THE Amorous Old-woman. OR, 'Tis Well if it Take.  
A COMEDY.  
ACTED By His MAJESTY'S Servants.  
WRITTEN By a Person of Honour.  
LONDON, Printed for Simon Neale at the three Pigeons in Bedford street in Covent-Garden. MDCLXXIV.   

PROLOGUE Spoken by Major Mohun.  
POets in Prologues (to cajole the Age)  
Have spent such stocks of Wit upon the Stage,  
That 'tis become the hardest par to'th' Play,  
They've said so much, there's little left to say.  
Yet Critics, you new Miracles attend,  
As if Wit's Treasury could know no end.  
Like cruel Landlords, who do never weigh  
Hard times, or damage, when 'tis Quarter day;  
With eager expectation you destrain  
For Wit's Excise upon our Poet's brain,  
And for a Prologue, you old custom cite:  
They writ with ease who first began to write;  
All fancies than were fresh, all ●heams were new;  
Wit's ransacked now from China, to Peru.  
Nay, here at home, all fancies are as stale,  
Some flatter, some entreat, and others rail:  
And this last Method we must needs confess,  
Has of all others met the most success:  
But our new Poet dares not take this Course,  
He would entreat, but not your like force;  
For if your Charity don't help him out,  
He does protest he then must turn Bankrupt:  
Not with design as knavish Bankers do)  
For he'll not break and then compound with you;  
But fairly to you, his whole interest quit,  
And give you up the forfeit of his its.   

A second PROLOGUE intended, but not spoken.  
HE who comes hither, with design to hiss,  
And with a bum reversed to whisper Miss,  
To comb a Peruke, or to show gay clothes,  
Or to vent antique Nonsense with new Oaths;  
Our Poet welcomes as the Muse's Friend,  
For he'll by Irony each Play commend.  
Next him, we welcome such who briskly dine  
At Lockets, at Giraus, or Shattiline;  
Swelled with Pottage, and the Burgundian Grape,  
They hither come to take a kindly Nap;  
In these our Poet don't conceive much harm,  
For they pay well, and keep our Benches warm;  
And tho' (scarce half awake) some Plays they damn;  
They do't by wholesale, not by Ounce, and Dram.  
But when fierce Critics get them in their Clutch,  
They're crueler than the Tyrannic Dutch;  
And with more Art do dislocate each Scene,  
Than in Amboyna they the limbs of Men;  
They rack each line, and every word unknit,  
As if they'd find a way to cramp all Wit.  
They're the Terror of all adventures here,  
The very objects of their hate, and fear;  
And like rude Commonwealths they stillare knit,  
'Gainst English Plays, the Monarchies of Wit.  
The invade Poetic licence, and still rail  
At Plays, to which in duty they should veil,  
Yet still th' infest this Coast to F●●h for jests,  
To supplement their Wits at City Feasts,  
Thus much for Critics: To the more generous Wit  
Our Poet frankly does cach Scene submit,  
And begs your kind Alliance to engage  
Those Hogen Interlopers of the Stage.   

Dramatis Personae.  

Honorio in Love with Arabella. Mr. Lydal.  
Amante in Love with Clara. Mr. Beeston.  
Garbato in Love with Arabella. Mr. Eastland.  
Cicco a blind Senator that pretends to see. Mr. Perin.  
Riccamare his Brother, in Love with Riches. Mr. Coysh.  
Buggio a Fellow that delights in Romancing. Mr. Chapman.  
Furfante Servant to Cicco. Mr. Powel.  
Sanco-panco Servant to Strega. Mr. Shirley.   

Women Actors.  
Constantia Sister to Honorio. Mrs. Cox.  
Arabella Daughter to Cicco. Mrs. james.  
Clara in Love with Honorio, called also Infortunio. Mrs. Boutel.  
Strega an old Rich deformed Lady. Mrs. Corey.   The Scene Pisa.  

THE Amorous Old-woman, OR, 'Tis Well if it Take.  

ACTUS I.  

SCENA I.  Amante and Honorio meeting. Aman. 
SIgnior Honorio!  Hon. 
Signior Amante! You are the Man  
I wished to meet.  Aman. 
Then we're both pleased.  
I've worn out my Feet with seeking you.  Hon. 
And I my Patience.  Aman. 
I thought you better stored.  Hon. 
You have most reason to believe so Signior.  Aman. 
I cannot apprehend you.  Hon. 
I shall explain myself. I understand  
You have been a liberal detractor Sir,  
Both of my honour, and my Sister's fame;  
And as a Gentleman expect fair satisfaction.  Aman. 
Ha, ha, ha, you are disposed to droll.  
Italians seldom understand that Language.  Hon. 
You speak French. Teach your Sword the Dialect.  
And don't mistake my injuries for jests.  Aman. 
Tho' I have always made it my chief care  
Neither to offer, nor receive a wrong,  
And am as far from injuries to you.  
As English Subjects from oppressive Laws:  
Yet custom does so cruelly impose  
Upon the Laws of Honour, the must give  
Satisfaction, to the Capricio of each jealous brain.  Hon. 
I am no common duelist, nor make a living  
From the price of blood. My temper  
In your refusal of my Sister's Love  
(After such long address) was too much shown;  
But than her tears did conquer my resentments,  
Which fresher injuries have inflamed anew.  
And if not false to Honour, as to Love,  
You will this Night those injuries repair,  
Or take his Life, whose fame you did not spare.  Aman. 
'Twere not amiss I knew particulars,  
The why and wherefore I must draw my Sword,  
For I'm not so in love with the French garb,  
T' expose my skin to pinking for the Mode.  Hon. 
You shall—  
Setting a part your late inconstancy, (which I am  
Bound to pardon by● an Oath) receive in short  
My other injuries: y' have given out (thereby  
To justify your levity) my Sister was unchaste,  
And that the reason you forsook her Love;  
That I (being conscious of my Sister's guilt)  
Durst not confirm 't to th' world by my revenge,  Aman. 
Let me but know the inventor of these lies,  
These Hellbred lies, that I may punish him,  
For I am more than equally concerned.  Hon. 
You must excuse me Sir, I swore concealment.  Aman. 
Then give me leave to say you are unjust:  
Tho' love, which all want Power to resist,  
Compelled my stubborn heart to feel a second flame;  
yet I was ne'er so little generous, so destitute  
Of Honour, or of Manhood, as to asperse a Lady,  
I once loved.  Hon. 
Words are no balsam for the wounds of Honour:  
I hope you'll meet me in Pantalony's Grove.  Aman. 
To vindicate her Fame I will; but ne'er  
To justify so black a Calumny.  Hon. 
Y' are a Coward then, that wants a Soul  
To own the injuries your malice vents.  Aman. 
A Coward! Lend me your patience Gods!  
'Tis all too little to allay the flame  
That word has kindled here; Oh how it rages!  
Now y' have given my anger a just Theme;  
You shall soon know to whom the Coward's due:  
Expect me about Six.  Hon. 
I shall attend you with a second.  Exit Honorio. Aman. 
Tho' he pretends fresh wrongs, 'tis evident  
He seeks to punish my inconstancy,  
A cause my Sword would have defended weakly,  
Had not his fury given 't an argument,  
Too warrantable to admit dispute,  
As to the justice of't, a Coward!  
It is a Title of such Infamy;  
Methinks his life is slender satisfaction!  
And yet when I consider him my Friend,  
Methinks that Title should all quarrels end.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Riccamare, Garbato. Ric. 
But is she so deformed?  Garb. 
As ugly as heart can wish, but rich  
Beyond the numbers of Arithmetic.  Ric. 
She's a Woman?  Garb. 
Her Progeny assures it, for she has seen  
Her great Grandchilds' Daughter;  
But still remember she is rich.  Ric. 
There's my Elysium.  Garb. 
But will you marry her?  Ric. 
Why did I crave thy aid else? for riches  
I will marry any thing. Were she so old  
That the single hairs upon her Chin  
Were hardened by time, to the consistence  
Of Knitting-needles, and grown as long; if  
She had money, yet I'd marry her, and  
Kiss her upon occasion, notwithstanding  
That Porcupin defence.  Garb. 
And much good may it do thee.  Ric. 
Nay, if she be but rich enough, I care not  
Tho' she were a Witch the Devil had sucked  
Nine lives; but thou art sure that I shall  
Meet no Rival?  Garb. 
Except Don Satan should in mere spite  
Animate an hanged Carcase to court her,  
Never fear one.  Ric. 
How happy's Riccamare! since glorious Gold  
Gives form to Youth deformed, Beauty to th' old.  Garb. 
How he's exalted! like a Beggar that had  
Drunk himself into a Prince, and keeps  
State in a dream.  Ric. 
Dear Garbato let's instantly to this India.  Garb. 
Weigh the adventure: There's more pleasure  
To sleep in a Trench, tho' in a deep Snow,  
When Bullets dance about your ears, and  
Less danger, than in kissing her, she  
Has a breath more noisome than a Jakes,  
Able to belch a Pestilence, but Gold is a  
Rich Restorative, and she's as mellow as  
An Angelot Ch●ese, that has been mortified  
Fifteen Months in Horse-dung: But still  
To your great comfort, she's exceeding rich.  Ric. 
That's my Paradise, has she many Heirs?  Garb. 
None but an overgrown Gib-cat, she has  
Outlived her kindred by nine Generations,  
And they say remembers ever since Eve  
Gave suck; and for her Religion she's a  
Pre-adamite.  Ric. 
Then are my fortunes made for ever.  Garb. 
And you shall make mine before we part.  (aside) Ric. 
How am I bound to fortune! Rich and Old,  
Two blessings I would hardly change for Heaven  
Might it succeed.  Garb. 
The refusal must be on your part Signior.  Ric. 
What, and be worth ten thousand Ducats yearly?  Gar. 
Yes, and ten times that in money.  Ric. 
If I wed her not, may I marry a poor  
Beauty, and undo my Parish with getting  
Beggars. Why shouldst thou scruple it?  
Prithee let's lose no time.  Garb. 
A word first about my own concerns.  Ric. 
Delay me not, I'll reward thee to thy wish.  Gar. 
I am no Slave to coin Sir.  Ric. 
How shall I otherwise deserve thy Love?  Gar. 
As we walk I shall inform you.  Ric. 
Well, you shall govern me: now to my Mine;  
Nought's so deformed, but Gold can make divine.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Constantia, Clara, Arabella. Con. 
Dispute no more, you may as well compare  
An Atom to a Mountain, as balance  
Your miseries with mine.  Cla. 
Let each impart her grief, and then the Scale  
Will not perhaps appear so much unequal.  Ara. 
Let me begin happily, hearing mine  
You'll blush, and think your own not worth  
Relating.  
The man I love is banished from my sight,  
And him I hate, usurps a Lovers right.  
Such Magic is there in a Parents will,  
As does destroy my Love, my Lover kill.  
If I obey, I must espouse my hate,  
And disobedience is a harder fate.  
For so I lose my love, who does pursue  
Me with such Virtue, he'd then shun me too,  
As lost to duty, judging I might prove,  
As to my Father, falser to his love.  Con. 
Your fate's severe, yet Madam you possess  
In's Virtue still a kind of happiness,  
Whilst I have lost in mine, (being so untrue,)  
Not only a Lover, but his virtue too.  Cla. 
Yet both your fates my happiness outgo:  
You were beloved, but I was never so.  Con. 
My having been beloved my griefs increase:  
War racks them most that have been used to peace.  Ara. 
And those true vows my Lover does impart,  
Serve but as Torches to inflame my heart.  
Which otherwise by silence might abate  
In Love, and reconcile me to my hate.  Cla. 
All these are trifles to poor Clara's grief,  
Whose Love ne'er had, nor e'er can hope relief.  Con. 
What e'er they seem, sure those griefs deepest grow,  
Which feel th' effects of love, and hatred too.  Ara. 
If to discern, you'd contraries compare,  
(For great hope lost, begets the worst despair.)  
You'd find my grief all others far excel.  
So joys privation is the worst of Hell:  
And darkness seems more horrid to the sight,  
When Bodies intervene 'twixt us and light,  
And rob us of the glory of the Day,  
Than when by course, Night drives the Sun away.  
So does my Father's will t'our Love appear,  
Much more prodigious, than were Love severe,  
Or either of us false: that grief destroys,  
Which cruelly separates uniting joys.  Con. 
Disputes are vain; we never shall decide,  
Which should precede, 'mongst griefs so near allied.  Cla. 
Thou'rt in the right, for mine must never yield.  Ara. 
Nor mine— adieu.  
I must retire to the Cypress Grove.  Cla. 
So dark a shade will best become my Love,  
I'll bear thee company, where we will feed,  
Sorrow with silence: As wounds inward bleed,  
When least apparent, yet then best surprise  
The fort of life; so griefs which dwell on Eyes,  
Cannot so dextrously life o'ercome,  
As silent sorrows, which live nearer home.  Exeunt Clara and Arabella. Con. 
If Love alone be difficult to bear,  
And that Love's torments are increased by fear,  
Thou fear denote some hope, Love paid with scorn,  
Being void of hope's much harder to be born.  
How have I fined! that I'm compelled to prove  
The utmost rigours both of scorn, and love:  
Great Deity forgive! and next abate  
My love like his; as one teach both to hate.  
Or if I still must dote by your decree,  
Yet mitigate my cruel destiny.  
And make Amante feel a scornful hate,  
May equalise the rigour of my fate.  
That so,  
Wearied with scorns, his penitence may prove,  
More advantageous than his feigned Love.  Exit.  

Scena Quarta.  Buggio, Honorio. Bug. 
Where dost think I met thy Mistress?  Hon. 
My Mistress!  Bug. 
Make it not so strange, the Lady of your  
Public address, the Lady Arabella.  Hon. 
The Lady Arabella! Where?  Bug. 
See if your countenance speaks not truth for you:  
Be Master of a better temper,  
Or hang me if I tell you a Syllable.  Hon. 
I'll tell you more without a Covenant;  
Amante does with solemn Oaths deny  
Those base aspersions which you swore he laid  
Upon my Sister's Fame: And tho'he be  
A Vagabond in Love, yet I believe him  
A Man of Honour, that would not eat his words;  
Besides the Oath of silence you imposed,  
Begets suspicion.  Bug. 
This comes by telling lies, damnable lies;  
To please my fancy I expose my throat,  (aside) 
And with a Pox must be Romantic still.  Hon. 
Signior, I expect your answer.  Bug. 
Sir, since my zeal and overfond affection,  
Has rendered me a sufferer in your thoughts;  
I shall become more careful for the future  
Of busy friendship, and a purblind zeal,  
And find at present ways to vindicate  
The truth.  Hon. 
That will oblige me to implore your pardon,  
For my unjust suspicion.  Bug. 
'Tis confidence I see, must bear me out.  (aside) 
Time will make all things plain.  Hon. 
The time is riper Sir, than you suppose,  
For by appointment, I'm to meet Amante  
This Night in single Combat.  Bug. 
Then I have made fine work, and shall no doubt  
Have my dear Guts carved in Italian Cut-works,  
Or my poor Carcase pounded to a Sausage.  Hon. 
If now you please to honour me so far  
As to appear my Second, you'll thereby approve  
Your truth, and friendship.  Bug. 
Second!— A Pox of all lying, it will lie  
Heavy on my blood one day, or other; and  
Yet if I should be hanged for't, my very body  
Could not choose but lie, after 'twere dead.  Enter Cicco, Furfante. Cic. 
Furfante, When we meet Company, whisper me.  Fur. 
Yonder's Signior Honorio Sir, my young  
mistress's Servant.  Cic. 
Good day Signior Honorio.  Hon. 
How the Devil does he to see me at this  
Distance, that gropes from one Room to another;  
And knows not the way to his Mouth  
But by custom— I joy to see you Sir,  
That I may inquire of my souls chief  
Happiness, my Arabella, how fares my life?  Cic. 
In perfect health, like sad Penelope she  
Moans the absence of her Love, you make  
Yourself too much a Stranger.  Hon. 
She makes m'indeed a Stranger to her heart,  
Where I could wish to be more intimate  
Than Friends appeared before the World knew fraud.  
But since she's pleased to have it otherwise,  
My duty's to submit.  Cic. 
Talk not to me of duty, or submission; your flames  
And flatteries make them proud; your terming  
Them Deities make them forget their frailty,  
Calling them Mistresses, you teach them disobedience, Signior Honorio:  
You have my voice, if she's mine, she's mine  
To dispose.  Hon. 
Doubt not her just obedience, she'll comply  
In every thing she can; but Tyrant love  
Does so our reason and our will surmount,  
It makes all ties besides of no account.  Cic. 
Allow Girls reason, and will! that were fine i'faith.  Bug. 
I see you're busy Sir, I'll take my leave.  Cic. 
who's that, Furfante?  Hon. 
Stay but a Minute, and I'll wait upon you,  
In the mean time, consider of the business.  Bug. 
Should I refuse, he'd fight with me himself,  
Tho' I perform nothing I'll promise fair.  Cic. 
Does he turn this way yet?  Fur. 
He does, speak aloud, for he's at some distance.  Cic. 
Signior Buggio, my old acquaintance!  
I protest I saw you not.  Fur. 
He may believe him, for he has been  
Blind these five years.  Bug. 
Your Age excuses you.  Cic. 
I am not wont to make such gross mistakes.  Fur. 
Thanks to my Eyes, and your Ears.  Cic. 
Old as I am, these Eyes will serve me without spectacles.  Fur. 
As well as with'em.  Bug. 
I've heard, you have that sense so perfect,  
That you can see the point of a Needle  
At twelve score.  Cic. 
Then Signior Buggio, you have heard a truth.  Fur. 
He neither cares to hear, nor speak one.  Cic. 
Son Honorio.  Hon. 
That Title honours me, and revives my hopes.  Cic. 
Hopes! I'll have 'em certainties, the day  
Appointed, and that quickly too.  Hon. 
You speak the Language of the Gods, prepare  
My Arabella for a free consent,  
And Hymen shall soon make us one.  Cic. 
Say no more, I'll have't dispatched  
To morrow, the privater, the better.  Fur. 
For his Purse.  Cic. 
Fursante!  Hon. 
This suddenness surprises me,  
But old men do all by fits.  
And I will sooner lose my life  
Than this blessed opportunity.  Cic. 
I hope you'll wait upon your friend to morrow.  Exeunt Cicco & Furfante. Bug. 
I sooner may neglect myself then him.  Hon. 
You have considered my proposal?  Bug. 
I have, and with a double joy receive  
The honour, as vindicator both of my same,  
And truth.  Hon. 
You'll approve yourself a worthy Gentleman.  
The Place is Pantalony's Grove, the hour Six.  Bug. 
I understand you Sir.— If I observe  (aside) 
Either time or place, I'll be fleyed, and  
Have velum made of my Hide for Historians  
To write authentic History— your Servant Sir.  Hon. 
A word, you seemed at first to intimate  
Somewhat concerning my Arabella.  Bug. 
True, I did— But—  Hon. 
Mince not the matter, this old man's suddenness  
Does justly give me cause of jealousy,  
Which we esteem high wisdoms sentinel,  
'cause it alarms fear, and straight awakes  
Suspending doubt, which actions wisely stay  
Till discreet reason can prepare their way.  (aside) Bug. 
I shall so claw your wisdom.  Hon. 
Dear Buggio, be particular in what  
Your haste did make appear of some concern.  Bug. 
Yes, and have my Throat cut for my labour,  
Sure, I shall learn more wit.  Hon. 
Nay, how you play the Tyrant! that Friendship's  
Poor, which danger can affright,  
And he loves little can't forgive his Friend  
When 'twas not he, but's Passion did offend.  Bug. 
The danger, which I fear's to incur your hate;  
Yet that I'll wave, with all the interest  
Of divine Friendship, rather than conceal  
Aught that may affront your love or honour.  Hon. 
Thou wilt oblige me to Eternity.  Bug. 
In short, I saw your Arabella, Signior,  
With young Amante on the Grand Canale  
In a Felucca rowing toward Leghorn,  
Adorned with all the Gallantries of Art,  
Harmonious Music entertained her Ear,  
Perfumes her smell, which much enriched the Air,  
A Banquet and delicious Wines her taste,  
Whilst he appeared the object of her Eye,  
And pleased her more than that variety.  Hon. 
Hell, and Devils! Art thou sure 'twas he?  Bug. 
As sure— What? Dost thou take me for an Atheist?  
Have I any Faith? have I any Eyes?  Hon. 
Enough— you will not fail at Six.  Bug. 
I'll sooner fail my Grannam on her Deathbed,  
When she's bestowing Legacies.  Exit. Hon. 
Were not Constantius injuries sufficient  
But thou must wound more near, and having struck  
My Honour, must destroy my Love, and wound  
A Chastity my Soul did glory in?  
Thy injuries confound my patience  
And revenge, and make me think Heaven unjust,  
That gave thee so much power to offend,  
And but one life to make me satisfaction;  
But I'll denounce a War against thy blood,  
And thence proceed to thy affinities.  
Nor shall my vengeance slacken, much less end,  
Whilst thou hast left, a Kinsman or a Friend.  Exit.  

Scena Quinta.  Riccamare, Garbato. Ric. 
Our agreement's this, if this Damsel of sixscore  
And odd, be worth the sums you talk off,  
And will marry me, I am to procure my  
Niece Arabella's Company at my house, and  
Make you a Collation; if it do not sccceed  
you forfeit two hundred Crowns.  Garb. 
You have an exact memory. View now  
The Fabric.  Ric. 
It looks like an old ruin of Egypt.  Garb. 
Or rather like a relic of the Flood;  
Sure it was built in the Infancy of time,  
Before the World was acquainted with proportion,  
Or Architecture.  Ric. 
Knock, I long to survey the Inhabitants  
Of this Monument, if she be rich enough  
'Twill make amends.  Garb. 
Nay, you must expect nothing but antiquity:  
Her Parlour will appear like a Broker's shop,  
Every Stool of a several Parish.  Enter Sanco-panco. 
But here comes her general Officer— I must  
Dispatch him Ambassador to his Lady,  
Before I can proceed with my description.  Ric. 
This is some Egyptian Mummy preserved  
By a petrifying Vapour, he moves as if he  
Had no Soul.  Exit Sanco-panco. 
What strange African Monster's that?  Garb. 
A movable suitable to her other appurtenances.  
But to my description; The Cushions in her  
Windows look by the Anti que Embroidery  
Like Relics saved at the Sack of jerusalem,  
And the Velvet of the Couch like an High  
Priests Cope, that had lain buried nine Ages.  Ric. 
If she be parallel to these, I shall be Vvived.  Garb. 
I fear she'll prove the greater antiquity.  Ric. 
Good Gold, fortify my Stomach strongly.  Garb. 
But she's rich, that's all thou carest for.  Ric. 
True, in being so, she's all, All I can wish.  Enter Sanco-panco. Garb. 
And here returns our Sanco-panco, Porter,  
Usher, Steward, Butler, Coachman, or what  
You please, to conduct you to your Indies.  Sanc. 
After my Mistresses hearty commendations  
Presented unto you.  Ric. 
'Slife, he's her Secretary too, and is directing  
A Letter of thanks for a Country Cake.  Sanc. 
My Mistress bid me notify her intentions  
Are to see you.  Ric. 
She can see yet, that's some comfort.  
Good Sir Lancelot, do your Office, and Marshal us.  Sanc. 
I shall show you up to my mistress's Chamber.  Ric. 
Now if I can but obtain her.  Garb. 
Fear nothing, pray for a good Stomach,  
Say Grace, and fall too.  Exeunt.  

Scena Sexta.  Buggio and Constantia. Bug. 
Unless you call upon your Apron-strings  
For some device, that may confine him home,  
You'll lose a Brother, and a Servant, Lady.  Con. 
Are you to be his Second?  Bug. 
Madam I ever used to appear first  
In these Encounters, but my respect to you—  Con. 
I shall ever own the Obligation.  Bug. 
You're most obliging, 'tis a pious work;  
You will prevent the direst Massacre  Con. 
I doubt not but I shall persuade my Brother.  Bug. 
I wish you may, for your fair sake I wish it,  
Else ne'er expect to see a Brother more:  
For my own part, I think that I can die  
As decently as another;  
And sell my life too, at as dear a rate  
As any flesh alive, for all their Guns,  
Petards, Granadoes, and Demy culverins,  Con. 
Heaven bless us.  Bug. 
Madam, you are forewarned, I must prepare,  
I mean for mischief, and to broach new lies.  (aside) Exit. Con. 
His words are terrible, should this be true;  
I lose at once a Lover, and a Brother.  
'Tis safe to fear the worst, some way 'll'le prove  
To save their lives, ' although I lose their Love.  Exit.   

Actus Secundus.  
Arabella, Clara, in Boy's Apparel. Ara. 
TEll me thy Name, and Parentage.  Cla. 
My name is Infortunio, for my Birth,  
I claim an honest, but no high descent,  
A Shepherd's Son in Sicily.  Ara. 
Infortunio!  Cla. 
A Name which answers my misfortunes, Madam.  Ara. 
Alas thy face does show the petty griefs  
Thy Age has undergone, the Sun did broil  
Or the cold Air did sometimes make thee quake,  
Or hunger tyrannised for want of breakfast  
Upon thy empty Stomach: canst thou sing?  Inf. 
According to our Rural way I can.  Ara. 
Pretty Boy! Prithee be not so bashful,  
But begin.  

Song.  

1  
If love enjoy'd's the greatest bli●e  
A mortal man sustain,  
The greatest pain  
Must be the contrary to this,  
Cruel disdain.  
No Passion's harder to be born,  
Than Love, when 'tis repaid with scorn.   

2  
I'd rather have my Love untrue  
And given to flattery,  
Then should I be  
So happy as to have him sue  
For Love to me.  
And if his falsehood prove too great,  
At pleasure sound the first retreat.   

3  
But when men the advantage have  
To show the first disdain  
They thereby gain  
The Privilege to kill, or save,  
Increase our pain,  
And make us Perish by their scorn,  
Or live by smiles, like Vassals born.    Ara. 
How happy is this Boy, who sings his Airs,  
And makes his pastime out of others cares!  
Ah that I were as ignorant as he,  
He knows no love, therefore no misery,  
But Women are too apt (heaven knows) to learn,  
To wish, to blush, and next to have concern.  Enter Cicco, Furfante. Fur. 
Yonder's my young Mistress, Sir.  Cic. 
Lead me to her, what Company?  Fur. 
Only a Page, a little Youth.  Cic. 
A very pretty Youth.  Fur. 
Of a black, as e'er you saw.  Cic. 
Yes, yes, I see that, a pretty Moor.  Cla. 
Is he mad, or blind, or both?  Fur. 
He's blind, and mad, and both.  Cic. 
These are but shifts, Apron-string policies,  
No more, 'tis my command, show your obedience.  
You have not seen Garbato lately?  Ara. 
You did command the contrary, and I obeyed.  Cic. 
It well became your duty—  
He'll be so wise I hope t'absent himself,  
His entertainment shan't incite him hither,  
Let Beggars marry in their Tribe, and so  
Maintain their race, I must have you prepare  
To be the rich Honorio's Bride.  Ara. 
Dear Sir—  Cic. 
Nay no reply, your warning's short, I'll see  
You married myself to morrow Morning.  Fur. 
He talks of seeing still, where are his Eyes?  Cla. 
Canst not perceive, they're always in his Mouth.  Fur. 
You mistake, his sight's there, his eyes  
Are in his head.  Cic. 
Here, take this Purse, and see you fit yourself.  Exit Cicco. Ara. 
What for a Sepulchre?  Cla. 
A Bridal Bed, dear Madam.  Ara. 
'T were less injurious to wish a Tomb.  Cla. 
I'm glad she hates him yet, there's some hope left,  
If my poor stars prove kind, however I'll  
Aid them.  
Madam, so strange a sadness clouds your Soul  
As would move pity in a senseless Statue,  
Therefore impute it not to impudence,  
If in compassion of your miseries,  
I proffer my poor service to persuade  
Honorio to forsake your Love, and leave you  
To your choice.  Ara. 
Thou speak'st a blessing rather to be wished,  
Than hoped for, or obtained.  Cla. 
Be not distrustful.  
You know not how my innocence can plead,  
Armed with your cause; if he has any pity,  
I'll use such soft and tender language to him  
As shall dissolve his soul into compassion.  Ara. 
Thou hast indeed a moving language Boy,  
And thy looks, with me, have power to persuade  
Beyond the Charms and Tropes of Rhetoric.  
May they with him find equal grace, and Power.  
Tell him my heart, and love, was predisposed;  
That 'tis not Pride, but Love, refuses him;  
Bid him not take it ill, that I am constant,  
For Death to me is welcomer than change:  
That if he ceases to prosecute my fate  
He will deserve my pity, and such Love  
As gratitude, and honour can dispense.  
But if he will persist my dreadfullest hate,  
That from my Love he'll at such distance be  
He scarcely will be worth my Charity.  Cla. 
When he knows this, he'll surely blame his Love,  
And straight endeavour to suppress his flame.  
But I wrong your service by deserring it.  Exit. Ara. 
Whilst he employs his richest eloquence  
In mitigation of Honorio's Love,  
I must make use of my own diligence  
To find Garbato and discover to him  
The hasty rigour of my Father's Will:  
I am informed he often does frequent  
My Uncle's House, but upon what design  
I can't surmise, unless he hope from thence  
To reap advantage to our love:  
However boldly, I'll adventure there,  
She should fear nought, ' has every thing to fear.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Riccamare, Garbato. Ric. 
As she's set together, she appears  
Reasonably handsome.  Garb. 
Like the grave Governess of a Roman Bawdy-house,  
But when she's disjointed, like a new dissected  
Anatomy, then tell me thy opinion.  Ric. 
I warrant you, a gilded Pill will down.  
But didst observe her Conscience, how 'twas spiced?  Garb. 
Like a Wassail bowl, or a pepper posset, it bit again.  
She's not like our Shopkeepers, that vent their  
Wares by a false light, she'll have you survey  
The Commodity well, that you may not repent  
The bargain.  Ric. 
Blame her not, she's honest and kind.  Garb. 
As Cats when they first grow proud, all her  
Caresses will consist in scratching, and like  
The Russian Lasses, she must be basted, to be  
Made sensible of thy kindness.  Ric. 
The Woman's well, considering her Wealth.  Garb. 
I fear thou'lt scarce like her when thou  
Hast seen her imperfections.  Ric. 
Why, are they so horrid?  Gar. 
Faith I know not, but the Ceremony gives  
Much of Terror— she's made of several  
Loose Parcels, that's certain; and to have an  
Arm taken off, turn into a Cat's paw; her  
Nose convert to a Swine's Snout, her Periwig  
To Hares, and her Legs to Greyhounds to coarse  
Them, would it not startle thee?  Ric. 
Thou art as whimsical as a Court Lady  
Studying of new fashions, I cannot imagine.  
Half these deformities.  Garb. 
May she prove the Figure of Helen! or rather  
May her wealth make her appear so!  Enter Amante. 
My dear Amante, 'tis above an Age,  
Since I had last the happiness to see you.  Aman. 
Perhaps you'll wish you had not seen me now.  Garb. 
You wrong our Friendship much; your reason Sir?  Aman. 
Dismiss that Gentleman, and I'll inform you.  Ric. 
I shall see you at my lodging.  Garb. 
In time to wait upon you to the party.  Garbato Whispers Riccamare. Exit Riccamare. Ric. 
Be sure you don't forget.  Garb. 
You know my forfeit. Now Friend I am yours.  Aman. 
You knew my Love once to Constantia.  Garb. 
And have lamented oft, the change.  Aman. 
That Crime must be imputed Sir to Love,  
Or beauty which commands it; however now  
I am summoned to answer it with my Sword.  Garb. 
I thought Constantia had prevailed upon  
Her Brother's rage, to let it sleep.  Aman. 
'T was so believed, and that she had consigned  
His fury by an Oath; I must avow  
Her pity therein did affect me much,  
For I was loath to justify a Crime  
Love made me so unwillingly commit.  Garb. 
What's the occasion then of this new quarrel?  Aman. 
I know not well, but he seems to charge me  
With fresh injuries, which I averring false,  
He called me Coward, thy Friend Amante Coward.  Garb. 
Just Gods! and when d'you Combat him?  Aman. 
Immediately, if you but honour me so far,  
As to appear my second;  Garb. 
You know you may command me.  Aman. 
'Tis time we did attend him.  Garb. 
Away, this Arm unto my Sword shall lend  
A double vigour to revenge my Friend.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Constantia. Con. 
Now that my Brother's safe, my next design  
Must be, how to secure his same, for honour  
To a Cavalier of his Complexion  
Is of more dear concern by far than life:  
'Tis an hard Task, yet what I want in Art  
My Courage shall supply, for I'm all heart:  
I heard some tread, I will obscure a while.  She hides behind a Tree. Enter Buggio. Bug. 
The Coast is clear, and I've time to invent  
Some delicate Romance, a finespun lie  
To please my fancy, and to save my bones,  
Should fair Constantia miss of her design  
To stay Honorio.  Con. 
He speaks of me, I'll listen nearer.  Bug. 
If he come first Amante's very sick,  
And sent a Messenger to make excuse.  
But if Amante on Honorio's behalf,  
I'll make submission.  Con. 
Base Slave!  Bug. 
And beg a pardon for the injuries  
He did him: oh delicate, dainty lies!  
How you tickle, and delate my Genius!  
There is no Paradise, but in Romance.  Con. 
What a strange Fellow's this? yet to me  
I fear his Story was too true, for see  
Amante comes.  Enter Amante, Garbato. Bug. 
Now for a dainty fancy to make Fools—  Aman. 
We are in time I see, here's only Buggio,  
And without a Sword.  Gar. 
Oh he's a Man of peace.  Bug. 
He should be a Conjurer by his Guests.  Con. 
'Tis time I show myself.  Bug. 
Noble Gallants, Signior Honorio—  Con. 
Honorio! If any here have aught  
To say against him, I appear his Champion,  
And in the just defence of his true Honour  
Oppose my Innocence to your rude Swords.  Bug. 
She has spoiled the rarest Fable brain e'er  
Gave being to— Cursed Woman—  Exit. Gar. 
Is not this Constantia?  Aman. 
The same.  Con. 
Yes 'tis the same, the same Constantia;  
I would you were the same Amante too!  
But wherefore should I wish you so much ill?  
No, prosper in your Love, and set in me  
A period to your hate.  Aman. 
How much I prize your life, the Gods bear witness.  Con. 
How little you esteem my love, this heart  
Can witness; yet tell me, false, and cruel,  
How many new vexations you design me?  
Y'ave robbed my heart of Love, my life of peace,  
And now pursue my sole surviving comfort,  
My Brother's life.  Aman. 
Alas I pity your misfortunes Madam,  
And own myself unworthy of your Love,  
Vild and inconstant;  
But for your Brother as he made the strife,  
'Tis justice he should answer't with his life.  Con. 
His life! can nothing else obtain his peace?  Aman. 
Balance my injuries, and be you Judg.  
He has reproached me with a Coward's name,  
And with much baseness urged me to the Field,  
Himself not daring as a Gentleman to meet  
Me here, or give me satisfaction.  Con. 
Suspend your sentence till you understand  
By what necessity he is detained,  
I've locked him up, and am come here myself  
To make you Friends, or else supply his Room,  
If we must fight, come on,  She draws her Swords 
Yet sure you'll gain  
But small repute, to kill a Maid half slain  
By Love before, whose valour will appear,  
More in her tongue than hand, most in a Tear.  Aman. 
My heart dissolves, I shall forget my wrongs.  Gar. 
Friend, let me intercede, who can deny  
A Lady pleading with a weeping Eye?  
'T was for her sake Honorio did forgive  
Your change in Love, for her sake let him live.  Aman. 
I am content, we're on an even score;  
Besides it is as little as I can do  
In satisfaction for my wrongs to you.  Con. 
This is a relic of some kindness yet,  
But once your love, and vows did promise more,  
I now must study to forget both them, and you,  
Farewell for ever.  Exit. Aman. 
She's passionate.  Gar. 
Sh'as reason for't, her injuries would vex  
The strongest Patience of that Noble Sex.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quarta.  Honorio at a Window. Hon. 
Sister! Constantia, Sister! sure she's deaf,  
Or some infectious Vapour makes her mad  
To lock me up thus; Curse of her design!  
My honour's wounded to Eternity,  
But how the Devil she should come to hear  
Of our appointment is beyond my brains  
Or reason to conceive. Hell take her care!  
She kills my honour to preserve my life;  
And who can say she han't destroyed her own,  
And made me fast to play at lose herself?  
Unto its Centre I will sift her heart,  
Level a Prospect to her very soul,  
But I will know her thoughts, her hidden thoughts,  
I've made a passage through three locks already,  
This is beyond my skill, or strength to force.  Enter Clara, as Infortunio. 
'Tis almost Night, I'll call on yonder Boy.  Cla. 
This certainly must be Honorio's House.  Hon. 
Youth, kind Youth.  Cla. 
'Tis he! Pray what's your pleasure?  Hon. 
Good Youth step to the adjacent street  
And fetch a Smith; my Family are gone,  
To th' festival, and locked me in.  Cla. 
'Twill be a kindness to myself,  
For I have business with you.  Hon. 
Prithee dear Boy dispatch, I long to hear it.  Cla. 
I'll bring you straight your freedom.  Exit. Honorio shuts the Window.  

Scena Quinta.  Furfante, Cicco. Cic. 
Arabella not come home, and night!  Eur. 
When is't other with him? the Sun  
Is half an hour high Sir.  Cic. 
Yes, yes, I think it be.  he peeps up towards the sky. Fur. 
He peakes into the Element  
Like an ginger, that picks out  
Good Stars for others, and unlucky ones  
For himself.  Cic. 
No, no, the Sun is not so high.  Fur. 
You might swear it, could you see the Candles.  Cic. 
'Tis just a quarter high, or there about.  Fur. 
You are more than three quarters blind.  Cic. 
But that's Night in a manner.  Fur. 
Blindness is always Night in a manner,  Cic. 
What's that you say Sirrah of good Manners?  Fur. 
Not I Sir, I had never any to talk of.  Cic. 
Nay, you're a saucy Knave, did Arabella  
Take any body with her?  Fur. 
No, Sir, ●he was loath to promote the Cookmaid,  
And my Livery was sick of a Rupture.  Cic. 
Did she say nothing?  Fur. 
She were not a Woman then; she told me all  
Her Wedding Intrigues, but her tongue went  
So merrily, and my memory was such a Jade  
We could not keep pace.  Cic. 
If she be gone about her marriage necessaries  
She won't be long, come let's about her  
Preparations here at home.  Fur. 
We are like to have wonderful doings, and much  
Sobriety; our Wine will come up in Physical  
Viols, and we shall drink it out of Acorns.  Cic. 
Are the provisions come?  Fur. 
Yes Sir, Coleworts in abundance, Lettuce, Anchovies,  
And Mushrooms, the Feast will make a rare  
Grand Salade.  Cic. 
No flesh Varlet?  Fur. 
A pair of Pigeons, half a dozen of La●●s, a  
Monstrous Quail, and as much Butcher's meat  
As a pair of Mice yoked to a Peascod can  
Conveniently draw.  Cic. 
You think you're in England to clog your stomach  
With Buttock Beef.  Fur. 
Would mine were a Porter, upon condition  
It bore no worse a burden.  Cic. 
Be content Rascal, thou sha●● swefeit on  
Macharoni, and Vermicelli.  Fur. 
A Pox of your Minestras', give me Beef.  Exeunt.  

Scena Sexta.  Constantla. Con. 
Just like a Felon by his guilt pursued  
I've traced the Streets; for every little noise  
Begets new terrors, and my erring fancy  
Frames out of nothing, objects to affright me.  
But soft, I hear some footing.  Enter Clara. Cla. 
'Tis very late, for every one's a Bed  
Except some Lovers, who do serenade  
Their Mistresses, no Smith can I prevail with;  
They tell me that 'tis time to rest, but I  
Can meet with no such season.  Con. 
This Youth is as timorous, as I.  Cla. 
That ' voice should be Constantias.  Con. 
He named, me, I am ●ost.  Cla. 
Madam Constantia.  Con. 
Protect me sacred Innocence! I know you not,  
What are you?  Cla. 
A Friend, and yet unknown.  Con. 
I do not cove● new acquaintances.  Cla. 
Fear not, I was desired by Honorio,  
(Locked up through some mistake of his Domestics)  
to fetch a Smith.  Con. 
I hope you have sent none, I have the Keys.  Cla. 
I han't, for surfeited with this days Feast,  
They went, I think, all drunk to bed, sooner  
At lest than usually.  Con. 
I shall perform their Office.  Cla. 
Nay I must attend you.  Con. 
Excuse your self the trouble, and my modesty  
The Guilt of being seen with you so late.  Cla. 
I am too young for such a jealousy.  
Besides I have a message to your Brother.  Con. 
D●●e● it till the Morning; now 'tis late.  Cla. 
It does require a more quick dispatch.  Con. 
I cannot shift him off, what shall I do?  
'T were madness to return, to stay here worse  
I'll then rely upon my Virtues force.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS III.  

SCENA I.  Honorio, Constantia, Clara, Hon. 
SIster, I'll canvas your affair at leisure,  
And as you satisfy my doubts,  
Conclude your guilt, or innocence.  Con. 
My Virtue Sir dare suffer any Test.  Exit. Hon. 
I do both wish, and hope it, now thy message.  Cla. 
Y' are to resolve me a short question first.  Hon. 
Willingly, proceed.  Cla. 
Do you entirely love fair Arabella?  Hon. 
Do I love honour, life, or health? she's more,  
Commands my soul, governs my heart.  Cla. 
She that has all the power you confess,  
Has sent you a Command.  Hon. 
Which I'll obey more joyfully, than Slaves  
Receive their liberties, speak thy command.  Cla. 
'Tis to leave loving her.  Hon. 
Cease to jove her! I tell thee cruel youth  
I must first cease to live.  Cla. 
Behold the Truth of men! did you not say  
She swayed your heart, yet see if you'll obey.  Hon. 
You must distinguish Boy, if she by love  
(As that's her only Title) sway my heart.  
I am no longer bound to an obedience,  
Than whilst her high commands suit with that love:  
But when she waves that right, and bids it cease,  
I justly disobey, her hate, not her.  
For if a Monarch should command me kill him,  
Were't not in me a Treason to obey?  
Surely it were, nor can my Inconstancy,  
'Cause she commands it, a jess Treason be.  Cla. 
He argues cunningly— But you'll appear  
A double Traitor, both to her, and love,  
If you obey not, for on this command  
Depends her love, and life.  Hon. 
I understand you not, explain yourself.  Cla. 
Sir, I shall both explain myself, and her.  
Love gives her to Garbato, she'd have you  
Cease your false claim, and let him have his due.  Hon. 
My answer Boy, shall be as home, and brief.  
Her duty makes her mine, and I'd have her  
Banish my Rival, and my Love prefer.  Cla. 
It rests in you to mitigate her Crime,  
Her Father too with duty may dispense,  
But there are none, when mutual vows are knit  
Can cancel Love, till death determine it.  
Is she contracted then?  Cla. 
Less could not disengage her from her duty.  Hon. 
Tell her I shall not discompose her peace,  
Nor long I fear survive her cruelty.  Cla. 
Oh that he had but this concern for me!  Hon. 
Having delivered this short message to her,  
Obtain her leave to visit me again:  
Methinks your Faces have such sweet resemblance  
I could delude my Passion, and adore  
In thee my Arabella.  Cla. 
I will not fail to visit you.  Hon. 
Do my kind Boy, and then we'll weep together,  
And sigh, and sing grief to a Lethargy,  
Shall we not Boy?  Cla. 
You shall command me any thing.  Exeunt severally.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Furfante. Fur. 
So, thanks to my happy fate, he's fast again,  
And thinks it wants three hours yet of day,  
What a Rogue was I t' abuse a poor blind Man  
Thus? by making him believe 't Night, and that  
His Daughter's returned, when she's as far from  
Being visible as the Motion of time on a Dial.  Enter Buggio. Bug. 
Where's thy Master?  Fur. 
Measuring his length, upon a Featherbed, a sleep,  Bug. 
This Fellow has got my faculty, and lies extempore,  
The Sun is mounted in the Meridian.  Fur. 
But I persuaded my Master it was not full East.  Bug. 
Delicate Varlet, I could kiss thee, did he lend faith?  Fur. 
Like a young Mercer, who had never been deceived  
By a Court Customer; he believed most religiously.  Bug. 
As many do by an implicit faith.  
But how goes the Wedding forward?  Fur. 
As honest Men thrive, and Crabs crawl, backwards,  
Backwards— the Bride's fled Sir.  Bug. 
Escaped!  Fur. 
Like a Canary Bird, fled to her Country.  Bug. 
What Province is that?  Fur. 
A Place most Virgins delight in, their  
Lover's bosom.  Bug. 
Thou'rt a rare Rogue, does the old Man  
Know it?  Fur. 
He dreams as little of it as a Thief of the  
Gallows, whilst he's committing Burglary.  Bug. 
Does he not miss her?  Fur. 
Yesternight he did, but now thinks her safe  
At home between flaxen.  Bug. 
Thou mean'st a Bed, didst tell him so?  Fur. 
I did a little impose upon his faith.  Bug. 
Sweet Rascal, let me hug thee, thou  
May'st in time grow up a Mr.  Fur. 
In the Art of lying.  Bug. 
The Noble Science Varler.  Fur. 
But now to make this good when he wakes  
Would be a Masterpiece.  Bug. 
Trust to these brains and I'll secure thee,  
We'll persuade him he slept two days,  
And dreamt a third.  Fur. 
And I have such a quickening Morning's draught.  Bug. 
Will it exalt the Genius?  Fur. 
To the fift Region.  Bug. 
Let's in, and taste it Boy; may it inspire  
Our Sculls with fancy, and our Noses fire.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Riccamare, Garbato, Arabella. Ric. 
I'll neither meddle, nor make with you that's flat;  
I cannot answer't to my Brother.  Gar. 
Prithee change humours; As he pretends to see,  
And sees not, seem you blind tho' you see.  Ric. 
I've been blind too long, when she came, she  
Would but speak a Word, and straight return.  Ara. 
But having weighed my Father's temper since,  
(Which as you know is highly passionate)  
I dare not tempt his fury by my presence  
Till by some Friend I mediate my peace.  Gar. 
Nor can I think it safe; she ought to be  
Of some concern to you; you are her Uncle.  Ric. 
I can't go with her now, were she my Mother.  
You know my concern.  Gar. 
Let her stay here till our return.  Ric. 
Not I, carry her where you please, I won't be  
Known I ever saw her.  Gar. 
Then I must wait her home, all places else  
Will be injurious to her Name.  Ric. 
You promised to attend me to the Widow.  Gar. 
And you to me a Treat, of which your  
Niece was to partake.  Ric. 
And will perform it.  Gar. 
Very like, and grudge your Niece a poor  
Days habitation.  Ric. 
Well Signior, you shall see the contrary  
I 'll hazard for your sakes, my Brother's love,  
Niece you shall stay a week and welcome.  Gar. 
This favour will oblige me still to serve you.  Ric. 
But since I hazard for your sakes a Brother's  
Love, I hope you'll spare my Purse  
In th' entertainment.  Gar. 
Most willingly, and if our stay be long,  
Pay for our Diets too, at your own rate.  Ric. 
We shall not disagree, so, here's profit,  
My Widow, and my Niece are at distance  
With her Father, all makes for me, our time  
Draws near.  Exit Riccamare. Gar. 
I'll wait upon you.  
Though we have gained a breathing time  
For love.  
And fortune seems t' applaud our interview,  
Yet still my timorous concerns for thee  
Grow strong upon me, and allay my Joys.  Ara. 
Let's not destroy our present happiness  
With fears of what may happen, leave't  
To time.  
Let Father's rage, and fate denounce our ruin.  
Yet-whil'st we Love, and can thus breathe  
Our Vows,  
Into each others breasts, what can impair  
Our real happiness?  Gar. 
Whilst you continue thus, fortune may show  
Her teeth, but never bite us— But I forget.  
Your Uncle— like of my soul! farewell.  Exit. Ara. 
So dying Bodies with their Spirits part,  
So Virgins to their Ravishers do yield  
Their honours up, with such a dying smart  
Does wounded honour oft forsake the Field,  
As I Garbato's sight, till whose return,  
My heart seems dead, my body as its urn.   

Scena Quarta.  Furfante, dressed like a Woman on one side, and like himself on the other, and Buggio. Fur. 
And how do I become the Petticoat?  Bug. 
As a Thief the Gallows, admirably well.  Fur. 
If I can but counterfeit a Voice, between  
Laughing and crying, a right Woman's voice;  
I am past discovery to a blind Man.  Bug. 
Study Pythagoras, and transform thyself to  
A Parson's Pig, that squeak will do it.  Fur. 
No I will speak like a Baker's Widow  
Kneading of Cakebread for her Husband's Funeral.  Bug. 
Either will serve with the help of my faculty.  Enter Clara. 
But what Dandiprat's this?  Fur. 
A Pillow Chorister, that sings my Lady a sleep.  Bug. 
And after plays with her Lips to make  
Her Dream of kisses.  Fur. 
Kisses are loves earnest before they seal  
The bargain, but if we don't feal his Lips,  
Our design will be reduced to its first principle,  
Nothing.  Bug. 
Fear not, we'll make him as silent as a Chamber  
Maid in her Lord's bed, when her Lady lies over her.  Fur. 
Or she under him, the Simile will hold both ways.  Cla. 
Where's my Lady? ha, ha, ha, I cannot forbear  
Laughing whilst I look on him.  Fur. 
You might show better manners Sirrah.  Cla. 
What, to a Fool?  Bug. 
To your Lady, 'sdeath are you blind?  Cla. 
I were blind indeed to mistake a Baboon  
For a Phoenix.  Bug. 
I wonder Madam, you'll keep such a Jack-sawce  Fur. 
I must have him corrected,  Cla. 
This is rare fooling.  Bug. 
He's beyond drunk, mad, or bewitched.  Cla. 
These impudent Fellows are able to outface  
Truth, and make her fly the Dukedom.  Bug. 
Nay you must not enter there.  Cla. 
What do they mean? I begin to fear them,  
For certainly they are extremely drunk;  
Furfante, without fooling, where's my Lady?  Fur. 
Thou saucy impudence.  Bug. 
I wonder Madam that you don't discharge him.  Cla. 
Tho' Furfante plays the Rogue, th' other  
Seems a sober Gentleman.  Fur. 
That's not your way Sirrah, get y'out of my Doors.  Bug. 
How the Boy stares! do you not hear your Lady?  Cla. 
I hear a saucy Coxcomb.  Cicco within. Cic. 
Furfante, Arabella, Furfante.  Fur. 
My Master comes, what shall we do?  
This Boy will ruin us.  he seems to threaten. Bug. 
Let me alone to charm him, I'll make  
Him believe the Devil walks above ground.  Enter Cicco. Cic. 
Are none of my Knaves within?  
Or is my Daughter deaf— Furfante!  Fur. 
Your pleasure Sir.  Speaks with his Male-side towards him. Cic. 
Did you not hear me call?  Fur. 
I was so taken up with grief for my young Mistress.  Cic. 
Why what of her?  Fur. 
Alas poor Gentlewoman, she has wept her Eyes out.  Cic. 
Wept! for what?  Fur. 
Her Lover Signior Honorio who should have made  
Her a Woman, with her own consent Sir.  Cic. 
'Sdeath, what of him?  Fur. 
Why Sir, he has disappointed her expectation;  
He is not come according to promise, and  
She poor Bride, sits yonder blubbering  
Her Eyes out.  Cic. 
Foolish Girl! 'tis early, he'll come, fear not.  Fur. 
'Tis rather growing late Sir.  Cic. 
'Tis breakfast time with thee.  Fur. 
That's a season I never was acquainted with  
Since I knew your Worship, but if you please  
'Tis dinner time.  Cic. 
How Rogue! are we not newly up?  Fur. 
You may take your ease, but we under— Officers  
Of the Family, rose six hours ago.  
Signior Buggio has been here these three hours.  Cic. 
How! Signior Buggio, here?  Furfante Clara. Bug. 
Your Servant Signior.  Cic. 
You're welcome Sir, 'tis late it seems.  
I wonder the Bridegroom comes not.  Bug. 
'Tis past twelve half an hour.  Cic. 
He's mad too, damnably mad, or drunk.  
Why, I am but newly up.  Bug. 
That's no nows to me Sir, we have  
Plied you these four hours with hot clothes,  
Till at last you began ro groan, and we  
Believed it but a deep sleep.  Cic. 
Did I appear so insensible?  Bug. 
As if youhad been an Alabaster  
Figure, for your own Tomb.  Cic. 
'Tis strange, I feel myself well, and lusty.  Bug. 
I'm sure we pinched you till our Fingers  
Ached, and pulled you by the Nose till the  
Gristle cracked, and made us fear the  
Bridg-fall, yet all this while we saw  
No sign of life.  Cic. 
No sign of life! how my heart fails me?  Bug. 
He looks as if he'd faint with imagination.  Cic. 
Nay I find I was very ill.  Bug. 
I never saw a Man nearer's grave, and live.  Cic. 
I believe it, for my heart aches yet, I feel  
A' strange pricking. Hem, a hem— But  
Where's my Daughter?  Bug. 
There's a second affliction too— the poor  
Soul's undone.  Cic. 
Undone! the Gods forbid!  Bug. 
In her honour Sir, Honorio's gone to travel.  Cla. 
My Wit shall teach me silence.  Cic. 
Base Villain, to forsake my Daughter thus!  
And cheat my good opinion of his worth;  
But 'tis not Germany, nor all the World  
Can hide his shame, tho' it secures him.  Bng. 
It may prove false, all are not truths we hear.  Cic. 
However Sir he can't be true to me,  
Nor to my Child, the hour's long since past  
He promised to be here, and make her his.  Fur. 
He's rarely wrought, there is no Policy  
Comparable to lying, and therefore I'll lie,  
And tell lies in this corner abundantly;  
That is, counterfeit a Passion for my dear Honorio.  Cic. 
Poor Girl! thy Passion made a better choice,  
Than my too avaricious care; Gaxbato's love  
Might have made thee more happy.  Cla. 
This makes for Arabella.  Cic. 
But Poverty's no Virtue doubting Fool.  Bug. 
And blind Coxcomb to boot.  Cic. 
'Tis good.  
Since Manners are uncertain, we make sure  
Of Gold, a Mineral that will endure.  Cla. 
How small a time can age be generous!  
But 'tis not strange; old Men are near the Grave,  
And therefore care not how much earth they have.  Bug. 
Your Daughter's full of grief, you would do well  
To comfort her.  Cic. 
If I could find her, this Rogue Furfante's  
Still out o'th' way, and I dare not call, for fear  
Of discovering my imperfections.  Bug. 
Sir you forget, your Daughter sits yonder  
The most forlorn.  Cic. 
I see her well enough, but she's a counterfeit.  Bug. 
The liker her Father.  Cic. 
And tho' she seigns a grief, loves secretly Garbato.  Fur. 
I may cry my Eyes out for him, a loving  
Father I have.  whines Cic. 
Arabella.  Fur. 
Sir.  Cic. 
So I'll follow the voice, it came from  
Yonder Corner, she's not here.  Furfante removes. Bug. 
How the blind Man's puzzled?  Cic. 
Why Arabella.  Fur. 
Your pleasure Sir.  Cic. 
My Ears ●have failed, she's at th' other end,  
I'll call her to me, and save my credit yet,  
Must I call twenty times? why come you not?  Furfante goes to him with his Female side towards him, and Cicco feels him. Bug. 
Sure this Man has suffered a mutation of  
Sense, his Eyes feel, and his fingers see.  Cla. 
These Rogues make sport able to kill the  
Weeping Philosopher with laughter.  Cic. 
Poor Arabella, come forget him Child.  Fur. 
No sooner forced my heart t' obedience Sir,  
Begin to love him, but I must lose him, oh ho.  Cic. 
This is not altogether counterfeit,  
For she has altered much her voice with grieving.  
As your obedience did first force your love  
To this inconstant Man, so my commands  
Do now require a change, forget him Girl.  Cla. 
This will be happy news to Arabella  
Could I but find her out, I shall go near it.  Exit. Cic. 
My Arabella, what still blubbering?  Fur. 
Good sweet honey Mistress, you'll so grieve my Mr.  Cic. 
That Villain was here all this while.  
I shall requite him. Furfante.  Speaks this with his Man's side towards him. Fur. 
Sir.  Cic. 
Where stands my Daughter now?  Fur. 
Alas she's gone weeping to her Chamber.  Cic. 
There let her tears, discharge her grief,  
But Rogue I shall make you more diligent.  
Come lead me in.  pulls him by th' ears. Fur. 
Oh pray sweet, good Sir.  Exeunt. Bug. 
These lies were carried off with Gallantry,  
The Management dilates my spleen, but  
I'll not leave him thus, he's so excellent  
A Subject for my brains to work on.  Exit.  

Scena Quinta.  Amante. Aman. 
My Clara's gone, and I must never more  
Expect to see those beauteous Eyes again,  
Nor from the rays of her Divinity,  
Receive one comfortable beam.  Enter Clara. Cla. 
'Tis Amante, I'll listen nearer.  Aman. 
She's gone for ever, and I've nothing left  
But her poor Airy name to dote upon;  
Could Heaven be so merciless as to punish  
With such severity one ship of Love?  
Yet sure 'tis just since I did falsify  
My Vows to th' first, I for the second die.  Cla. 
I cannot apprehend this second love;  
Constantia was his first.  Aman. 
But wheresore she, she who was so guiltless  
Of all my Crimes should want a Monument,  
Be lost to all Posterity, I apprehend not.  Cla. 
All this discourse, is still beyond my reach.  Aman. 
Yet blessed Clara, wherefoe're thou art,  
Thou hast a Noble shrine within this breast.  he lies down. Cla. 
The riddle's now explained, 'tis me he loves.  
For when I took this shape, 'twas given out  
(By my command) that I was dead, but how,  
Or where concealed; yet it seems strange  
That I should prove the cause of his Revolt  
Who ne'er was yet beloved, perhaps his Vow's  
Directed to some other of my name,  
I wish it were, I'll satisfy how e'er my  
Curiosity: ho! Signior Amante, ho!  
He's in an Ecstasy, or else asleep.  
Signior Amante.  Aman. 
Ha! Thou blessed Idea, and divinest form  
Of that fair Maid my soul adored,  
Instruct me where to find her Sepulchre.  Cla. 
He takes me sure for Death's Ambassador.  
I understand you not, not know I her.  Aman. 
Do not disguise your message, for I know  
Y' are sent by Clara, on some blessed errand.  Cla. 
I'll humour him, it may have good effect.  
Sir 'tis most true I am by Clara sent,  
Whose restless soul wanders without content,  
Because your Passion does disturb her peace,  
If that you love her, you your flame will cease.  
Else she as cause must suffer in her urn  
For your inconstancy, therefore return  
To your first love.  Exit Clara. Aman. 
Do I deprive my Clara of her bliss?  
Wretch, let thy Crimes accumulate thy torments  
Rather than injure her, but both's impossible.  
How can she be concerned in my Revolt,  
That never knew my change? Heaven's too just:  
She can but be an accidental cause,  
And if to cause such bad effects were sin,  
The Gods themselves are scarcely innocent.  Exit.  

Scena Sexta.  Strega, Sanco-Panco, Riccamare, Garbato. Streg. 
Sanco-panco.  Sanc. 
What would your worship forsooth?  Streg. 
Set the Gentlemen some stools Sanco.  Gar. 
Does not thy Stomach begin to wamble?  
And Rowl like a Ship in a storm?  Ric. 
Thou art too curious, she's rich, and I can  
Digest a few imperfections.  Gar. 
As the chattering of her chops like a new beaten  
Ape, which, together with the salivation  
Of her Nose, makes her kiss as moist, as a  
Young Girl, that licks her Lips after stewed Prunes.  Ric. 
Thou art a sworn enemy to old Women.  Strega Coughs. Gar. 
Mark that Cough; she has had it ever since  
The cold she got in Nebuchadnezars days,  
Doing homage to the Golden Image.  Streg. 
Gentlemen be pleased to seat yourselves.  Gar. 
She strains a compliment, as if she were  
Costive upon a close stool.  Ric. 
Peace Infidel, Thy whineling Courtship  
To Arabella, is ten times more ridiculous.  They all seat themselves and Strega in a wicker-chair. Streg. 
Gentlemen, the observation of my younger  
Days has instructed me from time to time  
In the politic secrets of nuptial conjunction,  
And of seven Husbands (heaven be praised)  
I've buried in my days, I found but one  
That loved me for myself, Gallants, I  
Mean for my well-favouredness, and this Man  
Was my first, the other Six pretended Love,  
But doted on my wealth: Now as my first  
Did love for youth, and favour, my last must  
Love for age, and comeliness of mind, I mean  
Wisdom, and Experience.  Ric. 
I am the Man that would so love, and from  
Each antique part of venerable age,  
Make youthful pleasures spring joys of mind.  
Th' older the Body, and the more decayed,  
The soul's more youthful still and vigorous.  
For as a Tenement that's held by time  
Whose Walls and Roofs are half consum'd by age  
Enjoys a freer influence of the Sun  
Than Towers newly built, or modern Caves,  
So you participate the knowledge of—  Gar. 
Making May Butter.  Ric. 
So you participate the knowledge of—  Gar. 
The wonderful use of a dry dogs-turd.  Ric. 
Pox on thee, peace, the knowledge of—  Gar. 
Stewing Prunes, and Munching Marmalade.  Ric. 
A Pox confound thee, the knowledge of—  
The superior Powers.  Gar. 
A rare speech in commendation of—  
Arabian Mummy.  Streg. 
Sir I perceive your affection, and how directed  
The right way to knowledge and experience.  
Your discretion therein, I must tell you, takes  
Me much— uh uh hu— very much uh hu hu—  
Give me a stick of liquorish uh hu uh hu  
When you have seen my five imperfections—  Gar. 
I believe one may see the Devil, with less horror.  Streg. 
And like me then, I sha'n't be hard hearted.  Ric. 
I long for trial like a teeming Wench  
In an Orchard. Your imperfections will at  
Worst appear like foils to set off  
The lustre of your soul.  Streg. 
You speak bravely, and I hope will like me,  
I'll give you this encouragement, above my  
Other Suitors, I like you.  Gar. 
Better than Heaven, by the haste you make there.  Streg. 
And as a secret in your ear, I am better  
Worth than twenty thousand Crowns per annum,  
Besides some Bags in a Corner.  Ric. 
I value yourself only, and hope—  Gar. 
She'll die, and make you her sole Executor.  Streg. 
Sanco, fetch my dressing Table, and Boxes.  Gar. 
Sure she means to lay her Carcase out in  
Parcels, and dispose her Limbs in Legacies;  
Or having boxed them severally, endorse  
Them to her loving Kinsmen thrice  
Removed— But her implyments are come.  Ric. 
Prithee leave fooling and observe.  Gar. 
How she's set together, as if she moved  
By Wires, or Clockworks.  Streg. 
How do you like me now?  She pulls off her Eyebrows. Ric. 
How should I like you less, for want of  
Such an idle excrement?  Streg. 
Put them in their right Box Sanco.  Sanc. 
I'll case them most exactly.  Gar. 
And send them to France for a Pattern  
That the Mode may pass into England.  Streg. 
Giv me your opinion now.  Pulls out an Eye. Ric. 
Where the soul has such a subtle knowledge  
To discern, there needs no corporal light.  Gar. 
Now would she look like the figure of  
Homer scanning of Verses, if her Beard  
Were but half so venerable.  Streg. 
where's my Eye-Box Sanco?  Gar. 
'Tis but a blind Eye that cannot  
Hit its own Box: how dost like her?  Ric. 
As I would like a Treasure on a Dunghill,  
I endure the stench o'th' one, for the lucre  
Of the other.  pulls out her Teeth. Streg. 
Now view my third imperfection.  Gar. 
She'll be sure to kiss soft, and thou  
May'st venture thy Fingers in her Mouth  
Safely.  Streg. 
This is my fourth, consider't well.  pulls off her hair. Ric. 
This will never be seen in a Night-gear.  
Besides 'tis a charitable age, we frequently  
Borrow hair of one another.  Gar. 
But art in earnest? ha?  Ric. 
She's sufficiently ugly, but still I pray with  
The Man, that was carried away by the  
Devil, God bless us from worse.  Gar. 
On my Conscience he'll go through stitch  
And learn by her face to Picture deformity.  Ric. 
Now for her last.  Gar. 
Which he expects with as much curiosity  
As a Court Lady th' arrival of a new Gown  
From Paris.  Streg. 
Sanco, help to untie.  Gar. 
In the name of ugliness, what will she draw  
From those parts?  Ric. 
'Tis beyond the Wit of Man to imagine.  
Look Garbato,— Look.  she pulls of her Leg. Gar. 
Remember she's rich.  Ric. 
The Devil take her and her riches too Marry  
A Stump, a Wooden Leg? I'll have flesh  
Tho' ne'er so ugly— Come away.  Gar. 
Thou wilt not leave her thus.  Ric. 
Dost think I'll engender with Bedstaffs,  
And beget a generation of Scourg-sticks?  
I'll see her whipped first, 'tis penance enough  
To look on her, Don Belzebub shall  
Marry her for me.  Exeunt. Streg. 
Are all my pains come to this? The time may  
Come, a rich Widow may be in more reverence,  
I warrant he's an Elder Brother, by his ill  
Breeding, and less Wit..  Sanc. 
No he's a younger Brother forsooth.  Streg. 
A younger Brother! then am I at my last  
Prayers, and may die without my eighth Husband,  
And what a lamentable misfortune that will be,  
Let all venerable Damsels consider—  
Come Sanco, lead me in, and as we go  
Let's both together sing fortune's my foe.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS IV.  

SCENA I.  Clara, Arabella. Cla. 
I Hope you will applaud my diligence.  Ara. 
Thou'rt fit to be great Love's Ambassador  
So well thou hast managed this affair,  
First to persuade Honorio cease his claim,  
And then to bring me such a just account  
How things succeed at home—  
What more could I expect, or thou perform?  Cla. 
My duty Madam did oblige this service.  
She little guesses at my interest,  
Which add the Wings to diligence herself.  Ara. 
Garbato will be ravished with this news,  
Dear Boy, how shall I recompense this service?  Cla. 
Your acknowledgements are prodigal rewards;  
But Madam if you will enlarge your bounty,  
By giving me leave to attend Honorio,  
I shall have cause to bless your service.  Ara. 
Why Boy? will that so much advantage thee?  Cla. 
Make me for ever Lady— for he fancies  
Some kind of small resemblance in this face  
To your bright beauty; weeds resemble flowers,  
And have their use, and virtues too, so I  
May palliate this Lover's misery.  Ara. 
Hadst thou a Sex more suiting to thy face,  
Thou might'st effect a perfect cure. Methinks  
(If I forget not my own form,) there is  
Enough resemblance for a Lover's flame  
To feed upon.  Cla. 
Madam I wish there were—  Ara. 
Another Sex.  Cla. 
No Madam, more resemblance.  Ara. 
That wish alone were foolish, and must end  
In a cold friendship, which soon brings disgust.  
Thou couldst not marry him.  Cla. 
It should be much against my will then.  (aside) 
Yet I could live with him, and please his fancy  
In all the pleasures of true Love.  Ara. 
That's not done in a song Boy; thou'dst come short.  Cla. 
I mean I'd serve him with more fidelity  
Than any Woman could (except myself)  (aside) 
For I would make it my happiness to please him,  
And share a double part of all his griefs.  Ara. 
Thou wouldst be wondrous kind.  Cla. 
As your fair self to Signior Garbato.  Ara. 
'Tis pity to divide such love, yet for both  
Your sakes, I wish thou were't a female.  Cla. 
I hope these breeches han't transformed me.  (aside) Enter Garbato and Riccamare. 
Here comes my Lord, Madam I'll take my leave.  Ara. 
Dear Infortunio I am loath to lose thee,  
Yet since Honorio proved so kind to me  
As to leave me to my choice, I'll let thee go,  
But take this Ring, and wear it for my sake.  Exit Clara. 
My dear Garbato I have news  
Will raise thy soul to such a happiness,  
Thou'lt think thyself in Heaven.  Gar. 
Being in thy Company I am so.  
Yet I could wish your Uncle's absence,  
That I might participate your joys.  Ara. 
His presence is less welcome than storms  
Of rain in Harvest.  Gar. 
Speak softly, lest he hear you.  Ara. 
Oh, I could curse him!  Gar. 
Do't like a Politician then, and smile in's face.  Ric. 
Niece Arabella.  Gar. 
You must seem attentive, for he longs  
To tell you his adventure.  Ric. 
Were you at leisure I could give you a  
Description of the strangest piece of deformity.  Ara. 
I am ever at leisure to hear you.  Gar. 
How soon Women learn to dissemble?  Ric. 
You have seen Mother Shipton's Picture.  Ara. 
Before her Prophecies I think I have.  Ric. 
Just such a prognosticating Nose had this  
Sucking Damsel I went to woee, she was  
So young that she had not a natural  
Tooth in her head.  Ara. 
He'll be as tedious now—  Ric. 
They're all Ivory, and those died Saffron by  
The contagion of her breath, the putrefaction  
Whereof might breed a Plague (if the Wind  
Sat right) as far as Piedmont.  Gar. 
Thou hast as little kindness for an Old Woman  
As a Hangman for a Thief, for like him thou  
Wouldst Murder the race thou desir'st to advance  
Thy fortunes, and live by.  Ric. 
I'd as soon live in my Grandsires' valut, and  
Keep Company with the Worms of my dead Ancestors.  Gar. 
I thought Riches would have digested any imperfection.  Ric. 
Except hers, had it been a common ugliness—  Gar. 
As the Battery of the Nose in the French War.  Ric. 
Gold might have excused it.  Gar. 
Or say she'd been as wry-mouthed as a Please.  Ric. 
I would have digested that too, and kissed her less  
But to have a surfled Mouth, with too much Nose,  
Neither Eyes, nor Hair on her brows,  
A Toothless chops, with bristled Chin,  
A Pate as bald, as e'er was seen,  
With parchment hide, and timber Legs,  
Woven make a Man forswear such Megs,  Ara. 
Will he ne'er have done?  (aside) Gar. 
I fear he has but begun yet.  Ric. 
Such accumulated imperfections did I never  
Behold, they were beyond the Power of Gold  
To qualify.  Gar. 
Then you're quite out of conceit with Gold  
And Old Women.  Ric. 
Not whilst the beauty of the Gold will balance  
The ugliness of the Woman.  Gar. 
Ha, ha, ha, we'll find you out a handsomer,  
Come Arabella, I long to hear thy news.  Exeunt. Ric. 
So they are got together, and think themselves  
More happy than the Gods; but soft young Friend,  
Since the wealthy hopes of this old Widow  
Were Parents to my kindness, they being vanished  
'Tis just my love expire into some new advantage  
To myself, which 'll'le extract from their  
Loves; The Plot begins to ripen.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Enter Clara, Amante following. Aman. 
Stay thou blessed shape, Amante bids thee stop;  
With what a flying Speed she makes away,  
As if displeased I should detain my Clara  
So long in Torment by my fruitless passion.  
Dear soul of my deceased love, but stay!  kneels. 
Some hold that Saints can't hear us when we pray.  
Then how should she poor Soul, who is in pain  
For thy inconstancy? thy prayers are vain.  
Yet since I cannot love her less, I'll try  
To bear her punishment myself, and die.  Exit.  

Scena Tertia.  Cicco, Buggio, Furfante. Cic. 
But is she so beautiful withal?  Bug. 
Fresh as Aurora, before the rising Sun.  Fur. 
Cleopatra was a Gipsy to her, and Helen a  
Black Dowdy. I'll outlie him if possible.  Cic. 
So fair, and rich?  Bug. 
Richer than Croesus, she spends more in a year  
Than his Catholic Majesty has been cozened of  
Since the first discovery of America.  Fur. 
This is nothing Sir, they say that Gold is more  
Plentiful with her than Mackarel in their  
Season, or Cherries at a Crania a pound.  Bug. 
He'll outdo me in my own Art.  Cic. 
Why knew I not this sooner?  Fur. 
I thought your Worship's capering days  
Were done, and that you would not have committed  
Your grave head to the Matrimonial Noose  
At these years.  Cic. 
At these years' Knave! do I look so old?  Bug. 
Young as a stripling of eighteen.  Fur. 
Or a Cherry in May, you are green again.  Cic. 
I think I am as fresh, and vigorous as  
When I went to School.  Bug. 
Y' are like the year Sir, and every spring renew your youth.  Fur. 
As Girls in Rome, their Maiden-heads.  
But you have a Daughter Sir.  Cic. 
What then? because she'll pine away with the  
Sorrel sickness, and die for Love, must I not marry?  Bug. 
'Twere pity on your life else.  Fur. 
She grieves poor Lady, and sees no body.  Cic. 
She'll be less subject to temptation, I must  
Mind my own affairs first.  Enter Riccamare. Ric. 
Save you, good Brother.  Cic. 
Is he come to interrupt us— dear Buggio  
Let's to th' Window.  Ric. 
What have you found your Daughter yet?  Bug. 
Now are we lost, without a double brazen impudence.  Cic. 
Is he mad? found my Daughter! when was  
She lost?  Ric. 
Not lost!  Bug. 
He has certainly a design upon your Widow,  
And would keep you off with a Tale  
Of your Daughter.  Cic. 
A Tale of a Tub, I'll hear none of't, I must  
Beg your pardon, I'm engaged about a business  
Which concerns me nearly.  Ric. 
You'll hear of your Daughter first?  Cic. 
I hear of her too much, she's above weeping, but I am in haste.  Exeunt Cicco & Furfante. Bug. 
What speedy wings does avarice bestow  
On creeping age! he flies that scarce could go.  Exit. Ric. 
Weeping in her Chamber! 'tis strange, nay  
'Tis impossible, I left her but even now  
With Garbato plighting amorous Vows,  
His strange behaviour much amazes me,  
I know not what to think, less what to do,  
My whole design to supplant Arabella  
And make myself as next a Kin, his heir, is lost.  
He's damned in his belief that she's above,  
I'm in a mist, yet sometimes things appear  
At a great distance, when they're near at hand.  
So painted Prospects do deceive the Eye  
And seems remote when on a flat they lie.  
So may my fortune, I'll have th' other pluck;  
If then I fail, a plague of all ill luck.  Exit.  

Scena Quarta.  Honorio, Clara as a Page, Constantia. Hon. 
It was a little piece of charity  
To send thee back to be my Comforter.  Cla. 
I wish 'twere in my power; but for me  
Who am the very abstract of misfortune  
To undertake another's grief would prove  
Too great a madness, and too little love.  Con. 
Thou art deceived, sorrows find most relief  
In stories like themselves.  Hon. 
Therefore dear Boy  
Impart this History, if it be sad  
'Twill better suit our thoughts.  Cla. 
I am so young, you cannot well expect  
Various adventures from my Childish Love,  
Yet old enough for Love's severity,  
Who quickly found a passage to my heart,  
Which soon adored an object much too fair  
Not to be predisposed of; things of value  
Are coveted by all, and I soon found love  
Had preingaged that heart t'another,  
Which my soul languished for.  Con. 
Alas poor Boy!  Cla. 
Yet to this grief there did succeed a joy,  
For that heart being refused, I thence derived  
A fresh, and lingering hope.  Hon. 
Why, that was well.  Cla. 
That seeming heaven did increase my torment.  
For I by Nature bashful, had not then the courage  
To speak my Love, of which they're ignorant.  
And I by consequence must always pine,  
Unable to assist my own design.  Hon. 
Thy fate's severe; but 'tis thy folly Boy  
Which makes it so.  
But cruel Love so crosses my design,  
My Mistress cannot (if she would) be mine.  Cla. 
And 'tis as much impossible for me  
T' express my flame, as 'tis for her to love:  
But if you'd please to undertake my cause  
I know it would succeed.  Hon. 
I cannot Boy, I've bound myself by Oath  
Never to speak of Love to Woman more.  Cla. 
As from yourself, you still may speak for me.  Con. 
Dear Brother do, I pity his misfortune.  Hon. 
My vow was general concerning Love;  
But you are free Constantia.  Con. 
'Tis not a thing for me to undertake,  
That always have in love been so successless.  Hon. 
May we not know her name?  Cla. 
'Tis not a Woman that I love,  
Yet we a Man and Wise might prove,  
If that our hearts could but agree  
As well as Sex's sympathy.  Hon. 
This is a kind of a riddle.  Cla. 
But easily unfolded.  Hon. 
Trust more th' unriddling will require some time,  
What says Constantia?  Con. 
My thoughts have been so taken up of late  
'Twixt love and grief, that I have lost that art.  Cla. 
It is unworthy either of your thoughts.  Hon. 
The kindness of this Boy does puzzle me  (aside) 
For either I mistake him or he loves me,  
In an extreme that misbecomes his Sex.  
It must be sure some Virgin in disguise.  Cla. 
I must confess you have discovered me,  
But you who know so much of love yourself  to Constantia. 
Know best to pity the extremities love has compelled me to.  Hon. 
'Tis evident, the riddle does import it.  
She loves no Woman, therefore loves a Man,  
And if a Man who can't divine her Sex?  
I'll set Constantia to discover all.  Con. 
In all I can, I will assist your love▪  to Clara. 
But lest my Brother should unfold too soon  
Your Oracle, divert him with a Song.  

SONG.  
I never shall henceforth approve  
The Deity of Love  
Since he could be  
So far unjust as to wound me,  
And leave my Mistress free.  
As if my flame could leave a Print  
Upon a heart of flent.  
Can flesh and stone  
Be ere converted into one,  
By my poor flame alone?  
Were be a God, he'd neither be  
Partial to her, nor me,  
But by a Dart  
Directed into either's heart  
Make both so feel the smart,  
That being heated with his subtitle fire  
Our loves might make us feel but one desire.   Hon. 
How cravingly he looked upon me now,  
As if he had a boon he shamed to ask,  
There's somewhat hid beneath that borrowed shape  
I must know more of.  Exit Honorio. Con. 
So, let him chew upon the riddle  
Till we have ripened our design,  
But art thou sure Amante dotes on thee?  Cla. 
Am I sure when the Sun shines 'tis day?  Con. 
Then I'll renew my hopes, since his revolt  
Is to an object can't return him love.  Cla. 
Let's then assist each other in our loves,  
I'll use my art to make Amante thine.  Con. 
The readiest way's to wed thee to Honorio.  
For when in thee his amorous hopes are dead,  
He'll soon return to th' Love from whence he fled.  Exeunt.  

Scena Quinta.  Enter Honorio. Hon. 
It should be Clara; yet she's too discreet  
To trust her modesty to that disguise,  
Yet she's a Woman, and moreover loves,  
And few are known Lovers, and wise at once,  
It must be she, and I the easy fool  
That gave her credir, she might feign the message,  
And make false use of Arabella's Name,  
If so I'm lost to her, and to her Father,  
My honour and my love destroyed at once,  
One I may yet reprieve.  Enter Amante. 
But see, Amante! that wound of fame gives  
No Precedency to lesser quarrels: then whilst  (draws) 
I prefer my honour, Love, take thou a Sepulchre.  Aman. 
Sure he intends some mischief to himself.  
Tho' I would die, I'll lend a helping Arm  
To save his life, hold, brave Honorio, hold,  
Let that reason which I want vanquish  
Thy Passion— kill not thyself.  Hon. 
I do not find an inclination to it,  
Tho' life before was irksome, since I discern  
A fitter subject for my Enmity.  Aman. 
I scarcely understand you.  Hon. 
I shall explain myself—  
I drew to make your yield me satisfaction  
For that dear honour which my Sister's fears  
Compelled me lose, when I failed meeting you,  
To justify the injurious words I gave you.  Aman. 
Those Injuries Honorio are forgot.  Hon. 
I can't forgive my Honour such a blot,  
In you 'tis noble to forgive, in me  
Should I accept, as great an Infamy.  
Honour takes nothing when she's in arrear  
Lest what's meant kindness be miscalled a fear.  
Therefore Amante if you can afford  
Me any favour, let it be your Sword.  Aman. 
As a Present take it; I dare rely  
Your honour's too great security  
For me to doubt; or should you take this life  
'Twould ease my grief, and finish all my strife.  Hon. 
My hand is furnished Sir, but if you'll part  
More nobly with it, present it to my heart.  Aman. 
I'd rather wound my own, and by one blow  
Destroy that Friend, whom you would make your foe.  Hon. 
If Friend unto my same, you must confess  
What I affirmed was true, and ask my pardon.  Aman. 
If nothing less Sir, can appease your rage,  
Than owning myself Coward, Honorio  
Must excuse me, tho' I promised Constantia  
To bear an injury beyond man's patience.  
Fame never shall report a Woman's tears  
Destroyed Amante's honour.  
I'd give my life, if live would satisfy;  
But dare not Friendship with dishonour buy.  Hon. 
Then draw—  Aman. 
I do, and in as just a cause  (draws) 
As Power when she Executes by Laws.  Hon. 
Stay, to show I don't delight in blood  
I'll only urge my Sister might  
Return her love, and make but good her claim,  
I'll own you by a Friends and Brother's name.  Aman. 
I can't alas consent, in Clara's grave  
(Where e'er it is) I have entombed my heart.  Hon. 
But what if she be still alive?  Aman. 
I'll love her till she be disposed of to another.  Hon. 
It must be Clara wandering for my sake  (aside) 
In that disguise, if so, it lies in me  
To marrry her, and that may set him free.  
But then my Arabella! she may prove  
Still undisposed, my first and dearest Love,  
I'll never hazard thee, I am resolved—  Aman. 
To fight—  Hon. 
Or basely be denied.  Aman. 
You sha'not find a Coward.  they fight. Hon. 
I believe It— Come on.  Aman. 
So you have drawn the first blood.  Hon. 
I see I have, shall we put up?  Aman. 
No Sir I can as little put up this  
As you your Sister's injury; the Coward  
Sticks here still.  they fight. 
So, we're on even terms, what say you now?  Hon. 
My Sister's unrevenged.  Aman. 
I do renounce that quarrel as unjust  
And will at any time implore her pardon,  
As I have often done. Sir you shall see  
I can be noble in inconstancy. As for  
The other slanders, I pronounce them  
And their Author false.  Hon. 
These are but words.  Aman. 
You shall have deeds to testify I am no Coward,  
Nor asperser of a Lady's fame.  (fight) Enter Clara, Constantia, and run between them. Cla. 
Hold, oh hold your hands.  Con. 
Employ your Swords on us, for that would be  
A greater kindness than severity.  
It would destroy our grief, as well as lives  
Which in your dangers cruelly survives.  Hon. 
Good Sister give us way—  pushes her away. Cla. 
Madam be resolute, we'll rather fall  
As Martyrs to prevent their Funeral.  Con. 
They shan't constrain us to a misery,  
If they will fight, let us agree to die.  Cla. 
I am content.  Con. 
Prepare thy Poniard then,  
And in our courage let us vie with them.  they hold their daggers ready to strike. Aman. 
Hold! you have unarmed me quite.  Hon. 
And conquered me.  Cla. 
Then we may triumph in our Victory.  Con. 
Triumph! alas what comfort can we find?  
Preserving Lovers to be still unkind.  Cla. 
Preserved them! no Constantia they bleed, and faint away.  Con. 
'Tis too true, what's to be done?  they fall down. 
Each drop Amante sheds, draws from my heart  
A flood, nor is my soul much less concerned  
For my dear Brother, oh my misery!  
Nature, and Love, do equally contend,  
Whom shall I save my Brother, or my Friend?  Cla. 
Madam be comforted; this sacred stone  
Has a choice Virtue to stop bleeding wounds,  
And send the blood back to th' distressed heart.  
I'll try it on Honorio.  she applies it. Hon. 
Oh, ho.  Cla. 
See he revives  Con. 
But poor Amante labours still beneath the  
Pangs of death; oh lend it here.  Cla. 
Then will your Brother faint.  Con. 
Why let him perish rather than Amante.  Cla. 
Honorio perish! ah, how can you be  
So cruel in your foolish charity?  
To save a Man so false, and let a Brother  
die, so good as my Honorio?  Con. 
Not thine, but Arabella's, Clara.  Hon. 
That sound was most Divine— Dear Arabella!  Aman. 
What Angels voice pronounced fair Clara's name?  Con. 
A Wretch you once did love—  
Open your Eyes and you at once may see  
Your cruel Clara, and kind Constancy.  Aman. 
That beauteous form, is she then in disguise?  Cla. 
Believe her not; she only used this art,  
To make your blood return into your heart.  
I'm but her Brother Sir.  Aman. 
Then tell me, where  
She lives; if dead, show me her Sepulc're.  Cla. 
Within a day, I'll show her you ailve.  Aman. 
I'll strive to live upon that hope.  Con. 
They begin both to give good signs of a Recovery.  Cla. 
This wound seems almost closed;  
Apply the Stone to him, there can't be found  
In Art, or Nature's Treasury so good  
A staunching Medicine for a stream of blood.  Hon. 
It seems to me miraculous, I find  
It strengthens both the body and the mind.  
How fares Amante?  Aman. 
Better to see my Friend so near his health.  Hon. 
I am now in Amity with all the World, and find  
(I praise the Gods) a sweet recess from love.  Aman. 
My thanks kind Youth, thou dost not only give  
Me life, but likewise a desire to live,  
By assuring me of Clara's recovery.  Con. 
Wretched Constantia, thou art never thought on.  Cla. 
you'd best retire Sir, th' air is cold,  
And may offend your wounds.  Hon. 
I thank your care.  
Signior Amante come, we'll now be Friends,  
Since either's blood has made too large amends  
For all past injuries.  Aman. 
Here take my hand,  
And with't a heart devoted to your service:  
If you in any thing be disobeyed  
Impute the fault to love, and not t' Amante.  Con. 
In every Truce of love I still must be  
Like one exempt! we are not to agree.  Exeunt.   

ACTUS V.  

SCENA I.  Riccamare, Garbato, Arabella. Gar. 
MAy we give credit to this happiness,  
Or do you only tempt us with a bliss,  
To try how soon we'll credit what we wish?  Ara. 
It seems unlikely, yet I 'd fain believe.  Ric. 
What do you take me for, a Fabler, Niece?  
I did expect another kind of thanks.  Ara. 
Good Uncle be not angry, we thank you.  Gar. 
Our thanks but shame us Sir; there's none but you  
Could have obliged so much.  Ric. 
I did introth compassionate your loves,  
And that compassion urged me to assist you.  
What pains I took, and how I pressed my Brother  
By prayers, entreaties, and some slender reasons.  
Before I could prevail, is not material:  
It is enough I compassed my design.  
He'll seem for the present enraged at the Match.  
And afterwards receive you into Grace,  
Which in effects as good as a consent.  Gar. 
Y' have done a charity, becomes a Saint.  
Now Arabella you have no excuse,  
Your duty being safe.  Ara. 
My blushes do consent, yet I would fain  
Be blessed before the Nuptial Rights.  Ric. 
By th' Priest you may; but Niece it is in vain  
T' expect your Father's yet.  Gar. 
Be satisfied; I hope we sha'not long  
Be barred that happiness.  Ric. 
Not six hours I dare pass my word.  Ara. 
If I transgress, it is upon your sore.  Ric. 
Make haste to Church, and here make all things sure.  Gar. 
Never went Lovers to that sacred place  
With a more innocent, and pure flame.  Exeunt. Ric. 
My Plot succeeds thus far, to my own wish,  
This Match must disinherit her for certain.  
And then stand I our houses Candidate.  
I'll week my Brother, and so aggravate  
His Daughter's Crime, that his misgoverned rage  
May hear no reason, nor admit excuse;  
But like a Bedlam, furiously before  
She makes defence, may turn her out of door.  Exit.  

Scena Secunda.  Strega, Furfante, Sanco. Streg. 
From Signior Cicco, sayst thou honest Friend!  Fur. 
Yes forsooth, he's my Master, and a very proper Gentleman,  
Though I say it.  Streg. 
Very likely, and he'd have leave to visit me, is't not so?  Fur. 
To kiss your hand, and vow himself your adorer.  Streg. 
O fine, he'll make a Saint of me.  Fur. 
He may— for she has preserved her Carcase  
Ninety years beyond the course of Nature, and  
Kept it by a Miracle from stinking  (aside) Streg. 
Of what profession is thy Master Friend?  Fur. 
A Courtier forsooth, he has a good estate of  
His own, which he daily improves by a kind of  
Facility he has to beg any thing that comes  
In his way.  Streg. 
Belike then he's a very thriving Gentleman.  Fur. 
A most resistless Courtier, for he never designs  
Any thing, but he obtains it by his importunity.  Sanc. 
Have courage Mistress, there's life in a Muscle, if this  
Be not another sweetheart, ne'er trust a livery Prophet.  Streg. 
A sweetheart! the word warms at heart  
Like a Cup of Muskad ne, commend me to thy Master  
Heartily, and tell him that he shall be heartily, heartily  
Welcome, with all my heart heartily.  Fur. 
A very hearty commendation.  Exit. Streg. 
What dost thou think Sanco?  Sanc. 
That your capering days are not done yet, you talk  
Of your decays, and deformities, but if you have the grace  
To keep them to yourself, you'll pass well enough  
In a crowd I warrant you.  Streg. 
Be like I had best change my Method, and make  
No more discoveries of my imperfections.  Sanc. 
They'll discover themselves fast enough never fear it.  
Alas forsooth you were born in a plain dealing Age,  
When Men meant honestly, and Virgins were proud  
To show a handsome Leg; but now, no dissimulation,  
No life. Every deformity is concealed, and every  
Perfection set off to advantage.  Streg. 
As how good honest Sanco?  Sanco. 
Marry thus, a good Eye sparkles through a Vizard  
Mask, whilst the bad features, and worse complexion  
Lies concealed, good features are illustrated with  
Counterfeit complexions, and good complexions heightened  
With black Patches.  Streg. 
Thou art much improved Sanco?  Sanc. 
I have not altogether lost my time in your Worship's service.  Streg. 
Nay thou art a shrewd clung pated Fellow,  
I'll say that for thee  Sanc. 
I do pick, and glean now and then some small  
Crumbs, and fragments of knowledge out of my continual  
Observation.  Streg. 
Marry, and 'tis very discreetly done Sanco, when  
I am married thou shalt instruct me in the  
Customs and fashions of the present Age, for belike  
A Wife is quite another thing than what 'twas in my days.  Sanc. 
Marry is it Mistress, for than they stayed at home  
To entertain their honest Neighbours, now they  
Gad abroad to be entertained by their Wild Gallants.  
Then they took a Pride to be thought modest, now,  
'Tis their● glory to be thought Modish, the World's  
Turned upside down.  Streg. 
Dost think I shall ever learn to endure this fashion?  Sanc. 
A little use will make it as familiar to you as  
Taking of Fees to an old covetous Lawyer, or  
Killing to an unskilful Physician.  Streg. 
Then belike I may be brought to a Modish Lady again?  Sanc. 
As modish as if youhad travailed to Paris for  
Your clothes, or to London for a confident behaviour.  Streg. 
And they say your London Ladies are courtly indeed,  Sanco.— 
But here comes the Gentleman.  Entor Cicco, Furfante and Buggio. Sanc. 
Observe him warily Mistress, and seem the whilst  
To speak to me; my observation learned that  
Trick of a Country Parson, who spoke to the  
Congregation, and fixed his Eyes the whilst on a  
Handsome Wench.  Cic. 
Is she not a Miracle of Nature, what an Eye's there?  Bug. 
Brighter than the Ottoman Diamond, it fills the Room with lustre.  Fur. 
And him with darkness.  Bug. 
Then for a Lip.  Cic. 
I observe that too; the Ruby thence receive its tincture.  
Oh but the pretty Mole!  Bug. 
Where Sir? I see none.  Cic. 
A pox on't, I must be prating still before  
My time, and shame myself.  Bug. 
I can't find that Mole, tho' I have surveyed  
Her face most critically.  Cic. 
I mean the form of her face, Nature formed  
Hers, and Venus' in one Mould.  Streg. 
How he extols me Sanco? by my holy dame  
I have not been so complemented these forty years.  Sanc. 
I'm persuaded that your face, like fashions laid by  
Twenty years, begins to grow a la mode.  Streg. 
A very pretty observation.  Sanc. 
Old folks they say are twice Children, and you have  
Been old enough for that Proverb these twenty  
Years, so that by observation you should be much about your prime.  Streg. 
And that may very well be.  Sanc. 
I believe your Sciatica is nothing but the Rickets;  
And your ache in the Jaws, breeding of teeth, which your  
Artificial ones hinder from cutting.  Streg. 
Then belike I may renew my youth again,  
I am resolved to fling away these rotten Teeth  
And cut my Gums with munching loaf Sugar.  Sanc. 
You would do well to buy a Coral.  Streg. 
That is not so good, but I'll eat store of Rabbits  
Brains to make me tooth more easily.  Cic. 
I can observe no longer, for I discern such  
Excellence, I can't contain myself,  
I must speak to her.  Fur. 
If he could find her out, but I'll assist him.  Cic. 
Fair Strega, and therefore the more fair because  Strega, 
do not disdain the humble flame which spouts—  Bug. 
Which blazes—  Cio. 
Which blazes from a young Lover's heart.  Streg. 
I never was addicted much to scorn.  Bug. 
Now is the rest of his penned speech lost; and  
Our Lover in a brown study how to proceed.  Cic. 
If not to scorn, I hope to love.  Bug. 
Well urged old Man how e'er extempore.  Streg. 
Belike Love is a very comfortable thing,  
But it will require debate, if you please  
We'll walk in, and confer notes.  Cic. 
You cannot more oblige me.  Exeunt. Fur. 
His speech had like to have ruined all.  Bug. 
He would not be persuaded otherwise,  
Come le's in and share the mirth.  Fur. 
My old Master, cannot move without me.  Exeunt.  

Scena Tertia.  Honorio, Constantia. Hon. 
With what a strange, and yet mysterious art,  
Love has entangled, and engaged each heart  
Yours to Amante, to fair Clara his,  
Hers unto me, what a strange Maze is this?  
Mine was entangled too, but since got free  
By a rash vow, dislikes that liberty,  
Because it cruelly prevents thy peace,  
And renders me unable to release  
Amante from his flame, by wedding Clara.  Con. 
Ah that you would but so befriend my love●  Hon. 
I dare not think you wish a happiness,  
That I must purchase with so great a Crime.  Con. 
I would not have you sin, yet I'd fain be  
Eased of this load of Love, and misery.  
But is there no expedient, no just art  
To break a Vow, which else must break my heart?  
Not only mine, but loving Clara's too,  
And that I'm confident won't much please you.  Hon. 
Not in the least; for I at present find  
Such an indifferency to Arabella,  
That I had rather oblige Clara's love,  
And make Amante capable of thine,  
Woven my rash vow permit it.  Con. 
It is not better to dispense one Oath,  
Than kill a Mistress and a Sister both?  
When by two Sins you equally are pressed,  
It is a Virtue sure to choose the least.  Hon. 
But I perceive no such Dilemma here.  
I may preserve my Vow, and you your lives.  Enter Clara. 
But Clara comes I date not trust myself  
Lest my Compassion should destroy my Virtue.  Exit Honour.  

Scena quarta.  Cla. 
I fear your Rhetoric prevails but little  
To persuade his lover, since he avoids my presence.  Con. 
'Tis altogether hopeless, he's so constant  
To that cursed vow, there's no removing him.  Cla. 
We must find some evasion, some reservation.  Con. 
But where my Clara? you still cherish hope.  
Though you have nought in Prospect but despair.  Cla. 
That's the last passion love should entertain.  
Weigh but discreetly this perplexive vow,  
And the evasion won't seem difficult.  
It was if I remember it but rightly,  
Never to speak of love to Woman more.  Con. 
It was, what shadow of hope can you derive from thence?  Cla. 
A certain joy, if nothing else obstruct my happiness.  Con. 
Find an evasion for that cursed resolve,  
And I'll assure your marriage.  Cla. 
Why let him keep his Vow religiously,  
And never speak of love to me, or any,  
I'll understand his signs, if he'll consent  
The Priest shall make us one. Besides Constantia  
He may write his love, that's not within his Oath.  Con. 
How dull was I, not to discern it sooner!  
'Tis evident, plain as the light that shines,  
I'll straight convince him of it.  Exit. — As Clara follows, Amante Enters, takes her by the hand and stops her.  

Scena Quinta.  Aman. 
Though y' are still so cruel, and deaf to all my vows,  
Yet lend an ear to my sad sufferings.  Cla. 
The Lady that went hence suffers much more  
For you, than you can do for me.  Aman. 
Alas, I pity her!  Cla. 
I pity you;  
But pity more your base inconstancy.  Aman. 
Impute that crime to love, and beauty Madam:  
Since they conspired to betray my heart.  
To one far more deserving, now 'tis fixed.  Cla. 
Like to an exhalation, for a moment.  Aman. 
For ever Madam.  Cla. 
What hope of constancy can there be found  
In love, of which inconstancy's the ground?  
What truth, when both alike must be untrue?  
You in your change, and I in loving you?  Exit. Aman. 
She has struck me dumb, yet will not give me time  
To answer, or extenuate my Crime,  
Or if she had, I could make small defence,  
Guilt can but ill dispose with innocence.  
But I'll reform, and though I cannot gain  
Her love, her good opinion I'll obtain.  
Then let her know tho' once I went astray,  
Her brave reproofs has set me in the way.  Exit.  

Scena Sexta.  Garbato, Arabella. Gar. 
'Ta strange, solitary house this; None  
But an Old Woman to bid us welcome!  Ara. 
I don't like my Uncle's absence neither  Gar. 
That seems suspicious too: But I applaud  
However the design, since it obtained me such a happiness.  Ara. 
I must applaud it too, since 'tis my fate,  
Repentance after Marriage comes too late.  Enter Riccamare, Cicco, Strega, Buggio, and Furfante. 
But here my Father comes? I fear too soon.  Gar. 
Your Uncle with him too, nay then we 're safe.  Ric. 
What, are you senseless Sir? she has married a Beggar.  Cic. 
And I a Mine; 'twere a hard case if I could not  
Afford one Portion; set your heart at rest,  
'm'me resolved to make this Day a Jubilee.  
And I'll begin with my Daughter first, call her,  
Furfante, that I may forgive her.  Ric. 
Forgive her! is he possessed?  Fur. 
Why Sir she's by you.  Cic. 
How strangely I forget myself! oh love,  
Love, how thou distractest youth! Arabella.  Gar. 
To him in this humour, and get a blessing.  Ara. 
I hope you are as ready to forgive as you were wont.  
That I disobeyed you in my choice  
I must confess, but 'twas not till the choice  
You made abandoned me, that very Minute  
You designed me his Wife.  Cic. 
Thou hadst more Wit I see than thy old Father,  
I do forgive thee Girl, and hope thy Husband  
Will make that out in love, he wants in fortune.  Ric. 
How riches altars some men's tempers!  
Oh! I could curse!  Gar. 
My love I hope has been unquestionable,  
And by so many Acts confirmed, it needs  
No farther proof, let it suffice I married  
(On a bare promise of your favour Sir) for her  
Own Merits, without least assurance of  
Any Portion, which the fair Estate newly  
faln to me by an Uncle's death might  
Justly challenge  Ric. 
He's rich too! a Curse on my design, they're  
Both ways crossed, in advantage, and revenge.  Fur. 
How th' old Man courts him now! before  
Forgiveness was a savour. Signior Buggio  
Your Cake's Dough.  Bug. 
I find I ing a very unprofitable calling.  Fur. 
It may be one day paid Sir with a basting.  Bug. 
Then will I make you my Receiver.  Cic. 
May the Heavens pour down blessing on you.  
She shall not want a Portion.  Gar. 
Uncle I thank you for your kind design,  
My Father will no doubt declare you his Heir.  Ric. 
Oh, they may laugh, that win.  Gar. 
You've lost your fortunes both ways, in a  
Wife, and an Inheritance.  Ric. 
Yet I'll not cry for the matter, except  
It be my Niece's pardon.  Ara. 
Alas, you never injured me.  Ric. 
In thought I did, for I designed thy ruin,  
And cannot find an apter recompense,  
For having sought to disinherit thee,  
Than by th' addition for my poor fortune.  
I here adopt you mine, and when I die,  
What I possess, is yours.  Both. 
You are too Noble.  Streg. 
If she be yours, Sir, I must salute her.  Cic. 
Do so good Wife, whilst I give directions  
For th' invitation of our Wedding Guests.  Ara. 
My duty should have thrown me at your feet  
For your dear blessing Madam, had I known,  
Y'●ad been my Father's choice.  Streg. 
How prettily she prattles Sanco!  Sanc. 
She called you Madam too in the Court dialect.  Streg. 
Dialect! prithee Sanco make me understand  
These fine words.  Sanc. 
I'll buy you a Dictionary forsooth, and that  
Shall teach you.  Streg. 
A very pretty Word, prithee let me have it.  Cic. 
Be sure none be forgotten.  Fur. 
I'll table them exactly.  Cic. 
Prithee Buggio, do thou assist him.  Bug. 
I shall Sir. Pray one Word—  (whispers.) Cic. 
You mean my Daughter, but she's  
Disposed you see, but I've a Niece, a rich  
One for you.  Fur. 
Ha, ha, ha— he has paid him in his own coin,  
Lie, for lie.  Cic. 
Now let us in to entertain our Guests.  
This aught to be a double marriage feast.  Exeunt.  

Scena Septima.  Honorio, Amante. Hon. 
I must avow, 'tis highly generous,  
But now such actions are not in request,  
I know your love to Clara, and suspect it  
A cunning Stratagem to sift my heart.  Am. 
Your thoughts of me Honorio are too mean:  
'Tis true I have been faulty in my Love,  
And made by beauty a too easy Conquest,  
But I have fortified my heart with Virtue,  
Both against Clara's, and all other Charms,  
Except these first, which in Constantia  
Surprised, and made a Conquest of my Love.  Hon. 
Let me adore thee, Friend. This noble Act  
Will canonize inconstancy, and make't a Virtue.  Am. 
I wish Constantia receive it so.  Hon. 
She'll be but too much joyed, and so will Clara,  
For the kind resolve I've made on her behalf.  
See they appear to share the happiness.  Am. 
Turn not aside your face, for I'm become,  
Loves penitent, y' have wrought a perfect cure,  
And by your reproof my inconstancy taught  
My Love steady Virtue.  Cla. 
I rejoice in't.  
And shall be proud to perfect the good work,  
By joining you to fair Constantia.  Am. 
Your Virtue shall dispose me.  Cla. 
Here Constantia, receive a convert to your Love. Nay  
Neither blush nor doubt, he's proof I warrant you.  Hon. 
Against the World.  Am. 
No beauty now, but yours has power to charm me.  Hon. 
May the Gods still increase your happiness.  Con. 
I dare believe you. My Joys now are perfect,  
And so shall thine be Clara, lends thy hand,  
I here Dispose thee to Honorio;  
Love him, he's a Gentleman deserves it.  Cla. 
You're my Noblest Parent, and have given me  
A fresh life of happiness.  Hon. 
Now all is as it should be, but methinks,  
Constantia, you presumed too much to dispose  
Clara without her own consent.  Cla. 
She knew my heart had done it long before.  Hon. 
Then nought remains, but that we lead to Church,  
And there confirm our joys by sacred Rites,  
Love Joyns our hearts, but 'tis the Church Unites.  Aman. 
I must implore Constantia's pardon first,  
For my so long revolt.  Con. 
You're to me in your return more welcome,  
Than Reprieves to Malefactors that despair of life.  Hon. 
Say no more, I dare assure your pardon, Love still  
Prepares our Joys with bitterness, to make us  
Relish them with more delight:  
By inconstancy, deluded hopes, and fears,  
The wished fruition he at length endears.  Am. 
You're strangely merciful.  Enter Buggio, Furfante. Hon. 
But who are these?  Am. 
Sure one is Buggio.  Hon. 
That fatal cause of all our difference?  Am. 
He is not worth this heat— let's observe him.  Fur. 
Thou art so whimsical, I tell thee I'll abuse  
My Master no longer. Tho' he be blind, my Mistress has one eye.  Bug. 
Do me this kindness then, say I have lost my memory.  Fur. 
Do you think I'll tell a lie?  Bug. 
'Tis not the first.  Fur. 
Not by a thousand. But to tell a lie without  
Design, or profit, goes against my conscience.  Bug. 
I must bribe the Rascal, for now Honorio, and  
Amante are friends, I perceive a basting coming  
Towards men unless I can maintain a loss  
Of memory, come Furfante▪ prithee be honest,  Fur. 
Yes and tell a lie gratis, I thank you heartily.  Bug. 
Come here's a Crown.  Fur. 
Well, it is for love of thee, and this.  Hon. 
We heat nothing, prithee let's advance,  
I must be upon that Rascals bones.  Am. 
Stay, his Companion makes towards us.  Fur. 
Signior Cicco lately married to the rich Widow:  
Strega, desires all your Companies at his Wedding supper.  Hon. 
Married! sure this is coupling time why we  
Are going to perform that Ceremony, and then  
We'll wait upon him.  Am. 
It falls out happily since we are so unprovided  
For the solemnity.  Con. 
They'll be a rare Comedy of Mirth.  Cla. 
Rather a Masquerade by their odd antique dress.  Hon. 
Of a French Farce for th' extravagancy of  
Their humours, the old man conceals his  
Infirmities, and ●he takes a Pride in  
Manifesting hers.  Am. 
This is a strange Fellow, he'll neither know me,  
Nor you, nor many injury he did us.  Hon. 
I shall revive his memory.  Am. 
Be patient dear Honorio, your anger here  
Is thrown away.  Fur. 
I can assure you Sir he has lost his  
Memory above these ten years.  Hon. 
How Slave will you help t' outface us too?  
Did not I see him within these too days?  
And speak with him? this is an impudence  
Beyond Imagination.  Fur. 
If y' had seen him within this hour, he can no  
More remember you, than the moment he was born.  Am. 
Nay, prithee Honorio.  Bug. 
Pray be not angry Gentlemen, I have traveled  
Far, it may be I had the honour of your  
Acquaintance in Peru, Cattai, Mascar, or Mexico,  
Or some Clime more remote, I have a brief head  
And a short memory.  Fur. 
A very short head Sir, he can't remember that  
He told a truth in all his life.  Bug. 
Why Rogue, Furfante?  Hon. 
This Fellow would be killed.  Am. 
Or rather kicked, but he's a punishment  
Sufficient to himself.  Con. 
You must forgive him, 'tis a day of Joy.  Hon. 
Upon Condition he'll ne'er tell lie more,  
I am content.  Am. 
That's the next way to make him  
He'll ne'er keep Covenant.  Hon. 
I'll make him tell a truth then, did not  
You tell me, like a Rascal, that Amante  
Had divulged my Sister was unchaste?  Bug. 
Que dicte vous Mounsieur.  Hon. 
That trick shan't serve you Sirrah, answer  
Me directly, and in your own language, or—  Bug. 
'Tis very true Sir.  Am. 
what's true Rascal, did ever I divulge that scandal?  Bug. 
Not as I remember.  Hon. 
Then 'tis very false Rogue.  Am. 
Howe'er h'as shamed the Devil once.  Con. 
The injury concerned me most, I pray forgive him.  Bug. 
A Noble Lady, I'll never lie again,  
But in thy commendations.  Hon. 
May he deserve your mercy. Now to Church:  
But stay what music's this?  Enter Cicco, Strega with Music, Garbato, Arabella following. Am. 
As I live, th' old couple revelling upon the Piana.  Hon. 
What a mischief 'tis we are not married now,  
That we might Dance.  Am. 
A frisk or too before, will do no harm.  A Dance. Which done they wish them joy. Cic. 
I thank you Gentlemen,  
And hope e'er long to wish like joy to you.  Hon. 
'Twill not be much unseasonable now,  
For we ate marching to find out the Priest.  Cic. 
I've one at home shall save you all that labour,  
And a slight Supper you shall be welcome to.  Con. 
We had not best refuse the old Man's kindness,  
We shall fare worse at home.  Am. 
Oh by no means; since fortune made us meet  
Thus happily, we'll celebrate this Night to  
Gawdy Hymen in a leash of Marriages.  Gar. 
Pray let us fill the Mess.  Am. 
I beg your pardon Friend, I believed yours  
Past the celebration.  Cic. 
But not the consummation.  Hon. 
Every thing in its proper season Sir. Love once  
Proposed me Madam for your Bridegroom,  
But your commands dismissed my happiness.  Ara. 
I must acknowledge mine your generous gift.  Hon. 
Fortune has made some reparation here.  Ara. 
May you be happier in this Lady's love,  
Than possibly you could have been in mine.  Cla. 
So kind a wish deserves my best acknowledgement.  Hon. 
We Truant it too long, let's now make haste  
To complete all our joys.  
You're now my lot, though not at first designed,  
Fortune, and Love, dispose of all mankind.  
FINIS.     

EPILOGUE.  
AS in Religion much less time is spent  
I●th ' practice, than debate, and argument:  
So fares it now with Wit, for that is grown  
The troublesome dispute of half the Town;  
All have it in their Mouths, tho' few or none  
Produce a Piece of true Wit all their own:  
Some steal, some buy, and others borrow it,  
And when all's done, 'twill hardly pass for Wit,  
Unless they form a faction, and engage  
(As Bessus did) the Brothers of the Stage,  
To give it under hand and seal, that they  
Approve the Plot and Language of the Play;  
How then should our unknown have any hopes  
His Play should pass, who wanted all these props?  
He neither had address nor Critic Friend  
To show him where● he ai●'ed, or how to mend;  
Nor did he use t●● Poets common Art,  
To repeat Scenes at th' Coffee-house by heart;  
Nor half a year before the Play came forth,  
By lending it anticipate its worth;  
And by that juggling trust oblige each Wit  
To justify his Compliment i't● ' ● it.  
No, this came quite a stranger to your view,  
And he that writ it means to be so too,  
Till your applause have made him freeo'th ' Trade,  
And then perhaps he'll quit his Masquerade.