The Female Wits Part 18

_Prais._ Oh! this is a plain case; so while the old Cuckold was watching his Chariot, his Wife had Opportunity to make him one.

_Mar._ Right, right, Mr. _Praisall_: Now _Amorous_ finds it move.

_Amor._ Ha! the Chariot moves; a Miracle is known in our Preservation.

_Isab._ Oh! I dye with fear!

_Mar._ Now she falls in a Swoon, and never wakes 'till they come into another world.

Mr. _Prais._ E gad, 'tis well I am not in the Chariot with her.

_Mar._ You may open the Door, they are out of sight.

_Enter_ Fastin, _Lady_ Loveall _and_ Betty.

_Fast._ Where is the h.e.l.lish Pair? Let my Eyes be fasten'd on 'em, that I may look 'em dead.

_Mar._ Look dreadfully, sweet Mr. _Powell_, look dreadfully.

Mr. _Awd._ Hark'e, Madam, only one thing; did you never hear an old Proverb; _He that has a House of Gla.s.s shou'd never throw Stones at his Neighbours_? I think this young Gentleman is guilty of much the same fault.

_Mar._ Lord! Lord! I told ye once before, he did not know his Father was marry'd to her, he took her for a pure Virgin. Come, Mr. _Powell_, go on.

_Fast._ Where are you hid? in what l.u.s.tful Corner?

L. _Lov._ Alas, I fear they have escap'd, and I have such a Detestation for ill Women, 'twould grieve me much to have 'em go unpunish'd.

_Betty._ I am sure they took the Stairs that led this way, and must be here; let me ferret 'em.

Mr. _Prais._ G.o.d-a-Mercy, _Betty_! Let _Betty_ alone.

_Bett._ A-dad I can't set Eyes on 'em high nor low.

Mr. _Prais._ No, they are too high for thee, indeed, little _Betty_.

_Mar._ Pray, Mr. _Praisall_, be quiet; here's a great Scene a coming.

Mr. _Prais._ I am silent as the Grave.

_Fast._ In vain they think to 'scape my Rage, by thus evading it; for if the Earth holds 'em, they shall be found.

_Betty._ Why, where's my old Master's Conjuring Chariot, I wonder, that he alway's told us wou'd carry him to Heaven, when we little thought on't? It us'd to stand here.

L. _Lov._ It did so.

_Betty._ Perhaps they are gone to _Elyzium_ in it.

L. _Lov._ No, Fool, _Elyzium_ has no room for Lawless Lovers.

_Betty._ Then you must never come there, I'm sure. (_aside._

_Mar._ That's the first ill word _Betty_ has given her Mistress; and that was to her self too.

_Fast._ Let my Chariots be prepar'd, we'll leave this hated place, and in my Castle unlade our Cares. Love shall crown our Hours, and Wine and Musick rob 'em of 'em with delight.

L. _Lov._ Whilst I weave flowry Chaplets for your Hair, Revels and Masks to please your Sight prepare: Feed on your Presence, on your absence grieve, Love you alone, for you alone I'll live.

_Mar._ Now quick, quick, get behind her, Mr. least she shou'd resist; the rest disarm Mr. _Powell_.

_Enter Lord_ Whimsicall _and others_.

L. _Whim._ Not fit to live, nor dye! but Death thou best deserv'st.

(_stabs her._

L. _Lov._ Oh! thou Impotence, only strong in mischief: That feeble aged Arm has reach'd my youthful Heart.

_Fast._ Slaves, unhand me! Oh! _Clemene_, Oh!

L. _Lov._ Let me come at the Dotard, let me cover the Blood-thirsty Man with Livid Gore.

_Mar._ D'ye hear, Property-Man, be sure some red Ink is handsomely convey'd to Mrs. _Knight_.

_Fast._ Move, Dogs; bear her to me, that I may press her close, and keep in Life.

_Mar._ Strive and struggle now, Mr. _Powell_; Lord, you scarce stir; hold me, hold me, some of you. Observe, that I may press her close, and keep in Life:, ye see my Breath's almost gone. Oh! if we Poets did but act, as well as write, the Plays wou'd never miscarry.

_Fast._ Why, there's enow of you, both Males and Females; entertain the Town when you will, I'll resign the Stage with all my Heart.

_Mar._ And by my hopes of _Cataline_ I'll propose it. But now pray go on.

_Fast._ I say, lose your _Plebeian_ Goals, and let me reach my Love.

_Mar._ Well, that's your own; but 'twill do. You may speak it, Mr.

_Powell_.

L. _Whim._ What, the Sorceress! thy Father's Wife, rash Boy!

_Fast._ Ha, ha, ha, ha! Your Wife: I have heard indeed of old Men that wanted Virgins, when vital warmth was gone.

_L. Whim._ To that t.i.tle do's _Clemene_'s Impudence pretend. Speak, lewd Adultress.

_La. Lov._ Yes, I will speak, and own it all: Why shou'd I mince the matter, now I've lost my hopes of him? For the old Skeleton, sign alone, and shadow of a Man, I might have yet been pure: But whilst gay Youths adorn'd thy Family _Clemene_ wou'd not sigh in vain.

_Fast._ What's this I hear?

_Bet._ My Lady dying! I am not yet prepared to bear her Company: I'll e'en s.h.i.+ft for one. I wou'd not willingly leave this wicked World, before I have tasted a little more on't.

Mr. _Prais._ True, Mrs. _Betty_; slip behind me, and thou art gone.