The Old Bachelor | Page 5

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 troth, from thee, who hast had her.
BELL. Never--her affections. 'Tis true, by heaven: she owned it to my face; and, blushing like the virgin morn when it disclosed the cheat which that trusty bawd of nature, night, had hid, confessed her soul was true to you; though I by treachery had stolen the bliss.
VAIN. So was true as turtle--in imagination--Ned, ha? Preach this doctrine to husbands, and the married women will adore thee.
BELL. Why, faith, I think it will do well enough, if the husband be out of