The Constant Couple; Or, A Trip to the Jubilee: A Comedy, in Five Acts. George Farquhar
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Vizard. We are so reformed, that gallantry is taken for vice.
Colonel S. And hypocrisy for religion.
Sir H. A-la-mode de Paris again.
Vizard. Nothing like an oath in the city.
Colonel S. That's a mistake; for my major swore a hundred and fifty last night to a merchant's wife in her bed-chamber.
Sir H. Pshaw! this is trifling; tell me news, gentlemen. What lord has lately broke his fortune at the clubs, or his heart at Newmarket, for the loss of a race? What wife has been lately suing in Doctor's-Commons for alimony: or what daughter run away with her father's valet? What beau gave the noblest ball at Bath, or had the gayest equipage in town? I want news, gentlemen.
Colonel S. 'Faith, sir, these are no news at all.
Vizard. But, pray, Sir Harry, tell us some news of your travels.
Sir H. With all my heart. – You must know, then, I went over to Amsterdam in a Dutch ship. I went from thence to Landen, where I was heartily drubbed in battle, with the butt end of a Swiss musket. I thence went to Paris, where I had half a dozen intrigues, bought half a dozen new suits, fought a couple of duels, and here I am again in statu quo.
Vizard. But we heard that you designed to make the tour of Italy: what brought you back so soon?
Sir H. That which brought you into the world, and may perhaps carry you out of it; – a woman.
Colonel S. What! quit the pleasures of travel for a woman?
Sir H. Ay, colonel, for such a woman! I had rather see her ruelle than the palace of Louis le Grand. There's more glory in her smile, than in the jubilee at Rome! and I would rather kiss her hand than the Pope's toe.
Vizard. You, colonel, have been very lavish in the beauty and virtue of your mistress; and Sir Harry here has been no less eloquent in the praise of his. Now will I lay you both ten guineas a-piece, that neither of them is so pretty, so witty, or so virtuous, as mine.
Colonel S. 'Tis done.
Sir H. I'll double the stakes – But, gentlemen, now I think on't, how shall we be resolved? For I know not where my mistress may be found; she left Paris about a month before me, and I had an account —
Colonel S. How, sir! left Paris about a month before you?
Sir H. Yes, sir, and I had an account that she lodged somewhere in St. James's.
Vizard. How! somewhere in St. James's say you?
Sir H. Ay, sir, but I know not where, and perhaps may'nt find her this fortnight.
Colonel S. Her name, pray, Sir Harry?
Vizard. Ay, ay, her name; perhaps we know her.
Sir H. Her name! Ay, she has the softest, whitest hand that ever was made of flesh and blood; her lips so balmy sweet —
Colonel S. But her name, sir?
Sir H. Then her neck and —
Vizard. But her name, sir? her quality?
Sir H. Then her shape, colonel?
Colonel S. But her name I want, sir.
Sir H. Then her eyes, Vizard!
Colonel S. Pshaw, Sir Harry! her name, or nothing!
Sir H. Then if you must have it, she's called the Lady – But then her foot, gentlemen! she dances to a miracle. Vizard, you have certainly lost your wager.
Vizard. Why, you have certainly lost your senses; we shall never discover the picture, unless you subscribe the name.
Sir H. Then her name is Lurewell.
Colonel S. 'Sdeath! my mistress! [Aside.
Vizard. My mistress, by Jupiter! [Aside.
Sir H. Do you know her, gentlemen?
Colonel S. I have seen her, sir.
Sir H. Canst tell where she lodges? Tell me, dear colonel.
Colonel S. Your humble servant, sir. [Exit.
Sir H. Nay, hold, colonel; I'll follow you, and will know. [Runs out.
Vizard. The Lady Lurewell his mistress! He loves her: but she loves me. – But he's a baronet, and I plain Vizard; he has a coach, and I walk on foot; I was bred in London, and he in Paris. – That very circumstance has murdered me – Then some stratagem must be laid to divert his pretensions.
Sir H. Pr'ythee, Dick, what makes the colonel so out of humour?
Vizard. Because he's out of pay, I suppose.
Sir H. 'Slife, that's true! I was beginning to mistrust some rivalship in the case.
Vizard. And suppose there were, you know the colonel can fight, Sir Harry.
Sir H. Fight! Pshaw – but he cannot dance, ha! – We contend for a woman, Vizard. 'Slife, man, if ladies were to be gained by sword and pistol only, what the devil should all we beaux do?
Vizard. I'll try him farther. [Aside.] But would not you, Sir Harry, fight for this woman you so much admire?
Sir H. Fight! Let me consider. I love her – that's true; – but then I love honest Sir Harry Wildair better. The Lady Lurewell is divinely charming – right – but then a thrust i' the guts, or a Middlesex jury, is as ugly as the devil.
Vizard. Ay, Sir Harry, 'twere a dangerous cast for a beau baronet to be tried by a parcel of greasy, grumbling, bartering boobies, who would hang you, purely because you're a gentleman.
Sir H. Ay, but on t'other hand, I have money enough to bribe the rogues with: so, upon mature deliberation, I would fight for her. But no more of her. Pr'ythee, Vizard, cannot you recommend a friend to a pretty mistress by the bye, till I can find my own? You have store, I'm sure; you cunning poaching dogs make surer game, than we that hunt open and fair. Pr'ythee now, good Vizard.
Vizard. Let me consider a little. – Now love and revenge inspire my politics! [Aside.
Sir H. Pshaw! thou'rt longer studying for a new mistress, than a waiter would be in drawing fifty corks.
Vizard. I design you good wine; you'll therefore bear a little expectation.
Sir H. Ha! say'st thou, dear Vizard?
Vizard. A girl of nineteen, Sir Harry.
Sir H. Now nineteen thousand blessings light on thee.
Vizard.