sacred sir, I confess, that the great crying sin which I have long indulged, and now prepare to expiate, was love. My morning thoughts, my evening prayers, my daily musings, nightly cares, was love! my present peace, my future bliss, the joy of earth, and hopes of heaven, I all contemned for love! Mir. She's downright mad in earnest ! death and confusion, I have lost her! [Aside.] You confess your fault, madam, in such moving terms, that I could almost be in love with the sin. Ori. Take care, sir; crimes, like virtues, are their own rewards; my chief delight became my only grief; he, in whose breast I thought my heart secure, turned robber, and despoiled the treasure that he kept. Mir. Perhaps, that treasure he esteems so much, that, like the miser, though afraid to use it, he reserves it safe. Ori. No, holy father: who can be miser in another's wealth, that's prodigal of his own? His heart was open, shared to all he knew; and what, alas, must then become of mine! But the same eyes, that drew his passion in, shalt send it out in tears, to which now hear my vow. Mir. [Discovering himself.] No, my fair angel ! but let me repent; here, on my knees, behold the criminal, that vows repentance his. Ha ! No concern upon her! Ori. This turn is odd, and the time has been, that such a sudden change would have surprised me into some confusion. Mir. Restore that happy time; for I am now returned to myself; for I want but pardon to deserve your favour, and here I'll fix till you relent and give it. Ori. Grovelling, sordid man ! why would you act a thing to make you kneel? monarch in your pleasures to be slave to your faults? Are all the conquests of your wandering sway, your wit, your humour, fortune, all reduced to the base cringing of a bended knee? Servile and poor! Pray Heaven this change be real! [ Aside. Mir. I come not here to justify my fault but my submission; for though there be a meanness in this humble posture, 'tis nobler still to bend, when justice calls, than to resist conviction. Ori. No more thy oft repeated violated words reproach my weak belief; 'tis the severest calumny to hear thee speak; that humble posture, which once could raise, now mortifies my pride. How canst thou hope for pardon from one, that you affront by asking it? Mir. [Rises.] In my own cause I'll plead no more; but give me leave to intercede for you against the hard injunctions of that habit, which, for my fault, you wear. Ori. Surprising insolence! My greatest foe pretends to give me counsel; but I am too warm upon so cool a subject. My resolutions, sir, are fixed? but as our hearts were united with the | | | ceremony of our eyes, so, I shall spare some tears to the separation. [Weeps.] That's all;| farewell. Mir. And must I lose her? No. [Runs and catches her.] Since all my prayers are vain, I'll use the nobler argument of inan, and force you to the justice you refuse; you're mine by precontract : And where's the vow so sacred to disannul another ? I'll urge my love, your oath, and plead my cause 'gainst all monastic shifts upon the earth. Ori. Unhand me, ravisher! Would you profane these holy walls with violence? Revenge for all my past disgrace now offers; thy life should answer this, would I provoke the law: urge me no farther, but be gone. Mir. Inexorable woman ! let me kneel again. [Kneels. Enter OLD MIRABELL. Old Mir. The devil a bit. Mir. Then, kiss me again, my dear dad, for the most happy news-And now, most venerable holy sister. [Kneels. Your mercy and your pardon I implore, For the offence of asking it before. Look'e, my dear counterfeiting nun, take my advice, be a nun in good earnest; women make the best nuns always, when they can't do otherwise. Ah, my dear father! there is a merit in your son's behaviour that you little think; the free deportment of such fellows as I, makes more ladies religious than all the pulpits in France. Ori. O! sir, how unhappily have you destroyed what was so near perfection? He is the counterfeit, that has deceived you. Old Mir. Ha! Look'e, sir, I recant; she is a nun. Mir. Sir, your humble servant; then I'm a friar this moment. Old Mir. Was ever an old fool so bantered by a brace of young ones! hang you both! Bis. Perhaps I do not. -Do Dur. Ha! abused again! Death, woman, I'll Bis. Hold, hold, sir; I do, I do! Dur. Confirm it, then, by your obedience; stand there, and ogle me now, as if your heart, blood and soul, were like to fly out at your eyes--First, the direct surprise-[She looks full upon him.] Right; next the deux yeux par oblique. [She gives him the side glance.] Right; now depart, and languish. [She turns from him, and looks over her shoulder.] Very well; now sigh. [She sighs.] Now drop your fan on purpose. [She drops her fan.] Now take it up again: Come now, confess your faults; are not you a proud-say after me. Bis. Proud. Dur. Impertinent. Bis. Impertinent. Dur. Ridiculous. Bis. Ridiculous. Dur. Flirt. Bis. Puppy. Dur. Zoons! Woman, don't provoke me! we are alone, and you don't know but the devil may tempt me to do you a mischief; ask my pardon immediately. Bis. I do, sir, I only mistook the word. Dur. Cry, then; have you got e'er a handkerchief? Bis. Yes, sir. Dur. Cry, then, handsomely; cry like a queen in a tragedy. [She pretending to cry, bursts out a laughing, and enter two ladies laughing. Bis. Ha, ha, ha! Ladies both. Ha, ha, ha! Dur. Hell broke loose upon me, and all the furies fluttered about my ears! Betrayed again? Bis. That you are, upon my word, my dear captain; ha, ha, ha! Dur. The lord deliver me! 1 Lady. What! Is this the mighty man with the bull-face, that comes to frighten ladies? I long to see him angry; come, begin. Dur. Ah, madam, I'm the best natured fellow in the world. 2 Lady. A man! We're mistaken; a man has manners; the awkward creature is some tinker's trull in a periwig. Bis. Come, ladies, let's examine him. [They lay hold on him. Dur. Examine! the devil you will! Bis. I'll lay my life, some great dairy-maid in man's clothes. Dur. They will do't;-look'e, dear Christian women, pray, hear me ! Bis. Will you ever attempt a lady's honour again? Dur. If you please to let me get away with my honour, I'll do any thing in the world. Bis. Will you persuade your friend to marry mine? Dur. O yes, to be sure. Bis. And will you do the same by me? Bis. Ha, ha, ha! the visit, ladies, was critical for our diversions; we'll go make an end of our tea. [Exeunt. Enter MIRABELL and OLD MIRABELL. Mir. Your patience, sir; I tell you I won't marry; and, though you send all the bishops in France to persuade ine, I shall never believe their doctrine against their practice. Old Mir. But will you disobey your father, sir? Mir. Would my father have his youthful son lie lazing here, bound to a wife, chained like a monkey, to make sport to a woman, subject to her whims, humours, longings, vapours, and caprices to have her one day pleased, to-morrow peevish, the next day mad, the fourth rebellious; and nothing but this succession of impertinence for ages together! Be merciful, sir, to your own flesh and blood. Old Mir. But, sir, did not I bear all this? why should not you? Mir. Then, you think that marriage, like treason, should attaint the whole body? pray, consider, sir, is it reasonable, because you throw yourself down from one story, that I must cast myself headlong from the garret window? You would compel me to that state, which I have heard you curse yourself, when my mother and you have battled it for a whole week together. Old Mir. Never but once, you rogue, and that was when she longed for six Flanders mares: Ay, sir, then she was breeding of you, which shewed what an expensive dog I should have of you. Enter PETIT. Well, Petit, how does she now? Pet. Mad, sir, con pompos-Ay, Mr Mirabell, you'll believe that I speak truth now, when I confess that I have told you hitherto nothing but lies; our jesting is come to a sad earnest; she's downright distracted. Enter BISARRE. Bis. Where is this mighty victor? The great exploit is done; go, triumph in the glory of your conquest, inhuman, barbarous man! O sir, (To the old gentleman.) your wretched ward has found a tender guardian of you! where her young innocence expected protection, here has she found her ruin. Old Mir. Ay, the fault is mine; for I believe that rogue won't marry, for fear of begetting such another disobedient son as his father did. I have done all I can, madam, and now can do no more than run mad for company. [Cries. Enter DUGARD, with his sword drawn. Dug. Away! Revenge, revenge! Old Mir. Patience, patience, sir. [OLD MIR. holds him.] Bob, draw. [Aside. Dug. Patience! The coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provokedVillain! -What's that? Mir. What piercing charms has beauty, evne in madness! these sudden starts of undigested words shoot through my soul, with more persuasive force than all the studied art of laboured eloquence-Come, madam, try to repose a little. Ori. I cannot; for I must be up to go to church; and I must dress me, put on my new gown, and be so fine, to meet my love. Hey ho! Will you not tell me where my heart lies buried? Mir. My very soul is touched-Your hand, my fair! Ori. How soft and gentle you feel! I'll tell your fortune, friend. Mir. How she stares upon me! Ori. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine I shall die to-morrow——— Mir. O woman, woman, of artifice created! whose nature, even distracted, has a cunning: In vain let man his sense, his learning boast, when woman's madness overrules his reason Do you know me, injured creature? Ori. No-but you shall be my intimate ac[Weeps. quaintance-in the grave. Mir. Oh tears, I must believe you! sure there's a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obstinate as I am, do feel my soul so tossed with storms of passion, that I could cry for help as well as she[Wipes his eyes. Ori. What, have you lost your lover? No, you mock me; I'll go home and pray. favour. Mir. Stay, my fair innocence! and hear me Mir. Your sister's frenzy shall excuse your own my love so loud, that I may call your senses madness; and to shew my concern for what she to their place, restore them to their charming, suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother-happy functions, and reinstate myself into your Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like your's, that swells at an affront received, but melts at an injury given and if the lovely Oriana's grief be such a moving scene, 'twill find a part within this breast, perhaps as tender as a brother's. Dug. To prove that soft compassion for her grief, endeavour to remove it-There, there, behold an object that's infective; I cannot view her, but I am as mad as she: [Enter ORIANA, held by two maids, who put her in a chair.] A sister, that my dying parents left, with their last words and blessing, to my care. Sister, dearest sister! [Goes to her. Old Mir. Ay, poor child, poor child, d'ye know me? Ori. You! you are Amadis de Gaul, sir-Oh! oh my heart! Were you never in love, fair lady? And do you never dream of flowers and gardens? -I dream of walking fires, and tall, gigantic VOL. II. Bis. Let her alone, sir, 'tis all too late; she trembles; hold her; her fits grow stronger by her talking; don't trouble her; she don't know you, sir. Old Mir. Not know him! what then? she loves to see him for all that. light, they're all so; they're cozening mad; they're brawling mad; they're proud mad; I just now came from a whole world of mad women, that had almost-What, is she dead? Mir. Dead! Heavens forbid ! Dur. Heavens further it! for 'till they be as cold as a key, there's no trusting them; you're never sure that a woman's in earnest, till she is laid in her coffin. Shall I talk to her? Are you mad, mistress? Bis. What's that to you, sir? Dur. Oons, madam, are you there? [Runs off. Mir. Away, thou wild buffoon! how poor and mean this humour now appears! His follies and my own, I here disclaim; this lady's frenzy has restored my senses; and was she perfect now, as once she was, (before you all I speak it) she should be mine; and, as she is, my tears and prayers shall wed her. Dug. How happy had this declaration been some hours ago! Bis. Sir, she beckons to you, and waves us to go off; come, come, let's leave them. [Exeunt omnes, but MIR. and ORI. Ori. Oh, sir! Mir. Speak, my charming angel! if your dear senses have regained their order; speak, fair, and bless me with the news. Ori. First, let me bless the cunning of my sex, that happy counterfeited frenzy, that has restored to my poor labouring breast the dearest, best beloved of men. Mir. Tune, all ye spheres, your instruments of joy, and carry round your spacious orbs, the happy sound of Oriana's health! her soul, whose harmony was next to your's, is now in tune again; the counterfeiting fair has played the fool She was so mad to counterfeit for me; Ori. How, sir, free! have done it more effectually. Take her into your charge; and have a care she don't relapse ; if she should, employ me not again, for I am no more infallible than others of the faculty; I do cure sometimes. Ori. Your remedy, most barbarous man! will prove the greatest poison to my health; for though my former frenzy was but counterfeit, I now shall run into a real madness. [Exit; OLD MIR. after. Dug. This was a turn beyond my knowledge; I'm so confused, I know not how to resent it. [Erit. Mir. What a dangerous precipice have I 'scaped! Was not I just now upon the brink of destruction? Enter DURETETE. Oh, my friend, let me run into thy bosom ! no lark, escaped from the devouring pounces of a hawk, quakes with more dismal apprehension. Dur. The matter, man! Mir. Marriage! hanging! I was just at the gallows-foot, the running noose about my neck, and the cart wheeling from mee-Oh-I shan't be myself this month again. Dur. Did not I tell you so? They are all alike, saints or devils: their counterfeiting can't be reputed a deceit, for 'tis the nature of the sex, not their contrivance. Mir. Ay, ay; there's no living here with security; this house is so full of stratagem and design, that I must abroad again. Dur. With all my heart; I'll bear thee company, my lad; I'll meet you at the play; and we'll set out for Italy to-morrow morning. Mir. A match; I'll go pay my compliment of leave to my father presently. Dur. I'm afraid he'll stop you. Mir. What, pretend a command over me, after his settlement of a thousand pounds a-year Mir. As air, my dear Bedlamite! what, mar-rity with the conveyance; the will of a living fame! No, no, he has passed away his authoupon ry a lunatic! Look ye, my dear, you have counther is chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying terfeited madness so very well this bout, that you'll be apt to play the fool all your life longHere, gentlemen. Ori. Monster! you won't disgrace me? Mir. O' my faith, but I will; here, come in, gentlemen-A miracle! a miracle! the woman's dispossessed; the devil's vanished. Enter OLD MIRABELL and DUGARD. Old Mir. Bless us, was she possessed? Mir. With the worst of demons, sir, a marriage-devil, a horrid devil! Mr Dugard, don't be surprized; I promised my endeavours to cure your sister; no mad doctor in Christendom could 3 one: What makes the world attend and crowd the Hopes, interest, and dependence, make their great? state: Behold the anti-chamber filled with beaux, Hopes of a place will bring the sparks to court. ACT V. SCENE I.-The street before the Playhouse. Enter MIRABELL and DURETETE as coming from the play. Dur. How d'ye like this play? Mir. I liked the company; the lady, the rich beauty in the front-box, had my attention: These impudent poets bring the ladies together to support them, and to kill every body else. For deaths upon the stage the ladies cry, slain. Dur. Hoyty, toyty! did Phillis inspire you with all this? Mir. Ten times more; the playhouse is the element of poetry, because the region of beauty: the ladies, methinks, have a more inspiring triumphant air in the boxes, than any where else; they sit commanding on their thrones with all their subject-slaves about them: Their best clothes, best looks, shining jewels, sparkling eyes, the treasure of the world in a ring. Then there's such a hurry of pleasure to transport us; the bustle, noise, gallantry, equipage, garters, feathers, wigs, bows, smiles, ogles, love, music, and applause: I could wish that my whole life long were the first night of a new play. Dur. The fellow has quite forgot this jour ney; have you bespoke post-horses? Mir. Grant me but three days, dear captain, one to discover the lady, one to unfold myself, and one to make me happy; and then I'm your's to the world's end. Dur. Hast thou the impudence to promise thyself a lady of her figure and quality in so short a time? Mir. Yes, sir-I have a confident address, no disagreeable person, and five hundred Louis d'Ors in my pocket. Dur. Five hundred Louis d'Ors! You a'n't mad? Mir. I tell you, she's worth five thousand; one of her black brilliant eyes is worth a diamond as big as her head. I compared her necklace with her looks, and the living jewels outsparkled the dead ones by a million. Dur. But you have owned to me, that, abating Oriana's pretensions to marriage, you loved her passionately; then, how can you wander at this rate? Mir. I longed for a partridge t'other day off the king's plate; but d'ye think, because I could not have it, I must eat nothing? Dur. Prithee, Mirabell, be quiet; you may remember what narrow escapes you have had abroad by following strangers; you forget your leap out of the courtezan's window at Bologna, to save your fine ring there. Mir. My ring's a trifle; there's nothing we possess comparable to what we desire-be shy of a lady bare-faced in the front-box, with a thousand pounds in jewels about her neck! For shame! no more. Enter ORIANA, in boy's clothes, with a letter. Ori. A letter from your uncle in Picardy. [Gives the letter. Mir. [Reads.] The bearer is the son of a protestant gentleman, who, flying for his religion, left me the charge of this youth [a pretty boy.]. He's fond of some handsome service, that may afford him opportunity of improvement; your care of him will oblige Has't a mind to travel, child? Yours.' Ori. 'Tis my desire, sir; I should be pleased to serve a traveller in any capacity. Mir. A hopeful inclination; you shall along with me into Italy, as my page. Dur. I don't think it safe; the rogue's [Noise without.] too handsome- -The play's done, and some of the ladies come this way. |