Ger. Are you in earnest ? Ger. How! why, you confessed but now you would have gone with me in the morning. Hip. I was in the humour then. Ger. And I hope you are in the same still; you cannot change so soon. Hip. Why, is it not a whole day ago? Ger. What! are you not a day in the same humour? Hip. Lord! that you who know the town, they say, should think any woman could be a whole day together in a humour!-ha! ha ha! Ger. Hey! this begins to be pleasant.-What! won't you go with me then after all? Hip. No indeed, sir, I desire to be excused. Ger. Then you have abused me all this while? Hip. It may be so. Ger. Could all that so natural innocency be dissembled ?-faith, it could not, dearest miss. Hip. Faith, it was, dear master. Ger. Was it, faith? Hip. Methinks you might believe me without an oath. You saw I could dissemble with my father, why should you think I could not with you? Ger. So young a wheedle! Hip. Ay, a mere damned jade I am Hip. No: but, for your comfort, your loss will not be great; and that you may not resent it, for once I'll be ingenuous, and disabuse you.-I am no heiress, as I told you, to twelve hundred pounds a-year; I was only a lying jade then.-Now will you part with me willingly, I doubt not. Hip. Come, now I find 'tis your turn to dissemble-but men use to dissemble for money; will you dissemble for nothing? Ger. 'Tis too late for me to dissemble. Hip. What! would you take me without the twelve hundred pounds a-year? would you be such a fool as to steal a woman with nothing? Ger. I'll convince you; for you shall go with me and since you are twelve hundred pounds ayear the lighter, you'll be the easier carried away. [He takes her in his arms, she struggles. Prue. What! he takes her away against her will:-I find I must knock for my master then. [She knocks. Re-enter DoN DIEGO and Mrs. CAUTION. Hip. My father! my father is here! Ger. Prevented again! [GERRARD sets her down again. Don. What, you have done I hope now, friend, for good and all? Ger. Yes, yes; we have done for good and all indeed. Don. How now!-you seem to be out of humour, friend. Ger. Yes, so I am; I can't help it. Mrs. Caut. He's a dissembler in his very throat, brother. Hip. Pray do not carry things so as to discover yourself, if it be but for my sake, good master. [Aside to GERRARD, [Aside. Ger. She is grown impudent. Mrs. Caut. See, see, they whisper, brother!to steal a kiss under a whisper !-O the harlotry! Don. What's the matter, friend? Hip. I say, for my sake be in humour, and do not discover yourself, but be as patient as a dancingmaster still. [Aside to GERRARD. Don. What, she is whispering to him indeed! What's the matter? I will know it, friend, look you. Ger. Will you know it? Don. Yes, I will know it. Ger. Why, if you will know it then, she would not do as I would have her; and whispered me to desire me not to discover it to you. Don. What, hussy, would you not do as he'd have you? I'll make you do as he'd have you. Ger. I wish you would. Mrs. Caut. 'Tis a lie; she'll do all he'll have her do, and more too, to my knowledge. Don. Come, tell me what 'twas then she would not do-come, do it, hussy, or-Come, take her by the hand, friend. Come, begin :-let's see if she will not do anything now I'm here! Hip. Come, pray be in humour, master Ger. I cannot dissemble like you. Don. What, she can't dissemble already, can she? Mrs. Caut. Yes, but she can but 'tis with you she dissembles: for they are not fallen out, as we think. For I'll be sworn I saw her just now give him the languishing eye, as they call it, that is, the whiting's eye, of old called the sheep's eye :-) -I'l be sworn I saw it with these two eyes; that I did Hip. You'll betray us; have a care good mas. [Aside to GERRARD. Don. Hold your peace, I say, silly woman!-— But does she dissemble already?-how do you mean? ter. Ger. She pretends she can't do what she should do; and that she is not in humour.--The common excuse of women for not doing what they should do. Don. Come, I'll put her in humour.-Dance, I say.-Come, about with her, master. Ger. [Aside.] I am in a pretty humour to dance. -[TO HIPPOLITA.] I cannot fool any longer, since you have fooled me. Hip. You would not be so ungenerous as to betray the woman that hated you! I do not do that yet. For heaven's sake! for this once be more obedient to my desires than your passion. [Aside to GERRARD, Don. What! is she humoursome still?—but methinks you book yourself as if you were in an ill-humour-but about with her. Ger. I am in no good dancing humour, indeed Re-enter MONSIEUR. Mons. Well, how goes the dancing forward? What, my aunt here to disturb 'em again? Dan. Come! come! [GERRARD leads her about Mrs. Caut. I say, stand off:-thou shalt not come near. Avoid, Satan! as they say. Don. Nay, then we shall have it:-nephew, hold her a little, that she may not disturb 'em.-Come, now away with her. Ger. One, two, and a coupee.—[Aside.] Fooled and abused- Mrs. Caut. Wilt thou lay violent hands upon thy own natural aunt, wretch? Don. Come, about with her. [TO MONSIEUR. Ger. One, two, three, four, and turn round[Aside.] by such a piece of innocency! Mrs. Caut. Dost thou see, fool, how he squeezes her hand? [TO MONSIEUR. Mons. That won't do, aunt. Hip. Pray, master, have patience, and let's mind our business. Don. Why did you anger him then, hussy, look you? Mrs. Caut. Do you see how she smiles in his face, and squeezes his hand now? [TO MONSIEUR. Mons. Your servant, aunt.-That won't do, I say. Hip. Have patience, master. Ger. [Aside.] I am become her sport![Aloud. One, two, three-Death! hell! and the devil! Don. Ay, they are three indeed! -But pray have patience. Mrs. Caut. Do you see how she leers upon him, and clings to him? Can you suffer it? Mons. Ay, ay. [TO MONSIEUR. Ger. One, two, three, and a slur.-Can you be so unconcerned after all? Don. What! is she unconcerned?-Hussy, mind your business. Ger. One, two, three, and turn round ;-one, two, fall back-Hell and damnation ! Don. Ay, people fall back indeed into hell and damnation, Heaven knows! Ger. One, two, three, and your honour.-I can fool no longer! Mrs. Caut. Nor will I be withheld any longer, like a poor hen in her pen, while the kite is carrying away her chicken before her face. Don. What, have you done?-Well then, let's see her dance it now to the violin. Mons. Ay, ay, let's see her dance it to the violin. Ger. Another time, another time. Don. Don't you believe that, friend :-these dancing-masters make no bones of breaking their words. Did not you promise just now, I should see her dance it to the violin? and that I will too, before I stir. Ger. Let Monsieur play then while I dance with her:-she can't dance alone. Mons. I can't play at all; I'm but a learner :but if you'll play, I'll dance with her. Ger. I can't play neither. Don. What! a dancing-master, and not play! Mrs. Caut. Ay, you see what a dancing-master he is. 'Tis as I told you, I warrant. A dancingmaster, and not play upon the fiddle! Don. How! Hip. O you have betrayed us all! If you confess that, you undo us for ever. [Apart to GERRARD, Ger. I cannot play ;-what would you have me say? [Apart to HIPPOLITA. Mons. I vow and swear we are all undone if you cannot play. [Apart to GERRARD. Don. What! are you a dancing-master, and cannot play? Umph Hip. He is only out of humour, sir. Here, master, I know you will play for me yet;-for he has an excellent hand. [She offers GERRARD the violin. Mons. Ay, that he has.-[Aside.] At giving a box on the ear. Don. Why does he not play, then? Hip. Here, master, pray play for my sake. [Gives GERRARD the violin. Ger. What would you have me do with it?—I cannot play a stroke. [Apart to HIPPolita. Hip. No! stay-then seem to tune it, and break the strings. [Apart to GERRARD. Ger. Come then-[Aside.] Next to the devil's, the invention of women! They'll no more want an excuse to cheat a father with, than an opportu nity to abuse a husband.-[Aloud.] But what do you give me such a damned fiddle with rotten strings, for? [Winds up the strings till they break, and throws the violin on the ground. Don. Hey-day! the dancing-master is frantic. Mons. Ha ha! ha! That people should be made such fools of! [Aside. Mrs. Caut. He broke the strings on purpose, because he could not play.-You are blind, brother. Don. What! will you see further than I, look you? Hip. But pray, master, why in such haste? [GERRARD offers to go. Ger. Because you have done with me. Don. But don't you intend to come to-morrow, again? Ger. Your daughter does not desire it. Don. No matter; I do: I must be your paymaster, I'm sure. I would have you come betimes too; not only to make her perfect, but since you have so good a hand upon the violin, to play your part with half-a-dozen of musicians more, whom I would have you bring with you: for we will have a very merry wedding, though a very private one.— You'll be sure to come? Ger. Your daughter does not desire it. Don. Come, come, baggage, you shall desire it of him; he is your master. Hip. My father will have me desire it of you, it SCENE I. THE GENTLEMAN DANCING-MASTER. Mrs. Caut. What ! will you let her whisper with him too? Don. Nay, if you find fault with it, they shall whisper, though I did not like it before :-I'll ha' But do you think, if nobody wiser than myself. 'twere any hurt, she would whisper it to him before us? Mrs. Caut. If it be no hurt, why does she not speak aloud? Don. Because she says she will not put the man out of countenance. Mrs. Caut. Hey-day! put a dancing-master out of countenance ! Don. You say he is no dancing-master. Mrs. Caut. Yes, for his impudence he may be a dancing-master. Don. Well, well, let her whisper before me as much as she will to-night, since she is to be married to-morrow ;-especially since her husband (that shall be) stands by consenting too. Mons. Ay, ay, let 'em whisper, as you say, as much as they will before we marry.-[Aside.] She's making more sport with him, I warrant.-But I wonder how people can be fooled so.-Ha! ha! Don. Well, a penny for the secret, daughter. to-morrow. Don. Well, friend, you will not fail to come? Hip. Yes, be sure you bring the fiddlers with Mrs. Caut. So, so: he'll fiddle your daughter [Aside. Ger. Fortune we sooner may than woman trust: ACT V. SCENE I.-A Room in DoN DIEGO's House. | Enter MONSIEUR DE PARIS and Black, stalking over the stage, GERRARD following. Mons. Good morrow to thee, noble dancingmaster:-ha! ha ha! your little black brother here, my master, I see, is the more diligent man of the two. But why do you come so late?-What! you begin to neglect your scholar, do you?- Little black master, con licentia, pray get you out of the room.-[Exit Black.] What! out of humour, man! a dancing-master should be like his fiddle, always in tune. Come, my cousin has made an ass of thee; what then? I know it. Ger. Does he know it! [Aside. Mons. But prithee don't be angry: 'twas agreed upon betwixt us, before I sent you, to make a fool of thee;-ha! ha ha! ha! Ger. Was it so? Mons. I know you would be apt to entertain vain hopes from the summons of a lady: but, faith, the design was but to make a fool of thee, as you find. Ger. 'Tis very well. Mons. But indeed I did not think the jest would have lasted so long, and that my cousin would have made a dancing-master of you, ha! ha ! ha ! [Aside. Ger. The fool has reason, I find, and I am the coxcomb while I thought him so. Mons. Come, I see you are uneasy, and the jest of being a dancing-master grows tedious to you: -but have a little patience; the parson is sent for, and when once my cousin and I are married, my uncle may know who you are. [Aside. Ger. I am certainly abused. Mons. Listening.] What do you say? [Aside. [Aside. Mons. Why do you doubt it? ha ha! ha! Mons. Pish ! pish ! she told me yesterday as soon as you were gone, that she had led you into a fool's paradise, and made you believe she would go away with you-ha! ha! ha! [Aside. Ger. Did she so?-I am no longer to doubt it then. Mons. Ay, ay, she makes a mere fool of thee, I vow and swear; but don't be concerned, there's hardly a man of a thousand but has been made a fool of by some woman or other.-I have been made a fool of myself, man, by the women; I have, I vow and swear I have. Ger. Well, you have, I believe it, for you are a coxcomb. Mons. Lord! you need not be so touchy with one; I tell you but the truth, for your good; for but prithee don't be troubled at what can't be though she does, I would not fool you any longer; helped. Women are made on purpose to fool men : when they are children, they fool their fathers; and when they have taken their leaves of their hanging -ha! ha! ha! sleeves, they fool their gallants or dancing-masters, Ger. Hark you, sir! to be fooled by a woman, you say, is not to be helped; but I will not be fooled by a fool. Mons. You show your English breeding now; an English rival is so dull and brutish as not to understand raillery; but what is spoken in your passion I'll take no notice of, for I am your friend, and would not have you my rival to make yourself ridiculous.-Come, prithee, prithee, don't be so was saying, women first fool their fathers, then their gallants, and then their concerned; for, as husbands; so that it will be my turn to be fooled too; (for your comfort;) and when they come to be widows, they would fool the devil, I vow and swear.-Come, come, dear Gerrard, prithee don't be out of humour, and look so sillily. Ger. Prithee do not talk so sillily. Mons. Nay, faith, I am resolved to beat you out of this ill-humour. Ger. Faith, I am afraid I shall first beat you into an ill-humour. Mons. Ha ha! ha! that thou shouldst be gulled so by a little gipsy, who left off her bib but yesterday!-faith I can't but laugh at thee. Ger. Faith, then I shall make your mirth (as being too violent) conclude in some little misfortune to you. The fool begins to be tyrannical. Mons. Ha ha! ha! poor angry dancing-master! prithee match my Spanish pumps and legs with one of your best and newest sarabands; ha! ha ha! come Ger. I will match your Spanish ear, thus, sir, and make you dance thus. [Strikes and kicks him. Mons. How sa! sa! sa! then I'll make you dance thus. [MONSIEUR draws his sword and runs at him, but GERRARD drawing, he retires. Hold! hold a little!-[Aside.] A desperate disappointed lover will cut his own throat, then sure he will make nothing of cutting his rival's throat. Ger. Consideration is an enemy to fighting; if you have a mind to revenge yourself, your sword's in your hand. Mons. Pray, sir, hold your peace; I'll ne'er take my rival's counsel, be't what 'twill. I know what you would be at; you are disappointed of your mistress, and could hang yourself, and therefore will not fear hanging. But I am a successful lover, and need neither hang for you nor my mistress: nay, if I should kill you, I know I should do you a kindness; therefore e'en live, to die daily with envy of my happiness. But if you will needs die, kill yourself, and be damned for me, I vow and swear. Ger. But won't you fight for your mistress? Mons. I tell you, you shall not have the honour to be killed for her; besides, I will not be hit in the teeth by her as long as I live, with the great love you had for her. Women speak well of their dead husbands; what will they do of their dead gallants? Ger. But if you will not fight for her, you shall dance for her, since you desired me to teach you to dance too : I'll teach you to dance thus [Strikes his sword at his legs, MONSIEUR leaps. Mons. Nay, if it be for the sake of my mistress, there's nothing I will refuse to do. Ger. Nay, you must dance on. Mons. Ay, ay, for my mistress, and sing too, la, la, la, ra, la. Hip. Because you will ne'er draw your sword. perhaps. Mons. [Aside.] Scurvily guessed.-[Aloud.} You ladies may say anything; but, cousin, pray do not you talk of swords and fighting; meddle with your guitar, and talk of dancing with your dancing-master there, ha! ha! ha! Hip. But I am afraid you have hurt my master, cousin :-he says nothing; can he draw his breath? Mons. No, 'tis you have hurt your master, cousin, in the very heart, cousin, and therefore he would hurt me; for love is a disease makes people as malicious as the plague does. Hip. Indeed, poor master, something does ai you. Mons. Nay, nay, cousin, faith don't abuse him any longer; he's an honest gentleman, and has been long of my acquaintance, and a man of tolerable sense, to take him out of his love; but prithee, cousin, don't drive the jest too far for my sake. Ger. He counsels you well, pleasant, cunning, jilting miss, for his sake; for if I am your divertisement, it shall be at his cost, since he's your gallant in favour. Hip. I don't understand you. Mons. But I do, a pox take him! and the custom that so orders it, forsooth! that if a lady abuse or affront a man, presently the gallant must be beaten; nay, what's more unreasonable, if a woman abuse her husband, the poor cuckold must bear the shame as well as the injury. [Aside. Hip. But what's the matter, master? what was it you said? Ger. I say, pleasant, cunning, jilting lady, though you make him a cuckold, it will not be revenge enough for me upon him for marrying you. Hip. How! my surly, huffing, jealous, senseless, saucy master? Mons. Nay, nay, faith, give losers leave to speak, losers of mistresses especially, ha ha! ha! Besides, your anger is too great a favour for him; I scorn to honour him with mine you see. Hip. I tell you my saucy master, my cousin shall never be made that monstrous thing you mention, by me. Mons. Thank you, I vow and swear, cousin ; no, no, I never thought I should. Ger. Sure you marry him by the sage maxim of your sex, which is, wittols make the best husbands, that is cuckolds. Hip. Indeed, master, whatsoever you think, I would sooner choose you for that purpose than him. Mons. Ha ha ha! there she was with him, i'faith:-I thank you for that, cousin, I vow and swear. Hip. Nay, he shall thank me for that too:-but how came you two to quarrel? I thought, cousin, you had had more wit than to quarrel, or more kindness for me than to quarrel here. What if my father, hearing the bustle, should have come in? he would have soon discovered our false dancingmaster (for passion unmasks every man), and then the result of your quarrel had been my ruin. Mons. Nay, you had both felt his desperate, deadly, daunting dagger :-there are your de's for you! Hip. Go, go presently therefore, and hinder my father from coming in, whilst I put my master into a better humour, that we may not be discovered, to the prevention of our wedding, or worse when he comes; go, go. Mons. Well, well, I will, cousin. Hip. Be sure you let him not come in this good while. Mons. No, no, I warrant you.-[Goes out and returns.]-But if he should come before I would have him, I'll come before him, and cough and hawk soundly, that you may not be surprised. Won't that do well, cousin? Hip. Very well, pray begone. - [Exit MONSIEUR.] Well, master, since I find you are quarrelsome and melancholy, and would have taken me away without a portion, three infallible signs of a true lover, faith here's my hand now in earnest, to lead me a dance as long as I live. Ger. How's this! you surprise me as much, as when first I found so much beauty and wit in company with so much innocency. But, dearest, I would be assured of what you say, and yet dare not ask the question. You h- do not abuse me again? You h--will fool me no more sure? Hip. Yes, but I will sure. Ger. How? nay, I was afraid on't. Hip. For, I say, you are to be my husband, and you say husbands must be wittols, and some strange things to boot. Ger. Well, I will take my fortune. Hip. At your peril; remember I wished you to have a care forewarned, fore-armed. Prue. Indeed now, that's fair; for most men are fore-armed before they are warned. Hip. Plain dealing is some kind of honesty however, and few women would have said so much. Ger. None but those who would delight in a husband's jealousy, as the proof of his love and her honour. Hip. Hold, sir, let us have a good understanding betwixt one another at first, that we may be long friends. I differ from you in the point; for a husband's jealousy, which cunning men would pass upon their wives for a compliment, is the worst can be made 'em ; for indeed it is a compliment to their beauty, but an affront to their honour. Ger. But, madam Hip. So that upon the whole matter I conclude, jealousy in a gallant is humble true love, and the height of respect, and only an undervaluing of himself to overvalue her; but in a husband 'tis arrant sauciness, cowardice, and ill-breeding, and not to be suffered. Ger. I stand corrected, gracious miss. Hip. Well, but have you brought the gentlemen fiddlers with you, as I desired? Ger. They are below. Ilip. Are they armed well? Ger. Yes, they have instruments too that are not of wood; but what will you do with them? Hip. What did you think I intended to do with them? when I whispered you to bring gentlemen of your acquaintance instead of fiddlers, as my father desired you to bring, pray what did you think I intended: Ger. Faith, e'en to make fools of the gentlemen fiddlers, as you had done of your gentleman dan. cing-master. Hip. I intended 'em for our guard and defence against my father's Spanish and Guinea force, when we were to make our retreat from hence; and to help us to take the keys from my aunt, who has been the watchful porter of this house this twelvemonth; and this design (if your heart do not fail you) we will put in execution as soon as you have given your friends below instructions. Ger. Are you sure your heart will stand right still? You flinched last night, when I little expected it, I am sure. Hip. The time last night was not so proper for us as now, for reasons I will give you. But besides that, I confess I had a mind to try whether your interest did not sway you more than your love; whether the twelve hundred pounds a year I told you of had not made a greater impression in your heart than Hippolita : but finding it otherwise-yet hold, perhaps upon consideration you are grown wiser; can you yet, as I said, be so desperate, so out of fashion, as to steal a woman with nothing? Ger. With you I can want nothing, nor can be made by anything more rich or happy. Hip. Think well again; can you take me without the twelve hundred pounds a-year,-the twelve hundred pounds a-year? Ger. Indeed, miss, now you begin to be unkind again, and use me worse than e'er you did. Hip. Well, though you are so modest a gentleman as to suffer a wife to be put upon you with nothing, I have more conscience than to do it. I have the twelve hundred pounds a-year out of my father's power, which is yours, and I am sorry it is not the Indies to mend your bargain. Ger. Dear miss, you but increase my fears, and not my wealth. Pray let us make haste away; I desire but to be secure of you :-come, what are you thinking of? Hip. I am thinking if some little, filching, inquisitive poet should get my story, and represent it to the stage, what those ladies who are never precise but at a play would say of me now ;-that I were a confident, coming piece, I warrant, and they would damn the poor poet for libelling the sex. But sure, though I give myself and fortune away frankly, without the consent of my friends, my confidence is less than theirs who stand off only for separate maintenance. Ger. They would be widows before their time, have a husband and no husband :—but let us begone, lest fortune should recant my happing, now you are fixed, iny dearest miss. [He kisses her hand. Re-enter MOUSIEUR, coughing, followed by DoN DIEGO, Hip. Oh, here's my father! Don. How now, sir!-What, kissing her hand! what means that, friend, ha ?-Daughter, ha! do you permit this insolence, ha? voto a mi hora! Ger. We are prevented again. [Aside to HIPpolita. Hip. Ha ha ha! you are so full of your Spanish jealousy, father; why, you must know he is a city dancing-master, and they, forsooth, think it fine to kiss the hand at the honour before the corant. Mons. Ay, ay, ay, uncle, don't you know that? |