Changes to the Inside of the House. The Front of the Scene is only a Curtain or Hangings, to be drawn up at Pleasure.
Enter Elaria, Bellemante, Mopsophil, Florinda, and Ladies, dress’d in Masking Habits.
Ela. I am extremely pleas’d with these Habits, Cousin.
Bell. They are à la Gothic and Uncommune.
Flor. Your Lovers have a very good Fancy, Cousin, I long to see ‘em.
Ela. And so do I. I wonder Scaramouch stays so, and what Success he has.
Bell. You have no cause to doubt, you can so easily acquit your self; but I, what shall I do? who can no more imagine who shou’d write those Boremes, than who I shall love next, if I break off with Charmante.
Flor. If he be a Man of Honour, Cousin, when a Maid protests her Innocence —
Bell. Ay, but he’s a Man of Wit too, Cousin, and knows when Women protest most, they likely lye most.
Ela. Most commonly, for Truth needs no asseveration.
Bell. That’s according to the Disposition of your Lover, for some believe you most, when you most abuse and cheat ‘em; some are so obstinate, they wou’d damn a Woman with Protesting, before she can convince ‘em.
Ela. Such a one is not worth convincing, I wou’d not make the World wise at the expence of a Virtue.
Bell. Nay, he shall e’en remain as Heaven made him for me, since there are Men enough for all uses.
Enter Charmante and Cinthio, dress’d in their Gothic Habits,
Scaramouch, Harlequin and Musick. Charmante and Cinthio kneel.
Cin. Can you forgive us?
[Elaria takes him up.
Bell. That, Cinthio, you’re convinc’d, I do not wonder; but how Charmante is inspir’d, I know not.
[Takes him up.
Char. Let it suffice, I’m satisfy’d, my Bellemante.
Ela. Pray know my Cousin Florinda.
[They salute the Lady.
Bell. Come, let us not lose time, since we are all Friends.
Char. The best use we can make of it, is to talk of Love.
Bell. Oh! we shall have time enough for that hereafter; besides, you may make Love in Dancing as well as in Sitting; you may gaze, sigh, and press the Hand, and now and then receive a Kiss, what wou’d you more?
Char. Yes, wish a little more.
Bell. We were unreasonable to forbid you that cold Joy, nor shall you wish long in vain, if you bring Matters so about, to get us with my Uncle’s Consent.
Ela. Our Fortunes depending solely on his Pleasure, which are too considerable to lose.
Cin. All things are order’d as I have written you at large; our Scenes and all our Properties are ready; we have no more to do but to banter the old Gentleman into a little more Faith, which the next Visit of our new Cabalist Charmante will complete.
[The Musick plays.
Enter some Anticks, and dance. They all sit the while.
Ela. Your Dancers have performed well, but ‘twere fit we knew who we have trusted with this Evening’s Intrigue.
Cin. Those, Madam, who are to assist us in carrying on a greater Intrigue, the gaining of you. They are our Kinsmen.
Ela. Then they are doubly welcome.
[Here is a Song in Dialogue, with Flute Doux and Harpsicals, between a Shepherd and Shepherdess; which ended, they all dance a Figure Dance.
Cin. Hark, what Noise is that? sure ’tis in the next Room.
Doctor [Within.] Scaramouch, Scaramouch!
[Scaramouch runs to the Door, and holds it fast.
Scar. Ha, — the Devil in the likeness of my old Master’s Voice, for it is impossible it should be he himself.
Char. If it be he, how got he in? did you not secure the Doors?
Ela. He always has a Key to open ‘em. Oh! what shall we do? there’s no escaping him; he’s in the next Room, through which you are to pass.
Doct. [Within.] Scaramouch, Knave, where are you?
Scar. ’Tis he, ’tis he, follow me all —
[He goes with all the Company behind the Front Curtain.
Doct. [Within.] I tell you, Sirrah, I heard the noise of Fiddles.
Peter. [Within.] No surely, Sir, ’twas a Mistake.
[Knocking at the Door.
[Scaramouch having placed them all in the Hanging, in which they make the Figures, where they stand without Motion in Postures, he comes out. He opens the Door with a Candle in his Hand.
Enter the Doctor and Peter with a Light.
Scar. Bless me, Sir! Is it you — or your Ghost?
Doct. ‘Twere good for you, Sir, if I were a thing of Air; but as I am a substantial Mortal, I will lay it on as substantially — [Canes him. He cries.
Scar. What d’ye mean, Sir? what d’ye mean?
Doct. Sirrah, must I stand waiting your Leisure, while you are roguing here? I will reward ye. [Beats him.
Scar. Ay, and I shall deserve it richly, Sir, when you know all.
Doct. I guess all, Sirrah, and I heard all, and you shall be rewarded for all. Where have you hid the Fiddles, you Rogue?
Scar. Fiddles, Sir!
Doct. Ay, Fiddles, Knave.
Scar. Fiddles, Sir! — Where?
Doct. Here, here I heard ‘em, thou false Steward of thy Master’s Treasure.
Scar. Fiddles, Sir! Sure ’twas Wind got into your Head, and whistled in your Ears, riding so late, Sir.
Doct. Ay, thou false Varlet, there’s another debt I owe thee, for bringing me so damnable a Lye: my Brother’s well — I met his Valet but a League from Town, and found thy Roguery out. [Beats him. He cries.
Scar. Is this the Reward I have for being so diligent since you went?
Doct. In what, thou Villain? in what?
[The Curtain is drawn up, and discovers the Hangings where all of them stand.
Scar. Why, look you, Sir, I have, to surprize you with Pleasure, against you came home, been putting up this Piece of Tapestry, the best in Italy, for the Rareness of the Figures, Sir.
Doct. Ha! hum — It is indeed a Stately Piece of Work; how came I by ‘em?
Scar. ’Twas sent your Reverence from the Virtuoso, or some of the Cabalists.
Doct. I must confess, the Workmanship is excellent; — but still I do insist I heard the Musick.
Scar. ’Twas then the tuning of the Spheres, some Serenade, Sir, from the Inhabitants of the Moon.
Doct. Hum, from the Moon, — and that may be.
Scar. Lord, d’ye think I wou’d deceive your Reverence?
Doct. From the Moon, a Serenade, — I see no signs on’t here, indeed it must be so — I’ll think on’t more at leisure. [Aside. — Prithee what Story’s this? [Looks on the Hangings.
Scar. Why, Sir,— ’Tis —
Doct. Hold up the Candles higher, and nearer.
[Peter and Scaramouch hold Candles near. He takes a Perspective, and looks through it; and coming nearer Harlequin, who is placed on a Tree in the Hangings, hits him on the Head with his Trunchion. He starts and looks about. Harlequin sits still.
Scar. Sir —
Doct. What was that struck me?
Scar. Struck you, Sir! Imagination.
Doct. Can my Imagination feel, Sirrah?
Scar. Oh, the most tenderly of any part about one, Sir!
Doct. Hum — that may be.
Scar. Are you a great Philosopher, and know not that, Sir?
Doct. This Fellow has a glimpse of Profundity. [Aside. Looks again. — I like the Figures well.
Scar. You will, when you see ‘em by Day-light, Sir.
[Har. hits him again. The Doctor sees him.
Doct. Ha, — Is that Imagination too? — Betray’d, betray’d, undone! run for my Pistols, call up my Servants, Peter, a Plot upon my Daughter and my Niece!
[Runs out with Peter. Scaramouch puts out the Candle, they come out of the Hanging, which is drawn away. He places ‘em in a Row just at the Entrance.
Scar. Here, here, fear nothing, hold by each other, that when I go out, all may go; that is, slip out, when you hear the Doctor is come in again, which he will certainly do, and all depart to your respective Lodgings.
Cin. And leave thee to bear the Brunt?
Scar. Take you no care for that, I’ll put it into my Bill of Charges, and be paid all together.
Enter the Doctor with Pistols, and Peter.
Doct. What, by dark? that shall not save you, Villains, Traitors to my Glory and Repose. — Peter, hold fast the Door, let none ‘scape.
[They all slip out.
Pet. I’ll warrant you, Sir.
[Doctor gropes about, stamps and calls.
Doct. Lights there — Lights — I’m sure they cou’d not ‘scape.
Pet. Impossible, Sir.
Enter Scaramouch undress’d in his Shirt, with a Light; he starts.
Scar. Bless me! — what’s here?
Doct. Ha — Who art thou? [Amaz’d to see him enter so.
Scar. I, who the Devil are you, and you go to that? [Rubs his Eyes, and brings the Candle nearer, looks on him. — Mercy upon us! — Why, what, is’t you, Sir, return’d so soon?
Doct. Return’d! [Looking sometimes on him, sometimes about.
Scar. Ay, Sir, did you not go out of Town last night, to your Brother the Advocate?
Doct. Thou Villain, thou question’st me, as if thou knew’st not that I was return’d.
Scar. I know, Sir! how shou’d I know? I’m sure I am but just awakened from the sweetest Dream. —
Doct. You dream still, Sirrah, but I shall wake your Rogueship. — Were you not here but now, shewing me a piece of Tapestry, you Villain?
Scar. Tapestry!
[Mopsophil listning all the while.
Doct. Yes, Rogue, yes, for which I’ll have thy Life. [Offering a Pistol.
Scar. Are you stark mad, Sir? or do I dream still?
Doct. Tell me, and tell me quickly, Rogue, who were those Traitors that were hid but now in the Disguise of a piece of Hangings. [Holds the Pistol to his Breast.
Scar. Bless me! you amaze me, Sir. What conformity has every Word you say, to my rare Dream! Pray let me feel you, Sir, — Are you human?
Doct. You shall feel I am, Sirrah, if thou confess not.
Scar. Confess, Sir! What shall I confess? — I understand not your Cabalistical Language; but in mine, I confess that you wak’d me from the rarest Dream — Where methought the Emperor of the Moon World was in our House, dancing and revelling; and methoughts his Grace was fallen desperately in love with Mistriss Elaria, and that his Brother, the Prince, Sir, of Thunderland, was also in love with Mistriss Bellemante; and methoughts they descended to court ‘em in your Absence — And that at last you surpriz’d ‘em, and that they transform’d themselves into a Suit of Hangings to deceive you. But at last, methought you grew angry at something, and they all fled to Heaven again; and after a deal of Thunder and Lightning, I wak’d, Sir, and hearing human Voices here, came to see what the Matter was.
[This while the Doctor lessens his signs of Rage by degrees, and at last stands in deep Contemplation.
Doct. May I credit this?
Scar. Credit it! By all the Honour of your House, by my unseparable Veneration for the Mathematicks, ’tis true, Sir.
Doct. That famous Rosycrusian, who yesterday visited me, and told me the Emperor of the Moon was in love with a fair Mortal — This Dream is Inspiration in this Fellow — He must have wondrous Virtue in him, to be worthy of these divine Intelligences. [Aside. — But if that Mortal shou’d be Elaria! but no more, I dare not yet suppose it — perhaps the thing was real and no Dream, for oftentimes the grosser part is hurried away in Sleep by the force of Imagination, and is wonderfully agitated — This Fellow might be present in his Sleep, — of this we’ve frequent Instances — I’ll to my Daughter and my Niece, and hear what Knowledge they may have of this.
Mop. Will you so? I’ll secure you, the Frolick shall go round. [Aside, and Exit.
Doct. Scaramouch, if you have not deceiv’d me in this Matter, time will convince me farther; if it rest here, I shall believe you false.
Scar. Good Sir, suspend your Judgment and your Anger till then.
Doct. I’ll do’t, go back to bed.
[Ex. Doct. and Peter.
Scar. No, Sir, ’tis Morning now — and I’m up for all day. — This Madness is a pretty sort of pleasant Disease, when it tickles but in one Vein — Why, here’s my Master now, as great a Scholar, as grave and wise a Man, in all Argument and Discourse, as can be met with; yet name but the Moon, and he runs into ridicule, and grows as mad as the Wind.
Well, Doctor, if thou canst be madder yet,
We’ll find a Medicine that shall cure your Fit,
— Better than all Galenicus.
[Goes out.