Complete Works of Thomas Otway
Page 84
Beaug.
Madam, ‘thas been so very highly generous.
Lady.
That you are prepar’d with Complements to pay me for it.
But, Sir, such Coyn’s Adulterate and Base:
I must have honest Dealing from your Heart.
Dard.
Swear to her, swear to her a little, Man; pour out a Bushel of Oaths upon her instantly: Swear, swear, if thou wilt do any good upon her.
Lady.
I know my Rival.
Beaug.
Ay, ’tis so, just so, just as I thought, my poor widow will run a damnable hazard of losing this sweet Person of mine, if I do not take abundance of care in the business. Here are Rogues on each hand, with Blunderbusses too: I shall be ravish’d.
Lady.
She, by her Arts,
And the good fortune to have first attempted it,
I know, ‘s possess’d already of your Heart.
But know too, I’m a Woman loath Refusal.
Scornful Refusal —
Dard.
Swear to her, I tell thee: That ever a Fellow should lose all this time for an insignificant Oath or two!
Lady.
Or, if my Fortune,
Which is not despicable, prove too weak
An Argument to tell you I deserve you;
Yet I have this to boast, I ne’er conceal’d my self,
Either for Shame or Ends; but rather chose
To run the Risque of being deny’d your Love,
Than win it by base Artifice and Practices.
What think you, Sir? —
Beaug.
Hah! —
That, Madam, I’m most miserable,
Unless —
Lady.
Your Widow Porcia, Sir, your Widow.
Beaug.
Madam, I must confess —
Lady.
Well:
Beaug.
That I love her, and will for ever. —
Lady.
Death! Do you confess it too?
See you not here yourself within my power,
And dare you still confess you love that Creature?
Thus far I’ve kept my Word, I’ve cross’d her Stratagems.
You are here my Pris’ner, and by what is past,
You ought to think me capable of more.
Dard.
If this Fellow would but swear a little, all this might be rectifi’d.
Madam, to my own knowledge —
Beaug.
Fool, stand off.
I’m sensible that you are the loveliest Creature
My Eyes e’er gaz’d on; but —
Lady.
But what? —
Beaug.
I’m sure
You’ld yourself scorn, nor think me worth your Heart,
Could I be faithless, could I be unconstant.
Pity me, fair One; yet, methinks this Hand —
Lady.
Should send a Dagger to thy ungrateful Heart.
fly Heav’n, I’ll never bear it —
Beaug.
Madam!
Dard.
Madam,
Could you but throw some favour on your Servant.
Lady.
By all the fury in a Woman’s Heart,
I’ll be reveng’d on his. Make ready, Slaves,
To do your Office —
Dard.
Madam —
Beaug.
Look you, Madam, your Ladyship may do your pleasure; you may command half a dozen of Bullets through my Pericranium, if you have a mind to have your Beauty spoke well of by the Criticks of Holborn, that once a Month swarm at their Windows to spy handsom Faces: Upon that consideration you may murder a poor constant Monster if you please, Madam.
Lady.
Still am I scorn’d then.
Beaug.
Would you kill me barbarously?
Sure those sweet Eyes could not see such a Sight.
Lady.
No, take your Life, and with’t this satisfaction;
Porcia scorns you, as much as you do me:
And, till thou suest upon thy humble Knees
To me for Pity, Porcia shall despise thee.
Beaug.
Madam, I swear!
Lady.
No more.
Beaug.
By all those Beauties.
Lady.
Be gone, for ever fly this. Ah h! —
[Squeaks.
Enter Courtin.
Court.
Death, Damnation, Devils! How came I hither? Beaugard!
Beaug.
Friend Courtine! Speak Man: What’s the matter?
Court.
Damnation! Jilted, choos’d, betrayed! —
Enter Woman.
Wom.
A Midwife! Run for a Midwife, run for some good Woman.
Oh Madam, an Accident.
Beaug.
A Midwife!
Lady.
Heavens! a Midwife!
[Exit Lady.
Court.
Yes, Friend, a Midwife. I am sweetly manag’d, I — I thought I had been in private here, in this House, with a civil Person of good Reputation, and it proves a damn’d trappanning Strumpet. Just in the middle of all our good Understanding together, she fetches a great Shreik, and roars out for a Midwife: The Drab is full gone with Bastard, and swears I am the Father of it.
Beaug.
A very great happiness, take my Word for’t, Friend; Children bring a great Honour with them, Courtine: It may grow up to be a Comfort to thee in thy old Age, Man.
Dar.
Oh, Your Olive Branches are unspeakable Blessings, the Gift of Heaven. I love to see Posterity go forward, and Families increase, with all my heart.
Court.
Let me be hang’d and quarter’d, Gentlemen, if ever I set Eyes on the Harlot in my life before. My sweet Wife, with a Pox to her brought me hither.
Beaug.
Why, Is thy Wife in London?
Court.
Yes, Hell confound her! she has hunted me full. Cry up to Town; seiz’d upon me this Morning, and brought me hither, where it seems she lay all the last night.
Dard.
Why then, for ought I know, we may be still enchanted.
Beaug.
I am glad to hear that, with all my heart. Is she in the House?
Court.
No; I was forced to counterfeit sickness, ‘till I was e’en sick indeed, to get rid of her, upon pretence of going to my Physitian, in the Devil’s name, that this confounded Bulker, with her Guts full of Bastard, and I might console together for half an hour; and I am sweetly fitted with a Concubine that’s the truth on’t.
Beaug.
This comes of your Whoring, Courtine; if you had kept me company, and liv’d vertuously, none of this had happened to you now. But you must be wandring: No reasonable iniquity will serve your turn.
Enter Lady.
Lady.
Ha, ha, ha! Well, I’ll swear, Captain Courtine, you are the happiest Gentleman! Yonder’s the finest chopping Boy for you. Why, it will be able to carry a Musquet in your Company within this Fortnight. And then, I am so obliged to you for bringing the Lady to lye in at my House, that if your Wife will do me the honour, I’ll take it for a favour to stand for Godmother with her.
Court.
And, Madam, to return your Complement, I wish with all my heart you were pregnant with a Litter of nine such chopping Boys, upon condition that I were bound to be Godfather to the whole Kennel. — Confound your being witty, with a Plague to you.
[Aside.
Beaug.
That’s something course though, Friend, to a Lady that’s so civil to you.
Enter several Maids of the Family, one with the Child.
1. Maid.
See Ienny, Yon’s the Man; that, that’s the Father.
2. Maid.
I’ll swear it is a proper person.
&nb
sp; 3. Maid.
Oh Sir, Heavens bless you, you’re the happiest Man! Here is my young Master, as like you as if you had bore it your self.
1. Maid.
What a pretty little Nose it has!
2. Maid.
And just its Father’s Eyes for all the World.
1. Maid.
It would never grieve a Body to have a Child by such a handsom Gentleman.
Court.
Ye Whores! ye Drabs! ye fulsom, slinking Whores! Clusters of Poxes on ye, and no Hospitals pity ye! — Confound ye, leave me.
Beaug.
Fye upon it, Courtine; fye for shame: give something to the Nurse, Man; that’s but civil.
Enter Sylvia.
Sylv.
A Bastard! Death, a Bastard! Under my Nose too! Where’s the vile hateful Monster?
Beaug.
Have patience, Lady. —
Sylv.
False, loathsom Traytor.
Court.
Now my Joy’s compleated.
Sylv.
Let me come at him, let me go. —
Court.
Hold her fast, Friend, if thou lovest me.
Sylv.
Thou Devil! — Thou treach’rous, faithless, perjur’d Wretch! Thou Husband! Look in my Face.
Court.
Well. —
Sylv.
Did I e’er deserve this?
Degenerate Brute! Thou, only in Falshood, Man.
Thou rampant Goat abroad, and Drone at home.
Court.
(Sings)
Like a Dog with a Bottle, &c.
Sylv.
Thou perfect Yoke-fellow! Thou heavy Ox,
That want’st a Goad to make thee know thy strength!
Death, Fiends and Torments! I could dig those Eyes out!
I’ll bear’t no longer: Bedlam! Bedlam! Bedlam!
Court. sings, and dances a Iigg.
Sylv.
No more! I’ll stay no more to be his Triumph.
Be warn’d by me, ye Virgins that are blest
With your first native Freedom; let no Oaths
Of perjur’d Mankind wooe ye to your Ruin.
But when a creeping, fawning, weeping Crocodile
Moans at your feet, remember then my Fall:
And when for pity most his Tears implore,
Like me, your Vertue to your Hearts recall;
Resolve to seorn, and never see him more.
[Exit Sylvia.
Court.
With all my heart, thou dear, dear Wife and Plague.
Beaug.
Methinks a very pitiful Case, this, Madam.
Lady.
If your Widow were but here, Sir, now, she might fairly see what she is like to trust to.
[Here the Sham Scene.
Enter a Woman and Dardevil.
Woman.
Oh Madam, Madam! What will become of us all?
Lady.
Become of us, Woman! Prithee, what’s the matter? are we in any danger?
Dard.
Only your Brother in Law, Madam, and his Friend, with about a dozen Armed Men more, Madam; that’s all the matter, Madam.
Lady.
My Brother in Law!
Dard.
Yes, your Brother in Law, Lady, if your Name be Porcia: such a one they ask for.
Beaug.
Porcia!
Court.
Yes, Porcia: I could have told you she was Porcia before.
Porcia.
’Tis but too true, Sir; my unhappy Name is Porcia.
Beaug.
Porcia, my Widow! my dear lovely Widow! What an ill natur’d trick was this Concealment!
Porcia.
Though, Sir, you never saw my Face before,
If now you think it worth your least Regard,
Protect me; for I dread my Brother’s Fury,
Ev’n worse than Matrimony. Here, Sir, I yield my self
Up yours for ever.
Beaug.
And shall I claim thee?
Porcia.
From this Hour, for ever.
Beaug.
And, by this happy Hour, I’ll keep thee mine then.
Secure thy self in the next private Closet.
Peace to thy Heart, poor Widow.
[Exit Porcia.
Give us but Arms! —
Dard.
Those I’ve provided for you.
I found our Swords in a certain private Corner that shall be nameless, where I was proposing some civil Familiarities to the Lady Governess of the Family, just as the Blusterers entred.
Beaug.
Are they in the House, then?
Dard.
Yes, and have bound the Servants too; the hungry Rogues were all surpris’d at Dinner; you’ll hear more of them presently, I’ll warrant you.
Court.
Stand to your Arms, Beaugard; the Enemy’s upon us.
Dard.
We have had a Succession of very pretty Adventures here; first we are enchanted, then we are fiddled to sleep, then we are fiddled up again: Then here’s a Discovery of a very fair Lady followed by another, of a bouncing brown Bastard; and when we might have thought all Fortunes Tricks had been over, we are in a very fair way at last of having our Throats cut: But I’ll secure one life that shall be my care. —
[Is stealing off.
Beaug.
Dog, stay and fight, or, by Heaven, I’ll rip your Heart out.
Dard.
Well then, if I must fight I must: What a Pox, I have two good Seconds o’ my side; and that has sav’d many a Cowards Credit before now.
[Noise within.
Theod.
Break open the Door there, force the Passage, down with it.
Enter Theodoret, Gratian and Father.
Beaug.
Well Gentlemen, what farther? What means this Violence here?
Theod.
I hope, Sir, that’s no Secret, when you see who we are.
Fath.
We come, Sir, to demand a Lady, Sir; one Porcia.
Beaug.
How’s that, my Father!
Fath.
Father me no Fathers: I am none of thy Father, Fellow; but I am these Gentlemens Friend here. — Now, Atheist, will I murder thee.
Dard.
Oh Law’d!
Fath.
Iack, Iack, Iack! Come hither Iack; a word with thee, Iack: Give me a hundred Pieces now, and I’ll be o’ thy side Iack; and help thee to beat off these impudent Fellows. Gentlemen, I cannot but own to you that this is my Son. —
Beaug.
Sir, were you nick’d to your Shirt, I would not part with a single Shilling, Sir.
Fath.
Though, if he were my Son ten thousand times, in such a Cause as yours, I’d draw my Sword against him.
[Draws.
Beaug.
You may remember, Gentlemen, a Challenge.
Grat.
Which you forgot, Sir.
Court.
Hah! A Challenge, Beaugard?
Beaug.
I’ll tell thee more hereafter. To shew you I ha’ not forgot it, the Lady you thus persecute is now under my Protection, and with my Sword I’ll keep her so.
[Draws.
Court.
If we don’t, may my Wife get the better of me, and wear mine for a Bodkin.
Theod.
Come on then, Sir.
Beaug.
For the Lady.
Grat.
For my Honour.
Court.
And for my Friend, Sir.
Dard.
Old Brimstone-Beard, have at thee.
Fight, The rest of Theodore’s Party fall in.
Court.
Base Traytors! Odds!
Beaug.
Confound ’em, thrust.
Beaugard and Courtine driven off.
Dard.
Oh, I am slain! My Maw runs out: What will become of me! Oh!
&
nbsp; [Gratian and Dardevil fall.
Enter Theodoret.
Theod.
Secure that Passage now: — How fares my Friend?
Grat.
I’m wounded: send for a Chyrurgion quickly, for I bleed much.
Theod.
Look to your Master, Sirrah; and you, Fellow, be careful of this Beast here.
Dard.
Oh, a Parson! a Parson! dear Sir, a Parson! Some pious good Divine, if you have any Charity.
Enter Father with Porcla.
Fath.
Here, here she is: I ha’ got her for you; let me alone for ferreting a Female’s Quarters out.
Theod.
I’d have you, Sir, take care for your Security: There’s mischief done, Sir.
Fath.
The more mischief the better; thou shalt find me no Flincher, Boy: here, here; make sure of her.
Porcia.
Inhumane Tyrant! Why am I abus’d thus? Help! Murder! Help!
Theod.
None of your Tricks; no Cries, no Shrieks for Succour:
By Hell, here’s that shall silence you for ever.
Thou Woman! Thou young, itching, wanton Devil!
Fly to base Cells of Lust! Give up thy Vertue,
Disgrace thy Name, and triumph ev’n in Infamy.
On what a tott’ring Point his Honour stands,
That trusts the Treasure in such lavish hands.
End of the Fourth ACT.
ACT V.
Enter Lucrece in Man’s Cloaths, and Chloris.
Lucr.
FROM this gay minute farewell Love and Doating: I have shook the lazy, stretching, wishing Folly out of my Blood, and now my wandring Heart is at home again. Let me see; I have a hundred and a hundred times wish’d my self a Man; and now, in outward appearance, I am a very Fellow; nay, a very pretty Fellow: for, methinks Foppery, Impertinence, Self-conceit, and other Masculine Qualities grow upon me strangely. — Oh, Mischief, Mischief, Mischief! thou art a very sweet-Employment: — But Opportunity! Bewitching, Lovely, Omnipotent Opportunity! How shall I come at thee? Chloris! —
Chloris.
Madam.
Lucr.
Give me my Sword.
Chlor.
Here Madam: Bless us, What will your Ladyship do with your self in this Equipage!
Lucr.
Ladyship, Huzzy! take notice from this important Moment, I am no more your Mistress; but that Imperial Creature, your Master: and therefore know too, I will have my Foeminine Habiliments burnt instantly, and an Operator sent for to make me a Beard grow. I will learn to Ride, Fence, Vault, and make Fortifications in Dirt-Pyes: Nay, if the humour hold, I’ll go Voluntier into Germany against the Turk.
Chlor.
But what will be the end of all this, Madam?
Lucr.
Why, if I go into the War, I shall have the privilege, when I return home, to talk of Marches, Battels and Sieges, which I never was at, nor understand any more than the Fools I tell my story to. If I stay at home, with the privilege of good Cloaths, Pertness and much Simplicity, will I set up for a Spark, grow familiar at White-Hall, and impudent with some great Man there or another; run in Debt with a high Hand, be terrible in eating Houses, and noisy all over the Town.