No More Learning

Madam, this
is the gentleman, that's he, though, as one may say, he's
something bashful, but I'll tell him who you are. [_Goes to_
BEAUGARD. ] If thou art not more cruel than leopards, lions,
tigers, wolves, or Tartars, don't break my heart, don't kill
me; this unkindness of thine goes to the soul of me. [_Goes to_
Lady DUNCE. ] Madam, he says he's so amazed at your triumphant
beauty, that he dares not approach the excellence that shines
from you.

_L. Dunce. _ What can be the meaning of all this?

_Sir Jol. _ Art thou then resolved to be remorseless? canst thou
be insensible? hast thou eyes? hast thou a heart? hast thou
anything thou shouldst have? Odd, I'll tickle thee! get you to
her, you fool; get you to her, to her, to her, to her, ha, ha,
ha!

_L. Dunce. _ Have you forgot me, Beaugard?

_Sir Jol. _ So now, to her again, I say! to her, to her, and be
hanged! ah, rogue! ah, rogue! now, now, have at her; now have
at her! There it goes; there it goes, hey, boy!

_L. Dunce. _ Methinks this face should not so much be altered,
as to be nothing like what I once thought it, the object of
your pleasure, and subject of your praises.

_Sir Jol. _ Cunning toad! wheedling jade! you shall see now how
by degrees she'll draw him into the whirlpool of love: now he
leers upon her, now he leers upon her. O law! there's eyes!
there's eyes! I must pinch him by the calf of the leg.

_Beau. _ Madam, I must confess I do remember that I had once
acquaintance with a face whose air and beauty much resembled
yours; and, if I may trust my heart, you are called Clarinda.

_L. Dunce. _ Clarinda I was called, till my ill-fortune wedded
me; now you may have heard of me by another title: your friend
there, I suppose, has made nothing a secret to you.

_Beau. _ And are you then that kind enchanted fair one who was
so passionately in love with my picture that you could not
forbear betraying me to the beast your husband, and wrong
the passion of a gentleman that languished for you, only to
make your monster merry? Hark you, madam! had your fool been
worth it, I had beaten him, and have a month's mind[39] to
be exercising my parts that way upon your go-between, your
male-bawd there.

_Sir Jol. _ Ah Lord! ah Lord! all's spoiled again, all's ruined;
I shall be undone for ever! Why, what a devil is the matter
now? what have I done? what sins have I committed? [_Aside. _

_L. Dunce. _ And are you that passionate adorer of our sex, who
cannot live a week in London without loving? Are you the shark
that sends your picture up and down to longing ladies, longing
for a pattern of your person?

_Beau. _ Yes, madam, when I receive so good hostages as these
are--[_Shows the gold_]--that it shall be well used. Could you
find nobody but me to play the fool withal?

_Sir Jol. _ Alack-a-day!

_L. Dunce. _ Could you pitch upon nobody but that wretched woman
that has loved you too well to abuse you thus?

_Sir Jol. _ That ever I was born!

_Beau. _ Here, here, madam, I'll return you your dirt; I scorn
your wages, as I do your service.

_L. Dunce. _ Fie for shame! what, refund? that is not like a
soldier, to refund: keep, keep it to pay your sempstress withal.

_Sir Jol. _ His sempstress! who the devil is his sempstress?
Odd, what would I give to know that now! [_Aside. _

_L. Dunce. _ There was a ring too, which I sent you this
afternoon; if that fit not your finger, you may dispose of it
some other way, where it may give no occasion of scandal, and
you'll do well.

_Beau. _ A ring, madam?

_L. Dunce. _ A small trifle; I suppose Sir Davy delivered it to
you, when he returned you your miniature.

_Beau. _ I beseech you, madam! --

_L. Dunce. _ Farewell, you traitor.

_Beau. _ As I hope to be saved, and upon the word of a
gentleman--

_L. Dunce. _ Go, you are a false, ungrateful brute; and trouble
me no more. [_Exit. _

_Beau. _ Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly, Sir Jolly.

_Sir Jol. _ Ah, thou rebel!

_Beau. _ Some advice, some advice, dear friend, ere I'm ruined.

_Sir Jol. _ Even two pennyworth of hemp for your honour's
supper, that's all the remedy that I know.

_Beau. _ But pr'ythee hear a little reason.

_Sir Jol. _ No, sir, I ha' done; no more to be said, I ha' done;
I am ashamed of you, I'll have no more to say to you; I'll
never see your face again, good-b'w'ye. [_Exit. _

_Beau. _ Death and the devil! what have my stars been doing
to-day? A ring! delivered by Sir Davy--what can that mean? Pox
on her for a jilt, she lies, and has a mind to amuse and laugh
at me a day or two longer. Hist, here comes her beast once
more; I'll use him civilly, and try what discovery I can make.

_Re-enter_ Sir DAVY DUNCE.

_Sir Dav. _ Ha, ha, ha! here's the captain's jewel; very well:
in troth, I had like to have forgotten it. Ha, ha, ha! --how
damnable mad he'll be now, when I shall deliver him his ring
again, ha, ha! --Poor dog, he'll hang himself at least, ha, ha,
ha! --Faith, 'tis a very pretty stone, and finely set: humph! if
I should keep it now? --I'll say I have lost it--no, I'll give
it him again o' purpose to vex him, ha, ha, ha!

_Beau. _ Sir Davy, I am heartily sorry--

_Sir Dav. _ O sir, 'tis you I was seeking for, ha, ha, ha! --What
shall I say to him now to terrify him? [_Aside. _

_Beau. _ Me, sir!

_Sir Dav. _ Ay, you, sir, if your name be Captain Beaugard.
[_Aside. _] How like a fool he looks already!

_Beau. _ What you please, sir.

_Sir Dav. _ Sir, I would speak a word with you, if you think
fit. --What shall I do now to keep my countenance? [_Aside. _

_Beau. _ Can I be so happy, sir, as to be able to serve you in
anything?

_Sir Dav. _ No, sir; ha, ha, ha! I have commands of service to
you, sir. O Lord! ha, ha, ha!

_Beau. _ Me, sir!

_Sir Dav. _ Ay, sir! you, sir: but put on your hat, friend, put
on your hat; be covered.

_Beau. _ Sir, will you please to sit down on this bank?

_Sir Dav. _ No, no, there's no need, no need; for all I have a
young wife, I can stand upon my legs, sweetheart.

_Beau. _ Sir, I beseech you.

_Sir Dav. _ By no means; I think, friend, we had some hard words
just now; 'twas about a paltry baggage; but she's a pretty
baggage, and a witty baggage, and a baggage that--

_Beau. _ Sir, I am heartily ashamed of all misdemeanour on my
side.

_Sir Dav. _ You do well; though are not you a damned
whore-master, a devilish cuckold-making fellow? 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?