Act V
Scene 1
Sir Timothy’s House
Enter Dresswell, Foppington, Laboir, and five or six more disguised with Vizards and dark Lanthorns
Foppington
Not yet! a plague of this damn’d Widow: The Devil ow’d him an unlucky Cast, and has thrown it him to night. [Enter Wilding in Rapture and Joy]−− Hah, dear Tom, art thou come?
Tom Wilding
I saw how at her length she lay!
I saw her rising Bosom bare!
Foppington
A Pox of her rising Bosom! My dear, let’s dress and about our Business.
Tom Wilding
Her loose thin Robes, through which appear
A Shape design’d for Love and Play!
Dresswell
Sheart, Sir, is this a time for Rapture? ’tis almost day.
Tom Wilding
Ah, Frank, such a dear Night!
Dresswell
A Pox of Nights, Sir, think of this and the Day to come: which I perceive you were too well employ’d to remember.
Tom Wilding
The Day to come!
Death, who cou’d be so dull in such dear Joys,
To think of Time to come, or ought beyond ’em!
And had I not been interrupted by Charles Meriwill, who, getting drunk, had Courage enough to venture on an untimely Visit, I’d had no more power of returning, than committing Treason: But that conjugal Lover, who will needs be my Cuckold, made me then give him way, that he might give it me another time, and so unseen I got off. But come −− my Disguise. [Dresses]
Dresswell
All’s still and hush, as if Nature meant to favour our Design.
Tom Wilding
‘Tis well: and hark ye, my Friends, I’ll prescribe ye no Bounds, nor Moderation; for I have consider’d, if we modestly take nothing but the Writings, ’twill be easy to suspect the Thief.
Foppington
Right; and since ’tis for the securing our Necks, ’tis lawful Prize −− Sirrah, leave the Portmantle here. [Exeunt as into the House]
After a small time, Enter Jervice undres’d, crying out, pursu’d by some of the Thieves
Jervice
Murder, Murder! Thieves, Murder!
Enter Wilding with his Sword drawn
Tom Wilding
A plague upon his Throat; set a Gag in’s Mouth and bind him, though he be my Uncle’s chief Pimp – so—[They bind and gag him]
Enter Dresswell, and Laboir.
Dresswell
Well, we have bound all within hearing in their Beds, e’er they cou’d alarm their Fellows by crying out.
Tom Wilding
‘Tis well; come, follow me, like a kind Midnight−Ghost, I will conduct ye to the rich buried Heaps −− this Door leads to my Uncle’s Apartment; I know each secret Nook conscious of Treasure. [All go in, leaving Jervice bound on the Stage]
Enter Sensure running half undress’d, as from Sir Timothy’s Chamber, with his Velvet−Coat on her Shoulders
Mrs. Sensure
Help, help! Murder! Murder! [Dresswell, Laboir and others pursue her]
Dresswell
What have we here, a Female bolted from Mr. Alderman’s Bed? [Holding a Lanthorn to her Face]
Mrs. Sensure
Ah, mercy, Sir, alas, I am a Virgin.
Dresswell
A Virgin! Gad and that may be, for any great Miracles the old Gentleman can do.
Mrs. Sensure
Do! alas, Sir, I am none of the Wicked.
Dresswell
That’s well −− The sanctify’d Jilt professes Innocence, yet has the Badge of her Occupation about her Neck. [Pulls off the Coat]
Mrs. Sensure
Ah, Misfortune, I have mistook his Worship’s Coat for my Gown. [A little Book drops out of her Bosom]
Dresswell
What have we here? A Sermon preacht by Richard Baxter, Divine. Gad a mercy, Sweetheart, thou art a hopeful Member of the true Protestant Cause.
Mrs. Sensure
Alack, how the Saints may be scandaliz’d! I went but to tuck his Worship up.
Dresswell
And comment upon the Text a little, which I suppose may be, increase and multiply −− Here, gag, and bind her. [Exit Dresswell]
Mrs. Sensure
Hold, hold, I am with Child!
Laboir
Then you’ll go near to miscarry of a Babe of Grace.
Enter Wilding, Foppington and others, leading in Sir Timothy in his Night−gown and Night−Cap
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Gentlemen, why, Gentlemen, I beseech you use a Conscience in what you do, and have a feeling in what you go about −− Pity my Age.
Tom Wilding
Damn’d beggarly Conscience, and needless Pity −−
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Oh, fearful −− But, Gentlemen, what is’t you design? is it a general Massacre, pray? or am I the only Person aim’d at as a Sacrifice for the Nation? I know, and all the World knows, how many Plots have been laid against my self, both by Men, Women, and Children, the diabolical Emissaries of the Pope.
Tom Wilding
How, Sirrah! [Fiercely, Sir Timothy starts]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Nay, Gentlemen, not but I love and honour his Holiness with all my Soul; and if his Grace did but know what I’ve done for him, d’ye see −−
Foppington
You done for the Pope, Sirrah! Why, what have you done for the Pope?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Why, Sir, an’t like ye, I have done you very great Service, very great Service; for I have been, d’ye see, in a small Tryal I had, the cause and occasion of invalidating the Evidence to that degree, that I suppose no Jury in Christendom will ever have the Impudence to believe ’em hereafter, shou’d they swear against his Holiness and all the Conclave of Cardinals.
Tom Wilding
And yet you plot on still, cabal, treat, and keep open Debauch, for all the Renegado−Tories and old Commonwealthsmen to carry on the good Cause.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Alas, what signifies that! You know, Gentlemen, that I have such a strange and natural Agility in turning −− I shall whip about yet, and leave ’em all in the Lurch.
Tom Wilding
‘Tis very likely; but at this time we shall not take your Word for that.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Bloody−minded Men, are you resolv’d to assassinate me then?
Tom Wilding
You trifle, Sir, and know our Business better, than to think we come to take your Life, which wou’d not advantage a Dog, much less any Party or Person −− Come, come, your Keys, your Keys.
Foppington
Ay, ay, discover, discover your Money, Sir, your ready −−
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Money, Sir, good lack, is that all? [Smiling on ’em] Why, what a Beast was I, not knowing of your coming, to put out all my Money last Week to Alderman Draw−tooth? Alack, alack, what shift shall I make now to accommodate you? −− But if you please to come again to morrow −−
Foppington
A shamming Rogue; the right Sneer and Grin of a dissembling Whig. Come, come, deliver, Sir; we are for no Rhetorick but ready Money. [Aloud and threatning]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Hold, I beseech you, Gentlemen, not so loud; for there is a Lord, a most considerable Person, and a Stranger, honours my House to night; I wou’d not for the world his Lordship shou’d be disturb’d.
Tom Wilding
Take no care for him, he’s fast bound and all his Retinue.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
How, bound! my Lord bound, and all his People! Undone, undone, disgrac’d! What will the Polanders say, that I shou’d expose their Embassador to this Disrespect and Affront?
Tom Wilding
Bind him, and take away his Keys. [They bind him hand and foot, and take his Keys out of his Bosom. Exeunt all]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Ay, ay, what you please, Gentlemen, since my Lord’s bound −− Oh, what Recompence can I make for so unhospitable Use? I am a most unfortunate Magistrate: hah, who’s there, Jervice? Alas, art thou here too? What, canst not speak? but ’tis no matter and I were dumb too; for what Speech or Harangue will serve to beg my Pardon of my Lord? −− And then my Heiress, Jervice, ay, my rich Heiress, why, she’ll be ravisht: Oh Heavens, ravisht! The young Rogues will have no Mercy, Jervice; nay, perhaps as thou say’st, they’ll carry her away. −− Oh, that thought! Gad, I rather the City−Charter were lost. [Enter some, including Foppington, with Bags of Money] −− Why, Gentlemen, rob like Christians, Gentlemen.
Foppington
What, do you mutter, Dog?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Not in the least, Sir, not in the least; only a Conscience, Sir, in all things does well −− Barbarous Rogues. [They go out all again] Here’s your arbitrary Power, Jervice; here’s the Rule of the Sword now for you: These are your Tory Rogues, your tantivy Roysters; but we shall cry quits with you, Rascals, ere long; and if we do come to our old Trade of Plunder and Sequestration, we shall so handle ye −− we’ll spare neither Prince, Peer, nor Prelate. Oh, I long to have a slice at your fat Church−men, your Crape−Gownorums.
Enter Wilding, Dresswell, Laboir, and the rest, with more Bags
Tom Wilding
A Prize, a Prize, my Lads, in ready Guineas; Contribution, my beloved.
Dresswell
Nay, then ’tis lawful Prize, in spite of Ignoramus and all his Tribe −− What hast thou here? [To Foppington who enters with a Bag full of Papers]
Foppington
A whole Bag of Knavery, damn’d Sedition, Libels, Treason, Successions, Rights and Privileges, with a new−fashion’d Oath of Abjuration, call’d the Association. −− Ah, Rogue, what will you say when these shall be made publick?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Say, Sir? why, I’ll deny it, Sir; for what Jury will believe so wise a Magistrate as I cou’d communicate such Secrets to such as you? I’ll say you forg’d ’em, and put ’em in −− or print every one of ’em, and own ’em, as long as they were writ and publisht in London, Sir. Come, come, the World is not so bad yet, but a Man may speak Treason within the Walls of London, thanks be to God, and honest conscientious Jury−Men. And as for the Money, Gentlemen, take notice you rob the Party.
Tom Wilding
Come, come, carry off the Booty, and prithee remove that Rubbish of the Nation out of the way −− Your servant, Sir. −− So, away with it to Dresswell‘s Lodgings, his Coach is at the Door ready to receive it. [Some carry off Sir Timothy, and others take up the Bags, and go out with ’em]
Dresswell
Well, you are sure you have all you came for?
Tom Wilding
All’s safe, my Lads, the Writings all −−
Foppington
Come, let’s away then.
Tom Wilding
Away? what meanest thou? is there not a Lord to be found bound in his Bed, and all his People? Come, come, dispatch, and each Man bind his Fellow.
Foppington
We had better follow the Baggage, Captain.
Tom Wilding
No, we have not done so ill, but we dare shew our Faces. Come, come, to binding.
Foppington
And who shall bind the last Man?
Tom Wilding
Honest Laboir, d’ye hear, Sirrah? you get drunk and lay in your Clothes under the Hall−Table; d’ye hear me? Look to’t, ye Rascal, and carry things discreetly, or you’ll be hang’d, that’s certain. [Exeunt Wilding and Dresswell]
Foppington
So, now will I i’th’ Morning to Charlot, and give her such a Character of her Love, as if she have Resentment, makes her mine. [Exit Foppington]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
[Calls within] Ho, Jenkins, Roger, Simon! where are these Rogues? none left alive to come to my Assistance? So ho, ho, ho, ho! Rascals, Sluggards, Drones! so ho, ho, ho!
Laboir
So, now’s my Cue −− and stay, I am not yet sober. [Puts himself into a drunken Posture]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Dogs, Rogues, none hear me? Fire, fire, fire!
Laboir
Water, water, I say; for I am damnable dry.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Hah, who’s there?
Laboir
What doleful Voice is that?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
What art thou, Friend or Foe? [In a doleful tone]
Laboir
Very direful −− why, what the Devil art thou?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
If thou’rt a Friend, approach, approach the wretched.
Laboir
Wretched! What art thou, Ghost, Hobgoblin, or walking Spirit? [Reeling in with a Lanthorn in’s Hand]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Oh, neither, neither, but mere Mortal, Sir Timothy Treat−all, robb’d and bound. [Coming out led by Laboir]
Laboir
How, our generous Host!
Sir Timothy Treat−all
How, one of my Lord’s Servants! Alas, alas, how cam’st thou to escape?
Laboir
E’en by miracle, Sir; by being drunk, and falling asleep under the Hall−Table with your Worship’s Dog Tory, till just now a Dream of Small−beer wak’d me: and crawling from my Kennel to secure the black Jack, I stumbled upon this Lanthorn, which I took for one, till I found a Candle in’t, which helps me to serve your Worhsip. [Goes to unbind his Hands]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Hold, hold, I say; for I scorn to be so uncivil to be unbound before his Lordship: therefore run, Friend, to his Honour’s Chamber, for he, alas, is confined too.
Laboir
What, and leave his worthy Friend in distress? by no means, Sir.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Well then, come, let’s to my Lord, whom if I be not asham’d to look in the Face, I am an errant Sarazen. [Exeunt Sir Timothy and Laboir]
Scene 2
Changes to Wilding’s Chamber
Wilding is discover’d sitting in a Chair bound, his Valet bound by him; to them Sir Timothy and Laboir
Tom Wilding
Peace, Sirrah, for sure I hear some coming −− Villains, Rogues! I care not for my self, but for the good pious Alderman. [Sir Timothy as listening]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Wonderful Goodness, for me! Alas, my Lord, this sight will break my Heart. [Weeps]
Tom Wilding
Sir Timothy safe! nay, then I do forgive ’em.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Alas, my Lord, I’ve heard of your rigid Fate.
Tom Wilding
It is my Custom, Sir, to pray an Hour or two in my Chamber, before I go to Bed; and having pray’d that drousy Slave asleep, the Thieves broke in upon us unawares, I having laid my Sword aside.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Oh, Heavens, at his Prayers! damn’d Ruffians, and wou’d they not stay till you had said your Prayers?
Tom Wilding
By no Persuasion −− Can you not guess who they shou’d be, Sir?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Oh, some damn’d Tory−rory Rogues, you may be sure, to rob a Man at his Prayers! why, what will this World come to?
Tom Wilding
Let us not talk, Sir, but pursue ’em. [Offering to go]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Pursue ’em! alas, they’re past our reach by this time.
Tom Wilding
Oh, Sir, they are nearer than you imagine: some that know each Corner of your House, I’ll warrant.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Think ye so, my Lord? ay, this comes of keeping open House; which makes so many shut up their Doors at Dinner−time.
Enter Dresswell
Dresswell
Good Morrow, Gentlemen! what, was the Devil broke loose to night?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Only some of his Imps, Sir, saucy Varlets, insupportable Rascals −− But well, my Lord, now I have seen your Lordship at liberty, I’ll leave you to your rest, and go see what Harm this night’s Work has done.
Tom Wilding
I have a little Business, Sir, and will take this time to dispatch it in; my Servants shall to Bed, though ’tis already day −− I’ll wait on you at Dinner.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Your time; my House and all I have is yours; and so I take my Leave of your Lordship. [Exit Sir Timothy]
Tom Wilding
Now for my angry Maid, the young Charlot;
‘Twill be a Task to soften her to Peace;
She is all new and gay, young as the Morn,
Blushing as tender Rose−Buds on their Stalks,
Pregnant with Sweets, for the next Sun to ravish.
−− Come, thou shalt along with me, I’ll trust thy Friendship. [Exeunt]
Scene 3
Changes to Diana’s Chamber
Diana is discover’d dressing, with Betty
Diana
Methinks I’m up as early as if I had a mind to what I’m going to do, marry this rich old Coxcomb.
Betty
And you do well to lose no time.
Diana
Ah, Betty, and cou’d thy Prudence prefer an old Husband, because rich, before so young, so handsom, and so soft a Lover as Wilding?
Betty
I know not that, Madam; but I verily believe the way to keep your young Lover, is to marry this old one: for what Youth and Beauty cannot purchase, Money and Quality may.
Diana
Ay, but to be oblig’d to lie with such a Beast; ay, there’s the Devil, Betty. Ah, when I find the difference of their Embraces,
The soft dear Arms of Wilding round my Neck.
From those cold feeble ones of this old Dotard;
When I shall meet, instead of Tom‘s warm kisses,
A hollow Pair of thin blue wither’d Lips,
Trembling with Palsy, stinking with Disease,
By Age and Nature barricado’d up
With a kind Nose and Chin;
What Fancy or what Thought can make my Hours supportable?
Betty
What? why six thousand Pounds a Year, Mistress. He’ll quickly die, and leave you rich, and then do what you please.
Diana
Die! no, he’s too temperate −− Sure these Whigs, Betty, believe there’s no Heaven, they take such care to live so long in this World −− No, he’ll out−live me. [Sighs]
Betty
In Grace a God he may be hang’d first, Mistress −− Ha, one knocks, and I believe ’tis he. [She goes to open the Door]
Diana
I cannot bring my Heart to like this Business;
One sight of my dear Tom wou’d turn the Scale.
Betty
Who’s there?
Enter Sir Timothy joyful; Diana walks away.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
‘Tis I, impatient I, who with the Sun have welcom’d in the Day;
This happy Day to be inroll’d
In Rubrick Letters and in Gold.
−− Hum, I am profoundly eloquent this Morning. [Aside]
−− Fair Excellence, I approach – [Going toward her]
Diana
Like Physick in a Morning next one’s Heart; [Aside]
Which, though it be necessary, is most filthy loathsom. [Going from him]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
What, do you turn away, bright Sun of Beauty? −− Hum, I’m much upon the Suns and Days this Morning.
Diana
It will not down. [Turning on him, looks on him, and turns away]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Alas, ye Gods, am I despis’d and scorn’d?
Did I for this ponder upon the Question,
Whether I should be King or Alderman? [Heroickly]
Diana
If I must marry him, give him Patience to endure the Cuckolding, good Heaven. [Aside]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Heaven! did she name Heaven, Betty?
Betty
I think she did, Sir.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
I do not like that: What need has she to think of Heaven upon her Wedding−day?
Diana
Marriage is a sort of Hanging, Sir; and I was only making a short Prayer before Execution.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Oh, is that all? Come, come, we’ll let that alone till we’re abed, that we have nothing else to do. [Takes her Hand]
Diana
Not much, I dare swear.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
And let us, Fair one, haste; the Parson stays; besides, that heap of Scandal may prevent us −− I mean, my Nephew.
Diana
A Pox upon him now for naming Wilding. [Weeps]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
How, weep at naming my ungracious Nephew? Nay, then I am provok’d −− Look on this Head, this wise and Reverend Head; I’d have ye know, it has been taken measure on to fit it to a Crown, d’ye see.
Diana
A Halter rather. [Aside]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Ay, and it fits it too: and am I slighted, I that shall receive Billet−Doux from Infantas? ’tis most uncivil and impolitick.
Diana
I hope he’s mad, and then I reign alone. [Aside]
Pardon me, Sir, that parting Tear I shed indeed at naming Wilding,
Of whom my foolish Heart has now ta’en leave,
And from this Moment is intirely yours.
[Gives him her Hand, they go out followed by Betty]
Scene 4
Changes to a Street
Enter Charlot, led by Foppington, follow’d by Mrs. Clacket
Charlot
Stay, my Heart misgives me, I shall be undone. −− Ah, whither was I going? [Pulls her Hand from Foppington]
Foppington
Do, stay till the News arrives that he is married to her that had his Company to night, my Lady Galliard.
Charlot
Oh! Take heed lest you sin doubly, Sir.
Foppington
By Heaven, ’tis true, he past the Night with her.
Charlot
All night! what cou’d they find to do?
Mrs. Clacket
A very proper Question; I’ll warrant you they were not idle, Madam.
Charlot
Oh, no; they lookt and lov’d and vow’d and lov’d, and swore eternal Friendship −− Haste, haste, and lead me to the Church, the Altar; I’ll put it past my Power to love him more.
Foppington
Oh, how you charm me! [Takes her by the Hand]
Charlot
Yet what art thou? a Stranger to my Heart.
Wherefore, ah why, on what occasion shou’d I?
Mrs. Clacket
Acquaintance, ’tis enough, I know him, Madam, and I hope my Word will be taken for a greater matter in the City: In troth you’re beholden to the Gentleman for marrying you, your Reputation’s gone.
Charlot
How, am I not honest then?
Mrs. Clacket
Marry, Heaven forbid! But who that knows you have been a single Hour in Wilding‘s Hands, wou’d not swear you have lost your Maidenhead? And back again I’m sure you dare not go unmarried; that wou’d be a fine History to be sung to your eternal Fame in a Ballad.
Foppington
Right; and you see Wilding has left you for the Widow, to whom perhaps you’ll shortly hear he’s married.
Charlot
Oh, you trifle, Sir; lead on. [They going out, meet Sir Anthony with Musick: they return]
Sir Anthony Meriwill
Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the House, and this the Window belonging to my Lady’s Bed−chamber: Come, come, let’s have some neat, soft, brisk, languishing, sprightly Air now.
Foppington
Old Meriwill −− how shall I pass by him! [Stands by]
Sir Anthony Meriwill
So, here’s Company too; ’tis very well −− Not have the Boy? I’ll warrant this does the Business −− Come, come, screw up your Chitterling. [They play]
−− Hold, hold a little −− Good morrow, my Lady Galliard
−− Give your Ladyship Joy.
Charlot
What do I hear, my Lady Galliard joy’d?
Foppington
How, married her already?
Charlot
Oh, yes, he has. Lovely and false, hast thou deceiv’d my Faith?
Mrs. Clacket
Oh, Heavens, Mr. Foppington, she faints. −− ah me! [They hold her, Musick plays]
Enter Wilding and Dresswell, disguis’d as before
Tom Wilding
Ah, Musick at Galliard‘s Door!
Sir Anthony Meriwill
Good morrow, Sir Charles Meriwill: give your Worship and your fair Lady Joy.
Tom Wilding
Hah, Meriwill married the Widow!
Dresswell
No matter; prithee advance, and mind thy own Affairs.
Tom Wilding
Advance, and not inquire the meaning on’t!
Bid me not eat, when Appetite invites me;
Not draw, when branded with the Name of Coward;
Nor love, when Youth and Beauty meet my Eyes −−
Hah!—[Sees Sir Charles come into the Balcony undrest]
Sir Charles Meriwill
Good morrow, Uncle. Gentlemen, I thank ye: Here, drink the King’s Health, with my Royal Master’s the Duke. [Gives ’em Money]
Tom Wilding
Heaven bless your Honour, and your virtuous Bride.
Foppington
Wilding! undone. [Shelters Charlot, that she may not see Wilding]
Tom Wilding
Death and the Devil, Meriwill above!
Sir Anthony Meriwill
Ah, the Boy’s Rival here! By George, here may be breathing this Morning −− No matter, here’s two to two; come, Gentlemen, you must in. [Thrusts the Musick in, and goes in]
Dresswell
Is’t not what you expected? nay, what you wisht?
Tom Wilding
What then? it comes too suddenly upon me −−
E’er my last Kiss was cold upon her Lips,
Before the pantings of her Breast were laid,
Rais’d by her Joys with me; Oh, damn’d deluding Woman!
Dresswell
Be wise, and do not ruin where you love.
Tom Wilding
Nay, if thou com’st to reasoning, thou hast lost me. [Breaks from him, and runs in]
Charlot
I say ’twas Wilding‘s Voice, and I will follow it.
Foppington
How, Madam, wou’d you after him?
Charlot
Nay, force me not; by Heaven, I’ll cry a Rape,
Unless you let me go −− Not after him!
Yes, to the infernal Shades −− Unhand me, Sir.
Foppington
How, Madam, have you then design’d my Ruin?
Charlot
Oh, trust me, Sir, I am a Maid of Honour. [Runs in after Wilding]
Mrs. Clacket
So; a Murrain of your Projects, we’re all undone now: For my part I’ll e’en after her, and deny to have any hand in the Business. [Goes in]
Foppington
Damn all ill Luck, was ever Man thus Fortune−bit, that he shou’d cross my Hopes just in the nick? But shall I lose her thus? No, Gad, I’ll after her; and come the worst, I have an Impudence shall out−face a Middlesex Jury, and out−swear a Discoverer. [Goes in]
Scene 5
Changes to a Chamber
Enter Lady Galliard, pursued by Sir Charles, and Footman
Lady Galliard
Sirrah, run to my Lord Mayor’s, and require some of his Officers to assist me instantly; and d’ye hear, Rascal, bar up my Doors, and let none of his mad Crew enter. [To the Footman who is going]
Sir Charles Meriwill
William, you may stay, William.
Lady Galliard
I say, obey me, Sirrah.
Sir Charles Meriwill
Sirrah, I say −− know your Lord and Master.
William
I shall, Sir. [Goes out]
Lady Galliard
Was ever Woman teaz’d thus? pursue me not.
Sir Charles Meriwill
You are mistaken, I’m disobedient grown, Since we became one Family; and when I’ve us’d you thus a Week or two, you will Grow weary of this peevish fooling.
Lady Galliard
Malicious thing, I wo’not, I am resolv’d I’ll tire thee out merely in spite, to have the better of thee.
Sir Charles Meriwill
I’m as resolv’d as you, and do your worst, For I’m resolv’d never to quit thy House.
Lady Galliard
But, Malice, there are Officers i’th’ City, that will not see me us’d thus, and will be here anon.
Sir Charles Meriwill
Magistrates! why, they shall be welcome, if they be honest and loyal; if not, they may be hang’d in Heaven’s good time.
Lady Galliard
Are you resolv’d to be thus obstinate?
Fully resolv’d to make this way your Conquest?
Sir Charles Meriwill
Most certainly, I’ll keep you honest to your Word, my Dear −− I’ve Witness −−
Lady Galliard
You will?
Sir Charles Meriwill
You’ll find it so.
Lady Galliard
Then know, if thou darest marry me, I will so plague thee, be so reveng’d for all those Tricks thou hast play’d me –
−− Dost thou not dread the Vengeance Wives can take?
Sir Charles Meriwill
Not at all: I’ll trust thy Stock of Beauty with thy Wit.
Lady Galliard
Death, I will cuckold thee.
Sir Charles Meriwill
Why, then I shall be free o’th’ Reverend City.
Lady Galliard
Then I will game without cessation, till I’ve undone thee.
Sir Charles Meriwill
Do, that all the Fops of empty Heads and Pockets may know where to be sure of a Cully; and may they rook ye till ye lose, and fret, and chafe, and rail those youthful Eyes to sinking; watch your fair Face to pale and withered Leanness.
Lady Galliard
Then I will never let thee bed with me, but when I please.
Sir Charles Meriwill
For that, see who’ll petition first, and then I’ll change for new ones every Night. [Enter William]
William
Madam, here’s Mr. Wilding at the Door, and will not be deny’d seeing you.
Lady Galliard
Hah, Wilding! Oh, my eternal Shame! now thou hast done thy worst.
Sir Charles Meriwill
Now for a Struggle ‘twixt your Love and Honour!
−− Yes, here’s the Bar to all my Happiness,
You wou’d be left to the wide World and Love,
To Infamy, to Scandal, and to Wilding;
But I have too much Honour in my Passion,
To let you loose to ruin: Consider and be wise.
Lady Galliard
Oh, he has toucht my Heart too sensibly. [Aside]
Sir Anthony Meriwill
[Within] As far as good Manners goes I’m yours;
But when you press indecently to Ladies Chambers, civil
Questions ought to askt, I take it, Sir.
Lady Galliard
To find him here, will make him mad with Jealousy, and in the Fit he’ll utter all he knows: Oh, Guilt, what art thou! [Aside]
Enter Wilding and Dresswell
Dresswell
Prithee, dear Wilding, moderate thy Passion.
Tom Wilding
By Heaven, I will; she shall not have the Pleasure to see I am concern’d [Aside] −− Morrow, Widow; you are early up, you mean to thrive, I see, you’re like a Mill that grinds with every Wind.
Sir Charles Meriwill
Hah, Wilding, this that past last Night at Sir Timothy‘s for a Man of Quality? Oh, give him way, Wilding‘s my Friend, my Dear, and now I’m sure I have the Advantage of him in my Love. I can forgive a hasty Word or two.
Tom Wilding
I thank thee, Charles −− what, you are married then?
Lady Galliard
I hope you’ve no Exception to my Choice. [Scornfully]
Tom Wilding
False Woman, dost thou glory in thy Perfidy? [To her aside angrily]
−− Yes, Faith, I’ve many Exceptions to him – [Aloud]
Had you lov’d me, you’d pitcht upon a Blockhead,
Some spruce gay Fool of Fortune, and no more,
Who would have taken so much Care of his own ill−favour’d
Person, he shou’d have had no time to have minded yours,
But left it to the Care of some fond longing Lover.
Lady Galliard
Death, he will tell him all! [Aside] Oh, you are merry, Sir.
Tom Wilding
No, but thou art wondrous false,
False as the Love and Joys you feign’d last Night. [In a soft tone aside to her]
Lady Galliard
Oh, Sir, be tender of those treacherous Minutes. [Softly to him]
−− If this be all you have to say to me – [Walking away, and speaking loud]
Tom Wilding
Faith, Madam, you have us’d me scurvily,
To marry, and not give me notice. [Aloud]
−− Curse on thee, did I only blow the Fire
To warm another Lover? [To her softly aside]
Lady Galliard
Perjur’d −− was’t not by your Advice I married?
−− Oh, where was then your Love? [Softly to him aside]
Tom Wilding
So soon did I advise?
Didst thou invite me to the Feast of Love,
To snatch away my Joys as soon as tasted?
Ah, where was then you Modesty and Sense of Honour? [Aside to her in a low tone]
Lady Galliard
Ay, where indeed, when you so quickly vanquisht? [Soft]
−− But you, I find, are come prepared to rail. [Aloud]
Tom Wilding
No, ’twas with thee to make my last Effort against your scorn. [Shews her the Writings]
And this I hop’d, when all my Vows and Love,
When all my Languishments cou’d nought avail,
Had made ye mine for ever. [Aloud]
Enter Sir Anthony, pulling in Sir Timothy and Diana
Sir Anthony Meriwill
Morrow, Charles; Morrow to your Ladyship: Charles, bid Sir Timothy welcome; I met him luckily at the Door, and am resolv’d none of my Friends shall pass this joyful Day without giving thee Joy, Charles, and drinking my Lady’s Health.
Tom Wilding
Hah, my Uncle here so early? [Aside]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
What, has your Ladyship serv’d me so? How finely I had been mump’d now, if I had not took Heart of Grace, and shew’d your Ladyship Trick for Trick? for I have been this Morning about some such Business of Life too, Gentlemen: I am married to this fair Lady, the Daughter and Heiress of Sir Nicholas Gett−all, Knight and Alderman.
Tom Wilding
Ha, married to Diana!
How fickle is the Faith of common Women! [Aside]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Hum, who’s here, my Lord? What, I see your Lordship has found the way already to the fair Ladies; but I hope your Lordship will do my Wedding−dinner the Honour to grace it with your Presence.
Tom Wilding
I shall not fail, Sir.
A Pox upon him, he’ll discover all. [Aside]
Lady Galliard
I must own, Sir Timothy, you have made the better Choice.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
I cou’d not help my Destiny; Marriages are made in Heaven, you know.
Enter Charlot weeping, and Clacket.
Charlot
Stand off, and let me loose as are my Griefs, Which can no more be bounded: Oh, let me face The perjur’d, false, forsworn!
Lady Galliard
Fair Creature, who is’t that you seek with so much Sorrow?
Charlot
Thou, thou fatally fair Inchantress. [Weeps]
Tom Wilding
Charlot! Nay, then I am discover’d. [Aside]
Lady Galliard
Alas, what wou’dst thou?
Charlot
That which I cannot have, thy faithless Husband.
Be Judge, ye everlasting Powers of Love,
Whether he more belongs to her or me.
Sir Anthony Meriwill
How, my Nephew claim’d! Why, how now, Sirrah, have you been dabling here?
Sir Charles Meriwill
By Heaven, I know her not. −− Hark ye, Widow, this is some Trick of yours, and ’twas well laid: and Gad, she’s so pretty, I cou’d find in my Heart to take her at her word.
Lady Galliard
Vile Man, this will not pass your Falshood off.
Sure, ’tis some Art to make me jealous of him,
To find how much I value him. [Aside]
Sir Charles Meriwill
Death, I’ll have the Forgery out;
−− Tell me, thou pretty weeping Hypocrite, who was it set thee on to lay a Claim to me?
Charlot
To you! Alas, who are you? for till this moment I never saw your Face.
Lady Galliard
Mad as the Seas when all the Winds are raging.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Ay, ay, Madam, stark mad! Poor Soul −− Neighbour, pray let her lie i’th’ dark, d’ye hear.
Sir Charles Meriwill
How came you, pretty one, to lose your Wits thus?
Charlot
With loving, Sir, strongly, with too much loving.
−− Will you not let me see the lovely false one? [To Lady Galliard]
For I am told you have his Heart in keeping.
Lady Galliard
Who is he? pray describe him.
Charlot
A thing just like a Man, or rather Angel!
He speaks, and looks, and loves, like any God!
All fine and gay, all manly, and all sweet:
And when he swears he loves, you wou’d swear too
That all his Oaths were true.
Sir Anthony Meriwill
Who is she? some one who knows her and is wiser, speak −− you, Mistress. [To Clacket]
Mrs. Clacket
Since I must speak, there comes the Man of Mischief: ‘Tis you, I mean, for all your Leering, Sir. [To Wilding]
Tom Wilding
So.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
What, my Lord?
Mrs. Clacket
I never knew your Nephew was a Lord: Has his Honour made him forget his Honesty? [Charlot runs, and catches him in her Arms]
Charlot
I have thee, and I’ll die thus grasping thee;
Thou art my own, no Power shall take thee from me.
Tom Wilding
Never; thou truest of thy Sex, and dearest,
Thou soft, thou kind, thou constant Sufferer,
This moment end thy Fears; for I am thine.
Charlot
May I believe thou art not married then?
Tom Wilding
How can I, when I’m yours?
How cou’d I, when I love thee more than Life?
Now, Madam, I am reveng’d on all your Scorn, [To Lady Galliard]
−− And, Uncle, all your Cruelty.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Why, what, are you indeed my Nephew Thomas?
Tom Wilding
I am Tom Wilding, Sir, that once bore some such Title, till you discarded me, and left me to live upon my Wits.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
What, and are you no Polish Embassador then incognito?
Tom Wilding
No, Sir, nor you no King Elect, but must e’en remain as you were ever, Sir, a most seditious pestilent old Knave; one that deludes the Rabble with your Politicks, then leaves ’em to be hang’d, as they deserve, for silly mutinous Rebels.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
I’ll peach the Rogue, and then he’ll be hang’d in course, because he’s a Tory. One comfort is, I have cozen’d him of his rich Heiress; for I’m married, Sir, to Mrs. Charlot.
Tom Wilding
Rather Diana, Sir; I wish you Joy: See here’s Charlot. I was not such a Fool to trust such Blessings with the Wicked.
Sir Charles Meriwill
How, Mrs. Dy Ladyfi’d! This is an excellent way of disposing an old cast−off Mistress.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
How, have I married a Strumpet then?
Diana
You give your Nephew’s Mistress, Sir, too coarse a Name. ‘Tis true, I lov’d him, only him, and was true to him.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Undone, undone! I shall ne’er make Guildhall−Speech more: but he shall hang for’t, if there be e’er a Witness to be had between this and Salamanca for Money.
Tom Wilding
Do your worst, Sir; Witnesses are out of fashion now, Sir, thanks to your Ignoramus Juries.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Then I’m resolv’d to disinherit him.
Tom Wilding
See, Sir, that’s past your Skill too, thanks to my last Night’s Ingenuity; they’re [Shews him the Writings] sign’d, seal’d, and deliver’d in the presence of, &c.
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Bear Witness, ’twas he that rob’d me last night.
Sir Anthony Meriwill
We bear witness, Sir, we know of no such matter we. I thank you for that, Sir; wou’d you make Witnesses of Gentlemen?
Sir Timothy Treat−all
No matter for that, I’ll have him hang’d, nay, drawn and quarter’d.
Tom Wilding
What, for obeying your Commands, and living on my Wits?
Sir Anthony Meriwill
Nay, then ’tis a clear Case, you can neither hang him or blame him.
Tom Wilding
I’ll propose fairly now; if you’ll be generous and pardon all, I’ll render your Estate back during Life, and put the Writings in Sir Anthony Meriwill‘s and Sir Charles his Hands −−
I have a Fortune here that will maintain me,
Without so much as wishing for your Death.
All.
This is but Reason.
Sir Charles Meriwill
With this Proviso, that he makes not use on’t to promote any Mischief to the King and Government.
All.
Good and Just. [Sir Timothy pauses]
Sir Timothy Treat−all
Hum, I’d as good quietly agree to’t, as lose my Credit by making a Noise. −− Well, Tom, I pardon all, and will be Friends. [Gives him his Hand]
Sir Charles Meriwill
See, my dear Creature, even this hard old Man is mollify’d at last into good Nature; yet you’ll still be cruel.
Lady Galliard
No, your unwearied Love at last has vanquisht me. Here, be as happy as a Wife can make ye −− One last look more, and then −− be gone, fond Love. [Sighing and looking on Wilding, giving Sir Charles her Hand]
Sir Charles Meriwill
Come, Sir, you must receive Diana too; she is a cheerful witty Girl, and handsome, one that will be a Comfort to your Age, and bring no Scandal home. Live peaceably, and do not trouble your decrepid Age with Business of State.
Let all things in their own due Order move,
Let Cæsar be the Kingdom’s Care and Love;
Let the hot−headed Mutineers petition,
And meddle in the Rights of just Succession:
But may all honest Hearts as one agree
To bless the King, and Royal Albany. [Exeunt]
EPILOGUE. Written by a Person of Quality: Spoken by Mrs. Boteler
My Plot, I fear, will take but with a few,
A rich young Heiress to her first Lover true!
‘Tis damn’d unnatural, and past enduring,
Against the fundamental Laws of Whoring.
Marrying’s the Mask, which Modesty assures,
Helps to get new, and covers old Amours;
And Husband sounds so dull to a Town−Bride,
Ye now−a−days condemn him e’er he’s try’d;
E’er in his Office he’s confirm’d Possessor,
Like Trincaloes you chuse him a Successor,
In the gay Spring of Love, when free from Doubts,
With early Shoots his Velvet Forehead sprouts,
Like a poor Parson bound to hard Indentures,
You make him pay his First−fruits e’er he enters.
But for short Carnivals of stoln good Cheer,
You’re after forc’d to keep Lent all the Year;
Till brought at last to a starving Nun’s Condition,
You break into our Quarters for Provision;
Invade Fop−corner with your glaring Beauties,
And ‘tice our Loyal Subjects from their Duties.
Pray, Ladies, leave that Province to our Care;
(A Fool is the Fee−simple of a Player,
In which we Women claim a double share.)
In other things the Men are Rulers made;
But catching Woodcocks is our proper Trade.
If by Stage−Fops they a poor Living get,
(We can grow rich, thanks to our Mother−Wit,
By the more natural Blockheads of the Pit.)
Take then the Wits, and all their useless Prattles;
But as for Fools, they are our Goods and Chattels.
Return, Ingrates, to your first Haunt the Stage;
We taught your Youth, and help’d your feeble Age.
What is’t you see in Quality we want?
(What can they give you which we cannot grant?
We have their Pride, their Frolicks, and their Paint.)
We feel the same Youth dancing in our Blood;
Our Dress as gay −− All underneath as good.
Most Men have found us hitherto more true,
(And if we’re not abus’d by some of you,
We’re full as fair −− perhaps as wholesom too.)
But if at best our hopeful Sport and Trade is,
And nothing now will serve you but great Ladies;
May question’d Marriages your Fortune be,
And Lawyers drain your Pockets more than we:
May Judges puzzle a clear Case with Laws,
And Musquetoon at last decide the Cause.
