Welborn’s Chamber.
Enter Welborn dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.
Wel. Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?
Foot. I know not, Sir, he ‘rose before day — What Letter’s this, Sir? It lay upon your Toylet.
[Gives Welborn a Letter.
Wel. To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know —
[Reads.
Hum — a Woman’s Hand —
[Opens it.
The Lady you saw last Thursday in the Mall, you had in Bed with you last Night. Adieu.
Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!
Enter George, fine.
— Lejere, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou know’st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the Mall: And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.
Geo. Is this your ill Luck, Sir?
Wel. ‘Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she writ this Billet, and left it on my Table.
[Gives it George, he reads it.
Geo. By all that’s good, Olivia! — And were you very honest, Sir?
Wel. To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.
Geo. What will you say now, Charles, if I bring this Woman to you again?
Wel. Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.
Geo. For all her Frolick, Charles, she’s very honest, a Fortune, and of Quality — and were’t not for Olivia, thou shouldst marry her.
Wel. Olivia I ne’er saw, and now ‘twill be too late.
Geo. Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.
Wel. You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her? — By all that’s good, I will resign her to thee.
Geo. You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.
Wel. Olivia thy Sister! —
Geo. Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to marry her; for her Honour’s mine.
Wel. Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.
Geo. Then thou shall have her — Haste, and get a Licence — no more — trust my Friendship — Go.
[Exit Welborn.
Enter Olivia.
Olivia, where did you lie last Night? — Nay do not blush, for you may yet be virtuous.
Oliv. Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur’d, nor breaking Morn ungaz’d at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.
Geo. I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World talk shamefully.
Oliv. Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.
Geo. No more — here’s Manage — Contrive an Assignation with Mirtilla; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done, I’ll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, Manage, is the Prince stirring?
Man. He’s in his Dressing-Room, Sir. — This from my Lady, Sir.
[Slides the Letter into Olivia’s Hand as she passes out.
Geo. What have you there, Olivia?
[Takes the Billet.
Oliv. An Assignation from your perjur’d Mistress, Sir.
Geo. ’Tis well — you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I’ll bring her Lover in the height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.
Oliv. And then the lovely Man stands fair for me.
[Aside.
Geo. Go write an Answer back — and wait her hour.
[Exeunt severally.