Enter Sancho, Lopez, Dalinda. Carlos meeting them.
Carl. Give you joy, Mr Bridegroom and Mrs Bride; you see I have accepted your invitation.
San. And thou art welcome, as a witness of my triumph.
Carl. I could tell tales that would spoil your appetite, both to your dinner and your bride.—You think you are married to a vast fortune.
Dal. A better, perhaps, than you imagine.
Lop. For, if Sancho looks into his writings, he'll find that my estate was mortgaged to his father.
San. Then would I had looked into my writings, before I had looked so far into your daughter.
Dal. My father's fortune will be yours at last; and I have but redeemed it for you.
San. I'm sure I'm married without redemption!
Carl. You must take the good and the bad together; he that keeps a tame cat must be content to be scratched a little.
Dal. The count's sister, I hope, has claws for you too.
Carl. That was invented only in hopes of you, Dalinda; though now I thank my stars that I have missed you: for two wits without fortunes would be like two millstones without corn betwixt them; they would only grind upon one another, and make a terrible noise, but no meal would follow.
Enter a Nurse, leading a Boy and Girl.
Nurse. Madam, here are two poor orphans, that, hearing you are married, come to dine with you.
Dal. [Aside.] My two bastards! I am undone: what shall I do with them?
Lop. [Aside.] The devil take my damned grand-children for their unseasonable visit.
San. Welcome, welcome: They're come a mumming[60] to grace my wedding, I'll warrant you.
Carl. I begin to suspect they come to sup and lodge, as well as dine here.
Lop. [To Nurse.] There's two pistoles for you; take them away, and bring them again to-morrow morning.
Nurse. Thank your honour.—Come away, children; but first I must deliver a note to this gentleman.—Don Carlos, I am sure you remember me. [Gives him a Note.
Carl. Did not you wait on Donna Leonora, the Conde's sister?
Nurse. Have you forgotten Ynez, the faithful trustee of your affection? Read your letter; there's better news than you deserve. [Carlos reads his Letter to himself.
Dal. [To Nurse.] Steal away, dear nurse, while he's reading, and there's more money for you:—fear not, you shall be duly paid; for I am married to one who can provide for them.
Nurse. [To her.] Well, I'll keep your credit; but remember. [Exit Nurse, with the Children.
Carl. [After Reading.] Poor loving creature, she is e'en too constant; I could never have expected this from her.—Look you here, you shall see I have no reason to envy your fortune, Sancho.—[Looks about him.] How now, what's become of the nurse and the two children?
Dal. They would have been but too troublesome guests, and are gone away.
Carl. By your favour, I shall make bold to call them back again. [Exit Carlos.
Dal. [To Lop.] Oh barbarous villain! he'll discover all.
Lop. The best on't is, you're already married.
Dal. But we have not consummated. I could have so wheedled Mr Bridegroom to-night, that ere to-morrow morning he should have forgiven me.
Re-enter Carlos, with Nurse and Children.
Carl. Come, nurse, no more mincing matters; your lady's orders in my letter must be obeyed: I must find a father and mother for the children in this company.
San. Whose pretty children are these, Carlos, that you are to provide for?
Carl. E'en your bride's, Sancho, at your service.— Children, do your duty to your mother.
Children. [Kneeling.] Mamma, your blessing.
San. Hey day, what's here to do? Are these the issue of your body, Madam Bride?
Carl. Yes; and they are now your children by the mother's side. The late Conde presents his service to you, with these two pledges of his affection to your wife.
San. Is it even thus, Dalinda?
Lop. Christian patience, son-in-law.
San. Christian patience! I say pagan fury. This is enough to make me turn Jew again, like my father of Hebrew memory.
Carl. You may make your assault, colonel, without danger; the breach is already made to your hands.
San. Ay, the devil take him that stormed it first!
Carl. Speak well of the dead.
Dal. [Kneeling.] And forgive the living!
San. Oh Dalinda! no more Dalinda, but Dalilah the Philistine! Could you find none but me to practise on?
Carl. Sooner upon you than upon any man; for nature has put a superscription upon a fool's face, and all cheats are directed thither.
Lop. There's no recalling what's past and done.
San. You never said a truer word, father-in-law; 'tis done, indeed, to my sorrow.
Carl. If you could undo it, Sancho, it were something; but, since you cannot, your only remedy is to do it again.
San. That's true; but the memory of that damned Conde is enough to turn one's stomach to her. Do you remember what a devilish hunch back he had, when you and I played him?
Carl. For that reason you may be sure she'll loath the thought of him.
San. Do you think so, Carlos?
Dal. How can I do otherwise, when I have in my arms so handsome, so sweet, and so charming a cavalier as you?
San. Well, I am—I know not howish; she has a delicious tongue of her own, and I begin to mollify.
Carl. Do, Sancho: Faith, you've held it out too long, in conscience, for so slight a quarrel; this is nothing among great ladies, man. How many fathers have I known, that have given their blessings to other men's children? Come, bless them, bless them, honest daddy—Kneel down, children.
Children. [Kneeling.] Your blessing, papa. [Children cry.
San. It goes against the grain to give it them.
Carl. For shame, Sancho, take them up; you'll break their pretty hearts else: 'twould grieve a man's soul to see them weep thus.
San. Ay, they learnt that trick of their mother; but I cannot be obdurate, the fault was none of theirs, I'm sure. [Crying.] Heaven e'en bless you, and I'll provide for you; nay, and it shall go hard but I'll get you some more play-fellows, if your mother be as fruitful as she used to be.
Lop. Why this is as it should be.
Dal. Heaven reward you; and I'll study obedience to you.
San. They say, children are great blessings; if they are, I have two great blessings ready gotten to my hands.
Carl. For your comfort, marriage, they say, is holy.
San. Ay, and so is martyrdom, as they say; but both of them are good for just nothing, but to make an end of a man's life.
Lop. Cheer up, son-in-law: your children are very towardly, you see they can ask blessing already.
Dal. If he does not like them, he may get the next himself.
Carl. I will not trouble the company with reading my letter from the dead count's sister; 'tis enough to tell you, that I loved her once, and forsook her, because she was then no fortune. But she has been kinder to me than I deserve; and has offered me her brother's estate in dowry with her.
Dal. Which I hope you will accept.
Carl. Yes, and release you of a certain promise to me, without explaining.—She only recommended to me her brother's children by Dalinda: and I think I have taken a decent care in providing them a rich father.
San. I always loved a harlot, and, now I have one of my own, I'll e'en take up with her; for my youth is going, and my days of whoring, I mean emphatical whoring, are almost over. But for once, we'll have a frolick; come, offspring, can either of you two dance?
1 Child. Yes, forsooth, father, and my sister can sing too, like an angel.
San. Then foot it featly; that you may say hereafter you remember when your mother was first married, and danced at her wedding.
Carl. Hold a little;—you may remember too, Madam Bride, that I promised you an epithalamium. 'Twas meant a satire; but fortune has turned it to a jest. I have given it to the musicians, and brought them along with me; strike up, gentlemen.
[The Dance is first, then the Song, the last Words of which are sung while the Company is going out, and the Musick plays before them.
SONG.
BY MR CONGREVE.
I.
II.
SONG
FOR A GIRL.
I.
II.
III.
IV.
A Royal Chamber is discovered by drawing the former Scene; Veramond, Garcia, Ximena, Victoria Celidea, with a full Train of Courtiers and Guards: amongst the Crowd, Ramirez disguised with some of his Party.
SPOKEN BY DALINDA.
REVIVED FOR DRYDEN'S BENEFIT, IN 1700.
Our Author's connection with the Theatre only ended with his life. The pieces, which follow, have reference to the performance of "The Pilgrim," a play of Beaumont and Fletcher, which was revived in 1700. Vanburgh, a lively comic writer, who seems to have looked up to Dryden with that veneration which was his due, added some light touches of humour, to adapt this play to the taste of the age. The aged poet himself furnished a Prologue and Epilogue, a Song, and Secular Masque; and, with these additions, the piece was performed for the benefit of Dryden. It seems dubious, whether the kind intentions of Vanburgh and the players actually took effect in favour of our author himself, or in that of his son. It is certain, that, if he did not die before the representation, he did not survive it many weeks, as the play[62] was not published till after his death.
But his lamp burned bright to the close. The Prologue and Epilogue, written within a few weeks of his death, equal any thing of the kind which he ever produced. He combats his two enemies, Blackmore and Collier, with his usual spirit; but with manliness concedes, that they had attacked him in one vulnerable and indefensible particular, where he lay open, less from any peculiar depravity in his own taste, than from compliance with the general licence of the age.
Cibber informs us, that Sir John Vanburgh, who cast the parts, being pleased with the young actor's moderation, in contenting himself with those of the Stuttering Cook, and Mad Englishman, assigned him also the creditable task of speaking the Epilogue, which, as it was so much above the ordinary strain, highly gratified his vanity. Dryden himself, on hearing Cibber recite it, made him the further compliment of trusting him with the Prologue also; an honourable distinction, which drew upon him the jealousy of the other actors, and the indignation of Wilkes in particular. This revival of "The Pilgrim" was also remarkable, as affording Mrs Oldfield, who had been about a year or more a mute on the stage, an opportunity of attracting public attention in the character of Alinda, which suited the want of confidence natural to her inexperience, and in which she afforded that promise of future excellence, which was afterwards so amply fulfilled.
REVIVED FOR OUR AUTHOR'S BENEFIT, ANNO 1700.
OF A SCHOLAR AND HIS MISTRESS, WHO, BEING CROSSED BY THEIR FRIENDS, FELL MAD FOR ONE ANOTHER, AND NOW FIRST MEET IN BEDLAM.
In "The Pilgrim," as originally written by Beaumont and Fletcher, one scene is laid in a mad-house, where the humours of the different persons confined are described with some pleasantry. Amongst others is introduced a Scholar, who has solicited dismission from his confinement, and who, after having been carefully examined by two gentlemen, whom his patron had appointed to visit him, is on the point of being discharged as possessed of his perfect understanding. The Dialogue, which follows, probably formed the introduction to our Author's Song.