The dramatic works of Sir John Vanbrugh

Front matter

THE

DRAMATIC WOKKS

OF

ACT I. SCENE \.—A Room in Loveless's Country- House

Enter Loveless, reading.

Love. How true is that philosophy, which savs Our heaven is seated in our minds ! Through all the roving pleasures of my youth, (Where nights and days seem all consumed in joy, Where the false face of luxury Display' d such charms,

As might have shaken the most holy hermit,

And made him totter at his altar,)

I never knew one moment's peace like this.

Here, in this little soft retreat,

My thoughts unbent from all the cares of life,

Content with fortune,

Eased from the grating duties of dependence,

From envy free, ambition under foot,

The raging flame of wild destructive lust

Reduced to a warm pleasing fire of lawful love,

My life glides on, and all is well within.

THE RELAPSE : OR, VIRTUE IN DANGER.

Enter Amanda.

How does the happy cause of my content,

[Meeting her kindly.

My dear Amanda ?

You find me musing on my happy state, And full of grateful thoughts to Heaven, and you.

Aman. Those grateful offerings Heaven can't receive With more delight than I do : Would I could share with it as well The dispensations of its bliss ! That I might search its choicest favours out, And shower 'em on your head for ever.

Love. The largest boons that Heaven thinks fit to grant, To things it has decreed shall crawl on earth, Are in the gift of woman form'd like you. Perhaps when time shall be no more, When the aspiring soul shall take its flight, And drop this ponderous lump of clay behind it, It may have appetites we know not of, And pleasures as refined as its desires — But till that day of knowledge shall instruct me, The utmost blessing that my thought can reach,

[Taking her in his arms.

Is folded in my arms, and rooted in my heart.

Aman. There let it grow for ever !

Love. Well said, Amanda — let it be for ever — Would Heaven grant that —

Aman. 'Twere all the heaven I'd ask.

But we are clad in black mortality, And the dark curtain of eternal night At last must drop between us.

Love. It must.

That mournful separation we must see, A bitter pill it is to all ; but doubles its ungrateful

taste, When lovers are to swallow it.

Aman. Perhaps that pain may only be my lot, You possibly may be exempted from it. Men find out softer ways to quench their fires.

Love. Can you then doubt my constancy, Amanda ?

You'll find 'tis built upon a steady basis — The rock of reason now supports my love, On which it stands so fix'd, The rudest hurricane of wild desire Would, like the breath of a soft slumbering babe, Pass by, and never shake it.

Aman. Yet still 'tis safer to avoid the storm ; The strongest vessels, if they put to sea, May possibly be lost.

Would I could keep you here in this calm port for

ever !

Forgive the weakness of a woman, I am uneasy at your going to stay so long in town ; I know its false insinuating pleasures ; I know the force of its delusions ; I know the strength of its attacks ; I know the weak defence of nature ; I know you are a man — and I — a wife.

Love. You know then all that needs to give you rest, For wife's the strongest claim that you can urge. When you would plead your title to my heart, On this you may depend. Therefore be calm, Banish your fears, for they Are traitors to your peace : beware of them, They are insinuating busy things

That gossip to and fro,

And do a world of mischief where they come.

But you shall soon be mistress of 'em all ;

I'll aid you with such arms for their destruction,

They never shall erect their heads again.

You know the business is indispensable, that obliges

me to go for London; and you have no reason,

that I know of, to believe that I'm glad of the

occasion. For my honest conscience is my witness,

I have found a due succession of such charms

In my retirement here with you,

I have never thrown one roving thought that way.

But since, against my will, I'm dragg'd once more

To that uneasy theatre of noise,

I am resolved to make such use on't,

As shall convince you 'tis an old cast mistress,

Who has been so lavish of her favours,

She's now grown bankrupt of her charms,

And has not one allurement left to move me.

Aman. Her bow, I do believe, is grown so weak Her arrows (at this distance) cannot hurt you ; But in approaching 'em, you give 'em strength. The dart that has not far to fly, will put The best of armour to a dangerous trial.

Love. That trial past, and you're at ease for ever ; When you have seen the helmet proved, You'll apprehend no more for him that wears it. Therefore, to put a lasting period to your fears, I am resolved, this once, to launch into temptation : I'll give you an essay of all my virtues, My former boon companions of the bottle Shall fairly try what charms are left in wine : I'll take my place amongst them, They shall hem me in,

Sing praises to their god, and drink his glory : Turn wild enthusiasts for his sake, And beasts to do him honour : Whilst I, a stubborn atheist, Sullenly look on,

Without one reverend glass to his divinity. That for my temperance, Then for my constancy —

Aman. Ay, there take heed.

Love. Indeed the danger's small.

Aman. And yet my fears are great.

Love. Why are you so timorous ?

Aman. Because you are so bold.

Love. My courage should disperse your apprehension.

Aman. My apprehensions should alarm your courage.

Love. Fy, fy, Amanda ! it is not kind thus to distrust me.

Aman. And yet my fears are founded on my love.

Love. Your love then is not founded as it ought ; For if you can believe 'tis possible I should again relapse to my past follies, I must appear to you a thing Of such an undigested composition, That but to think of me with inclination, Would be a weakness in your taste Your virtue scarce could answer.

Aman. 'Twould be a weakness in my tongue ; My prudence could not answer, If I should press you farther with my fears ; I'll therefore trouble you no longer with 'em.

Love. Nor shall they trouble you much longer, A little time shall show you they were groundless : This winter shall be the fiery trial of my virtue ;

THE RELAPSE; OR, VIRTUE IN DANGER.

Which, when it once has pass'd,

You'll be convinced 'twas of no false allay,

There all your cares will end.

Aman. Pray Heaven they may.

[Exeunt, hand in hand.

SCENE II.— Whitehall. Enter Tom Fashion, Lory, and Tug

Fash. Come, pay the waterman, and take the portmantle.

Lory. Faith, sir, I think the waterman had as good take the portmantle, and pay himself.

Fash. Why, sure there's something left in't !

Lory. But a solitary old waistcoat, upon my honour, sir.

Fash. Why, what's become of the blue coat, sirrah ?

Lory. Sir, 'twas eaten at Gravesend ; the reckoning came to thirty shillings, and your privy purse was worth but two half-crowns.

Fash. Tis very well.

Tug. Pray, master, will you please to despatch me ?

Fash. Ay, here a — canst thou change me a guinea ?

Lory. [Aside.} Good!

' Tug. Change a guinea, master ! Ha ! ha ! your honour's pleased to compliment.

Fash. Egad, I don't know how I shall pay thee then, for I have nothing but gold about me.

Lory. [Aside.] Hum, hum !

Fash. What dost thou expect, friend ?

Tug. Why, master, so far against wind and tide is richly worth half a piece.

Fash. Why, faith, I think thou art a good conscionable fellow. Egad, I begin to have so good an opinion of thy honesty, I care not if I leave my portmantle with thee, till I send thee thy money.

Tug. Ha ! God bless your honour ; I should be as willing to trust you, master, but that you are, as a man may say, a stranger to me, and these are nimble times ; there are a great many sharpers stirring. — [Taking up the portmantle.] Well, master, when your worship sends the money, your portmantle shall be forthcoming ; my name's Tug, my wife keeps a brandy-shop in Drab- Alley, at Wapping.

Fash. Very well ; I'll send for't to-morrow.

[Exit Tug.

Lory. So. — Now, sir, I hope you'll own yourself a happy man, you have outlived all your cares.

Fash. How so, sir?

Lory. Why you have nothing left to take care of.

Fash. Yes, sirrah, I have myself and you to take care of still.

Lory. Sir, if you could but prevail with somebody else to do that for you, I fancy we might both fare the better for't.

Fash. Why, if thou canst tell me where to apply myself, I have at present so little money, and so much humility about me, I don't know but I may follow a fool's advice.

Lory. Why then, sir, your fool advises you to lay aside all animosity, and apply to sir Novelty, your elder brother.

Fash. Damn my elder brother !

Lory. With all my heart ; but get him to redeem your annuity however.

Fash. My annuity ! 'Sdeath, he's such a dog, he would not give his powder-puff to redeem ray soul.

Lory. Look you, sir, you must wheedle him, or you must starve.

Fash. Look you, sir, I will neither wheedle him, nor starve.

Lory. Why, what will you do then ?

Fash. I'll go into the army.

Lory. You can't take the oaths ; you are a Jacobite.

Fash. Thou mayst as well say I can't take orders because I'm an atheist.

Lory. Sir, I ask your pardon ; I find I did not know the strength of your conscience so well as I did the weakness of your purse.

Fash. Methinks, sir, a person of your experience should have known that the strength of the conscience proceeds from the weakness of the purse.

Lory. Sir, I am very glad to find you have a conscience able to take care of us, let it proceed from what it will ; but I desire you'll please to consider, that the army alone will be but a scanty maintenance for a person of your generosity (at least as rents now are paid). I shall see you stand in damnable need of some auxiliary guineas for your menus plaisirs ; I will therefore turn fool once more for your service, and advise you to go directly to your brother.

Fash. Art thou then so impregnable a blockhead, to believe he'll help me with a farthing ?

Lory. Not if you treat him de haut en bas, as you use to do.

Fash. Why, how wouldst have me treat him ?

Lory. Like a trout — tickle him.

Fash. I can't flatter.

Lory. Can you starve ?

Fash. Yes.

Lory. I can't. — Good-by t'ye, sir — [Going.

Fash. Stay ; thou wilt distract me ! What wouldst thou have me say to him ?

Lory. Say nothing to him, apply yourself to his favourites, speak to his periwig, his cravat, his feather, his snuff box, and when you are well with them, desire him to lend you a thousand pounds. I'll engage you prosper.

Fash. 'Sdeath and furies ! why was that coxcomb thrust into the world before me ? O Fortune ! Fortune !— thou art a bitch by Gad ! [Exeunt.

SCENE III. -A Ronm in Lord Foppington's House

Enter Lord Foppington in his nightgown.

Lord Fop. Page !

Enter Page.

Page. Sir !

Lord Fop. Sir ! — Pray, sir, do me the favour to teach your tongue the title the king has thought fit to honour me with.

Page. I ask your lordship's pardon, my lord.

Lord Fop. O, you can pronounce the word then ? 1 thought it would have choked you.— D'ye hear ?

Page. My lord !

Lord Fop. Ca-;i La Verole ; I would dress.— [Exit Page.] — Well, 'tis an unspeakable pleasure to be a man of quality, strike me dumb ! — My lord,

SCENE III.

THE RELAPSE: OR, VIRTUE IN DANGER.

— your lordship ! My lord Foppingron ! — Ah ! c'est quelque chose de beau, que le (Liable m'emporte ! — Why the ladies were ready to puke at me whilst I had nothing but sir Navelty to recommend me to 'em, — Sure, whilst I was but a knight, I was a very nauseous fellow. — Well, 'tis ten thousand pawnd well given, stap my vitals ! —

Enter La Verole.

La Ver. Me lord, de shoemaker, de tailor, de hosier, de semstress, de barber, be all ready, if your lordship please to dress.

Lord Fop. 'Tis well, admit 'em.

La Ver. Hey, messieurs, entrez.

Enter Tailor, Shoemaker, Mendlegs, Foretop, and Mrs. Calico.

Lord Fop. So, gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains to show yourselves masters in your professions.

Tailor. I think I may presume to say, sir —

La Ver. My lord— you clawn, you !

Tailor. Why, is he made a lord ? — My lord, I ask your lordship's pardon, my lord ; I hope, my lord, your lordship will please to own I have brought your lordship as accomplished a suit of clothes as ever peer of England trod the stage in, my lord. Will your lordship please to try 'em now ?

Lord Fop. Ay ; but let my people dispose the glasses so that I may see myself before and behind, for I love to see myself all raund.

Whilst he puts on his clothes, Tom Fashion and Lory enter and converse apart.

Fash. Heyday, what the devil have we here ? Sure my gentleman's grown a favourite at court, he has got so many people at his levee.

Lory. Sir, these people come in order to make him a favourite at court ; they are to establish him with the ladies.

Fash. Good God ! to what an ebb of taste are women fallen, that it should be in the power of a laced coat to recommend a gallant to 'em !

Lory. Sir, tailors and periwig-makers are now become the bawds of the nation ; 'tis they debauch all the women.

Fash. Thou sayest true ; for there's that fop now has not by nature wherewithal to move a cook-maid, and by that time these fellows have done with him, egad he shall melt down a countess ! — But now for my reception ; I'll engage it shall be as cold a one as a courtier's to his friend, who comes to put him in mind of his promise.

Lord Fop. [To his Tailor.] Death and eternal tartures ! — Sir, I say the packet's too high by a foot.

Tailor. My lord, if it had been an inch lower, it would not have held your lordship's pocket-handkerchief.

Lord Fop. Rat my pocket-handkerchief ! have not I a page to carry it ? You may make him a packet up to his chin a purpose for it ; but I will not have mine come so near my face.

Tailor. 'Tis not for me to dispute your lordship's fancy.

Fash. [ To Lory.] His lordship ! Lory, did you observe that ?

Lory. Yes, sir ; I always thought- 'twould end there. Now, I hope, you'll ha^ a little more respect for him.

Fash. Respect ! — Damn him for a coxcomb !

now has he ruined his estate to buy a title, that he may be a fool of the first rate ; — but let's accost him — [To Lord Foppistgton.] Brother. I'mvour humble servant.

Lord Fop. O Lard, Tarn ! I did not expect you in England. — Brother, I am glad to see you. — [Turning to h is Tailor ] Look you, sir; I shall never be reconciled to this nauseous packet ; therefore pray get me another suit, with all manner of expedition, for this is my eternal aversion. — Mrs. Calico, are not you of my mind ?

Mrs. Cal. O, directly, my lord ! it can never be too low.

Lord Fop. You are passitively in the right on't, for the packet becomes no part of the body but the knee. [Exit Tailor.

Mrs. Cal. I hope your lordship is pleased with your steenkirk.

Lord Fop. In love with it, stap my vitals ! — Bring your bill, you shall be paid to-m arrow.

Mrs. Cal. I humbly thank your honour. [Exit.

Lord Fop. Hark thee, shoemaker ! these shoes an't ugly, but they don't fit me.

Shoemaker. My lord, my thinks they fit you very well.

Lord Fop. They hurt me just below the instep.

Shoe. [Feeling his foot.] My lord, they don't hurt you there.

Lord Fop. I tell thee, they pinch me execrably.

Shoe. My lord, if they pinch you, I'll be bound to be hanged, that's all.

Lord Fop. Why, wilt thou undertake to persuaae me I cannot feel ?

Shoe. Your lordship may please to feel what you think fit ; but that shoe does not hurt you — I think I understand my trade.

Lord Fop. Now by all that's great and powerful, thou art an incomprehensible coxcomb ! but thou makest good shoes, and so I'll bear with thee.

Shoe. My lord, I have worked for half the people of quality in town these twenty years ; and 'twere very hard I should not know when a shoe hurts, and when it don't.

Lord Fop. Well, prithee be gone about thy business. — [Exit Shoemaker.] Mr. Mendlegs, a word with you : the calves of these stockings are thickened a little too much. They make my legs look like a chairman's —

Mend. My lord, my thinks they look mighty well.

Lord Fop. Ay, but you are not so good a judge of those things as I am, I have studied 'em all my life ; therefore pray let the next be the thickness of a crawn-piece less. — [Aside.] If the town takes notice my legs are fallen away, 'twill be attributed to the violence of some new intrigue. — [Exit Mendlegs.] Come, Mr. Foretop, let me see what you have done, and then the fatigue of the morning will be over.

Fore. My lord, I have done what I defy any prince in Europe to outdo ; I have made you a periwig so long, and so full of hair, it will serve you for a hat and cloak in all weathers.

Lord Fop. Then thou hast made me thy friend to eternity. Come, comb it out.

Fash. [Aside to Lory.] Well, Lory, what dost think on't ? A very friendly reception from a brother after three years' absence !

1 ory. Why, sir, 'tis your own fault ; we seldom care for those that don't love what we love : if you would creep into his heart, you must enter X

THE RELAPSE : OR, VIRTUE IN DANGER.

into his pleasures. — Here you have stood ever since you came in, and have not commended any one thing that belongs to him.

Fash. Nor never shall, while they belong to a coxcomb.

Lory. Then, sir, you must be content to pick a hungry bone.

Fash. No, sir, I'll crack it, and get to the marrow before I have done.

Lord Fop. Gad's curse, Mr. Foretop ! you don't intend to put this upon me for a full periwig ?

Fore. Not a full one, my lord ? I don't know what your lordship may please to call a full one, but I have crammed twenty ounces of hair into it.

Lord Fop. What it may be by weight, sir, I shall not dispute ; but by tale, there are not nine hairs of a side.

Fore. O lord ! O lord ! lord ! Why, as Gad shall judge me, your honour's side-face is reduced to the tip of your nose !

Lord Fop. My side-face may be in an eclipse for aught I know ; but I'm sure my full-face is like the full-moon.

Fore. Heaven bless my eye-sight — [Rubbing his eyes.] Sure I look through the wrong end of the perspective ; for by my faith, an't please your honour, the broadest place I see in your face does not seem to me to be two inches diameter.

Lord Fop. If it did it would just be two inches too broad ; for a periwig to a man should be like a mask to a woman, nothing should be seen but his eyes.

Fore. My lord, I have done ; if you please to have more hair in your wig, I'll put it in.

Lord Fop. Passitively, yes.

Fore. Shall I take it back now, my lord ?

Lord Fop. No : I'll wear it to-day, though it show such a manstrous pair of cheeks, stap my vitals, I shall be taken for a trumpeter !

[Exit Foretop.

Fash. Now your people of business are gone, brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an hour's audience of you.

Lord Fop. Faith, Tarn, I must beg you'll excuse me at this time, for I must away to the House of Lards immediately ; my lady Teaser's case is to come on to-day, and I would not be absent for the salvation of mankind. — Hey, page !

Enter Page.

Is the coach at the door ?

Page. Yes, my lord.

Lord Fop. You'll excuse me, brother. [Going.

Fash. Shall you be back at dinner?

Lord Fop. As Gad shall jidge me, I can't tell ; for 'tis passible I may dine with some of aur House at Lacket's.

Fash. Shall I meet you there ? For I must needs talk with you.

Lord Fop. That I'm afraid mayn't be so praper ; far the lards I commonly eat with, are people of a nice conversation ; and you know, Tam, your education has been a little at large : but, if you'll stay here, you'll find a family dinner. — [To Page.] Hey, fellow ! What is there for dinner ? There's beef : I suppose my brother will eat beef. — Dear Tam, I'm glad to see thee in England, stap my vitals ! [Exit with La Verole and Page.

.Fash. Hell and furies ! is this to be borne ?

Lory. Faith, sir, I could almost have given him a knock o'th' pate myself.

Fash. 'Tis enough ; I will now show thee the excess of my passion by being very calm. Come, Lory, lay your loggerhead to mine, and in cool blood let us contrive his destruction.

Lory. Here comes a head, sir, would contrive it better than us both, if he would but join in the confederacy.

Enter Coupler.

Fash. By this light, old Coupler alive still ! — Why, how now, matchmaker, art thou here still to plague the world with matrimony ? You old bawd, how have you the impudence to be hobbling out of your grave twenty years after you are rotten !

Coup. When you begin to rot, sirrah, you'll go off like a pippin ; one winter will send you to the devil. What mischief brings you home again ? Ha ! you young lascivious rogue you. Let me put my hand into your bosom, sirrah.

Fash. Stand off, old Sodom !

Coup. Nay, prithee now, don't be so coy.

Fash. Keep your hands to yourself, you old dog you, or I'll wring your nose off.

Coup. Hast thou then been a year in Italy, and brought home a fool at last ? By my conscience, the young fellows of this age profit no more by their going abroad than they do by their going to church. Sirrah, sirrah, if you are not hanged before you come to my years, — you'll know a cock from a hen. But, come, I'm still a friend to thy person, though I have a contempt of thy understanding ; and therefore I would willingly know thy condition, that I may see whether thou standest in need of my assistance : for widows swarm, my boy, the town's infected with 'em.

Fash. I stand in need of anybody's assistance, that will help me to cut my elder brother's throat, without the risk of being hanged for him.

Coup. Egad, sirrah, I could help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burned in the hand for't.

Fash. Sayest thou so, old Satan ? Show me but that, and my soul is thine.

Coup. Pox o'thy soul ! give me thy warm body, sirrah ; I shall. have a substantial title to't when I tell thee my project.

Fash. Out with it then, dear dad, and take possession as soon as thou wilt.

Coup. Sayest thou so, my Hephestion ? Why, then, thus lies the scene — But hold ; who's that ? if we are heard we are undone.

Fash. What, have you forgot, Lory ?

Coup. Who, trusty Lory, is it thee ?

Lory. At your service, sir.

Coup. Give me thy hand, old boy. Egad, I did not know thee again ; but I remember thy honesty though I did not thy face ; I think thou hadst like to have been hanged once or twice for thy master.

Lory. Sir, I was very near once having that honour.

Coup. Well, live and hope; don't be discouraged; eat with him, and drink with him, and do what he bids thee, and it may be thy reward at last, as well as another's.— [To Tom Fashion.] Well, sir, you must know I have done you the kindness to' make up a match for your brother.

Fash. Sir, I am very much beholden to you truly !

Coup. You may be, sirrah, before the wedding-day yet. The lady is a great heiress; fifteen

Scene I. The Relapse; Or, Virtue In Danger

hundred pound a year, and a great bag of money ; the match is concluded, the writings are drawn, and the pipkin's to be cracked in a fortnight. Now you must know, stripling (with respect to your mother), your brother's the son of a whore.

Fash. Good!

Coup. He has given me a bond of a thousand pounds for helping him to this fortune, and has promised me as much more in ready money upon the day of marriage, which, I understand by a friend, he ne'er designs to pay me. If therefore you will be a generous young dog, and secure me five thousand pounds, I'll be a covetous old rogue, and help you to the lady.

Fash. Egad, if thou canst bring this about, I'll have thy statue cast in brass. But don't you dote, you old pander you, when you talk at this rate ?

Coup. That your youthful parts shall judge of. This plump partridge, that I tell you of, lives in the country, fifty miles off, with her honoured parents, in a "lonely old house which nobody comes near ; she never goes abroad, nor sees company at home. To prevent all misfortunes, she has her breeding within doors ; the parson of the parish teaches her to play on the bass-viol, the clerk to sing, her nurse to dress, and her father to dance. In short, nobody can give you admittance there but I ; nor can I do it any other way than by making you pass for your brother.

Fash. And how the devil wilt thou do that ?

Coup. Without the devil's aid, I warrant thee. Thy brother's face not one of the family ever saw, the whole business has been managed by me, and all the letters go through my hands. The last that was writ to Sir Tunbelly Clumsey (for that's the old gentleman's name), was to tell him, his lordship would be down in a fortnight to consummate. Now, you shall go away immediately, pretend you writ that letter only to have the romantic pleasure of surprising your mistress ; fall desperately in love, as soon as you see her ; make that your plea for marrying her immediately, and, when the fatigue of the wedding-night's over, you shall send me a swinging purse of gold, you dog you.

Fash. Egad, old dad, I'll put my hand in thy bosom now.

Coup. Ah, you young hot lusty thief, let me muzzle you ! — [Kisses him.'] Sirrah, let me muzzle you.

Fash. {Aside.'] Psha, the old lecher !

Coup. Well ; I'll warrant thou hast not a farthing of money in thy pocket now ; no, one may see it in thy face.

Fash. Not a souse, by Jupiter!

Coup. Must I advance then ? — Well, sirrah, be at my lodgings in half an hour, and I'll see what may be done ; we'll sign, and seal, and eat a pullet, and when I have given thee some farther instructions, thou shalt hoist sail and be gone. — [Kisses him.] T'other buss, and so adieu.

Fash. Um ! psha !

Coup. Ah, you young warm dog you, what a delicious night will the bride have on't ! [Exit.

Fash. So, Lory ; Providence, thou seest at last, takes care of men of merit : we are in a fair way to be great people.

Lory. Ay, sir, if the devil don't step between the cup and the lip, as he uses to do.

Fash. Why, faith, he has played me many a damned trick to spoil my fortune, and egad I'm almost afraid he's at work about it again now ; but if I should tell thee how, thou'dst wonder at me.