motives, which you may hereafter be made acquainted with, and will convince you Lady Lamb. Well, sir, now I'll give you reason to guess the reason why, at our last meeting, I pressed you so warmly to resign Charlotte. Dr Cant. Ah dear! ah dear! Lady Lamb. You cannot blame me for having opposed your happiness, when my own, perhaps, depended upon it. Dr Cant. Spare me, spare me: you kill me with this kindness. Lady Lamb. But, now that I have discovered my weakness, be secret; for the least impru dence Dr Cant. It is a vain fear. Lady Lamb. Call it not vain: my reputation is dearer to me than life. Dr Cant. Where can it find so sure a guard? the grave austerities of my life will dumb-found suspicion, and yours may defy detraction. Lady Lamb. Well, doctor, 'tis you must answer for my folly. Dr Cant. I take it all upon myself. Heaven, 'tis true, forbids certain gratifications; but there are ways of reconcilement, and laying the fears of a too scrupulous conscience, Lady Lamb. Every way, I perceive, you are determined to get the better of me; but there's one thing still to be afraid of. Dr Cant. Nothing, nothing. Dr Cant. Alas, poor man, I will answer for him. Between ourselves, madam, your husband is weak; I can lead him by the nose any where. Enter Sir JOHN LAMBERT. Sir J. Lamb. No, caitiff, I'm to be led no farther. Dr Cant. Ah! woman. Sir J. Lamb. Is this your sanctity, this your doctrine, these meditations? your Dr Cant. Is then my brother in a conspiracy against me? Sir J. Lamb. Your brother! I have been your friend, indeed, to my shame; your dupe; but your spell has lost its hold: no more canting; it' will not serve your turn any longer. Lady Lamb. Now Heaven be praised! Dr Cant. It seems you wanted an excuse to part with me. Sir J. Lamb. Ungrateful wretch-but why do I reproach you? Had I not been the weakest of mankind, you never could have proved so great a villain. Get out of my sight; leave my house: of all my follies, which is it tells you, that if you stay much longer, I shall not be tempted to wrest you out of the hands of the law, and punish you as you deserve? Dr Cant. Well, but first let me ask you, sir, who it is you menace? Consider your own condition, and where you are. Sir J. Lamb. What would the villain drive at:?-leave me I forgive you-but once more I tell you, seek some other place--out of my house! This instant be gone, and see my shameful face no more. Dr Cant. Nay, then, 'tis my duty to exert myself, and let you know that I am master here. Turn you out, sir; this house is mine: and now, sir, at your peril, dare to insult me. Sir J. Lamb. Oh, Heavens! 'tis true; whither shall I fly, to hide me from the world? Lady Lamb. Whither are you going, sir? Sir J. Lamb. I know not-but here, it seems, I am a trespasser-the master of the house has warned me hence-and, since the right is now in him, 'tis just I should resign it. Lady Lamb. You shall not stir. He dares not act with such abandoned insolence. No, sir, possession still is yours. If the pretends a right, let him by open course of law maintain it. [Exit. Dr Cant. Ha! Here! Seyward! Enter Old Lady LAMBERT and MAW-WORM. Sir J. Lumb. Who is this fellow? what do you want, man? Maw. My lady, come up. Old Lady Lamb. How now! Maw. He wants to know who I be. Old Lady Lamb. The gentleman is a friend of mine, son. I was carrying him in a coach to attend a controversy that's to be held this evening, at the Reverend Mr Scruple's, about an affair of simony, and called to take up the doctor. But what strange tales are these I hear below? Sir J. Lamb. The doctor is a villain, madam. I have detected him ; detected him in the horrible design of seducing my wife. Maw. It's unpossible. Sir J. Lamb. What do you say, man? Maw. I say it's unpossible. He has been lock ed up with my wife for hours together, morning, noon, and night, and I never found her the worse for him. Old Lady Lamb. Ah, son! son! Sir J. Lamb. What is your ladyship going to say now? Old Lady Lamb. The doctor is not in fault. ·Old Lady Lamb. Oh, he swears! he swears! years in growing good, we become profligate in a moment. If you swear again, I won't stay in the house. Maw. Nor I neither: aren't you ashamed of yourself? have you no commenseration on your soul?-Ah! poor wicked sinner! I pity you. Sir J. Lamb. 'Sdeath! and the devil! Maw. If you swear any more, I'll inform against you. Sir J. Lamb, Why would you bring this idiot, madam? Maw. Ah, do despise me, I'm the prouder for it; I likes to be despised. Enter CHARlotte. Charl. Oh, dear papa, I shall faint away; there's murder doing. Sir J. Lamb. Who? where? what is it? Enter CANTWELL, Darnley, SeyWARD, and Darn. Here, bring in this ruffian; this is villany beyond example. Sir J. Lamb. What means this outrage? Seyw. Don't be alarmed, madam-there is no mischief done: what was intended, the doctor here can best inform you. Sir J. Lamb. Mr Darnley, I am ashamed to see you Maw. So you ought; but this good man is ashamed of nothing. Dr Cant. Alas! my enemies prevail. Seyw. In short, gentlemen, the affair is circumstantially this:-The doctor called me out into the pavilion in the garden; appeared in great disorder; told me here was a sudden storm raised, which he was not sufficiently prepared to weather. He said, his dependance was upon me; and, at all events, I must be ready to swear, when he called upon me, I had seen him pay Sir John several large sums of money. He talked confusedly about giving value for an estate; but I boldly refused to perjure myself; and told him, on the contrary, I was satisfied he had fleeced Sir John of several large sums, under pretence of charitable uses, which he secretly converted to his own. This stung him—and he fastened at my throat. Then, indeed, all temper left me; and, disengaging myself from his hold, with a home-blow struck him down. At this, grown desperate, he ran with fury to some pistols that hung above the chimney; but in the instant he reached one, I seized upon his wrist; and as we grappled, the pistol firing to the ceiling, alarmed the family. Tipstaff. Then, sir, I have my Lord Chief Justice's warrant against you. Dr Cant. Against me? Tipstaff. Yes, sir, for a cheat and impostor. Sir J. Lamb. Dear son, what is this? Col. Lamb. Only some action of the doctor's, sir, which I have affidavits in my hand here to prove, from more than one creditable witness, and I think it my duty to make the public acquainted with; if he can acquit himself of them, so; if not, he must take the consequence. Dr Cant. Well, but stay; let the accusations against me be what they will, by virtue of this conveyance I am still master here; and, if I am forced to leave the house myself, I will shut up the doors-nobody shall remain behind. Sir J. Lamb. There! there! indeed he stings me to the heart! for that rash act, reproach and endless shame will haunt me! Charl. No, sir!-be comforted.-Even there, too, his wicked hopes must leave him; for know, the fatal deed, which you intended to sign, is here, even yet unsealed and innocent! Sir J. Lamb. What mean you? Charl. I mean, sir, that this deed by accident falling into this gentleman's hands, his generous concern for our family discovered it to me; and that, in concert, we procured that other to be drawn exactly like it; which, in your impatience to execute, passed unsuspected for the original. Their only difference is, that wherever here you read the doctor's name, there you'll find my brother's. Dr Cant. Come, sir, lead me where you please. Old Lady Lamb. I don't know what to make of all this. Maw. They'll all go to the devil for what they are doing. Come away, my lady, and let us see after the good dear doctor. Ay, do laugh, you'll go to the devil for all that.-Come, my lady, you go first. [Exeunt MAW-WORM, and Old Lady LAMB. Charl. Now, Darnley, I hope I have made atonement for your jealousy. Old Lady Lamb. This is a lie, young man; I see the devil standing at your elbow. Maw. So do I, with a great big pitchfork push-beyond yourself surprising. ing him on. Darn. You've banished it for ever! this was Dr Cant. Well, what have you more against me? Darn. More, sir, I hope is needless-but, if Sir J. Lamb. Oh! I have seen too much. Enter Colonel LAMBERT, Tipstaff, and Atten- Col. Lamb. Hold, sir! not so fast; you cann't pass. Dr Cant. Who, sir, shall dare to stop me? Tipstuff. Is your name Cantwell, sir? Col. Lamb. Sister Charl. Come, no set speeches; if I deserve your thanks, return them in friendship to your first preserver. Col Lamb. The business of my life shall be to merit it. Seyw. And mine, to speak my sense of obligations. Sir J. Lamb. Oh, my child! for my deliverance, I can only reward you here. For you, my son, whose filial virtue I have injured, this honest deed shall in every article be ratified.And, for the sake of that hypocritical villain, I declare, that from henceforward I renounce all pious folks; I will have an utter abhorrence for every thing that bears the appearance Charl. Nay, now, my dear sir, I must take the liberty to tell you, you carry things too far, and go from one extreme to another.-What! because a worthless wretch has imposed upon you, under the fallacious shew of austere grimace, will you needs have it every body is like him? confound the good with the bad, and conclude there are no truly religious in the world? Leave, my dear sir, such rash consequences to fools and libertines-Let us be careful to distinguish between virtue and the appearance of it. Guard, if possible, against doing honour to hypocrisy.-But, at the same time, let us allow there is no character in life greater or more valuable than that of the truly devout-nor any thing more noble, or more beautiful, than the fervour of a sincere piety. [Exeunt omnes. THE CONSTANT COUPLE. BY FARQUHAR. PROLOGUE. BY A FRIEND. POETS Will think nothing so checks their fury As wits, cits, beaux, and women for their jury. Our spark's half dead to think what medley's come, With blended judgments, to pronounce his doom. another way. The ladies safe may smile, for here's no slander, No smut, no lewd-tongu'd beau, no double entendre. 'Tis true, he has a spark just come from France, But then so far from beau-why, he talks sense! Like coin oft carry'd out, but-seldom brought from thence. There's yet a gang to whom our spark submits, Your elbow-shaking fool, that lives by's wits, That's only witty though, just as he lives, by fits. Who, lion-like, through bailiffs scours away, Hunts, in the face, a dinner all the day, At night with empty bowels grumbles o'er the play. And now the modish 'prentice he implores, Snaps rope like thread; but when his fortune's told him, He'll hear, perhaps, of rope will one day hold him: At least, I hope, that our good-natur'd town Well, that's all! Now, gentlemen, for the play, Hear it, read, try, judge, and speak as you find. SCENE I.-The Park. ACT I. Enter VIZARD with a Letter, his Servant following. Viz. Angelica send it back unopened! say you? Serv. As you see, sir. Viz. The pride of these virtuous women is more insufferable than the immodesty of prostitutes-After all my encouragement, to slight me thus? Serb. She said, sir, that imagining your morals sincere, she gave you access to her conversation; but that your late behaviour in her company has convinced her that your love and religion are both hypocrisy, and that she believes your letter like yourself, fair on the outside, and foul within: so sent it back unopened. Viz. May obstinacy guard her beauty till wrinkles bury it; then may desire prevail to make her curse that untimely pride her disappointed age repents !—I'll be revenged the very first opportunity.-Saw you the old Lady Darling, her mother? Serv. Yes, sir, and she was pleased to say much in your commendation. Viz. That's my cue-An esteem grafted in old age is hardly rooted out; years stiffen their opinions with their bodies, and old zeal is only to be cozened by young hypocrisy. [Aside.] Run to the Lady Lurewell's, and know of her maid whether her ladyship will be at home this evening. Her beauty is sufficient cure for Angelica's scorn. [Exit Servant. VIZARD pulls out a book, reads, and walks about. Enter SMUGGLER. Smug. Ay, there's a pattern for the young men o' th' times; at his meditation so early; some book of pious ejaculations, I'm sure. Viz. This Hobbes is an excellent fellow! [Aside.] Oh, uncle Smuggler! To find you at this end o' th' town is a miracle. Smug. I have seen a miracle this morning indeed, cousin Vizard. Viz. What is it, pray, sir? Smug. A man at his devotion so near the court-I'm very glad, boy, that you keep your sanctity untainted in this infectious place; the very air of this park is heathenish, and every man's breath I meet scents of atheism. Viz. Surely, sir, some great concern must bring you to this unsanctified end of the town. sin. bastian, laden with Portugal wines: now the impudent rogue of a tide-waiter has the face to affirm it is French wines in Spanish casks, and has indicted me upon the statute-Oh, conscience! conscience! these tide-waiters and surveyors plague us more with their French wines than the war did with French privateers-Ay, there's another plague of the nation Enter Colonel STANDARD. A red coat and feather. Viz. Colonel Standard, I'm your humble servant. Stand. May be not, sir. Viz. Why so? Stand. Because- -I'm disbanded. Stand. This very morning, in Hyde-Park, my brave regiment, a thousand men, that looked like lions yesterday, were scattered, and looked as poor and simple as the herd of deer that grazed beside them. Smug. Tal, al, deral. [Singing.] I'll have a bonfire this night as high as the monument. Stand. A bonfire! Thou dry, withered, illnature; had not those brave fellows' swords defended you, your house had been a bonfire ere this about your ears.-Did we not venture our lives, sir? Smug. And did we not pay for your lives, sir? Venture your lives! I'm sure we ventured our money, and that's life and soul to me.--Sir, we'll maintain you no longer. Stand. Then your wives shall, old Actæon.There are five-and-thirty strapping officers gone this morning to live upon free quarter in the city. Smug. Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! I shall have a son within these nine months, born with a leading-staff in his hand.- -Sir, you are Stand. What, sir? your -I see my [Exit. Viz. Sir, I'm very sorry for misfortune. Stand. Why so? I don't come to borrow mo. ney of you; if you're my friend, meet me this evening at the Rummer; I'll pay my foy, drink a health to my king, prosperity to my country, and away for Hungary to-morrow morning. Viz. What! you won't leave us? Stand. What! a soldier stay here, to look like an old pair of colours in Westminster-Hall, rag Smug. A very unsanctified concern truly, cou-ged and rusty! No, no-I met yesterday a broken lieutenant; he was ashamed to own that he wanted a dinner, but begged eighteen-pence of me to buy a new scabbard for his sword. Viz. Oh, but you have good friends, colonel! |