The City Bride | Page 3

Merry Cuckold.
A COMEDY,
Acted at the New Theatre, in Little Lincolns Inn-Fields.
BY
His Majesty's Servants.
First Edition.
Spero Meliora.
LONDON:
Printed for A. Roper and E. Wilkinson at the Black-Boy, and R. Clavel at the Peacock, in Fleet-street. 1696.

PROLOGUE:
Spoke by Mr. THURMOND.
Three Ways there are, and all accounted fair, To gain your Favour: Begging, Borrowing, Prayer. If as a Beggar, I your Alms implore } Methinks your Charity shou'd aid the Poor; } Besides, I never beg'd of you before. } If I address by Prayer, and loud Complaints I then oblige yee, for I make you Saints; And sure none here can think it Superstition, To pray to Saints that are of no Religion! If Invocation will not do my Work, A Man may borrow of a Jew or Turk; Pray lend me Gentlemen your Applause and Praise, I'll take it for as good as Currant Bays; And if I ne're repay it, 'tis no more, Than many of you Sparks have done before: With this distinction, that you ran indebt For want of Money, we for want of Wit. In vain I plead! a Man as soon may get Mill'd Silver, as one favour from the Pit. ----Hold then----now I think on't, I'll e'en turn Thief, and steal your kind Affection, And when I've got your Hearts, claim your protection: You can't convict me sure for such a crime, Since neither Mare nor Lap-dog, I purloin: While you Rob Ladies Bosoms every day, } And filch their pretious Maiden-heads away; } I'll plead good nature for this Brat the Play: } A Play that plagues no more the thread-bare Theme Of powder'd Beaux, or tricks o'th' Godly Dame, But in your humours let's ye all alone, And not so much as Fools themselves runs down. Our Author try'd his best, and Wisemen tell, 'Tis half well doing to endeavour well: What tho' his poor Allay runs not so fine; Yet, let it pass as does our present Coin; For wanting fairer Ore, and riches mould He stamps in Brass, what others print in Gold: Smile on him but this time, the next perhaps, If he guess right he may deserve your Claps.

Dramatis Person?.
|Bonvile, The Bridegroom. |Mr. Boman. | |Friendly, His Friend, in Love with Clara. |Mr. Thurmond. | |Justice Merryman, Father to Arabella. |Mr. Bright. | |Summerfield, A Gentleman, but Younger Brother, | | | necessitated to take the High-Way. |Mr. Scudemore.| |Mr. Ventre, A Merchant. |Mr. Arnold. | |Mr. Spruce, A City Beau. |Mr. Bayly. | |Compasse, A Master of a Vessel. |Mr. Freeman. | |A Councellor. |Mr. Davis. | |Pettifog, } |Mr. Trefusis. | | } Two Attorneys. | | |Dodge, } |Mr. Eldred. | | | | |Sailers, Neighbours, Drawers, Servants, Boys, | | | Singers and Dancers. | | | | | |Arabella, The Bride. |Mrs. Boman. | |Clara, Friendly's Mistriss, but secretly in Love | | | with Bonvile. |Mrs. Boutell. | |Mrs. Ventre, The Merchant's Wife. |Mrs. Lacy. | |Peg, Compasses Wife. |Mrs. Perin. | |Nurse. |Mrs. Lawson. | |Lucy, Clara's Maid. |Miss Prince. | | | | |Women Neighbours. | |
SCENE London.

THE CITY BRIDE: OR, THE Merry Cuckold.

ACT I. SCENE the I.
The Curtain draws up, and discovers several sitting at a Banquet. An Entertainment of Instrumental Musick, Compos'd by Signior Finger: Then a Song, set by Mr. John Eccles, and Sung by Young La Roche.
SONG.
Many I've lik'd, and some Enjoy'd, But if I said I Lov'd, I ly'd. Inconstant as the wandring Bee, From once touch'd Sweets I us'd to flee; Nor all the Power of Female Skill, Cou'd curb the freedom of my Will: Clarinda only found the Art, To Conquer and so keep my Heart.
[After this a Dance, and then the Scene shuts.
Enter Friendly and Clara.
Friend. This is a Day of Mirth and Jollity my Clara.
Clara. 'Tis so, for such as can be merry, Mr. Friendly.
Friend. Why not for us my Love, we have a Noble President, and methinks shou'd Imitate (thr? Envy) this their happiness.
Clara. I am not of your Opinion.
Friend. Why not my Fair?
Clara. I'll tell you, because I purpose not to Marry.
Fri. Prithee be serious, and reform that Thought: Think of my past Service, and judge by that my future; weigh all the respect I have paid you long, and ever lov'd you beyond my self.
Cla. I know your Weakness, and will reward it too.
Fri. I am sure you will, you must be kind; And can you think an Answer of this killing Nature, a just return for all my faithful Love?
Cla. As to that I have already said.
Fri. Oh speak, from whence this Coldness doth arise! Be at least so kind as to tell me that; Is it some late Disgust you have conceived of my Person; or rather your desire, (I fear) of some unworthier, happy Creature, base in the