. But when I've worn out all my Youth and
Beauty,and suffer'd every ill of Poverty, I shall be compell'd
to begin the World again without a Stock to set up with.
No faith, I'm for a substantial Merchant in Love, who can
repay the loss of Time and Beauty ; with whom to make
one thriving Voyage sets me up for ever, and I need never
put to Sea again. [Comes to Beau.

Beau. Nor be expos'd to Storms of Poverty, the Indies shall
come to thee — See here — this is the Merchandize my Love
affords. [ Gives her a Pearl, and Pendants of Diamond.

La Nu. Look ye, Sir, will not these Pearls do better round
my Neck, than those kind Arms of yours ? these Pendants in
my Ears, than all the Tales of Love you can whisper there ?

Will. So — I am deceiv'd — deal on for Trash — and
barter all thy Joys of Life for Baubles — this Night presents
me one Adventure more — I'll try thee once again, incon
stant Fortune ; and if thou fail'st me then — I will forswear
thee [Aside '.] Death, hadst thou lov'd my Friend for his
own Value, I had esteem'd thee ; but when his Youth and
Beauty cou'd not plead, to be the mercenary Conquest
of his Presents, was poor, below thy Wit : I cou'd have
conquer'd so, but I scorn thee at that rate — my Purse shall
never be my Pimp — Farewel, Harry.

Beau. Thou'st sham'd me out of Folly — stay —

Will. Faith — I have an Assignation with a Woman —
a Woman Friend ! young as the infant-day, and sweet as
Roses e'er the Morning Sun have kiss'd their Dew away.
She will not ask me Money neither.

La Nu. Hah ! stay — [Holds him^ and looks on him.

Beau. She loves him, and her Eyes betray her Heart.

Will. I am not for your turn, Child — Death, I shall
lose my Mistress fooling here — I must be gone.

[She holds him, he shakes his Head and sings.

sc. i] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 195

No, no, I will not hire your Bed,

Nor Tenant to your Favours be ;

I will not farm your White and Red,

You shall not let your Love to me :

I court a .Mistress — not a Landlady. [bis.

Beau. He's in the right ; and shall I waste my Youth
and powerful Fortune on one who all this while has jilted
me, seeing I was a lavish loving Fool ? — No — this Soul
and Body shall not be divided — \_Gives her to Will.

Will. I am so much thy Friend, another time I might
be drawn to take a bad Bargain off thy Hands — but I have
other Business at present : wo't do a kind thing, Harry,
— lend me thy Aid to carry off my Woman to night ? 'tis
hard by in the Piazza, perhaps we may find Resistance.

Beau. My self and Sword are yours. I have a Chair
waits below too, may do you Service.

Will. I thank ye — Madam — your Servant.

La Nu. Left by both !

Beau. You see our Affairs are pressing.

[Bows, and smiles carelesly. Ex. Will, singing, and Beau.

La Nu. Gone ! where 'sail your Power, ye poor deluded
Eyes? Curse on your feeble Fires, that cannot warm a
Heart which every common Beauty kindles. Oh — he is
gone for ever.

Enter Petronella.

Pet. Yes, he is gone, to your eternal Ruin : not all the
Race of Men cou'd have produc'd so bountiful and credu
lous a Fool.

La Nu. No, never ; fetch him back, my Petronella :
Bring me my wild Inconstant, or I die — [Puts her out.

Pet. The Devil fetch him back for Petronella, is't he
you mean ? you've had too much of him ; a Curse upon
him, he'as ruin'd you.

La Nu. He has, he shall, he must compleat my ruin.

Pet. She raves, the Rogue has given her a Spanish Philtre.

196 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT v

La Nu. My Coach, my Veil — or let 'em all alone ;
undrest thus loosely to the Winds commit me to darkness,
and no Guide but pitying Cupid. [Going out, Pet. holds her,

Pet. What, are you mad ?

La Nu. As Winds let loose, or Storms when they rage
high. [Goes out.

Pet. She's lost, and I'll shift for my self, seize all her
Money and Jewels, of which I have the Keys ; and if
Seignior Mountebank keeps his Word, be transform'd to
Youth and Beauty again, and undo this La Nuche at her
own Trade — [Goes in.

SCENE II. The Street.
Enter Willmore, Beaumond, Chair following.

Will. Set down the Chair ; you're now within call, I'll
to the Garden-Door, and see if any Lady Bright appear —
Dear Beaumond^ stay here a minute, and if I find occasion,
I'll give you the Word.

Beau. 'Tis hard by my Lodgings ; if you want Con
veniences, I have the Key of the Back-way through the
Garden, whither you may carry your Mistress.

Will. I thank thee — let me first secure my Woman.

[Goes out.

Beau. I thought I'd lov'd this false, this jilting Fair, even
above my Friendship ; but I find I can forgive this Rogue,
tho I am sure he has rob'd me of my Joys.

Enter Ariadne with a Casket of Jewels.

Aria. Not yet ! a Devil on him, he's Dear-hearting it
with some other kind Damsel — Faith, 'tis most wickedly
done of me to venture my Body with a mad unknown
Fellow. Thus a little more Delay will put me into a
serious Consideration, and I shall e'en go home again, sleep
and be sober. [She walks about.

Beau. Hah, a Woman ! Perhaps the same he looks for
— I'll counterfeit his Voice and try my Chance — Fortune
may set us even.

sc. n] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 197

Aria. Hah, is not that a Man ? Yes — and a Chair
waiting. [She peeps.

Beau. Who's there ?

Aria. A Maid.

Beau. A Miracle — Oh art thou come, Child ?

Aria. 'Tis he, you are a civil Captain, are you not, to
make a longing Maid expect thus? What Woman has
detain'd you ?

Beau. Faith, my Dear, tho Flesh and Blood be frail, yet
the dear Hopes of thee has made me hold out with a Hercu
lean Courage — Stay, where shall I carry her ? not to my own
Apartment ; Ariadne may surprize me : I'll to the Mounte
bank here i'th' Piazza, he has a Cure for all things, even
for longing Love, and for a Pistole or two will do Reason.
— Hah, Company : Here, step into this Chair.

[She goes in, they go off just as Will, enters.

Will. Hum, a Woman of Quality and jilt me — Egad,
that's strange now — Well, who shall a Man trust in this
wicked World ?

Enter La Nuche as before.

La Nu. This should be he, he saunters about like an
expecting Lover. [Will, peeping and approaching.

Will. By this Light a Woman, if she be the right —
but right or wrong so she be Feminine : harkye, Child, I
fancy thee some kind thing that belongs to me.

La Nu. Who are you? [/« a low tone.

Will. A wandering Lover that has lost his Heart, and
I have shreud Guess 'tis in thy dear Bosom, Child.

La Nu. Oh you're a pretty Lover, a Woman's like to
have a sweet time on't, if you're always so tedious.

Will. By yon bright Star-light, Child, I walk'd here in
short turns like a Centinel, all this live-long Evening, and
was just going (Gad forgive me) to kill my self.

La Nu. I rather think some Beauty has detain'd you :
Have you not seen La Nuche ?

198 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT v

Will. La Nucke ! — Why, she's a Whore — I hope you
take me for a civiller Person, than to throw my self away
on Whores — No, Child, I He with none but honest Women
I : but no disputing now, come — to my Lodging, my dear
— here's a Chair waits hard by. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Willmores Lodging.

Enter Harlequin with Fetherfool's Clothes on his Shoulder^

leading him halting by one Hand, Blunt (drunk] by the

other in the dark ; Fetherfool bloody , his Coat put

over his Shoulders.

Feth. Peano, Peano, Seignior, gently, good Edward — for
I'll not halt before a Cripple ; I have lost a great part of
my agil Faculties.

Blunt. Ah, see the Inconstancy of fickle Fortune, Nicholas
— A Man to day, and beaten to morrow : but take com
fort, there's many a proper fellow has been robb'd and
beaten on this Highway of whoring.

Feth. Ay, Ned, thou speak'st by woful Experience —
but that I should miscarry after thy wholesom Documents
— but we are all mortal, as thou say'st, Ned — Would I
had never crost the Ferry from Croydon ; a few such Nights
as these wou'd learn a Man Experience enough to be a
Wizard, if he have but the ill luck to escape hanging.

Blunt. 'Dsheartlikins, I wonder in what Country our
kinder Stars rule : In England plunder'd, sequester'd, im-
prison'd and banish'd ; in France, starv'd, walking like the
Sign of the naked Boy, with Plymouth Cloaks in our Hands;
in Italy and Spain robb'd, beaten, and thrown out at
Windows.

Feth. Well, how happy am I, in having so true a Friend
to condole me in Affliction — \_Weeps.~\ I am oblig'd to
Seignior Harlequin too, for bringing me hither to the
Mountebank's, where I shall not only conceal this Catas
trophe from those fortunate Rogues our Comrades, but

sc. nr] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 199

procure a little Album Grascum for my Backside. Come,
Seignior, my Clothes — but, Seignior — un Portavera Poco
palanea. [Dresses himself.

Harl. Seignior.

Feth. Entende vos Signoria Englesa ?

Harl. Em Poco^ em Poco, Seignior.

Feth. Per quelq arts, did your Seigniorship escape
Cudgeling ?

Harl. La art de transfer matio.

Feth. Transformatio — Why, wert thou not born a Man ?

Harl. No, Seignior, un vieule Femme.

Feth. How, born an old Woman ?

Blunt. Good Lord ! born an old Woman ! And so by
transformation became invulnerable.

Feth. Ay — in — invulnerable — what would I give to be
invulnerable ? and egad, I am almost weary of being a Man,
and subject to beating : wou'd I were a Woman, a Man
has but an ill time on't : if he has a mind to a Wench, the
making Love is so plaguy tedious — then paying is to my
Soul insupportable. But to be a Woman, to be courted
with Presents, and have both the Pleasure and the Profit —
to be without a Beard, and sing a fine Treble — and squeak
if the Men but kiss me — 'twere fine — and what's better,
I am sure never to be beaten again.

Blunt. Pox on't, do not use an old Friend so scurvily ;
consider the Misery thou'lt indure to have the Heart and
Mind of a jilting Whore possess thee : What a Fit of the
Devil must he suffer who acts her Part from fourteen to
fourscore ! No, 'tis resolv'd thou remain Nicholas Fetherfool
still, shalt marry the Monster, and laugh at Fortune.

Feth. 'Tis true, should I turn Whore to the Disgrace
of my Family — what would the World say? who wou'd
have thought it, cries one? I cou'd never have believ'd it,
cries another. No, as thou say'st, I'll remain as I am —
marry and live honestly.

Blunt. Well resolv'd, I'll leave you, for I was just going

2oo THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT v

to serenade my Fairy Queen, when I met thee at the Door
— some Deeds of Gallantry must be perform'd, Seignior,
Bonus Nochus. [Ex. Blunt.

Enter Shift with Light.

Feth. Hah, a Light, undone !

tiarl. Patientiay Patientia, Seignior.

Shift. Where the Devil can this Rogue Hunt be? Just
now all things are ready for marrying these two Monsters ;
they wait, the House is husht, and in the lucky Minute
to have him out of the way : sure the Devil owes me a
spite. [Runs against Harlequin, puts out his Candle.

Harl. Qui est la ?

Shift. 'Tis Harlequin : Pox on't, is't you ?

Harl. Peace, here's Fetherfool, I'll secure him, whilst
you go about your Affair. [Ex. Shift.

Feth. Oh, I hear a Noise, dear Harlequin secure me ;
if I am discover'd I am undone — hold, hold — here's a
Door — [They both go in.

Scene changes to a Chamber, discovers the She-Giant asleep
in a great Chair.

Enter Fetherfool and Harlequin.

Feth. Hah — my Lady Monster ! have I to avoid Scylla
run upon Carybdis? — hah, she sleeps; now wou'd some
magnanimous Lover make good Use of this Opportunity,
take Fortune by the Fore-lock, put her to't, and make
sure Work — but Egad, he must have a better Heart, or a
better Mistress than I.

Harl. Try your Strength, I'll be civil and leave you.

[In Italian he still speaks.

Feth. Excuse me, Seignior,! should crackle like a wicker
Bottle in her Arms — no, Seignior, there's no venturing
without a Grate between us : the Devil wou'd not give
her due Benevolence — No, when I'm marry'd, I'll e'en
show her a fair pair of Heels, her Portion will pay Postage

sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 201

— But what if the Giant should carry her? that's to be
Ifear'd, then I have cock'd and drest, and fed, and ventur'd
I all this while for nothing.

Harl. Faith, Seignior, if I were you, I wou'd make
[sure of something, see how rich she is in Gems.

Feth. Right, as thou say'st, I ought to make sure of
I something, and she is rich in Gems : How amiable looks
I that Neck with that delicious row of Pearls about it.

Harl. She sleeps.

Feth. Ay, she ssleeps as 'twere her last. What if I made
I bold to unrig her? So if I miss the Lady, I have at least
jj my Charges paid: what vigorous Lover can resist her
I Charms? — [Looks on her.

JBut shou'd she wake and miss it, and find it about me, I
Ishou'd be hang'd — [Turns away.

— So then, I lose my Lady too — but Flesh and Blood
il cannot resist — What if I left the Town? then I lose my
I Lady still; and who wou'd lose a Hog for the rest of the
jProverb? — And yet a Bird in Hand, Friend Nicholas —
I Yet sweet Meat may have sour Sauce — And yet refuse
(when Fortune offers — Yet Honesty's a Jewel — But a Pox
lupon Pride, when Folks go naked —

Harl. Well said. \lncouraglng him by Signs.

Feth. Ay — I'll do't — but what Remedy now against
1 Disco very and Restitution?

Harl. Oh, Sir, take no care, you shall — swallow 'em.

Feth. How, swallow 'em ! I shall ne'er be able to do't.

Harl. I'll shew you, Seignior, 'tis easy.

Feth. 'Gad that may be, 'twere excellent if I cou'd do't ;
but first — by your leave.

\_Unties the Necklace, breaks the String, and Harl.
swallows one to shew him.

Harl. Look ye, that's all —

Feth. Hold, hold, Seignior, an you be so nimble, I shall
i 1 Day dear for my Learning — let me see — Friend Nicholas,
IJ:hou hast swallow'd many a Pill for the Disease of the

2O2 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT v

Body, let's see what thou canst perform for that of the
Purse. [Swallows 'em.

— so — a comfortable business this — three or four thousand
pound in Cordial-Pearl : 'Sbud, Mark Anthony was never
so treated by his Egyptian Crocodile — hah, what noise is
that ?

Harl. Operator, Operator, Seignior.

Feth. How, an Operator ! why, what the Devil makes
he here ? some Plot upon my Lady's Chastity ; were I given
to be jealous now, Danger wou'd ensue — Oh, he's entring,
I would not be seen for all the World. Oh, some place
of Refuge — [Looking about.

Harl. I know of none.

Feth. Hah, what's this — a Clock Case ?

Harl. Good, good — look you, Sir, do you do thus, and
'tis impossible to discover ye.

[Goes into the Case, and shews him how to stand ; then
Fetherfool goes in, pulls off his Periwig, his Head
out, turning for the Minutes o'th"1 top : his Hand out,
and his Fingers pointing to a Figure.

Enter Shift and Hunt.

Feth. Oh Heaven, he's here.

Shift. See where she sleeps ; get you about your business,
see your own little Marmoset and the Priest be ready, that
we may marry and consummate before Day ; and in the
Morning our Friends shall see us abed together, give us
the good morrow, and the Work's done. [Ex. Hunt.

Feth. Oh Traytor to my Bed, what a Hellish Plot's
here discover'd ! [Shift wakes the Giant.

Giant. Oh, are you come, my Sweetest ?

Feth. Hah, the Mistress of my Bosom false too ! ah, who
wou'd trust faithless Beauty — oh that I durst speak.

Shift. Come let's away, your Uncle and the rest of the
House are fast asleep, let's away e'er the two Fools, Blunt
and Fetherfool, arrive.

c. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 203

Giant. Hang 'em, Pigeon-hearted Slaves —
Shift. A Clock — let's see what hour 'tis —

[Lifts up the Light to see, Feth. blows it out.
—How ! betray'd — I'll kill the Villain. [Draws.

Feth. Say you so, then 'tis time for me to uncase.
Shift. Have you your Lovers hid ? [Gets out^ all groping
In the dark, Feth. gets the Giant by the Hand.
Giant. Softly, or we're undone ; give me your Hand,
and be undeceiv'd.

Feth. 'Tis she, now shall I be reveng'd. [Leads her out.

Shift. What, gone ! Death, has this Monster got the

Arts of Woman ? [Harl. meets him in the dark, and plays

tricks with him. [Ex. all.

Enter Willmore and La Nuche by dark.

Will. Now we are safe and free, let's in, my Soul, and
gratefully first sacrifice to Love, then to the Gods of Mirth
ind Wine, my Dear. [Ex. passing over the Stage.

Enter Blunt with Petronella, imbracing her, his Sword

in his Hand, and a Box of Jewels.

Pet. I was damnably afraid I was pursu'd. [Aside.

Blunt. Something in the Fray I've got, pray Heaven

It prove a Prize, after my cursed ill luck of losing my Lady

; Dwarf: Why do you tremble, fair one? — you're in the

; Hands of an honest Gentleman, Adshartlikins.

Pet. Alas, Sir, just as I approacht Seignior Doctor's

i Door, to have my self surrounded with naked Weapons,

:hen to drop with the fear my Casket of Jewels, which

;iad not you by chance stumbled on and taken up, I had

i ost a hundred thousand Crowns with it.

Blunt. Ha um — a hundred thousand Crowns — a pretty

j:rifling Sum — I'll marry her out of hand. [Aside.

Pet. This is an Englishman, of a dull honest Nation, and

might be manag'd to advantage, were but I transform'd

low. [Aside.

[ hope you are a Man of Honour ; Sir, I am a Virgin, fled

204 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT vjj

from the rage of an incens'd Brother ; cou'd you but secure
me with my Treasure, I wou'd be devoted yours.

Blunt. Secure thee ! by this Light, sweet Soul, PI
marry thee ; — Eehilis Lady ran just so away with him —
this must be a Prize — \_Aslde

But hark — prithee, my Dear, step in a little, Pll keep my
good Fortune to my self.

Pet. See what trust I repose in your Hands, those Jewels^
Sir.

Blunt. So — there can be no jilting here, I am secur'c
from being cozen'd however. [Ex. Pet.

Enter Fetherfool.

Feth. A Pox on all Fools, I say, and a double Pox on
all fighting Fools; just when I had miraculously got my
Monster by a mistake in the dark, convey'd her out, and
within a moment of marrying her, to have my Friend set
upon me, and occasion my losing her, was a Catastrophe
which none but thy termagant Courage (which never did
any Man good) cou'd have procur'd.

Blunt. 'Dshartlikins, I cou'd kill my self.

Feth. To fight away a couple of such hopeful Monsters,
and two Millions — 'owns, was ever Valour so improvident i

Blunt. Your fighting made me mistake : for who the;
Pox wou'd have look'd for Nicholas Fetherfool m the persor
of a Hero ?

Feth. Fight, 'Sbud, a Million of Money wou'd have pro-
vok'd a Bully ; besides, I took you for the damn'd Rogu«
my Rival.

Blunt. Just as I had finish'd my Serenade, and had put
up my Pipes to be gone, out stalk'd me your two-handec
Lady, with a Man at her Girdle like a bunch of Keys
whom I taking for nothing less than some one who hac>
some foul design upon the Gentlewoman, like a true
Knight-Errant, did my best to rescue her.

Feth. Yes, yes, I feel you did, a Pox of your heavy hand

sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 205

Blunt. So whilst we two were lovingly cuffing each other,
comes the Rival, I suppose, and carries off the Prize.

Feth. Who must be Seignior Lucifer himself, he cou'd
never have vanisht with that Celerity else with such a
Carriage — But come, all we have to do is to raise the
Mountebank and the Guardian, pursue the Rogues, have
'em hang'd by Law, for a Rape, and Theft, and then we
stand fair again.

Blunt. Faith, you may, if you please, but Fortune has
provided otherwise for me. \Aside.~\ [Ex. Blu. and Feth.

Enter Beaumond and Ariadne.

Beau. Sure none lives here, or Thieves are broken in,
the Doors are all left open.

Aria. Pray Heaven this Stranger prove but honest now.

[Aside.

Beau. Now, my dear Creature, every thing conspires to
make us happy, let us not defer it.

Aria. Hold, dear Captain, I yield but on Conditions,
which are these — I give you up a Maid of Youth and
Beauty, ten thousand Pound in ready Jewels here — three
times the value in Estate to come, of which here be the
Writings, you delivering me a handsom proper fellow,
Heart-whole and sound, that's all — your Name I ask not
till the Priest declare it, who is to seal the Bargain. I
cannot deceive, for I let you know I am Daughter-in-law
to the English Ambassador.

Beau. Ariadne! — How vain is all Man's Industry and

Care

To make himself accomplish'd ;
When the gay fluttering Fool, or the half-witted rough

unmanner'd Brute,

Who in plain terms comes right down to the business,
Out-rivals him in all his Love and Fortunes. [Aside.

Aria. Methinks you cool upon't, Captain.

Beau. Yes, Ariadne.

206 THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, [ACT v

Aria. Beaumond!

Beau. Oh what a World of Time have I mispent for
want of being a Blockhead — 'Sdeath and Hell,
Wou'd I had been some brawny ruffling Fool,
Some forward impudent unthinking Sloven,
A Woman's Tool; for all besides unmanageable.
Come, swear that all this while you thought 'twas I.
The Devil has taught ye Tricks to bring your Falshood off.

Aria. Know 'twas you ! no, Faith, I took you for as
errant a right-down Captain as ever Woman wisht for ; and
'twas uncivil egad, to undeceive me, I tell you that now.

Enter Willmore and La Nuche by dark.

Will. Thou art all Charms, a Heaven of Sweets all over,
plump smooth round Limbs, small rising Breasts, a Bosom
soft and panting — I long to wound each Sense. Lights
there — who waits? — there yet remains a Pleasure un-
possest, the sight of that dear Face — Lights there — where
are my Vermin ? [Ex. Will.

Aria. My Captain with a Woman — and is it so —

Enter Will, with Lights, sees Aria, and goes to her.

Will. By Heaven, a glorious Beauty ! now a Blessing
on thee for shewing me so dear a Face — Come, Child, let's
retire and begin where we left off.

La Nu. A Woman !

Aria. Where we left off! pray, where was that, good
Captain ?

Will. Within upon the Bed, Child — come — I'll show
thee.

Beau. Hold, Sir.

Will. Beaumond! come fit to celebrate my Happiness;
ah such a Woman-friend !

Beau. Do ye know her?

Will. All o'er, to be the softest sweetest Creature —

Beau. I mean, do ye know who she is ?

in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 207

Will. Nor care ; 'tis the last Question I ever ask a fine
roman.

Beau. And you are sure you are thus well acquainted.

Will. I cannot boast of much acquaintance — but I have
uckt a Rose from her Bosom — or so — and given it her
ain — we've past the hour of the Berjere together, that's

Beau. And do you know — this Lady is my — Wife?

[Draw.
Will. Hah ! hum, hum, hum, hum —

[Turns and sings, sees La Nuche, and returns

quick with an uneasy Grimace.
Beau. Did you not hear me? Draw.
Will. Draw, Sir — what on my Friend ?
Beau. On your Cuckold, Sir, for so you've doubly made
: Draw, or I'll kill thee —

[Passes at him, he fences with his Hat, La Nu. holds Beau.
Will. Hold, prithee hold.

La Nu. Put up your Sword, this Lady's innocent, at
ast in what concerns this Evening's business; I own —
ith Pride I own I am the Woman that pleas'd so well
Night.

Will. La Nuche! kind Soul to bring me off with so
ndsom a lye : How lucky 'twas she happen'd to be here !
Beau. False as thou art, why shou'd I credit thee?
La Nu. By Heaven, 'tis true, I will not lose the glory on't.
Will. Oh the dear perjur'd Creature, how I love thee
r this- dear lying Virtue — Harkye, Child, hast thou
•thing to say for thy self, to help us out withal ? —

[To Aria, aside.
Aria. I ! I renounce ye — false Man.
Beau. Yes, yes, I know she's innocent of this, for which
DWC no thanks to either of you, but to my self who mis-
ok her in the dark.

La Nu. And you it seems mistook me for this Lady ; I
/our'd your Design to gain your Heart, for I was told,

208 THE ROVER (PART n); OR, [ACT v

that if this Night I lost you, I shou'd never regain you:
now I am yours, and o'er the habitable World will follow
you, and live and starve by turns, as Fortune pleases.

Will. Nay, by this Light, Child, I knew when once
thou'dst try'd me, thou'dst ne'er part with me — give me
thy Hand, no Poverty shall part us. [Kisses her.

— so — now here's a Bargain made without the formal
Foppery of Marriage.

La Nu. Nay, faith Captain, she that will not take thy
word as soon as the Parson's of the Parish, deserves not the
Blessing.

Will. Thou art reform'd, and I adore the Change.

Enter the Guardian, Blunt, and Fetherfool.

Guar. My Nieces stol'n, and by a couple of the Seig
nior's Men ! the Seignior fled too ! undone, undone !
Will. Hah, now's my Cue, I must finish this Jest.

[Goes out

Enter Shift and Giant, Hunt and Dwarf.

Guar. Oh impudence, my Nieces, and the Villains wit!
'em ! I charge ye, Gentlemen, to lay hold on 'em.

Dwarf. For what, good Uncle, for being so courageous
to marry us ?

Guar. How, married to Rogues, Rascals, John Potages

Blunt. Who the Devil wou'd have look'd for jilting it
such Hobgoblins?

Feth. And hast thou deceiv'd me, thou foul filthy Syna
gogue ?

Enter Willmore like a Mountebank as before.

Blunt. The Mountebank ! oh thou cheating Quack
thou sophisticated adulterated Villain.

Feth. Thou cozening, lying, Fortune-telling, Fee
taking Rascal.

Blunt. Thou jugling, conjuring, canting Rogue !

Will. What's the matter, Gentlemen ?

sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 209

Blunt. Hast thou the Impudence to ask, who took my
Money to marry me to this ill-favour'd Baboon?

Feth. And me to this foul filthy o'ergrown Chronicle?

Blunt. And hast suffered Rogues, thy Servants, to marry
'em : Sirrah, I will beat thee past Cure of all thy hard-
nam'd Drugs, thy Guzman Medicines.

Feth. Nay, I'll peach him in the Inquisition for a Wizard,
and have him hang'd for a Witch.

Shift. Sir, we are Gentlemen, and you shall have the
thirds of their Portion, what wou'd you more ?

[Aside to the Guar.
Look ye, Sir. [Pulls off their Disguise.

Blunt. Hunt!

Feth. Shift! We are betray'd : all will out to the Captain.

Will. He shall know no more of it than he does already
for me, Gentlemen. [Pulls off his Disguise.

Blunt. Willmore!

Feth. Ay, ay, 'tis he.

Blunt. Draw, Sir — you know me —

Will. — For one that 'tis impossible to cozen.

[All laugh.

Beau. Have a care, Sir, we are all for the Captain.

Feth. As for that, Sir, we fear ye not, d'ye see, were
you Hercules and all his Myrmidons.

[Draws, but gets behind.

Will. Fools, put up your Swords, Fools, and do not
publish the Jest ; your Money you shall have again, on
condition you never pretend to be wiser than your other
Men, but modestly believe you may be cozen'd as well as
your Neighbours. [The Guardian talking with Hunt and
Shift and Giant this while.

Feth. La you, Ned, why shou'd Friends fall out ?

Blunt. Cozen'd ! it may be not, Sir ; for look ye, Sir, the

Essex Fool, the cozen'd dull Rogue can shew Moveables

or so — nay, they are right too — [Shews his Jewels.

This is no Naples Adventure, Gentlemen, no Copper

I P

2io THE ROVER (PART n) ; OR, ACT v

Chains; all substantial Diamonds, Pearls and Rubies —
[Will, takes the Casket , and looks in It.

La Nu. Hah, do not I know that Casket, and those Jewels !

Feth. How the Pox came this Rogue by these ?

Will. Hum, Edward, I confess you have redeem'd your
Reputation, and shall hereafter pass for a Wit — by what
good fortune came you by this Treasure ? — what Lady —

Blunt. Lady, Sir ! alas no, I'm a Fool, a Country Fop,
an Ass, I ; but that you may perceive your selves mistaken,
Gentlemen, this is but an earnest of what's to come, a small
token of remembrance, or so — and yet I have no Charms,
I ; the fine Captain has all the Wit and Beauty — but
thou'rt my Friend, and I'll impart.

[Brings out Petronella veiled.

Enter Aurelia and Sancho.

Aur. Hither we trac'd her, and see she's yonder.

San. Sir, in the King's Name lay hold of this old Cheat,
she has thisNightrobb'd ourPatronaofa hundred thousand
Crowns in Money and Jewels.

Blunt. Hah ! [Gets from her.

La Nu. You are mistaken, Friend Sancho, she only seiz'd
'em for my use, and has deliver'd 'em in trust to my Friend
the Captain.

Pet. Hah, La Nuche!

Blunt. How ! cozen'd again !

Will. Look ye, Sir, she's so beautiful, you need no
Portion, that alone's sufficient for Wit.

Feth. Much good may do you with your rich Lady,
Edward.

Blunt. Death, this Fool laugh at me too — well, I am
an errant right-down Loggerhead, a dull conceited cozen'd
silly Fool ; and he that ever takes me for any other, 'Dshart-
likins, I'll beat him. I forgive you all, and will henceforth
be good-natur'd ; wo't borrow any Money ? Pox on't, I'll
lend as far as e'er 'twill go, for I am now reclaim'd.

sc. in] THE BANISH'D CAVALIERS 211

Guar. Here is a Necklace of Pearl lost, which, Sir, I lay
to your Charge. [To Fetherfool.

Feth. Hum, I was bewitcht I did not rub off with it
when it was mine — who, I ? if e'er I saw a Necklace of
Pearl, I wish 'twere in my Belly.

Blunt. How a Necklace ! unconscionable Rogue, not to
let me share : well, there is no Friendship in the World ;
I hope they'l hang him.

Shift. He'll ne'er confess without the Rack — come, we'll
toss him in a Blanket.

Feth. Hah, toss me in a Blanket, that will turn my
Stomach most villainously, and I shall disimbogue and
discover all.

Shift. Come, come, the Blanket. [They lay hold on him.

Feth. Hold, hold, I do confess, I do confess —

Shift. Restore, and have your Pardon.

Feth. That is not in Nature at present, for Gentlemen,
I have eat 'em.

Shift. 'Sdeath, I'll dissect ye. [Goes to draw.

Will. Let me redeem him ; here Boy, take him to my
Chamber, and let the Doctor glyster him soundly, and I'll
warrant you your Pearl again.

Feth. If this be the end of travelling, I'll e'en to old
England again, take the Covenant, get a Sequestrator's
Place, grow rich, and defy all Cavaliering.

Beau. 'Tis Morning, let's home, Ariadne, and try, if
possible, to love so well to be content to marry ; if we find
that amendment in our Hearts, to say we dare believe and
trust each other, then let it be a Match.

Aria. With all my Heart.

Will. You have a hankering after Marriage still, but I
am for Love and Gallantry.
So tho by several ways we gain our End,
Love still, like Death, does to one Center tend.

(212)

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Mrs. BARRY.

POETS are Kings of Wit, and you appear

A Parliament, by Play-Bill, summon' d here ;

When e'er in want, to you for aid they fly,

And a new Play's the Speech that begs supply :

But now —

The scanted Tribute is so slowly paid,

Our Poets must find out another Trade ;

They've tried all ways th1 insatiate Clan to please.

Have parted with their old Prerogatives,

Their Birth-right Satiring, and their just pretence

Of judging even their own Wit and Sense ;

And write against their Consciences, to show

How dull they can be to comply with you.

They've flattered all the Mutineers i'th' Nation,

Grosser than e'er was done in Dedication ;

Pleas' d your sick Palates with Fantastick Wit,

Such as was ne'er a treat before to th' Pit ,•

Giants, fat Cardinals, Pope Joans and Fryers,

To entertain Right Worshipfuls and Squires :

Who laugh and cry Ads Nigs, 'tis woundy good,

When the fuger's all the Jest that's understood.

And yet you'll come but once, unless by stealth,

Except the Author be for Commonwealth;

Then half Crown more you nobly throw away,

And tho my Lady seldom see a Play,

She, with her eldest Daughter, shall be boxt that day,

Then Prologue comes, Ads-lightikins, crys Sir John,

You shall hear notable Conceits anon :

EPILOGUE 213

How neatly ', Sir, he'll bob the Court and French King,

And tickle away — you know who — -for Wenching.

All this won't do, they e'en may spare their Speeches,

For all their greasing will not buy 'em Britches ;

To get a penny new found ways must take,

As forming Popes, and Squibs and Crackers make.

In Coffee-Houses some their talent vent,

Rail for the Cause against the Government,

And make a pretty thriving living on't,

For who would let a useful Member want.

Things being brought to this distressed Estate,

' Twere Jit you took the matter in Debate.

There was a time, when Loyally by you,

True Wit and Sense received Allegiance due,

Our King of Poets had his Tribute pay'd,

His Peers secured beneath his Laurel's shade.

What Crimes have they committed, they must be

Driven to the last and worst Extremity ?

Oh, let it not be said of English Men,

Who have to Wit so just and noble been,

They should their Loyal Principles recant,

And let the glorious Monarch of it want.

THE DUTCH LOVER.

(217)

ARGUMENT.

[RODERIGO — the natural son of the great Count d' Olivarez, minister to
(Philip IV of Spain — was, upon his father's disgrace, given over when very
(young to the care of a certain Don Ambrosio, and by him brought up as his
[own child. Ambrosio has one son, Marcel, and two daughters, Hippolita
land Cleonte. Marcel, whilst in Flanders, promised Hippolita to his friend
I Alonzo. This Alonzo is the son of a lady Octavia and Don Manuel. But
Manuel's rival in Octavia's love, Alonzo, stole their boy when an infant and
[brought him up to arms, giving him his own name. Pedro, an old servant,
[who is cognizant of this, is sworn to secrecy. Alonzo arrives in Madrid
[purposing to wed Hippolita as he desires to ally himself with so ancient and
[powerful a family as Ambrosio's. Hippolita, however, having been betrayed
Jay a German named Antonio, has fled, and now resides in a house of
I pleasure in the town, having assumed the habit of a Venetian courtezan.
I Alonzo meeting Euphemia, sister to his friend Lovis, becomes enamoured
JDf her, and the lady grants him a rendezvous at a house where they will be
I uninterrupted — it happens this house is the bagnio where Hippolita is
I secreted. Marcel, on his way to visit Clarinda, whom he loves, recognizes
j Alonzo and follows him to his rendezvous. Olinda, Euphemia's maid,
I nistakenly introduces Marcel to her mistress. Euphemia is veiled and
[ Marcel, who has heard that his sister is living in that house, in his turn
juistakes the lady for Hippolita, more especially as he meets Antonio there.
I The two men fight, but Alonzo entering interferes. Antonio escapes,
I rearing away Hippolita. Euphemia, whom Marcel in a passion of revenge
jtfould kill, is soon discovered not to be Hippolita, and the angry brother
I luly retires from the scene. Alonzo, however, leaving the house is accosted
or Marcel by Dormida, Clarinda's maid, who gives him the key to their
I louse. Alonzo enters followed by Marcel who is close on his heels.
i They jostle and fight in the darkness of the hall within, and Alonzo

• leparts leaving Marcel wounded. Dormida fearing trouble drags Clarinda
I brth and meeting Alonzo in the street they throw themselves on his
jionourable protection. A complete stranger, in his dilemma he escorts
' hern to the mansion of Ambrosio, and they chance on Cleonte's chamber.
•! >he has just had a visit from Silvio (under which name Roderigo passes),
ilvho is burning with passion for her but shrinks from his supposed sister.
j 31eonte offers the two ladies a refuge and Alonzo retires. With the aid of
1 lis friend Lovis he assumes the habit of Haunce van Ezel, a Dutch boor

• vho is contracted to Euphemia, and, as Haunce, courts Lovis' sister with
j he full approbation of their father Don Carlo. When Haunce himself
i .ppears he is greeted with some familiarity as having been at the house

i >efore. The Dutch Lover, who has newly arrived, chances on a strife

•' letween Antonio and Hippolita and interfering disarms Antonio, wounding

:! lim in the face. Cleonte meantime has introduced her guest Clarinda to

j Silvio, and Marcel seeing them together concludes that his own brother is the

:| nan who fought him on the previous night and indeed his favoured rival.

\t once he challenges him and they arrange to have a duel in a grove near

he town. Here, however, comes Hippolita disguised in man's attire,

2 1 8 SOURCE

awaiting Antonio to whom she has sent a billet signed ' Alonzo'. She
retires, whilst Silvio appears, and when he is engaged with Marcel, Alonzo
rushes in and parts them. Alonzo avows that it was he who caused the
confusion with Clarinda, and arranges to meet Marcel later in another
spot. Antonio next arrives and Hippolita, calling herself Alonzo, draws,
but Alonzo himself insists on taking up the quarrel. At the clash of steel
Marcel returns and all four fight, Marcel with Hippolita, whom he wounds,
Alonzo with Antonio, whom he disarms — Hippolita reveals herself, Alonzo
claims her, but Antonio declaring that he is bound to her by sacred vows
rescues her from Marcel's vengeance and obtains his forgiveness. All
return to Ambrosio's house where they find Cleonte and Clarinda.
Explanations ensue, and Marcel is at Clarinda's feet. Pedro, however, who
attends Alonzo, recognizes his old fellow-servant, Dormida, duenna to
Clarinda, and learning Don Manuel is dead, reveals that Alonzo is
Clarinda's brother, also handing over papers left by Don Alonzo the foster-
father, which bestow 12,000 crowns a year on his adopted son. Alonzo
portions Clarinda and gives her to Marcel. Francisca, woman to Cleonte,
informs Silvio that Cleonte will yield to him — Silvio, suddenly revolted,
declares he will present himself, but secretly resolves to poinard his sister.
Marcel who has overheard the conference, beside himself with rage, dashes
on Silvio with dagger drawn and when checked by Ambrosio and the rest
who rush in at Francisca's cries makes known the cause of his wrath.
Francisca confesses that Cleonte had sent no such message, but herself
purposed to take her mistress' place that night and receive Silvio.
Ambrosio then reveals the secret of Silvio's birth and gives Cleonte to him,
in his joy even taking Hippolita to his arms since Antonio has married
her. Alonzo, meanwhile, disguised as Haunce has been united to Euphemia.
He is discovered by the arrival on the scene of the real Haunce accom
panied by Gload, a foolish tutor. Carlo is soon reconciled to the new
bridegroom, whilst Haunce and Gload joining in a masquerade find them
selves unexpectedly wedded to Olinda and Dorice, two women attendant on
the lady Euphemia.

SOURCE.

MRS. BEHN founded the plot of The Dutch Lover upon the stories of Eufemie
and Theodore, Don Jame and Frederic, in a pseudo-Spanish novel entitled
' The History of Don Fenise, a new Romance written in Spanish by Francisco
de Las Coveras, And now Englished by a Person of Honour. London.
Printed for Humphrey Moseley.' 8vo, 1651. There is of course no such'
Spanish author as 'the ingenious Don Francisco de las Coveras'. The
chief merit of the book is purely bibliographical : it is a very rare volume
and difficult to meet with. The Bodleian indeed contains a copy, but it is
not to be found in the British Museum library. The somewhat morbid
theme of overwhelming passion barred by consanguinity eventually dis
covered to be false, which is here exemplified in the love of Silvio for
Cleonte, occurs more than once in the later Jacobean and Carolan drama.
In Beaumont and Fletcher's tragicomedy A King and no King (1611 : 410,
1619), we have Arbaces enamoured of Panthea, his reputed sister; similar
motives are to be found in Arthur Wilson's The S-wizzer (1631); but in

THEATRICAL HISTORY 219

Middleton's Women beware Women (circa 1612 : 4to, 1657), no contrivance
lean legitimize the incestuous loves of Hippolito and Isabella, and death is
Ithe only solution. In Massinger's The Unnatural Combat (1621 : 4to, 1639),
[the demoniac Malefort pursues his daughter Theocrine with the same baleful
[fires as Francesco Cenci looked on Beatrice, but the height of horror, harrow-
ling the soul with pity and anguish, culminates in Ford's terrible scenes Tis
\Pity She's a Whore (410, 1633), so tenderly tragic, so exquisitely beautiful for
[all their moral perversity, that they remain unequalled outside Shakespeare.

In the Restoration Theatre the theme of consanguinity was originally
I dealt with no less than three times by Dryden : comically, in The Spanish
\Friar (1681), when Lorenzo — after all the love-brokerage of pursy Father
I Dominic — discovers Elvira to be his sister : tragically, in Don Sebastian
1^1690), when Sebastian and Almeyda are separated by the disclosures of old
[Alvarez : sentimentally and romantically, in Love Triumphant (1693-4),
[when Alphonso wins Victoria whom he has long loved, even whilst she was
[supposed to be his sister. Otway it will be remembered turns the pathetic
Iratastrophe of The Orphan (1680), upon a deceit which produces similar
[though unhappy circumstances. In 1679, Oedipus, a joint production of
| Dryden and Lee, was brought out with great success at the Duke's Theatre,
[Dorset Gardens.

Unhallowed and incestuous passions again form the plot of The Fatal
| Disco-very ; or, Love in Ruins (4to, 1698), produced at Drury Lane, a play
[seemingly derived from Bandello, Part II, Novel 35, which coincides
| with the thirtieth tale of the Heptameron. In various forms, however, this
j.egend is to be found in the literature of all countries, and a cognate
[tradition is even attached to certain districts. Innocence Distressed; or, The
\Royal Penitents, a tragedy by Robert Gould (ob. 1709), never performed but
[published by subscription (8vo, 1737), for the benefit of his daughter
{Hannah, is based on the same story. Gould's work is weak and insipid.

Later in the eighteenth century we have Horace Walpole's The Mysterious
{Mother (8vo, 1768), an unacted drama of extraordinary power and undissi-
i pated gloom on the same terrible theme ; whilst Shelley's The Cenci,
I published in 1819, which the poet most emphatically intended for the
{boards, remains a masterpiece of supreme genius.

Wagner in Die Walkure shows the irresistible passion of Siegmund and
jSieglinde, brother and sister, from whose union sprang the mighty hero
j Siegfried; and in Gengangere (Ghosts), 1 88 1, Ibsen threw, by the sickly
| :raving of the fibreless Oswald Alving for Regina, a lurid light across that
j awesome tragedy of shadows, Nemesis, and blank despair.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

The Dutch Lover was produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorset Garden,
I in February, 1673, but owing to the manifold disadvantages under which
Jit was put on the stage it did not meet with that success it certainly

deserved. It was indeed, to quote the preface, 'hugely injured in the
I acting.' The performers were anything but word perfect and hopelessly
1 forgot or confused their business, which, more especially in a play of such
I a type as this romantic comedy so full of busy and complicated detail
i demanding close and continuous attention, was enough to mystify the

22O THEATRICAL HISTORY

audience completely and foredoom the piece to failure. The worst sinner
was Haunce himself, who hardly spoke one of his lines but gagged from
start to finish. Not unnaturally, Mrs. Behn resented this and avows that
she would have trounced him roundly in print except 'de mortuis . . .'
Although the original cast is not given, this detail enables us to fix the
representative of Haunce as Angel, a leading comedian, who died in the
spring of 1673, his name last appearing as de Boastado in Ravenscroft's
Careless Lovers.

In addition to these serious detriments the costumes were very poor,
especially the disguise of Alonzo as the Hollander, and Haunce's own
'fantastical travelling habit,' dresses on the aptness of which the
probability of the intrigue can be made so largely to depend.

Yet another mishap occurred. The epilogue, which had been promised
by a friend, did not come to hand, and accordingly the present epilogue
was hastily composed. Though containing nothing notably witty or pointed
it does not fall below the generality of these productions. Of the prologue
we have no means of judging as it was unfortunately lost before it could
find its way into print.

Had The Dutch Loiter received fair treatment from the actors it
should surely have commanded no small success in its day. Technically it is
well contrived, and exhibits the skill and clever stage-craft of its authoress
in a high degree, qualities which have often given a long lease of life to
plays of infinitely less merit.

(221 )

AN EPISTLE TO THE READER.

lood, Sweet, Honey, Sugar-Candied READER,

Which I think is more than anyone has called you yet, I must have a
'ord or two with you before you do advance into the Treatise ; but 'tis not to
eg your pardon for diverting you from your affairs, by such an idle Pamphlet
3 this is, for I presume you have not much to do and therefore are to be
bliged to me for keeping you from worse employment, and if you have a
e'tter you may get you gone about your business : but if you will misspend
our Time, pray lay the fault upon yourself; for I have dealt pretty fairly in
ic matter, told you in the Title Page what you are to expect within,
ndeed, had I hung a sign of the Immortality of the Soul, of the Mystery of
Godliness, or of Ecclesiastical Policie, and then had treated you with
ndiscerpibility and Essential Spissitude (words, which though I am no
jmpetent Judge of, for want of Languages, yet I fancy strongly ought to
lean just nothing) with a company of Apocryphal midnight Tales cull'd
ut of the choicest Insignificant Authors ; If I had only proved in Folio
lat Apollonius was a naughty knave, or had presented you with two or
iree of the worst principles transcrib'd out of the peremptory and ill-natur'd
hough prettily ingenious) Doctor of Malmsbury undigested and ill-
lanag'd by a silly, saucy, ignorant, impertinent, ill educated Chaplain I
ere then indeed sufficiently in fault 5 but having inscrib'd Comedy on the
:ginning of my Book, you may guess pretty near what penny-worths you
-e like to have, and ware your money and your time accordingly. I would
ot yet be understood to lessen the dignity of Playes, for surely they deserve
place among the middle if not the better sort of Books ; for I have heard
le most of that which bears the name of Learning, and which has abused
ich quantities of Irk and Paper, and continually employs so many ignorant,
nhappy souls for ten, twelve, twenty years in the University (who yet poor
retches think they are doing something all the while) as Logick etc. and
•veral other things (that shall be nameless lest I misspell them) are much
tore absolutely nothing than the errantest Play that e'er was writ. Take
otice, Reader, I do not assert this purely upon my own knowledge, but I
link I have known it very fully prov'd, both sides being fairly heard, and
/en some ingenious opposers of it most abominably bafH'd in the Argument :
ome of which I have got so perfectly by rote, that if this were a proper
[lace for it, I am apt to think myself could almost make it clear; and as I
rould not undervalue Poetry, so neither am I altogether of their judgement
rho believe no wisdom in the world beyond it. I have often heard indeed

222 AN EPISTLE TO THE READER

(and read) how much the World was anciently oblig'd to it for most of that j
which they call'd Science, which my want of letters makes me less assured of I
than others happily may be : but I have heard some wise men say that no I
considerable part of useful knowledge was this way communicated, and on I
the other way, that it hath serv'd to propogate so many idle superstitions} I
as .all the benefits it hath or can be guilty of, can never make sufficient I
amends for ; which unaided by the unlucky charms of Poetry, could never I
have possest a thinking Creature such as man. However true this is, I am I
myself well able to affirm that none of all our English Poets, and least the I
Dramatique (so I think you call them) can be justly charg'd with too great I
reformation of men's minds or manners, and for that I may appeal to general I
experiment, if those who are the most assiduous Disciples of the Stage, do I
not make the fondest and the lewdest Crew about this Town ; for if you I
should unhappily converse them through the year, you will not find one I
Dram of sense amongst a Club of them, unless you will allow for such I
a little Link-Boy's Ribaldry thick larded with unseasonable oaths &l
impudent defiance of God, and all things serious; and that at such a sense- 1
less damn'd unthinking rate, as, if 'twere well distributed, would spoil near I
half the Apothecaries trade, and save the sober people of the Town the I
charge of Vomits ; And it was smartly said (how prudently I cannot tell) by I
a late learned Doctor, who, though himself no great asserter of a Deity, I
(as you'll believe by that which follows) yet was observed to be continually I
persuading of this sort of men (if I for once may call them so) of the I
necessity and truth of our Religion ; and being ask'd how he came to bestir I
himself so much this way, made answer that it was because their ignorance!
and indiscreet debauch made them a scandal to the profession of Atheism.
And for their wisdom and design I never knew it reach beyond the invention
of some notable expedient, for the speedier ridding them of their Estate, (a
devilish clog to Wit and Parts), than other grouling Mortals know, 01
battering half-a-dozen fair new Windows in a Morning after their debauch,
whilst the dull unjantee Rascal they belong to is fast asleep. But I'll pro
ceed no farther in their character, because that miracle of Wit (in spite o:
Academick frippery) the mighty Echard hath already done it to my satisfac
tion 5 and whoever undertakes a Supplement to anything he hath discourst
had better for their reputation be doing nothing.

Besides this Theam is worn too thread-bare by the whiffling would-b(
Wits of the Town, and of both the stone-blind-eyes of the Kingdom. Anc
therefore to return to that which I before was speaking of, I will have leav(
to say that in my judgement the increasing number of our latter Plays hav(
not done much more towards the amending of men's Morals, or their Wit
than hath the frequent Preaching, which this last age hath been pester'c
with, (indeed without all Controversie they have done less harm) nor can J

AN EPISTLE TO THE READER 223

Ince imagine what temptation anyone can have to expect it from them;
hr sure I am no Play was ever writ with that design. If you consider
rragedy, you'll find their best of Characters unlikely patterns for a wise
pan to pursue : For he that is the Knight of the Play, no sublunary feats
liust serve his Dulcinea ; for if he can't bestrid the Moon, he'll ne'er make
lood his business to the end, and if he chance to be offended, he must with-
lut considering right or wrong confound all things he meets, and put you
lalf-a-score likely tall fellows into each pocket; and truly if he come not
nmething near this Pitch I think the Tragedy's not worth a farthing; for
I'layes were certainly intended for the exercising of men's passions not their
Inderstandings, and he is infinitely far from wise that will bestow one
lioment's meditation on such things : And as for Comedie, the finest folks
lou meet with there are still unfitter for your imitation, for though within
I leaf or two of the Prologue, you are told that they are people of Wit,
^ood Humour, good Manners, and all that: yet if the Authors did not
I indly add their proper names, you'd never know them by their Characters;
|>r whatsoe'er's the matter, it hath happen'd so spightfully in several Playes,
I'hich have been prettie well received of late, that even those persons that
['ere meant to be the ingenious Censors of the Play, have either prov'd the
post debauch'd, or most unwittie people in the Company : nor is this error
I cry lamentable, since as I take it Comedie was never meant, either for a
lonverting or a conforming Ordinance : In short, I think a Play the best
livertisement that wise men have : but I do also think them nothing so
I 'ho do discourse as formallie about the rules of it, as if 'twere the grand
|ffair of humane life. This being my opinion of Plays, I studied only to
I lake this as entertaining as I could, which whether I have been successful
1 1, my gentle Reader, you may for your shilling judge. To tell you my

loughts of it, were to little purpose, for were they very ill, you may be
I are I would not have expos'd it ; nor did I so till I had first consulted
| lost of those who have a reputation for judgement of this kind ; who were
;| t least so civil (if not kind) to it as did encourage me to venture it upon

ne Stage, and in the Press : Nor did I take their single word for it, but

s'd their reasons as a confirmation of my own.
I; Indeed that day 'twas Acted first, there comes me into the Pit, a long,

ther, phlegmatick, white, ill-favour'd, wretched Fop, an Officer in Masquer-

de newly transported with a Scarf & Feather out of France, a sorry
: Animal that has nought else to shield it from the uttermost contempt of

11 mankind, but that respect which we afford to Rats and Toads, which

lough we do not well allow to live, yet when considered as a part of God's
! !reation, we make honourable mention of them. A thing, Reader — but no
j| lore of such a Smelt : This thing, I tell ye, opening that which serves it
pr a mouth, out issued such a noise as this to those that sate about it, that

224 AN EPISTLE TO THE READER

they were to expect a woful Play, God damn him, for it was a woman's.
Now how this came about I am not sure, but I suppose he brought it piping
hot from some who had with him the reputation of a villanous Wit : for
Creatures of his size of sense talk without all imagination, such scraps as
they pick up from other folks. I would not for a world be taken arguing
with such a propertie as this ; but if I thought there were a man of any
tolerable parts, who could upon mature deliberation distinguish well his
right hand from his left, and justly state the difference between the number
of sixteen and two, yet had this prejudice upon him ; I would take a little
pains to make him know how much he errs. For waving the examination
why women having equal education with men, were not as capable of
knowledge, of whatsoever sort as well as they : I'll only say as I have
touch'd before, that Plays have no great room for that which is men's great
advantage over women, that is Learning 5 We all well know that the im
mortal Shakespeare's Plays (who was not guilty of much more of this than
often falls to women's share) have better pleas'd the World than Johnson's
works, though by the way 'tis said that Benjamin was no such Rabbi
neither, for I am inform'd that his Learning was but Grammar high ;
(sufficient indeed to rob poor Salust of his best orations) and it hath been
observ'd that they are apt to admire him most confoundedly, who have just
such a scantling of it as he had ; and I have seen a man the most severe of
Johnson's Sect, sit with his Hat remov'd less than a hair's breadth from one
sullen posture for almost three hours at The Ale hymist ,• who at that
excellent Play of Harry the Fourth (which yet I hope is far enough from
Farce) hath very hardly kept his Doublet whole ; but affectation hath always
had a greater share both in the action and discourse of men than truth and
judgement have; and for our Modern ones, except our most unimitable
Laureat, I dare to say I know of none that write at such a formidable rate,
but that a woman may well hope to reach their greatest heights. Then for
their musty rules of Unity, and God knows what besides, if they meant
anything, they are enough intelligible and as practible by a woman ; but
really methinks they that disturb their heads with any other rule of Playes
besides the making them pleasant, and avoiding of scurrility, might much
better be employed in studying how to improve men's too imperfect know
ledge of that ancient English Game which hight long Laurence : And i:
Comedy should be the picture of ridiculous mankind I wonder anyone
should think it such a sturdy task, whilst we are furnish'd with such
precious Originals as him I lately told you of; if at least that Character dc
not dwindle into Farce, and so become too mean an entertainment foi
those persons who are us'd to think. Reader, I have a complaint or two tc
make to you and I have done ; Know then that this Play was hugelj
injur'd in the Acting, for 'twas done so imperfectly as never any wa:

AN EPISTLE TO THE READER 225

before, which did more harm to this than it could have done to any of
another sort ; the Plot being busie (though I think not intricate) and so
requiring a continual attention, which being interrupted by the intolerable
negligence of some that acted in it, must needs much spoil the beauty
on't. My Dutch Lover spoke but little of what I intended for him, but
supplied it with a great deal of idle stuff, which I was wholly unacquainted
with until I had heard it first from him ; so that Jack-pudding ever us'd to
do : which though I knew before, I gave him yet the Part, because I knew
him so acceptable to most o'th' lighter Periwigs about the Town, and he
indeed did vex me so, I could almost be angry : Yet, but Reader, you
remember, I suppose, a fusty piece of Latine that has past from hand to
hand this thousand years they say (and how much longer I can't tell) in
favour of the dead. I intended him a habit much more notably ridiculous,
which if ever it be important was so here, for many of the Scenes in the
three last Acts depended upon the mistakes of the Colonel for Haunce,
which the ill-favour' d likeness of their Habits is suppos'd to cause. Lastly
my Epilogue was promis'd me by a Person who had surely made it good,
if any, but he failing of his word, deput'd one, who has made it as you see,
and to make out your penyworth you have it here. The Prologue is by
misfortune lost. Now, Reader, I have eas'd my mind of all I had to say,
and so sans farther complyment, Adieu.

(226)

DRAMATIS PERSONS.

MEN.

Ambrosia, A Nobleman of Spain.

Marcel, His Son.

Silvio, Supposed Bastard Son to Ambrosia.

Antonio, A German that has debauch'd Hippolyta.

Alon-zo, A Flanders Colonel contracted to Hippolyta, and newly

arriv'd at Madrid.
Lovis, His Friend.

Carlo, Father to Lovis and Eupbemia.
Haunce van Exel, A Dutch Fop contracted to Euphemia, newly

arriv'd at Madrid.
Gload, His Cash-keeper.
Pedro, An old Servant to Alonzo.
Boy, Page to Marcel.
Servant to Carlo.
A Friar.

WOMEN.

Euphemia, In love with Alonxo.

Hippolyta, In love with Antonio, ) ,-. , . . ,

~,rr J / , .., c-; • • I Daughters to Ambrosto.

Cleonte, In love with btl-vto, \

Clarinda, Sister unknown to Alonxo, in love with Marcel.
Dormida, Her Governess.
Francisca, Woman to Cleonte.

Olinda, ) ~ ,., ., T-, ,

n . } Two Maids to Eupbemia.

Donee, )

Swains, Four Shepherds, Four Nymphs, Dutch Men and Dutch Women.

The Scene, Madrid.

(227)

THE DUTCH LOVER.

ACT I.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter Alonzo and Lovis in travelling Habits, attended
by Pedro and Gload.

Lo. Dear A lonzo ! I shall love a Church the better this
Month for giving me a sight of thee, whom I so little ex
pected in this part of the World, and less in so sanctifi'd a
Place. What Affair could be powerful enough to draw
thee from the kind obliging Ladies of Brabant?

Alon. First the sudden Orders of my Prince Don John,
and next a fair Lady.

Lo. A Lady ! Can any of this Country relish with a
Man that has been us'd to the Freedom of those of Bruxeh,
from whence I suppose you are now arriv'd ?

Alon. This morning I landed, from such a Storm, as set
us all to making Vows of Conversion, (upon good Con
ditions) and that indeed brought me to Church.

Lo. In that very Storm I landed too, but with less Sense
of Danger than you, being diverted with a pleasant Fellow
that came along with me, and who is design'd to marry a
Sister of mine against my Will — And now I think of him,
Gload, where hast thou left this Master of thine?

Glo. At the Inn, Sir, in as lamentable a Pickle, as if he
were still in the Storm ; recruiting his emptyed Stomach
with Brandy, and railing against all Women-kind for your
Sister's sake, who has made him undertake this Voyage.

Lo. Well, I'll come to him, go home before. [Ex. Gload.

Alon. Prithee what thing is this?

228 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i

Lo. Why, 'tis the Cashier to this Squire I spoke of, a
Man of Business, and as wise as his Master, but the graver
Coxcomb of the two. But this Lady, Alonzo, who is this
Lady thou speak'st of? shall not I know her? We were
wont to divide the Spoils of Beauty, as well as those of War
between us.

Alon. O but this is no such Prize, thou wouldst hardly
share this with the Danger, there's Matrimony in the Case.

Lo. Nay, then keep her to thy self, only let me know
who 'tis that can debauch thee to that scandalous way of
Life ; is she fair? will she recompense the Folly?

Alon. Faith, I know not, I never saw her yet, but 'tis
the Sister of Marcel, whom we both knew last Summer
in Flanders, and where he and I contracted such a Friend
ship, that without other Consideration he promis'd me
Hippolyta, for that's his Sister's Name.

Lo. But wo't thou really marry her ?

Alon. I consider my Advantage in being allied to so
considerable a Man as Ambrosioy her Father ; I being now
so unhappy as not to know my Birth or Parents.

Lo. I have often heard of some such thing, but durst
not ask the Truth of it.

Alon. 'Tis so, all that I know of my self is, that a Spanish
Souldier, who brought me up in the Army, dying, confest
I was not his Son, (which till then I believ'd) and at the
Age of twelve left me to shift for my self : the Fortune
he inrich'd me with, was his Horse and Arms, with a few
Documents how to use them, as I had seen him do with
good success : This Servant, [Points to Pedro] and a Crucifix
of Value. And from one Degree to another, I arriv'd to
what you knew me, Colonel of the Prince's Regiment, and
the Glory of his Favour.

Lo. Honour is the Child of Virtue, and finds an Owner
every where.

Alon. Oh, Sir, you are a Courtier, and have much the
odds of a Souldier in Parleys of this nature : but hither I
am come —

sc. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 229

Lo. To be undone — Faith, thou look'st ill upon't.

A Ion. I confess I am not altogether so brisk as I should
have been upon another Occasion ; you know, Lovis, I
have been us'd to Christian Liberty, and hate this formal
Courtship. Pox on't, wou'd 'twere over.

Lo. Where all Parties are agreed, there's little need of
that ; and the Ladies of Spain, whatever Gravity they
assume, are as ready as any you ever met withal.

Alon. But there's a damn'd Custom that does not at all
agree with Men so frank and gay as thou and I ; there's
a deal of Danger in the Atchievement, which some say
heightens the Pleasure, but I am of another Opinion.

Fed. Sir, there is a Female in a Veil has follow'd us ever
since we came from Church.

Alon. Some amorous Adventure : See [Enter Olinda.]
she advances : Prithee retire, there may be danger in it.

[Puts Lovis back.

Lo. Oh then, I must by no means leave you.

[Lovis advances.

Olin. Which of these two shall I chuse ? [She looks on both.
Sir, you appear a Stranger. [To Lovis.

Alon. We are both so, Lady.

Olin. I shall spoil all, and bring [She looks again on both.~]
the wrong. Sir, you should be a Cavalier, that —

Alon. Would gladly obey your Orders.

Lo. Nay, I find 'tis all one to you which you chuse, so
you have one of us : but would not both do better ?

Olin. No, Sir, my Commission's but to one.

Alon. Fix and proceed then, let me be the Man.

Olin. What shall I do ? they are both well : [Aside.
but I'll e'en chuse, as 'twere, for my self; and hang me
if I know which that shall be, [looks on both.'] Sir, there is •
a Lady of Quality and Beauty, who guessing you to be
Men of Honour, has sent me to one of you.

Alon. Me, I am sure.

Lo. Me, me, he's engag'd already.

230 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i

Alon. That's foul Play, Lovis.

Olln. Well, I must have but one, and therefore I'll wink
and chuse.

Lo. Fll'not trust blind Fortune.

Alon. Prithee, Lovis, let thee and I agree upon the
matter, and I find the Lady will be reasonable ; cross or
pile who shall go.

Lo. Go, Sir, whither?

Alon. To the Lady that —

Lo. Sent for neither of us that I can hear of yet.

Olin. You will not hear me out, but I'll end the Dif
ference by chusing you, Sir ; and if you'll follow me [To
Alonzo.] at a Distance, I will conduct you where this
Lady is.

Alon. Fair Guide, march on, I'll follow thee. [Offers to go.

Lo. You are not mad, Sir, 'tis some abuse, and dangerous.

\_Pulls him back.

Alon. Be not envious of my Happiness : Forbear a
Wench, for fear of Danger !

Lo. Have a care, 'tis some Plot. [Holds him.~\ Where
did this Lady see us? we are both Strangers in the City.

Alon. No matter where.

Olin. At Church, Sir, just now.

Alon. Ay, ay, at Church, at Church, enough.

Lo. What's her Name ?

Alon. Away, thou art fuller of Questions than a Fortune
teller : Come, let's be gone.

Lo. Sure you do not mean to keep your Word, Sir ?

Alon. Not keep my Word, Lovis? What wicked Life
hast thou known me lead, should make thee suspect I
should not ? When I have made an Interest in her, and
find her worth communicating, I will be just upon Honour
— Go, go.

Lo. Well, go your ways ; if Marriage do not tame you,
you are past all Hopes : but pray, Sir, let me see you at
my Lodgings, the Golden Fleece here at the Gate.

sc. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 231

Alon. I'll attend thee here, and tell thee my Adventure :

Farewel. [Exit Lovis.] Pedro, go you and inquire for the

House of Don Ambrosia^ and tell him I will wait on him

in the Evening, by that time I shall get my self in Order.

\_Ex. Alonzo and Olinda ; Pedro the other way.

SCENE II. Ambrosio's House.
Enter Silvio, melancholy.

Sllv. I must remove Marcel^ for his nice Honour
Will ne'er permit that I should court my Sister ;
My Passion will admit of no Restraint,
'Tis grown so violent; and fair Cleonte's Charms
Each Day increase to such a killing Number,
That I must speak or die.

Enter Francisca.

Franc. What, still with folded Arms and down-cast
looks ?

Silv. Oh Francisca!

My Brother's Presence now afflicts me more
Than all my Fears of Cruelty from Cleonte ;
She is the best, the sweetest, kindest Sister —

Franc. Ay, Sir, but she will never make the kindest
Mistress.

Silv. At least she should permit me to adore her,
Were but Marcel away.
Hast thou no Stratagem to get him absent ?
For I can think of nothing but my Sister. [Sighs.

Franc. I know of one, nor other Remedy for you than
loving less.

Silv. Oh, 'tis impossible :

Thou know'st I've tried all ways, made my Addresses
To all the fairest Virgins in Madrid ;
Nay, and at last fell to the worst Debauchery,
That of frequenting every common House :

232 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i

But Souls that feed so high on Love as mine,
Must nauseate coarser Diet.
No, I must still love on, and tell her so,
Or I must live no longer.

Franc. That methinks you might do even in the Pre
sence of Marcel. A Brother is allow'd to love a Sister.

Silv. But I shall do't in such a way, Francisco^
Be so transported, and so passionate,
I shall betray what he will ne'er indure.
And since our other Sister, loose Hippolyta, was lost,
He does so guard and watch the fair Cleonte —

Franc. Why, quarrel with him, Sir : you know you are
so much dearer to my Lord your Father than he is, that
should he perceive a Difference between ye, he would soon
dismiss him the House ; and 'twere but Reason, Sir, for
I am sure Don Marcel loves you not.

Silv. That I excuse, since he the lawful Heir to all my
Father's Fortunes, sees it every Day ready to be sacrific'd
to me, who can pretend no Title to't, but the unaccount
able Love my Father bears me.

Franc. Can you dissemble, Sir?

Silv. The worst of any Man, but would endeavour it,
If it could any ways advance my Love.

Franc. Which I must find some way to ruin. \_Aside.
Then court his Mistress.

Silv. The rich Flavia?

Franc. That would not incense him, for her he is to marry;
But 'tis the fair Clarinda has his Heart.

Silv. To act a feigned Love, and hide a real one,
Is what I have already try'd in vain.
Even fair Clarinda I have courted too,
In hope that way to banish from my Soul
The hopeless Flame Cleonte kindled there ;
But 'twas a Shame to see how ill I did dissemble.

Franc. Stay, Sir, here comes Marcel. I'll leave you.

[Exit Francisca.

Isc. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 233

Enter Marcel, with a Letter open in his Hand,

which he kisses.
Mar. Kind Messenger of Love ! Thus, thus a thousand

times

I bid thee welcome from my fair Clarinda.
Thus joyful Bridegrooms, after long Despairs,
Possess the yielding Treasure in their Arms:
Only thus much the happier Lover I,
[Who gather all the Sweets of this fair Maid
I Without the ceremonious Tie of Marriage ;
iThat tie that does but nauseate the Delight,
! Be far from happy Lovers ; we'll embrace
And unconfin'd and free as whispering Air,
[That mingles wantonly with spreading Flowers.
Sih. What's all this?
Mar. Silvio, the Victory's won.
[The Heart that nicely stood it out so long,
I Now yields upon Conditions.

Silv. What Victory? or what Heart?
Mar. I am all Rapture, cannot speak it out ;
My Senses have carous'd too much of Joy ;
And like young Drunkards, proud of their new try'd

Strength,
Have made my Pleasure less by the excess.

Silv. This is wondrous.
Impart some of your over-charge to me,
The Burden lightned will be more supportable.

Mar. Read here, and change thy Wonder, when thou

knowst

i How happy Man can be. [Gives him a Letter.

\_Silvio reads.]

Marcel,

\ Dormida will have me tell you what Effects your Vows have
| made, and how easily they have drawn from me a Consent to
' see you, as you desired, this Night in my Chamber : you have

234 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i

sworn to marry me, and Love will have me credit you, and
then methinks I ought not to deny you any thing, nor question
your Virtue. Dormida will wait to throw you down the Key,
when all are in Bed, that will conduct you to

Tour Clarinda.

Silv. Damn her for a Dissembler !
Is this the chaste, the excellent Clarinda,
Who whilst I courted, was as cold and nice,
As a young Nun the day she is invested ?

Mar. How now, Brother ! what, displeased with it ?

[ Takes the Letter.

Silv. A little, Sir, to see another's Happiness,
Whilst I, where e'er I pay my Vows and Sighs,
Get nothing but Disdain ; and yet this Shape
And Face I never thought unhandsom.

Mar. These be the least approaches to a Heart ;
'Tis not dull looking well will do the feat,
There is a Knack in Love, a critical Minute :
And Women must be watcht as Witches are,
E'er they confess, and then they yield apace.
Enter a Boy.

Boy. Sir, there's without a Servant of Don Alonzo^s, who
says his Master will be here to Night. [Marcel is surprized.

Mar. Alonzol now I begin to wake
From Love, like one from some delightful Dream,
To reassume my wonted Cares and Shame.
— I will not speak with him. \Exit Boy.

Oh H ippolyta ! thou poor lost thing, Hippolyta!
How art thou fallen from Honour, and from Virtue,
And liv'st in Whoredom with an impious Villain,
Who in revenge to me has thus betray'd thee.
Keep thy self closer than thou'st done thy Sin ;
For if I find thee out, by all that's good,
Thou hadst more Mercy on thy slaughter'd Honour,
Than I will have for thee.
And thou, Antonio, that hast betray'd her,

he. 11] THE DUTCH LOVER 235

Who till profan'd by thee, was chaste as Shrines,
A.nd pure as are the Vows are offer'd there,
'That Rape which thou'st committed on her Innocence,
will revenge as shall become her Brother.

\Qffers to go out in rage.

Silv. Stay, Marcel,
[ can inform you where these Lovers are.

Mar. Oh tell me quickly then,
That I may take them in their foul Embraces,
A.nd send their Souls to Hell.

Silv. Last Night I made a youthful Sally to
Due of those Houses where Love and Pleasure
A.re sold at dearest Rates.

Mar. A Bordello ; forwards pray.

Silv. Yes, at the Corner of St. Jeromes; where after
;eeing many Faces which pleas'd me not, I would have
:ook my leave ; but the Matron of the House, a kind
jbliging Lady, seeing me so nice, and of Quality, (tho
lisguis'd) told me she had a Beauty, such an one as had
dount d"1 Olivarez in his height of Power seen, he would
lave purchas'd at any rate. I grew impatient to see this
ine thing, and promis'd largely : then leading me into a
R.oom as gay, and as perfum'd as an Altar upon a Holy-
lay, I saw seated upon a Couch of State —

Mar. Hippolyta!

Silv. Hippolyta our Sister, drest like a Venice Curtezan,
With all the Charms of a loose Wanton,
Singing and playing to her ravisht Lover,
Who I perceiv'd assisted to expose her.

Mar. Well, Sir, what follow'd ?

Silv. Surpriz'd at sight of this, I did withdraw,
A.nd left them laughing at my little Confidence.

Mar. How ! left them? and left them living too?

Silv. If a young Wench will be gadding,
Who can help it ?

Mar. 'Sdeath you should, were you that half her Brother,

236 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT I

Which my Father too doatingly believes you. [Inrag'd.

Sllv. How ! do you question his Belief, Marcel?

Mar. I ne'er consider'd it ; be gone and leave me.

Silv. Am I a Dog that thus you bid me vanish ?
What mean you by this Language? [Comes up to him.
And how dare you upbraid me with my Birth,
Which know, Marcel, is more illustrious far
Than thine, being got when Love was in his reign,
With all his Youth and Heat about him ?
I, like the Birds of bravest kind, was hatcht
In the hot Sun-shine of Delight; whilst
Thou, Marcel^ wer't poorly brooded
In the cold Nest of Wedlock.

Mar. Thy Mother was some base notorious Strumpet,
And by her Witchcraft reduc'd my Father's Soul,
And in return she paid him with a Bastard,
Which was thou.

Sllv. Marcel^ thou ly'st. [Strikes him.

Mar. Tho 'twere no point of Valour, but of Rashness
To fight thee, yet I'll do't.

Silv. By Heaven, I will not put this Injury up.

[They fight) Silvio is wounded.

[Fight again. Enter Ambrosio, and Cieonte between ;
Silvio falls into the Arms 0/~ Cieonte.

Amb. Hold ! I command you hold ;
Ah, Traitor to my Blood, what hast thou done ?

[To Marcel, who kneels and lays his Sword at his Feet.

Silv. In fair Cleonte's Arms !
O I could kiss the Hand that gives me Death,
So I might thus expire.

Mar. Pray hear me, Sir, before you do condemn me.

Amb. I will hear nothing but thy Death pronounc'd,
Since thou hast wounded him, if it be mortal.
Have I not charg'd thee on thy Life, Marcel,
Thou shouldst not hold Discourse with him of any kind ?

Mar. I did foresee my Fate, but could not shun it.

[Takes his Sword and goes out.

j;c. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 237

Amb. What ho ! Biscay, a Surgeon ; on your Lives a
(Surgeon; where be these Rascals? [Goes out.

Si/v. I would not have a Surgeon search my Wound
With rude and heavy Hands :
JYours, fair Cleonte, can apply the Balsam
JFar more successfully,

For they are soft and white as Down of Swans,
i.And every Touch is sovereign.

Cleo. But I should die with looking on your Wounds.

Si/v. And I shall die unless you cure them, Sister.

Cleo. With the expence of mine to save your Life,
Is both my Wish and Duty.

Si/v. I thank you, pretty Innocence. [Leads him in.

SCENE III. A Grove.
Discovers Euphemia veiTd^ walking alone.

Euph. Olinda stays long ; I hope she has overtook the
Cavalier. Lord, how I am concern'd ; if this should be
Love now, I were in fine condition, at least if he be married,
or a Lover : Oh that I fear : hans; me, if it has not dis-

O /

; order'd me all over. But see, where she comes with him too.
Enter Olinda and Alonzo.

Olin. Here he is, Madam, I hope 'tis the right Man.

Alon. Madam, you see what haste I make to obey your
kind Commands.

Euph. 'Twas as kindly done, Sir ; but I fear when you
know to what end 'tis, you'll repent your Haste.

Alon. 'Tis very likely ; but if I do, you are not the first
of your Sex that has put me to Repentance : But lift up
your Veil, and if your Face be good —

[0/ers to lift up her Veil

Euph. Stay, you're too hasty.

Alon. Nay, let's have fair Play on both sides, I'll hide
nothing from you. \Qjfers again.

Euph. I have a Question or two to ask you first.

238 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i

A Ion. I can promise nothing till I see my Reward. I am
a base Barterer, here's one for t'other ; you saw your Man
and lik'd him, and if I like you when I see you —

[Offers again]

Euph. But if you do not, must all my liking be cast away i

A Ion. As for that, trust to my good Nature; a frank!
Wench has hitherto taken me as much as Beauty. And one
Proof you have already given of that, in this kind Invita
tion : come, come, do not lose my little new-gotten gooc
Opinion of thee, by being coy and peevish. [Offers again.l

Euph. You're strangely impatient, Sir.

A Ion. O you should like me the better for that, 'tis 21
sign of Youth and Fire.

Euph. But, Sir, before I let you see my Face —

Alon. I hope I must not promise you to like it.

Euph. No, that were too unreasonable, but I must know
whether you are a Lover.

Alon. What an idle Question's that to a brisk young
Fellow? A Lover ! yes, and that as often as I see a new Face

Euph. That I'll allow.

Alon. That's kindly said ; and now do I find I shall bt
in love with thine as soon as I see't, for I am half so witr
thy Humour already.

Euph. Are you not married, Sir ?

Alon. Married !

Euph. Now I dread his Answer. \_Aside.~\ Yes, married

Alon. Why, I hope you make no Scruple of Conscience
to be kind to a married Man.

Euph. Now do I find, you hope I am a Curtezan tha
come to bargain for a Night or two ; but if I possess you i
it must be for ever.

Alon. For ever let it be then. Come, let's begin on anj
Terms.

Euph. I cannot blame you, Sir, for this mistake, sinc<
what I've rashly done, has given you cause to think I an ;
not virtuous.

jc. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 239

Alon. Faith, Madam, Man is a strange ungovern'd thing ;
^et I in the whole course of my Life have taken the best
;are I could, to make as few Mistakes as possible : and
•.reating all Women-kind alike, we seldom err ; for where
vve find one as you profess to be, we happily light on a
lundred of the sociable and reasonable sort.

.Euph. But sure you are so much a Gentleman, that you
itiay be convinc'd ?

Alon. Faith, if I be mistaken, I cannot devise what other
use you can make of me.

Euph. In short this ; I must leave you instantly ; and
will only tell you I am the sole Daughter of a rich Parent,
roung, and as I am told not unhandsom ; I am contracted
to a Man I never saw, nor I am sure shall not like when
[ do see, he having more Vice and Folly than his Fortune
will excuse, tho a great one ; and I had rather die than
marry him.

Alon. I understand you, and you would have me dis
patch this Man.

Euph. I am not yet so wicked. The Church is the only
place I am allowed to go to, and till now could never see
the Man that was perfectly agreeable to me : Thus veil'd, ;
I'll venture to tell you so.

Alon. What the Devil will this come to ? her Mien and
Shape are strangely graceful, and her Discourse is free and
natural. What a damn'd Defeat is this, that she should be
honest now ! [Aside.

Euph. Well, Sir, what Answer ? I see he is uneasy. [y/5/Wi?.

Alon. Why, as I was saying, Madam, I am a Stranger.

Euph. I like you the better for that.

Alon. But, Madam, lama Man unknown, unown'd in
the World ; and much unworthy the Honour you do me
— Would I were well rid of her, and yet I find a damnable
Inclination to stay too. [Aside.

Will nothing but Matrimony serve your turn, Madam?
Pray use a young Lover as kindly as you can.

240 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i

Euph. Nothing but that will do, and that must be done.

A 'Ion. Must! 'slife this is the first of her Sex that ever
was before-hand with me, and yet that I should be forc'd
to deny her too. [Aside.\

Euph. I fear his Answer, Olinda. [Aside.

O/in. At least 'tis but making a Discovery of your
Beauty, and then you have him sure.

A Ion. Madam, 'tis a matter of Moment, and requires)
Deliberation ; besides I have made a kind of Promise —

Euph. Never to marry ?

Alan. No, faith, 'tis not so well : But since now I find
we are both in haste, I am to be marry'd.

Euph. This I am sure is an Excuse ; but I'll fit him
for't. [Aside.

To be marry'd said you ?
That Word has kill'd me, Oh I feel it drill
Through the deep Wound his Eyes have lately made:
'Twas much unkind to make me hope so long.

[She leans on Olinda, as if she swooned^ who pulls off
her Veil : he stands gazing at a Distance.

Olin. Sure she does but counterfeit, and now I'll play
my Part. Madam, Madam !

Alon. What wondrous thing is that ! I should not look
upon't, it changes Nature in me.

Olin. Have you no pity, Sir? Come nearer pray.

Alon. Sure there's Witchcraft in that Face, it never'
could have seiz'd me thus else, I have lov'd a thousand
times, yet never felt such joyful Pains before.

Olin. She does it rarely. What mean you, Sir?

Alon. I never was a Captive to this Hour.
If in her Death such certain Wounds she give,
What Mischiefs she would do, if she should live !
Yet she must live, and live that I may prove
Whether this strange Disorder here be Love. [To his heart.
Divine, divinest Maid. [Kneels.

sc. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 241

Olin. Come nearer, Sir, you'll do a Lady no good at
that Distance. Speak to her, Sir.

[He rises and comes to her, gazing still.

Alon. I know not what to say,
I am unus'd to this soft kind of Language :
But if there be a Charm in Words, and such
As may conjure her to return again ;
Prithee instruct me in them, I'll say any thing,
Do any thing, and surfer all the Wounds
Her Eyes can give.

Euph. Sure he is real. [Aside.

Alas ! I am discover'd ; how came my Veil off?

[She pretends to recover ', and wonder that her Veil is off".

Alon. That you have let me see that lovely Face,
May move your Pity, not your Anger, Madam ;
Pity the Wounds 't has made, pity the Slave,
Who till this Moment boasted of his Freedom.

Euph. May I believe all this ? for that we easily do in
things we wish.

Alon. Command me things impossible to all
Sense but a Lover's, I will do't : to shew
The Truth of this, I could even give you
The last Proof of it, and take you at your Word,
To marry you.

Euph. O wondrous Reformation ! marry me ! [Laughs.

Alon. How, do you mock my Grief?

Euph. What a strange dissembling thing is Man ! To
put me off too, you were to be married.

Alon. Hah, I had forgotten Hippolyta. \_He starts.

Euph. See, Olinda, the Miracle increases, he can be
serious too. How do you, Sir ?

Alon. 'Tis you have robb'd me of my native Humour,
I ne'er could think till now.

Euph. And to what purpose was it now?

Alon. Why, Love and Honour were at odds within me,
And I was making Peace between them.

I R

242 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Euph. How fell that out, Sir?

Alon. About a Pair of Beauties ; Women,
That set the whole World at odds.
She that is Honour's Choice I never saw,
And love has taught me new Obedience here.

Euph. What means he ? I fear he is in earnest. [Aside.

Olin. 'Tis nothing but his Aversion to Marriage, which
most young Men dread now-a-days.

Euph. I must have this Stranger, or I must die; for
whatever Face I put upon't, I am far gone in Love, but
I must hide it. [Aside.

Well, since I have mist my Aim, you shall never boast
my Death ; I'll cast my self away upon the next handsom
young Fellow I meet, tho I die for't ; and so farewel to
you, loving Sir. [Offers to go.

Alon. Stay, do not marry, as you esteem the Life of
him that shall possess you.

Euph. Sure you will not kill him.

Alon. By Heaven, I will.

Euph. O I'll trust you, Sir : Farewel, farewel.

Alon. You shall not go in triumph thus,
Unless you take me with you.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv'd (and so in love) I'll
give you leave to see me once moreata House at the Corner
of St. Jeroni's, where this Maid shall give you Entrance.

Alon. Why, that's generously said.

Euph. As soon 'tis dark you may venture.

Alon. Till then will be an Age, farewel, fair Saint,
To thee and all my quiet till we meet. [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I. The Street.
Enter Marcel in a Cloak alone.

Mar. The Night comes on, and offers me two Pleasures,
The least of which would make another blest,
Love and Revenge : but I, whilst I dispute

sc. r] THE DUTCH LOVER 243

Which Happiness to chuse, neglect them both.

The greatest Bliss that Mankind can possess,

Persuades me this way, to my fair Clarinda :

But tyrannick Honour

(Presents the Credit of my House before me,
(And bids me first redeem its fading Glory,

By sacrificing that false Woman's Heart

That has undone its Fame.
iBut stay, Oh Conscience, when I look within,

And lay my Anger by, I find that Sin

Which I would punish in Antonio 's Soul,

Lie nourish'd up in mine without Controul.
I To fair Clarinda such a Siege I lay,

As did that Traitor to Hippolyta ;

Only Hippolyta a Brother has,

Clarinda, none to punish her Disgrace :

And 'tis more Glory the defenc'd to win,

Than 'tis to take unguarded Virtue in.

I either must my shameful Love resign,

Or my more brave and just Revenge decline.

Enter Alonzo drest^ with Lovis. Marcel stays.

Alon. But to be thus in love, is't not a Wonder, Lovis ?

Lov. No, Sir, it had been much a greater, if you had
stay'd a Night in Town without being so ; and I shall see
this Wonder as often as you see a new Face of a pretty
Woman.

Alon. I do not say that I shall lose all Passion for the
fair Sex hereafter ; but on my Conscience, this amiable
Stranger has given me a deeper Wound than ever I received
from any before.

Lov. Well, you remember the Bargain.

Alon. What Bargain ?

Lov. To communicate ; you understand.

Alon. There's the Devil on't, she is not such a Prize :
Oh, were she not honest, Friend ! \_Hugs him.

244 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Lov. Is it so to do ? What, you pretend to be a Lover,
and she honest, now only to deprive me of my Part :
remember this, Alonzo.

Mar. Did not I hear Alonzo nam'd ? [Aside.

Alon. By all that's good I am in earnest, Friend ;
Nay thy own Eyes shall convince thee
Of the Power of hers.
Her Veil fell off, and she appear'd to me,
Like unexpected Day, from out a Cloud ;
The lost benighted Traveller

Sees not th' Approach of the next Morning's Sun
With more transported Joy,
Than I this ravishing and unknown Beauty.

Lov. Hey day ! What Stuff's here ? Nay, now I see
thou art quite gone indeed.

Alon. I fear it. Oh, had she not been honest !
What Joy, what Heaven of Joys she would distribute!
With such a Face, and Shape, a Wit, and Mein —
But as she is, I know not what to do.

Lov. You cannot marry her.

Alon. I would not willingly, tho I think I'm free : For
Pedro went to Marcel to tell him I was arriv'd, and would
wait on him ; but was treated more like a Spy, than a
Messenger of Love : They sent no Answer back, which
I tell you, Lovis, angers me : 'twas not the Entertainment
I expected from my brave Friend Marcel. But now I am
for the fair Stranger who by this expects me.

Mar. 'Tis Alonzo. O how he animates my Rage, and
turns me over to Revenge, upon Hippolyta and her false
Lover ! [Aside.

Lov. Who's this that walks before us? [They go out.

Alon. No matter who.

Mar. I am follow'd. [They enter again.

Lov. See, he stops. [Marcel looks back.

Alon, Let him do what he please, we will out-go him.

[ They go out.

3C. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 245

Lov. This Man whoe'er he be still follows us.
Alon. I care not, nothing shall hinder my Design, I'll
go tho I make my passage thro his Heart.

[They enter at another Door^ he follows.
Lov. See, he advances, pray stand by a little.

[They stand by.

Mar. Sure there's some Trick in this, but I'll not fear it.
This is the Street, and hereabout's the House. [Looks about.
This must be it, if I can get admittance now. [Knocks.

Enter Olinda with a Light.

Olin. O, Sir, are you come ? my Lady grew impatient.

[ They go in.
Mar. She takes me for some other : This is happy.

[Aside.

Alon. Gods ! is not that the Maid that first conducted
me to the fair thing that rob'd me of my Heart?
Lov. I think it is.

Alon. She gives admittance to another Man.
All Women-kind are false, I'll in and tell her so.

[Offers to go.

Lov. You are too rash, 'tis dangerous.
Alon. I do despise thy Counsel, let me go.
Lov. If you are resolv'd, I'll run the Hazard with you.

[ They both go in.

SCENE II. The Scene changes to a Chamber.

Enter from one side Olinda, lighting in Marcel muffled as

before in his G lake, from the other Antonio leading in

Euphemia veiTd.

Mar. By Heaven's, 'tis she : Vile Strumpet !

[Throws off his Cloke, and snatches her from him.
Euph. Alas, this is not he whom I expected.
Anto. Marcel! I had rather have encounter'd my evil
Angel than thee. [Draws.

246 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Mar. I do believe thee, base ungenerous Coward.

[Draws.

[They fight) Marcel disarms Antonio, by wounding
his Hand. Enter Alonzo, goes betwixt them, and
with his Sword drawn opposes Marcel, who is going
to kill Antonio; L,ov is follows him.

Alon. Take Courage, Sir. [To Antonio, who goes out mad.

Mar. Prevented ! whoe'er thou be'st.
It was unjustly done,
To save his Life who merits Death,
By a more shameful way.
But thank the Gods she still remains to meet
That Punishment that's due to her foul Lust.

[Offers to run at hery Alonzo goes between.

Alon. 'Tis this way you must make your Passage then.

Mar. What art thou, that thus a second time
Dar'st interpose between Revenge and me ?

Alon. 'Tis Marcel! What can this mean? [Aside.
Dost not thou know me, Friend? look on me well.

Mar. Alonzo here ! Ah I shall die with Shame. [Aside.
As thou art my Friend, remove from that bad Woman,
Whose Sins deserve no sanctuary.

Euph. What can he mean ? I dare not shew my Face.

[Aside.

Alon. I do believe this Woman is a false one,
But still she is a Woman, and a fair one :
I would not suffer thee to injure her,
Tho I believe she has undone thy quiet,
As she has lately mine.

Mar. Why, dost thou know it then ?
Stand by, I shall forget thou art my Friend else,
And thro thy Heart reach hers.

Alon. Nothing but Love could animate him thus,
He is my Rival. [Aside.

Marcel^ I will not quit one inch of Ground ;
Do what thou dar'st, for know I do adore her,

sc. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 247

And thus am bound by Love to her Defence.

[Offers to fight Marcel, who retires in wonder.
Euph. Hold, noble Stranger, hold.
Mar. Have you such Pity on your Lover there ?

[Offers to kill her^ Alonzo stays him.
Euph. Help, help. [Her Veil falls off.

Enter Hippolyta drest like a Curtezan : Sees Marcel.

Hip. Oh Gods, my Brother ! in pity, Sir, defend me
From the just Rage of that incensed Man.

[Runs behind Lovis, whilst Marcel stands
gazing on both with wonder.

Lov. I know not the meaning of all this, but
However I'll help the Lady in Distress.
Madam, you're safe, whilst I am your Protector.

[Leads her out.

Mar. I've lost the Power of striking where I ought,
Since my misguided Hand so lately err'd.
Oh Rage, dull senseless Rage, how blind and rude
It makes us.

Pardon, fair Creature, my unruly Passion,
And only blame that Veil which hid that Face,
Whose Innocence and Beauty had disarm'd it :
I took you for the most perfidious Woman,
The falsest loosest thing.

Alon. How ! are you a Stranger to her?

Mar. Yes I am. Have you forgiven me, Madam ?

Euph. Sir, I have. [Marcel bows and offers to go out.

Alon. Stay, Friend, and let me know your Quarrel.

Mar. Not for the World, Alonzo.

Alon. This is unfriendly, Sir.

Mar. Thou dost delay me from the noblest Deed,
On which the Honour of my House depends,
A Deed which thou wilt curse thy self for hindring
Farewel. [Goes out.

Alon. What can the meaning of this be ?

248 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT 11

Euph. Oh do not ask, but let us quickly leave this
dangerous Place.

Alon. Does it not belong to you ?

Euph. No, but you would like me the better if it did :
for, Sir, it is a —

Alon. Upon my Life, a Baudy-house.

Euph. So they call it.

Alon. You do amaze me.

Euph. Truth is, not daring to trust my Friends or
Relations with a Secret that so nearly concern'd me as
the meeting you, and hearing of a new come Curtezan
living in this House, I sent her word I would make her
a Visit, knowing she would gladly receive it from a Maid
of my Quality : When I came, I told her my Business,
and very frankly she offer'd me her House and Service —
Perhaps you'll like me the worse for this bold Venture, but
when you consider my promis'd Husband is every day ex
pected, you will think it but just to secure my self any way.

Alon. You could not give me a greater Proof than this
of what you say you bless me with, your Love.

Euph. I will not question but you are in earnest ; at
least if any doubt remain, these will resolve it.

[Gives him Letters.

Alon. What are these, Madam ?

Euph. Letters, Sir, intercepted from the Father of my
design'd Husband out of Flanders to mine.

Alon. What use can I make of them ?

Euph. Only this : Put your self into an Equipage very
ridiculous, and pretend you are my foolish Lover arriv'd
from F lander s, call your self H ounce van Ezel, and give
my Father these, as for the rest I'll trust your Wit.

Alon. What shall I say or do now? \_Aside.

Euph. Come, come, no study, Sir ; this must b.e done,
And quickly too, or you will lose me.

Alon. Two great Evils ! if I had but the Grace to chuse
the least now, that is, lose her. \_Aside.

sc. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 249

Euph. I'll give you but to night to consider it.

A Ion. Short warning this : but I am damnably in love,
land cannot withstand Temptation. [Kisses her Hand.

Euph. I had forgot to tell you my Name's Euphemia,
my Father's you'll find on the Letters, and pray show your
Love in your haste. Farewel.

Alan. Stay, fair Euphemia^ and let me pay my Thanks,
and tell you that I must obey you.

Euph. I give a Credit where I give a Heart.
Go inquire my Birth and Fortune : as for you,
I am content with what I see about you.

Alan. That's bravely said, nor will I ask one Question
about you, not only to return the Bounty, but to avoid all
things that look like the Approaches to a married Life. If
Fortune will put us together, let her e'en provide for us.

Euph. I must be gone : Farewel, and pray make haste.

[Looks kindly on him.

Alon. There's no resisting those Looks, Euphemia : One
more to fortify me well ; for I shall have need of every
Aid in this Case. [Look at one another and go.

SCENE III. A Street.

Enter Antonio in haste with Hippolyta ; weeping as passing
over the Stage.

Ant. Come, let us haste, I fear we are pursu'd.

Hip. Ah, whither shall we fly ?

Ant. We are near the Gate, and must secure our selves
with the Darkness of the Night in St. Peter's Grove, we
dare not venture into any House. [Exeunt.

Enter Clarinda and Dormida above in the Balcony.

Clar. Can'st thou not see him yet?

Dorm. Good lack a-day, what an impatient thing is a
young^jirl in love !

Clar. Nay, good Dormida^ let not want of Sleep make
thee testy.

250 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT 11

Dorm. In good time — are you my Governess, or I yours,
that you are giving me Instructions? Go get you in, or
I shall lay down my Office.

Clar. Nay, wait a little longer, I'm sure he will come.

Dorm. You sure ! you have wondrous Skill indeed
in the Humours of Men : how came you to be so well
acquainted with them ? you scarce ever saw any but Don
Marcel^ and him too but thro a Grate or Window, or at
Church ; and yet you are sure. I am a little the elder of
the two, and have manag'd as many Intrigues of this kind
as any Woman, and never found a constant just Man, as
they say, of a thousand ; and yet you are sure.

Clar. Why, is it possible Marcel should be false ?

Dorm. Marcel] No, no, Sweet-heart, he is that Man
of a thousand.

Clar. But if he should, you have undone me, by telling
me so many pretty things of him.

Dorm. Still you question my Ability, which by no means
I can indure ; get you in I say.

Clar. Do not speak so loud, you will wake my Mother.

Dorm. At your Instructions again ; do you question my
Conduct and Management of this Affair r Go watch for
him your self: I'll have no more to do with you back nor
edge. [Offers to go.

Clar. Will you be so barbarous to leave me to my self,
after having made it your Business this three Months to
sollicit a Heart which was but too ready to yield before;
after having sworn to me how honourable all his Intents
were; nay, made me write to him to come to night?
And now when I have done this, and am all trembling
with fear and shame (and yet an infinite Desire to see him
too) [Sighs'] thou wilt abandon me : go, when such as you
oblige, 'tis but to be insolent with the more freedom.

Dorm. What, you are angry I'll warrant. [Smiles.

Clar. I will punish my self to pay thee back, and will
not see Marcel.

sc. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 251

Dorm. What a pettish Fool is a Maid in love at fifteen !
I how unmanageable ! But I'll forgive all — go get you in,
I I'll watch for your Lover ; I would not have you disoblige
a Man of his Pretensions and Quality for all the World.

[Clarinda goes in.

Enter Alonzo below.

Alan. Now do I want Lovis extremely, to consult with
him about this Business : For I am afraid the Devil, or
Love, or both are so great with me, that I must marry
this fair Inchantress, which is very unlucky ; but, since
Ambrosia and Marcel refuse to see me, I hold my self no
longer ingag'd in Honour to Hippolyta.

Dorm. \_above.~\ Whist, whist, Sir, Sir.

A Ion. Who's there ?

Dorm. 'Tis I, your Servant, Sir ; oh you are a fine Spark,
are you not, to make so fair a Creature wait so long for
you ? there, there's the Key, open the Door softly and
come in. [Throws him down a Key in a Handkerchief.

Alon. What's this ? But I'll ask no Questions, so fair
a Creature, said she ? Now if 'twere to save my Life cannot
I forbear, I must go in : Shou'd Euphemia know this, she
would call it Levity and Inconstancy ; but I plead Necessity,
and will be judg'd by the amorous Men, and not the jealous
Women : For certain this Lady, whoe'er she be, designs
me a more speedy Favour than I can hope from Euphemia^
and on easier Terms too. This is the Door that must
conduct to the languishing Venus.

[ Opens the Door and goes /'«, leaving it unshut.

Enter Marcel with his Sword drawn.

Mar. Thus far I have pursu'd the Fugitives,
Who by the help of hasty Fear and Night,
Are got beyond my Power ; unlucky Accident !
Had I but kill'd Antonio, or Hippolyta^
Either had made my Shame supportable.
But tho I have mist the Pleasure of Revenge,

252 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

I will not that of Love.

One Look from fair Glarinda will appease

The Madness which this Disappointment rais'd.

[Walks looking towards the Window.

None appears yet : Dormlda was to throw me down the
Key. The Door is open, left so to give me entrance.

[Goes to the Door.

SCENE IV. Changes to a dark Hall.

Discovers Alonzo groping about in the Hall.

Alon. Now am I in a worse Condition than before, can

neither advance nor retreat : I do not like this groping

alone in the Dark thus. Whereabouts am I ? I dare not

call : were this fair thing she spoke of but now half so

impatient as I, she would bring a Light, and conduct me.

Enter Marcel.
Mar. 'Tis wondrous dark.

Alon. Hah, a Man's Voice that way ; that's not so well :
it may be some Lover, Husband, or Brother ; none of
which are to be trusted in this Case, therefore I'll stand
upon my Guard.

\_Draws: Marcel coming towards him jostles him.
Mar. Who's there ?
Alon. A Man.

Mar. A Man ! none such inhabit here. [Draws.

Thy Business?

Alon. This shall answer you, since there's no other way.

[They fight, Alonzo wounds Marcel, who fights him to

the Door ; Alonzo goes out, Marcel gropes to follow.

Mar. This is not just, ye Gods, to punish me, and let

the Tray tor 'scape unknown too : Methought 'twas Silvio's

Voice, or else a sudden thought of Jealousy come into my

Head would make me think so.

Enter Clarinda and Dormida with Light.
Clar. I tell you I did hear the noise of fighting.

sc. v] THE DUTCH LOVER 253

Dorm. Why, between whom should it be ? I'll be sworn
\Marcel came in alone.

Clar. Marcel] and wounded too ! oh I'm lost.

[Sees him, weeps.

Mar. Keep your false Tears to bathe your Lover's

Wounds.

JFor I perhaps have given him some — Thou old Assistant
^to her Lust, whose greatest Sin is wishing, tell me who
'twas thou didst procure for her. [In rage to Dormida.

Dorm. Alas ! I cannot imagine who it should be, unless
jDon Silvio, who has sometimes made Addresses to her:
But oh the House is up, Madam, we are undone ; let's fly
for Heavens sake.

Clar. Oh Marcel, can you believe — [A Noise.

Dorm. Come, come, I'll not be undone for your Fiddle-
i faddles ; I'll lay it all on you, if I be taken.

[Pulls out Clarinda.

Mar. Sot that I was, I could not guess at this to day,
I by his Anger at the Letter I foolishly shew'd him; he is
my Rival, and 'tis with him she's fled ; and I'll endeavour
to pursue them. [Offers to go.

But oh my Strength complies with their Design, [Leaning
on his Sword.~\ and shamefully retires to give them leave to
play their amorous Game out. [Goes faintly out.

SCENE V. Changes to the Street. Discovers
Alonzo alone.

A Ion. This Act of mine was rash and ill-natur'd,
And I cannot leave the Street with a good Conscience,
Till I know what mischief I have done.

Enter Dormida and Clarinda.

Hah, Ladies from the same House ! these are Birds that I
have frighted from their Nests I am sure : I'll proffer my
Service to them.

Dorm. Why do not you make more haste ?

254 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Clar. How can she go, whose Life is left behind ?
Besides, I know not whither we should go.
Ye Powers that guard the Innocent, protect us.

Alon. These must be some whom I have injur'd.
Ladies — you seem as in distress.

Dorm. Oh, Sir, as you are a Gentleman, assist a pair
of Virgins.

Alon. What's this, a mumping Matron ? I hope the
other's young, or I have offer'd my Service to little purpose.

Clar. Sir, if you will have the Charity to assist us,
Do it speedily, we shall be very grateful to you.

Alon. Madam, I will, but know not where to carry ye ;
my Lodging is in an Inn, and is neither safe nor honour
able : but Fortune dares no less than protect the Fair, and
I'll venture my Life in your Protection and Service.

[Exeunt.

Enter Marcel faintly.

Mar. Stay, Traytor, stay — oh they are out of sight,
But may my Curse o'ertake them in their flight. [Exit.

SCENE VI. Chamber ofCleonte.

She is discovered in her Night-Gown, at a Table, as
undressing, Francisca by her.

Cleo. Francisca, thou art dull to Night. [Sighs.

Fran. You will not give me leave to talk.

Cleo. Not thy way indeed, hast thou no Stories but of
Love, and of my Brother Silvio ?

Fran. None that you wish to hear : But I'll do what
you please, so you will not oblige me to sigh for you.

Cleo. Then prithee sing to me.

Fran. What Song, a merry, or a sad ?

Cleo. Please thy own Humour, for then thou'lt sing best.

Fran. Well, Madam, I'll obey you, and please my self.

c. vi] THE DUTCH LOVER 255

SINGS.

Amyntas led me to a Grove,

Where all the Trees did shade us ;
The Sun it self, tho it had strove,

Yet could not have betrayed us.
The place secure from human Eyes,

No other fear allows,
But when the Winds that gently rise

Do kiss the yielding Boughs.

Down there we sat upon the Moss,

And did begin to play
A thousand wanton Tricks, to pass

The Heat of all the Day.
A many Kisses he did give,

And I returned the same :
Which made me willing to receive

That which I dare not name.

His charming Eyes no aid required,

To tell their amorous Tale ;
On her that was already fir* d,

' Twas easy to prevail.
He did but kiss, and clasp me round,

Whilst they his thoughts exprest,
And laid me gently on the Ground ;

Oh ! who can guess the rest ?

After the Song, enter Silvio all undrest, gazing wildly on
Cleonte ; his Arm ty*d up.

Cho. My Brother Silvio, at this late hour, and in my
Lodgings too! How do you, Sir? are you not well?

Silv. Oh, why did Nature give me being?
Or why create me Brother to Cleonte? \Aside.

Or give her Charms, and me the sense to adore 'em ?

Cleo. Dear Brother — [Goes to him.

Silv. Ah, Cleonte — [Takes her by the Hand and gazes.

256 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Cleo. What would you, Sir?

Silv. I am not — well —

Cleo. Sleep, Sir, will give you ease.

Silv. I cannot sleep, my Wounds do rage and burn so,
as they put me past all power of rest.

Cleo. We'll call your Surgeon, Sir.

Silv. He can contribute nothing to my Cure,
.But I must owe it all to thee, Cleonte.

Cleo. Instruct me in the way, give me your Arm,
And I will bathe it in a thousand Tears,

[Goes to untie bis Arm.
And breathe so many Sighs into your Wound —

Silv. Let that slight hurt alone, and search this — here.

[ To his Heart.

Cleo. How ! are you wounded there,
And would not let us know it all this while ?

Silv. I durst not tell you, but design'd to suffer,
Rather than trouble you with my Complaints:
But now my Pain is greater than my Courage.

Fran. Oh, he will tell her, that he loves her sure.[Aside.

Cleo. Sit down and let me see't.

[He sits downy she puts her Hand into his Bosom.

Fran. Oh foolish Innocence — [Aside.

Cleo. You have deceiv'd me, Brother, here's no Wound.

Silv. Oh take away your Hand —
It does increase my Pain, and wounds me deeper.

Cleo. No, surely, Sir, my Hand is very gentle.

Silv. Therefore it hurts me, Sister ; the very thought'
Of Touches by so soft and fair a Hand,
Playing about my Heart, are not to be indur'd with Life

[Rises in passion.

Cleo. Alas, what means my Brother ?

Silv. Can you not guess, fair Sister ? have my Eyes
So ill exprest my Soul ? or has your Innocence
Not suffer'd you to understand my Sighs?
Have then a thousand Tales, which I have told you,

c vi] THE DUTCH LOVER 257

)f Broken Hearts, and Lovers Languishments,
Not serv'd to tell you, that I did adore you r

Cleo. Oh let me still remain in Innocence,
jlather than sin so much to understand you.

Fran. I can endure no more — [Goes out.

Silv. Can you believe it Sin to love a Brother ? it is not
'o in Nature.

Cleo. Not as a Brother, Sir ; but otherwise,
It is, by all the Laws of Men and Heaven.

Silv. Sister, so 'tis that we should do no Murder,
\nd yet you daily kill, and I, among the number
Df your Victims, must charge you with the sin
Of killing me, a Lover, and a Brother.

Cleo. What wou'd you have me do?

Silv. Why — I would have thee— do — I know not what —
itill to be with me — yet that will not satisfy ;
To let me look — upon thee — still that's not enough.
! dare not say to kiss thee, and imbrace thee ;
.That were to make me wish — I dare not tell thee what —

Cleo. I must not hear this Language from a Brother.

[She offers to go.

Silv. What a vile thing's a Brother?
Stay, take this Dagger, and add one Wound more
; [He kneels and offers her a Dagger •, and holds her by the Coat.
To those your Eyes have given, and after that
lifou'll find no trouble from my Sighs and Tears.

Enter Francisca.

Fran. By this she understands him, curse on her In
nocence,

Tis fuel to his flame — \_Aside.~\ Madam, there is below a
Lady, who desires to speak with the Mistress of the House.
Cleo. At this hour a Lady ! who can it be ?
Fran. I know not, but she seems of Quality.
Cleo. Is she alone ?

Fran. Attended by a Gentleman and an old Woman.
I S

258 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Cleo. Perhaps some one that needs a kind Assistance ; ',
my Father is in Bed, and I'll venture to know their
Business ; bring her up.

Fran. 'Twere good you should retire, Sir.

[ To Silvio, and Exit.

Sih. I will, but have a care of me, Cleonte,
I fear I shall grow mad, and so undo thee :
Love me — but do not let me know't too much. [Goes out.

Enter Francisca with Lights ; follow V by Alonzo, Clarinda,
and Dormida : Alonzo gazes on Cleonte a while.

Cleo. Is't me you would command ?

Glar. I know not what to say, I am so disorder'd. [Aside.

Alon. What Troops of Beauties she has ! sufficient to
take whole Cities in — Madam, I beg —

[Takes Clarinda by the Hand, and approaches Cleonte.

Cleo. What, Sir ?

Alon. That you would receive into Protection —

Cleo. What pray, Sir?

Alon. Would you would give me leave to say, a Heart
That your fair Eyes have lately made unfit
For its old Quarters.

Cleo. I rather think you mean this Lady, Sir.

[Alonzo looks with wonder on Clarinda.

Alon. She's heavenly fair too, and hassurpriz'd my Heart,
Just as 'twas going to the other's Bosom,
And rob'd her at least of one half of it. \_Aside.

Clar. Madam, I am a Virgin in distress,
And by misfortune forc'd to seek a Sanctuary,
And humbly beg it here.

Cleo. Intreaties were not made for that fair Mouth ;
Command and be obey'd.
But, Sir, to whom do you belong?

Alon. I belong to a very fair Person,
But do not know her Name.

Cleo. But what are you, pray, Sir ?

sc. vi] THE DUTCH LOVER 259

Alon. Madam, a Wanderer ; a poor lost thing,
That none will own or pity.

Cleo. That's sad indeed ; but whoe'er you are, since you
\ belong to this fair Maid, you'll find a Welcome every where.

Alon. And if I do not, I am cashier'd. [Aside.

Madam, if telling you I am her Brother,
Can make me more acceptable,
I shall be yet more proud of the Alliance.

Cleo. What must I call your Sister, Sir, when I would
pay my Duty ?

Alon. There I am routed again with another hard
Question. [Aside.

Clar. Madam, my Name's Clarinda.

Alon. Madam, I'll take my leave, and wish the Heart
I leave with you to night, may persuade you to suffer my
Visits to morrow, till when I shall do nothing but languish.

Cleo. I know not what loss you have suffer'd to night ;
but since your fair Sister's Presence with us allows it, you
need not doubt a welcome.

Alon. I humbly thank you, Madam.

[Kisses her Hand, and looks amorously on Clarinda.

Fran. Madam, pray retire, for Don Marcel is come
into the House all bloody, inrag'd against somebody.

Clar. I'm troubled at his Hurt, but cannot fear his
Rage. Good night, Sir. [They go out.

Alon. They are gone ; now had I as much mind to have
kist the other's Hand, but that 'twas not a Ceremony due
to a Sister — What the Devil came into my Head, to say
she was so ? nothing but the natural itch of talking and
lying : they are very fair ; but what's that to me ? Euphemia
surpasses both : But a Pox of her terms of Marriage, I'll
set that to her Beauty, and then these get the Day, as far
as natural Necessity goes : But I'll home and sleep upon't,
and yield to what's most powerful in the Morning.
To night these Strangers do my Heart possess,
But which the greatest share, I cannot guess :

260 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

My Fate in Love resembles that in War,

When the rich Spoil falls to the common share. [Goes out.

SCENE VII. The Street.
Enter Alonzo, as out of the House, gazing upon it.

Alon. Sure I shall know this House again to morrow.

[ To him Lovis.

Lov. I wonder what should be become of Alonzo, I do
do not like these Night-works of his — Who's there ?

Alon. Lovis!

Lov. Alonzo ?

Alon. The same, where hast thou been ?

Lov. In search of you this two Hours.

Alon. O, I have been taken up with new Adventures,
since I saw thee ; but prithee what became of thine? for
methought it was a likely Woman.

Lov. Faith, Sir, I thought I had got a Prize ; but a
Pox on't, when I came into the Street, e'er she had recover'd
Breath to tell me who she was, the Cavalier you rescu'd
from Marcel, laid claim to her ; thank'd me for her Pre
servation, and vanisht. I hope you had better luck with
your Female, whose Face I had not the good fortune to see.

Alon. Not so good as I could have wisht, for she stands
still on her honourable terms.

Lov. Of Matrimony, ha, ha, a very Jilt, I'll warrant
her ; Come, come, you shall see her no more.

Alon. Faith, I fear I must.

Lov. To what purpose ?

Alon. To persuade her to Reason.

Lov. That you'll soon do, when she finds you will not
bite at t'other Bait.

Alon. The worst is, if I see her again, it must be at her
Father's House ; and so transform'd from Man to Beast
— I must appear like a ridiculous Lover she expects out of
Flanders.

|sc. vn] THE DUTCH LOVER 261

Lov. A very Cheat, a trick to draw thee in : be wise in time.

Alon. No, on my Conscience she's in earnest, she told
! me her Name, and his I am to represent.

Lov. What is't, I pray?

Alan. Haunce van Ezel.

Lov. Hah ! her Name too, I beseech you ? [Impatiently.

Alon. Euphemia : And such a Creature 'tis —

Lov. 'Sdeath, my Sister all this while : This has call'd
(up all that's Spaniard in me, and makes me raging mad.
\\Aside.~\ But do you love her, Sir?

Alon. Most desperately, beyond all Sense or Reason.

Lov. And could you be content to marry her?

Alon. Any thing but that — But thou know'st my in-
jgagement elsewhere ; and I have hopes that yet she'll be
iwise, and yield on more pleasant terms.

Lov. I could be angry now ; but 'twere unreasonable
ito blame him for this. \_Aslde. ,] Sir, I believe by your
Treatment from Ambrosia and Marcel, you may come off
I there easily.

Alon. That will not satisfy my Honour, tho 'twill my
(Love; that I have not Hippolyta, I will owe to my own
'Inconstancy, not theirs: besides, this may be a Cheat, as
I you say.

Lov. But does Euphemia love you ?

A Ion. Faith, I think she has too much Wit to dissemble,
iand too much Beauty to need that Art.

Lov. Then you must marry her.

A Ion. Not if I can avoid it.

Lov. I know this Lady, Sir, and know her to be worth
your Love : I have it in my Power too, to serve you, if
you proceed suddenly, which you must do, or lose her;
for this Flandrian Boor your Rival is already arriv'd, and
designs to morrow to make his first Address to Euphemia.

Alon. Oh, he must not, shall not see her.

Lov. How will you hinder him?

Alon. With this. [ To his Sword.] Where is this Rival ?

262 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT 11, sc. vn

tell me : Conduct me to him strait ; I find my Love above
the common rate, and cannot brook this Rival.

Lov. So, this blows the flame — His Life will be no
hindrance to you in this Affair, if you design to love on.

Alon. Do'st know him ?

Lov. Yes, he is a pleasant Original for you to be copy'd
by : It is the same Fop, I told you was to marry my Sister,
and who came along with me to Madrid.

Alon. How ! Euphemla thy Sister ?

Lov. Yes, indeed is she, and whom my Father designs
to cast away upon this half Man, half Fool ; but I find
she has Wit to make a better Choice: sheyetknowsnothing
of my Arrival, and till you resolve what to do, shall not ;
and my Dutchman does nothing without me.

Alon. If thou hast the management of him, he's likely
to thrive.

Lov. But not in his Amour, if you please : In short,
Sir, if you do really love my Sister, I am content to be so
ungracious a Child to contribute to the cheating my Father
of this same hopeful Son he expects, and put you upon
him ; but what you do, must be speeedily then.

Alon. I am oblig'd to thee for this frank Offer, and will
be instructed by thee.

Lov. If you're resolv'd, I'll warrant you Success.

Alon. I think I am resolv'd in spite of all my Inclina
tions to Libertinism.

Lov. Well, Sir, I'll get you such a Suit then, as that
our Hero makes his first approach in, as ridiculously gay
as his Humour, which you must assume too.

Alon. Content.

Lov. To night I must pay my Duty to my Father, and
will prepare your way, and acquaint my Sister with it ;
'tis but a Frolick if we succeed not.

Alon. God-a-mercy, Lad, let's about it then e'er we
sleep, lest I change my Resolution before Morning.

[Exeunt.

UCT in, sc. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 263

ACT III.
SCENE I. House of Carlo.

Inter Alonzo drest ridiculously, meeting Lovis, they laugh
at each other.

Lov. Very Haunce all over, the Taylor has play 'd his part,
)lay but yours as well, and I'll warrant you the Wench.

Alon. But prithee, why need I act the Fool thus, since
launce was never seen here?

Lov. To make good the Character I always gave of
lim to my Father ; but here he comes, pray be very rude,
ind very impertinent.

Alon. Lord, Lord, how shall I look thus damnably set
)ut, and thus in love !

Enter Don Carlo.

Lov. This, Sir, is Monsieur Haunce, your Son that
lust be.

Alon. Beso /os manos, signor : Is your Name Don Carlo ?
and are you the Gravity of this House ? and the Father
of Donna Euphemia f and are you —

Car. Sir, I guess by all these your Demands at once,
your Name to be Myn heer Haunce van Ezel.

Alon. Your Judgment's good ; but to my Questions.

Car. In truth I have forgot them, there were so many.

Alon. Are you he who is to be my Father?

Car. 'Tis so negotiated — and if all Circumstances
concur — For, Sir, you must conceive, the Consequence of
so grand a Conjunction —

Alon. Less of your Compliments, Sir, and more of your
Daughter, I beseech you. 'Sheart, what a formal Coxcomb
'tis. [Aside.

Lov. Prithee give him way. [Asidt.

Alon. By this Light I'll lose thy Sister first ; Why, who
can indure the grave approaches to the Matter ? 'Dslife, I
would have it as I would my Fate, sudden and unexpected.

264 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT in

Car. Pray, how long have you been landed ?

Alon. So, now shall I be plagu'd with nothing but wise
Questions, to which I am able to make no Answer. [Aside.]
Sir, it is your Daughter that I desire to see impatiently.

Car. Have you no Letters from my very good Friend
your Father?

Alon. What if I have not ? cannot I be admitted to your
Daughter without a Pass?

Car. O lack, Sir —

Alon. But to let you see I come with full Power (tho
I am old enough to recommend my self) here is my Com
mission for what I do. [Gives him Letters.

Car. I remember amongst his other Faults, my Son
writ me word he had Courage : If so, I shall consider
what to do. [Reads.] Sir, I find by these your Father's
Letters, you are not yet arriv'd.

Alon. I know that, Sir, but I was told I should express
my Love in my haste ; therefore outsailing the Pacquet, I
was the welcome Messenger my self; and since I am so
forward, I beseech you, Sir — [Carlo coming to imbrace him.
Now dare not I proceed, he has so credulous a consenting
Face. \_Aside.

Car. Spare your Words, I understand their meaning;
a prudent Man speaks least, as the Spaniard has it : and
since you are so forward, as you were saying, I shall not
be backward; but as your Father adviseth here, hasten
the uniting of our Families, with all celerity ; for delay in
these Affairs is but to prolong time, as the wise Man says.

Alon. You are much in the right, Sir. But my Wife, I
desire to be better acquainted with her.

Car. She shall be forth-coming, Sir. Had you a good
Passage ? for the Seas and Winds regard no Man's necessity.

Alon. No, no, a very ill one ; your Daughter, Sir.

Car. Pray, how long were you at Sea?

Alon. Euphemia^ Sir, Euphemia^ your Daughter. This
Don's fuller of Questions than of Proverbs, and that's a
Wonder. [Aside.

sc. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 265

Car. They say Flanders is a very fine Country, I never
saw it ; but —

Alon. Nor 'tis no matter, Sir, if you never do, so I saw
your Daughter. He'll catechize me home to my Dutch
Parents by and by, of which I can give him no more
account than — [Aside.

Car. Are they as dissatisfied with their new Governour,
as they were with Don John ? for they love change.

Alon. A Pox of their Government, I tell you I love
your Daughter.

Car. I fear 'tis so, he's valiant; and what -a dangerous
Quality is that in Spain! 'tis well he's rich. [Aside.

Lov. Pray, Sir, keep him not long in Discourse, the
Sea has made him unfit for —

Alon. Any thing but seeing my Mistress.

Lov. I'll have mercy upon thee, and fetch her to thee.

\_Ex. Lovis.

Car. Sir, you must know, that we suffer not our Women
in Spain to converse so frequently with your Sex, and that
thro a cautious — well consider'd prudent — Consideration.

Alon. But, Sir, do you consider what an impatient thing
a young Lover is ? Or is it so long since you were one your
self, you have forgot it? 'Tis well he wanted Words.
[Enter Euphemia and Lovis.] But yonder's Euphemia,
whose Beauty is sufficient to excuse every Defect in the
whole Family, tho each were a mortal sin ; and now 'tis
impossible to guard my self longer from those fair Eyes.

[Aside.

Car. I must not urge him to speak much before Eupkem ia,
lest she discover he wants Wit by his much Tongue: [Aside.
There's my Daughter, Sir, go and salute her.

Alon. Oh, I thank you for that, Sir.

[He stands ridiculously looking on her.

Car. You must be bold, Sir.

Alon. Well, Sir, since you command me —

[Goes rudely to kiss her.

266 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT in

Car. I did not mean kissing by saluting.

Alon. I cry you Mercy, Sir, so I understood you.

Car. Fie upon't, that he should be no more a Master
of Civility.

Lov. I fear, Sir, my Sister will never like this Humour
in her Lover ; he wants common Conversation.

Car. Conversation — ye foolish Boy, he has Money, and
needs none of your Conversation. And yet if I thought
he were valiant — [This while Alonzo and Euphemia make
signs of Love with their Eyes.

Lov. I hope, Sir, he does not boast of more of that than
he really has.

Car. That Fault I my self have been guilty of, and can
excuse ; but the thing it self I shall never endure : you
know I was forc'd to send you abroad, because I thought
you addicted to that. I shall never sleep in quiet — Valiant !
that's such a thing, to be Rich, or Wise and Valiant.

[Goes to Euphemia.

Lov. Colonel, pray to the business, for I fear you will
betray your self.

Car. But look upon his Wealth, Euphemia^ and you
will find those Advantages there which are wanting in his
Person ; but I think the Man's well.

Euph. I must not seem to yield too soon. [Aside.

Sir, there be many Spaniards born that are as rich as he,
and have Wit too.

Car. She was ever very averse to this Marriage. [Aside.
This Man is half a Spaniard, his Mother was one, and my
first Mistress, and she I can tell you, was a great Fortune —

Euph. I, Sir, but he is such a Fool —

Car. You are a worse, to find fault with that in a
Husband.

Alon. Stand aside, Sir, are you to court your Daughter or I?

Car. I was inclining her —

Alon. You inclining her ! an old Man wants Rhetorick ;
set me to her. [Goes to Euphemia.

j;c. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 267

Car. This capricious Humour was tolerable in him,
jivhilst I believ'd it the Effects of Folly, but now 'tis that of
j Valour : Oh, I tremble at the Sight of him. [Retires.

Euph. Now, I see you are a Cavalier of your Word.

Alon. Faith, Euphemia^ you might have believ'd, and
taken me upon better Terms, if you had so pleas'd : To
larry you is but an ill-favour'd Proof to give you of my
'Passion.

Euph. Do you repent it?

Alon. Would to God 'twere come but to that, I was just

apon the Point of it when you enter'd. But I know not

iwhat the Devil there is in that Face of yours, but it has

'debauch'd every sober Thought about me : Faith, do not

let us marry yet.

Euph. If we had not proceeded too far to retreat, I
should be content.

Alon. What shall I come to ? all on the sudden to leave
delicious whoring, drinking and fighting, and be con-
demn'd to a dull honest Wife. Well, if it be my ill Fortune,
may this Curse light on thee that has brought me to't :
may I love thee even after we are married to that trouble
some Degree, that I may grow most damnable jealous of
thee, and keep thee from the Sight of all Mankind,
but thy own natural Husband, that so thou may'st be
depriv'd of the greatest Pleasure of this Life, the Blessing
of Change.

Euph. I am sorry to find so much ill Nature in you;
would you have the Conscience to tie me to harder Con
ditions than I would you ?

Alon. Nay, I do not think I shall be so wickedly loving ;
but I am resolv'd to marry thee and try.

Euph. My Father, Sir, on with your Disguise.

\_To them Carlo.

Car. Well, Sir, how do you like my Daughter?

Alon. So, so, she'll serve for a Wife.

Car. But do you find her willing to be so?

268 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT in

Alon. 'Tis not a half-penny matter for that, as long as
my Father and you are agreed upon the matter.

Car. Well, Eupbemia, setting all foolish Modesty aside,
how do you like this Man ?

Euph. As one, whom in Obedience to you, I am content
to cast my self away upon.

Car. How seems his Humour to you?

Euph. Indifferent, Sir, he is not very courtly, something
rough and hasty.

Car. I fear she has found his ill Quality of Valour too ;
and since 'tis certain 'tis so, why should it be said that I
ruin'd a Child to satisfy my Appetite of Riches? [Aside.
Come, Daughter, can you love him, or can you not ? For
I'll make but short Work on't; you are my Daughter, and
have a Fortune great enough to inrich any Man ; and I'm
resolv'd to put no Force upon your Inclinations.

Euph. How's this ! nay, then 'tis time I left dissembling.
\_Aside.~] Sir, this Bounty in you has strangely overcome me,
and makes me asham'd to have withstood your Will so long.

Car. Do not dissemble with me, I say do not ; for I am
resolv'd you shall be happy.

Euph. Sir, my Obedience shall —

Car. No more of your Obedience ; I say again, do not
dissemble, for I'm not pleas'd with your Obedience.

Euph. This Alteration is very strange and sudden ; pray
Heaven he have not found the Cheat. [Aside.

Love, Sir, they say will come after Marriage ; pray let
me try it.

Car. Few have found it so; nor shall you experience
it at so dear a Rate as your Ruin.

Euph. But, Sir, methinks I am grown to love him more
since he spoke to me, than before.

Car. The Effects of your Obedience again.

Euph. This is a strange Alteration, Sir; not all my
Tears and Prayers before I saw him, could prevail with
you. I beseech you, Sir, believe me.

l,c. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 269

Car. Nor should now, had I not another Reason for't.

Euph. Oh, I fear — But, Sir —

Car. Go to, I'll be better satisfy'd e'er I proceed farther
—both of your Inclinations, and his Courage. [Aside.

Euph. Do you consider his Wealth, Sir?

Car. That shall not now befriend him.

Alon. Sir, I bar whispering; 'tis not in my Bargain,
lor civil : I'll have fair Play for my Money.

Car. I am only knowing my Daughter's Pleasure ; she
s a little peevish, as Virgins use in such Cases ; but wou'd
hat were all, and I'd endeavour to reconcile her.

Alon. I thank you, Sir ; in the mean time I'll take a
vYalk for an Hour or two, to get me a better Stomach
>oth to my Dinner and Mistress.

Car. Do so, Sir. Come, Euphemia, I will give you a
Droof of my Indulgence, thou shalt marry no valiant Fools !
^aliant, quoth ye. Come, come — had he been peaceable
ind rich — Come, come — [Ex. with Euphemia.

Lov. Well, now I'll go look after my Dutchman, lest
ie surprize us here, which must not be ; where shall I
ind you?

Alon. I'll wait upon my Prince, and then on you here.

Lov. Do so, and carry on this Humour. Adieu.

SCENE II. A flat Grove.

Enter Haunce in a fantastical travelling Habit, with a Bottle
of Brandy in his Hand, as sick : Gload marches after.

Hau. Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages. [Drinks.

Here, Gload, take thee t'other Sope, and then let's home.

[Gload drinks.
Ah, ah, a pox of all Sea-Voyages.

Gload. Sir, if I may advise, take t'other turn in the
Grove, for I find by my Nose you want more airing.

Hau. How, Sirrah ! by your Nose ? have a care, you
enow 'tis ill jesting with me when I'm angry.

270 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

Gload. Which is as often as you are drunk; I find i
has the same Effects on me too : but truly, Sir, I meant IK
other than that you smell a little of the Vessel, a certaii
sour remains of a Storm about you.

Hau. Ah, ah, do not name a Storm to me, unless thoi
wilt have the Effects on't in thy Face. [Drinks

Gload. Sha, sha, bear up, Sir, bear up.

Hau. Salerimente, a Sea-phrase too ! Why, ye Rascal
I tell you I can indure nothing that puts me in mind o
that Element. [Drinks

Gload. The Sight of Donna Euphemia will —

[Gload drinks between whiles too

Hau. Hold, hold, let me consider whether I can indun
to hear her nam'd or not ; for I think I am so thorowb
mortify 'd, I shall hardly relish Woman-kind again this—
two Hours. [Drinks

Gload. You a Man of Courage, and talk thus !

Hau. Courage ! Why, what dost thou call Courage ?—
Hector himself would not have chang'd his ten Years Sieg
for our ten Days Storm at Sea — a Storm — a hundrei
thousand fighting Men are nothing to't ; Cities sackt b1
Fire nothing : 'tis a resistless Coward that attacks a Mai
at disadvantage ; an unaccountable Magick, that first con
jures down a Man's Courage, and then plays the Devi
over him. And in fine, it is a Storm —

Gload. Good lack that it should be all these terribl*
things, and yet that we should outbrave it.

Hau. No god-a-mercy to our Courages tho, I tell yoi
that now, Gload ; but like an angry Wench, when it ha<
huft and bluster'd it self weary, it lay still again. [Drinki

Gload. Hold, hold, Sir, you know we are to make Visit
to Ladies, Sir ; and this replenishing of our Spirits, as yoi
call it, Sir, may put us out of Case.

Ha u. Thou art a Fool, I never made love so well as whei
I was drunk ; it improves my Parts, and makes me witty
that is, it makes me say any thing that comes next, whic.

c. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 271

)asses now-a-days for Wit : and when I 'am very drunk,
['11 home and dress me, and the Devil's in't if she resist
Tie so qualify'd and so dress'd.

Gload. Truly, Sir, those are things that do not properly
jelong to you.

Hau. Your Reason, your Reason ; we shall have thee
witty too in thy Drink, hah ! [Laughs.

Gload. Why, I say, Sir, none but a Cavalier ought to
ae soundly drunk, or wear a Sword and Feather ; and a
loke and Band were fitter for a Merchant.

Hau. Salerimente, I'll beat any Don in Spain that does
but think he has more right to any sort of Debauchery, or
Gallantry than I, I tell you that now, Gload.

Gload. Do you remember, Sir, how you were wont to
go at home ? when instead of a Periwig, you wore a slink,
greasy Hair of your own, thro which a pair of large thin
Souses appear'd, to support a formal Hat, on end thus —

[Imitates him.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, the Rogue improves upon't.

[Gives him Brandy.

Gload. A Collar instead of a Cravat twelve inches high ;
with a blue, stiff, starcht, lawn Band, set in print like your
Whiskers ; a Doublet with small Skirts hookt to a pair of
wide-kneed Breeches, which dangled halfway over a Leg,
all to be dash'd and dirty'd as high as the gartering.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, very well, proceed. [Drinks.

Gload. Your Hands, defil'd with counting of damn'd
dirty Money, never made other use of Gloves, than con
tinually to draw them thro — thus — till they were dwindled
into the scantling of a Cats-gut.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Rascal. [Drinks.

Gload. A Cloke, half a yard shorter than the Breeches,
not thorow lin'd, but fac'd as far as 'twas turn'd back,
with a pair of frugal Butter-hams, which was always
manag'd — thus —

Hau. Well, Sir, have you done, that I may show you
this Merchant revers'd ?

272 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT iiijl

Gload. Presently, Sir ; only a little touch at your De-l
bauchery, which unless it be in damn'd Brandy, you dare I
not go to the Expence of. Perhaps at a Wedding, or some
Treat where your Purse is not concern'd, you would mostj
insatiably tipple ; otherwise your two Stivers-Club is the
highest you dare go, where you will be condemn'd for a
Prodigal, (even by your own Conscience) if you add two
more extraordinary to the Sum, and at home sit in the I
Chimney-Corner, cursing the Face of Duke de Aha upon
the Jugs, for laying an Imposition on Beer: And now,
Sir, I have done.

Hau. And dost thou not know, when one of those
thou hast described, goes but half a League out of Town,
that he is so transform'd from the Merchant to the Gallant
in all Points, that his own Parents, nay the Devil himself
cannot know him ? Not a young English Squire newly
come to an Estate, above the management of his Wit,
"has better Horses, gayer Clothes, swears, drinks, and does
*every thing with a better grace than he ; damns the stingy
Cabal of the two Stiver-Club, and puts the young King
of Spain and his Mistress together in a Rummer of a Pottle ;
and in pure Gallantry breaks the Glasses over his Head,
scorning to drink twice in the same : and a thousand
things full as heroick and brave I cou'd tell you of this
same Holy-day Squire. But come, t'other turn, and t'other
sope, and then for Donna Euphemia. For I find I begin
to be reconcil'd to the Sex.

Gload. But, Sir, if I might advise, let's e'en sleep first.

Hau. Away, you Fool, I hate the sober Spanish way of
making Love, that's unattended with Wine and Musick;
give me a Wench that will out-drink the Dutch, out
dance the French, and out — out — kiss the English.

Gload. Sir, that's not the Fashion in Spain.

Hau. Hang the Fashion ; I'll manage her that must be
my Wife, as I please, or I'll beat her into Fashion.

Gload. What, beat a Woman, Sir ?

jsc. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 273

Hau. Sha, all's one for that ; if I am provok'd, Anger
| will have its Effects on whomsoe'er it light ; so said Van
Trump, when he took his Mistress a Cuff o'th' Ear for
[finding fault with an ill-fashion'd Leg he made her: I
! lik'd his Humour well, therefore come thy ways. [Exeunt.

SCENE III. Draws off. A Grove.

Discovers Antonio sleeping on the Ground; Hippolyta
sitting by, who sings.

Ah false Amyntas, can that Hour

So soon forgotten be,
When first I yielded up my Power

To be betrayed by thee ?
God knows with how much Innocence

I did my Heart resign
Unto thy faithless Eloquence,

And gave thee what was mine.

I had not one Reserve in store,

But at thy Feet I laid
Those Arms which conquered heretofore,

Tho now thy Trophies made.
Thy Eyes in silence told their Tale

Of Love in such a way,
That 'twas as easy to prevail,
As after to betray.

[She comes forth, weeps.
Hip. My Grief 's too great to be diverted this way.

[Pointing to Antonio.
Why should this Villain sleep, this treacherous Man —
Who has for ever robb'd me of my rest ?
Had I but kept my Innocence intire,
I had out-brav'd my Fate, and broke my Chains,
Which now I bear like a poor guilty Slave,
Who sadly crys, If I were free from these,
I am not from my Crimes ; so still lives on,

I T

274 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT in

And drags his loathed Fetters after him.
Why should I fear to die, or murder him?
It is but adding one Sin more to th' number.
This — would soon do't — but where's the Hand to guide
it? [Draws a D ] agger , sighs.

For 'tis an act too horrid for a Woman. [Turns away.
But yet thus sleeping I might take that Soul, [Turns to him.
Which waking all the Charms of Art and Nature
Had not the Power t'effect.
Oh were I brave, I could remember that,
And this way be the Mistress of his Heart.
But mine forbids it should be that way won ;
No, I must still love on, in spite of me,
And wake him quickly, lest one Moment's thought
Upon my Shame should urge me to undo him.
Antonio, Antonio. [He wakes, rises, and looks amazedly to
see the Dagger in her Hand.

Ant. Vile Woman, why that Dagger in that Hand?

Hip. To've kill'd thee with,
But that my Love o'ercame my juster Passion,
And put it in thy Power to save thy self;
Thank that, and not my Reason for thy Life.

Ant. She's doubly arm'd, with that and Injury,
And I am wounded and defenceless. [Aside.

Hippolyta, why all this Rage to me? [Kindly smiles.

Hip. Antonio, thou art perjur'd, false and base.

[In great Rage.

Ant. What said my fairest Mistress ?

[Goes to her looking softly.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur'd, false and base.

[Less in Rage.

Ant. My dear Hippolyta, speak it again,
I do not understand thee, [Takes her by the Hand.

Hip. I said that thou wert perjur'd, my Antonio. [Sighs.

Ant. Thou wert to blame, but 'twas thy Jealousy.
Which being a Fault of Love I will excuse.

THE DUTCH LOVER

275

sc. in]

Give me that Mark of Anger, prithee do,
It misbecomes thy Hand.

Hip. I've nothing left but this I can command,
And do not ravish this too.

Ant. It is unkind thus to suspect my Love ;
Will you make no Allowance for my Humour ?
I am by Nature rough, and cannot please,
With Eyes and Words all soft as others can,
But I can love as truly my blunt way.

Hip. You were so soft when first you conquer'd me.

i [Sighs.

That but the Thoughts of that dear Face and Eyes,
So manag'd, and so set for Conquest out,
Would make me kind even to another Man ;
Could I but thus imbrace and hide my Eyes,
And call him my Antonio.

[She leans on his Bosom , he the while gets her Dagger.

Ant. Stand off, false Woman, I despise thy Love,
Of which to every Man I know thou deal'st
An equal share.

Hip. I do not wonder that I am deceiv'd,
But that I should believe thee, after all thy Treachery.
But prithee tell me why thou treat'st me thus ?
Why didst thou with the sacred Vows of Marriage,
After a long and tedious Courtship to me,
Ravish me from my Parents and my Husband ?
For so the brave Alonzo was by promise.

Ant. Why, I will tell thee ; 'twas not love to thee,
But hatred to thy Brother Don Marcel,
Who made Addresses to the fair Clarinda,
And by his Quality destroy'd my Hopes.

Hip. And durst you not revenge your self on him ?

Ant. His Life alone could not appease my Anger ;
And after studying what I had to do —

Hip. The Devil taught thee this.

Ant. Yes, and you I chose,

276 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT in

Because you were contracted to Alonzo,
That the disgrace might be more eminent.

Hip. I do believe thee, for when I reflect
On all thy Usage since thou hast betray'd me,
I find thou hast not paid me back one Sigh,
Or Smile for all that I have given thee.

Ant. Hear me out.

Hip. Most calmly.

Ant. From Town to Town you know I did remove you,
Under pretence to shun your Brother's Anger :
But 'twas indeed to spread your Fame abroad.
But being not satisfy'd till in Madrid,
Here in your native Town, I had proclaim'd you ;
The House from whence your Brother's Fury chas'd us,
Was a Bordello, where 'twas given out
Thou wert a Venice Curtezan to hire,
Whilst you believ'd it was your nuptial Palace. [Laughs.

Hip. Dost think I did not understand the Plot ?
Yes, and was mad till some young Lovers came.
But you had set a Price too high upon me,
No brisk young Man durst venture,
I had expos'd my self at cheaper Rates.

Ant. Your Price, I pray, young Sinner ?

[Pw/A offhh Hat in scorn.

Hip. Thy Life ; he that durst say Antonio lives no more,
Should have possest me gratis.

Ant. I would have taken care none should have don't ;
To show, and offer you to Sale, was equally as shameful.

Hip. Well, what hast thou more to do? this is no
Place to inhabit in, nor shalt thou force me further ;
And back into the Town thou dar'st not go.

Ant. Perhaps I had been kinder to you,
Had you continu'd still to give me that —
Might have begot a Passion in me.

Hip. I have too much Repentance for that Sin,
To increase it, at the Price of being belov'd by thee.

sc. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 277

Ant. Consider what you do, this Place is silent,
[And far from any thing that may assist you.
' Come lead me to the Covert of this Grove.

[Takes her rudely.

Enter Haunce and Gload drunk ; Haunce seeing them,
offers to go out again.

Glo. Hold, hold, Sir, why do you run away ?

Hau. Thou Fool, dost not see the Reason ?

Glo. I see a Man and a Lady, Sir.

Hau. Why, you Coxcomb, they are Lovers ;
Or some that are going to do the deed of Love.

Ant. How ! Men here ? Your Business.

Hau. Prithee, Friend, do not trouble your self with ours,
but follow your own; my Man is a little saucy in his Drink
indeed, but I am sober enough to understand how things go.

Ant. Leave us then.

Hau. Leave us then — good Words, good Words,
Friend ; for look ye, T am in a notable Humour at present,
and will be intreated.

Glo. Yes, Sir, we will be intreated.

Ant. Pray leave us then.

Hau. That's something — but hark ye, Friend, say a
Man had a mind to put in for a share with you.

Ant. Rude Slaves, leave us.

Hau. Ha, Slaves !

Glo. Slaves said you, Sir ? hah —

Hip. Oh, as you're a Gentleman, assist me. [ To Haunce.

Hau. Assist thee? this Fellow looks as he would not
have his Abilities call'd in question ; otherwise I am
amorous enough to do thee a kindness.

\_0ffers still to go, she holds him.

Hip. Sir, you mistake me ; this is a Ravisher —

Hau. A Ravisher ! ha, ha, ha, dost like him the worse
for that ? No, no, I beg your Pardon, Madam.

Hip. Have you no Manhood, Sir?

278 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT in

Glo. She is in earnest ; now if I durst stay, how I would
domineer over my Master ; I never try'd perhaps, I may
be valiant thus inspir'd. Lady, I am your Champion, who
dares ravish you, or me either ?

Ant. Rascal, unhand her.

[He comes up to them^ Gload puts the Lady before him.

Hau. How now, Gload ingag'd ! nay, I scorn to be
out-done by my Man. Sirrah, march offwith the Baggage,
whilst I secure the Enemy.

Ant. Rash Man, what mean you ?

Hau. I say, stand off, and let him go quietly away
with the Wench, or look you —

Ant. Unmanner'd Fool, I will chastise thy Boldness.
[Goes up to him with his Dagger.

Hau. How, how, hast thou no other Weapon ?

Ant. No, if I had, thou durst not have encounter'd me.

Hau. I scorn thy Words, and therefore there lies my
Sword ; and since you dare me at my own Weapon, I
tell you I am good at Snick-a-Sne as the best Don of you
all — [Draws a great Dutch Knife.

Ant. Can I endure this Affront?

Glo. The best way to make a Coward fight, is to leave
him in Danger — Come, Lady — [Goes out.

Ant. Thou base unmanner'd Fool, how darst thou
offer at a Gentleman, with so despis'd a thing as that?

Hau. Despis'd a thing? talk not so contemptibly of
this Weapon, I say, do not, but come on if you dare.

Ant. I can endure no longer —

[Flies at him, Haunce cuts his Face, and takes

away^ after a-while^ his Dagger.
Injustice ! can such a Dog, and such a Weapon vanquish me?

Hau. Beg your Life; for I scorn to stain my Victory
in Blood — that I learnt out of Pharamond. [Aside.

Ant. He does not merit Life, that could not defend it
against so poor and base a thing as thou : Had but Marcel
left me my Sword —

|sc. iv] THE DUTCH LOVER 279

Hau. O then I perceive you are us'd to be vanquish'd,
| and therefore I scorn to kill thee ; live, live.

Ant. How the Rascal triumphs over me !

Hau. And now, like a generous Enemy, I will conduct
thee to my Tent, and have thy Wounds drest — That too
I had out of Pharamond. [Aside.

Ant. What if I take the offer of this Sot? so I may see
Hippolyta again. But I forget — [Aside.

Hau. Will you accept my Offer ?

Ant. ForsomeReasonsIdarenotventureinto the Town.

Hau. My Lodging is at St. Peter's Gate, hard by ; and
on the Parole of a Man of Prowess you shall be safe and
free — Pharamond again. [Aside.

Ant. I'll trust him, for worse I cannot be. [Aside.
Lead on, I'll follow, Sir —

Hau. Not so, for tho the Captive ought to follow the
Victor, yet I'll not trust my Enemy at my backside.
Politicks too. — [Aside.

Ant. You must command — [Go out.

SCENE IV. The Garden.
Enter Silvio and Francisca.

Silv. Well, dear Francisca^ will Cleonte come,
And all alone into the Garden ?

Fran. My Lord, she will ; I have at last prevail'd, to
what intent she knows not ; this is an Hour wherein you'll
scarce be interrupted : The amorous Entertainment you
have prepar'd for her, will advance your Design ; such
Objects heighten the Desire. Is all ready on your part ?

Silv. It is, and I am prepared for all the Resistance she
can make, and am resolv'd to satisfy my insupportable
Flame, since there's no other hope left me.

Fran. She's coming, Sir, retire.

[Exit Silvio into the Garden.
Oh, how he kills me ! Well, at least this pleasure I have

280 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT m

whilst I am dying, that when he possesses the fair Cleonte,
he for ever ruins his Interest in her Heart, and must find
nothing but her mortal Hate and Scorn.

Enter Cleonte.

Cleo. Francisco, why art thou so earnest for my coming
into the Garden so early ?

Fran. Because, Madam, here without Interruption you
may learn what the Lady Clarinda has to tell you.

Cleo. Is that all ? go wait upon her hither then.

Fran. Yes, when your more pleasant Affair is dispatch'd,
I will — [Aside. [Exit Francisca.

Cleo. Can this be Love I feel?
This strange unusual something in my Soul,
That pleads so movingly for Silvio there ;
And makes me wish him not allied to me?

[A noise of rural Musick is heard within the

Trees, as Pipes, Flutes, and Voices.

Hah ! what pleasant Noise is this? sure 'tis i' the Air —
Bless me, what strange things be these !

Enter Swains playing upon Pipes, after them four Shepherds
with Garlands and Flowers, and four Nymphs dancing an
amorous Dance to that Musick ; wherein the Shepherds make
Love to the Nymphs, and put the Garlands on their Heads,
and go out ; the Nymphs come and lay them at Cleonte's
Feet, and sing.

1 Nymph. Here at your Feet, we tribute pay,
Of all the Glories of the May.

2 Nymph. Such Trophies can be only due
To Victors so divine as you,

Both. Come, follow, follow, where Love leads the way,
To Pleasures that admit of no Delay.

1 Nymph. Come follow to the amorous Shade,
Covered with Roses, and with Jessamine.

2 Nymph. Where the Love-sick Boy is laid,
Panting for Lovers charming Queen.

:. iv] THE DUTCH LOVER 281

Both. Gome follow, follow, where we lead the way,
'o Pleasures that admit of no delay. [Lead her out.

The Scene changes to a fine Arbour, they leave
her and vanish.

Cleo. I am all Wonder.

Enter Silvio in rapture, not yet seeing Cleonte.
Silv. I'm all on Fire, till I enjoy my Sister ;
ot all the Laws of Birth and Nature
an hinder me from loving — Nor is't just :
.Vhy should the charm of fair C/tonte's Eyes,
vie less than Aliens to her Blood surprize ?
Vnd why (since I love Beauty every where,
\.nd that Cleonte has the greatest share)
hould not I be allowed to worship her?
The empty Words of Nature and of Blood,
re such as Lovers never understood,
rudence in love 'twere Nonsense to approve,
nd he loves most that gives a Loose to Love.
Cleo. Silvio here !

Silv. Hah — yonder she's ! [Sees her.

nd now my Passion knows no Bounds, nor Laws.
'leonte, come, come satisfy my Flame.

[Runs to her, and takes her passionately by the hand.
hese private Shades are ours, no jealous Eye
an interrupt our Heaven of Joy.

Cleo. What mean you ? do you know I am your Sister ?
Silv. Oh that accursed Name ! — why should it check
me ? [He pauses.

ouldst thou had rather been some mis-begotten Monster,
hat might have startled Nature at thy Birth :
Or if the Powers above would have thee fair,
Why wert thou born my Sister ?
Oh, if thou shouldst preserve thy Soul, and mine,
Fly from this Place and me ; make haste away,
A strange wild Monster is broke in upon thee ;

282 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT ml

A thing that was a Man, but now as mad
As raging Love can make him.
Fly me, or thou art lost for ever.

Cleo. Remember, Silvio, that you are my Brother,
And can you hurt your Sister? \Weeps\

Silv. Shouldst thou repeat those Ties a thousand times.!
'Twill not redeem thee from the Fate that threatens thee
Be gone, whilst-so much Virtue does remain about me, I
To wish thee out of Danger.

Cleo. Sure, Silvio, this is but to try my Virtue. [Weeps still\

Silv. No, look on my Eyes, Cleonte, and thou shalt seel
them flame with a strange wicked Fire. [Looks wildly on her.tt
Yet do not look, thy Eyes increase it.
— Alas ! [Turns away, and hides his EyesM

And I shall still forget I am thy Brother :
Go, go, whilst I have power to take my Eyes away,
For if they turn again, it will be fatal.

Cleo. Pray hear me, Sir.

Silv. Oh, do not speak ; thy Voice has Charms
As tempting as thy Face; but whilst thou art silent ancl

unseen,

Perhaps my Madness may be moderate ;
For as it is, the best Effects of it
Will prompt me on to kill thee.

Cleo. To kill me !

Silv. Yes ; for shouldst thou live, adorn'd with so muchfl

Beauty,

So much my Passion is above my Reason,
In some such fit as does possess me now
I should commit a Rape, a Rape upon thee :
Therefore be gone, and do not tempt Despair,
That merciless rude thing, but save thy Honour,
And thy Life.

Cleo. I will obey you, Sir. [Goes into the Garden \

Silv. She's gone — and now \Walh, and talks in stopping.^ ,
my hot Fit abates — she is my Sister — that is, my Father': L

;. iv] THE DUTCH LOVER 283

)aughter — but — what if his Wife deceiv'd him — or
erhaps — (which is the likelier thing) my Mother play'd
ic false one — for 'twas her Trade to do so — and I'm not
on to Ambrosio — Oh, that she were in being to confess
iis Truth, for sure 'tis Truth ; then I might love, and
light enjoy Cleonte — enjoy Cleonte] [In transport J\ Oh
hat Thought ! what Fire it kindles in my Veins, and
ow my cold Fit's gone — [Offers to go, but starts and returns.
—No, let me pause a while —
'"or in this Ague of my Love and Fear,
Joth the Extremes are mortal — [Goes into the Garden.

Enter Ambrosio and Marcel.

Amb. I'm reconcil'd to you, since your Brother Silvio
vould have it so.

Mar. My Blood flows to my Face, to hear him named.

Amb. Let there be no more Differences between you :
3ut Silvio has of late been discontented, keeps home, and
huns the Conversation which Youth delights in ; goes not
o Court as he was wont. Prithee, Marcel, learn thou the
ause of it.

Mar. I do believe I shall, my Lord — too soon. [Aside.

Amb. I'm now going to my Villa, and shall not return
ill Night ; by the way I mean to visit your Wife, that
,vas design'd to be, the rich Flavia, and see if I can again
econcile her to you ; for your Neglect has been great,
ind her Anger is just.

Mar. I rather wish it should continue, Sir, for I have

t no Inclinations to marry.

Amb. No more, I'll have it so, if I can.

Mar. I'm silent, Sir. [Ex. Ambrosio and Marcel.

Enter as from out of the Garden, Cleonte, Clarinda,
Francisca, Dorm\da,from amongst the Trees, sadly ;

Silvio who starts at sight of them.

Cleo. I am satisfied you knew not of my Brother's being
in the Garden. [To Franc.

284 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT m, sc. i

Silv. Clarinda with my Sister ! and in our House ! she
very fair — and yet how dull and blasted all her Beautii
seems, when they approach the fair Cleonte's — I canm
shun a tedious Compliment ; to see the fair Clarinda \_Go
to Clarinda.] here, is a Happiness beyond my Hope; I'i
glad to see her kind to the Sister, who always treated th
Brother with so much Scorn and Rigour.

Clar. Silvio! sure I'm betray'd. \_Asid

[He talks to he.

Enter Marcel, and is amaz'd.

Mar. Hah ! Silvio with Clarinda in our House !
Oh, daring Villain ! to make this place a Sanctuary
To all thy Lusts and Treachery !
Now I'm convinc'd, 'twas he that wounded me,
And he that fled last Night with that false Woman.

[Cleonte goes to Marce

Silv. You need not fear me now, fair Maid,
I'm disarm'd of all my dangerous Love.

Mar. It was by his contrivance that she came, [1
Cleonte.] do not excuse him, but send her quickly froi
you, lest you become as infamous as she. —

Cleo. Oh, how I hate her now ; I know my Broth(
Silvio loves her.

Mar. How every Gesture shows his Passion, whilst sr.
seems pleas'd to hear him. I can endure no more —

Cleo. What will you do? [She goes to ther,

Mar. Nothing, dear Sister,
But if I can be wise and angry too :
For 'tis not safe t'attack him in the Garden.
How now, Silvio — under the Name of Brother,
I see you dare too much. [Snatches away his Sister at

Clarind

Silv. What mean you by this rude Address, Marceli

Mar. I'll tell ye, Sir, anon. Go get you in.

[ To the Women , w ho go i.

:TIV, sc. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 285

Silv.. Well, Sir, your Business now?

Mar. It is not safe to tell you here, tho I have hardly
atience to stay till thou meet me in St. Peter's Grove.

Silv. I will not fail you, Sir, an Hour hence.

[Goes in after them.

Mar. I dare not in this Rage return to upbraid
larinda,\estl do things that mis-become a Man. [Goes out.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Carlo's House.

After a Noise of Music k without, enter Haunce drest as
Alonzo was, followed by Gload, in Masquerade.

Hau. Hold, hold, I do not like the Salutations I receive
om all I meet in this House.

Glo. Why, Sir, methinks they are very familiar Scabs all.

Hau. Salerimente, they all salute me as they were my
Id Acquaintance. Your servant, Myn heer Haunce, crys
ne ; your servant, Monsieur Haunce, crys another.
Enter Servant.

Serv. Your servant, Sir, you come indeed like a Bride-
room all beset with Dance and Fiddle.

Hau. Bridegroom ! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, Gload? 'tis true
aith. But how the Devil came he to know it, man, hah ?

Serv. My Master, Sir, was just asking for you, he longs
o speak with you.

Hau. Ha, ha, with me, Sir ? why, ha, ha, who the pox
.ml?

Serv. You, Sir, why, who should you be ?

Hau. Who should I be ? why, who should I be ?

Serv. Myn heer Haunce van Ezel, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, well guest, i'faith now.

Glo. Why how should they guess otherwise, coming so
ittended with Musick, as prepar'd for a Wedding?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, say'st thou so ? faith, 'tis a good Device
:o save the Charges of the first Compliments, hah : but

286 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT :

hark ye, hark ye, Friend, are you sure this is the Hou:!
of Don Carlo ?

Serv. Why, Sir, have you forgot it ?

Hau. Forgot it ! ha, ha, ha, dost hear, Gload? forgot in
why how the Devil should I remember it?

Glo. Sir, I believe this is some new-fash ion 'd Civilill
in Spain, to know every Man before he sees him.

Hau. No, no, you fool, they never change their Fashici
in Spain, Man.

Glo. I mean their manner of Address, Sir.

Hau. It may be so, I'll see farther. Friend, is DC
Carlo within ?

Serv. He has not been out since, Sir.

Hau. Since, ha, ha, ha, since when ? hah.

Serv. Since you saw him, Sir.

Hau. Salerimente, will you make me mad ? why yc
damnable Rascal, when did I see him ? hah.

Serv. Here comes my Master himself, Sir, \_Enter Carl |
let him inform you, if you grow so hot upon the Questio. !

Car. How now, Son, what, angry ? You have e'en tir
your self with walking, and are out of Humour.

Hau. Look there again — the old Man's mad too ; v/l
how the pox should he know I have been walking ? In dee
Sir, I have, as you say, been walking [Playing with }.
Hat.~\ — and am — as you say, out of Humour — But und '
favour, Sir, who are you ? Sure 'tis the old Conjurer, ar j
those were his little Imps I met. [Surlily to hit

Car. Sure, Son, you should be a Wit, by the shortne
of your Memory.

Hau. By the Goodness of yours, you should be non \
ha, ha, ha. Did I not meet with him there, Gload, hal
But pray refresh my Memory, and let me know you ; i
come to seek a Father amongst you here, one Don Car,

Car. Am I not the Man, Sir?

Hau. How the Devil should I know that now, unle
by instinct?

i] THE DUTCH LOVER 287

Glo. The old Man is mad, and must be humour'd.

Hau. Cry you Mercy, Sir, I vow I had quite forgot

u. Sir, I hope Donna Euphemia —

Car. Oh, Sir, she's in a much better Humour than when

u saw her last, complies with our Desires more than I

u'd hope or wish;

Hau. Why look you here again — I ask'd after her

ealth, not her Humour.

Car. I know not what Arts you made use of, but she's

angely taken with your Conversation and Person.

Glo. Truly, Sir, you are mightily beholden to her, that

e should have all this good Will to your Person and Con-

rsation before she sees you.

Hau. Ay, so I am ; therefore, Sir, I desire to see your
aughter, for I shall hardly be so generous as she has been,

d be quits with her before I see her.

Car. Why, Sir, I hop'd you lik'd her when you saw
er last.

Hau. Stark mad — I saw her last ! why, what the Devil

you mean ? I never saw her in all my Life, man. Stark
ad, as I am true Dutch — [Aside.

Car. A Lover always thinks the time tedious : But

re's my Daughter.

Enter Euphemia and Olinda.

Hau. Ay, one of these must be she : but 'tis a Wonder
should not know which she is by instinct. [Aside.

[Stands looking very simply on both.

Euph. This is not Alonzo — has he betray'd me ? [Aside.

Car. Go, Sir, she expects you.

Hau. Your pardon, Sir ; let her come to me, if she will,
'm sure she knows me better than I do her.

Glo. How should she know you, Sir?

Hau. How? by instinct, you Fool, as all the rest of
he House does : don't you, fair Mistress ?

Euph. I know you —

288 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT :

Hau. Yes, you know me ; you need not be so coy mini
the old Man has told me all.

Euph. What has he told you? — I am ruin'd. [Asia

Hau. Faith, much more than I believ'd, for he was vei
full of his new-fashion'd Spanish Civility, as they call it ; Bi
ha, ha, I hope, fair Mistress, you do not take after him

Euph. What if I do, Sir ?

Hau. Why then I had as lieve marry a Steeple with
perpetual Ring of Bells.

Glo. Let me advise you, Sir ; methinks you might main
a handsomer Speech for the first, to so pretty a Lady-i
Fakes, and were I to do't —

Hau. I had a rare Speech for her thou knowest, and a
Entertainment besides, that was, tho I say it, unordinary
But a pox of this new way of Civility, as thou call'st i
it has put me quite beside my part.

Glo. Tho you are out of your complimenting Part,
am not out of my dancing one, and therefore that part <
your Entertainment I'll undertake for. 'Slife, Sir, won
you disappoint all our Ship's Company ? —

Hau. That's accord ing as I find this proudTit in Humou

Car. And why so coy ? pray why all this Dissimulation
Come, come, I have told him your Mind, and do inter
to make you both happy immediately.

Euph. How, Sir, immediately !

Car. Yes, indeed ; nay, if you have deceiv'd me, ar
dissembled with me, when I was so kind, I'll show yc
Trick for Trick i'faith — [Goes to Haunc

Euph. What shall we do, Olinda ?

Olin. Why marry Don Alonzo, Madam.

Euph. Do not rally, this is no time for Mirth.

Olin. Fie upon't, Madam, that you should have so litt
Courage; your Father takes this Fellow to be Alonzo.

Car. What Counsel are you giving there, hah ?

Olin. Only taking leave of our old Acquaintance, sim
you talk of marrying us so soon.

):. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 289

Car. What Acquaintance, pray ?

Olin. Our Maiden-heads, Sir.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant Wench, faith now ; I believe
)u would be content to part with yours with less warning.

Olin. On easy Terms perhaps, but this marrying I do
jot like; 'tis like going a long Voyage to Sea, where
fter a while even the Calms are distasteful, and the Storms
jangerous : one seldom sees a new Object, 'tis still a deal
f Sea, Sea; Husband, Husband, every day, — till one's
uite cloy'd with it.

Car. A mad Girl this, Son.

Hau. Ay, Sir, but I wish she had left out the simile,
!t made my Stomach wamble.

Glo. Pray, Sir, let you the Maid alone as an Utensil
jelonging to my Place and Office, and meddle you with
he Mistress.

Hau. Faith now, thou hast the better Bargain of the
:wo ; my Mistress looks so scurvily and civil, that I don't
enow what to say to her — Lady — hang't, that look has
put me quite out again.

Car. To her, Son, to her —

Hau. Hark ye, Lady — Well, what next now ? Oh pox,
quite out, quite out ; tell me whether the old Man ly'd or
no, when he told me you lov'd me.

Euph. I love you !

Hau. Look you there now, how she looks again.

Car. She's only bashful, Sir, before me ; therefore if
you please to take a small Collation, that has waited within
for you this three Hours —

Hau. That's strange now, that any thing should wait
for me, who was no more expected here than Bethlehem-
Gaber : Faith now, Lady, this Father of yours is very simple.

Euph. To take you for his Son.

Hau. I meant to have surpriz'd you I vow, before you
had dreamt of me ; and when I came, you all knew me
as well as if you had cast a Figure for me.

i u

290 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT rj

Car. Well, Son, you'll follow.

Euph. You will not leave me alone, Sir, with a Man

Hau. Go your ways, go your ways — I shall know mor
of your Secrets before [Gload makes Grimaces to Olinda c
Love.~\ night yet, you little pouting Hypocrite you.

Euph. You know my Secrets ! why, who are you?

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, that's a very good one faith now
who am I, quoth thou ? why there's not a Child thus higl
in all your Father's House would have ask'd me so simpl<
a Question.

Olin. Madam, I find by this Man, this is your expectec
Lover, whom you must flatter, or you are undone, 'ti
Haunce van EzeL [To Euphemia

Euph. The Fop himself.

Hau. Oh, do you know me now ?

Euph. 'Tis impossible.

Hau. This is an extreme the other way now. [Aside
Impossible, ha, ha, ha ! No, no, poor thing, do not doub
thy Happiness : for look ye, to confirm you, here are mj
Bills of Exchange with my own natural Name to them
if you can read written Hand — [Shews her Papers

Glo. Not love you ! I'll swear you lye now, you little
Jade, I am now in Masquerade, and you cannot judge o
me ; but I am Book-keeper and Cashier to my Master
and my Love will turn to account, I'll warrant you.

Olin. There may be use made of him. [Aside

I shall think of it. But pray why are you thus accouter'd .

Glo. Fakes, to entertain your Lady, we have brought
the whole Ship's Company too in Masquerade.

Olin. That indeed will be very proper at this time o
the Day, and the first Visit too.

Glo. Shaw, that's nothing, you little think what Blade; j
we are mun — Sir, I'll call in the Fiddles and the Company

Hau. Well remember'd, faith, now I had e'en forgot it

Euph. What's the meaning of this? [Fiddles strike up

Hau. To show you the difference between the damnable t

I sc. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 291

I dull Gravity of the Spanish^ and brisk Gaiety of the Dutch.
I Come, come, begin all.

Enter Dutchmen and Women dancing.

Nay, I'll shew you what I can do too, come, Gload.

[They two dance.

i There's for you now, and yet you have not seen half my

good Qualities ; I can sing the newest Ballad that has been

[I made, so I can. [Sifigs a Dutch Song.

Euph. Be these your Friends, Sir ? they look as if you
jjhad ransack'd a Hoy for them.

Hau. How ! look on them well, they are all States or
States-fellows, I tell you that now, and they can bear
witness who I am too.

Euph. Now I'm convinced, and am sorry I doubted my
Happiness so long : I had such a Character of you.

Hau. Of me ! oh Lord, I vow now — as they say —
I don't know — ha, ha —

Euph. I heard you were the most incorrigible Fool, the
most intolerable Fop.

Hau. Ha, ha, ha, do you hear, Gload — who, I a Fop ?
I vow they were mistaken in me, for I am counted as
pretty a Merchant as any walks the Change ; can write a
very plain Hand, and cast Account as well — my man
Gload — can't I, Sirrah?

Glo. Yes indeed, forsooth, can he.

Hau. Egad, a Fool, a Fop, quoth ye — \Walks angry.

Olin. By all means flatter him, Madam.

Euph. I'm satisfy'd, Sir.

Hau. I care not whether you are or no, for I shall have
you whether you will or no, mun.

Euph. 'Tis very likely ; but there is a certain trouble
some Fellow in love with me, that has made me vow
whenever I marry to ask him leave.

Hau. How, ask his leave ? I scorn to ask any Body's
leave, I tell you that, tho 'twere my Mistress —

292 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT iv

Euph. I cannot marry you then.

Ha u. How, not marry me ? look here now : [Ready to cry.
Gload, can't you marry, and let no living Soul know it?

Euph. Oh no, Sir, I love your Life better, which would
be indanger'd.

Hau. Why, what a cursed Custom you have in SpainA
a Man can neither marry, nor console his Neighbour's
Wife without having his Throat cut. Why, what if hei
will not give you leave ?

Euph. Why, then you must fight him.

Hau. How ! fight him, I fight him !

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, you know you can fight, you
try'd but this very Morning —

Hau. Softly, you damn'd Rogue, not a Word of mjj
Prowess aloud. Salerimente^ I shall be put to fight wher
I am sober, shall I, for your damn'd prating, ye Rascal ?

Euph. I am glad you have that good Quality.

[Olinda speaking to Gload, pushes him to speak

Glo. Ay, Madam — my Master — has many more :
But if you please to tell him his Rival's Name —

Hau. I'll have your Ears for this, Sirrah, the next time I'n I
soundly drunk, and you know that won't be long. \_Asidt
Lord, Madam, my Man knows not what he says.
Ye Rascal, say I have no Courage — or I will drink nv
self to the Miracle of Valour, and exercise it all on thee ji

Glo. I know what I do, Sir, you had Courage thi ;
Morning, is the Fit over?

Hau. Have I not slept since, you Rogue, have I not ;

Glo. I have a trick to save your Honour, Sir, and there
fore I will stand in't you have Courage.

Hau. A Pox of your Trick, the Rogue knows I dare nc
chastise him now, for fear they should think I have Valoui

Glo. Madam, my Master's modest, but tell him wh
'tis he must fight with —

Hau. Oh, for a Tun of Rhenish — that I might abur :
dantly beat thee —

c. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 293

Euph. Your Rival's Name's Alonzo^ Sir.

Hau. Oh the Devil, a thundring Name too; but will
his same — Alonzo make no allowance for necessity ? — I
'ow 'tis pure necessity in me to marry you : the old Men
)t-ing agreed upon the Matter, I am but an Instrument

alas, not I, [Crys.

\ very Tool, as they say, so I am.

Glo. Lord, Sir, why do you cry ? I meant no harm.

Hau. No harm, you Rascal — to say I am valiant.

Glo. Why, yes, Sir, and if you would say so too, at
vorst 'twas but getting Don Lovis to have fought for you ;
rou know that's a small courtesy to a Friend.

Hau. Faith, now thou art in the right ; he'll do his
usiness for him, I'll warrant him. [Wipes his Eyes.

ay then, Madam, I have Courage, and will to this Don

this Alonzo you speak of; and if he do not resign you,
nd consign you too, I'll make him ; yes, make him, do
e see — If Lovis should refuse me now — [Aside.

Glo. Shaw, Sir, he makes nothing to kill a Man, ten or
wenty.

Euph. Well, since you are so resolv'd, my Brother will
ell you where to find this Alonzo ; and tell him, I must

rry you to day, for I am resolv'd not to lie alone to night.

Hau. What would not a Man do for so kind a Mistress?

Euph. Well, get you about it strait then, lest my Father's
:oming prevent it. [Exeunt Euphemia and Olinda.

Hau. I am gone — but if Lovis should fail —

Glo. He would beat you, if he thought you doubted him.

Hau. I'll keep my Fears then to my self. [Go out.

SCENE II. The Street.
Enter Hippolyta drest like a Man, with a Paper.

Hip. Thus I dare look abroad again :
MJethinks I am not what I was,
My Soul too is all Man ;

294 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT iv

Where dwells no Tenderness, no womanish Passions.

I cannot sigh, nor weep, nor think of Love,

But as a foolish Dream that's gone and past.

Revenge has took possession of my Soul,

And drove those Shadows thence ; and shows me now

Love, in so poor, so despicable a Shape,

So quite devested of his Artful Beauty,

That I'm asham'd I ever was his Votary.

Well, here's my Challenge to Antonio ;

But how to get it to him is the Question.

Base as he is, he'll not refuse to come,

And since he never saw the wrong'd Alonzo^

Sure I may pass for him. Who's here ? —

Enter Haunce and Gload. She stands aside.

Hau. Gload, if it were possible I could be sober, and
valiant at once, I should now be provok'd to exercise it :
for I cannot find Lovls^ and then how I shall come off,
the Lord knows. And then again, for letting the Lady
go, whom I rescu'd in the Grove this Morning.

Glo. Should I disobey a Lady, Sir ? for she commanded
me to let her go so soon as she came into the Gate. And,
Sir, look, here comes Don Lovis.

Enter Lovis and Alonzo.

Hau. Oh, Brother Lovis, where the Devil have you
been all this Day? I stay'd for you to go with me to youi
Sister's, as long as Flesh and Blood could forbear.

Lov. Why, have you been there without me ?

Hau. Yes, marry have I, Sir.

Alon. I am undone then — [dside

Hau. I needed no Recommendation mun, for when ]
came they were all as well acquainted with me — I nevei
saw them before; but by the way, they are all no wise]
than they should be, except your Sister, who is the pretty's'
loving, sweet Rogue —

L, u] THE DUTCH LOVER 295

' A Ion. How's this?
j Lov. But have you seen my Sister?
I Hau. Seen her ! yes, and will marry her too mun before
Height, an she were a thousand Sisters — but harkye, Lovis^
(he business is this — you must know that before I marry
her, I am to seek out a certain Fellow, they call — they
all A/onzOj ay, ay, Alonzo — a Pox on him, a troublesome
jlascal they say he is; and his leave, it seems, must be
tskt to marry your Sister.

Lov. Well, Sir, and what if he will not give you leave ?
! Hau. Why then, you must know I am to get him very
Ivell favour'dly beaten.

A Ion. Sure this is the Coxcomb himself.

Hau. Now for your Sister's sake, who loves me, poor
hing, I will not run the danger of beating him my self,
;>ut must desire that small courtesy of thee.

Lov. How ! I beat him ?

Hau. You beat him, yes, you; what a Pox do you
cruple such a kindness to a Friend ? I know you make no
jnore of killing a Man next your Heart in a Morning, than
I do of eating a pickled Herring.

Lov. But she desir'd you to do't.

Hau. That's all one so it be done, mun ; besides, why
-hould I run my self into a Premunire, when I need not?
^our Father is bound by Agreement to mine, to deliver me
!:he Wares (that is, his Daughter) safe and sound; and I
:.iave no more to do, but to protest against him in case of
Non-performance. 'Twill be a dear Commodity to me
it this rate. [Cries.

Lov. Well, Sir, I'll see what may be done.

Hau. Spoke like a Friend now : Well, you must about
it instantly, for I must be married to day.

A Ion. Must you so, Sir ? —

Hau. Yes marry must I, Sir — Who the Devil's this
now? [To Lovis.

A Ion. That same Alonzo whom you inquire for.

296 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT iv

Hau. Are you so, Sir ? — Why, what then, Sir,- — Lovis,
Lovls. [Runs behind Lovis.

Alon. What then, Sir ? then I tell you, I will not be
beaten.

Hau. Look ye here now — Lovis.

Lov. Ha, ha, ha, canst thou be angry with him ?

[To Alonzo.

Hau. I, can you be angry with me ?

Alon. I know not why an Ass should have more privilege
than any other rude Beast.

Lov. Ha, ha, ha, this Humour's so pleasant in thee, I
wish thou wouldst pursue it a little — Haunce, bear up to
him, he's but a mere Huff, ha, ha, ha.

[Claps him on the Back, he goes fearfully forward.

Glo. I, Sir, as long as Don Lovis is here, you may say
what you will.

Hau. May I so? — and why, Sir? — am I, Sir — an
Ass, Sir? [Runs behind Lovis.

Alon. 'Sdeath, you Rascal, do you question me ?

Hau. Oh, hold, Sir, hold, not I, God forbid I should
question it, Lovis — is it, indeed, Alonzo, hah ?

Lov. Yes indeed is it.

Hau. And wilt thou not do so much as to beat him for
me a little ?

Lov. Not I, I dare not, he's a terrible Man.

Hau. Why look you here now, you damn'd Rogue,
\_To Gload.] Have not you serv'd me finely, hah?

Gload. Why, Sir, 'tis but crying Peccavi.

Hau. Peccavi, and be hang'd to you — Lord, Sir, [Tt
Alonzo.] why are you so angry ? I came but to ask you
a civil Question, from my Wife that must be.

Alon. You must ask me leave, first.

Hau. Yes, yes, Sir, so she said mun ; for she must marry
me to night.

Alon. Yes, you shall have it with this — too. [Draws

Hau. Why look you [Haunce runs away, Lovis stay.

lie. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 297

p/77/] here now, here's damn'd doings. For my part, I
ijeclare it here upon my Death-bed, I am forc'd to what
[ do, and you kill me against my Will.

Alon. Do'st think we are not discover'd in our Design ?
jt'd kill the Dog if I thought we were.

Lov. I believe not ; and perceive by my Sister's Message,
jthat we are to come to her, and prevent this Fellow's
(marrying her.

Alon. Well, Sir, I'll spare your Life, and give your
Mistress leave to marry to night.

Hau. How, Sir, to Night ? — But is he in earnest, Lovis ?

Lov. In very good earnest.

Hau. Tan, ta, ra, ra, ra — hay, Boys, what a Night we'll
have on't, Gload, for Fiddles and Dancing.

Alon. Tell your Mistress I will dispatch a little Affair,
iind wait on her.

Gload. And pray, Sir, may I have leave to marry the
Maid too?

Alon. We'll consider on't.

Hau. I am not such a Fool to venture tho, till I know the
i Coast is clear, for his very Looks are terrible ; but go you,
Chad, and tell her what he says. [Alonzo talks to Lovis.

Enter Hippolytayhw/ aside.

Hip. These be the Men that rescu'd me this morning,
And are not to be employ'd in my Affair.
But yonder Stranger has a noble Look,
And from him I'll intreat this Favour — Sir — [To Alonzo.

Alon. With me, Sir?

Hip. Yes, please you to walk a little this way, Sir.

[ Takes him aside.

Hau. Well, make you sure of Fiddles, for look ye, we'll
appear to night like our selves.

Gload. It shall be done, Sir.

Hip. I am a Stranger and a Gentleman,
And have an humble Suit to you.

298 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT iv

Alon. You may command me any thing.

Hip. Sir, there is a Gentleman, if I may call him so,
that dares do ill; has put a base Affront upon a Lady —
a Lady whom all brave Men are bound to vindicate : I've
writ him here a Challenge, and only beg you'll give it him ;
I will attend you in St. Peter's Grove, where I desire the
perfidious Antonio (for that's his Name, to whom this is
directed) to meet me.

Alon. I'm pleas'd to see this Gallantry in a Man so young,
and will serve you in this, or whatever else you shall com
mand. But where is this Antonio?

Hip. That I'll inquire of these. Sir, pray can you give
any account of the Cavalier [To Haunce, who starts as
afraid.'] you fought with this Morning in St. Peter's Grove,
that had a Lady with him ?

Hau. So, now perhaps I shall be hang'd for that. [Aside.
I fight, Sir ! I never fought in my Life, nor saw no Man,
not I.

Gload. 'Sha, you may confess it, Sir ; there's no Law
against killing in Spain.

Hip. How, have you murder'd him ? [ Takes hold of him.

Hau. This Rogue has a mind to have me dispatch'd.

[Aside.

Hold, Sir, the Man's as well and alive as you are, and is
now at my Lodgings : look ye, here's the Dagger I disarm'd
him of — but that I do not love to boast. [Shews it.

Hip. It is the same.

Alon. Sir, I shall not fail to wait on you with the Answer
I receive.

Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir.

Alon. So prithee, dear Lovisy go make my excuse to your
Sister for a moment, and let her get all things ready against
I come ; let the Priest too wait, for I see my Destiny, which
I can no longer prevent, draws on apace. [Exit Lovis.
Come, Sir, you must conduct me to Antonio.

[Exeunt Alonzo, Haunce, and Gload.

in] THE DUTCH LOVER 299

Hip. So now the Work's half done, that will redeem
1.11 the lost Credit of our Family.

fa kill, or to be kill'd, I care not which, [Weeps.

|D one or both expire ; be strong, my Soul,
|.nd let no feeble Woman dwell about thee.
fence Fears and Pity, such poor things as these
llannot the Storms of my Revenge appease :
"hose Showers must from his treacherous Heart proceed,

I can live and see Antonio bleed. [Sighs, and Exit.

SCENE III. A deep Grove.
Enter Marcel alone.

Mar. The hour is almost come which I appointed,
Lnd yet no Silvio appears, the time seems long to me ;
!ut he that's circled in his Mistress' Arms,
'orgets the hasty hours,

id passes them as unregarded by,
Men do Beggars who demand a Charity.

Enter Hippolyta.
roung Man, hast thou encounter'd none within this

Grove ?

Hip. Not any, Sir, — Marcel! my injur'd Brother !
Mar. Why dost thou turn away, and hide thy Face?
Hip. 'Tis not my Face I hide, but Sorrow there.

[Weeps.

Mar. Trust me, thou weepest ; would I could do so too,
"hat I might be less angry ;

Silence best expresses Grief:
Jut thine's a saucy Sorrow dares approach
. \ Face so fair and young.

Hip. If the Ingrate for whom I grieve had thought so,
might have spar'd my Tears. Farewel, Sir.
Mar. Stay, hast thou been a Lover ?
Hip. A very, very passionate one.
Mar. And wert thou not belov'd ?

300 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT r

Hip. At first, to draw me in, the cunning Artist
Made me believe I was.

Mar. Oh ! I could kiss thee now, for the alliance
Between thy Grief and mine.
Hadst thou a loose and wanton Sister too,
Then thou wert perfect wretched, as I am. [Weeps

But prithee leave me, now I think of it :
For shouldst thou stay, thou'dst rob me of my Anger ;
For since a Youth like thee can be unhappy,
With such a Shape, and so divine a Face,
Methinks I should not quarrel with my Star,
But bow to all my faithless Mistress' Scorns.

[Hollowing within.~\ So ho, ho, so ho, ho —

Mar. So ho, so ho, ho, ho — 'Tis my false Rival.
Now leave me, Sir, to reassume my Anger.

Hip. I will obey — fare w el —
My own Despair makes me neglect his Life. [Goes out

Enter Silvio.

Mar. 'Tis Silvio.

Silv. You see I have obey'd you, Sir.

Mar. Come, Sir, your Sword.

Si/v. You are my Brother, and 'twere an impious Action
To fight you unprovok'd : give me a cause,
Nay, and a just one too, or I shall find it hard
— To wound Cleonte's Brother. [Aside sighing

Mar. Thou cam'st prepar'd to talk, and not to fight.
I cannot blame thee for't, for were I Silvio,
Thus I would do to save a Life belov'd :

[Offers to fight, Silvio steps back
But 'twill not serve you now.

Silv. Your Reason, Sir, and I'm ready, if it be just.

Mar. Oh do not urge me to repeat my Wrongs,
For if thou dost, I hardly shall have Man enough remair
To fight thee fairly. [Offers still

Silv. Surely he knows my Passion for Cleonte — [Aside
I urge the Reason still.

I:, in] THE DUTCH LOVER 301

Mar. Hast thou forgot thy last Night's Treachery ?
|[ow like a Thief thou stol'st into her Lodgings?

Silv. 'Tisso — 'tis true, Marcel, I rudely did intrude —

Mar. Oh, quickly haste — this looks like Women's
jangling. [Offers to fight again.

; Silv. Oh, is it bravely done, Marcel, to punish
IL Passion which you ought to pity rather?
Fis what I cannot reconcile nor justify :
Lnd so distracted it has made me too —

will not fight in so unjust a Cause.
|Iill me, and I'll embrace you whilst I die ;
k thousand Wounds imprinted on this Body,
'Vill bring less Pain than that her Eyes have caus'd.
lere strike — Pity my Pain and ease me.

[ Opens his Arms, and throws away his Sword.

Mar. I find thou hast a Charm about thy Tongue,
And thou implor'st thy Death in such a way,
cannot hurt thee ; and it gives me hopes
Thou art not yet so bless'd to be belov'd,
/or then thou wouldst not be thus desperate.

Silv. Oh yes, I am belov'd.

Mar. Oh do not say thou art,
vfor take me from a Calmness, that may spare thee.

Silv. Not say I am belov'd ! thou canst not hire me
With Life or fuller Joy, to say I am not.
.f there be Truth and Love in Innocence, she loves me.

Mar. Yet, yet, ye Gods, I can endure — say, but thou

art not,
For I would yet preserve thee.

Silv. Oh, canst thou wish that I should fall so low,
To save my Life with Lyes ; the poorest Sin of all the
number ?

Mar. Then once again thou hast debauch'd my Pity.

[Takes to his Sword.

Silv. Her Passion I will justify, but not my own ;
Her's is as pure as Prayers of Penitence ;

302 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT i\

But mine — I cannot give a Name to.

[ They fight : Enter Alonzo, and parts them,

Alon, How now, what's here to do ! Marcel?

Mar. Alonzo I the only Man I wish to shun.

Silv. I'm glad, who e'er thou be'st thou hast prevented us |

Alon. Thou hast more Wit than he, then I find : Youi
Quarrel, Sir, may a Man have leave to enquire into't ?

Mar. This is that Silvio, that noble Youth my Brother,
whom thou hast often heard me name.

Alon. An excellent Character for an Enemy, Noble,
and Brother : For shame put up your Swords, and I'll b(
Judge between ye.

Mar. The Case is soon decided ; I will not tell you
with how tedious a Courtship I won the Heart, as ]!
thought, of a young Beauty of this Town — and yesterdaj
receiv'd a Billet from her, to wait on her at night, tcj
receive the recompence of all my Pains and Sufferings —
In this extasy of Joy I show'd him the Paper; and h<
getting thither before me, rob'd me of my Prize.

Silv. I am so pleas'd at this mistake of thine,
I can forgive it freely.

Mar. Not content with this, most treacherously, hit
in the shades of Night, he met me in the Hall of this falsi
Woman, and stab'd me, which did secure his flight wit!
her ; and wouldst thou have me put this Injury up ?

Alon. Faith, you must, and your Sword too,
Unless you mean to keep it drawn on me.
'Twas I that wounded you i'th' dark; and it was I
That rob'd you of Clarinda.

Mar. Thou?

Alon. I, am I so unlikely a Man to do such a feat?

Mar. How dare you, Sir, do this?

Alon. I dare do any thing, but break my Word, a
thou hast basely done with me — But I am now in haste
and should be glad to know where to meet you anon.

Mar. I'll wait on you at the farther side of this Grov
by the River.

I. m] THE DUTCH LOVER 303

Ion. I will not fail you — [Ex. Alonzo.

Mar. Come, Sir, till I can better prove you are my
|ival, I will believe you are my Friend and Brother.

Si/v. When thou shalt know my miserable Story,
I'hou wilt believe and pity me. [Go out.

Enter again Hippolyta_/nwz out of the Wood.

Hip. I wonder this Cavalier stays so long,
ray Heaven he meet Antonio.

Enter Alonzo.
'our Servant, Sir. __

Alon. The Cavalier to whom you sent me, Sir,

rill wait upon you here.

Hip. I humbly thank you, Sir, and should be glad to
low how I might pay my Gratitude.

Alon. My Duty ends not here ; I have a Sword to
:rve you.

Hip. You shame me with this Generosity ; but, Sir, I
jpe my own will be sufficient in so good a Cause.
i Alon. Tho you are young, I question not your Bravery ;
!ut I must beg to stay and see fair play,
md offer you my Service when you've done.

Hip. The Enemy appears, Sir, — and since you are so

ad, I beg you would retire behind those Trees; for if he see
! s both, since he is single, he will suspect some treachery.

Alon. You've reason, Sir, and I'll obey you. [Goes aside.

Enter Antonio reading a Paper.
>

/ do desire you to meet me in St. Peter's Grove^ with your
'word in your Hand^ about an Hour hence ; you will guess
ny Business^ when you know my name to be

Alonzo.

Alon. How's that? \_Aside.

Ant. I wish't had been another Enemy,
jiince from the Justice of his Cause I fear

304 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT n

An ill success ; would I had seen Hippolyta,

That e'er I dy'd I might have had her pardon.

This Conscience — 'tis ominous,

But ne'er appears in any horrid shape,

Till it approaches Death —

[Goesforward, sees Hippolyta, whojustles him in passing
by ; he stops and looks.

Hip. You seem, Sir, to be he whom I expect.

Ant. I'm call'd Antonio, Sir —

Hip. And I Alonzo ; the rest we need not ask,
For thou art well acquainted with my Injuries,
And I with thy Perfidiousness. [Draws

Ant. I know of none you have receiv'd from me,
If on Hippolyta^s account you fight :
She lov'd me, and believ'd ; and what dull Lover
Would have refus'd a Maid so easily gain'd?

Hip. Ah, Traytor, by how base a way
Thou wouldst evade thy Fate ?

Didst thou not know she was my Wife by promise ?
Did not Marcel, Ambrosia, all consent
To make her mine as soon as I arriv'd ?

A Ion. Who the Devil's that young Bully that takes m
Name, and my Concerns upon him ? [Asidt

Hip. But why should I expect a Truth from thee,
Who after so much time, so many Vows,
So many Tears, Despairs and Sighs, at last
Didst gain a Credit with this easy Fool,
Then left her to her shames, and her despairs? — Come, Sir—
Or I shall talk my self to calmness — \_Asidt

Ant. I'm ready, Sir, to justify the Deed.

[They offer to fight, Alonzo steps fort]

Alon. Hold ! hold ! fair Thief thatrob'st me of my Name
And wouldst my Honour too ; [Puts her />;

If thou hast wrong'd the fair Hippolyta, [To Antonk
No Man but I has right to do her justice.
Or you are both my Rivals — tell me which,

I:, in] THE DUTCH LOVER 305

rhich of you is it I must kill — or both ?
am Alonzo, who dares love Hippolyia?
Hip. Let not your friendship, Sir, proceed so far,
'o take my Name, to take my Quarrel on you.

Alon. In this Dispute none's more concern'd than I,
md I will keep my ground in such a cause,
"ho all the Rivals that her Beauty makes me,
''ere arm'd to take my Life away.
Ant. Come, Sir, I care not which of you's Alonzo.

{They go to fight, she holds Alonzo.
Hip. This Gallantry's too much, brave Stranger.
Intonio, hurt him not ; I am the wrong'd Alonzo,
ind this a perfect Stranger to the business,
rho seeing me appear less Man than he,
md unacquainted with my Deeds abroad,
tn Bounty takes my Name and Quarrel on him.

Alon. Take heed, young Man, and keep thy Virtue in,
sst thus misguided it become a Crime.
Jut thou, he says, hast wrong'd Hippolyta, \_To Antonio,
md I am he must punish it.

Hip. Sure it is he indeed —
"or such a Miracle my Brother render'd him, \_Aside.
Hold, hold, thou Wonder of thy Sex— [They fight.

Alon. Stand by, I shall be angry with thee else,
And that will be unsafe —

[As Alonzo fights with one Hand, he keeps her off
with f other ; she presses still forward on Antonio
with her Sword, indeavouring to keep back Alonzo.

Enter to them Marcel.

Mar. Sure I heard the Noise of Swords this way !

[Draws.

Hah, two against one! Courage, Sir. [_To Antonio.

[They fight all four, Marcel with Hippolyta whom he
wounds, and Alonzo with Antonio, who is disarmed.
Hip. Good Heaven, how just thou art !

I x

306 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT r

Mar. What, dost thou faint already ? — Hah, the prettn
talking Youth I saw but now !

[Runs to her, and holds her up
Alas, how dost thou?

Hip. Well, since thy Hand has wounded me —

Ant. My Life is yours, nor would I ask the Gift,
But to repair my Injuries to Hippolyta.

Alon. I give it thee — [Gives him his Sword

Mar. How, Antonio! —

What unkind Hand has rob'd me of the justice
Of killing thee?

Alon. His that was once thy Friend, Marcel.

Mar. Oh ! dost thou know my Shame? [Turns away

Alon. I know thou art false to Friendship,
And therefore do demand mine back again, thou'st us'c
it scurvily.

Mar. Thou knowst too much to think I've injur'd thee

Alon. Not injur'd me ! Who was it promis'd me Hip
polyta ?

Who his Alliance, and his Friendship too?
And who has broke them all, but thou perfidious ?
Come, 'tis Hippolyta that I demand.

Mar. By this he should not know my Sister's Shame

[Aside
Oh, Sir, you must not have Hippolyta.

Alon. How ! not have Hippolyta !
Tho every Step were guarded by a Brother,
Tho she were circled round about with Rivals,
Ye should not all have Power to keep her from me.
Not have Hippolyta! —

'Sdeath, Sir, because I do not know my Birth,
And cannot boast a little empty Title,
I must not have Hippolyta. —
Now I will have her; and when you know I can,
You shall petition me to marry her.
And yet I will not do't. Come, Sir — [Offers to fight.

':. in] THE DUTCH LOVER 307

Hip. Hold, hold, brave Man, or turn your Sword on me.
am the unhappy Cause of all your Rage :
Fis I, generous Alonzo, that can tell you
Vhat he's asham'd to own,
\.nd thou wilt blush to hear.

Mar. Hippolyta ! thou wretched wicked Woman :
Thus I reward thy Sins —

\_0ffers to kill her, Antonio steps between.
Ant. Hold, Sir, and touch her not without my leave,
>he is my Wife ; by sacred Vows my Wife.

Alon. I understand no riddling ; but whoever thou be'st.
Vlan or Woman, thou'rt worth our Care —
ohe faints — come, let us bear her hence.

\_She faints, Antonio kneeh to her.
Ant. Oh stay, Hippolyta, and take me with thee,
For I've no use of Life when thou art gone. \Weeps.
Here, kill me, brave Marcel — and yet you need not ;
My own Remorse, and Grief will be sufficient.

Mar. I credit thee, and leave thee to their Mercy.
Hip. That Goodness, Sir, has call'd me back to Life,
To pay my humble Thanks ; could you have Mercy too,
To pardon me — you might redeem my Soul.

Mar. Some Pity I have yet, that may preserve thee

too,

Provided this Repentance be not feign'd.
Ant. My Life, Sir, is Security for both.
Mar. Doubt not, I'll take the Forfeit, Sir — Come,

Hippolyta.

Thy Father's House shall once again receive thee.
Ant. Lean on my Arm, my dearest.
Mar. Sir, by the way, I'll let you know her Story,
And then perhaps you will not blame my Friendship.
Alon. And in return, I'll give you back Clarinda —
And beg your Pardon for the Wound I gave you.

[Exeunt, leading Hippolyta.

308 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT v

ACT V.
SCENE I. A Garden.

Enter Cleonte, Clarinda weeping, and Dormida and
Francisca.

Cleo. Fear not, I'll use my Interest both with your
Mother and my Father, to set your Heart at rest,
Whose Pain I feel by something in my own.

Clar. The Gods reward your Bounty, fair Clconte.

Dor. I, I, Madam, I beseech you make our Peace with
my good Lady her Mother, whatsoever becomes of the
rest, for she'll e'en die with Grief — [Weeps.

She had but two fair Pledges of her Nuptial Bed.
And both by cruel Fate are ravisht from her.
Manuel a Child was lost,

And this ; not holy Relicks were more strictly guarded,
Till false Marcel betray 'd me to debauch her. [Weeps aloud.

Cleo. Alas, had you a Brother once? [To Clarinda.

Clar. Madam, I might have had : but he was lost e'er
I was born.

Cleo. Ah ! would my Silvio had been so. [Aside.

By what strange Accident, Clarinda ?

Dor. Madam, I can inform you best.

[Puts herself between.

Cleo. Do then, Dormida.

Dor. Madam, you must know, my Lady Octavia, for
that's her name, was in her Youth the very Flower of
Beauty and Vertue : Oh such a Face and Shape ! had you
but seen her — And tho I say it, Madam, I thought my self
too somebody then.

Clar. Thou art tedious : Madam, 'tis true my Mother
had the Reputation of both those Attractions, which gain'd
her many Lovers : amongst the rest, Don Manuel^ and
Don AlonzO) were most worthy her Esteem.

Dor. Ay, Madam, Don Alonzo, there was a Man for
you, so obliging and so bountiful — Well, I'll give you

i] THE DUTCH LOVER 309

rgument of both to me : for you must know I was a
leauty then, and worth obliging. [Puts herself between.
nd he was the Man my Lady lov'd, tho Don Manuel
[ere the richer: but to my own Story —
Cleo. Forward, Clarinda.
Clar. But as it most times happens,
fe marry where our Parents like, not we ;
[y Mother was dispos'd of to Don Manuel.
Dor. Ay, Madam ; but had you seen Don Alonzo's Rage,
id how my Lady took this Disappointment — But I who
very young, and very pretty, as I told you before —
Clar. Forbear, Madam ; 'tis true,
Uonzo was so far transported,
"hat oft he did attempt to kill my Father ;
lut bravely tho, and still he was prevented :
|>ut when at the Intreaties of my Mother,
fhe King confin'd my Father,
Uonzo then study'd a new Revenge ;
j\.nd thinking that my Father's Life depended
|Jpon a Son he had, scarce a Year old,
ic did design to steal him ; and one Evening,

rhen with the Nurse and Maid he took the Air,
[This desperate Lover seiz'd the smiling Prize,
rhich never since was heard of.
Cleo. I guess the Grief the Parents must sustain.
Dor. It almost caus'd their Deaths ; nor did kind Heaven
(Supply them with another till long after,
Unhappy this was born :

i Which just her Father liv'd to see, and dy'd. \Weeps.
Then she was Daughter, Son and Husband too,
To her afflicted Mother : But as I told you, Madam, I
'was then in my Prime —

Clar. Now, Madam, judge what her Despair must be,
Who is depriv'd of all her Joys in me. \Weeps.

Cleo. Frandsca, see who it is that knocks so hastily.

[One knocks.

310 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT v

Franc. Oh, Madam, 'tis Don Marcel leading a wounded
Man.

Cleo. Oh my Fears, 'tis Silvio!
Franc. 'Tis not Don Silvio.

Enter Marcel, leading Hippoly ta wounded, followed by
Alonzo and Pedro.

Cleo. Alas, what Youth is this you lead all bleeding?

Mar. One that deserves your Care ; where's my Father ?

Cleo. Not yet return'd.

Mar. 'Tis well ; and you, Sir, I must confine till I
know how to satisfy my Honour, and that of my wrong'd
Sister. [To Antonio.

Ant. The holy Man will soon decide our Difference :
Pray send for one, and reconcile us all.

Kip. I fear, Antonio, still thou dost dissemble.

Ant. So let me find Forgiveness when I die,
If any fear of Death have wrought this change,
But a pure Sense of all my Wrongs to thee,
Knowing thy constant Love, and Virtue to me.

Mar. I will secure your fear — Francisca, send for Father
Joseph to me, and conduct these Gentlemen to the Lodgings
next the Garden.

\_Exeunt Francisca, Antonio and Hippolyta.

Alan. Prithee, Marcel, are thee and I awake, or do we
dream? thou, that thou art in thy Father's House; and
I, that I see those two fair Women there ? Pray, lovely
Fugitive, how came you hither? [To Clarinda.

Mar. I thought thou wert mistaken ;
'Twas Silvio brought her hither, that false Man.
But how came you to know her ?

Alon. Know her ! 'slife, I question my Sense.
Pray, Lady, are you Flesh and Blood? [To Cleonte.

Cleo. Yes surely, Sir ; for 'twere pity you should have
bestow'd your Heart on a Shadow, and I well remember
you gave it one of us last Night.

. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 311

Alon. A Dream, a Dream ! but are you indeed the same
|.ir Person, and is this the same House too?

Cleo. I am afraid your Heart's not worth the keeping,
[nee you took no better notice where you dispos'd of it.

Alon. Faith, Madam, you wrong a poor Lover, who
jas languish'd in search of it all this live-long day.

Cleo. Brother, I beseech you, receive the innocent
VJarinda, who, I fear, will have the greatest Cause of Com-
laint against you. [To Marcel. Gives him to Clarinda.

Alon. But pray, fair one, let you and I talk a little about
lat same Heart you put me in mind of just now.

[T0 Cleonte, with whom he seems to talk.

Ped. Surely that's my old Mistress, Dormida ; twenty
-ears has not made so great an Alteration in that ill-favour'd
"ace of hers, but I can find a Lover there.

[Goes to her, they seem to talk earnestly, and
sometimes pleasantly, pointing to Clarinda.

Mar. Enough, Clarinda : I'm too well convinc'd,

rould thou hadst still remain'd a Criminal,
low how can I reward thy Faith and Love?

Clar. I know, Marcel, it is not in thy Power,
"hy faithless Story I'm acquainted with.

Mar. Do not reproach me with my Shame, Clarinda.
'Tis true, to gain thee to consent to my Desires,
made an honourable Pretence of loving,
'ardon a Lover all the ways he takes
"o gain a Mistress so belov'd and fair.
Jut I have since repented of that Sin,
ind came last Night for thy Forgiveness too.

Ped. This is News indeed ; 'tis fit I keep this Secret no
longer from my Master. Don Manuel being dead, my
Vow's expir'd. [Aside.] [Pedro goes to Alonzo.

Clar. And do you mean no more to love me then ?

Mar. In spite of me, above my Sense or Being.

Clar. And yet you'll marry F fa via.

Mar. Against my Will I must, or lose a Father.

312 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT \ \

Clar. Then I must die, Marcel.

Mar. Do not unman my Soul, it is too weak
To bear the Weight of fair Clarinda's Tears. [Weeps.

Alon. Why was this Secret kept from me so long?

Fed. I was oblig'd by Vow, Sir, to Don Alonzo, my deac
Master, not to restore you till Don Manuel"1* Death ; be
lieving it a Happiness too great for his Rival, for so he was
upon your Mother's score.

Alon. Have I a Mother living?

Ptd. Here in Madrid, Sir, and that fair Maid's youi
Sister. [Pointing to Clarinda,

Alon. I scarce can credit thee, but that I know thee
honest.

Ped. To confirm that belief, Sir, here are the Writings ol
twelve thousand Crowns a Year, left you by your Foster-
Father the brave Alonzo, whose Name he gave you too.

[Gives him Papers, he reads.

Alon. I am convinc'd — How now, Marcel, what all in
Tears? why, who the Devil would love in earnest?
Come, come, make me Judge between you.

Mar. You'll soon decide it then, my Heart's ClarindtA
But my forc'd Vows are given to another.

Alon. Vows ! dost think the Gods regard the Vows oi
Lovers? they are things made in necessity, and ought not
to be kept, nor punish'd when broken ; if they were —
Heaven have mercy on me poor Sinner.

Enter Ambrosio.

Mar. My Father return'd !

[Bows, and goes to him, and then leads Alonzo to him.
Sir, this is the gallant Man that was design'd to be youi
Son-in-Law.

Amb. And that you were not so, Sir, was my misfor
tune only.

Alon. I am glad to find it no slight to my Person,
Or unknown Quality that depriv'd me of that Honour.

L. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 313

Mar. To convince you of that, Alonzo, I know my
lather will bestow this other Sister on you ; more fair and
}oung, and equally as rich. [Ambrosio calls Marcel aside.
Alon. How, his Sister ! Fool that I was, I could not
jess at this ; and now have I been lying and swearing all
u's while how much I Iqy'd her. Well, take one time with
Lnother, a Man falls into more Danger by this amorous
Rumour, than he gets good turns by it.

Mar. Pardon me, Sir, I knew not you had design'd her
:lsewhere — Dear Alonzo, my Father —

Alon. Ay, Sir, I am much oblig'd to him. Oh Pox,
rould I were well with Euphemia.
Mar. I protest I could wish —

Alon. Ay, so could I, Sir, that you had made a better
(Judgment of my Humour : All must out, I have no other
/ay to avoid this Compliment else. Why look ye, Marcel
-Your Sister is — Pox, I am ill at Dissimulation, and
therefore in plain Terms, I am to be married this very
Evening to another.
Mar. This was happy, and has sav'd me an Excuse.

[ Aside.

But are you in earnest, How is it possible, being so lately
'come into Madrid ?

Alon. Destiny, Destiny, Marcel, which there was no
avoiding, tho I mist of Hippolyta.
Mar. Who is it, prithee?

Alon. A Woman I hope, of which indeed I would have
been better assur'd ; but she was wilful. She's call'd
Euphemia.

Mar. Our next Neighbour, the Daughter of old Carlo.
Alon. The same.

Mar. Thou art happy to make so good a Progress in
so short a time, but I am —

Alon. Not so miserable as you believe. Come, come,
you shall marry Clarinda.
Mar. 'Tis impossible.

314 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT v

Alon. Where's the hindrance?

Mar. Her want of Fortune ; that's enough, Friend.

Alon. Stand by and expect the best — [Goes to Ambrosio.
Sir, I have an humble Suit to you.

Amb. I shall be infinitely pleas'd you could ask me any
thing in my Power ; but, Sir, this Daughter I had dispos'd
of, before I knew you would have mist of Hippolyta.

Alon. Luckier than I expected. [Aside.

Sir, that was an Honour I could not merit, and am con
tented with my Fate : But my Request is, that you would
receive into your Family a Sister of mine, whom I would
bestow on Don Marcel.

Mar. Hah, what mean you, Sir? a Sister of yours?

Alon. Yes, she will not be unwelcome — This is she.

Amb. This is the Daughter to Octavia — Her Mother
was a Lady whom once I did adore, and 'twas her fault she
was not more happy with me, than with Don Manuel.
Nor have I so wholly forgot that Flame, but I might be
inclin'd to your Proposal : But, Sir, she wants a Fortune.

Alon. That I'll supply.

Mar. You supply, Sir? On what kind Score, I pray?

Alon. That which you'll suffer without being jealous,
When you shall know she is indeed my Sister.

Clar. How ! this brave Man my Brother ?

Alon. So they tell me, and that my Name is Manuel.
Had you not such a Brother ?

Dor. Oh ye Gods, is this the little Manuel?

Ped. Yes, Dormida, and for a farther Proof see this.
[ Opens his Master's Bosom and shews a Crucifix.

Dor. This I remember well, it is Don Manuel:
Pray let me look upon you : Just like my Lord —
Now may the Soul of Don Alonzo rest in Peace,
For making so hopeful a Man of you.

Alon. Amen. But, Sir, if you approve of my Sister,
I'll make her as worthy of Marcel, as Flavia.

Amb. I've lost the Hopes of her — She's. not to be
reconcil'd. [Aside.

i] THE DUTCH LOVER 315

\larinda needs no more than to belong to you,
| o make her valuable — and I consent with Joy.

\_Gives her to Marcel.

Mar. And I with Joys unutterable take her.
Alon. Pedro, there rests no more than that you wait on
y Mother, and let her know all that has happen'd to my
:lf and Sister, and that I'll pay my Duty to her e'er I sleep.
Dor. The very Joy to find her Son again, will get my
'ardon too : and then perhaps Pedro and I may renew
ur old Amours.

Alon. Sir, I have another Request to make.
Amb. You must command, Sir.

Alon. That is, that you will permit this fair Company to
lonour me this Evening at my Father-in-law's, Don Carlo.
Amb. How, has Don Carlo married the Lady Octavia ?
Alon. No, Sir, but a worse matter than that, I am to
irry his Daughter.

Amb. Oh, Sir, Euphemia has too much Beauty and
(Virtue to make you doubt your Happiness.

Alon. Well, Sir, I must venture that. But your Com-
>any I'll expect, the Ladies may clap on their Vizards,
ind make a masquerading Night on't : tho such Freedoms
re not very usual in Spain, we that have seen the World,
lay absolve one another.

Amb. My Garden joins to that of Don Carlo, and that
iway we will wait on you, as soon as I have dispatcht a
small Affair.

Alon. Your humble servant, Sir.

[Goes out ; Ambrosio the other way.
Mar. Sister, go you and prepare my Father to receive
Hippolyta, whilst I go see them married.

[Exeunt Cleonte and Clarinda.
[Marcel passing over the Garden, sees Silvio enter

in Passion, followed by Francisca.
Sih. Do not, Francisca — do not blow my Flame,
The Cure thou bring'st is much the greater Hell.

[ Offers to go, but stops.

3*6 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT v

Mar. Hah, Silvio! unseen I'll hear the Business.

[Goes aside.

Silv. I would fain shun thee, but this impious Weight
Of Love upon my Soul hinders my flight :
I'm fixt — like conscious Guilt it keeps me here,
And I am now insensible of Fear.
Speak on, thou Messenger of sacred Love — speak on.
Franc. The fair Cleonte^ Sir, whose Soul's inflam'd
No less than yours; tho with a virgin Modesty
She would conceal it, pitying now your Pain,
Has thro my Intercession —

Silv. Oh quickly speak ! What Happiness design'd me?
Franc. To admit you, Sir, this Night into her Chamber.
Mar. Death to my Soul ! What's this ? [Aside.

Silv. Her Chamber ? is that all ? will that allay this Fever
In my Blood ? — No, no, Francisca,
'Tis grown too high for amorous Parleys only ;
Her Arms, her charming Bosom, and her Bed,
Must now receive me ; or I die, Francisca.

Franc. I mean no other, Sir ; why, can you think
A Maid in love as much as you can be,
Assisted with the silence of the Night,
(Which veils her Blushes too) can say — I dare not r
Or if she do, she'll speak it faintly o'er,
And even whilst she so denies will yield.
Go, go prepare your self for this Encounter,
And do not dally as you did to day,
And fright your Pleasure with the Name of Sister —
Mar. Oh cursed Witch ! [Aside.

Franc. What say you, Sir ?
Silv. That Name has check'd my Joy —
And makes it strangely silent and imperfect. [ Walks away.
Franc. Why do you go, before you answer me ?

[Follows him into the Garden.
Mar. I'll follow him, and kill them.

[Comes out with a Dagger.

j!. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 317

Ih, who would be allied unto a Woman,

Nature's loose Handy- Work? the slight Imploys

if all her wanton Hours? — Oh, I could rave now —

•bandon Sense and Nature.

|ence, all considerate Thoughts, and in their Room,

apply my Soul with Vengeance, that may prove

Too great to be allay'd by Nature, or by Love.

[Goes into the Garden after them.

Enter again Silvio melancholy^ followed by Francisca.

Franc. But will you lose this Opportunity,
[er Lodgings too being so near your own ?
Silv. Hell take her for her Wickedness.
Ih that ten thousand Mountains stood between us,
Lnd Seas as vast and raging as her Lust,
'hat we might never meet — Oh perfect Woman !
find there is no Safety in thy Sex ;
To trusting to thy Innocence :
'hat being counterfeit, thy Beauty's gone,
>ropt like a Rose o'er-blown ;

left thee nothing but a wither'd Root,
[That never more can bloom.

Franc. Alas, I fear I have done ill in this. [Aside.
Silv. I now should hate her : but there yet remains
Something within, so strangely kind to her,
'hat I'm resolv'd to give her one proof more,
>f what I have vow'd her often ; yes, I'll kill her —
Franc. How, kill her, Sir ? Gods, what have I done !

[Aside.

Silv. Yes, can I let her live, and say I lov'd her?
No, she shall tempt no more vain yielding Men.

Franc. Consider, Sir, it is to save your Life she does it.
Silv. My Life !
''Twere better she and I were buried
Quick in one Grave, than she should fall to this,
She has out-sinn'd even me in this Consent.

318 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT

Enter Marcel from amongst the Trees softly with his
Dagger behind Silvio.

Mar. Oh, here they are —

Franc. My Lord, defend your self, your are undo:

else.

Silv. Hah, Marcel! \_Drai ,

Franc. Help, help.
Mar. Hell take thy Throat.

Enter Ambrosio, Clarinda, Cleonte, and the rest of
the House.

Amb. Hold, Villain, hold.
How dar'st thou thus rebel — ungrateful Wretch r

Mar. This cause, Sir, is so just, that when you hear ,
You'll curse me, that I let him live thus long:
He loves my Sister, Sir ; and that leud Woman
Repays his lustful Flame, and does this Evening
Invite him to her Bed — Oh, let me kill him.

[Offers to go to hi ,

Amb. That he should love Cleonte I'll allow,
And her returns too, whilst they are innocent.

Mar. But, Sir, he does not love her as a Sister.

Amb. If that be all his Crime, I still forgive him.

Silv. Yes, Sir, 'tis true, I do adore my Sister,
But am so far from that foul thing he nam'd,
That could I think I had a secret Thought
That tended that way, I would search it — thus —

[Goes to stab hims \

Cleo. What mean you by this Desperation ?

Silv. Oh, take away this Woman from my sight.

[Pointing to Cleon .
For she will finish what this has ill begun.

[Holds his Dagger ,

Franc. Thus low, Sir, for you Mercy I must kneel

[Kne,
Which yet I must despair of, when you know

c i] THE DUTCH LOVER 319

bw very very wicked I have been. [Weeps.

t'eonte, Sir, is chaste as Angels are.

! Silv. My Sister innocent ! how soon I do believe thee !

Franc. Yes, Sir, nor knows of that vile Message which
wrought you.

Silv. What Devil set thee on to tempt me then ?

Franc. The worst of Devils, hopeless, raging Love ;

nd you, my Lord, were the unhappy Object.

Mar. Oh sinful Woman, what was thy Design ?

Cleo. What means all this? \_Asidc.

Franc. At least to have enjoy'd him once ; which done,
j'hinking that it had been the fair Cleonte,

would have made him hate her.

Silv. Should all thy other Sins be unrepented,
'he Piety of this Confession saves thee.
ardon, Cleonte^ my rude Thoughts of thee,

[Kneth, she takes him up.
had design'd to have kill'd thee —
jfad not this Knowledge of thy Innocence
.rriv'd before I'd seen thee next.

ind, Sir, your Pardon too I humbly beg, [70 Ambrosio.
Vith license to depart ; I cannot live
V^here I must only see my beauteous Sister ;
"hat Torment is too great to be supported,
"hat still must last, and never hope a Cure.

Amb. Since you are so resolv'd, I will unfold
^. Secret to you, that perhaps may please you.

Silv. Low at your Feet I do implore it, Sir. \_Kneeh.

Amb. Your Quality forbids this Ceremony.

[ Takes him up.

Si/v. How, Sir !

Amb. Your Father was the mighty Favourite, the Count
?0/ivarez ; your Mother, Spain's celebrated Beauty, Donna
Margarita Spiniola, by whom your Father had two natural
ions, Don Lovis de Harro, and your self Don Roderigo.
Fhe Story of his Disgrace, you know, with all the World ;

320 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT!

'twas then he being banisht from the Court, he left you
my Care then very young. I receiv'd you as my own, a:i
as more than such educated you, and as your Father oblis
me to do, brought you always up about their Majestie
for he hoped, if you had Beauty and Merits, you mig
inherit part of that Glory he lost.

Mar. This is wondrous.

Amb. This Truth you had not known so soon, had y
not made as great an Interest at Court as any Man
young ever did, and if I had not acquitted my self in
Points as became the Friend of so great and brave a Ms
as Count d'Olivarez : the Fortune he left you was
Millions of Crowns.

Silv. Let me embrace your feet for this blest News
Is not the fair Cleonte then my Sister ?

Amb. No, Sir, but one whom long since I design'd yc
Wife, if you are pleas'd to think her worthy of it.

[0/trsh

Silv. Without her, Sir, I do despise my Being ;
And do receive her as a Blessing sent
From Heaven to make my whole Life happy.

Amb. What say you, Cleonte?

Cleo. Sir, I must own a Joy greater than is fit for
Virgin to express.

Mar. Generous Don Roderigoy receive me as
Friend, and pardon all the Fault you found in me
Brother. [Embraces

Silv. Be ever dear unto my Soul, Marcel.

Mar. Now is the time to present Hippolyta and Anto
to my Father, whilst his Humour is so good. And
dear Brother, I must beg to join with us in so just a Cai

Silv. You need not doubt my Power, and less my W

Mar. Do you prepare him then, whilst I bring the
in : for by this I know my Confessor has made them 01

[Exit Marc

Silv. Sir, I've a Suit to you.

|. i] THE DUTCH LOVER 321

Amb. You cannot ask what I can deny.

Si/v. Hippolyta, Sir, is married to Antonio,
J.nd humbly begs your Pardon for her past fault.

Amb. Antonio and Hippolyta ! oh, name them not.

Enter Antonio and Hippolyta, a Fryar, and Marcel.

Mar. Pray, Sir, forgive them, your Honour being safe,
ince Don Antonio has by marrying her,
Lepair'd the Injury he did us all,

rithout which I had kill'd him.

Amb. Thou art by Nature more severe than I,
md if thou think'st our Honour satisfy'd,
will endeavour to forget their Faults.

Ant. We humbly thank you, Sir, and beg your Blessing,
It least bestow it on Hippolyta ;
'\>r she was ever chaste, and innocent,
ind acted only what became her Duty ;
ii'nce by a sacred Vow she was my Wife.

Amb. How cam'st thou then to treat her so inhumanly ?

Ant. In pure revenge to Don Marcel her Brother,

rho forc'd my Nature to a stubbornness,

rhich whilst I did put on, I blush to own ;
md still between Thoughts so unjust, and Action,
fer Virtue would rise up and check my Soul,

rhich still secur'd her Fame.

Hip. And I have seen in midst of all thy Anger,
'hou'st turn'd away, and chang'd thy Words to Sighs;
)ropt now and then a Tear, as if asham'd,
Jot of thy Injuries, but my little Merit.

Amb. How weak and easy Nature makes me — Rise,
must forgive you both.

e, Sir, I know you long to be secur'd
)f what you say you love so much, Cleonte.

Franc. But, Madam, have you fully pardon'd me ?

Sih. We will all join in your behalf, Francisco.

Cleo. I can forgive you, when you can repent. [Exeunt.
I Y

322 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT ^

SCENE II. Carlo's House.
Enter Olinda and Dorice.

Olin. But is the Bride-Chamber drest up, and the Bee
made as it ought to be ?

Dor. As for the making, 'tis as it use to be, only thcj
Velvet Furniture.

Olin. As it use to be ? Oh ignorance ! I see these youm
Wenches are not arriv'd yet to bare Imagination : Well
I must order it my self, I see that.

Dor. Why, Olinda, I hope they will not go just to Bee
upon their marrying, without some signs of a Wedding, a:
Fiddles, and Dancing, and so forth.

Olin. Good Lord, what Joys you have found out for th<
first Night of a young Bride and Bridegroom. Fiddles am
Dancing, ha, ha, ha ! they'll be much merrier by them
selves, than Fiddles and Dancing can make them, you Fool

Enter Haunce and Gload.

Bless me ! what is't I see ! [Stares on Haunce !

Hau. Why ! what the Devil means she ? look about me j
Gload, and see what I have that's so terrible.

Olin. Oh, I have no Power to stir, it is a Sprite.

Hau. What does she mean now, Gload?

Glo. She desires to be satisfy'd whether we be Flesh am .
Blood, Sir, I believe.

Hau. Do'st see nothing that's Devil-wise about me?

Glo. No, indeed, Sir, not I.

Hau. Why then the Wench is tippled, that's all, a smal
Fault.

Olin. O, in the name of Goodness, Sir, what are you

Glo. Ay, Ay, Sir, 'tis that she desires to know.

Olin. Who are you, Sir ?

Hau. Why who should I be, but he that's to be you I
Master anon ?

t n-i THE DUTCH LOVER 323

Glo. Yes, who should he be but Myn heer Haunce van

L/? _ ,

Olin. What, did you come in at the Door.'
; Hau. Yes, marry did I ; what, do you think I creep in
jce a Lapland Witch through the Key-holes?

Dor. Nay, nay, this cannot be the Bridegroom.
i Olin. No, for 'tis but a moment since we left him, you

low, in my Lady's Chamber.
'Hau. Very drunk, by this good Light.
1 Dor. And therefore it cannot be Myn heer Haunce.
I Hau. What a Devil will you persuade me out of my
l.hristian Name? .

1 Olin. The Priest has yet scarce done his Office, who
iiarrying him above to my Lady.
Hau. Salerimente, here's brave doing, to marry me,

id never give me notice ; or thou art damnable drunk, or

ery mad. ?

Glo. Yes, and I am married to you too, am 1 not <

[To Olmda.

Olin. You ? we know neither of you.
Hau. Ha, ha, ha, here's a turn for you.

Enter Carlo.

Car. Why, Olinda, Dorice, Olinda, where be these mad
}irls? 'tis almost Night, and nothing in Order. Why,

yhat now ? Who's here ?

Hau. So the old Man's possest too— Why, what a Devil
u,Sir? IGoes roughly to htm

Car From whence come you, Sir? and what are you?

Hau. Gload, let's be gone, for we shall be transmigrated
nto some strange Shapes anon, for all the House is m-
•hanted. Who^am I, quoth ye? before I came you all
:new me; and now you are very well acquainted wit
Tie, you have forgot me. .

Car. If you be my Son Haunce, how came you here

Hau. If I be your Son Haunce, where should I

324 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT '

Car. Above with your Wife, not below amongst th'
Maids.

Hau. What Wife ? what Wife ? Ha, ha, ha, do no
provoke me, lest I take you a slap in the Face, I tell yoi
that now.

Car. Oh, I find by his Humour this is he, and I an
finely cheated and abus'd. I'll up and know the Truth

[Goes out

Hau. And so will I. [Follows

Glo. Why, but Mistress Olinda, you have not, indeed
forgot me, have you ?

Olin. For my Lover I have, but perhaps I may call yoi
to mind, as my Servant hereafter.

Glo. Since you are so proud and so fickle, you shall stan
hereafter as a Cypher with me ; and I'll begin upon a ne\
Account with this pretty Maid : what say you forsooth

Dor. I am willing enough to get a Husband as youn
as I am.

Glo. Why, that's well said, give your Hand upon th

Bargain— God-ha'-Mercy, with all my Heart, i'faith. [Go ii

[Scene draws off, discovers a Chamber. Enter Alonzc

Euphemia, and Lovis ; to them Carlo, Hauna

and the rest.

Car. Oh, I am cheated, undone, abus'd.

Lov. How, Sir, and where ?

[Haunce sees Alonzo drest like him, goes gazing abot
him, and on himself, calling Gload to do the same.

Car. Nay, I know not how, or where ; but so I am
and when I find it, I'll turn you all out of Doors. Wh
are you, Sir? quickly tell me.

A Ion. If you be in such haste, take the shortest Accoun
I am your Son.

Car. I mean, Sir, what's your Name, and which of yo
is Haunce van Ezel?

Hau. Ay, which of us is Haunce van Ezel? tell us tha
Sir; we shall handle ye i'faith now —

n] THE DUTCH LOVER 325

Alon. He, Sir, can best inform you. [Pointing to Haunce.

Hau. Who, I ! I know no more than the great Turk,

t I, which of us is me ; my Hat, my Feather, my Suit,

d my Garniture all over, faith now ; and I believe this

me, for I'll trust my Eyes before any other Sense about

e. What say'st thou now, Gload? guess which of us is

y own natural Master now if thou canst.

Glo. Which, Sir ? — why — let me see — let me see,

[Turns them both about.

es, I cannot tell, Sir.

Car. Come, come, the Cheat is plain, and I'll not be
bb'd off, therefore tell me who you are, Sir. [To Alonzo.

Alon. One that was very unwilling to have put this

rick upon you, if I could have persuaded Euphemia to

ve been kind on any other Terms, but nothing would

wn with her but Matrimony.

Car. How long have you known her ?

Alon. Faith, Sir, too long by at least an Hour.

Car. I say again, what are you, Sir ?

Alon. A Man I am, and they call me Alonzo.

Car. How ! I hope not the great fighting Colonel whom
ly Son serv'd as a Voluntier in Flanders.

Alon. Even he, Sir.

Car. Worse and worse, I shall grow mad, to think that
i spite of all my Care, Euphemia should marry with so
otorious a Man of War.

Hau. How ! is thisyf/0«z0, and am I cozen'd ? pray tell
le truly, are you not me indeed ?

Alon. All over, Sir, only the inside a little less Fool.

Hau. So here's fine juggling — are not you a rare Lady,
ah? [To Euphemia; crys.

Euph. I assure you, Sir, if this Man had not past for
ou, I had never had him.

Hau. Had him ! Oh, you are a flattering thing, I durst
a' sworn you could no more ha' been without me, than

Barber's Shop without a Fiddle, so I did : Oh, what a

326 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT

damnable Voyage have I back again without a Wife too—

[Crys agaiA

Lov. If that be all, we'll get you one before you go
that shall be my care.

Hau. A Pox of your care : well, I will get my se
most soundly drunk to Night, to be reveng'd of these tw;
damnable Dons. Come, G!oad, let us about something i
order to't. [Exit with Gloac

Euph. Pray, Sir, be persuaded, he's worth your owninn

Car. Tell not me of owning ; what Fortune has he;

Lov. His Horse and Arms, the Favour of his Princ ,
and his Pay.

Car. His Horse and Arms I wholly dislike, as Impl i
ments of War ; and that same Princely Favour, as you c?|
it, will buy no Lands ; and his Pay he shall have writ
he can get it.

Lov. But, Sir, his coming to Madrid was to take pc
session of a Place the Prince has promis'd him.

Car. Has promis'd him? what! I shall marry nl
Daughter to the Promises of e'er a Prince in Christendo.\
shall I ? No, no ; Promises, quoth ye ?

Alon. Well, Sir, will this satisfy you ?

[Gives him a Parchmei

Euph. If it should not, let us consider what next to c j

Alon. No consideration, Euphemia ; not so much as th i i
we are married, lest it lessen our Joys.

Car. Twelve thousand Crowns a Year ! — Sir, I cry y <
mercy, and wish you joy with my Daughter.

Lov. So his Courage will down with him now.

Alon. To satisfy you farther, Sir, read this.

[Gives him another Pap

And now, Euphemia, prepare your self to receive soi
gallant Friends of mine, whom you must be acquaint
with, and who design to make a merry Night on't.

Euph. A whole Night, Alonzo ?

Alon. By no means, Euphemia, for the first too, whi

i!:. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 327

I 'the thoughts of its being part of my Duty do not hinder,
j'ill be a pleasant enough to me.

Car. So considerable an Office at Court too ! — Let me
!nbrace you, Sir ; and tell you how happy I am in so brave
pn-in-law.

j Alon. With that assurance, Sir, I'll take a more than
rdinary freedom with you, and teach Euphemia a franker
/ay of living, than what a native Spaniard would have
'llow'd her.

Car. She shall be what sort of Wife you'll have her.

Enter Servant , after a noise of Musick.

A Ion. What Musick's that ?

Serv. It waits upon some Ladies and Gentlemen who
sk for you, Sir.

Alon. Wait them in, they are those Friends of mine I
)ld you of. \_He goes and brings them in.

Inter Marcel and Clarinda, Silvio and Cleonte, Antonio
and Hippolyta, Dormida and Francisca ; all salute .
Euphemia.

Inter Haunce and Gload in Masquerade to the Company,
Olinda and Dorice masked.

Hau. Well, the Devil's in't if we shall not appear
ridiculous enough, hah, Gload?

Glo. Ay, Sir, the more ridiculous the better.

Hau. I was always of that mind. — Ha, ha, Boys, who

all these Dons and Donnas? — Harkye, Lovis, I hope
the Wife you promis'd me is amongst these fair Ladies,
for so I guess they are both, fair and Ladies.

Lov. You guess right, Sir.

Alon. Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, command your
Musick, and do what likes you best.

Lov. Here's the Lady I recommend to you, take her,
Sir, be thankful. [Gives him Olinda.

Olin. This is the Fool that I am to manage.

328 THE DUTCH LOVER [ACT ^

Dor. And this is my Lot. [Takes Gload

[Musick plays, they all dance.

Lov. There is within a young Father ready to join youil
Hands: take this opportunity, and make sure of a Wife1!
Hau. I warrant you, Sir.

[Exeunt Haunce, Olinda, Gload, and DoriceH

Enter Pedro.

Ped. Your Mother, Sir, whom I found more dead tharl
living, for the loss of your Sister, was very near dying out-IJ
right with Joy, to hear of your Arrival, and most impa-jj
tiently expects you.

Dorm. And are we all forgiven, Pedro f

Ped. Yes, you and I are like to be Fellow-Servants to I
gether again, Dormida.

Dorm. And Fellow-Lovers too I hope, Pedro.

Ped. The Devil's in't if Age have not allay'd Flames ok
all sorts in thee ; but if you contribute to my allowance—

Dorm. Thou know'st I could never keep any thin;h
from thee, Pedro.

Alon. Come, Ladies, there is a small Banquet attend
you in the next Room.

Si/v. We'll wait on you, Sir.

Enter Haunce, Gload, Olinda, and Dorice.

Hau. Hold, hold, and give me Joy too, for I am marriec
if she has not mistaken her Man again, and I my Womar

Olin. No, you are the Man I look for, and I no Cheai
having all about me that you look for too, but Money.

[Discovers her selj

Alon. How, Olinda I

Olin. Yes, indeed, Sir, I serv'd my Lady first, and the
thought it no Offence to take the Reward due to ths
Service.

Hau. Here's a Spanish Trick for you now, to marry
Wife, before one sees her.

:. n] THE DUTCH LOVER 329

Euph. What, Dorlce married too ?

Dor. After your Example, Madam.

Glo. Yes, indeed, forsooth, and I have made bold too
fter the Example of my Master.

Hau. Now do they all expect I should be dissatisfied ;
it, Gentlemen, in sign and token that I am not, I'll have
ie more meyy Frisk before we part, 'tis a witty Wench ;
lith and troth, after a Month 'tis all one who's who;
lerefore come on, Gload. \_They dance together.

Alon. Monsieur Haunce, I see you are a Man of Gallantry,
pome let us in, I know every Man here desires to make
lis Night his own, and sacrifice it to Pleasure.

The Ladles too in Blushes do confess.
Equal Desires ; which yet they'll not confess.
Theirs, tho less fierce, more constant will abide ;
But ours less current grow the more they're trfd.

EPILOGUE.

USS 'em, and cry ''em down, 'tis all in vain,
ncorrigible Scriblers can't abstain :
3ut impudently i'th' old Sin engage ;
nbo doomd before, nay banish' 'd from the Stage,
'hi 1st sad Experience our Eyes convinces,
^hat damnd their Plays which hangd the German Princess ;
ind we with Ornament set off a Play,
Ake her drest fine for Execution-day.
Ind faith, I think, with as small hopes to live ;
Inless kind Gallants the same Grace you'd give
)ur Comedy as Her ; beg a Reprieve.

l, what the other mist, let our Scribe get, \
Pardon, for she swears she's the less Cheat.
She never guW d you Gallants of the Town
Of Sum above four Shillings, or half a Crown.

330 EPILOGUE

Nor does she^ as some late great Authors doy
Bubble the Audience^ and the Players too.
Her humble Muse soars not in the High-rode
Of Wit transversty or Baudy A-la-mode ;
Yet hopes her plain and easy Style is such^
As your high. Censures will disdain to touch.
Let her low Sense creep safe from your Bravadoes^
Whilst Rotas and Cabals aim at Granadoes.

THE ROUNDHEADS; OR,
THE GOOD OLD CAUSE.

(333)

ARGUMENT.

IE historical state of affairs 1659-60 was briefly as follows: — the
lotectorate of Richard Cromwell expired 22 April, 1659. Hereupon

.•etwood and some other officers recalled the Long Parliament (Rump),
!iich was constituted the ruling power of England, a select council of state

ving the executive. Lambert, however, with other dissentients was ex-
illed from Parliament, 12 October, 1659. He and his troops marched

Newcastle ; but the soldiers deserted him for General Fairfax, who had
Iclared for a free Parliament, and were garrisoned at York. Here Monk,

tering England 2 January, 1660, joined them with his forces. Lambert,
iprived of his followers, was obliged to return to London. His prompt
rest by order of Parliament followed, and he, Sir Harry Vane and other
'smbers of the Committee of Safety were placed in strict confinement.
'\ 5 March Lambert was imprisoned in the Tower, whence he escaped

10 April, only to be recaptured a fortnight later. There are vivid pictures

Aubrey, Pepys, and other writers, of the wild enthusiasm at the fall of
e Rump Parliament, with bonfires blazing, all the church bells ringing,

d the populace of London carousing and pledging King Charles on their
ices in the street. ' They made little gibbets and roasted rumps of mutton,
ay, I saw some very good rumps of beef,' writes Aubrey, and Pepys is

en more vivid in his tale than the good antiquary.

King Charles landed at Dover, 26 May, amid universal rejoicings.

Mrs. Behn has (quite legitimately) made considerable departures from
rict historical fact and the sequence of events for her dramatic purposes.

Lambert and Fleetwood are scheming for the supreme power, and both
trigue with Lord Wariston, the chairman of the Committee of Safety,
r his good word and influence. Lambert meantime fools Fleetwood by
ittery and a feigned indifference. Lady Lambert, who is eagerly expecting
;r husband to be proclaimed King, and is assuming the state and title of
>yalty to the anger of Cromwell's widow, falls in love with a cavalier,
oveless. Her friend, Lady Desbro', a thorough loyalist at heart, though
edded to an old parliamentarian, has long been enamoured of Freeman,
te cavalier's companion. Lambert surprises Loveless and Freeman with
is wife and Lady Desbro', but Lady Lambert pretending they have come
i petition her, abruptly dismisses them both and so assuages all suspicion,
t a meeting of the Committee the two gallants are sent to prison for a
>yal outburst on the part of Loveless. Ananias Goggle, a lay elder, who
aving offered liberties to Lady Desbro' is in her power, is by her obliged
) obtain her lover's release, and she at once holds an interview with him.
'hey are interrupted by Desbro' himself, but Freeman is concealed and
lakes an undiscovered exit behind the shelter of Goggle's flowing cloak.

Loveless is brought to Lady Lambert at night. She endeavours to
azzle him by showing the regalia richly set out and adorned with lights.
le puts by, however, crown and sceptre and rebukes her overweening
mbition. Suddenly the Committee, who have been drinking deep, burst

334 SOURCE

in upon them dancing a riotous dance. Loveless is hurriedly cone ed
under the coverlet of a couch, and Lady Lambert sits thereon seemim at
her devotions. Her husband takes his place by her side, but rolls i as
the gallant slips to the ground. The lights fall down and are extingui :d,
the men fly howling and bawling 'A Plot ! A Plot !' in drunken ti jr.
Lambert is cajoled and hectored into believing himself mistaken c ng
to his potations. The ladies hold a council to correct and enquire ito
• women's wrongs, but on a sudden, news is brought that Lambert's folk trs
have turned against him and that he is imprisoned in the Tower, he
city rises against the Parliament and the Rump is dissolved. Loveles nd
Freeman rescue Lady Lambert and Lady Desbro', whose old husban las
fallen down dead with fright. The parliamentarians endeavour to e- je,
but Wariston, Goggle, and Hewson — -a leading member of the Commit M
are detected and maltreated by the mob. As they are haled away to j on
the people give themselves up to general merry-making and joy.

SOURCE.

THE purely political part of The Roundheads ,• or, The Good Old Caus vas
founded by Mrs. Behn on John Tatham's The Rump ,• or, The Mirror the
Late Times (410, 1660, 410, 1661, and again 1879 in his collected w :s,)
which was produced on the eve of the Restoration, in February, 16 at
the Private House, i.e. small theatre, in Dorset Court. The cor ny
which played here had been brought together by William Beestoi jut
singularly little is known of its brief career and only one name ha; :en
recorded, that of George Jolly, the leading actor. Tatham was the ; aor
of the Lord Mayor's pageants 1657-64. His plays, four in nu er,
together with a rare entertainment, London's Glory (1660), have bee 'ell
edited by Maidment and Logan.

The Rump met with great success. It is certainly a brisk and nj
piece, and coming at the juncture it did must have been extraord: 'ily
effective. As a topical key-play reflecting the moment it is indeed adm Die,
and the crescendo of overwhelming satire, all the keener for the poet' eep
earnestness, culminating in the living actors, yesterday's lords am Iw
givers, running to and fro the London streets, one bawling 'Ink 01 tns,
ink or pens ! ', another 'Boots or shoes, boots or shoes to mend !', ; lird
' Fine Seville oranges, fine lemons ! ', whilst Mrs. Cromwell exc ges
Billingsgate with a crowd of jeering boys, must have caused the use
absolutely to rock with merriment.

With all its point and cleverness The Rump, however, from a tec jcal
point of view, is ill-digested and rough. The scenes were evidently t iwn
off hastily, and sadly lack refining and revision. Mrs. Behn has mz
happiest use of rather unpromising material. The intrigues b<
Loveless and Lady Lambert, who in Tatham is very woodeny and aw *rd,
between Freeman and Lady Desbro', which give The Roundheads un (and
dramatic point, are entirely her own invention. In the original »«/>
neither cavaliers nor Lady Desbro' appear. Ananias Goggle als (the
canting lay elder of Clements, with his subtle casuistry that jibs : Bje
person not the office,' a dexterous character sketch, alive and aci mite
owe to Mrs. Behn.

:

..

THEATRICAL HISTORY 335

Amongst the many plays, far too numerous even to catalogue, that scarify

: puritans and their zealot tribe, The Cheats (1662), by Wilson, and Sir

bert Howard's The Committee (1662), which long kept the stage, and, in

lodified form, The Honest Thieves, was seen as late as the second half of the

icteenth century, are pre-eminently the best. Both possess considerable

|:rit and are worthy of the highest comic traditions of the theatre.

(As might have been expected, the dissolution of the Rump Parliament

loose a flood of political literature, squibs, satires and lampoons. Such

>rks as The famous Tragedie of the Life and Death of Mrs. Rump . . . as it

Hs presented on a burning stage at Westminster, the 2<)tA of May, 1660 (410,

.60), are of course valueless save from a purely historical interest. A large

!mber of songs and ballads were brought together and published in two

l-ts, 1662, reprint 1874. This collection (The Rump), sometimes witty,

'netimes angry, sometimes obscene, is weighty evidence of the loathing

pired by the republicans and their misrule, but it is of so personal and

>ical a nature that the allusions would hardly be understood by any one

'10 had not made a very close and extended study of those critical months.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

\-e Roundheads; or, The Good Old Cause was produced at the Duke's
'icatre in 1682. They were unsettled and hazardous times. The country
';s convulsed by the judicial murders and horrors which followed in the
'.in of the pseudo-Popish Plot engineered by the abominable Gates and
'; accomplices. King and Parliament were at hopeless variance. The air
Us charged with strife, internecine hatreds and unrest. In such an atmo-
'lere and in such circumstances politics could not but make themselves
1 enly felt upon the stage. The actors were indeed 'abstracts and brief
ronicles of the time', and the theatre became a very Armageddon for the
1 ets. As A Lenten Prologue refund by the Players (1682) puts it : —

'Plots and Parties give new matter birth
And State distractions serve you here for mirth !

The Stage, like old Rump Pulpits, is become
The scene of News, a furious Party's drum.'

Produced on 4 December, 1682, Dryden and Lee's excellent Tragedy,
><; Duke of Guise, which the Whigs vainly tried to suppress, created a
rore. Crowne's City Politics (1683) is a crushing satire, caricaturing
1 ites, Stephen College, old Sergeant Maynard and their faction with
re skill. Southerne's Loyal Brother (1682), eulogizes the Duke of York ;
e scope of D'Urfey's Sir Barnaby Whigg (1681), can be told by its title,
deed the prologue says of the author: —

'That he shall know both parties now he glories,
By hisses th' Whigs, and by their claps the Tories.'

is Royalist (1682) follows in the same track.

Even those plays which were entirely non-political are inevitably prefaced
.th a mordant prologue or wound up by an epilogue that has party venom
d mustard in its tail.

336

THEATRICAL HISTORY

It would be surprising if so popular a writer as Mrs. Behn had not put
political play on the stage at such a juncture, and we find her well to th
fore with The Roundheads, which she followed up in the same year wit'
The City Heiress, another openly topical comedy.

The cast of The Roundheads is not given in any printed copy, and we hav
no exact means of apportioning the characters, which must have entaile
the whole comic strength of the house. It is known that Betterton largel
refrained from appearing in political comedies, and no doubt Smith too)
the part of Loveless, whilst Freeman would have fallen to Joseph Williams
Nokes was certainly Lambert ; and Leigh, Wariston. Mrs. Leigh probabl1
played Lady Cromwell or Gilliflower ; Mrs. Barry, Lady Lambert ; and Mrs
Currer, Lady Desbro'. The piece seems to have been very successful, am
to have kept the stage at intervals for some twenty years.

(337)
To the Right Noble

HENRY FITZ-ROY,

Duke of Grafton, Earl of Button, Viscount of IpsivicA, Baron of Sudbury,
Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, and Colonel of his
Majesties Regiment of Foot-Guards, &c.

May it please Your Grace,

Dedications which were Originally design'd, as a Tribute to the Reverence
and just esteem we ought to pay the Great and Good ; are now so corrupted
with Flattery, that they rarely either find a Reception in the World, or
merit that Patronage they wou'd implore. But I without fear Approach
the great Object, being above that mean and mercenary Art ; nor can I
draw the Lovely Picture half so charming and so manly as it is ; and that
Author may more properly boast of a Lucky Hitt, whose choice and Fortune
is so good, than if he had pleas'd all the different ill Judging world besides
in the business of the Play; for none that way, can ever hope to please all ;
in an Age when Faction rages, and different Parties disagree in all things —
But coming the first day to a new Play with a Loyal Title, and then even
the sober and tender conscienc'd, throng as to a forbidden Conventicle,
fearing the Cub of their old Bear of Reformation should be expos' d, to be
the scorn of the wicked, and dreading (tho' but the faint shadow of their
own deformity) their Rebellion, Murders, Massacres and Villantes, from forty
upwards, ahould be represented for the better undeceiving and informing of
the World, flock in a full Assembly with a pious design to Hiss and Rail it
as much out of countenance as they would Monarchy, Religion, Laws, and
Honesty} throwing the Act of Oblivion in our Teeths, as if that (whose
mercy cannot make them forget their old Rebellion) cou'd hinder honest
Truths from breaking out upon 'em in Edifying Plays, where the Loyal
hands ever out-do their venom'd Hiss ; a good and happy Omen, if Poets
may be allow'd for Prophets as of old they were : and 'tis as easily seen at
a new Play how the Royal Interest thrives, as at a City Election, how the
Good Old Cause is carried on 5 as a Noble Peer lately said, Tho" the Tories
have got the better of us at the Play, we carried it in the City by many Voices,
God be praised !

This Play, call'd The Roundheads, which I humbly lay at your Graces
feet, Pardon the Title, and Heaven defend you from the bloody Race, was
carried in the House nemine contra dicente, by the Royal Party, and under
your Grace's Illustrious Patronage is safe from any new Seditious affronts
abroad ; Your Grace alone, whom Heaven and Nature has form'd the most

Z

338 DEDICATORY EPISTLE

adorable Person in the whole Creation, with all the advantages of a glorious
Birth, has a double right and power to defend all that approach you for
sanctuary ; your very Beauty is a Guard to all you daigne to make safe :
for You were born for Conquest every way ; even what Pbanatick, what
peevish Politician, testy with Age, Diseases, miscarried Plots, disappointed
Revolutions, envious of Power, of Princes, and of Monarchy, and mad with
Zeal for Change and Reformation, could yet be so far lost to sense of Pleasure,
as not to turn a Rebel to Revenge the Good old Cause, and the patronage to
Plebean sedition with only looking on you, 'twou'd force his meger face to
blushing smiles, and make him swear he had mistook the side, curse his
own Party, and if possible, be reconciled to Honesty again : such power
have charms like Yours to calm the soul, and will in spight of You plead
for me to the disaffected, even when they are at Wars with your Birth and
Power. But this Play, for which I humbly beg your Grace's Protection,
needs it in a more peculiar manner, it having drawn down Legions upon
its head, for its Loyalty — what, to Name us cries one, 'tis most abominable,
unheard of daring cries another— she deserves to be siving'd cries a third ; as if
twere all a Libel, a Scandal impossible to be prov'd, or that their Rogueries
were of so old a Date their Reign were past Remembrance or History ; when
they take such zealous care to renew it daily to our memories : And I am
satisfied, that they that will justifie the best of these Traytors, deserves the
fate of the worst, and most manifestly declare to the World by it, they
wou'd be at the Old Game their fore-Fathers play'd with so good success :
yet if there be any honest loyal man allied to any here nam'd, I heartily beg
his pardon for any offensive Truth I have spoken, and 'tis a wonderful
thing that amongst go Numerous a Flock they will not allow of one mangy
Sheep ; not one Rogue in the whole Generation of the Association.
Ignoramus the 1st and the zd.

But as they are I leave 'em to your Grace to Judge of 'em ; to whom I
humbly present this small Mirror, of the late wretched Times : wherein
your Grace may see something of the Miseries three the Most Glorious
Kingdoms of the Universe were reduc'd to ; where your Royal Ancestors
victoriously Reign'd for so many hundred years : How they were Govern'd,
Parcell'd out, and deplorably inslav'd, and to what Low, Prostituted Lewd-
ness they fell at last : where the Nobility and Gentry were the most
contemn'd and despis'd part of them, and such Meane (and till then obscure)
Villains Rul'd, and Tyranniz'd, that no Age, nor Time, or scarce a Parish
Book makes mentions or cou'd show there was any such Name or Family.
Yet these were those that impudently Tug'd for Empire, and Prophan'd
that illustrious Throne and Court, so due then, and possest now (through
the infinite Mercies of God to this bleeding Nation) by the best of Monarchs ;

DEDICATORY EPISTLE 339

a Monarch, who had the divine goodness to Pardon even his worst of
Enemies what was past ; Nay, out of his Vast and God-like Clemency, did
more than Heaven it self can do, put it out of his Power by an Act of
Oblivion, to punish the unparalell'd Injuries done His Sacred Person, and
i the rest of the Royal Family : How great his Patience has been since, I
leave to all the World to judge : but Heaven be prais'd, he has not yet
forgot the Sufferings and Murders of the Glorious Martyr of ever Bles$ed
memory, Your Graces Sacred Grandfather, and by what Arts and Ways
that Devilish Plot was layed ! and will like a skilful Pilate, by the wreck
of one Rich Vessel, learn how to shun the danger of this present Threatning
and save the rest from sinking; The Clouds already begin to disappear, and
the face of things to change, thanks to Heaven, his Majesties infinite
Wisdom, and the Over-Zeal of the (falsly called) True Protestant Party:
Now we may pray for the King and his Royal Brother, defend bis Cause,
and assert his Right, without the fear of a taste of the Old Sequestration
call'd a Fine; Guard the Illustrious Pair, good Heaven, from Hellish Plots,
and all the Devilish Machinations of Factious Cruelties : and you, great Sir,
(whose Merits have so Justly deserv'd that glorious Command so lately
trusted to your Care, which Heaven increase, and make your glad Regiment
Armies for our safety. May you become the great Example of Loyalty and
Obedience, and stand a firm and unmoveable Pillar to Monarchy, a Noble
Bullwark to Majesty; defend the Sacred Cause, imploy all that Youth,
Courage, and Noble Conduct which God and Nature purposely has endued
you with, to serve the Royal Interest : You, Sir, who are obliged by a
double Duty to Love, Honour, and Obey his Majesty, both as a Father and
a King ! O undissolvable Knot ! O Sacred Union ! what Duty, what Love,
what Adoration can express or repay the Debt we owe the first, or the
Allegiance due to the last, but where both meet in one, to make the Tye
Eternal ; Oh what Counsel, what Love of Power, what fancied Dreams of
Empire, what fickle Popularity can inspire the heart of Man, or any Noble
mind, with Sacrilegious thoughts against it, can harbour or conceive a
stubborn disobedience : Oh what Son can desert the Cause of an Indulgent
Parent, what Subject, of such a Prince, without renouncing the Glory of
his Birth, his Loyalty, and good Nature.

Ah Royal lovely Youth ! beware of false Ambition ; wisely believe your
Elevated Glory, (at least) more happy then a Kings, you share their Joys,
their pleasures and magnificence, without the toils and business of a Monarch,
their carefull days and restless thoughtfull nights ; know, you art blest with
all that Heaven can give, or you can wish ; your Mind and Person such, so
! excellent, that Love knows no fault it would wish to mend, nor Envy to
increase ! blest with a Princess of such undisputable charming Beauty, as if

340 DEDICATORY EPISTLE

Heaven, designing to take a peculiar care in all that concerns your Happi
ness, had form'd her on purpose, to compleat it.

Hail happy glorious Pair ! the perfect joy and pleasure of all that look on
ye, for whom all Tongues and Hearts have Prayers and Blessings ; May
you out-live Sedition, and see your Princely Race as Numerous as Beautifull,
and those all great and Loyal Supporters of a long Race of Monarcbs of this
Sacred Line. This shall be the perpetual wish, this the Eternal Prayer of

S//2,
Tour Graces most Humble,

and most Obedient Servant,

A. BEHN.

(34O

THE ROUND-HEADS;

or, the Good Old Cause.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by the Ghost of Hewson ascending from Hell
dress'd as a Cobler.

/ am the Ghost of him who was a true Son

Of the late Good Old Cause, ycleped Hewson,

Rons' d by strange Scandal from th' eternal Flame \

With noise of Plots, of wondrous Birth and Name, >

Whilst the sly Jesuit robs us of our Fame. )

Can all their Conclave, tho with Hell th' agree,

Act Mischief equal to Presbytery?

Look back on our Success in Forty One, \

Were ever braver f^illanies carried on,

Or new ones now more hopefully begun ? )

And shall our Unsuccess our Merit lose,

And make us quit the Glory of our Cause?

No, hire new Villains, Rogues without Remorse,

And let no Law nor Conscience stop your Course ;

Let Politicians order the Confusion,

And let the Saints pay pious Contribution*

Pay those that rail, and those that can delude

With scribling Nonsense the loose Multitude.

Pay well your Witnesses, they may not run

To the right Side, and tell who set 'em on.

Pay 'em so well, that they may ne'er recant,

And so turn honest merely out of want.

Pay Juries, that no formal Laws may harm us,

Let Treason be secur'd by Ignoramus.

342 PROLOGUE

Pay Bully Whig, who loyal Writers bang,

And honest "Tories in Effigie hang :

Pay those that burn the Pope to please the Fools,

And daily pay Right Honourable Tools ;

Pay all the Pulpit Knaves that Treason brew,

And let the zealous Sisters pay 'em too ;

Justices, bound by Oath and Obligation,

Pay them the utmost Price of their Damnation,

Not to disturb our useful Congregation.

Nor let the Learned Rabble be forgot,

Those pious Hands that crown our hopeful Plot.

No, modern Statesmen cry, 'tis Lunacy

To barter Treason with such Rogues as we.

But subtiler Oliver did not disdain

His mightier Politicks with ours to join.

I for all Uses in a State was able,

Cou'd Mutiny, cou'd fight, hold forth, and cobble.

Tour lazy Statesman may sometimes direct,

But your small busy Knaves the Treason act.

(343)

DRAMATIS PERSONS.

MEN.

Lord Fleetwood, ) Competitors for the Crown, but Lambert
Lord Lambert, \ is General of the Army.
Lord Wariston, Chairman of the Committee of Safety.
Hewson, \

L- ' f 11 ^-Commanders, and Committee-men.
Ducktngfcld, I

Corbet, )

Lord Whitlock.

Ananias Goggle, Lay Elder of Clement's Parish.

A Rabble of the Sanctify'd Mobile.

Corporal Right, an Oli-verian Commander, but honest, and a

Cavalier in his Heart.
Loveless, a Royalist, a Man of Honour, in love with Lady

Lambert.
Freeman, his Friend, of the same Character, in love with

Lady Desbro.

Captain of the Prentices.
Two Pages to Lady Lambert.
Tom, Page to Lady Desbro.
Page to Lady Fleet-wood.
A Felt-maker.
A Joyner.
Doorkeeper.
Two Clerks.
Three Soldiers.

WOMEN.

Lady Lambert, in love with Loveless.

Lady Desbro, in love with Freeman.

Lady Flceftuood.

Lady Cromwell.

Gilliflo'wer, Lady Lambert's Old Woman.

Several Ladies, for Redress of Grievances.

Women Servants to Lady Lambert.

Petitioners, Servants, Guards, Footmen, Fidlers, and a Band
of Loyal City Apprentices.

344 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT i

ACT I.

SCENE I. The Street.
Enter three Soldiers, and Corporal Right.

Cor. Ah, Rogue, the World runs finely round, the
business is done.

1 Sold. Done ! the Town's our own, my fine Rascal.

2 Sold. We'll have Harlots by the Belly, Sirrah.

i Sold. Those are Commodities I confess I wou'd fain
be trucking for — but no words of that, Boy.

Cor. Stand, who goes there ?

[ To them a Joyner and a Felt-maker.

i Sold. Who are you for? — hah !

Joy. Are for, Friend? we are for Gad and the Lord
Fleetwood.

1 Sold. Fleetwood! knock 'em down, Fleetwood, that
sniveling Thief?

Felt. Why, Friends, who are ye for ?

Cor. For ! who shou'd we be for, but Lambert, Noble
Lambert ? Is this a time o'th' day to declare for Fleet-wood,
with a Pox ? indeed, i'th' Morning 'twas a Question had
like to have been decided with push a Pike.

2 Sold. Dry blows wou'd ne'er ha' don't, some must
have sweat Blood for't ; but — 'tis now decided.

Joy. Decided !
" 2 Sold. Yes, decided, Sir, without your Rule for't.

Joy. Decided ! by whom, Sir ? by us the Free-born
Subjects of England, by the Honourable Committee of
Safety, or the Right Reverend City ? without which, Sir,
I humbly conceive, your Declaration for Lambert is illegal,
and against the Property of the People.

2 Sold. Plain Lambert ; here's a saucy Dog of a Joyner ;

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 345

Sirrah, get yc home, and mind your Trade, and save the
Hangman a labour.

Joy. Look ye, Friend, I fear no Hang-man in Christen
dom ; for Conscience and Publick Good, for Liberty and
Property, I dare as far as any Man.

2 Sold. Liberty and Property, with a Pox, in the Mouth
of a Joyner : you are a pretty Fellow to settle the Nation
— what says my Neighbour Felt-maker?

Felt. Why, verily, I have a high respect for my hon
ourable Lord Fleetwood) he is my intimate Friend ; and
till I find his Party the weaker, I hope my Zeal will be
strengthned for him.

2 Sold. Zeal for Fleetwood! Zeal for a Halter, and that's
your due : Why, what has he ever done for you ? Can he
lead you out to Battle? Can he silence the very Cannon
with his Eloquence alone? — Can he talk — or fight — or —

Felt. But verily he can pay those that can, and that's
as good — and he can pray —

2 Sold. Let him pray, and we'll fight, and see whose
business is done first ; we are for the General who carries
Charms in every Syllable ; can act both the Soldier and
the Courtier, at once expose his Breast to Dangers for our
sakes — and tell the rest of the pretended Slaves a fair Tale,
but hang 'em sooner than trust 'em.

1 Sold. Ay, ay, a Lambert^ a Lambert^ he has Courage,
Fleet wood's an Ass to him.

Felt. Hum — here's Reason, Neighbour. [To the Joyner.
Joy. That's all one, we do not act by Reason.
Cor. Fleetwood' s a Coward.

2 Sold. A Blockhead.

1 Sold. A sniveling Fool ; a General in the Hangings,
no better.

Joy. What think you then of Vane?

2 Sold. As of a Fool, that has dreamt of a new Religion,
and is only fit to reign in the Fifth Monarchy he preaches
so much up ? but no King in this Age.

346 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT i

Felt. What of Has/trig?

2 Sold. A Hangman for Haslerig. I cry, No, no, One
and all, a Lambert, a Lambert ; he is our General, our
Protector, our Keiser, our — even what he pleases himself.

1 Sold. Well, if he pleases himself, he pleases me.

2 Sold. He's our Rising Sun, and we'll adore him, for
the Speaker's Glory's set.

Cor. At nought, Boys; how the Rogue look'd when
his Coach was stop'd !

Joy. Under favour, what said the Speaker?

2 Sold. What said he ? prithee, what cou'd he say that
we wou'd admit for Reason ? Reason and our Bus'ness
are two things : Our Will was Reason and Law too, and
the Word of Command lodg'd in our Hilts : Cobbet and
Duckenfield shew'd 'em Cockpit-Law.

Cor. He understood not Soldier's Dialect ; the Language
of the Sword puzzled his Understanding: the Keenness
of which was too sharp for his Wit, and over-rul'd his
Robes — therefore he very mannerly kiss'd his Hand, and
wheel'd about —

2 Sold. To the place from whence he came.

Cor. And e'er long to the place of Execution.

1 Sold. No, damn him, he'll have his Clergy.

Joy. Why, is he such an Infidel to love the Clergy?

Cor. For his Ends ; but come let's go drink the General's
Health, Lambert; not Fleetwood, that Son of a Custard,
always quaking.

2 Sold. Ay, ay, Lambert I say — besides, he's a Gen
tleman.

Felt. Come, come, Brother Soldier, let me tell you, I
fear you have a Stewart in your Belly.

Cor. I am sure you have a Rogue in your Heart, Sirrah,
which a Man may perceive thro that sanctified Dog's Face
of yours; and so get ye gone, ye Rascals, and delude the
Rabble with your canting Politicks. [Every one beats ''em.

Felt. Nay, an you be in Wrath, I'll leave you.

,c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 347

Joy. No matter, Sir, I'll make you know I'm a Freeborn

Subject, there's Law for the Righteous, Sir, there's Law.

[Go out.

Cor. There's Halters, ye Rogues —
2 Sold. Come, Lads, let's to the Tavern, and drink
Success to Change ; I doubt not but to see 'em chop about,
:ill it come to our great Hero again — Come to the Tavern.
[Going out, are met by Loveless and Freeman, who

enter, and stay the Corporal.
Cor. I'll follow ye, Comrade, presently.

\_Ex. the rest of the Soldiers.
— Save ye, noble Colonel.
Free. How is't, Corporal ?

Cor. A brave World, Sir, full of Religion, Knavery,
ind Change : we shall shortly see better Days.
Free. I doubt it, Corporal.

Cor. I'll warrant you, Sir, — but have you had never a
illet, no Present, nor Love-remembrance to day, from
y good Lady Desbro?

Free. None, and wonder at it. Hast thou not seen her
.ge to day?

Cor. Faith, Sir, I was imploy'd in Affairs of State, by
ur Protector that shall be, and could not call.

Free. Protector that shall be ! who's that, Lambert, or
Fleetwood, or both ?

Cor. I care not which, so it be a Change ; but I mean
he General : — but, Sir, my Lady Desbro is now at Morning-
cture here hard by, with the Lady Lambert.
Lov. Seeking the Lord for some great Mischief or other.
Free. We have been there, but could get no opportunity
f speaking to her — Loveless, know this Fellow — he's
onest and true to the Hero, tho a Red-Coat. I trust him
ith my Love, and have done with my Life.
Lov. Love ! Thou canst never make me believe thou
art earnestly in love with any of that damn'd Reformation.
Free. Thou art a Fool ; where I find Youth and Beauty,
I adore, let the Saint be true or false.

348 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT i

Lov. 'Tis a Scandal to one of us to converse with 'em
they are all sanctify 'd Jilts ; and there can neither be Credit
nor Pleasure in keeping 'em company ; and 'twere enough
to get the Scandal of an Adherer to their devilish Politicks,
to be seen with 'em.

Free. What, their Wives?

Lov. Yes, their Wives. What seest thou in 'em but
Hypocrisy ? Make love to 'em, they answer in Scripture.

Free. Ay, and lie with you in Scripture too. Of all
Whores, give me your zealous Whore ; I never heard a
Woman talk much of Heaven, but she was much for the
Creature too. What do'st think I had thee to the Meeting
for?

Lov. To hear a Rascal hold forth for Bodkins and
Thimbles, Contribution, my beloved ! to carry on the good
Cause, that is, Roguery, Rebellion, and Treason, profaning
the sacred Majesty of Heaven, and our glorious Sovereign.

Free. But — were there not pretty Women there ?

Lov. Damn 'em for sighing, groaning Hypocrites.

Free. But there was one, whom that handsome Face
and Shape of yours, gave more occasion for sighing, than
any Mortification caus'd by the Cant of the Lay-Elder in
the half Hogs-Head : Did'st thou not mind her?

Lov. Not I, damn it, I was all Rage ; and hadst not
thou restrain'd me, I had certainly pull'd that Rogue of a
Holder forth by the Ears from his sanctify'd Tub. 'Sdeath.
he hum'd and haw'd all my Patience away, nosed and
snivel'd me to Madness. Heaven ! That thou shouldst
suffer such Vermin to infect the Earth, such Wolves
amongst thy Flocks, such Thieves and Robbers of all Laws
of God and Man, in thy Holy Temples. I rave to think
to what thou'rt fall'n, poor England!

Free. But the she Saint —

Lov. No more ; were she as fair as Fancy could imagine,
to see her there wou'd make me loath the Form ; she that
can listen to the dull Nonsense, the bantering of such a

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 349

Rogue, such an illiterate Rascal, must be a Fool, past sense
of loving, Freeman.

Free. Thou art mistaken. — But,- didst thou mind her
next the Pulpit?

Lov. A Plague upon the whole Congregation : I minded
nothing but how to fight the Lord's Battle with that
damn'd sham Parson, whom I had a mind to beat.

Free. My Lady Desbro is not of that Persuasion, but an
errant Heroick in her Heart, and feigns it only to have
:he better occasion to serve the Royal Party. I knew her,
ind lov'd her before she married.

Lov. She may chance then to be sav'd.

Free. Come, I'll have thee bear up briskly to some one
jf 'em, it may redeem thy Sequestration ; which, now thou
;ee'st no hopes of compounding, puts thee out of Patience.

Lov. Let 'em take it, and the Devil do 'em Good with
I scorn it should be said I have a Foot of Land in this
angrateful and accursed Island ; I'd rather beg where Laws
ire obey'd, and Justice perform'd, than be powerful where
Rogues and base-born Rascals rule the roast.

Free. But suppose now, dear Love/ess, that one of the
Wives of these Pageant Lords should fall in love with thee,
md get thy Estate again, or pay the double for't?

Lov. I wou'd refuse it.

Free. And this for a little dissembl'd Love, a little
drudgery —

Lov. Not a Night, by Heaven — not an Hour — no, not
i single Kiss. I'd rather make love to an Incubus.

Free. But suppose 'twere the new Protectress her self,
he fine Lady Lambert?

Lov. The greatest Devil of all ; damn her, do'st think
'11 cuckold the Ghost of old Oliver ?

Free. The better ; There's some Revenge in't ; do'st
:now her ?

Lov. Never saw her, nor care to do.

Cor. Colonel, do you command me any thing?

35° THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT i

Free. Yes, I'll send thee with a Note — Let's step into a

Shop and write it ; Loveless, stay a moment, and I'll be with

thee. \_Ex. Free, and Corporal.

Enter L. Lambert, L. Desbro, Gilliflower, Pages with
great Bibles, and Footmen. Loveless walks sullenly,
not seeing yem. [L. Lambert's Train carried.

L. Lam. O, I'm impatient to know his Name; ah.
Desbro, he betray'd all my Devotion ; and when I woulc
have pray'd, Heav'n knows it was to him, and for him only

L. Des. What manner of Man was it ?

L. Lam. I want Words to describe him ; not tall, noi
short ; well made, and such a Face —
Love, Wit and Beauty revel'd in his Eyes ;
From whence he shot a thousand winged Darts
That pierc'd quite through my Soul.

L. Des. Seem'd he a Gentleman ?

L. Lam. A God ! altho his outside were but mean
But he shone thro like Lightning from a Cloud,
And shot more piercing Rays.

L. Des. Staid he long ?

L. Lam. No, methought he grew displeas'd with ou

Devotion,

And seem'd to contradict the Parson with his angry Eyes
A Friend he had too with him, young and handsom,
Who seeing some Disorder in his Actions, got him away
— I had almost forgot all Decency,
And started up to call him ; but my Quality,
And wanting something to excuse that Fondness,
Made me decline with very much ado.

Gill. Heavens, Madam, I'll warrant they were Heroicke

L. Lam. Heroicks !

Gill. Cavaliers, Madam, of the Royal Party.

L. Des. They were so, I knew one of 'em.

L,. Lam. Ah, Desbro, do'st thou?
Ah, Heav'ns, that they should prove Heroicks !

c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 351

L. Des. You might have known that by the Conquest ;
never heard any one o't' other Party ever gain'd a Heart ;
nd indeed, Madam, 'tis a just Revenge, our Husbands
nake Slaves of them, and they kill all their Wives.

[Lov. sees 'emy and starts.

Lov. Hah, what have we here? — Women — faith, and
landsome too — I never saw a Form more excellent ; who
'er they are, they seem of Quality. — By Heav'n, I can-
lot take my Eyes from her. [Pointing to L. Lamb.

L. Lam. Ha, he's yonder, my Heart begins to fail,
vly trembling Limbs refusing to support me —
iis Eyes seem fix'd on mine too ; ah, I faint —

[Leans on Des.

Gill. My Lady's Coach, William — quickly, she faints.

Lov. Madam, can an unfortunate Stranger's aid add
ny tiling to the recovery of so much Beauty?

[ Bowing, and holding her.

L. Lam. Ah, wou'd he knew how much ! [Aside.

Gill. Support her, Sir, till her Ladyship's Coach comes
— I beseech ye.

Lov. Not Atlas bore up Heaven with greater Pride.

L. Lam. — I beg your Pardon, Sir, for this Disorder,
Fhat has occasion 'd you so great a Trouble —
ifou seem a Gentleman — and consequently
vlay need some Service done you; name the way,
shall be glad to let you see my Gratitude.

Lov. If there be ought in me, that merits this amazing
favour from you, I owe my Thanks to Nature that
;ndow'd me with something in my Face that spoke my
-leart.

L. Lam. Heaven ! How he looks and speaks —

[To Desbro, asdie.

L. Des. Oh, these Heroicks, Madam, have the most
.harming Tongues.

L. Lam. Pray come to me — and ask for any of my
Officers, and you shall have admittance —

352 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

Lov. Who shall I ask for, Madam ? for I'm yet ignoran
to whom I owe for this great Bounty.

L. Lam. Not know me ! Thou art indeed a Strangerjj
I thought I'd been so elevated above the common Crowd
it had been visible to all Eyes who I was.

Lov. Pardon my Ignorance.

My Soul conceives ye all that Heaven can make ye,
Of Great, of Fair and Excellent ;
But cannot guess a Name to call you by
But such as would displease ye —
My Heart begins to fail, and by her Vanity
I fear she's one of the new Race of Quality :
— But be she Devil, I must love that Form.

L. Lam. Hard Fate of Greatness, we so highly elevai
Are more expos'd to Censure than the little ones,
By being forc'd to speak our Passions first.
— Is my Coach ready ?

Page. It waits your Honour.

L. Lam. I give you leave to visit me — ask for
General's Lady, if my Title be not by that time alter'd

Lov. Pistols and Daggers to my Heart — 'tis so.

L. Lam. Adieu, Sir.

[Ex. all but Lov. who stands niusin(

Enter Freeman.

Free. How now, what's the matter with thee ?

Lov. Prithee wake me, Freeman.

Free. Wake thee !

Lov. I dream ; by Heaven I dream ;
Nay, yet the lovely Phantom's in my View.
Oh ! wake me, or I sleep to perfect Madness.

Free. What ail'st thou? what did'st dream of?

Lov. A strange fantastick Charmer,
A thing just like a Woman Friend ;
It walkt and lookt with wondrous Majesty,
Had Eyes that kill'd, and Graces deck'd her Face ;

sc. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 353

But when she talk'd, mad as the Winds she grew,
Chimera in the form of Angel, Woman !

Free. Who the Devil meanest thou?

Lov. By Heav'n I know not, but, as she vanish'd hence,
she bad me come to the General's.

Free. Why, this is she I told thee ey'd thee so at the
Conventicle ; 'tis Lambert^ the renown'd, the famous Lady
Lambert — Mad call'st thou her ? 'tis her ill acted Greatness,
thou mistak'st ; thou art not us'd to the Pageantry of these
Women yet : they all run thus mad ; 'tis Greatness in 'em,
Loveless.

Lov. And is thine thus, thy Lady Desbro ?

Free. She's of another Cut, she married, as most do,
for Interest — but what — thou't to her?

Lov. If Lightning stop my way : —
Perhaps a sober View may make me hate her. [Exeunt both.

SCENE II. A Chamber in Lambert's House.
Enter Lambert and Whitlock.

Whit. My Lord, now is your time, you may be King ;
Fortune is yours, you've time it self by th' Fore-lock.

Lam. If I thought so, I'd hold him fast, by Heaven.

Whit. If you let slip this Opportunity, my Lord, you
are undone — Aut C<esary aut Nullus.

Lam. But Fleetwood —

Whit. Hang him, soft Head.

Lam. True, he's of an easy Nature; yet if thou didst
but know how little Wit governs this mighty Universe,
thou wou'dst not wonder Men should set up him.

Whit. That will not recommend him at this Juncto,
tho he's an excellent Tool for your Lordship to make use
of; and therefore use him, Sir, as Cataline did Lentulus ;
drill the dull Fool with Hopes of Empire on, and that all
tends to his Advancement only : The Blockhead will believe
the Crown his own : What other Hopes could make him
I AA

354 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT i

ruin Richard^ a Gentleman of Qualities a thousand times
beyond him ?

Lam. They were both too soft ; an ill Commendation for
a General, who should be rough as Storms of War it self.

Whit. His time was short, and yours is coming on;
Old Oliver had his.

Lam. I hate the Memory of that Tyrant Oliver.

Whit. So do I, now he's dead, and serves my Ends no
more. I lov'd the Father of the great Heroick, whilst he
had Power to do me good : he failing, Reason directed
me to the Party then prevailing, the Fag-end of the Parlia
ment : 'tis true, I took the Oath of Allegiance, as Oliver,
your Lordship, Tony, and the rest did, without which we
could not have sat in that Parliament; but that Oath was
not for our Advantage, and so better broke than kept.

Lam. I am of your Opinion, my Lord.

Whit. Let Honesty and Religion preach against it.
But how cou'd I have serv'd the Commons by deserting the
King ? how have I show'd my self loyal to your Interest,
by fooling Fleetwood, in the deserting of Dick ; by dis
solving the honest Parliament, and bringing in the odious
Rump? how cou'd I have flatter'd Ireton, by telling him
Providence broughtthingsabout, when 'twasmere Knavery
all ; and that the Hand of the Lord was in't, when I knew
the Devil was in't ? or indeed, how cou'd I now advise you
to be King, if I had started at Oaths, or preferr'd Honesty
or Divinity before Interest and the Good Old Cause?

Lam. Nay, 'tis most certain, he that will live in this
World, must be endu'd with the three rare Qualities of
Dissimulation, Equivocation, and mental Reservation.

Whit. In which Excellency, Heav'n be prais'd, we
out-do the Jesuits.

Enter Lady Lambert.

L. Lam. I'm glad to see you so well employ'd, my Lord,
as in Discourse with my Lord Whitlock, he's of our Party,
and has Wit.

sc. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 355

Whit. Your Honour graces me too much.

Lam. My Lord, my Lady is an absolute States-woman.

L.Lam. Yes, I think things had notarriv'dtothisexalted
height, nor had you been in prospect of a Crown, had not
my Politicks exceeded your meaner Ambition.

Lam. I confess, I owe all my good Fortune to thee.

Enter Page.

Page. My Lord, my Lord Warhton, Lord Hewson,
Colonel Gobbet, and Colonel Duckenfield desire the Honour
of waiting on you.

L. Lam. This has a Face of Greatness — let 'em wait
a while i'th' Antichamber.

Lam. My Love, I would have 'em come in.

L. Lam. You wou'd have 'em ! you wou'd have a Fool's
Head of your own ; pray let me be Judge of what their
Duty is, and what your Glory : I say I'll have 'em wait.

Page. My Lord Fleetwood too is just alighted, shall he
wait too, Madam ?

L. Lam. He may approach : and d'ye hear — put on
your fawning Looks, flatter him, and profess much Friend
ship to him, you may betray him with the more facility.

Whit. Madam, you counsel well. [Ex. Page.

Page re-enters with Lord Fleetwood.

Lam. My good Lord, your most submissive Servant.

Whit. My gracious Lord, I am your Creature — your
Slave —

Fleet. I profess ingeniously, I am much engag'd to you,
my good Lords; I hope things are now in the Lard's
handling, and will go on well for his Glory and my
Interest, and that all my good People of England will do
things that become good Christians.

Whit. Doubt us not, my good Lord ; the Government
cannot be put into abler Hands than those of your Lord
ship ; it has hitherto been in the hard Clutches of Jews,
Infideh, and Pagans.

356 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

Fleet. Yea, verily, Abomination has been in the Hands)
of Iniquity.

Lam. But, my Lord, those Hands, by my good Con- 1
duct, are now cut off, and our Ambition is, your Lordship |
wou'd take the Government upon you.

Fleet. I profess, my Lord, by yea and nay, I am asham'd
of this Goodness, in making me the Instrument of saving!
Grace to this Nation ; 'tis the great Work of the Lard.

L. Lam. The Lard ! Sir, I'll assure you the Lard has
the least Hand in your good Fortune ; I think you ought
to ascribe it to the Cunning and Conduct of my Lord
here, who so timely abandon'd the Interest of Richard.

Fleet. Ingeniously I must own, your good Lord can do
much, and has done much ; but 'tis our Method to ascribe
all to the Powers above.

L. Lam. Then I must tell you, your Method's an un
grateful Method.

Lam. Peace, my Love.

Whit. Madam, this is the Cant we must delude the
Rabble with.

L. Lam. Then let him use it there, my Lord, not
amongst us, who so well understand one another.

Lam. Good Dear, be pacified — and tell me, shall the
Gentlemen without have Admittance?

L. Lam. They may. [Page goes out.

Enter Hewson, Desbro, Duckenfield, Wariston,
and Cobbet.

War. Guds Benizon light on yu, my gued Loor^s, for
this Day's Work; Madam, I kiss your white Honds.

Due. My Lord, I have not been behind-hand in this
Day's turn of State.

Lam. 'Tisconfess'd,Sir ; what would you infer from that?

Due. Why, I wou'd know how things go; who shall
be General, who Protector?

Hews. My Friend has well translated his meaning.

I sc. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 357

L. Lam, Fy, how that filthy Cobler Lord betrays his
I Function.

Due. We're in a Chaos, a Confusion, as we are.

Hews. Indeed the Commonwealth at present is out at
I' Heels, and wants underlaying.

Cob. And the People expect something suddenly from us.

Whit. My Lords and Gentlemen, we must consider a
while.

War. Bread a gued there's mickle Wisdom i'that, Sirs.

Due. It ought to be consulted betimes, my Lord, 'tis
a matter of Moment, and ought to be consulted by the
whole Committee.

Lam. We design no other, my Lord, for which Reason
at three a Clock we'll meet at Walllngford House.

Due. Nay, my Lord, do but settle the Affair, let's but
know who's our Head, and 'tis no matter.

Hews. Ay, my Lord, no matter who ; I hope 'twill be
Fleetwood, for I have the length of his Foot already.

Whit. You are the leading Men, Gentlemen, your
Voices will soon settle the Nation.

Due. Well, my Lord, we'll not fail at three a Clock.

Des. This falls out well for me; for I've Business in
Smithfield) where my Horses stand ; and verily, now I think
on't, the Rogue the Ostler has not given 'em Gates to day :
Well, my Lords, farewel ; if I come not time enough to
Walllngford House, keep me a Place in the Committee,
and let my Voice stand for one, no matter who.

War. A gued Mon I's warrant, and takes muckle Pains
for the Gued o'th' Nation, and the Liberty o'th Mobily —
The Diel confound 'em aud.

Lam. Come, my Lord W(iristony you are a wise Man,
what Government are you for.

War. Ene tol what ya please, my gued Loord.

[ Takes him aside.

Lam. What think you of a single Person here in my
Lord Fleet-wood?

358 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACTI,SC. n

War. Marry, Sir, and he's a brave Mon, but gen I may
cooncel, tak't for yar sel my gued Loord, ant be gued for
him, 'tis ene gued for ya te.

Lam. But above half the Nation are for him.

War. Bread a gued, and I's for him then.

Fleet. The Will of the Lard be done ; and since 'tis
his Will, I cannot withstand my Fate — ingeniously.'

Whit. My Lord Warhton^ a Word — What if Lambert
were the Man ? [ Takes him aside.

War. Right Sir, Wons and ya have spoken aud ; he's
a brave Mon, a Mon indeed gen I's have any Judgment.

Whit. So I find this Property's for any use. \Aside.

Lam. My Lord, I perceive Heaven and Earth conspire
to make you our Prince.

Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lords, the Weight of three
Kingdoms is a heavy Burden for so weak Parts as mine:
therefore I will, before I appear at Council, go seek the Lard
in this great Affair ; and if I receive a Revelation for it, I
shall with all Humility espouse the Yoke, for the Good of
his People and mine ; and so Gad with us, the Common
wealth of England. \_Exeunt Fleet. Desbro, Wariston,

Due. Cob. Hews, and Whit.

L. Lam. Poor deluded Wretch, 'tis not yet come to that.

Lam. No, my dear, the Voice will go clearly for me;
what with Bribes to some, Hypocrisy and Pretence of
Religion to others, and promis'd Preferments to the rest,
I have engag'd 'em all.

L. Lam. And will you be a King?

Lam. You think that's so fine a thing — but let me tell
you, my Lovev a King's a Slave to a Protector, a King's
ty'd up to a thousand Rules of musty Law, which we can
break at pleasure ; we can rule without Parliaments, at least
chuse whom we please, make 'em agree to our Proposals,
or set a Guard upon 'em, and starve 'em till they do.

L. Lam. But their Votes are the strangest things — that
they must pass for Laws ; you were never voted King.

ACT ii, sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 359

Lam. No, nor care to be : The sharpest Sword's my
1 Vote, my Law, my Title. They voted Dick should reign,
where is he now ? They voted the great Heroicks from
the Succession ; but had they Arms or Men, as I have,
1 you shou'd soon see what wou'd become of their Votes
—No, my Love ! 'tis this — must make me King.

\_Hts Sword.

Let Fleetwood and the Rump go seek the Lard,
My Empire and my Trust is in my Sword.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Chamber of State in Lambert's House.
Enter L. Lambert, Gilliflower, and Women-servants.

L. Lam. Gilliflower^ has none been here to ask for any
of my People, in order to his approach to me?

Gill. None, Madam.

L. Lam. Madam ! How dull thou art? wo't never learn
to y,ive me a better Title than such an oneas foolish Custom
bestows on every common Wench ?

Gill. Pardon my Ignorance, Madam.

L,. Lam. Again Madam?

Gill. Really, Madam, I shou'd be glad to know by what
other Title you wou'd be distinguish'd ?

L. Lam. Abominable dull ! Do'st thou not know on
what score my Dear is gone to Wallingford House?

GUI. I cannot divine, Madam.

L. Lam. Heaven help thy Ignorance ! he's gone to be
made Protector, Fool, or at least a King, thou Creature;
and from this Day I date my self her Highness.

Gill. That will be very fine indeed, an't please your
Highness.

L. Lam. I think 'twill sute better with my Person and
Beauty than with the other Woman — what d'ye call her?
Mrs. Cromwell — my Shape — and Gate — my Humour,

360 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT n

and my Youth have something more of Grandeur, have
they not?

Gill. Infinitely, an't please your Highness.

Enter Page.

Page. Madam, a Man without has the boldness to ask
for your Honour.

L. Lam. Honour, Fool !

Gill. Her Highness, Blockhead.

Page. Saucily prest in, and struck the Porter for deny
ing him entrance to your — Highness.

L,. Lam. What kind of Fellow was't?

Page. A rude, rough, hectoring Swash, an't please your
Highness; nay, and two or three times, Gad forgive me,
he swore too.

L. Lam. It must be he. [Aside.

Page. His Habit was something bad and Cavalierish —
I believe 'twas some poor petitioning, begging Tory, who
having been sequester'd, wou'd press your Highness for
some Favour.

L. Lam. Yes, it must be he — ah, foolish Creature ! and
can he hope Relief, and be a villanous Cavalier? out upon
'em, poor Wretches — you may admit him tho', for I long
to hear how one of those things talk.

Gill. Oh, most strangely, Madam — an please your
Highness, I shou'd say.

Enter Loveless.

L. Lam. 'Tis he, I'll swear, GilKflower, these Heroicks arc'I
punctual men — how now, your Bus'ness with us, Fellow ?

Lov. My Bus'ness, Madam ? —

L. Lam. Hast thou ever a Petition to us?

Lov. A Petition, Madam ? — Sure this put-on Greatness
is to amuse her Servants, or has she forgot that she invited
me ? or indeed forgot me ? — [Aside.

L. Lam. What art thou ?

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 361

Page. Shall we search his Breeches, an't please your
Highness, for Pistol, or other Instruments ?

L. Lam. No, Boy, we fear him not, they say the Powers
above protect the Persons of Princes. [Walks away.

Lov. Sure she's mad, yet she walks loose about,
And she has Charms even in her raving Fit.

L. Lam. Answer me. What art thou ? —
How shall I get my Servants hence with Honour? [Aside.

Lov. A Gentleman —

That could have boasted Birth and Fortune too,
Till these accursed Times, which Heaven confound,
Razing out all Nobility, all Virtue,
Has render'd me the rubbish of the World ;
Whilst new rais'd Rascals, Canters, Robbers, Rebels,
Do lord it o'er the Free-born, Brave and Noble.

L. Lam. You're very confident, know you to whom you
speak ? but I suppose you have lost your Estate, or some
such trivial thing, which makes you angry.

Lov. Yes, a trivial Estate of some five and twenty
hundred Pound a Year : but I hope to see that Rogue of a
Lord reduc'd to his Cobler's-Stall again, or more deserv'dly
hang'd, that has it.

L. Lam. I thought 'twas some such Grievance — but
you must keep a good Tongue in your Head, lest you be
hang'd for Scandalum Magnatum — there's Law for ye, Sir.

Lov. No matter, then I shall be free from a damn'd
Commonwealth, as you are pleas'd to call it, when indeed
'tis but a mungrel, mangy, Mock-Monarchy.

L. Lam. Is it your business, Sir, to rail ?

Lov. You rais'd the Devil, Madam.

Page. Madam, shall I call your Highness's Guards, and
secure the Traitor?

L. Lam. No, that you may see how little I regard or
fear him ; leave us all — [Ex. all but Gill.

We'll trust our Person in his Hands alone —
—Now, Sir — Your Bus'ness? [Smilingly approaches him.

362 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT n

Lov. Madam, I waited here by your Commands.

L. Lam. How shall I tell him that I love him, GilllJJower?

Gill. Easily, Madam, tell him so in plain English.
Madam, 'tis great ; Women of your exalted height ever
speak first ; you have no Equals dare pretend to speak of
Love to you.

L,.Lam. Thou art i'th' right — Do'stknow my Quality,
and thy own Poverty ? And hast thou nothing to ask that
I may grant?

Lov. Sure she loves me ! and I, frail Flesh and Blood,
Cannot resist her Charms ; but she's of the damn'd Party.

[Aside.

L. Lam. Are all your Party, Sir, so proud ?

Lov. But what have I to do with Religion ! Is Beauty the
worse, or a kind Wench to be refus'd for Conventickling?
She lives high on the Spoils of a glorious Kingdom, and
why may not I live upon the Sins of the Spoiler ? [Aside.

L. Lam. Sir — you are poor !

Lov. So is my Prince ; a Plague on the occasion.

L. Lam. I think you are — no Fool too.

Lov. I wou'd I were, then I had been a Knave, had
thriv'd, and possibly by this time had been tugging for
rifled Crowns and Kingdoms.

L. Lam. This Satir ill befits my present Bus'ness with
you — you — want some Necessaries — as Clothes, and
Linen too ; and 'tis great pity so proper a Man shou'd want
Necessaries. Gilliflower — take my Cabinet Key, and fetch
the Purse of Broad-pieces that lies in the lower Drawer;
'tis a small Present, Sir, but 'tis an Earnest of my farther
Service. [Gill, goes out and returns with a Purse.

Lov. I'm angry, that I find one Grain of Generosity
in this whole Race of Hypocrites. [Aside.

L. Lam. Here, Sir, 'tis only for your present use; for
Clothes — three hundred Pieces ; let me see you sweet —

Lov. Stark mad, by this good Day.

L. Lam. Ah, Gilliflower! How prettily those Cavalier

i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 363

jthings charm ; I wonder how the Powers above came to
give them all the Wit, Softness, and Gallantry — whilst
all the great ones of our Age have the most slovenly, un
grateful, dull Behaviour; no Air, no Wit, no Love, nor
any thing to please a Lady with.

Gill. Truly, Madam, there's a great Difference in the
'Men ; yet Heaven at first did its part, but the Devil has
since so over-done his, that what with the Vizor of Sanctity,
(which is the gadly Sneer, the drawing of the Face to a
prodigious length, the formal Language, with a certain
Twang through the Nose, and the pious Gogle, they are
fitter to scare Children than beget love in Ladies.

Lov. You hit the Character of your new Saint.

L. Lam. And then their Dress, Gilliflower.

Gil. Oh ! 'Tis an Abomination to look like a Gentle
man ; long Hair is wicked and cavalierish, a Periwig is flat
Popery, the Disguise of the Whore of Babylon ; handsom
Clothes, or lac'd Linen, the very Tempter himself, that
debauches all their Wives and Daughters; therefore the
diminutive Band, with the Hair of the Reformation Cut,
beneath which a pair of large sanctify'd Souses appear, to
declare to the World they had hitherto escap'd the Pillory,
tho deserv'd it as well as Pryn.

L. Lam. Have a care what you say, Gilliflower.

Gill. Why, Madam, we have no Informers here.
Enter Page.

Page. Madam, here's Old Noll's Wife desires Admit
tance to your Hon — your Highness.

L. Lam. Bid the poor Creature wait without, I'll do
her what Good I can for her Husband's sake, who first
infus'd Politicks into me, by which I may boast I have
climb'd to Empire.

Lov. So, her Madness runs in that Vein I see. [Aside.

Gil. Alack, Madam, I think she's coming.

Crom. [without] Does she keep State in the Devil's
Name, and must I wait ?

364 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT n

L. Lam. Heavens ! I shall be scandalized by the Godly.
Dear Gillijiower, conceal my Cavalier ; I would not have
a Cavalier seen with me for all the World — Step into my
Cabinet. [Ex. Gil. and Lov.

Enter L. Cromwel, held back by a Man — to them
Gilliflower.

Crom. Unhand me, Villain — 'twas not long since a
Rudeness, Sir, like this had forfeited thy Head.

L. Lam. What wou'd the Woman ?

Crom. The Knave, the perjur'd Villain thy Husband,
by th' Throat : thou proud, imperious Baggage, to make
me wait ; whose Train thou hast been proud to bear — how
durst thou, after an Affront like this, trust thy false Face
within my Fingers reach ? that Face, that first bewitch'd
the best of Husbands from me, and tempted him to sin.

Gil. I beseech your Highness retire, the Woman's mad.

Crom. Highness in the Devil's Name, sure 'tis not come
to that ; no, I may live to see thy Cuckold hang'd first,
his Politicks are yet too shallow, Mistress. Heavens ! Did
my Husband make him Lord for this r raise him to Honour,
Trusts, Commands, and Counsels,
To ruin all our Royal Family,
Betray young Richard, who had reign'd in Peace
But for his Perjuries and Knaveries;
And now he sooths my Son-in-law, soft Fleet-wood,
With empty hopes of Pow'r, and all the while
To make himself a King :
No, Minion, no ; I yet may live to see
Thy Husband's Head o'th' top of Westminster,
Before I see it circled in a Crown.

L. Lam. I pity the poor Creature.

Crom. Ungrateful Traytor as he is,
Not to look back upon his Benefactors;
But he, in lieu of making just Returns,
Reviles our Family, profanes our Name,

c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 365

Knd will in time render it far more odious
[Than ever Needham made the great Heroicks.

L. Lam. Alas, it weeps, poor Woman !
j Crom. Thou ly'st, false Strumpet, I scorn to shed a Tear,
Kor ought that thou canst do or say to me ;
I've too much of my Husband's Spirit in me.
l)h, my dear Richard^ hadst thou had a Grain on't,
[Thou and thy Mother ne'er had fall'n to this.

Gil. His Father sure was seeking of the Lard when he
vas got.

Enter L. Fleet wood, her Train born up.

Crom. Where is this perjur'd Slave, thy Wittal Lord?
Pares he not shew his Face, his guilty Face,
pefore the Person he has thus betray'd?

L. Fleet. Madam, I hope you mistake my honour'd Lord
)Lambert, I believe he designs the Throne for my dear Lord.

Crom. Fond Girl, because he has the Art of fawning,
Dissembling to the height, can sooth and smile,
Profess, and sometimes weep : —
No, he'll betray him, as he did thy Brother;
Richard the Fourth was thus deluded by him.
No, let him swear and promise what he will,
They are but steps to his own ambitious End ;
\.nd only makes the Fool, thy credulous Husband,
\\ silly deluded Property.

Enter Fleetwood.

Fleet. My honour'd Mother, I am glad to find you here ;
hope we shall reconcile things between ye. Verily we
hould live in Brotherly Love together ; come, ingeniously,
rou shall be Friends, my Lady Mother.

Crom. Curse on th' occasion of thy being a Kin to me.
Fleet. Why, an please ye, forsooth, Madam ?
Crom. My Daughter had a Husband,
vVorthy the Title of my Son-in-Law ;
yreton, my best of Sons : he'd Wit and Courage,

366 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT n

And with his Counsels, rais'd our House to Honours,
Which thy impolitick Easiness pulls down :
And whilst you should be gaining Crowns and Kingdoms,
Art poorly couzening of the World with fruitless Prayers.

Fleet. Nay, I'll warrant you, Madam, when there is any
gadly Mischief to be done, I am as forward as the best;
but 'tis good to take the Lard along with us in every thing.
I profess ingeniously, as I am an honest Man, verily —
ne'er stir —
I shall act as becomes a good Christian.

Crom. A good Coxcomb.

Do'st thou not see her reverend Highness there,
That Minion now assumes that glorious Title
I once, and my Son Richard's Wife enjoy'd,
Whilst I am call'd the Night-mare of the Commonwealth?
But wou'd I were, I'd so hag-ride the perjur'd Slaves,
Who took so many Oaths of true Allegiance
To my great Husband first, then to Richard —
Who, whilst they reign'd, were most illustrious,
Most high and mighty Princes; whilst fawning Poets
Write Panegyricks on 'em ; and yet no sooner was
The wondrous Hero dead, but all his glorious
Titles fell to Monster of Mankind, Murderer
Of Piety, Traytor to Heaven and Goodness.

Fleet. Who calls him so ? Pray take their Names down:
I profess ingeniously, forsooth, Madam, verily I'll ordei
'em, as I am here I will.

Crom. Thou, alas ! they scorn so poor a thing as thou

Fleet. Do they ingeniously? I'll be even with 'em, for
sooth, Mother, as I am here I will, and there's an end on't

Crom. I wou'd there were an end of our Disgrace anc

Shame,

Which is but just begun, I fear.
What will become of that fair Monument
Thy careful Father did erect for thee, [70 L. Fleetwood
Yet whilst he liv'd, next to thy Husband Ireton,

c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 367

est none shou'd do it for thee after he were dead ;
The Malice of proud Lambert will destroy all.

Fleet. I profess, Madam, you mistake my good Lord
Lambert, he's an honest Man, and fears the Lard ; he tells
ne I am to be the Man ; verily he does, after all's done.

Crom. Yes, after all's done, thou art the Man to be
jointed at.

Fleet. Nay, ingeniously, I scorn the Words, so I do : I
:now the great Work of Salvation to the Nation is to be
vrought by me, verily.

Crom. Do, cant on, till Heaven drop Kingdoms in thy
tlouth : Dull, silly Sot, thou Ruin of our Interest; thou
bnd, incorrigible, easy Fool.

Enter Page.

Page. My Lord, the Committee of Safety waits your
:oming.

Fleet. Why, law you now, forsooth — I profess verily,
ou are ingeniously the hardest of Belief — tell the Honour-
.ble Lords I'm coming : Go, Lady-mother, go home with
ny Wife ; and verily you'll see things go to your wish —
must to Coach.

L. Fleet. Madam, your humble Servant. [To La. Lam.
Fleet. Honour'd Lady, I kiss your Hands.

[Exeunt Crom. Fleet, and L. Fleet.

Enter Loveless.

Lov. Was this the thing that is to be Protector?
This little sniveling Fellow rule three Kingdoms?
3ut leave we Politicks, and fall to Love,
vVho deals more Joys in one kind happy moment
Than Ages of dull Empire can produce.

L. Lam. Oh Gods ! shall I who never yielded yet,
3ut to him to whom three Kingdoms fell a Sacrifice,
iurrender at first Parley ?

Lov. Perhaps that Lover made ye gayer Presents,
3ut coif d not render you a Heart all Love,

368 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT r

Or Mind embyass'd in Affairs of Blood.

— I bring no Guilt to fright you from my Embraces,

But all our Hours shall be serene and soft.

L. Lam. Ah, Gi Hi flower , thy Aid, or I am lost ;
Shall it be said of me in after Ages,
When my Fame amongst Queens shall be recorded,
That I, ah Heavens ! regardless of my Country's Cause,
Espous'd the wicked Party of its Enemies,
The Heathenish Heroicks? ah, defend me!

Lov. Nay — by all that's —

L. Lam. Ah, hold ! Do not profane my Ears with Oath?
or Execrations, I cannot bear the Sound.

Lov. Nay, nay — by Heav'n I'll not depart your Lodgings
till that soft Love that plays so in your Eyes give me i
better Proof — by —

L. Lam. Oh hold, I die, if you proceed in this Abom
ination.

Lov. Why do you force me to't ? d'ye think to put me of
with such a Face — such Lips — such Smiles — such Eyes
and every Charm — You've made me mad, and I shal
swear my Soul away, if disappointed now.

Gil. Ah,savetheGentleman'sSoul, I beseech ye, Madam

L. Lam. I'm much inclin'd to Acts of Piety —
And you have such a Power, that howe'er I incommodi
my Honour — [Leaning on him^ smiling. He goes t

lead her out, Enter La. Desbro
— Desbro here ! How unseasonably she comes?

L. Des. Cry mercy, Madam, I'll withdraw a while.

L. Lam. Ah, Desbro! thou art come in the most luck^
Minute — I was just on the point of falling — As thoi
say'st, these Heroicks have the strangest Power —

L. Des. I never knew a Woman cou'd resist 'em.

L. Lam. No marvel then, our Husbands use 'em sc
betray 'em, banish 'em, sequester, murder 'em, and ever
way disarm 'em —

L, Des. But their Eyes, Madam.

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 369

L. Lam. Ay, their Eyes, Desbro ; I wonder our Lords
shou'd take away their Swords, and let 'em wear their Eyes.

L. Des. I'll move it to the Committee of Safety, Madam,
those Weapons should be taken from 'em too.

L. Lam. Still they'll have some to be reveng'd on us.

L. Des. Ay, so they will will ; My Lord says, a Cavalier
is a kind of Hydra, knock him o'th' Head as often as you
will, he has still one to peep up withal.

Enter Page.

Page. Madam, here's Mr. Freeman to speak with your
Honour.

Lov. That's a Friend of mine, Madam, and 'twou'd be
unnecessary he saw your Highness and I together : let us
withdraw —

L. Lam. Withdraw ! why, what will Desbro say ?

L. Des. O Madam, I know your Virtue and your Piety
too well to suspect your Honour wrongfully : 'tis impos
sible a Lady that goes to a Conventicle twice a Day, besides
long Prayers and loud Psalm-singing, shou'd do any thing
with an Heroick against her Honour. Your known Sanctity
preserves you from Scandal — But here's Freeman —

[Puts 'em in.
Enter Freeman.

Free. So, Madam — you are very kind —

L. Des. My charming Freeman, this tedious Day of
Absence has been an Age in love. How hast thou liv'd
without me r

Free. Like one condemn'd, sad and disconsolate,
And all the while you made your Husband happy.

L. Des. Name not the Beastly Hypocrite, thou know'st
I made no other use of him,
But a dull Property to advance our Love.

Free. And 'tis but Justice, Maria, he sequester'd me
of my whole Estate, because, he said, I took up Arms in
Ireland, on Noble Ormond's Side; nay, hir'd Rogues,
I B B

370 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT n

perjur'd Villains — Witnesses with a Pox, to swear it too ;
when at that time I was but Eight Years Old ; but I escap'd
as well as all the Gentry and Nobility of England. To
add to this, he takes my Mistress too.

L.Des. You mistake, my lovely Freeman; I married
only thy Estate, the best Composition I cou'd make for
thee, and I will pay it back with Interest too.

Free. You wou'd suspect my Love then, and swear
that all the Adoration I pay you, were, as we do to
Heav'n, for Interest only.

L. Des. How you mistake my Love, but do so still, so
you will let me give these — Proofs of it. [Gives him Gold.

Free. Thus, like Atlante^ you drop Gold in my Pursuit
To Love, I may not over-take you :
What's this to giving me one happy minute ?
Take back your Gold, and give me current Love,
The Treasure of your Heart, not of your Purse —
When shall we meet, Maria ?

L. Des. You know my leisure Hours are when my
Honourable Lord is busied in Affairs of State, or at his
Prayers; from which long-winded Exercise I have of late
withdrawn my self: three Hours by the Clock he prays ex
temporary, which is, for National and Household Blessings:
For the first — 'tis to confound the Interest of the King,
that the Lard wou'd deliver him, his Friends, Adherers
and Allies, wheresoever scatter'd about the Face of the
whole Earth, into the Clutches of the Righteous : Press
'em, good Lard, even as the Vintager doth the Grape in
the Wine-Press, till the Waters and gliding Channels are
made red with the Blood of the Wicked. [/« a Tone.

Free. And grant the Faithful to be mighty, and to be
strong in Persecution ; and more especially, ah ! I beseech
thee confound that malignant Tory Freeman — that he
may never rise up in judgment against thy Servant, whc
has taken from him his Estate, his Sustenance and Bread :
give him Grace of thy infinite Mercy, to hang himself, il

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 371

thy People can find ho zealous Witnesses to swear him to
the Gallows legally. Ah, we have done very much for
thee, Lard, thou shoud'st consider us thy Flock, and we
shou'd be as good to thee in another thing. [In a Tone.

L. Des. Thou hit'st the zealous Twang right ; sure
ithou hast been acquainted with some of 'em.

Free. Damn 'em, no ; what honest Man wou'd keep
'em Company, where harmless Wit and Mirth's a Sin,
laughing scandalous, and a merry Glass Abomination ?

L. Des. Yes, if you drink Healths, my wicked Brother :
otherwise, to be silently drunk, to be as abusive and satirical
as you please, upon the Heroicks, isallowable — for laughing,
'tis not indeed so well ; but the precise Sneer and Grin is
lawful ; no swearing indeed, but lying and dissimulation
in abundance. I'll assure you, they drink as deep, and
entertain themselves as well with this silent way of leud
Debauchery, as you with all your Wit and Mirth, your
Healths of the Royal Family.

Free. Nay, I confess, 'tis a great Pleasure to cheat the
World.

L. Des. 'Tis Power, as divine Hobbes calls it.

Free. But what's all this to Love ? Where shall we meet
anon ?

L. Des. I'll tell you, what will please you as well — Your
Friend is within with her Highness that shall be, if the
Devil and her Husband's Politicks agree about the matter.

Free. Ha, has my cautious Railermanag'd matters so slyly?

L. Des. No, no, the matter was manag'd to his Hand ;
you see how Heav'n brings things about, for the Good of
your Party ; this Business will be worth to him at least a
thousand Pound a year, or two, well manag'd — But see,
my Lady's Woman.

Gil. Oh, Madam, my Lord —

[Running cross the Stage into her Lady's Chamber.

Free. Death, how shall I bring my Friend off? he'll
certainly be ruin'd.

372 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT n

Enter Gill. Lov. and Lady Lam.

Gill. Madam, he's coming up.

Lov. Madam, for my self I care not, but am much con-
cern'd for you. \L. Lam. takes two Papers out of her Pocket,

and gives 'em to Lov. and Free.

L. Lam. Here take these two Petitions, each of you one
— Poor Fellows — you may be gone, your Petitions will
not be granted.

Enter Lambert.

Lam. How now, my Dear, what Petitions ? — Friends,
what's your Bus'ness ?

L. Lam. 'Tis enough we know their Business, Love,
we are sufficient to dispatch such Suiters, I hope.

Lam. Pardon me, my Dear, I thought no harm ; but
I saw you frown, and that made me concern'd.

L. Lam. Frown ! 'Twou'd make any Body frown, to
hear the Impudence of Gentlemen, these Cavaliers —
wou'd you think it, my Dear, if this Fellow has not
the Impudence to petition for the Thirds of his Estate
again, so justly taken from him for bearing Arms for the
Man ? —

L. Des. Nay, I'm inform'd, that they, but two Nights
ago, in a Tavern, drunk a Health to the Man too.

Lam. How durst you, Sirrah, approach my Lady with
any such saucy Address? you have receiv'd our Answer.

Lov. Death, I have scarce Patience. [Aside.

Free. We knew, my Lord, the Influence your Ladies
have over you, and Women are more tender and compas
sionate naturally than Men ; and, Sir, 'tis hard for Gentlemen
to starve.

L. Lam. Have you not able Limbs ? can ye not work ?

Lov. Persons of our Education work !

Lam. Starve or beg then.

L. Lam. Education ! why, I'll warrant there was that
young Creature they call the Duke of Glocester, was as

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 373

well educated as any Lad in the Parish ; and yet you see
he should have been bound Prentice to a Handy-Crafts
Trade, but that our Lords could not spare Money to bind
him out, and so they sent him to beg beyond Sea.

Lov. Death, I shall do Mischief: not all the Joy she
gave me but now, can atone for this Blasphemy against
the Royal Youth. [Aside.

Free. Patience — Well, my Lord, we find you are
obdurate, and we'll withdraw.

Lam. Do so : And if you dare presume to trouble us
any more, I'll have you whip'd, d'ye hear.

L. Des. Madam, I'll take my leave of your Ladyship.
[Ex. Lov. Free, and L. Des.

L. Lam. My Lord, 'twas I that ought to threaten 'em
—but you're so forward still — what makes you from the
Committee ?

Lam. I left some Papers behind.

L. Lam. And they'll make use of your Absence to set
up Fleetwood King.

Lam. I'll warrant ye, my Dear.

L. Lam. You'll warrant ! you are a Fool, and a Cox
comb ; I see I must go my self, there will be no Bus'ness
done till I thunder 'em together : They want Old Oliver
amongst 'em, his Arbitrary Nod cou'd make ye all tremble;
when he wanted Power or Money, he need but cock in
Parliament, and lay his Hand upon his Sword, and cry, I
must have Money, and had it, or kick'd ye all out of
Doors : And you are all mealy mouth'd, you cannot cock
for a Kingdom.

Lam. I'll warrant ye, Dear, I can do as good a thing
for a Kingdom.

L. Lam. You can do nothing as you shou'd do't : You
want Old Oliver's Brains, Old Oliver's Courage, and Old
Oliver's Counsel : Ah, what a politick Fellow was little
Sir Anthony! What a Head-piece was there! What a
plaguy Fellow Old Thurlo, and the rest ! But get ye back,

374 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT in

and return me Protector at least, or never hope for Peace
again.

Lam. My Soul, trouble not thy self, go in —

With mine no Power can equal be.

And I will be a King to humour thee. [Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Council-Chamber, great Table, Chairs,
and Papers.

Enter two Clerks, who lay Papers in Order, and Doorkeeper.

Door. Come, haste, haste, the Lords are coming — keep
back there, room for the Lords, room for the honourable
Lords: Heav'n bless your Worships Honours.

Enter Lambert, Fleetwood, Whitlock, Wariston, dis
coursing earnestly ; to them Duckenfield, Cobbet,
Hewson, Desbro, and others ; Duck, takes Wariston
by the Hand, and talks to him.

War. Bread a gued, Gentlemen, I's serv'd the Common
wealth long and faithfully ; I's turn'd and turn'd to aud
Interest and aud Religions that turn'd up Trump, and
wons a me, but I's get naught but Bagery by my Sol ; I's
noo put in for a Pansion as well as rest o ya Loones.

Cob. What we can serve you in, my Lord, you may
command.

Due. And I too, my Lord, when the Government is
new moulded.

War. Wons, Sirs, and I's sa moold it, 'twas ne'er sa
moolded sen the Dam boon'd the Head on't.

Due. I know there are some ambitious Persons that
are for a single Person ; but we'll have hot Work e'er we
yield to that.

War. The faud Diel take 'em then for Archibald ; 'tis
warse than Monarchy.

Due. A thousand times : have we with such Industry

i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 375

•en pulling down Kings of the Royal Family, to set up
"yrants of our own, of mean and obscure Birth ? No, if
re're for a single Person, I'm for a lawful one.
War. Wons and ya have spoken aud, my Lord, so am I.
Due. But Lambert has a busy, haughty Spirit, and thinks
to carry it; but we'll have no single Person.

War. Nor I, ods Bread ; the faud Diel brest the Wem
sf Lambert, or any single Person in England. I's for yare
iterest, my gued Lords. [Bowing.

Lam. My Lord Warhton, will you please to assume the
IChair?

Enter Loveless, Freeman, and others with Petitions.

War. Ah, my gued Loord, I's yare most obedient
umble Servant. [Bowing to Lam. all set.

All. Hum, hum.

Fleet. My Lords and Gentlemen, we are here met to-

ther in the Name of the Lard —

Due. Yea, and I hope we shall hang together as one

an — A Pox upon your Preaching. [Aside.

Fleet. — And hope this Day's great Work will be for
>his Praise and Glory.

*Duc. 'Bating long Graces, my Lord, we are met together
for the Bus'ness of the Nation, to settle it, and to establish
a Government.

Fleet. Yea, verily : and I hope you will all unanimously
agree, it shall be your unworthy Servant.

Lam. What else, my Lord.

Fleet. And as thou, Lard, hast put the Sword into my
Hand—

Due. So put it into your Heart — my Lord, to do Justice.

Fleet. Amen.

Due. I'd rather see it there than in your Hand — [Aside.

Fleet. For we are, as it were, a Body without a Head ;
or, to speak more learnedly, an Animal inanimate.

Hew. My Lord, let us use, as little as we can, the

376 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT in

Language of the Beast, hard Words ; none of your Elo
quence, it savoureth of Monarchy.

Lam. My Lord, you must give Men of Quality lea
to speak in a Language more gentile and courtly than t
ordinary sort of Mankind.

Hew. My Lord, I am sorry to hear there are any
Quality among this honourable Dissembly. [Stands

Cob. Assembly, my Lord —

Hew. Well, you know my meaning ; or if there be
any such, I'm sorry they should own themselves of Quality.

Due. How ! own themselves Gentlemen ! Death, Sir,
d'ye think we were all born Coblers?

Hew. Or if you were not, the more the pity, for little
England r, I say. [/» a

Fleet. Verily, my Lords, Brethren should not fall out, it
a Scandal to the good Cause, and maketh the wicked rejoice.

War. Wons, and theys garr the loosey Proverb on't te,
when loons gang together by th"1 luggs, gued men get their erie.

All. He, he, he.

Due. He calls you Knaves by Craft, my Lords.

War. Bread a gued, take't among ye, Gentlemen, I's
ment weel.

Fleet. I profess, my Lord Wariston^ you make my Hair
stand an end to hear how you swear.

War. Wons, my Loord, I's swear as little as your
Lordship, only I's swear out, and ye swallow aud.

Due. There's a Bone for you to pick, my Lord.

All. He, he, he.

Lam. We give my Lord Wanston leave to jest.

Des. But what's this to the Government all this while ?
A dad I shall sit so late, I shall have no time to visit my
Horses, therefore proceed to the Point.

Hew. Ay, to the Point, my Lords ; the Gentleman that
spoke last spoke well.

Cob. Well said, Brother, I see you will in time speak
properly.

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE

Due. But to the Government, my Lords !

[Beats the Table.

Lam. Put 'em off of this Discourse, my Lord.

[Aside to War.

Des. My Lord Waristony move it, you are Speaker.

War. The Diel a me, Sirs, and noo ya talk of a Speaker,
I's tell ye a blithe Tale.

Fleet. Ingeniously, my Lord, you are to blame to swear so.

Lam. Your Story, my Lord.

War. By my Sol, mon, and there war a poor Woman
the other Day, begg'd o'th' Carle the Speaker, but he'd
give her nought unless she'd let a Feart ; wons at last a
Feart she lat. Ay marry, quotli the Woman, noo my
Rump has a Speaker te.

All. He, he, he.

Due. But to our Bus'ness —

Des. Bus'ness ; ay, there's the thing, I've a World on't.
I shou'd go and bespeak a Pair of Mittins and Shears for
my Hedger and Shearer, a pair of Cards for my Thrasher,
a Scythe for my Mower, and a Screen-Fan for my Lady-
Wife, and many other things; my Head's full of Bus'ness.
I cannot stay —

Whit. Fy, my Lord, will you neglect the bus'ness of the
Day ? We meet to oblige the Nation, and gratify our
Friends.

Des. Nay, I'll do any thing, so I may rise time enough
to see my Horses at Night.

Lov. Damn 'em, what stuff's here for a Council-Table ?

Free. Where are our English Spirits, that can be govern'd
by such Dogs as these ? —

La m. Clerk, read the Heads of what past at our last sitting.

War. In the first place, I must mind your Lordships
tol consider those that have been gued Members in the
Commonwealth.

Fleet. We shall not be backward to gratify any that
have serv'd the Commonwealth.

THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT m

Whit. There's Money enough ; we have taxt the
Nation high.

Due. Yes, if we knew where to find it : however, read.

Clerk reads.] To Walter Walton, Draper, six thousand ,
nine hundred twenty nine Pounds six Shillings and five
Pence, for Blacks for his Highness's Funeral.

Lam. For the Devil's ; put it down for Oliver Cromwell <
Funeral : We'll have no Record rise up in Judgment for
such a Villain.

Lov. How live Asses kick the dead Lion ! [Aside.

Due. Hark ye, my Lords, we sit here to reward Services
done to the Commonwealth ; let us consider whether this
be a Service to the Commonwealth or not?

Lam. However, we will give him Paper for't.

Hews. Ay, let him get his Money when he can.

Lam. Paper's not so dear, and the Clerk's Pains will
be rewarded.

War. Right, my gued Lord, 'sbred, that Cromwelv/as
th' faudest limmer Loon that ever cam into lour Country,
the faud Diel has tane him by th' Luggs for robbing our
Houses and Land.

Fleet. No swearing, my Lord.

War. Weel, weel, my Loord, Fs larne to profess and
lee as weel as best on ya.

Hews. That may bring you profit, my Lord — but,
Clerk, proceed.

Clerk reads J] To Walter Frost, Treasurer of the Contin
gencies, twenty thousand Pounds. To Thurloe, Secretary
to his Highness —

Due. To old Noll.

Clerk reads] — Old Noll, ten thousand Pounds, for
unknown Service done the Commonwealth — To Mr.
Hutchinson, Treasurer of the Navy, two hundred thousand
Pounds —

War. Two hundred thousand Pound ; Owns, what a
Sum's there? — Marry it came from the Mouth of a
Cannon sure.

sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 379

Clerk reads.] A Present to the Right Honourable and
truly Virtuous Lady, the Lady Lambert, for Service done
to the late Protector —

Hews. Again — say Cromwel.

Clerk. — Cromwel — six thousand Pound in Jacobuses.

War. 'Sbread, sike a Sum wou'd make me honour the
Face of aud Jemmy.

Clerk. To Mr. Ice six thousand Pound ; to Mr. Loether,
late Secretary to his High —

Whit. To Oliver Cromwe/szy, can you not obey Orders?

Clerk. — Secretary to Oliver Cromwel — two thousand
nine hundred ninety nine Pounds for Intelligence and In
formation, and piously betraying the King's Liege People.

War. Haud, haud, Sirs, Mary en ya gift se fast ya'll
gif aud away from poor Archibald Johnson.

Whit. Speak for your self, my Lord ; or rather, my
Lord, do you speak for him. [To Lam.

Lam. Do you move it for him, and I'll do as much for
you anon. \_Aslde to Whit.

Whit. My Lord, since we are upon Gratifications, —
let us consider the known Merit of the Lord Wariston, a
Person of industrious Mischiefs to the malignant Party,
and great Integrity to us, and the Commonwealth.

War. Gued faith, an I's ha been a trusty Trojon, Sir,
what say you, may very gued and gracious Loords? —

Due. I scorn to let a Dog go unrewarded ; and you, Sir,
fawn so prettily, 'tis pity you shou'd miss Preferment.

Hews. And so 'tis; come, come, my Lords, consider
he was ever our Friend, and 'tis but reasonable we shou'd
stitch up one another's broken Fortunes.

Due. Nay, Sir, I'm not against it.

Ail. 'Tis Reason, 'tis Reason.

Free. Damn 'em, how they lavish out the Nation !

War. Scribe, pretha read my Paper.

Hews. Have you a Pertition there?

Cob. A Petition, my Lord.

380 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT m

Hews. Pshaw, you Scholards are so troublesome.

Lam. Read the Substance of it. \_To the Clerk.

Clerk. That your Honours wou'd be pleas'd, in co
sideration of his Service, to grant to your Petitioner, a
considerable Sum of Money for his present Supply.

Fleet. Verily, order him two thousand Pound —

War. Two thousand poond ? Bread a gued, and I's gif | '.
my Voice for Fleetwood. [Aside.

Lam. Two thousand ; nay, my Lords, let it be three.

War. Wons, I lee'd, I lee'd ; I's keep my Voice for
Lambert — Guds Benizon light on yar Sol, my gued Lord
Lambert.

Hews. Three thousand Pound ! why such a Sum wou'd
buy half Scotland.

War. Wons, my Lord, ya look but blindly on't then :
time was, a Mite on't had bought aud shoos in yar Stall,
Brother, tho noo ya so abound in Irish and Bishops Lands.

Due. You have nick'd him there, my Lord.

All. He, he, he.

War. Scribe — gang a tiny bit farther.

Clerk. — And that your Honours would be pleas'd to
confer an Annual Pension on him —

Lam. Reason, I think ; what say you, my Lords, of five
hundred Pound a Year?

All. Agreed, agreed.

War. The Diel swallow me, my Lord, ya won my Heart.

Due. 'Tis very well — but out of what shall this be rais'd ?

Lam. We'll look what Malignants' Estates are forfeit,
undispos'd of — let me see — who has young Freeman's
Estate ?

Des. My Lord, that fell to me.

Lam. What all the fifteen hundred Pound a Year r

Des. A Dad, and all little enough.

Free. The Detfil do him good with it.

Des. Had not the Lard put it into your Hearts to have
given me two thousand per Annum out of Bishops Lands,

c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 381

.nd three thousand per Annum out of the Marquess's Estate;
low shou'd I have liv'd and serv'd the Commonwealth as
'. have done ?

Free. A plague confound his Honour, he makes a hard
,hift to live on Eight thousand Pound a Year, who was
)orn and bred a Hedger.

Lov. Patience, Friend.

Lam. I have been thinking — but I'll find out a way.

Lov. Or betray some honest Gentleman, on purpose to
gratify the Loone.

Lam. And, Gentlemen, I am bound in Honour and
bnscience to speak in behalf of my Lord W bit lock ; I
hink fit, if you agree with me, he shou'd be made Con-
table of Windsor Castle, Warden of the Forest, with the
ents, Perquisities, and Profits thereto belonging ; nor can
pour Lordships confer a Place of greater Trust and Honour
in more safe Hands.

Due. I find he wou'd oblige all to his side. [Aside.
'as he not part of the Duke of Buckingham's Estate already,

ith Chelsey House, and several other Gifts?

Lam. He has dearly deserv'd 'em ; he has serv'd our
Interest well and faithfully.

Due. And he has been well paid for't.

Whit. And so were you, Sir, with several Lordships,
and Bishops Lands, you were not born to, I conceive.

Due. I have not got it, Sir, by knavish Querks in Law ;
a Sword that deals out Kingdoms to the brave, has cut out
some small parcels of Earth for me. And what of this?

[Stands up in a heat.

Whit. I think, Sir, he that talks well, and to th' purpose,

ay be as useful to the Commonwealth as he that fights
well. Why do we keep so many else in Pension that ne'er
drew Sword, but to talk, and rail at the malignant Party ;
to libel and defame 'em handsomly, with pious useful Lyes,
Which pass for Gospel with the common Rabble,
And edify more than Hugh Peter's Sermons ;

382 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

And make Fools bring more Grist to the publick Mill.
Then, Sir, to wrest the Law to our convenience
Is no small, inconsiderate Work.

Free. And which you may be hang'd for very shortly —

[Aside,

Lam. 'Tis granted, my Lord, your Merit's infinite
We made him Keeper of the Great Seal, 'tis true
Honour, but no Salary.

Due. Ten thousand Pound a Year in Bribes will do as well.

Lam. Bribes are not so frequent now as in Old Noll's
Days.

Hews. Well, my Lord, let us be brief and tedious,
the saying is, and humour one another : I'm for WhitlocVi
Advance.

Lam. I move for a Salary, Gentlemen, Scobel^n^ other
petty Clerks have had a thousand a Year ; my Lord su
merits more.

Hews. Why — let him have two thousand then.

Fleet. I profess ingeniously, with all my Heart.

Whit. I humbly thank your Lordships — but, if I may
be so bold to ask, from whence shall I receive it ?

Lam. Out of the Customs.

Cob. Brotherly Love ought to go along with us — but,
under favour, when this is gone, where shall we raise new
Supplies?

Lam. We'll tax the Nation high, the City higher,
They are our Friends, our most obsequious Slaves,
Our Dogs to fetch and carry, our very Asses —

Lov. And our Oxes, with the help of their Wives.

[Aside.

Lam. Besides, the City's rich, and near her time, I hope,
of being deliver'd.

War. Wons a gued, wad I'd the laying o' her, she shou'd
be sweetly brought to Bed, by my Sol.

Des. The City cares for no Scotch Pipers, my Lord.

War. By my Sol, but she has danc'd after the gued

jc. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 383

Pipe of Reformation, when the Covenant Tiggr eane'd

i , 0. J bS & &

iryly round, birs.

Clerk. My Lords, here are some poor malignant Peti-
l loners.

Lam. Oh, turn 'em out, here's nothing for 'em ; these
Pellows were petitioning my Lady to day — I thought she
had given you a satisfactory Answer.

Lov. She did indeed, my Lord : but 'tis a hard Case,
jio take away a Gentleman's Estate, without convicting
[lim of any Crime.

Lam. Oh, Sir, we shall prove that hereafter.

Lov. But to make sure Work, you'll' hang a Man first
lind examine his Offence afterwards; a Plague upon your
Consciences : My Friend here had a little fairer Play; your
l^illains, your Witnesses in Pension swore him a Colonel
l:or our glorious Master, of ever blessed Memory, at eight
pears old; a Plague upon their Miracles.

Fleet. Ingeniously, Sirrah, you shall be pillory'd for
Mefaming our reverend Witnesses: Guards, take 'em to
[four Custody both.

Free. Damn it, I shall miss my Assignation with Lady
\Desbro ; a Pox of your unnecessary prating, what shall I
|do? [Guards take ''em away.

Lam. And now, my Lords, we have finished the Business
)f the Day. My good Lord Fleetwood, I am entirely yours,
j and at our next sitting shall approve my self your Creature —

Whit. My good Lord, I am your submissive Vassal.

War. Wons, my Lord, I scorn any Man shou'd be
j mere yare Vassal than Archibald Johnson.

[To Fleet wood. [Ex. All.

SCENE II. A Chamber in Lady Desbro's House.
Enter La. Desbro, and Corporal in haste.

L. Des. Seiz'd on, secur'd ! Was there no time but this ?
What made him at the Committee, or when there why

384 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT ml:

spoke he honest Truth ? What shall I do, good Corporal ? I
Advise ; take Gold, and see if you can corrupt his Guards : I
but they are better paid for doing Mischief; yet try, their I
Consciences are large. [Gives him Gold. \

Cor. I'll venture my Life in so good a Cause, Madam. |

[Exit.
Enter Tom.

Tom. Madam, here's Mr. Ananias Gogle^ the Lay-Elder
of Clement's Parish.

L. Des. Damn the sham Saint ; am I now in Condition
to be plagu'd with his impertinent Nonsense ?

Tom. Oh ! Pray, Madam, hear him preach a little ; 'tisj
the purest Sport —

Enter Ananias.

Ana. Peace be in this Place.

L,. Des. A blessed hearing; he preaches nothing in his
Conventicles, but Blood and Slaughter. [Aside.

What wou'd you, Sir? I'm something busy now.

Ana. Ah, the Children of the Elect have no Business
but the great Work of Reformation : Yea verily, I say,
all other Business is profane, and diabolical, and devilish ;
Yea, I say, these Dressings, Curls, and Shining Habilli-
ments — which take so up your time, your precious time ;
I say, they are an Abomination, yea, an Abomination in
the sight of the Righteous, and serve but as an Ignis fatuusy
to lead vain Man astray — I say again —

[Looking now and then behind on the Page.

L. Des. — You are a very Coxcomb.

Ana. I say again, that even I, upright I, one of the new
Saints, find a sort of a — a — I know not what — a kind of
a Motion as it were — a stirring up — as a Man may say,
to wickedness — Yea, verily it corrupteth the outward Man
within me.

L. Des. Is this your Business, Sir, to rail against our
Clothes, as if you intended to preach me into my Primitive
Nakedness again ?

c. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 385

Ana. Ah, the naked Truth is best ; but, Madam, I have
i little work of Grace to communicate unto you, please
ou to send your Page away —

L. Des. Withdraw — sure I can make my Party good with
>ne wicked Elder : — Now, Sir, your Bus'ness. [Ex. Tom.
-Be brief.

Ana. As brief as you please — but — who in the sight of
10 much Beau - - ty — can think of any Bus'ness but the
Sus'ness — Ah ! hide those tempting Breasts, — Alack, how
limooth and warm they are — [Feeling 'em, and sneering.

L. Des. How now, have you forgot your Function?

Ana. Nay, but I am mortal Man also, and may fall seven
Irimes a day — Yea verily, I may fall seven times a day —
Your Ladyship's Husband is old, — and where there is a
rood excuse for falling, — ah, there the fall — ing — is ex-
:usable. — And might I but fall with your Ladyship, —
might I, I say. —

L. Des. How, this from you, the Head o'th' Church
Militant, the very Pope of Presbytery ?

Ana. Verily, the Sin lieth in the Scandal ; therefore most
of the discreet pious Ladies of the Age chuse us, upright
Men, who make a Conscience of a Secret, the Laity being
more regardless of their Fame. — In sober sadness, the Place
— inviteth, the Creature tempting, and the Spirit very
violent within me. [Takes and ruffles her.

L. Des. Who waits there ? — I'm glad you have prov'd
your self what I ever thought of all your pack of Knaves.

Ana. Ah, Madam ! Do not ruin my Reputation ; there
are Ladies of high Degree in the Commonwealth, to whom
we find our selves most comforting ; why might not you be
one ? — for, alas, we are accounted as able Men in Ladies
Chambers, as in our Pulpits: we serve both Functions —

Enter Servants.

Hah ! her Servants — [Stands at a distance.

L. Des. Shou'd I tell this, I shou'd not find belief. [Aside.
I CC

386 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT in

Ana. Madam, I have another Errand to your Ladiship.
— It is the Duty of my Occupation to catechize the Heads •
of every Family within my Diocese ; and you must answer
some few Questions I shall ask. — In the first place, Madam,
— Who made ye ?

L. Des. So, from Whoring, to a zealous Catechism
who made me ? what Insolence is this, to ask me Questions j
which every Child that lisps out Words can answer !

Ana. 'Tis our Method, Madam.

L. Des. Your Impudence, Sirrah, — let me examine youj
Faith, who are so sawcy to take an account of mine — Who
made you? But lest you shou'd not know, I will inform
you : First, Heav'n made you a deform'd, ill-favour'd
Creature ; then the Rascal your Father made you a Taylor!
next, your Wife made you a Cuckold ; and lastly the Devil
has made you a Doctor ; and so get you gone for a Fool
and a Knave all over.

Ana. A Man of my Coat affronted thus !

L. Des. It shall be worse, Sirrah, my Husband sh
know how kind you wou'd have been to him, because youi
Disciple and Benefactor, to have begot him a Babe ofGrace
for a Son and Heir.

Ana. Mistake not my pious meaning, most gracious Lady*

L. Des. I'll set you out in your Colours : Your impudent
and bloody Principles, your Cheats, your Rogueries on
honest Men, thro their kind, deluded Wives, whom you
cant and goggle into a Belief, 'tis a great work of Grace
to steal, and beggar their whole Families, to contribute to
your Gormandizing, Lust and Laziness ; Ye Locusts of
the Land, preach Nonsense, Blasphemy, and Treason, till
you sweat again, that the sanctify 'd Sisters may rub you
down, to comfort and console the Creature.

Ana. Ah ! Am —

L. Des. Sirrah, be gone, and trouble me no more —
be gone — yet stay — the Rogue may be of use to me —
Amongst the heap of Vice, Hypocrisy, and Devils that

;c. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 387

DOSSCSS all your Party, you may have some necessary Sin ;
t'ye known some honest, useful Villains amongst you, that

ll swear, profess, and lye devoutedly for the Good Old
ause.

Ana. Yea, verily, I hope there are many such, and I
,hou'd rejoice, yea, exceedingly rejoice in any Gadly Per-
:ormance to your Ladiship.

L. Des. This is a pious Work : You are a Knave of
Credit, a very Saint with the rascally Rabble, with whom
rour seditious Cant more prevails, your precious Hum and
Ha, and gifted Nonsense, than all the Rhetorick of the
Learn'd or Honest.

Ana. Hah!

L. Des. — In fine, I have use of your Talent at present,
rhere's one now in Confinement of the Royal Party — his
Name's Freeman.

Ana. And your Ladiship wou'd have him dispatch'd ;
[ conceive ye — but wou'd you have him dispatch'd privately,
Dr by Form of Law ? we've Tools for all uses, and 'tis a
ious Work, and meritorious.

L. Des. Right, I wou'd indeed have him dispatch'd, and
privately ; but 'tis hither privately, hither to my Chamber,
Drivately, for I have private Bus'ness with him. D'ye start ?
— this must be done — for you can pimp I'm sure upon
Dccasion, you've Tools for all uses ; come, resolve, or I'll
discover your bloody Offer. Is your Stomach so queasy it
cannot digest Pimping, that can swallow Whoring, false
Oaths, Sequestration, Robbery, Rapes, and Murders daily ?

Ana. Verily, you mistake my pious Meaning ; it is the

Malignant I stick at ; the Person, not the Office : and in
sadness, Madam, it goeth against my tender Conscience
to do any good to one of the Wicked.

L. Des. It must stretch at this time ; go haste to the
Guard, and demand him in my Husband's Name ; here's
something worth your Pains — having releas'd him, bring
him to me, you understand me — go bid him be diligent,

388 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT iv

and as you behave your self, find my Favour ; for know,
Sir, I am as great a Hypocrite as you, and know the Cheats
of your Religion too ; and since we know one another,
'tis like we shall be true.

Ana. But shou'd the Man be missing, and I call'd t
account ? —

L. Des. He shall be return'd in an hour : go, get you!
gone, and bring him, or — no more — [Ex. Ana.

For all degrees of Vices, you must grant,

There is no Rogue like your Geneva Saint. [Exeunt.

ACT IV.

SCENE I. A Chamber in La. Desbro's Home.

t

Candles, and Lights.
Enter L. Desbro and Freeman.

L. Des. By what strange Miracle, my dearest Freenu £
wert thou set at liberty ?

Free. On the zealous Parole of Rabble Ananias; th 4*
Rhetorick that can convert whole Congregations of we 1
meaning Blockheads to errant Knaves, has now mollif)
my Keeper ; I'm to be render'd back within this Hou 4
let's not, my dear Maria, lose the precious minutes thi.
Reverend Hypocrite has given us.

L. Des. Oh ! you are very gay, have you forgot whose
Prisoner you are, and that perhaps, e'er many Days are
ended, they may hang you for High-Treason against the
Commonwealth? they never want a good thorow-stitch'd
Witness to do a Murder lawfully.

Free. No matter, then I shall die with Joy, Maria,
when I consider, that you lov'd so well to give me the
last Proof on't.

L. Des. Are you in earnest, Freeman ? and wou'd you
take what Honour will not suffer me to grant ?

Free. With all my Heart, Honour's a poor Excuse.

I:, i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 389

four Heart and Vows (your better part) are mine ; you've
nly lent your Body out to one whom you call Husband,
nd whom Heaven has mark'd for Cuckoldom. Nay, 'tis
n Act of honest Loyalty, so to revenge our Cause ; whilst
ou were only mine, my honest Love thought it a Sin to
ress these Favours from you ; 'twas injuring my self as well
s thee ; but now we only give and take our Right.

L. Des. No more, my Husband's old —

Free. Right, my dear Maria, and therefore —

L. Des. — May possibly die —

Fret. He will be hang'd first.

L. Des. — I hope so — either of which will do our
lus'ness — unreasonable Freeman, not to have Patience till
ny Husband be hang'd a little.

Free. But what if Destiny put the Change upon us, and

be hang'd instead of Desbro?

k L. Des. Why then thou art not the first gallant Fellow
l^t has died in the Good and Royal Cause ; and a small
Bte of Happiness will but turn thee off the Ladder with

e sadder Heart.

j Free. Hast thou the Conscience, lovely as thou art,

«0 deal out all thy Beauty to a Traitor ?

J not this Treason of the highest Nature,

L o rob the Royal Party of such Treasure,

nd give it to our mortal Enemies?

or Shame, be wise, and just,

nd do not live a Rebel to our Cause ;

is Sin enough to have Society with such a wicked Race.

L. Des. But I am married to him.

Free. So much the worse, to make a League and
Covenant with such Villains, and keep the sinful Contract;
. little harmless Lying and Dissimulation I'll allow thee,
nut to be right down honest, 'tis the Devil.

L. Des. This will not do, it never shall be said I've been
o much debauch'd by Conventicling to turn a sainted
inner ; No, I'm true to my Allegiance still, true to my

390 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT iv>

King and Honour. Suspect my Loyalty when I lose my
Virtue : a little time, I'm sure, will give me honestly into
thy Arms; if thou hast Bravery, shew it in thy Love.

Free. You will o'ercome, and shame me every way ; —
but when will this Change comer and till it do, what
Pawn will you give me, I shall be happy then ?

L. Des. My Honour, and that Happiness you long for^
and take but two Months time for their Redemption.

Free. How greedily I'll seize the Forfeiture !

L. Des. But what am I like to get if this Change do come?)

Free. A Slave, and whatever you please to make of
him.

L. Des. Who knows, in such an universal Change, how
you may alter too ?

Free. I'll give ye Bond and Vows, unkind Maria, — I
Here take my Hand — Be it known unto all Men, bm
these Presents, that I, John Freeman of London, Gentl
acknowledge my self in Debt to Maria Desbro, the SUM
of one Heart, with an incurable Wound ; one Soul,destin'B
hers from its first Being ; and one Body, whole, sound
and in perfect Health ; which I here promise to pay to thl
said Maria, upon Demand, if the aforesaid John FreenuM
be not hang'd before such Demand made. Whereto I
my Hand — and seal it with my Lips. \ln a Ton

L. Des. And I, in consideration of such Debt, do freel
give unto the abovesaid John Freeman, the Heart and Body*
of the abovesaid Maria Desbro, with all Appurtenances •
thereto belonging, whenever it shall please Heaven to bring
my Husband fairly to the Gallows. [/« a Tone.

Free. Amen — kiss the Book — [Kisses her.

[Ana. hums without.

L. Des. Hah ! that's Ananias ; sure some Danger's near,
the necessary Rascal gives us notice of.

Free. 'Tis so, what wouldst thou have me do?

L. Des. Thou art undone if seen — here, step within
this Curtain. \_He goes.

i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 391

Ananias, humming, and spreading his Cloak wide ;

Desbro behind him, puffing in a Chafe.
Des. Ads nigs, what a Change is here like to be? —
I uff, puff — we have manag'd Matters sweetly — to let the
mcotch General undermine us ; puff, puff.
L.Des. What's the Matter?

Des. Nothing, Cockey, nothing, but that we are like
to return to our first nothing.

Ana. Yea, verily, when our time's come ; but ah, the
teat Work of Reformation is not yet fully accomplish 'd,
irhich must be wrought by the Saints, and we cannot
pare one of them until the Work be finish'd.

Des. Yea, yea, it is finish'd I doubt, puff, puff: fie, fie,
vhat a Change is here !

Ana. Patience, ah, 'tis a precious Virtue ! —
Des. Patience, Sir ! what, when I shall lose so many
ine Estates which did appertain tothe Wicked ; and which,
trusted, had been establish 'd ours, and tell'st thou me of
Patience? puff, puff. \_JValkingfast.

Ana. How! lose 'em, Sir? handle the matter with
'atience ; I hope the Committee of Safety, or the Rump,
ill not do an illegal thing to one of the Brethren.
Des. No, no, I have been a trusty Knave to them, and so
have found them all to me: but Monk! Monk! O that ever
ve should be such blind Fools to trust an honest General!
Ana. Patience, Sir ! what of him?
Des. I just now receiv'd private Intelligence, he's coming
ut of Scotland with his Forces — puff, puff.
Ana. Why, let him come a Gad s Name, we have those
ill give him a civil Salute, if he mean not honourably to
:he Commonwealth. Patience, Sir.

Des. But if he proves the stronger, and shou'd chance to
DC so great a Traitor to us, to bring in the Man — the King.
L. Des. How, the King, Husband ! the great Heroick !
Free. Death, this Woman is a Sybil : ah, noble Monk!
Hum — the King ! —

392 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT i

Des. Ah, and with the King, the Bishops; and then
where's all our Church and Bishops Lands ! oh, undone —
puff, puff.

Ana. How, bring in the King and Bishops ! nv
righteous Spirit is raised too — I say, I will excommunicat*
him for one of the Wicked, yea, for a profane Heroick, ;
Malignant, a Tory, — a — I say, we will surround him, ant
confound him with a mighty Host ; yea, and fight the Lard'
Battel with him : yea, we will —

Des. Truckle to his Pow'r — puff, puff.

Ana. Nay, I say verily, nay ; for, in Sadness, I will di
in my Calling.

Des. So I doubt shall I — which is Ploughing, Hedging
and Ditching.

Ana. Yea, we have the Sword of the Righteous in ou
Hand, and we will defend the mighty Revenues of tht
Church, which the Lard hath given unto his People, anc
chosen ones — I say, we will defend —

Des. Ah, Patience, Sir, ah, 'tis a pious Virtue —

Ana. Ah, it is Zeal in one of us, the Out-goings o
the Spirit.

Enter Tom.

Tom. Sir, will you go down to Prayers? the Chaplain
waits.

Des. No, no, Boy, I am too serious for that Exercise,
I cannot now dissemble, Heav'n forgive me.

Ana. How, Sir, not dissemble — ah, then you have los
a great Virtue indeed, a very great Virtue; ah, let us no
give away the Good Old Cause — but, as we have hithert
maintain'd it by gadly Cozenage, and pious Frauds, let us
persevere — ah, let us persevere to the end ; let us not lose
our Heritage for a Mess of Pottage, that is, let us not lose
the Cause for Dissimulation and Hypocrisy, those two main
Engines that have carried on the great Work.

Des. Verily, you have prevail'd, and I will go take

J

ic. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 393

rounsel of my Pillow : Boy — call my Man to undress me
—I'll to Bed, for I am sick at Heart. [Ex. Tom.

Free. Death, what shall I do now ?

[Des. walks, she whispers Ana.

L. Des. You must get my Man off, or we're undone.

Ana. Madam, be comforted, Heaven will bring all
:hings about for our Advantage — [As Des. turns.

L. Des. But he's behind the Curtains, Man —

[Des. turns from 'em.

Ana. Ah, let Providence alone — [Spreads his Cloak
wide, and goes by degrees toward the BedJ] — Your pious
Lady, Sir, is doubtful, but I will give her ample Satisfaction.

Des. Ah, do, Mr. Ananias, do, for she's a good and virtuous
Lady, certo she is. [Ana. goes close to the Bed-post, and

speaks over his Shoulder.

Ana. Get ye behind my Cloak —

L. Des. Indeed, Sir, your Counsel and Assistance is
very comfortable.

Ana. We should be Help-meets to one another, Madam.

Des. Alack, good Man ! [L. Des. goes to coax her Husband.

L. Des. Ay, my dear, I am so much oblig'd to him, that
II know not, without thy Aid, how to make him amends.

Free. So, this is the first Cloak of Zeal I ever made
use of. [Ana. going, spreading his Cloak, to the Door ;

Free, behind goes out.

Des. Good Lady, give him his twenty pieces, adad, he
worthily deserves 'em. [Gives her Gold.

L. Des. Indeed, and so he does, Dear, if thou knew'st
all. — What say you now, do I not improve in Hypocrisy?
And shall I not in time make a precious Member of your
Church ? [To Ana.

Ana. Verily, your Ladyship is most ingenious and
expert. — Sir, I most humbly take my leave. [Ex. Ana.
Enter Tom.

Tom. My Lord, my Lord Lambert has sent in all haste
for you, you must attend at his House immediately.

.

394 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT iv

Des. So, he has heard the News — I must away — led
my Coach be ready. [Ex. Des.

L. Des. How unlucky was this that Freeman should be
gone — Sirrah, run and see to o'ertake him, and bring him
back. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. A fine Chamber in La. Lambert's House.
Enter Gilliflower and Loveless by dark, richly drest.

Lov. Where am I, Gilliflower?

Gill. In my Lady's Apartment, Sir, she'll be with yo ul
presently; you need not fear betraying, Sir, for I'll assure \
you I'm an Heroick in my Heart : my Husband was a]
Captain for his Majesty of ever-blessed Memory, and kilPd
at Naseby, God be thanked, Sir.

Lov. What pity 'tis that thou shouldst serve this Party?]

GUI. Bating her Principles, my Lady has good Nature!
enough to oblige a Servant ; and truly, Sir, my Vails were
good in old O/iver's Days ; I got well by that Amour
between him and my Lady ; the man was lavish enough.

Lov. Yes, of the Nation's Treasure — but prithee tell me,
is not thy Lady mad, raving on Crowns and Kingdoms ?

Gill. It appears so to you, who are not us'd to the Vanity!
of the Party, but they are all so mad in their Degree, and
in the Fit they talk of nothing else, Sir : we have to
morrow a Hearing as they call it.

Lov. What's that, a Conventicle ?

Gill. No, no, Sir, Ladies of the last Edition, that present
their Grievances to the Council of Ladies, of which my
Lady's chief, which Grievances are laid open to the Com
mittee of Safety, and so redress'd or slighted, as they are.

Lov. That must be worth one's Curiosity, could one
but see't.

Gill. We admit no Man, Sir.

Lov. 'Sdeath, for so good a sight I will turn Woman,
I'll act it to a hair.

:. in] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 395

Gill. That would be excellent.

Lov. Nay, I must do't ; the Novelty is rare — but I'm
Impatient — prithee let thy Lady know I wait.

Gill. She's in Affairs of State, but will be here imme-
liately ; mean time, retire into her Cabinet, I'll send the
page with Lights, there you may repose till my Lady comes,
[in the Pallat. [She leads him out.

SCENE III. A great Chamber of State, and Canopy in
Lambert's House.

And at a Table, seated Lambert, Fleetwood, Desbro,
Hewson, Duckenfield, Wariston, Cobbet; all half
drunk, with Bottles and Glasses on the Table ; L. Lam.
and L. Fleet.

Lam. My Lord Wariston, you are not merry to night.
War. Wons, Mon, this Monk sticks in my Gullet, the
uickle Diel pull him out by th' Lugs; the faud Loone
tvill en spoyle aud our Sport, mon.

Lam. I thought I had enough satisfied all your Fears;
t:he Army's mine, that is, — 'tis yours, my Lords, and I'll
I mploy it too so well for the Good of the Commonwealth,
l/ou shall have Cause to commend both my Courage and
Conduct ; my Lord Wariston, will you accompany me ?

War. Ah, my gued Lord, the Honour is too great.
I'Tis not but I's dare fight, my Lord, but I love not the
iimmer Loone, he has a villanous honest Face an's ene ;
I's ken'd him ence, and lik't him not ; but I's drink tol yar
gued Fortune ; let it gang aboote, ene and ad, Sirs.

[All drink.

Lam. We'll leave all Discourse of Bus'ness, and give
3ur selves to Mirth ; I fancy good Success from this day's
[Omen.

Enters Gill, whispers L. Lam. she rises.

L. Lam. Waited so long !

396 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT r

Gill. And grew impatient, an't please your Highness;
must I go tell him you cannot see him to night.

L. Lam. Not for the World ; my silly Politician will
Busying himself in the dull Affairs of State;
— Dull in comparison of Love, I mean ;
I never lov'd before ; old Oliver I suffer'd for my Interest,
And 'tis some Greatness, to be Mistress to the best ;
But this mighty Pleasure comes a propos^
To sweeten all the heavy Toils of Empire.

Gill. So it does, an't please your Highness.

L. Lam. Go, let him know I'm coming — Madam,
must beg your Pardon ; you hear, my Lord to morro\
goes on his great Expedition ; and, for any thing we know,
may fall a glorious Sacrifice to the Commonwealth ; there
fore 'tis meet I offer up some Prayers for his Safety, and
all my leisure Hours 'twixt this and that, will be too few —
Your humble Servant, Madam. [Ex. L. Lam. and Gill.

L. Fleet. My Dear, I'll leave you too, my time of
Devotion is come, and Heav'n will stay for no Body;
where are my People? is my Coach ready, or my Chair?

Fleet. Go in your Chair, my Love, lest you catch cold.

L. Fleet. And light your Flambeaus, — I love to have my
Chair surrounded with Flambeaus.

Enter Page.

Page. Your Chair is ready, Madam.

[She goes out led by Fleet.

Hews. What think ye now, my Lords, of settling the
Nation a little ? I find my Head swim with Politicks, and
what ye call urns.

War. Wons, and wad ya settle the Nation when we
real our selves ?

Hews. Who, pox, shall we stand making Childrens
Shoes all the Year ? No, no, let's begin to settle the Nation,
I say, and go thro-stitch with our Work.

Due. Right, we have no Head to obey; so that if this

:. m] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 397

fotch General do come whilst we Dogs fight for the Bone,
e runs away with it.

Hews. Shaw, we shall patch up matters with the Scotch
general, I'll warrant you : However, here's to our next
lead — One and all. {All drink.

Fleet. Verily, Sirs, this Health-drinking savoureth of
Monarchy, and is a Type of Malignancy.

War. Bread, my Lord, no preaching o'er yar Liquer,
vee's now for a Cup o'th' Creature.

Cob. In a gadly way you may ; it is lawful.
\ Lam. Come, come, we're dull, give us some Musick —
Ime, my Lord, I'll give you a Song, I love Musick as I
lo a Drum, there's Life and Soul in't, call my Musick.

Fleet. Yea, I am for any Musick, except an Organ.

War. Sbread, Sirs, and I's for a Horn-pipe, I've a faud

heefe here shall dance ye Dance tol a Horn-pipe, with
ny States-man a ya aud.

All. He, he, he.

Due. I know not what your faud Theefe can do ; but
_B hold you a Wager, Colonel Hewson, and Colonel
Desbro shall dance ye the Seint's Jigg with any Sinner of
/our Kirk, or field Conventicler.

War. Wons, and I's catch 'em at that Sport, I's dance
:ol 'em for a Scotch Poond ; but farst yar Song, my Lord,
[ hope 'tis boody, or else 'tis not werth a Feart.

All. He, he, he.

SONG, sung by my Lord Lambert.
A Pox of the States-man that's witty,
That watches and plots all the sleepless Night,
For seditious Harangues to the Whigs of the City,
And piously turns a Traitor in spite.
Let him wrack, and torment his lean Carrion,
To bring his sham-Plots about,
Till Religion, King, Bishop, and Baron,
For the publick Good, be quite routed out.

398 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT|

Whilst we that are no Politicians,
But Rogues that are resolute, bare-facd and great,
Boldly head the rude Rabble in open Sedition,
Bearing all down before us in Church and in State.
Tour Impudence is the best State-trick,
And he that by Law means to rule,
• Let his History with ours be related,
Tho we prove the Knaves, 'tis he is the Fool.

War. The Diel a me, wele sung, my Lord, and g
aud Trades fail, yas make a quaint Minstrel.
All. He, he, he.

War. Noo, Sirs, yar Dance? [They fling Cushions
one another, and grin. Mustek plays.] — Marry, Sirs,
this be yar dancing, tol dance and ne'er stir Stap, the L
lead the Donee for Archibald.

[ When they have flung Cushions thus a while to the Musicl
time, they beat each other from the Table, one by one, anc
fall into a godly Dance ; after a while, Wariston rises
and dances ridiculously a while amongst them ; then tn
the Time of the Tune, they take out the rest, as at tht\
Cushion-Dance, or in that nature. Wariston being tht\
last taken in, leads the rest.

— Haud, Minstrels, haud ; Bread agued. Fs fatch ad Ladies
in — lead away, Minstrels, tol my Lady's Apartment.

\_Musick playing before a //I
\_Exeunt dancing^

SCENE IV. Flat.
Enter Page.

Page. Cock, Here must I wait, to give my Lady notice
when my Lord approaches ; — The fine Gentleman that
is alone with her, gave me these two fine Pieces of Gold,
and bad me buy a Sword to fight for the King withal ; and
I'm resolv'd to lay it all out in a Sword, not a penny in
Nickers, and fight for the Heroicks as long as I have a

;CTJIV] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 399

•nb, if they be all such fine Men as this within. But

•k, sure I hear some coming. — [Exit.

\[F/at Scene draws off, discovers L. Lam. on a Couch, with
Loveless, tying a rich Diamond-Bracelet about his Arm :
a Table behind with Lights, on which a Velvet Cushion,
with a Crown and Scepter covered.

\Lov. This Present's too magnificent : such Bracelets

|ung Monarchs shou'd put on.

IL. Lam. Persons like me, when they make Presents,

, must do it for their Glory, not considering the Merit

Ithe Wearer : yet this, my charming Loveless, comes short

what I ought to pay thy Worth ; comes short too of
Love.

Lov. You bless me, Madam —

L. Lam. This the great Monarch of the World once

d about my Arm, and bad me wear it, till some greater

-an shou'd chance to win my Heart ;

hou art that Man whom Love has rais'd above him ;

horn every Grace and every Charm thou hast

inspire to make thee mightier to my Soul;

nd Oliver, illustrious Oliver,

ras yet far short of thee.

Lov. He was the Monarch then whose Spoilsl triumph in.

L. Lam. They were design'd too for Trophies to the
•ung and gay.

i, Loveless! that I cou'd reward thy Youth
frith something that might make thee more than Man,
is well as to give the best of Women to thee —

[Rises, takes him by the Hand, leads him
to the Table. He starts.

•Behold this gay, this wondrous glorious thing.

Lov. Hah — a Crown — and Scepter !

ive I been all this while
> near the sacred Relicks of my King;

id found no awful Motion in my Blood,

otliing that mov'd sacred Devotion in me?

[Kneels.

400 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

-Hail sacred Emblem of great Majesty
Thou that hast circled more Divinity
Than the great Zodiack that surrounds the World
tncer was blest with sight of thee till now
But in much reverenc'd Pictures- [Rises and bow

L,. Lam. Is t not a lovely thing?
Lov There's such Divinity i'th' very Form on't

I been conscious I'd been near the Temple
Where this bright Relick of the glorious Martyr'
Had been enshrin'd, 't had spoil'd my soft Devotion
— L is bacnlege to dally where it is ;
A rude, a saucy Treason to approach it
With an unbended Knee: for Heavns sake, Madam
1-et us not be profane in our Delights,
Either withdraw, or hide that glorious' Object

L. Lam. Thou art a Fool, the very sight of this—
Raises my Pleasure higher:
Methinks I give a Queen into thy Arms
And where I love I cannot give enough ; \Sofik

—Wou d I cou'd set it on thy Head for ever,

1 wou d not become my simple Lord
The thousandth part so well.

[Goes to put it on his Head, he puts it back.
Lov. forbear, and do not play with holy things-
Let us retire, and love as Mortals shou'd
Not imitate the Gods, and spoil our Joys.
^Lam. Lovely, and unambitious!
And h°P.es have T of a]I your promis'd Constancy,
Ought ,11S whlch Possibly e'er long may adorn my Brow
Shall pr1' to raise me higher in your Love,
Methir transform you even to Adoration,
Is wort rv make you vanish from its Lustre ?
LVL s the very Fancy of a Queen

t] a thousand Mistresses of less illustrious Rank.
Vhat, every pageant Queen ? you might from
ce infer

iv] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 401

I'd fall in love with every little Actress, because
Ihe acts the Queen for half an hour,
[!ut then the gaudy Robe is laid aside.

L. Lam. I'll pardon the Comparison in you.
Lov. I do not doubt your Power of being a Queen,
|>ut trust, it will not last.

How truly brave would your great Husband be,
If, whilst he may, he paid this mighty Debt

the right Owner !
f, whilst he has the Army in his Power,
Ie made a true and lawful use of it,
"o settle our great Master in his Throne ;
\nd by an Act so glorious raise his Name
ven above the Title of a King.

L. Lam. You love me not, that would persuade me from
[y Glory.

Enter Gilliflower.

Gill. Oh, Madam, the Lords are all got merry, as they
11 it, and are all dancing hither.

L. Lam. What, at their Oliverian Frolicks? — Dear
/esSy withdraw, I wou'd not give the fond believing
Fool a Jealousy of me.

Gill. Withdraw, Madam ? 'tis impossible, he must run
just into their Mouths.

L. Lam. I'm ill at these Intrigues, being us'd to Lovers
that still came with such Authority, that modestly my
Husband wou'd withdraw — but Love/ess is in danger, there
fore take care he be not seen.

Gill. Heav'ns ! they are coming, there's no Retreat —
L. Lam. Lie down on the Couch — and cover him you
with the Foot-Carpet — So, give me my Prayer-Book.
[He lies down along on the Couch, they cover him with the
Carpet: L. Lam. takes her Book, sits down on his Feet,
and leans on the Back of the Couch reading; Gill, stands
at t'other end, they enter dancing as before.
I D D

4O2 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT iv

— What Insolence is this? do you not hear me, you —
Sots — whom Gaiety and Dancing do so ill become.

War. [Singing.] Welcome, Joan Sanderson, welcome,
welcome. [Goes to take her out, she strikes him.

Wons, Madam, that's no part o'th' Dance.

L. Lam. No, but 'tis part of a reward for your Insolence1,
Which possibly your Head shall answer for —

Lam. Pardon him, my Dear, he meant no Disrespect
to thee.

L. Lam. How dare you interrupt my Devotion, Sirrah ?
Be gone with all your filthy ill-bred Crew.

[Lam. sits down on LovS

Lam. My only Dear, be patient ; hah ! —
Something moves under me ; Treason, Treason ! [He

[Lov. rolls off, and turns Lam. over, the rest of the Me(
run out crying Treason, Treason, overthrowing
Lights, putting 'em out.

L. Lam. Treason, Treason ! my Lord, my Lord !

Lam. Lights there, a Plot, a Popish Plot, Lights !

L. Lam. The Crown, the Crown, guard the Crown !

[She groping about, finds Lov. by his Clothes, knows him.
— Here, take this Key, the next room is my Bed-chamber,
Secure yourself a moment. — [Ex. Loveless.

Lights there, the Crown — who art thou ?

[ Takes hold of Lam.

Lam. 'Tis I.

L. Lam. Ah, my Lord, what's the matter ? —

Lam. Nay, my Lady, I ask you what's the matter ?

Enter Page with Lights.

By Heaven, all is not well ; hark ye, my fine she Politician,
who was it you had hid beneath this Carpet?

L. Lam. Heav'ns ! dost hear him, GilliJJower ? Sure the
Fellow's mad.

Gill. Alack, my Lord, are you out of your honourable
Wits? Heav'n knows, my Lady was at her Devotion.

IV]

THE GOOD OLD CAUSE

403
At her

Lam. Baud, come, confess thy self to be one.
)evotion ! yes, with a He Saint.

Gill. Ah ! Gad forbid the Saints should be so wicked.
L. Lam. Hark ye, thou little sniveling Hypocrite, who
last no Virtue but a little Conduct in Martial Discipline ;
hast by Perjuries, Cheats, and pious Villanies, wound
hy self up into the Rabble's Favour, where thou mayst
Itand till some more great in Roguery remove thee from
mat height, or to the Gallows, if the King return : hast
hou the Impudence to charge my Virtue?
Lam. I know not, Madam, whether that Virtue you
st were lost, or only stak't, and ready for the Gamester ;
>ut I am sure a Man was hid under this Carpet.
L. Lam. Oh Heav'ns, a Man !

Gill. Lord, a Man ! Are you sure 'twas a Man, my Lord?
-Some villanous Malignant, I'll warrant.
Lam. It may be so.

Gill. Alack, the Wickedness of these Heroicks to hide
mder Carpets ; why they'l have the impudence to hide
mder our Petticoats shortly, if your Highness take 'em
lot down. [To Lady Lam.

Lam. I do believe so ; Death — a Cuckold ? shall that
jlack Cloud shade all my rising Fame ?

L. Lam. Cuckold ! Why, is that Name so great a

Stranger to ye,
|Or has your rising Fame made ye forget
(How long that Cloud has hung upon your Brow?

-'Twas once the height of your Ambition, Sir ;
(When you were a poor — sneaking Slave to Cromwell,
Then you cou'd cringe, and sneer, and hold the Door,
And give him every Opportunity,
Had not my Piety defeated your Endeavours.

Lam. That was for Glory,
Who wou'd not be a Cuckold to be great ?
—If Cromwell leap'd into my Saddle once,
I'll step into his Throne for't : but, to be pointed at

404 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACTIV, sc. iv

By Rascals that I — rule — 'tis insupportable.

L. Lam. How got this Fellow drunk ? call up my

Officers !

Who durst deliver him this quantity of Wine ?
Send strait in my Name, to summon all the
Drunken Committee of Safety into my Presence.
By Heav'n, I'll show you, Sir — yes they shall
See what a fine King they're like to have
In Honest, Gadly, Sober, Wise Jack Lambert.
— Nay, I'll do't ; d'ye think to take away my Honour th
I, who by my sole Politicks and Management
Have set you up, Villain of Villains, Sirrah.
— Away — summon 'em all. [To Gilliflowe

Lam. Stay — be not so rash ; who was beneath the Carpe

L. Lam. I will not answer thee.

Lam. Nor any living thing?

L. Lam. No Creature in the Room, thou silly Ideot, ,
but Gi//iflowerznd I — at our Devotion, praying to Heav'n
for your Success to morrow — and am I thus rewarded ?

[Weeps, Gill, weeps too.

Lam. My Soul, I cannot bear the Sight of Tears
From these dear Charming Eyes.

L. Lam. No matter, Sir, the Committee shall right me.

Lam. Upon my Knees I ask thy Pardon, Dear ; by all
that's good, I wou'd have sworn I'd felt something stir
beneath me as I sat, which threw me over.

L. Lam. Only your Brains turn'd round with too much
drinking and dancing, Exercises you are not us'd to — go
sleep, and settle 'em, for I'll not deign to Bed with you
to night — retire, as e'er you hope to have my Aid in your
Advancement to the Crown.

Lam. I'm gone — and once more pardon my Mistake.
[Bows, and goes out. Ex. Gill.

L. Lam. — So, this fighting Fool, so worshipp'd by the

Rabble,
How meanly can a Woman make him sneak? —

, sc. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 405

happy Night's our own — [To Loveless.

Enter Gill. Loveless.

Lov. Excellent Creature, how I do adore thee !
L. Lam. But you, perhaps, are satisfied already —
Lov. Never; shou'dst thou be kind to all Eternity.
iFhou hast one Virtue more, I pay thee Homage for ; I
heard from the Alcove how great a Mistress thou art in
I he dear Mystery of Jilting.

L. Lam. That's the first Lesson Women learn in Con
venticles, Religion teaches those Maxims to our Sex : by this
Kings are deposed, and Commonwealths are ruVd ;
By Jilting all the Universe is fool' d. [Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I. A Street.

Enter Corporal, half drest ; with Soldiers, Joyner, and
Felt-maker.

Cor. Ha, Rogues, the City-Boys are up in Arms ; brave
loys, all for the King now !

Felt. Have a care what you say, Sir ; but as to the City's
:ing in Mutiny, that makes well for us : we shall fall to
>ur old Trade of plundering ; something will fall to the
Righteous, and there is Plunder enough.

Cor. You plunder, Sirrah ! knock him down, and carry
[him into the Guard-room, and secure him.

[ Two Soldiers seize him.

1 Sold. They say the Committee of Safety sate all
Night at General Lambert's, about some great Affair —

>me rare Change, Rogues.

2 Sold. Yes, and to put off Sorrow, they say, were all
right reverendly drunk too.

Cor. I suppose there is some heavenly matter in hand ;
there was Treason cried out at the General's last night,
and the Committee of no Safety all ran away.

i Sold. Or rather reel'd away.

406 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

Cor. The Ladies squeak'd, the Lords fled, and all tk|
House was up in Arms.

Felt. Yea, and with Reason they say ; for the Pope il
disguise was found under the Lady's Bed, and two hug
Jesuits as big as the tall Irish-man, with Blunderbi
having, as 'tis said, a Design to steal the Crown,
Custody of the General —

2 Sold. Good lack, is't possible ?

Joyn. Nay, Sir, 'tis true, and is't not time we look*
about us?

Cor. A Pox upon ye all for lying Knaves — secure 'en
both on the Guard till farther Order — and let us into fl
City, Boys : hay for Lombard-Street.

2 Sold. Ay, hay for Lombard-Street ,• there's a Shop
have mark'd out for my own already.

1 Sold. There's a handsom Citizen's Wife, that I hav
an Eye upon, her Husband's a rich Banker, I'll take t'on
with t'other.

Joyn. You are mistaken, Sir, that Plunder is reserv'd fix
us, if they begin to mutiny ; that wicked City that is s*
weary of a Commonwealth.

2 Sold. Yes, they're afraid of the Monster they them
selves have made.

Enter Lov. and Free, in disguise.
Cor. Hah, my noble Colonel ! what, in disguise !
Free. We have made our Escapes — and hope to see better
times shortly, the noble Scotch General is come, Boys.

Enter Captain of the Prentices, and a great Gang with
him, arm'd with Swords, Staffs, &c.

Capt. Come, my Lads, since you have made me Captain.
I'll lead you bravely on ; I'll die in the Cause, or bring
you off with Victory.

I Pren. Here's a Club shall do some Execution : I'l! |
beat out Hewsons t'other Eye ; I scorn to take him on the
blind side.

|,c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 407

Capt. In the first Place, we must all sign a Petition to
my Lord Mayor. —

2 Pren. Petitions ! we'll have no Petition, Captain ; we
ire for Club-Law, Captain.

Capt. Obey, or I leave you.

All. Obey, Obey.

Capt. Look ye, we'll petition for an honest Free Par
liament I say.

i Pren. No Parliament, no Parliament, we have had
jtoo much of that Mischief already, Captain.

All. No Parliament, no Parliament.

Capt. Farewel, Gentlemen, I thought I might have been
(heard.

Free. Death, Sirs, you shall hear the Captain out.

All. We obey, we obey.

Capt. I say an honest Free Parliament, not one pick'd
[and chosen by Faction ; but such an one as shall do our
[Bus'ness, Lads, and bring in the Great Heroick.

All. Ay, ay, the Great Heroick, the Great Heroick.

Lov. A fine Youth, and shou'd be encourag'd.

Capt. Good — in the next Place, the noble Scotch General
is come, and we'll side with him.

Free. Ay, ay, all side with him.

1 Pren. Your Reason, Captain, for we have acted too
much without Reason already.

2 Pren. Are we sure of him, Captain ?

Capt. Oh, he'll doubtless declare for the King, Boys.

All. Hay, Viva le Royy viva le Monk!

Capt. Next, I hear there's a Proclamation coming out
to dissolve the Committee of no Safety.

All. Good, good.

Capt. And I hope you are all brave enough to stand to
your Loyal Principles with your Lives and Fortunes.

All. We'll die for the Royal Interest.

Capt. In the next Place, there's another Proclamation
come out.

408 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT

2 Pren. This Captain is a Man of rare Intelligence!
but for what, Captain ?

Capt. Why — to — hang us all, if we do not imme
diately depart to our respective Vocations : How like y<
that, my Lads ?

2 Pren. Hum — hang'd ! I'll e'en home again.

1 Pren. And I too, I do not like this hanging.

2 Pren. A Man looks but scurvily with his Neck awrjl

3 Pren. Ay, ay, we'll home.

Capt. Why, now you shew what precious Men you arJ
— the King wou'd be finely hop'd up with such Rascals
that for fear of a little hanging would desert his Cause j
Pox upon you all, I here discharge ye —
— Take back your Coward Hands and give me Hearts.

[F/ings ''em a ScroL\

I scorn to fight with such mean-spirited Rogues ;
I did but try your boasted Courages.

Lov. Brave Boy.

Lav. and Free. We'll die with thee, Captain —

All. Oh, noble Captain, we recant —

i Pren. We recant, dear Captain, we'll die, one and all j

All. One and all, one and all.

Capt. Why, so there's some trusting to you now.

3 Pren. But is there such a Proclamation, Captain ?

Capt. There is ; but anon, when the Crop-ear'd Sherif
begins to read it, let every Man enlarge his Voice, and cry
no Proclamation, no Proclamation.

All. Agreed, agreed.

Lov. Brave noble Lads, hold still your Resolution,
And when your leisure Hours will give ye leave,
Drink the King's Health, here's Gold for you to do so.

Free. Take my Mite too, brave Lads. [Gives 'em Gold.

All. Hay ! Viva the brave Heroicks !

Enter Ananias Gogle.
Ana . Hum, what have we here, a Street-Conventicle— or a

c. i] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 409

Mutiny ? Yea, verily, it is a Mutiny — What meaneth this
ppearance in hostile manner, in open Street, by Day-light ?
Capt. Hah ! one of the sanctify'd Lay Elders, one of
he Fiends of the Nation, that go about like roaring Lions
eking whom they may devour.
Lov. Who, Mr. Ananias the Padder?
Ana. Bear witness, Gentlemen all, he calls me Highway-
an ; thou shalt be hang'd for Scandal on the Brethren.
Lov. I'll prove what I say, Sirrah ; do you not rob on
:he High-way i'th' Pulpit? rob the Sisters, and preach it
awful for them to rob their Husbands ; rob Men even of
eir Consciences and Honesty ; nay rather than stand
ut, rob poor Wenches of their Bodkins and Thimbles?
Ana. I commit ye ; here, Soldiers, I charge ye in the
ame of — of — marry, I know not who, in my Name, and
e good People of England, take 'em to safe Custody.
Capt. How, lay hold of honest Gentlemen ! Noble
Cavaliers, knock him down.

All. Knock him down, knock him down.
Free. Hold, worthy Youths ; the Rascal has done me
ervice.

Ana. [Pulling off his Hat to 'em allJ] Ye look like
Citizens, that evil Spirit is entered in unto you, oh Men
of London ! that ye have changed your Note, like Birds
of evil Omen ; that you go astray after new Lights, or
ather no Lights, and commit Whoredom with your
'athers Idols, even in the midst of the Holy City, which
he Saints have prepared for the Elect, the Chosen ones.
Capt. Hark ye, Sirrah, leave preaching, and fall to
declaring for us, or thou art mortal.

Ana. Nay, I say nay, I will die in my Calling — yea, I
will fall a Sacrifice to the Good Old Cause ; abomination
ye with a mighty Hand, and will destroy, demolish and
confound your Idols, those heathenish Malignants whom
you follow, even with Thunder and Lightning, even as a
Field of Corn blasted by a strong Blast.

4 io THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

Lov. Knock him down !

All. Down with Dagon, down with him !

Enter Hewson with Guards.
Hews. Ah, Rogues, have I caught ye napping?

[They all surround him and his Red-Coat\
All. Whoop Cobler, Whoop Cobler !

[The Boys, Lov. and Free. Corp. and Sold, beat o\
Hewson and his Party. Ana. gets a Sword, at
fights too.

SCENE II. Changes to a Chamber in La. Lambert's Hous\
Enter L. Lam. and Gill.

Gill. I've had no time to ask your Highness how yc
slept to Night ; but that's a needless Question.

L. Lam. How mean you? do you suspect my Virtue
do you believe Loveless dares attempt any thing agaiml
my Honour? No, Gilliflower, he acted all things so lil
a Gentleman, that every moment takes my Heart mor
absolutely.

Gill. My Lord departed highly satisfied.

L. Lam. She is not worthy of Intrigues of Love, tl
cannot manage a silly Husband as she pleases — but, Gil
flower, you forget that this is Council day.

Gill. No, but I do not, Madam, some important Suite
wait already.

Enter L. Des. and L. Fleetwood.

L. Lam. Your Servant, Madam Desbro, thou'rt wel

come —

Gilliflower, are all things ready in the Council-Chamber
We that are great must sometimes stoop to Acts,
That have at least some shew of Charity ;
We must redress the Grievance of our People.

L. Fleet. She speaks as she were Queen, but I shall pui
a spoke in her rising Wheel of Fortune, or my Lord
Politicks fail him.

[Scene draws off, "Table with Papers : Chairs round i\

5C. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 411

L. Lam. Where are the Ladies of the Council ? — how
emiss they are in their Attendance on us.
'L. Fleet. Us ! Heav'ns, I can scarce endure this Insolence !
•We will take care to mind 'em of their Duty —
L. Lam. We, poor Creature ! how simply Majesty be-
omes her ? [ They all sitting down, enter L. Crom wel angrily ,
and takes her Place, L. Lam. uppermost.
— Madam, as I take it, at our last sitting, our Pleasure
as, that you shou'd sit no more.

Crom. Your Pleasure ! Is that the General Voice ?
This is my Place in spite of thee, and all thy fawning
action, and I shall keep it, when thou perhaps, shalt be
"" "**,n humble Suppliant here at my Foot-stool.
L. Lam. I smile at thee.

Crom. Do, and cringe ; 'tis thy business to make thee
pular.
* f But 'tis not that —
: I Nor thy false Beauty that will serve thy Ends.

L. Lam. Rail on ; declining Majesty may be excus'd,
Call in the Women that attend for redress of Grievances.

[Ex. Page.

Enter Page with Women, and Loveless dress1 d as a Woman.

'- Gentlewomen, what's your Bus'ness with us?

Lov. Gentlewomen ! some of us are Ladies.

L. Lam. Ladies in good time ; by what Authority, and
I, from whom do you derive your Title of Ladies?

L. Fleet. Have a care how you usurp what is not your
i' own !

Lov. How the Devil rebukes Sin ! [Aside.

L. Des. From whom had you your Honours, Women ?

Lov. From our Husbands.

Gill. Husbands, who are they, and of what standing?

2 Lady. Of no long standing, I confess.

Gill. That's a common Grievance indeed.

..

L. Des. And ought to be redress'd.

412 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [AC

L. Lam. And that shall be taken into consideration
write it down, Gilliflower ; who made your Husband ;|
Knight, Woman ?

Lov. Oliver the first, an't please ye.

L!. Lam. Of horrid Memory; write that down — wh<|
yours ?

2 Lady. Richard the fourth, an't like your Honour.

Gill. Of sottish Memory ; shall I write that down too

L. Des. Most remarkably.

Cram. Heav'ns ! Can I hear this Profanation of <n
Royal Family? [Asia

L. Lam. I wonder with what impudence Noll and Dici\
cou'd Knightify your Husbands ; for 'tis a Rule in Heraldrj
that none can make a Knight but him that is one;
Sane ha Poncho's Case in Don Quixot.

Crom. How dare you question my Husband's Authority?

[Rises in Anger

Who nobly won his Honour in the Field,
Not like thy sneaking Lord who gain'd his Title
From his Wife's gay Love-tricks —
Bartering her Honour for his Coronet.

L,.Lam. Thou ly'st,my Husband earn'd it with his Sword
Braver and juster than thy bold Usurper,
Who waded to his Glory through a Sea
Of Royal Blood—

L. Des. Sure Love/ess has done good on her, and con
verted her.

L. Fleet. Madam, I humbly beg you will be patient
you'll ruin all my Lord's Designs else — Women, proceec
to your Grievances, both publick and private.

Lov. I petition for a Pension ; my Husband, deceas'd
was a constant active man, in all the late Rebellion
against the Man ; he plunder'd my Lord Capel, he betray'c
his dearest Friend Brown Bushel, who trusted his Life ir
his Hands, and several others ; plundering their Wives am
Children even to their Smocks.

:. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 413

L. Lam. Most considerable Service, and ought to be
nsider'd.

2 Lady. And most remarkably, at the Trial of the late
an, I spit in's Face, and betray'd the Earl of Holland
the Parliament.

Crom. In the King's Face, you mean — it shew'd your
!eal for the Good Cause.

2 Lady. And 'twas my Husband that headed the Rabble,
) pull down G0|rand Magog, the Bishops, broke the Idols
i the Windows, and turn'd the Churches into Stables

d Dens of Thieves ; rob'd the Altar of the Cathedral of
e twelve pieces of Plate call'd the twelve Apostles, turn'd
even of 'em into Money, and kept Judas for his own

at home.

L. Fleet. On my Word, most wisely perform'd, note
down —

3 Lady. And my Husband made Libels on the Man
om the first Troubles to this day, defam'd and profan'd
ic Woman and her Children, printed all the Man's
etters to the Woman with Burlesque Marginal Notes,
ull'd down the sumptuous Shrines in Churches, and with

e golden and Popish Spoils adorn'd his own Houses and

imney-Pieces.

L. Lam. We shall consider these great Services.

Lav. To what a height is Impudence arriv'd ? [Aside.

L. Lam. Proceed to private Grievances.

Lov. An't please your Honours, my Husband prays too
iUch ; which both hinders his private bus'ness at home,
od his publick Services to the Commonwealth —

L. Lam. A double Grievance — set it down, Gilliflower.

Lov. And then he rails against the Whore of Babylon,
nd all my neighbours think he calls me Whore.

Crom. A most unpardonable fault.

L. Lam. We'll have that rectify'd, it will concern us.

Lov. Then he never kisses me, but he says a long
jrace, which is more mortifying than inviting.

414 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT?J

L. Des. That is the fault of all the new Saints, which
is the reason their Wives take a pious care, as much as in
them lies, to send 'em to Heaven, by making 'em Cuckolds.

L. Fleet. A very charitable Work, and ought to J
encourag'd. [Loveless gives in a Petition to GilliflowerJ

Gill. The humble Petition of the Lady Make-shift.

\_ReadsM

— Heav'ns, Madam, here are many thousand Hands to*tl
of the distressed Sex.

All. Read it.

Gill. Reads.] Whereas there pass'd an Act, June 24th,l
against Fornication and Adultery, to the great detriments
of most of the young Ladies, Gentlewomen, and Com- 1
monalty of England^ and to the utter decay of many whole \
Families, especially when married to old Men ; youi
Petitioners most humbly beg your Honours will take this I
great Grievance into mature Consideration,- and the saici
Act may be repealed.
— A Blessing on 'em, they shall have my Hand too.

L. Lam. We acknowledge, there are many Grievances
in that Act ; but there are many Conveniences too, for it
ties up the villanous Tongues of Men from boasting oui
Favours.

Crom. But as it lays a Scandal on Society — tis trouble
some, Society being the very Life of a Republick — Peter:
the first, and Martin the second.

Lov. But in a Free-State, why shou'd we not be freei

L. Des. Why not ? we stand for the Liberty and Pro
perty of our Sex, and will present it to the Committee ol
Safety.

Lov. Secondly, we desire the Heroicks, vulgarly call'c
the Malignant, may not be look'd on as Monsters, foi
assuredly they are Men; and that it may not becharg'd tou«
as a Crime to keep 'em company, for they are honest Men

2 Lady. And some of 'em Men that will stand to then
Principles.

I n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 415

L. Lam. Is there no other honest Men that will do as
fell?

3 Lady. Good Men are scarce.

L. Lam. They're all for Heroicks, sure 'tis the mode

love 'em — I cannot blame 'em. [Aside.

Lov. And that when we go to Morning and Evening

:ctures, to Tantlings, or elsewhere, and either before or

liter visit a private Friend, it may be actionable for the

licked to scandalize, us, by terming of it, abusing the

Ireature, when 'tis harmless recreating the Creature.

All. Reason, Reason.

Lov. Nor that any Husband shou'd interrupt his Wife,

icn at her private Devotion.

Enter Page.

L. Lam. I have been too late sensible of that Grievance.
Gill. And, Madam, I wou'd humbly pray a Patent for
)lding, to ease my Spleen.

Page. An please your Highness, here's a Messenger
riv'd Post with Letters from my Lord the General.

[Ex. Page.

L. Lam. Greater Affairs — oblige us to break up the
Duncil. [Rises, the Women retire.

Enter Page with Messenger, or Letters.

-What means this haste? [Opens, and reads 'em.

Cram. Hah, bless my Eye-sight, she looks pale, — now
again ; some turn to his Confusion, Heav'n, I beseech
se.

L.Lam. My Lord's undone ! his Army has deserted him;
sft him defenceless to the Enemies Pow'r.
i, Coward Traytors ! Where's that brutal Courage,
hat made you so successful in your Villanies ?

Hell, that taught you Valour, now abandon'd ye ?
-How in an instant are my Glories fall'n !
Crom. Ha, ha, ha — What, has your Highness any Cause
Grief?

4i 6 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [A

Gill. Call up your Courage, Madam, do not let thes
things scoff you — you may be yet a Queen : Remembe
what Lilly told you, Madam.

L. Lam. Damn Li//yy who with lying Prophecies
rais'd me to the hopes of Majesty : a Legion of his De
take him for't.

Cram. Oh, have a care of Cursing, Madam.

L. Lam. Screech-Owl, away, thy Voice is ominous.
Oh I cou'd rave ! but that it is not great ;
— And silent Sorrow — has most Majesty.

Enter Wariston, huffing.

War. Wons, Madam, undone, undone ; our honourabl
Committee is gone to th' Diel, and the damn'd loose
Rump is aud in aud ; the muckle Diel set it i'solt, and hi
Dam drink most for't.

Crom. The Committee dissolv'd ! whose wise work vfz
that? it looks like Fleetwood's silly Politicks.

War. Marry, and yar Ladiship's i'th' right, 'twas en th
Work o'th' faud Loone, the Diel brest his Wem for't.

Enter Hewson, Desbro, Whitlock, Due. and Cob.

Hew. So, Brethren in Iniquity, we have spun a
Thred, the Rump's all in all now, rules the Roast, an
has sent for the General with Scissers and Rasor.

Whit. With a Sisseraro, you mean.

Hew. None of your Terms in Law, good Brother.

War. Right ; but gen ya have any Querks in Law, M
Lyar, that will save our Crags, 'twill be warth a Fee.

Due. We have plaid our Cards fair.

War. I's deny that; Wans, Sirs, ya plaid 'em faul ;
Fule had the shooftling of 'em, and the Muckle Diel hint
self turn up Trump.

Whit. We are lost, Gentlemen, utterly lost ; who th
Devil wou'd have thought of a Dissolution?

Hews. Is there no Remedy ?

Due. Death, I'll to the Scotch General ; turn but in tin

:. n] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 417

js many greater Rogues than I have done, and 'twill save
y Stake yet — Farewel, Gentlemen.
Des. No Remedy?

War. Nene, Sirs, again the King's Evil ; Bread, Sirs,
i's ene gan tol yar Stall agen : I's en follow Duckenfield
-Farewel, Mr. Leyer.

L. Lam. See the Vicissitudes of human Glory,
"hese Rascals, that but yesterday petition'd me
rith humble Adoration, now scarce pay
jmmon Civilities due to my Sex alone.

Enter Fleet wood.

Crom. How now, Fool, what is't that makes ye look so
hertly ? Some mighty Business you have done, I'll warrant.
Fleet. Verily, Lady Mother, you are the strangest Body;
li Man cannot please you — Have I not finely circumvented
.!>en? made the Rump Head, who have committed
lim to the Tower ; ne'er stir now that I have, and I'm the
jjratest Man in England, as I live I am, as a Man may say.
Crom. Yes, till a greater come. Ah, Fool of Fools, not
Ito fore-see the danger of that nasty Rump.

L. Fleet. Good Madam, treat my Lord with more Respect.
Crom. Away, fond Fool, born with so little Sense,
iTo doat on such a wretched Idiot;
lit was thy Fate in Ireton's days to love him,
[Or you were foully scandaliz'd.

Fleet. You are not so well spoken of neither, ne'er stir
I now, and you go to that. I can be King to morrow if I will.
Crom. Thou lyest, thou wo't be hang'd first ; mark that
I tell thee so. I'll prove Cassandra to thee, and prophesy
thy Doom ; Heav'n pays the Traitor back with equal
Measure. Remember how you serv'd my poor Son Richard.

[Ex. Crom. and Page.

Fleet. She's mad — Come, my Dear, let's leave the House
of this Villain, that meant to have cozen'd me illegally or
three Kingdoms — but that I outwitted him at last.

[Ex. Fleet. L. Fleet, and Page.

I E E

4i 8 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT

Enter Page.

L. Lam. Imprison'd too, i'th' Tower! what Fate i|
mine? [Leans on De

Page. Madam, the fine Heroick's come to wait on you
L. Lam. Hah ! Love/ess! let him not see the Ruin o|
my Greatness, which he foretold, and kindly begg'd
wou'd usurp no more.

Enter Loveless.

Lov. This News has brought me back, I love thi|

Woman,

Vain as she is, in spite of all her Fopperies of State —

[Bows to her^ and looks sat

L. Lam. Alas, I do not merit thy Respect,
I'm fall'n to Scorn, to Pity and Contempt. [JVeeping
Ah, Loveless, fly the wretched —
Thy Virtue is too noble to be shin'd on
By any thing but rising Suns alone :
I'm a declining Shade —

Lov. By Heaven, you were never great till now ;
I never thought thee so much worth my Love,
My Knee, and Adoration, till this Minute. [Kneels \

— I come to offer you my Life, and all
The little Fortune the rude Herd has left me.

L. Lam. Is there such God-like Virtue in your Sex ?
Or, rather, in your Party.

Curse on the Lyes and Cheats of Conventicles,
That taught me first to think Heroicks Devils,
Blood-thirsty, leud, tyrannick, salvage Monsters.
— But I believe 'em Angels all, if all like Love/ess.
What heavenly thing then must the Master be,
Whose Servants are divine? [Enter Page running.

Page. Oh, Madam! all the Heroick Boys are up in Arms. I
and swear they'll have your Highness, dead or alive, — they
have besieg'd the House.

L. Lam. Heav'ns, the Rabble ! — those faithless things

5C. m] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 419

that us'd to croud my Coach's Wheels, and stop my
Passage, with their officious Noise and Adoration.
Enter Freeman.

Free. Loveless, thy Aid ; the City-Sparks are up ;
Their zealous Loyalty admits no Bounds.
A glorious Change is coming, and I'll appear now barefac'd.

Lov. Madam, fear not the Rabble ; retire. Freeman and
I can still 'em. [Leads her in, and bows low.

Free. My dear Maria, I shall claim ye shortly —

L. Des. Do your worst, I'm ready for the Challenge.

[Go in.

[Ex. Lov. and Free, another way.

J

SCENE III. The Street.
Enter Captain and the rest.

Capt. I say we'll have the She-Politican out, she did
more mischief than her Husband, pitiful, dittiful Lambert ;
who is, thanks be prais'd, in the Tower, to which place
Lord of his Mercy bring all the King's Enemies.
All. Amen, Amen.

Enter Lov. and Freeman.

Lov. Why, how now, Captain, what, besiege the
Women ! No, let us lead our Force to nobler Enemies.

Capt. Nay, noble Chief, your Word's our Law.

Lov. No, I resign that Title to the brave Scotch General,
who has just now enter'd the City.

Capt. We know it, Sir ; do you not observe how the
Crop-ear'd Fanaticks trot out of Town ? — The Rogues
began their old belov'd Mutiny, but 'twould not do.

Lov. A Pox upon 'em, they went out like the Snuff of
a Candle, stinkingly and blinkingly.

i Pr. Ay, ay, let 'em hang themselves, and then they
are cold Meat for the Devil.

Capt. But, noble Champion, I hope we may have leave
to roast the Rump to night.

420 THE ROUND-HEADS ; OR, [ACT v

Lov. With all our Hearts, here's Mony to make Fires —
Free. And here's for Drink to't, Boys.
All. Hey — Viva le Roy, viva les Heroicki!

[Go out hollowing.

Enter Ananias peeping. Felt-maker, and Joyner.

Ana. So, the Rabble's gone : ah, Brethren ! what will
this wicked World come to ?

Felt. Alack, alack, to no Goodness, you may be sure:
pray what's the News?

[Fleet, peeping out of a Gar ret- Window.

Fleet. Anania, Anania !

Ana. Who calleth Ananias ? lo, here am I.

Fleet. Behold, it is I, look up. How goeth tidings?

Ana. Full ill, I fear ; 'tis a bad Omen to see your Lord
ship so nigh Heaven ; when the Saints are Garretified.

Fleet. I am fortifying my self against the Evil-Day.

Ana. Which is come upon us like a Thief in the night;
like a Torrent from the Mountain of Waters, or a Whirl
wind from the Wilderness.

Fleet. Why, what has the Scotch General done ?

Ana. Ah ! he playeth the Devil with the Saints in the
City, because they put the Covenant-Oath unto him ; he
pulls up their Gates, their Posts and Chains, and enters.

Felt. And wou'd the wicked City let him have his
beastly Will of her ?

Ana. Nay, but she was ravish'd — deflower'd.

Joy. How, ravish'd ! oh monstrous ! was ever such a
Rape committed upon an innocent City? lay her Legs
open to the wide World, for every Knave to view her' I
Nakedness?

Felt. Ah, ah ! what Days, what Times, and what |l
Seasons are here ? [Exeunt. »

Enter Capt. Corp. and Prent. with Faggots, hollowing.
Corp. What say you now, Lads, is not my Prophecy I
truer than Lilly's? I told you the Rump would fall to ,11

it. ivj THK GOOD OLD CAUSE 421

mr handling and drinking for : the King's proclaim'd,

ogues.

Capt. Ay, ay, Lilly, a Plague on him, he prophesied
\^ambert should be uppermost.

Corp. Yes, he meant perhaps on Westminster Pinacle :
there's Lilly now, with all his Prophecies against the
loyal Family ?

Capt. In one of his Twelve Houses.

I Pren. We'll fire him out to Night, Boy ; come, all
lands to work for the Fire. [Ex. all hollowing.

Fleet. Ah, dismal, heavy day, a day of Grief and Woe,
rhich hast bereft me of my hopes for ay,

i, Lard, ah what shall I do ? [Exit.

SCENE IV. A Chamber in Lambert's House.

Enter Lov. leading L. Lam. in disguise^ Page and
Gilliflower disguised, Lov. dressing her.

Lov. My Charmer, why these Tears,
jlf for the fall of all thy painted Glories,
"hou art, in the esteem of all good Men,
ibove what thou wert then ?

glorious Sun is rising in our Hemisphere,
Lnd I, amongst the crowd of Loyal Sufferers,
jhall share in its kindly Rays.
L. Lam. Best of thy Sex —
rhat have I left to gratify thy Goodness ?
Lov. You have already by your noble Bounty,
iMade me a Fortune, had I nothing else;
ill which I render back, with all that Wealth
Heaven and my Parents left me :
Which, tho unjustly now detain'd from me,
Will once again be mine, and then be yours.

Enter Free.

Free. Come, haste, the Rabble gather round the House,
And swear they'll have this Sorceress.

422 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT \\

Lov. Let me loose among 'em, their rude officioi
Honesty must be punish'd.

L. Lam. Oh, let me out, do not expose thy Person t<
their mad Rage, rather resign the Victim. [Holds him\

Lov. Resign thee ! by Heaven, I think I shou'd turr
Rebel first.

Enter La. Des. disguised, and Tom with Jewels in a Box\

L. Des. With much ado, according to thy direction^
dear Freeman, I have pass'd the Pikes, my House being
surrounded ; and my Husband demanded, fell down d<
with fear.

Free. How, thy Husband dead !

L. Des. Dead as old Oliver, and much ado I got of
with these Jewels, the Rabble swore I was one of tht
Party; and had not the honest Corporal convinc'd em, ]|
had been pull'd to pieces. — Come, haste away, Madam I
we shall be roasted with the Rump else.

L. Lam. Adieu, dear Mansion ! whose rich gilded Roof
so oft put me in mind of Majesty — And thou, my Bed o I
State, where my soft Slumbers have presented me witH
Diadems and Scepters — when waking I have stretch'd mj
greedy Arms to grasp the vanish'd Phantom ! ah, adieu
and all my hopes of Royalty adieu. —

Free. And dare you put your self into my Protection!!
Well, if you do, I doubt you'll never be your own Wor
again.

L. Des. No matter, I'm better lost than found on sue
occasions. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. A Street ; a great Bonfire, with Spits, and

Rumps roasting, and the Mobile about the Fire, with

Pots, Bottles, Fiddles.

1 Pren. Here, Jack, a Health to the King.

2 Pren. Let it pass, Lad, and next to the noble General.
I Pren. Ralph, baste the Rump well, or ne'er hope tc

see a King agen.

. v] THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 423

3 Pren. The Rump will baste it self, it has been well
ram'd.

Enter Freeman, L. Des. Loveless, and L. Lam. Gill.
Tom, Pages, &c.

Cap. Hah, Noble Champion, faith, Sir, you must honour
is so far as to drink the King's Health, and the noble
"reneral's, before you go.

'nter Wariston, drest like a Pedlar, with a Box about bis
Neck fall of Ballads and Things.

War. Will ya buy a guedly Ballat or a Scotch Spur,
iirs ? a guedly Ballat, or a Scotch Spur. — 'Sbread, Fs scapt
litherte weele enough, I's sav'd my Crag fro stretching
:wa Inches longer than 'twas borne : will ya buy a Jack-
ine to roast the Rump, a new Jack Lambert Line ? — or a
ilithe Ditty of the Noble Scotch General? — come buy my
litties.

Cap. How, a Ditty o'th' General? let's see't, Sirrah.

War. 'Sbread, Sirs, and here's the guedly Ballat of the
reneral's coming out of Scotland.

Cap. Here, who sings it? we'll all bear the bob.

[Wariston sings the Ballad, all bearing the Bob.

Enter Ananias crying Almanacks.

Ana. New Almanacks, new Almanacks.
Cap. Hah, who have we here ? Ananias, Holder-forth
of Clement's Parish ?

All. Ha, a Traytor, a Traytor.

Lov. If I am not mistaken, this blithe Ballad-singer
too was Chair-man to the Committee of Safety.
Cap. Is your Lordship turned Pedlar at last?
War. What mon I do noo ? Lerd, ne mere Lerd than
yar sel, Sir ; wons I show 'em a fair pair of Heels.

[ Goes to run away, they get him on a Colt-staff, with
Ananias on another, Fidlers playing Fortune my
Foe, round the Fire.

424 THE ROUND-HEADS; OR, [ACT v

Cap. Play Fortune my Foe, Sirrah.

Enter Hewson, drest like a Country Fellow.

Cor. Who are you, Sirrah ? you have the mark o'th'
Beast.

Hews. Who aye, Sir ? Aye am a Doncer, that cornel
a merry-making among ya —

Cap. Come, Sirrah, your Feats of Activity quickly then.l
[He dances ; which ended, they get him on a Colt-\
staff) and cry a Cobler, a Cobler.

All. A Cobler, a Cobler.

Cap. To Prison with the Traytors, and then we have*
made a good Night's work on't.

Then let's all home, and to the Powers Divine

Pray for the King, and all the Sacred Line. [Exeunt.

EPILOGUE.

Spoken by Lady Desbro.

THE yizor't off, and now I dare appear.

High for the Royal Cause in Cavalier ;

Tho once as true a Whig as most of you,

Coud cant, and lye, preach, and dissemble too :

So far you drew me in, but faith I '// be

Revenged on you for thus debauching me :

Some of your pious Cheats I '// open lay,

That lead your Ignoramus Flock astray :

For since I cannot fight, I will not fail

To exercise my Talent, that's to rail.

Te Race of Hypocrites, whose Cloak of Zeal

Covers the Knave that cants for Commonweal,

All Laws, the Church and State to Ruin brings,

And impudently sets a Rule on Kings ;

Ruin, destroy, all's good that you decree

By your Infallible Presbytery,

Prosperous at first, in Ills you grow so vain,

You thought to play the Old Game o'er again :

. vj THE GOOD OLD CAUSE 425

And thus the Cheat was put upon the Nation, \

First with Long Parliaments, next Reformation,
And now you hop'd to make a new Invasion :
And when you can't prevail by open Force, \

To cunning tickling Tricks you have recourse,
And raise Sedition forth without Remorse. )

Confound these cursed Tories, then they cry, [In a preach-
Those Fools, those Pimps to Monarchy, ing tone.

Those that exclude the Saints ; yet open th' Door,
To introduce the Babylonian Whore.
By Sacred Oliver the Nation's mad ;
Beloved, 'twas not so when he was Head :
But then, as I have said it oft before ye,
A Cavalier was but a Type ofTory.
The Curs durst then not bark, but all the Breed
Is much encreas'd since that good Man was dead :
Yet then they railed against the Good Old Cause,
Rail 'd foolishly for Loyalty, and Laws ;
But when the Saints had put them to a stand,
We left them Loyalty, and took their Land:
Tea, and the pious Work of Reformation
Rewarded was with Plunder, Sequestration.
Thus cant the Faithful ; nay, they're so uncivil,
To pray us harmless Players to the Devil.
When this is all th' Exception they can make,
They damn us for our Glorious Master's sake.
But why 'gainst us do you unjustly arm ?
Our small Religion sure can do no harm ;
Or if it do, since that's the only thing,
IVe will reform when you are true to th' King.

NOTES.

(429)

NOTES ON THE TEXT.
ROVER I.

•.9 Diego, Page to Don Antonio. Neither 4tos nor 1724 give the page's

name, but it is furnished by the stage direction Act ii. i, p. 32. I have

added Hellena's page, Belvile's page, and Blunt's man to the list as it

appears in 4103 and 1724.
N. 9 Angelica. 4tos give 'Angellica* throughout. I have retained 1724

'Angelica' as more correct.

1.12,1.5 my things. 1724 misprints 'methinks '.
I. 17, 1. 14 as those "which . . . 410 1677 prints this as a separate line of

blank verse. 410 1709 italicizes it.
1.23, 1. 12 She often passes . . . 410 1709 puts this stage direction before

Blunt's speech.

• .24, 1. 18 Ex. all the Women. I have added 'except Lucetta" as she is in
dividually directed to make her exit with Blunt later and not at this point.
1.32,1.23 Pedro. Ha I 1724 omits.
lj.32,1.28 aside. 1724 omits.
•'•35» '-33 bis shirt bloody. 1 724 gives ' their shirts' but 4tos, more correctly,

'his shirt'. It is only Willmore who has been wounded.
'. 38, 1. 6 high ftK Mouth. 1724, 1735 misprint 'Month'.
I). 39, 1. 8 This last reserve. 1724 omits 'reserve'.

'.39, 1. 10 by me. 1724 omits the repetition of 'by me'.
|>. 39, 1. 14 cure. 1724 misprints 'curse'.
I). 40, 1. 9 Thou art a bra-ve Fellow. 1 724 prints this speech as prose but the

4tos, which I have followed, divide metrically.
I). 44,1. i Thou laou't. 4to 1677. 1724 wrongly reads 'won't'. 1735

'Thou'lt'.

13.45,1.8 ago. 410 1677. 1724 misprints 'go*.
J3.47, 1. 26 starts. 4tos read ' stares' but I retain 1724 'starts' as more

appropriate.
x 47, 1.31 Expect! 1724 gives this speech as prose. I follow metrical

division of 4103.

jp. 49, 1. 1 6 rally. 1724 misprints 'railly*.
jp. 52, 1. 5 Exeunt. 1724 omits this necessary stage direction.
I p. 52, 1.31 Exit. 1724 misprints 'aside',
p. 53, 1. 5 Enter Sancho. 4tos, but misprint after Sancho's speech. 1724 omits,

but misprints an 'exit Sancho', and gives 'exit' after Blunt's speech

instead of 'exeunt',
p. 54, l.g Pimfs ! 1724 'Imps'.

p. 55, 1. 12 sheer. 410 1677. 4to 1709 and 1724 read wrongly 'share',
p. 64, 1.4 Ant. 410 1677 wrongly gives this speech to Belvile. 410 1709

and ed. 1724 assign it correctly.

430 NOTES

p. 64, 1. 14 ThatOpinion. 1724 prints this speech as prose. I follow metri

division of 4tos.

p. 65, 1.4 Aside. 410 1677. 1724 and 1735 omit this stage direction,
p. 65, 1. 1 1 Masquing Habit. 1724, 1735, 'Masque habit',
p. 66, 1. 2 If you strike. 1724, 1735 omit this line,
p. 66, 1.2i Belv. Love Florinda ! 4tos give this speech as prose. 17;

metrically,
p. 67, 1.35 Fred. — 'tis he — 1724 and 1735 mistaking 'Fred.' for speech

prefix give this line to Frederick,
p. 68, 1. i Belv. Vizard . . . 1724, 1735, read 'Vizard falls out on's Hand,
p. 68, 1. 13 Naytanyou . . . 4103 and 1724, print as prose. This speech i

obviously metrical,
p. 69, 1. 17 lamallRage! 410 1677 divides metrically. 1724 prints as prow
p. 71, 1.26 unconstant. 1724, 1735 'inconstant',
p. 73, 1. 23 Aside. 4tos omit this necessary stage direction,
p. 73, 1.24 Now I perceive. 1724 prints this as prose. 4tos metrically.
p. 75, 1. 12 So,you have made. . . 1724, 1735 prose. 4tos metrically,
p. 76, 1. 16 Tou are mistaken. 1724, 1735 prose. 4108. metrically,
p. 76, 1. 20 continence. 1724 misprints 'continuance*,
p. 76, 1.23 Will. 1677 misprinting, omits this speech-prefix,
p. 77, 1. 8 has Wit. 1724 misprints 'Whas it*,
p. 79, 1. 20 A Woman ! 1724 omits 'A*,
p. 80, 1. 16 the Rogue. 1724 omits 'the*,
p. 82, 1. 14 He starts up. 1677 410 misprints 'she*,
p. 84,1. 18 dexterous. 1724 misprints ' dexetrous*. 1735 'dextrous',
p. 86, 1. 10 Exeunt. 1724 wrongly 'exit'.

p. 86, 1. 12 Blunfs Chamber. 4tos 'Chamber '. 1724, 1735, 'Room',
p. 86, 1. 13 as at bis Chamber-door. 1724, 1735, omit 'as',
p. 87, 1. 20 and Belvile's Page. I have added this entrance which 4103 ani

1724 omit, as late in the scene an exit is marked for the page,
p. 97, 1. 3 Hah ! Angelica ! 410 1677 mistakenly marks this speech befor

the stage direction,
p. 97, 1.4 What Devil. 1724, 1735 'What the Devil', which weakens th

whole passage.
p. 107 Post-Script. This is only given in the first 410 (1677).

ROVER II.

p. 1 1 7 I have added to the Dramatis Personae ' Rag, boy to Willmore ', an.
' Porter at the English Ambassador's*.

p. 118,
p. 118,

p. I 20,
p. I 20,
p. 120,
p. 122,
p. 123,
p. 124,
p. 126,

Scene I. I have added the locale 'A Street*.
4 Campain. 410 1681 'campania'.
17 but cold. 1724 'and cold'.
28 embracing. 1724 omits.
32 Philies. 410 1681 'Philoes'.
30 Brussels. 410 1 68 1 'Bruxels'.
21 But that. 1724 prints these two lines as prose.
3 Marcy. 1724 'Mercy'.
1 6 get 'em ready. 1724 'get it ready'.

NOTES 431

1 128, 1. 33 pickl'd Pilchard. 1724 ' pickle Pilchard*.

128, 1. 34 like a Christmas Sweet-heart. 410 1681 'boto Christmas Sweet
heart '.

129,1.26 have 1. 1 724 'I have*.
131,1.36 hot Shot. 1724 omits 'hot'.

134, 1.9 to receive. 1724, wrongly, 'to deceive*.

135, 1. 9 Scene I. I have added the locale 'The Street*.

142, 1. 5 Harlequin, Scaramouche. I have added these two names to the
stage direction. Harlequin is obviously present from the business.
Scaramouche is given in Dramatis Person*, 410 1681 and 1724, but in
neither is any entry or exit marked throughout the play. In Killigrew,
whom Mrs. Behn is here following very closely, Scaramouche is the
quack's servant and appears in this scene. Accordingly I have marked
him an entrance.

142,1.13 Maremaids. 1724 'Mairmaids*.

142, 1. 26 an a Man. 4to 1681 'and a Man*.

142,1.28 and falls. 410 1681 'who falls'.

145,1.30 on the Mountebank's Stage. 410 1681 'on the stage of the
Mountebank '.

146, 1. i This isjlat Conjuration. 4to 1681 'This flat Conjuration'.

146, 1.7 what's here. 410 1681 'what here".

148, 1. 1 1 Ex. Feth. and Blunt. 410 1681 and 1724 ' [Ex.'

148, 1. 12 Scene II. Changes. 410 1681 and 1724 'Scene changes'.

148,11.21,27,33 [bis. 1724 omits.

150, 1. 2 my Cousin Endymion. 1724 ' Endymion's'.

150, 1. 1 6 Sommes. 410 1681 and 1724 'somme*.

152,1.5 Snush. 1724 'snuff'.

154, 1.25 Gargantua. 4to 1681 'Garigantua', and omits 'of.

155, 1. 5 and Harlequin attending. Harlequin's entrance is not marked in
4to 1 68 1 or in 1724, but it is necessary here as he is addressed by
the Dwarf.

156,1.22 Hu, how scornful. 1724 omits 'Hu'.

'57> 1-37 t»\th Harlequin. Harlequin's exit unmarked in 410 1681 and

1724.

159, 1. 10 Talks to Hunt. 410 1681, wrongly, 'Talks to Will'.
161, 1. 4 faithless as the Winds. 1724 'Wind'.
161, 1. 17 fixt Resolves. 1724 'fixt Resolve'.
163,1.13 he may again rally. 1724 ' railly'.
163, 1. 27 them that tries me. 1724 'them that tire me'.
165, 1. 21 set such Price on. 1724 'set a Price on'.

165, 1. 33 I grow weary. 410 1681 'I grew weary".

166, 1. 2 sure he knows me not. 1724 omits 'he'.

166, 1. 1 6 better than an Age of Scorn from a proud faithless Beauty ? 1724
'better from Age of Scorn than a proud faithless Beauty?'

167, 1. 2 and all to bekiss me. 1724 'and kiss me'.

167, 1. 21 Laying his hand on his Sword. 410 1681 gives stage direction
as '[His Sword.'

168, 1. 23 ails he? 1724 'ye*.

169,1.24 who ivoust. 410 1681 'who'st'. 1724 'wou'st'.

432 NOTES

p. 169, 1. 25 turn me out despis'd. 1724 'turn me out so despis'd'.

p. 169, 1. 28 Charms shall hold. 410 1681 'Charms can hold'.

p. 169, 1. 35 she holds him. 1724 omits 'him'.

p. 171, 1. 3 a Purse or hands full of Gold. 1724 'a Purse of Gold '.

p. 172, 1. 30 Ariadne, [feels.'] Tis so ! 1724 omits '[feels]'.

p. 173, 1. 3 / ever bad. 1724, wrongly, 'I ne'er had'.

p. 173, 1.27 My hope. 410 1681 'ever hope'.

p. 174, 1. 3 Orange-grove. 1724 'orange-garden'.

p. 175, 1. 20 Was this done. 1724 'Was not this done'.

p. 178, 1.28 in the Piazza. 410 1681 'Piazzo', and always this form.

p. 178, 1. 35 and goes out. 410 1681 'and ex.'

p. 1 8 1, 1. II -whistle to the Birds. 1724 'whistle to Birds'.

p. 182, 1. 1 8 Aur. Well, the Stranger. 1724 'Ant. Well, the Stranger'.

p. 183, 1. 6 that *was the Reason then she came. 1724 omits 'then'.

p. 183, 1. 13 The Seigniora perhaps may be angry. 1724 'Seignior'.

p. 184, 1. I Damn all dissembling. 1724 prints this speech as prose.

p. 184, 1. 9 Love's diviner Dictates. 1724 'Love's divine Dictates'.

p. 184, 1. 19 false Tenents. 1724, wrongly, 'False Tenements'.

p. 187, 1. 13 Oh, any ivhither, any -whither. 1724 'any where, any where*.

p. 187, 1. 24 / believed he bad. 1724 'I believe he has '.

p. 187, 1. 31 no matter -whither 'tis. 1724 'no matter which 'tis'.

p. 1 88, 1.9 Abev. sings. 410 1681 and 1724 'The Boy sings . .', but h

name has already been given.

p. 190, 1. 1 1 Tofnd out this Rest. 1724 'To find this Rest',
p. 190, 1. 32 La Nu. 'Tis he -whom I expect. 1724 gives this speech as pron
p. 191, 1. 10 -whence I fetcht my Gold. 1724 'whence I fetch my Gold',
p. 191,1. 18 they are by dark. 1724 omits.

p. 192, 1. 33 What is't to be adorn' d. 1724 'What 'tis to be adorn'd'.
p. 193, 1. 19 Wou'd! by Heaven, thou bast. 1724 gives this as prose, 1 69

metrically. I have followed the 4to, attempting a rather better divisic

of the lines,
p. 193, 1. 32 The last indeed. The first three lines of this speech metrical!

as 410 1 68 1. 1724 prints as prose.

p. 194, 1.22 his Youth and Beauty. 410 1681 'this Youth and Beauty",
p. 195, 1. 5 not a Landlady, \_bis. 1724 omits '[bis.*
p. 195, 1. 1 8 La Nu. Left by both! 410 1681 'Left by both?'
p. 195, 1. 20 and Beau. I have added this exit. It is unmarked in 4to 168

and in 1724.

p. 198, 1. 9 in the dark. 410 1681 'by dark',
p. 199, 1. 2 un Portavera Poco. 1724 misprints 'Porsavera'.
p. 200, 1. 12 Harh Qui estlh? 410 1681 'Harl. Que et la !'
p. 200, 1. 17 / am discover'd. 1724 'I am discower'd'.
p. 200, 1. 22 Feth. Hah — my Lady Monster! 410 1681 omits to mark

change of scene Feth. again as speech-prefix.
p. 203, 1. 13 Ex. all. 1724 omits 'all'.
p.203, 1.31 out of band. [Aside. 410 1681 omits 'Aside '.
p. 205, 1. 27 Ariadne ! — Ho-w vain is ail. 1724 give this speech as prose.

have followed the metrical division of the 410 1681 with some sligl

rearrangement of the lines.

NOTES 433

.208,
.208,
.209,
.209,
.209,

,210,
.211,
.212,

23 John Pofages. 1724 'Jean Potages'.

26 tbou foul filthy Synagogue. 1724 'foul-filthy'.

23 d'ye see. 410 1681 'desee'.

24 Myrmidons. 4to 1 68 1 'Mermidons*.

28 -wiser than your other Men. 1724 omits 'your'.

21 Gets from her. 1724 omits this stage direction.
. 14 They lay hold on him. 410 1681 'of him'.
. 26 nobly throw away. 1724 'throw a Way'.

_^ ^ / i ~ - j

I >.2i3, 11. 3-22 All this won'tdo. The concluding twenty lines of the Epilogue
are only given in 4to 1681. All subsequent editions omit them.

THE DUTCH LOVER.

Ip. 226 I have added to the Dramatis Personae 'Boy, Page to Marcel,
Servant to Carlo, A Friar, Swains, Four Shepherds, Four Nymphs,
Dutch men and Dutch women.'

-, 1. 3 The locale A Street is not marked in 410 1673 or 1724.
3p.229, 1.4 Christian. 1724 'Christian'.
,jp. 231, 1. 8 bis nice Honour. 1724, wrongly, omits 'nice',
jp. 232, 1. 3 / must still love on. 1724 omits 'still',
p. 233, 1. 6 after long Despairs. 1724 'after long Despair'.
|jp. 233, 1.21 too much of Joy. 1724 'Joys'.
J p. 233, 1. 28 change thy Wonder. 410 1673 'Wonders'.
[p. 234, 1.23 Marcel is sur -prized. I 724 omits this stage direction.
I p. 234, 1. 36 And tbou, Antonio, that has betray' d her. 410 1673 'And thou,
Antonio, thou hast bctray'd her". 1724 'And thou, Antonio, thou that
hast betray'd her".

p. 235, 1. 17 a kind obliging Lady. 1724 'A kind of obliging Lady',
p. 236, 1. 4 Am I a Dog. 410 1673 wrongly marks this line 'aside',
p. 236, 1. 10 I, like the Birds. 410 1673 omits 'the '.
p. 237, 1. i Biscay, a Surgeon. 410 1673 omits 'a',
p. 237, 1.7 Down of Swans. 1724 'Swan',
p. 238, 1.3 and UK d him. 1724 ' and like him '.
p. 240, 1. 2 this is the first. 1724 'this was the first',
p. 240, 1. 34 to bis heart. 1724 omits,
p. 241, 1. 8 Prithee instruct. 410 1673 as Prose-
p. 241, 1. 20 Command me. 4to 1673 as prose.
p. 242, 1.13 My Death. 1724 ' me death '.
p. 24^, 1. 8 undone its Fame. 1724 'undone his Fame',
p. 244, l.i i the next Morning's Sun. 4to 1673'^' Approach of next

Morning's Sun'. 1724 'of the next Morning Sun',
p. 244, 1. 31 They go out. 410 1673 omits 'they',
p. 248, 1. 33 Come, come. 1724 prints this speech as prose,
p. 249, 1. 20 Look at one another and go. 1724 omits, reading 'exeunt '.
p. 251, 1. 10 very unlucky. 410 1673 <ver>' unluckily',
p. 252, 1. 21 Marcel coming towards him jostles him. 410 1673 reads 'Marcel

coming towards justles him'.

p. 253, 1. 7 given him some. 410 1673 omits 'him'.

p. 257, 1. 12 Of your Victims. 1724 prints this line and the next as prose.
I FF

434 NOTES

p. 257, 1. 24 Offers her a Dagger. 1724 omits ' her '.

p. 259, 1. 31 a Pox of her terms. 1724 'A Pox on her terms'.

p. 261, 1. 5 Hauncc -van Eael. 1724 ' Hance'.

p. 266, 1. 2 I cry you Mercy. 1724 ' I cry your Mercy'.

p. 266, 1. 1 1 be does not boast. 410 1673, wrongly, 'he does but boast'.

p. 267, 1. 36 But do you find her. 1724 ' But do you not find her'.

p. 268, 1. 1 1 'tis certain 'tis so. 1724 ''tis certain so '.

p. 269, 1. 19 lest be surprize us. 1724 'lest he surprizes us'.

p. 269, 1. 27 Ah, ah^ a pox of all Sea-Voyages. 1724 omits 'all '.

p. 270, 1. 28 to our Courages. 1724 ' Courage'.

p. 271, 1. 24 over a Leg. 1724 'over Leg'.

p. 272, 1.21 Rummer. 410 1673 ' Romer'.

p. 272, 1.33 that's not the Fashion. 1724 omits ' not '.

p. 272, 1. 34 Til manage her. 1724 ' I manage her*.

p. 273, 1.6 Scene III. Draws off. A Grove. 1724 omits 'Draws off.'

have added the locale 'A Grove.'

p. 278, 1. 24 bow darst tbou. 1724 ' how durst thou '.
p. 278, 1.34 that could not defend. 410 1673 omits 'that*,
p. 283, 1. 34 you knew not of my Brother's. 1724 'you know not my Brother's

and omits '[To Franc."
p. 284, 1.4 to see the fair Clarinda [Goes to Clarinda\ here, is a Happiness

1724 'to see the fair Clarinda [Goes to Clarinda.] Here is a Happiness'
p. 285, 1.7 Goes out. 1 724 'Exit'.

p. 286, 1. 27 Surlily to him. 1724 ' Goes surlily to him',
p. 287, 1. 26 by instinct. [Aside. 1724 omits 'Aside',
p. 287, 1.27 Stands looking very simply. 1724 omits 'very',
p. 288, 1. 5 neiv-fasbion'd Spanish Civility. 1724 omits ' Spanish '.
p. 289, 1. 13 it made my Stomach •wamble. 1724 'it had made'.
p.289- 1.32 Gaber. i724'Gabor'.
p. 290, 1. 28 Fakes, to entertain. 1 724 ' Faith '.
p. 291, 1. 5 They two dance. 1724 'They too dance .'
p. 296, 1. 2 Runs behind Lovis. 1724 omits.

p. 297, 1. I / declare it here upon. 1724 ' Here I declare it upon '.
p. 298, 1. 13 who starts as afraid. 1724 misreads 'as aforesaid .'
p. 301, 1.6 Oh, is it bravely done. 1724 'Oh, it is bravely done . .' anc

punctuates':' instead of'?'

p. 301, 1. 12 on this Body. 1724, wrongly, 'on thy Body',
p. 301, 1. 34 Takes to bis Sword. 1724 'the Sword',
p. 310, 1. 3 Cleo. Oh my Fears. 410 1673 wrongly marks 'aside',
p. 312, 1. 3 ffeeps. This stage direction is not given by 410 1673.
p. 319, 1. i How very very wicked. 1724 ' How very wicked',
p. 319, 1.32 Count d' Olivarex. 4to 1673 here and elsewhere when the

name occurs 'Conte De Olivari's*.

p. 320, 1.17 if you are pleas' d. 1724 'if your are pleas'd '.
p. 322, 1. I Carlo's House. 4to 1673 'House of Carlo'.
p. 322, 1. 5 Dor. As for. 410 1673 misreads 'Dom. As for',
p. 323, 1. 1 1 Hau. What a Devil. 1724 ' Hau. What the Devil '.
p. 324,1. 7 Truth. [Goes out. 1724 'Exit.'
p. 324, 1. 20 God-ba' -Mercy. 1724 ' God-a-Mercy '.
p. 324, 1. 20 Go in. 1724 omits.

NOTES 425

THE ROUNDHEADS.

p. 337 To The Right Noble Henry Fite-Roy. The Dedicatory Epistle only

appears in the two 4103, 1682 and 1698.

lip. 337, 1. 3 1 Good Old Cause. ' Couse ' to represent a Cockney pronunciation.
Ip. 339, 1.28 Ignoramus the 1st and the zd. Mrs. Behn deftly compares the

verdict of that faction which would have damned her play with the

verdict given by the City jury who acquitted Shaftesbury.
p. 341, 1.7 yclepcd Hewson. 410 'Eclipsed Huson'.
Ip. 343 Dramatis Persona. I have added, 'Captain of the Prentices, Page to

Lady Fleetwood, A Felt-maker, A Joyner, Doorkeeper, Two Clerks,

Three Soldiers, Women Servants to Lady Lambert, Petitioners, Servants,

Guards.' The name of Lady Desbro's Page, Tom, is supplied by

Act iv, i. For Sanctijy'd Mobile, 1724 reads 'Sanctify'd Mobility',
p. 344, 1.21 Push a Pike. 1724 'Push of Pike'.
Ip. 347, 1-3 Go out. 1724 'Goes out'.

p. 347, 1. 1 1 the rest of the Soldiers. 1724 'the rest of Soldiers',
p. 350, 1. 14 Love, Wit and Beauty. 1724 prints these lines as prose,
p. 350, 1. 17 A God! altbo bis outside. 4tos and 1724 print this speech as

prose.

p. 350, 1. 22 No, methought be grew. 1724 prints this speech as prose.
I p. 351, 1. 10 Ha, be' s yonder. 1724 prints this speech as prose.
j p. 353, 1. 1 6 Exeunt both. 1724 'exeunt', 4tos 'exit both',
p. 353, 1.17 Scene II. A Chamber in Lambert's House. 4tos 'Scene a

Chamber.' 1724 'SCENE. A Chamber.' I have added 'II' and 'in

Lambert's House."

p. 354, 1. 19 bow ba-ve I sbow'd. 1724 misprints 'how have show'd'.
p. 355, 1.28 the Lard' s handling. 1724 'the Lord's', 4tos 'Lard's',
p. 356, 1. 28 light onyu. 1724 'light on you',
p. 358, I. i a brave Man. 1724 'a brave Man',
p. 358, l.i I may cooncel. 1724 'I may counsel',
p. 358, 1. 10 he's a brave Man, a Man indeed, gen. 1724 'he's a brave Mon

indeed gen',
p. 359, 1. 1 1 Scene I. A Chamber of State in Lambert's House. I have added

'in Lambert's House'.

p. 360, 1. 22 admit him tho". 1724 omits 'tho' '.
p. 360, 1. 25 / should say. 1724 misprints 'I shou'd stay*,
p. 360, 1. 27 these Heroicks are punctual men. 1724 omits 'men',
p. 361, 1. 4 Walks away. 1724 omits this stage direction.
p. 361, 1. 17 Some such trivial thing. 1724 'some such trifling thing',
p. 365, 1. 28 Verily ive should live. 1724 'Verily ye should live',
p. 366, 1. 21 Write Panegyricks. 1724 prints these concluding four lines as

prose. 4tos metrically.

p. 367, 1. 2 Lambert -will destroy all. 1724 ' Lambert would destroy all',
p. 368, 1. i Or Mind cmbyass'd. 1724 'Embarass'd'.
p. 368, 1. 12 Execrations. 1724 'Excrations '.
p. 368, 1. 28 Cry mercy, Madam. 1724 omits 'Madam',
p. 368, 1. 29 most lucky Minute. 1724 'most unlucky Minute',
p. 370, 1.19 my Honourable Lord is busied. 1724 'has business'.

436 NOTES

p. 370, 1.22 extemporary. 1724 'extempore*.

P- 37 3> !• 33 0/</ Oliver's Brains. 1724 ' Brain'.

P-374J1-31 take 'em then for Archibald^ 'tis. 1724 'take 'em then }

Archibald? 'tis*.

p. 374,1. 32 ivarse. 1724 'worse'.

p. 376, 1.6 Jfcw. My Lord, I am sorry. 1724 'Hew. I am sorry',
p. 377, 1. 28 -what stuff's here. 1724 'what's stuff's here',
p. 378, 1.4 Walter Walton. 1724 'Walter Walter '.
p. 378, 1. 19 ever cam into lour, read ever came intol our. 1724 'ever ca j

into'.

p. 378, 1.23 Fslarne. 1724 'I's learn',
p. 379, 1.14 sefast. 1724 'so fast '.
p. 380, 1. 16 sboosinyar. 1724 'shoes',
p. 380, 1. 28 Malignant' s Estates. 1724 ' Malignant Estates',
p. 382, 1. 36 she has danc'd after. 1724 ' she has danc'd here after '.
p. 383, 1. 31 Scene II. A Chamber in Lady Desbro's House. 4tos and 171

'Scene, a Chamber',
p. 384, 1. 7 Enter Tom. 4tos and 1724 'Enter Page' with speech-prefix!

'Pag.' and 'Exit Page'; but Act iv, i, 4tos we have 'Enter Page' w-l

speech-prefix 'Tom ' and later in the same scene ' Enter Tom Page I
p. 384, 1. 12 bear him preach. 1724 'here him preach',
p. 385, 1.8 Beau--ty. And later 'fall -ing* to mark the sanctimonicj

drawl. 1724 prints 'Beauty' and 'falling',
p. 388, 11. 8, 10 Exeunt. 4tos omit. 1724 omits ' Ex. Ana.'
p. 388, 1. 12 A Chamber in La. Desbro's House. 4tos and 1724 ' Chamb»|

Candles and Lights'.

p. 390, 1. 33 gives us notice of. 1724 'gives us notice of it*,
p. 391, 1.29 come a Gad's Name. 1724 'come in Gad's Name*,
p. 392, 1. 1 1 Nay, I say -verily, nay. 1724 'I say verily, nay',
p. 392, 1. 17 the Lard bath given. 1724 'the Lard has given '.
p. 392, 1.22 Enter Tom. 1724 'Enter Page', speech-prefix 'Page', ai

'Ex. Page'; 4tos 'Enter Page', speech-prefix 'Tom', 'Ex. Tom Para
p. 392, 1.29 we have hitherto maintain d. 1724 omits ' hitherto',
p. 394, 1.6 A fine Chamber. I have added to 4tos and 1724 'in Lj

Lambert's House',
p. 395, 1.8 A great Chamber. I have added to 4105 and 1724 ' in LamberU

House'.

p. 395, 1. 26 I's drink tol yar gued Fortune. 1 724 ' to yar gued Fortune '.
p. 396, 1. 17 Ex. L. Lam. and Gill. I have added ' and Gill '.
p. 396, 1. 22 light your Flambeaus. 1724 'your Flambeau*,
p. 396, 1. 30 tvben -we real. 1724 'when we reel '.
p. 397, 1. 8 o'er yar Liquer. 1724 ' Liquor',
p. 397, 1. 15 I^ for a Horn-pipe. 1724 omits 'for',
p. 397, 1. 24 Scotch Poond. 1724 ' Pound',
p. 397, 1.24 yar Song. 1724 'your Song',
p. 398, 1.15 lead the Donee. 1724 ' lead the Dance',
p. 399, 1. 28 As ivell as to give. 1724 'As well as give',
p. 399, 1. 36 Kneels. 410 1698 and 1724 omit this stage direction,
p. 400,1.23 be puts it back. 4tos 'he put it back '. 1724 ' he puts it off

NOTES

437

p. 401, 1.26 my Husband woud -withdraw. 1724 'my Husband cou'd with
draw',
p. 401, 1. 32 He lies down along on the Couch. 1724 'He lies down on the

Couch'.

p. 405, 1.14 Scene I. A Street. 1724 'Scene I. Street'.
p. 407, 1. 28 Viva le Roy, Viva le Monk! 4103 'Via la Roy, Via la Monk.'
p. 408, 1. 23 Why, so there's some trusting. 1724 omits 'so'.
p. 408, 1. 33 Viva the brave. 1724 'Vive the brave',
p. 410, 1. 9 Ana. gets a Sword, andjights too. 1724 'and rights 'em',
p. 410, 1. i o Scene II. Changes to a Chamber in La. Lambert's House. 4tos

and 1724 'Scene changes to a Chamber',
p. 411, 1.12 and I shall keef it. 1724 omits ' I '.
p. 412, 1. 22 L. Lam. Thou ly'st. 4tos and 1724 print this speech as prose,

but it admits of metrical division.
• p. 41 3, 1. 9 Gog and Magog. 4tos ' God and Magog '.
! p. 415, 1.6 Morning and Evening Lectures. 4tos 'Mornings and Evenings

Lectures'.

p. 41 5, 1. 23 Enter Page with Messenger. 1 724 ' Enter Page with Messengers '.
p. 415, 1. 30 Where's that brutal Courage. 1724 'the Brutal Courage'.
p. 416, 1. 1 6 "whose wise "work "was that? 1724 'whose wise work's that ?'
p. 416, 1.29 Wans, Sirs. 1724 'Wons, Sirs '.
p. 417, 1.5 ya's ene, 1724 'ye's ene '.
p. 417, 1.6 Mr. Leyer. 1724 Mr. Lyar'.
p. 417, 1. 12 makes ye look. 1724 'makes you look',
p. 41 7, 1. 36 L. Fleet and Pag. 1724 omits 'and Pag.'
p.4i8, 1.6 no more. \Weep. 1724 omits ' Weep '.
p. 419, 1. 1 1 Go in. 1724 only marks ' Ex.' for all characters.
p-419, 1. 13 Scene III. The Street. 4tos and 1724 ' Scene the Street '.
p. 420, 1. 3 Viva le Roy, viva. 1724 'Vive le Roy, vive*.
p-420, 1. 14 ;'//, I fear ,- 'tis a bad. 1724 'ill, I fear 'tis a bad '.
p. 420, 1.32 are here ? '[Exeunt. 4tos and 1724 omit 'Exeunt'. I supply

this as, obviously, these characters must leave the stage when the

Prentices rush on '.
p.42i, 1. 12 ay, Ah, Lard, ah what. 4103 'ay, ah Lard, what'. 1724

'ay. Lard, ah what',
p. 421,1. 14 Scene IV. A Chamber in Lambert's House. 4tos and 1724

'Scene, A Chamber'.

p. 421, 1. 23 share in its kindly. 1724 'share its kindly',
p. 422, 1. 7 and Tom with jewels. 4tos and 1724 ' Page with jewels',
p. 422, 1. 25 Well, if you do. 1724 'Why, if you do',
p. 422, 1.29 Scene V. A Street. 4103 and 1724 'Scene, a Street'.
p. 423, 1. 3 Gill. Tom, Pages, &c. I have inserted Tom's name here,
p. 424, 1. 5 come a merry-making. 1724 'come merry-making',
p. 424, 1. 33 you grow so vain. 1724 'you grew so vain'.
p. 425, 1.7. In a preaching tone. 1724 ' In a preachin tone '. The dropped

'g', is not intentional here, but a misprint.

(438)

NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
ROVER I.

p. 7 Rabefs Drops. Monsieur Rabell, as he is sometimes termed, was a
famous empiric of the day. A description of his medicaments may be
found in ' Pharmacopoeia Bateana ,• or, Bate's Dispensatory. Edited bjp
William Salmon, London, 1700.' Rabell's name occurs on the title-
page of this book, and in Section VI of the Preface Rabell's 'Stypttck
Drops' are alluded to as having been added to the recipes found in tl
original volume by G. Bate. An account of the manufacture and u
of this particular remedy appears in the same volume, Lib. I, chap, x,
under 'Sal Stypticum Rabclli'. Salmon, who edited this pharmacopoei
was himself an irregular practitioner of some notoriety. He took pa
in the great controversy with the doctors which raged about 1698 a
earlier. He finds a sorry place in Garth's Dispensary, canto in, 1.
wherein his works are alluded to as 'blessed opiates'.

p. 8 Cits in May-day Coaches. On May-day it was the custom for all so
and conditions of persons and pleasure parties to visit Hyde Park in
coaches or at least on horse-back, cf. Pepys Diary, i May, 16631
'We all took horse, and I ... rode, with some trouble, through the
fields, and then Holborn, etc., towards Hyde Park, whither all the
world, I think, are going; . . . there being people of all sorts in coachct
there, to some thousands. ... By and by ... I rode home, coaches 1
going in great crowds to the further end of the town almost.'

p. 9 Sancbo, Pimp to Lucetta. Mr. John Lee. There were at this time two
actors and two actresses of the name Lee, Leigh, who, especially in
view of the eclectic spelling of seventeenth-century proper names,
need to be carefully distinguished. John Lee, who appeared in the small
role of Sancho and also took the equally unimportant part of Sebastian
in Abdelazer this same year, had, according to Downes, joined the
Duke's Company about 1670. He never rose above an entirely
insignificant line, and we find him cast as Alexas in Pordage's Herod
and Marianne, 1673 ; Titiro in Settle's Pastor Fido, 1676 ; Pedro in
Porter's The French Conjurer, and Noddy in The Counterfeit Bridegroom^'
1677. He was, it is almost certain, the husband of the famous
Mrs. Mary Lee. Downes' entry runs as follows : ' Note, About the
year 1670, Mrs. Aldridge, after Mrs. Lee, after Lady Slingsby, also
Mrs. Leigh Wife, Mr. John Lee, Mr. Crosby, Mrs. Johnson, were enter-
tain'd in the Dukes House.' There is of course some confusion here.
Antony Leigh, it maybe noted, is not mentioned in the Roscius Anglicanui
for another three years to come (1673), and there can be little doubt
that the above passage should read 'also Mrs. Leigh's [Lee's] husband,
Mr John Lee '. If this were not so, there would be no point in Downet

NOTES

439

mentioning so minor an actor at this juncture and in such a list.
Crosby and Mrs. Johnson were both performers of great merit, in fact
Dowries, a page later, has a special warm word of praise for the
lady whom we find cast as Carolina in Shadwell's Epsom Wells (1672).
Crosby played such parts as Mr. Cleverwit, Lucia's lover, in Ravens-
croft's Mamamouchi (1672), Alonzo in Abdclaz.tr (1677), Leander
Fancy in 5/> Patient Fancy (1678). John Lee disappears entirely after
1677, and his widow is first billed as Lady Slingsby in 1681. For a
full account of this great tragedienne see note on Abdela-zer, Vol. II.

Mrs._E_lizab££h__Leigh, Moretta in The Rover, Part I, who is so
persistently confused with Mrs. Mary Lee, was the wife of Antony
Leigh, the celebrated comedian. In Betterton's comedy, The Revenge
(1680), when she acted Mrs. Dashit, she is billed as Mrs. A. Lee.
Her husband died in December, 1692. Their son Michael also gave
great promise on the boards. The lad's name occurs in the cast of
Shadwell's The Amorous Bigot (1690) as 'young Leigh', when he
played Diego, a servant, to his father's Tegue o' Divelly, the Irish friar.
Unfortunately he died at an early age, probably in the winter of 1701,
but his younger brother Francis attained considerable success. Frank
Leigh made his debut at Lincoln's Inn's Fields, 31 December, 1702,
as Tristram in the original production of Mrs. Centlivre's The Stolen
Heiress. He died in the autumn of 1719. Mrs. Leigh was herself an
actress of no small eminence, her special line being 'affected mothers,
aunts, and modest stale maids that had missed their market'. Says
Cibber, ' In all these, with many others, she was extremely entertaining'.
After 10 June, 1707, when she acted Lady Sly in Carlile's The Fortune
Huntcrs,hcr name is no longer to be found in the bills, and in October,
1707, Mrs. Powell is playing her parts. Mrs. Leigh's repertory was
very large, and amongst her roles were Lady Woodvil in Etheredge's The
Man of Mode (1676) ; Lady Plyant in The Double Dealer (1694) ; the
Nurse in Love for Lo-ve (1695) ; the Hostess in Betterton's revival of
Henry lVy Part I (1699) ; and Lady Wishfort in The Way of the World
(1700). In comedies by Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Leigh only appears twice,
Moretta, The Rover, Part I (1677) ; and Mrs. Closet, The City Heiress
(1682).

In and about 1702 another Mrs. Leigh, perhaps Frank Leigh's
wife, made a brief appearance. She was at first cast for good parts but
soon sank into obscurity. Thus on 21 October, 1702, she sustained
Mrs. Plotwell in Mrs. Centlivre's The Beau s Duel ; on 28 April, 1703,
Chloris in the Hon. Charles Boyle's insipid As You Find It. She may
have been the Mrs. Eli. Leigh who with other performers signed a
petition to Queen Anne in 1709. Of Mrs. Rachel Lee, who took the
'walk-on' part of Judy, a waiting-woman, in Southern's The Maid's
Last Prayer (1693), nothing is known,
p. 9 Angelica Bianca, a famous Curtexan. Mrs. Givin. Anne Quin (or
Quyn, Gwin, Gwyn as the name is indifferently spelt) was a famous
actress of great personal beauty. She is constantly, but most erroneously,
confounded with Nell Gwynne, and the mistake is the more unpardon
able as both names twice occur in the same cast. When Nelly was

44-Q NOTES

acting Florimel in Dryden's Secret Love, produced February, 1667,
Mrs. Quin played Candiope. Again, in An Evenings Love, June, 1668,
Nell Gwynne was Jacinta, and Mrs Quin Aurelia, a role assumed later
in the run by Mrs. Marshall. Among Mrs. Quin's more notable parts
were Alizia (Alice Ferrers) in Orrery's The Black Prince, produced
19 October, 1667 ; 1677, Thalestris in Pordage's The Siege of Babylon,
and Astrea in The Constant Nymph; 1678, Lady Knowell in S/> Patient
Fancy and Lady Squeamish in Otway's Friendship in Fashion; 1682,
Queen Elizabeth in Banks' The Unhappy Favourite, and Sunamire in
Southerne's The Loyal Brother. Mrs. Quin appears to have retired from
the stage towards the close of the year 1682. There exists of thit
actress an extremely interesting portrait which was offered for sale at
Stevens' Auction Rooms, 26 February, 1901, but not reaching the
reserve price, withdrawn. It is mistakenly described in the catalogue,
as ' Miniature Portrait of Nell Gwynn on copper with original case
and 30 cover dresses on talc . . .' An illustrated article on it,
entitled, ' Nell Gwynne's Various Guises ', appeared in the Lad/t
Pictorial, 23 March, of the same year, p. 470, in the course of which
the writer says: 'Accompanying the miniature are some thirty mica
covers in different stages of preservation upon which various head
dresses and costumes are painted. The place where, in the ordinary
course, the face would come is in all cases left blank, the talc being of |
course transparent, when it is laid upon the original miniature the
countenance of the latter becomes visible, and we are enabled to see
Nell Gwynne [Anne Quin] as she would appear in various characters.'
The old error has been perpetuated here, but the Lady's Pictorial '
reproduced half-a-dozen of these painted mica covers, and the costume*
for the two roles of Queen Elizabeth and Sunamire can be distinctly
recognized. Doubtless an examination of the original micas would
soon yield an indentification of other characters. The miniature, it'
may be noted, does not in the least resemble Nell Gwynne, so there it
bare excuse here for the confusion.

p. 1 1 Siege ofPampelona. Pampluna, the strongly fortified capital of Navarra,
has from its geographical position very frequently been a centre of
military operations. It will be remembered that it was during a siege
of Pampluna in 1521 Ignatius Loyola received the wound which
indirectly led to the founding of the Jesuits.

p. 13 King Sancbo the First. Sancho I, 'the Fat', of Castile and Leon,
reigned 955-67 : Sancho I of Aragon 1067-94. But the phrase is here
only in a vague general sense to denote some musty and immemorial
antiquity without any exact reference.

p. 14. Hostel de Dieu. The first Spanish hospital was erected at Granada by
St. Juan de Dios, founder of the Order of Hospitallers, ob. 155°-

p. 14 Gambo. The Gambia in W. Africa has been a British Colony since
1664, when a fort, now Fort James, was founded at the mouth of the river.

p. 17 Hogoes. Haut-gout, a relish or savoury.

p. 26 a Piece of Eight. A piastre, a coin of varying values in different countries.
The Spanish piastre is now synonymous with a dollar and so worth about
four shillings. The old Italian piastre was equivalent to 31. jd.

NOTES 44 1

p. 30 Balcony . . . each side of the Door. With regard to the proscenium
doors and balconies of a Restoration theatre, our knowledge of these
points has been rendered much more exact since the valuable discovery
by that well-known authority in stage matters, Mr. W. J. Lawrence, of
Sir Christopher Wren's designs for the second Theatre Royal, Drury
Lane, 1674. Beyond the proscenium on the apron there are four
doors each with its balcony above. The height of these balconies from
the stage is considerable, surprisingly so indeed in view of the fact
that characters frequently have to climb up into or descend from one
of these 'windows', e.g., Shadwell's The Miser (1672), Act. iv, when
the drunken bullies 'bounce at the Doors', we have 'Squeeze at the
Window in his Cap, and undressed,' who cries: 'I must venture to
escape at this Window'; 'he leaps down', and yells, as he falls,
'Death ! I have broke my Bones ; oh ! oh !' whilst the scowrers run up,
exclaiming : 'Somebody leaped out of a Window', and he is promptly
seized. In Ravenscroft's The London Cuckolds (1682), Act. v : 'Enter
Ramble above in the Balcony '. This gallant, escaping from the house
hurriedly, decides ' which way shall I get down ? I must venture to
hang by my hands and then drop from the Balcony*. Next: 'As
Ramble is getting down Doodle enters to look for his glove, Ramble
drops upon him and beats him down." This could hardly have been
an easy bit of stage business, although Smith, who acted Ramble, was
an athletic, tall young fellow.

Normally no doubt only two of the doors (those nearest the
proscenium opening on opposite sides) with their balconies were in
constant use by the actors as the exigencies of the play might demand,
but if required, all four balconies, and more frequently, all four doors
could be and were employed. It is noticeable in Wren's design that
the balconies are not stage balconies, but side boxes, a permanent part
of the general architectural scheme, and there can be no doubt that,
save in exceptional circumstances, the two outermost were occupied by
spectators. If the play did not require the use of a balcony at all,
spectators would also fill the inner side boxes. In time, indeed, two
doors and two balconies only came to be used, but for some decades
at least all four were practicable. The present passage of The Ro-ver
indicates the use of three doors. The bravos hang up two little pictures
of Angelica, one at each side of the door of her house, and presently the
fair courtezan appears in her balcony above. A little later Don Pedro
and Stephano enter by one door at the opposite side, Don Antonio and
his page by the second door on the same side as Pedro.

In Etheredge's She Wou'difSbe Cou'd(6 February, 1668) Act ii, i,
Courtal and Freeman are seen following up Ariana and Gatty in the
Mulberry Garden. Presently 'The Women go out, and go about
behind the Scenes to the other Door', then ' Enter the Women [at one
door] and after 'em Courtal at the lower Door, and Freeman at the
upper on the contrary side'.

Three balconies are employed in Ravenscroft's Mamamouchi (1672;
410 1675) Act iv. We have 'Enter Mr. Jorden, musick' obviously in
one balcony from the ensuing dialogue. Then 'Cleverwit, in Turk's

442 NOTES

habit, with Betty Trickmore and Lucia appear in the Balcony' number
two. A song is sung and 'Young Jorden and Marina in the Balcony
against 'em'. Young Jorden remarks, 'Now, dearest Marina, let us
ascend to your Father, he is by this time from his Window convinc'd
of the slight is put on you . . .' 'They retire' and although there
has been no exit marked for Mr. Jorden, we find directly, 'Enter
Mr. Jorden and Trickmore,' obviously upon the stage itself, to which
Mr. Jorden has descended. It must be noted, however, that the use
of more than two balconies is very rare.

Mr. W. J. Lawrence in The Elizabethan Playhouse and other Studies
(First Series) aptly writes : 'No dramatist of the time had a better sense
of the theatre than Mrs. Behn, and none made more adroit employment
of the balconies." He then cites the scene of Angelica, her bravos
and admirers.

p. 36 a Patacoone. A Spanish coin in value about 41. Sd.

p. 38 a Pistole-worth. The pistole was a gold coin worth about 161.

p. 42 a sbameroon. A rare word meaning a trickster, a cozening rascal.

p. 54 bo-ujd Gold. Bowed for bent is still used in the North of England
'A bowed pin.'

p. 57 disguis'd. A common phrase for drunk.

p. 75 cogging. To cog = to trick, wheedle or cajole.

p. 99 Tramontane. Foreign ; Italian and Spanish tramontano= from beyon
the mountains.

p. 101 ufse. Op zijn = in the fashion or manner of. Upse Gipsy = like
a gipsy, cf. The Alchemist, iv, vi :

I do not like the dulness of your eye :
It hath a heavy cast, 'tis upsee Dutch.

p. 101 Incle. Linen thread or yarn which was woven into a tape once
very much in use.

p. 106 Nokes, or Tony Lee. James Nokes and Antony Leigh, the tw>
famous actors, were the leading low comedians of the day.

p. 107 Play of the No-vella. Novella is a good, though intricate, comedy by •
Brome. 8vo, 1653, but acted 1632.

p. 107 The famous Virgil. There is a tale, reported by Donatus, that Vergil
once anonymously wrote up on the palace gates a distich in praise of.-
Augustus, which, when nobody was found to own it, was claimed by a
certain versifier Bathyllus, whom Casar duly rewarded. A few days •
later, however, Vergil again set in the same place a quatrain each line
of which commenced 'sic vos non vobis . . .' but was unfinished, and ^.?.'
prececded these by the one hexameter

Hos ego versiculos feci ; tulit alter honores.

All were unable to complete the lines satisfactorily save the great poet £t
himself, and by this means the true author of the eulogy was revealed, fl

ROVER II.

p. 1 13 The Duke. James, Duke of York, for whom Mrs. Behn, a thorough
Tory, entertained sentiments of deepest loyalty. The 'absence',
'voluntary Exile', 'new Exiles', mentioned in the Dedication all refer

NOTES 443

to James' withdrawal from England in 1679, at the time of the
seditious agitation to pass an illegal Exclusion Bill. The Duke left on
4 March for Amsterdam, afterwards residing at the Hague. In
August he came back, Charles being very ill. Upon the King's re
covery he retired to Scotland 27 October. In March, 1682, he paid a
brief visit to the King, finally returning home June of the same year.

p. 114. young Cesar in the Field. During the Commonwealth and his first
exile James had joined Turenne's army, 24 April, 1652, and was
frequently in the field. He distinguished himself by conspicuous
bravery. In 1656, at the wish of Charles, he joined the Spanish army.

p. 1 14 Some of Oliver's Commanders at Dunkirk. During the Flanders cam
paign of 1657, Reynolds, the commander of the English at Dunkirk,
sought and obtained an interview with James, whom he treated with
the most marked respect and honour. This was reported to Cromwell,
much to the Protector's chagrin and alarm.

p. 115. City Pope. An allusion to the exploits of Elkanah Settle, who was
so notorious at that time for violent Whiggism that in 1680 he had
presided over the senseless city ceremony of 'Pope-burning' on
17 November. This annual piece of ridiculous pageantry is smartly
described by Dryden in his Prologue to Southerne's The Loyal Brother
(1682); and in the Epilogue to Oedipus, (1679), after enumerating the
attractions of the play, he ends —

We know not what you can desire or hope
To please you more, but burning of a Pope.

There are many contemporary references to Settle and his 'fireworks'.
Otway, in The Poet's Complaint (410, 1680), speaks of Rebellion cockering
the silly rabble with 'November squibs and burning pasteboard Popes',
canto xi. Duke, in the Epilogue to the same author's The Atheist
(1683), says that the poet never 'made one rocket on Queen Bess's
night*. In Scott's Dryden, Vol. VI (1808) is given a cut representing
the tom-fool procession of 1679, in which an effigy of the murdered
Sir Edmund Bury Godfrey had a chief place. There were 'ingenious
fireworks' and a bonfire. A scurrilous broadside of the day, with
regard to the shouting, says that ''twas believed the echo . . . reached
Scotland [the Duke was then residing in the North], France, and even
Rome itself damping them all with a dreadfull astonishment.' The
stage at this juncture of fierce political strife had become a veritable
battle-ground of parties, and some stir was caused by Settle's blatant,
but not ineffective, melodrama on the subject of that mythical dame
The Female Prelate, being the History of the Life and Death of Pope Joan,
produced at the Theatre Royal, 1680. This play itself is often referred
to, and there are other allusions to Pope Joan about this time, e.g., in
the Epilogue to Lee's Caesar Borgia (1679), where the author says a
certain clique could not have been more resolute to damn his play
Had he the Pope's Effigies meant to burn,

Nay, conjur'd up Pope Joan to please the age,
And had her breeches search'd upon the stage.

444 NOTES

cf. also Mrs. Behn in her own Epilogue when she speaks of 'fat
Cardinals, Pope Joans, and Fryers'; and Lord Falkland's scoff in his
Prologue to Otway's The Soldier'* Fortune (1680) : —

But a more pow'rful Saint enjoys ye now

The fairest Prelate of her time, and best.
Lord Falkland of course points at the play.

p. 1 16 lofty Tire. The Upper Gallery, the price of admission to which was
one shilling. It was the cheapest part of the theatre, and is often
alluded to in Prologue and Epilogue, but generally with abuse or
sarcasm. Dryden, in his Prologue to Tale's The Loyal General (1680),
caustically advises : —

Remove your benches, you apostate pit,
And take, above, twelve pennyworth of wit ;
Go back to your dear dancing on the rope,
Or see what's worse, the Devil and the Pope.

p. 1 1 7 Harlequin, ffillmore's Man. Although no actor's name is printed for
Harlequin, the part was undoubtedly played by Shadwell's brother-in-
law, Tom Jevon, who, at the age of twenty-one, had joined the
company in 1673. Originally a dancing-master (Langbaine notes hit
'activity'), he became famous in low comedy and particularly for hit
lithe and nimble Harlequins. In Otway's Friendship in Fashion (1677)
Malagene, a character written for and created by Jevon, says, 'I'm a
very good mimick ; I can act Punchinello, Scaramuchio, Harlequin,
Prince Prettyman, or any thing.'

Harlequin does not appear in Killigrew's Thomaso. Mrs. Behn's
mime plays pranks and speaks Italian and Spanish. No doubt she derived
the character from the Italian comedians who had been at the Royal
Theatre, Whitehall, in 1672-3, as Dryden, in an Epilogue (spoken by
Hart) to The Silent Woman when acted at Oxford, after a reference to
a visit of French comedians, has : —

The Italian Merry-Andrews took their place,
And quite debauched the stage with lewd grimace,
Instead of wit and humours, your delight
Was there to see two hobby-horses fight,
Stout Scaramoucha with rush lance rode in,
And ran a tilt at centaur Arlequin.

They were acting again in July, 1675, and remained some months in
England, cf. Evelyn, 29 September this same year, writes : ' I saw
the Italian Scaramuccio act before the King at Whitehall, people
giving money to come in, which was very scandalous and never so
before at Court-diversions. Having seen him act before in Italy
many years past, I was not averse from seeing the most excellent of
that kind of folly.' Duffett in his Prologue to E-v'ry Man out of bis
Humour, 'spoken by Mr. Hayns', July, 1675, who refers to this second
visit —

The Modish Nymphs now ev'ry heart will win
With the surprizing ways of Harlequin

NOTES 445

O the fine motion and the jaunty mene
While you Gallants —

Who for dear Missie ne'er can do too much
Make Courtships a la mode de Scarramouch.

and a little later he writes : —

Religion has its Scarramouchys too
Whose hums and has get all the praise and pence.
This Italian troop evidently returned in the following year or in 1677,
as we have allusions to Dominique Biancolelli and Fiurelli, 'the Fam'd
Harlequin & Scaramouch ', in the Prologue to Ravenscroft's Scara
mouch a Philosopher, Harlequin a School-Boy, Bravo, Merchant, and
Magician, a Comedy after the Italian Manner, produced at the Theatre
Royal in 1677, with the migratory Joe Haines as Harlequin, and again
in Friendship in Fashion, Act iii, i, when Lady Squeamish cries: ' Dear
Mr. Malagene, won't you let us see you act a little something of
Harlequin ? I'll swear you do it so naturally, it makes me think I am
at the Louvre or Whitehall all the time.' [Malagene acts.]

a. 1 1 7. Lucia . . . Mrs. Norris. In the quarto the name of this actress is
spelled Norice. Even if the two characters Lucia and Petronella
Elenora were not so entirely different, one being a girl, the second a
withered crone, it is obvious that as both appear on the stage at one
and the same time Mrs. Norris could not have doubled these roles.
The name Mrs. Norice, however, which is cast for Lucia is undoubtedly
a misprint for Mrs. Price. This lady may possibly have been the
daughter of Joseph Price, an 'Inimitable sprightly Actor', who was
dead in 1673. We find Mrs. Price cast for various r&les of no great
consequence, similar to Lucia in this play. She sustained Camilla in
Otway's Friendship in Fashion (1678), Violante in Leanerd's The
Counterfeits (1679), Sylvia in The Soldier's Fortune (1683), Hippolita in
D'Urfey's A Commonwealth of Women (1685), and many more, all of
which belong to the 'second walking-lady'.

Mrs. Norris, who acted Petronella Elenora, was a far more
important figure in the theatre. One of those useful and, indeed,
indispensable performers, who, without ever attaining any prominent
position, contribute more essentially than is often realized to the
success of a play, she became well known for her capital personations
of old women and dowagers. Wife of the actor Norris, she had been
one of the earliest members of Davenant's company, and her son,
known as Jubilee Dicky from his superlative performance in Farquhar's
The Constant Couple (1699), was a leading comedian in the reigns of
Anne and the first George. Amongst Mrs. Norris' many roles such
parts as Lady Dupe, the old lady in Dryden's Sir Martin Mar-All
(1667), Goody Rash in Crowne's The Country Wit(\6js,\ Nuarcha, an
amorous old maid, in Maidwell's The Loving Enemies (1680), Mother
Dunwell, the bawd in Betterton's The Revenge ; or, A Match In New
gate (1680), all sufficiently typify her special line, within whose limits
she won considerable applause.

>. 1 20 Crab-Wine. An inferior tipple brewed from sour apples.

446 NOTES

p. 122 Tantalus better than ever Ovid described him.

Quaerit aquas in aquis, et poma fugacia captat
Tantalus : hoc illi garrula lingua dedit.

Amorum, ii, n, 43-4.

Tibi, Tantale, nullae
Deprenduntur aquae ; quaeque imminet effugit arbos.

Met, iv, 457-8.

p. 1 26 / . . . must be this very Mountebank expected. One may remember
Rochester's unpenetrated masquerade as Alexander Bendo, high above
'the bastard race of quacks and cheats,' and Grammont's account of
all the courtiers and maids of honour flocking for lotions and potions
of perpetual youth to the new empiric's lodgings 'in Tower-Street,
next door to the sign of the Black Swan, at a Goldsmith's house.' In
the Works of the Earls of Rochester, Roscommon and Dorset (z vols. 1756),
there is a rough cut of Rochester as a charlatan delivering a speech to
the assembled crowd. On the platform also stands his attendant, a
figure dressed in the diamonded motley of Harlequin.

p. 126. in querpo. A Spanish phrase, en cuerpo = without a cloak; in an
undress or disguise.

p. 133 old Adam's Ale. A very ancient colloquialism for water. In Scotland
'Adam's wine' and frequently merely 'Adam'. Prynne in his Sovereign
Power of Parliament (1648), speaks of prisoners 'allowed only a poor
pittance of Adam's ale.' cf. Peter Pindar (John Wolcot), The Lousiad,
Canto n, 11. 453-4 : —

Old Adam's beverage flows with pride
From wide-mouthed pitchers in a plenteous tide.

p. 141 a Pageant. Here used to signify a platform or low scaffold.

p. 157 the Royal Sovereign. In a Navy List of 1684 the Royal Sovereign
is classed as one of the 'Nine First Rate' vessels. 1545 tons, 100
guns at home, 90 guns abroad, 815 men at home, 710 men abroad.
In 1672 her commander was Sir Joseph Jorden. An authority on
nautical matters whom I have consulted informs me that less men and
fewer guns were carried to relieve the top hamper of the ship in a sea
way. Most vessels then were inclined to be top heavy, and although able
to carry all their guns in the narrow seas, yet when going foreign were
glad to leave ten behind, well knowing they would soon lose by scurvy
or disease numbers of their crew apart from losses in battle. Although
these ships were pierced with ports for, say, 100 guns, it did not
follow they always carried so many, as a complete broadside could be
fired by running the gun carriages across from one side to another
before the fight, so she would not be so heavy above and not so liable
to roll and spoil the aim of the guns.

p. 159 Bexolos mane's, Seignior. Senor, beso las manos.= Sir, I kiss your
hands; the usual Spanish salutation.

p. 165 brown George. Coarse black bread; hard biscuit, cf. Urquhart's
Rabelais (1653), Book IV. Author's prologue : 'The devil of onemusty
crust of a Brown George the poor boys had to scour their grinders
with.' And Dryden, Persius (1693), v. 215 : —

NOTES 447

Cubb'd in a cabin, on a matrass laid,

On a Brown George with lousy swabbers fed.

. 165 Spanish Pay. Slang for fair words; compliments, and nothing more.

,182 find. In a somewhat unusual sense of to fine = to pay a composi
tion or consideration for a special privilege.

. 198 Plymouth Cloaks. Obsolete slang for a cudgel 'carried by one who
walked en cuerpo, and thus facetiously assumed to take the place of a
cloak'. Fuller (1661), Worthies, 'Devon' (1662), 248, 'A Plimouth
Cloak. That is a Cane or a Staffe whereof this the occasion. Many a
man of good Extraction comming home from far Voiages, may chance
to land here [at Plymouth] and being out of sorts, is unable for the
present time and place to recruit himself with Cloaths. Here (if not
friendly provided) they make the next Wood their Draper's shop, where
a Staffe cut out, serves them for a covering'. Ray, Pro-v. (1670), 225,
adds, ' For we use when we walk in cuerpo to carry a staff in our
hands but none when in a cloak*. N.E.D., which also quotes this
passage of The Rover, cf. Davenant : —

Whose cloak, at Plymouth spun, was crab-tree wood.

, 199 Album Grcfcum. The excrement of dogs and some other animals
which from exposure to air and weather becomes whitened like chalk.
It was formerly much used in medicine.

209 Guzman Medicines. Trashy, worthless medicines. In The Emperor of
The Moon, Act iii, 2, 'Guzman' is used as a term of abuse to signify
a rascal. The first English translation (by James Mabbe) of Aleman's
famous romance, Vida del Picaro Guzman d'Alfaracbc, is, indeed,
entitled The Rogue, and it had as running title The Spanish Rogue.
There is a novel by George Fidge entitled The English Gusman ; or,
the History of (bat Unparalleled Thief James Hind. (1652, 4to.)
209 Copper Chains. In allusion to the trick played by Estifania on the
churlish Cacafogo in Fletcher's Rule a Wife and Have a Wife. He lends
her 1000 ducats upon trumpery which she is passing off as rich gems,
and when later he scents the cozenage, he bawls out : —

Plague of her jewels, and her copper chains,
How rank they smell ! — (Act v, 2.)

The phrase became proverbial for shams.

211 disimbogue. This word is generally used of the waters of a river or
the outlet of a lake pouring into the open sea.

212 by Play-Bill, summon' d here. In Restoration times one method of
announcing the next day's performance to the public was by putting
out bills on posts in the streets adjacent to the theatre. There are
allusions to this in Pepys, 24 March, 1662 and 28 July, 1664. The
whole subject has been exhaustively treated by Mr. W. J. Lawrence in
'The Origin of the Theatre Programme ' — -The Elizabethan Playhouse
(Second Series).

213. greasing. Flattery. Settle's post as City Poet, it is well known, did
not bring him in any great emoluments. He was, in fact, desperately
poor, and even volunteered to join King James' army at Hounslow
Heath. In old age he was reduced to writing drolls performed in a

448 NOTES

Bartholomew Fair booth kept by one Mrs. Minns and her daughter,
Mrs. Leigh. He himself acted in these wretched farces, and on one
occasion, in St. George for England, appeared as a dragon in a green
leather case. Eventually he obtained admission to the Charterhouse,
where he died 24 February, 1724.

THE DUTCH LOVER.

p. 221 An Epistle to the Reader. This amusing and witty Epistle only appears
in the 410, 1673, finding no place in the various collected editions of
Mrs. Behn's plays. The writer of comedy — ' the most severe of John
son's sect' — with his 'musty rules of Unity' — at whom she glances
pretty freely is Shadwell, who had obtained great success with The
Sullen Lovers (produced 2 May, 1668 ; 410, 1668), and in spite of some
mishaps and opposition, made another hit with The Humourists (1671 j
410, 1671). An ardent disciple of Ben Jonson, he had in the two
printed prefaces to these plays belauded his model beyond all other
writers, insisting upon the Unities and the introduction of at least two
or three Humours as points essential to any comedy.

p. 221 Doctor of Malmsbury. The famous philosopher, Thomas Hobbes
(1588-1670), who was born at Westport, a suburb of Malmesbury (of
which town his father was vicar).

p. 222 unjantee. — 'Jantee* obsolete form of 'jaunty* : see N.E.D.

p. 222 the mighty Ecbard. That facetious divine, John Eachard, D.
(1636-97), Master of Catherine Hall, Cambridge. His chief w<
The Grounds and Occasions of the Contempt of the Clergy and
enquired into. In a Letter to R.L. (London, 1670), published anony
mously, is stuffed full with Attic salt and humour. He has even been
censured for a jocosity (at his brethren's expense) beneath the decorum
of the cloth.

p. 224 English Game which bight long Laurence. To play at Laurence = to
do just nothing at all ; to laze. Laurence is the personification of
idleness. There are many dialect uses of the name, e.g., N.W. Devon
'Lazy's Laurence', and Cornish 'He's as lazy as Lawrence', vide Wright,
English Dialect Dictionary.

p. 234 Women must be •watcbt as Witches are. One of the tests to which
beldames suspected of sorcery were put- — a mode particularly favoured
by that arch-scamp, Matthew Hopkins, 'Witch-Finder General' — wa»
to tie down the accused in some painful or at least uneasy posture for
twenty-four hours, during which time relays of watchers sat round. It
was supposed that an imp would come and suck the witch's blood ; *>
any fly, moth, wasp or insect seen in the room was a familiar in that
shape, and the poor wretch was accordingly convicted of the charge.
Numerous confessions are recorded to have been extracted in this
manner from ailing and doting crones by Master Hopkins, cf. Hudri-
bras, Part n, canto iii, 146-8 : —

Some for setting above ground
Whole days and nights, upon their breeches,
And feeling pain, were hang'd for witches.

NOTES 449

cf. again The City Heiress, Act i : —

Watch her close, watch her like a witch, Boy,
Till she confess the Devil in her, Love.

3.235 Count d'Oli-varez. Caspar Guzman d'Olivarez was born at Rome,
1587. For many years all-powerful minister of Philip IV; he was
dismissed 1643, and died 20 July, 1645, m banishment at Toro.

p. 23^ a Venice Curtezan. Venice, the home of Aretine and Casanova, was
long famous for the beauty and magnificence of her prostitutes. This
circumstance is alluded to by numberless writers, and Ruskin, indeed,
maintains that her decline was owing to this cause, which can hardly
be, since as early as I 340, when her power was only rising, the public
women were numbered at 11,654. Coryat has some curious matter on
this subject, and more may be found in La Tariffa delle Puttane di
Venegia, a little book often incorrectly ascribed to Lorenzo Veniero.

3. 245 They enter at another Door. Vide note Rover I, Act n, I, p. 30.

3.263 Beso los manos, signer. = Beso las manos, senor.

3.265 Don John. The famous hero of Lepanto died, not without suspicion
of poison, in his camp at Namur, 1578. Otway introduces him in
Don Carlos (1676).

3.271 Souses. A slang term for the 'ears', cf. The Roundheads, Act n, i, 'a
pair of large sanctify'd Souses.'

3. 271 Butter-hams. Apparently from Dutch boterham= a slice of bread and
jutter. The two narrow strips of trimming on either side of the cloak.

3.272 a Rummer of a Pottle. A jug or goblet holding one pottle =two quarts.
3.278 Snick-a-Sne. A combat with knives amongst the Dutch. Snik :

Dutch = a sharp weapon. Dryden in his Parallel benuixt Painting and
Poetry (410, June, 1695) speaks of 'the brutal sport of snick-or-sne'.
Mrs. Behn has happily put several characteristically Dutch phrases in
Haunce's mouth.

3. 278 Pharamond. A heroic romance in twelve volumes, the seven first of
which are by the celebrated la Calprenede, the remainder being the
work of Pierre de Vaumoriere. It was translated into English by
J. Phillips (London, 1677, folio). Lee has taken the story of Varanes
in his tragedy, Theodosius (1680), from this romance.

3.289 Bethlehem-Gaber. Bethlen-Gabor (Gabriel Bethlen), 1580-1629,
was a Hungarian noble who embraced the Protestant religion, and in
1613, with the help of an Ottoman army, succeeded in establishing
himself as King of Transylvania. His reign, although one long period
of warfare and truces, proved a most flourishing epoch for his country.
Himself a musician and a man of letters, he was constant in his
patronage of art and scholars, cf. Abraham Holland's Continued Inquisi
tion of Paper Persecutors (1626) : —

But to behold the walls

Butter'd with weekly Newes composed in Pauls
By some decaied Captaine, or those Rooks
Whose hungry brains compile prodigious books
Of Bethlem Gabor's preparations and
How terms betwixt him and th' Emperor stand.

I G G

45° NOTES

p. 291 a Hoy. A small vessel like a sloop, peculiarly Dutch. Pepjl'

16 June, 1661, speaks of hiring 'a Margate hoy*,
p. 323 a Lapland Witch, cf. Paradise Lost, Book u, 1. 666 : —

To dance

With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon
Eclipses at their charms.

p. 329 the German Princess. Mary Morders, alias Stedman, alias Kent! I:
Moll, a notorious imposter of the day, who pretended to be a Prince I
from Germany. She had been transported to Jamaica in 1671, bl
returning too soon and stealing a piece of plate, was hanged at Tybur I
22 January, 1673. Her adventures formed the plot of a play by To I
Porter, A Witty Combat ,• or, The Female Victor (410, 1663). Kirkmai I
Counterfeit Lady Unveiled (8vo, 1673), contains very ample details 1
her career. Pepys went to visit her ' at the Gatehouse at Westminstei I
29 May, 1663. In talk he was 'high in the defence of her wit ail
spirit' (7 June, 1663). 15 April, 1664, the diarist further notes: 'TI
the Duke's house and there saw The German Princess acted by 1 1
woman herself . . . the whole play ... is very simple, unless, he I
and there, a witty sprinkle or two.' This piece was doubtless identi< I
with Porter's tragi-comedy.

p. 329 four Shillings, or half a Croivn. Four shillings was the price I
admission to the boxes on the first tier of the theatre; half a crown I
the pit. These sums are very frequently alluded to in prologue a I
epilogue. Dryden in his second epilogue to The Duke of Guise (168: |
after referring to the brawls and rioting of the pit, says : —
This makes our boxes full ; for men of sense
Pay their four shillings in their own defence.

The epilogue (spoken by Mrs. Bontell) to Corye's The Genen I
Enemies (1671), has these lines : —

Though there I see — Propitious Angels sit [points at the Box
Still there's a Nest of Devils in the Pit,
By whom our Plays, like Children, just alive,
Pinch'd by the Fairies, never after thrive :
'Tis but your Half-crown, Sirs : that won't undo.

p. 330 Rotai. The Rota was a political club founded in 1659 by Jam 4
Harrington. It advocated a system of rotation in filling governme j
offices.

THE ROUNDHEADS.

p. 337 To the Right Noble Henry Fitzroy. Second son of Charles II

Barbara Villiers, Countess of Castlemaine, afterwards Duchess I
Cleveland, was born 20 September, 1663. He married, I Augu: I
1672, Isabella, daughter and heiress of Henry Bennet, Earl I
Arlington. The bride was then only five years old. In September, 167 1
Henry Fitzroy was created Duke of Grafton, and on 30 Septembf .
1680, was installed by proxy as Knight of the Garter. In 1682 1

NOTES 451

became colonel of the first foot guards. He died 9 October, 1690,
from a wound he received under the walls of Cork during Marlborough's
expedition to Ireland. Brave and even reckless to a fault, he is said
to have been the most popular and the ablest of the sons of Charles II.

p. 341 noise of Plots. The ferment occasioned by the pretended Popish Plot
of 1678 and the illegal Exclusion Bill was in full blast.

p. 341 Presbytery. Presbyterianism.

p. 341 Forty One. 1641 was the date of the Grand Remonstrance and
Petition to Charles I.

p. 341 Ignoramus. When Shaftesbury was indicted for high treason,
24 November, 1681, the grand jury ignored or threw out the bill.
Their declaration was 'ignoramus', cf. Dryden's prologue to The Duke
of Guise (1682): —

Let ignoramus juries find no traitors,
and other innumerable references to this verdict.

p. 343 Flcctivood. Lieutenant-General Charles Fleetwood was son-in-law
to Oliver Cromwell, and for a time Lord-Deputy of Ireland. He was
mainly instrumental in the resignation of Richard Cromwell, but so
weak and vacillating that he lost favour with all parties. His name
was excepted from the general amnesty, and it was only with great
difficulty that, owing to the influence of Lord Litchfield, he escaped
with his life. He died in obscurity at Stoke Newington, 4 October,
1692.

3.343 Lambert. Major-General Lambert (1619-83) lost his commissions
owing to the jealousy of Oliver Cromwell, on whose death he privily
opposed Richard Cromwell. In August, 1659, he defeated the Royalist
forces under Sir George Booth in Cheshire, but subsequently his army
deserted. On his return to London he was arrested (5 March, 1660),
by the Parliament, but escaped. Tried for high treason at the Restora
tion, he was banished to Guernsey, where he died in the winter of 1683.

5. 343 Wariston. Archibald Johnston, Lord Wariston, a fierce fanatic, was
parliamentary commissioner for the administration of justice in Scot
land and a member of Cromwell's House of Peers. On the revival of
the Rump he became president of the Council of State, and permanent
president of the Committee of Safety. At the Restoration he fled, but
was brought back from Rouen to be hanged at the Market Cross,
Edinburgh, 23 July, 1663. Carlyle dubs him a 'lynx-eyed lawyer and
austere presbyterian zealot', and Burnet says, 'Presbyterianism was
more to him than all the world.'

p. 343 Heivson. John Hewson, regicide, a shoemaker, was a commander
under Cromwell, and afterwards a peer in the Upper House. At the
Restoration he escaped to the Continent and died in exile at Amster
dam, 1662, or, by another account, at Rouen.

>. 343 Desbro. John Desborough, Desborow, or Disbrowe (1608-80) was
Cromwell's brother-in-law. Being left a widower, he married again
April,i658. As he had refused to sit as a judge at the trial of Charles I,
he was not exempted from the amnesty ; but being considered a source
of danger, he was, after the Restoration, 'always watched with peculiar
jealousy,' and suffered some short term of imprisonment.

452 NOTES

p. 343 Ducking field. Robert Duckenfield (1619-89), a strong Parliamen
tarian, but one who refused to assist at the King's trial. He had larg
estates in Cheshire, where he lived retired after a short imprisonmeni
at the Restoration. His son Robert, who succeeded him, was subse
quently created a baronet by Charles II, 16 June, 1665.

p. 343 Corbet. Although this name is here given as Corbet, Colonel Gobi
occurs Act i, n (p. 355), and we have Cobbet again Act iii, i (p. 374)
This character is certainly not Miles Corbet the regicide, but Ralpr
Cobbet, who was both a colonel and a member of the Committee o
Safety. Ralph Cobbet is frequently alluded to in the satires of
time, e.g. The Gang} or, The Nine Worthies and Champions (17 January;
1659-60) : —

A man of stomack in the next deal,

With a hey down, &c.
Was hungry Colonel Cobbet ;

He would eat at a meale

A whole commonweale,
And make a joint but a gobbet.

p. 343 Wbithck. Bulstrode Whitelock (1605-75), keeper of the Grea
Seal, and in August, 1659, president of the Council of State, wa>
always inclined to royalism, and even advised Cromwell to restor*
Charles II. At the Restoration he was allowed to retire to Chiltor
Park, Hungerford, Wilts, and died there 28 July, 1675. According t<
some accounts his death took place at Fawley, Bucks.

p. 343 Lady Lambert. Lady Lambert was Frances, daughter of Sir Williarr
Lister, knight, of Thornton in Craven, Yorks. She was marriec
10 September, 1639. Contemporaries attribute Lambert's ambitioi
to the influence of his wife, whose pride is frequently alluded to
e.g. Memoirs of Colonel Hutcbinson, edited by C. H. Firth (Nimmo
1885), Vol. II, p. 189, 'There went a story that as my Lady Ireton wa
walking in St. James' Park the Lady Lambert, as proud as her husband
came by where she was, and as the present princess always ha:
precedency of the relict of the dead prince, so she put my Lady Iretoi
below ; who, notwithstanding her piety and humility, was a littli
grieved at the affront.'

p. 343 Lady Desbro. Desborough's second wife, whom he married A

1658, is said, on the dubious authority of Betham, to have been Anne
daughter of SirRichard Everard, Bart., of Much Waltham. Mrs. Behn'
amorous lady, Maria, is, of course, purely fictional.

p. 343 Lady Fleetwood. Bridget, eldest daughter of Oliver Cromwell, wa.
married first to Ireton, who died 26 November, 1651, and secondly, ir
1652, to Fleetwood. She did not live long after the Restoration, an<
was buried at S. Anne's, Blackfriars, i July, 1662.

p. 343 Lady Cram-well. Cromwell married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir J;
Bourchier, 22 August, 1620. She survived her husband seven
dying 19 November, 1665. After the Restoration she lived in g
seclusion at Norboro', Northamptonshire, the house of her son-in-law
John Claypoole.

NOTES 453

, 343 Clement' 's Parish. Probably St. Clements, Eastcheap. This church,
described by Stow as being 'small and void of monuments', was
destroyed in the Great Fire and rebuilt 1686. The old church of
St. Clement Danes, Strand, being in a ruinous condition, was pulled
down in 1680 and built again on the same site. The Puritans always
omitted the prefix 'St.' and spoke of churches as 'Paul's', 'Mary's',
'Bartholomew's', 'Helen's' and the like.

, 344 Gad and the Lord Fleetwood. Fleetwood, even in an age of Tartuffes,
was especially distinguished for the fluency of his canting hypocrisy
and godliness. He was a bitter persecutor of Catholics, a warm
favourer of Anabaptists and the extremer fanatics of every kidney.

, 345 Vane. Sir Harry Vane (1613-62), the prominent Parliamentarian
and a leading member of the Committee of Safety was executed as a
regicide, June, 1662.

, 345 Fifth Monarchy. The Fifth Monarchy men were a sect of wild
enthusiasts who declared themselves 'subjects only of King Jesus',
and held that a fifth universal monarchy (like those of Assyria, Persia,
Greece, and Rome) would be established by Christ in person, until
which time no single person must presume to rule or be king.

, 346 Haslerig. Sir Arthur Heselrige, one of the Five Members whom
Parliament refused to yield to Charles I in January, 1642, was a
republican of the most violent type. He died a prisoner in the Tower,
7 January, 1661.

349 an errant Heroick. A term for a cavalier or Royalist, cf. Edward
Waterhouse's A Short Narrative of the late Dreadful Fire in London
(1667, I2mo) : 'Even so, O Lord, rebuke the evil spirit of these
Sanballats, and raise up the spirit of the Nebemiabs and other such
Heroicks of Kindness and Ability to consider London.' Tatham, in
The Rump (410, 1660; 1661), A*ct ii, i, has 'The very names of the
Cromwells will become far more odious than ever Needham could
make the Heroicks'.

349 cuckold the Ghost of Old Oliver. The intrigue between Cromwell
and Lambert's wife is affirmed in 'Neivesfrom the Neva Exchange ; or,
the Common-wealth of Ladies . . . London ; printed in the year of
women without grace, 1650' (410). Noble, in his Memoirs of the
Cromwell Family (8vo, London, 1787, 3rd edit., Vol. II, p. 369), says
that the lady 'was an elegant and accomplished woman', she was
'suppos'd to have been partial to Oliver the Protector.' A scarce
poem, Iter Australe (London, 1 660, 4to), declares of Cromwell that some

Would have him a David} 'cause he went
To Lambert's wife, when he was in his tent.

Some six months before Cromwell's death, when Lambert visited him,
Noll 'fell on his neck, kissed him, inquired of dear Johnny for his
jewel (so he called Mrs. Lambert) and for all his children by name."
Cromwell's immoralities in youth, when a brewer at Ely, were notorious.
Although the parish registers of S. John's, Huntingdon, have been
tampered with, the following, under the years 1621 and 1628, remain:
'Oliverus Cromwell reprehensus erat coram tota Ecclesia pro factis.'

454 NOTES

and 'Hoc anno Oliverus Cromwell fecit penitentiam coram tola
ccclcsia.' An attempt has been made to erase these.

p. 354 Tony. Anthony Ashley Cooper; afterwards first Earl of Shaftesbury.

p. 357 Wallingford House. Stood on the site of the present Admiralty. It
was so called from Sir William Knollys, Baron Wallingford, Treasurer
of the Household to Elizabeth and James I. After Cromwell's death
the General Council of the Officers of the Army (Wallingford House
Party) met here. Fleetwood actually lived in the house. At the
Restoration it reverted to the Duke of Buckingham. The Crown
purchased it 1680, and the Admiralty was built about 1720.

p. 361 Cobler's-Stall. Hewson, says Wood, had originally been 'an honest
shoemaker in Westminster.'

p. 362 Conventickling. Conventicle was accentuated upon the third syllable. ''
This, of course, led to innuendo, cf. I Hudibras (1663) Canto ii, 437:
He used to lay about and stickle
Like ram or bull at conventicle
and Dryden, in The Medal (1682) : —

A tyrant theirs ; the heaven their priesthood paints
A conventicle of gloomy sullen saints.

p. 363 Pryn. William Prynne (1600-69) had been sentenced to severe
punishment in February, 1634, for the scandals and libels contained in

his dull diatribe, Histriomastix. He lost both his ears in the pillory.

p. 365 Needbam. Marchamont Nedham, 'the Commonwealth's Didaper',
was a graduate of All Souls, Oxon, and sometime an usher at Merchant
Taylors' school. He also seems to have been connected with the legal
profession. 'The skip-jack of all fortunes', neither side lias a good I
word for this notorious pamphleteer, the very scum of our early
journalism. When Mercurius Britannicus temporarily ceased publication i
with No. 50, 9 September, 1644, Nedham recommenced it on the 3Oth j
of the same month with No. 51 (not No. 52 as is sometimes stated).
No. 92, 28 July-4 August, 1645, anc* the number 11-18 May, 1646,
revile the King in such scurrilous terms that Nedham was haled to
the bar of the House of Lords and imprisoned. Later he turned
Royalist, but in 1650 published The Case of the Common-wealth Stated, j
a defence of the regicides, for which he received a pension of ^100 a
year. He fled to Holland, April, 1660, but being pardoned, returned '
to England. He died in Devereux Court, Temple Bar, November, ;
1678, and is buried in St. Clement Danes. Wood characterizes him :
as 'a most seditious, mutable and railing author,' whilst Cleveland
terms him 'that impudent and incorrigible reviler'.

p. 365 Iretont my best of Sons. Noble, in his Memoirs of the Cromwell Family,
says that the fact Fleetwood had not the abilities of her first husband
gave his wife much concern, as she saw with great regret the ruin his
conduct must bring on herself and her children.

p. 366 Richard's Wife. Richard Cromwell at the age of 23 married Dorothy,
daughter of Richard Major, of Hurslcy, Hampshire.

p. 366 glorious Titles. Cromwell's wife was, as a matter of fact, very averse
to all grandeur and state. The satires of the time laugh at her home
liness and parsimony.

NOTES 455

, 369 Ormond. James Butler, Duke of Ormond, was lord-lieutenant of

Ireland, 1643-47.

,370 Exercise. A common term amongst the Puritans for worship; a
sermon or extemporary prayer. As early as I 574 Archbishop Whitgift
speaks of the exercises of 'praying, singing of psalms, interpreting and
prophesying', cf. Davenant, The Wits (410 1636): —

I am a new man, Luce ; thou shalt find me

In a Geneva band

And squire thy untooth'd aunt to an exercise,
and also : —

[she] divides

The day in exercise. — Mayne's City Match (1639), iv, v.
,372 Duke of Gloc ester. Henry of Oatlands, Duke of Gloucester, youngest
son of Charles I. Born 8 July, 1639, he died of smallpox at Whitehall
13 September, 1660. The Parliament sent him to the continent on
1 1 February, 1653.

If. 373 he should have been bound Prentice. A proposition was actually made
in Parliament that the young Duke of Gloucester should be bound to
a trade, in order, as it was impudently expressed, 'that he might earn
his bread honestly.' Fortunately, saner counsels prevailed, in which
his fate was happier than that of the Dauphin committed to the
cruelties of Citizen Simon, cordwainer.
373 Old Thurh. John Thurloe ( 1 6 1 6-68), Secretary of State to Cromwell ;

M.P. for Ely, 1654 and 1656. He died 21 February, 1668.
I p. 378 Highness' s Funeral. A large portion of the debt incurred for Oliver
Cromwell's magnificently extravagant funeral ceremonies fell on
Richard, who was obliged to retire for a while to the continent to
avoid arrest and await some settlement. These obsequies cost in all
the huge sum of £60,000, which there was a great difficulty in paying.
The chief undertaker's name was Roll. See note on The Widow
Ranter— 'Trusting for Old Oliver's funeral,' Act i. (Vol. IV.)
p. 378 Walter Frost. Walter Frost, secretary to the Republican Council of
State, was quondam manciple of Emmanuel, Cambridge, and acted as
spy-master and manager of the 'committee hackneys,' which hunted
down and betrayed Royalists. This infamous fellow, who dubbed
himself Esquire and Latinized his name to Gualter, was authorized to
publish (i.e. write) 'intelligence every week upon Thursday according
to an Act of Parliament for that purpose.' He licensed A Briefe Relation
(No i, 2 October, 1649) from its second number until 22 October, 1650.
This is certainly one of the most evil and lying of the Republican
diurnals.

p. 378 Hutcbinson. Richard Hutchinson, deputy treasurer to Sir Henry
Vane. He succeeded as Treasurer to the Navy in 1651 and continued
to hold office after the Restoration. He is several times mentioned
by Pepys.

p. 379 Jacobus. A gold coin value 251., first current in the reign of James I.
p. 379 Mr. Ice. Perhaps Stephen Isles who was appointed a Commissioner
for the London Militia, 7 July, 1659. The name 'Mr. Ice' occurs in
Tatham's Rump in the same context.

456

NOTES

p. 379 Loether. Sir Gerard Lowther, who, once a loyalist, became a repv
lican, and in 1654 was one of the Three Commissioners of the Grt
Seal in Ireland. He acquired large estates and died very wealthy
the eve of the Restoration.

p. 381 Duke of Buckingham' i Estate . . . "with Cbehey House. Bulstro
Whitelocke actually had obtained the Duke's sequestered estate, a
stood for Bucks in Parliament. During the Commonwealth Chels
House wa* bestowed upon him as an official residence, and he liv
there till the Restoration, when it reverted to the Duke, to who
father it had been granted in 1627 by Charles I. He sold it in 16
to the trustees of George Digby, Earl of Bristol. In 1682 it becarr
the property of Henry, Marquis of Worcester, afterwards Duke
Beaufort, and was renamed Beaufort House. Sir Hans Sloa
purchased it in 1738, and it was demolished two years later.

p. 381 Hugh Peters. This divine, who had been chaplain to Sir Thorn!
Fairfax, was notorious for his fanatical and ranting sermons. Havin
openly advocated and preached the death of Charles I, he was, at th
Restoration, excluded from the general amnesty, tried for high treasoi
and executed 16 October, 1660.

p. 382 Scobel. Henry Scobell, clerk to the Long Parliament. His nam
appeared as the licenser of various newsbooks, and he superintende
the publication of Se-verall Proceedings in Parliament. No. I, 25 Sept.-
9 Oct., 1649. Scobell died in 1660, his will being proved 29 Sept
of that year.

p. 394 fails. Avails; profits. Money given to servants : 'tips'.

p. 398 Cushion-Dance. A merry old English round action dance common ii
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

p. 398 Nickers. Or knickers, marbles generally made of baked clay, cf
Duffet's farce, The Mock Tempest (1675), Act iv> l '•—

Enter Hypolito playing with Nickers.

Hyp. Anan, Anan, forsooth — you, Sir, don't you stir the Nickers. I*.
play out my game presently.

p. 402 Joan Sanderson. The air to which the Cushion Dance was usually
performed. It may be found in Playford's Dancing Mailer, 1686.
Sometimes the dance itself was known as Joan Sanderson.

p. 406 The Tall Irishman. Oliver Cromwell's porter, yclept Daniel, was •
giant. This fellow, through poring over mystical divinity, lost his wits»
he preached, prophesied, and raved until finally he was incarcerated in
Bedlam, where, after a while, his liberty was allowed him. A famou*
item amongst his books was a large Bible presented by Nell Gwynnc. I
D'Urfey in his Prologue to Sir Barnaby Wbigg (1681), has: 'Like*)
Oliver's porter, but not so devout.' There is a rare, if not unique^!
portrait of Daniel in the Print Room, British Museum. The reputed I
portrait in Pierce Tempest's Cryes of the City of London (No. 71. Uoi
insens£ pour la Religion. M. Lauron del. P. Tempest ex.) is not that
of a remarkably tall man.

p. 410 Enter He-wson -with Guards. 5 December, 1659, Hewson did actually/
suppress a rising of London prentices, two or three of whom were'
killed and some score wounded. This made him very unpopular.

NOTES 457

$412 Lord Cafe/. Arthur, Lord Capel, Baron Hadham, a gallant royalist
leader, was, after the surrender of Colchester, treacherously imprisoned.
He escaped, but was betrayed, and beheaded 9 March, 1649.

1.412 Brown Bushel. Asea captain. Originally inclined to the Parliament,
he became a royalist. In 1643 ne was taken prisoner, but after being
exchanged lived quietly and retired till 1648, when he was seized as a
deserter, and after three years captivity, tried, and executed 29 April,
1651.

^413 Earl of Holland. Henry Rich, Earl of Holland (1590-1649), a
staunch royalist, was executed 9 March, 1649, in company with Lord
Capel and the Duke of Hamilton.

41 3 Judas. The piece of plate dubb'd Judas would be gilded, cf. Middle-
ton's Chaste Maid in Cbeapside, (410, 1630), iii, 2.

yd Gossip. Two great 'postle-spoons, one of them gilt.

1st Puritan. Sure that was Judas then with the red beard.
Red is the traditional colour of Judas' hair. cf. Dryden's lines on
Jacob Tonson the publisher : —

With two left legs and Judas-coloured hair.

414 an act, 24 June. Cromwell's parliament passed Draconian Acts
punishing adultery, incest, fornication, with death ; the two former on
the first offence, the last on the second conviction. Mercurius Politicus,
No. 1 68. Thursday, 25 August — Thursday, i September, 1653
(p. 2700), records the execution of an old man of eighty-nine who
was found guilty at Monmouth Assize of adultery with a woman over
sixty. It is well known that under the Commonwealth the outskirts
of London were crowded with brothels, and the license of Restoration
days pales before the moral evils and cankers existing under Cromwell.
The officially recognized independent diurnals Mercurius Democritus,
Mercurius Fumigosus, have been described as 'abominable'. In 1660,
when the writers of these attempted to circulate literature which had
been common in the preceeding decade, they were promptly 'clapt up
in Newgate'.

414 Peters the first, Martin the Second. Hugh Peters has been noticed
before. Henry Martin was an extreme republican, and at one time
even a Leveller. He was a commissioner of the High Court of Justice
and a regicide. At the Restoration he was imprisoned for life and
died at Chepstow Castle, 1 68 1, aged seventy-eight. He was notorious
for profligacy and shamelessness, and kept a very seraglio of mistresses.

415 Tantlings. St. Antholin's (St. Anthling's), Budge Row, Watling
Street, had long been a stronghold of puritanism. As early as 1599,
morning prayer and lecture were instituted, 'after the Geneva fashion'.
The bells began at five in the morning. This church was largely
attended by fanatics and extremists. There are frequent allusions to
St. Antholin's and its matutinal chimes. The church was burned
down in the Great Fire. Middleton and Dekker's Roaring Girl (161 1) :
'Sha's a tongue will be heard further in a still morning than Saint
Antling's bell.'

She will outpray
A preacher at St. Antlin's. — Mayne's City Match (1639), iv, v.

458 NOTES

Davenant's News from Plymouth (fol. 1673, licensed 1635), i, I : —

Two disciples to St. Tantlin,
That rise to long exercise before day.

p-4i6 Lilly. William Lilly (1602-81). The t'amous astrologer and fortune
teller. In Tatham's The Rump (1660), he is introduced on the stage,
and there is a scene between him and Lady Lambert, Act iv.

p. 416 sisseraro. More usually sasarara. A corruption of certiorari, a writ in
law to expedite justice. 'If it be lost or stole ... I could bring him
to a cunning kinsman of mine that would fetcht again with a sesarara,"
— The Puritan (1607). 'Their souls fetched up to Heaven with a
sasarara.' — The Revenger's Tragedy, iv, 2 (1607). The Vicar of Wake-
field (1766), ch. xxi: '"AJ for the matter of that," returned the hostess,
"gentle or simple, out she shall pack with a sussarara".'

p. 421 Twelve Houses. Each of the astrological divisions of the heavens
denoting the station of a planet is termed a house.

p. 423 bear the bob. To join in the chorus. Bob is the burden or refrain
of a song.

p. 423 Colt-staff. Or col-staff (Latin collum). A staff by which two men
carry a load, one end of the pole resting on a shoulder of each porter.
cf. Merry Wives of Windsor , iii, 3, 'Where's the cowl-staff?'

p. 423 Fortune my Foe. This extremely popular old tune is in Queen
Elizabeth's Virginal Book; in William Ballet's MS. Lute Book; in
Belleropbon (1622), and in numerous other old musical works. There
are allusions to it in Shakespeare and many of the dramatists.

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