A Wood.
Enter Cloris dressed like a Country-Boy, follow’d by Guilliam
a Clown; Cloris comes reading a Letter.
Clo. [Reads.] Cloris, beware of Men; for though I my self be one,
Yet I have the Frailties of my Sex, and can dissemble too;
Trust none of us, for if thou dost, thou art undone;
We make Vows to all alike we see,
And even the best of Men, the Prince,
Is not to be credited in an affair of Love.
— Oh Curtius, thy advice was very kind;
Had it arriv’d before I’ad been undone!
— Can Frederick too be false!
A Prince, and be unjust to her that loves him too?
— Surely it is impossible —
Perhaps thou lov’st me too, and this may be
[Pointing to the Letter.
Some Plot of thine to try my Constancy:
— Howe’er it be, since he could fail last night
Of seeing me, I have at least a cause to justify
This shameful change; and sure in this Disguise,
I shall not soon be known, dost think I shall?
[Looks on herself.
Guil. Why, forsooth, what do you intend to pass for,
A Maid or a Boy?
Clo. Why, what I seem to be, will it not do?
Guil. Yes, yes, it may do, but I know not what;
I would Love would transmography me to a Maid now,
— We should be the prettiest Couple:
Don’t you remember when you dress’d me up the last
Carnival, was I not the woundiest handsome Lass
A body could see in a Summer’s day?
There was Claud the Shepherd as freakish after me,
I’ll warrant you, and simper’d and tript it like any thing.
Clo. Ay, but they say ’tis dangerous for young
Maids to live at Court.
Guil. Nay, then I should be loth to give temptation.
— Pray, forsooth, what’s that you read so often there?
Clo. An advice to young Maids that are in love.
Guil. Ay, ay, that same Love is a very vengeance thing,
Wou’d I were in love too; I see it makes a body valiant;
One neither feels Hunger nor Cold that is possest with it.
Clo. Thou art i’th’ right, it can do Miracles.
Guil. So it seems, for without a Miracle you and I could never
Have rambled about these Woods all night without either Bottle or Wallet:
I could e’en cry for hunger now.
Clo. What a dull Soul this Fellow hath?
Sure it can never feel the generous Pains
Of Love, as mine does now; oh, how I glory
To find my Heart above the common rate!
Were not my Prince inconstant,
I would not envy what the Blessed do above:
But he is false, good Heaven! —
[Weeps. Guil. howls.
— What dost thou feel, that thou shouldst weep with me?
Guil. Nothing but Hunger, sharp Hunger, forsooth.
Clo. Leave calling me forsooth, it will betray us.
Guil. What shall I call you then?
Clo. Call me, Philibert, or any thing;
And be familiar with me: put on thy Hat, lest any come and see us.
Guil. ’Tis a hard name, but I’ll learn it by heart.
— Well, Philibert — What shall we do when we come to Court?
[Puts on his Hat.
Besides eating and drinking, which I shall do in abundance.
Clo. We must get each of us a Service:
— But thou art such a Clown.
Guil. Nay, say not so, honest Philibert: for look ye,
I am much the properer Fellow of the two.
[Walks.
Clo. Well, try thy fortune; but be sure you never discover
Me, whatever Questions may chance to be asked thee.
Guil. I warrant thee, honest Lad, I am true and trusty;
But I must be very familiar with you, you say.
Clo. Yes, before Company.
Guil. Pray let me begin and practise a little now,
An’t please you, for fear I should not be saucy enough,
When we arrive at Court.
Clo. I’ll warrant you you’ll soon learn there.
Guil. Oh Lord, Philibert! Philibert! I see a Man a coming
Most deadly fine, let’s run away.
Clo. Thus thou hast serv’d me all this night,
There’s not a Bush we come at, but thou start’st thus.
Guil. ’Tis true you are a Lover, and may stay the danger on’t;
But I’ll make sure for one.
Clo. It is the Prince, oh Gods! what makes he here?
With Looks disorder’d too; this Place is fit for Death and sad
Despair; the melancholy Spring a sleepy murmur makes,
A proper Consort for departing Souls,
When mix’d with dying Groans, and the thick Boughs
Compose a dismal Roof;
Dark as the gloomy Shades of Death or Graves.
— He comes this way, I’ll hide my self awhile.
[Goes behind a Bush.
Enter Frederick.
Fred. But yet not this, nor my despight to Laura,
Shall make me out of love with Life,
Whilst I have youthful Fires about my Heart:
— Yet I must fight with Curtius,
And so chastise the Pride of that fond Maid,
Whose saucy Virtue durst controul my Flame.
— And yet I love her not as I do Cloris;
But fain I would have overcome that Chastity,
Of which the foolish Beauty boasts so.
Clo. Curtius, I thank thee, now I do believe thee.
Guilliam, if thou seest any fighting anon,
[The Prince walks.
Be sure you run out and call some body.
Guil. You need not bid me run away, when I once
See them go to that.
Enter Curtius.
Cur. Sir, I am come as you commanded me.
Fred. When you consider what you’ve lately done,
You will not wonder why I sent for you;
And when I mean to fight, I do not use to parly:
Come draw.
Cur. Shew me my Enemy, and then if I am slow —
Fred. I am he, needst thou one more powerful?
Cur. You, Sir! what have I done to make you so?
Fred. If yet thou want’st a further proof of it,
Know I’ll dispute my Claim to Laura.
Cur. That must not be with me, Sir;
God forbid that I should raise my Arm against my Prince.
— If Laura have so little Faith and Virtue,
To render up that Right belongs to me,
With all my heart I yield her
To any but to you:
And, Sir, for your own sake you must not have her.
Fred. Your Reason?
Cur. Sir, you’re already married.
Fred. Thou lyest, and seek’st excuses for thy Cowardice.
Cur. I wish you would recal that hasty Injury;
Yet this I’ll bear from you, who know ’tis false.
Fred. Will nothing move thee?
Cur. You would believe so, Sir, if I should tell you,
That besides all this, I have a juster Cause.
Fred. Juster than that of Laura? call it up, then,
And let it save thee from a further shame.
Cur. Yes, so I will, ’tis that of Cloris,
Who needs my aids much more;
Do you remember such a Virgin, Sir?
For so she was till she knew Frederick,
The sweetest Innocent that ever Nature made.
Fred. Not thy own Honour, nor thy Love to Laura,
Would make thee draw, and now at Cloris’ Name
Thou art incens’d, thy Eyes all red with Rage:
— Oh, thou hast rouz’d my Soul!
Nor would I justify my Wrongs to her,
Unless it were to satisfy my Jealousy,
Which thou hast rais’d in me by this concern.
— Draw, or I’ll kill thee.
Cur. Stay, Sir, and hear me out.
Fred. I will not stay, now I reflect on all
Thy former kindness to her —
Cur. I will not fight, but I’ll defend my self.
[They fight.
Fred. We are betray’d.
Cur. Yes, Sir, and you are wounded.
[Guil. runs bawling out, they are both wounded.
Clo. Oh Heaven defend the Prince!
[She peeps.
Fred. I hear some coming, go, be gone,
And save thy self by flight.
[Frederick stands leaning on his Sword.
Cur. Sir, give me leave to stay, my flight will look like Guilt.
Fred. By no means, Curtius, thou wilt be taken here,
And thou shalt never charge me with that Crime of betraying
Thee: when we meet next, we’ll end it.
Cur. I must obey you then.
[Exit.
Enter Cloris.
Clo. Sir, has the Villain hurt you?
[She supports him.
— Pray Heaven my Sorrows do not betray me now;
For since he’s false, I fain would die conceal’d.
[Aside.
— Shew me your Wound, and I will tie it up.
Alas, you bleed extremely. —
Fred. Kind Youth, thy Succours are in vain, though welcome;
For though I bleed, I am not wounded much.
Clo. No? why did you let him pass unpunish’d then,
Who would have hurt you more?
Enter Guilliam with Galliard.
Gal. Where was’t?
Guil. Look ye, Sir, there, don’t you see them?
Gal. How does your Highness? This Fellow told me
Of a quarrel here, which made me haste.
Fred. Be silent, and carry me to my own apartment.
Gal. Alas, Sir, is it you that fought?
Fred. No more Questions. —
Kind Boy, pray leave me not till I have found
A way to recompense thy pretty care of me.
Clo. I will wait on you, Sir.
[Exeunt all but Guil.
Enter Lorenzo and his Page. Peeps first.
Lor. What’s the matter here? the Prince is wounded too.
Oh, what a Dog was I to know of some such thing,
And not secure them all?
[Lor. stands gazing at Guil. Guil. stands tabering his Hat,
and scruing his Face.
— What’s here? Ha, ha, ha, this is the pleasantest
Fellow that e’er I saw in my Life.
Prithee, Friend, what’s thy Name?
Guil. My Name, an’t shall like ye.
My Name, it is Guilliam.
Lor. From whence comest thou?
Guil. From a Village a great huge way off.
Lor. And what’s thy business here, hah?
Guil. Truly, Sir, not to tell a Lye;
I come to get a Service here at Court.
Lor. A Service at Court! ha, ha, that’s a pleasant
Humour, i’faith. Why, Fellow, what canst thou do?
Guil. Do, Sir! I can do any thing.
Lor. Why, what canst thou do? canst thou dress well?
— Set a Peruke to advantage, tie a Crevat,
And Cuffs? put on a Belt with dexterity, hah?
These be the Parts that must recommend you.
Guil. I know not what you mean,
But I am sure I can do them all.
Lor. Thou art confident it seems, and I can tell
You, Sirrah, that’s a great step to Preferment;
— But well, go on then, canst ride the great Horse?
Guil. The biggest in all our Town
I have rid a thousand times.
Lor. That’s well; canst fence?
Guil. Fence, Sir, what’s that?
Lor. A Term we use for the Art and Skill of handling a Weapon.
Guil. I can thrash, Sir.
Lor. What’s that, Man?
Guil. Why, Sir, it is — it is — thrashing.
Lor. An Artist, I vow; canst play on any Musick?
Guil. Oh, most rogically, Sir, I have a Bagpipe that
Every Breath sets the whole Village a dancing.
Lor. Better still; and thou canst dance, I’ll warrant?
Guil. Dance, he, he, he, I vow you’ve light on
My Master-piece, y’fegs.
Lor. And I’ll try thee: Boy, go fetch some of the
[To the Page.
Musick hither which I keep in pay.
[Ex. Page.
— But hark you, Friend, though I love Dancing very well,
And that may recommend thee in a great degree;
Yet ’tis wholly necessary that you should be valiant too:
We Great ones ought to be serv’d by Men of Valour,
For we are very liable to be affronted by many here
To our Faces, which we would gladly have beaten behind
Our Backs. — But Pox on’t, thou hast not the Huff
And Grimace of a Man of Prowess.
Guil. As for fighting, though I do not care for it,
Yet I can do’t if any body angers me, or so.
Lor. But I must have you learn to do’t when
Any body angers me too.
Guil. Sir, they told me I should have no need on’t
Here; but I shall learn.
Lor. Why, you Fool, that’s not a thing to be learn’d,
— That’s a brave Inclination born with Man,
A brave undaunted something, a thing that,
That comes from, from, I know not what,
For I was born without it.
Enter Page and Musick.
Oh, are you come? let’s see, Sirrah, your Activity,
For I must tell you that’s another step to Preferment.
[He dances a Jig en Paisant.
’Tis well perform’d; well, hadst thou but Wit,
Valour, Bone Mine, good Garb, a Peruke,
Conduct and Secrecy in Love-Affairs, and half
A dozen more good Qualities, thou wert
Fit for something; but I will try thee.
Boy, let him have better Clothes; as for his Documents,
I’ll give him those my self.
Guil. Hah, I don’t like that word, it sounds terribly.
[Aside.
[Ex. Page and Guil. with Musick.
Lor. This Fellow may be of use to me; being
Doubtless very honest, because he is so very simple:
For to say truth, we Men of Parts are sometimes
Over-wise, witness my last night’s retreat
From but a supposed Danger, and returning to fall
Into a real one. Well, I’ll now to Isabella,
And know her final Resolution; if Clarina will
Be kind, so; if not, there be those that will.
— And though I cannot any Conquest boast
For all the Time and Money I have lost,
At least of Isabel I’ll be reveng’d,
And have the flattering Baggage soundly swing’d;
And rather than she shall escape my Anger,
My self shall be the Hero that shall bang her.
[Exit.