Mir. [Excellent.] I sequere Italiam ventis, pete regna per undas. sunt. Spero equidem mediis, si quid pia numina pos[Together again. Bis. Converse with imps of darkness of your make! your nature starts at justice, and shivers at the touch of virtue. Now, the devil take his impudence! he vexes me so, I don't know whether to cry or laugh at him. Mir. Bravely performed, my dear Libyan! I'll write the tragedy of Dido, and you shall act the part: But you do nothing at all, unless you fret yourself into a fit; for here the poor lady is stifled with vapours, drops into the arms of her maids; and the cruel, barbarous, deceitful wanderer, is, in the very next line, called pious ÆneThere's authority for ye. as. Sorry, indeed, Eneas stood To see her in a pout; But Jove himself, who ne'er thought good [Runs off. Bis. Go thy ways, for a dear, mad, deceitful, agrecable fellow. O' my conscience, I must excuse Oriana. That lover soon his angry fair disarms, SCENE II. Enter PETIT, runs about to every door, and knocks. | she will make him a cuckold. 'Tis ordinary with Mir. I'm her ladyship's most humble servant; a train and a title, hey! Room for my lady's coach; a front-row in the box for her ladyship; lights, lights for her honour! Now must I be a constant attender at my lord's levee, to work my way to my lady's couchee- -a countess, I presume, sir? Pet. A Spanish count, sir, that Mr Dugard knew abroad, is come to Paris, saw your mistress yesterday, marries her to-day, and whips her into Spain to-morrow. Mir. Ay, is it so?, and must I follow my cuckold over the Pyrenees? Had she married within the precincts of a billet-doux, I would be the man to lead her to church; but, as it happens, I'll forbid the banns. Where is this mighty don? Pet. Have a care, sir! he's a rough crossgrained piece, and there's no tampering with him; would you apply to Mr Dugard, or the lady herself, something might be done, for it is in despight to you, that the business is carried so hastily. Odso, sir, here he comes! I must be gone. [Exit PET. Enter OLD MIRABELL, dressed in a Spanish habit, leading ORIANA. Ori. Good, my lord, a nobler choice had better suited your lordship's merit. My person, Pet. Mr Mirabell! Sir, where are you? no rank, and circumstance, expose me as the pubwhere to be found? Enter MIRABELL. Mir. What's the matter, Petit? lic theme of raillery, and subject me so to injurious usage, my lord, that I can lay no claim to any part of your regard, except your pity. Old Mir. Breathes he vital air, that dares pre sume, With rude behaviour, to profane such excellence? Pet. Most critically met--Ah, sir, that one, who has followed the game so long, and brought the poor hare just under his paws, should let a mongrel cur chop in, and run away with the puss! And you shall see how my sudden revenge Mir. If your worship can get out of your al-Shall fall upon the head of such presumption. legories, be pleased to tell me, in three words, Is this thing one? [Strutting up to MIRABELL. what you mean. Mir. Sir! Pet. Plain, plain, sir. Your mistress and mine is going to be married. Mir. I believe you lie, sir. Pet. Your humble servant, sir. [Going. Mir. Come hither, Petit. Married, say you? Pet. No, sir, 'tis no matter; I only thought to do you a service, but I shall take care how I confer my favours for the future. Mir. Sir, I beg ten thousand pardons. [Bowing low. Pet. 'Tis enough, sir-I come to tell you, sir, that Oriana is this moment to be sacrificed; married past redemption. Mir. I understand her-she'll take a husband out of spite to me; and then, out of love to me, Ori. Good my lord. Old Mir. If he, or any he! Ori. Pray, my lord! the gentleman's a stran Mir. Spanish, my lord, Old Mir. What d'ye mean? Mir. This, sir. [Trips up his heels. Old Mir. A very concise quarrel, truly!-I'll bully him. Trinidade seigneur, give me fair play. [Offering to rise. Mir. By all means, sir. [Takes away his sword.] Now, seigneur, where's that bombast look, and fustian face, your countship wore just now? [Strikes him. Old Mir. The rogue quarrels well, very well my own son right! But hold, sirrah, no more jesting; I'm your father, sir, your father! Mir. My father! Then, by this light, I could find in my heart to pay thee. [Aside.] Is the fellow mad? Why, sure, sir, I han't frighted you out of your senses? Old Mir. But you have, sir. Mir. Then I'll beat them into you again. [Offers to strike him. Old Mir. Why, rogue-Bob, dear Bob, don't you know me, child? ORIANA.-I wish your ladyship joy of your new dignity. Here was a contrivance indeed. Pet. The contrivance was well enough, sir, for they imposed upon us all. Mir. Well, my dear dulcinea, did your don Quixotte battle for you bravely? My father will answer for the force of my love. Ori. Pray, sir, don't insult the misfortunes of your own creating. Dug. My prudence will be counted cowardice, if I stand tamely now.-[Comes up between MiRABELL and his sister.]-Well, sir! Mir. Well, sir! Do you take me for one of your tenants, sir, that you put on your landlord face at me? Dug. On what presumption, sir, dare you assume thus? [Draws. Pet. Help! help! the lady faints. [ORIANA falls into her maid's arms, Mir. Ha, ha, ha! the fellow's downright dis- Mir. Vapours! vapours! she'll come to hertracted: Thou miracle of impudence! would'st self: if it be an angry fit, a dram of assafo tida thou make me believe, that such a grave gentle--if jealousy, hartshorn in water-if the moman as my father would go a masquerading thus?ther, burnt feathers-if grief, ratifia-if it be That a person of threescore and three would run strait stays, or corns, there's nothing like a dram about in a fool's coat, to disgrace himself and fa- of plain brandy. mily? Why, you impudent villain, do you think I will suffer such an affront to pass upon my honoured father, my worthy father, my dear father? "Sdeath, sir, mention my father but once again, and I'll send your soul to thy grandfather this minute! [Offering to stab him. Old Mir. Well, well, I am not your father. Mir. Why, then, sir, you are the saucy, hectoring Spaniard, and I'll use you accordingly. Old Mir. The devil take the Spaniards, sir! we have all got nothing but blows, since we began to take their part. Enter DUGARD, ORIANA, MAID, and PETIT. DUGARD runs to MIRABELL, the rest to the old gentleman. Dug. Fy, fy, Mirabell, murder your father! Mir. My father? what, is the whole family mad? Give me way, sir, I won't be held. Old Mir. No? nor I neither; let me be gone, pray. [Offering to go. Mir. My father! Old Mir. Aye, you dog's face! I am your father, for I have bore as much for thee, as your mother ever did. Mir. O ho! then this was a trick, it seems; a design, a contrivance, a stratagem-Oh! how my bones ache! Old Mir. Your bones, sirrah, why yours? Mir. Why, sir, han't I been beating my own flesh and blood all this while? Oh, madam-[To Ori. Hold off! give me air-O my brother! would you preserve my life, endanger not your own; would you defend my reputation, leave it to itself; 'tis a dear vindication, that's purchased by the sword; for, though our champion proves victorious, yet our honour is wounded. Old Mir. Aye, and your lover may be wounded, that's another thing. But I think you are pretty brisk again, my child. Ori. Aye, sir, my indisposition was only a pretence to divert the quarrel; the capricious taste of your sex excuses this artifice in ours. For often, when our chief perfections fail, Our chief defects with foolish men prevail. [Exit ORIANA. Pet. Come, Mr Dugard, take courage, there is a way still left to fetch him again. Old Mir. Sir, I'll have no plot, that has any relation to Spain. Dug. I scorn all artifice whatsoever; my sword shall do her justice. Pet. Pretty justice, truly! Suppose you run him through the body, you run her through the heart at the same tine. Old Mir. And me through the head-rot your sword, sir, we'll have plots; come, Petit, let's hear. Pet. What if she pretended to go into a nunnery, and so bring him about to declare himself? Dug. That, I must confess, has a face. Old Mir. A face! a face like an angel, sir.- # SCENE IL-The Street. Enter DURETETE and MIRAbell. Dur. [In a passion.]—And though I can't dance, nor sing, nor talk like you, yet I can fight; you know I can, sir. Mir. I know thou canst, man. Dur. 'Sdeath, sir, and I will: let me see the proudest man alive make a jest of me! Mir. But I'll engage to make you amends. Dur. Danced to death! baited like a bear! ridiculed! threatened to be kicked! confusion! sir, you set me on, and I will have satisfaction; all mankind will point at me. Mir. [Aside.I must give this thunderbolt some passage, or 'twill break upon my own head -look'e, Duretete, what do these gentlemen laugh at? Enter two Gentlemen. Dur. At me, to be sure-Sir, what made you laugh at me? 1 Gen. You're mistaken, sir; if we were merry, we had a private reason. 2 Gen. Sir, we don't know you. Dur. Sir, I'll make you know me; mark and observe me, I won't be named; it sha'nt be mentioned, not even whispered, in your prayers at church. 'Sdeath, sir, d'ye smile? 1 Gen. Not I, upon my word. Dur. Why, then, look grave as an owl in a barn, or a friar with his crown a shaving. Mir. [Aside to the gentlemen.]-Don't be bullied out of your humour, gentlemen; the fellow's mad; laugh at him, and I'll stand by you. 1 Gen. 'Egad, and so we will. Both. Ha, ha, ha! Dur. Very pretty.[Draws.]-She threatened to kick me. Aye, then, you dogs, I'll murder ye. [Fights, and beats them off, MIRABELL runs over to his side. Mir. Ha, ha, ha! bravely done, Duretete! there you had him, noble captain; hey, they run, they run, Victoria, Victoria-Ha, ha, ha !-how happy am I in an excellent friend! tell me of your virtuosos, and men of sense! a parcel of sour-faced, splenetic rogues-a man of my thin constitution should never want a fool in his company I don't affect your fine things that improve the understanding, but hearty laughing to fatten my carcase: and, in my conscience, a man of sense is as melancholy without a coxcomb, as a lion without a jackall; he hunts for our diversion, starts game for our spleen, and perfectly feeds us with pleasure. I hate the man who makes acquaintance nice, [Exeunt. ACT IV. SCENE I.-OLD MIRABELL's house. Enter OLD MIRABELL and DUGARD. Dug. THE lady abbess is my relation, and privy to the plot: your son has been there, but had no admittance beyond the privilege of the grate, and there my sister refused to see him. He went off more nettled at his repulse, than I thought his gaiety could admit. Old Mir. Aye, aye, this nunnery will bring him about, I warrant ye. Enter DURETETE, Dur. Here, where are ye all? O! Mr Mirabell, you have done fine things for your posterity-and you, Mr Dugard, may come to answer this I come to demand my friend at your hands; restore him, sir, or [TO OLD MIRABELL. Old Mir. Restore him! what, d'ye think I have got him in my trunk, or my pocket! Pur, Sir, he's mad, and you're the cause on't. Old Mir. That may be; for I was as mad as he, when I begot him. Dug. Mad, sir! what d'ye mean? Dur. What do you mean, sir, by shutting up your sister yonder to talk like a parrot through a cage? Or a decoy-duck, to draw others into the snare? Your son, sir, because she has deserted him, he has forsaken the world; and, in three words, has Old Mir. Hanged himself! Dur. The very same-turned friar. Old Mir. You lie, sir, 'tis ten times worse.— Bob turned friar! Why should the fellow shave his foolish crown when the same razor may cut his throat? Dur. If you have any command, or you any interest over him, lose not a minute: He has thrown himself into the next monastery, and has ordered me to pay off his servants, and discharge his equipage. Old Mir. Let me alone to ferret him out; I'll sacrifice the abbot, if he receives him; I'll try whether the spiritual or the natural father has the most right to the child. But, dear captain, what has he done with his estate? Dur. Settled it upon the church, sir. Old Mir. The church! Nay, then the devil won't get him out of their clutches--Ten thousand livres a-year upon the church! 'Tis downright sacrilege-Come, gentlemen, all hands to work; for half that sum, one of these monasteries shall protect you a traitor from the law, a rebellious wife from her husband, and a disobedient son from his own father. [Exit OLD MIRABELL. Dug. But will you persuade me, that he is gone to a monastery? Dur. Is your sister gone to the Filles Repenties? I tell you, sir, she's not fit for the society of repenting maids. Dug. Why so, sir? Dur. Because she's neither one nor the other; she's too old to be a maid, and too young to repent. [Exit; DUGARD after him. SCENE II.-The inside of a monastery; ORIANA in a nun's habit; BISARRE. Ori. I hope, Bisarre, there is no harm in jesting with this religious habit. Bis. To me, the greatest jest in the habit is taking it in earnest: I don't understand this imprisoning people with the keys of Paradise, nor the merit of that virtue, which comes by constraint. Besides, we may own to one another, that we are in the worst company when among ourselves; for our private thoughts run us into those desires, which our pride resists from the attack of the world; and, you may remember, the first woman met the devil when she retired from her man. Ori. But I'm reconciled, methinks, to the mortification of a nunnery; because I fancy the habit becomes me. Bis. A well-contrived mortification, truly, that makes a woman look ten times handsomer than she did before! Aye, my dear, were there any religion in becoming dress, our sex's devotion were rightly placed; for our toilets would do the work of the altar; we should all be canonized. Ori. But don't you think there is a great deal of merit in dedicating a beautiful face and person to the service of religion? : Bis. Not half so much as devoting them to a pretty fellow If our feminality had no business in this world, why was it sent hither? Let us dedicate our beautiful minds to the service of Heaven; and for our handsome persons, they become a box at the play, as well as a pew in the church. Ori. But the vicissitudes of fortune, the inconstancy of man, with other disappointments of life, require some place of religion, for a refuge from their persecution. Bis. Ha, ha, ha! and do you think there is any devotion in a fellow's going to church, when he takes it only for a sanctuary? Don't you know that religion consists in charity with all mankind? and that you should never think of being friends with Heaven, till you have quarrelled with all the world! Come, come, mind your business; Mirabell loves you; 'tis now plain, and hold him to't; give fresh orders that he shan't see you: We get more by hiding our faces sometimes, than by exposing them: a very mask, you see, whets desire; but a pair of keen eyes through an iron grate fire double upon them, with view and disguise. But I must be gone upon my own affairs; I have brought my captain about again. Ori. But why will you trouble yourself with that coxcomb? Bis. Because he is a coxcomb: had I not better have a lover like him, that I can make an ass of, than a lover like yours, to make a fool of me? [Knocking below.] A message from Mirabell, I'll lay my life. [She runs to the door.] Come hither, run: thou charming nun, come hither. Ori. What's the news? [Runs to her. Bis. Don't you see who's below? Ori. I see nobody but a friar. Bis. Ah! Thou poor blind Cupid! O' my conscience, these hearts of ours spoil our heads in stantly! the fellows no sooner turn knaves, than we turn fools. A friar! Don't you see a villainous genteel mein under that cloak of hypocrisy, the loose careless air of a tall rake-helly fellow! Ori. As I live, Mirabell turned friar! I hope, in Heaven, he's not in earnest. Bis. In earnest! Ha, ha, ha! are you in earnest? Now's your time; this disguise has he certainly taken for a passport, to get in and try your resolutions; stick to your habit, to be sure; treat him with disdain, rather than anger; for pride becomes us more than passion. Remember what I say, if you would yield to advantage, and hold on the attack; to draw him on, keep him off to be sure. The cunning gamesters never gain too fast; [Exit. Ori. His coming puts me into some ambiguity, I don't know how; I don't fear him, but I mistrust myself; would he were not come! yet I would not have him gone neither-I'm afraid to talk with him, but I love to see him though. What a strange power has this fantastic fire, That makes us dread even what we most de sire! Enter MIRABELL in a friar's habit. Mir. Save you, sister-Your brother, young lady, having a regard for your soul's health, has sent me to prepare you for the sacred habit by confession. Ori. That's false; the cloven foot already.[Aside.] My brother's care I own; and to yoth 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, shall send it out in tears, to which now hear my vow. Mir. [Discovering himself.] No, my fair an gel! 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 thec 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 man, 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! |