_ Ah, my friend of friends, such news, such
tidings!
Thomas Otway
Here, here,
do you see this? here's the ring you sent a-roguing; sir, do
you think my wife wants anything that you can help her to?
Why, I'll warrant this ring cost fifty pounds: what a prodigal
fellow are you to throw away so much money! or didst thou steal
it, old boy? I'll believe thou mayst be poor; I'll lend thee
money upon't, if thou thinkest fit, at thirty in the hundred,
because I love thee, ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ Sir, your humble servant. I am sorry 'twas not worth
your lady's acceptance. [_Aside. _] Now what a dog am I!
_Sir Dav. _ I should have given it thee before, but, faith, I
forgot it, though it was not my wife's fault in the least; for
she says, as thou likest this usage, she hopes to have thy
custom again, child. Ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ Then, sir, I beseech you tell her, that you have made
a convert of me, and that I am so sensible of my insolent
behaviour towards her--
_Sir Dav. _ Very well, I shall do it.
_Beau. _ That 'tis impossible I shall ever be at peace with
myself, till I find some way how I may make her reparation.
_Sir Dav. _ Very good, ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ And that if ever she find me guilty of the like offence
again--
_Sir Dav. _ No, sir, you had best not; but proceed; ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ Let her banish all good opinion of me for ever.
_Sir Dav. _ No more to be said: your servant; good b'w'ye.
_Beau. _ One word more, I beseech you, Sir Davy.
_Sir Dav. _ What's that?
_Beau. _ I beg you tell her that the generous reproof she has
given me has so wrought upon me--
_Sir Dav. _ Well, I will.
_Beau. _ That I esteem this jewel, not only as a wreck redeemed
from my folly, but that for her sake I will preserve it to the
utmost moment of my life.
_Sir Dav. _ With all my heart, I vow and swear.
_Beau. _ And that I long to convince her I am not the brute she
might mistake me for.
_Sir Dav. _ Right. [_Aside. _] Well, this will make the purest
sport. --Let me see; first you acknowledge yourself to be a very
impudent fellow?
_Beau. _ I do so, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ And that you shall never be at rest till you have
satisfied my lady?
_Beau. _ Right, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ Satisfied her! very good; ha, ha, ha! and that you
will never play the fool any more? Be sure you keep your word,
friend.
_Beau. _ Never, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ And that you will keep that ring for her sake, as
long as you live, ha?
_Beau. _ To the day of my death, I'll assure you.
_Sir Dav. _ I protest that will be very kindly done. And that
you long, mightily long to let her understand that you are
another guess fellow than she may take you for?
_Beau. _ Exactly, sir, this is the sum and end of my desires.
_Sir Dav. _ Well, I'll take care of your business, I'll do your
business, I'll warrant you. [_Aside. _] This will make the
purest sport when I come home! --Well, your servant; remember,
be sure you remember: your servant. [_Exit. _
_Beau. _ So, now I find a husband is a delicate instrument
rightly made use of;--to make her old jealous coxcomb pimp for
me himself! I think is as worthy an employment as such a noble
consort can be put to.
Ah, were ye all such husbands and such wives,
We younger brothers should lead better lives. [_Exit. _
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[35] _i. e. _ Cocking his hat.
[36] A privy.
[37] The verse of Scripture read by criminals to obtain benefit of
clergy.
[38] _i. e. _ Sedan chairs.
[39] _i. e. _ A strong inclination. The expression occurs in _Hudibras_
and elsewhere.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I. --_Outside_ Sir DAVY DUNCE's _House in Covent Garden_.
_Enter_ SYLVIA.
Sylv. To fall in love, and to fall in love with a soldier! nay,
a disbanded soldier too; a fellow with the mark of Cain upon
him, which everybody knows him by, and is ready to throw stones
at him for.
_Enter_ COURTINE.
_Cour. _ Damn her! I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if
she were but very rich and very ugly, I would marry her. Ay,
'tis she; I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken
in it. --Madam.
_Sylv. _ Sir.
_Cour. _ 'Tis a very hard case, that you have resolved not to
let me be quiet.
_Sylv. _ 'Tis very unreasonably done of you, sir, to haunt me
up and down everywhere at this scandalous rate; the world will
think we are acquainted, shortly.
_Cour. _ But, madam, I shall fairly take more care of my
reputation, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most
watchfully.
_Sylv. _ Have you not haunted this place these two hours?
_Cour. _ 'Twas because I knew it to be your ladyship's home,
then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you
least of all frequented; one would imagine you were gone
a-coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of public
appearance or other; 'tis pretty near the hour; 'twill be
twilight presently, and then the owls come all abroad.
_Sylv. _ What need I take the trouble to go so far a-fowling,
when there's game enough at our own doors?
_Cour. _ What, game for your net, fair lady?
_Sylv. _ Yes, or any woman's net else, that will spread it.
_Cour. _ To show you how despicably I think of the business, I
will here leave you presently, though I lose the pleasure of
railing at you.
_Sylv. _ Do so, I would advise you; your raillery betrays your
wit, as bad as your clumsy civility does your breeding.
_Cour. _ Adieu!
_Sylv. _ Farewell!
_Cour. _ Why do not you go about your business?
_Sylv. _ Because I would be sure to be rid of you first, that
you might not dog me.
_Cour. _ Were it but possible that you could answer me one
question truly, and then I should be satisfied.
_Sylv. _ Any thing for composition to be rid of you handsomely.
_Cour. _ Are you really very honest? look in my face, and tell
me that.
_Sylv. _ Look in your face and tell you! for what? to spoil my
stomach to my supper?
_Cour. _ No, but to get thee a stomach to thy bed, sweetheart; I
would if possible be better acquainted with thee, because thou
art very ill-natured.
_Sylv. _ Your only way to bring that business about effectually,
is to be more troublesome; and if you think it worth your
while to be abused substantially, you may make your personal
appearance this night.
_Cour. _ How? where? and when? and what hour, I beseech thee?
_Sylv. _ Under the window, between the hours of eleven and
twelve exactly.
_Cour. _ Where shall these lovely eyes and ears
Hear my plaints, and see my tears?
_Sylv. _ At that kind hour thy griefs shall end,
If thou canst know thy foe from thy friend. [_Exit. _
_Cour. _ Here's another trick of the devil now; under that
window between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly! I am a
damned fool, and must go: let me see; suppose I meet with a
lusty beating: pish, that's nothing for a man that's in love;
or suppose she contrive some way to make a public coxcomb of
me, and expose me to the scorn of the world, for an example to
all amorous blockheads hereafter? why, if she do, I'll swear
I have lain with her; beat her relations, if they pretend to
vindicate her; and so there's one love-intrigue pretty well
over. [_Exit. _
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE _and_ VERMIN.
_Sir Dav. _ Go, get you in to your lady now, and tell her I am
coming.
_Ver. _ Her ladyship, right worshipful, is pleased not to be at
home.
_Sir Dav. _ How's that? my lady not at home! Run, run in and ask
when she went forth, whither she is gone, and who is with her;
run and ask, Vermin.
_Ver. _ She went out in her chair presently after you this
afternoon.
_Sir Dav. _ Then I may be a cuckold still for aught I know: what
will become of me? I have surely lost, and ne'er shall find her
more; she promised me strictly to stay at home till I came back
again; for aught I know she may be up three pair of stairs in
the Temple now.
_Ver. _ Is her ladyship in law then, sir?
_Sir Dav. _ Or it may be taking the air as far as Knightsbridge,
with some smooth-faced rogue or another. 'Tis a damned house,
that Swan: that Swan at Knightsbridge is a confounded house,
Vermin.
_Ver. _ Do you think she is there then?
_Sir Dav. _ No, I do not think she is there neither; but such a
thing may be, you know: would that Barn-Elms was under water
too! there's a thousand cuckolds a year made at Barn-Elms by
Rosamond's Ponds:[40] the devil! if she should be there this
evening my heart's broke.
_Enter_ Sir JOLLY.
_Sir Jol. _ That must be Sir Davy; ay, that's he, that's he,
ha, ha, ha; was ever the like heard of? was ever anything so
pleasant?
_Sir Dav. _ I'll lock her up three days and three nights without
meat, drink, or light; I'll humble her in the devil's name.
_Sir Jol. _ Well, could I but meet my friend Sir Davy, it would
be the joyfullest news for him--
_Sir Dav. _ Who's there that has anything to say to me?
_Sir Jol.
_ Ah, my friend of friends, such news, such tidings!
_Sir Dav. _ I have lost my wife, man.
_Sir Jol. _ Lost her! she's not dead, I hope?
_Sir Dav. _ Yes. Alas, she's dead, irrecoverably lost!
_Sir Jol. _ Why, I parted with her within this half-hour.
_Sir Dav. _ Did you so? are you sure it was she? where was it?
I'll have my lord chief-justice's warrant and a constable
presently.
_Sir Jol. _ And she made the purest sport now with a young
fellow, man, that she met withal accidentally.
_Sir Dav. _ O Lord, that's worse and worse! a young fellow! --my
wife making sport with a young fellow! O Lord! here are doings,
here are vagaries! I'll run mad. I'll climb Bow-steeple
presently, bestride the dragon, and preach cuckoldom to the
whole city.
_Sir Jol. _ The best of all was, too, that it happened to be an
idle coxcomb that pretended to be in love with her, neighbour.
_Sir Dav. _ Indeed! in love with her! who was it? what's his
name? I warrant you won't tell a body--I'll indict him in the
Crown-office; no, I'll issue warrants to apprehend him for
treason upon the statute of Edward 19. Won't you tell me what
young fellow it was? was it a very handsome young fellow, ha?
_Sir Jol. _ Handsome? yes, hang him; the fellow's handsome
enough: he is not very handsome neither, but he has a devilish
leering black eye.
_Sir Dav. _ O Lord!
_Sir Jol. _ His face too is a good riding face; 'tis no soft
effeminate complexion indeed, but his countenance is ruddy,
sanguine, and cheerful; a devilish fellow in a corner, I'll
warrant him.
_Sir Dav. _ Bless us! what will become of me? Why the devil
did I marry a young wife? Is he very well shaped too, tall,
straight, and proportionable, ha?
_Sir Jol. _ Tall? no, he's not very tall neither, yet he is tall
enough too: he's none of your overgrown, lubberly Flanders
jades, but more of the true English breed, well-knit, able, and
fit for service, old boy; the fellow is well shaped truly, very
well proportioned, strong and active. I have seen the rogue
leap like a buck.
_Sir Dav. _ Who can this be? Well, and what think you, friend,
has he been there? Come, come, I'm sensible she's a young
woman; and I am an old fellow--troth, a very old fellow,
I signify little or nothing now. But do you think he has
prevailed? am I cuckold, neighbour?
_Sir Jol. _ Cuckold! what, a cuckold in Covent-garden! no, I'll
assure you, I believe her to be the most virtuous woman in the
world; but if you had but seen--
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, would I had! what was it?
_Sir Jol. _ How like a rogue she used him: first of all comes me
up the spark to her. "Madam," says he--and then he bows down,
thus. "How now," says she, "what would the impertinent fellow
have? "
_Sir Dav. _ Humph! ha! well, and what then?
_Sir Jol. _ "Madam," says he again, bowing as he did before, "my
heart is so entirely yours, that except you take pity on my
sufferings I must here die at your feet. "
_Sir Dav. _ So, and what said she again, neighbour? ha!
_Sir Jol. _ "Go, you are a fop. "
_Sir Dav. _ Ha, ha, ha! did she indeed? Did she say so indeed? I
am glad on't, troth, I am very glad on't. Well, and what next?
And how, and well, and what? ha!
_Sir Jol. _ "Madam," says he, "this won't do; I am your humble
servant for all this; you may pretend to be as ill-natured as
you please, but I shall make bold. "
_Sir Dav. _ Was there ever such an impudent fellow?
_Sir Jol. _ With that, "Sirrah," says she, "you are a saucy
jackanapes, and I'll have you kicked. "
_Sir Dav. _ Ha, ha, ha! Well, I would not be unmarried again to
be an angel.
_Sir Jol. _ But the best jest of all was, who this should be at
last.
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, who indeed! I'll warrant you some silly fellow
or other, poor fool!
_Sir Jol. _ E'en a scandalous rakehell, that lingers up and down
the town by the name of Captain Beaugard; but he has been a
bloody cuckold-making scoundrel in his time.
_Sir Dav. _ Hang him, sot, is it he? I don't value him this, not
a wet finger, man. To my knowledge she hates him, she scorns
him, neighbour; I know it, I am very well satisfied in the
point; besides, I have seen him since that, and out-hectored
him: I am to tell her from his own mouth, that he promises
never to affront her more.
_Sir Jol. _ Indeed!
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, ay--
_Enter_ Lady DUNCE, _paying her_ Chairman.
_Chair. _ God bless you, madam, thank your honour!
_Sir Jol. _ Hush, hush! there's my lady. I'll be gone, I'll not
be seen; your humble servant, God b'w'ye.
_Sir Dav. _ No faith, Sir Jolly, e'en go into my house now, and
stay supper with me, we ha'n't supped together a great while.
_Sir Jol. _ Ha! say you so? I don't care if I do, faith, with
all my heart; this may give me an opportunity to set all things
right again. [_Aside. _
_Sir Dav. _ My dear!
_L. Dunce. _ Sir!
_Sir Dav. _ You have been abroad, my dear, I see.
_L. Dunce. _ Only for a little air; truly I was almost stifled
within doors; I hope you will not be angry, Sir Davy, will you?
_Sir Dav. _ Angry, child! no, child, not I; what should I be
angry for?
_L. Dunce. _ I wonder, Sir Davy, you will serve me at this rate.
Did you not promise to go in my behalf to Beaugard, and correct
him according to my instructions for his insolence?
_Sir Dav. _ So I did, child; I have been with him, sweetheart;
I have told him all to a tittle; I gave him back again the
picture too: but, as the devil would have it, I forgot the
ring--faith, I did.
_L. Dunce. _ Did you purpose, Sir Sodom, to render me ridiculous
to the man I abominate? what scandalous interpretation, think
you, must he make of my retaining any trifle of his, sent me on
so dishonourable terms!
_Sir Dav. _ Really, my lamb, thou art in the right; yet I went
back afterwards, dear heart, and did the business to some
purpose.
_L. Dunce. _ I am glad that you did, with all my heart.
_Sir Dav. _ I gave him his lesson, I'll warrant him.
_L. Dunce. _ Lesson! what lesson had you to give him?
_Sir Dav. _ Why, I told him as he liked that usage he might come
again; ha, ha, ha!
_L. Dunce. _ Ay, and so let him.
_Sir Dav. _ With all my heart, I'll give him free leave, or
hang me; though thou wouldst not imagine how the poor devil's
altered. La you there now, but as certainly as I stand here,
that man is troubled that he swears he shall not rest day nor
night till he has satisfied thee; pr'ythee be satisfied with
him if 'tis possible, my dear, pr'ythee do. I promised him,
before I left him, to tell thee as much: for the poor wretch
looks so simply, I could not choose but pity him, I vow and
swear, ha, ha, ha!
_Sir Jol. _ Now, now, you little witch! now, you chitsface!
Odd, I could find in my heart to put my little finger in your
bubbies.
_L. Dunce. _ Sir Davy, I must tell you, that I cannot but resent
your so soon reconcilement with a man that I hate worse than
death, and that if you loved me with half that tenderness which
you profess, you would not forget an affront so palpably and so
basely offered me.
_Sir Dav. _ Why, chicken, where's the remedy? What's to be done?
How wouldst thou have me deal with him?
_L. Dunce. _ Cut his throat.
_Sir Dav. _ Bless us for ever! cut his throat! what, do murder?
_L. Dunce. _ Murder! yes, anything to such an incorrigible enemy
of your honour, one that has resolved to persist in abusing of
you. See here this letter, this I received since I last parted
with you; just now it was thrown into my chair by an impudent
lackey of his, kept o' purpose for such employments.
_Sir Dav. _ Let me see: a letter, indeed! --"For the Lady Dunce":
damned rogue, treacherous dog, what can he say in the inside
now? here's a villain!
_L. Dunce. _ Yes, you had best break it open, you had so; 'tis
like the rest of your discretion.
_Sir Dav. _ Lady, if I have an enemy, it is best for me to know
what mischief he intends me; therefore, with your leave, I will
break it open.
_L. Dunce.
do you see this? here's the ring you sent a-roguing; sir, do
you think my wife wants anything that you can help her to?
Why, I'll warrant this ring cost fifty pounds: what a prodigal
fellow are you to throw away so much money! or didst thou steal
it, old boy? I'll believe thou mayst be poor; I'll lend thee
money upon't, if thou thinkest fit, at thirty in the hundred,
because I love thee, ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ Sir, your humble servant. I am sorry 'twas not worth
your lady's acceptance. [_Aside. _] Now what a dog am I!
_Sir Dav. _ I should have given it thee before, but, faith, I
forgot it, though it was not my wife's fault in the least; for
she says, as thou likest this usage, she hopes to have thy
custom again, child. Ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ Then, sir, I beseech you tell her, that you have made
a convert of me, and that I am so sensible of my insolent
behaviour towards her--
_Sir Dav. _ Very well, I shall do it.
_Beau. _ That 'tis impossible I shall ever be at peace with
myself, till I find some way how I may make her reparation.
_Sir Dav. _ Very good, ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ And that if ever she find me guilty of the like offence
again--
_Sir Dav. _ No, sir, you had best not; but proceed; ha, ha, ha!
_Beau. _ Let her banish all good opinion of me for ever.
_Sir Dav. _ No more to be said: your servant; good b'w'ye.
_Beau. _ One word more, I beseech you, Sir Davy.
_Sir Dav. _ What's that?
_Beau. _ I beg you tell her that the generous reproof she has
given me has so wrought upon me--
_Sir Dav. _ Well, I will.
_Beau. _ That I esteem this jewel, not only as a wreck redeemed
from my folly, but that for her sake I will preserve it to the
utmost moment of my life.
_Sir Dav. _ With all my heart, I vow and swear.
_Beau. _ And that I long to convince her I am not the brute she
might mistake me for.
_Sir Dav. _ Right. [_Aside. _] Well, this will make the purest
sport. --Let me see; first you acknowledge yourself to be a very
impudent fellow?
_Beau. _ I do so, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ And that you shall never be at rest till you have
satisfied my lady?
_Beau. _ Right, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ Satisfied her! very good; ha, ha, ha! and that you
will never play the fool any more? Be sure you keep your word,
friend.
_Beau. _ Never, sir.
_Sir Dav. _ And that you will keep that ring for her sake, as
long as you live, ha?
_Beau. _ To the day of my death, I'll assure you.
_Sir Dav. _ I protest that will be very kindly done. And that
you long, mightily long to let her understand that you are
another guess fellow than she may take you for?
_Beau. _ Exactly, sir, this is the sum and end of my desires.
_Sir Dav. _ Well, I'll take care of your business, I'll do your
business, I'll warrant you. [_Aside. _] This will make the
purest sport when I come home! --Well, your servant; remember,
be sure you remember: your servant. [_Exit. _
_Beau. _ So, now I find a husband is a delicate instrument
rightly made use of;--to make her old jealous coxcomb pimp for
me himself! I think is as worthy an employment as such a noble
consort can be put to.
Ah, were ye all such husbands and such wives,
We younger brothers should lead better lives. [_Exit. _
[Illustration]
FOOTNOTES:
[35] _i. e. _ Cocking his hat.
[36] A privy.
[37] The verse of Scripture read by criminals to obtain benefit of
clergy.
[38] _i. e. _ Sedan chairs.
[39] _i. e. _ A strong inclination. The expression occurs in _Hudibras_
and elsewhere.
ACT THE THIRD.
SCENE I. --_Outside_ Sir DAVY DUNCE's _House in Covent Garden_.
_Enter_ SYLVIA.
Sylv. To fall in love, and to fall in love with a soldier! nay,
a disbanded soldier too; a fellow with the mark of Cain upon
him, which everybody knows him by, and is ready to throw stones
at him for.
_Enter_ COURTINE.
_Cour. _ Damn her! I shall never enjoy her without ravishing; if
she were but very rich and very ugly, I would marry her. Ay,
'tis she; I know her mischievous look too well to be mistaken
in it. --Madam.
_Sylv. _ Sir.
_Cour. _ 'Tis a very hard case, that you have resolved not to
let me be quiet.
_Sylv. _ 'Tis very unreasonably done of you, sir, to haunt me
up and down everywhere at this scandalous rate; the world will
think we are acquainted, shortly.
_Cour. _ But, madam, I shall fairly take more care of my
reputation, and from this time forward shun and avoid you most
watchfully.
_Sylv. _ Have you not haunted this place these two hours?
_Cour. _ 'Twas because I knew it to be your ladyship's home,
then, and therefore might reasonably be the place you
least of all frequented; one would imagine you were gone
a-coxcomb-hunting by this time, to some place of public
appearance or other; 'tis pretty near the hour; 'twill be
twilight presently, and then the owls come all abroad.
_Sylv. _ What need I take the trouble to go so far a-fowling,
when there's game enough at our own doors?
_Cour. _ What, game for your net, fair lady?
_Sylv. _ Yes, or any woman's net else, that will spread it.
_Cour. _ To show you how despicably I think of the business, I
will here leave you presently, though I lose the pleasure of
railing at you.
_Sylv. _ Do so, I would advise you; your raillery betrays your
wit, as bad as your clumsy civility does your breeding.
_Cour. _ Adieu!
_Sylv. _ Farewell!
_Cour. _ Why do not you go about your business?
_Sylv. _ Because I would be sure to be rid of you first, that
you might not dog me.
_Cour. _ Were it but possible that you could answer me one
question truly, and then I should be satisfied.
_Sylv. _ Any thing for composition to be rid of you handsomely.
_Cour. _ Are you really very honest? look in my face, and tell
me that.
_Sylv. _ Look in your face and tell you! for what? to spoil my
stomach to my supper?
_Cour. _ No, but to get thee a stomach to thy bed, sweetheart; I
would if possible be better acquainted with thee, because thou
art very ill-natured.
_Sylv. _ Your only way to bring that business about effectually,
is to be more troublesome; and if you think it worth your
while to be abused substantially, you may make your personal
appearance this night.
_Cour. _ How? where? and when? and what hour, I beseech thee?
_Sylv. _ Under the window, between the hours of eleven and
twelve exactly.
_Cour. _ Where shall these lovely eyes and ears
Hear my plaints, and see my tears?
_Sylv. _ At that kind hour thy griefs shall end,
If thou canst know thy foe from thy friend. [_Exit. _
_Cour. _ Here's another trick of the devil now; under that
window between the hours of eleven and twelve exactly! I am a
damned fool, and must go: let me see; suppose I meet with a
lusty beating: pish, that's nothing for a man that's in love;
or suppose she contrive some way to make a public coxcomb of
me, and expose me to the scorn of the world, for an example to
all amorous blockheads hereafter? why, if she do, I'll swear
I have lain with her; beat her relations, if they pretend to
vindicate her; and so there's one love-intrigue pretty well
over. [_Exit. _
_Enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE _and_ VERMIN.
_Sir Dav. _ Go, get you in to your lady now, and tell her I am
coming.
_Ver. _ Her ladyship, right worshipful, is pleased not to be at
home.
_Sir Dav. _ How's that? my lady not at home! Run, run in and ask
when she went forth, whither she is gone, and who is with her;
run and ask, Vermin.
_Ver. _ She went out in her chair presently after you this
afternoon.
_Sir Dav. _ Then I may be a cuckold still for aught I know: what
will become of me? I have surely lost, and ne'er shall find her
more; she promised me strictly to stay at home till I came back
again; for aught I know she may be up three pair of stairs in
the Temple now.
_Ver. _ Is her ladyship in law then, sir?
_Sir Dav. _ Or it may be taking the air as far as Knightsbridge,
with some smooth-faced rogue or another. 'Tis a damned house,
that Swan: that Swan at Knightsbridge is a confounded house,
Vermin.
_Ver. _ Do you think she is there then?
_Sir Dav. _ No, I do not think she is there neither; but such a
thing may be, you know: would that Barn-Elms was under water
too! there's a thousand cuckolds a year made at Barn-Elms by
Rosamond's Ponds:[40] the devil! if she should be there this
evening my heart's broke.
_Enter_ Sir JOLLY.
_Sir Jol. _ That must be Sir Davy; ay, that's he, that's he,
ha, ha, ha; was ever the like heard of? was ever anything so
pleasant?
_Sir Dav. _ I'll lock her up three days and three nights without
meat, drink, or light; I'll humble her in the devil's name.
_Sir Jol. _ Well, could I but meet my friend Sir Davy, it would
be the joyfullest news for him--
_Sir Dav. _ Who's there that has anything to say to me?
_Sir Jol.
_ Ah, my friend of friends, such news, such tidings!
_Sir Dav. _ I have lost my wife, man.
_Sir Jol. _ Lost her! she's not dead, I hope?
_Sir Dav. _ Yes. Alas, she's dead, irrecoverably lost!
_Sir Jol. _ Why, I parted with her within this half-hour.
_Sir Dav. _ Did you so? are you sure it was she? where was it?
I'll have my lord chief-justice's warrant and a constable
presently.
_Sir Jol. _ And she made the purest sport now with a young
fellow, man, that she met withal accidentally.
_Sir Dav. _ O Lord, that's worse and worse! a young fellow! --my
wife making sport with a young fellow! O Lord! here are doings,
here are vagaries! I'll run mad. I'll climb Bow-steeple
presently, bestride the dragon, and preach cuckoldom to the
whole city.
_Sir Jol. _ The best of all was, too, that it happened to be an
idle coxcomb that pretended to be in love with her, neighbour.
_Sir Dav. _ Indeed! in love with her! who was it? what's his
name? I warrant you won't tell a body--I'll indict him in the
Crown-office; no, I'll issue warrants to apprehend him for
treason upon the statute of Edward 19. Won't you tell me what
young fellow it was? was it a very handsome young fellow, ha?
_Sir Jol. _ Handsome? yes, hang him; the fellow's handsome
enough: he is not very handsome neither, but he has a devilish
leering black eye.
_Sir Dav. _ O Lord!
_Sir Jol. _ His face too is a good riding face; 'tis no soft
effeminate complexion indeed, but his countenance is ruddy,
sanguine, and cheerful; a devilish fellow in a corner, I'll
warrant him.
_Sir Dav. _ Bless us! what will become of me? Why the devil
did I marry a young wife? Is he very well shaped too, tall,
straight, and proportionable, ha?
_Sir Jol. _ Tall? no, he's not very tall neither, yet he is tall
enough too: he's none of your overgrown, lubberly Flanders
jades, but more of the true English breed, well-knit, able, and
fit for service, old boy; the fellow is well shaped truly, very
well proportioned, strong and active. I have seen the rogue
leap like a buck.
_Sir Dav. _ Who can this be? Well, and what think you, friend,
has he been there? Come, come, I'm sensible she's a young
woman; and I am an old fellow--troth, a very old fellow,
I signify little or nothing now. But do you think he has
prevailed? am I cuckold, neighbour?
_Sir Jol. _ Cuckold! what, a cuckold in Covent-garden! no, I'll
assure you, I believe her to be the most virtuous woman in the
world; but if you had but seen--
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, would I had! what was it?
_Sir Jol. _ How like a rogue she used him: first of all comes me
up the spark to her. "Madam," says he--and then he bows down,
thus. "How now," says she, "what would the impertinent fellow
have? "
_Sir Dav. _ Humph! ha! well, and what then?
_Sir Jol. _ "Madam," says he again, bowing as he did before, "my
heart is so entirely yours, that except you take pity on my
sufferings I must here die at your feet. "
_Sir Dav. _ So, and what said she again, neighbour? ha!
_Sir Jol. _ "Go, you are a fop. "
_Sir Dav. _ Ha, ha, ha! did she indeed? Did she say so indeed? I
am glad on't, troth, I am very glad on't. Well, and what next?
And how, and well, and what? ha!
_Sir Jol. _ "Madam," says he, "this won't do; I am your humble
servant for all this; you may pretend to be as ill-natured as
you please, but I shall make bold. "
_Sir Dav. _ Was there ever such an impudent fellow?
_Sir Jol. _ With that, "Sirrah," says she, "you are a saucy
jackanapes, and I'll have you kicked. "
_Sir Dav. _ Ha, ha, ha! Well, I would not be unmarried again to
be an angel.
_Sir Jol. _ But the best jest of all was, who this should be at
last.
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, who indeed! I'll warrant you some silly fellow
or other, poor fool!
_Sir Jol. _ E'en a scandalous rakehell, that lingers up and down
the town by the name of Captain Beaugard; but he has been a
bloody cuckold-making scoundrel in his time.
_Sir Dav. _ Hang him, sot, is it he? I don't value him this, not
a wet finger, man. To my knowledge she hates him, she scorns
him, neighbour; I know it, I am very well satisfied in the
point; besides, I have seen him since that, and out-hectored
him: I am to tell her from his own mouth, that he promises
never to affront her more.
_Sir Jol. _ Indeed!
_Sir Dav. _ Ay, ay--
_Enter_ Lady DUNCE, _paying her_ Chairman.
_Chair. _ God bless you, madam, thank your honour!
_Sir Jol. _ Hush, hush! there's my lady. I'll be gone, I'll not
be seen; your humble servant, God b'w'ye.
_Sir Dav. _ No faith, Sir Jolly, e'en go into my house now, and
stay supper with me, we ha'n't supped together a great while.
_Sir Jol. _ Ha! say you so? I don't care if I do, faith, with
all my heart; this may give me an opportunity to set all things
right again. [_Aside. _
_Sir Dav. _ My dear!
_L. Dunce. _ Sir!
_Sir Dav. _ You have been abroad, my dear, I see.
_L. Dunce. _ Only for a little air; truly I was almost stifled
within doors; I hope you will not be angry, Sir Davy, will you?
_Sir Dav. _ Angry, child! no, child, not I; what should I be
angry for?
_L. Dunce. _ I wonder, Sir Davy, you will serve me at this rate.
Did you not promise to go in my behalf to Beaugard, and correct
him according to my instructions for his insolence?
_Sir Dav. _ So I did, child; I have been with him, sweetheart;
I have told him all to a tittle; I gave him back again the
picture too: but, as the devil would have it, I forgot the
ring--faith, I did.
_L. Dunce. _ Did you purpose, Sir Sodom, to render me ridiculous
to the man I abominate? what scandalous interpretation, think
you, must he make of my retaining any trifle of his, sent me on
so dishonourable terms!
_Sir Dav. _ Really, my lamb, thou art in the right; yet I went
back afterwards, dear heart, and did the business to some
purpose.
_L. Dunce. _ I am glad that you did, with all my heart.
_Sir Dav. _ I gave him his lesson, I'll warrant him.
_L. Dunce. _ Lesson! what lesson had you to give him?
_Sir Dav. _ Why, I told him as he liked that usage he might come
again; ha, ha, ha!
_L. Dunce. _ Ay, and so let him.
_Sir Dav. _ With all my heart, I'll give him free leave, or
hang me; though thou wouldst not imagine how the poor devil's
altered. La you there now, but as certainly as I stand here,
that man is troubled that he swears he shall not rest day nor
night till he has satisfied thee; pr'ythee be satisfied with
him if 'tis possible, my dear, pr'ythee do. I promised him,
before I left him, to tell thee as much: for the poor wretch
looks so simply, I could not choose but pity him, I vow and
swear, ha, ha, ha!
_Sir Jol. _ Now, now, you little witch! now, you chitsface!
Odd, I could find in my heart to put my little finger in your
bubbies.
_L. Dunce. _ Sir Davy, I must tell you, that I cannot but resent
your so soon reconcilement with a man that I hate worse than
death, and that if you loved me with half that tenderness which
you profess, you would not forget an affront so palpably and so
basely offered me.
_Sir Dav. _ Why, chicken, where's the remedy? What's to be done?
How wouldst thou have me deal with him?
_L. Dunce. _ Cut his throat.
_Sir Dav. _ Bless us for ever! cut his throat! what, do murder?
_L. Dunce. _ Murder! yes, anything to such an incorrigible enemy
of your honour, one that has resolved to persist in abusing of
you. See here this letter, this I received since I last parted
with you; just now it was thrown into my chair by an impudent
lackey of his, kept o' purpose for such employments.
_Sir Dav. _ Let me see: a letter, indeed! --"For the Lady Dunce":
damned rogue, treacherous dog, what can he say in the inside
now? here's a villain!
_L. Dunce. _ Yes, you had best break it open, you had so; 'tis
like the rest of your discretion.
_Sir Dav. _ Lady, if I have an enemy, it is best for me to know
what mischief he intends me; therefore, with your leave, I will
break it open.
_L. Dunce.
