Complete Works of Thomas Otway

by Thomas Otway

  Val. Where did you promise him?

  Cam. In the left-hand walk in the lower garden Lady Squ. So, in the left-hand walk in the lower garden; I heard that. But Mr. Valentine, you may chance to meet another there: let me die, this is pleasant. [Aside.

  Val. And when?

  Cam. Anon, when it begins to grow dark.

  Lady Squ. Enough, I know the time and place; and madam Camilla, I shall make bold to cheat you of your lover to-night. Alas, poor inconsiderable creature, how this makes me loath her. [Aside.

  Cam. Now would this news be more welcome to her ladyship madam Squeamish, than a new fashion, a new dance, or a new song. How many visits would she make on the occasion! not a family in town would be at rest for her till she had made it a jest, from the mother of the maids, to the attorney’s wife in Holborn.

  Val. But for some private reasons I would have it kept from her, and from madam Goodvile too. There are affairs to be carried on to-night, which the least Accident may interrupt. — Besides, I have thought upon’t, and will so contrive the matter, that Goodvile shall keep his assignation, and her ladyship herself supply the place of the much-expected charming Camilla.

  Cam. But would you, sir, do me such an injury as to make me break my word with Mr. Goodvile? that were inhuman.

  Val. Good conscionable creature, have patience, and don’t you think of paying debts too fast; there’s an account yet between you and I which must be made even, and I think I had best secure it now I have you in my custody.

  Cam. Ay, but sir, if I part with any thing, I shall expect to have something to shew for’t.

  Val. Nay, if I don’t offer as lusty security and conditions as any man, let me lose all I lay claim to, that’s fair. [Exeunt, Lady Squ. So, are they gone? Now let me but live if this intrigue be not extremely surprising. Bridget, go home, and fetch me the morning-gown I had last made in imitation of Camilla’s, for perhaps I shall go a masquerading to-night, or it may be not; but fetch it nevertheless.

  Brid. Madam, won’t the other serve? you may remember you left it at my lady Foplove’s t’other night; that’s nearer.

  Lady Squ. Impertinent creature! and wouldst thou have me appear in it twice? Do as I bid you, I say; and d’ye hear, bring me a mask with an amber-bead, for I fear I may have fits to-night.

  Brid. I never knew her without fantastical ones, I am sure, for they cost me many a weary errand. [Exit.

  Enter VICTORIA.

  Lady Squ. Oh my dear Victoria! the most unlooked-for happiness! the pleasantest accident! the strangest discovery! the very thought of it were enough to cure melancholy. Valentine and Camilla, Camilla and Valentine, ha, ha, ha!

  Vict. Dear madam, what is’t so transports you?

  Lady Squ. Nay, ’tis too precious to be communicated: hold me, hold me, or I shall die with laughter — ha, ha, ha! Camilla and Valentine, Valentine and Camilla — ha, ha, ha! O dear, my heart’s broke.

  Vict. Good madam, refrain your mirth a little, and let me know the story, that I may have a share in it.

  Lady Squ. An assignation! an assignation to-night in the lower garden; by strong good fortune I overheard it all just now but to think on tho pleasant consequence that will happen, drives me into an excess of joy beyond all sufferance.

  Vict. Madam, in all probability the pleasantest consequence is like to be their’s, if any body’s; and I cannot guess how it should touch your ladyship in the least.

  Lady Squ. O Lord, how can you be so dull? Why, at the very hour and place appointed will I meet Valentine in Camilla’s stead, before she can be there herself; then when she comes, expose her infamy to all the world, till I have thoroughly revenged myself for all the base injuries her lover has done me.

  Vic. But, madam, can you endure to be so malicious?

  Lady Squ. That, that’s the dear pleasure of the thing; for I vow I’d sooner die ten thousand deaths, if I thought I should hazard the least temptation to the prejudice of my honour.

  Vic. But why should your ladyship run into the mouth of danger? Who knows what scurvy lurking devil may stand in readiness, and seize your virtue before you are aware of him?

  Lady Squ. Temptation? No, I’d have you know I scorn temptation: I durst trust myself in a convent amongst a kennel of crammed friars: besides, that ungrateful ill-bred fellow Valentine is my mortal aversion, more odious to me than foul weather on a May-day, or ill smell in a morning.

  Vic. Nay, now, madam, you are too violent.

  Lady Squ. Too violent! I would not keep a waiting-woman that should commend any one thing about him: dear Victoria, urge nothing in his behalf; for, if you do, you lose my friendship for ever; though I swear he was a fine person once, before he was spoiled.

  Vic. I am sure your ladyship had the best share in his spoiling then. [Aside.

  Lady Squ. No, were I inclined to entertain addresses, I assure you I need not want for servants; for I swear I am so perplexed with billet-doux every day, I know not which way to turn myself: besides, there’s no fidelity, no honour in mankind. Oh, dear Victoria I whatever you do, never let love come near your heart: though really I think true love is the greatest pleasure in the world.

  Vic. Would I had never known love; my honour had not then lain at the mercy of so ungrateful a wretch as Good vile, who now has certainly abandoned and forgotten me.

  Lady Squ. Well, certainly I am the most unsteady, restless, humoursome woman breathing: now I am so transported at the thoughts of what I have designed, that I long till the hour comes, with more impatience than — I’ll swear I know not what to say — Dear Victoria, ten thousand adieus Wish me good success — Yet, now I think on’t, I’ll stay a little longer — I’ll swear I must hot neither — Well! I’ll go — No, I’ll stay — Well, I’m resolved neither to stand still — sit still nor lie still — nor hare one thought at rest till the business be over — I’ll swear I’m a strange creature.

  [Exit LADY SQUEAMISH.

  Vic. Farewell, whirligig.

  Enter GOODVILE.

  Good. Victoria here! to meet with an old mistress when a man is in pursuit of a fresh one, is a worse omen than a hare in a journey. I’ll step aside this way till she’s past me; so farewell Fubb. [Makes mouths. Exit VICT.] Now for the lovely kind yielding Camilla! how I long for the happy hour! swelling burning breasts, dying eyes, balmy lips, trembling joints, millions of kisses, and unspeakable joys wait for me.

  Enter TRUMAN and VALENTINE.

  Well, gentlemen, now you have left the ladies, I hope there may be room near your hearts for a bottle or two.

  Tru. Dear Goodvile, thou art too powerful to be denied any thing. ’Tis a fine cool evening, and a swift glass or two now were seasonable and refreshing, to wash away the toil and fatigue of the day.

  Val. After a man has been disturbed with the public impertinences and follies he meets withal abroad, he ought to recompense himself with a friend and a bottle in private at night.

  Good. Spoken like men that deserve the life you enjoy. I’ll in before, and put all things in readiness. [Exit GOODVILE.

  Val. This worthy person, for his honesty and sobriety, would have made a very good Dutch burgomaster: but he is as damnable an English friend and gentleman, as one would wish to meet withal.

  Tru. Valentine, thou art too much concerned at him: methinks Camilla’s justice, and the pleasant cheat she has put upon him, should rather make thee despise and laugh at him as I do.

  Val. Truman, thou indeed hast reason: and when I shall know the happy success of the revenge thou hast in store for him, I may do myself and him that justice as to scorn him, but am too angry yet.

  Tru. Then to give thee ease, for I dare trust thee, know this very night I. also have an assignation with his wife in the grotto at the upper end of the garden, the opposite walk to that where he expects to meet Camilla.

  Val. Then I am at rest; let’s in. I have nothing else to do but take care so to finish him, as that you shall fear no interruption: at least he will be so full of his expectation of Cam
illa, that he’ll never dream in what posture his own affairs stand in another place.

  Tru. Away then; and may good luck attend us: ere yet two hours are past his wife’s my own. Methinks already in that secure dark private grotto,

  Close in my arms, and languishing she lies,

  With dying looks, short breath, and wishing eyes;

  And the supine dull cuckold nothing spies. [Exeunt

  ACT. IV.

  SCENE I. Night. — A GARDEN.

  Enter GOODVILE at one door; MRS. GOODVILE and LETTICE following her at the other.

  Good. So, I think I came off in good time: hold, now for Camilla: by Jove, I think I am little better than drunk. Hah! who’s there? Victoria as I live; nay, it must be she, as I said before. The poor gipsy’s jealous; has had some intimation of my appointment with Camilla: I’ll loof off, and observe; which way she steers.

  Mrs. Good. Lettice, I fear that’s Mr. Goodvile’s voice: whatever you do, if any cross accident happens, be sure you call me Victoria.

  Good. Ay, ay, ’tis Victoria! vigilant devil! but I’ll take this way, and wait at the lower end of the walk.

  Mrs. Good. Lettice, look well round you that, nobody see us, and then follow me. [Exeunt.

  Enter TRUMAN.

  Tru. Thus far all is well. How I pity poor Valentine! yonder is he plying bumpers, as they call them, more furiously than a foreign minister, that comes into England to drink for the honour of his country. I have waited something long though; who comes here?

  Enter LETTICE.

  Let. ’Tis I, sir, your servant Lettice.

  Tru. My little good-natured agent, is’t you? Where’s thy lady? she’s too cruel to let a poor lover languish here so long in expectation: it looks as if she rather meant to make a trial of my patience, than my love: is she coming?

  Let. Well, I swear (as my Lady Squeamish says) you are a strange creature. But I’ll go and tell her; though I’ll vow I utterly disown having any hand in the business; and if any ill comes of it, ’tis none of my fault.

  Tru. No, no, not in the least. Pr’ythee dispatch. How’s this! more company! who comes there?

  Enter VALENTINE.

  Val. ’Tis I, Jack Truman; your friend Valentine.

  Tru. My dear encourager of iniquity, what news? where’s Goodvile?

  Val. No matter for Goodvile; here comes your mistress.

  Enter MRS. GOODVILE, VALENTINE retires.

  Tru. Now, now, now! what the devil ails me? how I shall quake and tremble? — Madam, dear ‘madam, where are you?

  Mrs. Good. Mr. Truman, is’t your voice? Lettice, you may go again if you will — [Exit LETTICE.] Well, sir; I’ll vow, sir, had it not been that I hate to break my word, I would not have ventured abroad this cold damp evening for a world.

  Tru. I’ll warrant you, madam, while you are in my possession, no cold shall hurt you: Come, shall we withdraw to the grotto?

  Mrs. Good. Withdraw to the grotto? bless me, sir! what do you mean? I’ll’ swear you make my heart ache.

  Tru. Oh, madam! I have the best cure for the passion of the heart in the world. I have tried it, madam, ’tis probatum; come, come, let’s retire — Do, make a disturbance, and ruin yourself and me, do!

  Mrs. Good. Nay, I’ll swear, sir, you are unsufferably rude; you had best make a noise and alarm my husband, you had; for, hang me, I shall cry out.

  Tru. No, no, I’m sure you won’t complain before you are hurt; and I’ll use you so gently — hark! don’t you hear, there’s somebody coming.

  Mrs. Good. Where, where, where? if we are seen, we are undone for ever. Well, I’ll never give you such an advantage again.

  Tru. I’m sure you would not, if I should let slip this. Come, come, delays are dangerous, and I can endure them no longer.

  Mrs. Good. Ah Lord, you kill me? what will become of me — ah — [Carries her in.

  Val. Nay, faith, madam, your condition is something desperate, that’s certain. ’Tis a pretty employment I am like to have here; but it is for the sake of my friend and my revenge: and two dearer arguments there cannot be to persuade me to any thing.

  Enter MALAGENE at some distance.

  Mala. So, Jack Truman and madam Goodvile have ordered matters pretty well; I’ll say that for my kinswoman, she lays about her handsomely. But certainly I hear another voice this way: I’ll withdraw once again, there may be more sport yet.

  Val. That should be Goodvile: I’ll step behind this tree, and see how he and her ladyship behave themselves. This is like to be a night of as civil business, as I have known a great while.

  Enter GOODVILE.

  Good. Death and the devil! how that puny rogue Valentine has soused me? if I should have overstaid the time now, and missed of my appointment with Camilla — Truman is reeled home, that’s certain; and Valentine, I believe, has followed him by this time. Camilla, dear, lovely, kind, tender, melting Camilla, where art thou?

  Enter LADY SQUEAMISH.

  Lady Squ. That must be Valentine; nay, I’m sure it is he! how sneakingly will he look when he shall find his mistake? but I’ll take care, if possible, that no such thing shall happen; so mine be the pleasure, and Camilla’s the scandal; I’ll rush by him through the walk into the wilderness.

  [Runs across the walk.

  Good. That must be she: how softly she flew along, as if she feared to be too late, loosely attired, and fit for joys! now all the power of love and good fortune direct me. [Exit.

  Val. So, thanks to our stars, he’s safe; though, a pox on’t, methinks this dry pimping is but a scurvy employment. Had I but a sister or kinswoman of his to keep doing withal, there were some comfort in it, but here comes Truman and the lady; I must not be seen. [Exit.

  Enter TRUMAN and Mrs. GOODVILE.

  Tru. You shall not go: come but back a little, I have something more to tell you that nearly concerns us both: besides, Mr. Goodvile is in the garden; and if he should chance to meet us, what excuse could we make to him?

  Mrs. Good. But will you promise me Victoria shall never rob me of your heart? she does not deserve it, I am sure, half so well as I.

  Tru. Kind tender-hearted creature, I know it’; nor shall she ever come so near it, as to know that I have one alas! we talk too long. [Noise.] I hear company coming, we shall be surprised and disappointed, and then I am undone.

  Mrs. Good. I’ll swear you make me tremble every joint of me: what would you have me do?

  Tru. See, see, who are yonder?

  [Exeunt TRUMAN and MRS. GOODVILE.

  Enter GOODVILE: and LADY SQUEAMISH.

  Good. What a feast of delight have I had! surely she was born only to make me happy! her natural and unexperienced tenderness exceeded practised charms: dear, blest, lovely Camilla, oh! my joys.

  Lady Squ. Ha, ha, ha!

  Good. How’s this? my Lady Squeamish! death and the devil.

  Lady Squ. Truly, sweet Mr. Valentine, the same. Now, sir, I hope — Uh gad! Mr. Goodvile!

  [They stare at each other.

  Good. Have I been mumbling an old kite all this while instead of my young partridge? a pox of my depraved palate, that could distinguish no better.

  Lady Squ. Lord, Mr. Goodvile, what ails you! — This was an unexpected adventure; but let me die, it is very pleasant, ha, ha, ha!

  Good. A pox on the pleasures, and you too, I say.

  Lady Squ. This malicious devil Camilla has overreached me: well, Mr. Goodvile, you are the worthiest person; had I an only daughter, I durst trust her with you, you are so very civil. — Well, innocence is the greatest happiness in the world.

  Good. Right, madam, it is so, and you know we have been very innocent; done no harm in the world, not we.

  Lady Squ. The censorious world, if they knew of this accident, I know would be apt enough to speak reproachfully; but so long as I myself am satisfied in the integrity of my honour, the world is a thing I defy and scorn.

  Good. Very philosophically spoken: — But, madam, so long as the world is to be a stranger to our h
appiness, why should we deny ourselves the second pleasure of congratulation?

  Lady Squ. Alas, alas, Mr. Goodvile, you cannot say that you have had the least advantage over my frailty: well, what might have happened, if the strict severity of both our virtues had not secured us?

  Good. This affected impudence of hers is beyond all the impertinence I ever knew her guilty of. — Virtue with a pox! I think I have reason to know her pretty well, and the devil of any virtue found I about her.

  Lady Squ. But, dear sir, let us talk no more of it: though I am extremely mistaken if I saw not Mr. Valentine enter the garden before me, and am as much mistaken if a lady was not with him too.

  Good. Hell and confusion! that must be Victoria: I thought indeed I saw her, but being hot-headed, and apprehending she came with a malicious design of discovering me, avoided her false to me with Valentine?

  Lady Squ. I’ll swear, Mr. Goodvile, I have long suspected an intrigue between you and Madam Victoria, and this jealousy has confirmed me; and I would not for all the world but have known it. Ha, ha, ha!

  Good. Death, madam! this is beyond all sufferance — disappointed, and jilted by Camilla! abused by Victoria! and with Valentine too, Truman’s friend, who I thought should have married her! — shame and infamy light upon the whole sex; may the best of them be ever suspected, and the most cautious always betrayed.

  Lady Squ. Dear Mr. Goodvile, be patient: let me die, you are enough to frighten our whole sex from ever loving or trusting men again. — Lord, I would not be poor Madam Victoria to gain an empire. I’ll swear if you are not more moderate, you’ll discompose me strangely: — how my heart beats!

  Good. Patience! preach it to a galled lion — No, I am sure she is not far off, and I will find her; surprise her in the midst of her infamy and prostitution. ‘Sdeath, madam, let me go.

  Lady Squ. I will not part with you, you ill-natured creature; you shall not go — I vow, I’ll cry a rape if you offer to stir Oh my heart, here’s Malagene.

  Enter MALAGENE singing, Frank, Frank, Frank, &c.

  Mala. Why how now, Frank, what a pox, out of humour? why, madam, what have you done to him? what have you done to him, madam? Lord how he looks! why, Frank, I say, pr’ythee bear up.