ACT I. SCENE the I.
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The Curtain draws up, and discovers several sitting at a Banquet. An Entertainment of Instrumental Musick, Compos'd by Signior Finger: Then a Song, set by Mr. John Eccles, and Sung by Young La Roche.
SONG.
Many I’ve lik’d, and some Enjoy’d, But if I said I Lov’d, I ly’d. Inconstant as the wandring Bee, From once touch’d Sweets I us’d to flee; Nor all the Power of Female Skill, Cou’d curb the freedom of my Will: Clarinda only found the Art, To Conquer and so keep my Heart. [After this a Dance, and then the Scene shuts.
Enter Friendly and Clara.
Friend. This is a Day of Mirth and Jollity my Clara.
Clara. ’Tis so, for such as can be merry, Mr. Friendly.
Friend. Why not for us my Love, we have a Noble President, and methinks shou’d Imitate (thrô Envy) this their happiness.
Clara. I am not of your Opinion.
Friend. Why not my Fair?
Clara. I’ll tell you, because I purpose not to Marry.
Fri. Prithee be serious, and reform that Thought: Think of my past Service, and judge by that my future; weigh all the respect I have paid you long, and ever lov’d you beyond my self.
Cla. I know your Weakness, and will reward it too.
Fri. I am sure you will, you must be kind; And can you think an Answer of this killing Nature, a just return for all my faithful Love?
Cla. As to that I have already said.
Fri. Oh speak, from whence this Coldness doth arise! Be at least so kind as to tell me that; Is it some late Disgust you have conceived of my Person; or rather your desire, (I fear) of some unworthier, happy Creature, base in the Attempt, as you unkind in thinking of a Change; if neither.
I must impute it to your Woman’s Will, Still pleased with what it fancies, Good or Ill.
Cla. Be’t what it will, thus it is, and with this Answer pray rest satisfied; there is but one way ever to win me and draw me unto Marriage, which whosoever finds, ’tis like he may have me, if not, I am still my own.
Fri. Oh name it then! Thou dearest Treasure of my Life! my Soul! my All! I am in a maze of Extasie, to think there’s any means to gain you, and hope you’l be so kind to tell me how I may be happy.
Cla. I’ll retire a while; and with my self resolve what must be done, and in the end send you my Resolution. [Exit Clara.
Fri. I’ll here expect it: What more can I desire, than now be satisfied and know my Dooom.
Suspence is the worst Torment we endure, ’Tis Knowledge make the Wound both safe and sure.
Enter Spruce and Mr. Venter.
Spru. How now Jack! What all alone Man?
Fri. No, for I have heard some say, Men are ne’re less alone, then when alone. The reason I suppose is this, because they have Crowds of Thoughts, that still perplex the Mind; which wou’d be, like the Soul retired and free, thereby to enjoy that sweet repose, which nought but that can Grant.
Spru. Pshaw! Pox of this Morality and dull Stuff; Prithee let us be Merry, and Entertain the Bride and Bridegroom. Ods fish there a parcel of rare Creatures within! But of all Mrs. Clara for my Money.
Mr. Ven. And truly, I am of your Opinion Mr. Spruce; for setting aside her present Melancholly and Discontent, I think she is beyond Comparison with any other.
Spr. Od’s nigs, I know the Cause of her Disorder.
Ven. What I pray?
Spr. Why, I’ll tell ye; In all Conditions of Estates, Professions, and Degrees, in Arts or Sciences, yee know there’s a kind of Envious Emulation.
Mr. Ven. Right.
Spr. So in this of Arabella’s Marrying; for Clara being Lady of much the same Birth and Quality, Grieves I—suppose to see her Rival get the start of her.
Mr. Ven. Troth like enough.
Fri. Y’are Pleasant Gentlemen—Or else because she having had so many Courtiers——
Spr. And you among the rest Jack.
Fri. She now perhaps does cast a more favourable Eye upon some one that does not like her.
Spr. Why Faith, and that may be too.
Enter Lucy with a Letter.
Lucy. Sir, my Mistriss presents her humble Service to you, and has sent you this Letter; pray Heaven it be to your liking Sir.
Fri. I thank the kind Lucy: There, there’s for the Postage Girle: [Gives her Money.] She has kept her Promise for once I see; I’m resolved to read it, thô I were sure my Death was Comprehended in it.
Reads. Try all your Friends, and find out the best and nearest to your Heart, That done, be sure to kill him for my sake. This fail not to do, if you respect and Love (as you pretend.) Clara.
’Tis as I fear’d, and what I know she most desires: Mischief, and Murder, are all her Sexes Practice, and Delight? Yet such is the Extravagancy of my Passion, I must obey the Mandate, thô to my certain Ruine: ’Tis strangely difficult, and does require Mature Deliberation. [Exit.
Spr. What has Friendly left us?
Mr. Ven. I believe the Letter was the occasion, it may be it was a Challenge.
Spr. A Challenge! No, no; Women don’t use to bring Challenges, I rather believe ’tis an Amour; And that Letter as you call it a Billet Deux, which is to Conduct him to the place appointed; and in some Sence you may take that for a Challenge.
Mr. Ven. And she the Civil Embassadress to usher him in.
Spr. Yes, yes, but see the Bride and Bridegroom, with the rest of the good Company.
Enter Justice Merry-man, Bonvile, Arabella, Mrs. Venter and others, as Guests Invited to the Wedding.
Mer. Son Bonvile, what call ye the Gentleman we met at the Garden Door?
Bon. Friendly Sir, a most approv’d and worthy Gentleman, and one of my chiefest Guests.
Mer. Ay, ay, it may be so: But yet me thought he seemed somewhat displeased, thô Son, Hah, What think you?
Bon. No sure Sir, he cannot be Angry, when his Friend’s so happy.
Mer. I can’t tell Boy, but I believe there’s something more than ordinary in the matter. Why should he leave the Company else? And Mrs. Clara I miss her too. Why Gentlemen, why do you suffer this?
Ara. Unknown to any Sir, she withdrew soon as we rise from Table.
Mer. Sick of the Maid perhaps; because she sees you Mrs. Bride her Quondam Play fellow Married before her; Heh Gentlemen, heh!
Mr. Ven. ’Troth like enough Brother Merry-man.
Mer. Go, go, find her out for shame Gentlemen; and do not stand idle thus, Od’s bobs, when I was a Young fellow and invited to a Wedding, I used to frisk and Jump, and so bestir my self, that I made all the Green-sickness Girles in the Room blush like Rubies. Ah, hah! I was a brisk Fellow in those Days, I’faith, and used to Cut Capers a Yard high: Nor am I yet so Old, but I can take a round or two still—Come, come Gentlemen, lets in again and firk it away, shall we not?
Spr. With all my Heart Mr. Justice.
Mer. Why that’s well said Mr. Spruce, Ods bobs it was, and I thank you heartily.
Spr. Come Madam, you must along with us, without you all’s nothing.
Arab. I’ll wait on you Gentlemen; if you will give me leave Sir. [To Bonvile.
Bon. Oh my best Joy! This Day you may Command.
Mer. That’s right, that’s right I’faith Gentlemen! This Day she Commands, and he for ever after. Ods bobs I have done so my self, and hope I shall do so still. Sister Venter, May I presume to ask if my Brother can say as much? [Exit Bonvile, Arab. Spruce, and the rest of the Guests.]
Mrs. Vent. Yes Brother, I think he may, I freely Give him leave.
Mer. Observe that Brother, she freely gives you leave: But who Gives leave the Master or the Servant?
Mr. Ven. You are Merry Brother, and truly you have reason, having but one Daughter and see her Married as you would have her.
Mer. Yes, I have one thank Heaven! You wou’d be glad Sister you cou’d say so, but your Barrenness does give your Husband leave (if he please) to look for Game elsewhere.
Mrs. Ven. Well, well Sir, thô you jeer me, and make a scorn of my Sterility—
Mer. No, no, not I Sister, I scorn not your Sterility, nor your Husbands Virility neither.
Mrs. Ven. My Husband’s Virility! Pray spare my Husband; for he has not been so idle as you imagin; He may have an—Offspring abroad for ought you know, that you never heard of.
Mr. Ven. Oh fye Wife, You will not make it publick will you?
Mrs. Ven. And yet he keeps himself within compass for all that.
Mr. Ven. If you love me Winny—
Mrs. Ven. Na, I say no more, but thereby hangs a Tale.
Mer. Say’st thou so old Girle? What and has he been stragling then? Nay; nay I know he is a Ventersome Man; And a—Merchant of small Wares sometimes, especially when he can get a good Commodity: I love him the better for’t I’faith, Ods bobs I do—A notable spark with a Young Wench in a corner, Is he not? A true Chip of the old block, his Father I warrant him—But Sister, I have something to say to you in private, concerning my Daughter.
Enter Nurse.
Nurse. By your leave Good Folks, Is Master Venter the Merchant here I pray?
Mr. Ven. Oh Nurse! I am glad to see thee, How does my Boy?
Nurse. Very well, I thank Heaven Sir! He grows bravely I assure you. ’Tis a Chopping lad I promise you, and as like your good Worship; As if he had been spit out of your Mouth.
Mr. Ven. Softly, Nurse softly.
Nurse. I protest ’tis one of the forward’st Infants in the Universe; Lord! how it will Crow, and Chirup like a Sparrow! I am afraid Sir he is about Teeth, for he Dribbles extreamly, if so, Your Worship must provide him a Silver Corral with a Whistle and Chain.
Mr. Ven. Well, well, he shall have everything Nurse, my Wife shall send them to ye; in the mean time, there, there’s a Piece, to buy thee a Pair of Gloves, and so leave us, for I am busie at present, therefore steal away behind me, and slip out at the back Door.
Nurse. Yes Sir, I am gone, Heavens bless your Worship, a Piece! Marry! and that’s a sufficient Charm to lye up any Nurses Tongue in Christendom. [Ex. Nurse
Just. Mer. Well well, it shall be done: Come Brother we are mist I warrant you amongst the Young Fry, let’s to ’um and, Dance till our Legs ake again, come I’ll lead the way.
Mr. Ven. We follow you. [Exeunt.
Enter Friendly Reading the Letter.
Fr. Heaven in its excess of Goodness, bestow’d no greater Blessing on Mankind than that of Friendship—To Murder any one is a Crime unpardonable! But a Friend!—And of all Friends the nearest to my Heart,—’Tis such an Imposition that Hell it self ’till now cou’d never parallel; And yet this Devil of a Woman has power over me beyond all Virtue. I am distracted in my Thoughts, and know not what to do; yet something must be done without delay, or else I lose her quite: And yet I fear ’tis most Impossible, for Friendship left the World, when Justice fled, and all who now do wear that Name are the worst of Hypocrites,
Like Counterfeited Coin on which is seen, The formal Stamp; but sordid Dross within.
Enter Bonivile.
Bon. My Friend alone and Thoughtful? say for what? That you alone appear with Discontent, When all my Friends Congratulate my Bliss? Is it because (which I durst ne’re suspect) Your Love to me was not intirely true? Or else perhaps, this Crown of Happiness You think Misplac’d, and Envy it not yours. Fri. Forbear such cruel Words— How can you entertain a Thought so Vile Of him whom so long you have call’d your Friend? May all the Blesings Heaven can bestow On us poor Mortals in this World below, Crown all your Days, and may you nothing see But flowing Tides of sweet Felicity; But I, alas!— Bon. Alas! What means my Friendly? Much hidden Grief that wretched Word portends, Which thus disturbs the Quiet of my Friend? But come disclose it to me, And since the Burthen is too much for one, I’ll bear a part to ease thy troubled Breast. Fri. Oh Bonvile! Seek not to force this Fatal secret from me— Bon. I must know it, by my best hopes I must. Fri. Oh no! I cannot, Nay I dare not— Bon. How dare not trust a secret to a Friend? Fri. Oh Bonville, Bonville! Call me not your Friend, That Name strikes horrour to my very Soul. Bon. Ha! Art thou then a Stranger to that Name? Fri. Indeed I am, and must be so for ever now. Bon. Yet hear me Friendly; Deny me if thou can'st, Fixt as a Rock, I vow I’ll here remain, Until I have forc’d this Dire secret from thee. Fri. Pardon me Sir, I hope you soon will hear it, But I—— [Offers to go.] Bon. Yet stay, and since intreaty can’t prevail, By all the Friendship which you once profess’d, By all that’s Holy, both in Heaven and Earth, I now Conjure thee to impart it to me, Or by this Life—— Fri. Hold, hold, and since I can no longer hide it Know ’tis my Honour then which lyes at Stake. Bon. Thy Honour! How? Proceed. Fri. By chance a Quarrel happen’d to arise Betwixt another and my self, The Field, Time, Place, and all appointed, Nay Seconds must assist us in the Deed: I have relied on many seeming Friends, (Such as profess the bare and empty Name) And all refuse to venture in my Cause. Bon. Is this all? Fri All, Is it not enough? To see my Reputation, (the Lifes Blood of my Soul) Nay all that’s Dear, in Danger to be lost. Bon. Not while thy Bonvile lives and wears a Sword: May all things frown that I wou’d have to smile, May I live Poor, and Dye despised by all, If I out live the ruine of thy Honour! Tell me the time my Friend? Fri. Oh, spare me that, for, if once known the time, You’l Cancel this your promise, and recall Your Friendly proffer. Bon. Away with these Excuses, come the time. Fri. At Seven this Evening. Bon. The place? Fri. Barn-Elms: Oh the fatal place! Where I too well foresee, The certain fall and Ruine of my Honour! Bon. No, Thou shalt not stay to forfeit thy lov'd Honour, Come I’m ready to assist my Friend; and will along with you. Fri. Alas. What mean you? Of all my Friends on you I ne’re Relied; But sure I Dream, I Rave, by Heav’ns I’m Mad! My Bonvile leave his Wife? And on his Wedding Day? His Bride whom he perhaps may ne’re Enjoy? And all for me? O most unhappy Man! Bon. Pleasure before my Friend I’ll ne’re prefer, Nor is it lost, thô for a while, delay’d. Fri. Are you then resolv’d to go? Bon. I am as fixt in my Resolve as is the Libertin in vice, Which Death alone can part. Fri. Yet stay, and think what it is you undertake, Recall this Rash and suddain Resolution, Least you repent, alas when it is too late. Bon. This were enough to shake a weaker Soul, But mine it moves not; like to a Mighty Oake, I’m plac’d above the Storms of Fear or Doubt.
Enter Arabella.
Fri. Sir, no more, the Bride, Ara. Oh, Heavens defend me! Bon. What ailes my Dearest Life? Ara. I’ve lost the Key of this Chain I wear about my Neck And of these Bracelets, Oh! Unhappy Omen!
Bon. No, no, my Love; I found it as it lay at Random in your Chamber, and fearing it might be forgot, or lost, have laid it by; ’Tis safe my Love.
Ara. Indeed I’me very glad you’ve found it, but yet—— [sighs.
Bon. Yet, What my Dear? from whence proceeds that sigh?
Ara. Alas, I know not! Some busie Genius Whispers to my Soul, The loss of this upon my Wedding Day Portend’s a greater e’re the Day be past. Bon. Banish such Fears, let’s in and see our Friends. Ara. Indeed they all expect you; come I’ll lead the way. Bon. I’ll go with you. Barn-Elms you say? [Aside to Friendly. Fri. Yes that’s the place, at Seven precisely; Bon. I’ll meet you on the Exchange, and go together; If you are there before me, Take a turn or two. [Exit Bonvile, and Arabella. Fri. Oh my Dear Bonvile! Art thou then the Man? The only, only Man that I can call Friend, And only Friend that I am bound to Kill? A Friend, that for my sake wou’d stake his Life, Leave a Chast Bride and untouch’d Nuptial Bed For me base Man, nay worse than Savage Beast: The generous Lyon, never kills his kind They say, althô provoked to utmost rage; Yet I vile Monster, more ungrateful Man, Thus unprovoked, must kill my Brother Creature, And which is worse, my Dear and only Friend! All for the pleasure of a Foolish Woman. O cruel Woman thus to Command A Task so hard, Yet what I can't withstand! Oh! thou rare Copy of the Original, By which free Man at first received his fall; For she not only wou’d her self undo, And all her Sex, but Damn all Mankind too. [Exit.
The End of the First Act.