The Country Wife, Act I - The Open Anthology of Literature in English

Indignor quicquam reprehendi, non quia crasse
Compositum illepideve putetur, sed quia nuper
Nec veniam antiquis, sed honorem et praemia posci. Horat.*

PROLOGUE, spoken by Mr. Hart.

Poets, like cudgelled bullies, never do

Till you are weary first, with laying on.
The late so baffled scribbler of this day,
Though he stands trembling, bids me boldly say,
What we, before most plays are used to do,
In a fierce prologue, the still pit defy,
Castril, give the lie;
Bayes’s battles oft I’ve fought,
Nay, never yet feared odds upon the stage,
Hector with the age;
But would take quarter from your saving hands,
Though Bayes within all yielding countermands
Says you confederate wits no quarter give,
Well, let the vain rash fop, by huffing so,
But we the actors humbly will submit,
Nay, often we anticipate your rage,
And murder poets for you, on our stage:
We set no guards upon our tiring-room,
But when with flying colours, there you come,
We patiently, you see, give up to you,
Our poets, virgins, nay, our matrons, too.

The Persons.

Mr. Horner, Mr. Hart.
Mr. Harcourt, Mr. Kenaston.
Mr. Dorilant, Mr. Lydal.
Mr. Pinchwife, Mr. Mohun.
Mr. Sparkish, Mr. Haynes.
Sir Jaspar Fidget, Mr. Cartwright.

Mrs. Margery Pinchwife, Mrs. Bowtel.
Mrs. Alithea, Mrs. James.
My Lady Fidget, Mrs. Knep.
Mrs. Dainty Fidget, Mrs. Corbet.
Mrs. Squeamish, Mrs. Wyatt.
Old Lady Squeamish, Mrs. Rutter.

Waiters, Servants, and Attendants.
A Boy.
A Quack, Mr. Schotterel.
Lucy, Alithea’s Maid, Mrs. Cory.

The SCENE London.
Enter Horner, and Quack following him at a distance.

Horner
Quack
I have undone you for ever with the Women, and reported you throughout the whole Town as bad as an Eunuch, with as much trouble as if I had made you one in earnest.

Horner
Quack
Whitehall; so that you need not doubt ’twill spread, and you will be as odious to the handsome young Women, as—

Horner
Quack
Horner
Quack
Horner
Chirurgeon, who has given me at once, not only a Cure, but an Antidote for the future, against that damn’d malady, and that worse distemper, love, and all other Womens’ evils.

Quack
Horner
Quack
Horner
Enter Boy.
There are two Ladies and a Gentleman coming up.

Horner
Enter Sir Jaspar Fidget, Lady Fidget, and Mrs. Dainty Fidget.

Quack
His Wife and Sister.

Sir Jaspar
Horner
What then, Sir?

Sir Jaspar
Lady Fidget
Master Horner, Husband!

Sir Jaspar
My Lady, my Lady Fidget, Sir.

Horner
So, Sir.

Sir Jaspar
salute my Wife, my Lady, Sir.

Horner
Sir Jaspar
Horner
Sir Jaspar
Horner
makes horns.

"A Contented Cuckold in the new fashion." A satirical print of a cuckold, complete with horns, who is happy because his wife brings him gifts from her lover(!) The verse reads: "ow blest am I and what a happie life / Doe I injoy but I may thank my Wife / Tis shee that rais'd my fortune all this store / Her ocupation brings: and tenn times more / In my conceit; hees more then mad that scornes / To weare such pretious, profitable Hornes / To be a Cuckold why should I repine / The disgrace is my Wifes; the profit mine." printed sometime around 1680. (Library of Congreve) — Sir *Jaspar*
Hah, hah, hah, Mercury, Mercury.

Lady *Fidget*
Pray, Sir *Jaspar*, let us be gone from this rude fellow.

Mrs. *Dainty*
Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
new Postures, nor the second Part of the *Escole de Filles*; Nor—

*Quack*
Sir *Jaspar*
Hah, hah, hah, he hates Women perfectly I find.

*Dainty*
Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
Because your Virtue is your greatest affectation, Madam.

Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
Lady *Fidget*
Sir *Jaspar*
Lady *Fidget*
Sir *Jaspar*
Lady *Fidget*
No, no.

Sir *Jaspar*
a quarter and a half quarter of a minute past eleven; the Council will be sate, I must away: business must be preferr’d always before Love and Ceremony with the wise Mr. Horner.

*Horner*
And the Impotent Sir *Jaspar*.

Sir *Jaspar*
Ay, ay, the impotent Master *Horner*, hah, ha, ha.

Lady *Fidget*
What leave us with a filthy Man alone in his lodgings?

Sir *Jaspar*
Exit Sir *Jaspar*

*Horner*
Your Servant Sir *Jaspar*

Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
Lady *Fidget*
No, no, foh, you cannot be civil to Ladies.

*Dainty*
Lady *Fidget*
No, no, no, foh, foh, foh.

Exeunt Lady *Fidget* and *Dainty*.

*Quack*
Now I think, I, or you your self rather, have done your business with the Women.

*Horner*
*Quack*
Nay, by this means you may be the more acquainted with the Husbands, but the less with the Wives.

*Horner*
*Quack*
*Horner*
*Pas par tout* of the Town. Now Doctor.

*Quack*
*Horner*
Not so new neither, *Probatum est* Doctor.

*Quack*
Exit *Quack*.

Enter *Harcourt*, and *Dorilant* to *Horner*.

*Harcourt*
*Horner*
Did I not bear it bravely?

*Dorilant*
great belly’d Actress; nay, or the most impudent of Creatures, an ill Poet; or what is yet more impudent, a secondhand Critick.

*Horner*
But what say the Ladies, have they no pitty?

*Harcourt*

*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
Who do you call Shadows of Men?

*Dorilant*
Half Men.

*Horner*
What Boyes?

*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
For all that give me some of those pleasures, you call effeminate too, they help to relish one another.

*Horner*
They disturb one another.

*Harcourt*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Dorilant*
By the World he has reason, *Harcourt*.

*Horner*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Horner*
Come, for my part I will have only those glorious, manly pleasures of being very drunk, and very slovenly.

Enter *Boy*.

*Boy*
Mr. *Sparkish* is below, Sir.

*Harcourt*
What, my dear Friend! a Rogue that is fond of me, only I think for abusing him.

*Dorilant*
No, he can no more think the Men laugh at him, than that Women jilt him, his opinion of himself is so good.

*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Dorilant*
And to pass for a wit in Town, shewes himself a fool every night to us, that are guilty of the plot.

*Horner*
Such wits as he, are, to a Company of reasonable Men, like Rooks to the Gamesters, who only fill a room at the Table, but are so far from contributing to the play, that they only serve to spoil the fancy of those that do.

*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
Enter *Sparkish* to them.

*Sparkish*
*Horner*
*Sparkish*
Honest Dick and Franck here shall answer for me, I will not be extream bitter by the Univers.

*Harcourt*
We will be bound in ten thousand pound Bond, he shall not be bitter at all.

*Dorilant*
Nor sharp, nor sweet.

*Horner*
What, not down right insipid?

*Sparkish*
*Horner*
Very fine Ladies I believe.

*Sparkish*

Covent Garden, depicted around 1720. This was the entertainment district of London, with theaters, restaurants, coffee shops. But also brothels and gambling dens. It is no surprise that Horner would live in this neighborhood. (Wikimedia Commons)

A vizard mask dating to sometime between the sixteenth and the eighteenth centuries. Aristocratic women wore these in public, partly to conceal their identities, and also partly to protect themselves from the sun. This mask is made of black velvet (which is badly discolored now) and silk. The user would keep it on by holding the black bead in her mouth. — Sir *Jaspar*
Hah, hah, hah, Mercury, Mercury.

Lady *Fidget*
Pray, Sir *Jaspar*, let us be gone from this rude fellow.

Mrs. *Dainty*
Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
new Postures, nor the second Part of the *Escole de Filles*; Nor—

*Quack*
Sir *Jaspar*
Hah, hah, hah, he hates Women perfectly I find.

*Dainty*
Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
Because your Virtue is your greatest affectation, Madam.

Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
Lady *Fidget*
Sir *Jaspar*
Lady *Fidget*
Sir *Jaspar*
Lady *Fidget*
No, no.

Sir *Jaspar*
a quarter and a half quarter of a minute past eleven; the Council will be sate, I must away: business must be preferr’d always before Love and Ceremony with the wise Mr. Horner.

*Horner*
And the Impotent Sir *Jaspar*.

Sir *Jaspar*
Ay, ay, the impotent Master *Horner*, hah, ha, ha.

Lady *Fidget*
What leave us with a filthy Man alone in his lodgings?

Sir *Jaspar*
Exit Sir *Jaspar*

*Horner*
Your Servant Sir *Jaspar*

Lady *Fidget*
*Horner*
Lady *Fidget*
No, no, foh, you cannot be civil to Ladies.

*Dainty*
Lady *Fidget*
No, no, no, foh, foh, foh.

Exeunt Lady *Fidget* and *Dainty*.

*Quack*
Now I think, I, or you your self rather, have done your business with the Women.

*Horner*
*Quack*
Nay, by this means you may be the more acquainted with the Husbands, but the less with the Wives.

*Horner*
*Quack*
*Horner*
*Pas par tout* of the Town. Now Doctor.

*Quack*
*Horner*
Not so new neither, *Probatum est* Doctor.

*Quack*
Exit *Quack*.

Enter *Harcourt*, and *Dorilant* to *Horner*.

*Harcourt*
*Horner*
Did I not bear it bravely?

*Dorilant*
great belly’d Actress; nay, or the most impudent of Creatures, an ill Poet; or what is yet more impudent, a secondhand Critick.

*Horner*
But what say the Ladies, have they no pitty?

*Harcourt*

*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
Who do you call Shadows of Men?

*Dorilant*
Half Men.

*Horner*
What Boyes?

*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
For all that give me some of those pleasures, you call effeminate too, they help to relish one another.

*Horner*
They disturb one another.

*Harcourt*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Dorilant*
By the World he has reason, *Harcourt*.

*Horner*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Horner*
Come, for my part I will have only those glorious, manly pleasures of being very drunk, and very slovenly.

Enter *Boy*.

*Boy*
Mr. *Sparkish* is below, Sir.

*Harcourt*
What, my dear Friend! a Rogue that is fond of me, only I think for abusing him.

*Dorilant*
No, he can no more think the Men laugh at him, than that Women jilt him, his opinion of himself is so good.

*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Dorilant*
And to pass for a wit in Town, shewes himself a fool every night to us, that are guilty of the plot.

*Horner*
Such wits as he, are, to a Company of reasonable Men, like Rooks to the Gamesters, who only fill a room at the Table, but are so far from contributing to the play, that they only serve to spoil the fancy of those that do.

*Dorilant*
*Horner*
*Harcourt*
*Dorilant*
*Horner*
Enter *Sparkish* to them.

*Sparkish*
*Horner*
*Sparkish*
Honest Dick and Franck here shall answer for me, I will not be extream bitter by the Univers.

*Harcourt*
We will be bound in ten thousand pound Bond, he shall not be bitter at all.

*Dorilant*
Nor sharp, nor sweet.

*Horner*
What, not down right insipid?

*Sparkish*
*Horner*
Very fine Ladies I believe.

*Sparkish*

Covent Garden, depicted around 1720. This was the entertainment district of London, with theaters, restaurants, coffee shops. But also brothels and gambling dens. It is no surprise that Horner would live in this neighborhood. (Wikimedia Commons)

Dorilant
A Pox I can hear no more, prethee.

Horner
Harcourt
The worst Musick the greatest preparation.

Sparkish
Horner
Sparkish
Horner
But the Divel take me, is thine be the sign of a jest.

Sparkish
Dorilant
Harcourt
Go, to him again.

Sparkish
No, Sir, a wit to me is the greatest title in the World.

Horner
Harcourt
Nay, faith he shall go to him.

Sparkish
Nay, pray Gentlemen.

Dorilant
Sparkish
Nay, dear Gentlemen hear me.

Horner
Sparkish
Why, dear Rogues.

They all thrust him out of the room.

Dorilant
No, no.

All
Ha, ha, ha.

Sparkish returns.

Sparkish
Horner.
Sparkish
Dorilant
Yes, if you will.

Sparkish
Or at the Cock.

Dorilant
Yes, if you please.

Sparkish
Or at the Dog and Partridg.

Horner
Sparkish
wits Row; therefore I’ll go fetch my Mistriss and away.

Horner
Who have we here, Pinchwife?

Mr. Pinchwife
Gentlemen, your humble Servant.

Horner
Mr Pinchwife
five thousand pound to lye with my Sister.

Horner
Mr. Pinchwife
What then?

Horner
Mr Pinchwife
Insupportable name. [Aside.]

Horner
But I did not expect Marriage from such a Whoremaster as you, one that knew the Town so much, and Women so well.

Mr. Pinchwife
Horner
This triggers the tooltip, to go and be cheated by a Friend in the Country.

Mr Pinchwife
Horner
Pinchwife
Dorilant
Grasieras he looks.

Pinchwife
Harcourt
Pinchwife
Harcourt
The Rogue is as jealous, as if his wife were not ignorant. [Aside.]

Horner
Dorilant
But they have alwayes coarse, constant, swinging stomachs in the Country.

Harcourt
Foul Feeders indeed.

Dorilant
And your Hospitality is great there.

Harcourt
Pinchwife
So, so, Gentlemen.

Horner
Pinchwife
Horner
Pinchwife
Horner
Yes, to keep it from his knowledge.

Pinchwife
A Fool cannot contrive to make her husband a Cuckold.

Horner
Pinchwife
Dorilant
His help! [Aside.]

Harcourt
Horner
But tell me, has Marriage cured thee of whoring, which it seldom does.

Harcourt
Horner
Dorilant
Harcourt
Box in their hands to fool with only, and hinder other Gamesters.

Dorilant
That had wherewithal to make lusty stakes.

Pinchwife
Well, Gentlemen, you may laugh at me, but you shall never lye with my Wife, I know the Town.

Horner
Pinchwife
Horner
Pinchwife
Horner
What dost thou blush at nine and forty, for having been seen with a Wench?

Dorilant
Harcourt
Pinchwife
Horner
Pinchwife
You are like never to be nearer to her. Your Servant Gentlemen.

Offers to go.

Horner
Nay, prethee stay.

Pinchwife
I cannot, I will not.
Horner
Come you shall dine with us.

Pinchwife
Horner
Pinchwife
Horner
Nay, you shall not go.

Pinchwife
I must, I have business at home.

Exit Pinchwife.

Harcourt
Cheapside Husband of a Covent-garden Wife.

Horner
So Wenching past, then jealousy succeeds:
The worst disease that Love and Wenching breeds.