THE Spanish Wives. A FARCE, As it was Acted by His MAJESTY's Servants, AT THE THEATRE in Dorset-Garden. LONDON: Printed for R. Wellington, at the Sign of the Lute in St. Paul's Church yard, 1696. ☞ Ovid travesty: A Burlesque upon Ovid's Epistles: The Third Edition, enlarged with Ten Epistles never before printed; by Capt. Alex. Radcliff, of Grays-Inn. Sold by R. Wellington in St. Paul's Churchyard. To the Honourable, Colonel TIPPING, OF WHITFIELD. SIR, YOU may please to remember, when I had the Honour to be in your Company last, at Soundess; part of our Discourse was upon Dedications. I believe you did not then apprehend the Danger so near. But, this Play being kindly received by the Audience; I hope it will not meet with a worse Fate, when it claims your Protection. You have known me from my Childhood, and my Inclination to Poetry; and 'tis from the Happiness of that Acquaintance, I presume to make so Worthless an Offering. This also, joined with your Good Humour, secures me from the Severity of your judgement, which gives you Power to be the greatest of Critics. I need not tell England, how much you have always Served your Country; since that would be like Proclaiming it to be Light at Noonday. I know, all Witty Men, especially yourself, hate any thing, that tends towards Flattery; therefore I shall only in Sincerity tell you: I am, SIR, Your very Humble, and most Obliged Servant, MARY PIX. PROLOGUE, Spoken by Mr. Penkethman, in a Press-master's Habit. WHat Cheer, my Lads? Igad, I'm come to say, I'll press to Sea all those who Damn this Play: Lord! how our Ship might here be Manned to day! Sea-fights, 'tis thought, won't much agree with those Whom they call Wits, and less with Mealy Beaus. Mayhaps 'twould make them stink; for, every Year, We don't go to drink Punch, and take French Air. But sure, the Gentlewomen are at rest, None of them are afraid of being Pressed. Well, how's the Wind here? Still that's veering round, Like your Church-Weathercocks, on English Ground, Then hiss it goes; Oh, that's a plaguy Sound: Igad, 'tis worse to every Actor's Ear, Than Frets of Wind to your huge Mops of Hair. For thus your Crispinus— Critics serve Nine Plays in Ten, Worse than Jack Frenchman does our Merchantmen. Like Pirates too, while honest men they're breaking, The damned Freshwater Sharks are ned worth the taking: Yet long to maul these same New Plays as much As we, when Homeward bound, to take a Touch; Or, as Dubart, to snap his Brother Dutch. Yet why should they Hiss Plays not worth regarding? Do we Bombard a Town not worth Bombarding? Drolls shortly will amuse ye at the Fair: To like This, think yourselves already there, As for you Spruce Gallants, pray be ned too nice, But show you can Oblige a Woman twice. The First Time she was grave, as well she might, For Women will be damned sullen the first Night; But faith, they'll quickly mend, so be ned uneasy: To Night she's brisk, and tries New Tricks to please ye. EPILOGUE, Spoken by Mrs. Verbruggen. OUR Author, by me, puts up her humble Prayer, This Farce, this Trifle of a Play, you'll spare. I'll try your good Nature: But, oh! I fear You are not like my fond Old Husband here. Then, first, my Character who will admire? Some will think it too cold; others, too full of Fire. I dare swear every Spark here will say, Damn it, that Cursed Balk has spoiled the Play. Then the Ladies my Staggering won't allow, They'll cry, Where's her strict Rules of Virtue now? But the Ladies are not so ignorant: All know The Difference 'twixt a Spanish Husband, and a Beau. With Submission our Author still appears; Courts your Indulgence, and your judgement fears; Lives on your Smiles, and at your Frowns despairs. The ACTORS Names. Governor of Barcelona. A merry old Lord, that has travelled, and gives his Wife more Liberty than is usual in Spain. Marquess of Moncada. A Jealous Lord, Guest to the Governor. Camillus. A Roman Count, following the Marquess' Lady, as contracted to her before. Colonel Peregrine. An English Colonel. Friar Andrew One that attends the Count Hidewell. Retained by the Count Diego. Servant to the Governor. The WOMEN. The Governor's Lady. A brisk and airy Lady. Elenora. Wife to the Marquis. Spywell. Woman to the Governor's Lady, Orada. Woman to Elenora. SCENE, Barcelona. THE Spanish Wives, etc. ACT 1. Enter the Governor of Barcelona, and the Marquis of Moncada. Govern. PRithee, my Lord Marquis, don't trouble me with thy Jealous Whims: You say, there was Masqueraders last Night under the Windows,— why there let 'em be a God's Name! I am sorry 'twas such a cold raw Night for the honest Lads. By the Honour of Spain, if I had heard 'em, I would ha' sent the Rogues a Glass of Malaga to warm 'em. Marquis. O Lard! O Lard! I shall run mad! Sure, my Lord Governor, your Horns will exceed the largest in the Palace-Hall.— Oh! that my Wife were out of your House, and Barcelona! Methinks I am not secure, tho' she's under eleven Locks. Gou. By my Holy Dame, I am of your Mind: I don't think you are secure. Marq. How! Do you know any thing to the contrary? Gou. Why, by th' Mass, this I believe: her Head's at work; And I dare say, she has made ye a Cuckold, In Imagination, with every Don she has through Any Peephole seen, since your first Marriage. Marq. Oh! dam' her! dam' her! Gou. You'll never take my Advice. Sings. — Give but a Woman her Freedom still, Then she'll never act what's ill: 'Tis crossing her, makes her have the Will. — Though! I have been in England— There they are the happiest Husbands— If a Man does happen to be a Cuckold, Which, by the way, is almost as rare as in Spain: But, I say, if it does fall out, all his Wife's Friends Are his; and he's caressed,— nay, Godszooks, many times Rises to his Preferment by it. Marq. Oh, insufferable! I am not able to bear your Discourse. Enter a Country Fellow. — A Man coming from my Wife's Apartments! — Oh, the Devil! the Devil! Gou. I see no cloven Foot he has. Marq. No; but he is one of his Imps; a Letter-Carrier. I read it in his Face. Gou. Oh! I begin to perceive it now,— here's the Superscription writ in his Forehead:— To the Beauteous Donna Elenora, Marchioness Of, etc. Ay, 'tis very plain. Marq. Well, Governor, these Jeers won't be put up so. Country Fellow. What a wannion ails ye, trow? What do ye mean by Letters? Ich am no Schollard; my Calling is to sell Fruit; and zum o' the Meads o' this Hause (Meads Ich think 'em) beckoned me in;— I zould 'em zum; and that's all I knaw. Gou. Ay, honest Fellow, I dare swear 'tis:— why, if thou wert a Monkey, he'd be Jealous on thee. Marq. You may think what you please, but I fear other things. Therefore, if, as a Guest, you will let me have The Freedom of your House, I'll take This Fellow in, and search him. Gou. Ay, with all my Heart.— Oh these Jealous Fools! Aside. Marq. Come along, sirrah; I'll look as much as in thy Mouth. Gou. Ay, for fear there should be a Note in a hollow Tooth. Count. Fellow. Why,— de ye zee, as for matter o' that,— ye may look in my A— Gou. Hold, Beast, 'tis a Man of Quality you speak to. Count. Fell. Zooks, I think 'tis a Madman. Marq. Come your ways, Impudence! Count. Fell. But, Sir, Sir,— must the Meads zerch me, or the Men? Marq. I'll tell you presently, ye wanton Rogue. Exit. driving him before him. Enter the Governor's Lady. Gou. How now, Tittup? Lady. Morrow, Deary. Gou. Why, Tittup, here the Marquis has been fretting, Fuming, swearing, raging: he is just Horn-mad— Hark ye, Tittup, did you hear any Serenading last night? Lady. Yes, Deary; 'twas the English Colonel to me;— You are not angry, Deary. Gou. Not I Sings. He that has a handsome buxom Wife, Must surely be always pleased; Blessed with a pleasant quiet life, And never, never teased. But hark ye, Tittup, that English Colonel Has such a Lear, such a Tongue, such a Nose, Such a— have a care on him, Tittup. Lady. I warrant ye, Deary, the honest Freedom you allow Is sufficient: I'll never go farther. You know, he dines here to day, and brings His Music to entertain us in the Afternoon. Gou. Yes, yes; I must dispatch some business, To be ready to receive him,— B'w'ye Tittup! Lady. B'w'ye, Deary: Buss, before ye go.— Gou. (Kisses her) A pies! a pies! your Kisses glow! Fie, fie! I don't love ye. Exit. laughing. Lady. 'Tis my Colonel, my Peregrine, sets my Heart on fire; And gives that warmth my old Husband found Upon my Lips— But then such a Husband,— So good, so honest, preventing every Wish.— — Then such a Colonel, so handsome, so young. So charming,— Where's the Harm to give a Worthy Begging Stranger a little Charity from a Love's Store, When the kind old Governor can never never miss it? Exit. SCENE, a Palace. Enter Count Camillus, and Friar Andrew. Friar. Well, my Lord! now we are come to Barcelona, I fear this Devil of a Marquis will be too hard for us. Camil. How, Father Andrew, desponding!— 'Twas but this Morning, over your Malaga, you swore by the Eleven Thousand Virgins, and all your Catalogue of Saints, you'd bring my Elenora to my Arms. Friar. And by Fifty Thousand more, so I will, if it be possible: If not, my Oath is void: You know the Marquis hates me heartily, as I do him, because once he caught me carrying your Letter to his Wife. Cam. For the good Office, I think, used ye most scurvily. Friar. Scurvily! basely, barbarously; without respect to these sacred Robes; tossed me in a Blanket; covered me with Filth and Dust; and so sent me by force to our Covent. For which, and my natural Inclination to Cuckoldom, I have joined in your Attempts, and waited on you to Barcelona, to be revenged. Cam. You know there's Justice in my Cause.— Elenora was, by Contract, mine, at Rome; Before this old Marquis had her. And could I again Recover her: I don't question but to get Leave of his Holiness For a Divorce, and marry her myself. Friar. Nay, that's as you please; when she's in your possession, marry, or not, 'tis all one to Father Andrew; it never shall trouble my Conscience. I must own, were I in your Condition, I should not marry; because daily Experience shows, a Wife's a Cloy, and a Mistress a Pleasure. Cam. Well, we'll discourse that when we have the Lady; and in the mean time, good Father, be diligent. Friar. I think I am diligent; I am sure, I am worn to mere Skin and Bone in your service. This morning I found for ye a Mercury, a Letter-Carrier, that can slip through a Keyhole, to deliver a Billetdoux to a fair Lady, Cam. I wish he were returned; I fear some Misfortune has befallen him. Friar. O! here he comes, sound Wind and Limb! [Enter Hidewell (the Country Fellow before.] — So, my dear Tool of Gallantry! how hast thou sped? Hidewell. Gad, the hardest Task I ever undertook.— Sir, you gave me five Ducats,— as I hope for Preferment, and to be made Pimp-master general, it deserves double the Sum. Cam. Nor shalt thou fall of it, Boy, if thou hast succeeded. Hidew. First then, the damned old jealous Marquis caught me, and notwithstanding my counterfeit Speech and Simplicity, had me amongst his Varlets, to be searched. They knew his Custom, and no sooner entered, but they flew upon me like so many Furies: I feared it had been to tear me Limb from Limb; but it proved only to tear my Clothes off; which was done in a twinkling, and I left as naked as my Mother bore me; whilst the old Marquess, groveled all over my habiliments, and run Pins in 'em, so thick, that a poor Louse would not have 'scap'd spitting. The only thing which pleased me, was to observe a Peephole the Maids (knowing this to be their Master's Searching-room) had made; and sometimes one Eye, sometimes another, viewing my Proportions. Cam. But had you any Letter? was that safe? Satisfy me there. Hidew. Pray let me take my own method.— Nothing being found, they gave me again my Clothes, And the Marquis a Ducat for my Trouble: Yet I had a Letter— Cam. Which thou ingeniously swallow'dst. Hidew. No; which I more ingeniously brought. Cam. What, in thy Hat? Hidew. My Hat had the same severe Trial. Cam. Thy Shoes— Hidew. They passed the same Scrutiny,— impossible in any of them to hide a Scrip, the least shred of Paper. Cam. How then? Hidew. My Lord, do ye observe this Stick? Cam. (viewing it) Yes, 'tis an honest Crabtree-stick— I see no more in it. Friar. (taking the Stick, and putting on his Spectacles to view it) Come, come, let me see it; I can smell out a Note that comes from a fair Hand;— By St. Dominick, here's neither Paper nor Writing upon it. Hidew. Give it me. (He unskrews the Ferrule at the bottom, takes out the Letter, and gives it to Camillus.) Friar. Thou dear Abstract of Invention, let me kiss thee. Cam. Excellent Hidewell! if thou wilt stay with me, whilst I am in Barcelona, I'll satisfy thy utmost Wishes. Hidew. Most willingly. Cam. Here Father, here dear Confident! Orada writes: That the tormented Marquis has removed her From those Apartments that were next the Streets, To some that overlook the Gardens,— thither, She says, my Elenora would have me come this night; And if they can find a place to 'scape at, Before the Lodgings are better secured, they will: If not, we shall hear of them,— a gentle Whistle Is the Sign.— Hidewell, you shan't appear in this, Because if seen, you'd be known again. Friar. Pray let me go: Gad, if the Business should be done Without my Help, I should take it very ill. Cam. Well, well, we'll in, and consider on't. Exeunt. Scene draws, and discovers the Governor, his Lady, Colonel Peregrine, several Gentlemen and Ladies. A SONG. I. ALas! when Charming Sylvia's go, I sigh, and think myself undone: But when the lovely Nymph is here, I'm pleased, yet grieve and hope, yet fear. Thoughtless of all but her I rove; Ah! tell me, is not this to love? II. Ah me! what Power can move me so? I die with Grief when she must go; But I revive at her return; I smile, I freeze, I pant, I burn: Transports so sweet, so strong, so new, Say, Can they be to Friendship due? III. Ah! no, 'tis Love, 'tis now too plain, I feel, I feel the pleasing Pain: For, who e'er saw bright Sylvia's Eyes, But wished, and longed, and was her Prize? Gods! if the Truest must be blessed, Oh! let her be by me possessed. Colonel Peregrine and the Governor's Lady dance; all the Time the Governor cries,— Ha boy, Tittup! Well done, Tittup! Ha boy, Tittup! Gou. The Dance done, he goes to her,— You are hot, you are hot Child. Lady. A little warm. Gou. Well, Tittup, do but carry thy Body swimmingly, Without tripping, and we'll begin a Reformation In Barcelona, shall thou go through Spain,— The Ladies shall live like Cherubims,— But have a care, Tittup, have a care of a faux pas. Lady. Fear not, Deary. Gou. Come, now let's sit down, and see the rest perform— Let me have some lively Songs— Colonel Peregrine goes to sit next the Governor's Lady. — Hold, Friend, hold! I have not learned so much Of your English Fashion yet, to let another man Sit by my Wife, and I decently keep at a distance. Coll. I beg your Pardon, Sir. Gou. Nay,— no harm;— (Sings) If an old man has a beauteous Treasure, Let her sing, and dance, and laugh without measure, And then she'll think of no other Pleasure. Col. Your own, Sir? Gou. Ay, ay Boy; I have a Thousand of 'em In a day, ex tempore. Col. Is't possible? Gou. Come, now I ha' done, do you strike up.— (Songs and Dances.) The Music ended, enter a Servant. Seru. My Lord, there is to wait on your Honour,— His Excellency the Duke Gonsalvo de Medina, de Sidoni, de— Gou. Hold, hold, enough, enough,— Where is he? Seru. In the Hall of Ceremonies. Gou. Gadso! I must go to him, sit you merry, I'll be with you presently. Exeunt all but Colonel Peregrine, the Lady, and Spywell. Lady. Spywell, stand at yonder Door, and give me information, as soon as ever my Lord comes up the great Stairs. Spywell. I will, Madam. Col. My Angel! by Heaven I am raging mad; Burnt up with violent Love.— Thy Shape— Thy every Motion fires me,— but thy Eyes— They set me in a Blaze— Oh! I must die, Unless the Cordial of returning Kindness save me! Lady. Can you be so Ungenerous to wrong this noble Governor, who is so fond of you, and even dotes on me? Col. He wronged thee more, when he condemned thy lovely Youth to withered Sapless Arms.— Can little foolish Tricks Of fondness make amends for Ecstasies, Pantings, The Joys unutterable of vigorous Love? Lady. I must not hear ye. Col. You must, you must— I'll, kneeling, fix Ten thousand Burning Kisses on thy Beauteous Hand; And the little wanton God swims and revels in thy sprightly Eyes. Lady. Why am I fastened here!— too Rigorous Heaven! Take from this wondrous Stranger his Conquering Charms, Or give me more Insensibility! Enter Spywell. Spyw. Madam, my Lord's upon the Stairs. Lady. Away, away; mark what I say, and keep up the Discourse. Coll. This is but living upon the Rack; You might contrive a better Opportunity. Lady. Peace, and observe.— But are your Ladies then so free And yet so innocent in England?— Gou. (peeping)— Gadso,— they are together; tho' I am not jealous, 'tis convenient to hear a little what their Conversation is. Coll. — Chaster in their Thoughts than your Nuns, yet merrier: more frolicsome than your Carnavals. Lady. Very pleasant! just so I would live,— yet If a bold encouraged Wretch once offered at my Honour, I would not stay to use my Husband's Sword,— but With my own Hands stab the vile Presumer. Coll. You need not, Madam, talk of Weapons; your Eyes, Tho' they roll in Fire, yet shoot chaste Beams, And show your Heart as cold as Ice. Gou. So, so; very, very well, by th' Mass! How is't my Ganymede o' the War, who look'st Fitter to storm Hearts then Towns.— Yet, igad, you English Boys Fear not their pretty Faces, but Fight like rugged Romans, Or the old rough Gauls. Coll. You compliment us, my Lord. Gou. No faith, I hate 'em.— Well, Tittup, are ye almost ready for your Dinner? Lady. When you please, Deary. Gou. I warrant the Marquis would not let his Wife dine with us for the King of Spain's next Plate-Fleet. Lady. He has let me see her but once;— when I offered it again, he plainly told me, my Company was unfit for her:— rude Brute! Coll. To us who have been bred otherwise it seems a Miracle, That men can be so barbarous to the Fair Sex. Gou. But I'll set 'em an Example, if Tittup holds her Ground. — Come along— (Sings.) Merrily, merrily let's pass our Time, In Freedom, joy and Plenty: At Sixty appear but in our Prime, Whilst the Thinking Sot is old at Twenty. Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE, a Chamber. Enter Elenora Marchioness of Moncada, and Orada. Elen. Dost think the Messenger got off, Orada? Or. Faith I know not, Madam,— I thought I heard the Marquess' Voice as he went out.— The Fellow seemed very cunning.— Elen. All his Policy but little would avail him, If my Husband met him,— by Heaven 'Tis kindly done of Count Camillus, to leave his Wealth, His Palaces, and all the Pleasures of delightful Rome, To follow wretched me to Barcelona. I am a thing accursed by cruel Guardians, For my Parents died when I was young; they would not else Sure have forced me, condemned to an old jealous Madman.— I saw his Follies and his Humours, and I begged, Like a poor Slave, who views the Rack before him,— All in vain; they were inexorable.— so may just Heaven Prove to them in their greatest need! Or. This is a melancholy Thought, Complaints won't break Locks; we must set our Wits at work to free ourselves. I have searched the Lodgings round, but there's no Passage; an imprisoned Mouse could scarce escape. Elen. But prithee, dear Orada, how got you in favour with my Lord? He used to hate ye abominably. Or. True; and whilst he did so, it was impossible for me To serve your Ladyship.— So I wheeled about,— Railed at you and all your Ways most heartily, And immediately obtained his Grace. Elen. Would that do? Or. Yes, with a bantering Letter I showed him, pretending I had got it from you; and a long Harangue how Wives ought to hear with their Husband's Ears, see with their Eyes, and make use of no sense without Permission. In fine, I ravished him with my Discourse, till he threw those withered Sticks, his Arms, about me, and swore I should remain his Heart's Joy. Elen. 'Tis a great Point gained, you must wheedle him this Night with some Story, and keep him in the Closet— whilst I watch for Camillus, or his Agent. Or. I warrant you, Madam. Elen. Orada, get me the Song I love, the succeeding tedious; Imprisoned Wretches thus count the succeeding Hours, And groan the melancholy Time away. A SONG. BE gone, be gone, thou Hag despair; Be gone, back to thy Native Hell: Leave the Bosom of the Fair, Where only joy should dwell. Or else, with Misers, willing Revels keep; And stretch thy wretched Lids from Sleep. But hence be gone, and in thy hated room Let Hope, with all its gentle Blessings, come. (A Noise of unlocking Doors.) — So! now my Jailor comes. Or. Then I'll observe my Cue.— Come, come Madam, You must not complain.— Suppose your Husband Kept you in an Oven, or a Cellar, you ought to be content— I say,— Wives must submit. El. Hold thy Tongue, Impertinence!— When you were good for any thing, my Husband Would not let ye come at me: now he has brought you To his turn, I must be perpetually plagued with you. Enter the Marquis. Marq. You are a perpetual Plague to me, I'm sure— You hate every body that tells you your Duty. El. Inhuman Spaniard!— what wouldst thou have? — Am I not immured, buried alive? Marq. Yes, yes; I have your Body, but your Heart is with the young Count Camillus. D'ye blush, ye Strumpet, in Imaginations— Ye Eve! Dalilan Devil! I'll let out that bounding Blood.— Orada— get a Surgeon to take away fifty ounces. Orad. My Lord, you are not mad! What! have a Surgeon quiddling her white Arm, and looking Babies in her Eyes! El. Monster! be thyself the Butcher, and let my Heart's Blood out: That Gentleman you named has Honour, Truth, and Virtue. Marq. Thou liest, false Women! he's a Rake, a Hellhound, and wallowing now in Rome's Brothels. Or. I could contradict him if I durst. Aside. Elen. (laughing) Perhaps so. Marq. D'ye fleer, poisonous Witch? I am going to dispatch the last Business that brought me to Barcelona. Then, Minion, thou shalt be immured in a remote Castle, where thou shalt not see the Face of Humankind, except thy Women, and when I design to visit thee. Elen. Know this, and let it gnaw thy Jealous Heart: Thy Visits will be my severest Punishment. Marq. Watch her, Orada; preach those Maxims thy Zeal for me suggests; let her not have Liberty to think. Or. Fear not; let me alone to tease her. Exit Marquis, locking the Doors after him. Elen. Ay,— make all fast— Insufferable Tyrant!— Come Orada, Let's go view the dear place, which at Wished-for Night brings my dear Camillus to me. Exeunt. SCENE, a Hall. Enter the Marquis. Marq. Where's this plaguy Governor? I must have him with me, because 'tis about the King's Business; tho' I hate him for breaking our Spanish Customs, in letting his Jilting Wife have such Liberty.— Ha! here she comes,— and a Spark with her;— I'll abscond, and see how virtuously she carries herself. Enter Colonel Peregrine, and the Governor's Lady. Lady. I dare not stay,— my Husband thinks I am gone into my Chamber; if by any chance he should come this way, all our Hopes are ruined. Coll. Were he by, I'd seal my Vows upon thy melting Lips— Oh! receive my Heart; it flutters near thee, and struggles for passage. Lady. I am covered o'er with Blushes! Marq. (aside, peeping) Confound your Modesty! were you mine, you should be cover'c o'er with Blood. Coll. My Life! can't ye contrive some way to bless me? Your Sex were ever most ingenious lucky at Invention. Lady. Suppose you pretended a Quarrel in England,— for which you were pursued, and begged Leave to hide here.— If you were in the House, I might get an Opportunity to visit ye,— But sure you would not be such a naughty man to ruin me, if I did. Col. Not for the World! Lady. I would fain love ye, and preserve my Honour. Col. That is preserved whilst 'tis concealed: The Roses in your Cheeks will only wear a fresher Die,— and those dear Eyes are no Tell-tales, Love will make 'em shine and sparkle more.— I'll put your Advice in execution. Lady. I must not venture on another moment.— Farewell. Exeunt severally. Col. Farewell, my Blessing. Enter Marquess. Marq. Oh Women! Women! Women!— They are Crocodiles, they are painted Serpents, gilded Toys, disguised Fiends,— But why name I these? They are Women— Just such another is my Damsel of Darkness; if Fortune would but throw a handsome Fellow in her way.— Here comes the Governor, singing, I warrant ye,— poor Credulous Fool,— I cannot but laugh— ha, ha, he! Enter the Governor singing: Let her have her will, etc. — hay damn! I am glad to find you so merry. 'Tis as great a wonder to see you laugh, as 'twould be to see me cry— And that I han't done these Fifty Years, old Boy. Marq. My Lord, which is best, for a man's Wife to Cuckold him in Imagination or Reality? Gou. Lord! Lord! your Head is always upon Cuckolding, All the Cuckolds may be hanged, for what I care. Marq. Oh fie, no! Hanging would be a scurvy Death for a man of your Quality. Gou. Why— what d'ye mean by that, now, ha?— Don't provoke me, I say— do not— I shall make old Toledo walk if you do, for all 'tis in my own House. Marq. I must not tell him now,— It will put him so out of Humour, he won't go with me,— 'Twas only a Jest, my Lord,— I would beg the Honour of your Company to the Duke of Sidonia's. Gou. With all my Heart— come, come: Sings. Tormented still's the jealous Fool, Himself, nor Bosom Wife can never rest: Yet he often proves the Woman's Tool, Whilst the Contented Man is ever blessed. Exeunt. SCENE, A Chamber. Enter Camillus, Friar Andrew, and Hidewell, with a Ladder of Ropes. Cam. So, Hidewell! Hast thou got the Ladder of Ropes? Hidew. Yes, my Lord, here's all the Tackling. Fri. Is it strong?— for I am something weighty. Cant. How, Father! just now you said you were worn to Skin and Bone. Fri. Ay, my Lord; but you know Bones ill covered will soon be broken. Cam. True; take care of yourself besure.— Hidewell, I have altered my Mind,— Thou shalt along with us; watch on the outside the Wall, and give us notice when the Coast is clear. Hidew. With all my Heart. Fri. Let me see, have I got my Holy Water about me? Cam. Holy Water! for what? Fri. Oh! I always love to say my Prayers, and have those Trinkets, when I undertake a dangerous Design. Cam. Don't be so profane, Domine,— you'll never thrive,— yet, if your Devotion's strong, you've time enough— We shan't go this Hour or two. Fri. Nay, I won't hinder ye,— an Ejaculation as I go along does the Business. Enter a Servant Seru. My Lord, the English Colonel, that lodges in the House, sends to know if you are at leisure. Cam. Tell him, I am,— and long to kiss his Hands.— I like that Gentleman, he appears brave Exit Servus. And bold— should our Designs grow desperate: I dare believe he would not scruple his Assistance. Fri. Faith and troth I like him too,— he treats like an Emperor; I dined with him to day,— and he so gently, so agreeably forced Flesh upon me, that by St. Dominick, I could not refuse him; tho' 'tis a strict Fast, a horrible strict Fast, as I hope to be an Abbot.— Then the obliging Toad has such a Waggish Eye, I'll pawn my beads, a plaguy Dog for the Women, and they are ever good-natured:— By his Holiness' Toe, I love the Sex myself,— for all this dangling Robe, and my foolish Vow of Chastity. Cam. 'Tis pity you were not a Knight-Errant,— the Church has robbed the Ladies of a famous Adorer. Fri. No, faith, my Lord, I do 'em more Service in these Weeds: I have saved many a desperate Soul. Cam. How! Fri. Thus: in procuring them the full Possession of their Desires; and that surely brought 'em to Repentance; and you know, what Repentance brings 'em to. Hidew. Truly, Father, I shall grow angry with you; for if once the Priests take up the Office of Procuring, there will be no Business for a Lay-Pimp. Cam. Peace,— the Colonel comes. Enter Colonel Peregrine. Col. — I am your Lordship's humble Servant,— I have just had some Music to compliment me,— I am a great Lover of it,— if your Lordship is so, we'll have the Entertainment there. Cam. Nothing can oblige me more.— Some Chairs there! A Dialogue-Song and Dances: at the time of the Dances Camillus and Peregrine seem in Discourse. Hidew. If your Lordship pleases, being in this Dress, I will aim at a Jig, I danced thus once in a Masquerade. Cam. Prithee do. A jig by Hidewell. A SONG. Betwixt Mr. Leveridge a Spaniard, and Mrs. 'cross an English Lady. Herald FAirest Nymph that ever blessed our Shore, Let me those charming Eyes adore, And fly no more, and fly no more. She. Spaniard, thy Suit is all in vain; I was born where Women reign, And cannot brook the Laws of Spain. Herald For thee my Native Customs I'll forgo, Cut my black Locks, and turn a Beau. She. e'er I submit to be your Wife, Listen to an English Husband's life; With Sparks abroad I'm every day, Gracing the Gardens, Park, or Play, Hearing all the pretty things they say; Give and take Presents, and when that's done, You thank the Beaux when I come home. Herald Oh! I now my Temper fear. She. Oh! sigh not yet, there's more to hear: At my Levy crowding Adorers stand, Fixed on my Eyes, and grasping my white Hand; All their Conrts and Oglings bent on me, Not one regardful Look towards thee: At this thou must be pleased, or else not see. Herald Then we must part, and I must die. She. If thou art such a Fool, what care I? Herald I cannot share thee, so I am undone. She. A wiser will supply thy Room. Chorus. Then we must part, etc. If thou art such a Fool, etc. I cannot share thee, etc. A wiser will supply, etc. Col. (To the Singers and Dancers)— So, well performed;— return to my Apartments, I'll be with ye presently. Exeunt. Cam. The odness of our Adventures surprise me:— Both our Mistresses in the same House!— I hope 'twill further our Designs. Col. It must.— My Lord, I have a Favour to beg; That you would lend me one of your Implements to morrow, to manage a Plot I have in agitation. Cam. Most willingly take your Choice. Fri. I am at your Service. Hidew. You are so forward,— Canonical Fornication-Broker,— I believe I am fittest for the Gentleman's Service. Fri. Goodlack, Upstart! I helped ye to my Lord,— and now ye are for engrossing all Business to yourself. Col. Nay,— I must have the most expert, because the Case is difficult. Fri. Well! I'll not say much!— But here stands little Andrew, who has undertaken to bring a Smock-faced Cardinal to a Madonna, secured with a Guard more numerous than Argus' Eyes, and more dreadful than the Dragon you wot of— yet spite of massy Doors, impenetrable Bolts, and Italian Padlocks, effected it. Hidew. Phough! what's that! I have carried on an Amour for the Queen of Spain,— conveyed her Letters made up in Wax-Candles; Love-Complaints writ in the inside of her Glove; besides a Thousand other Contrivances you never dreamed of.— 'Tis true, at last the Fate of all Court-Pimps was mine: I fell into Disgrace; as that had raised me, so it ruined me; I lost a Coach and Six by my Profession,— And shall you pretend to Rival me? Fri You lost! why, Sirrah, Sirrah! I tell thee, if I had employed my Parts in Church-Politicks, in Tricks of Priestcraft, by this time I had been Pope.— But the bringing kind loving things together, was dearer to me than the Triple Crown,— And shall a Varlet contend with me? Col. Gentlemen! dispute no more; I find either of you is qualified for my purpose.— My Noble Lord, good Night,— if you want me, on the least notice, I am ready. Exit Col. Cam. I thank you, dear Neighbour, good Night.— Hidewell, take up the Ropes, and come away. Fri. Along, Blunderbuss. Hidew. I hope, Father Peremptory, before to morrow Morning, you'll stand in need of my Cunning, to deliver that loved Carcase from some imminent Danger. Fri. I defy thee, and all thy shallow Imaginations. Cam. Leave jangling, and make haste. Exeunt. SCENE, a Palace. Enter the Marquis, Orada following him. Ora. — My Lord, I have a Thousand things of greater consequence to say.— Pray return. Marq. Dear Orada, by and by; I must see where my Devil of a Wife is. Ora. You know she cannot pass the Lodgings, perhaps she's at her Devotions. Marq. No, she's too foul to Pray. Ora. (Taking him by the Arm)— But, my Lord,— as I was saying,— Marq. (Flinging from her) I'll return immediately.— Ora. There's no keeping this mad Fool out of his Wife's sight;— They must e'en to Bed, whilst I parley with the Lover. Enter Marquess, pulling in Elenora. Marq. — So, Gentlewoman! I have caught ye!— How? With your Head out at Window, making your amorous Complaints! Elen. I was almost stifled for want of her.— Sure you are not Jealous of the Trees and Stars,— They were my only Objects. Marq. Oh Impudence! did I not hear you say, When will he come; my Light, my Life, break through this Veil of Darkness, and shoot with Rays of Comfort on me? Ora. (aside) A duce of these thinking Minds! so brimful of Cogitations, they must run over. Elen. I knew you behind me, and therefore did it to torment ye. Marq. It may be so; but I sha'n't trust ye— Come, into the Bedchamber.— Orada, do you School her,— I'll watch for your Light and Life myself. Or. My Lord, you had better go to Bed with her, and then you'll be secure. Marq. No, no; in, in. (Shuts 'em in and locks the Door)— Now for my Pistols— that I may give this Midnight-Guest the Welcome he deserves. Exit. SCENE changes to an Orchard. Count Camillus and Friar Andrew come down the Wall by a Ladder of Ropes. Friar. — So!— We are got well in; Heaven send us safe out again! Cam. Father, Father! done't trouble Heaven in this Affair, you'll never prosper. Friar. Bless me, my Lord! Prayers are natural to me: if you are so wicked to neglect 'em, I can't help that. Cam. Come, mind your Business: where's the Whistle? Friar. Here, here,— now for a delicious Vision, Of a peeping Angel! Whistles. (The Marquess above.) Marq. The Signal's given, and here's the Answer. Shoots off a Pistol. (Friar Andrew falls flat.) Cam. We are discovered; and if I stay, all other Opportunities are left for ever.— A Cry within of Thiefs! Thiefs! — Why Friar! Friar! Father! You are not hurt, the Bullets went over our Heads. Friar. Are ye sure I am not hurt?— I did conceive I was killed. Cam. No, no; but I know not what you may be if you stay— Follow me, with speed. Cam. gets over the Ladder. Friar. Oh Pox! the Devil of all ill Luck! ruined, hanged, When the Friar is halfway up, the Ladder breaks, and falls down. drawn, and quartered! No possibility of escaping without a Miracle,— and I can't have the Impudence to expect a Miracle.— Noise within, Where! Where! Thiefs follow.— Oh! they come! they come!— and now at my greatest Extremity I cannot pray.— God so! here's a Tree!— I'll try to mount it. Gets up the Tree. Enter the Marquis, and several Servants. Marq. Search well, Boys! leave not a Shrub or Tuft of Grass unexamined— Five Pistoles to him who finds One. 1 Seru. I warrant ye, my Lord! let us alone for ferreting 'em!— Soho! what have we here— A Pox, 'tis a Stub of a dead Tree— 'thas broke my Nose. (Another Servant looking up in the Tree, where the Friar is.) 2 Seru. Oh Rogue! Are ye there? I'll be with ye presently. (Friar Andrew, as the Fellow gets up, throws his Bottle of Holywater full in his Eyes, and pulls his Cowl over his Face, and roars out: They both fall from the Tree together.)— The Devil, the Devil! oh, my Eyes are out! The rest cry, The Devil! They drive the Marquis in, who often turns, and cries: Let me see him! let me see him! The Friar follows 'em roaring. SCENE changes to the inner part of the House. Several Servants enter in Confusion,— a great knocking at the Door, and cry of Fire, Fires One of the Servants open the Door,— Enter Hidewell, Men and Maids, as from their Beds— some crying, Fire, some Murder, Treason, etc. After them— Enter Friar Andrew, driving several Servants, who run out, crying, the Devil! the Devil! Hidew. — Make haste, unlucky Devil!— 'Twas I cried Fire! opened the Door for your deliverance— Fly, and own me for the Master of your Art for ever. Friar. I cannot stay to thank ye,— But— I yield, I yield. Exit running. Enter the Governor, in his Nightcap, and Sword drawn. Gou. Benedicta Maria! What! Fire, Murder, and Treason all abroach at once!— a horrible Plot!— By the Honour of Spain, a terrible one, as I hope to be a Grandee! Enter the Governor's Lady attended. Lady. Saywell, what can be the meaning of this? My Colonel would not come in such a way.— My Lord! my Deary! the Matter,— the Cause of this Disturbance! Gou. Here, Sirrah! raise all the Guards: Oh Tittup! we're like to be murdered,— drowned, and blown up, no body knows how, nor which way: A damnable Plot! by his Majesty's Mustachoes I swear! Lady. Sure 'tis a false Alarm,— The House has been searched by some Servants discreerer than the rest,— and they find nothing. Enter Marquess, cutting his Servants. Marq. Villains! Dogs! under the notion of the Devil, These Sheep-lookt Rogues, these Dastard Whelps, Have let the Robber of my Honour escape; whilst I But just examined if my Wife was safe, the Wolf, the Goat is gone. Gou. hay damn! my Lord Marquis, Are we then alarmed only with a jealous Whim of yours? By the Peace and Pleasure of my Life, I'll suffer it no longer.— Any other of my Palaces are at your Service; but such a Wasp shall molest my Honey-hive no more. Marq. Uncivil Lord! thy Palaces, nor all thy Wealth should bribe my stay,— To morrow I've resolved for my departure,— in the interm, I desire an hours Conference. Gou. Soon as you please, I am free. Enter a Servant, with Hidewell. Seru. My Lord, here we've found a man that no body knows. Gou. Ha! who are ye, Sirrah? Your Name? From whence d'ye come? Whither d'ye go? What's your Business?— Answer me all at once. Hidew. I daut I caunt,— but I'll do no more than money a Mon; I will tell ye the truth: Coming to Morket with my Fruit, d'ye zee, Ich heard the noise of Fire, Fire! Thiefs, and suchlike,— so i thought good Crabtree-stick might walk amongst the Rogues; so Ich have left the Fruit with our Margery, and come with main Vorce to help ye, d'ye zee. Gou. An honest Lad! and, d'ye hear, you may sell your Fruit to my Family. Hidew. O Lard, O Lard! Ch'am 'a made Mon, and my Wife and Children: what! sell my Fruit to my Lord Governor— made for ever! henceforth I'll scorn my Neighbours, and despise my Betters. Mar. I like this Fellow, because I searched him throughly, and found him no Go-between.— Here, Sirrah! there's something for ye,— and were I to stay, ye should ha' my Custom. Hidew. I thank your Honours. Gou. (to a Sentinel) Let him out. Exit Hidew. Marq. You'll remember to morrow morning early. Gou. Most certainly. Marq. (aside) Then I'll convince this credulous easy man what need there is of watching one's Wife:— Goodnight. Exit. Gou. Farewell; go thy ways, for a troublesome, maggot-pated, jealous-crowned Simpleton, as thou art:— hay boy, Tittup! how is't Tittup? how shall you and I get to sleep again Tittup? ha! Lady. I know not. Gou. What, moody, Tittup! (Sings) I'll rouse ye, and mouse ye, and touse ye as long as I can, Till squeaking I make ye confess: There's Heat in a vigorous Old Man, When he loves to excess, when he loves to excess. Exeunt. The End of the Second ACT. ACT III. SCENE, a Chamber. Enter Camillus and Friar Andrew. Cam. Cursed be my disappointing Stars, that thus have crossed me! whilst I but aim at Elenora's Freedom; she, for my Attempts, suffers from her Tyrant-Husband worse usage. Friar. You may curse your Stars, if you please; but for my part, I bless the pretty twinkling Gentlemen,— that is, if they had an hand in my Deliverance.— I am sure, if I had been caught, my Usage would have been bad enough.— I long to know what is become of that Hangdog Hidewell.— Oh!— talk of the Devil, and he appears. Enter Hidewell. Hidew. — Down on your Marrowbones, Domine, and thank my Ingenuity, else your brittle Thread had been cut; and you left in a dark way by this time. Friar. Come, come; done't be so triumphant:— for had not my own roaring Preaching Voice— Hidew. Ay, ay; much used to Preaching, I believe,— unless it was Indulgence to a yielding Female. Friar. Well, as I was saying, had not my own Almighty Voice struck Terror through 'em, I had been in Limbo, long before your Ingenuity came to my Assistance.— Not but you did me a Kindness,— and I acknowledge it,— That's enough for a man of my Qualifications. Cam. Oh Hidewell!— all my Hopes are ruined, and poor Elenora must remain a Slave for ever. Hidew. My Lord, you are mistaken,— our Expectations now stand fairer; the Governor and Marquis both take me for a very silly honest Fellow,— and have ordered I shall have full and free access;— then let me alone for a Contrivance.— I'll get the Lady for you, and the Woman for myself; following the Example of all noble Knights, and trusty Squires. Friar. I find you are providing for yourselves: But what must I have for my Painstaking in this Affair? Hidew. You know, you cannot marry;— I'll give you leave To tempt my Damsel, when I have her: D'ye conceive — If she loves Spiritual Food, I'll not be your hindrance. Cam. Dear Hidewell! thou shalt go immediately; learn when they remove; fathom their Designs; I'll force her from him on the public Road.— He forced her from her plighted Faith, her Vows, and all her Wishes: My Force is just. Hidew. Trust to me, my Lord, and fear not. Enter Colonel Peregrine. Col. My Lord! your humble Servant! I ha'n't rested to night, since I heard of your Disappointment, reflecting how my own Affair may prove. Cam. Ah Colonel! our Cases are very different,— You hunt but for Enjoyment, the huddled Raptures of a few tumultuous moments:— But I am in quest of Virgin-Beauty, made mine by Holy Vows; constrained by Fiends, instead of Friends, to break the sacred Contract, and follow the Capricio of a mad Old Man.— Virgin did I call her?— By Heaven, I dare believe she is one, at least her Mind is such;— and were she in my power, I'd soon convince the World of the Justice of my Cause. Col. My Lord! you shall command my Sword and Interest in Barcelona,— yet you must give me leave to mind my own Affairs.— I grant your Passion more Heroic;— for I should scarce accept the Governor's Wife for mine, if he would give her:— but I am amorous and eager, as Love and Beauty can inspire hot and vigorous Youth. Friar. By St. Dominick, well said, old Boy: I'll stick to thee. I hate these whining Romantic Lovers. Nor would I have trudged to Barcelona, had I thought the Count only fixed on Honora,— Psha, I can get it out,— Honourable Love. Col. Since you are so willing, Sir,— I have Employment for you.— Can you play the Hector well, pursue with a fiery Countenance, swear without intermission, make noise enough, no matter what you say? Friar. I'll try, I'll try,— hum! hum!— by St. Dominick, by St. Patrick, St.— Col. Hold! hold! what d'ye mean? You must swear by jupiter, Radamanthus, Mars, and those blustering Sparks; not such puny passive Saints. Friar. Well, Sir,— I shall be soon instructed:— But what must I swear all this for? or like the Bullies of the Age, must it be all for nothing? Col. No, no, there is a Cause;— Come along with me— and I'll give ye Clothes, and full Directions. Hidew. If I might advise ye, Sir, he should not undertake it; he has something in that unlucky Phy's shows him unfit, tho' coveting Intrigues: plaguy unfortunate Lines, I swear. Friar. Peace Envy! Scrietchowl! Raven! Bat! Devil! When did I ever fail before that Night? nor then neither, sirrah, ha! Hidew. Rage on, Spite! I say but this.— Have a care, when in all your Gallantry, you don't forget, and make a Friar-like Salutation. Friar. Pox take ye for putting me in mind on't— for, I always do a thing I am forbid. Enter a Servant. Seru. Please your Honour, a Lady desires to speak with you. Cam. I'll wait on her. Col. I'll leave you this Apartment free, my Lord; my Business being in haste.— Come, Father! Cam. Farewell: may your Desires be fulfilled, or you cur'd of 'em. Col. Your Servant. Friar. B'w'ye Hidewell! I don't question but to top you in my Performance when we meet next. Hidew. Heaven help the weak, I say. Exeunt Col. and Friar. Enter Orada. Cam. Ha, my dear Orada! What Miracle got thee this liberty? Ora. My Lady was so throughly frighted at the noise of the Pistols, and the Confusion she heard, (for you, I suppose) that she has since been ill.— The jealous Marquis could not find in's Heart to trust a Doctor with her, but sent me for a Cordial. Cam. I hope her Sickness has no Danger in it. Ora. No, no; 'tis over now,— scarce enough left for a Pretext for, my coming. Cam. But, what Hopes? What shall be our next Design? Speak Comfort, my best Friend! Ora. Faith, I know not well:— Suppose the Marquis were some way informed, you are in Barcelona,— 'twould fright him out of his Wits;— I'd back it, and persuade him to send Elenora in the night privately, lest you attempt her on the Road,— then you may seize the unguarded Fair.— Methinks something like this might be done. Cam. We'll in, and consider farther on't. Hidew. Hark ye, Donna, if your Lady falls to my Lord, you prove my natural Perquisite, by the Example of a Thousand Years. Oro. What means the Fellow? Cam. Despise him not, Orada; he has prodigious Parts under that Russet Coat. Ora. I care not for him, nor his Parts, I shall ne'er examine 'em. Hidew. You and I shall be better acquainted for all this. Ora. Away, Bumpkin! Cam. I tell ye he's a Beau in Disguise. Ora. I believe so. Cam. Come to this inner Room, Orada, lest we are interrupted. Exeunt. SCENE, a Hall. Enter the Governor, Marquess, and Diego. Gou. Apox, apox! Was this your Conference?— If I had guessed at it, the Devil should have conferred with ye for me. Marq. I would ha' thanked a Friend that sorewarned me, of an approaching Evil. Gou. Evil! What Evil? The Evil is my knowing it; if I had not, 't had been none.— Yet how am I convinced you have not abused my Tittup:— By the Honour of Spain, I'll Fight for Tittup: Guilty or not Guilty.— My Lord!— what you have said is a scandalous, contagious, outrageous,— Marq. Hold,— if you say one word more, I draw. Gou. Well, well!— I will have Patience,— but if this Colonel doth not come with the Sham-plot you have buzzed into my Head, by King Philip's Beard,— Marq. Threaten not; Ill meet you when and where you please, ill-mannered Fool! Exit. Gou. Diego! I have born up,— yet, Igad, to own the Truth, I am damnably afraid— there's something in it.— That English Colonel is a plaguy Dog; he looks as if he were made to enter all Breaches, conquer every way.— I'll try if I can sing after this News. (Sings) Lock up a Woman, or let her alone; Keep her in private, or let her be known: 'Tis all one, 'tis e'en all one. — A scurvy Tune, as I hope to be a Grandee.— Nay, if my Voice is broke, my Heart will quickly follows— Diego! Dieg. My Lord! Gou. I ever found thee faithful;— if the Spark does come, follow exactly my Directions, and all shall be well yet. Dieg. Fear not me, my Lord, I'd lose a Leg or an Arm at any time in your Honour's Service, and never cry, Oh! for't. Gou. Hark, hark! I think I hear a Noise. Cry of Fire here. Without, a Cry of Murder, and shutting Doors. Enter Col. Peregrine, his Sword drawn, leaning upon his Servant. Col. Oh, my Noble Lord! I'm ruined, unless your Pity save me: in England I, in a Duel, killed a Gentleman, and his Friends have pursued me hither, setting upon me, Four at once. Gou. Alas and welladay! 'tis sad indeed! and you, I warrant, are wounded desperately. Col. I fear, to death,— oh! oh! Gou. Ah, the dissembling Rogue! it grieves me almost to disappoint him, the Smock-faced Dog does it so cunningly. aside— Diego! Dieg. Sir. Gou. Diego, get one of my able Surgeons to search the Wound. Col. I thank you, my Lord; my own Servant has great Skill in Surgery, I'll trust him. Gou. Diego! carry this Gentleman to an Apartment near the Garden, free from Noise,— I'll send Tittup to visit ye by and by. Col. Your Lordship's all Goodness. Exit. Gou. And thou all Treachery,— Oh! the English whining Dog— how shall I punish him? By the honour of Spain, he deserves to be utterly disabled,— rendered wholly incapable.— But I'll have Mercy in my Anger: hang't— I have loved the handsome Whipster, and he shall find it. (Enter Diego.) — So,— have ye disposed of him as I ordered? Dieg. Yes, my Lord; and whilst I was in the Chamber, he groaned as if his Heart were breaking,— But I had the Curiosity to stay a little at the Door, and heard both laugh ready to burst, an't please your Honour. Gou. Please me! not much, in faith, Diego; but— let me tell 'em, had they fell into the hands of any other of our Nation, their Mirth would quickly ha' been spoiled, and their Whoring too adod. Enter Servants, hauling in Friar Andrew. Seru. My Lord, we have took the Ringleader, that pursued the Noble English Colonel. Gou. Good Boys! Good Boys!— Well, Sir,— And what are you? Friar. If you are a man of Authority, as by your House and Port I guess you are, I charge you, do me Justice; for by yonder blue Firmament, and all those hated Stars, that twinkled at my Brother's Murder, I'll flay that cursed Colonel. Gou. Thou Hangdog, begot in Lewdness, and born in some Sink of Sin,— Son of a thousand Fathers, and Maker and Contriver of Cuckolds without number; I know thee for a Pimp: Here, Diego! fasten upon one Whisker, whilst I take t'other; if they are fast, I may alter my Opinion— They are reverend Whiskers, I confess,— if not, I proclaim thee a Pimp. They pull, and the Whiskers come off between'em. Fri. Oh, mercy! mercy! I do own my Profession; but good my Lord, forgive me. Gou. Ay, that I will, but I'll punish thee first,— here,— carry him to the red Tower, and let him have Two hundred Lashes, till all Thoughts of Concupiscence, either for himself or others, be throughly mortified. Fri. Hear me, my Lord! Gou. No, away with him. Fri. You must hear me; I am a Priest, I excommunicate ye else. Gou. A Priest, and a Pimp! Oh Lord! Fri. Why? is that such a Wonder? Dieg. Look, my Lord! here hang his Beads under his Clothes. Fri. Now, my Lord, you are satisfied the Secular Arm can't punish me; pray give me a Release. Gou. Hold, hold, not so fast.— Take him, and carry him to the next Abbey just as he is, and tell the Fathers what ye know. Fri. 'Tis well 'tis no worse,— to deal with the Tribe, let me alone, they'll judge my Frailties by their own. Gou. Say ye so, Beelzebub, in his own Clothing! but I'll be a Thorn in thy side, I'll warrant thee, old Father Iniquity. Seru. My Lord, we'll set the Mob upon him, that's worse than all the Justices in Quorum. Fri. I'll Curse, Excommunicate, Purgatory ye, Hang ye, Damn ye. Exit forced off. Enter Governor's Lady. Lady. My Deary, Spywell tells me our dear Colonel's wounded. Gou. Oh, most dangerously, Tittup; he has as many holes through him as a Jew's Cake. Lady. Alas, than I fear he's dead. Gou. No, no; Nature has framed his Body for the purpose; a Sword passes and repasses like a Juggler's Ball, and no harm done. Lady. Cruel Deary! you make a Jest on't, but I'll visit and comfort him. Gou. Hold, hold; his Wounds are dressing: You would see him naked, would ye? Lady. Oh Gad! not for the World. Gou. Retire to your Chamber, I'll send for you when 'tis convenient. Lady. I will, Dear; but pray take care of him. Gou. Yes; there shall be Care taken of him, I promise ye.— A hopeful young Gentleman, by the Honour of Spain.— Diego! follow to my Closet, there I'll make thee sensible of my Design. Exeunt. Enter the Marchioness Elenora, meeting Orada. Elen, Dear Orada! bring'st thou Comfort, or must I remove from Barcelona to wild's and unfrequented Deserts, impenetrable Castles, and all the melancholy Mischiefs sprightly Youth can fear? Ora. I hope not, Madam; the Lord Camillus employs his Brain and all his busy Instruments, for your deliverance. Elen. Give me the Scheme of his Design, that I may guests at the Success. Ora. Madam,— my lord— Enter the Marquis. Elen. Take that— thou impudent Performer of my Tyrant's Will, striketh her. Ora. My Lord, you see what I suffer for your Service. Marq. But we'll be so revenged, Orada; when we have her wholly to ourselves, by Heaven, I'll bring that pampered Carcase down: The Roses shall wither in her wanton Cheeks; her Eyes, whose hot Beams dart Fire, grow dull and languid:— By all my Pangs of Jealousy, I'd rather clasp a Fiend, than Doubting Sleep by such an Angel. Elen. And 'tis thy Doubts, Old Man, not I, torment thee— Our Sex, like Water, glides along pleasant and useful; but if grasped by a too violent Hand, unseen they slip away, and prove the fruitless Labour vain. Marq. To Waters, Waves, and Rocks most justly may you be campared;— but I want time to hold an Argument.— Prepare this Night for your remove,— I am fixed,— your Jewels, Equipage and all put up. Elen. Let my Slaves take care of that,— What need have I of Jewels, Ornaments, or Dress, condemned to Cells and everlasting Solitudes? Enter a Servant. Seru. My Lord, a Country Fellow is very importunate to speak with you. Marq. Bring him in,— Mistress, you to your Chamber. You hear the man's Business is with me. Elen. May it prove a vexatious one, I beseech Heaven. Exit. Enter Hidewell. Marq. — Oh, my honest Fruiterer, what brought you hither? Hidew. Why, an't shall please ye,— a marvellous thing has happed since I see ye last,— a perilous Contrivance, by th'Mess,— as I hope for Margery, I ne'er see the like. Marq. The matter, Friend! Hidew. Nay, Gadsores, 'tis so strange, I can't tell whether I was asleep or dreamed, or no. Marq. Prithee tell me quickly; what Wonder hast thou met with, Fellow? Hidew. Sir, I'm but a poor Fellow; but, as Neighbour Touch has it, I can zee into a Millstone, as var as another man. Marq. Talk to the purpose, or I shall grow tired:— is it any thing concerning me or my Honour? Hidew. Ay, ay, Sir, you don't know the bottom of this Plot. Marq. Nor the top on't neither,— dallying Fool, proceed. Hidew. Nay, you'll know it soon enough:— Han't you a very handsome Wife, buxom and free, as the Saying is? Marq. Oh the Devil, lies it there? Well! what follows? Hidew. I●ags, Cuckoldom, ch'am afraid, Sir,— for coming out of this Hause, there meets me a waundy handsome Fellow, Gadsores,— he had the swinginst— what d'ye call't.— Marq. Perruque, d'ye mean? Hidew. Ay, udslid! our biggest Bushel, that's kept on purpose for the Masters of the Measures to zee, would not,— no, i sack's, ch'um zure— it would not cover it. Marq. Did he inquire after my Wife? Hidew, By my troth he did.— Friend, says he, do you go often to that House?— Mahap I do,— mahap I do not, said I, what's that to you? Nay,— no harm, quoth he; and thereupon slipped a piece of Gold into my Hand.— I must confess that softened me,— and he went on,— Dost thou not know an old jealous, freakish, confounded Marquis lives there? Pray ye now daned be angry, Sir,— I use but his own words. Marq. No, no, go on. Hidew. And has he not, quoth he, a young lovely Wise?—. And then he run on with hard words, I could not conceive for above a quarter of an hour, though I was wise enough to pick it out, that he was Amoured on her. Marq. Confound him, confound him! Hidew. Quoth he,— Canst thou convey a Letter to her?— Why how now mon, zed I, who dost take me for, a Pimp? No, no, ch'am no Pimp,— an I war choued ha' better Cloas o' my Back,— by th' Mess, chall do none o' your Bawdy Messages, not I; Do't yourself, an you will, for Tim. With that he drew his Sword, and I very vairly took up Heels, and run away, for ch'am very veard of a naked Sword. Marq. Couldst thou not discover his Name? Hidew. His Zervants called him— Count— a— Cam— Cam— Cam— ch'am zure 'twas zummot about Cam. Marq. (starting) What,— Camillus! Hidew. Ay, ay, that's it, that's it, in troth. Marq. Oh, I am ruin'd, blown up, undone! Camillus has his Pockets crammed with Gold;— he'll bribe the World to take his part:— Then that Contract— so firm and sure,— I lose her, and what I value more, her large Fortune.— Orada, what shall I do? Ora. Suppose ye remove my Lady in a Litter, without any of your own Attendance,— for indeed I fear he'd waylay all the Roads.— My Lord, she may be got many Leagues this night, and when in safety, you may send back for your Equipage. Marq. Many Leagues! we'll go a Thousand,— for I'll be with her, and force her speed. Ora. (aside) That I suspected. Hidew. Sir, Sir, here i may serve ye, for I keep a Litter, as well as sell Fruit. Marq. Oh! thou'rt an honest Fellow; and, fear not, you shall be rewarded beyond your Wishes:— Come in,— I'll give thee an Order for one of my best Horses, because my Servants shall not suspect 'tis for myself. Orada! get your Lady ready,— 'tis now near Night, and it shall be done with speed. Exit. Ora. Be sure you lame the Horse now; for as soon as the Litter has lost sight of the Marquis, we return into the City, and towards the Morning escape in a Felucca already ordered,— whilst the disappointed Marquis is Hunting the Roads in vain. Hidew. Madam, I desire none of your Directions, I am perfect Master of my Trade.— I cannot but think how bravely I shall maintain thee. Girl; for Money comes rolling in. Ora. Mind your Business, and think of Fooling afterwards. Exeunt. SCENE, a Chamber. The Scene draws, and discovers Col. Peregrine upon a Bed, and his Man by him. Col. I begin to grow damnable weary of nursing up this no Wound; I wish the dear Angel would but come, and heal the real Wound my Heart endures. Seru. Truly Sir, I should have but little Stomach to a Mistress, if I were in your circumstances:— What! attempt to Cuckold a Spanish Governor in his own House! Col. Peace Coward, and see who's coming. Seru. Sir, Sir, 'tis my Lord Governor. Col. Well, well— Oh! oh! oh! Enter Governor and Diego; speaks aside to Diego. Gou. Diego! unobserved secure that Sword, Hat, and Perruque,— I shall have use for't. Dieg. Yes, my Lord. Col. Oh, oh, oh! Gou. How d'ye, Sir? Col. Oh, very bad,— just, just fainting. Seru. Please ye to have some Cordial, Sir? Col. A little, if ye will. Gou. And are not you a damned dissembling handsome Toad— Answer me that now,— answer me that. What! corrupt the Wife of my Bosom, my Darling Tittup! break the Laws of Hospitality! Well,— thou'rt a desperate Fellow, I protest;— design to Cuckold one that hopes to be a Grandee of Spain!— Abominable, by St. jaques! Come, come, get up; your Wound's not mortal, I'll engage. Col. I'm so confounded, I know not what to say. Seru. Ay, I thought 'twould come to this,— Now shall I be tossed in a Blanket, burnt, drowned, hanged! Col. Be quiet, Rascal, and be damned! Gou. What, you're out of humour, Sir! I must confess, 'tis a plaguy disappointment. Come, in short, I'll use ye much better than you ought to expect. Go with haste and privacy to your Lodgings, and the Town shall know nothing of the matter:— Your Wig and other Accoutrements shall be sent after ye; but I must use 'em first. Col. My Lord, I beg your Pardon for this Attempt; you know ' ● has been no more. Gou. Your Goodwill was not wanting, thanks to your whoring Stars. Col. Tho' unarmed, I will not stir from hence, if you practise a thousand Cruelties upon me, unless I have your Promise, that you will not hurt your Wife.— I have Honour, tho' the Rules are now transgressed. Nor can I leave a Lady (whom my Love has enticed) to the Resentments of a Spanish Husband. Gou. An Honourable Dog, as I hope to be saved! by all that's sacred, I will not hurt her; only she must remain deprived of that Liberty, which, against our Country's Custom, I had given her. Col. That I'm sorry for; but cannot ask more. Gou. But I shall ask you to be gone.— Diego— get one of my closest Chairs, and let him be conveyed home, as sick. Col. Oh, I could tear my Flesh. Gou. No, no, fast and mortify it. Col. I own you generous, but have not the Heart to thank you. Gou. I tell ye once again— your Absence will best express your Acknowledgement. Col. Your Servant. Gou. Oh, your very humble Servant, sweet Friend in a corner!— Now, Diego! help to equip me. Exit Colonel. Dieg. My Lord! Gou. The Perruque, the Perruque block— oh, how the amorous Rogue has perfumed it,— the Pulvil, Essence, and Powder o'ercomes me. Dieg. My Lord, may I presume to tell ye,— your black Beard, and that white Perruque look very disagreeable. Gou. No matter, the Curtains will hide that.— Now go to my Wife, and tell her, I am gone to the Castle, to see the Guards relieved, and shall sup there.— Tell her also, I desire she would visit the wounded Colonel in my absence.— Exit Diego.— Now I shall find if Tittup knew the bottom on't, and were consenting to this Roguery. Throws himself on the Bed. Enter his Lady, and Spywell her Woman. Lady. Oh, we are happy beyond what we could expect; my Husband sups at the Castle to night,— yet I tremble every Limb of me:— I swear I love this old Governor, and nothing but this charming Englishman could have tempted me to break my Vows. Spyw. Madam, you walk and talk, you know not where— you are in his Chamber. Goes towards his Bed. Lady. — My Love, my Life, wilt thou not meet me? there is no further need of Counterfeiting. Governor leaps up, and snatches her Hand. Gou. Ungrateful Tittup! His Lady. (shrieking) Ah! Gou. How couldst thou serve me so? Lady. Phogh, I knew 'twas you, and did it on purpose to make you jealous. Gou. A pies, a pies, no, no, you did not know 'twas I:— I would be deceived, but cannot. Lady. Oh, what must I expect? Gou. Diego!— first turn this Baggage out o' doors,— and d'ye hear Mistress,— if ye tattle of these Affairs, I'll have ye poisoned,— else ye are free and safe. Spyw. Madam, farewell; I can't excuse myself. Lady. Now my Turns a coming. Gou. Ah Tittup! whither, whither art thou fallen? Lady. (crying) No, Deary, not fallen, I was but staggering— and you caught me Deary. Gou. For which I humbly conceive, you wish me hanged, Deary. Lady. Indeed, indeed Deary, I'm glad my Honour's safe;— I never had an Inclination before, and never will again, if you forgive me. Gou. I'll take care you shall never have another Opportunity; your back Apartments must be your Prison, and an old Dovegna your Companion, till Time and Age have wrought off your loose Desires. No more hoity toity,— no more appearing at Windows,— dining at Deary's Table, and dancing after it for Digestion.— I say, Tittup, all these Vanities must be forgotten. Lady. Oh! stab me first! Let me not be a May-game to all my Servants, who by my Confinement would guests at my Disgrace. You used to swear you loved your Tittup— I never did a Fault before, but what a Frown might punish— Now let me experience your boasted Fondness; and take me to your Heart, with kind relenting smiles— else leave me distracted on the Earth in endless fears bemoaning my Indiscretion, and your Cruelty. Gou. (aside.) I feel I begin to mollify! To her. Oh, Tittup, Tittup! Thou hast been a Baggage! a very Baggage— by the Honour of Spain! Lady. I confess I have been frail— But I will be forgiven, so I will— I'll hang about thy Neck; nor leave the dear Place till my Pardon's signed. Gou. What! Give you again your Freedom to see another Colonel, and be again betrayed? Lady. No; there is not such another Colonel. Gou. How, Tittup! Lady. Not such a Tempter; such a Seducer, I meant. Gou. Thou pretty Epitome of Woman's weakness— I dare not trust thee— Tittup— you must retire. Lady. Do, lock me up; and next moment you are gone, I'll hang myself in my own Garters, so I will.— Can you behold your Tittup hanged? her Eyes gogling, her Mouth, you have bussed so often, gaping; and her Legs dangling three Yards above Ground?— This is the Sight you must expect. Gou. Oh! I can't bear the thoughts on't— Stand farther off— farther yet— that I may rush upon thee with all the vigour of Sixteen, and clasp thee from such a Danger— Thou resistless Ruler of a doting, fond, old Fool!— Here— I forgive thee— but if after this, I catch ye staggering, expect no Mercy. Lady. By the new Joys, your returning Kindness brings me, I'll die first! Gou. The World may blame my Conduct; but then— they know not Tittup's Charms; the Power of her Eyes, and Pleasure of her Arms.— I cannot raise my Voice to sing, yet— hum!— No; Gad, zooks, 'twon't do. Lady. Henceforth Good Humour shall supply thy want of Youth, You shall be always kind, I full of Truth. Exeunt hugging. SCENE, a Hall. Enter Elenora, and Orada. Elen. Do we succeed, my dear Orada? Ora. Beyond expectation, Madam— within some moments, you are in Camillus' Arms.— Hidewell is gone for a well-appointed Litter, which wheels but round, whilst Hidewell plays Tricks with my Lord; and then carries you to the English Embassador's. Elen. Now my Desires are so near fulfilling, I begin to fear 'em— yet I know Camillus is Honourable. Ora. All's Honourable. The House is Honourable, the Lady Honourable: Fear nothing, but in, and Pray for our Success— I think I hear my Lord— You must be sure to seem very unwilling. Elen. I'll warrant ye. Exit. Enter the Marquis. Marq. Is your Lady ready? Ora. Yes, my Lord. But, good Lord! what a life have I had with her— I believe she has thrown Fifty things at my Head— She swears she won't go like a Thief in the Night. Marq. Oh! when the Litter comes, we'll do well enough for that— I'll make her go, or leave her dead upon the place.— Dost thou think none of the Servants perceive our Preparations at this Backdoor? Ora. My Lord, there's no Danger— 'tis so far through the Gardens; and now we have these Apartments, their People never come at 'em. Enter Hidewell. Marq. Here comes my trusty Fellow well! hast go a Litter? Hide. Ay; and by th' Mess, an able one too— I worn ye Mon, afore day, we be passed whistling after. Ora. Friend, you never talked to a Lord in your life, I suppose. Marq. Pho, pho! 'tis all well— Is the Horse for me ready too? Hide. Just by the Litter, my Lord!— my Lord— i fackens it saunds rarely. Marq. Call Elenora. Ora. I will venture— but Heavens! how I shall be used! Exit, and Re-enter with Elenora.— Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain disputing it; for you must and shall. Hide. A vine Dame, by th' Mess! Elen. Commanded by my Slave! Monster! whither dost thou intend to have me at this dead hour of Night? to Death, I hope. Marq. To Death, if you resist— Orada, hall her along. Ora. I think I do pull her— I believe her Arm will come off. Hide. Why law ye, Mistress— daned be so veard— Ye shall come to no hort— ay have had vine Vokes in my Litter' vore naw. Elen. Away, Fool! leave haling me— I will go— thou cruel Devil! Marq. Come, I'll see her in the Litter; and then take Horse. Exeunt. Re-enter Marquis and Hidewell. Marq. Sirrah! Sirrah! where's my Horse? Hide. My Lord! my Lord! Marq. Sot! Dunce! my Horse! Hide. Why a— why a— I tied him to the Pales— and 'tis so waundy dark without, I cannot find him. Marq. Fly and search! Bid the Litter go softly: I'll o'ertake 'em. Hide. I'm gone, I'm gone— (Comes back.)— My Lord, must I bring him hither? Marq. Eternal Fool! Call to me, and I'll come out. Hide stopping. Udsookers! ' ch'am zummat a veard. Marq. This Fellow will make me mad— Beast! will ye stir! Hide. Ch'ave heard Vokes talk of Ghosts, so I have, about the Park Pales. Marq. Rascal! I'll make a Ghost o' thee; if thou dost not go, or direct me, where my Horse is. Hide. I run, I run! Exit. The Marquis following him. Hidewell crosses the Stage running: the Marquis within cries, Where are ye? Hide. I'll lead him a Dance— Here, here! Exit. Within. Here, here! Marq. A Pox, where? The Marquis Entering.— Oh! the Devil! I can't wag a step further! I have lost sight of him, and the Litter; and am lamed into the Bargain— I hope Orada, observed my Directions for the Road— The Pass I gave 'em, lets 'em through the City Gates: If this Fool would come once, I should soon overtake 'em.— Numps, Fool! Are ye coming? Hidewell within. O Lard! O Lard! ch'am an undone, Mon! Gh'am an undone, Mon! Marq. What's the matter? Enter Hidewell leaning on his Stick; as soon as he comes in, he falls down, and roars out. Hide. Oh! Oh! Oh! Marq. What ails the Fellow? Where's my Horse? Hide. A Murrain, a Plague take your Horse— ch'am maimed for ever— For getting up to make haste, he has thrown me, and broke my Leg. Oh, my poor Wife and Children! they must to the Parish— Then Margery— how she'll take on! for, to zay truth, I loved her better than my Wife— Oh! Oh! Oh! Marq. The Devil take thee, and all thy Family, for an unlucky Dog! I see, I must call up my Servants at last. Exit. Hidewell, getting up. Farewell, sweet Signior! for, by this time, your Lady's in safe Hands. Exit hastily singing. Enter the Marquis. Marq. Pedro! Olonzo! Valasco! Pedro. Did you call, my Lord? Marq. Yes. A Fellow has broke his Leg— You must wake monsieur Cureclap, my French Surgeon— and, Olonzo, give Orders to my Grooms this moment, to prepare two Horses; Valasco shall go with me. Pedro. My Lord! what Fellow? Where is he? Why, here's no body! Marq. (looking about.) Gone! Hell and Furies! A Plot upon my Honour, my Life, my Wife, my Estate! Murder! Murder! Saddle all my Horses; get what Friends Money will purchase; search every Road— my Estate! my Wife! Hell and Damnation! Enter Governor, with a Letter in his hand: His Lady, Diego, and Servants. Gou. So! the Cry's up again— but Heaven be thanked, 'tis almost over now— What's the matter, my Lord Marquis? Marq. Ruined, undone for ever! My Wife's Run away! Lady. How! Run away! That's worse than I, Deary. Gou. I know not: 'Tis according as you prove, Tittup— A bad Wife's better lost than found. Lady. Unkind Deary. Marq. My Lord, burying all Animosities, I beg you would assist me now. I shall run mad— my Wife, nay more, a great Estate, lost! lost! Gou. My Lord, you must be pacified— I've ill News to tell you— there's a Letter sent me from Rome, by the Cardinal Patron of Spain; that you stole a Young Lady, firmly contracted to a Noble Roman Count: Also His Majesty's Order to put the Lady in a Monastery, till your Cause is tried. Marq. I'll Hang myself! I'll Drown myself! I'll Bury myself alive! Dogs,! Whelps! get me Cords, Knives, Poison, Sword, and Fire. Exit Raving. Gou. The Man's distracted— Diego, after; and persuade him. Lady. 'Tis a just Judgement on him, Deary, for being so Jealous. Gou. Ay, Tittup; when Women never give any cause, you know, Tittup. Lady. Hump! Enter a Gentleman. Gent. Sir, my Lord Camillus a sends to give you an Account, that he expects the Lady Elenora at the English Embassador's. He hears, by an Express, your Honour has Orders from the King relating to her; to which he willingly submits. Gou. An honest Lad, by the Honour of Spain— Tell him, Friend, I'll wait on him immediately at the Embassador's. Lady. Deary. Exit Gentleman. Gou. What now! That begging looks put on for something. Lady. Let me go with you, and see the Embassador's Lady, and the Marchioness, and— Gou. — And the English Colonel. Ha! why, Tittup, canst thou look me in the Face, and ask this?— By the Honour of Spain, I believe this Hoity, Toity will desire me to admit him for her Gallant. Lady. Truly, Deary, if the Colonel is there, you shall hear me charge him, never to see me more. Gou. A new way, Tittup! to go into a man's Company, to forbid him your sight! Come— thou shalt along! and— Sings. If with Horns my Kindness thou dost repay, I'll Punish thee some unknown, uncommon way, Nor hear whate'er thy Charming Tongue can say, SCENE changes to the English Embassador's. Camillus' meeting Elenora and Orada: Runs and Embraces Elenora. Cam. My Elenora! art thou here! do I hold thee fast, thou choicest Blessing of my Youth! Elen. Witness my Heart, which strongly beats, how much I'm pleased in my Camillus' Arms! But, Oh! I blush, when I remember I am another's Wife. Cam. No more o''at; the Cardinal's my Friend, and has promised a Divorce immediately— Therefore Crown my Joys with Smiles, and forget past Dangers. Elen. I can say only this: I love ye— Cam. And not descending Angels, with all their Heavenly Tunes, could Charm like that dear sound!— safe in a Monastery thou shalt remain, till the Dispute is ended. And then— Oh! thou blessed Charmer— then all my Sufferings shall be liberally paid; and longing Love Revel in Feasts of unutterable Delight.— Nor art thou forgot, dear Orada, but, whilst I have Life, shalt be used like a Friend, and Mistress of my Fortunes. Orad. I humbly thank your Honour, and heartily rejoice at my good Lady's Happiness. Cam. Poor Hidewell!— I hope he is in safety.— Enter Hidewell. Hidew. — Yes; and here, at your Honour's service,— tho' I have had a broken Leg, and two or three other Misfortunes,— but all's well now, and I can dance for Joy. Cam. Thou art a witty Rogue,— and henceforward shalt ha' no occasion to expose thyself, ● I'll provide for thee like a Gentleman. Hidew. I'm your ready Slave,— D' ye hear that, Mrs. Scornful? (To Orada) how d' ye like my Parts and Person now? Ora. Troth I've seen so much between my Lady and the Count, that my Mouth almost waters. Hidew. We shall soon agree, I find. Cam. My dear Elenora, the Ambassador's Lady sends A Lady enters and whispers Camillus. word, her Husband is gone for a few days to hunt: she is very ill, but that all things in her House are at your service. Elen. To morrow I'll wait on her. Enter Colonel Peregrine. Cam. Oh, my dear Friend! here's the lovely Prize, which so well deserves the Pains I have taken. Col. A charming Lady!— My Lord, you are a happy man. Cam. How goes your affair, and what's become of the obliging Friar? Col. Nay, Heaven knows! the Story is too long to tell; only this: I found the old Lord generous, and resolve to attempt his Wife no more. Cam. I'm glad on't— in your Age you never will repent an uncommitted Sin. Elen. That Governor's Lady seemed a pretty good-humoured Creature; therefore, my Tyrant, let me see her but once Enter Friar Andrew, his Clothes torn, and covered with Dirt, and his Face scratched. Cam. Who have we here! Oh Heavens! Father Andrew! Col. What! my Hector thus used! Hidew. What has befallen thee, oh thou weak Brother? Fri. (angrily) What has befallen me! you may behold what has befaln me; Dirt, Wounds, and Disgrace.— The Ladies may live in Rat-Traps, or die o' the Pips, for Father Andrew's Assistance again. Hidew. Look, forward Undertaker and wretched Performer, there the Lady stands, delivered by me! Elen. My Lord, is not this the Friar brought your first Letter, after I was married, whom the Marquis caught and abused? Cam. The same, Madam Hidew. I said he had unfortunate lines, but he would take no warning. Elen. Not to encourage any thing that's ill, but because you have suffered in my Cause, there's a Cordial will revive the Heart, and wash out all Stains. Gives him a Purse of Gold. Col. For me you have suffered too; and I beg you would accept of this. Gives him more. Fri. Spite of Vows, in this Necessity there's no refusing such a Favour. Cam. Come, Father, cheer up yourself, have recourse to your old Friend Malaga,— I'll provide for ye, that you shall go thro no more Dangers. Fri. By St. Dominick, I had not need; for I have almost lost my Life in this. Enter a Servant. Seru. Sir, the Governor of Barcelona is come to wait on ye. Cam. God's me— in, Father! you would not see him, I suppose. Fri. See him! I'd sooner see the Devil:— Well, I'll get a pretty Wench to wash me without, and good store of Malaga within, and try to forget past Sorrows. Exit. Enter Governor and his Lady, Arm in Arm. Gou. My Lord, your Servant. Cam. Yours in all Obedience. Gou. (aside)— Yonder he stands,— the Ogling Rogue! I thought so.— My Lord Camillus, before I talk to you, pray give me leave for some few words with that Gentleman. Cam. With all my Heart. Gou. Sir! Col. My Lord! Gou. Nay, o'th' tother side, if you please,— Now, Tittup, speak what you promised. Lady. Colonel Peregrine, my Lord has been so good to forgive me what is past; and I desire, for the future, as you are a Gentleman, you would, after this night, never see me more. Col. Madam, I obey. Gou. And d'ye hear,— if ye prove a Man of Honour, about Threescore Years hence I may leave ye Tittup for a Legacy, and abundance of Wealth, a World of Wealth, by the Honour of Spain.— Nay, 'tis worth staying for. Col. Threescore years hence, quotha! Gou. Now, my Lord Camillus, to you and the Lady. They go aside. Hidew. I wish we had some Music,— since our Success, I can't keep my Heels on the Ground. Col. If the Company agree to it, I can procure my Lord Ambassador's, and send for my own. Hidew. I'll motion it presently. Elen. I freely submit, and will retire to what Monastery you appoint. I hope my future Conduct will satisfy the World of my Innocency. Cam. And mine, of my Faith and Constancy. Col. What say ye now to Music and Dancing? Hidewell Songs. Cam. With all my Soul, this is a Jubilee, which I'll keep whilst I've life. Elen. But are we secure? Gou. Fear not, Madam; my Guards surround the House,— and am not I here? They all sit. Songs and Dances: Them over, the Company comes forward. Cam. Greatness was the Attendant of my Birth; But Love gives me Heaven upon Earth. These Comforts my Elenora does impart: Joy to my Eyes, sweet Raptures to my Heart. Gou. Like you, here stands a happy Man; And I'll keep my Tittup,— that is, if I can. FINIS.