The Works of Aphra Behn, Vol. II by Aphra Behn

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SOURCE.

The plot of _The Feign'd Curfezans_; or, _A Night's Intrigue_ is wholly
original. It is one of those bustling pieces, quick with complicated
intrigue, of the Spanish _comedias de capa y espada_ school, which Mrs.
Behn loved, and which none could present more happily or wittily than
she. To quote the _Biographia Dramatics_, 'the play contains a vast deal
of business and intrigue; the contrivance of the two ladies to obtain
their differently disposed lovers, both by the same means, viz. by
assuming the characters of courtezans, being productive of great
variety.' Some incidents, indeed, recall _The Rover_; and the accident of
Tickletext being discovered in bed by Galliard is similar to that when
Carlo comes upon Fetherfool in the same circumstance, _Rover_ II, Act iv,
iv. On the whole, however, _The Feign'd Curtezans_ is the better play,
and may not unjustly claim to be, if not Mrs. Behn's masterpiece (a title
it disputes with _The Rover_, Part I, and _The Lucky Chance_), at least
one of the very best and wittiest of her sparkling comedies.

THEATRICAL HISTORY.

_The Feign'd Curtezans_; or, _A Night's Intrigue_ was produced at the
Duke's Theatre, Dorset Garden, in 1679. The cast was a star one, and
Downes remarks that it was 'well acted'; but though favourably received
it does not, for some unaccountable reason, seem to have met with the
triumphant success it certainly deserved. It continued to be played from
time to time, and there was a notable revival on 8 August, 1716, at
Lincoln's Inn Fields. Galliard was acted by J. Leigh; Sir Harry, Smith;
Sir Signal, Bullock; Tickletext, Griffin; Pedro, Spiller; Julio, Bull
jun. Cornelia, Mrs. Cross; Marcella, Mrs. Thurmond; Laura Lucretia, Mrs.
Spiller. It was performed three times that season, but soon after
disappears from the repertory.

TO MRS. ELLEN GUIN.

Madam,

'Tis no wonder that hitherto I followed not the good example of the
believing Poets, since less faith and zeal then you alone can inspire,
had wanted power to have reduc't me to the true worship: Your permission,
_Madam_, has inlightened me, and I with shame look back on my past
Ignorance, which suffered me not to pay an Adoration long since, where
there was so very much due, yet even now though secure in my opinion, I
make this Sacrifice with infinite fear and trembling, well knowing that
so Excellent and perfect a Creature as your self differs only from the
Divine powers in this; the Offerings made to you ought to be worthy of
you, whilst they accept the will alone; and how Madam, would your Altars
be loaded, if like heaven you gave permission to all that had a will and
desire to approach 'em who now at distance can only wish and admire,
which all mankinde agree to do; as if Madam, you alone had the pattent
from heaven to ingross all hearts and even those distant slaves whom you
conquer with your fame, pay an equall tribute to those that have the
blessing of being wounded by your Eyes, and boast the happiness of
beholding you dayly; insomuch that succeeding ages who shall with joy
survey your History shall Envy us who lived in this, and saw those
charming wonders which they can only reade of, and whom we ought in
charity to pity, since all the Pictures, pens or pencills can draw, will
give 'em but a faint Idea of what we have the honour to see in such
absolute Perfection; they can only guess She was infinitely fair, witty,
and deserving, but to what Vast degrees in all, they can only Judge who
liv'd to Gaze and Listen; for besides Madam, all the Charms and
attractions and powers of your Sex, you have Beauties peculiar to your
self, an eternal sweetness, youth and ayr, which never dwelt in any face
but yours, of which not one unimitable Grace could be ever borrow'd, or
assumed, though with never so much industry, to adorn another, they
cannot steal a look or smile from you to inhance their own beauties
price, but all the world will know it yours; so natural and so fitted are
all your Charms and Excellencies to one another, so intirely design'd and
created to make up in you alone the most perfect lovely thing in the
world; you never appear but you glad the hearts of all that have the
happy fortune to see you, as if you were made on purpose to put the whole
world into good Humour, whenever you look abroad, and when you speak, men
crowd to listen with that awfull reverence as to Holy Oracles or Divine
Prophesies, and bears away the precious words to tell at home to all the
attentive family the Graceful things you utter'd and cry, _but oh she
spoke with such an Ayr, so gay, that half the beauty's lost in the
repetition_. 'Tis this that ought to make your Sex vain enough to despise
the malicious world that will allow a woman no wit, and bless our selves
for living in an Age that can produce so wondrous an argument as your
undeniable self, to shame those boasting talkers who are Judges of
nothing but faults.

But how much in vain Madam, I endeavour to tell you the sence of all
mankinde with mine, since to the utmost Limits of the Universe your
mighty Conquests are made known: And who can doubt the Power of that
Illustrious Beauty, the Charms of that tongue, and the greatness of that
minde, who has subdu'd the most powerfull and Glorious Monarch of the
world: And so well you bear the honours you were born for, with a
greatness so unaffected, an affability so easie, an Humour so soft, so
far from Pride or Vanity, that the most Envious & most disaffected can
finde no cause or reason to wish you less, Nor can Heaven give you more,
who has exprest a particular care of you every way, and above all in
bestowing on the world and you, two noble Branches, who have all the
greatness and sweetness of their Royal and beautiful stock; and who give
us too a hopeful Prospect of what their future Braveries will perform,
when they shall shoot up and spread themselves to that degree, that all
the lesser world may finde repose beneath their shades; and whom you have
permitted to wear those glorious Titles which you your self Generously
neglected, well knowing with the noble Poet; 'tis better far to merit
Titles then to wear 'em.

Can you then blame my Ambition, Madam, that lays this at your feet, and
begs a Sanctuary where all pay so great a Veneration? 'twas Dedicated
yours before it had a being, and overbusy to render it worthy of the
Honour, made it less grateful; and Poetry like Lovers often fares the
worse by taking too much pains to please; but under so Gracious an
Influence my tender Lawrells may thrive, till they become fit Wreaths to
offer to the Rays that improve their Growth: which Madam, I humbly
implore, you still permit her ever to do, who is,

Madam,
Your most Humble,
and most Obedient Servant,
_A. Behn_.

THE FEIGN'D CURTEZANS; or, A Night's Intrigue.

PROLOGUE,

Spoken by Mrs. _Currer_.

_The Devil take this cursed plotting Age,
'T has ruin'd all our Plots upon the Stage;
Suspicions, New Elections, Jealousies,
Fresh Informations, New Discoveries,
Do so employ the busy fearful Town,
Our honest Calling here is useless grown:
Each Fool turns Politician now, and wears
A formal Face, and talks of State-affairs;
Makes Acts, Decrees, and a new Model draws
For Regulation both of Church and Laws;
Tires out his empty Noddle to invent
What Rule and Method's best in Government:
But Wit, as if 'twere Jesuitical,
Is an Abomination to ye all.
To what a wretched pass will poor Plays come?
This must be damn'd, the Plot is laid in_ Rome;
_'Tis hard--yet--
Not one amongst ye all I'll undertake,
E'er thought that we should suffer for Religion's sake:
Who wou'd have thought that wou'd have been th' occasion
Of any contest in our hopeful Nation?
For my own Principles, faith let me tell ye,
I'm still of the Religion of my Cully;
And till these dangerous times they'd none to fix on,
But now are something in mere Contradiction,
And piously pretend these are not days,
For keeping Mistresses, and seeing Plays:
Who says this Age a Reformation wants,
When_ Betty Currer's _Lovers all turns Saints?
In vain, alas, I flatter, swear, and vow,
You'll scarce do any thing for Charity now:
Yet I am handsom still, still young and mad,
Can wheedle, lye, dissemble, jilt--egad,
As well and artfully as e'er I did;
Yet not one Conquest can I gain or hope,
No Prentice, not a Foreman of a Shop,
So that I want extremely new Supplies;
Of my last Coxcomb, faith, these were the Prize;
And by the tatter'd Ensigns you may know,
These Spoils were of a Victory long ago:
Who wou'd have thought such hellish Times to have seen,
When I shou'd be neglected at Eighteen?
That Youth and Beauty shou'd be quite undone,
A Pox upon the Whore of_ Babylon.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

_ITALIANS_.

_Morosini_, an old Count, Uncle to _Julio_. Mr. _Norris_.
_Julio_, his Nephew, a young Count, contracted to
_Laura Lucretia_. Mr. _Crosby_.
_Octavio_ a young Count, contracted to _Marcella_,
deformed, revengeful. Mr. _Gillo_.
_Crapine_, _Morosini's_ Man.
_Petro_, supposed Pimp to the two Curtezans. Mr. _Leigh_.
_Silvio_, Page to _Laura Lucretia_.
_Antonio_, an Attendant to _Laura Lucretia_.
Page to _Julio_.

_ENGLISH_.

Sir _Harry Fillamour_, in love with _Marcella. Mr. _Smith_.
Mr. _Galliard_, in love with _Cornelia_. Mr. _Betterton_.
Sir _Signal Buffoon_, a Fool. Mr. _Nokes_.
Mr. _Tickletext_, his Governour. Mr. _Underbill_.
_Jack_, Sir _Signal's_ Man.
Page to _Fillamour_.

WOMEN.

Laura Lucretia_, a young Lady of Quality, contracted
to _Julio_, in love with _Galliard_, and
Sister to _Octavio_. Mrs. _Lee_.
_Marcella_, Mrs. _Currer_.
and
_Cornelia_, Mrs. _Barry_.
Sisters to _Julio_, and Nieces to _Morosini_,
and pass for Curtezans by the names of
_Euphemia_ and _Silvianetta_.
_Philippa_, their Woman. Mrs. _Norris_.
_Sabina_, Confident to _Laura Lucretia_. Mrs. _Seymour_.

Pages, Musick, Footmen, and Bravos.

SCENE, _Rome_.

ACT I.

SCENE I. _A Street_.

_Enter_ Laura Lucretia, _and_ Silvio _richly drest_;
Antonio _attending, coming all in haste_.

_Sil_. Madam, you need not make such haste away, the Stranger that
follow'd us from St. _Peter's_ Church pursues us no longer, and we have
now lost sight of him: Lord, who wou'd have thought the approach of a
handsome Cavalier should have possest _Donna Laura Lucretia_ with fear?

_Lau_. I do not fear, my _Silvio_, but I wou'd have this new Habitation
which I have design'd for Love, known to none but him to whom I've
destin'd my Heart:--ah, wou'd he knew the Conquest he has made,
[_Aside_.]
Nor went I this Evening to Church with any other Devotion, but
that which warms my heart for my young _English_ Cavalier, whom I hop'd to
have seen there; and I must find some way to let him know my Passion,
which is too high for Souls like mine to hide.

_Sil_. Madam, the Cavalier's in view again, and hot in the pursuit.

_Lau_. Let's haste away then; and, _Silvio_, do you lag behind, 'twill
give him an opportunity of enquiring, whilst I get out of sight.--Be sure
you conceal my Name and Quality, and tell him--any thing but truth--tell
him I am _La Silvianetta_, the young Roman Curtezan, or what you please
to hide me from his knowledge.

[_Exeunt_ Lau. _and_ Ant.

_Enter_ Julio _and Page in pursuit_.

_Jul_. Boy, fall you into discourse with that Page, and learn his Lady's
Name--whilst I pursue her farther.
[_Ex_. Jul.

[_Page salutes_ Silvio, _who returns it; they go out as
talking to each other_.

_Enter Sir_ Harry Fillamour _and_ Galliard.

_Fil_. He follows her close, whoe'er they be: I see this trade of Love
goes forward still.

_Gal_. And will whilst there's difference in Sexes. But, _Harry_, the
Women, the delicate Women I was speaking of?

_Fil_. Prithee tell me no more of thy fine Women, _Frank_; thou hast not
been in _Rome_ above a Month, and thou'ast been a dozen times in love, as
thou call's! it; to me there is no pleasure like Constancy.

_Gal_. Constancy! and wou'dst thou have me one of those dull Lovers, who
believe it their Duty to love a Woman 'till her Hair and Eyes change
Colour, for fear of the scandalous Name of an Inconstant? No, my Passion,
like great Victors, hates the lazy stay; but having vanquisht, prepares
for new Conquests.

_Fil_. Which you gain as they do Towns by Fire, lose 'em even in the
taking; thou wo't grow penitent, and weary of these dangerous Follys.

_Gal_. But I am yet too young for both: Let old Age and Infirmity bring
Repentance,--there's her feeble Province, and even then too we find no
plague like being deprived of dear Woman-kind.

_Fil_. I hate playing about a Flame that will consume me.

_Gal_. Away with your antiquated Notions, and let's once hear sense from
thee: Examine but the whole World, _Harry_, and thou wilt find a
beautiful Woman the Desire of the noblest, and the Reward of the bravest.

_Fil_. And the common Prize of Coxcombs: Times are alter'd now, _Frank_;
why else shou'd the Virtuous be cornuted, the Coward be caress'd, the
Villain roll with six, and the Fool lie with her Ladyship?

_Gal_. Mere accident, Sir; and the kindness of Fortune: but a pretty
witty young Creature, such as this _Silvianetta_ and _Euphemia_, is
certainly the greatest Blessing this wicked World can afford us.

_Fil_. I believe the lawful enjoyment of such a Woman, and honest too,
wou'd be a Blessing.

_Gal_. Lawful Enjoyment! Prithee what's lawful Enjoyment, but to enjoy
'em according to the generous indulgent Law of Nature; enjoy 'em as we do
Meat, Drink, Air, and Light, and all the rest of her common Blessings?--
Therefore prithee, dear Knight, let me govern thee but for a Day, and I
will shew thee such a _Signiora_, such a Beauty, another manner of piece
than your so admired _Viterboan, Donna Marcella_, of whom you boast so
much.

_Fil_. And yet this rare piece is but a Curtezan, in coarse plain
_English_ a very Whore,--who filthily exposes all her Beauties to him can
give her most, not love her best.

_Gal_. Why, faith, to thy comfort be it spoken, she does distribute her
Charms at that easy rate.

_Fil_. Oh, the vast distance between an innocent Passion, and a poor
faithless Lust!

_Gal_. Innocent Passion at _Rome_! Oh, 'tis not to be nam'd but in some
Northern Climate: to be an Anchoret here, is to be an Epicure in
_Greenland_; impossibilities, _Harry_. Sure thou hast been advising with
Sir _Signal Buffoon's_ Governour, that formal piece of Nonsense and
Hypocrisy.

_Fil_. No, faith, I brought the humour along with me to _Rome_; and for
your Governour I have not seen him yet, though he lodge in this same
House with us, and you promis'd to bring me acquainted with him long
since.

_Gal_. I'll do't this very minute.

_Fil_. No, I'm oblig'd not to engage my self this Evening, because I
expect the arrival of Count _Julio_, whose last Letters assured me it
would be to night.

_Gal_. _Julio_! What, the young _Italian_ Count you made me acquainted
with last Summer in _England_?

_Fil_. The same, the Ambassador's Nephew, a good Youth, and one I esteem.

_Enter_ Julio.

_Jul_. I hope my Page will bring intelligence who this Beauty is.

_Fil_. Hah, _Julio_! Welcome, dear Friend.
[_Embraces him_.

_Jul_. Sir _Harry Fillamour_! how glad am I to meet you in a Country,
where I have power to repay you all those Friendships I receiv'd when I
was a stranger in yours. Monsieur _Galllard_ too! nay, then I'm sure to
want no diversion whilst I stay in _Rome_.
[_Salutes_ Galliard.

_Fil_. But, pray, what made you leave _England_ so soon?

_Jul_. E'en the great business of Mankind, Matrimony. I have an Uncle
here, who has provided me Fetters, which I must put on, he says they will
be easy; I lik'd the Character of my Mistress well enough, a brave
masculine Lady, a Roman of Quality, _Donna Laura Lucretia_; till as luck
wou'd have it, at my arrival this Evening, stepping into St. _Peter's_
Church, I saw a Woman there that fir'd my heart, and whom I followed to
her house: but meeting none that cou'd inform me who she was, I left my
Page to make the discovery, whilst I with equal impatience came to look
you out; whose sight I prefer even to a new Amour, resolving not to visit
home, to which I have been a stranger this seven years, till I had kist
your hands, and gained your promise to accompany me to _Viterbo_.

_Fil_. _Viterbo_! is that your place of Residence?

_Jul_. Yes, 'tis a pretty Town, and many noble Familys inhabit there,
stor'd too with Beauties, at least 'twas wont to be: have you not seen
it?

_Gal_. Yes, and a Beauty there too, lately, for his repose, who has made
him sigh and look so like an Ass ever since he came to _Rome_.

_Jul_. I am glad you have so powerful an Argument, to invite you back; I
know she must be rare and of quality, that cou'd engage your heart.

_Fil_. She's both; it most unluckily fell out, that I was recommended by
a Person of Quality in _England_ to a Nobleman at _Viterbo_, who being a
Man of a Temper frank and gallant, received me with less Ceremony than is
usual in _Italy_. I had the freedom of the House, one of the finest
_Villa's_ belonging to _Viterbo_, and the pleasure to see and converse at
a distance with one of the loveliest Persons in the World, a Niece of
this old Count's.

_Jul_. Very well, and cou'd you see her but at a distance, Sir?

_Fil_. Oh, no, 'twas all I durst desire, or she durst give; I came too
late to hope; she being before promised in Marriage to a more happy man,
the Consummation of which waits only the arrival of a Brother of hers,
who is now at the Court of _France_, and every day expected.

_Enter_ Petro _like a Barber_.

_Gal_. Hah! Signior _Petro_.

_Fil_. Come, Sir, we'll take a turn i'th' Gallery, for this Pimp never
appears, but _Francis_ desires to be in private.

_Gal_. Thou wrong'st an honest ingenious Fellow, to call him Pimp.

_Pet_. Ah, Signior, what his Worship pleases!

_Gal_. That thou art I'll be sworn, or what any man's Worship pleases;
for let me tell ye, _Harry_, he is capacitated to oblige in any
quality: for, Sir, he's your brokering Jew, your Fencing, Dancing, and
Civility-Master, your Linguist, your Antiquary, your Bravo, your Pathick,
Your Whore, your Pimp; and a thousand more Excellencies he has to supply
The necessities of the wanting Stranger.--Well, Sirrah--what design now
Upon Sir _Signal_ and his wise Governour?--What do you represent now?

_Pet_. A Barber, Sir.

_Gal_. And why a Barber, good Signior _Petro_?

_Pet_. Oh, Sir, the sooner to take the heights of their Judgments; it
gives handsome opportunities to commend their Faces; for if they are
pleas'd with flattery, the certain sign of a Fool's to be most tickled
when most commended, I conclude 'em the fitter for my purpose; they
already put great confidence in me, will have no Masters but of my
recommending, all which I supply my self, by the help of my several
disguises; by which, and my industry, I doubt not but to pick up a good
honest painful livelihood, by cheating these two Reverend Coxcombs.

_Gal_. How the Devil got'st thou this credit with 'em?

_Pet_. O, easily, Sir, as Knaves get Estates, or Fools Employments.

_Fil_. I hope amongst all your good qualities, you forgot not your more
natural one of pimping.

_Pet_. No, I assure you, Sir; I have told Sir _Signal Buffoon_, that no
Man lives here without his Inamorata: which very word has so fir'd him,
that he's resolved to have an Inamorata whate'er it cost him; and, as in
all things else, I have in that too promised my assistance.

_Gal_. If you assist him no better than you have done me, he may stay
long enough for his Inamorata.

_Pet_. Why, faith, Sir, I lie at my young Lady night and day; but she is
so loth to part with that same Maiden-head of hers yet--but to morrow
night, Sir, there's hopes.--

_Gal_. To morrow night; Oh, 'tis an Age in Love! Desire knows no time but
the present, 'tis now I wish, and now I wou'd enjoy: a new Day ought to
bring a new Desire.

_Pet_. Alas, Sir, I'm but an humble Bravo.

_Gal_. Yes, thou'rt a Pimp, yet want'st the Art to procure a longing
Lover the Woman he adores, though but a common Curtezan--Oh, confound her
Maiden-head--she understands her Trade too well, to have that badge of
Innocence.

_Pet_. I offered her her Price, Sir.

_Gal_. Double it, give any thing, for that's the best receipt I ever
found to soften Womens hearts.

_Pet_. Well, Sir, she will be this Evening in the Garden of _Medices
Villa_, there you may get an opportunity to advance your Interest--I must
step and trim _Mr. Tickletext_, and then am at your service.
[_Exit_ Petro.

_Jul_. What is this Knight and his Governour, who have the blessed
Fortune to be manag'd by this Squire?

_Fil_. Certain Fools _Galliard_ makes use of when he has a mind to laugh,
and whom I never thought worth a visit since I came to _Rome:_ and he's
like to profit much by his Travels, who keeps company with all the
_English_, especially the Fops.

_Gal_. Faith, Sir, I came not abroad to return with the formality of a
Judge; and these are such antidotes against Melancholy as wou'd make thee
fond of fooling.--Our Knight's Father is even the first Gentleman of his
House, a Fellow, who having the good fortune to be much a Fool and Knave,
had the attendant blessing of getting an Estate of some eight thousand a
year, with this Coxcomb to inherit it; who (to aggrandize the Name and
Family of the _Buffoons_) was made a Knight; but to refine throughout,
and make a compleat Fop, was sent abroad under the Government of one Mr.
_Tickletext_, his zealous Father's Chaplain, as errant a blockhead as a
man wou'd wish to hear preach; the Father wisely foreseeing the eminent
danger that young Travellers are in of being perverted to Popery.

_Jul_. 'Twas well considered.

_Gal_. But for the young Spark, there is no description can reach him;
'tis only to be done by himself; let it suffice, 'tis a pert, saucy,
conceited Animal, whom you shall just now go see and admire, for he
lodges in the house with us.

_Jul_. With all my heart, I never long'd more for a new acquaintance.

_Fil_. And in all probability shall sooner desire to be rid on't.--
_Allons_.

[_Exeunt_.

SCENE II. _Draws off to a room in_ Tickletext's _lodging, and discovers
Mr_. Tickletext _a trimming, his Hair under a Cap, a Cloth before him:_
Petro _snaps his fingers, takes away the Bason, and goes to wiping his
face_.

Tickletext _and_ Petro.

_Pet_. Ah che Bella! Bella! I swear by these sparkling Eyes and these
soft plump dimpled Cheeks, there's not a Signiora in all _Rome_, cou'd
she behold 'em, were able to stand their Temptations; and for _La
Silvianetta_, my life on't, she's your own.

_Tick_. Teze, teze, speak softly; but, honest _Barberacho_, do I, do I
indeed look plump, and young, and fresh and--hah!

_Pet_. Ay, Sir, as the rosy Morn, young as old Time in his Infancy, and
plump as the pale-fac'd Moon.

_Tick_. He--Why, this Travelling must needs improve a Man--Why, how
admirably well-spoken your very Barbers are here--[_Aside_.]--But,
_Barberacho_, did the young Gentlewoman say she lik'd me? did she, Rogue?
did she?

_Pet_. A doated on you Signior, doated on you.

_Tick_. Why, and that's strange now, in the Autumn of my Age too, when
Nature began to be impertinent, as a Man may say, that a young Lady
shou'd fall in love with me--[_Aside_.] Why, _Barberacho_, I do not
conceive any great matter of Sin only in visiting a Lady that loves a
man, hah.

_Pet_. Sin, Sir! 'tis a frequent thing now-a-days in Persons of your
Complexion.

_Tick_. Especially here at _Rome_ too, where 'tis no scandal.

_Pet_. Ah, Signior, where the Ladies are privileg'd and Fornication
licensed.

_Tick_. Right! and when 'tis licens'd, 'tis lawful; and when 'tis lawful,
it can be no Sin: besides, _Barberacho_, I may chance to turn her, who
knows?

_Pet_. Turn her, Signior, alas, any way, which way you please.

_Tick_. He, he, he! There thou wert knavish, I doubt--but I mean convert
her--nothing else I profess, _Barberacho_.

_Pet_. True, Signior, true, she's a Lady of an easy nature, and an
indifferent Argument well handled will do't--ha--here's your head of
Hair--here's your natural [_combing out his Hair_.] Frize! And such an
Air it gives the Face!--So, Signior--Now you have the utmost my Art can
do.
[_Takes away the Cloth, and bows_.

_Tick_. Well, Signior,--and where's your Looking-glass?

_Pet_. My Looking-glass!

_Tick_. Yes, Signior, your Looking-glass! an _English_ Barber wou'd as
soon have forgotten to have snapt his fingers, made his leg, or taken his
Money, as have neglected his Looking-glass.

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