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The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. III by Aphra Behn

Part 3 out of 12

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His Rage had done the Business which it went for.

_Friend_. And so it had, hadst thou not hinder'd me;
For I, Sir, was the Man who drew on you.

_Bel_. And was it thou that didst defend my Heart,
That I might live to pay thy Goodness back?

_Cel_. It was to save your Life, and to expose my own.

_Dia_. Come, let's in, and consult what's best for us to do.

_Bel_. Come, my _Celinda_.
Let us no longer doubt, the Pow'rs above
Will be propitious to united Love.

[_Ex_. Cel.

_Enter_ Servant.

_Serv_. Sir, my Lord Plotwell is at the Door in his Coach.

_Dia_. My Uncle come! Sir, we will not doubt our Fortune.
But how came he to know of my being here?

_Serv_. Madam, I fear he follow'd me after I had given him the Letter.

_Enter Lord_ Plotwell, Charles, Trusty.

_Lord_. _Bellmour_ and _Diana_ kneeling!
[Bel. _and_ Diana _kneel_.
--Rise; the Joy I have to see you thus, makes me
Resolve to grant you any thing, and pardon
All that's past.

_Bel_. Be not so hasty in your Goodness, Sir,
Lest you repent as fast.

_Dia_. Sir, we have an humble Suit to you.

_Lord_. What is it ye can jointly ask, I will not grant?

_Dia_. By all that Love you ever had for me,
By all those Infant Charms which us'd to please you,
When on your Lap you taught my Tongue that Art
Which made those dear Impressions on your Heart,
Which ever since to my Advantage grew,
I do conjure you hear me now I sue,
And grant the mighty Grace I beg of you.

_Lord_. What is it you wou'd ask?

_Bel_. Oh, dress your Face and Eyes in gentler Looks,
If you wou'd have us hope for any Mercy.

_Lord_. Rise, and whate'er you ask, I'll freely grant.

_Dia_. That you'll undo that Knot, that ties us two.

_Lord_. How! this Request from thee! who lov'd him once,
And wish'd no good beyond possessing him.

_Dia_. Heav'n has not, Sir, decreed us for each other:
Something of Fate or Chance
Has otherwise dispos'd those first Resolves.

_Lord_. Too virtuous Maid, I know thou dost but feign,
His Wickedness has forc'd thee to this change.

_Dia_. No, Sir, were he the only Man
Of kind and good, I never wou'd be his.
--And if you shou'd compel me, I shou'd live
The infamous Reproach of my whole Sex.

_Lord_. Well, and you, Sir, that are the cause of this,
What canst thou say to move me for thy Pardon?

_Bel_. I am so guilty in your Opinion,
My Prayers wou'd but make you merciless;
I only say _Celinda_ is my Wife,
And I shou'd injure this too generous Maid,
Not to adore her equal to her Merit.

_Lord_. I see, Sir, you have found your Wits again.
--Well, I see there's no opposing Destiny;
And I have still such tenderness for thee, [_To_ Dia.
That hadst thou pleaded his Cause to me before,
I shou'd have been less cruel to him.
--Where is that Lady which you so admire,
Whose Beauty does eclipse that of _Diana_?

[Bellmour _goes out, and brings in_ Celinda.

_Dia_. This, Sir, is she who merits more than I.

_Lord_. She's fair indeed; here, _Frank_,
I give thee thy _Celinda_, whose Beauty
Excuses all thy Faults of Disobedience.

_Bel_. Thus low, I thank you for this Goodness, Sir. [_Kneels_.

_Lord_. There only wants the Ceremony of the Law to undo what's between
you and _Diana_, if she remain a Virgin.

_Bel_. For me, by Heav'n she is;
And for the rest, I do not doubt her Virtue.

_Dia_. You may believe him, Sir; and this alone's the Man, in whom I
will, or never will be happy.

_Lord_. Mr. _Friendlove_! I give Consent to't, he has a noble Character;
and what he wants in Fortune, has in Virtue--take her, young Man.

_Friend_. 'Tis such an Honour, Sir, that my Gratitude, without the
mighty Passion I have for her, would make me ever thankful.

_Lord_. This Term, we shall make the former Marriage void; till then
love on, and fear no Frowns from Fortune--but Nephew--now I hope your
Brother shall have his Portion.

_Bel_. My dearest _Charles_, forgive me all that's past,
And share the Fortune Heaven has given thy Brother.

_Char_. The Joy I have, Sir, to be undeceived,
Is much the greatest Blessing Heav'n can send me.

_Enter Sir_ Timothy, _follow'd by_ Phillis, Sham,
Sharp, _and_ Betty Flauntit.

Sir _Tim_. I am pursu'd by two impertinent Women; prithee, _Friendlove_,
tell 'em I am gone out at the Backdoor, and send 'em away.

_Lord_. What's the News here?

Sir _Tim_. How, _Celinda_ here, and _Bellmour_ too! Nay, now wou'd I
compound for my Life, at any rate, by Fortune.

_Phil_. Sir, this Villain here has abus'd me, and with a false Marriage
has rob'd me of my Honour.

_Bel_. How!

Sir _Tim_. My Lord, I say this young Jilt would have rob'd me of my self;
and courting her, and enjoying her only for a Miss, would persuade me I
am married to her.

_Flaunt_. Sir, I say, I am doubly wrong'd; first by this false Knight,
who has belong'd to me this three Years, which gives me a right to him,
as good as if I were married to him; who has now unlawfully left my Bed,
for that of this Gilflurt, who, on the other side, takes away my Knight,
and consequently eats the Bread out of my Mouth.

_Bel_. What means all this?
Speak some of ye that know.

_Flaunt_. Oh Lord! Who's here? The fine Squire? [_Aside_.

_Trust_. Sir _Timothy Tawdry_, Sir, is married to Mrs. _Phillis_.

Sir _Tim_. How can that be a Marriage, when he who join'd us, was but
a hired Fellow, dress'd like a Parson?

_Trust_. Sir, 'twas Parson _Tickletext_ that marry'd 'em.

Sir _Tim_. Oh, what a damn'd lying Pimp is this!--_Sham_, didst thou
not hire a Fellow, (because I was damnably in Love, and in haste) to
marry us, that was no Parson?

_Sham_. Why, truly, Sir--I did go to hire such a one--

Sir _Tim_. Look ye there now.

_Sham_. But you'd meet with none; and because you said you shou'd die
if you enjoy'd her not presently, and that she would not yield on any
other Terms, but those of Marriage, I e'en brought the Parson that
_Trusty_ had provided for you.

Sir _Tim_. Oh Villain, to betray me! and for no Reward!

_Trust_. Yes, indeed, Sir, the four hundred Guineas you left behind my
young Mistress's Looking-glass fell to his share.

Sir _Tim_. What's my Money gone! and I am marry'd too! This 'tis not to
use to go to Church; for then I might have chanc'd to know the Parson.

_Bel_. Death, you Dog! you deserve to die, for your base Designs upon
a Maid of her Quality--How durst you, Sister, without my leave, marry
that Rascal?

_Phil_. Sir, you deny'd me my Portion, and my Uncle design'd to turn me
out of doors, and in my Despair I accepted of him.

_Flaunt_. Married! and to a Wife of no Fortune! that's the worst part
on't--what shall I do?

_Bel_. Renounce this leud Fool, and I'll make thee a Fortune suitable
to thy Quality.

Sir _Tim_. Say you so?--Renounce me, Sir! I'd have you to know I merit
her: And as for Leudness, I name no body, _Bellmour_--but only some have
the Art of hiding it better than I--but for Whoring, Drinking, Dicing,
and all the deadly Sins that thereupon depend, I thank my Stars, I come
short of you: And since you say, I shall not have your Sister, by
Fortune, I will have your Sister, and love your Sister, and lie with
your Sister, inspite of you.

_Lord_. Well, Sir _Timothy_, since my Niece has done amiss, 'tis too
late to mend it--and that you may not repent, I'll take care her Fortune
shall be suitable to the Jointure you'll make her.

_Bel_. With this Proviso, that you make no Settlement to Misses, Sir
_Timothy_--I am not so unreasonable to tie you up from all of that
Profession; that were to spoil a fashionable Husband, and so put you
quite out of Fop-road.

_Lord_. This Day we'll set apart for Mirth,
And all must make my House their happy home.

_Bel_. To thee, _Celinda_! all my Good I owe,
My Life, my Fortune, and my Honour too,
Since all had perish'd by a broken Vow.

_Flaunt_. What, am I like to lose my _Timmy_? Canst thou have the Heart
to leave me for ever? I who have been true and constant to you?

Sir _Tim_. Alas! now I must melt again, by Fortune--thou art a Fool,
dost think I wou'd have had her, but for her Fortune? which shall only
serve to make thee out-flaunt all the Cracks in Town--go--go home and
expect me, thou'lt have me all to thy self within this Day or two:

Since Marriage but a larger Licence is
For every Fop of Mode to keep a Miss.


Spoken by Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_.

_Sir_ Timothy, _Gallants, at last is come
To know his Sentence, and receive his Doom,
But pray before you are resolv'd to be
Severe, look on your selves, and then on me;
Observe me well, I am a Man of Show,
Of Noise, and Nonsense, as are most of you.
Though all of you don't share with me in Title,
In Character you differ very little.
Tell me in what you find a Difference?
It may be you will say, you're Men of Sense;
But Faith--
Were one of you o'th' Stage, and I i'th' Pit,
He might be thought the Fop, and I the Wit.
On equal Grounds you'll scarce know one from t'other;
We are as like, as Brother is to Brother.
To judge against me then wou'd be Ill-Nature,
For Men are kind to those they're like in Feature.
For Judges therefore I accept you all;
By you, Sir_ Timothy _will stand or fall.
He's too faint-hearted that his Sentence fears,
Who has the Honour to be try'd by's Peers_.

Written by Mr. _E.R_.



Don Carlos, Governor of Cadiz, who has been contracted to Julia, now
married to a rich old churl, Francisco, in order to gain her, mans a
galley, which has been captured from the Turks, with some forty or fifty
attendants disguised as ferocious Ottomans; and whilst she, her husband
and a party of friends are taking a pleasure trip in a yacht, they are
suddenly boarded and all made prisoners by the supposed corsairs, who
carry them off to a country villa a few miles from the town belonging to
Carlos' friend, Antonio, which, however, they are firmly convinc'd is a
palace inhabited by the Great Turk himself. Here Carlos appears, dressed
as the Sultan, with much pomp, and Francisco, overwhelmed with terror,
speedily relinquishes Julia to his captor. In order to punish her for
her intolerable arrogance, Isabella, Francisco's daughter by his former
wife, who is designed to wed Antonio, is introduced to a chimney-sweep,
Guiliom, masquerading as a noble of high degree. She forthwith strikes
up a match with the False Count, leaving Antonio free to marry Clara,
Julia's sister, whom he loves. No sooner, however, has the knot been
securely tied than Guiliom, appearing in his sooty rags and with
smutched face, publicly demands and humiliates his haughty bride. The
trick of the feigned Turks is discovered by the arrival at the villa of
Baltazer, Julia's father. Don Carlos, however, claims his mistress by
reason of his former contract, which is perforce allowed.


Guiliom, masquerading as a Count, is of course directly derived from _Les
Precieuses Ridicules_, first performed 18 November, 1659, and Isabella
is a close copy of Cathos and Magdelon. Flecknoe had already adapted
Moliere in _The Damoiselles a la Mode_, unacted (4to 1667); and seven
years later than Mrs. Behn, Shadwell, in his fine comedy, _Bury Fair_
(1689), drew largely from the same source. His mock noble is a French
peruke-maker, La Roch, who marries Lady Fantast's affected daughter.
Miller, in his _The Man of Taste; or, The Guardian_ (1735), blended
the same plot with _L'Ecole des Maris_. The stratagem of the feigned
Turkish ship capturing the yacht is a happy extension of a hint from the
famous galley scene (Que diable allait-il faire a cette galere?), Act
ii, 7, _Les Fourberies de Scapin_. This, however, is not original with
Moliere, being entirely borrowed from _Le Pedant Joue_, Act ii, 4, of
Cyrano de Bergerac (1654). What is practically a translation of _Les
Fourberies de Scapin_ by Otway, was produced at the Duke's Theatre in
1677, and in the same year Ravenscroft included a great part of it in
his _Scaramouch a Philosopher, Harlequin a Schoolboy, Bravo, Merchant,
and Magician_.

In the Epilogue Mrs. Behn asserts that she wrote _The False Count_ with
ease in something less than a week. This may be a pardonable
exaggeration; but there are certainly distinct marks of haste in the
composition of the play. In Act iii, I, she evidently intended Francisco
and his party to be seized as they were returning home by sea, at the
end of the act she arranges their sea trip as an excursion on a yacht.


_The False Count; or, A New Way to Play an Old Game_ was produced at the
Duke's Theatre, Dorset Garden, in the autumn of 1682, not later than the
end of October. An excellent rattling farce, it seems to have kept the
stage at intervals for some twenty years. On 11 August, 1715, there was
a revival at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It is billed as 'not acted ten
years'. Spiller played Guiliom, Mrs. Moor Isabella, and Mrs. Thurmond
Julia. There is no further record of its performance.

THE FALSE COUNT: or, A New Way to play an old Game.


Spoken by Mr. _Smith_.

_Know all ye Whigs and Tories of the Pit,
(Ye furious Guelphs and Gibelins of Wit,
Who for the Cause, and Crimes of Forty One
So furiously maintain the Quarrel on)
Our Author, as you'll find it writ in Story,
Has hitherto been a most wicked Tory;
But now, to th'joy o'th' Brethren be it spoken,
Our Sister's vain mistaken Eyes are open;
And wisely valuing her dear Interest now,
All-powerful Whigs, converted is to you.
'Twas long she did maintain the Royal Cause,
Argu'd, disputed, rail'd with great Applause;
Writ Madrigals and Doggerel on the Times,
And charg'd you all with your Fore-fathers Crimes;
Nay, confidently swore no Plot was true,
But that so slily carried on by you:
Raised horrid Scandals on you, hellish Stories,
In Conventicles how you eat young Tories;
As_ Jew _did heretofore eat_ Christian _Suckling;
And brought an _Odium_ on your pious Gutling:
When this is all Malice it self can say,
You for the good Old Cause devoutly eat and pray.
Though this one Text were able to convert ye,
Ye needy Tribe of Scriblers to the Party;
Yet there are more advantages than these,
For write, invent, and make what Plots you please,
The wicked Party keep your Witnesses;
Like frugal Cuckold-makers you beget
Brats that secur'd by others fires shall sit.
Your Conventicling Miracles out-do
All that the Whore of_ Babylon _e'er knew:
By wondrous art you make Rogues honest Men,
And when you please transform 'em Rogues again.
To day a Saint, if he but hang a Papist,
Peach a true Protestant, your Saint's turn'd Atheist:
And dying Sacraments do less prevail,
Than living ones, though took in Lamb's-Wool-Ale.
Who wou'd not then be for a Common-weal,
To have the Villain covered with his Zeal?
A Zeal, who for Convenience can dispense
With Plays provided there's no Wit nor Sense.
For Wit's profane, and Jesuitical,
And Plotting's Popery, and the Devil and all.
We then have fitted you with one to day,
'Tis writ as 'twere a Recantation Play;
Renouncing all that has pretence to witty,
T'oblige the Reverend_ Brumighams _o'th' City:
No smutty Scenes, no Jests to move your Laughter,
Nor Love that so debauches all your Daughters.
But shou'd the Torys now,--who will desert me,
Because they find no dry bobs on your Party,
Resolve to hiss, as late did Popish Crew, |
By Yea and Nay, she'll throw her self on you, |
The grand Inquest of Whigs, to whom she's true. |
Then let 'em rail and hiss, and damn their fill,
Your Verdict will be_ Ignoramus _still_.



Don _Carlos_, Governour of _Cadiz_, young and rich,
in love with _Julia_, Mr. _Smith_
_Antonio_, a Merchant, young and rich. Friend to _Carlos_,
in love with _Clara_, but promis'd to _Isabella_, Mr. _Wiltshire_
_Francisco_, old and rich, Husband to _Julia_, and
Father to _Isabella_, Mr. _Nokes_.
_Baltazer_, Father to _Julia_ and _Clara_, Mr. _Bright_.
_Sebastian_, Father to _Antonio_, Mr. _Freeman_.
_Guzman_, Gentlemen to _Carlos_, Mr. _Underhill_.
_Guiliom_, a Chimney-Sweeper; the False Count, Mr. _Lee_.
Two overgrown Pages to the False Count,
A little Page to the False Count.
_Petro_, Cashier to _Antonio_.
Page to Don _Carlos_.
Captain of a Gally.
Two Seamen.
_Lopez_, Servant to _Baltazer_.
Several disguis'd like _Turks_.


_Julia_, Wife to _Francisco_, young and handsom,
in love with _Carlos_, Mrs. _Davis_.
_Clara_, Sister to _Julia_, in love with _Antonio_, Mrs. _Petty_.
_Isabella_, Daughter to _Francisco_; proud, vain and
foolish, despising all Men under the degree of Quality,
and falls in love with _Guiliom_, Mrs. _Corror_.
_Jacinta_, Woman to _Julia_, Mrs. _Osborne_.
Wife to _Petro_.

Dancers, Singers, &c.


SCENE I. _The Street_.

_Enter_ Carlos, Antonio _and_ Guzman.

_Car_. By all that's good, I'm mad, stark raving mad,
To have a Woman young, rich, beautiful,
Just on the point of yielding to my Love,
Snatcht from my Arms by such a Beast as this;
An old ridiculous Buffoon, past Pleasure,
Past Love, or any thing that tends that way;
Ill-favour'd, ill-bred, and ill-qualify'd,
With more Diseases than a Horse past Service;
And only blest with Fortune and my _Julia_;
For him, I say, this Miser, to obtain her,
After my tedious nights and days of Love,
My midnight Watchings, Quarrels, Wounds and Dangers;
--My Person not unhandsom too,
By Heav'n, 'twas wondrous strange!

_Ant_. And old _Francisco_, without the expence of an hour's Courtship,
a _Billet-Doux_, or scarce a sight of her, could gain her in a day; and
yet 'tis wonder, your Fortune and your Quality, should be refus'd by Don
_Baltazer_ her Father.

_Car_. A Pox upon't, I went the wrong way to work, and courted the
Daughter; but indeed my Father, the late Governour of _Cadiz_, whose
Estate and Honour I now enjoy, was then living; and, fearing he would
not consent to my Passion, I endeavoured to keep it secret, though
sacred Vows had past between us two.

_Ant_. Did she not tell you of this Marriage with old _Francisco_?

_Car_. The night before, she did; but only by a Letter from her Window
dropt; which when by the help of a dark Lanthorn, I had read, I was
struck dead with Grief.
[_Gives him the Letter_.

_Ant_. [reads.]

_Expect to morrow night to hear I'm dead, since the next
Sun will guide me to a fatal Marriage with old_ Francisco.
_Your_ Julia.

_Car_. Judge, dear _Antonio_, my Surprize and Grief;
A-while I stood unmov'd, thoughtless, and silent,
But soon Rage wak'd me to new Life again;
But what I said and did, I leave to raging Lovers,
Like disappointed me, to guess and judge;
She heard--and only answer'd me in Tears,
Nor could I beg one tender Word from her,
She sigh'd, and shut the Window too, and vanish'd.

_Ant_. And she accordingly next day was married.

_Car_. She was--and I have since endeavoured all the Arts and Ways I can
to cuckold him; 'tis now two months since the Wedding, and I hear he
keeps her as close as a Relict, jealous as Age and Impotence can make
him. She hitherto has been absent at _Sevil_, but Expectation of her
Daughter-in-law's Wedding with you has brought 'em hither,--and, I ask
your Pardon, _Antonio_, for raillying your Father-in-law that shall be,
old _Francisco_.

_Ant_. I hope you are mistaken, Sir.

_Car_. How, are you not to marry his Daughter, _Isabella_?

_Ant_. Not if I can help it, Sir,--the Honour you have done me in your
Friendship to me, a Person so much above me in Title and Birth, makes me
think it my Duty to conceal no part of my Heart to you,--Know then this
_Isabella_, Daughter to old _Francisco_, and your Cuckold that shall be
I hope, is, though fair, most ridiculously proud, vain and fantastical;
as all of her Birth and Education, grown rich, are.

_Car_. Prithee, what was her Birth?

_Ant_. Why, her Father, old _Francisco_, was in his youth an English
Cordwainer, that is to say, a Shoemaker, which he improv'd in time to a
Merchant; and the Devil and his Knavery helping him to a considerable
Estate, he set up for Gentleman; and being naturally a stingey,
hide-bound Rascal, and in the Humour of Jealousy even out-doing the most
rigid of us _Spaniards_, he came over into _Spain_, to settle with his
whole Family, where his Wife dying, to heighten the Vice, marries this
young _Julia_, your Mistress, Sir;--and now this Daughter of his having
wholly forgot her original Dunghill, sets up for a Viscountess at least,
though her Father has design'd me the Blessing; but I have fixt my Heart
and Eyes else-where, _Clara_, the young Sister of your Mistress, Sir,
commands my Liberty.

_Car_. I've seen her, she has Youth and Beauty capable to make a
Conquest any where,--but does she know your Love?

_Ant_. She does, and makes me think my Love return'd.

_Car_. Then know, _Antonio_, I must be your Rival.

_Ant_. How, Sir!

_Car_. You said but now you were my Friend, _Antonio_; If true, you must
assist in my design.

_Ant_. I listen, Sir, impatiently.

_Car_. Then thus; before I knew she was your Mistress, I had resolv'd
upon Addresses to her, in order to't, have treated with her Father about
a Marriage.

_Ant_. How! and wou'd the false, forsworn, receive your Vows?

_Car_. No; but with Tears implores her Father daily, whene'er he speaks
to her about my Passion; nor can I undeceive her, for indeed I have but
feign'd a Love, (she living in the same house with _Julia_ whilst here
at _Cadiz_) to get an opportunity with that dear, charming Creature;
for, coming as a Brother, sure they'll admit me kindly; nor will
_Francisco_, who has heard of what has past 'twixt me and _Julia_,
suspect me any more.

_Ant_. I knew I had a Rival, Sir, whom _Clara_ lov'd not; but ne'er
cou'd get it from her who he was, for fear of mischief: I have often the
Liberty to see her, under the name and pretence of _Isabella's_ Lover.

_Car_. And I visit her only to get a sight of _Julia_, which hitherto
has been impossible, though I have oft endeavour'd it. I beg you'll not
be jealous; for this, by Heav'n, is only my Design.

_Ant_. I'll trust my Life, my Honour and my Mistress in so good hands at
any time.

_Car_. You oblige me; but though I find your _Clara_ cold and cruel,
_Isabella_ would invite me to her Love, and makes so many kind
advances to me--

_Ant_. So would she for your Title, were you deform'd, and had no shape
of Man about you; but me, because a little Citizen and Merchant, she so
reviles, calling me base Mechanick, saucy Fellow; and wonders where I
got the Impudence to speak of Love to her--in fine, I am resolved to be
reveng'd on all her Pride and Scorn; by Heav'n, I will invent some dire
Revenge:--I'm bent upon't, and will about it instantly.

_Car_. And would you do it home and handsomly, and have a good occasion
of being disengaged from her, and make her self the instrument?

_Ant_. Ay, such a Plot were worth the Prosecution.

_Car_. And such a one I have in my head: _Guzman_, my Servant, knows a
fellow here in _Cadiz_, whom for his pleasant humour I have oft
observ'd, as I have past the Streets, but too mean to be convers'd with,
by almost any human thing, by Trade a Chimney-Sweeper.

_Ant_. On, Sir, I beseech you.

_Car_. This Fellow's of a quick Wit and good Apprehension, though
possibly he cannot act the Don so well, yet that which makes up the
best part of our young Gallants now a-days, he shall not want; that is,
good Clothes, Money, and an Equipage,--and a little Instruction will
serve turn.

_Ant_. I'm ravisht with the Fancy;--let me see--he shall be an _English_
Lord, or a _French_ Count.

_Car_. Either, we'll furnish him with Bills on Signior Don _Francisco_,
--Men and Baggage, and the business is done--he shall make Love to her.

_Ant_. Most excellent.

_Car_. _Guzman_, have you not observ'd this Fellow I am speaking of.

_Guz_. Observ'd him, Sir! I know him particularly, I'll fetch him to you
now, Sir; he always stands for new Imployment with the rest of his Gang
under St. _Jago's_ Church-wall.

_Car_. Bring him anon to my Lodgings, where we'll prepare him for the

_Ant_. And if the proud _Isabella_ bite not at so gay a bait, I'll be
bound to be married to her.

_Car_. And if she do not, possibly that may be your Fate--but in
return, you must let _Clara_ know the Design I have, and, undeceiving
her opinion of my Love, make her of our Party.

_Ant_. Trust my Friendship, Sir, and Management. I'll to her instantly,
that is, make a visit to _Isabella_, and get an opportunity to speak
with _Clara_.

_Car_. And I must write a Letter to _Julia_, to undeceive her Fears too,
could I but get it to her.

_Guz_. For that let me alone.

[_Exeunt severally, bowing_.

SCENE II. _A Chamber_.

_Enter_ Julia _and_ Jacinta.

_Jac_. Lord, Madam, you are as melancholy as a sick Parrot.

_Jul_. And can you blame me, _Jacinta_? have I not many Reasons to be
sad? first have I not lost the only Man on earth in Don _Carlos_, that I
cou'd love? and worse than that, am married to a Thing, fit only for his
Tomb; a Brute, who wanting sense to value me, treats me more like a
Prisoner than a Wife?--and his Pretence is, because I should not see nor
hear from Don _Carlos_.

_Jac_. Wou'd I were in your room, Madam, I'd cut him out work enough,
I'd warrant him; and if he durst impose on me, i'faith, I'd transform
both his Shape and his Manners; in short, I'd try what Woman-hood cou'd
do. And indeed, the Revenge wou'd be so pleasant, I wou'd not be without
a jealous Husband for all the World; and really, Madam, Don _Carlos_ is
so sweet a Gentleman.

_Jul_. Ay, but the Sin, _Jacinta_!

_Jac_. O' my Conscience, Heav'n wou'd forgive it; for this match of
yours, with old _Francisco_, was never made there.

_Jul_. Then if I wou'd, alas, what opportunities have I, for I confess
since his first Vows made him mine--

_Jac_. Right--that lying with old _Francisco_ is flat Adultery.

_Jul_. I might, with some excuse, give my self away to _Carlos_--But oh,
he's false, he takes unjustly all the Vows he paid me, and gives 'em to
my Sister _Clara_ now.

_Jac_. Indeed that's something uncivil, Madam, if it be true.

_Jul_. True! my Father has with joy consented to it, and he has leave to
visit her; and can I live to see't? No, Mischief will ensue, my Love's
too high, too nicely true to brook Affronts like that.

_Jac_. Yet you first broke with him.

_Jul_. Not I; be witness, Heav'n, with what reluctancy I forc'd my
breaking heart; and can I see that charming Body in my Sister's Arms!
that Mouth that has so oft sworn Love to me kist by another's Lips! no,
_Jacinta_, that night that gives him to another Woman, shall see him
dead between the Charmer's Arms. My Life I hate, and when I live no more
for _Carlos_, I'll cease to be at all; it is resolv'd.

_Jac_. Faith, Madam, I hope to live to see a more comical end of your
Amours--but see where your amiable Spouse comes with Don _Baltazer_
your Father.

_Enter_ Francisco _and_ Baltazer.

_Fran_. So--you two are damnable close together, 'tis for no goodness
I'll warrant, you have your trade betimes.

_Jac_. Meaning me, Sir?

_Fran_. Yes, you, one of my Wife's evil Counsellors,--go, get you up
both to your respective Chambers, go--

[_Ex. both_.

_Bal_. Barring your Compliments, good Son, give me leave to speak.

_Fran_. Shaw, I know as well as your self what you wou'd say now; you
wou'd assure me I am sole Master of your House, and may command; that
you are heartily glad to see me at _Cadiz_, and that you desire I wou'd
resolve upon a Week's stay, or so; that you'll spare nothing for my
entertainment: why, I know all this, and therefore pray take my word,
good Father-in-Law, without any more ado.

_Bal_. Well, Sir, pray answer me one question, what drew you to _Cadiz_?

_Fran_. Why, I'll tell you; in the first place, a Pox of all Lovers, I
say; for my Daughter _Isabella_ is to be married, as you know, to
_Antonio_, a young rich Merchant of this Town; in the second place, my
Wife, with a Vengeance, must be gadding to visit you and her Sister,
whom we heard also was to be married to the young Governor Don _Carlos_;
'tis shreudly against my will, Heav'n knows, for my Wits are in an
uproar already about this business--your Gallants, Father, your young
Gallants,--I wish my Wife were secure at home again.

_Bal_. Pray, why so?

_Fran_. Alas, I see the Trick, Sir, a mere Trick put upon a Man,
a married Man, and a married Man to a handsome young Woman,--you
apprehend me.

_Bal_. Not I, Sir.

_Fran_. Not you, Sir! why, look ye, your young Governor who now is, made
most desperate love to her who is now my Wife, d'ye mind me?--but you,
being a Man of an exact Judgment, to her great grief, gave her to me,
who best deserv'd her, both for my civil Behaviour, and comely
Personage, d'ye understand me? but now this _Carlos_, by his Father's
death, being made Governor, d'ye see? is to marry me your other daughter
_Clara_, and to exasperate me, wou'd never let me be at quiet till he
had got both of us hither to _Cadiz_, to grace his Wedding; a Pox of his
Invitation, was I so civil to invite him to mine?

_Bal_. If this be your Affliction, you may avoid it.

_Fran_. No, no, I'll try to force Nature a little, and be civil, or so;
but as soon as the Ceremony's over, I'll steal out of Town, whip a way,
presto, i'faith.

_Bal_. But shou'd you do so rude a thing to your new Brother, your Wife
wou'd think you were jealous of her. No, dissemble that Fault, I beseech
you, 'twill make you odious to her and all the world, when 'tis needless,
'tis natural for Women to hate what they fear.

_Fran_. Say you so, then I will hide it as much as I can in words, I can
dissemble too upon occasion.

_Bal_. Let her remain awhile amongst us.

_Fran_. The Devil a bit she shall, good Father mine, no, no, I have more
years than you, Sir Father, and understand what Women are, especially
when married to ancient Men, and have the Conversation of young
Men--whose Eyes like Basilisks destroy Modesty with looking on 'em; the
very Thought on't has rais'd a Bump in my Forehead already.

_Bal_. I am sorry you should suspect my Daughter's Virtue.

_Fran_. May be you are, Sir--but Youth you know--
Opportunity--Occasion--or so--there are Winks, and Nods, and Signs, and
Twirs--and--well--in short I am satisfied, and they that are not may go
whistle: and so I'll to my Wife, whom I have left too long alone, evil
thoughts will grow upon her--Wife, Love--Duckling--
[_Calls her_.

_Enter_ Julia _and_ Jacinta.

_Bal_. Wou'd I had never married her to this Sot.

_Jul_. Your pleasure, Sir.

_Fran_. Only to see thee, Love.

_Jul_. I have a Suit to you.

_Fran_. What is't, my Chicken.

_Jul_. I wou'd go make a Visit to my Aunt, my Sister _Clara's_ there,
and I'll go fetch her home.

_Fran_. Hum--perhaps the Governor's there too?

_Jul_. What if he be? we ought to make him a visit too, who so kindly
sent for us to _Cadiz_.

_Fran_. How! Make a visit to the Governor? What have I to do with the
Governor, or what have you to do with the Governor? you are no Soldier,
Love. As for a Visit to your Aunt, there's some reason in't; but for the
Governor, think no more upon him, I say no more.

_Jul_. Since he's to marry my Sister, why shou'd you refuse him that

_Fran_. Your Sister, so much the worse.

_Jul_. So much the worse?

_Fran_. I, so much the worse, I tell you; for mark me, you have been
Lovers lately; and old Stories may arise that are not yet forgotten; and
having under the Cloke of a Husband both Sisters at command, one for a
Wife, t'other for a Mistress, hoyte toyte, there will be mad work,
i'faith; What a mixture of Brother by the Father's side, and Uncle by
the Mother's side there will be; Aunt by the Mother's side, and Sister
by the Father's side; a man may find as good kindred amongst a kennel of
Beagles.--No, no, no Visits to the Governor, I beseech you, fair Madam.

_Bal_. So, you are at your Jealousy again.

_Fran_. Come, come, I love plain dealing; besides, when she named the
Governor, Flesh and Blood could not contain.

_Jul_. I spoke in reference to his Quality.

_Fran_. A Pox of your Civility; I tell you, I scorn my Wife should be
civil. Why, what a Coil's here about a Governor! I'll stand to't, a Man
had better have a Mule to his Wife than a Woman, and 'twere easier

_Bal_. But hear reason, Son.

_Fran_. What, from a Woman and a Wife? Lord, Lord, where are your Wits,
good Father-in-Law? Why, what a Devil, shall I be made ridiculous, a
Coxcomb, Cuckold, to shew my Wife? No, no, there's no Necessity of your
Civility, Mistress; leave that to me who understand the due Punctilios
of it.

_Bal_. Harkye, Son, Harkye!

_Fran_. Father mine, every Man to his business, I say, therefore say no
more of this; for I'll give my Mother's Son to the Devil, when any Wife
of mine ever makes a Visit to the Governor; and there's an end on't. Was
ever so horrid a Plot contriv'd against her own lawful Husband? Visit
the Governor with a Pox!

_Bal_. 'Tis an Honour due to all Men of his Rank.

_Fran_. I care not for that, my opinion is, my Wife's my Slave, and let
him keep his Rank to himself.

_Enter_ Guzman.

[Fran. _gets his Wife behind him, and fences her with his Cloke_.

_Guz_. He's here, and with his Wife; how shall I do to deliver my Letter
to her;--Sir, by the order of my Master, Don _Carlos_, the Governour, I
am commanded to come hither to the end that, going from hence, and
returning to my Master, I may be able to inform him--

_Fran_. That I am in health,--very well, I was afraid he wou'd have been
harping upon my Wife in the first place--the Devil take her, she looks
for't. [_Makes signs to have her gone_.

_Guz_. Farther, Sir, he kisses your hand, with a more than ordinary

_Fran_. A Pox of his Compliments.-- [_Aside_.

_Guz_. But he charg'd me, Sir, most passionately to present his Service
to your Lady.

_Fran_. Yes, yes; I thought as much.

_Guz_.--In a more particular manner.

_Fran_. Friend, my Wife, or Lady, has no need of his Service in a more
particular manner, and so you may return it.

_Jac_. Indeed, but she has great need of his service in a very particular

_Guz_. Sir, I meant no hurt, but 'tis always the fashion of your true
bred Courtier, to be more ceremonious in his Civilities to Ladies than
Men;--and he desires to know how she does.

_Fran_. How strong this _Carlos_ smells of the Devil--Friend, tell your
Master she's very well, but since she was married, she has forgot her
gentile Civility and good Manners, and never returns any Compliments
to Men.

_Guz_.--How shall I get it to her?--Sir, the Governor hopes he shall
have the honour of entertaining you both at his House. He's impatient of
your coming, and waits at home on purpose.

_Fran_. Friend, let your Master know we are here in very good quarters
already, and he does us both too much honour; and that if we have notice
of the Wedding-day, and I have nothing else to do, we'll certainly wait
on him, and the next morning we intend to take our leaves, which I send
him word of beforehand to prevent surprize.

_Guz_. But, Sir--

[_Approaching him, he puts his Wife farther_.

_Fran_. Go, Sir, and deliver your Message.

_Guz_. But I have order, Sir--

_Fran_. There's no such thing in this World.

_Guz_. I'm resolv'd to teaze him, if I can do nothing else, in
revenge;--But, Sir, he most earnestly desires to entertain your fair
Lady in his own house.

_Fran_. Yes, yes; I know he does; but I'll give him to the Devil
first.--Troth, Sir, this _Cadiz_ Air does not agree with my fair Lady,
she has ventured out but once, and has got an Ague already.

_Guz_. Agues, Sir, are kind Diseases, they allow of Truces and

_Fran_. No, no; she has no Cessation, Friend, her Ague takes her night
and day, it shakes her most unmercifully, and it shall shake her till
the Wedding-day.

_Guz_. Were this Fellow to be tried by a Jury of Women, I would not be
in his Coat to lie with his Lady.--What shall I do to deliver this
Letter?--Well, Sir, since I see you are so averse to what the Governor
desires, I'll return--but, Sir, I must tell you as a Friend, a Secret;
that to a man of your temper may concern you;--Sir,--he's resolv'd when
he comes next to visit his Mistress, to make another visit to your
Apartment, to your Lady too.

[_Goes to whisper him, and gives Julia the Letter over his Shoulder_.

_Fran_. Is he so, pray tell him he need not take that pains; there's no
occasion for't; besides 'twill be but in vain; for the Doctors have
prescribed her Silence and Loneliness, 'tis good against the Fit; how
this damn'd Fellow of a Rival torments me! honest Friend, adieu.

_Guz_. Now is this Fellow so afraid of being made a Cuckold that he
fears his own Shadow, and dares not go into his Wife's Chamber if the
Sun do but shine into the room--
[_Ex_. Guz.

_Fran_. So, your Mercury's gone; Lord, how simply you look now, as if
you knew nothing of the matter!

_Jul_. Matter! what matter? I heard the civil Message the Governor sent,
and the uncivil Answer you return'd back.

_Fran_. Very good; did that grieve your heart? alas, what pity 'twas I
carried you not in my hand, presented you to him my self, and beg'd him
to favour me so much to do my office a little for me, or the like; hah,--

_Jul_. And there's need enough, and the truth were known.

_Jac_. Well said, Madam.

_Fran_. Peace, thou wicked Limb of _Satan_--but for you, Gentlewoman,
since you are so tarmagant, that your own natural Husband cannot please
you, who, though I say it, am as quiet a Bed-fellow, and sleep as
sweetly, for one of my years, as any in _Spain_--I'll keep you to hard
meat, i'faith.

_Jul_. I find no fault with your sleeping, 'tis the best quality you
have a-bed.

_Fran_. Why so then, is the Devil in an unmerciful Woman? Come, come,
'tis a good Tenant that pays once a quarter.

_Jac_. Of an hour do you mean, Sir?--

_Fran_. Peace, I say--thou damnable Tormentor, this is the Doctrine you
preach to your Mistress, but you shall do't it private, for I'm resolv'd
to lock ye both up, and carry the Keys in my Pocket.

_Jul_. Well, I am a wicked Creature to teaze thee so, Dear; but I'll do
what thou wilt; come, come, be friends, I vow, I care not for the
Governor, not I, no more than I do for my--own Soul.

_Fran_. Why so, this is something; Come, come your ways in,--who have we
here? a Man! ad's my life, away, away.

_Jul_. Yes, up to my Chamber, to write an answer to this dear Letter.
[_Ex_ Julia.

_Enter_ Isabella.

_Fran_. No, 'tis not a Man, but my Daughter _Isabella_.

_Jac_. Now will I stay, and set her on to teaze the Dotard: wou'd I
could teaze him to Death, that my Mistress might be rid of him.

_Fran_. How now, what makes you look so scurvily to day? Sure the Devil
rides once a day through a Woman, that she may be sure to be inspired
with some ill Qualities--what wou'd you have now?

_Isa_. Something.

_Fran_. Something? what thing? have I not provided you a Husband whom
you are to marry within a day or two.

_Isa_. There's a Husband indeed, pray keep him to your self, if you
please; I'll marry none of him, I'll see him hanged first.

_Fran_. Hey day;--what, is he not young and handsome enough, forsooth?

_Isa_. Young and handsome; is there no more than that goes to the making
up of a Husband--Yes, there's Quality.

_Fran_. Quality!--Why, is he not one of the richest Merchants of his
standing in all _Cadiz_.

_Isa_. Merchant! a pretty Character! a Woman of my Beauty, and five
Thousand Pound, marry a Merchant--a little, petty, dirty-heel'd
Merchant; faugh, I'd rather live a Maid all the days of my life, or be
sent to a Nunnery, and that's Plague enough I'm sure.

_Jac_. Have a care of a Nunnery, lest he take you at your word.

_Isa_. I would not for the world; no, _Jacinta_, when ever thou seest me
in holy Orders, the World will be at an end.

_Fran_. Merchant! why, what Husband do you expect?

_Isa_. A Cavalier at least, if not a Nobleman.

_Fran_. A Nobleman, marry come up, your Father, Huswife, meaning my
self, was a Leather-seller at first, till, growing rich, I set up for a
Merchant, and left that mechanick Trade; and since turned Gentleman; and
Heav'n blest my Endeavours so as I have an Estate for a _Spanish_
Grandee; and, are you so proud, forsooth, that a Merchant won't down
with you, but you must be gaping after a Cap and Feather, a Silver Sword
with a more dreadful Ribbon at the hilt?--Come, come, I fear me,
Huswise, you are one that puff's her up with Pride thus;--but lay thy
hand upon thy Conscience now.-- [_To Jacinta_.

_Jac_. Who, I, Sir? No, no, I am for marrying her out of hand to any
reasonable Husband, except a Merchant; for Maids will long, and that's
_Probatum est_ against the prevailing distemper of Longing. Hitherto I
dare answer for her, but Batteries will be made, and I dare not be
always responsible for frail Mortality.

_Fran_. Well, I have provided her one that I like, but if she be so
squeamish, let her fast, with a Murrain to her.

_Isa_. Dear Father.

_Fran_. Dear me no Dears: wou'd your old Mother were alive, she wou'd
have strapt your Just-au-corps, for puleing after Cavaliers and
Nobleman, i'faith, that wou'd she; a Citizen's Daughter, and would be a
_Madona_--in good time.

_Isa. Why, Father, the Gentry and Nobility now-a-days frequently marry
Citizens Daughters.

_Fran_. Come, come, Mistress, I got by the City, and I love and honour
the City; I confess 'tis the Fashion now-a-days, if a Citizen get but a
little Money, one goes to building Houses, and brick Walls; another must
buy an Office for his Son, a third hoists up his Daughter's Topsail, and
flaunts it away, much above her breeding; and these things make so many
break, and cause the decay of Trading: but I am for the honest _Dutch_
way of breeding their Children, according to their Fathers Calling.

_Isa_. That's very hard, because you are a laborious, ill-bred
Tradesman, I must be bound to be a mean Citizen's Wife.

_Fran_. Why, what are you better than I, forsooth, that you must be a
Lady, and have your Petticoats lac'd four Stories high; wear your false
Towers, and cool your self with your _Spanish_ Fan? Come, come, Baggage,
wear me your best Clothes a Sunday, and brush 'em up a Monday Mornings,
and follow your Needle all the Week after; that was your good old
Mother's way, and your Grandmother's before her; and as for the Husband,
take no care about it, I have designed it _Antonio_, and _Antonio_ you
are like to wed, or beat the hoof, Gentlewoman, or turn poor _Clare_,
and die a begging Nun, and there's an end on't--see where he
comes--I'll leave you to ponder upon the business.

_Enter_ Antonio. Isabella _weeps_.

_Ant_. What, in Tears, _Isabella?_ what is't can force that tribute from
your Eyes?

_Isa_. A Trifle, hardly worth the naming, your self.--

_Ant_. Do I? pray, for what Sin of mine must your fair Eyes be punish'd?

_Isa_. For the Sin of your odious Addresses to me, I have told you my
mind often enough, methinks your Equals should be fitter for you, and
sute more with your Plebeian Humour.

_Ant_. My Equals! 'Tis true, you are fair; but if there be any
Inequality in our births, the advantage is on my side.

_Isa_. Saucy Impertinent, you shew your City breeding; you understand
what's due to Ladys! you understand your Pen and Ink, how to count your
dirty Money, trudge to and fro chaffering of base commodities, and
cozening those you deal with, till you sweat and stink again like an
o'er heated Cook, faugh, I smell him hither.

_Ant_. I must confess I am not perfum'd as you are, to stifle Stinks you
commonly have by Nature; but I have wholesom, cleanly Linen on; and for
my Habit wore I but a Sword, I see no difference between your Don and
me, only, perhaps, he knows less how to use it.

_Isa_. Ah, name not a Don, the very sound from the Mouth of a little Cit
is disagreeable--Bargain and Sale, Bills, Money, Traffick, Trade, are
words become you better.

_Jac_. Well said, use him scurvily that Mrs. _Clara_ may have him.

_Ant_. The best of those you think I should not name, dare hardly tell
me this.

_Isa_. Good Lord, you think your self a very fine Fellow now, and
finical your self up to be thought so; but there's as much difference
between a Citizen and a true bred Cavalier--

_Ant_. As between you and a true bred Woman of Honour.

_Isa_. Oh, Sir, you rail, and you may long enough, before you rail me
out of my Opinion, whilst there are Dons with Coaches and fine Lackeys,
and I have Youth and Beauty, with a Fortune able to merit one, so
farewel, Cit.

_Ant_. Farewel, proud Fool.

_Jac_. Sir, be this Evening at the Door, Donna _Clara_ has something to
say to you.

_Ant_. Bless thee for this Tidings, dear _Jacinta_.

[_Ex_. Jacinta.

--I find let Man be brave, or good, or wise,
His Virtue gains no Smiles from Woman's Eyes;
'Tis the gay Fool alone that takes the Heart,
Foppery and Finery still guide the Dart.



SCENE I. _A Chamber_.

_Enter_ Jacinta _with a Light, and_ Julia.

_Jac_. Well, Madam, have you writ to Don _Carlos_?

_Jul_. No, nor is it possible I shou'd, this Devil haunts me so from
room to room, like my evil Genius to prevent that Good; oh, for an
opportunity of one kind Minute to return Acknowledgments for this kind
Letter he has sent me.

_Jac_. I'm glad you find me a Sybil: Madam, I ever prophesy'd a happier
end of that Amour than your ill Fortune has hitherto promised,--but what
said the lovely Cavalier?

_Jul_. All that a Man inspir'd with Love cou'd say, all that was soft
and charming.

_Jac_. Nay, I believe his Art.

_Jul_. Judge then what my Heart feels, which like a Fire but lightly
cover'd o'er with the cold Ashes of Despair, with the least blast breaks
out into a Flame; I burn, I burn, _Jacinta_, and only charming _Carlos_
can allay my Pain--but how? Ay, there's the question.

_Jac_. Some way I will contrive to speak with him, for he has lost his
old wont if he traverse not the Street where you live: but see Donna

_Enter_ Clara.

_Jul_. Hah, my Sister, whom yet my jealous heart can scarce be
reconciled to; so deeply was my fear of Rivalship fixt there,
--so sad, my Sister, and so near the happy day with _Carlos_?

_Cla_. 'Tis pity she that thinks it so shou'd want him; the Blessing's
thrown away on me, but we are both unhappy to be match'd to those we
cannot love. _Carlos_, though young, gay, handsom, witty, rich, I hate
as much as you the old _Francisco_; for since I cannot marry my
_Antonio_, both Youth and Beauty are but lost on me, and Age decrepid
would be equal torment.

_Jul_. Wou'd _Carlos_ knew your heart, sure he'd decline; for he has too
much Honor to compel a Maid to yield that loves him not.

_Cla_. 'Tis true, he is above me every way, and the Honor my Father
thinks to do our Family by this Match, makes him resolve upon't; but I
have given my Vows to young _Antonio_.

_Jul_. And young _Antonio_ you are like to have, for any thing that
_Carlos_ cares; for know, to thy eternal joy, my _Clara_, he has but
feigned to thee, as much as thy _Antonio_ to _Isabella_.

_Cla_. But are you sure of this?

_Jul_. Most certain; this Night if you can let _Antonio_ see you, he'll
tell you all the Cheat, and beg your Pardon.

_Cla_. Which he will soon obtain, and in return, what Service I can
render him in your behalf he shall not want.

_Jul_. _Antonio_ will engage you they are Friends.

_Cla_. You amaze me.

_Jac_. I have appointed him this night to wait, and, if possible, I
would get him a Minute's time with you.

_Cla_. Dear _Jacinta_, thou art the kindest Maid.--

_Jac_. Hang't, why should we young Women pine and languish for what our
own natural Invention may procure us; let us three lay our Heads
together, and if _Machiavel_ with all his Politicks can out-wit us, 'tis
pity but we all lead Apes in Hell, and die without the _Jewish_ Blessing
of Consolation.

_Jul_. No more, here comes the Dragon.

_Enter_ Francisco.

_Fran_. So, together consulting and contriving.

_Jac_. What, are you jealous of the Petticoat?

_Fran_. Petticoat! Come, come, Mistress _Pert_, I have known as much
danger hid under a Petticoat, as a pair of Breeches. I have heard of two
Women that married each other--oh abominable, as if there were so
prodigious a scarcity of Christian Mans Flesh.

_Jac_. No, the Market's well enough stored, thanks be praised, might
every Woman be afforded a reasonable Allowance.

_Fran_. Peace, I say, thou Imp of Lucifer; wou'd thou hadst thy
Bellyful, that I might be fairly rid of thee--go get you up to your
Chamber, and, d'ye hear, stir not from thence, on pain of our severe
displeasure, for I am sent for in all haste, to Signior Don
_Sebastian's_, 'tis but hard by, I shall soon return;--what, are
you here?

_Enter_ Isabella.

I have a high commendation of your fine Behaviour, Gentlewoman, to
_Antonio_; his Father has sent for me, and I shall know all anon, this
shall but hasten your Wedding, Huswise, I tell you that, and so farewel
to you--
[_Ex_. Isabella _crying_.

_Cla_. Say you so, then 'tis time for me to look about me.

_Jul_. But will you go out so late, Love? indeed some hurt will come
to thee.

_Fran_. No, look ye, I go arm'd. [_Shews his Girdle round with Pistols_.
Go, get you to your Chambers.

[_He goes out, they go in_.

SCENE II. _Changes to the Street_.

_Enter_ Carlos, Antonio.

_Car_. I wonder where this Man of mine should be, whom I sent this
Evening with my Letter to _Julia_. What art thou?

_Enter_ Guzman, _runs against_ Carlos.

_Guz_. My Lord, 'tis I, your trusty Trojan, _Guzman_.--what makes you
here, Sir, so near the Door of your Mistress?

_Car_. To wait my Doom; what Tidings hast thou, _Guzman_?

_Guz_. Why, Sir, I went as you directed me, to Don _Baltazer's_.

_Car_. And didst thou deliver it?

_Guz_. And the first thing I met with was old _Francisco_.

_Car_. So.

_Guz_. To whom I civilly addrest my self--told him, you presented your
Service to him,--sent to know how his Lady and he did. Which word Lady
I no sooner named, but I thought he would have saluted me with a
Cudgel,--in fine, observing her behind him, whom he shelter'd all he
could with his Cloke, I taking an occasion to whisper him, gave it her
over his shoulder, whilst she return'd some Smiles and Looks of
Joy,--but for an answer, 'twas impossible to get the least sign of one.

_Car_. No matter, that joy was evident she wisht me one, and by the
first opportunity my diligent waiting will be recompensed; but where
hast thou been all this while?

_Guz_. Finding out the Chimney-sweeper you spoke of, Sir, and whom you
ordered me to bring this Evening.

_Car_. And hast thou found him?

_Guz_. He's here, at the corner of the Street, I'll call him.
[Ex. Guz.

_Car_. I have, _Antonio_, besides your particular Revenge, one of my own
to act by this deceit, since all my Industry to see the charming _Julia_
has hitherto been vain, I have resolv'd upon a new project, if this
False Count pass upon 'em, as I doubt not but he will, and that he gets
admittance into the House, I'll pass for one of his Domesticks.

_Enter_ Guzman _and_ Guiliom. Page _holding his lanthorn to his face_.

_Guz_. Here's the Fellow, Sir.

_Ant_. Fellow! he may be the Devil's Fellow by his countenance.

_Car_. Come nearer, Friend; dost think thou canst manage a Plot well?

_Guil_. As any Man in _Cadiz_, Sir, with good instructions.

_Car_. That thou shalt have, thou art apprehensive.

_Guil_. So, so, I have a pretty memory for mischief.

_Ant_. Hast thou Assurance and Courage?

_Guil_. To kill the honestest Man in _Spain_, if I be well paid.

_Car_. That thou shalt be.

_Guil_. I'll do't, say no more, I'll do't.

_Car_. But canst thou swear stoutly, and lye handsomely.

_Guil_. Prettily, by Nature, Sir, but with good instructions I shall
improve; I thank Heaven I have Docity, or so.

_Car_. Thou want'st not Confidence.

_Guil_. No, nor Impudence neither; how should a man live in this wicked
world without that Talent?

_Ant_. Then know our Design is only comical, though if you manage not
Matters well, it may prove tragical to you; in fine, dost think thou
canst personate a Lord?

_Guil_. A Lord! marry, that's a hard question: but what sort of a Lord?

_Car_. Why, any Lord.

_Guil_. That I cannot do, but I can do some sort of a Lord, as some
Lords are wiser than other-some; there is your witty Lord,--him I defie;
your wise Lord, that is to say, your knavish Lord, him I renounce; then
there's your Politick Lord, him I wou'd have hang'd; then there's your
Foolish Lord, let him follow the Politician; then there's your brisk,
pert, noisy Lord, and such a small insignificant Fiend I care not if I
am possest with; I shall deal well enough with a Devil of his capacity.

_Car_. Very well, then there needs no more but that you go along with my
man to my house, my Authority shall secure you from all the injuries
that shall accrue from a discovery, but I hope none will happen:
Equipage, Clothes and Money we'll furnish you with.--Go home with him,
and dress, and practise the Don till we come, who will give you ample
instructions what to do.

_Guil_. And if I do not fit you with a Don better than _Don Del Phobos_,
or _Don Quixote_, let me be hang'd up for the Sign of the Black Boy on
my own Poles at a _Spanish_ Inn door.

_Ant_. We'll be with you presently.

_Guil_. And if you find me not en Cavalier, say Clothes, Garniture,
Points, and Feathers have lost their Power of making one.

[_Ex_. Guz. _and_ Page, _and_ Guil.

_Enter, opening the door_, Jacinta.

_Car_. Hah, the Door opens, and surely 'tis a Woman that advances: dear
_Antonio_, wait a little farther;--who's there?

_Jac_. Hah, if it should be old _Francisco_ now.

_Car_. Let it be who it will, I'll tell my name, it cannot injure
either;--I'm _Carlos_, who are you?

_Jac_. A thing that looks for him you name--_Jacinta_;--are you alone?

_Car_. Never since _Julia_ did possess my heart; what news, my dearest
Messenger of Love? what may I hope?--

_Enter_ Julia.

_Jul_. All that the kindest Mistress can bestow, If _Carlos_ loves, and
still will keep his Vows.

_Car_. _Julia_, my Life, my Soul, what happy Stars Conspir'd to give me
this dear lucky minute?

_Jul_. Those that conducted old _Francisco_ out,
And will too soon return him back again;
I dare not stay to hear thy love or chiding,
Both which have power to charm, since both proceed
From a kind heart, that's mine.

_Car_. Oh, take not this dear Body from my Arms,
For if you do, my Soul will follow it.

_Jul_. What would'st thou have me do?

_Car_. Be wondrous kind, be lavish of thy Heart,
Be generous in thy Love, and give me all.

_Jul_. Oh Heavens! what mean you? I shall die with fear.

_Car_. Fear! let coward Lovers fear, who love by halves,
We that intirely love are bold in Passion,
Like Soldiers fir'd with glory dread no Danger.

_Jul_. But should we be unthrifty in our Loves,
And for one Moment's joy give all away,
And be hereafter damn'd to pine at distance?

_Car_. Mistaken Miser, Love like Money put
Into good hands increases every day,
Still as you trust me, still the Sum amounts:
Put me not off with promise of to morrow,
To morrow will take care for new delights,
Why shou'd that rob us of a present one?

_Jul_. Ah, _Carlos_! How fondly do I listen to thy words,
And fain would chide, and fain wou'd boast my Virtue,
But mightier Love laughs at those poor delays;
And I should doubtless give you all your _Julia_,
Did not my fear prevent my kinder business;
--And should _Francisco_ come and find me absent,
Or take thee with me, we were lost, my _Carlos_.

_Car_. When then, my _Julia_, shall we meet again?

_Jul_. You _Spaniards_ are a jealous Nation,
But in this _English Spaniard_ Old _Francisco_,
That mad Passion's doubled; wholly deprives him of his Sense, and turns
his Nature Brute; wou'd he but trust me only with my Woman, I wou'd
contrive some way to see my _Carlos_.

_Car_. 'Tis certain, _Julia_, that thou must be mine.

_Jul_. Or I must die, my _Carlos_.

[Ant. _listning advances_.

_Ant_.--I'm sure 'tis _Carlos's_ voice, and with a Woman;
And though he be my Rival but in Jest,
I have a natural curiosity to see who 'tis he entertains.

_Jul_. Oh Heavens! Sir, here's _Francisco_; step aside,
Lest mischief shou'd befall you.
[_Runs in_.

_Car_. Now Love and wild Desire prompt me to kill this happy Rival,--
he's old, and can't be long in his Arrears to Nature.--What if I paid
the debt? [_Draws halfway_. One single push wou'd do't, and _Julia's_
mine;--but, hang't, Adultery is a less sin than Murder, and I will wait
my Fortune.--

_Ant_. Where are you,--Don _Carlos_?

_Car_. Who's there, _Antonio_? I took thee for my Rival, and ten to one
but I had done thy business.

_Ant_. I heard ye talking and believ'd you safe, and came in hopes to
get a little time to speak to _Clara_ in;--hah!--_Jacinta_--

_Jac_. Who's there, _Antonio_?
[_Peeping out of the door_.

_Ant_. The same; may I not speak with _Clara_?

_Jac_. Come in, she's here.--

_Car_. And prithee, dear _Jacinta_, let me have one word with _Julia_
more, she need not fear surprize; just at the door let me but kiss her
[_Going in_.

_Jac_. I'll see if I can bring her.--

_Enter_ Francisco.

_Fran_. A proud ungracious Flirt,--a Lord with a Pox! here's a fine
business, i'faith, that she should be her own Carver,--well I'll home,
and thunder her together with a vengeance.

_Car_. Who's here? sure this is he indeed; I'll step aside, lest my
being seen give him an occasion of jealousy, and make him affront his
[_Goes aside as_ Fran. _was going in_.

_Enter_ Julia.

_Fran_. Hum, what have we here, a Woman?

_Jul_. Heavens! what, not gone yet, my Dear?

_Fran_. So, so, 'tis my confounded Wife, who expecting some body wou'd
have me gone now.

_Jul_. Are you not satisfied with all I've said,
With all the Vows I've made,
Which here anew, in sight of Heaven, I breathe?

_Fran_. Yes, yes, you can promise fair, but hang him that trusts ye.

_Jul_. Go, go, and pray be satisfyed with my eternal Love.--

_Fran_. How fain she'd have me gone now; ah, subtle Serpent! is not this
plain demonstration,--I shall murder her, I find the Devil great with
me. [_Aside still_.

_Jul_.--What is't thou pausest on?

_Fran_. The wicked Dissimulation of villainous Woman. [_Aloud to her_.

_Jul_. _Francisco!_

_Fran_. Oh thou Monster of Ingratitude, have I caught thee? You'd have
me gone, wou'd ye? ay, to Heaven, I believe, like a wicked Woman as you
are, so you were rid of me. Go,--and be satisfyed of my eternal love
--ah, Gipsey,--no, Gentlewoman, I am a tuff bit, and will hold you
tugging till your heart ake.

_Jul_. Why, was there such hurt in desiring you to go that you might
make haste back again,--Oh, my fears!

_Fran_. That you might receive a Lover,--'tis plain--and my
Indignation's high.

_Jul_. Heav'n knows I meant--

_Fran_. Only to cuckold me a little,--get you in,--where I will swear
thee by Bell, Book and Candle,--get you in, I say,--go, go,--I'll
watch for your Lover, and tell him how unkind he was to stay so long,
I will.--

[_Ex_. Julia, _he stands just in the door_, Carlos _advances_.

_Car_. I hear no noise, sure 'twas he,--and he's gone in--
To reap those Joys he knows not how to value,
And I must languish for; I'll stay a little--perhaps _Jacinta_ may
return again, for anything belonging to my _Julia_ is dear, even to
my Soul.

[_Goes just to the door_, Fran. _bolts out on him_.

_Fran_. Who's there?--what wou'd you have?--who wou'd you speak to?--who
do you come from?--and what's your business?

_Car_. Hah, 'tis the Sot himself;--my name is _Carlos_.

_Fran_. _Carlos_! what Father of _Belzebub_ sent him hither?--a plain
case;--I'll murder her out of hand.

_Car_.--And I wou'd speak to any body, Friend, that belongs to the fair
_Clara_,--if you are any of this house.

_Fran_. Only the Cuckold of the house, that's all;--my name, Sir, is
_Francisco_; but you, perhaps, are better acquainted with my Wife.

_Car_. _Francisco_, let me embrace you, my noble Brother, and chide you,
that you wou'd not visit me.
[_Going to embrace him, he flies off_.

_Fran_. And bring my Wife along with me.

_Car_. Both had been welcome--and all I have, you shou'd command.

_Fran_. For my Wife's sake--what if I shou'd pistol him now;--and I am
damnably provok'd to't, had I but Courage to shoot off one. [_Aside_.

_Car_. Methinks you make not so kind returns as my Friendship to you,
and the Alliance shall be between us, deserves.

_Fran_. I am something ill-bred, I confess, Sir;--'tis dark, and if I
shou'd do't no body wou'd know 'twas I. [_Aside_.

_Car_. I fear there's some Misunderstanding between us, pray let us go
in a while, I'll talk you from your error.
[_Offers to go, he gets between him and the door_.

_Fran_. Between us, Sir! oh Lord, not in the least, Sir, I love and
honour you so heartily--I'd be content to give you to the Devil, but the
noise of the Pistol wou'd discover the business. [_Aside_.

_Car_. Come, let's in, and talk a while.

_Fran_. I'm sorry I cannot do't, Sir, we are something incommoded being
not at our own house.

_Car_. Brother, I am afraid you are a little inclined to be jealous,
that will destroy all Friendship.--

_Fran_. So, how finely the Devil begins to insinuate!

_Car_. That makes a Hell of the Heav'n of Love, and those very Pains you
fear, are less tormenting than that Fear; what say you, Brother, is't
not so with you?

_Fran_. I find you wou'd have me turn a Husband of the Mode, a fine
convenient Tool, one of the modern Humour, a civil Person, that
understands Reason, or so; and I doubt not but you wou'd be as modish
a Gallant.

_Car_. Ha, ha, ha.

_Fran_. What, do you laugh, Sir?

_Car_. Who can chuse, to hear your Suspicions, your needless Fears.
Come, come, trust your Wife's Discretion, and Modesty--and I doubt not
but you will find your self--

_Fran_. In the Road to Heaven, whither they say all Cuckolds go--I thank
you for your advice; I perceive you wou'd willingly help me onwards of
my Journey.

_Car_. I'm glad I know you, Sir,--farewel to you--
[_Goes out_.

_Fran_. No matter for that, so you know not my Wife--and so farewel to
you, Sir, and, the Devil take all Cuckoldmakers.


SCENE III. _The inside of the House_.

_Enter_ Clara, Julia, Antonio, Jacinta _running to 'em_.

_Jac_. He has seen Don _Carlos_, and they have been in great discourse
together, I cou'd not hear one word, but you'll have it at both ears
anon, I'll warrant you. Ha, he's coming.

_Enter_ Francisco.

_Cla_. Heavens, he must not see you here. [_To_ Ant.

_Jac_. Here, step into _Clara's_ Bed-chamber. [_He goes in_.

_Fran_. So the Plot's at last discover'd,--he was a Cavalier of his

_Jul_. Who speak you of?

_Fran_. Only the Governor, the fine young Governor, I deliver'd him the
message, told him my mind and the like.

_Jul_. So kind to visit us, and have you sent him away already?

_Fran_. Ah, Witch; already! why, have I any lodging for him?

_Jul_. But I am glad you brought him not in, I being so unready.

_Fran_. But you are always ready for him, my dear victorious Man-slayer.

_Jul_. What means he, sure he has a Gad-bee in his Brain.

_Fran_. Satan's she Advocate--peace, I say;--so, you look as innocently
now, as a little Devil of two years old, I'll warrant;--come, come, look
me full in the face--thus,--turn your nose just to mine--so--now tell
me whose damnable Plot this was, to send your Gallant with his
Eloquence, Querks and Conundrums, to tutor me into better manners?

_Jul_. Send him! I'll answer no such idle questions.

_Fran_. He has taken a world of pains about your particular Chapter, and
no doubt but he preach'd according to instructions;--what say you for
your self, that Judgment may not pass?

_Jul_. I say you're an old jealous Fool; have I seen Don _Carlos_, or
heard from Don _Carlos_, or sent to Don _Carlos_? here's a-do indeed.

_Fran_. What made you at the door against my positive commands,--the
very Street-door,--in the night,--alone,--and undrest,--this is a
matter of Fact, Gentlewoman; you hastened me away,--a plain case,--and
presently, after Don _Carlos_ comes to the door,--positive proof,--sees
me and falls right down upon my Jealousy,--clear conviction,--'twas
pity but I had follow'd his counsel, yes, when the Devil turns student
in Divinity;--but no matter, I'll see your back fairly turn'd upon this
Town to morrow; I'll marry my Daughter in the morning to _Antonio_, and
a fair wind or not, we'll home; the Gally lies ready in the Harbour--
therefore prepare, pack up your tools, for you are no woman of this

_Ant_. How! marry me to morrow to his daughter;--and carry his Wife
from my Friend; this misfortune must be prevented. [_Aside peeping_.

_Fran_. And so, Mistress, come your ways to your Chamber.

_Jul_. And study how to prevent this cruel separation.
[_Aside, goes out with him and_ Jacinta.

_Cla_. Ah, _Antonio_, I find by that sad look of yours, you have
over-heard our hasty Doom.

_Ant_. I have, and am a little surpriz'd at the suddenness of it; and I
my self am the unlucky occasion of it,--to break it off, I told my
Father how scurvily _Isabella_ treated me,--he thereupon sends for old
_Francisco_, tells him of my complaint, and instead of disengaging my
self, I find my self more undone.

_Cla_. What shall we do? I'm sure thou wilt not marry her, thou canst
not do't and hope to go to Heaven.

_Ant_. No, I have one prevention left, and if that fail, I'll utterly
refuse to marry her, a thing so vainly proud; no Laws of Nature or
Religion, sure, can bind me to say yes; and for my Fortune, 'tis my own,
no Father can command it.

_Cla_. I know thou wilt be true, and I'll not doubt it.

_Enter_ Jacinta.

_Jac_. Ah! Madam, the saddest news--

_Cla_. Hah! what?

_Jac_. Poor Gentleman, I pity you of all things in the World,--you must
be forc'd--how can I utter it,--to the most lamentable torment that ever
Lover endur'd--to remain all night in your Mistress's Chamber.

_Ant_. Alas, how shall I endure so great an Affliction?

_Cla_. And I.

_Jac_. Ha, ha, ha, how I am griev'd to think on it; ha, ha, ha, that you
shou'd both be so hardly put to it; ha, ha, ha, for the old Gentleman
has lock'd all the doors, and took the keys to bed to him,--go, get you
in,--ha, ha, ha.--

_Ant_. Oh, my dear _Clara_, this is a blessing I could not hope.

_Cla_. _So large a Freedom shall my Virtue prove,
I'll trust my Honour with_ Antonio's _Love_.

[_They go in_.

[_Ex_. Jacinta _laughing_.


SCENE I. _Don_ Carlos' _house_.

_Enter Don_ Carlos _in his Night-gown_, Antonio,
_and_ Guzman _with Clothes_.

_Car_. All night with _Clara_ say'st thou? that was lucky;
But was she kind, my friend?

_Ant_. As I desir'd, or Honour wou'd permit her;
Nor wou'd I press her farther.

_Car_. A very moderate Lover.

_Ant_. For some part of my Virtue, Sir, I owe to you; in midst of all my
Love, even in the kindest moments of Delight, my Joys were broken by
concern for you.--_Julia_ this day, or very suddenly, leaves _Cadiz_.

_Car_. By Heaven, and so will _Carlos_ then; for I'm so resolutely bent
to possess that dear Creature,
That I will do't with hazard of my Life,
Expence of Fortune, or what's dear to me.

_Guz_. And how wou'd you reward that politick head, that shou'd contrive
the means to bring this handsomly about; not for an a hour, or a night,
but even as long as you please, with freedom; without the danger of
venturing your honourable neck, in showing Feats of Activity three
stories high, with a Dagger in one hand, and a Pistol in t'other, like a

_Car_. But how? Thou talkest of Impossibilities.

_Ant_. Dost think she'll e'er consent to quit her Husband?

_Guz_. No, Heaven forbid, I am too good a Christian to part Man and
Wife; but being naturally inclined to works of Charity, I will with one
project I have in this noddle of mine,--make old _Francisco_ a Cuckold,
accommodate my Lord and _Julia_, serve you, Sir,--and give our selves a
good Scene of Mirth.

_Car_. Thou amazest me.

_Guz_. If I do't not, send me to the Galleys; nay, and so far cure the
Jealousy of the old Fellow, that from a rigid suspicious troublesom
Fool, he shall become so tame and gentle a Husband,--that he shall
desire you to favour him so much as to lie with his dear Wife.

_Car_. By what strange Witchcraft shall this be brought to pass?

_Guz_. E'en honest Invention, Sir, good Faith, listen and believe:--When
he goes, he certainly goes by Sea, to save the charges of Mules.

_Ant_. Right, I heard him say so; in the Galley that lies in the Port.

_Guz_. Good, there is a Galley also, in the Harbour, you lately took
from the _Turks_; Habits too were taken in her enough to furnish out
some forty or fifty as convenient _Turks_ as a man wou'd wish at
the Devil.

_Car_. Ah, Rogue, I begin to apprehend already.

_Guz_. Our _Turkish_ Galley thus man'd, I'll put to Sea, and about a
League from Land, with a sham-fight set on that of Old _Francisco_, take
it, make 'em all Slaves, clap the Old Fellow under hatches, and then you
may deal with the fair Slave his Wife, as _Adam_ did with _Eve_.

_Car_. I'm ravish'd with the thought.

_Ant_. But what will be the event of this?

_Car_. I will not look so far, but stop at the dear Joys, and fear no
Fate beyond 'em.

_Guz_. Nay, with a little cudgelling this dull Brain of mine I shall
advance it farther for the Jest-sake;--as I take it, Signior Don
_Antonio_, you have a fine Villa, within a Bow-shot of this City
belonging to your self.

_Ant_. I have with pleasant Gardens, Grotto's, Waterworks.--

_Car_. A most admirable Scene for Love and our Designs.

_Ant_. 'Tis yours, Sir.

_Guz_. Then, Sir, when we have taken this old Fool, on whom the grossest
cheat wou'd pass, much more this, which shall carry so seeming a Truth
in't, he being clapt under hatches in the Dark, we'll wind round a
League or two at Sea, turn in, and land at this Garden, Sir, of yours,
which we'll pretend to be a _Seraglio_, belonging to the _Grand
Seignior_; whither, in this hot part o'th' year, he goes to regale
himself with his She-Slaves.

_Car_. But the distance of Place and Time allow not such a Fallacy.

_Guz_. Why he never read in's life; knows neither Longitude nor
Latitude, and _Constantinople_ may be in the midst of _Spain_ for any
thing he knows; besides, his Fear will give him little leisure
for thinking.

_Ant_. But how shall we do with the Seamen of this other Gally?

_Guz_. There's not above a Dozen, besides the Slaves that are chain'd to
the Oar, and those Dozen, a Pistole apiece wou'd not only make 'em
assist in the design, but betray it in earnest to the _Grand Seignior_;
--for them I'll undertake, the Master of it being _Pier de Sala_, your
Father's old Servant, Sir. [_To_ Carlos.

_Ant_. But possibly his mind may alter upon the Arrival of this False
Count of ours?

_Car_. No matter, make sure of those Seamen however; that they may be
ready upon occasion.

_Ant_. 'Tis high time for me that your Count were arriv'd, for this
morning is destin'd the last of my Liberty.

_Car_. This Morning--Come, haste and dress me--
[_To_ Guz.]--_Guzman_, where's our Count?

_Enter_ Guiliom _drest fine, two great_ Pages
_and a little one following_.

_Guz_. Coming to give you the good morrow, Sir;
And shew you how well he looks the Part.

_Car_. Good day to your Lordship-- [_Bowing_.

_Guil_. Morrow, morrow, Friend.

_Ant_. My Lord, your most humble Servant.

_Guil_. Thank you, Friend, thank you; Page, Boy--what's a-Clock,

_Page_. About Eight, my Lord.

_Ant_. Your Lordship's early up.

_Guil_. My Stomach was up before me, Friend; and I'm damnably hungry;
'tis strange how a man's Appetite increases with his Greatness; I'll
swinge it away now I'm a Lord,--then I will wench without Mercy; I'm
resolv'd to spare neither Man, Woman, nor Child, not I; hey, Rogues,
Rascals, Boys, my Breakfast, quickly, Dogs--let me see, what shall I
have now that's rare?

_Page_. What will your Honour please to have?

_Guil_. A small rasher of delicate Bacon, Sirrah--of about a Pound, or
two, with a small Morsel of Bread--round the Loaf, d'ye hear, quickly,

_Ant_. That's gross meat, Sir, a pair of Quails--or--

_Guil_. I thank you for that, i'faith, take your Don again, an you
please, I'll not be starv'd for ne'er a Don in Christendom.

_Ant_. But you must study to refine your Manners a little.

_Guil_. Manners! you shall pardon me for that; as if a Lord had not more
privilege to be more saucy, more rude, impertinent, slovenly and foolish
than the rest of his Neighbours, or Mankind.

_Car_. Ay, ay, 'tis great.

_Guil_. Your saucy Rudeness, in a Grandee, is Freedom; your
Impertinence, Wit; your Sloven, careless; and your Fool, good natur'd;
as least they shall pass so in me, I'll warrant ye.

_Car_. Well, you have your full Instructions; your Baggage, Bills and
Letters, from _Octavio_ the _Sevilian_ Merchant.

_Guz_. All, all, Sir, are ready, and his Lordship's breakfast waits.

_Car_. Which ended, we advance,
Just when _Aurora_ rose from _Thetis'_ Bed,
Where he had wantoned a short Summer's night,
Harness'd his bright hoov'd Horses to begin
His gilded course above the Firmament,
Out sallied Don _Gulielmo Rodorigo de Chimney Sweperio_, and so forth.
Gad, this adventure of ours will be worthy to be sung in Heroick Rhime
Doggerel, before we have finisht it; Come--
[_Goes out_.

_Guil_. Hey, Rogues, Rascals, Boys, follow me just behind.


SCENE II. Francisco's _house_.

_Enter_ Clara _and_ Jacinta.

_Jac_. Nay, I knew he would be civil, Madam, or I would have borne you
Company; but neither my Mistress nor I, cou'd sleep one wink all Night,
for fear of a Discovery in the Morning; and to save the poor Gentleman a
tumbling Cast from the Window, my Mistress, just at day-break, feigned
her self wondrous sick,--I was called, desired to go to Signior
_Spadilio's_ the Apothecary's, at the next Door, for a Cordial; and so
he slipt out;--but the Story of this false Count pleases me extremely,
and, if it should take, Lord, what mirth we shall have. Ha, ha, ha, I
can't forbear with the thoughts on't.

_Cla_. And to see the Governor his Man?

_Jac_. Ah, what a Jest that would be too--Ha, ha, ha! but here comes
_Isabella_; let's puff up her Pride with Flatteries on her Beauty.

_Enter_ Isabella _looking in a Glass, and seeing her Face_.

_Isa_. Ah, Heavens, those Eyes--that Look,--that pretty Leer,--that my
Father shou'd be so doating an old Fool to think these Beauties fit for
a little Merchandize; a Marchioness wou'd so much better become me.
[Looks again.
--Ah, what a Smile's there--and then that scornful Look--'tis great--
Heavens, who's here?
[Sees them.

_Cla_. Only those Friends that wish you better Fortune than this day

_Jac_. Look on that Face; are there not Lines that foretel a world of
Greatness, and promise much Honour?

_Cla_. Her Face, her Shape, her Mein, her every part declares her
Lady--or something more.

_Isa_. Why, so, and yet this little Creature of a Father, ridiculously
and unambitious, would spoil this Lady, to make up a simple Citizen's
Wife--in good time.

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