All. Huzza! Lady Brute. Yet, methinks, I would fain stay [Exit SIR JOHN reeling, all following him. a little longer, to see you fixed, too, that we might SCENE III-A bed-chamber. Enter LADY BRUTE and BELINDA. Lady Brute. Sure 'its late, Belinda; I begin to be sleepy. Bel. Yes, 'tis near twelve. Will you go to bed? Lady Brute. To bed, my dear! And by that time I am fallen into a sweet sleep, (or perhaps a sweet dream, which is better and better) sir John will come home roaring drunk, and be overjoyed he finds me in a condition to be disturbed. Bel. O, you need not fear him; he is in for all night. The servants say he is gone to drink with my lord Rake. Lady Brute. Nay, 'tis not very likely, indeed, such suitable company should part presently. What hogs men turn, Belinda, when they grow weary of women! Bel. And what owls they are, whilst they are fond of them! Lady Brute. But that we may forgive well enough, because they are so upon our accounts. But, prithee, one word of poor Constant before we go to bed, if it be but to furnish matter for dreams: I dare swear he is talking of me now, or thinking of me, at least. Bel. So he ought, I think; for you were pleased to make him a good round advance to-day, madain. Lady Brute. Why, I have even plagued him enough to satisfy any reasonable woman: He has besieged me these two years to no purpose. Bel. And if he besieged you two years more, he'd be well enough paid, so he had the plundering of you at last. Lady Brute. That may be; but I'm afraid the town won't be able to hold out much longer : for, to confess the truth to you, Belinda, the garrison begins to grow mutinous. ter. Bel. Then the sooner you capitulate, the bet start together, and see who could love longest. What think you, if Heartfree should have a month's mind to you? Bel. Why, faith, I could almost be in love with him, for despising that foolish, affected lady Fancyful; but I'm afraid he is too cold ever to warm himself by my fire. Lady Brute. Then he deserves to be froze to death. Would I were a man for your sake, dear rogue! [Kissing her.] Bel. You'd wish yourself a woman for your own, or the men are mistaken. But if I could make a conquest of this son of Bacchus, and rival his bottle, what should I do with him? He has no fortune; I can't marry him; and sure you would not have me-do I don't know what with him. Lady Brute. Why, if you did, child, it would be but a good friendly part; if it were only to keep me in countenance, whilst I play the fool with Constant. Bel. Well, if I can't resolve to serve you that way, I may perhaps some other, as much to your satisfaction. But pray, how shall we contrive to see these blades again quickly? old Lady Brute. We must e'en have recourse to the way; make them an appointment betwixt jest and earnest: it will look like a frolick; and that, you know, is a very good thing to save a woman's blushes. Bel. You advise well; but where shall it be? Lady Brute. In Spring Garden. But they shan't know their women, till they pull off their masks; for a surprise is the most agreeable thing in the world: And I find myself in a very good humour, ready to do them any good turn I can think on. Bel. Then, pray write them the necessary billet, without farther delay. Lady Brute. Let's go into your chamber, then; and whilst you say your prayers, I'll do it, child. [Exeunt. SCENE I-Covent Garden. ACT IV. Enter LORD RAKE, SIR JOHN, &c. with swords drawn. Lord Rake. Is the dog dead? tisfied; for I'll sacrifice a constable to it present- Col. Bully. No, damn him; I heard him wheeze. Tai. No, an't please you, I'm no thief. Sir John. Ay, ay, let me examine him, and I'll lay a hundred pounds I find him guilty in spite of his teeth; for he looks-like a-sneaking rascal. Come, sirrah, without equivocation or mental reSir John. Is there? then let his ghost be sa-servation, tell me of what opinion you are, and Lord Rake. Appear, knight, then; come, you have a good cause to fight for; there's a man mur dered. VOL. IL 2 D what calling; for by them-I shall guess at your morals. Tai. An't please you, I'm a dissenting journeyman tailor. Sir John. Then, sirrah, you love lying by your religion, and theft by your trade: And so, that your punishments may be suitable to your crimes -I'll have you first gagged-and then hanged. Sir John. The constable's a rascal! and you are a son of a whore! Watch. A most noble reply, truly! If this be her royal style, I'll warrant her maids of honour prattle prettily: But we'll teach you some of our court-dialect, before we part with you, princessAway with her to the round-house. Sir John. Hands off, you ruffians! My honour's dearer to me than my life; I hope you Tai. Pray, good worthy gentleman, don't abuse me! indeed I'm an honest man, and a good work-won't be uncivil. man, though I say it, that should not say it. Sir John. No words, sirrah, but attend your fate. Lord Rake. Let me see what's in that bundle. Tai. An't please you, it's my lady's short cloak and wrapping gown. Sir John. What lady, you reptile, you? it. The dear angel is always taking care of me in danger, and has sent me this suit of armour to protect me in this day of battle-on they go. All. O brave knight! Watch. Away with her. SCENE II-A bed-chamber. Enter HEARTFREE. [Exeunt. What the plague ails me?—Love? No, I thank you for that, my heart's rock still-Yes, 'tis Tai. My lady Brute, an't please your honour. Belinda that disturbs me, that's positiveSir John. My lady Brute! my wife! the robe Well, what of all that? Must I love her for beof my wifewith reverence let me approaching troublesome? At that rate, I might love all the women I meet, 'egad. But hold!- -though I don't love her for disturbing me, yet she may disturb me, because I love her-Ay, that may be, faith! I have dreamt of her, that's certainWell, so I have of my mother; therefore, what's that to the purpose? Ay, but Belinda runs in my mind waking and so does many a damned thing, that I don't care a farthing for-Methinks, though, I would fain be talking to her, and yet I have no business-Well, am Ï the first man that has had a mind to do an impertinent thing? Lord Rake. Live Don Quixotte the second! Sir John. Sancho, my 'squire, help me on with my armour. Tai. O dear gentlemen! I shall be quite undone if you take the sack. Sir John. Retire, sirrah! and since you carry off your skin, go home, and be happy. So! how d'ye like my shapes now? Lord Rake. To a miracle! He looks like a queen of the Amazons-But to your arms, gentlemen! The enemy's upon their march-here's the watch Sir John. 'Oons! if it were Alexander the Great, at the head of his army, I would drive him into a horse-pond. All. Huzza! O brave knight ! Enter Watchmen. Sir John. May-hap not. Watch. What are you all doing here in the streets at this time o'night? And who are you, madam, that seems to be at the head of this noble crew? Sir John. Sirrah, I'm Bonduca, queen of the Welchmen; and with a leek as long as my pedigree, I will destroy your Roman legion in an instant-Britons, strike home! [Snatches a watchman's staff, strikes at Watch. So! We have got the queen, however. We'll make her pay well for her ransom-Come, madam, will your majesty please to walk before the constable? Enter CONSTANT. Con. How now, Heart free? What makes you up and dressed so soon? I thought none but lovers quarrelled with their beds; I expected to have found you snoring, as I used to do. Heart. Why, faith, friend, 'tis the care I have of your affairs, that makes me so thoughtful. I have been studying all night how to bring your matter about with Belinda. Con. With Belinda! Heart. With my lady, I mean: And, faith, I have mighty hopes of it. Sure you must be vory well satisfied with her behaviour to you yesterday? Con. So well, that nothing but a lover's fears can make me doubt of success. But what can this sudden change proceed from? Heart. Why, you saw her husband beat her, did you not? Con. That's true: A husband is scarce to be borne upon any terms, much less when he fights with his wife. Methinks, she should e'en have cuckolded him upon the very spot, to shew, that after the battle she was master of the field. Heart. A council of war of women would infallibly have advised her to it. But, I confess, so agreeable a woman as Belinda deserves better usage. Con. Belinda again! Heart. My lady, I mean. What a pox makes me blunder so to-day? [Aside.] A plague of this treacherous tongue. Con. Prythee look upon me seriously, Heartfree-Now answer me directly: Is it my lady, or Belinda, employs your careful thoughts thus? Heart. My lady, or Belinda? Con. In love, by this light! in love. Con. Nay, ne'er deny it; for thou'lt do it so awkwardly, 'twill but make the jest sit heavier about thee. My dear friend, I give thee much joy. Heart. Why, pr'ythee, you won't persuade me to it, will you? Con. That she's mistress of your tongue, that's plain; and I know you are so honest a fellow, your tongue and heart always go together. But how-but how the devii? Pha, ha, ha, ha, ha !-Heart, Hey-day! Why sure you don't believe it in earnest? Con. Yes, I do, because I see you deny it in jest. you tremble justly. But how do you intend to proceed, friend? Heart. Thou know'st I'm but a novice; be friendly, and advise me. Con. Why, look you then; I'd have youSerenade and a-write a song-Go to church; look like a fool-be very officious: Ogle, write and lead out: And who knows, but in a year or two's time, you may be called a troublesome puppy, and sent about your business. Heart. That's hard. Con. Yet thus it oft falls out with lovers, sir. Heart. Pox on me for making one of the number! Con. Have a care; say no saucy things; 'twill but augment your crime; and if your mistress hears on't, increase your punishment. Heart. Pr'ythee say something then to encourage me; you know I helped you in your dis tress. Con. Why, then, to encourage you to perseverance, that you may be thoroughly ill used for your offences, I'll put you in mind, that even the -de-coyest ladies of them all are made up of desires, as well as we; and though they do hold out a long time, they will capitulate at last. For that thundering engineer, Nature, does make such havoc in the town, they must surrender at the long-run, or perish in their own flames. Heart. Nay, but look you, Ned- -any in jest-a-gadzooks, you know I say a-- when a man denys a thing in jest a Con. Pha, ha, ha, ha, ha! Heart. Nay, then, we shall have it: What, because a man stumbles at a word! Did you never make a blunder? Con. Yes; for I am in love, I own it. Heart. Then, so am I--Now laugh till thy soul's glutted with mirth. [Embracing him.] But, dear Constant, don't tell the town on't. Con. Nay, then, 'twere almost pity to laugh at thee, after so honest a confession. But tell us a little, Jack, by what new invented arms has this mighty stroke been given? Heart. E'en by that unaccountable weapon, called je-ne sçai-quoi: For every thing, that can come within the verge of beauty, I have seen it with indifference. Con. So, in few words then, the je-ne sçaiquoi has been too hard for the quilted petticoat. Heart. 'Egad, I think the je-ne sçai-quoi is in the quilted petticoat; at least 'tis certain, I ne'er think on't without-a-a je-ne sçai-quoi in every part about me. Con. Well, but have all your remedies lost their virtue! Have you turned her inside out yet? Heart. I dare not so much as think on't. Con. But don't the two years fatigue I have had, discourage you? Heart. Yes: I dread what I foresee; yet cannot quit the enterprize. Like some soldiers, whose courage dwells more in their honour than their nature: On they go, though the body trembles at what the soul makes it undertake. Con. Nay, if you expect your mistress will use you, as your profanations against her sex deserve, Enter FOOTMAN. Foot. Sir, there's a porter without, with a letter; he desires to give it into your own hands. Con. Call him in. Enter PORTER. What, Joe! Is it thee? Por. An't please you, sir, I was ordered to deliver this into your own hands, by two wellshaped ladies at the New Exchange. I was at your honour's lodgings, and your servants sent me hither. Con. 'Tis well; are you to carry any answer? Por. No, my noble master! Con. Very well; there. [Gives him money. Por. God bless your honour! [Exit PORTER. Con. Now let's see what honest, trusty Joe has brought us. [Reads. Heart. I doubt I shall be but a very useless | one to you; "for I'm so disheartened by this wound Belinda has given me, I don't think I shall have courage enough to draw my sword. Con. O, if that be all, come along; I'll warrant you find sword enough for such enemies as we have to deal withal. [Exeunt. SCENE III-A street. civil: It was in defence of my honour, and I demand satisfaction. 2d Watch. I hope your worship will satisfy her honour in Bridewell; that fist of hers will make an admirable hemp-beater. Sir John. Sir, I hope you will protect me against that libidinous rascal: I am a woman of quality, and virtue too, for all I am in an undress this morning. Just. Madam, if you expect I should be favou Enter CONSTABLE and WATCHMEN, with SIR rable to you, I desire I may know who you are. JOHN. Const. Come, forsooth, come along, if you please! I once, in compassion, thought to have seen you safe home this morning; but you have been so rampant and abusive all night, I shall see what the justice of peace will say to you. Sir John. And you shall see what I'll say to the justice of peace, sirrah! [WATCHMAN knocks at the door. Enter SERVANT. Const. Is Mr Justice at home? Const. Pray acquaint his worship we have got an unruly woman here, and desire to know what he'll please to have done with her. [Exit SERV. Ser. I'll acquaint my master. Sir John. Hark you, constable, what cuckoldy justice is this? Const. One that knows how to deal with such romps as you are, I'll warrant you. Enter JUSTICE. Just. Well, Mr constable, what is the matter there? Const. An't please your worship, this here comical sort of a gentlewoman has committed great outrages to-night. She has been frolicking with my lord Rake and his gang; they attacked the watch, and I hear there has been a man killed: I believe 'tis they have done it. Sir John. Sir, there may have been murder for aught I know; and 'tis a great mercy there has not been a rape, too that fellow would have ravished me. 2d Watch. Ravish! ravish! O lud! O lud! O lud! Ravish her! Why, please your worship, I heard Mr Constable say he believed she was little better than a maphrodite. Just. Why, truly, she does seem a little masculine about the mouth. 2d Watch. Yes, and about the hands too, an't please your worship. I did but offer in mere civility, to help her up the steps into our apartment, and with her gripen fist thus [SIR JOHN knocks him down. Sir John. Just so, sir, I felled him to the ground like an ox. Just. Out upon this boisterous woman! Out upon her! Sir John. Mr Justice, he would have been un Sir John. Sir, I am any body at your service. Just. Ay, but your surname, madam? Sir John. Sir, my surname's the very same with my husband's. Just. A strange woman this! Who is your husband, pray? Sir John. Sir John. Sir John. Sir John Brute. Just. Is it possible, madam, you can be my lady Brute? Sir John. That happy woman, sir, am I; only a little in my merriment to night. Just. I am concerned for sir John. Sir John. Truly, so am I. Just. I have heard he's an honest gentleman. Sir John. As ever drank. Just. Good lack! Indeed, lady, I'm sorry he has such a wife. Sir John. I am sorry he has any wife at all. Just. And so perhaps may he-I doubt you have not given him a very good taste of matri mony. Sir John. Taste, sir! sir, I have scorned to stint him to a taste; I have given him a full meal of it. Just. Indeed, I believe so. But pray, fair lady, may he have given you any occasion for this extraordinary conduct? does he not use you well? Sir John. A little upon the rough, sometimes. Just. Ay, any man may be out of humour now and then. Sir John. Sir, I love peace and quiet, and when a woman don't find that at home, she's apt sometimes to comfort herself with a few innocent diversions abroad. Just. I doubt he uses you but too well. Pray, how does he as to that weighty thing, money? Does he allow you what is proper of that? Sir John. Sir, I have generally enough to pay the reckoning, if this son of a whore of a drawer would but bring his bill. Just. A strange woman this!-Does he spend a reasonable portion of his time at home, to the comfort of his wife and children? Sir John. He never gave his wife cause to repine at his being abroad in his life. Just. Pray, madam, how may he be in the grand matrimonial point-Is he true to your bed? Sir John. Chaste! Oons! This fellow asks so many impertinent questions! I'gad I believe it is the justice's wife, in the justice's clothes. Just. Pray, madam, (and then I've done) what may be your ladyship's common method of life, if I may presume so far? Sir John. Why, sir, much that of a woman of quality. Just. Pray, how may you generally pass your time, madam? your morning, for example? Sir John. Sir, like a woman of quality-I wake about two o'clock in the afternoon-I stretch-and make a sign for my chocolateWhen I have drank three cups-I slide down again upon my back, with my arms over my head, while my two maids put on my stockings. Then, hanging upon their shoulders, I am trailed to my great chair, where I sit-and yawn-for my breakfast-If it don't come presently, I lie down upon my couch to say my prayers, while my maid reads me the play-bills. Just. Very well, madam. Sir John. When the tea is brought in, I drink twelve regular dishes, with eight slices of bread and butter-And half an hour after, I send to the cook to know if the dinner is almost ready. Just. So! madam! Sir John. By that time my head is half drest, I hear my husband swearing himself into a state of perdition, that the meat's all cold upon the table; to amend which, I come down in an hour more, and have it sent back to the kitchen, to be all dressed over again. Just. Poor man! Sir John. When I have dined, and my idle servants are presumptuously set down at their ease, to do so too, I call for my coach, to go visit dear friends, of whom I hope I never shall find one at home, while I shall live. Just. So! There's the morning and afternoon pretty well disposed of- -Pray, madam, how do you pass your evenings? Sir John. Like a woman of spirit, sir, a great spirit. Give me a box and dice-Seven's the main, Oons! Sir, I set you a hundred pounds! Why, do you think women are married now adays, to sit at home and mend napkins? Sir, we have nobler ways of passing time. Just. Mercy upon us, Mr Constable, what will this age come to? Const. What will it come to, indeed, if such women as these are not set in the stocks? Sir John. Sir, I have a little urgent business calls upon me; and therefore, I desire the favour of you to bring matters to a conclusion. Just. Madam, if I were sure that business were not to commit more disorders, I would release you. Sir John, None- -By my virtue. Just. Then, Mr Constable, you may discharge her. Sir John. Sir, your very humble servant. If you please to accept of a bottle Just. I thank you kindly, madam; but I never drink in a morning. Good-by-t'ye, madam, goodby-t'ye. So Sir John. Good-by-t'ye, good sir. [Exit Justice. -now, Mr Constable, shall you and I go pick up a whore together? Const. No, thank you, madam; my wife's enough to satisfy any reasonable man. Sir John. [Aside.] He, he, he, he, he! the fool is married then. Well, you won't go? Const. Not I, truly. Sir John. Then I'll go by myself; and you and your wife may go to the devil. [Exit SIR JOHN. [Constable gazing after her.] Why, god-a-mercy, lady! [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-Spring-Garden. CONSTANT and HEARTFREE cross the Stage. As they go off, enter LADY FANCIFUL and MADEMOISELLE masked, and dogging them. Con. So; I think we are about the time appointed: Let us walk up this way. [Exeunt, Lady Fan. Good: Thus far I have dogged them without being discovered. 'Tis infallibly some intrigue that brings them to Spring-Garden. How my poor heart is torn and wrackt with fear and jealousy! Yet let it be any thing but that flirt Belinda, and I'll try to bear it. But if it proves her, all that's woman in me shall be employed to destroy her. [Exeunt after CONSTANT and HEARTFREE. LADY Re-enter CONSTANT and HEARTFREE. FANCYFUL and MADEMOISELLE still following at a distance. Con. I see no females yet, that have any thing to say to us. I'm afraid we are bantered. Heart. I wish we were; for I'm in no humour to make either them or myself merry. Con. Nay, I'm sure you'll make them merry enough, if I tell them why you are dull. But, prithee, why so heavy and sad before you begin to be ill used? Heart. For the same reason, perhaps, that you are so brisk and well pleased; because both pains and pleasures are generally more considerable in prospect, than when they come to pass. Enter LADY BRUTE and BELINDA, masked, and poorly dressed. Con. How now! who are these? Not our game, I hope. Heart. If they are, we are e'en well enough served, to come a hunting here, when we had so much better game in chase elsewhere. Lady Fan. [to Mademoiselle.] So, those are their ladies without doubt. But I'm afraid that doily stuff is not worn for want of better |