 Act four of The Old Bachelor by William Congreve. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act four, scene one, scene the street, Belmore in fanatic habit, setter, Tis pretty near the hour, looking on his watch. Well, and how, setter, hey, does my hypocrisy fit me, hey? Does it sit easy on me? Oh, most religiously well, sir. I wonder why all our young fellows should glory in an opinion of atheism, when they may be so much more conveniently lewd under the coverlet of religion. Spud, sir, away quickly. His fumbled wife just turned the corner, and's come in this way. God, so there he is. He must not see me. Scene two, Fondle-wife Barnaby. I say I will tear it home. But, sir— Good luck. I profess the spirit of contradiction hath possessed the land. I say I will tear it home, Violet. I have to, sir, then farewell five hundred pound. Ah, how's that? Say, stay, did you leave word? Say you with his wife? With comfort herself? I did, and comfort will send tribulation hither as soon as ever he comes home. I could have brought young Mr. Prigg to have kept my mistress company in the meantime. But you say— How, how, say, Violet, I say let him not come near my doors. I say he is a wanton young Levite, that pamperth himself up with dainties, that he may look lovely in the eyes of women. Sincerely I am afraid he hath already defiled the tabernacle of our sister comfort, while her good husband is deluded by his godly appearance. I say that even lust doth sparkle in his eyes, and glow upon his cheeks, and that I would as soon trust my wife with a Lord's high-fed chaplain. Sir, the hour draws nigh, and nothing will be done here until you come. And nothing can be done here until I go. So that I'll tear it, do you see? And run the hazard to lose your affair, sir. Good lack, good lack, I profess it is a very sufficient vexation for a man to have a handsome wife. Never, sir, but when the man is an insufficient husband, it is then, indeed, like the vanity of taking a fine house, and yet be forced to let lodgings to help pay the rent. I profess a very apt comparison, Violet. Go and bid my cocky come out to me. I will give her some instructions. I will reason with her before I go. Seen three, fallen wife alone. And in the meantime I will reason with myself. Tell me, Isaac, why art thee jealous? Why art thee distrustful of the wife of thy bosom? Because she is young and vigorous, and I am old and impotent. Then why did thee marry, Isaac? Because she was beautiful and tempting, and because I was obstinate and doting, so that my inclination was, and is still, greater than my power. And will not that which tempted thee also tempt others? Who will tempt her, Isaac? I fear it much. But does not thy wife love thee, nay dot upon thee? Yes. Why then? I, but to say truth, she's fonder of me, than she has reason to be, and in the way of trade we still suspect the smoothest dealers of the deepest designs. And that she has some designs deeper than thou canst reach, thou has experimented, Isaac, but, ma'am. Seen for, fondle-wife, Atisha. I hope, my dearest Jewel, is not going to leave me. Are you nicking? Wife, have you thoroughly considered how detestable, how heinous, and how crying a sin the sin of adultery is? Have you weighed it, I say? For it is a very weighty sin, and, although it may lie heavy upon thee, yet thy husband must also bear his part, for thy iniquity will fall upon his head. Bless me! What means, my dear? Fondle-wife, aside. I profess, she has no lurid eye. I am doubtful whether I shall trust her, even with tribulation himself. Like I say, have you considered what it is to cuckold your husband? Letitia, aside. I am amazed. Sure, he has discovered nothing. Who has wronged me to my dearest? I hope my Jewel does not think that ever I had any such thing in my head, or ever will have. No, no, I tell you I shall have it in my head. Fondle-wife, aside. I know not what to think, but I am resolved to find the meaning of it. Unkind dear, was it for this you sent to call me? Isn't out of liction enough that you are to leave me, but you must study to increase it by unjust suspicions? Well, you know my fondness, and you love to tyrannize. Go on, cruel man, do. I am fervent over my poor heart while it holds, which cannot be long with this usage of yours. But that's what you want. Well, you will have your end soon, you will, you will. Yes, it will break to oblige you. Fondle-wife, aside. Apparently I fear I have carried the jest too far. Nay, look you now, if she does not weep. Tis the fondest fool. Nay, cocky, cocky, nay, my dear cocky, don't cry. I was but in jest. I was not i-feck. Letitia, aside. Oh, then all is safe. I was terribly frightened. My affliction is always your jest, barbarous man. Oh, that I should love to this degree, yet... Nay, cocky. No, no, you are weary of me, that's it. That's all. You would get another wife, another fond fool to break her heart. Well, be as cruel as you can to me. I'll pray for you, and when I am dead with grief may you have one that will love you as well as I have done. I shall be contented to lie at peace in my cold grave, since it will please you. Fondle-wife, aside. Oh, good lack, good lack. She would melt the heart of oak. I profess I can hold no longer. Nay, dear cocky, I-feck, you'll break my heart. I-feck you will. See, you have made me weep, made poor Nikken weep. Nay, come kiss, bus poor Nikken, and I won't leave thee. I'll lose all first. Letitia, aside. How? Heaven forbid, that we'll be carrying the jest too far indeed. Won't you kiss, Nikken? Go, naughty Nikken, you don't love me. Kiss, kiss, I-feck, I do. No, you don't. She kisses him. What, not love cocky? I profess I do love thee better than five hundred pound, and so thou shalt say, for I'll leave it to stay with thee. No, you shan't neglect your business for me. No, indeed you shan't, Nikken. If you don't go, I'll think you've been delice of me still. Ho-ho-ho-ho, with thou poor fool. Then I will go, I won't be jealous. Poor cocky kiss, Nikken. Kiss, Nikken, he-he-he. Here will be the good man Anon to talk to cocky and teach her how a wife ought to behave herself. Letitia, aside. I hope to have one that will show me how a husband ought to behave himself. I shall be glad to learn to please my jewel. Kiss. That's my good, dear. Come kiss, Nikken, once more, and then get you in. So, get you in, get you in. Bye-bye. Bye, Nikken. Bye, cocky. Bye, Nikken. Bye, cocky. Bye-bye. Scene five. Fane love, sharper. How? Ereminta lost? To confirm what I have said. Read this. Gives a letter. Sharper. Reads. Hum-hum. And what then appeared a fault upon reflection seems only in effect of a too powerful passion. I'm afraid I give it too great a proof of my own at this time. I am in disorder for what I have written, but something I know not what forced me. I only beg a favorable censure of this and your Ereminta. Lost. Pray heaven, thou hast not lost thy wits. Here, here, she's thine own, man, sign, and sealed, too. To her, man, a delicious melon, pure and consenting, ripe, and only waits thy cutting up. She has been breeding love to thee all this while, and just now she's delivered of it. It is an untimely fruit, and she is miscarried of her love. Never leave this damned ill-nature whimsy, Frank. Thou hast a sickly, peevish appetite, only chew love and cannot digest it. Yes, when I feed myself, but I hate to be crammed. By heaven, there's not a woman who will give a man the pleasure of a chase. My sport is always bogged or cut short. I stumble over the game I would pursue. It is dull and unnatural to have a hair unful in the hound's mouth, and would distaste the keenest hunter. I would have overtaken not have met my game. However, I hope you don't mean to forsake it. That will be but a kind of mongrel-curse trick. Well, are you for them all? No. She will be there this evening. Yes, I will go to, and she shall see her era in— In her choice, I gad. But thou canst not be so great a brute as to slay her. I should disappoint her if I did not. By her management I should think she expects it. All naturally fly what does pursue, taste fit men should be coy when women woo. Scene 6 A Rum in Fondlewife's House A servant introducing Belmore in fanatic habit, with a patch upon one eye, and a book in his hand. Here's a chair, sir, if you please to repose yourself. My mistress is coming, sir. Securing my disguise, I have outfaced suspicion and even dared discovery. This cloak my sanctity and trusty scarring's novel's my prayer-book. Me thinks I am the very picture of Montefar in the Hippocrates. Oh, she comes. Scene 7 Belmore, Letitia Soul breaks aurora through the veil of night, thus fly the clouds divided by her light, and every eye receives a newborn sight. Throwing off his cloak, patch, etc. Thirsted with blushes light, heaven defend me, who's this? Discovering him, starts. Your lover, Letitia, aside. Vein loves friend. I know his face, and he has betrayed me to him. You are surprised. Did you not expect a lover, madam? Those eyes shone kindly on my first appearance, though now they are orcast. I may well be surprised at your person and impudence. They are both new to me. You are not what your first appearance promised. The piety of your habit was welcome, but not the hypocrisy. Rather, the hypocrisy was welcome, but not the hypocrite. Who are you, sir? You have mistaken the house, sure. I have directions in my pocket which agree with everything, but your unkindness. Pulls out the letter. Letitia, aside. My letter. Vein loves friend. Tent is too late to disassemble. Displain, then, you have mistaken the person. Going. If we part so, I'm mistaken. Hold, hold, madam. I confess I have run into an error. I beg your pardon a thousand times. What an eternal blockhead am I? Can you forgive me the disorder I have put you into? And it is a mistake which anybody might have made. Letitia, aside. What can this mean? This impossible he should be mistaken after all this. Handsome fellow, if he had not surprised me. Me things, now I look on him again. I would not have him mistaken. Ah! We are all liable to mistake, sir. If you own it to be so, there needs no farther apology. Nay, faith, madam, it is a pleasant one and worth your hearing. Expecting a friend last night at his lodgings till it was late, my intimacy with him gave me the freedom of his bed. He not coming home all night, a letter was delivered to me by a servant in the morning. On the perusal I found the content so charming that I could think of nothing all day but putting him in practice, until just now, the first time I ever looked upon the superscription, I am the most surprised in the world to find it directed to Mr. Vainlove. God, madam, I ask you a million of pardons and will make you any satisfaction. Letitia, aside. I am discovered, and either Vainlove is not guilty, or he has handsomely excused him. You appear concerned, madam. I hope you are a gentleman, and since you are privy to a weak woman's failing, won't turn it to the prejudice of her reputation. You look as if you had more honour. And more love, or my face is a false witness and deserves to be pilloried. No, by heaven, I swear. Nay, don't swear if you'd have me believe you, but promise. Well I promise. A promise is so cold, give me leave to swear by those eyes, those killing eyes, by those healing lips. Oh, press the soft charm close to mine, and seal him up forever. Upon that condition. He kisses her. Eternity was in that moment. One more upon any condition. Letitia, aside. Nay, now, I never saw anything so agreeably impudent. Won't you censure me for this now, but this to buy you silence? Kiss. Oh, but what am I doing? Doing? No tongue can express it. Not thy own, nor anything but thy lips. I am faint with the excess of bliss. Oh, for love's sake, lead me any wither, where I may lie down. Quickly, for I'm afraid I shall have a fit. Oh, bless me, what fit. Oh, a convulsion, I feel the symptoms. Does it hold you long? I'm afraid to carry you into my chamber. Oh, no, let me lie down upon the bed. The fit will be soon over. Cynate. Cyn, St. James's Park. Araminta and Belinda meeting. Lord, my dear, I am glad I have met you. I have been at the exchange since, and I am so tired. Why, what's the matter? Oh, the most inhuman, barbarous hackney-coach, I am jolted to a jelly. Am I not horribly twos'd? Pulls out a pocket-glass. Your head's a little out of order. A little? Oh, frightful! What a furious fizz I have! Oh, most rueful! Ha, ha, ha! Oh, Gad, I hope nobody will come this way till I have put myself a little in repair. Ah, my dear, I have seen such unhewn creature since. Ha, ha, ha! I can't for myself help thinking that I look just like one of them. Good dear Pinnis, and I'll tell you. Very well. So, thank you, my dear, but as I was telling Pish, this is the untaughtest lock. So, as I was telling, how do you like me now? Headiest, ha? Frightful still? Or how? No, no. You're very well as can be. And so, but where did I leave off, my dear? I was telling you. You were about to tell me something, child, but you left off before you began. Oh! A most comical sight, a country squire with the equipmage of a wife and two daughters came to Mrs Snipwell's shop while I was there, but oh, Gad! Who such unliked cubs? I wore it plump, cherry-cheeked country girls. I, on my conscience, fat as a barn door fowl, but so bedecked you would have taken them for Friesland hens, with their feathers growing the wrong way. Oh, such outlandish creatures, such tramontanet, and foreigners to the fashion or anything in practice. I had not patience to behold. I undertook the modelling of one of their fronts. The more modern structure. Bless me, cousin, why would you affront anybody so? They might be gentle women of a very good family. Of a very ancient one, I dare swear, by their dress. Affront! Psh! Oh! How you're mistaken! The poor creature I wore was as full of curtsies as if I had been her godmother. The truth only is, I did endeavour to make her look like a Christian. And she was sensible of it, for she thanked me, and gave me two apples piping hot out of her under-patty-coat pocket. Ha! Ha! Until that did so stare and goop, I fancied her like the front of her father's hall, her two eyes with a jut window, and her mouth the great door, most hospitably kept open for the entertainment of travelling flies. So then, you have been diverted. How did they buy? Why, the father bought a powder-horn and an almanac and a comb-case, the mother a great froth's tower and a fat ember-nicholas. The daughters only tore two pairs of kids' leather gloves with trying them on. If God, here comes the fool that dined at my lady-free loves to the day. Scene nine. To them, Sir Joseph and Bluff. Maybe he may not know us again. We'll put our masks on to secure his ignorance. They put on their masks. Nay, Gad, I'll pick up. I'm resolved to make a night-hunt. I'll go to Alderman Fondle-wife by and by, and get fifty pieces more from him. Had Slydikin's bully will wallow in wine and women. Why, the same Madeira wine has made me as light as a grasshopper. Hiss! Hiss, bully! Does thou see those terrors? Look you what here is. Look you what here is. Tal-lal-dera-tal-lal. Agad, tell the glass of Madeira, and I dost have attacked him in my unproper person, without your help. Come on, then, knight. But do you know what to say to them? Say, poo-pox! I have enough to say. Never fear it. That is, if I can but think aren't. Truth is, I have but a treacherous memory. O frightful cousin, what shall we do, these things come towards us? No matter. I see vain love coming this way. And to confess my failing, I am willing to give him an opportunity of making his peace with me. And to rid me of these cox-combs, when I seem oppressed with him, will be a fair one. Ladies, by these hilts you are well met. We are afraid not. Bluff to Belinda. What says my pretty little knapsack-carrier? A monstrous filthy fellow, good slovenly captain huff-bluff. What is your hideous name? Begone, you stink of brandy and tobacco. Most soldier-like foe. Pfft! So, Joseph, aside. Now I am slumpdash down in the mouth, and have not one word to say. Araminta, aside. I hope my fool has not confidence enough to be troublesome. Ham, pray, madam, which way is the wind? A piffy question. Have you sent your wits for a venture, sir, that you inquire? So, Joseph, aside. Nay, now I am in. I can prattle like a magpie. Scene ten. To them, sharper and vain love at some distance. Dear Araminta, I am tired. Tis but pulling off our masks and obliging vain love to know us. I'll be rid of my fool by fair means. Well, sir Joseph, you shall see my face, but be gone immediately. I see one that will be jealous to find me in discourse with you. Be discreet. No reply, but away. A mask. Sir Joseph, aside. The great fortune that dined at my lady-free loves. Sir Joseph, thou art a maid-man. Again, I'm in love up to the ears, but I'll be discreet and hushed. Nay, by the world, I'll see your face. You shall. Unmasks. Ladies, your humble servant. We were afraid you would not have given us leave to know you. We thought to have been private. But we find fools have the same advantage over a face and a mask that a coward has while the sword is in the scabbard. So, we're forced to draw in our own defence. Bluff. Tis a Joseph. My blood rises at that fellow. I can't stay where he is, and I must not draw in the park. I wish I durst stay to let her know my lodging. Scene 11. Araminta, Belinda, vain love, Sharpa. There is in true beauty, as in courage, somewhat which narrow souls cannot dare to admire, and see the owls are fled as at the break of day. Very courtly, I believe Mr. Vainlove has not rubbed his eyes since break of day neither. He looks as if he durst not approach. Nay, come, cousin, be friends with him. I swear he looks so very simply. Well, a lover in the state of separation from his mistress is like a body without a soul. Mr. Vainlove, shall I be bound for your good behaviour for the future? Vainlove, aside. Now must I pretend ignorance equal to hers of what she knows as well as I. Men are apt to offend Tis true, where they find most goodness to forgive. But, madam, I hope I shall prove for temper not to abuse mercy by committing new offences. Araminta, aside. So cold. I have broke the ice for you, Mr. Vainlove, and so I leave you. Come, Mr. Sharpa, you and I will take a turn and laugh at the vulgar, both great vulgar and small. Oh, Gad, I have a great passion for Cowley. Don't you admire him? Oh, madam, he was our English Horus. Ah, so fine, so extremely fine, so everything in the world that I like. Oh, Lord, walk this way. I see a couple. I'll give you their history. Scene 12 Araminta, Vainlove I find, madam, the formality of the law must be observed, though the penalty of it be dispensed with, and an offender must plead to his arraignment, though he has his pardon in his pocket. I am amazed. This insolence exceeds to other. Whoever has encouraged you to this assurance, presuming upon my easiness of temper, has much deceived you, and so you shall find. Vainlove, aside. Hey, Day, which way now? Here's fine, doubling. Base man, was it not enough to affront me with your saucy passion? You have given that passion a much kind epithet than saucy in another place. Another place? Some villain is designed to blast my honour. But thou hast all the treachery and malice of thy sex. Thou canst not lay a blemish on my fame. No, I have not erred in one favourable thought of mankind. How time might have deceived me in you, I know not. My opinion was but young, and your early baseness has prevented its growing to a wrong belief. Unworthy and ungrateful, be gone and never see me more. Did I dream, or do I dream? Shall I believe my eyes or ears? The vision is here still. Your passion, madam, will admit no farther reasoning. But here is a silent witness of your acquaintance. Takes out the letter and offers it. She snatches it and throws it away. There's poison in everything you touch. Blisters will follow. That tongue which denies what the hands have done. Still mystically senseless and impudent. I find I must leave this place. No, madam, I am gone. She knows her names to it, but she will be unwilling to expose to the censure of the first finder. Woman's obstinacy made me blind to what woman's curiosity now tempts me to see. Takes up the letter. Scene 13 Belinda Sharper Nay, we have spared nobody, I swear. Mr. Sharper, you're a pure man. Where did you get this excellent talent of railing? Faith, madam, the talent was born with me. I confess I have taken care to improve it to qualify me for the society of ladies. Nay, sure, railing is the best qualification in a woman's man. Scene 14 To them, footmen. The second best indeed, I think. How now, Pace, where's my cousin? She's not very well, madam, and is sent to know if your ladyship would have the coach come again for you. Oh, Lord, no, I'll go along with her. Come, Mr. Sharper. Scene 15 Scene, a chamber in Fondlewife's house. Letitia and Belmore, his cloak, hat, et cetera, lying loose about the chamber. Here's nobody, or no noise. It was nothing but your fears. I just have sworn I had heard my monstrous voice. I swear I was heartily frightened. Feel how my heart beats. Tis an alarm to love. Come in again and let us Fondlewife, without. Cocky, cocky, where are you, cocky? Um, come home. Oh, there he is. Make haste. Gather up your things. Cocky, cocky, open the door. Parks choke him when his horns were in his throat. My patch, my patch. Looking about and gathering up his things. Mitchell, are thou there? No matter for your patch. You sent them in, Nickin. Run into my chamber quickly, quickly. You sent them in. Nay, pretty dear, I think I am in haste. Then I'll let you in. Open the door. Scene sixteen. Letitia, Fondlewife, Sir Joseph. Kiss, dear. I met the master of the ship, by the way, and I must have my papers of accounts out of your cabinet. Letitia, aside. Oh, I'm undone. Pray, first let me have fifty pound, good oldamon, for I am in haste. A hundred has already been paid by your order. Fifty? I have the sum ready in gold in my closet. Scene seventeen. Letitia, Sir Joseph. Ah, God! It's a curious, fine, pretty rogue. I'll speak to her. Pray, madam, what news do you hear? Sir, I seldom stir abroad. Walks about in disorder. I wonder at that, madam, for it is most curious, fine weather. Me things test been very ill, weather. As you say, madam, it is pretty bad weather and has been so great while. Scene eighteen. To them, Fondlewife. Here are fifty pieces in this purse, Sir Joseph. If you will tarry a moment till I fetch my papers, I'll wait upon you downstairs. Letitia, aside. Ruined past redemption. What shall I do? Ha! This fool may be of use. As Fondlewife is going into the chamber, she runs to Sir Joseph, almost pushes him down and cries out. Stand off, rude ruffian. Help me, my dear. Oh, bless me. Why will you leave me alone with such a settle? Oh, blesses. What's the matter? What's the matter? Your beck was no sooner turned, but like a lion he came open-mouthed upon me and would have ravaged a kiss for me by main force. Oh, Lord, how terrible! Ha! Ha! Ha! Is your wife mad, old woman? Oh, I'm sick with the fright. Won't you take him out of my sight? Oh, traitor! I'm astonished, old bloody-minded traitor. Hey, dear, traitor yourself! By the Lord Harry, I was in most danger of being ravished if you go to that. Oh, how the blasphemous wretch swears! Out of my house, thou son of the whore of Babylon! Offspring a bell and the dragon! Bless us, ravish my wife, my diner! Oh, shechemite! Be gone, I say! Why, the devil's in the people, I think. Scene 19 Letitia, fondle-wife. Oh, won't you follow and see him out of doors, my dear? I'll shut this door to secure him from coming back. Give me the key of your cabinet, cocky. Ravish my wife before my face? I warned he's a papist in his heart, at least, if not a Frenchman. Letitia aside. What can I do now? Oh, my dear, I have been in such a fright that I forgot to tell you. Poor Mr. Spintext has a sad fit of the colleague, and is forced to lie down upon our bed. You'll disturb him. I can tread softly. How lack poor man! No, no. You don't know the papers. I won't disturb him. Give me the key. She gives him the key, goes to the chamber-door, and speaks aloud. There's nobody but Mr. Fondle-wife, Mr. Spintext. Lie still on your stomach. Lying on your stomach will ease you of the colleague. Aye, aye, lie still. Lie still. Don't let me disturb you. Scene twenty. Letitia alone. Sure, when he does not see his face, he won't discover him. Oh, dear fortune, help me but this once, and I'll never run into that debt again. But this opportunity is the devil. Scene twenty-one. Fondle-wife returns with papers. Good luck. Good luck, I profess, the poor man is in great torment. He lies as flat. Dear, you should heat a trencher or an apkin. Where's Deborah? Let her clap some warm thing to his stomach, or shave it with a warm hand, rather than fail. What books this? Seize the book that Belmore forgot. Mr. Spintext, spray a book, dear. Aside. Pray, heaven, it be a prayer-book. Good man, I warn't he dropped it on purpose, that you might take it up and read some of the pious ejaculations. Taking up the book. Oh, bless me, oh, monstrous. A prayer-book? Aye, this is the devil's pattern-oster. Hold, let me see, the innocent adultery. Letitia, aside. Miss Fortune, now hold siruined again. Belmore, peeping. Damned chance! If I had gone a-horring with the practice of piety in my pocket, I had never been discovered. Adultery and innocent? Oh, lord. Here's doctrine. Aye, here's discipline. Dear husband, I'm amazed. Sure, it is a good book, and only tends to the speculation of sin. Speculation? No, no, something went farther than speculation when I was not to be let in. Where is this apocryphal elder? I'll fair him. Letitia, aside. I'm so distracted, I can't think of a lie. Scene twenty-two. Letitia and Fondlewife hailing out Belmore. Come out here, thou ananias incarnate. Oh, how now? Who have we here? Oh, thou salacious woman. Am I then brutified? Aye, I feel it here. I sprout, I bud, I blossom, I am ripe-horn mad. But who in the devil's name are you? Mercy on me for swearing, but— Oh, goodness keep us. Who are you? What are you? Saw. In the name of the— Oh, good my dear, don't come near it. I'm afraid this the devil. Indeed, it has hoofs, dear. Indeed I have horns, dear. The devil? No. I'm afraid this is the flesh, thou harlot. Dear, with a pox. Come, siren, speak, confess. Who is this reverend brawny pastor? Indeed, and indeed now, my dear Neakin, I never saw this wicked man before. Oh, it is a man, then, it seems. Rather, sure it is a wolf in the clothing of a sheep. Thou art a devil in his proper clothing. Woman's flesh. What, you know nothing of him but his fleece here? You don't love Button. You Magdalene unconverted. Belmore, aside. Well, now I know my cue. That is, very honorably to excuse her, and very impudently accuse myself. Why, then, I wish I may never enter into the heaven of your embraces again, my dear, if ever I saw his face before. Oh, Lord, oh, strange, I am in admiration of your impudence. Look at him a little better. He is more modest, I warned you, then, to deny it. Come, were you two never face to face before? Speak. Since all artifice is vain, and I think myself obliged to speak the truth and justice to your wife. No. Ha! My dear! Nay, I find you are both in a story, that I must confess. But what, not to be cured of the colic? Don't you know your patient, Mrs. Quack? Oh, lie upon your stomach. Lying upon your stomach will cure you of the colic. Ah! Answer me, Jezebel. Ha! Let the wicked man answer for himself. Does he think I have nothing to do but excuse him? Is enough if I can clear my own innocence to my own dear? By my trough, and so it is, I have been a little too backward. That's the truth on it. Come, sir, who are you in the first place? And what are you? A whormaster. Very concise. Oh, beastly, impudent creature. Well, sir, and what came you hither for? To lie with your wife. Good again. A very civil person this, and I believe speaks truth. Oh, insupportable impudence. Well, sir, pray be covered. And you have, eh? You have finished the matter, eh? And I am, as I should be, a sort of civil prerequisite to a whormaster called a cuckold, eh? Is it not so? Come, I'm inclined to believe every word you say. Why, Faith, I must confess, so I designed you. But you were a little unlucky in coming so soon, and hindered the making of your own fortune. Ah, hum, nay, if you miss the matter once and go back of your word, you are not the person I took you for. Come, come, go on boldly. What, don't be ashamed of your profession? Confess, confess. I shall love thee better, Fort. I shall, I feck. What does think I don't know how to behave myself in the employment of a cuckold, and have been three years apprentice to matrimony? Come, come, plain dealing is a jewel. Well, since I see thou art a good honest fellow, I'll confess the whole matter to thee. Oh, I am a very honest fellow. You never lay with an honester man's wife in your life. Letitia, aside. Oh, how my heart aches. All my comfort lies in his impudence, and heaven be praised he has a considerable portion. In short, then, I was informed of the opportunity of your absence by my spy. For faith, honest Isaac, I have a long time designed thee this favour. I knew spin-text was to come by your direction. But I laid a trap for him and procured his habit, in which I passed upon your servants and was conducted hither. I pretended a fit of the colic to excuse my lying down upon your bed, hoping that when she heard of it her good nature would bring her to administer remedies for my distemper. You know what might have followed. But like an uncivil person you knocked at the door before your wife has come to me. This is apocryphal. I may choose whether I will believe it or no. That you may, Faith, and I hope you won't believe a word on it. But I can't help telling the truth for my life. How? Would not you have me believe you, say you? No. For then you must have consequence part with your wife, and there will be some hopes of having her upon the public. Then the encouragement of a separate maintenance. No, no. For that matter, when she and I part she'll carry her separate maintenance about her. How cruel, dear! How can you be so barbarous? You'll break my heart if you talk of parting. Cries. Ha! Dissembling vermin! How can't thou be so cruel, Isaac? Thou hast the heart of a mountain-tiger. By the faith of a sincere sinner she's innocent for me. Go to him, madam, fling your snowy arms about his stubborn neck, bathe his relentless face in your salt-trickling tears. She goes and hangs upon his neck and kisses him. Belmore kisses her hand behind Fondlewife's back. So a few soft words and a kiss and the good man melts. See how kind nature works and boils over in him. Indeed, my dear, I was but just come downstairs when you knocked at the door, and the maid told me Mr. Spintex was ill of the colleague upon our bed. And won't you speak to me cruel-nicking? Indeed, I'll die if you don't. Ah, no, no, I cannot speak. My heart's so full. I have been a tender husband, a tender yoke-fellow. You know I have. But thou hast been a faithless Delilah and the Philistines. Eh? Eh? Are thou not vile and unclean? Eh? Speak. Weeping. Ha-ha, that I could believe thee. My heart with break. Seeming to faint. Eh, how? No, stay. Stay, I will believe thee. I will. Pray bend her forward, sir. Where is my dear? Here. Here I do believe thee. I won't believe my eyes. For my part I am so charmed with the love of your turtle to you I'll go and solicit matrimony with all my might and main. Well, well, sir, as long as I believe it, it is well enough. No thanks to you, sir, for her virtue. But I'll show you the way out of my house, if you please. Come, my dear. Nay, I will believe thee. I do, I feck. See the great blessing of an easy faith. Opinion cannot air. No husband by his wife can be deceived. She still is virtuous, if she's so believed. End of Act 4, Act 5 of The Old Bachelor by William Congreve. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Act 5, Scene 1, Scene The Street. Belmore Infantic Habit, Setter Hartwell Lucy. Setter, well encountered. Joy of your return, sir. Have you made a good voyage, or have you brought your own lady back? No, I have brought nothing but ballast back, made a delicious voyage, Setter, and might have rode at anchor in the port till this time, but the enemy surprised us. I would un-rig. I'll attend you, sir. Ha! Is it not that Hartwell at Sylvia's door? Be gone quickly, I'll follow you. I would not be known. Pox take them, they stand just in my way. Scene 2, Belmore Hartwell Lucy. I'm impatient till it be done. That may be, without troubling yourself to go again for your brother's chaplain. Don't you see that stocking form of godliness? Oh, I, he's a fanatic. An executioner qualified to do your business. He has been lawfully ordained. I'll pay him well, if you'll break the matter to him. I warrant you. Do you go and prepare your bride? Scene 3, Belmore Lucy. Sits the wind there. What a lucky rogue am I. Oh, what sport will be here if I can persuade this wench to secrecy? Sir, Reverend Sir. Madame. Discovers himself. Oh, goodness have mercy upon me. Mr. Belmauer is you. Even I? What dost think? Think that I should not believe my eyes and that you are not what you seem to be. True, but to convince thee who I am, thou knowest my old token. Kisses her. Nay, Mr. Belmauer. Oh, lard, I believe you are a parson in good earnest. You kiss so devoutly. Well, your business with me, Lucy? I had none, but through mistake. Which mistake you must go through with, Lucy? Come, I know the intrigue between Hartwell and your mistress, and you mistook me for tribulation spin-text to Mariam, huh? Are not matters in this posture? Confess. Come, I'll be faithful. I will, I faith. What, defied in me, Lucy? Alas, a day! You and Mr. Veinlove, between you, have ruined my poor mistress. You have made a gap in her reputation. And can you blame her if she make it up with a husband? Well, is it as I say? Well, it is, then. But you'll be secret? Oh, secret, I! And to be out of thy debt I'll trust thee with another secret. Your mistress must not marry Hartwell, Lucy. How? Oh, lord! Nay, don't be in passion, Lucy. I'll provide a fitter husband for her. Come, here's earnest of my good intentions for thee, too. Let this mollify. Give some money. Look, you. Hartwell is my friend. And though he be blind, I must not see him fall into the snare, and unwittingly marry a whore. Whore? I have you to know, my Mr. Scorns. Nay, nay. Look, you, Lucy, there are whores of his good quality. But to the purpose, if you will give me leave to acquaint you with it, do you carry on the mistake of me? I'll marry him. Nay, don't pause. If you do, I'll spoil all. I have some private reasons for what I do, which I'll tell you within. In the meantime, I promise, and rely upon me, to help your mistress to a husband. Nay, and thee, too, Lucy. Here's my hand, I will, with a fresh assurance. Give some moll money. Ah, the devil is not so cunning. You know my easy nature. Well, for once I'll venture to serve you. But if you do deceive me, the curse of all kind, tender-hearted women, light upon you. That's as much to say the pox take me. Well, lead on. Scene four. Venlov, Sharpa, and Sutter. Just now, say you, gone in with Lucy? I saw him, sir, and stood at the corner where you found me, and overheard all they said. Mr. Belmore is to marry him. Ha, ha, it will be a pleasant cheat. I'll play cartwell when I see him. Prithee, Frank, let's tease him, make him fret till he foam at the mouth and disgorge his matrimonial oath with interest. Come, thou art musty. Sutter to Sharpa. Sir, a word with you. Whispers him. Sharpa swears she is foresworn the letter. I'm sure he tells me truth. But I'm not sure she told him truth. Yet she was unaffectedly concerned, he says, and often blushed with anger and surprise. And so I remember in the park that she had reason for her wrong hair. I begin to doubt. Sayest thou so? This afternoon, sir, about an hour before Mon Master received the letter. In my conscience, like enough. Aye, aye, no, sir. At least I'm sure I can fish it out of her. She's the very sleuther, ladies' secrets. It is but setting her mill ago in and I can drain her of them all. Here, Frank, your bloodhound has made out the fault. This letter, that so sticks in thy maw, is counterfeit. Only a trick of Sylvia in revenge contrived by Lucy. Ha! It has a colour. But how do you know it, Sarah? I do suspect as much. Because, why, sir, she was pumping me about how your worship's affairs stood towards Madame Araminta. As when you had seen her last, when you were to see her next, and where you were to be found at that time, and such like. And where did you tell her? In the piazza. There I received the letter. It must be so. And why did you not find me out to tell me this before was sought? Sir, I was pimping for Mr. Belmore. You were well employed. I think there is no objection to the excuse. Pocks of my saucy credulity. If I have lost her, I'd deserve it. But if confession and repentance be a force, I'll win her, or weary her into a forgiveness. Me thinks I long to see Belmore come forth. Scene 5 Sharper Belmore Setter Talk to the devil. See where he comes. Hugging himself in his prosperous mischief. No real fanatic can look better pleased after a successful sermon of sedition. Sharper! Fortify thy spleen such a jest. Speak when thou art ready. Now, were I ill-natured would I utterly disappoint thy mirth. Here thee tell thy mighty jest with as much gravity as a bishop hears venereal causes in the spiritual court. Not so much as wrinkle my face with one smile, but let thee look simply and laugh by thyself. Pshaw, no! I have better opinion of thy wit. God, I defy thee! Were it not loss of time you should make the experiment, but honest Setter here overheard you with Lucy and has told me all. Nay, then, I thank thee for not putting me out of countenance. But to tell you something you don't know. I got an opportunity after I had married him of discovering the cheat to Sylvia. She took it at first, as another woman would the like disappointment, but my promise to make her amends quickly with another husband somewhat pacified her. But how the devil do you think to acquit yourself of your promise? Will you marry her yourself? I have no such intentions at present. Prithee, wilt thou think a little for me? I am sure the ingenious Mr. Setter will assist. Oh, Lord, sir. I'll leave him with you and go shift my habit. Scene six. Sharper, Setter, suggestive, and bluff. Ha! Sure fortune has sent this fool hither on purpose. Setter, stand close, seem not to observe him, and hark ye. Whispers. Fear him not. I am prepared for him now, and he shall find he might have safer roused the sleeping lion. Hush! Hush! Don't you see him? Show him to me. Where is he? Nay, don't speak so loud. I don't just as I did a little while ago. Look, Yonder, a gad if he should hear the lion roar, he'd cudgel him into an ass, and his primitive brain. Don't you remember the story in Esop's fables, bully? A gad, there are good morals to be picked out of Esop's fables. Let me tell you that, and reign out the fox, too. Damn your morals! Prithee, don't speak so loud. Damn your morals! I must revenge the affront done to my honour. I do, do, Captain, if you think it fitting. You may dispose of your own flesh as you think fitting. Do you see? But, by the Lord Harry, I'll leave you. Stealing away upon his tiptoes. Prodigus, what will you forsake your friend in extremity? You can't in honour refuse to carry him a challenge. Almost whispering, and treading softly after him. Prithee, what do you see in my face that looks as if I could carry a challenge? Honour is your province, Captain. Take it. All the world know me to be a knight, and a man of worship. I warrant you, sir. I'm instructed. Sharper, allowed. Impossible. Ereminta, take a liking to a fool. Her head runs with nothing else, nor she can talk with nothing else. I know she commanded him all the while we were in the park, but I thought it had been only to make vain love jealous. How's this? Good bully, hold your breath and let's hearken. Again, this must be high. Death it can't be. An oaf, an idiot, a whittle. High, now it's out. Tis I, my own individual person. A wretch that has flown for shelter to the lowest shrub of mankind and seeks protection from a blasted coward. That's you, bully, back. Bluff friends upon Sir Joseph. Sharper, to set her. She has given vain love her promise to marry him before tomorrow morning. Has she not? She has, sir. And I'll have it in charge to attend her all this evening in order to conduct her to the place appointed. Well, I'll go and inform your master, and do you press her to make all the haste imaginable. Scene seven. Setter, Sir Joseph. Bluff. Were I a rogue now? What a noble prize could I dispose of? A goodly penis, richly laden, and to launch forth under my auspicious convoy. Twelve thousand pounds and aura rigging. Besides what lies concealed under ashes. Ah, all this committed to my care. A vault temptation. Setter, show thyself a person of worth. Be true to thy trust, and be reputed honest. Reputed honest? Hmm, is that all? I, for to be honest, is nothing. The reputation of it is all. Reputation. What am such poor rogues as I to do with reputation? To suburb us. And for men of quality, they are above it. So that reputation is even as foolish a thing as honesty. And for my part, if I meet Sir Joseph with a purse of gold in his hand, I'll dispose of mine to the best advantage. Here it is for you, ifth, Mr Setter. No, I'll take your word. Chinking a purse. Sir Joseph and the captain too. Undone, undone. I'm undone, my master's undone, my lady's undone, and all the business is undone. No, no, never fear, man. The lady's business shall be done. What come, Mr Setter? I have overheard all. And to speak is but loss of time. And if there be occasion, let these worthy gentlemen intercede for me. Gives him gold. Oh, Lord Sir, what do you mean? Corrupt my honesty. They have indeed very persuading faces, but... Tis too little. There's more man there. Take all, now. Well, Sir Joseph, you have such a winning way with you. And how, and how, good Setter did the little rogue look when she talked to Sir Joseph, did not her eyes twinkle and her mouth water, did not she pull up her little bumbies and, again, I'm so overjoyed and stroke down her belly and then step aside to tie her garter when she was thinking of her love. Hey, Setter. Oh, yes, Sir? Oh, no, bully. What melancholy, because I'm in the lady's favour. No matter. I'll make your peace. I know they were a little smart upon you, but I warrant how I bring you into the lady's good graces. Shah. I have petitions to show from other guest toys than she. Look here. These were sent to me this morning. There. Read. Show's letters. That. That's a scrawl of quality. Here. Here's from a countess, too. Hum. No. Hold. That's from a knight's wife. She sent it to me by her husband. But here. Both these are from persons of great quality. They are either from persons of great quality or no quality at all. It is such a damned ugly hand. While Sir Joseph reads, bluff whispers Setter. Captain, I would do anything to serve you. But this is so difficult. Not at all. Don't I know him? You'll remember the conditions. I'll give you it under my hand. In the meantime, here's Ernest. Give him money. Come, knight. I'm capitulating with Mr. Setter for you. An honest Setter, sirra. I'll give thee anything but a knight's lodging. C. Nate. Sharper tugging in heart well. Nay. Prithee, leave railing and come along with me. Maybe she may end to be within. It is but to yonned corner house. Weather, weather, which corner house? Why there, the two white posts. And who would you visit there, say you? Ones, how my heart aches. Shaw, the art so troublesome and inquisitive. May I tell you, it is a young creature that vain love debauched and has forsaken. Did you never hear Belmore chide him about Sylvia? Heart well aside. Death and hell and marriage. My wife? Why, Thou art as musty as a new married man that had found his wife knowing the first night. Heart well aside. Hell and the devil. Does he know it? But hold. If he should not, I were a fool to discover it. I'll disemble and try him. Why, Tom, is that such an occasion of melancholy? Is it such an uncommon mischief? No faith, I believe not. Few women but have their year of probation before they are coistered in the narrow joys of wedlock. But Prithee, come along with me, or I'll go and have the lady to myself. Bye-bye, George. Going. Oh, torture, how he wracks and tears me. To death shall I own my shame, or willingly let him go and whore my life. No, that's insupportable. Oh, sharper! How now? Oh, I am married. Now hold, Spleen. Married? Certainly, irrecoverably married. Heaven forbid, man, how long? Oh, an age, what age? I have been married these two hours. My old bachelor married. That were a jest. To death. Do ye mock me? Ha, ye, if either you esteem my friendship, or your own safety, come not near that house, that corner-house, that hot brothel. Ask no questions. Mad by this light. Thus grief still treads upon the heels of pleasure. Married in haste we may repent at leisure. Scene nine. Sharper. Sutter. Some, by experience, find these words misplaced. At leisure married, they repent in haste. As, I suppose, my master heart well. Hear again, my Mercury. Sublimate, if you please, sir. I think my achievements do deserve the epithet. Mercury was a pimp, too. But, though I blush to own it, at this time I must confess I am somewhat fallen from the dignity of my function, and do condescend to be scantlessly employed in the promotion of vulgar matrimony. As how, dear dexterous pimp? Why, do be brief. For I have weighty affairs dependent. Our stratagem succeeded as you intended. Bluff turns errant traitor, bribes me to make a private conveyance of the lady to him, and puts a shame settlement upon Sir Joseph. Oh rogue, well, but I hope. No, no, never fear me, sir. I privately informed the Knight of the Treasury, who has agreed seemingly to be cheated that the captain may be so in reality. Where's the bride? Shifting clothes for the purpose of friends' house of mine. His company come in. If you'll walk this way, sir, I'll tell you. Scene 10 Belmore, Belinda, Araminta and Veinlove Veinlove to Araminta Oh, twice frenzy, all. Cannot you forgive it. Men in madness have a title to your pity. Which they forfeit when they are restored to their senses. I am not presuming beyond a pardon. You, who could reproach me with one counterfeit, how insolent would a real pardon make you. But there's no need to forgive what is not worth my anger. Belinda, to Belmore. On my conscience I could find in my heart to marry thee purely to be rid of thee. At least thou art so troublesome a lover, as hopest thou to make a more than ordinary quiet husband. Say you so? Is that a maxim among ye? Yes, you fluttering men of the mode have made marriage a mere French dish. Belmore, aside. I hope there's no French sauce. You are so curious in the preparation that is your courtship. One would think you meant a noble entertainment. But when we come to feed, tis all froth and pour, but in show. They often only remains, which have been I know not how many times warmed for other company, that last served up cold to the wife. That were a miserable wretch indeed who could not afford one warm dish for the wife of his bosom. But you timorous virgins form a dreadful chimera of a husband as of a creature contrary to that soft, humble, plyant, easy thing, a lover. So guess at plagues and matrimony in opposition to the pleasures of courtship. Alas, courtship to marriage is but as the music in the playhouse until the curtain's drawn, but that once up then opens the scene of pleasure. Oh, fo—no! Rather courtship to marriage as a very witty prologue to a very dull play. Scene eleven. To them, sharper. Hist, Belmore, if you'll bring the ladies make haste to Sylvia's lodgings before Hartwell has fredded himself out of breath. Belmore, to Belinda. You have an opportunity now, madam, to revenge yourself upon Hartwell for affronting your squirrel. Oh, the filthy, rude beast! Tis a lasting quarrel. I think he has never been at our house since. But give yourselves the trouble to walk to that corner-house and I'll tell you, by the way, what may divert and surprise you. Scene twelve. Scene Sylvia's lodgings. Hartwell and Boy. Gone forth, say you, with her maid? There was a man, too, that fetched them out. Sutter, I think they called him. So that precious pimp, too! Damned, damned strumpet! Could she not contain herself on her wedding day? Not hold out till night? O cursed state! How wide we air when apprehensive of the load of life! We hope to find that help that nature meant in womankind to man that supplemental self-designed but proves a burning caustic when applied. And Adam, sure, could with more ease abide the bone when broken than when made a bride. Scene thirteen. Tis them, Belmore, Belinda, Vainlove, Araminta. Now, George, what rhyming! I thought the chimes of verse were passed when once the doleful marriage-nell was wrong. Shame and confusion! I am exposed! Vainlove and Araminta talk apart. Joy, joy, Mr. Bridegroom, I give you joy, sir. Tis not in thy nature to give me joy. A woman can as soon give immortality. O gad, men grow such clowns when they are married. That they are fit for no company but their wives. Nor for them neither in a little time. I swear at months end you shall hardly find a married man that will do a civil thing to his wife or say a civil thing to anybody else. How he looks already! Death! Have I made your laughing stock? For you, sir, I shall find a time. But take off your wasp there, or the clown may grow boisterous. I have a fly-flap. Your application for it, your wife has been blown upon. Well, that's home. Not fiends or furies could have added to my vexation. Or anything but another woman. You've wrapped my patience. Be gone, or by— Hold, hold. What the devil? Thou wilt not draw upon a woman? What's the matter? Bless me. What have you done to him? Only touched a gold beast until he winced. Belmore, get it over. You vexed him too much. Tis all serious to him. Nay, I swear, I began to pity him myself. Damn your pity! But let me be calm a little. How have I deserved this of you? Any of ye? Sir, have I impaired the honour of your house, promised your sister marriage, and hoard her? Wherein have I injured you? Did I bring a physician to your father when he lay expiring an endeavour to prolong his life, and you, one and twenty? Madam, have I had an opportunity with you, and walked it? Did you ever offer me the favour that I refused it, or— Oh, foe! What does the filthy fellow mean? Lord, let me be gone. Hang me if I pity you. You were right enough served. This is a little scurrilous, though. Nate is a sore of your own scratching. Well, George? You are the principal cause of all my present ills. If Sylvia had not been your mistress, my wife might have been honest. And if Sylvia had not been your wife, my mistress might have been just—there, we are even. But have a good heart. I heard of your misfortune, and come to your relief. When executions over, you offer a reprieve. What would you give? Oh, anything, everything, a leg or two, or an arm. Today I would be divorced from my virility to be divorced from my wife. Scene fourteen. To them, sharper. Faith, that's a sure way. But here's one can sell you freedom better cheap. Vain love, I have been a kind of godfather to you yonder. I've promised and vowed some things in your name which I think you are bound to perform. No signing to a blank, friend? No, I'll deal fairly with you. It is a full and free discharge to Sir Joseph Whittle and Captain Bluff for all injuries whatsoever done unto you by them until the present date hereof. How say you? Agreed. Then let me beg these ladies to wear their masks a moment. Come in, gentlemen and ladies. What the devil's all this to me? Patience. Then the last. To them, Sir Joseph, Bluff, Sylvia, Lucy, Sutter. All injuries whatsoever, Mr. Sharper? Aye, aye, whatsoever. Captain, stick to that whatsoever. Tis done. These gentlemen are witnesses to the general release. Aye, aye, to this instant moment. I have passed an act of oblivion. Tis very generous, sir, since I need must my own. Oh, no, Captain. You need not own. Tis I must own. That you are overreached, too. Only a little art military used, only undermined, or so, as shall appear by my fair Aramenta, my wife's permission. Oh, the devil cheated at last. Lucy, the masks. Only a little art military trick, Captain. Only count a mind, or so. Mr. Vainlove, I suppose you know whom I have got now, but all's forgiven. I know whom you have not got. Pray, ladies, convince him. Aramenta and Belinda, unmask. Ah! Oh, Lord, my heart aches. Ah! Set a rogue of all sides. Mr. Joseph, you had better have pre-engaged this gentleman's pardon, for though Vainlove be so generous to forgive the loss of his mistress, I know not how Hartwell may take the loss of his wife. Sylvia, a mask. My wife? By this light is she. The very cockatrice. Oh, sharper. Let me embrace thee. But are thou sure she is really married to him? Really and lawfully married. I am witness. Belmore will unriddle you. Hartwell goes to Belmore. Pray, madam, who are you? For I find you and I are like to be better acquainted. The worst of me is that I am your wife. Come, sir Joseph, your fortune is not so bad as you fear. A fine lady, and a lady of very good quality. Thanks to my knighthood. She's a lady. That deserves a fool with a better title. Pray you, says my relation, or you shall hear on't. What? Are you a woman of quality too, spouse? And my relation. Pray let her be respected accordingly. Well, honest Lucy, fair thee well. I think you and I have been playfellows on and off any time this seven year. Hold your prating. I'm thinking what vocation I shall follow while my spouse is planting laurels in the wars. No more wars, spouse. No more wars. While I plant laurels for my head abroad, I may find the branches sprout at home. Belmore, I approve thy mirth and thank thee. And I cannot in gratitude, for I see which way thou art going. See thee fall into the same snare out of which thou hast delivered me. I thank thee, George, for thy good intention. But there is a fatality in marriage, for I find I'm resolute. Then good counsel will be thrown away upon you. For my part I have once escaped. And when I wed again, may she be ugly as an old bard. In nature as an old maid. Wanton as a young widow. And jealous as a barren wife. Agreed. Well, midst of these dreadful denunciations and notwithstanding the warning and example before me, I commit myself to lasting endurance. Prisoner, make much of your fetters. Giving her hand. Frank, will you keep us in countenance? May I presume to hope so great a blessing? We had better take the advantage of a little of our friend's experience first. Belmore, aside. O my conscience she dares not consent, for fear he should recant. Well, we should have your company to church in the morning. Maybe it may get you an appetite to see us fall to before you. Setter did not you tell me. There at the door. I'll call him in. Adults. Now set we forward on a journey for life. Come take your fellow travellers. Old George, I'm sorry to see thee still plod on alone. With gaudy plumes and jingling bells made proud. The youthful beast sets forth and nays aloud. A morning sun his tinseled harness gilds. And the first stage a downhill greensward yields. But all what rugged ways attend the noon of life. Our sun declines and with what anxious strife. What pain we tug that galling load, a wife. All courses the first heat with vigor run. But tears with weapons spur the race is won. Exiant omnis. End of act five. Epilogue, spoken by Mrs. Barry. As a rash girl who will all hazards run and be enjoyed, though sure to be undone, soon as her curiosity is over, would give the world she could her toy recover. So fares it with our poet. And I am sent to tell you he already does repent. Would you were all as forward to keep lent? Now the deed's done. The giddy thing has leisure to think of the sting that's in the tale of pleasure. Me things I hear him in consideration. What will the world say? Where's my reputation? Now that's at stake. No fool, tis out of fashion. If loss of that should follow want of wit. How many undone men were in the pit. Why, that's some comfort to an author's fears. If he's an ass he will be tried by his peers. But hold, I am exceeding my commission. My business here was humbly to petition. But we're so used to rail on these occasions, I could not help one trial of your patience. For tis our way, you know, for fear of the worst, to be beforehand still and cry fool first. How say you, sparks? How do you stand affected? As where young base within is so dejected to would grieve your hearts to see him. Shall I call him? But then you cruel critics would so maul him. Yet maybe you'll encourage a beginner. But how? Just as the devil does a sinner. Women and wits are used even much at one. You gain your end and damm'em when you've done. The Old Bachelor by William Congreve