Aphra Behn

“ You never knew a Woman thrive so well by real Love, as by Dissimulation: This has a thousand Arts and Tricks to conquer; appears in any Shape, in any Humour; can laugh or weep, be coy or play, by turns, as suits the Lover best, while simple Love has only one Road of Sighs and Softness; these to Lejere are due: But all my Charms, and Arts of gay dissembling, are for the credulous Prince.—Ha—he’s here!—and with him the dear Youth that has enslav’d me, who triumphs o’er the rest. Aside.
Enter Prince Frederick, Olivia following, sees Mirtilla, and withdraws. ”

“ Wit. Are there no other Women kind, fair, and to be purchas’d? he cannot starve for Beauty in this Age, that has a stock to buy.
Isab. Why, I will cuckold thee, look to’t, I will most damnably.
Wit. So wou’d you, had you lov’d me, in a year or two; therefore like a kind civil Husband, I’ve made provision for you, a Friend, and one I dare trust my Honour with,—’tis Mr. Knowell, Madam.
Isab. Lodwick! What Devil brought that Name to his knowledge?—Canst thou know him, and yet dare hope to marry me? ”

“ Now undisguised thou mayst approach my Bed, and reign o’er all my Pleasures and my Fortunes, of which this Minute I create thee Lord, And thus begin my Homage.— Kisses him.
Sir Pat. Sure ’tis some Fiend! this cannot be my Lady.
Lean. ’Tis something uncivil before your face, Sir, to do this.
Wit. Thou wondrous kind, and wondrous beautiful; that Power that made thee with so many Charms, gave me a Soul fit only to adore ’em; nor wert thou destin’d to another’s Arms, but to be render’d still more fit for mine.
Sir Pat. Hah, is not that Fainlove, Isabella’s Husband? Oh Villain! Villain! ”

“ Enter Wittmore.
—Wittmore! how is’t, Friend! thou lookest cloudy.
Wit. You’ll hardly blame me, Gentlemen, when you shall know what a damn’d unfortunate Rascal I am.
Lod. Prithee what’s the matter?
Wit. Why, I am to be marry’d, Gentlemen, marry’d to day.
Lod. How, marry’d! nay, Gad, then thou’st reason; but to whom prithee?
Wit. There’s the Devil on’t again, to a fine young fair, brisk Woman, that has all the Temptations Heaven can give her.
Lod. What pity ’tis they shou’d be bestow’d to so wicked an end! Is this your Intrigue, that has been so long conceal’d from your Friends? ”

“ Enter Olivia as a Man, Teresia in Masquerade; the Scene opens, and discovers Lady Youthly, Lady Blunder, Mirtilla, Manage, Prince Frederick in a rich Habi, Welborn in one like his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of both Sexes.
Oliv. Oh, my dear Teresia, I’m lost in Love! I’ve seen a Man,—or rather ’tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so dress’d! so shap’d! and danc’d with such an Air!
Ter. Hey day! Prithee where’s this Wonder to be seen?
Oliv. Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and Movement of uncommon Fashion? ”

“ So white, and so unblemish’d, oh Curtius!
I’m ravisht beyond Sense when I but think on’t;
How much more must my Surprize be,
When I behold these Wonders.
Cur. And have you seen her, Sir, in all this Beauty?
Oh Hell! Aside.
Fred. Curtius, I will not hide my Soul from thee;
I have seen all the marvels of that Maid.
Cur. My Soul, learn now the Art of being disguis’d; Aside.
—’Tis much, my Lord, that one
Bred in such simple Innocence,
Should learn so soon so much of Confidence:
Pray, Sir, what Arts and Cunning do you use?
Fred. Faith, time and importunity refuse no body. ”

“ Prince. Thou kiss those Lips? impossible, and false; they ne’er were prest but by soft Southern Winds.
Sir Morg. Southern Winds—ha, ha, lookye, d’ye see, Boy, thy Master’s mad, or so, d’ye see—why, what a Pox, d’ye think I never kiss my Wife, or so, d’ye see.
Prince. Thy Wife!—
Mir. He will betray his Passion to these Fools: Alas, he’s mad—and will undo my Hopes. Aside.
Prince. Thou mayst as well claim Kindred to the Gods; she’s mine, a Kingdom shall not buy her from me.
Sir Morg. Hay day, my Wife yours! look ye, as d’ye see, what, is it Midsummer-moon with you, Sir, or so, d’ye see? ”

“ Yes, fight, Sir: Come, spare your Prayers to the three Fatal Sisters, and cut my Thred thy self, thou graceless reprobate Rascal—Come, come on, you Man of Bravery.
Runs at Sir Merlin, who retires before him: Sir Morgan holds Sir Rowland.
Sir Mer. Oh, good Sir, hold: I recant, Sir, I recant.
Sir Row. Putting up. Well, I’m satisfy’d thou’lt make no good Rake-hell in this Point, whatever you will in the others. And since Nature has made thee a Coward, Inclination a Coxcomb, I’ll take care to make thee a Beggar; and so thou shalt be a Rake-hell but in Will, I’ll disinherit thee, I will, Villain. ”

“ Come to my Arms, thou Charmer of my Soul! and if one spark of Jealousy remain, one of those precious Tears shall quench the Crime—Oh, come, and let me lead thee to thy Bed, and breathe new Vows into thy panting Bosom. Leads her off, she looks back on George and smiles.
Geo. Now all the Plagues of injur’d Lovers wreck thee; ’Sdeath, where has she hid Olivia? or how am I deceiv’d?—’Tis Day, and with it new Invention rise to damn this Woman to the sin of Shame; break all the Chains that hold the princely Youth, and sink her with her fancy’d Power and Vanity. ”

“ Yes, Guilliam, since thou hast been so faithful,
I dare assure thee Lucia shall be thine.
Clo. speaks aside to Guil. Guil. bows.
Fred. Come, my fair Cloris, and invest thy self
In all the Glories which I lately promis’d:
—And, Ladies, you’ll attend her to the Court,
And share the Welcomes which the Duke provides her;
Where all the Sallies of my flattering Youth
Shall be no more remember’d, but as past.
Since ’tis a Race that must by Man be run,
I’m happy in my Youth it was begun;
It serves my future Manhood to improve,
Which shall be sacrific’d to War and Love. ”

“ ACT I. Scene I. A Room in Lady Knowell’s House. Enter Lucretia with Isabella.
Isab. ’Tis much I owe to Fortune, my dear Lucretia, for being so kind to make us Neighbours, where with Ease we may continually exchange our Souls and Thoughts without the attendance of a Coach, and those other little Formalities that make a Business of a Visit; it looks so like a Journey, I hate it.
Lucr. Attendance is that Curse to Greatness that confines the Soul, and spoils good Humour; we are free whilst thus alone, and can laugh at the abominable Fopperies of this Town. ”

“ The knowledge, Madam, will not much surprise,
Which you have gain’d already from mine Eyes;
My timorous Heart that way my Tongue would spare,
And tells you of the Flames you’ve kindled there:
’Tis long I’ve suffered under this Constraint,
Have always suffer’d, but ne’er made Complaint;
And now against my will I must reveal
What Love and my Respect would fain conceal.
Ism. What mean you, Sir? what have you seen in me,
That should encourage this temerity?
Alb. A world of Beauties, and a world of Charms,
And every Smile and Frown begets new harms ”

“ Fred. Curtius! I am betray’d, oh Villain! Offers to fight.
Cur. Ho, within there—
He calls, and all the masked Men come out, and offer their Pistols at Frederick.
Fred. Hold, I am the Prince of Florence.
Cur. These, Sir, are Rogues, and have no sense of ought,
But Mischief in their Souls;
Gold is their Prince and God,—go, be gone— They withdraw.
—See, Sir, I can command them.
Fred. Curtius, why dost thou deal thus treacherously with me?
Did I not offer thee to fight thee fairly?
Cur. ’Tis like the Injuries, Sir, that you have done me ”

“ Enter Sir Rowland half dress’d, Lady Blunder in an Undress, Lady Youthly in her morning-dress, Teresia and Mr. Twang.
Sir Row. Morrow, my Lady Youthly, and thank you for my Night’s Lodging—You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.
L. Youth. Truly, Sir Rowland, that I intend.
Sir Row. But where’s the Bride-groom, Madam?
Enter Roger.
How now, Roger, what, no news yet of George?
Rog. Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.
Sir Row. Rubbish—What—what, is George become the Rubbish of the World then? Weeps.
Twang. Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir. ”

“ Death, was ever such a Lover?
Just ready for the highest Joys of Love,
And like a bashful Girl restrain’d by Fear
Of an insuing Infamy—I hate to cuckold my own Expectations.
L. Fan. Heavens! what can you mean?
Lod. Death, what’s this?—sure ’tis not Virtue in me,—Pray Heaven it be not Impotence!—Where got I this damn’d Honesty, which I never found my self master of till now!—why shou’d it seize me when I had least need on’t?
L. Fan. What ails you? are you mad?—we are safe, and free as Winds let loose to ruffle all the Groves; what is’t delays you then? Soft. ”

“ Lean. An Adventure! prithee where?
Sir Cred. What, last Night, when you rescued me from the Bilbo-Blades! indeed ye look’d a little furiously.
Lod. I had reason, I was just then come out of a Garden from fighting with a Man whom I found with my Mistress; and I had at least known who’t had been, but for the coming of those Rascals that set on you, who parted us, whilst he made his escape in the Croud.
Wit. Death! that was I, who for fear of being known got away: was’t he then that I fought with, and whom I learnt lov’d Isabella? Aside. ”

“ Never, my Mirtilla!
The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes, soft 362 as thy tender Touches; and e’er the Pantings of my Heart are laid, new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in Love’s harmonious Order. Kisses and embraces her.
Enter George, softly. ”

“ In the hither Quarter, in Daring’s Tent; you’ll know them by Lanthorns on every corner—there was never better time to surprize them—for this day Daring’s married, and there’s nothing but Dancing and Drinking.
Haz. Married! to whom?
Dull. That I ne’er enquir’d.
Friend. ’Tis to Chrisante, Friend—and the Reward of my Attempt is lost. Oh, I am mad, I’ll fight away my Life, and my Despair shall yet do greater Wonders, than even my Love could animate me to. Let’s part our Men, and beset his Tents on both sides. Friendly goes out with a Party. ”

“ False! charge me not with unprofitable Sins; wou’d I refuse a Blessing, or blaspheme a Power that might undo me? wou’d I die in my full vigorous Health, or live in constant Pain? All this I cou’d, sooner than be untrue.
Sir Pat. Ingenuously, my Lady Fancy, he speaks discreetly, and to purpose.
L. Fan. Indeed, my Dear, he does, and like an honest Gentleman: and I shou’d think my self very unreasonable not to believe him.—And, Sir, I’ll undertake your Peace shall be made with your Mistress.
Sir Pat. Well, I am the most fortunate Man in a Wife, that ever had the blessing of a good one. ”

“ Nay, then to my last shift. Undoes the Pomel of his Sword.
Come, my good Poison, like that of Hannibal; long I have born a noble Remedy for all the Ills of Life. Takes Poison.
I have too long surviv’d my Queen and Glory, those two bright Stars that influenc’d my Life are set to all Eternity. Lies down.
Enter Fearless, runs to Bacon, and looks on his Sword.
Fear. —Hah—what have ye done?
Bac. Secur’d my self from being a publick Spectacle upon the common Theatre of Death.
Enter Daring and Soldiers.
Dar. Victory, Victory! they fly, they fly, where’s the victorious General? ”

“ My Cloke, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my Train—no more—but Endimion waits. Exit Manage.
—There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self to do him Justice—A new desire of humouring my wish, sways all my Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for a Promise? since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well excuse our needful Perjury.
Enter Manage, and Olivia, she runs and embraces him.
—Let the young bashful Maid, unskill’d in Love, deny the pressing Swain. ”

“ Enough, enough, my charming Isabella, I am confirm’d.
Isab. Lodwick! what good Angel conducted thee hither?
Lod. E’en honest Charles Wittmore here, thy Friend and mine, no Bug-bear Lover he.
Isab. Wittmore! that Friend I’ve often heard thee name? Now some kind mischief on him, he has so frighted me, I scarce can bring my Sense to so much order, to thank him that he loves me not.
Lod. Thou shalt defer that payment to more leisure; we’re Men of business now. ”

“ Prince. Oh! tell me, wilt thou bless my Youth and Love? Oh! swear, lest thou shouldst break—for Women wou’d be Gods, but for Inconstancy.
Page. See, he begins to come to himself again—keep off—
Mir. You have a thousand Charms that may secure you—The Ceremony of my Nuptials is every Evening celebrated, the noise of which draws all the Town together; be here in Masquerade, and I’ll contrive it so, that you shall speak with me this Night alone.
Prince. So, now let my Soul take Air—
L. Blun. What pity ’tis so fine a Gentleman shou’d be thus. ”