The Old Bachelor | Page 5

and twenty,
And impudently hopes he shall
content you:
For though his bachelor be worn and cold,
He thinks
the young may club to help the old,
And what alone can be achieved
by neither,
Is often brought about by both together.
The briskest of
you all have felt alarms,
Finding the fair one prostitute her charms

With broken sighs, in her old fumbler's arms:
But for our spark, he
swears he'll ne'er be jealous
Of any rivals, but young lusty fellows.

Faith, let him try his chance, and if the slave,
After his bragging,
prove a washy knave,

May he be banished to some lonely den
And
never more have leave to dip his pen.
But if he be the champion he
pretends,
Both sexes sure will join to be his friends,
For all agree,

where all can have their ends.
And you must own him for a man of
might,
If he holds out to please you the third night.
PROLOGUE.
Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.
How this vile world is changed! In former days
Prologues were
serious speeches before plays,
Grave, solemn things, as graces are to
feasts,
Where poets begged a blessing from their guests.
But now
no more like suppliants we come;
A play makes war, and prologue is
the drum.
Armed with keen satire and with pointed wit,
We
threaten you who do for judges sit,
To save our plays, or else we'll
damn your pit.
But for your comfort, it falls out to-day,
We've a
young author and his first-born play;
So, standing only on his good
behaviour,
He's very civil, and entreats your favour.
Not but the
man has malice, would he show it,
But on my conscience he's a
bashful poet;
You think that strange--no matter, he'll outgrow it.

Well, I'm his advocate: by me he prays you
(I don't know whether I
shall speak to please you),
He prays--O bless me! what shall I do now?

Hang me if I know what he prays, or how!
And 'twas the prettiest
prologue as he wrote it!
Well, the deuce take me, if I han't forgot it.

O Lord, for heav'n's sake excuse the play,
Because, you know, if it be
damned to-day,
I shall be hanged for wanting what to say.
For my
sake then--but I'm in such confusion,
I cannot stay to hear your
resolution. [Runs off]
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
MEN.
HEARTWELL, a surly old bachelor, pretending to slight women,
secretly in love with Silvia--Mr. Betterton.
BELLMOUR, in love
with Belinda--Mr. Powell
VAINLOVE, capricious in his love; in love
with Araminta--Mr. Williams
SHARPER--Mr. Verbruggen
SIR
JOSEPH WITTOL--Mr. Bowen
CAPTAIN BLUFFE--Mr. Haines.


FONDLEWIFE, a banker--Mr. Dogget
SETTER, a pimp--Mr
Underhill
SERVANT to Fondlewife.
WOMEN.
ARAMINTA, in love with Vainlove--Mrs. Bracegirdle
BELINDA,
her cousin, an affected lady, in love with Bellmour--Mrs. Mountfort

LAETITIA, wife to Fondlewife--Mrs. Barry
SYLVIA, Vainlove's
forsaken mistress--Mrs. Bowman
LUCY, her maid--Mrs. Leigh

BETTY
BOY and FOOTMEN.
SCENE: London.
THE OLD BACHELOR: ACT I.--SCENE I.
SCENE: The Street.
BELLMOUR and VAINLOVE meeting.
BELL. Vainlove, and abroad so early! Good-morrow; I thought a
contemplative lover could no more have parted with his bed in a
morning than he could have slept in't.
VAIN. Bellmour, good-morrow. Why, truth on't is, these early sallies
are not usual to me; but business, as you see, sir-- [Showing Letters.]
And business must be followed, or be lost.
BELL. Business! And so must time, my friend, be close pursued, or
lost. Business is the rub of life, perverts our aim, casts off the bias, and
leaves us wide and short of the intended mark.
VAIN. Pleasure, I guess you mean.
BELL. Ay; what else has meaning?
VAIN. Oh, the wise will tell you -
BELL. More than they believe--or understand.

VAIN. How, how, Ned! A wise man say more than he understands?
BELL. Ay, ay! Wisdom's nothing but a pretending to know and believe
more than we really do. You read of but one wise man, and all that he
knew was, that he knew nothing. Come, come, leave business to idlers
and wisdom to fools; they have need of 'em. Wit be my faculty, and
pleasure my occupation; and let Father Time shake his glass. Let low
and earthly souls grovel till they have worked themselves six foot deep
into a grave. Business is not my element--I roll in a higher orb, and
dwell -
VAIN. In castles i' th' air of thy own building. That's thy element, Ned.
Well, as high a flier as you are, I have a lure may make you stoop.
[Flings a Letter.]
BELL. I, marry, sir, I have a hawk's eye at a woman's hand. There's
more elegancy in the false spelling of this superscription [takes up the
Letter] than in all Cicero. Let me see.--How now!-- Dear PERFIDIOUS
VAINLOVE. [Reads.]
VAIN. Hold, hold, 'slife, that's the wrong.
BELL. Nay, let's see the name--Sylvia!--how canst thou be
ungrateful
to that creature? She's extremely pretty, and loves thee entirely--I have
heard her breathe such raptures about thee -
VAIN. Ay, or anybody that she's about -
BELL. No, faith, Frank, you wrong her; she has been just to you.
VAIN. That's pleasant, by my