Lord Plotwell’s House.
Enter Lord Plotwell, Charles, Trusty, and two Servants.
Lord. In a Baudy-house, with Whores, Hectors, and Dice! Oh, that I should be so deceiv’d in Mankind, he whom I thought all Virtue and Sobriety! But go some of you immediately, and take Officers along with you, and remove his Quarters from a Baudy-house to a Prison: charge him with the Murder of his Wife.
Char. My Lord, when I demanded her, he said indeed that she was dead, and kill’d by him; but this I guess was the Effects of Madness, which Debauchery, and want of Sleep has brought him to.
Lord. That shall be try’d; go to the Place where Charles has directed you, and do as I command you.
[Ex. Servants.
— Oh, sweet Diana, in whom I had plac’d my absolute Delight,
And gave thee to this Villain, because I wish’d thee happy.
And are my Expectations fall’n to this?
Upon his Wedding Night to abandon thee,
And shew his long dissembled natural Leudness!
Char. My Lord, I hope, ’tis not his natural Temper;
For e’er we parted, from a brutal Rudeness,
He grew to all the Softness Grief could dictate.
He talkt of breach of Vows, of Death, and Ruin,
And dying at the Feet of a wrong’d Maid;
I know not what he meant.
Lord. Ay, there’s his Grief; there is some jilting Hussy has drawn him in; but I’ll revenge my self on both.
Enter Page.
Page. A Letter for your Lordship.
Lord reads.
My LORD,
As your Goodness has been ever great towards me, so I humbly beseech you to continue it; and the greatest Proofs you can give me of it, is to use all your Interest to undo that tye between Bellmour and my self, which with such Joy you knit. I will say no more, but as you love my Life, and my dearer Honour, get a Divorce, or you will see both ruin’d in Your Diana.
[Gives Charles the Letter.
Lord. A Divorce! yes, if all my Interest or Estate can purchase it — some Joy yet that thou art well.
Char. Doubtless her Reasons must be great for this Request.
Lord. Yes, for she lov’d him passionately; when I first told her of my Designs to marry ‘em together, she could not hide her Joy; which was one Motive, I urg’d it to him with such Violence.
Char. Persons so near of Kin do seldom prosper in the Marriage-Bed.
Lord. However ’tis, I now think fit to unmarry ‘em; And as for him, I’ll use him with what Rigor The utmost Limits of the Law allows me.
Char. Sir, I beseech you —
Lord. You beseech me! You, the Brother of the Villain! that has abus’d the best of all my Hopes! — No, I think — I shall grow (for his sake) to hate all that belong to him.
Char. Sir, how, have I offended?
Lord. Yes, Sir, you have offended me, and Nature has offended me; you are his Brother, and that’s an Offence to me.
Char. Is that a Fault, my Lord?
Lord. Yes, Sir, a great one, and I’ll have it so; and let me tell you, you nor your Sister (for that reason) must expect no more Friendship at my Hands, than from those that are absolute Strangers to you: Your Brother has refus’d you your Portions, and I’ll have as little Mercy As he, and so farewel to you — But where’s the Messenger that brought the Letter?
Page. Without, my Lord.
[Ex. Lord and Page.
Trust. Here’s like to be a hopeful end of a noble Family. My Comfort is, I shall die with Grief, and not see the last of ye. [Weeps.
Char. No, Trusty, I have not been so meanly educated, but I know how to live, and like a Gentleman: All that afflicts me in this Misfortune, is my dear Sister Phillis, she’s young; and to be left poor in this loose Town, will ruin her for ever.
Trust. Sir, I think we were best to marry her out of the way.
Char. Marry her! To whom? who is’t regards poor Virtue?
Trust. For that let me alone; and if you dare trust her to my Management, I’ll undertake to marry her to a Man of 2000 pounds a Year; and if it fail, I’ll be sure to keep her Honour safe.
Char. Prithee how wilt do this?
Trust. Sir, I have serv’d your Family these thirty Years, with Faith and Love; and if I lose my Credit now, I’ll never pretend to’t more.
Char. Do what thou wilt, for I am sure thou’rt honest, And I’ll resign my Sister to thy Conduct, Whilst I endeavour the Conversion of my Brother. [Exit Charles.
Enter Phillis.
Phil. No News yet of my Brother?
Trust. None: The Next you’ll hear is, that he’s undone, and that you must go without your Portions; and worse than that, I can tell you, your Uncle designs to turn you out of Doors.
Phil. Alas! what shou’d I do, if he shou’d be so cruel? Wou’d I were in Flanders at my Monastery again, if this be true.
Trust. I have better Bus’ness for you, than telling of Beads — No, Mrs. Phillis, you must be married.
Phil. Alas! I am too young, and sad for Love.
Trust. The younger, and the less Love, the better.
Enter Page.
Page. Mr. Trusty, here’s a Gentleman would speak with you, he says his Name’s Mr. Sham.
Trust. Gud’s me, Mistress, put on all your Holiday Looks; for this is the little Merchant of Love by Retail, that brings you the Husband I promis’d you.
Enter Sham.
Sham. Well, Mr. Trusty, I have brought Sir Timothy as I promis’d, he is at the Garden-door.
Trust. The best time in the World, my Lord’s out of the way.
Sham. But you know our Conditions.
Trust. Yes, that if he marry her, you are to have all the Money that he offers to debauch her.
Sham. Right.
Trust. Bring him in then, and I’ll civilly withdraw. [Exit Trusty.
Enter Sham, bringing in Sir Timothy.
Sir Tim. Well, Sham, thou hast prepar’d all things, and there needs no Ceremony.
Sham. None, none, Sir; you may fall down-right to the Business. [Exit.
Enter Phillis.
Sir Tim. sings.
Come, my Phillis, let us improve
Both our Joys of equal Love;
Whilst we in yonder shady Grove,
Count Minutes by our Kisses.
Phil. What sort of Courtship’s this? ’tis very odd!
Sir Tim. Pox on formal Fops; we have high-born and generous Souls, and scorn the common Road — Come, let’s enjoy, whilst Youth and Beauty lasts.
Phil. What means this Rudeness? I’ll tell my Brother.
Sir Tim. Your Brother! by Fortune, he’s so leud, that should I he so unconscionable to leave thee a Virgin but this Night, he wou’d ravish thee himself, and that at cheaper Rates than I design to do it.
Phil. How dare you talk to me at this rate?
Sir Tim. Talk to thee — by Fortune, I’ll play the Tarquin with thee, if thou yieldest not quickly — for thou hast set me all on fire.
Phil. Defend me, Heaven, from such a Man.
Sir Tim. Then it must defend you from all the Sex; for all Mankind are like me, nay, and all Womankind are, or wou’d be, what I must make thee.
Phil. What’s that, a Wench?
Sir Tim. Fie, fie, that’s a gross Name; no, a Miss, that’s the Word — a Lady of Delight, a Person of Pleasure and the rest; I’ll keep thee, not a Woman of Quality shall be half so fine — Come, dear Phillis, yield. Oh, I am mad for the happy hour — come, say the word, ’tis but inclining thy Head a little thus, thy pretty Eyes down, and thy Cheeks all Blushes, and fetching a long Sigh — thus — with — do — what you please — at the end on’t — and I shall take it for granted.
Phil. That, Sir, you’ll never hear me say to any thing but a Husband, if I must say it then.
Sir Tim. A Husband! it is enough to spoil a Man’s Appetite, the very naming on’t — By Fortune, thou hast been bred with thy great Grand-mother, some old Queen Elizabeth Lady, that us’d to preach Warnings to young Maidens; but had she liv’d in this Age, she wou’d have repented her Error, especially had she seen the Sum that I offer thee — Come, let’s in, by Fortune, I’m so vigorous, I shall ravish else.
Phil. Unhand me, or I’ll call out. I assure you, this is not the way to gain me.
Sir Tim. I know there is a way to gain all mortal Womankind; but how to hit the critical Minute of the Berjere —
Phil. It is past your Politicks at this time, Sir.
Sir Tim. I’ll try all ways, and the Devil’s in it, if I don’t hit upon the right at last. [Aside. All the soft things I’ve said —
Phil. That a Knight of your Parts ought to say.
Sir Tim. Then I have kneel’d — and cry’d, and swore — and —
Phil. And damn’d your self five hundred times.
Sir Tim. Yet still y’are impregnable — I’ll make another Proposition to you, which is both reasonable and modish — if it prove a Boy — I’ll marry you — the Devil’s in’t, if that be not fair.
Phil. You get no earnest of me, Sir, and so farewel to you. [Ex. Phillis.
Enter Sham.
Sir Tim. Oh, Sham, I am all over fire, mad to enjoy. I have done what Man can do (without doing what I wou’d do) and still she’s Flint; nothing will down with her but Matrimony — what shall I do? for thou know’st I cannot marry a Wife without a Fortune.
Sham. Sir, you know the old Cheat; hire a Lay Rascal in a Canonical Habit, and put a false Marriage upon her.
Sir Tim. Lord, that this shou’d not enter into my Coxcomb before! haste then and get one — I’ll have it done immediately, whilst I go after her to keep up my flame. [Ex. Sir Tim.
Sham. And I will fit you with a Parson presently.
[Ex.