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Title: Love's Contrivance
Date of first publication:
Author: Susanna Centlivre (1667-1723)
Date first posted: June 9, 2017
Date last updated: June 9, 2017
Faded Page eBook #20170621

This eBook was produced by: Delphine Lettau
& the online Distributed Proofreaders Canada team at http://www.pgdpcanada.net




LOVE's CONTRIVANCE:

OR,

_Le Medecin malgre Lui_.


A COMEDY.

  As it is Acted at the
  THEATRE ROYAL IN _DRURY-LANE_.




THE PREFACE.


_Writing is a kind of Lottery in this fickle Age, and Dependence on
the Stage as precarious as the Cast of a Die; the Chance may turn up,
and a Man may write to please the Town, but 'tis uncertain, since we
see our best Authors sometimes fail. The Criticks cavil most about
Decorums, and cry up_ Aristotle's _Rules as the most essential part
of the Play. I own they are in the right of it; yet I dare venture a
Wager they'll never persuade the Town to be of their Opinion, which
relishes nothing so well as Humour lightly tost up with Wit, and drest
with Modesty and Air. And I believe Mr._ Rich _will own, he got more
by the_ Trip to the Jubilee, _with all its Irregularities, than by the
most uniform Piece the Stage cou'd boast of e'er since. I do not say
this by way of condemning the Unity of Time, Place, and Action; quite
contrary, for I think them the greatest Beauties of a Dramatick Poem;
but since the other way of writing pleases full as well, and gives the
Poet a larger Scope of Fancy, and with less Trouble, Care, and Pains,
serves his and the Player's End, why should a Man torture, and wrack
his Brain for what will be no Advantage to him. This I dare engage,
that the Town will ne'er be entertained with Plays according to the
Method of the Ancients, till they exclude this Innovation of Wit and
Humour, which yet I see no likelihood of doing. The following Poem I
think has nothing can disoblige the nicest Ear; and tho' I did not
observe the Rules of_ Drama, _I took peculiar Care to dress my Thoughts
in such a modest Stile, that it might not give Offence to any. Some
Scenes I confess are partly taken from_ Moliere, _and I dare be bold
to say it has not suffered in the Translation: I thought 'em pretty
in the French, and cou'd not help believing they might divert in an
English Dress. The French have that light Airiness in their Temper,
that the least Glimpse of Wit sets them a laughing, when 'twou'd not
make us so much as smile; so that where I found the stile too poor,
I endeavoured to give it a Turn; for whoever borrows from them, must
take care to touch the Colours with an English Pencil, and form the
Piece according to our Manners. When first I took those Scenes of_
Moliere's, _I designed but three Acts; for that Reason I chose such
as suited best with Farce, which indeed are all of that sort you'll
find in it; for what I added to 'em, I believe my Reader will allow
to be of a different Stile, at least some very good Judges thought
so, and in spite of me divided it into five Acts, believing it might
pass amongst the Comedies of these Times. And indeed I have no reason
to complain, for I confess it met a Reception beyond my Expectation.
I must own myself infinitely obliged to the Players, and in a great
Measure the Success was owing to them, especially Mr._ Wilks, _who
extended his Faculties to such a Pitch, that one may almost say he
out-play'd himself; and the Town must confess they never saw three
different Characters by one Man acted so well before, and I think
myself extremely indebted to him, likewise to Mr._ Johnson, _who in his
way I think the best Comedian of the Age_.




PROLOGUE.


  _Poets like Mushrooms rise and fall of late,_
    _Or as th' uncertain Favourites of State,_
  _Inventions rack'd to please both Eye and Ear,_
  _But no Scene takes without the moving Player:_
  _Daily we see Plays, Pamphlets, Libels, Rhimes,_
  _Become the Falling-Sickness of the Times;_
  _So feverish is the Humour of the Town,_
  _It surfeits of a Play ere three Days run._
  _At_ Locket's, Brown'_s, and at_ Pontack'_s enquire,_
  _What modish Kick-shaws the nice Beaus desire,_
  _What fam'd Ragouts, what new-invented Sallad_
  _Has best Pretensions to regale the Palate._
  _If we present you with a Medley here,_                  }
  _A hodge podge Dish sev'd up in_ China _Ware,_           }
  _We hope 'twill please, 'cause like your Bills of Fare._ }
  _To please you all we shou'd attempt in vain,_
  _In diff'rent Persons diff'rent Humours reign._
  _The Soldier's for the rattl'ng Scenes of War,_
  _The peaceful Beau hates shedding Blood so near._
  _Courtiers in Com'dy place their chief Delight,_
  _'Cause Love's the proper Bus'ness of the Night._
  _The Clown for Pastoral his half Crown bestows,_         }
  _But t'other House by sad Experience knows,_             }
  _This polish'd Town produces few of those._              }
  _The Merchant is for Traffick ev'ry where,_
  _And values not the best, but cheapest Ware:_
  _Since various Humours are pleas'd various ways,_
  _A Critick's but a Fool to judge of Plays._
  _Fool did I say? 'Tis difficult to know_
  _Who 'tis that's so indeed, or is not so:_
  _If that be then a Point so hard to gain,_
  _Wit's sure a most profound unfathom'd Main._
  _He that sits Judge, the Trident ought to sway,_        }
  _To know who's greatest Fool or Wit to-day,_            }
  _The Audience, or the Author of the Play._              }




EPILOGUE.


  _What, if to end this Fortune-telling Play,_
    _I tell you all your Fortunes here to-day;_
  _And, faith, to judge by here and there a Face,_
  _Fortune has Fav'rites scatter'd in this Place:_
  _The Beaus, whose Garb of late such Lustre darts,_
  _To draw fair Ladies Eyes, and break poor Tradesmen's Hearts,_
  _Their Fortune is what still attends the Great,_
  _Still borrowing, still dunn'd, and still in Debt._
  _Pit-masks this Season are grown mighty bare._
  _They scarce got Pattens to ply round May-Fair._
  _But when the Term, and Winter comes again,_
  _Bawds, Brims, and Lawyers flourish bravely then._
  _Vintners and Taylors thro' such knavish Lives,_
  _With honest Cits, and virtuous City Wives;_
  _I fear (tho' wishing it might be uncivil)_
  _Like Pawn-Brokers, they'll all go to the Devil:_
  _The City 'Prentices, those upstart Beaus,_
  _In short spruce Puffs, and_ Vigo-_Colour Cloaths,_
  _Who with a Brace of Trulls stole here to-day,_
  _And muster'd up a Crown to see this Play;_
  _Lewdness and Gaming will run them aground,_
  _And Masters Cash fall short a hundred Pound._
  _Our upper Friends, whose Height Respect denotes,_
  _Since Liv'ries too are not unlike lac'd Coats,_
  _By coming will such Criticks grow at last,_
  _Nothing but Standard-Wit will please their Taste,_
  _Till learning here how well the Town's harangu'd,_
  _They'll make ingenious Speeches when they're hang'd._
  _Our Fidlers will be scraping as before,_               }
  _Spend ev'ry Groat they get upon a Whore,_              }
  _Lead merry Lives, damn'd shabby, and damn'd poor:_     }
  _But where at last they'll go, is hard to tell,_
  _For really they're too impudent for Hell._
  _The Ladies by their melting Looks, I see,_
  _Will die for Love, perhaps for Love of me;_
  _My Pity flows apace to save their Life,_
  _I cou'd be kind, but must not wrong my Wife._
  _But lastly for the Fortune of this Play,_
  _Humour's a Hazard, yet thus much I'll say,_
  _The Author purely for your Mirth design'd it,_
  _And whether good or bad, 'tis_----As you find it.




Dramatis Personæ.


  MEN.

  _Selfwill_, Father to _Lucinda_,         Mr. _Bullock_.

  Sir _Toby Doubtful_, an old City     }   Mr. _Johnson_.
  Knight in Love with _Lucinda_,       }

  _Bellmie_, a Gentleman in Love       }   Mr. _Wilks_.
  with _Lucinda_,                      }

  _Octavio_, his Friend, newly arrived }  Mr. _Mills_.
  from Travelling,                                   }

  _Martin_, formerly a servant to      }  Mr. _Norris_.
  _Bellmie_; but being poor is         }
  turn'd Faggot-maker,                 }


  WOMEN.

  _Lucinda_, Daughter to _Selfwill_,   } Mrs. _Rogers_.
  in Love with _Bellmie_,              }

  _Belliza_, her Cousin,                 Mrs. _Oldfield_.

  _Martin_'s Wife,                       Mrs. _Norris_.

  Servants.

  SCENE, _LONDON_.




  LOVE's CONTRIVANCE:
  OR,
  _Le Medecin malgre Lui_.




ACT I. SCENE. I.

     _Enter_ Selfwill _and_ Lucinda.

_Self._ Why! what Objection can you make, I say?

_Luc._ Objection, Sir!

_Self._ Ay, what Objection?

_Luc._ What Objection may one not make, Sir? He's old.

_Self._ He'll die the sooner, and leave you a rich Widow; then you may
marry whom you please.

_Luc._ I can't love him.

_Self._ Oh----that's not essential to a Wife; you can bear the Sight of
him, I suppose.

_Luc._ So I can of a Death's-Head, but I shou'd not care to have it bed
with me. In short, Sir, if you won't consider my Body, have some Pity
for my Soul, for I am certain I shall----

_Self._ Cuckold him, ha----let him look to that? whoever marries is a
Merchant Adventurer, and Hope is his best Friend; 'tis all but Chance,
and I suppose Sir _Toby_ han't traffick'd these thirty Years, but he
has met with some leaky Vessels in his Life-time; therefore, Daughter
of mine, this is no Excuse.

_Luc._ Oh Heav'n what shall I do! [_Aside_.] No Excuse, Sir! I hope you
won't be so barbarous as to force my Inclinations: I have ever been
a dutiful Child to you, never thought of Marriage till you yourself
persuaded me. You bad me encourage _Bellmie_'s Suit, as a Man you
design'd for my Husband: In Obedience to you I strove to love him, and
by Degrees he gain'd my Heart, which now is unalterably his; I ne'er
can love but him.

_Self._ You can't----with all my Heart, love him on, I don't bid you
hate him, nor love Sir _Toby_: You say Duty to me gave the first
Impression of your Love to _Bellmie_, then let your Duty give the
second, at my Command, to Sir _Toby_; for d'ye see, I am resolv'd you
shall ne'er see _Bellmie_, till you are his Wife, and so consider on't;
d'ye hear, to-morrow's the Day. [_Exit_.]

_Luc._ What shall I do?

     _Enter_ Belliza.

_Bell._ What! in Tears, _Lucinda_? What's the matter? Is my Uncle
obstinate?

_Luc._ As obstinately bent to my undoing, as the Romish Church to
Heresy; and much, I fear, 'tis not in my Power to stem the Tide of his
Resolutions, for he has no Consideration but Riches.

_Bell._ Well, were it my Case I know what I wou'd do.

_Luc._ There is no room left to do any thing; we are pent up to so
narrow a point of time, that I can turn no way for help.

_Bell._ And so you lie down and take what comes; a very pretty
Resolution in Extremity truly!

_Luc._ What wou'd you have me to do? My Father's immoveable, all my
Tears and Entreaties are thrown away upon him, he's fix'd in his
Design: Besides, I have not heard a Word from _Bellmie_ these two Days,
nor know I the Reason on't.

_Bell._ These two Days! there's a Lover indeed, he deserves to lose his
Mistress; does he consider what inconstant Things we Women are? Had he
been my Servant, o'my Conscience, I shou'd have forgot him the first
Day, and got a new one the second.

_Luc._ Indeed I shou'd be angry with him myself, did I think him guilty
of Indifference; but I'm persuaded 'tis not his Fault: Which way to
give him Notice of my Father's Proceedings, I know not; for I have been
so strictly watch'd these two Days, that I cannot so much as come at
Pen, Ink, or Paper.

_Bell._ Well, Girl, to shew you that I am a Well-wisher to your
Designs, I'll undertake the Embassy myself, if you'll give me your
Instructions.

_Luc._ You shew yourself a Friend in every thing; come into the next
Room and I'll give you 'em immediately. [_Exeunt_.]


SCENE, _the Street_.

     _Enter Sir_ Toby Doubtful _and Servants_.

Sir _Toby_. Do you hear, if any body brings me any Money, send for me
to Mr. _Selfwill_'s House immediately; but if any wants Money, tell 'em
I am not at home, nor shan't be all Day. [_Exit Servants_.]

     _Enter_ Octavio.

_Oct._ A very prudent Order, faith,----Sir _Toby_, your Servant.

Sir _Toby_. Mr. _Octavio_, I am heartily glad to see you; pray how long
have you been in _England_?

_Oct._ These six Months, but not one in Town; the last Bills you
transmitted me to _Cales_ brought me over. I was several times upon
Change, but cou'd not have the good Fortune to meet with you: Come,
shall we take a Bottle together.

Sir _Toby_. Another time, Sir, I shall be glad to crack a Bottle with
you, but at present I have a little pressing Business; and yet I cou'd
wish to stay now, for I have a little pressing Business upon my Hands,
wherein I shou'd be glad of a Friend's Advice----Now I know you are
a Man of Sense, and your Father was my particular Friend, and I have
a very great Respect for you as his Son, and wou'd rather take your
Advice than any Man's I know again; therefore we'll step into this
House, and I'll tell you what 'tis.

_Oct._ Oh! Sir _Toby_, you do me too much Honour; I'll promise to give
you the best Advice I'm capable of. Allons; so ho the House here!

     _Enter Drawer._

_Draw._ You are welcome, Gentlemen; will you be pleas'd to walk into a
Room?

     [_Exeunt, and enter again in a Room with a Table and Wine_.]

Sir _Toby_. Well, Mr. _Octavio_, before I tell you what it is, I
conjure you not to flatter me, but deal freely, and give your just
Thoughts of the Matter.

_Oct._ You may be certain I will.

Sir _Toby_. I think there can be nothing worse in a Friend, than not to
speak his Mind freely.

_Oct._ You are in the right.

Sir _Toby_. In this Age one finds but few Friends sincere.

_Oct._ That's true.

Sir _Toby_. Promise me then.

_Oct._ I promise you.

Sir _Toby_. Swear by your Faith you will.

_Oct._ Upon the Faith of a Friend I will; therefore pray tell me your
Business----What the Devil can all this mean? [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. Why then 'tis this; shall I do well to marry?

_Oct._ By the Injunction, I thought it was either Hanging or Marrying.
[_Aside_.] Who you! Sir _Toby_?

Sir _Toby_. Yes, myself in proper Person; what is your Advice upon that?

_Oct._ I pray before I give you my Opinion, tell me one thing.

Sir _Toby_. What's that?

_Oct._ What Age are you?

Sir _Toby_. What Age?

_Oct._ Ay.

Sir _Toby_. Faith I don't know; but I'm very well.

_Oct._ Can you guess near what Age?

Sir _Toby_. No, I never think of that.

_Oct._ Hark ye, Sir, how old were you when my Father was first
acquainted with you?

Sir _Toby_. Ha--how old?--why about twenty.

_Oct._ Very good; and how long were you together at Rome?

Sir _Toby_. Eight Years.

_Oct._ How long did you live in _France_?

Sir _Toby_. Seven Years.

_Oct._ You were some time in _Holland_ too.

Sir _Toby_. Five Years and a half.

_Oct._ And when did you come over again?

Sir _Toby_. I came over in eighty.

_Oct._ So, from eighty to seven hundred and one is 21 Years, I think;
and five Years in _Holland_, and seven Years in _France_, that is
thirty-three, and eight Years at _Rome_, that is forty-one, and twenty
Years you own at your first Acquaintance with my Father, which is just
three-score and one, by your own Confession, and it may be a Year or
two older.

Sir _Toby_. Who I, Mr. _Octavio_? No, no, it can't be, you have
reckon'd wrong.

_Oct._ Nay, I have calculated just I'll assure you; whereupon I shall
speak freely like a Friend; and as you made me swear to do----Marriage
won't do your Work, that's a thing we young Men ought to think
seriously on before we do it, but Men of your Age should never think
on't at all: If one would give the greatest Ill a Name 'tis Marriage,
I know nothing worse, especially to an old Man; therefore if you'll
take my Advice, don't think on't: I shou'd think that Man ridiculous
that wou'd keep open House for all Strollers, and yet is uncapable of
sharing the Diversion himself. No, no, my Friend, grey Hairs and a
bridal Bed are ridiculous Companions.

Sir _Toby_. Look ye, Sir, I ask'd your Advice as a Friend, and not to
be affronted.

_Oct._ And I gave it you as a Friend, Sir; I'm sure I design'd no
Affront, Sir _Toby_.

Sir _Toby_. Sir, I say my Hair is not grey with Age; for I was as grey
as I am now at twenty, and so was my Father before me.

_Oct._ Nay, Sir _Toby_, that may be, I protest I did not think any harm
when I spoke; you bid me speak my Mind freely, you know.

Sir _Toby_. I did so, but did not think you had been of this Opinion;
for I can assure you I shall marry, and the very Woman I design, and I
warrant she'll like me ne'er the worse for my grey Hairs, as you call
'em.

_Oct._ Perhaps the Lady may suit your Years, Sir _Toby_; if so, you'll
do well to marry.

Sir _Toby_. My Years----What do you mean, Mr. _Octavio_? I think any
Lady suits my Years----The Lady I design to marry is about twenty, and
I love her.

_Oct._ You love her!

Sir _Toby_. And I have her Father's Consent.

_Oct._ You have her Father's Consent!

Sir _Toby_. Yes; and the Match is concluded on, and is to be to-morrow.

_Oct._ Nay then marry a' God's Name; I shan't speak one Word more.

Sir _Toby_. Why, wou'd you have me fancy myself old, Sir, so long as I
have the Vigour of a Man of thirty: Don't I walk upright? [_Walks_.]
Nay, can dance a Minuet with e'er a young Fellow of you all, la, la,
lal, lara, lera, la. [_Skips and dances_.] My Legs don't fail me,
thank God: I have no need of a Coach nor Chair to carry me to my
Mistress.----And look you here, I have as good a Set of Teeth as e'er a
Beau in Christendom. [_Shews his Teeth_.] I have a very good Appetite
too, I can digest four Meals a Day, and am as sound as a Roach, Boy.
Hem, hem, hem. [_Coughs_.] Ha! what say you to these Symptoms, Friend?
Mayn't I venture to marry, think ye?

_Oct._ By all means, I was mistaken.

Sir _Toby_. Sometimes I am of another Mind; but when I think what a
Pleasure it will be to possess a young beautiful Creature that will
caress, and stroak, and fondle me when I am weary, and out of Humour.

_Oct._ That will cuckold you when she is in Humour. [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. Besides, when I die the Name of the _Doubtfulls_ is extinct
in the Male Line; therefore I'm resolv'd to beget a Boy, that shall
beget another Boy, and so bear up my Name to Posterity. Ah! what
Pleasure it will be to see the little Creatures playing about one's
Knees, and to hear one tell me the Boy has my Nose, another my Eyes,
the third my Mouth, and Smile; ha, ha.

_Oct._ While the Mother smiles, to think you had the least hand in the
getting it. [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. And then when I come from Change, to have 'em run and meet
me, and call Papa; 'tis surely the most agreeable Pleasure in the
World, and I hope to get half a dozen of 'em ere I die yet, Boy.

_Oct._ Father half a dozen, you mean, old Gentleman. [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. What say'st thou then, ha----Boy?

_Oct._ Oh! Sir, I wou'd counsel you to marry with all the haste you can.

Sir _Toby_. Good----you counsel me.

_Oct._ You can't do better.

Sir _Toby_. I'm overjoy'd to think that your Opinion jumps with mine. I
ever took you to be a Man of Sense----and you give this Counsel out of
pure Friendship?

_Oct._ I do upon my Word; for when a Man refuses to follow my Counsel,
I think the best thing I can do, is to advise him to follow his own.
But pray, Sir _Toby_, who is this Lady?

Sir _Toby. Lucinda._

_Oct._ What, the great Beauty?

Sir _Toby_. Yes, Sir.

_Oct._ Daughter to Mr. _Selfwill_.

Sir _Toby_. The same.

_Oct._ What do I hear? [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. What do you say?

_Oct._ A very noble Match.

Sir _Toby_. Had I not Reason in my Choice?

_Oct._ Oh! without doubt.----But I'm mistaken if you have her, old
Gentleman. [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. Well, I invite you to the throwing of the Stocking, Mr.
_Octavio_. Ha--you'll wish yourself in my Place, Boy.

_Oct._ I have a Friend will put you out of your Place, perchance, if
I come time enough to give him notice on't. [_Aside_.] I'll not fail;
Sir, your humble Servant.

Sir _Toby_. Sir, your very humble Servant. [_Exit_ Sir Toby.]

_Oct._ He to marry _Lucinda_ to-morrow, and by her Father's Consent!
Ah! poor _Bellmie_! But I must instantly go seek him, and let him know
his Affairs are in an ill posture at present. [_Exit_.]


_The_ SCENE _changes to the Street_.

     _Enter_ Martin _and his Wife_.

_Mar._ I say I won't work to-day; and if I say I won't I won't; and so
you had as good hold your Tongue.

_Wife._ 'Tis very fine indeed, a Woman must not speak.

_Mart._ I say 'tis my Business to speak, and act too; pray who am I? am
not I your Lord and Master?

_Wife._ And who am I, if you go to that? am not I the Wife of your
Bosom? What did I marry you for? to bear with all your mad Freaks? No,
no, I'd have you to know, I shall make you turn over a new Leaf.

_Mart._ Oh! the Plague of an ill Wife, as _Aristotle_ has well
observ'd, when he says, a bad Woman is worse than the Devil.

_Wife._ Pray observe this learned Man, with his musty Airs, that Man of
Parts.

_Mart._ Yes, Hussy, I am a Man of Parts; shew me e'er a----in
Town knows what I do; tho' I am forced to follow such a mechanick
Employment, I was brought up better. I lived six Years with Mr.
_Bellmie_, the most ingenious Gentleman about Town, in the Quality of a
_Valet de Chambre_: I read all his Books, and tho' I say it, had a very
good smattering of Philosophy, which Science my Master was an Admirer
of; and I say again, _Aristotle_ condemn'd you.

_Wife._ The Man's mad.

_Mart._ The Woman's mad, I think, or she'd never cross such a Husband.

_Wife._ Curs'd be the Hour I made you so, and double curs'd the Minute
I said yes. [_Cries_.]

_Mart._ Curs'd be the ---- that made me sign my Ruin.

_Wife._ Your Ruin! you have ruin'd me indeed, and almost brought me
upon the Parish; you have eat up all I brought tho' 'twas more than you
cou'd have expected with a Wife.

_Mart._ That's a Lie, for I have drank the greatest part of it.

_Wife._ You have e'en stript me of the Bed I lay upon.

_Mart._ You'll rise the earlier.

_Wife._ Nay, you han't left so much as one Moveable in the whole House.

_Mart._ That's another Lie, for I have left your Tongue; and as for
Goods, the fewer we have, the easier we shall remove.

_Wife._ And from Morning to Night do nothing but drink and play.

_Mart._ That's because I wou'd not wear myself out too soon with
Labour; for Labour overcomes every thing, you know.

_Wife._ And what do you think I shall do in the mean time with the
Family?

_Mart._ E'en what you please.

_Wife._ And, you Sot, must things always go thus?

_Mart._ Softly, good Wife, softly, if you please, good Words, I beseech
you.

_Wife._ Must I eternally be plagued with your Debauchery and Laziness?

_Mart._ You know, Wife, I am sometimes cholerick, and given to Passion,
and have a pair of very good Fists.

_Wife._ I scorn your Threats.

_Mart._ My good Wife, your Hide itches for a Dressing.

_Wife._ I'd have you to know I don't fear that. [_Striping her
Fingers_.]

_Mart._ Thou dear half of me, thou hast a mind to have something at my
Hands.

_Wife._ Do you think to fright me with your Words?

_Mart._ Sweet Object of my Eyes, I shall warm your Cheeks.

_Wife._ You Sot, who are you?

_Mart._ I shall beat you.

_Wife._ Drunkard.

_Mart._ Don't provoke me.

_Wife._ Infamous Fellow.

_Mart._ I shall curry your Jacket.

_Wife._ You curry my Jacket! Traytor, Cheat, Coward, Rascal, Thief,
Knave, Varlet, Informer!

_Mart._ Nay then----[_Beats her_.]

_Wife._ Ah! Murder, Murder, ah!----

     _Enter_ Octavio _with his Sword, and slaps_ Martin _o'er
     the Shoulders_.

_Oct._ How now! what Insolence is this? Are you not asham'd to beat a
Woman? ha!

_Wife._ May be I have a mind to be beaten, what's that to you? [_Coming
up to him_.]

_Oct._ Nay, if you have a mind to it, with all my Heart. [_Putting up
his Sword_.]

_Wife._ Pray why do you trouble yourself?

_Oct._ Good Woman, be patient, I have done.

_Wife._ Is it your Business?

_Oct._ No, truly.

_Wife._ Go, you are an impertinent Fellow.

_Oct._ I shall not speak one Word more, but heartily wish he had drub'd
her ten times as much. [_Aside_.]

_Wife._ Suppose I am pleased he shou'd beat me, I say, what's that to
you?

_Oct._ [_Nods only_.]

_Wife._ You are a Fool to trouble yourself with other Folks Business.

_Oct._ [_Nods again, then turns to Martin_.] Friend, I am sorry I
disturb'd your Diversion, but hope you know how to begin again.

_Mart._ May be I do, may be I do not, what's that to you, whether I do
or no?

_Oct._ That's true, as you say, neither do I care.

_Mart._ If I have a mind to beat her, I will beat her, and if I have
not a mind, I won't.

_Oct._ With all my Heart.

_Mart._ She's my Wife, not yours.

_Oct._ Thank Heaven.

_Mart._ You have nothing to do with me, nor do I want your help.

_Oct._ Nor shall I trouble myself to give it you. Ha!

     _Enter_ Bellmie.

_Bellmie_, luckily met, I was just going to your Lodgings; but hearing
the Cry of Murder here, put a stop to my Haste.

_Mart._ Nobody desired your stay, Sir; you might have march'd as soon
as you came for that Matter.

_Bellm._ Prithee what's the matter with the Fellow?

_Oct._ Why when I came I found 'em fighting, the Woman cry'd out
Murder; but I no sooner took her part, but they both fell upon me
Pellmell, and have rung such a Peal in my Ears, I shan't have the right
Use of them this Month.

_Bellm._ Sure I shou'd know that Face----D'ye hear, friend, is not your
Name _Martin_?

_Mart._ Master _Bellmie_!

_Bellm._ Where have you led your Life, Sirrah?

_Mart._ Why truly, Master, I can't tell.

_Wife._ But I know who can----e'en from one Ale-house to another, Sir.

_Mart._ Your Tongue won't lie still. [_Aside to her_.]

_Bellm._ I told you what your Drunkenness would bring you to, but you
ne'er believ'd me; here, there's a Guinea for you, be Friends with your
Wife, d'ye hear?

_Mart._ Ah! Sir, we never bear Malice, as you shall see, Sir;----Wife,
come and kiss me, Wife.

_Wife._ I kiss you! I'll see you hang'd first; d'ye think I'll be us'd
at this rate?

_Mart._ Look'e Wife, I love you the better for beating you, faith 'tis
all out of pure Love, 'tis indeed Wife; and such little Quarrels as
these do but cement the Passion of Love: Faith, Wife, if I did not beat
thee, I shou'd cuckold thee.

_Wife._ Say you so--nay, if I thought that--[_Aside_.] You shou'd beat
me as oft as you please. [_Runs to him and kisses him_.]

_Mart._ Faith and troth 'tis true.

_Bellm._ Why now 'tis as it shou'd be.----D'ye hear, Sirrah, come to
my Lodgings at the Golden Ball at the end of the Street, perhaps I may
have Occasion to use you, you used to be a lucky Rogue upon a Pinch.

_Mart._ Ay, Master, and I have not forgot it yet.

_Bellm._ [_To_ Octavio.] I'm now at Leisure to hear your Story, but I
think my Lodging the most proper Place. [_Exeunt_.]

_Wife._ Hark'e, Husband, where are you a going?

_Mart._ To the Ale-house to drink my Master's Health.

_Wife._ And spend all the Money, ha!

_Mart._ Why what if I do? ha! it was given to me.

_Wife._ Given to you! I'm sure my Bones have paid for it.

_Mart._ But it was my Friend gave the Money tho'.

_Wife._ But if I had not cry'd out, your Friend might not have come
this way tho'.

_Mart._ That's right----well Wife, I won't stand with you for little
Matters, you shall beat me now, and I'll cry out, if you think that
will get you a Guinea; if not, if you'll come to the Ale-house, I'll
make you drunk; and so good b'w'ye.

_Wife._ And am I always to be--be used thus?----well, if I am not
revenged, I am no Woman. [_Exit_.]




ACT II. SCENE I.


SCENE Bellmie's _Lodgings_.

     _Enter_ Bellmie _and_ Octavio.

_Bellm._ To be married to-morrow, say you?----impossible.

_Oct._ So he told me, and there is nothing impossible that has any
relation to Falsehood; especially where a Woman is concern'd.

_Bellm._ Falsehood! by Heaven I'm certain she never gave Consent, 'tis
her Father's Doings all; for as I told you, he forbad me his House two
Days ago, upon what Grounds I know not, but I suspected his Treachery.

_Oct._ After countenancing your Pretensions, what Excuse cou'd he have
for altering his Mind?

_Bellm._ Why a very lame one; he said he had consider'd better, and
did not think me a proper Match for his Daughter; telling me he shou'd
be very glad to see me any where but at his own House, and so left me.
I have ever since been so perplex'd to know the Cause, I scarce have
suffered Sleep to close my Eyes: I have endeavoured all means possible
to see _Lucinda_, but in vain.

_Oct._ Write to her.

_Bellm._ Ha! a lucky Thought comes into my Head; I'll to _Martin_, he
us'd to be the wittiest Rogue at these Contrivances living; I'll be
with you again presently. [_Exit_.]

_Oct._ This 'tis to be an honourable Lover now, leave a Friend for
a Mistress----Well, but let me see, what shall I do here alone?
ho!----What Books are these? [_Turns over two or three Books_.]

     _Enter_ Belliza, _and slaps him on the Back with a Fan_.

_Bell._ What! studying _Bellmie_?----Oh Lord!--I beg your pardon, Sir;
I am mistaken, I find.

_Oct._ Only in the Name, Madam, for I am a Man, and at your Service. A
charming Woman this--who the Devil is she? [_Aside_.]

_Bell._ This is Mr. _Bellmie_'s Lodging, is it not, Sir?

_Oct._ It is, Madam.

_Bell._ Is he within, pray?

_Oct._ I expect him every Minute, Madam,----but can nobody do your
Business but Mr. _Bellmie_, Child?

_Bell._ Not at present, Sir.----A genteel handsome Fellow this----who
is he, I wonder? I don't remember ever to have seen him before.
[_Aside_.]

_Oct._ My Friend's a happy Man to have pretty Ladies visit him alone.

_Bell._ You seldom think Happiness depends upon our Sex.

_Oct._ He that does I am sure is a Fool. [_Aside_.] No, Madam! why you
are the only Blessing of our Lives; are not all our Troubles, Cares,
and Toils softned by the endearing Embraces of a Woman? Have they not
Power to smooth the roughest of our Tempers, and make us calmly sink
into their Bosoms? In short, Madam, Women rule as they please.

_Bell._ But like true Englishmen, you are never pleas'd long with one
Government.

_Oct._ Not if they affect arbitrary Sway; Liberty of Conscience, you
know, Madam.

_Bell._ Ay, and Men's Consciences are very large.

_Oct._ And Women have no Conscience at all.

_Bell._ You are very free, methinks.

_Oct._ You are very handsome, faith.

_Bell._ I'll not believe you think so.

_Oct._ Egad, Madam, stay but till my Friend comes, and he will vouch
for me.

_Bell._ Is _Bellmie_ your Friend, Sir?

_Oct._ I think so, Madam----I'm sure we have fought for each other,
been drunk, whored and slept together, which are the common Symptoms of
Friendship.----Thus far your Query is answer'd.

_Bell._ Very virtuous Symptoms truly, and concisely express'd. Well,
Sir, and I may presume you partake of his Secrets too; for that is one
part of Friendship, as I take it.

_Oct._ So--now has she a mind to discover something; poor Rogue, he has
us'd her unkindly, I warrant. [_Aside_.] Yes, faith, Madam, I think we
are pretty free in those Matters; I don't believe he has any Secrets
but what I know----except his Intrigue with you, which I cou'd find in
my Heart to cuckold him for, for concealing it from me. [_Aside_.]

_Bell._ Pray, Sir, tell me, I hear he is mightily in Love with one
_Lucinda_----will he marry her, think you?

_Oct._ Ha! she's jealous, I must not discover the Truth, lest the
Consequence be prejudicial to my Friend. [_Aside_.] I know there was
some such talk once, Madam, but to my certain Knowledge it was never
design'd by him.

_Bell._ How! never design'd by him! you mistake sure?

_Oct._ Not at all, I won't say he did not like her, because I believe
he wou'd have done her the Favour, but she wou'd not consent upon any
Terms; but that ever he had any Design of marrying her, I absolutely
deny.----I hope she'll believe me. [_Aside_.]

_Bell._ Impossible!----yet it may be true, for the Earth produces not
more Variety of Colours, than the Breast of Man Tricks to deceive: I
am glad I know this, that _Lucinda_ may not deceive herself with vain
Hopes. [_Aside_.] And are you certain of this, Sir?

_Oct._ As certain as that I live, Child; and as a Proof of what I say,
she's to be married to-morrow to Sir _Toby Doubtful_, and _Bellmie_
designs to meet them at the Church-door with Musick, to congratulate
her Marriage.

_Bell._ A generous Rival truly!

_Oct._ Ah! Madam, he's the most generous Man in the World; his Mistress
and his Pocket are still at his Friend's Service.

_Bell._ Let his Friends share his Mistress! I'm afraid if his Friends
applaud his Generosity, they condemn his Sense.

_Oct._ Quite to the contrary, Madam, they admire his Morals; he's a
Well-wisher to his Country, and knows that the engrossing any Commodity
ruins Trade.

_Bell._ And is this his private Opinion, say you?

_Oct._ Directly----Ay, 'tis so, this is some Woman he keeps; and poor
Soul, she's afraid when he has bought a Seat of his own, he'll not
continue the Lease of her frail Tenement. [_Aside_.] But prithee Child,
why are you so inquisitive?

_Bell._ I had some Reasons, Sir, but my Scruples are much clearer, by
the Discovery you have made, for I depend upon what you say for Truth.

_Oct._ That you may in every thing, Madam, as certainly as that I envy
my Friend the Share he holds in your Esteem: He's my Friend, 'tis true,
and as such, I ought to have conceal'd his Failing----But Beauty,
bewitching Beauty, has Power at any time to unlock the Closet of my
Breast; your Charms are irresistibly engaging; hi, ho. [_Sighs_.]
Faith, Madam, I'm in Love. [_Looking languishingly_.]

_Bell._ For how long, pray Sir?

_Oct._ Faith, Madam, that I can't tell; but if it holds on as it
begins, I believe to my Life's end.

_Bell._ And how many Friends have you to share, pray?

_Oct._ Faith, Madam, none at all. I fancy I should play the Monopolist,
were you once at my Disposal.

_Bell._ But that would be a Ruin to Trade, you know; you would be
reckon'd an Enemy to your Country.

_Oct._ Od so, that's true, as you say; but no matter, I am no Member of
Parliament, I have nobody's Affairs but my own upon my Hands.

_Bell._ So consequently fear no Petitions.

_Oct._ No, faith, Madam, I fear nothing but your Eyes.

_Bell._ I can assure you there is no Malignity in 'em; you'll be never
the worse for looking at 'em.

_Oct._ I positively deny that; for I find I am strangely disorder'd,
and nothing but the knowing of your Name, and Lodgings, and Leave to
wait on you, can prolong my Life a Moment.

_Bell._ O Lord! if you are so near Death, I'll be gone, lest I am
indited for your Murder: you'd do well to pray, Sir; shall I send a
Parson to you? Ha, ha, ha! [_Laughs_.]

_Oct._ No, you dear charming Devil you. [_Catching her_.] I can offer
up my Devotions at no Altar but yours, you must not leave me, by Heaven
you shall not, till I know your Name.

_Bell._ Well, that you may'nt be forsworn, my Name is _Belliza_.

_Oct._ Your Lodging too.----

_Bell._ I must know you better first.

_Oct._ Why, 'tis in order to be better acquainted I ask it, Child;
come, dear, dear, Madam, don't torture me with Expectation, I won't
tell _Bellmie_, faith.

_Bell._ Then you'll not know, Sir, and so adieu. [_Exit_.]

_Oct._ So, she's gone----did ever any body know so cross a Jade; now
has she an itching to pursue the Custom of her Sex, to be talked of,
and enquired after; a Pox! I have a good mind not to ask _Bellmie_
about her, and yet I don't know what's the matter with me, I have a
devilish mind to a Night's Lodging with her; but then she's my Friend's
Mistress: why, what then, she's not his Wife----Egad, I am resolved to
sound his Inclination, he can't be in Love in two Places at once, I am
certain he is really so with _Lucinda_--Ay, but that's honourable Love,
he may keep a Mistress for all that--But perhaps he may be weary of
her, and glad to consign her over to me; Beauty's a falling Commodity,
yet if the Perquisites ben't damaged, I'll accept 'em: So upon mature
Consideration, I'll ask him who she is----ho, here he comes.

     _Enter_ Bellmie.

_Bellm._ I was afraid I had tired your Patience, did you not think me
long?

_Oct._ No, faith, I have been very well diverted in your Absence.

_Bellm._ With what, prithee?

_Oct._ Why with the best Diversion in the World, a pretty Woman.

_Bellm._ A Woman!

_Oct._ Yes, faith, so she seem'd; I wish I cou'd give you a more
evident Proof of it; for she's very handsome.

_Bellm._ How came she here?

_Oct._ Upon her Legs I presume.

_Bellm._ But upon what Business?

_Oct._ The main Business, I suppose, Love, Love, Friend; she wanted
you, _Bellmie_; and I can assure you I have done you no inconsiderable
Piece of Service, if you knew all.

_Bellm._ Prithee, what is't?

_Oct._ Nay, hold there; like a politick Warrior, while the Power's in
my own Hands, I'll make my own Conditions; if I tell you one thing, you
must grant me another.

_Bellm._ You know you may command any thing that is in my Power;
prithee what is't?

_Oct._ A very inconsiderable thing to a Man in your Circumstances; only
a Night's Lodging with your Mistress, that's all.

_Bellm._ What mean you, _Octavio_?

_Oct._ Why here has been a very pretty Lady to see you, and by all
Appearance she's a Mistress of yours, tho' you was never so honest as
to tell your Friend your Happiness; faith _Bellmie_, 'twas not like a
Friend to conceal an Intrigue of this nature; what! keep a Mistress and
let nobody know it! I'm sure I never serv'd you so.

_Bellm._ What! do you mean to banter me?----I keep a Mistress!

_Oct._ Yes, yes, don't deny it with that grave Face; that philosophical
Air won't do, Man, her Jealousy discover'd, all; she wou'd fain have
pump'd me out of something about _Lucinda_, whether you loved her or
not, or did design to marry her----but thanks to this projecting Brain
of mine, that furnish'd me with Lies quick as my Tongue cou'd utter
'em, she remains in Ignorance; I told her you design'd no such thing.

_Bellm._ How! ods life, do you know what you have done? This must be
somebody from _Lucinda_. I have no Mistress, nor do I know any Woman
breathing so intimately as to expect a Visit from her, except my
Relations, who are all known to you, therefore it must be from her.

_Oct._ Ay, ay, don't think I'll let that pass upon me, I expect for the
Service I have done you to know where the Lady lives; yet faith and
troth, _Bellmie_, if you will really confess you love her, the Devil
take me if I attempt making you a Cuckold, tho' I have, by the way, a
violent Inclination; but Friendship has always had the Ascendant over
my Desires yet.

_Bellm._ I tell you, _Octavio_, what I have said is true, upon my
Honour it is; and farther, I here promise to renounce all Claim
whatsoever to the whole Sex, except _Lucinda_; will that satisfy you?

_Oct._ I take you at your Word, the Lady told me her Name was
_Belliza_,----What say you now, Friend? ha!----How beats your Heart?
ha! ha!

_Bellm._ As I suspected, 'tis _Lucinda_'s Cousin, you have ruin'd me.

_Oct._ Ha! how! what's that? _Lucinda_'s Cousin!

_Bellm._ Ay, positively; Oh! unfortunate Man that I am, to miss the
luckiest Minute Fate had in store for me. [_Raves_.]

_Oct._ What then! is my charming delicious Harlot dwindled into a
virtuous Woman at last! a Pox of all Minutes, I say, since there's
none lucky to me--Prithee, _Bellmie_, forgive me, for faith I design'd
well:----But who the Devil can divine; for my part I was never more
mistaken in all my Life, the Devil take me if I cou'd see honest Woman
writ in their Forehead; but hark'e, if you'll tell me where the Lady
lives, I'll go and unsay all I have said.

_Bellm._ 'Twill be to no purpose; did she leave no Message?

_Oct._ None at all.

_Bellm._ Were you not my Friend, _Octavio_, I cou'd not forgive what
you have done; for ought I know I have lost _Lucinda_, 'tis owing to
your Conduct.

_Oct._ Pox on't, I was ne'er more vext in my Life; prithee what's to be
done? what says _Martin_?

_Bellm._ I know not what's to be done now,--he has promis'd to deliver
me a Letter, if possible; all I can do is patiently to expect the
Event: prithee do you go find out Sir _Toby_, and try what Discovery
you can make; but be sure you don't let him know that you are
acquainted with me, perhaps he may introduce you as a Friend of his,
and so you may speak to _Lucinda_ or her Cousin; which if you do,
remember what you owe your Friend: But be sure you make particular
Enquiry about the time, for I am resolv'd he shall not marry her whilst
I can hold this--[_Points to his Sword_.]

_Oct._ I'll do't----when I parted with him he told me he was going
thither; egad I'll impudently go and ask for him.

_Bellm._ But what Pretence can you have?

_Oct._ Oh! let me alone for that, I never want Pretence, when I can
either serve my Friend, or see a pretty Woman; and egad this _Belliza_
runs plaguily in my Head.

_Bellm._ I hope you are caught, _Octavio_, I shou'd be glad to see you
quit this roving Temper, and think of living honestly, and marry.

_Oct._ That's as much as to say, you'd be glad to see me hand-cuff'd
and fetter'd, just ready to be shipp'd for a _Virginia_ Slave; thank
you heartily, _Bellmie_, you wish your Friends very well.

_Bellm._ Only as well as I do myself; come, come, I hope to see you
of another mind, and I can assure you, nothing would be to me more
welcome, next the enjoying my _Lucinda_, than your Company at Church
upon the same Design.

_Oct._ Why this 'tis now; on my Conscience some Men love their Friends
so well, that if they were to be hang'd themselves, rather than part
from them, they'd have them hang'd for Company. Ha, ha.

_Bellm._ You are of a happy Temper, always gay.

_Oct._ And whilst I enjoy my dear, dear Liberty, I shall always be so.
Adieu. [_Exeunt severally_.]




ACT III. SCENE I.


SCENE Selfwill's _House_.

     _Enter_ Lucinda _and_ Belliza.

_Luc._ False! impossible!

_Bell._ He's a Man, Cousin, pray consider that.

_Luc._ He's a Man, but not like common Men; I never found him false
even in the smallest Matter, nor will I believe it now: No, his Friend
belies him, or----

_Bell._ Or I belie the Friend, ha! I wish you find it so.
[_Snappishly_.] His Friend belies him!--Methinks now cou'd I quarrel
with her for her slight Opinion of his Friend; and yet I don't know
what's the Matter neither, but methinks I have a very great Respect for
his Friend. [_Aside_.]

_Luc._ What makes you so angry, Cousin?

_Bell._ What makes you so incredulous?

_Luc._ Love; now if you give the same Reason, I have done.

_Bell._ On my Conscience I shall let the World know I like this Fellow
before I know it myself. [_Aside_.] No, truly, Cousin, I can't be so
complaisant; but I am concern'd, me thinks, that you shou'd say his
Friend belies him; for truly I think I never saw a prettier Gentleman
in my Life, or one that look'd more like a Man of Honour, and I dare
say he is so.

_Luc._ But he's a Man, Cousin, pray consider that.

_Bell._ And must he needs be false, because he's a Man?

_Luc._ Your own Argument, Cousin.

_Bell._ Dewce on't, I shall discover myself. [_Aside_.] That's true
too; well, perhaps he did belie him--tho' I dare swear he did not.
[_Aside_.]

_Luc._ Yet may be he did not; for what should be the Reason of his
Absence these two Days? If I was certain on't, he shou'd not be
before-hand with me, at least in the Opinion of the World; I'd marry
this old Fellow, tho' I hate him; but that wou'd be to be reveng'd on
myself, he wou'd be pleas'd at my Misfortune; therefore I'm resolv'd if
he's false never to marry.

_Bell._ Have a care, Cousin, make no Resolutions; for here comes one
will endeavour to break them.

     _Enter_ Selfwill _and Sir_ Toby Doubtful.

_Self._ How now! what, in Tears, you stubborn Baggage you? Be pleasant
you had best, and entertain Sir _Toby_, as you ought to do, a Man that
to-morrow is to command you.

_Bell._ Then if he don't rule till to-morrow, she may rule to-day, may
she not?

_Self._ Ay, 'tis your Sex's Privilege before Marriage.

_Bell._ Is it so? Why then if I was in her place, I wou'd command Sir
_Toby_ never to see my Face again.

_Self._ How now Hussy. [_Holds up his Cane_.] 'Tis from your Counsel
proceeds her Disobedience; but I'll part you, I'll warrant you.

Sir _Toby_. Ladies your humble Servant; Madam, I am extremely troubled
that you are so indisposed, but I hope 'twill off again.

_Self._ Ay, ay, Sir _Toby_, they are only Maiden's Tears; tho' their
Hearts leap for Joy, yet they'd think it an unpardonable Fault, if they
did not weep for four or five Days before they were married.

Sir _Toby_. Nay, if that be all, I'm satisfy'd; I can assure you, Mr.
_Selfwill_, she shall have no Occasion to weep after Marriage, and
that's the best, I take it--To-morrow, Madam, your Father has appointed
to make me happy; I hope you have no Objection to the Day. [_To_
Lucinda.]

_Luc._ To-morrow! Oh Heavens! what shall I say to prevent this curst
Marriage? [_Aside_.]

_Self._ No, no, Sir _Toby_, she has no disliking to the Day; why don't
you speak you stubborn Baggage you, ha! speak, and to the purpose too,
you had best.

_Bell._ To the purpose do you say, Uncle? then--

_Self._ Hold your Tongue, you Slut you, hold your Tongue.

_Martin without._ Four a Penny _China_ Oranges, four a Penny.

_Self._ You won't speak then?

_Luc._ What shou'd I say, Sir? you may force me to what you please,
but my Heart will not let my Tongue speak ought to please you in this
Affair; therefore I think 'tis better not to speak at all.

_Self._ Say you so, Mistress? but your Tongue shall pronounce some few
Words to-morrow, Gentlewoman, that will please me; to Love, Cherish,
and Obey, d'ye hear?

_Martin._ Four a Penny _China_ Oranges, four a Penny.

Sir _Toby_. Four a Penny, that's cheap, call in that Fellow.

_Self._ Hang 'em Sir _Toby_, they are too cheap to be good.

Sir _Toby_. We'll see 'em.

     _Enter_ Martin _with Oranges_.

Sir _Toby_. Hark ye, Friend, are your Oranges good?

_Mart._ As good as any's in _England_, Master; cut one, Sir, if you
please; if you don't like it, you shan't pay for it.

Sir _Toby_. Thou speakest like an honest Fellow, I'll try a penny-worth
of 'em. [_He chuses 'em_.]

_Mart._ This Lady shall judge. [_Taking out his Knife, and making as if
he cut an Orange, then offers it to_ Lucinda.] Pray taste this Orange,
Madam.

_Luc._ Don't trouble me with your Oranges. [_Strikes it down and
discovers a Letter that was conceal'd in it_.] I don't care whether
they are good or bad.

_Mart._ Ah, Madam!

     [_Endeavouring to take up the Letter, but is prevented by_
     Selfwill.]

_Self._ What's this? a Letter in an Orange?----This is a new Way of
pimping. [_Looking upon it_.]

Sir _Toby_. Ha! how's that! a Letter in an Orange, Mr. _Selfwill_?
Bless me, that must be Conjuration.

_Luc._ A Letter! Oh unfortunate! it must be from _Bellmie_; and if I am
not mistaken, this Fellow serv'd him once.

_Bell._ See what comes of Impatience now: had you had Philosophy enough
to have borne all your Ills patiently, you had perhaps found a Cure for
them in this Orange.

_Mart._ 'Tis my best Way to steal out, ere he has done reading, or
perhaps I shall be shew'd the next Way to the Horse Pond. [_Exit_
Martin.]

_Self._ What! is the Dog gone? If I catch him with his Four a Penny
Oranges again, I'll make an Italian Singer of him. Lord! Lord! what
will the World come to?

Sir _Toby_. Truly I shou'd never have suspected this Fellow for a Bawd,
pray let me see the Letter, Mr. _Selfwill_. [_Puts on his Spectacles
and reads_.]

     _'Tis impossible to express what I have suffer'd since
     your Father forbad me his House, not being able to let you
     know I die if e'er you consent to his unjust Proposals;
     therefore if you still love me, as once I flatter'd myself
     you did, be ready at you Window this Night at twelve, and
     I'll bring you a Conveyance shall safely help you to the
     Arms of_

     Your faithful
     _Bellmie_.

_Self._ There's a Piece of Treachery for you, Sir _Toby_!

Sir _Toby_. Treachery indeed, and I'll instantly go tell Mr. _Bellmie_
he's a Rascal.

_Self._ No, you shall first prevent his Designs, then let him do his
worst, you shall be married presently.----Here _Robin_, go tell Mr.
_Tickletext_ the Parson; I wou'd speak with him immediately.

_Luc._ The Parson, Sir!

_Self._ Yes, forsooth, the Parson; I'll prevent your running away with
_Bellmie_.

_Luc._ Running away with _Bellmie_, Sir?

_Self._ Ay, running away with _Bellmie_; what a Pox do ye echo me for;
ha! if you are so fond of speaking after one, I hope the Sight of the
Parson won't displease you.

_Luc._ But I'll ne'er say after him with any in this Company, I'll
assure you. [_Aside_.]

     _Enter a Servant._

_Servant._ Sir _Toby_, here's a Gentleman inquires for you, he says his
Name is _Octavio_.

Sir _Toby_. Ods so, a very honest Gentleman.

_Self._ Desire him to walk up, if he's your Friend, he's welcome.

Sir _Toby_. His Father was my particular Friend.

     _Enter_ Octavio.

Sir _Toby_. Mr. _Octavio_, I'm your most humble Servant.

_Oct._ Sir _Toby_, your humble Servant. [_To_ Selfwill.] Sir, your
Servant.

_Self._ Sir, you are welcome.

_Oct._ Pray, Sir _Toby_, which is the Lady is to make you happy.

_Bell._ As I live, _Bellmie_'s Friend--Hi, ho!----bless me, what ails
my Heart? [_Aside_.]

_Luc. Octavio_ here! [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. This is she, Mr. _Octavio_; and you come opportunely to
give her to me, for the Parson is just coming.

_Oct._ Heaven forbid. [_Aside_.] Say you so, Sir _Toby_?--Madam your
humble Servant. [_Saluting her_.] By Heaven, Madam, _Bellmie_ will
break his Heart. [_Aside to her_.] [_Goes to_ Belliza _and salutes
her_.] Faith, Madam, I ly'd in every Syllable I said to you at
_Bellmie_'s Chamber, except when I told you I lov'd you. [_Aside to
her_.]

_Bell._ I wish that be not the greatest. [_Aside_.]

_Luc._ Poor _Bellmie_! which Way shall I prevent both our Misfortunes:
I have it. [_Aside_.] Oh! Oh![_She counterfeits a Fit_.]

_Oct._ Oh Heavens! look to the Lady.

Sir _Toby_. Good lack-a-day, what's the matter! Is she subject to these
Fits, Mr. _Selfwill_?

_Self._ Truly, I never knew her have but one, and that was at the Sight
of a Cat.----Poor Girl.

_Bell._ A lucky Hint, I'll take it. [_Aside_.] And that is the Reason
now, for I saw a Cat at that Door this Minute,----'Tis rather to avoid
the old Cat's scratching her, by the by tho'. [_Aside_.]

_Self._ She's a coming to herself; _Lucinda_, speak to me, Child, how
dost thou do?

_Luc._ Oh! Oh!--Oh!

_Oct._ How do you do, Madam?

_Luc._ [_Shakes her Head, but answers nobody_.]

Sir _Toby_. How does my Chicken? ha!

_Luc._ [_Shakes her Head again_.]

_Bell._ Speak to us, Cousin, how do you do? Oh! dear Uncle, I fear she
can't speak.

_Self._ Not speak! I'd rather she shou'd lose all the rest of her
Senses. Speak to me, Child.

_Luc._ [_Shakes her Head, and points to her Mouth_.]

Sir _Toby_. Oh Lord! Oh Lord! dumb, why she can't say after the Parson;
what an Inundation of Mischief's here?

     _Enter Mr._ Tickletext.

_Tickle._ What's the matter, Mr. _Selfwill_, is not your Daughter well?

_Self._ Not very well, Mr. _Tickletext_, she has an Antipathy against a
Cat, and it seems one look'd into the Room just now and made her faint
away.

_Tickle._ Why truly one may observe a great deal from Sympathy and
Antipathy; but pray what did you send for me for, Mr. _Selfwill_?

_Oct._ Only to say Grace, that the Lady and Sir _Toby_ might fall too;
but you have staid so long, Mr. Parson, that the Lady's Stomach is gone.

Sir _Toby_. You are very satyrical upon your Friends, Mr. _Octavio_;
but I hope her Stomach will come again, as you call it tho'.

_Self._ Or I'll make her eat against her Stomach, I can tell her that.

_Bell._ Ay, but Uncle, that seldom digests well, and what don't digest
will throw the Body into a Fever.

_Self._ Does it so, Mrs. Quack.----Do ye hear, I suspect a Trick.
[_Aside to_ Belliza.]

_Tickle._ If the Lady be not well you had best defer it till to-morrow,
Sir _Toby_.

_Self._ No, Sir, there's a Necessity of having it done to-night.

_Bell._ What, tho' my Cousin can't speak, Uncle?

_Self._ Hold your Tongue, you Jade you; if she can't speak she shall
make Signs.

_Tickle._ What! can't the Lady speak? Nay, then I'll have no hand in
the Business; I do not think I can justify it, when I don't know if the
Parties are willing.

_Self._ The Parties are willing.----Sir _Toby_, are you not willing to
marry my Daughter?

Sir _Toby_. 'Tis what I design.

_Self._ And is she not my Child, have not I a right to dispose of her
as I please?--I say she shall have him; and if she can't speak, I'll
answer for her myself.

_Tickle._ Truly, Mr. _Selfwill_, I must beg your Pardon, I'll not do it.

_Self._ Then, Sir, [_Taking off his Hat_.] you may let it alone, I'll
have those that will; and, Sir, if you won't do my Business, I have no
Business with you, there lies the Door.----The Obstinacy of Women and
Priests wou'd confound the Patience of any Man.

_Tickle._ With all my Heart, Gentlemen your Servant. [_Exit._]

_Bell._. Lord, Lord, Uncle, why should you affront the Gentleman,
because he has more Conscience than you?

_Self._ Hussy, hold your Tongue. [_Holds up his Cane_.] Was ever Man
thus plagued?

Sir _Toby_. Truly, Mr. _Selfwill_, I think 'tis better to defer it till
to-morrow, as Mr. _Tickletext_ says.

_Self._ But do you think what may be the Consequences of it, Sir _Toby_?

Sir _Toby_. That's true, but no matter, I'll sit up with her, and then
let him come if he dares.----How do you, my dear? [_They stand about_
Lucinda.]

_Oct._ Madam, shall I never see you at _Bellmie_'s Lodgings again?
[_Aside to_ Belliza.]

_Bell._ I believe not, Sir.

_Oct._ Why then I know what I know.

_Bell._ Pray what's that, Sir?

_Oct._ You'll see me very often at yours, that's all; for I find by
the beating of my Pulse, the Motion of my Brain, and the heaving of my
Heart, I am very far gone in that dangerous Distemper called Love, and
you are the only Physician can save my Life.

_Bell._ You had best not trust to my Skill, for I am but a Quack, as my
Uncle says; but I suppose your Condition is not desperate.

_Oct._ I shan't die this Minute, Madam, I hope Heaven will let me serve
my Friend ere I make my Exit, and then the Parson shall truss me up as
soon as you please: I must straight to _Bellmie_, and let him know how
Affairs stand. I hope _Lucinda_ does but counterfeit this Silence.

_Bell._ I hope so too; I believe 'tis in _Bellmie_'s Power to make her
speak again; hush, we are observed.

Sir _Toby_. Ah! Mr. _Octavio_, you know a pretty Woman, I find.

_Oct._ Ay, I thank Heaven, I have all my Senses, Sir _Toby_, and he
that has, must own this Lady claims that Title; but how does your
Mistress, Sir _Toby_?

Sir _Toby_. Faith, dumb, dumb still, I wou'd give five hundred pounds
that she cou'd speak.

_Self._ And I five hundred more.

_Oct._ You had best put it in the Courant, by that Means you'll have
the Assistance of the most able Men in the Kingdom.

_Self._ I'll do it this Minute.----Here, carry her to her Chamber: Sir,
I am your humble Servant.

_Oct._ Sir, your humble Servant; Sir _Toby_ I am yours, I hope the Lady
will recover.

     [_Exeunt severally_.]


_The_ SCENE _changes to the Street_.

     _Enter_ Martin's _Wife._

_Wife._ Which Way shall I be reveng'd on my Husband, a Woman always has
it in her Power to be revenged one Way; but I wou'd pay him in his own
Coin.

     _Enter one of_ Selfwill'_s Footmen going to the Printer's_.

_Servant._ Pray, good Woman, whereabouts lives the Printer that prints
the Courant?

_Wife._ At the Post-house at _Temple-Bar_; pray, Sir, what News are you
going to put into the Courant, any Robberies or Murders committed?

_Serv._ No, good Woman, I am going to put a Reward of five hundred
Pounds, for any Man that can restore my young Mistress to her Speech
again.

_Wife._ A good Hint. [_Aside_.]--Pray, Sir, who do you belong to?

_Serv._ Mr. _Selfwill_.

_Wife._ Good lack-a-day, is his Daughter taken dumb, do you say?

_Serv._ 'Tis too true indeed.

_Wife._ I know a Man can cure her if he will, but you'll have much ado
to persuade him to it; he has prodigious Skill, and to my Knowledge
has done wonderful Cures, even to the raising the Dead; but there is
but one Way to make him own his Knowledge, for to look at him you wou'd
not think he knew a Pig from a Dog, as we may say.

_Serv._ Say you so; what is he, pray?

_Wife._ Nay, but a poor Man neither, he's a Faggot-maker, but a seventh
Son, and as I tell you, he can do it if he will.

_Serv._ Why sure five hundred Pounds will tempt him then.

_Wife._ No, nothing will tempt him, for he never takes any Money for
what he does; but I can tell you how you shall make him own himself a
Doctor.

_Serv._ How is it pray?----Egad I shall be a rich Man, for I'll keep
the Money to myself. [_Aside_.]

_Wife._ Why you must beat him soundly, or he'll not own any thing of
the Matter; try first with good Words, but I know that will be to no
purpose: but you may try however, you'll find him in the Wood-yard
binding of Faggots. I'd advise you to make what haste you can, for I
can assure you he is a Man of wondrous Skill, but be sure don't spare
his Bones till he confesses it.

_Serv._ I'll warrant you I'll make him confess it with a Devil to him,
if beating will do it. [_Exit_.]

  _Wife._ So now shall I have sufficient Revenge;
        The old Law says give Eye for Eye,
          And Tooth for Tooth restore;
        Then beat him well for beating me,
          And I desire no more.      [_Exit_.]




ACT IV. SCENE I.


SCENE _a Wood-yard, Martin singing, binding of Faggots, with his Bag
and Bottle by him._

     _Enter two Servants._

_1st Serv._ This must be he.

_2d Serv._ He looks more like a Gold-finder than a Doctor----Come,
let's speak to him.

_1st Serv._ Speed your Work, honest Man.

_Mart._ Thank you, thank ye, Friend. [_Sings on_.]

     Martin _seeing them come near him, removes his Bag and
     Bottle on t'other Side_.

_2d Serv._ We are come upon earnest Business to you, Sir.

     _They go on the other Side, he moves his Bag and Bottle
     again._

_Mart._ I don't like your Business, you look as if you were sharp set.
[_Aside_.] From who, pray?

     _One goes on one Side, and t'other on the other; he moves
     his Bag and Bottle between his Legs._

_1st Serv._ From Mr. _Selfwill_.

_Mart._ Ha, about Faggots, I suppose; I promise you there is not better
in _England_, than what I sell.

_2d Serv._ No, Sir, he has heard of your wondrous Skill.

_Mart._ Ay, Master, I defy any Man in _England_ to make better.

_2d Serv._ He has heard, I say----

_Mart._ Ay, Master, he has heard, I suppose, that mine are two
Shillings better in an hundred, than any he can buy.

_2d Serv._ That you have great Skill----

_Mart._ In Faggot-making; why truly not to praise myself too much, I'll
bind a Faggot with any Man in the Queen's Dominions, be he what he will.

_2d Serv._ In Physick, Sir.

_Mart._ Ha! what a Pox does he mean?----Egad I'll not understand him.
[_Aside_.]

_1st Serv._ And desires you'd let him have----

_Mart._ Them as cheap as I can----that I will I promise you.

_1st Serv._ Give him your best----

_Mart._ That I will too, Master:--But then he must give the best
Price: Here's a Faggot now, do ye see, a hundred of them Faggots are
twelve Shillings, and I'll sell him an hundred of these for ten; now
perhaps you may like these as well as them, but there's a great deal of
Difference.

_1st Serv._ Zounds, will you hear what we have to say to you?

_Mart._ Ay, Master, give me leave to deal honestly with you, I don't
sell for once, but hope to keep your Custom; do ye see, Master,
there's great Difference between dry Wood and sallow Wood.

_1st Serv._ My Master desires you to come along with us----

_Mart._ I can't tell how to spare so much Time, Master, except you are
certain he will give me my Price; for I won't abate a Farthing of what
I told you, take them or leave them. [_Sits down again and sings_.]

_2d Serv._ This is the Devil of a Doctor,----Sir, I say we don't come
about----

_Mart._ I have set you the last Price, Masters, I'll promise you.

_2d Serv._ I say----

_Mart._ Ay, say what you please, Master, but I can't abate a Penny.

_1st Serv._ We don't come about Faggots, my Master's Daughter is
stricken dumb, and he is inform'd you have very great Skill in physical
Operations, therefore he has sent for you, and if you can restore her
to her Speech, he'll give you five hundred Pounds.

_Mart._ Ha! I smell a Rat, they want to have me in their Clutches to
reward me for my Oranges; but I shall fail them. [_Aside_.]

_2d Serv._ What say you, Sir?

_Mart._ Alas! Master, I don't know what to say, you are pleased to be
merry, I find; I a Doctor! ha, ha, ha!

_1st Serv._ Nay, we are in earnest, I'll assure you, therefore pray
don't put us to the Trouble of using you roughly; for upon my Word,
tho' I know how to make you comply, I wou'd much rather you should
confess it by fair Means.

_Mart._ Confess what, Sir?

_2d Serv._ That you are a Doctor, Sir: We have heard what wondrous
Cures you have done, tho' your Modesty won't let you own it; but pray,
Sir, don't stand to dispute, but come along with us.

_Mart._ Cures! ha, ha, ha! you certainly have mistaken the Man; why do
I look as if I was a Doctor?

_1st Serv._ 'Tis no Matter what you look like, Sir, we know you are
one, therefore pray come along, or we shall make you.

_Mart._ Ay, you may make me go along with you, if you will, but you'll
never make a Doctor of me I can tell you.

_2d Serv._ Nor you won't own it? [_Slaps him over the Back_.]

_Mart._ Own what, Gentlemen, what do you mean?

_1st Serv._ To make you confess. [_Strikes him_.]

_Mart._ What must I confess?

_2d Serv._ Your Skill.

_Mart._ Skill, Gentlemen! I confess all the Skill I have is in
Faggot-making, in good faith, Masters.

_1st Serv._ We shall make you alter your Note, Mr. Faggot-maker, ere we
have done with you. [_Both beat him_.]

_Mart._ Hold, hold, Gentlemen, I am----

_2d Serv._ Oh! have we found the Way to make you speak Truth.

_Mart._ But a Faggot-maker--[_Looking pitifully_.]

_1st Serv._ Again at your Shifts; we were told indeed that you must be
soundly beaten, ere you wou'd own it. [_They beat him soundly_.]

_Martin._ Oh! hold, hold, I am a Doctor, Gentlemen, I beg your Pardons.

_2d Serv._ Sir, your humble Servant; now we honour you, be pleas'd to
be cover'd Sir.

_Mart._ By no Means, Sir.

_2d Serv._ O! by all Means, Sir, pray put on your Hat.

_Mart._ Sir, your humble Servant, Sir: [_Comically_.] Pray what
Distemper has your young Lady, Sir?

_2d Serv._ She's dumb, Sir.

_Mart._ Dumb! good lack, good lack----I wish my Wife was so. [_Aside_.]

_2d Serv._ She was struck dumb, just as she was going to be married
to Sir _Toby Doubtful_; and they were forced to put off the Marriage,
because she cou'd not say after the Parson.

_Mart._ Say you so, a very hard Case truly.----This may be a very lucky
Hit for my Master _Bellmie_; for I suspect she's not dumb in earnest.
[_Aside_.]

_2d Serv._ Well, Sir, do you think you can do her any good?

_Mart._ Why, Masters, I'll use my Endeavours, since you have got the
Secret out, I'll assure you; and I don't question but to bring her to
her Speech again.

_1st Serv._ Say you so, Sir, pray come along quickly then. [_Exeunt_.]


SCENE Selfwill's _House_.

     Lucinda _on a Couch, with_ Belliza _by her_.

_Bell._ And how long do you design to be dumb, Cousin?

_Luc._ Till I can speak to the Purpose.

_Bell._ That is, till you can get _Bellmie_, or discard the old Man.
Well, this Love's a desperate Business.

_Luc._ As desperate as 'tis, Cousin, I find you are not frighten'd at
the Apprehension of it.

_Bell._ What do you mean?

_Luc._ Nay, what do you mean by hiding your Desires from me?

_Bell._ Desires! what Desires prithee?

_Luc._ What! you think I don't see you are in Love with _Bellmie_'s
Friend! Don't you remember how warmly you asserted his Innocence this
Morning, when he traduc'd _Bellmie_, and but now you confess'd he ly'd
in every Syllable.

_Bell._ And will you infer from that, I love him?

_Luc._ Come, come, Cousin, we never stickle up for the Person we don't
care for.

_Bell._ Well then, _Lucinda_, to be ingenuous, I do like _Octavio_
above all Men living, I can't tell why,--but methinks there is
something in his Humour so very agreeable, that did he like me as well,
I cou'd be content to say those three dismal Words, Love, Honour, and
Obey.

_Luc._ Well, Cousin, I'm glad to find you'll bear me Company; if
Fortune should smile once again, I'll warrant you _Octavio_ won't
forsake his Friend, and so fair a Fortune; but here comes my Father,
now to my Couch. [_Runs and lies down_.]

     _Enter_ Selfwill _and_ Martin.

_Self._ How dost thou, Child? speak to me if thou can'st?

     [_She shakes her Head._]

_Bell._ Indeed, Uncle, I have try'd all the Ways I cou'd think on to
make her speak to me, but to no Purpose.--Ha! if I'm not mistaken,
that is the same Fellow that brought the Oranges to-day, I suspect
she'll quickly speak were but my Uncle removed. [_Aside_.]

_Self._ Good lack! Well, Mr. Doctor, you see what a Condition she's in,
if you can restore her to her Speech, I'll give you what you'll ask.

_Mart._ I don't doubt it, Sir.----Pray, Madam, open your Mouth. [_She
opens_.] Very well----Let me feel your Pulse; in a very low Condition
truly. Sir, I must desire every body to avoid the Room; for I never
work any of these Cures before any but my Patients, and you must bring
me Pen, Ink, and Paper, and be sure you shut the Doors fast, and for
your Life don't let any body approach within twenty Feet of the Door.
[_In a very grave Tone_.]

_Bell._ So----now I see my Suspicion is true--Sure, Doctor, you design
to conjure for her Speech.

_Mart._ Not at all, Madam, but I have a particular Method, and it is
not safe for any body to be near.

_Bell._ I am gone, pray Heaven your Design prospers. [_Exit_.]

_Self._ But Doctor, may I not stay in the Room, I'll not look towards
you.

_Mart._ By no Means, Sir,----I tell you, if any Person is in the Room
the Charm will be of no Effect.

_Self._ Say you so, Sir? well then I'm gone,----but I'm resolv'd to
watch which Way this Fellow does this Miracle, it must be by the Devil
certainly; I have a Window in my Chamber looks into this, whence I
may see all that's done. [_Aside._] Well, Doctor, I'll pray for you
that your Undertaking may prosper, I'll send you Pen, Ink, and Paper
immediately. [_Exit_.]

_Mart._ Pray do, Sir.----Now if she shou'd really be dumb--Egad I'll
try. [_Aside_.] What wou'd my Master _Bellmie_ give to be in my Place,
Madam.

_Luc._ Ha! _Bellmie!_ are not you he that was here with Oranges?

_Mart._ I am, Madam.----Ho, ho, it is as I suppos'd. [_Aside_.]

     _Enter one with Pen, Ink_, &c.

_Mart._ And go, go, go, be gone quickly. [_Exit Servant_.] Ah! Madam,
if you had taken that Letter.

_Luc._ I wish I had; but hark ye, did you never live with _Bellmie_?

_Mart._ Yes, Madam, when he first courted you; my Name is _Martin_; but
Poverty and Labour, Madam, has almost defac'd me in the Memory of every
body; but Madam, we must be quick, pray take this Paper and write to my
Master, who is almost driven to Despair, to hear of this sad Accident.

_Luc._ Give it me quickly; but pray, which Way got you Credit with my
Father to pass upon him for a Doctor?

_Self._ Certainly they talk, I can't hear what they say tho'. [_Appears
at a Window_.]

_Mart._ By Inspiration, I think; for how I came to be taken for a
Doctor I don't know; all I know is, that I was forced hither out
of the Field, by two of your Father's Men, perhaps they mistook me
for another; but they were very importunate, as my poor Back and
Shoulders can testify, for I am almost beaten to a Jelly.

     [_Shrugs his Shoulders_.]

_Luc._ Alas! poor Fellow, there's a Guinea for thee; certainly this
must be a lucky Omen----Well, I'll give you a Letter immediately.
[_Writes_.]

_Self._ They certainly talk, but if I'm not mistaken, she's a writing
too; pray Heaven this ben't some Fiend, and my Child making a Contract
with the Devil; I'll step down and try whether the Devil or I are most
cunning.

_Luc._ There, I have done.

     _Enter_ Selfwill _behind her, and snatches the Paper from
     her_.

_Self._ Have you so?

_Luc._ Oh Lord!

_Mart._ Ha! Nay then a clear Stage for the Doctor. [_Exit_.]

_Self._ What's this? [_Reads_.]

     _My dear, dear_ Bellmie, _it is impossible for me to
     express the Joy I feel, at finding you constant when I
     least thought you so; let me beg of you to suspend your
     Fears, for I am not dumb, only counterfeit it as the last
     Remedy to prevent my barbarous Father's Designs, who was
     resolutely bent to marry me that Moment; and be assur'd
     I'll never give my Hand to any but thyself; therefore be
     certain of the Heart of_

     _Your_ Lucinda.

Oh brave!----Barbarous Father!----hum!----You impudent, audacious,
treacherous Slut!----Hussy, I'll marry you to my Scullion, I will,
Hussy, if I please; counterfeited with a Pox, I'll counterfeit you;
I'll yerk the sullen Devil out of you, I will so.

     _Enter_ Belliza.

_Bell._ Bless me, Uncle, what's the matter?

_Self._ I'll tell you what's the matter by and by, if you vex me;
where's this Rogue, this cozening Dog, this is the same Fellow, I
believe, that brought the Devil in an Orange, but I'll send him to the
Devil I warrant him. [_Exit._]

_Bell._. Well, Cousin, I over-heard all, what will you do now? he'll
certainly force you immediately.

_Luc._ I have but one Card left to play, if that fails I'm lost.

     _Enter_ Selfwill _again_.

_Self._ He has made his Escape, a Dog; but if ever I catch him----Well,
Mistress, I hope your Tongue is in Readiness,--here's Sir _Toby_; one
Denial, do ye hear, and you had better be hang'd.

_Luc._ On my Knees, Sir, I beg your Pardon.--And since I see nothing
will persuade you to the contrary, I submit freely to your Pleasure.

_Self._ So, that's well said.

     _Enter Sir_ Toby.

_Self._ Joy, Sir _Toby_, my Daughter speaks again.

Sir _Toby_. Then I am a happy Man; Madam, your most humble Servant.
[_Salutes her_.]

_Self._ Well, I'll to the Parson, Sir _Toby_; Cousin, in the mean
Time do you dress the Bride; adad I'll have a Dance ere I sleep yet.
[_Exit_.]

Sir _Toby_. Well, my dear, we shall be very happy, you shall never
refuse me any thing, and I'll do just what I please with you; we may
toy, and play, and kiss,----and--ha! from the Head to the Foot, for
I am Master of all; methinks I see your pretty Eyes, half closed
languishing thus, and your ruby Lips like a Rose-bud just opening,
and distilling a moist Dew upon mine: Ha! your pretty Ears suck'd
to a Vermillion Colour, your Alabaster Neck, and those two pretty
Bubbies;----and you--in fine, all your Person is at my Discretion,
and I at my own to caress you as I please. Ha! my Girl, does not this
please you? ha!

_Bell._ O my Conscience, the old Man's in a Rapture. [_Aside_.]

_Luc._ O! extremely, Sir _Toby_; for my Father's rigid Severity has
made me almost weary of my Life, I am stark mad for my Liberty; for
my Part I never loved _Bellmie_ only with a Design to get away from
my Father, and his gay Humour promised me I shou'd follow my own; but
I'd as live have you as him, or any body else, so I get but out of my
Father's Jurisdiction.

Sir _Toby_. How! how! was that all?

_Luc._ Positively, which I hope to Heaven will quickly be; now I'll
prepare for Diversion, and retrieve the Time I've lost; you must
promise me one thing, Sir _Toby_.

Sir _Toby_. What's that, Madam?

_Luc._ To let me have a House, or very good Lodgings about St.
_James_'s.

Sir _Toby_. About St. _James_'s?

_Bell._ Oh! by all Means, Sir _Toby_, all People of Breeding, and
Fashion, live at that End of the Town.

_Luc._ Especially the Company that I shall most covet.

Sir _Toby_. But St. _James_'s is quite out of my Way of Business; for
that lies at the Exchange you know.

_Bell._ Better still, Sir _Toby_, for you may keep Lodgings in the
City, and visit your Wife every Saturday Night, and stay till Monday,
true Citizen like, you know.

Sir _Toby_. Why, what do you think I design to lie with my Wife but
once a Week then?

_Luc._ Once a Week! I wou'd not for the World bed with you oftener; why
'tis not the Fashion, Sir _Toby_; and I assure you when I marry I hope
to be my own Mistress, and follow my own Inclination, which will carry
me to the utmost Pinacle of the Fashion.

Sir _Toby_. Humh!----that is as much as to say, the Fashion is for
Ladies to cuckold their Husbands; and for the better effecting of it,
they'd find Pretence for lying alone. [_Aside_.]

_Bell._ You look like a very gallant Gentleman, Sir _Toby_.

Sir _Toby._ I believe if she takes your Counsel, I shall soon look like
a Beast. [_Aside_.]

_Luc._ Ay, that knows how a Woman shou'd live; I'm certain you are not
one of those ill-natur'd Husbands, who expect to keep their Wives like
Melons under Glasses; I believe we shall agree the best in the World.

Sir _Toby._ Asunder I believe it must be then. [_Aside_.]

_Bell._ She'll distract the old Fellow presently. [_Aside_.] And then,
Sir _Toby_, you must alter your Livery, and give a lac'd one, for grey
turn'd up with blue looks so like a Country Squire. Ha, ha, ha!

_Luc._ One thing more I had like to have forgot, I must have a French
Chariot positively; for I wou'd not give a Farthing for a Chariot, if
it ben't a French one.

Sir _Toby_. French! egad I wou'd not have a Nail about my Coach that's
French, for the Wealth of the East-India Company. French Chariot! say
ye? Zouns, Madam, do ye take me for a Jacobite? ha!

_Bell._ Oh Lord! he'll beat us by and by. [_Aside_.]----No, no, Sir
_Toby_, Gentlemen may follow the French Fashions, nay, sup with a
Frenchman, yet be no Jacobite.

Sir _Toby_. I say 'tis a Lie, and I'll keep no French Chariot.

_Luc._ You'll at least keep six Horses, Sir _Toby_, for I wou'd not
make a Tour in Hyde-Park with less for the World; for methinks a pair
looks like a Hackney.

Sir _Toby_. Zouns this Woman will undo me. [_Aside_.]

_Luc._ For my Part I hate Solitude, Churches, and Prayers.

_Bell._ So do I directly; for except St. _James_'s Church, one scarce
sees a well drest Man, or ever receives a Bow from any thing above
one's Mercer.

Sir _Toby_. Why what a World of Religion our Ladies have; why do you go
to Church to pay and receive Bows pray?

_Bell._ Not absolutely on purpose, Sir _Toby_; but she that has no
Reverence from a Crowd, is look'd upon as an obscure Person, than
which there cannot be a greater Affront; for the Pleasure of living
now-a-days, is to be known and talk'd of.

Sir _Toby_. And I'm mistaken if you'll not give Cause enough for Talk.
[_Aside_.]

_Luc._ For my part I love the Park, Plays--Oh Heavens! what ails you
Sir? Your Countenance is chang'd.

Sir _Toby_. 'Tis only Vapours----my Head is giddy a little.

_Bell._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Luc._ Oh! 'tis a Disease that afflicts Abundance of People;----but our
Marriage, I hope, will dissipate that. I'll fetch you some cold Water,
Sir _Toby_.

Sir _Toby_. No, no, it will off again.--Mercy upon me, what a Judgment
have I escap'd! [_Aside_.]

_Luc._ Well, Sir _Toby_, I'll in and dress, my Father and the Parson
will be here presently----Come Cousin, if this has not put Marriage out
of his Head, Heaven help _Lucinda_. [_Aside_.]

_Bell._ 'Tis the maddest Method I e'er knew put in Practice.

Sir _Toby_. The Devil take him that stays for their coming. [_Exit_.]


SCENE _the Street_.

     _Enter_ Bellmie, Octavio, _and_ Martin.

_Bellm._ Was there ever a more promising Prospect so cursedly cross'd?

_Oct._ Never certainly, yet you are happy in being beloved; Fortune
will at last crown your Wishes, _Bellmie_, she cannot always be severe;
it is her Property to change, you know, therefore chear up.

_Bellm._ O that I had a thousand Men to fight for her Sake, they shou'd
one after another fall, or I'd be freed from this cursed Pain of
Wishing. I have no Hopes now, there's no Way left to get Possession of
her.----I'll fire his House about his Ears.

_Oct._ That may endanger her----ha! who comes here, Sir _Toby_? Do you
slip aside, for he does not know that I know you.

_Bellm._ I wish he was as young as I am, that I might take an
honourable Revenge on him.

     _Enter Sir_ Toby.

Sir _Toby_. Pox on't, I find I love this Woman, tho' if I marry her,
I'm certain to be a Cuckold.

_Oct._ Sir _Toby_, your Servant, well met, I was just going to look
for you, a Jeweller of my Acquaintance tells me you were enquiring for
a Diamond Ring, to present your Lady with, he says he has one of the
finest in _England_, and desires me to introduce him.

Sir _Toby_. Mr. _Octavio_, I thank you; but I have no Occasion for it
at present.

_Oct._ How! not at present! why you'll give it her before you marry
her, won't you?

Sir _Toby_. But I don't know whether I shall marry her or no; I wish I
were in _France_ now, for there's wise Men, and learned Men, that wou'd
resolve one a Question immediately.

_Oct._ A good Hint----Why, Sir _Toby_, if you have any Question
depending on Philosophy or Astrology, here's one of the most ingenious
Fellows in _France_ now in Town, I came over in the same Ship with him.

Sir _Toby_. Say you so, Sir? pray can you bring me to him?

_Oct._ My Servant shall shew you, or he shall be at my Lodging in a
Quarter of an Hour: I wou'd wait on you myself, Sir _Toby_, was I not
to help a Friend away with his Mistress, a friendly Office, you know.

Sir _Toby_. Ay, ay, Sir, so it is; well, Sir, I'll be at your Lodgings
in that Time, you'll give Order to your Man. I'll know I'm resolv'd,
whether this be only her Humour, or if I shall be a Cuckold or not.
[_Exit_.]

     Bellmie _appears_.

_Bellm._ I over-heard all; but what a Pox does he want a wise Man for?

_Oct._ I know not, but guess it is something about _Lucinda_; what
think you of personating the wise Man I promised to introduce him to?
if it don't absolutely prevent, it may at least defer the Marriage.

_Bellm._ With all my Heart.

_Oct._ Come, let's to my Lodgings, where you shall equip yourself ready
to receive him. [_Exeunt_.]




ACT V. SCENE I.


SCENE _changes to_ Lucinda's _Apartments_.

     _Enter_ Lucinda _and_ Belliza.

_Bell._ I' My Conscience this is the maddest Frolick I ever saw, why
thou hast almost thrown the old Man into Convulsions; I dare swear thou
hast frighted Matrimony out of his Head.

_Luc._ I hope so, or he'll fright me out of my Wits.

_Bell._ Nay, if he ventures on you after this, you need never fear his
being jealous.

_Luc._ I doubt I shall give him Cause enough, if he has not the Grace
to take Warning.----But hush, here's my Father.

     _Enter_ Selfwill.

_Self._ Daughter, where's Sir _Toby_?

_Luc._ Gone out, Sir, but he'll not be long, I suppose.

_Self._ Odso, gone out!----I made account he shou'd have heard the
Music practis'd over, which I design'd for your Wedding; for I'll keep
a public Wedding, Girl.

_Bell._ 'Tis too late, Uncle, to invite any body to-day, therefore you
had as good defer the Wedding till to-morrow, had you not, Uncle?

_Self._ No marry had I not.----Hang Delays, I hate them, she may be
married to-night, and we may keep the Wedding to-morrow, or next Day,
therefore I say it shall be done to-night, I spoke to some of the
Singers in the Play-house to be ready if I sent for them, and I gave
them an Invitation to my House, and one of them is within already; and
Daughter, till Sir _Toby_ comes she shall divert you; d'ye hear, desire
that Gentlewoman to come in.

     _Enter Mrs._ Shaw.

_Self._ Come, Madam, pray oblige us with some of your newest
Entertainments. [_She sings_.] Very well, very well, there's five
Guineas for you, d'ye see, to-morrow I shall send for you again. Come,
my Girl, come along with me, and I'll make you a Present of your
Mother's Jewels; thou shalt lose nothing my Girl, by being dutiful,
d'ye see.

_Bell._ Nor you get nothing by being obstinate, old Gentleman, if our
Plot takes. [_Exeunt_.]


SCENE _changes to_ Octavio's _Lodgings_.

     _Enter_ Bellmie _like a Philosopher on one Side, seeming to
     talk to some body within; and Sir_ Toby _and Servants on
     the other Side_.

_Serv._ That's he, Sir. [_Exeunt Servants_.]

Sir _Toby_. Very well.

_Bellm._ Go, you are insufferable, a Man fit to be banish'd all learned
Conversation. [_Looking back_.] Yes, I'll maintain it by all the
Arguments of Philosophy, that thou art an _Ignoramus_, and ought to be
despis'd by all Men of Letters.

Sir _Toby_. He's in a Passion with Somebody.--Sir,----Sir----

_Bellm._ Thou pretend to argue Reason, and dost not understand the
Elements of Reason?

Sir _Toby_. His Anger blinds him, he does not see me.--Sir,----Sir----

_Bellm._ It is a Position to be condemned by all the learned World.

Sir _Toby_. Somebody has vex'd him.

_Bellm. Toto cælo, tota via aberras._

Sir _Toby_. Doctor, I kiss your Hand.

_Bellm._ Your Servant.

Sir _Toby_. May one----

_Bellm._ Dost thou know what thou hast done? [_Looking back_.] Thou
hast committed a Syllogism in Abordo.

Sir _Toby_. I wou'd----

_Bellm._ The Major is insipid, the Minor is impertinent, and the
Conclusion ridiculous.

Sir _Toby_. I----

_Bellm._ I'll be hang'd ere I agree to what thou say'st, and I'll hold
my Opinion to the last Drop of my Ink.

Sir _Toby_. Doctor, I wou'd----

_Bellm._ Yes, I'll defend that Position, _Pugnis & Calcibus, Unguibus &
Rostro_.

Sir _Toby_. Mr. _Aristotle_, pray mayn't one know what puts you into
such a Passion?

_Bellm._ A Subject the most just in the World.

Sir _Toby_. Pray what is it?

_Bellm._ An ignorant Fellow wou'd pretend to ho'd an Argument the most
unjust, unsufferable, insupportable--

Sir _Toby_. May one not know what it is?

_Bellm._ Ah! Sir, every thing is turn'd upside down, and the World is
corrupted as if there was a Licence for Vice; and the Magistrates who
are establish'd to keep good Order, ought to blush for suffering such
an intolerable Scandal as this, which I speak of.

Sir _Toby_. But pray what is it?

_Bellm._ Is it not a horrible thing, a thing that cries to Heaven for
Vengeance, that it shou'd be said publickly, the Form of a Hat.

Sir _Toby_. How!

_Bellm._ I hold the Figure of a Hat, not the Form, so far, that there's
this Difference between the Form and the Figure; the Form is the
exterior Disposition of Bodies animate, and the Figure is the exterior
Disposition of Bodies inanimate; so that the Hat being inanimate, it
must be said the Figure, not the Form; yes, thou ignorant Blockhead,
this is the Way you must talk, and this is the Term that _Aristotle_
expresses in the Chapter of Qualities. [_Looking back_.]

Sir _Toby_. Is this all?----why I thought you had lost all you have in
the World; don't mind this, think no more on't, Doctor.

_Bellm._ I am so mad I hardly know myself.

Sir _Toby_. Oh! lay aside the Form and Figure of the Hat, I have
something else to communicate to you, I--

_Bellm._ Impertinent Blockhead! [_Looking back_.]

Sir _Toby_. Pray, Sir, contain yourself, I----

_Bellm._ Ignorant!

Sir _Toby_. Oh gad! I----

_Bellm._ To pretend to hold an Argument of this Kind.

Sir _Toby_. He is in the wrong indeed,--I----

_Bellm._ Expressly an Opinion condemned by _Aristotle_.

Sir _Toby_. Yes, you are in the right, and he's a Fool, an impudent
Fellow to pretend to argue with a Doctor of your Knowledge, but there's
an End of that Matter: I desire you to hear me; I am come to consult
you about an Affair that troubles me a little; I have a Design to take
me a Wife to keep me Company; the Person d'ye see, is handsome, well
shap'd, and I like her very well, and she is over-joy'd to marry me,
and her Father has given me his Consent; but I'm afraid of you know
what, the common Misfortune that attends married Men; so that I wou'd
desire you as a wise Man, and gifted with Knowledge of the Stars, to
tell me your Opinion, and give me your Advice upon it.

_Bellm._ Rather than it shall be allow'd to be the Form of a Hat, I'd
sooner allow _datur vacuum in rerum natura_, or that I am an Ass.

Sir _Toby_. Plague on this Man. [_Aside_.] Pray, Doctor, hear People a
little when they speak to you; I have been a talking to you this Hour,
and you don't answer me one Word to the Purpose.

_Bellm._ I beg your Pardon, I have such Reason to be angry, that I'm
not myself yet.

Sir _Toby_. Pho--let all that alone, and pray hear me.

_Bellm._ Well, I will,--pray what wou'd you say to me?

Sir _Toby_. I wou'd speak to you about some serious Business.

_Bellm._ What Tongue wou'd you use with me?

Sir _Toby_. What Tongue!

_Bellm._ Ay.

Sir _Toby_. Why the Tongue I have in my Head, I shan't borrow my
Neighbour's.

_Bellm._ Ay, but what Idiom, what Language I mean?

Sir _Toby_. Ho, that's another thing.

_Bellm._ Will you talk to me in Italian?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ In Spanish?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ In High-Dutch?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ In French?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ Latin?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ Greek?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ Hebrew?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ In Syriac?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ In Turkish?

Sir _Toby_. No.

_Bellm._ Arabick?

Sir _Toby_. No, no, no, no, English.

_Bellm._ Ho! in English----very well.----Then come on t'other Side,
for this Ear is kept only for Strangers, and the other for our Mother
Tongue.

Sir _Toby_. Here's a great deal of Ceremony with these People.
[_Aside_.]

_Bellm._ Well, what wou'd you ask now?

Sir _Toby_. I told you before, Sir, but I perceive you did not mind me,
why I wou'd consult you upon a little Difficulty.

_Bellm._ A Difficulty in Philosophy without Doubt.

Sir _Toby_. Excuse me, I----

_Bellm._ Perhaps you wou'd know if the Substance and Accident, are
Terms synonimous or equivocal, in regard of their Being.

Sir _Toby_. Not at all, I wou'd----

_Bellm._ If Logick be an Art or Science.

Sir _Toby_. No nor that, I----

_Bellm._ Whether it has three Operations of the Mind, or the third only.

Sir _Toby_. No, I----

_Bellm._ If there is ten Categories, or if there be but one.

Sir _Toby_. Neither, I----

_Bellm._ If the Conclusion be of the Essence, or of the Syllogism.

Sir _Toby_. No, no, no, no.

_Bellm._ If the Good be reciprocal with the End.

Sir _Toby_. Zouns, no----[_Stamps_.]

_Bellm._ If the End can move us by a real Being, or by an intentional
Being.

Sir _Toby_. No, no; by the Devil and all his Imps, no.

_Bellm._ Why then explain your Mind, for I can't guess it.

Sir _Toby_. So I will explain myself, but you won't hear me. I tell you
I have a Mind to marry, I have her Father's Consent and hers too, but
I'm afraid----

_Bellm._ Words be given to Man to explain his Mind, the Mind is the
Picture of Things, as our Words are the Pictures of our Meaning; but
these Pictures differ from all other Pictures, insomuch as other
Pictures are distinguish'd by their Originals; and the Word keeps
in itself the original Being, that it is nothing else but the Mind
explained by some exterior Sign or Motion; whence it comes that those
who think well talk the better; explain then your Mind by your Words,
which is the most intelligible of all the Signs.

Sir _Toby_. A Pox take you and all your Signs and Figures; get in and
be damn'd, get in. [_Pushes him in_.]

     _Enter_ Octavio.

_Oct._ Ha, ha, ha. [_Aside_.]

Sir _Toby_. Oh! Mr. _Octavio_, are you come? Pox take your learned Man
here, he won't hear one Word a Man has to say to him; I never was so
plagu'd in all my Life, phugh,----[_Walks about in a Heat_.]

_Oct._ I just heard his Character, Sir _Toby_, and came to your Relief;
faith I had but small Acquaintance with him, as I told you before, only
coming over in the same Ship with him: but I have heard of another, a
very sober discreet Person, they say, if you please you may consult
him, he lodges at the Sign of the Globe in the next Street; I have a
little Business at present, or I'd wait on you, Sir _Toby_, I hope
you'll excuse me. [_Exit_.]

Sir _Toby_. Sir, your Servant.--A Pox on' this Fellow, I shan't be
myself again this Hour, yet I'm resolv'd to hear what t'other says; for
if there is any Possibility of escaping Cuckoldom, I wou'd marry this
Girl. [_Exit_.]

     _Re-enter_ Octavio _and_ Bellmie.

_Oct._ Excellently well performed, _Bellmie_; why you cant learnedly,
and wou'd make an admirable Fortune-teller, ha! thou'rt an handsome
Fellow, and wou'd have all the Ladies Customs.

_Bellm._ Pox take this old Dog, he has put me quite out of Breath, I
had much ado to forbear laughing.

_Oct._ Nor I; but come let's consider who shall personate the other
learned Man; what think you of doing it yourself?

_Bellm._ With all my Heart.

_Oct._ You must alter your Dress then, and represent a Man whose Temper
and Principles are just opposite to all you did just now; seem to doubt
every thing, and be positive in nothing, d'ye hear?

_Bellm._ I'll warrant you, let me alone for cross Purposes.

_Oct._ Come, you must about it immediately; in the mean time I'll go
and tell Mr. _Selfwill_, Sir _Toby_ wou'd speak with him at the Globe;
I'll be sure to get him abroad, then do as we agreed on. [_Exeunt_.]


_The_ SCENE Selfwill'_s House_.

     _Enter_ Selfwill, Lucinda, _and_ Belliza.

_Self._ I can't imagine where Sir _Toby_ is gone, I wonder he shou'd go
out of the Way, when he knew I was gone for the Parson.

_Bell._ It is not very civil truly.

_Luc._ I hope he'll never come again. [_Aside_.]

     _Enter_ Octavio.

_Oct._ Ladies, your humble Servant. Mr. _Selfwill_, Sir _Toby_ humbly
begs your Pardon, he met with some Friends that detain him against his
Will, at the Globe, where he desires you'd meet him; and he also begs
the Favour of this Lady to give me leave to wait on her to the Church,
where he'll meet her instantly; for what Reason I know not, but he says
he's resolved not to be married out of a Church, which I believe was
the Cause of his going away.

_Self._ Nay, if that be all, with all my Heart.

_Oct._ 'Tis to _Bellmie_, Madam, I conduct you. [_Aside_.]

_Self._ D'ye hear, Daughter, let Mr. _Octavio_ wait on you, as Sir
_Toby_ desires: Niece, you'll bear her Company, and see her given away.

_Bell._ But not to the Man you expect, Uncle. [_Aside_.]

_Self._ Mr. _Octavio_ your Servant. [_Exit_.]

_Oct._ Sir, yours. Now, Madam, if Fortune favours us, _Bellmie_ will
be happy. [_Turning to_ Belliza.] Madam, have you no Charity, how long
must I serve ere you reward my Service?

_Bell._ Serve me, Sir! this is the first Moment I knew I had such a
Servant; I shall observe with what Diligence you officiate for the
future.

_Oct._ For the future! ods life, Madam, what do you mean? If you knew
my Constitution half so well as I do, you'd reward me presently; for I
have serv'd already, in my Opinion, a Patriarch's Apprenticeship.

_Bell._ Nay, if your Account runs so swiftly, I'm afraid you'll forget
you e'er serv'd at all.

_Oct._ No, Madam, bind me fast in Marriage Bonds, and I shall become as
errant a Husband as you'd wish.

_Luc._ The Gentleman promises fair, Cousin; pray try him.

_Bell._ First let me see you disposed of, what that may put into my
Head I know not, but I'll promise nothing.

_Oct._ But perform, I hope, as much as those that do; I'll still hope
the best: Come, Ladies, my Friend will be impatient. [_Exeunt_.]


SCENE _the Globe_.

     _Enter_ Bellmie _on one Side, and Sir_ Toby _on the other_.

Sir _Toby_. Doctor, your Servant.

_Bellm._ Sir, your very humble Servant; pray what is your Business?

Sir _Toby_. Ay, this Man is something like, he'll give one leave to
speak. [_Aside_.] I am come, Doctor.--

_Bellm._ Hold, Sir, change, if you please, your Way of talking; our
Philosophy teaches never to be positive in any thing, always suspend
your Judgment.--By that Rule you must not say you are come, but you
believe you are come.

Sir _Toby_. Believe I am come?

_Bellm._ Yes.

Sir _Toby_. I must believe it because it is so.

_Bellm._ That is not the Consequence, you may believe it to be so, tho'
the thing is not true.

Sir _Toby_. How! what, is it not true that I am come?

_Bellm._ That's uncertain, and we are to doubt of any thing.

Sir _Toby_. What! am I here, and don't you talk to me?

_Bellm._ I believe you are there, and I think I talk to you, but am not
certain of it.

Sir _Toby_. What the Devil, do ye banter me? I am here, and I see you
there plain enough, yet there's no Belief in it. Pray let all these
Whims alone, and let us talk of our Business, I come to tell you I have
a mind to marry.

_Bellm._ I don't know that.

Sir _Toby_. Why but I tell you.

_Bellm._ That may be.

Sir _Toby_. And the Lady I design for my Wife is young and handsome.

_Bellm._ That's not impossible.

Sir _Toby_. Shall I do well or ill to marry her?

_Bellm._ One or the other.

Sir _Toby_. Ha! here's another Rogue now. [_Aside_.] I ask you if I
shall do well to marry that Lady?

_Bellm._ According as it proves.

Sir _Toby_. Shall I do ill?

_Bellm._ Peradventure.

Sir _Toby_. Pray, Sir, answer me as you shou'd do.

_Bellm._ 'Tis my Design. Sir _Toby_. I have a great Inclination for
the Maid.

_Bellm._ Not unlikely.

Sir _Toby_. I have her Father's Consent.

_Bellm._ It may be so.

Sir _Toby_. But in marrying her I'm afraid of being a Cuckold.

_Bellm._ It may be done.

Sir _Toby_. May it so, Sir?

_Bellm._ There's no Impossibility.

Sir _Toby_. Did ever any body hear such a cautious Dog? [_Aside_.] But
what wou'd you do, if you were in my Place?

_Bellm._ I don't know.

Sir _Toby_. What wou'd you counsel me to do?

_Bellm._ What you please.

Sir _Toby_. You'll make me mad. [_Looking angrily_.]

_Bellm._ I wash my Hands of it.

Sir _Toby_. The Devil take him. [_Aside_.]

_Bellm._ Look'e Sir, what will happen, will happen.

Sir _Toby_. Pox on this Dog, I'll make you change your Note, I'll
warrant you. [_Beats him_.] There's for your Nonsense, now, I'm
satisfied.

_Bellm._ What Insolence is this, to strike a Philosopher, a Man of
Learning as I am?

Sir _Toby_. Pray, good Doctor, change your Way of talking, you must not
be positive in any thing, you must not say I beat you, the most you can
say, is that you believe I beat you.

_Bellm._ I'll instantly make my Complaint to a Justice, I'll have
Satisfaction for the Blows I received.

Sir _Toby_. I wash my Hands on't.

_Bellm._ I have the Marks upon my Shoulders.

Sir _Toby_. That may be.

_Bellm._ 'Tis you have given me 'em.

Sir _Toby_. That's not impossible.

_Bellm._ I shall have a Warrant for you.

Sir _Toby_. I know nothing of the Matter.

_Bellm._ And you shall make me Satisfaction, or go to Prison.

Sir _Toby_. What will happen, will happen. Ha, ha, ha.

_Bellm._ Ay, let me alone with you. [_Exit_.]

Sir _Toby_. The Devil go with you and all such confounded Dogs, one
can't get one Word positive from 'em; a little canting Nonsense,
what a Pox do they pretend to Learning for? I knew as much before I
came as I do now; what shall I do in this Incertitude? If I marry I
shall certainly be a Cuckold, and my Children Bastards.--There must be
something in these Fellows Shufflings, for burn 'em they are wise Men
when one has said all; and therefore they certainly know I shall be a
Cuckold if I marry, but are afraid to tell me so; therefore I will not
marry I am resolved, and so I'll go and tell Mr. _Selfwill_. Ha! what,
is he come to ask Advice too?

     _Enter_ Selfwill.

Sir _Toby_. Mr. _Selfwill_ your humble Servant, what do you do here?

_Self._ Why! did you not send for me, Sir _Toby_?

Sir _Toby_. Not I, Sir.

_Self._ What! did you not send _Octavio_ for me, and order'd him to
wait on my Daughter to Church, where you'd meet her.

Sir _Toby_. Upon my Faith, not I. I was just a coming to tell you I
have already altered my Design of Marriage, my Years do not suit with
Matrimony; and therefore I desire you to dispose of your Daughter to
whom you please; I beg your Pardon, but won't marry I'm resolved.

_Self._ How! how's this, Sir _Toby_! Do you make a Fool of my Daughter?

Sir _Toby_. Not I, Mr. _Selfwill_,----nor do I design your Daughter
shall make a Cuckold of me.----[_Aside_.]

_Self._ What do you mean by saying you won't marry?

Sir _Toby_. Just as I say, I mean,--I will not marry I tell you.

_Self._ Did you not send for me, say you?----

Sir _Toby_. No, Sir.

_Self._ Nor for my Daughter?

Sir _Toby_. Neither.

_Self._ O Lord! I'm ruin'd, undone. [_Stamps_.] Who is this _Octavio_?
Sir _Toby_, you are a Knave, I doubt in my Conscience. I believe you
have pretended Love to my Daughter all this while, only to put a Trick
upon me.

Sir _Toby_. Have a care what you say, Mr. _Selfwill_; egad I won't take
an Affront. [_Holds up his Cane_.]

     _Enter_ Bellmie, Octavio, Lucinda _and_ Belliza.

_Oct._ Hold, Gentlemen, I hope you are not in earnest; Sir _Toby_, I
have brought your Bride. Ha, ha, ha!

Sir _Toby_. She shall be your Bride if you will, Sir.

_Oct._ Here's a Gentleman has a better Title to her.

_Bellm. and Luc._ Your Blessing, Sir. [_To_ Selfwill _kneeling_.]

_Self._ What the Devil! you are not married, are you?

_Oct._ 'Tis even so, Mr. _Selfwill_.

_Self._ Why then take her, but not a Groat of mine along with her, I'll
promise you that; there's five hundred a Year her Grandmother left her,
which I can't hinder her of, I wish I cou'd, you shou'd starve together.

Sir _Toby_. Tal, dera, dal, dal, dal; I'm glad I'm shut of her, for
if she cou'd steal a Husband, she'd have stole the Devil and all of
Gallants. [_Aside_.] But I thought, Mr. _Octavio_, you was my Friend.

_Oct._ So I am, Sir _Toby_; did I not tell you from the first, Marriage
wou'd not agree with your Years? ha!

Sir _Toby_. 'Tis very true, Sir, and I thank you for your Care.

_Oct._ Mr. _Selfwill_, Uncle I mean, give me your Hand, and let's be
Friends.

_Self._ Uncle! why what, my Daughter did not set your Chops a watering
too, did she Niece, ha? I wish you much Joy, if there can come any such
thing from the Sex, for I'm in doubt if there can or no; she has a good
Fortune, as long as that lasts you may live well enough, and when 'tis
spent there's Hedges and Barns in the Country; hang, drown, or starve,
I care not. [_Exit_.]

_Oct. and Bellm._ Ha, ha, ha!

_Bellm._ Come, my Dear,----in me

  You shall both Father, Friend, and Husband find,
  I ne'er can want of ought while you are kind.

     _Enter_ Martin _and his_ Wife.

_Mart._ Sir, I have brought the Music.

_Bellm._ That's well, we'll have a Dance however; but first let me beg
one Favour of you, Sir _Toby_.

Sir _Toby_. What's that, Sir?

_Bellm._ Only to forgive this Fellow, and make one in our Diversion.

Sir _Toby_. Forgive him! why I don't know him.

_Mart._ Not my Person perhaps, Sir _Toby_, but my Parts you do. I am he
that sold you Oranges, Master; likewise the Doctor that restor'd this
young Lady to her Speech; and this Gentleman, [_Pointing to_ Bellmie.]
by my Advice personated the two famous Astrologers of whom you
enquired your Fortune, whether or no you should be a Cuckold, Master;
do you know us now, Sir?

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha, ha!

Sir _Toby_. A thorough pac'd Rogue,--Why what an Ass have I been made
on! [_Aside_.] Hark'e, Sirrah, don't you expect to be hang'd, ye Dog?

_Mart._ I am married, Sir.

Sir _Toby_. You are married! why then, may the Curse of Cuckoldom light
on thee, or what's worse, the Fear of it. Good-by to you all. [_Exit_.]

_Omnes._ Ha, ha, ha, ha! [_All laugh_.]

_Bellm._ Well, _Martin_, your Wife and you shall live with me for the
future, but you shall beat her no more.

_Wife._ Nay, I'm pretty even with him, Sir, for I put him off for a
Doctor, and got him well drub'd into the Bargain.

_Oct._ A very cunning Stratagem; but come, let the Diversion begin.


SONG. By Mr. _Leveridge_.

1.

  _Sue to_ Cælia _for the Favour,_
    _Why shou'd poor deluded Man,_
  _As if he were sole Receiver,_
    _Return no Bliss again?_

2.

  _Were not Love condemn'd to Blindness_
    _Quickly he wou'd find,_
  _Tho' to him she feign the Kindness,_
    _She's to herself most kind._

3.

  _Let us banish then the Fashion,_
    _And be resolutely brave,_
  _Since it is their Inclination_
    _Let 'em ask before they have._

_Oct._ Come, my _Belliza_, you shall find tho' I have hitherto talked
wildly, that I love in earnest.

  My Study shal be still for your Content,
  Give me but Love, you never shall repent.




SOURCE:


 THE WORKS OF THE CELEBRATED Mrs. CENTLIVRE.

 VOLUME TWO

 LONDON:

 Printed for J. Knapton, C. Hitch and L. Hawes,
 J. and R. Tonson, S. Crowder and Co. W. Bathoe,
 T. Lownds, T. Caslon, and G. Kearsly.
 M.DCC.LX.




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE.


Hyphenation is inconsistent throughout, and some words are spelt more
than one way. Character names may also be abbreviated in various ways.
Missing punctuation was added, and in one instance, the punctuation was
moved because the existing placement made no sense.

Obvious spelling errors have been silently corrected. They include
instances of broken or reversed type, missing letters, or letters out
of order. Examples include whoveer (whoever), learniug (learning),
Advi e (Advice), Symptons (Symptoms). A small number of substantive
changes were made where the context required it. They are listed below.

The word "you" was changed to "your" in "I was afraid I had tired you
Patience"; "tired" may be another spelling mistake (for tried), but has
been retained.

"How how, Hussy" became "How now, Hussy" to conform to the common
phrase, which occurs several times in the play.

"I know a Man can cure him (...)" was changed to "I know a Man can cure
her (...)" since the character referred to is female.


[The end of _Love's Contrivance_ by Susanna Centlivre]