SCENE I-St. James's Park, at Night. ACT II. Ran. May bring his bashful wench, and not have her put out of countenance by the impudent honest women of the town. Dap. And a man of wit may have the better of the dumb show of well-trimmed vest or fair peruke: -no man's now is whitest. Ran. And now no woman's modest or proud; for her blushes are hid, and the rubies on her lips are died, and all sleepy and glimmering eyes have lost their attraction. Vin. And now a man may carry a bottle under his arm instead of his hat;-and no observing spruce fop will miss the cravat that lies on one's shoulder, or count the pimples on one's face. Dap. And now the brisk repartee ruins the complaisant cringe, or wise grimace.-Something 'twas, we men of virtue always loved the night. Ran. O blessed season! Vin. For good-fellows. Dap. And for the Muses. Ran. When I was a boy I loved the night so well, I had a strong vocation to be a bellman's apprentice. Vin. I, a drawer. Dap. And I, to attend the waits of Westminster, let me perish! Ran. But why do we not do the duty of this and such other places ;-walk, censure, and speak ill of all we meet ? Dap. 'Tis no fault of mine, let me perish! Vin. Fy, fy! satirical gentlemen, this is not your time; you cannot distinguish a friend from a fop. Dap. No matter, no matter; they will deserve amongst 'em the worst we can say. Ran. Who comes here, Dapperwit ? [People walking slowly over the stage. Dap. By the toss of his head, training of his feet, and his elbows playing at bo-peep behind his back, it should be my lord Easy. Ran. And who the woman? Dap. My Lord what-d'ye-call's daughter, that had a child by Vin. Dapperwit, hold your tongue. Vin. Her brother's an honest fellow, and will drink his glass. Ran. Prithee, Vincent, Dapperwit did not hinder drinking to-night, though he spake against it; why, then, should you interrupt his sport?-Now, let him talk of anybody. Vin. So he will,-till you cut his throat. Ran. Why should you on all occasions thwart him, contemn him, and maliciously look grave at his jests only? Vin. Why does he always rail against my friends, then, and my best friend-a beer-glass? Ran. Dapperwit, be your own advocate: my game, I think, is before me there. [Exit. Dap. This Ranger, I think, has all the ill qualities of all your town fops ;-leaving his company for a spruce lord or a wench. Vin. Nay, if you must rail at your own best friends, I may forgive you railing at mine. Enter LYDIA and my Lady FLIPPANT.-They walk over the stage. Lyd. False Ranger, shall I find thee here? [Aside. [TO DAPPERWIT. Dap. The least seems to be my Lucy, sure. Vin. Those are women, are they not? [Aside. Vin. Faith, I think I dare speak to a woman in the dark!-let's try. Dap. They are persons of quality of my acquaintance ;-hold! Vin. Nay, if they are persons of quality of your acquaintance, I may be the bolder with 'em. [The ladies go off, they follow them. Re-enter LYDIA and my Lady FLIPPANT. Lyd. I come hither to make a discovery to-night. Flip. Of my love to you, certainly; for nobody but you could have debauched me to the Park, certainly. I would not return another night, if it were to redeem my dear husband from his grave. Lyd. I believe you :-but to get another, widow. Flip. Another husband, another husband, foh! Lyd. There does not pass a night here but many a match is made. Flip. That a woman of honour should have the word match in her mouth!-but I hope, madam, the fellows do not make honourable love here, do they? I abominate honourable love, upon my honour. Lyd. If they should make honourable love here, I know you would prevent 'em. Re-enter VINCENT and DAPPERWIT.-They walk slowly towards the ladies, But here come two men will inform you what to do. Flip. Do they come?-are they men certainly? Lyd. Prepare for an assault, they'll put you to 't. Flip. Will they put us to't certainly? I was never put to't yet. If they should put us to't, I should drop down, down, certainly. Lyd. I believe, truly, you would not have power to run away. Flip. Therefore I will not stay the push. They come! they come! oh, the fellows come! [FLIPPANT runs away, LYDIA follows, and VINCENT and DAPPERWIT after them. Re-enter FLIPPANT at the other door, alone. Flip. So! I am got off clear! I did not run from the men, but my companion. For all their brags, men have hardly courage to set upon us when our number is equal; now they shall see I defy 'em : for we women have always most courage when we are alone. But, a pox! the lazy rogues come not; or they are drunk and cannot run. Oh drink! abominable drink! instead of inflaming love, it quenches it; and for one lover it encourages, it makes a thousand impotent. Curse on all wine! even Rhenish wine and sugar Enter ADDLEPLOT, muffled in a cloak. But fortune will not see me want; here comes a single bully, I wish he may stand ; For now a-nights the jostling nymph is bolder Than modern satyr with his cloak o'er shoulder. Well met, sir. [She puts on her mask. Sir Sim. How shall I know that, forsooth? Who are you? do you know me? Flip. Who are you? don't you know me ? Flip. I am glad on't; for no man e'er liked a woman the better for having known her before. Sir Sim. Ay, but then one can't be so free with a new acquaintance as with an old one; she may deny one the civility. Flip. Not till you ask her. Sir Sim. But I am afraid to be denied. Flip. Let me tell you, sir, you cannot disoblige us women more than in distrusting us. Sir Sim. Pish! what should one ask for, when you know one's meaning ?-but shall I deal freely with you? Flip. I love, of my life, men should deal freely with me; there are so few men will deal freely with one Sir Sim. Are you not a fireship, a punk, madam? Flip. Well, sir, I love raillery. Sir Sim. Faith and troth, I do not rally, I deal freely. Flip. This is the time and place for freedom, sir. Sir Sim. Are you handsome? Flip. Joan's as good as my lady in the dark, certainly but men that deal freely never ask questions, certainly. Sir Sim. How then! I thought to deal freely, and put a woman to the question, had been all one. Flip. But, let me tell you, those that deal freely indeed, take a woman by Sir Sim. What, what, what, what? Sir Sim. Now I understand you; come along then. Enter behind Musicians with torches. Flip. What unmannerly rascals are those that bring light into the Park? 'twill not be taken well from 'em by the women, certainly.-[Aside.] Still disappointed! Sir Sim. Oh, the fiddles, the fiddles! I sent for them hither to oblige the women, not to offend 'em ; for I intend to serenade the whole Park to-night. But my frolic is not without an intrigue, faith and troth: for I know the fiddles will call the whole herd of vizard masks together; and then shall I discover if a strayed mistress of mine be not amongst 'em, whom I treated to-night at the French-house; but as soon as the jilt had eat up my meat and drunk her two bottles, she ran away from me, and left me alone. Flip. How is it he! Addleplot!-that I could not know him by his faith and troth! [Aside. Sir Sim. Now I would understand her tricks; because I intend to marry her, and should be glad to know what I must trust to. Flip. So thou shalt ;-but not yet. [Aside. Sir Sim. Though I can give a great guess already; for if I have any intrigue or sense in me, she is as arrant a jilt as ever pulled pillow from under husband's head, faith and troth. Moreover she is bow-legged, hopper-hipped, and, betwixt pomatum and Spanish red, has a complexion like a Holland cheese, and no more teeth left, than such as give a haut goût to her breath; but she is rich, faith and troth. Flip. [Aside.] Oh rascal! he has heard somebody else say all this of me. But I must not discover myself, lest I should be disappointed of my revenge; for I will marry him. [The Musicians approaching, exit FLIPPANT. Sir Sim. What, gone!-come then, strike up, my lads. [Enter Men and women in vizards-a Dance, during which ADDLEFLOT, for the most part, stands still in a cloak and vizard; but sometimes goes about peeping, and examining the women's clothes-the Dance ended, all exeunt. Re-enter FLIPPANT and LYDIA, after them VINCENT and DAPPERWIT. Flip. [To LYDIA.] Nay, if you stay any longer, I must leave you again. [FLIPPANT going off. Vin. We have overtaken them at last again. These are they: they separate too; and that's but a challenge to us. Dap. Let me perish! ladies Lyd. Nay good madam, let's unite, now here's the common enemy upon us. Vin. Damn me! ladies Dap. Hold, a pox! you are too rough.-Let me perish! ladies Lyd. Not for want of breath, gentlemen :—we'll stay rather. Dap. For want of your favour rather, sweet ladies. Flip. [Aside.] That's Dapperwit, false villain! but he must not know I am here. If he should, I should lose his thrice agreeable company, and he would run from me as fast as from the bailiffs. [To LYDIA.] What! you will not talk with 'em, I hope? Lyd. Yes, but I will. Flip. Then you are a Park-woman, certainly; and you will take it kindly if I leave you. Lyd. No, you must not leave me. Flip. Then you must leave them. Lyd. I'll see if they are worse company than you, first. Flip. Monstrous impudence!-will you not come? [Pulls LYDIA. Vin. Nay, madam, I never suffer any violence to be used to a woman but what I do myself: she must stay, and you must not go. Flip. Unhand me, you rude fellow! Vin. Nay, now I am sure you will stay and be kind; for coyness in a woman is as little sign of true modesty, as huffing in a man is of true courage. Dap. Use her gently, and speak soft things to her. Lyd. [Aside.] Now I do guess I know my coxcomb.-[To DAPPERWIT.] Sir, I am extremely glad I am fallen into the hands of a gentleman that can speak soft things; and this is so fine a night to hear soft things in ;-morning, I should have said. Dap. It will not be morning, dear madam, till you pull off your mask.-[Aside.] That I think was brisk. Lyd. Indeed, dear sir, my face would frighten back the sun. Dap. With glories more radiant than his own : -[Aside.] I keep up with her, I think. Lyd. But why would you put me to the trouble of lighting the world; when I thought to have gone to sleep? Dap. You only can do it, dear madam, let me perish! Lyd. But why would you (of all men) practise treason against your friend Phoebus, and depose him for a mere stranger? Dap. I think she knows me. [Aside. Lyd. But he does not do you justice, I believe; and you are so positively cock-sure of your wit, you would refer to a mere stranger your plea to the bay-tree. [Aside. Dap. She jeers me, let me perish ! Vin. Dapperwit, a little of your aid; for my lady's invincibly dumb. Dap. Would mine had been so too! [Aside. Vin. I have used as many arguments to make her speak, as are requisite to make other women hold their tongues. Dap. Well, I am ready to change sides.-Yet before I go, madam, since the moon consents now I should see your face, let me desire you to pull off your mask; which to a handsome lady is a favour, I'm sure. Lyd. Truly, sir, I must not be long in debt to you for the obligation; pray let me hear you recite some of your verses; which to a wit is a favour, I'm sure. Dap. Madam, it belongs to your sex to be obliged first; pull off your mask, and I'll pull out my paper. [Aside.] Brisk again, of my side. Lyd. 'Twould be in vain, for you would want a candle now. Dap. [Aside.] I dare not make use again of the lustre of her face.-[To LYDIA.] I'll wait upon you home then, madam. Lyd. Faith, no; I believe it will not be much to our advantages to bring my face or your poetry to light for I hope you have yet a pretty good opinion of my face, and so have I of your wit. But if you are for proving your wit, why do not you write a play? Dap. Because 'tis now no more reputation to write a play, than it is honour to be a knight. Your true wit despises the title of poet, as much as your true gentleman the title of knight; for as a man may be a knight and no gentleman, so a man may be a poet and no wit, let me perish! Lyd. Pray, sir, how are you dignified or distinguished amongst the rates of wits? and how many rates are there? Dap. There are as many degrees of wits as of lawyers as there is first your solicitor, then your attorney, then your pleading-counsel, then your chamber-counsel, and then your judge; so there is first your court-wit, your coffee-wit, your poll-wit, or politic-wit, your chamber-wit, or scribble-wit, and last of all, your judge-wit, or critic. Lyd. But are there as many wits as lawyers? Lord, what will become of us !-What employment can they have? how are they known? Dap. First, your court-wit is a fashionable, insinuating, flattering, cringing, grimacing fellow -and has wit enough to solicit a suit of love; and if he fail, he has malice enough to ruin the woman with a dull lampoon :-but he rails still at the man that is absent, for you must know all wits rail; and his wit properly lies in combing perukes, matching ribbons, and being severe, as they call it, upon other people's clothes. Lyd. Now, what is the coffee-wit? Dap. He is a lying, censorious, gossiping, quibbling wretch, and sets people together by the ears over that sober drink, coffee: he is a wit, as he is a commentator, upon the Gazette; and he rails at the pirates of Algier, the Grand Signior of Constantinople, and the Christian Grand Signior. Lyd. What kind of wit is your poll-wit? Dap. He is a fidgetting, busy, dogmatical, hotheaded fop, that speaks always in sentences and proverbs, (as other in similitudes,) and he rails perpetually against the present government. His wit lies in projects and monopolies, and penning speeches for young parliament men. Lyd. But what is your chamber-wit, or scribble wit? Dap. He is a poring, melancholy, modest sot, ashamed of the world: he searches all the records of wit, to compile a breviate of them for the use of players, printers, booksellers, and sometimes cooks, tobacco-men; he employs his railing against the ignorance of the age, and all that have more money than he. Lyd. Now your last. Dap. Your judge-wit, or critic, is all these together, and yet has the wit to be none of them : he can think, speak, write, as well as the rest, but scorns (himself a judge) to be judged by posterity: he rails at all the other classes of wits, and his wit lies in damning all but himself:-he is your true wit. Lyd. Then, I suspect you are of his form. Vin. Dapperwit, you have been all this time on the wrong side; for you love to talk all, and here's a lady would not have hindered you. Dap. A pox! I have been talking too long indeed here; for wit is lost upon a silly weak√ woman, as well as courage. [Aside. Vin. I have used all common means to move a woman's tongue and mask; I called her ugly, old, and old acquaintance, and yet she would not disprove me :-but here comes Ranger, let him try what he can do; for, since my mistress is dogged, I'll go sleep alone. [Exit. Re-enter RANGER. Lyd. [Aside.] Ranger! 'tis he indeed: I am sorry he is here, but glad I discovered him before I went. Yet he must not discover me, lest I should be prevented hereafter in finding him out. False Ranger!-[To FLIPPANT.] Nay, if they bring fresh force upon us, madam, 'tis time to quit the field. [Exeunt LYDIA and FLIPPANT. Ran. What, play with your quarry till it fly from you! Dap. You frighten it away. Ran. Ha! is not one of those ladies in mourn Ran. Did you talk with her? Dap. Yes, she is one of your brisk silly baggages. Ran. 'Tis she, 'tis she !-I was afraid I saw her before; let us follow 'em : prithee make haste.[Aside.] 'Tis Lydia. [Exeunt. Re-enter, at the other door, LYDIA and my Lady FLIPPANT -Dapperwit and Ranger following them at a distance. Lyd. They follow us yet, I fear. Flip. You do not fear it, certainly; otherwise you would not have encouraged them. Lyd. For Heaven's sake, madam, waive your quarrel a little, and let us pass by your coach, and so on foot to your acquaintance in the old Pall-mall: for I would not be discovered by the man that came up last to us. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-CHRISTINA'S Lodging. Enter CHRISTINA and ISABEL. Isa. For Heaven's sake, undress yourself, madam! They'll not return to-night: all people have left the Park an hour ago. Chri. What is't o'clock ? Chri. It cannot be ! Isa. I thought that time had only stolen from happy lovers :-the disconsolate have nothing to do but to tell the clock. Chri. I can only keep account with my misfortunes. Isa. I am glad they are not innumerable. Chri. And, truly, my undergoing so often your impertinency is not the least of them. Isa. I am then more glad, madam, for then they cannot be great; and it is in my power, it seems, to make you in part happy, if I could but hold this villanous tongue of mine: but then let the people of the town hold their tongues if they will, for I cannot but tell you what they say. Chri. What do they say? Isa. Faith, madam, I am afraid to tell you, now I think on't. Chri. Is it so ill? Isa. O, such base, unworthy things! Chri. Do they say I was really Clerimont's wench, as he boasted; and that the ground of the quarrel betwixt Valentine and him was not Valentine's vindication of my honour, but Clerimont's jealousy of him? Isa. Worse, worse a thousand times!-such villanous things to the utter ruin of your reputation! Chri. What are they? Isa. Faith, madam, you'll be angry: 'tis the old trick of lovers to hate their informers, after they have made 'em such. Chri. I will not be angry. Isa. They say then, since Mr. Valentine's flying into France, you are grown mad, have put yourself into mourning, live in a dark room, where you'll see nobody, nor take any rest day or night, but rave and talk to yourself perpetually. Chri. Now, what else? Isa. But the surest sign of your madness is, they say, because you are desperately resolved (in case my lord Clerimont should die of his wounds) to transport yourself and fortune into France to Mr. Valentine: a man that has not a groat to return you in exchange. Chri. All this, hitherto, is true; now to the rest. Isa. Indeed, madam, I have no more to tell you. I was sorry, I'm sure, to hear so much of any lady of mine. Chri. Insupportable insolence! Isa. [Aside.] This is some revenge for my want of sleep to-night.-[Knocking at the door.] So, I hope my old second is come; 'tis seasonable relief. [Exit. Chri. Unhappy Valentine! couldst thou but see how soon thy absence and misfortunes have disbanded all thy friends, and turned thy slaves all renegadoes, thou sure wouldst prize my only faithful heart! Enter my Lady FLIPPANT, LYDIA, and ISABEL. Flip. Hail, faithful shepherdess but, truly, I had not kept my word with you, in coming back to-night, if it had not been for this lady, who has her intrigues too with the fellows as well as you. Lyd. Madam, under my lady Flippant's protection, I am confident to beg yours; being just now pursued out of the Park by a relation of mine, by whom it imports me extremely not to be discovered:-[Knocking at the door.] but I fear he is now at the door.-[ To ISABEL, who goes out.] Let me desire you to deny me to him courageously;— for he will hardly believe he can be mistaken in me. Chri. In such an occasion, where impudence is requisite, she will serve you as faithfully as you can wish, madam. Flip. Come, come, madam, do not upbraid her with her assurance, a qualification that only fits her for a lady's service. A fine woman of the town can be no more without a woman that can make an excuse with assurance, than she can be without a glass, certainly. Chri. She needs no advocate. Flip. How can any one alone manage an amorous intrigue? though the birds are tame, somebody must help draw the net. If 'twere not for a woman that could make an excuse with assurance, how should we wheedle, jilt, trace, dis-/ cover, countermine, undermine, and blow up the stinking fellows? which is all the pleasure I receive, or design by them; for I never admitted a man to my conversation, but for his punishment, certainly. Chri. Nobody will doubt that, certainly. Re-enter ISABEL. Isa. Madam, the gentleman will not be mistaken: he says you are here, he saw you come in ; he is your relation, his name's Ranger, and is come to wait upon you home. I had much ado to keep him from coming up. Lyd. [To CHRISTINA.] Madam, for Heaven's sake, help me! 'tis yet in your power; if but, while I retire into your dining-room, you will please to personate me, and own yourself for her he pursued out of the Park: you are in mourning too, and your stature so much mine it will not contradict you. Chri. I am sorry, madam, I must dispute any command of yours. I have made a resolution to see the face of no man, till an unfortunate friend of mine, now out of the kingdom, return. Lyd. By that friend, and by the hopes you have to see him, let me conjure you to keep me from the sight of mine now. Dear madam, let your charity prevail over your superstition. Isa. He comes, he comes, madam! [LYDIA withdraws, and stands unseen at the door. Enter RANGER. Ran. Ha! this is no Lydia. [Aside. Chri. What, unworthy defamer! has encouraged you to offer this insolence? Ran. She is liker Lydia in her style than her face. I see I am mistaken; but to tell her I followed her for another, were an affront rather than an excuse. She's a glorious creature! [Aside. Chri. Tell me, sir, whence had you reason for this your rude pursuit of me, into my lodgings, my chamber? why should you follow me? me. Ran. Faith, madam, because you run away from Chri. That was no sign of an acquaintance. Chri. Then, it seems, you mistook me for another, and the night is your excuse, which blots out all distinctions. But now you are satisfied in your mistake, I hope you will seek out your woman in another place. Ran. Madam, I allow not the excuse you make for me. If I have offended, I will rather be condemned for my love, than pardoned for my insensibility. Lyd. How's that? Chri. What do you say? [Aside. Ran. Though the night had been darker, my heart would not have suffered me to follow any one but you :-he has been too long acquainted with you to mistake you. Lyd. What means this tenderness? he mistook me for her sure. [Aside. Chri. What says the gentleman? did you know me then, sir? Ran. [Aside.] Not I, the devil take me! but I must on now. [Aloud.] Could you imagine, madam, by the innumerable crowd of your admirers, you had left any man free in the town, or ignorant of the power of your beauty? Chri. I never saw your face before, that I remember. Ran. Ah, madam! you would never regard your humblest slave; I was till now a modest lover. Lyd. Falsest of men! [Aside. Chri. My woman said, you came to seek a relation here, not a mistress. Ran. I must confess, madam, I thought you would sooner disprove my dissembled error, than admit my visit, and was resolved to see you. Lyd. 'Tis clear! [Aside. Ran. Indeed, when I followed you first out of the Park, I was afraid you might have been a certain relation of mine, for your statures and habits are the same; but when you entered here, I was with joy convinced. Besides, I would not for the world have given her troublesome love so much encouragement, to have disturbed my future addresses to you; for the foolish woman does perpetually torment me to make our relation nearer ; but never more in vain than since I have seen you, madam. Lyd. How! shall I suffer this? 'tis clear he disappointed me to-night for her, and made me stay at home, that I might not disappoint him of her company in the Park. [Aside. Chri. I am amazed! but let me tell you, sir, if the lady were here, I would satisfy her the sight of me should never frustrate her ambitious designs upon her cruel kinsman. Lyd. I wish you could satisfy me. [Aside. Ran. If she were here, she would satisfy you she were not capable of the honour to be taken for you:-though in the dark. Faith, my cousin is but a tolerable woman to a man that had not seen you. Chri. Sure, to my plague, this is the first time you ever saw me! Ran. Sure, to the plague of my poor heart, 'tis not the hundredth time I have seen you! For, since the time I saw you first, you have not been at the Park, playhouse, Exchange, or other public place, but I saw you; for it was my business to watch and follow. Chri. Pray, when did you see me last at the Park, playhouse, or Exchange? Ran. Some two, three days, or a week ago. Chri. I have not been this month out of this chamber. Lyd. That is to delude me. [Aside. Ran. You'll pardon a lover's memory, madam. -[Aside.] A pox! I have hanged myself in my own line. One would think my perpetual ill-luck in lying should break me of the quality; but, like a losing gamester, I am still for pushing on, till none will trust me. Chri. Come, sir, you run out of one error into a greater you would excuse the rudeness of your mistake, and intrusion at this hour into my lodgings, with your gallantry to me,-more unseasonable and offensive. Ran. Nay, I am in love I see, for I blush and have not a word to say for myself. Chri. But, sir, if you will needs play the gallant, pray leave my house before morning, lest you should be seen go hence, to the scandal of my honour. Rather than that should be, I'll call up the house and neighbours to bear witness I bid you begone. Ran. Since you take a night visit so ill, madam, I will never wait upon you again but by day. I go, that I may hope to return; and, for once, I wish you a good night without me. Chri. Good night, for as long as I live. [Exit RANGER. Lyd. And good night to my love, I'm sure. [Aside. Chri. Though I have done you an inconsiderable service, I assure you, madam, you are not a little obliged to me.— -[Aside.] Pardon me, dear Valentine! Lyd. I know not yet whether I am more obliged than injured: when I do, I assure you, madam, I shall not be insensible of either. Chri. I fear, madam, you are as liable to mistakes as your kinsman. Lyd. I fear I am more subject to 'em it may be for want of sleep, therefore I'll go home. Chri. My lady Flippant, good night. Flip. Good night, or rather good inorrow, faithful shepherdess. Chri. I'll wait on you down. [Exeunt. |