John Dryden - Delphi Poets Series

by John Dryden

  Lau. Methinks yours is not very hard, for a serving-man’s. But where, in the name of wonder, have you learned to talk so courtly? You are a strange valet de chambre.

  Aur. And you are as strange a waiting-woman: You have so stabbed me with your repartees to-night, that I should be glad to change the weapon, to be revenged on you.

  Lau. These, I suppose, are fragments, which you learned from your wild master, Aurelian: many a poor woman has passed through his hands with these very words. You treat me just like a serving-man, with the cold meat which comes from your master’s table.

  Aur. You could never have suspected me for using my master’s wit, if you had not been guilty of purloining from your lady. I am told, that Laura, your mistress’s sister, has wit enough to confound a hundred Aurelians.

  Lau. I shall do your commendations to Laura for your compliment.

  Aur. And I shall not fair to revenge myself, by informing Aurelian of yours.

  Enter Benito with a Guitar.

  Ben. The poor souls shall not lose by the bargain, though my foolish gadding masters have disappointed them. That ladder of ropes was doubtless left there by the young lady in hope of them.

  Vio. Hark, I hear a noise in the garden.

  Lau. I fear we are betrayed.

  Cam. Fear nothing, madam, but stand close.

  Ben. Now, Benito, is the time to hold forth thy talent, and to set up for thyself. Yes, ladies, you shall be serenaded, and when I have displayed my gifts, I’ll retire in triumph over the wall, and hug myself for the adventure.

  [He fums on the Guitar.

  Vio. Let us make haste, sister, and get into covert; this music will raise the house upon us immediately.

  Lau. Alas, we cannot; the damn’d musician stands just in the door where we should pass.

  Ben. singing.

  Eveillez vous, belles endormies;

  Eveillez vous: car il est jour:

  Mettez la tête a la fenestre,

  Vous entendrez parler d’amour.

  Aur. [aside to Cam.] Camillo, this is my incorrigible rogue; and I dare not call him, Benito, for fear of discovering myself not to be Benito.

  Cam. The alarm is already given through the house. Ladies, you must be quick: Secure yourselves and leave us to shift.

  [Exeunt Women.

  Within. This way, this way.

  Aur. I hear them coming; and, as ill luck will have it, just by that quarter where our ladder is placed.

  Cam. Let us hide in the dark walk till they are past.

  Aur. But then Benito will be caught, and, being known to be my man, will betray us.

  Ben. I hear some in the garden: Sure they are the ladies, that are taken with my melody. To it again, Benito; this time I will absolutely enchant them.

  [Fums again.

  Aur: He is at it again. Why, Benito, are you mad?

  Ben. Ah, madam! are you there? This is such a favour to your poor unworthy servant. [Sings.

  But still between kissing Amyntas did say,

  Fair Phillis, look up, and you’ll turn night to day.

  Aur. Come away, you insufferable rascal; the house is up, and will be upon us immediately.

  Ben. O gemini, is it you, sir?

  Within. This way; follow, follow.

  Aur. Leave your scraping and croaking, and step with us into this arbour.

  Ben. Scraping and croaking! ‘Sfoot, sir, either grant I sing and play to a miracle, or I’ll justify my music, though I am caught, and hanged for it.

  Enter Mario, and Servants.

  Mar. Where is this serenading rascal? If I find him, I’ll make him an example to all midnight caterwaulers, of which this fidler is the loudest.

  Ben. O that I durst but play my tune out, to convince him! Soul of harmony! Is this lewd?

  [Plays and sings softly.

  Cam. Peace, dear Benito: We must flatter him.

  Ben. [singing softly.] Mettez le tête: The notes which follow are so sweet, sir, I must sing them, though it be my ruin — Parler d’amour.

  [Laura and Violetta in the Balcony.

  Lau. Yes, we are safe, sister; but they are yet in danger.

  Vio. They are just upon them.

  Lau. We must do something: Help, help! thieves, thieves! we shall be murdered.

  Mar. Where? Where are they?

  Lau. Here, sir, at our chamber-door, and we are run into the balcony for shelter: Dear uncle, come and help us.

  Mar. Back again quickly: I durst have sworn they had been in the garden. ’Tis an ignis fatuus, I think, that leads us from one place to another.

  [Exit Mario, and Servants.

  Vio. They are gone. My dear Camillo, make haste, and preserve yourself.

  Cam. May our next meeting prove more propitious!

  Aur. [To Bentio.] Come, sirrah, I shall make you sing another note when you are at home.

  Ben. Such another word, and I’ll sing again.

  Aur. Set the ladder, and mount first, you rogue.

  Ben. Mount first yourself, and fear not my delaying.

  If I am caught, they’ll spare me for my playing. [Sings as he goes off.

  Vouz entendrez parler d’amour. [Exeunt.

  ACT III.

  SCENE I. — The Front of the Nunnery.

  Ascanio, and Hippolita, at the Grate.

  Hip. I see you have kept touch, brother.

  Asca. As a man of honour ought, sister, when he is challenged. And now, according to the laws of duel, the next thing is to strip, and, instead of seconds, to search one another.

  Hip. We will strip our hands, if you please, brother; for they are the only weapons we must use.

  Asca. That were to invite me to my loss, sister; I could have made a full meal in the world, and you would have me take up with hungry commons in the cloyster. Pray mend my fare, or I am gone.

  Hip. O, brother, a hand in a cloyster is fare like flesh in Spain; ’tis delicate, because ’tis scarce. You may be satisfied with a hand, as well as I am pleased with the courtship of a boy.

  Asca. You may begin with me, sister, as Milo did; by carrying a calf first, you may learn to carry an ox hereafter. In the mean time produce your hand, I understand nun’s flesh better than you imagine: Give it me, you shall see how I will worry it. [She gives her hand.] Now could not we thrust out our lips, and contrive a kiss too?

  Hip. Yes, we may; but I have had the experience of it: It will be but half flesh, half iron.

  Asca. Let’s try, however.

  Hip. Hold, Lucretia’s here.

  Asca. Nay, If you come with odds upon me, ’tis time to call seconds. [Ascanio hems.

  The Prince and Lucretia appear.

  Luc. Sir, though your song was pleasant, yet there was one thing amiss in it, — that was, your rallying of religion.

  Fred. Do you speak well of my friend Love, and I’ll try to speak well of your friend Devotion.

  Luc. I can never speak well of love: ’Twas to avoid it that I entered here.

  Fred. Then, madam, you have met your man; for, to confess the truth to you, I have but counterfeited love, to try you; for I never yet could love any woman: and, since I have seen you, and do not, I am certain now I shall ‘scape for ever.

  Luc. You are the best man in the world, if you continue this resolution. Pray, then, let us vow solemnly these two things: the first, to esteem each other better than we do all the world besides; the next, never to change our amity to love.

  Fred. Agreed, madam. Shall I kiss your hand on it?

  Luc. That is too like a lover; or if it were not, the narrowness of the grate will excuse the ceremony.

  Hip. No, but it will not, to my knowledge: I have tried every bar many a fair time over; and at last have found out one, where a hand may get through, and be gallanted.

  Luc. [giving her hand.] There, sir, ’tis a true one.

  Fred. [kissing it.] This, then, is a seal to our perpetual friendship, and defiance to all love.

  Luc. That seducer of virtue.

  Fred.
That disturber of quiet.

  Luc. That madness of youth.

  Fred. That dotage of old age.

  Luc. That enemy to good humour.

  Fred. And, to conclude all, that reason of all unreasonable actions.

  Asca. This doctrine is abominable; do not believe it, sister.

  Hip. No; if I do, brother, may I never have comfort from sweet youth at my extremity.

  Luc. But remember one article of our friendship, that though we banish love, we do not mirth, nor gallantly; for I declare, I am for all extravagancies, but just loving.

  Fred. Just my own humour; for I hate gravity and melancholy next to love.

  Asca. Now it comes into my head, the duke of Mantua makes an entertainment to night in masquerade: If you love extravagancy so well, madam, I’ll put you into the head of one; lay by your nunship for an hour or two, and come amongst us in disguise.

  Fred. My boy is in the right, madam. Will you venture? I’ll furnish you with masking-habits.

  Hip. O my dear sister, never refuse it; I keep the keys, you know: I’ll warrant you we will return before we are missed. I do so long to have one fling into the sweet world again, before I die. Hang it, at worst, it is but one sin more, and then we will repent for all together.

  Asca. But if I catch you in the world, sister, I’ll make you have a better opinion of the flesh and the devil for ever after.

  Luc. If it were known, I were lost for ever.

  Fred. How should it be known? You have her on your side, there, that keeps the keys: And, put the worst, that you are taken in the world, the world is a good world to stay in; and there are certain occasions of waking in a morning, that may be more pleasant to you than your matins.

  Luc. Fye, friend, these extravagancies are a breach of articles in our friendship. But well, for once, I’ll venture to go out: Dancing and singing are but petty transgressions.

  Asca. My lord, here is company approaching; we shall be discovered.

  Fred. Adieu, then, jusqu’ a revoir; Ascanio shall be with you immediately, to conduct you.

  Asca. How will you disguise, sister? Will you be a man or a woman?

  Hip. A woman, brother page, for life: I should have the strangest thoughts if I once wore breeches.

  Asca. A woman, say you? Here is my hand, if I meet you in place convenient, I’ll do my best to make you one.

  [Exeunt.

  Enter Aurelian and Camillo.

  Cam. But why thus melancholy, with hat pulled down, and the hand on the region of the heart, just the reverse of my friend Aurelian, of happy memory?

  Aur. Faith, Camillo, I am ashamed of it, but cannot help it.

  Cam. But to be in love with a waiting-woman! with an eater of fragments, a simperer at lower end of a table, with mighty golls, rough-grained, and red with starching, those discouragers and abaters of elevated love!

  Aur. I could love deformity itself, with that good humour. She, who is armed with gaiety and wit, needs no other weapon to conquer me.

  Cam. We lovers are the great creators of wit in our mistresses. For Beatrix, she is a mere utterer of yes and no, and has no more sense than what will just dignify her to be an arrant waiting-woman; that is, to lie for her lady, and take your money.

  Aur. It may be, then, I found her in the exaltation of her wit; for certainly women have their good and ill days of talking, as they have of looking.

  Cam. But, however, she has done you the courtesy to drive out Laura; and so one poison has expelled the other.

  Aur. Troth, not absolutely neither; for I dote on Laura’s beauty, and on Beatrix’s wit: I am wounded with a forked arrow, which will not easily be got out.

  Cam. Not to lose time in fruitless complaints, let us pursue our new contrivance, that you may see your two mistresses, and I my one.

  Aur. That will not now be difficult: This plot’s so laid, that I defy the devil to make it miss. The woman of the house, by which they are to pass to church, is bribed; the ladies are by her acquainted with the design; and we need only to be there before them, and expect the prey, which will undoubtedly fall into the net.

  Cam. Your man is made safe, I hope, from doing us any mischief?

  Aur. He has disposed of himself, I thank him, for an hour or two: The fop would make me believe, that an unknown lady is in love with him, and has made him an assignation.

  Cam. If he should succeed now, I should have the worse opinion of the sex for his sake.

  Aur. Never doubt but he will succeed: Your brisk fool, that can make a leg, is ever a fine gentleman among the ladies, because he is just of their talent, and they understand him better than a wit.

  Cam. Peace, the ladies are coming this way to the chapel, and their jailor with them: Let them go by without saluting, to avoid suspicion; and let us go off to prepare our engine.

  Enter Mario, Laura, and Violetta.

  Aur. I must have a look before we go. Ah, you little divine rogue! I’ll be with you immediately.

  [Exeunt Aurelian and Camillo.

  Vio. Look you, sister, there are our friends, but take no notice.

  Lau. I saw them. Was not that Aurelian with Camillo?

  Vio. Yes.

  Lau. I like him strangely. If his person were joined with Benito’s wit, I know not what would become of my poor heart.

  Enter Fabio, and whispers with Mario.

  Mar. Stay, nieces, I’ll but speak a word with Fabio, and go with you immediately.

  Vio. I see, sister, you are infinitely taken with Benito’s wit; but I have heard he is a very conceited coxcomb.

  Lau. They, who told you so, were horribly mistaken. You shall be judge yourself, Violetta; for, to confess frankly to you, I have made him a kind of an appointment.

  Vio. How! have you made an assignation to Benito? A serving-man! a trencher-carrying rascal!

  Lau. Good words, Violetta! I only sent to him from an unknown lady near this chapel, that I might view him in passing by, and see if his person were answerable to his conversation.

  Vio. But how will you get rid of my uncle?

  Lau. You see my project; his man Fabio is bribed by me, to hold him in discourse.

  Enter Benito, looking about him.

  Vio. In my conscience this is he. Lord, what a monster of a man is there! with such a workiday rough-hewn face too! for, faith, heaven has not bestowed the finishing upon it.

  Lau. It is impossible this should be Benito; yet he stalks this way. From such a piece of animated timber, sweet heaven deliver me!

  Ben. [Aside.] This must of necessity be the lady who is in love with me. See, how she surveys my person! certainly one wit knows another by instinct. By that old gentleman, it should be the lady Laura too. Hum! Benito, thou art made for ever.

  Lau. He has the most unpromising face, for a wit, I ever saw; and yet he had need have a very good one, to make amends for his face. I am half cured of him already.

  Ben. What means all this surveying, madam? You bristle up to me, and wheel about me, like a turkey-cock that is making love: Faith, how do you like my person, ha?

  Lau. I dare not praise it, for fear of the old compliment, that you should tell me, it is at my service. But, pray, is your name Benito?

  Ben. Signior Benito, at your service, madam.

  Lau. And have you no brother, or any other of your name; one that is a wit, attending on signior Aurelian?

  Ben. No, I can assure your ladyship; I myself am the only wit, who does him the honour, — not to attend him, but — to bear him company.

  Lau. But sure it was another you, that waited on Camillo in the garden, last night?

  Ben. It was no other me, but me signior Benito.

  Lau. ’Tis impossible.

  Ben. ’Tis most certain.

  Lau. Then I would advise you to go thither again, and look for the wit which you have left there, for you have brought very little along with you. Your voice, methinks, too, is much altered.

  Ben. Only a little overstrained, or so, with singing.

 
Lau. How slept you, after your adventure?

  Ben. Faith, lady, I could not sleep one wink, for dreaming of you.

  Lau. Not sleep for dreaming? When the place falls, you shall be bull-master-general at court.

  Ben. Et tu, Brute! Do you mistake me for a fool too? Then, I find there’s one more of that opinion besides my master.

  Vio. Sister, look to yourself, my uncle is returning.

  Lau. I am glad on’t: He has done my business: He has absolutely cured me. Lord, that I could be so mistaken!

  Vio. I told you what he was.

  Lau. He was quite another thing last night: Never was man so altered in four-and-twenty hours. A pure clown, mere elementary earth, without the least spark of soul in him!

  Ben. But, tell me truly, are not you in love with me? Confess the truth: I love plain-dealing: You shall not find me refractory.

  Lau. Away, thou animal! I have found thee out for a high and mighty fool, and so I leave thee.

  Mar. Come, now I am ready for you; as little devotion, and as much good huswifery as you please. Take example by me: I assure you, nobody debauches me to church, except it be in your company.

  [Exeunt.

  Manet Benito.

  Ben. I am undone for ever; What shall I do with myself? I’ll run into some desart, and there I’ll hide my opprobrious head. No, hang it, I wont neither; all wits have their failings sometimes, and have the fortune to be thought fools once in their lives. Sure this is but a copy of her countenance; for my heart is true to me, and whispers to me, she loves me still. Well, I’ll trust in my own merits, and be confident.

  [A noise of throwing down water within.

  Enter Mario, Fabio, Laura, and Violetta.

  Lau. [Shaking her clothes.] O, sir, I am wet quite through my clothes, and am not able to endure it.

  Vio. Was there ever such an insolence?

  Mar. Send in to see who lives there: I’ll make an example of them.

  Enter Frontona.

  Fab. Here is the woman of the house herself, sir.

  Fron. Sir, I submit, most willingly, to any punishment you shall inflict upon me: For, though I intended nothing of an affront to these sweet ladies, yet I can never forgive myself the misfortune, of which I was the innocent occasion.