THE INCONSTANT. BY FARQUHAR. PROLOGUE. LIKE hungry guests a sitting audience looks: Satire's the sauce, high-season'd, sharp, and rough; Kind masks and beaux, I hope you're pepperproof: Wit is the wine; but 'tis so scarce the true, Your rakes love haut-goûts, like your damn'd Your rarity, for the fair guest to gape on, An opera, like an oglio, nicks the age: And tragi-comedy, half fish and flesh: Yet since each mind betrays a diff'rent taste, SCENE I.-The Street. ACT I. Enter DUGARD and his man PETIT, in Riding- Dug. Sirrah, what's o'clock? Dug. No more! we have rid a swinging pace from Nemours since two this morning! Petit, run to Rousseau's, and bespeak a dinner at a louis d'or a head, to be ready by one. Pet. How many will there be of you, sir? Dug. Let me see- -Mirabel one, Duretete two, myself three Pet. And I four. Enter Old MIRABEL and ORIANA. see you. Dug. Why, yes, sir; he's very like his mother, and as like you as most modern sons are to their fathers. Old Mir. Why, sir, don't you think that I begat him? Dug. Why, yes, sir; you married his mother, and he inherits your estate. He's very like you, upon my word. Ori. And pray, brother, what's become of his honest companion, Duretete? Dug. Who, the captain? The very same he went abroad; he's the only Frenchman I ever knew that could not change. Your son, Mr Mirabel, is more obliged to Nature for that fellow's composition than for his own; for he's more happy in Duretete's folly than his own wit. In short, they are as inseparable as finger and thumb; but the first instance in the world, I believe, of opposition in friendship. Old Mir. Very well; will he be home to dinner, think ye? Dug. Sir, he has ordered me to bespeak a dinner for us at Rousseau's, at a louis d'or a head. Old Mir. A louis d'or a head! Well said, Bob; by the blood of the Mirabels, Bob's improv'd. But, Mr Dugard, was it so civil of Bob to visit Monsieur Rousseau before his own natural father, eh? Hark'e, Oriana, what think you, now, of a fellow that can eat and drink ye a whole louis d'or at a sitting? He must be as strong as Hercules; life and spirit in abundance. Before Gad, I don't wonder at those men of quality, that their own wives cann't serve them. A louis d'or a head! 'tis enough to stock the Old Mir. Silver hairs! Then they are quick-whole nation with bastards, 'tis, faith. Mr Dusilver hairs, sir. Whilst I have golden pockets, gard, I leave you with your sister. let my hairs be silver an they will. Adsbud, sir, I can dance, and sing, and drink, and—no, I cann't wench.-But, Mr Dugard, no news of my son Bob in all your travels? Old Mir. Honest Mr Dugard! by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm your most humble servant. Dug. Why, sir, you've cast your skin sure; you're brisk and gay, lusty health about you, no signs of age but your silver hairs. Dug. Your son's come home, sir. Old Mir. Come home! Bob come home! By the blood of the Mirabels, Mr Dugard, what say ye? Ori. Mr Mirabel return'd, sir! Dug. He's certainly come, and you may see him within this hour or two. Old Mir. Swear it, Mr Dugard, presently swear it. Dug. Sir, he came to town with me this morning; I left him at the Bagnieurs, being a little disordered after riding, and I shall see him again presently. Old Mir. What! and he was asham'd to ask a blessing with his boots on? A nice dog! Well, and how fares the young rogue, ha? Dug. A fine gentleman, sir. He'll be his own messenger. Old Mir. A fine gentleman! But is the rogue like me yet? [Exit. Dug. Well, sister, I need not ask you how you do; your looks resolve me: fair, tall, wellshaped! you're almost grown out of my remem brance. Ori. Why, truly, brother, I look pretty well, thank Nature and my toilet: I have 'scaped the jaundice, green sickness, and the small-pox; I eat three meals a day, am very merry when up, and sleep soundly when I'm down. Dug. But, sister, you remember that upon my going abroad, you would choose this old gentleman for your guardian; he's no more related to our family than Prester John; and I have no reason to think you mistrusted my management of your fortune: therefore, pray be so kind as to tell me, without reservation, the true cause of making such a choice. Ori. Look'e, brother, you were going a ram bling, and 'twas proper, lest I should go a rambling too, that somebody should take care of me. Old Monsieur Mirabel is an honest gentleman, was our father's friend, and has a young lady in his house, whose company I like, and who has chosen him for her guardian as well as I. Dug. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre? Ori. The same: we live merrily together, without scandal or reproach; we make much of the old gentleman between us, and he takes care of us; we eat what we like, go to bed when we please, rise when we will, all the week we dance | and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church, and then to the play. Now, brother, besides these motives for choosing this gentleman for my guardian, perhaps I had some private rea sons. Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister: your love to young Mirabel's no secret, I can assure you, but so public, that all your friends are asham'd on't. Ori. O' my word, then, my friends are very bashful; though I am afraid, sir, that those people are not ashamed enough at their own crimes, who have so many blushes to spare for the faults of their neighbours. Dug. Ay, but, sister, the people sayOri. Pshaw! hang the people, they'll talk treason, and profane their Maker; must we therefore infer, that our king is a tyrant, and religion a cheat? Look'e, brother, their court of inquiry is a tavern, and their informer, claret; they think as they drink, and swallow reputations like loches; a lady's health goes briskly round with the glass, but her honour is lost in the toast. Dug. Ay, but, sister, there is still something Ori. If there be something, brother, 'tis none of the people's something; marriage is my thing, and I'll stick to't. Dug. Marriage! Young Mirabel marry! He'll build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though your honour stood proof to his home-bred assaults, you must keep a stricter guard for the future: he has now got the foreign air and the Italian softness; his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour finished by observation, and his assurances confirmed by success. Sister, I can assure you, he has made his conquests; and 'tis a plaque upon your sex, to be the soonest deceiv'd by those very men that you know have been false to others. Ori. Then why will you tell me of his conquests? for I must confess, there is no title to a woman's favour so engaging as the repute of a handsome dissimulation; there is something of a pride to see a fellow lie at our feet, that has triumphed over so many; and then, I don't know, we fancy he must have something extraordinary about him to please us, and that we have something engaging about us to secure him; so we cann't be quiet till we put ourselves upon the lay of being both disappointed. Dug. But then, sister, he's as fickle Ori. For God's sake, brother, tell me no more of his faults; for if you do, I shall run mad for him:-say no more, sir; let me but get him into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wandering, 1 warrant him; I'll do his business that way; Never fear. Dug. Well, sister, I won't pretend to under. stand the engagements between you and your lover: I expect, when you have need of my counsel or assistance, you will let me know more of your affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman; and as far as my honour and interest can reach, you may command me to the furtherance of your happiness: in the mean time, sister, I have a great mind to make you a present of another humble servant, a fellow that I took up at Lyons, who has served me honestly ever since. Ori. Then why will you part with him? Dug. He has gain'd so insufferably on my good humour, that he's grown too familiar; but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes. Enter PETIT. Well, sir, have you been at Rousseau's? Pet. Yes, sir: and who should I find there but Mr Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a brood-they would not let me bespeak any thing, for they had dined before I came. Dug. Come, sir, you shall serve my sister; I shall still continue kind to you; and if your lady recommends your diligence, upon trial, I'll use my interest to advance you; you have sense enough to expect preferment. Here, sirrah, here's ten guineas for thee; get thyself a drugget suit and a puff wig, and so-I dub thee gentleman-usher. Sister, I must put myself in repair: you may expect me in the evening-Wait on your lady home, Petit. [Exit DUGARD. Pet. A chair, a chair, a chair! Ori. No, no, I'll walk home; 'tis but next door. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—A Tavern, discovering Young MIRABEL and DURETETE rising from the table. Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear captain: we have eat heartily, drank roundly, paid plentifully, and let it go for once. I liked every thing but our women; they looked so lean and tawdry, poor creatures! 'Tis a sure sign the army is not paid.—Give me the plump Venetian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like sparkling wine, her person shining as the glass, and spirit like the foaming liquor. me Dur. Ah! Mirabel! Italy I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin, brawn-fallen jades, a man may as well make a bed-fellow of a cane chair. Mir. France! a light, unseasoned country, nothing but feathers, foppery, and fashions: we are fine indeed, so are our coach-horses: men say we are courtiers,-men abuse us; that we are wise in politics, non credo, seigneur; that our women have wit ;-parrots, mere parrots; assurance and a good memory sets them up.-There's service t'ye-Ha, Roma la santa! Italy for my nothing on this side the Alps worth my humble money: their customs, gardens, buildings, paint ings, music, politics, wine, and women! the paradise of the world- -not pestered with a parcel of precise, old, gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure that they themselves are past the sense of: commend me to the Italian familiarity;-here, son, there's fifty crowns, go pay your whore her week's allowance. Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men; not like our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the sport of them that can. But now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman? Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact; nay, every thing among them is so: a Dutch man is thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is broad-bottom'd, and, in short, one would swear the whole produce of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses. Dur. Ay, but Mirabel, you have forgot the English ladies. Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such unsufferable pains to ruin what Nature has made so incomparably well; they would be delicate creatures indeed, could they but thoroughly arrive at the French mien, or entirely let it alone; for they only spoil a very good air of their own, by an awkward imitation of ours: their parliaments and our tailors give laws to three kingdoms. But come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand: mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place; and, upon a competent diligence, we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe. Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend? you know I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that Mir. Pshaw! you must be bolder, man: travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness! A great lusty fellow! and a soldier! fie upon it. Dur. Look'e, sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little; as thus, or thus now. Then I can kiss abundantly, and make a shift to--but if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes or if they cry-What d'ye mean? What d'ye take me for?--Fie, sir, remember who I am, sir-A person of quality to be used at this rate! 'Egad, I'm struck as flat as a frying pan. Mir. Words of course! never mind them: turn you about upon your heel, with a juntée air; hum out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and at her again. Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it, 'twill never do-Oons! what did my father mean by sticking me up in an university, or to think that I should gain any thing by my head, in a nation whose genius lies all in their heels!--Well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have VOL. IV. the education of the country; they shall learn to dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing before they can speak. Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish bu mour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards: thou'rt a stout, lusty fellow, and hast a good estate: look bluff, Hector; you have a good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; so that's pretty well.-This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass [Aside. Dur. Let me see now how I look. [Pulls out a pocket glass, and looks on't.] A side-box face, say you! 'Egad I don't like it, Mirabel. Fie, sir, don't abuse your friends; I could not wear such a face for the best countess in Christendom. Mir. Why cann't you, blockhead, as well as I? Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon any thing: I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart.-Who comes here?-Odso, Mirabel, your father. Mir. I did but jest; here's ten pistoles. Old Mir. Why, then here's ten more; I love to be charitable to those that don't want it. Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys? Mir. Oh, the garden of the world, sir! Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand othersall fine. Old Mir. Ay, say you so! And they say that Chiari is very fine too. Dur. Indifferent, sir, very indifferent ; a very scurvy air, the most unwholesome to a French constitution in the world. Mir. Pshaw! nothing on't; these rascally gazetteers have misinformed you. Old Mir. Misinformed me! Oons, sir, were not we beaten there? Mir. Beaten, sir! the French beaten ! Old Mir. Why, how was it, pray, sweet sir? Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you. Dur. No, sir, your son will tell you. Mir. The captain was in the action, sir. Dur. Your son saw more than I, sir, for he was a looker-on. Old Mir. Confound you both for a brace of cowards here are no Germans to over-hear you why don't you tell me how it was? Mir. Why, then, you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, wel!dressed fellows in the universe; our commanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so F many beaux at a ball-I don't believe there was a man of them but could dance a charmer, morbleu ! Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows, faith! Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, and there saw, peeping over, a parcel of scarecrow, olive-coloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly as the devil. Dur. 'Egad, I shall never forget the looks of them while I have breath to fetch. Mir. They were so civil, indeed, as to welcome us with their cannon; but for the rest, we found them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we e'en danced back again. Old Mir. And did you all come back? Mir. No-two or three thousand of us staid behind. Old Mir. Why, Bob, why? Mir. Pshaw!-because they could not come that night. But come, sir, we were talking of something else. Pray, how does your lovely charge, the fair Oriana? Old Mir. Ripe, sir, just ripe; you'll find it better engaging with her than the Germans, let me tell you. And what would you say, my young Mars, if I had a Venus for thee too? Come, Bob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your friend be my guest too; you shall command the house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best of you. Mir. Bravely said, father. Let misers bend their age with niggard cares, And starve themselves to pamper hungry heirs; Who, living, stint their sons what youth may SCENE I.-Old MIRABEL'S House. ORIANA and BISARRE. ACT II. Bis. And you love this young rake, d'ye ? Bis. In spite of all his ill usage. Ori. I cann't help it. Bis. What's the matter with ye? Bis. Um !-before that any young, lying, swearing, flattering, rake-helly fellow should play such tricks with me, I would wear my teeth to the stumps with lime and chalk. Oh, the devil take all your Cassandras and Cleopatras for me. Pr'ythee mind your airs, modes, and fashions; your stays, gowns, and furbelows. Hark'e, my dear, have you got home your furbelowed smocks yet? Ori. Pr'ythee be quiet, Bisarre; you know I can be as mad as you, when this Mirabel is out of my head. Bis. Pshaw! would he were out, or in, or some way, to make you easy.-I warrant, now, you'll play the fool when he comes, and say you love him,-eh! Ori. Most certainly; I cann't dissemble, Bisarre-Besides, 'tis past that; we're contracted. Bis. Contracted! alack-a-day, poor thing.— What, have you changed rings, or broken an old broad piece between you? Hark'e, child, ha'n't you broke something else between ye? Ori. No, no, I can assure you. Bis. Then what d'ye whine for? Whilst I kept that in my power, I would make a fool of any fellow in France. Well, I must confess, I do love a little coquetting with all my heart: my business should be to break gold with my lover one hour, and crack my promise the next; he should find me one day with a prayer-book in my hand, and with a play-book another; he should have my consent to buy the wedding-ring, and the next moment I would laugh in his face. Ori. Oh, my dear, were there no greater tie upon my heart than there is upon my conscience, I would soon throw the contract out of doors; but the mischief on't is, I am so fond of being tied, that I'm forced to be just, and the strength of my passion keeps down the inclination of my sex.-But here's the old gentleman. Enter Old MIRABEL. Old Mir. Where's my wenches? Where's my two little girls? Eh! have a care, look to your selves; faith, they're a-coming, the travellers are a-coming. Well, which of you two will be my daughter-in-law now?-Bisarre, Bisarre, what say you, mad-cap?-Mirabel is a pure wild fellow. Bis. I like him the worse. Old Mir. You lie, hussy, you like him the better, indeed you do. What say you, my t'other little filbert? eh! Ori. I suppose the gentleman will choose for himself, sir. Old Mir. Why, that's discreetly said; and so he shall. Enter MIRABEL and DURETETE; they salute the Ladies. Old Mir. Bob, hark'e, you shall marry one of these girls, sirrah. Mir. Sir, I'll marry them both, if you please. |