The Works of Aphra Behn, Volume 3 | Page 2

not very
interesting or lively tavern with a considerable accession to wit and
humour, although perhaps not to strict propriety.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.
The Town-Fop; or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey was produced at the Duke's
Theatre, Dorset Garden, in September, 1676. There is no record of its
performance, and the actors' names are not given. It was a year of
considerable changes in the company, and any attempt to supply these
would be the merest surmise.

THE TOWN-FOP; or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey.
PROLOGUE.
As Country Squire, who yet had never known The long-expected Joy of
being in Town; Whose careful Parents scarce permitted Heir To ride
from home, unless to neighbouring Fair; At last by happy Chance is
hither led, To purchase Clap with loss of Maidenhead; Turns wondrous
gay, bedizen'd to Excess; Till he is all Burlesque in Mode and Dress:
Learns to talk loud in Pit, grows wily too, That is to say, makes mighty
Noise and Show.
So a young Poet, who had never been Dabling beyond the Height of
Ballading; Who, in his brisk Essays, durst ne'er excel The lucky Flight
of rhyming Doggerel, Sets up with this sufficient Stock on Stage, And
has, perchance, the luck to please the Age. He draws you in, like
cozening Citizen; Cares not how bad the Ware, so Shop be fine.
As tawdry Gown and Petticoat gain more (Tho on a dull diseas'd
ill-favour'd Whore) Than prettier Frugal, tho on Holy-day, | When
every City-Spark has leave to play, | --Damn her, she must be sound,
she is so gay; | So let the Scenes be fine, you'll ne'er enquire For Sense,
but lofty Flights in nimble Wire. --What we present to Day is none of

these, But we cou'd wish it were, for we wou'd please, And that you'll
swear we hardly meant to do: Yet here's no Sense; Pox on't, but here's
no Show; But a plain Story, that will give a Taste Of what your
Grandsires lov'd i'th' Age that's past.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
Lord Plotwell. Bellmour, Nephew to the Lord Plotwell, contracted to
Celinda. Charles, Brother to Bellmour. Friendlove, Brother to Celinda,
in love with Diana. Sir Timothy Tawdrey, a Fop-Knight, design'd to
marry Celinda. Sham, | Hangers on to Sir Timothy. Sharp, | Trusty, An
old Steward to Bellmour's Family. Page to Bellmour. Page to Lord
Plotwell. Sir Timothy's Page. Guests, Dancers, Fiddlers, and Servants.
WOMEN.
The Lady Diana, Niece to the Lord Plotwell. Celinda, Sister to
Friendlove, contracted to Bellmour. Phillis, Sister to Bellmour. Betty
Flauntit, kept by Sir Timothy. Driver, A Bawd. Jenny, | Two Whores
Doll, | Nurse, Ladies and Guests.
SCENE, Covent-Garden.

ACT I.
SCENE I. The Street.
Enter Sir Timothy Tawdrey, Sham, and Sharp.
Sir Tim. Hereabouts is the House wherein dwells the Mistress of my
Heart; for she has Money, Boys, mind me, Money in abundance, or she
were not for me--The Wench her self is good-natur'd, and inclin'd to be
civil: but a Pox on't--she has a Brother, a conceited Fellow, whom the
World mistakes for a fine Gentleman; for he has travell'd, talks

Languages, bows with a bonne mine, and the rest; but, by Fortune, he
shall entertain you with nothing but Words--
Sham. Nothing else!--
Sir Tim. No--He's no Country-Squire, Gentlemen, will not game, whore;
nay, in my Conscience, you will hardly get your selves drunk in his
Company--He treats A-la-mode, half Wine, half Water, and the
rest--But to the Business, this Fellow loves his Sister dearly, and will
not trust her in this leud Town, as he calls it, without him; and hither he
has brought her to marry me.
Sham. A Pox upon him for his Pains--
Sir Tim. So say I--But my Comfort is, I shall be as weary of her, as the
best Husband of 'em all. But there's Conveniency in it; besides, the
Match being as good as made up by the old Folks in the Country, I
must submit--The Wench I never saw yet, but they say she's
handsom--But no matter for that, there's Money, my Boys.
Sharp. Well, Sir, we will follow you--but as dolefully as People do
their Friends to the Grave, from whence they're never to return, at least
not the same Substance; the thin airy Vision of a brave good Fellow,
we may see thee hereafter, but that's the most.
Sir Tim. Your Pardon, sweet Sharp, my whole Design in it is to be
Master of my self, and with part of her Portion to set up my Miss, Betty
Flauntit; which, by the way, is the main end of my marrying; the rest
you'll have your shares of--Now I am forc'd to take you up Suits at
treble Prizes, have damn'd Wine and Meat put upon us, 'cause the
Reckoning is to be book'd: