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THE WORKS OF APHRA BEHN, VOL. III


EDITED BY MONTAGUE SUMMERS


MCMXV



CONTENTS:

THE TOWN-<DW2>; OR, SIR TIMOTHY TAWDREY
THE FALSE COUNT
THE LUCKY CHANCE; OR, AN ALDERMAN'S BARGAIN
THE FORC'D MARRIAGE; OR, THE JEALOUS BRIDEGROOM
THE EMPEROR OF THE MOON
NOTES






THE TOWN-<DW2>; OR, SIR TIMOTHY TAWDREY.



ARGUMENT.

Sir Timothy Tawdrey is by the wishes of his mother and the lady's father
designed for Celinda, who loves Bellmour, nephew to Lord Plotwell. A
coxcomb of the first water, Sir Timothy receives a sharp rebuff when he
opens his suit, and accordingly he challenges Bellmour, but fails to
appear at the place of meeting. Celinda's old nurse, at night, admits
Bellmour to her mistress' chamber, where they are surprized by
Friendlove, her brother, who is, however, favourable to the union, the
more so as he is a friend of Bellmour, and they have but newly returned
from travelling together in Italy. Lord Plotwell warmly welcomes his
nephew home, and proceeds to unfold his design of giving him his niece
Diana in marriage. When he demurs, the old lord threatens to deprive him
of his estate, and he is compelled eventually to acquiesce in the
matrimonial schemes of his guardian. Bellmour sends word to Celinda, who
replies in a heart-broken letter; and at the wedding feast Friendlove,
who himself is deeply enamoured of Diana, appears in disguise to observe
the traitor. He is followed by his sister disguised as a boy, and upon
Friendlove's drawing on Bellmour a scuffle ensues which, however, ends
without harm. In the nuptial chamber Bellmour informs Diana that he
cannot love her and she quits him maddened with rage and disappointment.
Sir Timothy serenades the newly-mated pair and is threatened by
Bellmour, whilst Celinda, who has been watching the house, attacks the
<DW2> and his fiddlers. During the brawl Diana issuing forth meets
Celinda, and taking her for a boy leads her into the house and shortly
makes advances of love. They are interrupted by Friendlove, disguised,
and he receives Diana's commands to seek out and challenge Bellmour. At
the same time he reveals his love as though he told the tale of another,
but he is met with scorn and only bidden to fight the husband who has
repulsed her. Bellmour, meantime, in despair and rage at his misery
plunges into reckless debauchery, and in company with Sir Timothy visits
a bagnio, where they meet Betty Flauntit, the knight's kept mistress,
and other cyprians. Hither they are tracked by Charles, Bellmour's
younger brother, and Trusty, Lord Plotwell's old steward. Sharp words
pass, the brothers fight and Charles is slighted wounded. Their Uncle
hears of this with much indignation, and at the same time receiving a
letter from Diana begging for a divorce, he announces his intention to
further her purpose, and to abandon wholly Charles and Phillis, his
sister, in consequence of their elder brother's conduct. Sir Timothy,
induced by old Trusty, begins a warm courtship of Phillis, and arranges
with a parasite named Sham to deceive her by a mock marriage. Sham,
however, procures a real parson, and Sir Timothy is for the moment
afraid he has got a wife without a dowry or portion. Lord Plotwell
eventually promises to provide for her, and at Diana's request, now she
recognizes her mistake in trying to hold a man who does not love her,
Bellmour is forgiven and allowed to wed Celinda as soon as the divorce
has been pronounced, whilst Diana herself rewards Friendlove with
her hand.



SOURCE.

_The Town-<DW2>; or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ is materially founded upon
George Wilkins' popular play, _The Miseries of Enforced Marriage_ (4to,
1607, 1611, 1629, 1637), reprinted in Dodsley. Sir Timothy himself is
moulded to some extent upon Sir Francis Ilford, but, as Geneste aptly
remarks, he may be considered a new character. In the older drama,
Clare, the original of Celinda, dies tragically of a broken heart. It
cannot be denied that Mrs. Behn has greatly improved Wilkins' scenes.
The well-drawn character of Betty Flauntit is her own, and the
realistically vivacious bagnio episodes of Act iv replace a not very
interesting or lively tavern with a considerable accession to wit and
humour, although perhaps not to strict propriety.



THEATRICAL HISTORY.

_The Town-<DW2>; or, Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ was produced at the Duke's
Theatre, Dorset Garden, in September, 1676. There is no record of its
performance, and the actors' names are not given. It was a year of
considerable changes in the company, and any attempt to supply these
would be the merest surmise.




THE TOWN-<DW2>;
or, Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_.


PROLOGUE.

_As Country Squire, who yet had never known
The long-expected Joy of being in Town;
Whose careful Parents scarce permitted Heir
To ride from home, unless to neighbouring Fair;
At last by happy Chance is hither led,
To purchase Clap with loss of Maidenhead;
Turns wondrous gay, bedizen'd to Excess;
Till he is all Burlesque in Mode and Dress:
Learns to talk loud in Pit, grows wily too,
That is to say, makes mighty Noise and Show.

So a young Poet, who had never been
Dabling beyond the Height of Ballading;
Who, in his brisk Essays, durst ne'er excel
The lucky Flight of rhyming Doggerel,
Sets up with this sufficient Stock on Stage,
And has, perchance, the luck to please the Age.
He draws you in, like cozening Citizen;
Cares not how bad the Ware, so Shop be fine.

As tawdry Gown and Petticoat gain more
(Tho on a dull diseas'd ill-favour'd Whore)
Than prettier Frugal, tho on Holy-day,         |
When every City-Spark has leave to play_,      |
--Damn her, she must be sound, she is so gay;  |
_So let the Scenes be fine, you'll ne'er enquire
For Sense, but lofty Flights in nimble Wire.
--What we present to Day is none of these,
But we cou'd wish it were, for we wou'd please,
And that you'll swear we hardly meant to do:
Yet here's no Sense; Pox on't, but here's no Show;
But a plain Story, that will give a Taste
Of what your Grandsires lov'd i'th' Age that's past_.



DRAMATIS PERSONAE.


MEN.

Lord _Plotwell_.
_Bellmour_, Nephew to the Lord _Plotwell_, contracted to _Celinda_.
_Charles_, Brother to _Bellmour_.
_Friendlove_, Brother to _Celinda_, in love with _Diana_.
Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_, a <DW2>-Knight, design'd to marry _Celinda_.
_Sham_,   |  Hangers on to Sir _Timothy_.
_Sharp_,  |
_Trusty_, An old Steward to _Bellmour's_ Family.
Page to _Bellmour_.
Page to Lord _Plotwell_.
Sir _Timothy's_ Page.
Guests, Dancers, Fiddlers, and Servants.


WOMEN.

The Lady _Diana_, Niece to the Lord _Plotwell_.
_Celinda_, Sister to _Friendlove_, contracted to _Bellmour_.
_Phillis_, Sister to _Bellmour_.
_Betty Flauntit_, kept by Sir _Timothy_.
_Driver_, A Bawd.
_Jenny_,  |  Two Whores
_Doll_,   |
_Nurse_,
Ladies and Guests.

SCENE, _Covent-Garden_.




ACT I.

SCENE I. _The Street_.


    _Enter Sir_ Timothy Tawdrey, Sham, _and_ Sharp.

Sir _Tim_. Hereabouts is the House wherein dwells the Mistress of my
Heart; for she has Money, Boys, mind me, Money in abundance, or she were
not for me--The Wench her self is good-natur'd, and inclin'd to be
civil: but a Pox on't--she has a Brother, a conceited Fellow, whom the
World mistakes for a fine Gentleman; for he has travell'd, talks
Languages, bows with a _bonne mine_, and the rest; but, by Fortune, he
shall entertain you with nothing but Words--

_Sham_. Nothing else!--

Sir _Tim_. No--He's no Country-Squire, Gentlemen, will not game, whore;
nay, in my Conscience, you will hardly get your selves drunk in his
Company--He treats A-la-mode, half Wine, half Water, and the rest--But
to the Business, this Fellow loves his Sister dearly, and will not trust
her in this leud Town, as he calls it, without him; and hither he has
brought her to marry me.

_Sham_. A Pox upon him for his Pains--

Sir _Tim_. So say I--But my Comfort is, I shall be as weary of her, as
the best Husband of 'em all. But there's Conveniency in it; besides, the
Match being as good as made up by the old Folks in the Country, I must
submit--The Wench I never saw yet, but they say she's handsom--But no
matter for that, there's Money, my Boys.

_Sharp_. Well, Sir, we will follow you--but as dolefully as People do
their Friends to the Grave, from whence they're never to return, at
least not the same Substance; the thin airy Vision of a brave good
Fellow, we may see thee hereafter, but that's the most.

Sir _Tim_. Your Pardon, sweet _Sharp_, my whole Design in it is to be
Master of my self, and with part of her Portion to set up my Miss,
_Betty Flauntit_; which, by the way, is the main end of my marrying; the
rest you'll have your shares of--Now I am forc'd to take you up Suits at
treble Prizes, have damn'd Wine and Meat put upon us, 'cause the
Reckoning is to be book'd: But ready Money, ye Rogues! What Charms it
has! makes the Waiters fly, Boys, and the Master with Cap in
Hand--excuse what's amiss, Gentlemen--Your Worship shall command the
best--and the rest--How briskly the Box and Dice dance, and the ready
Money submits to the lucky Gamester, and the gay Wench consults with
every Beauty to make her self agreeable to the Man with ready Money! In
fine, dear Rogues, all things are sacrific'd to its Power; and no Mortal
conceives the Joy of Argent Content. 'Tis this powerful God that makes
me submit to the Devil, Matrimony; and then thou art assur'd of me, my
stout Lads of brisk Debauch.

_Sham_. And is it possible you can be ty'd up to a Wife? Whilst here in
_London_, and free, you have the whole World to range in, and like a
wanton Heifer, eat of every Pasture.

Sir _Tim_. Why, dost think I'll be confin'd to my own dull Enclosure?
No, I had rather feed coarsely upon the boundless Common; perhaps two or
three days I may be in love, and remain constant, but that's the most.

_Sharp_. And in three Weeks, should you wed a _Cynthia_, you'd be a
Monster.

Sir _Tim_. What, thou meanest a Cuckold, I warrant. God help thee! But a
Monster is only so from its Rarity, and a Cuckold is no such strange
thing in our Age.

    _Enter_ Bellmour _and_ Friendlove.

But who comes here? _Bellmour!_ Ah, my little dear Rogue! how dost thou?
--_Ned Friendlove_ too! Dear Lad, how dost thou too? Why, welcome to
Town, i'faith, and I'm glad to see you both.

_Friend_. Sir _Timothy Tawdrey!_--

Sir _Tim_. The same, by Fortune, dear _Ned_: And how, and how, Man, how
go Matters?

_Friend_. Between who, Sir?

Sir _Tim_. Why, any Body, Man; but, by Fortune, I'm overjoy'd to meet
thee: But where dost think I was going?

_Friend_. Is't possible one shou'd divine?

Sir _Tim_. Is't possible you shou'd not, and meet me so near your
Sister's Lodgings? Faith, I was coming to pay my Respects and Services,
and the rest--Thou know'st my meaning--The old Business of the
Silver-World, _Ned_; by Fortune, it's a mad Age we live in, _Ned_; and
here be so many--wicked Rogues, about this damn'd leud Town, that,
'faith, I am fain to speak in the vulgar modish Style, in my own
Defence, and railly Matrimony and the rest.

_Friend_. Matrimony!--I hope you are so exactly refin'd a Man of the
Town, that you will not offer once to think of so dull a thing: let that
alone for such cold Complexions as _Bellmour_ here, and I, that have not
attain'd to that most excellent faculty of Keeping yet, as you, Sir
_Timothy_, have done; much to your Glory, I assure you.

Sir _Tim_. Who, I, Sir? You do me much Honour: I must confess I do not
find the softer Sex cruel; I am received as well as another Man of
my Parts.

_Friend_. Of your Money you mean, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. Why, 'faith, _Ned_, thou art i'th' right; I love to buy my
Pleasure: for, by Fortune, there's as much pleasure in Vanity and
Variety, as any Sins I know; What think'st thou, _Ned?_

_Friend_. I am not of your Mind, I love to love upon the square; and
that I may be sure not to be cheated with false Ware, I present 'em
nothing but my Heart.

Sir _Tim_. Yes, and have the Consolation of seeing your frugal huswifery
Miss in the Pit, at a Play, in a long Scarf and Night-gown, for want of
Points, and Garniture.

_Friend_. If she be clean, and pretty, and drest in Love, I can excuse
the rest, and so will she.

Sir _Tim_. I vow to Fortune, _Ned_, thou must come to _London_, and be a
little manag'd:'slife, Man, shouldst thou talk so aloud in good
Company, thou wouldst be counted a strange Fellow. Pretty--and drest
with Love--a fine Figure, by Fortune: No, _Ned_, the painted Chariot
gives a Lustre to every ordinary Face, and makes a Woman look like
Quality; Ay, so like, by Fortune, that you shall not know one from
t'other, till some scandalous, out-of-favour'd laid-aside Fellow of the
Town, cry--Damn her for a Bitch--how scornfully the Whore regards
me--She has forgot since _Jack_--such a one, and I, club'd for the
keeping of her, when both our Stocks well manag'd wou'd not amount to
above seven Shillings six Pence a week; besides now and then a Treat of
a Breast of Mutton from the next Cook's.--Then the other laughs, and
crys--Ay, rot her--and tells his Story too, and concludes with, Who
manages the Jilt now; Why, faith, some dismal Coxcomb or other, you may
be sure, replies the first. But, _Ned_, these are Rogues, and Rascals,
that value no Man's Reputation, because they despise their own. But
faith, I have laid aside all these Vanities, now I have thought of
Matrimony; but I desire my Reformation may be a Secret, because, as you
know, for a Man of my Address, and the rest--'tis not altogether
so Jantee.

_Friend_. Sir, I assure you, it shall be so great a Secret for me, that
I will never ask you who the happy Woman is, that's chosen for this
great Work of your Conversion.

Sir _Tim_. Ask me--No, you need not, because you know already.

_Friend_. Who, I? I protest, Sir _Timothy_--

Sir _Tim_. No Swearing, dear _Ned_, for 'tis not such a Secret, but I
will trust my Intimates: these are my Friends, _Ned_; pray know
them--This Mr. _Sham_, and this--by Fortune, a very honest Fellow
[_Bows to 'em_] Mr. _Sharp_, and may be trusted with a Bus'ness that
concerns you as well as me.

_Friend_. Me! What do you mean, Sir _Timothy_?

Sir _Tim_. Why, Sir, you know what I mean.

_Friend_. Not I, Sir.

Sir _Tim_. What, not that I am to marry your Sister _Celinda_?

_Friend_. Not at all.

_Bel_. O, this insufferable Sot!    [_Aside_.

_Friend_. My Sister, Sir, is very nice.

Sir _Tim_. That's all one, Sir, the old People have adjusted the matter,
and they are the most proper for a Negotiation of that kind, which saves
us the trouble of a tedious Courtship.

_Friend_. That the old