Act 5 — SCENE IV. Changes to a Street.

Enter Charlot, led by Foppington, follow’d by Mrs. Clacket.

Char. Stay, my Heart misgives me, I shall be undone. —Ah, whither was I going? [Pulls her Hand from Fop.

Fop. Do, stay till the News arrives that he is married to her that had his Company to night, my Lady Galliard.

Char. Oh! Take heed lest you sin doubly, Sir.

Fop. By Heaven, ‘tis true, he past the Night with her.

Char. All night! what cou’d they find to do?

Mrs. Clack. A very proper Question; I’ll warrant you they were not idle, Madam.

Char. Oh, no; they lookt and lov’d and vow’d and lov’d, and swore eternal Friendship—Haste, haste, and lead me to the Church, the Altar; I’ll put it past my Power to love him more.

Fop. Oh, how you charm me! [Takes her by the Hand.

Char. Yet what art thou? a Stranger to my Heart. Wherefore, ah why, on what occasion shou’d I?

Mrs. Clack. Acquaintance, ‘tis enough, I know him, Madam, and I hope my Word will be taken for a greater matter in the City: In troth you’re beholden to the Gentleman for marrying you, your Reputation’s gone.

Char. How, am I not honest then?

Mrs. Clack. Marry, Heaven forbid! But who that knows you have been a single Hour in Wilding’s Hands, wou’d not swear you have lost your Maidenhead? And back again I’m sure you dare not go unmarried; that wou’d be a fine History to be sung to your eternal Fame in a Ballad.

Fop. Right; and you see Wilding has left you for the Widow, to whom perhaps you’ll shortly hear he’s married.

Char. Oh, you trifle, Sir; lead on.

[They going out, meet Sir Anthony with Musick: they return.

Sir Anth. Come, come, Gentlemen, this is the House, and this the Window belonging to my Lady’s Bed-chamber: Come, come, let’s have some neat, soft, brisk, languishing, sprightly Air now.

Fop. Old Meriwill—how shall I pass by him! [Stand by.

Sir Anth. So, here’s Company too; ‘tis very well—Not have the Boy? I’ll warrant this does the Business—Come, come, screw up your Chitterling. [They play. —Hold, hold a little—Good morrow, my Lady Galliard. —Give your Ladyship Joy.

Char. What do I hear, my Lady Galliard joy’d?

Fop. How, married her already?

Char. Oh, yes, he has. Lovely and false, hast thou deceiv’d my Faith?

Mrs. Clack. Oh, Heavens, Mr. Foppington, she faints.—ah me!

[They hold her, Musick plays. Enter Wilding and Dresswell, disguis’d as before.

Wild. Ah, Musick at Galliard’s Door!

Sir Anth. Good morrow, Sir Charles Meriwill: give your Worship and your fair Lady Joy.

Wild. Hah, Meriwill married the Widow!

Dres. No matter; prithee advance, and mind thy own Affairs.

Wild. Advance, and not inquire the meaning on’t! Bid me not eat, when Appetite invites me; Not draw, when branded with the Name of Coward; Nor love, when Youth and Beauty meet my Eyes— Hah!— [Sees Sir Charles come into the Balcony undrest.

Sir Char. Good morrow, Uncle. Gentlemen, I thank ye: Here, drink the King’s Health, with my Royal Master’s the Duke. [Gives ‘em Money.

Fid. Heaven bless your Honour, and your virtuous Bride.

Fop. Wilding! undone. [Shelters Charlot, that she may not see Wilding.

Wild. Death and the Devil, Meriwill above!

Sir Anth. Ah, the Boy’s Rival here! By George, here may be breathing this Morning—No matter, here’s two to two; come, Gentlemen, you must in. [Thrusts the Musick in, and goes in.

Dres. Is’t not what you expected? nay, what you wisht?

Wild. What then? it comes too suddenly upon me— E’er my last Kiss was cold upon her Lips, Before the pantings of her Breast were laid, Rais’d by her joys with me; Oh, damn’d deluding Woman!

Dres. Be wise, and do not ruin where you love.

Wild. Nay, if thou com’st to reasoning, thou hast lost me. [Breaks from him, and runs in.

Char. I say ‘twas Wilding’s Voice, and I will follow it.

Fop. How, Madam, wou’d you after him?

Char. Nay, force me not; by Heaven, I’ll cry a Rape, Unless you let me go—Not after him! Yes, to the infernal Shades—Unhand me, Sir.

Fop. How, Madam, have you then design’d my Ruin?

Char. Oh, trust me, Sir, I am a Maid of Honour. [Runs in after Wild.

Mrs. Clack. So; a Murrain of your Projects, we’re all undone now: For my part I’ll e’en after her, and deny to have any hand in the Business. [Goes in.

Fop. Damn all ill Luck, was ever Man thus Fortune-bit, that he shou’d cross my Hopes just in the nick? But shall I lose her thus? No, Gad, I’ll after her; and come the worst, I have an Impudence shall out-face a Middlesex Jury, and out-swear a Discoverer. [Goes in.