Old Bachelor — Act 4
BELLMOUR, _in fanatic habit_, SETTER.
BELL.
’Tis pretty near the hour.
[_Looking on his watch_.
] Well, and how, Setter, hae, does my hypocrisy fit me, hae?
Does it sit easy on me?
SET.
Oh, most religiously well, sir.
BELL.
I wonder why all our young fellows should glory in an opinion of atheism, when they may be so much more conveniently lewd under the coverlet of religion.
SET.
S’bud, sir, away quickly: there’s Fondlewife just turned the corner, and ’s coming this way.
BELL.
Gad’s so, there he is: he must not see me.
SCENE II. FONDLEWIFE, BARNABY.
FOND.
I say I will tarry at home.
BAR.
But, sir.
FOND.
Good lack!
I profess the spirit of contradiction hath possessed the lad—I say I will tarry at home, varlet.
BAR.
I have done, sir; then farewell five hundred pound.
FOND.
Ha, how’s that?
Stay, stay, did you leave word, say you, with his wife?
With Comfort herself?
BAR.
I did; and Comfort will send Tribulation hither as soon as ever he comes home.
I could have brought young Mr. Prig to have kept my mistress company in the meantime.
But you say— FOND.
How, how, say, varlet!
I say let him not come near my doors.
I
say, he is a wanton young Levite, and pampereth himself up with dainties, that he may look lovely in the eyes of women.
Sincerely, I am afraid he hath already defiled the tabernacle of our sister Comfort; while her good husband is deluded by his godly appearance.
I say that even lust doth sparkle in his eyes and glow upon his cheeks, and that I would as soon trust my wife with a lord’s high-fed chaplain.
BAR.
Sir, the hour draws nigh, and nothing will be done here until you come.
FOND.
And nothing can be done here until I go; so that I’ll tarry, de’e see.
BAR.
And run the hazard to lose your affair, sir!
FOND.
Good lack, good lack—I profess it is a very sufficient vexation for a man to have a handsome wife.
BAR.
Never, sir, but when the man is an insufficient husband.
’Tis then, indeed, like the vanity of taking a fine house, and yet be forced to let lodgings to help pay the rent.
FOND.
I profess a very apt comparison, varlet.
Go and bid my Cocky come out to me; I will give her some instructions, I will reason with her before I go.
SCENE III.
FONDLEWIFE _alone_.
And in the meantime I will reason with myself.
Tell me, Isaac, why art thee jealous?
Why art thee distrustful of the wife of thy bosom?
Because she is young and vigorous, and I am old and impotent.
Then why didst thee marry, Isaac?
Because she was beautiful and tempting, and because I was obstinate and doting; so that my inclination was (and is still) greater than my power.
And will not that which tempted thee, also tempt others, who will tempt her, Isaac?
I fear it much.
But does not thy wife love thee, nay, dote upon thee?
Yes.
Why then!
Ay, but to say truth, she’s fonder of me than she has reason to be; and in the way of trade, we still suspect the smoothest dealers of the deepest designs.
And that she has some designs deeper than thou canst reach, thou hast experimented, Isaac.
But, mum.
SCENE IV. FONDLEWIFE, LÆTITIA.
LÆT.
I hope my dearest jewel is not going to leave me—are you, Nykin?
FOND.
Wife—have you thoroughly considered how detestable, how heinous, and how crying a sin the sin of adultery is?
Have you weighed it, I say?
For it is a very weighty sin; and although it may lie heavy upon thee, yet thy husband must also bear his part.
For thy iniquity will fall upon his head.
LÆT.
Bless me, what means my dear?
FOND.
[_Aside_.
] I profess she has an alluring eye; I am doubtful whether I shall trust her, even with Tribulation himself.
Speak, I say, have you considered what it is to cuckold your husband?
LÆT.
[_Aside_.
] I’m amazed.
Sure he has discovered nothing.
Who has wronged me to my dearest?
I hope my jewel does not think that ever I had any such thing in my head, or ever will have.
FOND.
No, no, I tell you I shall have it in my head— LÆT.
[_Aside_.
] I know not what to think.
But I’m resolved to find the meaning of it.
Unkind dear!
Was it for this you sent to call me?
Is it not affliction enough that you are to leave me, but you must study to increase it by unjust suspicions?
[_Crying_.
] Well—well—you know my fondness, and you love to tyrannise—Go on, cruel man, do: triumph over my poor heart while it holds, which cannot be long, with this usage of yours.
But that’s what you want.
Well, you will have your ends soon.
You will—you will.
Yes, it will break to oblige you.
[_Sighs_.
] FOND.
Verily, I fear I have carried the jest too far.
Nay, look you now if she does not weep—’tis the fondest fool.
Nay, Cocky, Cocky, nay, dear Cocky, don’t cry, I was but in jest, I was not, ifeck.
LÆT.
[_Aside_.
] Oh then, all’s safe.
I was terribly frighted.
My affliction is always your jest, barbarous man!
Oh, that I should love to this degree!
Yet— FOND.
Nay, Cocky.
LÆT.
No, no, you are weary of me, that’s it—that’s all, you would get another wife—another fond fool, to break her heart—Well, be as cruel as you can to me, I’ll pray for you; and when I am dead with grief, may you have one that will love you as well as I have done: I shall be contented to lie at peace in my cold grave—since it will please you.
[_Sighs_.
] FOND.
Good lack, good lack, she would melt a heart of oak—I profess I can hold no longer.
Nay, dear Cocky—ifeck, you’ll break my heart—ifeck you will.
See, you have made me weep—made poor Nykin weep.
Nay, come kiss, buss poor Nykin—and I won’t leave thee—I’ll lose all first.
LÆT.
[_Aside_.
] How!
Heaven forbid!
that will be carrying the jest too far indeed.
FOND.
Won’t you kiss Nykin?
LÆT.
Go, naughty Nykin, you don’t love me.
FOND.
Kiss, kiss, ifeck, I do.
LÆT.
No, you don’t. [_She kisses him_.
] FOND.
What, not love Cocky!
LÆT.
No-h. [_Sighs_.
] FOND.
I profess I do love thee better than five hundred pound—and so thou shalt say, for I’ll leave it to stay with thee.
LÆT.
No you sha’n’t neglect your business for me.
No, indeed, you sha’n’t, Nykin.
If you don’t go, I’ll think you been dealous of me still.
FOND.
He, he, he, wilt thou, poor fool?
Then I will go, I won’t be dealous.
Poor Cocky, kiss Nykin, kiss Nykin, ee, ee, ee.
Here will be the good man anon, to talk to Cocky and teach her how a wife ought to behave herself.
LÆT.
[_Aside_.
] I hope to have one that will show me how a husband ought to behave himself.
I shall be glad to learn, to please my jewel.
[_Kiss_.
] FOND.
That’s my good dear.
Come, kiss Nykin once more, and then get you in.
So—get you in, get you in.
Bye, bye.
LÆT.
Bye, Nykin.
FOND.
Bye, Cocky.
LÆT.
Bye, Nykin.
FOND.
Bye, Cocky, bye, bye.
SCENE V. VAINLOVE, SHARPER.
SHARP.
How!
Araminta lost!
VAIN.
To confirm what I have said, read this.
[_Gives a letter_.
] SHARP.
[_Reads_.
] Hum, hum!
And what then appeared a fault, upon reflection seems only an effect of a too powerful passion.
I’m afraid I give too great a proof of my own at this time.
I am in disorder for what I have written.
But something, I know not what, forced me.
I only beg a favourable censure of this and your ARAMINTA.
SHARP.
Lost!
Pray heaven thou hast not lost thy wits.
Here, here, she’s thy own, man, signed and sealed too.
To her, man—a delicious melon, pure and consenting ripe, and only waits thy cutting up: she has been breeding love to thee all this while, and just now she’s delivered of it.
VAIN.
’Tis an untimely fruit, and she has miscarried of her love.
SHARP.
Never leave this damned ill-natured whimsey, Frank?
Thou hast a sickly, peevish appetite; only chew love and cannot digest it.
VAIN.
Yes, when I feed myself.
But I hate to be crammed.
By heaven, there’s not a woman will give a man the pleasure of a chase: my sport is always balked or cut short.
I stumble over the game I would pursue.
’Tis dull and unnatural to have a hare run full in the hounds’ mouth, and would distaste the keenest hunter.
I would have overtaken, not have met, my game.
SHARP.
However, I hope you don’t mean to forsake it; that will be but a kind of mongrel cur’s trick.
Well, are you for the Mall?
VAIN.
No; she will be there this evening.
Yes, I will go too, and she shall see her error in— SHARP.
In her choice, I-gad.
But thou canst not be so great a brute as to slight her.
VAIN.
I should disappoint her if I did not.
By her management I should think she expects it.
All naturally fly what does pursue: ’Tis fit men should be coy when women woo.
SCENE VI.
_A Room in Fondlewife’s House_.
A SERVANT _introducing_ BELLMOUR, _in fanatic habit_, _with a patch upon one eye and a book in his hand_.
SERV.
Here’s a chair, sir, if you please to repose yourself.
My mistress is coming, sir.
BELL.
Secure in my disguise I have out-faced suspicion and even dared discovery.
This cloak my sanctity, and trusty Scarron’s novels my prayer-book; methinks I am the very picture of Montufar in the Hypocrites.
Oh!
she comes.
SCENE VII. BELLMOUR, LÆTITIA.
So breaks Aurora through the veil of night, Thus fly the clouds, divided by her light, And every eye receives a new-born sight.
[_Throwing off his cloak_, _patch_, _etc.
_] LÆT.
Thus strewed with blushes, like—Ah!
Heaven defend me!
Who’s this?
[_Discovering him_, _starts_.
] BELL.
Your lover.
LÆT.
Vainlove’s friend!
I know his face, and he has betrayed me to him.
[_Aside_.
] BELL.
You are surprised.
Did you not expect a lover, madam?
Those eyes shone kindly on my first appearance, though now they are o’ercast.
LÆT.
I may well be surprised at your person and impudence: they are both new to me.
You are not what your first appearance promised: the piety of your habit was welcome, but not the hypocrisy.
BELL.
Rather the hypocrisy was welcome, but not the hypocrite.
LÆT.
Who are you, sir?
You have mistaken the house sure.
BELL.
I have directions in my pocket which agree with everything but your unkindness.
[_Pulls out the letter_.
] LÆT.
My letter!
Base Vainlove!
Then ’tis too late to dissemble.
[_Aside_.
] ’Tis plain, then, you have mistaken the person.
[_Going_.
] BELL.
If we part so I’m mistaken.
Hold, hold, madam!
I confess I have run into an error.
I beg your pardon a thousand times.
What an eternal blockhead am I!
Can you forgive me the disorder I have put you into?
But it is a mistake which anybody might have made.
LÆT.
What can this mean?
’Tis impossible he should be mistaken after all this.
A handsome fellow if he had not surprised me.
Methinks, now I look on him again, I would not have him mistaken.
[_Aside_.
] We are all liable to mistakes, sir.
If you own it to be so, there needs no farther apology.
BELL.
Nay, faith, madam, ’tis a pleasant one, and worth your hearing.
Expecting a friend last night, at his lodgings, till ’twas late, my intimacy with him gave me the freedom of his bed.
He not coming home all night, a letter was delivered to me by a servant in the morning.
Upon the perusal I found the contents so charming that I could think of nothing all day but putting ’em in practice, until just now, the first time I ever looked upon the superscription, I am the most surprised in the world to find it directed to Mr. Vainlove.
Gad, madam, I ask you a million of pardons, and will make you any satisfaction.
LÆT.
I am discovered.
And either Vainlove is not guilty, or he has handsomely excused him.
[_Aside_.
] BELL.
You appear concerned, madam.
LÆT.
I hope you are a gentleman;—and since you are privy to a weak woman’s failing, won’t turn it to the prejudice of her reputation.
You look as if you had more honour— BELL.
And more love, or my face is a false witness and deserves to be pilloried.
No, by heaven, I swear— LÆT.
Nay, don’t swear if you’d have me believe you; but promise— BELL.
Well, I promise.
A promise is so cold: give me leave to swear, by those eyes, those killing eyes, by those healing lips.
Oh!
press the soft charm close to mine, and seal ’em up for ever.
LÆT.
Upon that condition.
