Act 1 — Scene III. Surelove’s House.

Enter Ranter and Jeffery her Coachman.

Ran. Here, Jeffery, ye drunken Dog, set your Coach and Horses up, I’ll not go till the cool of the Evening, I love to ride in Fresco.

Enter a Boy.

Coach. Yes, after hard drinking— Aside. It shall be done, Madam. Exit.

Ran. How now, Boy, is Madam Surelove at home?

Boy. Yes, Madam.

Ran. Go tell her I am here, Sirrah.

Boy. Who are you pray forsooth?

Ran. Why, you Son of a Baboon, don’t you know me?

Boy. No, Madam, I came over but in the last Ship.

Ran. What, from Newgate or Bridewell? from shoveing the Tumbler, Sirrah, lifting or filing the Cly?

Boy. I don’t understand this Country Language, forsooth, yet.

Ran. You Rogue, ’tis what we transport from England first—go, ye Dog, go tell your Lady the Widow Ranter is come to dine with her— Exit Boy. I hope I shall not find that Rogue Daring here sniveling after Mrs. Chrisante: If I do, by the Lord, I’ll lay him thick. Pox on him, why shou’d I love the Dog, unless it be a Judgment upon me.

Enter Surelove and Chrisante.

—My dear Jewel, how do’st do?—as for you, Gentlewoman, you are my Rival, and I am in Rancour against you till you have renounc’d my Daring.

Chris. All the Interest I have in him, Madam, I resign to you.

Ran. Ay, but your House lying so near the Camp, gives me mortal Fears—but prithee how thrives thy Amour with honest Friendly?

Chris. As well as an Amour can that is absolutely forbid by a Father on one side, and pursued by a good Resolution on the other.

Ran. Hay Gad, I’ll warrant for Friendly’s Resolution, what though his Fortune be not answerable to yours, we are bound to help one another.—Here, Boy, some Pipes and a Bowl of Punch; you know my Humour, Madam, I must smoak and drink in a Morning, or I am maukish all day.

Sure. But will you drink Punch in a Morning?

Ran. Punch! ’tis my Morning’s Draught, my Table-drink, my Treat, my Regalio, my every thing; ah, my dear Surelove, if thou wou’d but refresh and cheer thy Heart with Punch in a Morning, thou wou’dst not look thus cloudy all the day.

Enter Pipes and a great Bowl, she falls to smoaking.

Sure. I have reason, Madam, to be melancholy, I have receiv’d a Letter from my Husband, who gives me an account that he is worse in England than when he was here, so that I fear I shall see him no more, the Doctors can do no good on him.

Ran. A very good hearing. I wonder what the Devil thou hast done with him so long? an old fusty weatherbeaten Skeleton, as dried as Stock-fish, and much of the Hue.—Come, come, here’s to the next, may he be young, Heaven, I beseech thee. Drinks.

Sure. You have reason to praise an old Man, who dy’d and left you worth fifty thousand Pound.

Ran. Ay, Gad—and what’s better, Sweetheart, dy’d in good time too, and left me young enough to spend this fifty thousand Pound in better Company—rest his Soul for that too.

Chris. I doubt ’twill be all laid out in Bacon’s mad Lieutenant General Daring.

Ran. Faith, I think I could lend it the Rogue on good Security.

Chris. What’s that, to be bound Body for Body?

Ran. Rather that he should love no body’s Body besides my own; but my fortune is too good to trust the Rogue, my Money makes me an Infidel.

Chris. You think they all love you for that.

Ran. For that, ay, what else? if it were not for that, I might sit still and sigh, and cry out, a Miracle! a Miracle! at sight of a Man within my Doors.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Madam, here’s a young Gentleman without wou’d speak with you.

Sure. With me? sure thou’rt mistaken; is it not Friendly?

Maid. No, Madam, ’tis a Stranger.

Ran. ’Tis not Daring, that Rogue, is it?

Maid. No, Madam.

Ran. Is he handsome? does he look like a Gentleman?

Maid. He’s handsome, and seems a Gentleman.

Ran. Bring him in then, I hate a Conversation without a Fellow,—hah,—a good handsome Lad indeed.

Enter Hazard with a Letter.

Sure. With me, Sir, would you speak?

Haz. If you are Madam Surelove.

Sure. So I am call’d.

Haz. Madam, I am newly arriv’d from England, and from your Husband my Kinsman bring you this.— Gives a Letter.

Ran. Please you to sit, Sir.

Haz. She’s extremely handsome. Aside—sits down.

Ran. Come, Sir, will you smoke a Pipe?

Haz. I never do, Madam.

Ran. Oh, fie upon’t, you must learn then, we all smoke here, ’tis a part of good Breeding.—Well, well, what Cargo, what Goods have ye? any Points, Lace, rich Stuffs, Jewels; if you have, I’ll be your Chafferer, I live hard by, any body will direct you to the Widow Ranter’s.

Haz. I have already heard of you, Madam.

Ran. What, you are like all the young Fellows, the first thing they do when they come to a strange Place, is to enquire what Fortunes there are.

Haz. Madam, I had no such Ambition.

Ran. Gad, then you’re a Fool, Sir; but come, my service to you; we rich Widows are the best Commodity this Country affords, I’ll tell you that.

This while Sure. reads the Letter.

Sure. Sir, my Husband has recommended you here in a most particular manner, by which I do not only find the esteem he has for you, but the desire he has of gaining you mine, which on a double score I render you, first for his sake, next for those Merits that appear in your self.

Haz. Madam, the endeavours of my Life shall be to express my Gratitude for this great Bounty.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Madam, Mr. Friendly’s here.

Sure. Bring him in.

Haz. Friendly!—I had a dear Friend of that name, who I hear is in these Parts.—Pray Heaven it may be he.

Ran. How now, Charles.

Enter Friendly.

Friend. Madam, your Servant—Hah! should not I know you for my dear friend Hazard. Embracing him.

Haz. Or you’re to blame, my Friendly.

Friend. Prithee what calm brought thee ashore?

Haz. Fortune de la guerre, but prithee ask me no Questions in so good Company, where a Minute lost from this Conversation is a Misfortune not to be retriev’d.

Friend. Dost like her, Rogue— Softly aside.

Haz. Like her! have I sight, or sense?—Why, I adore her.

Friend. Mrs. Chrisante, I heard your Father would not be here to day, which made me snatch this opportunity of seeing you.

Ran. Come, come, a Pox of this whining Love, it spoils good Company.

Friend. You know, my dear Friend, these Opportunities come but seldom, and therefore I must make use of them.

Ran. Come, come, I’ll give you a better Opportunity at my House to morrow, we are to eat a Buffalo there, and I’ll secure the old Gentleman from coming.

Friend. Then I shall see Chrisante once more before I go.

Chris. Go—Heavens—whither, my Friendly?

Friend. I have received a Commission to go against the Indians, Bacon being sent for home.

Ran. But will he come when sent for?

Friend. If he refuse we are to endeavour to force him.

Chris. I do not think he will be forc’d, not even by Friendly.

Friend. And, faith, it goes against my Conscience to lift my Sword against him, for he is truly brave, and what he has done, a Service to the Country, had it but been by Authority.

Chris. What pity ’tis there should be such false Maxims in the World, that noble Actions, however great, must be criminal for want of a Law to authorise ’em.

Friend. Indeed ’tis pity that when Laws are faulty they should not be mended or abolish’d.

Ran. Hark ye, Charles, by Heaven, if you kill my Daring I’ll pistol you.

Friend. No, Widow, I’ll spare him for your sake. They join with Surelove.

Haz. Oh, she’s all divine, and all the Breath she utters serves but to blow my Flame.

Enter Maid.

Maid. Madam, Dinner’s on the Table—

Sure. Please you, Sir, to walk in—come, Mr. Friendly. She takes Hazard.

Ran. Prithee, good Wench, bring in the Punch-Bowl.

Exeunt.