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Man. Sir Francis—my lady is ready to receive as you think it, as a reward for her honesty, in your commands for her journey, whenever you detecting your practices, instead of the forged please to appoint it.

bill you would have put upon her, there's a real Sir Fran. Ah, cousin! I doubt I am obliged one of five hundred pounds, to begin a new hoto you for it.

ney-moon with. (Gives it to MYRTILLA. Man. Come, come, Sir Francis, take it as you C. Bas. Sir, this is so generous an act-find it. Obedience in a wife is a good thing, Man. No compliments, dear sir-I am not at though it were never so wonderful !-- And now, leisure now to receive them. Mr Constable, will sir, we have nothing to do but to dispose of this you be so good as to wait upon this gentleinan gentleman.

into the next room, and give this lady in marriage C. Bus. Mr Manly! Sir, I hope you won't

to hiin? ruin me.

Con. Sir, I'll do it faithfully. Man. Did not you forge this note for five hun C. Bus. Well, five hundred will serve to make dred pounds, sir?

a handsome push with, however. C. Bus. Sir--I see you know the world, and

[ Exeant Count. MyR. and Constable. therefore I shall not pretend to prevaricate

Sir Fran. And that I may be sure my family's But it has hurt nobody yet, sir. "I beg you will rid of him for ever-come, my lady, let's even not stigmatize me: since you have spoiled my take our children along with us, and be all witfortune in one family, I hope you won't be so ness of the ceremony. cruel to a young fellow, as to put it out of my (Ereunt Sir Fran. L. WRONG. Miss and power, sir, to make it in another, sir.

Squire. Man. Look you, sir, I have not much time to Mun. Now, my lord, you may enter. waste with you ; but if you expect mercy yourself, you must shew it to one you have been

Enter Lord and Lady TownLY, and Lady cruel to.

GRACE. C. Bas. Cruel, sir!

Ld Town. So, sir, I give you joy of your negaMan. Have you not ruined this young

woman ? ciation. C. Bas. I, sir !

Man. You overheard it all, I presume? Mun. I know you have; therefore you

cann't L. Grace. From first to last, sir. blame her, if, in the fact you are charged with, Ld Town. Never were knaves and fools better she is a principal witness against you. However, disposed of. you have one, and one only chance to get off with Man. A sort of poetical justice, my lord, not -Marry her this instant--and you take off her much above the judgment of a modern comedy. evidence.

Ld Town. To heighten that resemblance, I C. Bas. Dear sir !

think, sister, there only wants your rewarding the Man. No words, sir: A wise or a mittimus. hero of the fable, by naming the day of his hap

C. Bas. Lord, sir, this is the most unmerciful piness. mercy!

L. Grace. This day, to-morrow, every hour, I Man. A private penance, or a public one. hope, of life to come, will shew I want not incliConstable !

nation to complete it. C. Bus. Hold, sir. Since you are pleased to give Man. Whatever I may want, madam, you will me my choice, I will not make so ill a compliment always find endeavours to deserve you. to the lady, as not to give her the preference. Ld Town. Then all are happy.

Mun. It must be done this minute, sir : the Lady Town. Sister, I give you joy-consumehaplain you expected is still within call. mate as the happiest pair can boast.

C. Bas. Well, sir-since it must be socome, spouse-I am not the first of the fraternity In you, methinks, as in a glass, I see that has run his head into one noose, to keep it The happiness that once advanced to me: out of another.

So visible the bliss, so plain the way, Myr. Come, sir, don't repine : Marriage is, at How was it possible my sense could stray ? worst, but playing upon the square.

But now a convert to this truth I come, C. Bas. Ay, but the worst of the match, too, is That married happiness is never found from the devil.

home.

(Ereunt ones. Man. Well, sir, to let you see it is not so bad

EPILOGUE

SPOKEN BY MRS OLDFIELD.

MeThinks I hear some powdered critics say, But modern consorts are such high-bred creaDamn it! this wife reform’d, has spoil'd the play!

tures, The coxcomb should have drawn her more in They think a husband's power degrades their fashion;

features ; Have gratified her softer inclination ;

That nothing more proclaims a reigning beauty, Have tipt her a gallant, and clinch'd the provo- Than that she never was reproached with duty; cation.

And that the greatest blessing Heaven e'er sent, But there our bard stopt short ; for 'twere uncivil is in a spouse incurious and content. T' have made a modern belle all o'er a devil! To give such dames a different cast of thought, He hop'd, in honour of the sex, the age

By calling home the mind, these scenes were Would bear one mended woman-on the stage.

wrought. From whence you see by common sense's rules If with a hand too rude the task is done, Wives might be govern’d, were not husbands We hope the scheme by Lady Grace laid down fools.

Will all such freedom with the sex atone; Whate'er by Nature dames are prone to do,

That virtue there unsoil'd by modish art, They seldoin stray but when they govern you ; Throws out attractions for a Manly's heart. When the wild wife perceives her deary tame, You, you, then, ladies, whose unquestioned No wonder then she plays him all the game.

lives But men of sense meet rarely that disaster; Give

you

the foremost fame of happy wives, Women take pride where merit is their master : Protect, for its attempt, this helpless play, Nay, she that with a weak man wisely lives,

Nor leave it to the vulgar taste a prey ; Will seem t'obey the due commands he gives ! Appear the frequent champions of its cause; Happy obedience is no more a wonder,

Direct the crowd, and give yourselves applause. When men are men, and keep them kindly under:

VOL. III,

2 M

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THE

SPANISH FRIAR.

BY

DRYDEN.

PROLOGUE.

Now luck for us, and a kind hearty pit ;
For he who pleases never fails of wit.
Honour is yours,
And you, like kings at city treats, bestow it;
The writer kneels, and is bid rise a poet:
But you are fickle sovereigns, to our sorrow;
You dub to-day, and hang a man to-morrow;
You cry the same sense up and down again,
Just like brass money once-a-year in Spain :
Take you i' the mood, whate'er base metal come,
You coin as fast as groats at Birmingham ;
Though 'tis no more like sense in ancient plays,
Than Rome's religion's like St Peter's days:
In short, so swift your judgments turn and wind,
You cast our fleetest wits a mile behind.
'Twere well your judgments but in plays did

range,
But even your follies and debauches change
With such a whirl, the poets of your age
Are tired, and cannot score them on the stage,
Unless each vice in short-band they indite,
Even as notch'd 'prentices whole sermons write.
The heavy Hollanders no vices know,
But what they us’d a hundred years ago ;
Like honest plants, where they were stuck they

grow.

They cheat, but still from cheating sires they

come; They drink, but they were christ’ned first in mum, Their patrimonial sloth the Spaniards keep, And Philip first taught Philip how to sleep: The French and we still change, but here's the

curse, They change for better, and we change for worse; They take up our old trade of conquering, And we are taking theirs, to dance and sing. Our fathers did, for change, to France repair, And they, for change, will try our English air. As children, when they throw one toy away, Strait a more foolish gewgaw comes in play ; So we, grown penitent, on serious thinking, Leave whoring, and devoutly fall to drinking. Scowring the watch grows out-of-fashion wit : Now we set up for tilting in the pit, Where 'tis ed by bullies, chicken-hearted, To fright the ladies first, and then be parted. A fair attempt has twice or thrice been made To hire night-murilerers, and inake death a trade. When murder's out, what vice can we advance ? Unless the new-found pois’ning trick of France : And when their art of rats-bane we have got, By way of thanks, we'll send them o'er our Plot.

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

Gomez, an old Usurer. DOMINICK, the Spunish Friar.

MEN. TORRISMOND, supposed Son to RAYMOND. BERTRAN, a Prince of the Blood. ALPHONSO, Brother to RAYMOND. LORENZO, his Son. RAYMOND, supposed Father of TORRISMOND. PEDRO, an Officer.

WOMEN. LEONORA, Queen of Arragon. Teresa, Woman to LEONORA. ELVIRA, Wife to Gomez,

ACT I.

Enter BERTRAN, allended.
SCENE I.

Bert. Relieve the centries that have watched
all night.

[T, PED. ALPHONSO and PEDRO meet, with Soldiers on

Now, colonel, have you disposed your men, each side, Drums, &c.

That

you

stand idle here? Alph. Stand! give the word.

Ped. Mine are drawn off, Ped. The queen of Arragon.

To take a short repose. Alph. Pedro ?-how goes the night?

Bert. Short let it be; Ped. She wears apace.

For from the Moorish camp, this hour and more, Alph. Then welcoine day-light. We shall have There has been heard a distant humming voise, warm work on't:

Like bees disturbed, and arming in their hives. The Moor will ’gage

What courage in our soldiers ? Speak! What His utmost forces on this next assault,

hope? To win a queen and kingdom.

Ped. As much as when physicians shake their Ped. Pox o' this lion way of wooing though! heads, Is the queen stirring yet?

And bid their dying patient think of Heaven. Alph. She has not been a-bed, but in her cha- Our walls are thinly manned ; our best men slain; pel

The rest, an heartless number, spent with watchAll night devoutly watch'd, and brib’d the saints ing, With vows for her deliverance.

And harassed out with duty. Ped. Oh, Alphonso,

Bert. Good night all then. I fear they come too late : her father's crimes Ped. Nay, for my part, 'tis but a single life Sit heavy on her, and weigh down her prayers. I have to lose: I'll plant my colours down A crown usurp’d, a lawful king depos’d, In the mid-breach, and by them fix my foot; In bondage held, debarr'd the common light; Say a short soldier's prayer, to spare the trouble His children murdered, and his friends destroyed, Of my few friends above, and then expect What can we less expect than what we feel? The next fair bullet. And what we fear will follow.

Alph. Never was known a night of such disAlph. Heaven avert it.

traction; Ped. Then Heaven must not be Heaven. Noise so confused and dreadful ; jostling crowds, Judge the event

That run, and know not whither; torches gliding, By what has pass’d. The usurper joy'd not long Like meteors, by each other in the streets. His ill.got crown. 'Tis true, he died in peace, Ped. I met a reverend, fat, old gouty friar,(Unriddle that, ye powers,) but left his daughter, With a paunch swoll'n so high, his double chin Our present queen, engaged, upon his death-bed, Might rest upon't; a true son of the church; To marry with young Bertran, whose cursed fa- Fresh colour'd, and well thriven on his trade,ther

Came puffing with his greasy bald-pate choir, Had helped to make him great.

And fumbling o'er his beads, in such an agony, Hence you well know this fatal war arose, He told them false for fear: about his neck Because the Moor Abdallah, with whose troops There hung a wench, the label of his function, The usurper gained the kingdom, was refused, Whom he shook off, i' faith, methought, unkindly. And, as an infidel, bis love despised.

It seems the holy stallion durst not score Alph. Well, we are soldiers, Pedro, and, like Another sin before he left the world.

lawyers, Plead for our pay.

Enter a Captain. Ped. A good cause would do well though; Capt. To arms, my lord, to arms ! It gives my sword an edge. You see this Bertran From the Moors' camp the noise grows louder Has now three times been beaten by the Moors; What hope we have is in young Torrismond, Rattling of armour, trumpets, drums, and atabalYour brother's son.

les, Alph. He's a successful warrior,

And sometimes peals of shouts, that rend the And has the soldier's hearts. Upon the skirts

Heavens Of Arragon our squad on’d troops he rallies: Like victory; the groans again, and howlings, Our watchmen from the towers with longing eyes Like those of vanquish'd men; but every echo Expect his swift arrival.

Goes fainter off, and dies in distant sounds. Ped. It must be swift, or it will come too late. Bert. Some false attack : expect, on the other Alph, No more--Duke Bertran,

side.

still;

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