ACT I. SCENE I.
SCENE, The Palace.

BEFORE I leave you, Child, I muſt inſiſt up⯑on your Promiſe, that you will never diſco⯑ver yourſelf without my Leave. Don't look upon it as capricious Fondneſs, nor think (be⯑cauſe 'tis a Mother's Advice) that in Duty to yourſelf you are oblig'd not to follow it.

But my Character! my Honour!— Wou'd you have your Son live with Infamy?—On the firſt Step of a young Fellow depends his Character for Life.—I beg you, Goddeſs, to diſpenſe with your Com⯑mands.

Have you then no Regard to my Preſentiment? I can't bear the Thoughts of your going, for I know that odious Siege of Troy wou'd be the Death of thee.

Becauſe you have the natural Fears of a Mother, wou'd you have me inſenſible that I have the Heart of a Man? The World, Madam, muſt look upon my abſconding in this Man⯑ner, and at this particular Juncture, as infamous Cowardiſe.

[2]

Keep your Temper, Achilles:—'Tis both im⯑pious and undutiful to call my Preſcience in queſtion.

Pardon me, Goddeſs, for had you, like other Mothers, been a meer Woman only, I ſhou'd have taken the Liberty of other Sons, and ſhou'd (as 'tis my Duty) have heard your Ad⯑vice, and follow'd my own.

I poſitively ſhall not be eaſy, Child, unleſs you give me your Word and Honour.—You know my Com⯑mands.

My Word, Madam, I can give you; but my Honour is already ſacrific'd to my Duty. That I gave you when I ſub⯑mitted to put on this Womans Habit.

Believe me, Achilles, I have a tender Regard for your Honour, as well as Life.—By preventing your running head-long to your Deſtiny, I preſerve you for future Glory. Therefore, Child, I once more inſiſt upon your ſolemn Pro⯑miſe.

Was I a Woman (as I appear to be) I cou'd without Difficulty give you a Promiſe to have the Pleaſure of breaking it; but when I promiſe, my Life is pledg'd for the Performance. —Your Commands, Madam, are ſacred.—Yet I intreat you, Goddeſs, to conſider the ignominious Part you make me act.—In obeying you, I prove my ſelf unworthy of you.

My Will, Achilles, is not to be controverted. Your Life depends upon your Duty; and poſitively, Child, you ſhall not go to this Siege.

[3]

But why muſt I lead the Life of a Woman? Why was I ſtolen away from my Preceptor? Was I not as ſafe under the Care of Chiron?—I know the Love he had for me; I feel his Concern; and I dare ſwear that good Crea⯑ture is now ſo diſtreſs'd for the Loſs of me, that he will quite founder himſelf with galloping from Place to Place to look af⯑ter me.

I'll hear no more. Obey, and ſeek to know no fur⯑ther. —Can you imagine that I wou'd have taken all this Trouble to have lodg'd you under the Protection of Lycomedes; if I had not ſeen the abſolute Neceſſity of it?

Were I allow'd to follow my Inclinations, what wou'd you have to fear?—I ſhou'd do my Duty, and die with Ho⯑nour. —Was I to live an Age, I cou'd do no more.

You are ſo very obſtinate, that really, Child, there's no enduring you.—Your Impatience ſeems to forget that I am a Goddeſs: Have I not degraded my ſelf into the Charac⯑ter of a diſtreſs'd Grecian Princeſs? 'Tis owing to my Artifice and Inſinuation that we have the Protection of the King of Scyros. Have I not won Lycomedes his Friendſhip and Hoſpi⯑tality to that degree as to place you, without the leaſt Suſpi⯑cion, among his Daughters?—And for what, dear Achilles? —Your Safety and future Fame requir'd it.

'Tis impoſſible, Madam, to bear it much longer.— My Words, my Actions, my aukward Behaviour, muſt one Day inevitably diſcover me.—I had been ſafer under the Tuition of Chiron.

Hath not the Prophet Calchas perſuaded the Confede⯑rates that the Succeſs of their Expedition againſt Troy depends [4] upon your being among 'em? Have they not Emiſſaries and Spies almoſt every where in ſearch of you? 'Tis here only, and in this Diſguiſe, that I can believe you out of the Reach of Suſpicion.—You have ſo much Youth, and ſuch a Bloom, that there is no Man alive but muſt take you for a Woman. What I am moſt afraid of is, that when you are among the La⯑dies you ſhou'd be ſo little Maſter of your Paſſions as to find your ſelf a Man.

Now, dear Child, let me beg you to be diſcreet.—I have ſome Sea-Affairs that require my Attendance, which (much againſt my Will) oblige me for a time to leave you to your own Conduct.

SCENE II.

The Princeſſes, Lady Pyrrha, have been ſitting at their Embroidery above a Quarter of an Hour, and are perfectly mi⯑ſerable for want of you.

Pyrrha is ſo very unhandy, and ſo monſtrouſly auk⯑ward at her Needle, that I know ſhe muſt be diverting. Her Paſſion for Romances (as you muſt have obſerv'd in other Girls) took her off from every Part of uſeful Education.

For the many Obligations I have to the Princeſſes, I ſhould (no doubt) upon all Occaſions ſhew my ſelf ready to be the But of their Ridicule.—'Tis a Duty that all great People expect from (what they call) their Dependants.

How can you, Lady Pyrrha, miſinterpret a Civility? I know they have a Friendſhip, an Eſteem for you; and have a Pleaſure in inſtructing you.

For Heaven's ſake, Pyrrha, let not your captious Tem⯑per run away with your Good-manners. You cannot but be ſenſible of the King's and their Civilities, both to you and me. —How can you be ſo horridly out of Humour?

All I mean, Madam, is; that when People are ſenſi⯑ble of their own Defects, they are not the proper Objects of Ridicule.

You are ſo very touchy, Pyrrha, that there is no en⯑during you.—How can you be ſo unſociable a Creature as to deny a Friend the Liberty of laughing at your little Follies and Indiſcretions? For what do you think Women keep Com⯑pany with one another?

Becauſe they hate one another, deſpiſe one another, and ſeek to have the Pleaſure of ſeeing and expoſing one another's Faults and Follies.

Now, dear Pyrrha, tell me, is Work a thing you pique yourſelf upon? Suppoſe too they ſhou'd ſmile at an Ab⯑ſurdity in your Dreſs, it cou'd not be ſuch a Mortification as if (like moſt Women) you had made it the chief Buſineſs of your Life?

Don't they treat one another with equal Familiarity?

But a Reply from me (whatever was the Provocation) might be look'd upon as impertinent. I hate to be under the Reſtraint of Civility when I am ill-us'd.

Will you allow me, Madam, to make your Excuſes to the Princeſſes?—The Occaſion of your Highneſs's leav⯑ing her, I ſee, troubles her.—Perhaps I may interrupt Conver⯑ſation.

'Tis aſtoniſhing, Child, how you can have ſo little Complaiſance. This ſullen Behaviour of yours muſt be diſa⯑greeable. I hope, Madam, ſhe is not always in this way?

Never was any Creature more entertaining! Such Spi⯑rits, and ſo much Vivacity! The Princeſſes are really fond of her to Diſtraction.—The moſt chearful Tempers are liable to the Spleen, and 'tis an Indulgence that one Woman owes to another.

The Spleen, Madam, is a Female Frailty that I have no Pretenſions to, nor any of its Affections.

Nay, dear Madam, you ſhall not go without me.—Though I have my particular Reaſons to be out of Humour, I cannot be deficient in Good-manners.

I know they would take it mortally ill if they thought your Complaiſance had put yourſelf under the leaſt Re⯑ſtraint.

I can't forgive myſelf for my Behaviour.—You muſt excuſe me, Madam; for Abſence in Converſation is an Incivi⯑lity that I am but too liable to.

You know we all rally you upon your being in Love, as that is one of its moſt infallible Symptoms.

I charge you, upon my Bleſſing;—as you expect Fame, Glory, Immortality, obey me.

SCENE III.

As for his Face, his Air, his Figure, I am not under the leaſt Apprehenſion; all my Concern is from the Impetuoſity of his Temper.—Yet, after all, why ſhou'd I fear a Diſcovery? for Women have the ſame Paſſions, though they employ 'em upon different Objects.

He is ſudden, he is impatient. What then? Are Women leſs ſo? Ask almoſt all Servants what they know of their Miſ⯑treſſes. —He is wilful, teſty, and untractable. Can't [8] Thouſands of Husbands ſay as much of their Wives? Then as for his Obſtinacy—that can never ſhew him leſs a Woman. But he hath not that Command of his Tongue I cou'd wiſh him: He is too vehement, too ſevere in his Expreſſions. In this Particular, indeed, few Women take equal Liberties to one a⯑nother's Faces, but they make ample Amends for it behind each other's Backs; ſo that, with all theſe Infirmities of Man, he may with the leaſt Conduct very well paſs for a fine-ſpirited Woman. —This Reflexion hath cur'd my Anxiety, and will make me believe him ſecure.

SCENE IV.

'Tis with the utmoſt Gratitude that I return your Ma⯑jeſty Thanks for the Honours and hoſpitable Favours ſhewn to me and my Daughter.

You wou'd oblige me more, Madam, if your Af⯑fairs wou'd allow you to accept 'em longer.

I have preſum'd, Sir, to treſpaſs further on your Ge⯑neroſity, in leaving my Daughter under your Protection.—I hope Pyrrha's Behaviour will deſerve it.

Had you taken her with you, my Daughters wou'd have [9] been miſerable beyond Expreſſion. Theirs and her Education ſhall be the ſame.

I beg you, Sir, not to regard my Gratitude like the com⯑mon Obligations of Princes; for neither Time nor Intereſt can ever cancel it.

Affairs of Conſequence may require your Preſence. Importunity upon theſe Occaſions is troubleſome and unhoſpi⯑table. —I ask no Queſtions, Madam, becauſe I chooſe not to pry into Secrets.

I can only thank, and rely upon your Majeſty's Good⯑neſs. —My Duty to the Queen, Sir, calls me hence to own my Obligations, and receive her Commands.

SCENE V.

The Princeſs Caliſta hath taken her Leave; ſhe is but juſt gone out of the Room.

That Pyrrha, Sir, was a moſt delicious Piece.

With all her little vixen Humours, to my Taſte ſhe is infinitely agreeable.

Your parting with her, Sir, in this eaſy manner, is a⯑ſtoniſhing. One too ſo exceſſively fond of you?

Parting with her, Diphilus!

But no Prince alive hath ſo great a Command of his Paſſions.

Dear Diphilus, let me underſtand you.

To my Knowledge you might have had her.

Can I believe thee?

I really thought the Queen began to be a little uneaſy, and, for the Quiet of the Family (ſince ſhe is gone) I muſt own I am heartily glad of it.

[10]

I am not ſo unhappy, Diphilus.—Her Mother hath left her to my Care.

Juſt as I wiſh'd.

Wou'd ſhe had taken her with her!

It might have been better. For beyond diſpute, Sir, both you and the Queen wou'd have been eaſier.

Why did ſhe truſt her to me?

There cou'd be but one Reaſon.

I cannot anſwer for myſelf.

'Twas upon that very Preſumption you was truſted.

Wou'd I could believe thee!

'Tis an apparent manifeſt Scheme, Sir, and you wou'd diſappoint both Mother and Daughter if your Maje⯑ſty did not betray your Truſt.—You love her, Sir, you ſay.

To Diſtraction, Diphilus.

And was the betraying a Truſt ever as yet an Obſtacle to that Paſſion? What wou'd you have a Mother do more upon ſuch an Occaſion? Ladies of her Rank cannot tranſact an Affair of this kind, but with ſome Decorum.

But you can never ſuppoſe Pyrrha knows any thing of the Matter.

Why not, Sir?

From me ſhe cannot; for I have never as yet made any downright Profeſſions.

There lies the true Cauſe of her Thoughtfulneſs; 'tis nothing but Anxiety, for fear her Scheme ſhou'd not take place; for, no doubt, her Mother hath inſtructed her not to be too for⯑ward, to make you more ſo.—Believe me, Sir, you will have [11] no Difficulties in this Affair, but thoſe little ones that every Wo⯑man knows how to practiſe to quicken a Lover.

Be it as it will, Diphilus, I muſt have her.

Had I been acquainted with your Pleaſure ſooner, your Majeſty by this time had been tir'd of her.—How happy ſhall I make her, if I may have the Honour of your Majeſty's Com⯑mands to hint your Paſſion to her!

Never did Eyes receive a Paſſion with ſuch Coldneſs, ſuch Indifference!

Though 'tis what ſhe wiſhes, what ſhe longs for, what ſhe ſighs for, Reſpect and Awe are a Reſtraint upon her Eyes as well as Tongue. I have often told you, Sir, ſhe dares not underſtand you; ſhe dares not believe herſelf ſo happy.

This Ring, Diphilus.—I muſt leave the reſt to your Diſcretion.

There may be a manner in giving it her, a little Hint or ſo—but the Preſent will ſpeak for itſelf; 'tis the moſt ſucceſsful Advocate of Love, and never wants an Interpre⯑ter.

Say every thing for me, Diphilus; for I feel I cannot ſpeak for myſelf.

Cou'd I be as ſucceſsful in all my other Negotiations! Yet there may be Difficulties, for, if I miſtake not, the Lady hath ſomething of the Coquette about her; and what Self-Denial will not thoſe Creatures ſuffer to give a Lover Anxie⯑ty!

[12]

Dear Diphilus, what do you mean? I never ſaw a Woman ſo little of that Character.

Pardon me, Sir; your Situation is ſuch that you can never ſee what Mankind really are. In your Preſence every one is acting a Part; no one is himſelf, and was it not for the Eyes and Tongues of your faithful Servants how little wou'd your Subjects be known to you! Though ſhe is ſo prim and [13] reſerv'd before you, ſhe is never at a Loſs for Airs to draw all the young flirting Lords of the Court about her.

Beauty muſt always have its Followers.

If I miſtake not, General Ajax too (who is ſent to ſo⯑licit your Quota for the Trojan War) hath another Solicitation more at heart.—But ſuppoſe ſhe had ten thouſand Lov⯑ers; a Woman's prevalent Paſſion is Ambition, which muſt an⯑ſwer your Ends.—The Queen is coming this way, and her Commands may detain me.—I go, Sir, to make Pyrrha the happieſt Creature upon Earth.

SCENE VI.

I think the Princeſs Caliſta might as well have taken her Daughter with her.—That Girl is ſo intolerably forward, that I cannot imagine ſuch Converſation can poſſibly be of any great Advantage to your Daughter's Education.

You ſeem of late to have taken an Averſion to the Girl. She hath Spirit and Vivacity, but not more than is be⯑coming the Sex; and I never ſaw any thing in her Behaviour but what was extremely modeſt.

For Heaven's ſake, Sir, allow me to believe my own Eyes. Her Forwardneſs muſt give the Fellows ſome Encou⯑ragement, or there wou'd not be that intolerable Flutter about her.—But perhaps ſhe hath ſome Reaſons to be more upon her Guard before you.

How can you be ſo unreaſonably cenſorious?

I can ſee her Faults, Sir. I ſee her as a Woman ſees a Woman. The Men, it ſeems, think the aukward Creature handſome.

[14]

Nay, dear Child, your attacking her in this peeviſh way can be nothing but downright Antipathy.

Nay, dear Sir, your defending her in this feeling manner can be nothing but downright Partiality.

I own my ſelf partial to Diſtreſs, and I ſee her in that Circumſtance.

But there are other Reaſons that may make a Man partial.

[15]

How can you be ſo ridiculous? By theſe Airs, Ma⯑dam, you would have me believe you are jealous.

Whence had you this contemptible Opinion of me? Jealous! If I was ſo I have a Spirit above owning it. I wou'd never heighten your Pleaſure by letting you have the Satisfac⯑tion of knowing I was uneaſy.

Let me beg you, my Dear, to keep your Temper.

Since I have been ſo unguarded as to own it; give me leave to tell you, Sir, that was I of a lower Rank it wou'd keep you in ſome Awe, becauſe you wou'd then know I cou'd take my Revenge.

You forget your Duty, Child.

There is a Duty too due from a Husband.

How can you give way to theſe Paſſions?

Becauſe you give way to yours.

But to be ſo unreaſonably jealous!

Unreaſonably! Wou'd it were ſo!

[16]

Wou'd you have me ſo unhoſpitable as to deny her my Pro⯑tection?

'Tis not, Sir, that I preſume to controul you in your Pleaſures.—Yet you might, methinks, have ſhew'd that Ten⯑derneſs for me to have acted with a little more Reſerve. Wo⯑men are not ſo blind as Husbands imagine.—Were there no other Circumſtances,—your Coolneſs to me, your Indifference. —How I deſpiſe my ſelf for this Confeſſion!—Pardon me, Sir, Love made me thus indiſcreet.

Yet was ever a Deſign of this kind ſo manifeſt, ſo bare-fac'd!

[18]

The Princeſs Caliſta hath ſhewn an uncommon Confidence in your Majeſty. The Woman, no doubt, depends upon it, that her Daughter's Charms are not to be reſiſted.

Nay, dear Child, don't be ſcandalous.

You are in ſo particular a manner oblig'd to her, that I am not ſurpris'd at your taking her Part.

But, dear Madam, why at preſent is all this violent Fluſter?

Ask your own Heart, ask your own Conduct. Thoſe can beſt inform you.—'Twou'd have been more obliging if Pyrrha and you had kept me out of this impudent Secret.— You know, Sir, I have Reaſon.

If one Woman's Virtue depended upon another's Suſpicions, where ſhou'd we find a Woman of common Mo⯑deſty! Indeed, Child, I think you injure her; I believe her virtuous.

When a Man hath ruin'd a Woman, he thinks him⯑ſelf oblig'd in Honour to ſtand up for her Reputation.

If you will believe only your own unaccountable Suſpicions, and are determin'd not to hear Reaſon, I muſt leave you to your perverſe Humours.—What wou'd you have me ſay? What wou'd you have me do?

Shew your Hoſpitality (as you call it) to me, and put that Creature out of the Palace.

I have a greater Regard to yours and my own Quiet, than ever to comply with the extravagant Paſſions of a jealous Woman.

You have taken then your Reſolutions, I find; and I am ſentenc'd to Neglect.—Did ever a Woman marry but with the Probability of having at leaſt one Man in her Power? —What a wretched Wife am I!

Jealouſy from a Wife, even to a Man of Quality, is now look'd upon as Ill-manners, though the Affair be never ſo publick.—But without a Cauſe!—I beg you, Madam, to ſay no more upon this Subject.

Though you, Sir, may think her fit Company for you; methinks the very ſame Reaſons might tell you that ſhe is not ſo very reputable a Companion for your Daugh⯑ters.

Since a paſſionate Woman will only believe herſelf, I muſt leave you, Madam, to enjoy your Obſtinacy. I know but that way of putting an end to the Diſpute.

[20]

SCENE VII.

Wou'd I had been more upon the Reſerve! But Hus⯑bands are horridly provoking; they know the Frailty of the Sex, and never fail to take the Advantage of our Paſſions to make us expoſe our ſelves by Contradiction.—Artemona.

SCENE VIII.

Madam.

Is that Creature, that (what do you call her) that Princeſs gone?

Yes, Madam.

Why did not ſhe take that awkward Thing, her Daughter, with her?

The Advantages ſhe mighr receive in her Education, might be an Inducement to leave her.

Might that be an Inducement?

Beſides, in her preſent Circumſtance, it might be in⯑convenient to take her Daughter with her.

Can't you find out any other Reaſon for leaving her?

Your Courteſy, Madam; your Hoſpitality.

No other Reaſon!

No other Reaſon?—

Wou'd I cou'd believe there was no other!

'Tis not for me to pry into your Majeſty's Secrets.

I hate a Girl that is ſo intolerably forward.

I never obſerv'd any thing but thoſe little Liberties that Girls of her Age will take, when they are among themſelves. —Perhaps thoſe particular Diſtinctions the Princeſſes ſhew her, may have made her too familiar.—I am not, Madam, an Ad⯑vocate for her Behaviour.

A Look ſo very audacious! Now the filthy Men, who love every thing that is impudent, call that Spirit.— But there are, Artemona, ſome particular Diſtinctions from a certain Perſon, who of late hath been very particular to me, that might indeed make her too familiar.

Heaven forbid!

How precarious is the Happineſs of a Wife, when it is in the Power of every new Face to deſtroy it!—Now, dear Artemona, tell me ſincerely, don't you, from what you yourſelf have obſerved, think I have Reaſon to be un⯑eaſy?

That I have obſerv'd!

Dear Artemona, don't frighten thyſelf.—I am not accuſing you but talking to you as a Friend.

[22]

I hate myſelf too for having ſo much Condeſcenſion and Humility as to be jealous. 'Tis flattering the Man that uſes one ill; and 'tis wanting the natural Pride that belongs to the Sex. What a wretched, mean, contemptible Figure is a jealous Woman! How have I expos'd myſelf!

Your Majeſty is ſafe in the Confidence repos'd in me.

That is not the Caſe, Artemona. Lycomedes knows I am unhappy. I have own'd it, and was ſo unguarded as to accuſe him.

Upon mere Suſpicion only?

Beyond Diſpute he loves her. I know it, Artemona; and can one imagine that Girl hath Virtue enough to withſtand ſuch a Propoſal?

—I can't indeed (if you mean that) poſitively affirm that he hath yet had her.

Then it may be ſtill only Suſpicion.

I have truſted too my Daughter Deidamia with my Weakneſs; that ſhe, by her Intimacies and Friendſhip with Pyrrha, may get into her Secrets. In ſhort, I have plac'd her as my Spy about her.—That Girl (out of Good-nature, and to prevent Family-diſputes) may deceive me. She inſiſts upon it that I have nothing to fear from Pyrrha; and is ſo poſitive in this Opinion, that ſhe offers to be anſwerable for her Con⯑duct.

Why then, Madam, will you ſtill believe your own Jealouſies?

All I ſay is, that Deidamia may deceive me; for whatever is in the Affair, 'tis impoſſible but ſhe muſt know it; I have order'd it ſo that ſhe is ſcarce ever from her; they have one and the ſame Bed-Chamber; yet ſuch is my Diſtemper, that I ſuſpect every Body, and can only believe my own Imaginations.—There muſt be ſome Reaſon that Deidamia hath not been with me this Morning.—I am im⯑patient to ſee her.

ACT II. SCENE I.

I Am very ſenſible, my Lord, of the particular Honours that are ſhewn me.

Honours, Madam! Lycomedes is ſtill more particular. How happy muſt that Woman be whom he re⯑ſpects!

What do you mean, my Lord?

Let this ſpeak both for him and me: The Preſent is worthy him to give, and you to receive.

I have too many Obligations already.

'Tis in your Power, Madam, to return 'em all.

Thus I return 'em. And, if you dare be honeſt, tell him this Ring had been a more honourable Preſent to Theaſpe.

'Tis but an Earneſt, Madam, of future Favours.— When Lycomedes his Power is yours, I intreat your Highneſs not to forget your Servant.

I ſhall remember thee with Contempt and Abhorrence.

I beg you, Madam, to conſider your preſent Situa⯑tion. —This uncommon Diſtinction requires a ſofter Anſwer.

I ſhall give no other, my Lord.—I dare ſay, Diphilus, you think yourſelf highly honour'd by your preſent Negotia⯑tion. —Is there no Office too mean for Ambition?—Was you not a Man of Quality, was you not a Favourite, the World, my Lord, wou'd call you a Pimp, a Pandar, a Bawd, for this very honourable Propoſal of yours.

What an unmerciful Weapon is a Woman's Tongue!— I beg your Highneſs to confine yourſelf within the Bounds of common Civility, and to conſider who I am.

I do conſider it, Diphilus, and that makes thee a thou⯑ſand times the more contemptible.

Though the Sex have the Privilege of unlimited Ex⯑preſſion, and that a Woman's Words are not to be reſented; yet a Lady, Madam, may be ill-bred. Ladies too are generally paſſionate enough without a Provocation, ſo that a Reply at preſent would be unneceſſary.

Are ſuch the Friends of Power?—How unhappy are Princes to have their Paſſions ſo very readily put in Execution, that they ſeldom know the Benefit of Reflexion! Go, and for once make your Report faithfully and without Flattery.

SCENE II.

This Girl is ſo exceſſively ill-bred, and ſuch an ar⯑rant Termagant, that I cou'd as ſoon fall in love with a Tigreſs. She hath a handſom Face, 'tis true, but in her Temper ſhe is a very Fury.—But Lycomedes likes her; and 'tis not for me to diſpute either his Taſte or Pleaſure.—Notwithſtanding ſhe is ſuch a Spit-fire, 'tis my Opinion the thing may ſtill do: Things of this Nature ſhou'd be always tranſacted in Perſon, for there are Women ſo ridiculouſly half-modeſt, that they are aſham'd in Words to conſent to what (when a Man comes to the Point) they will make no Difficulties to comply with.

SCENE III.

Well, Diphilus, in what manner did ſhe receive my Preſent?

'Tis my Opinion, Sir, that ſhe will accept it only from your Hands. From me ſhe abſolutely refuſes it.

[28]

How did ſhe receive you? Did you watch her Eyes? What was her Behaviour when you firſt told her I lov'd her?

She ſeem'd to be deſperately diſappointed that you had not told her ſo your ſelf.

But when you preſs'd it to her—

She had all the Reſentment and Fury of the moſt com⯑plying Prude.

But did not ſhe ſoften upon Conſideration?

She ſeem'd to take it mortally ill of me, that my meddling in the Affair had delay'd your Majeſty's Application.

What no favourable Circumſtance!

Nay, I was not in the leaſt ſurpris'd at her Behaviour. Love at ſecond-hand to a Lady of her warm Conſtitution! It was a Diſappointment, Sir; and ſhe cou'd not but treat it accord⯑ingly. —Whatever was my Opinion, 'twas my Duty, Sir, to obey you, but I found juſt the Reception I expected. Apply to her your ſelf, Sir; anſwer her Wiſhes, and (if I know any thing of Woman) ſhe will then anſwer yours, and behave her⯑ſelf as ſhe ought.

But, dear Diphilus, I grow more and more impa⯑tient.

That too by this time is her Caſe—To ſave the Ap⯑pearances of Virtue, the moſt eaſy Woman expects a little gentle Compulſion, and to be allow'd the Decency of a little feeble Reſiſtance. For the Quiet of her own Conſcience a Woman may inſiſt upon acting the Part of Modeſty, and you muſt comply with her Scruples.—You will have no more trou⯑ble but what will heighten the Pleaſure.

Pyrrha!—This is beyond my Hopes.—Diphilus, lay your Hand upon my Breaſt. Feel how my Heart flutters.

Did Pyrrha feel theſe Aſſurances of Love ſhe wou'd not appear ſo thoughtful.

Deidamia too not with her!

She is with the Queen, Sir.

My other Daughters, who ſeem leſs fond of her, are in the Garden; ſo all's ſafe.—Leave me, Diphilus, and let none, upon Pain of my Diſpleaſure, preſume to intrude.

SCENE IV.

Lady Pyrrha, my dear Child, why ſo thoughtful?

Thoughts may not be ſo reſpectful; they may be too familiar, too friendly, too true: And who about you preſumes to communicate 'em? Words and Forms only are for your Ear, Sir.

You know, Pyrrha, you was never receiv'd upon the Foot of Ceremony, but Friendſhip; ſo that it wou'd be more reſpectful if you was leſs ſhy and leſs reſerv'd.—'Tis your Be⯑haviour, Pyrrha, that keeps me at a Diſtance.

If I was wanting, Sir, either in Duty to you or my ſelf, my own Heart wou'd be the firſt to reproach me.—Your Ma⯑jeſty's Generoſity is too ſolicitous upon my Account; and your Courteſy and Affability may even now detain you from Affairs of Importance.—If you have no Commands, Sir, the Princeſſes expect me in the Garden.

Nay, poſitively, my dear Pyrrha, you ſhall not go.

But why, Sir?—For Heaven's Sake, what hath ſet you a trembling?—I fear, Sir, you are out of Order.—Who waits there?

I did not call, Pyrrha.

Let me then, Sir, know your Commands.—

[30]

Why do you fix your Eyes ſo intenſely upon me?—Speak your Pleaſure, ſpeak to me then.—Why am I ſeiz'd?— Spare me, Sir, for I have a Temper that can't bear Provocation.

I know there are a thouſand neceſſary Affectations of Modeſty, which Women, in Decency to themſelves, practiſe with common Lovers before Compliance.—But my Paſſion, Pyrrha, deſerves ſome Diſtinction.

I beg you then, Sir, don't lay violent Hands upon me.

The Preſent you refus'd from Diphilus accept from me.

Why will you perſiſt?—Nay, dear Sir, I can't anſwer for my Paſſions.

'Tis not Diphilus, but I give it you.

That Diphilus, Sir, is your Enemy.

'Tis I that offer it.

Your very worſt Enemy, your Flatterer.

You ſhou'd ſtrive, Child, to conquer theſe extrava⯑gant Paſſions.

How I deſpiſe that Fellow! that Pimp, that Pandar!

[31]

Is this reproachful Language, Pyrrha, befitting my Preſence?

Nay, dear Sir, don't worry me. By Jove, you'll pro⯑voke me.

Your Affectation, Pyrrha, is intolerable. There's enough of it.—Thoſe Looks of Averſion are inſupportable.— I will have no ſtruggling.

Then, Sir, I muſt have no Violence.

I am in earneſt, Lady.—I will have no trifling, no coquetting; you may ſpare thoſe little Arts of Women, for my Paſſion is warm and vehement enough without 'em.—Do you know, Pyrrha, that Obedience is your Duty?

I know my Duty, Sir; and, had it not been for that Sycophant Diphilus, perhaps you had known yours.

I am not, Lady, to be aw'd and frighten'd by ſtern Looks and Frowns.—Since your obſtinate Behaviour then makes Violence neceſſary—

You make Self-preſervation, Sir, as neceſſary.

I won't be refus'd.

Never was ſuch a Termagant!

By Jove, never was ſuch an Inſult!

Will you?—Dare you?—Never was ſuch Strength!—

Deſiſt then.

Audacious Fury, know you what you have done?—

[33]

Am I ſo ignominiouſly to be got the better of!

You are.

By a Woman!

You now, Sir, find you had acted a greater Part, if (in Spite of your Flatterers) you had got the better of your own Paſſions.

SCENE V.

An Attempt upon the King's Life!—The Guards! where are the Guards?

Such an open, bare-fac'd Aſſaſſination!

And by a Woman too!

Where are your Wounds, Sir.

Take the Dagger from her, that ſhe do no farther Miſchief.

The Dagger! Where? What Dagger?

You will find it ſome where or other conceal'd; examine her, ſearch her.

Save your Zeal, Sirs, for times of real Danger. Let Lycomedes accuſe me.—He knows my Offence.

How have I expos'd my ſelf!—Diphilus, bid theſe over-officious Friends leave me, and, as they value my Favour, that they ſay nothing of what they have ſeen.—

Though the Inſult from any other Perſon had been unpardonable; there are ways that you, Madam, might ſtill take to reconcile me.

Self-defence, Sir, is the Privilege of Mankind. I know your Power, but as I have offended no Law I rely upon your Juſtice.

'Twou'd be ſafer, Madam, to rely on your own future Behaviour.

Who was the Aggreſſor, Sir?

Beauty, Inclination, Love. If you will merit Fa⯑vour you know the Conditions.

SCENE VI.

If your Reſentment wants only the Show of Juſtice; let this honourable Man here be my Accuſer; it may be neceſ⯑ſary for him to trump up a horrid Conſpiracy to skreen his own infamous Practices.

Your Majeſty hath had too much Confidence in this Woman. The Lives of Kings are ſacred, and the Matter (tri⯑vial as it ſeems) deſerves further Inquiry.—There muſt be ſome ſecret villainous Deſign in this Affair.

And are not you, Diphilus, conſcious of that ſecret vil⯑lainous Deſign?

'Tis an Offence, Sir, that is not to be pardon'd. Your Dignity, Sir, calls upon you (notwithſtanding your Partiality to her) to make her an Example. There muſt be Things of Conſequence that we are ſtill ignorant of; and ſhe ought to undergo the ſevereſt Examination.—My Zeal for your Ser⯑vice, Sir, was never as yet at a loſs for Witneſſes upon theſe Occaſions.

Don't you ſee the Queen coming this Way? Have done with this Diſcourſe, dear Diphilus, and leave me.— Wou'd I cou'd forget this ridiculous Affair! For the preſent; Pyrrha, I truſt you to return to the Ladies; though (conſider⯑ing your paſſionate Temper) I have little Reaſon to rely on your Diſcretion.

SCENE VII.

I thought I had heard Pyrrha's Voice.

A jealous Woman's Thoughts are her own and her Husband's eternal Plague; ſo I beg you, my Dear, ſay no more of her.

And have I no reaſon but my own Thoughts, my Liege?

[36]

It behoves Kings, Sir, to have the ſevereſt Guard upon their Actions; for as their great ones are trumpeted by Fame, their little ones are as certainly and as widely convey'd from Ear to Ear by a Whiſper.

Theſe chimerical Jealouſies, Madam, may provoke my Patience.

Chimerical Jealouſies!—And do you really, Sir, think your ignominious Affair is ſtill a Secret?—Am I to be ignorant of a Thing that is already whiſper'd every where?

[37]

My Suſpicions have, indeed, wrong'd Pyrrha.—How I reſpect and honour that Girl!—Deidamia, that honourable, that virtuous Creature Pyrrha, well deſerves both your Friend⯑ſhip and mine.—As ſoon as you have found her bring her to me, that I may acknowledge the Merits ſhe hath to me.

SCENE VIII.

After the Repulſe and Diſgrace you have very juſtly met with, you might with Reaſon cenſure me for want of Duty and Reſpect ſhou'd I upbraid you.—'Tis paſt; and if you will never again put me in mind, I chooſe to forget it.—Yet, wou'd you reward Virtue, and had you any Regard for my Quiet.—

[38]

What wou'd you have me do?

I wou'd have you diſtruſt your ſelf and remove the Temptation.—I have long had it at Heart to find a Match for my Nephew Periphas, and I really think we can never meet with a more deſerving Woman.

Whatever Scheme you have for her, I ſhall not in⯑terfere with you.—I have had enough of her termagant Hu⯑mours; ſhe hath not the common Softneſs of the Sex.— 'Tis my Opinion, that Periphas will not find himſelf much oblig'd to you; for the Man that marties her muſt either con⯑quer his own Paſſions, or hers, and one of 'em (according to my Obſervation) is not to be conquer'd.

Marriage, Sir, hath broke many a Woman's Spirit; and that will be only his Affair.—When he takes her with him, your own Family at leaſt will be eaſy.

Her Preſence juſt now wou'd be ſhocking.—I cou'd not ſtand the Shame and Confuſion.—I ſee her, and Deida⯑mia with her.—Do with her as you pleaſe; you have my Conſent.

SCENE IX.

The Character Deidamia hath given of you, and your own Behaviour, Child, have ſo charm'd me, that I think I ne⯑ver can ſufficiently reward your Merits.

Deidamia's Friendſhip may make her partial.—My only Merit, Madam, is Gratitude.

To convince you of the Opinion I have of you—But I muſt firſt ask you a Queſtion—Don't you think, Lady Pyrrha, that my Nephew Periphas is very agreeable?

That Impatience of his, to ſerve as a Volunteer with the Troops of Lycomedes at the Siege of Troy, is becoming his Birth.—So much Fire, and ſo much Spirit!—I don't wonder your Majeſty is fond of him.

But I am ſure, Pyrrha, you muſt think his Perſon agreeable.

No Woman alive can diſpute it.

I don't know, every way, ſo deſerving a young Man; and I have that Influence upon him, and at the ſame time that Regard for him, that I would have him happy.—Don't think, Child, that I wou'd make him happy at your Expence; for, knowing him, I know you will be ſo.—Was the Princeſs Ca⯑liſta here, 'tis a Match ſhe cou'd not diſapprove of; therefore let that be no Obſtacle, for every thing, in regard to her, I take up⯑on my ſelf.

Wou'd you make me the Obſtacle to his Glory? Par⯑don me, Madam, I know my ſelf undeſerving.

[40]

Nay, Pyrrha, I won't take theſe romantick Notions of yours for an Anſwer.—Deidamia is ſo much your Friend, that, I am ſure, ſhe muſt be happy with this Alliance; ſo, while I make the Propoſal to my Nephew, I leave you two to talk over the Affair together.

SCENE X.

Was there ever a Man in ſo whimſical a Circumſtance!

Was there ever a Woman in ſo happy and ſo unhappy a one as mine!

Why did I ſubmit? why did I plight my Faith thus in⯑famouſly to conceal my ſelf?—What is become of my Honour?

Ah Pyrrha, Pyrrha, what is become of mine!

When ſhall I behave my ſelf as a Man!

Wou'd you had never behav'd yourſelf as one!

[41]

Peſter'd and worried thus from every Quarter 'tis im⯑poſſible much longer to prevent diſcovery!

Dear, dear Pyrrha, confide in me. Any other Diſco⯑very but to me only wou'd be inevitable Perdition to us both.— Am I treated like a common Proſtitute? Can your Gratitude (wou'd I might ſay Love!) refuſe to let me know the Man to whom I owe my Ruin?

You muſt rely, my dear Princeſs, upon my Honour; for I am not, like a fond weak Husband, to be teaz'd into the breaking my Reſolution.

[42]

For Heaven's ſake, Deidamia, if you regard my Love, give me Quiet.—Intreaties, Fondneſs, Tears, Rage and the whole matrimonial Rhetorick of Woman to gain her Ends are all thrown away upon me; for, by the Gods, my dear Deida⯑mia, I am inexorable.

But, my dear Pyrrha, (for you oblige me ſtill to call you by that Name) only imagine what muſt be the Conſequence of a Month or two.—Think of my unhappy Condition.— To ſave my Shame (if you are a Man of Honour) you muſt then come to ſome Reſolution.

'Till I deſerve theſe Suſpicions, Deidamia, methinks it wou'd be more becoming your Profeſſions of Love to ſpare 'em. —I have taken my Reſolutions; and when the time comes, you ſhall know 'em: till then be eaſy, and preſs me no farther.

[43]

My Life, my Honour, then I implicitly intruſt with you.

Who wou'd have the trouble of putting on a Character that does not naturally belong to him! the Life of a Hypocrite muſt be one continual Scene of Anxiety. When ſhall I appear as I am, and extricate my ſelf out of this Chain of Perplexities! —I have no ſooner eſcap'd being raviſh'd but I am immediate⯑ly to be made a Wife.

But, dear Pyrrha, for my ſake, for your own, have a particular Regard to your Behaviour till your Reſolution is ripe for Execution.—You now and then take ſuch intolerable Strides, that I vow you have ſet me a bluſhing.

Conſidering my continual Reſtraint, and how much the Part I act differs from my Inclinations, I am ſurpriz'd at my own Behaviour.

Your Swearing too, upon certain Occaſions, ſounds ſo very maſculine—an Oath ſtartles me.—Wou'd I cou'd cure my ſelf of theſe violent Apprehenſions!

As for that matter, there are Ladies who, in their Paſ⯑ſions, can take all the Liberties of Speech.

Then too, you very often look ſo agreeably impudent upon me, that, let me die, if I have not been mortally afraid my Siſters wou'd find you out.

Impudent! are Women ſo cenſorious that Looks can⯑not eſcape 'em?—May not one Woman look kindly upon another without Scandal?

But ſuch Looks!—Nay, perhaps I may be particular, and it may be only my own Fears; for (notwithſtanding your [45] Dreſs) whenever I look upon you, I have always the Image of a Man before my Eyes.

Do what we will, Love at ſome Moments will be un⯑guarded.—But what ſhall I do about this Periphas?

His Heart is ſo ſet upon the Siege, that I know you can have but very little Perſecution upon his Account.

Wou'd I cou'd go with him!

And cou'd you leave me thus?

Have you only a womaniſh Fondneſs? I thought, Dei⯑damia, you lov'd me. And you cannot truly love and eſteem, if in every Circumſtance of Life you have not a juſt Regard for my Honour.

Dear Pyrrha, don't mention it; the very Thought of it kills me. You have ſet my Heart in a moſt violent Palpitation. —Let us talk no more upon this diſagreeable Subject.— My Siſters will grow very impatient.—Shou'd we ſtay longer together I might again be importunate and ask to know you, and I had rather bear the eternal Plague of unſatisfied Curioſity, than give you a Moment's Diſquiet.—They are now expect⯑ing us in the Garden, and, conſidering my preſent Circum⯑ſtances, I wou'd not give 'em occaſion to be impertinent, for of late they have been horridly prying and inquiſitive.—Let us go to 'em.

I envy that Periphas. His Honour, his Fame, his Glory is not ſhackled by a Woman.

ACT III. SCENE I.

PEriphas, I have a Favour to ask of you, and po⯑ſitively I will not be refus'd.

Your Majeſty may command.

Nay, Nephew, 'tis for your own good.

To obey your Commands, Madam, muſt be ſo.

I am not, Periphas, talking to you as a Queen, but as a Relation, a Friend.—I muſt have no Difficulties; there⯑fore I inſiſt upon your abſolute Promiſe.

I am not in my own Power, Madam.—Lycomedes, you know hath acceded to the Treaty of Alliance; that to furniſh his Quota, his Troops are already embark'd, and that I have engag'd my ſelf in his Service.

Why will you raiſe Obſtacles before you know the Conditions? 'Tis a thing I have ſet my heart upon, and I tell you 'tis what in Honour you can comply with.

My Duty, my Obligations put me entirely in your Diſpoſal.

You promiſe then ſolemnly, faithfully—

I do.

I have remark'd, Periphas, that you are prodigiouſly fond of the Princeſs Caliſta's Daughter.

I fond of her, Madam!

Nay, Periphas, are not you eternally at her Ear?

How I have ſeen that formidable Hero General Ajax ſuffer upon your Account!—Of all his Rivals you are his eternal Torment.—He reddens, ſighs, and (as much as is conſiſtent with ſuch a bluſtering Soldier's Valour) languiſhes whenever you are near her.

You may ſafely own your Paſſion, Periphas, for I know you think her agreeable.

Beſides her being the faſhionable Beauty of the Court (which is ſufficient Vanity to make all the young Fellows fol⯑low her) you, of all Mankind, in Gratitude ought to like [47] her.—I know all of 'em envy the particular Diſtinctions ſhe ſhews you.

I am convinc'd, of her Merits; and your marrying her I know wou'd make you both happy.

Let me periſh, Madam, if I ever once thought of it!

Your Happineſs you ſee hath been in my Thoughts.— I take the ſettling this Affair upon my ſelf.

How cou'd you, Madam, imagine I had any Views of this kind!—What, be a Woman's Follower with Intention to marry her! Why, the very Women themſelves wou'd laugh at a Man who had ſo vulgar a Notion of Galantry, and knew ſo little of their Inclinations.—The Man never means it, and the Woman never expects it; and for the moſt part they have every other View but Marriage.

But I am ſerious, Nephew, and inſiſt upon your Pro⯑miſe.

'Tis not in my Power, Madam; 'tis not in my Inclina⯑tions.—A Soldier can have but one Inducement to marry, (and the Woman may have the ſame Reaſon too) which is, the Opportunities of Abſence.

You know, Nephew, you have promis'd.

But ſuppoſe I am already engag'd.

That will be another Merit to her.

'Tis impoſſible, Madam.—In a Day or two you know I am to ſet out for the Campaign.

A Lady of her romantic Spirit can have no Objec⯑tions to following the Camp.

[48]

I indeed fear'd Pyrrha might have ſtarted ſome Dif⯑ficulties, but if you rightly conſider the Propoſal you can have none.

What is the Cauſe of the War we are now engag'd in? Does not the Fate of Menelaus ſtare me in the Face?

I will have no more of your trifling Objections, Pe⯑riphas; and as to your Part, from this time I will look upon the Affair as happily concluded.—All that now remains to be done is with Pyrrha. I have left her to Deidamia's Manage⯑ment; and without doubt her good Offices muſt prevail, for you can never have a better Advocate.—But ſhou'd the Girl be perverſe and obſtinate!—'Tis impoſſible. For howe⯑ver her Heart is already engag'd, no Woman alive can reſiſt the Ambition of ſuch an Alliance.

SCENE II.

Had I ſo little Taſte of Liberty as to be inclin'd to marry; that Girl is of ſo termagant a Spirit!—The braveſt Man muſt have the dread of an eternal Domeſtic War.—In a Tongue-combat Woman is invincible, and the Husband muſt come off with Shame and Infamy; for though he lives in per⯑petual Noiſe and Tumult, the poor Man is only ridiculous to his Neighbours.—How can we ever get rid of her?— Hercules conquer'd the ſeven-headed Hydra, but his Wife was a venom'd Shirt that ſtuck to him to the laſt.

SCENE III.

This Rencounter, Periphas, is as I wiſh'd.—The Li⯑berties you have taken—you know what I mean—when my Honour is concern'd—an Indignity and all that!— 'Tis not to be put up; and I muſt inſiſt upon an Explanation.— There is a particular Affair, my Lord.—

Your accoſting me in this particular manner, Lord Ajax, requires Explanation.—For let me die, if I com⯑prehend you!

Death, my Lord, I explain! I am not come here to be ask'd Queſtions.—'Tis ſufficient that I know the Affront, and that you know I will have Satisfaction.—So, now you are anſwer'd—

I can't ſay much to my Satisfaction, my Lord; for I can't ſo much as gueſs at your meaning.

A Man of Honour, Periphas, is not to be trifled withal.

But a Man of Honour, Ajax, is not oblig'd in Cou⯑rage to be unintelligible.

I hate talking.—The Tongue is a Woman's Wea⯑pon. Whenever I am affronted; by the Gods, this Sword is my only Anſwer.

'Tis not, Ajax, that I decline the Diſpute, or wou'd upon any Account deny you the Pleaſure of fighting; yet (if it is not too much Condeſcenſion in a Man of Honour) before I fight I wou'd willingly know the Provocation.

[50]

Be it as it will, Periphas; we have gone too far al⯑ready to retract.—You know, I ſuppoſe, of my Pretenſions to a certain Lady.—Now are you ſatisfied?

If you had her, my Lord, it had been much more to my Satisfaction.—I admire your Courage.

[51]

Hell, and Furies! I am not to be rally'd out of my Reſentment.

Now in my Opinion 'tis flinging away your Courage to fight without a Cauſe; though indeed the Men of uncom⯑mon Proweſs, by their loving to make the moſt of every Quarrel, ſeem to think the contrary.

You are not ſo ſure of the Lady, Periphas, as you flatter yourſelf; for whenever I am a Rival, by Jove, 'tis not her Conſent, but my Sword, that muſt decide the Queſtion.

Sure never a Rival (as you will call me) had a better Reaſon for fighting than I have at preſent; for if I am kill'd, I ſhall be out of danger of having the Woman.

You might ſpare your Jokes, Periphas, for my Cou⯑rage wants no Provocation.—If I fall, Pyrrha may be yours: You will then deſerve her.—'Till then—

So he that conquers, as a Reward, I find is to be married.—Now dear Ajax, is that worth fighting for?

Your Paſſion for that Lady, Periphas, is too publick to bear Diſpute.—Have not I ſeen you whiſper her, laugh with her? And by ſome particular Looks at the ſame time 'twas too evident that I was the Subject of your Mirth.

Looks, Ajax!

Yes Looks, my Lord; and I never did or will take an impertinent one from any Man.

Impertinent one!

Furies! This calm Mockery is not to be born.— I won't have my Words repeated.

Such Language, Ajax, may provoke me.

By Jupiter, Periphas, 'till now I never thought you a Coward.

Nay then—ſince my own Honour calls upon me.— Take notice, Ajax, that I don't fight for the Woman.

SCENE IV.

Part 'em.—Beat down their Swords.

How dar'd you preſume to fight in the Royal Gardens?

Nay, in the very Preſence!—For ſee, the Queen.

'Tis very hard, Sirs, that a Man ſhou'd be deny'd the Satisfaction of a Gentleman.

Lord Ajax, for this unparallel'd Preſumption we for⯑bid you the Palace.

I ſhall take ſome other Opportunity, my Lord.

SCENE V.

And as for you, Periphas—

Your Majeſty's Rigor can do no leſs than forbid me the Woman.

The Woman, Periphas, is the only thing that can reconcile me to your Behaviour.

That blundering Hero Ajax will have it that I am his Rival. The Man will be almoſt as miſerable without her, as 'tis probable he might be with her.—Oblige us both then, Madam, and let the General be miſerable in his own way.

I cou'd not have imagin'd that obſtinate Girl cou'd have had any Scruples to the Match; but Deidamia tells me ſhe finds her as difficult as you.

Since you know, Madam, that Pyrrha will have her own way; for both our ſakes, and to ſave yourſelf unneceſ⯑ſary Trouble, your Majeſty had better give up this Impoſſibility.

SCENE VI.

To prevent future Miſchief, my Lord, his Majeſty puts you under Arreſt, and commands you to attend him. Ge⯑neral [54] Ajax is already in Cuſtody.—'Tis his Pleaſure too, that (after you have paid your Duty to him) you embark with the Troops immediately; and you are not to come aſhore again upon pain of his Majeſty's Diſpleaſure.

Your Majeſty then, you find, muſt diſpenſe with my Promiſe 'till after the Expedition.—If the General ſhou'd be ſo happy, to bring Pyrrha with him to the Camp, perhaps we may like one another better.

The King, Madam, wants to talk to your Majeſty upon Affairs of Conſequence.—You will find him in the Royal Apartment.

My Daughters with Pyrrha have juſt turn'd the Walk, and are coming this way.—You may ſtay with 'em, Ar⯑temona, till I ſend for you.

SCENE VII.

'Tis horridly mortifying that theſe Trades-People will never get any thing New againſt a Birth-day. They are [55] all ſo abominably ſtupid, that a Woman of Fancy cannot poſſibly have the Opportunity of ſhewing her Genius.

The Fatigue one hath of talking to thoſe Creatures for at leaſt a Month before a Birth-day is inſupportable; for you know, Siſter, when the time draws ſo very near, a Wo⯑man can think of nothing elſe.

After all, Siſter, though their things are deteſtable, one muſt make choice of ſomething or other. I have ſent to the Fellows to be with me this Morning.

You are ſo eternally ſending for 'em, one wou'd imagine you was delighted with their Converſation. For thoſe hideous Stuffs they will ſhew us from Year to Year are frightful, are ſhocking. How can a Woman have ſo ill a Taſte as to expoſe herſelf in a laſt Year's Pattern!

Dear Madam, I beg your Pardon. Let me die, if I ſaw you!

Our meeting her was lucky beyond Expreſſion, for I never felt ſo uneaſy a thing as a Secret.

You know, Siſter, we had agreed to truſt her with our Suſpicions.

Yet after all when a Siſter's Reputation is concern'd.

But is not the Honour of a Family of greater Con⯑ſequence?

Tho ſhe is a Woman and a Favourite, I dare ſay, if Artemona promiſes, whatever the ſuffers ſhe will inviolably keep it to herſelf.

If I had not this Quality I had little deſerv'd The⯑aſpe's Friendſhip.—By all that's Sacred, Ladies, you may ſafely truſt me.

'Tis impoſſible, Siſter, but ſhe herſelf muſt have ob⯑ſerv'd it.

Whatever People have obſerv'd, 'tis a thing you know, that no Creature alive can preſume to talk upon.

Deal fairly and openly with us, Artemona.—Have you remark'd nothing particular of Deidamia yonder of late?

Of Deidamia!

Only look upon her, Madam.

Well—what do you think of her?

Are you blind, Artemona, or dare not you believe your Eyes?

Her particular Intimacy with Pyrrha do you mean?

Dear Madam!—Then I find we muſt ſpeak firſt.

Now, dear Artemona, can any Woman alive ima⯑gine that Shape of hers within the compaſs of common Mo⯑deſty?

But how can one poſſibly have thoſe Suſpicions?

She is a Woman, Madam; ſhe hath Inclinations and may have had her Opportunities that we know nothing of.

Though the thing is improbable, 'tis ſo monſtrouſly evident that it cannot bear a Diſpute.

Then her Boſom too is ſo prepoſterouſly impudent!— One wou'd think a Woman in her Condition was not con⯑ſcious of her own Shame.

Or imagin'd other People cou'd overlook it as well as herſelf.

Then ſhe is ſo ſqueamiſh and ſo frequently out of order.—

That ſhe hath all the outward Marks of Female Frailty muſt be viſible to all Womankind.

But how ſhe came by 'em, there, Artemona, is ſtill the Secret.

I muſt own that, by her particular Intimacies with that forward Creature Pyrrha, I ſuſpect her to be her Confident in this Accident.

I beg you, Ladies, to turn this Diſcourſe; for Deida⯑mia and Pyrrha are juſt coming upon us to join the Con⯑verſation.

SCENE VIII.

Now I dare ſwear that careleſs Creature Pyrrha hath not once thought of her Clothes.

Nay, dear Lady Pyrrha, the thing is not ſuch a trifle, for 'tis the only Mark of Reſpect that moſt People are capable of ſhewing. And though that is not your Caſe, I know your Gratitude can never omit this publick Occaſion.

As I am yet a Stranger, Ladies, to the Faſhions of the Country, 'tis your Fancy that muſt determine me.

How can a Woman of common Senſe be ſo unſoli⯑citous about her Dreſs!

And truſt a Woman to chooſe for her! 'Tis a Temp⯑tation to be ſpiteful that very few of us can reſiſt; for we have not many Pleaſures that can equal that of ſeeing another Wo⯑man ridiculous.

But you have not, Pyrrha, miſplac'd your Confidence.

SCENE IX.

Your Embroiderer, Madam.

That Woman is everlaſtingly peſtering me for Em⯑ployment. Now can ſhe imagine that to promote her tawdry [58] Trade I can be talk'd into making myſelf ridiculous by ap⯑pearing eternally in her odious Embroidery?—I can't ſee her now.—But perhaps I may want her for ſome trivial thing or other.—Let her call again to morrow.

The Anti-chamber, Madam, is crowded with Trades-People.

Did not I tell you that I wou'd not be troubled with thoſe impertinent Creatures?—But hold—I had forgot I ſent for 'em.—Let 'em wait.

But if thoſe foreign Merchants who lately came into Port are among 'em—

There, Siſter, is all my Hope. I ſhall be horridly diſ⯑appointed if they don't ſhew us ſomething charming.

Shou'd any Woman alive get Sight of their things be⯑fore us—

I cou'd not bear it.—To appear in what another Woman had refus'd wou'd make the Creature ſo intolerably vain!

Are thoſe Merchants I ask you among 'em?

They have been waiting, Madam, above this half Hour.

And did not you know our Impatience?—How cou'd you be ſo ſtupid!—Let us ſee them this Inſtant.

SCENE X.

Unleſs you have any thing that is abſolutely new and very uncommon, you will give us and your ſelves, Gen⯑tlemen, but unneceſſary Trouble.

Our Experience, Madam, muſt have profited very little by the Honour of dealing with Ladies, if we cou'd ima⯑gine they cou'd poſſibly be pleas'd twice with the ſame thing.

You might as well offer 'em the ſame Lover.

We have learnt the good Manners, Madam, to diſtin⯑guiſh our Cuſtomers.—To produce any thing that had ever been ſeen before wou'd be a downright Inſult upon the Ge⯑nius of a Lady of Quality.

Novelty is the very Spirit of Dreſs.

Let me die, if the Fellows don't talk charmingly!

Senſibly, Siſter.

'Tis evident they muſt have had Dealings with Ladies of Condition.

We only wait your Commands.

We have things of all kinds, Ladies.

Of all kinds!—Now that is juſt what I wanted to ſee.

Are not theſe, Siſter, moſt delightful Creatures?

We know a Lady can never fix unleſs we firſt cloy her Curioſity.

And if Variety can pleaſe, we have every thing that Fancy can wiſh.

But, dear Man, conſider our Impatience.

Wou'd you command the things, Ladies, to be brought here, or wou'd you ſee 'em in your own Apartment?

How intolerably theſe Fellows love talking!

How canſt thou, Man, ask ſuch a Queſtion!

Here—immediately.

Nay, tis not, Madam, that our Goods can be put out of Countenance by the moſt glaring Light—as for that mat⯑ter—

Nay, pry'thee, Fellow, have done.

I wou'd not offer you theſe Pearls, Ladies, if the World cou'd produce ſuch another Pair.

A Pair, Fellow—Doſt thou think that Jewels pair like Men and Women becauſe they were never made to agree?

Now, Ladies, here is all that Art can ſhew you.— Open the Packet.

This very individual Pattern, in a blue Pink, had been infinitely charming.

Don't you think it pretty, Deidamia?

For Heaven's ſake, Lady Pyrrha.—Nay, dear Child, how can any Creature have ſo little Curioſity!

Look upon it again, Madam.—Never was ſo de⯑lightful a Mixture!

So ſoft! ſo mellow!

So advantageous for the Complexion!

I can't bear it, Man; the Colour is frightful.

I hate our own tame home-bred Fancy.—I own I like the Deſign—but take it away, Man.

There muſt be ſomething pretty in every thing that is foreign.

I am ſure, Madam, this muſt convince you to the contrary.—Never was any thing ſo deteſtable!

For Heavens ſake, Sir, open that other Packet; and take away this hideous Trumpery.

How coud'ſt thou make this Miſtake?—Never was ſuch an eternal Blunderer.

How ridiculous is this Accident!

Pardon the Miſtake, Ladies.

A Suit of Armour!—You ſee, Philoe, they can at leaſt equip us for the Camp.

Nay, Lesbia, for that Matter it might ſerve many a ſtiff awkward Creature that we ſee every Day in the Drawing⯑room; ſor their Dreſs is every way as abſurd and prepoſterous.

If your Expectations, Ladies, are not now anſwer'd, let Fancy own herſelf at a ſtand. 'Tis inimitable! 'Tis irre⯑ſiſtible!

The Workmanſhip is curious; and ſo juſtly mount⯑ed! This very Sword ſeems fitted to my Hand.—The Shield too is ſo little cumberſome; ſo very eaſy!—Was Hector here, the Fate of Troy ſhou'd this Inſtant be decided.—How my Heart burns to meet him!

That intrepid Air! That Godlike Look! It muſt be He! His Nature, his Diſpoſition ſhews him▪ through the Diſguiſe

Son of Thetis, I know thee, Greece demands thee, and now, Achilles, the Houſe of Priam ſhakes.

But what are you, Friend, who thus preſume to know me?

You cannot be a Stranger, Sir, to the Name of Ulyſſes.

As I have long honour'd, I ſhall now endeavour, Sir, to emulate your Fame.

Know, Sir, Diomedes; He too is ambitious to attend you, and partake your Glory.

Come Agyrtes; with him we carry Conqueſt to the Confederates.

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Thy Fate then, O Troy, is decreed.

How I pant! How I burn for the Fight!

Hark, Glory calls. Now great Hector ſhall bleed.

Fame ſhall our Deeds requite.

For Heaven's ſake, Ladies, ſupport Deidamia.

Never was any thing ſo aſtoniſhing!

Run then, Artemona, and acquaint the King and Queen with what hath happen'd.

SCENE XI.

Ah Siſter, Siſter, the Myſtery then of that particular Intimacy between you and Pyrrha is at laſt unravell'd.

Now if it had not been a Man of this prodigious Con⯑ſequence, it had been the ſame thing.—Sure never unguarded Woman was ſo unaccountably lucky!

Can you leave me, Achilles?—Can you?

Conſider your own Glory, Sir.

Think of my Condition.—Save my Honour.

Think of the Honour of Greece.

Think of your ſolemn Oaths and Promiſes.

Nations depend upon you.—Victory, Sir, calls you hence.

Can you, Achilles, be perfidious?

Can you loſe your Glory in the Arms of a Woman?

Can you ſacrifice the Fame of your faithful Deidamia?

SCENE The Laſt.

Hence, Diphilus; and preſume no more to come into my Preſence. 'Twas your paltry Flattery that made me ridi⯑culous.—Such a Genius can never be at a loſs for Employ⯑ment, for I have found you qualified for the very meaneſt Offices.

My Daughter, Sir, I hope, hath put Confidence in a Man of Honour.

My Word, Madam, is as ſacred as the moſt religious Ceremony.—Yet (though we are already ſolemnly betroth'd to each other) 'tis my Requeſt, Madam, that before I leave the Court the Prieſt may confirm the Marriage.

This might have prov'd a ſcurvy Affair, Deidamia; for a Woman can never depend upon a Man's Honour after ſhe hath loſt her own to him.

You muſt own, Madam, that 'twas your own Jeal⯑ouſies that were the Occaſion of Deidamia's Diſgrace.

How can you have the Aſſurance to name it? Does it not put you in mind of your own?—Let her Marriage to Achilles make us forget every thing paſt.

As you was ſo furiouſly in Love, Lord Ajax, I hope I ſhall ſtill retain your Friendſhip.

No joking I beg you, young Man.—But pr'ythee, how came you here? and in a Woman's Dreſs too!—Your ſetting out, Stripling, did not ſeem to promiſe much.

The Adventure wou'd be too long to tell you.—I ſhall reſerve the Story for the Camp.

The Prieſt, Sir, is ready.

The Ceremony waits you.

It ſhall be my Study, Lycomedes, to deſerve this Alliance.

May you be happy!

Let the Prieſt then join your Hands.

Our Duel, Ajax, had made a much better Figure if there had been a Woman in the Caſe.—But you know, like Men of violent Honour, we were ſo very valiant that we did not know what we were fighting for.

If you are too free with your Wit, Periphas, perhaps we may know what we quarrel about.

What teſty, Ajax! Petticoats have led many a Man in⯑to an Error. How lucky was the Diſcovery! for had you found a real complying Woman you had irretrievably been married.—The Preſence of Achilles ſhall now animate the War.

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If you had been deceiv'd by a Woman—'tis what we are all liable to.

But Ajax is a Man of warm Imagination.

After this Day let me hear no more of this ridiculous Affair.

Nay for that matter any Man might have been deceiv'd; for Love, you know, is blind.

With my Sword I can anſwer any Man.—I tell you, I hate joking.

I have the common Cauſe ſo much at Heart that I wou'd not, Son, detain you from the Siege.

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As both her Country and your Glory are concern'd, Deidamia muſt learn to bear your Abſence.—In the mean time, Achilles, ſhe ſhall be our Care.—As the Marriage is confirm'd; let the Dancers, who were preparing for th' approaching Feſtival, celebrate the Wedding.

But hearkee, young Fellow,—This is the old Soldier's Play; for we ſeldom leave Quarters but the Landlord's Daugh⯑ter is the better for us.—Hah!

We may for a while put on a feign'd Character, but Nature is ſo often unguarded that it will ſhew itſelf.—'Tis to the Armour we owe Achilles.

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