The Inconstant

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. Enter Two Ladies, laughing

Bis. Ha! ha! ha!

Both Ladies. 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?

Dur. Ah, madam, I'm the best natured fellow in the world.

Bis. A man! we're mistaken; a man has manners: the awkward creature is some tinker's trull, in a periwig. Come, ladies, let us 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; – lookye, 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?

Dur. Burn me if I do, if the coast be clear.[Runs out.

Bis. Ha! ha! ha! The visit, ladies, was critical for our diversions: we'll go make an end of our tea.[Exeunt.

Enter Young Mirabel and Old Mirabel

Y. Mir. Your patience, sir. I tell you, I won't marry; and, though you send all the bishops in France to persuade me, I shall never believe their doctrine against their practice. 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 showed what an expensive dog I should have of you.

Enter Petit.Well, Petit, how does she now?

Petit. Mad, sir, con pompos– Ay, Mr. Mirabel, 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. 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 Mirabel holds him.] Bob, draw.[Aside.

Dug. Patience! the coward's virtue, and the brave man's failing, when thus provoked – Villain!

Y. Mir. Your sister's phrensy shall excuse your madness; and, to show my concern for what she suffers, I'll bear the villain from her brother. – Put up your anger with your sword; I have a heart like yours, 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 aChair

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?

Oriana. 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 sights. Take heed, it comes now – What's that? Pray stand away: I have seen that face, sure. – How light my head is!

Y. Mir. What piercing charms has beauty, even in madness!

Oriana. 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. Heigho! – Will not you tell me where my heart lies buried?

Y. Mir. My very soul is touch'd – Your hand, my fair!

Oriana. How soft and gentle you feel! I'll tell you your fortune, friend.

Y. Mir. How she stares upon me!

Oriana. You have a flattering face; but 'tis a fine one – I warrant you have five hundred mistresses – Ay, to be sure, a mistress for every guinea in his pocket – Will you pray for me? I shall die to-morrow – And will you ring my passing bell?

Y. Mir. Do you know me, injured creature?

Oriana. No, – but you shall be my intimate acquaintance – in the grave.[Weeps.

Y. Mir. Oh, tears! I must believe you; sure there's a kind of sympathy in madness; for even I, obdurate 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.

Oriana. What, have you lost your lover? No, you mock me; I'll go home and pray.

Y. Mir. Stay, my fair innocence, and hear me own my love so loud, that I may call your senses to their place, restore them to their charming happy functions, and reinstate myself into your favour.

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.

Enter Duretete

Dur. Where are you all? What the devil! melancholy, and I here! Are ye sad, and such a ridiculous subject, such a very good jest among you as I am?

Y. Mir. Away with this impertinence; this is no place for bagatelle; I have murdered my honour, destroyed a lady, and my desire of reparation is come at length too late. See there!

Dur. What ails her?

Y. Mir. Alas, she's mad!

Dur. Mad! dost wonder at that? By this 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?

Y. 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 nailed 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.

Y. Mir. Away, thou wild buffoon! How poor and mean this humour now appears? His follies and my own I here disclaim; this lady's phrensy 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 all but Young Mirabel and Oriana.

Oriana. Oh, sir!

Y. Mir. Speak, my charming angel, if your dear senses have regained their order; speak, fair, and bless me with the news.

Oriana. First, let me bless the cunning of my sex, that happy counterfeited phrensy that has restored to my poor labouring breast the dearest, best beloved of men.

Y. 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 yours, is now in tune again; the counterfeiting fair has played the fool!

She was so mad, to counterfeit for me;I was so mad, to pawn my liberty:But now we both are well, and both are free.

Oriana. How, sir? Free!

Y. Mir. As air, my dear bedlamite! What, marry a lunatic! Lookye, my dear, you have counterfeited madness so very well this bout, that you'll be apt to play the fool all your life long. – Here, gentlemen!

Oriana. Monster! you won't disgrace me!

Y. Mir. O' my faith, but I will. Here, come in gentlemen. – A miracle! a miracle! the woman's dispossess'd! the devil's vanished!

Enter Old Mirabel and Dugard

Old Mir. Bless us! was she possessed?

Y. Mir. With the worst of demons, sir! a marriage devil! a horrid devil! Mr. Dugard, don't be surprised. I promised my endeavours to cure your sister; no mad doctor in Christendom could 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.

Oriana. Your remedy, most barbarous man, will prove the greatest poison to my health; for, though my former phrensy was but counterfeit, I now shall run into a real madness.

[Exit; Old Mirabel after.

Y. Mir. What a dangerous precipice have I 'scap'd! 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!

Y. Mir. Marriage! hanging! I was just at the gallows foot, the running noose about my neck, and the cart wheeling from me. – Oh, I shan't be myself this month again!

Dur. Did not I tell you so? They are all alike, saints or devils!

Y. 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.

Y. Mir. A match; I'll go pay my compliment of leave to my father presently.

Dur. I'm afraid he'll stop you.

Y. Mir. What, pretend a command over me, after his settlement of a thousand pound a year upon me! No, no, he has passed away his authority with the conveyance; the will of the living father is chiefly obeyed for the sake of the dying one.

Dependence, ev'n a father's sway secures,For, though the son rebels, the heir is yours.[Exeunt severally.

ACT THE FIFTH

SCENE I

The Street before the PlayhouseMirabel and Duretete, as coming from the Play

Dur. How d'ye like this play?

Y. 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,But ne'er mind us, that in the audience die:The poet's hero should not move their pain,But they should weep for those their eyes have slain.

Dur. Hoyty, toyty! did Phillis inspire you with all this?

Y. 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. – I could wish that my whole life long, were the first night of a new play.

Dur. The fellow has quite forgot this journey; – have you bespoke post horses?

Y. 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 yours 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?

Y. Mir. Yes, sir; I have a confident address, no disagreeable person, and five hundred Lewis d'ors in my pocket.

Dur. Five hundred Lewis d'ors! you an't mad!

Y. Mir. I tell you, she's worth five thousand; one of her black, brilliant eyes, is worth a diamond as big as her head.

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?

Y. 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?

Enter Oriana, in Boy's Clothes, with a Letter

Oriana. Is your name Mirabel, sir?

Y. Mir. Yes, sir.

Oriana. A letter from your uncle, in Picardy.

[Gives the Letter.

Y. 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,Yours.

Hast a mind to travel, child?

Oriana. 'Tis my desire, sir; I should be pleased to serve a traveller in any capacity.

Y. Mir. A hopeful inclination; you shall along with me into Italy, as my page.

Dur. [Noise without.] Too handsome – The play's done, and some of the ladies come this way.

[Lamorce without, with her Train borne up by a Page.

Y. Mir. Duretete, the very dear, identical she!

Dur. And what then?

Y. Mir. Why, 'tis she!

Dur. And what then, sir?

Y. Mir. Then! – Why, lookye, sirrah, the first piece of service I put upon you, is to follow that lady's coach, and bring me word where she lives. [To Oriana.

Oriana. I don't know the town, sir, and am afraid of losing myself.

Y. Mir. Pshaw!

Enter Lamorce and Page

Lam. Page, what's become of all my people?

Page. I can't tell, madam; I can see no sign of your ladyship's coach.

Lam. That fellow has got into his old pranks, and fallen drunk somewhere; – none of the footmen there?

Page. Not one, madam.

Lam. These servants are the plague of our lives – what shall I do?

Y. Mir. By all my hopes, Fortune pimps for me! now, Duretete, for a piece of gallantry!

Dur. Why, you won't, sure?

Y. Mir. Won't, brute! – Let not your servants' neglect, madam, put your ladyship to any inconvenience; for you can't be disappointed of an equipage, whilst mine waits below: and, would you honour the master so far, he would be proud to pay his attendance.

Dur. Ay, to be sure! [Aside.

Lam. Sir, I won't presume to be troublesome, for my habitation is a great way off.

Dur. Very true, madam, and he's a little engaged; besides, madam – a hackney coach will do as well, madam.

Y. Mir. Rude beast, be quiet! [To Duretete.] The farther from home, madam, the more occasion you have for a guard – pray, madam —

Lam. Lard, sir —

[He seems to press, she to decline it, in dumb show.

Dur. Ah! The devil's in his impudence! now he wheedles, she smiles – he flatters, she simpers – he swears, she believes – he's a rogue, and she's a w – in a moment.

Y. Mir. Without there! my coach! Duretete, wish me joy!

[Hands the Lady out.

Dur. Wish you a – ! Here, you little Picard, go follow your master, and he'll lead you —

Oriana. Whither, sir?

Dur. To the Academy, child – 'tis the fashion with men of quality, to teach their pages their exercises – go.

Oriana. Won't you go with him too, sir? That woman may do him some harm, I don't like her.

Dur. Why, how now, Mr. Page, do you start up, to give laws of a sudden? Do you pretend to rise at court, and disapprove the pleasure of your betters? – Lookye, sirrah, if ever you would rise by a great man, be sure to be with him in his little actions; and, as a step to your advancement, follow your master immediately, and make it your hope, that he goes to a bagnio.

Oriana. Heavens forbid![Exit.

Dur. Now would I sooner take a cart in company of the hangman, than a coach with that woman: – What a strange antipathy have I taken against these creatures! a woman to me, is aversion upon aversion! a cheese, a cat, a breast of mutton, the squalling of children, the grinding of knives, and the snuff of a candle.

SCENE II

Lamorce's Lodgings Enter Mirabel and Lamorce

Lam. To convince me, sir, that your service was something more than good breeding, please to lay out an hour of your company upon my desire, as you have already upon my necessity.

Y. Mir. Your desire, madam, has only prevented my request: – My hours! Make them yours, madam, eleven, twelve, one, two, three, and all that belong to those happy minutes.

Lam. But I must trouble you, sir, to dismiss your retinue, because an equipage at my door, at this time of night, will not be consistent with my reputation.

Y. Mir. By all means, madam, all but one little boy – Here, page!

Enter Oriana

Order my coach and servants home, and do you stay; 'tis a foolish country-boy, that knows nothing but innocence.

Lam. Innocence, sir! I should be sorry if you made any sinister constructions of my freedom.

Y. Mir. O, madam, I must not pretend to remark upon any body's freedom, having so entirely forfeited my own.

Lam. Well, sir, 'twere convenient towards our easy correspondence, that we entered into a free confidence of each other, by a mutual declaration of what we are, and what we think of one another. – Now, sir, what are you?

Y. Mir. In three words, madam, – I am a gentleman, and have five hundred pounds in my pocket.

Lam. And your name is —

Y. Mir. Mustapha. – Now, madam, the inventory of your fortunes?

Lam. My name is Lamorce – my birth, noble; I was married young, to a proud, rude, sullen, impetuous fellow; – the husband spoiled the gentleman; – crying ruined my face, till at last, I took heart, leaped out of a window, got away to my friends, sued my tyrant, and recovered my fortune. – I lived from fifteen to twenty, to please a husband; from twenty to forty, I'm resolved to please myself, and from thence, upwards, I'll humour the world.

Y. Mir. Ha! ha! ha! I rejoice in your good fortune, with all my heart!

Lam. O, now I think on't, Mr. Mustapha, you have got the finest ring there, I could scarcely believe it right; pray let me see it.

Y. Mir. Hum! Yes, madam, 'tis – 'tis right – but – but – but – but – but it was given me by my mother – an old family ring, madam – an old-fashioned, family ring.

Lam. Ay, sir! – If you can entertain yourself for a moment, I'll wait on you immediately.

Y. Mir. Certainly the stars have been in a strange, intriguing humour, when I was born. – Ay, this night should I have had a bride in my arms, and that I should like well enough! But what should I have to-morrow night? The same. And what next night? The same. And what next night? The very same: Soup for breakfast, soup for dinner, soup for supper, and soup for breakfast again – But here's variety.

I love the fair, who freely gives her heart,That's mine by ties of nature, not of art;Who boldly owns whate'er her thoughts indite,And is too modest for a hypocrite.[Lamorce appears at the Door; as he runs towards her, Four Bravoes step in before her. He starts back.She comes, she comes – Hum, hum – Bitch – Murdered, murdered, to be sure! The cursed strumpet! To make me send away my servants – Nobody near me! These cut-throats always make sure work. – What shall I do? I have but one way. Are these gentlemen your relations, madam?

Lam. Yes, sir.

Y. Mir. Gentlemen, your most humble servant; – sir, your most faithful; yours, sir, with all my heart; your most obedient – come, gentlemen, [Salutes all round.] please to sit – no ceremony – next the lady, pray, sir.

Lam. Well, sir, and how d'ye like my friends? [They all sit.

Y. Mir. O, madam, the most finished gentlemen! I was never more happy in good company in my life; I suppose, sir, you have travelled?

1 Bra. Yes, sir.

Y. Mir. Which way, may I presume?

1 Bra. In a western barge, sir.

Y. Mir. Ha! ha! ha! very pretty! facetious pretty gentleman!

Lam. Ha! ha! ha! sir, you have got the prettiest ring upon your finger there —

Y. Mir. Ah! Madam, 'tis at your service, with all my heart!

[Offering the Ring.

Lam. By no means, sir, a family ring! [Takes it.

Y. Mir. No matter, madam. – Seven hundred pound, by this light![Aside.

2 Bra. Pray, sir, what's o'clock?

Y. Mir. Hum! Sir, I have left my watch at home.

2 Bra. I thought I saw the string of it, just now.

Y. Mir. Ods my life, sir, I beg your pardon, here it is! – but it don't go.

[Putting it up.

Lam. O dear sir, an English watch! Tompion's, I presume?

Y. Mir. D'ye like, it, madam? No ceremony – 'tis at your service, with all my heart and soul! – Tompion's! Hang ye![Aside.

1 Bra. But, sir, above all things, I admire the fashion and make, of your sword hilt!

Y. Mir. I'm mighty glad you like it, sir!

1 Bra. Will you part with it, sir?

Y. Mir. Sir, I won't sell it.

1 Bra. Not sell it, sir!

Y. Mir. No, gentlemen, but I'll bestow it, with all my heart![Offering it.

1 Bra. O sir, we shall rob you!

Y. Mir. That you do, I'll be sworn! [Aside.] I have another at home; pray, sir, – Gentlemen, you're too modest – have I any thing else that you fancy? – Sir, will you do me a favour? [To the First Bravo.] I am extremely in love with that hat which you wear, will you do me the favour to change with me?

1 Bra. Lookye, sir, this is a family hat, and I would not part with it, but if you like it – [They change Hats.] – I want but a handsome pretence to quarrel with him – Some wine! Sir, your good health.

[Pulls Mirabel by the Nose.

Y. Mir. Oh, sir, your most humble servant! a pleasant frolic enough, to drink a man's health, and pull him by the nose! ha! ha! ha! the pleasantest, pretty-humoured gentleman —

Lam. Help the gentleman to a glass.

[Mirabel drinks.

1 Bra. How d'ye like the wine, sir?

Y. Mir. Very good o'the kind, sir: – But I tell ye what, I find we're all inclined to be frolicsome, and 'egad, for my own part, I was never more disposed to be merry; let's make a night on't, ha! – This wine is pretty, but I have such burgundy at home! Lookye, gentlemen, let me send for half a dozen flasks of my burgundy, I defy France to match it; – 'twill make us all life, all air, pray, gentlemen.

2 Bra. Eh? Shall us have his burgundy?

1 Bra. Yes, 'faith, we'll have all we can; here, call up the gentleman's servant. – [Exit Footman.] What think you, Lamorce?

Lam. Yes, yes – Your servant is a foolish country boy, sir, he understands nothing but innocence.