"When Love grows cold, and indifference has usurped upon old Esteem, it is no marvel if the world begin to account _that_ dependence, which hitherto has been esteemed honorable shelter. The course I have taken (in leaving this house, not easily wrought thereunto,) seemed to me best for the once-for-all releasing of yourself (who in times past have deserved well of me) from the now daily, and not-to-be-endured, tribute of forced love, and ill-dissembled reluctance of affection.

"MARGARET."

Gone! gone! my girl? so hasty, Margaret!

And never a kiss at parting? shallow loves, And likings of a ten days' growth, use courtesies, And shew red eyes at parting. Who bids "farewell"

In the same tone he cries "G.o.d speed you, Sir?"

Or tells of joyful victories at sea, Where he hath ventures? does not rather m.u.f.fle His organs to emit a leaden sound, To suit the melancholy dull "farewell,"

Which they in Heaven not use?-- So peevish, Margaret?

But 'tis the common error of your s.e.x, When our idolatry slackens, or grows less, (As who of woman born can keep his faculty Of Admiration, being a decaying faculty, For ever strain'd to the pitch? or can at pleasure Make it renewable, as some appet.i.tes are, As, namely, Hunger, Thirst?--) this being the case, They tax us with neglect, and love grown cold, Coin plainings of the perfidy of men, Which into maxims pa.s.s, and apothegms To be retailed in ballads.-- I know them all.

They are jealous, when our larger hearts receive More guests than one. (Love in a woman's heart Being all in one.) For me, I am sure I have room here For more disturbers of my sleep than one.

Love shall have part, but Love shall not have all.

Ambition, Pleasure, Vanity, all by turns, Shall lie in my bed, and keep me fresh and waking; Yet Love not be excluded.--Foolish wench, I could have lov'd her twenty years to come, And still have kept my liking. But since 'tis so, Why, fare thee well, old play-fellow! I'll try To squeeze a tear for old acquaintance sake.

I shall not grudge so much.--

_To him enters Lovel_.

LOVEL Bless us, Woodvil! what is the matter? I protest, man, I thought you had been weeping.

WOODVIL Nothing is the matter, only the wench has forced some water into my eyes, which will quickly disband.

LOVEL I cannot conceive you.

WOODVIL Margaret is flown.

LOVEL Upon what pretence?

WOODVIL Neglect on my part: which it seems she has had the wit to discover, maugre all my pains to conceal it.

LOVEL Then, you confess the charge?

WOODVIL To say the truth, my love for her has of late stopt short on this side idolatry.

LOVEL As all good Christians' should, I think.

WOODVIL I am sure, I could have loved her still within the limits of warrantable love.

LOVEL A kind of brotherly affection, I take it.

WOODVIL We should have made excellent man and wife in time.

LOVEL A good old couple, when the snows fell, to crowd about a sea-coal fire, and talk over old matters.

WOODVIL While each should feel, what neither cared to acknowledge, that stories oft repeated may, at last, come to lose some of their grace by the repet.i.tion.

LOVEL Which both of you may yet live long enough to discover. For, take my word for it, Margaret is a bird that will come back to you without a lure.

WOODVIL Never, never, Lovel. Spite of my levity, with tears I confess it, she was a lady of most confirmed honour, of an unmatchable spirit, and determinate in all virtuous resolutions; not hasty to antic.i.p.ate an affront, nor slow to feel, where just provocation was given.

LOVEL What made you neglect her, then?

WOODVIL Mere levity and youthfulness of blood, a malady incident to young men, physicians call it caprice. Nothing else. He, that slighted her, knew her value: and 'tis odds, but, for thy sake, Margaret, John will yet go to his grave a bachelor. (_A noise heard, as of one drunk and singing_.)

LOVEL Here comes one, that will quickly dissipate these humours.

(_Enter one drunk_.)

DRUNKEN MAN Good-morrow to you, gentlemen. Mr. Lovel, I am your humble servant.

Honest Jack Woodvil, I will get drunk with you to-morrow.

WOODVIL And why to-morrow, honest Mr. Freeman?

DRUNKEN MAN I scent a traitor in that question. A beastly question. Is it not his Majesty's birth-day? the day, of all days in the year, on which King Charles the second was graciously pleased to be born. (_Sings_) "Great pity 'tis such days as those should come but once a year."

LOVEL Drunk in a morning! foh! how he stinks!

DRUNKEN MAN And why not drunk in a morning? can'st tell, bully?

WOODVIL Because, being the sweet and tender infancy of the day, methinks, it should ill endure such early blightings.

DRUNKEN MAN I grant you, 'tis in some sort the youth and tender nonage of the day.

Youth is bashful, and I give it a cup to encourage it. (_Sings_) "Ale that will make Grimalkin prate."--At noon I drink for thirst, at night for fellowship, but, above all, I love to usher in the bashful morning under the auspices of a freshening stoop of liquor. (_Sings_) "Ale in a Saxon rumkin then makes valour burgeon in tall men."--But, I crave pardon. I fear I keep that gentleman from serious thoughts. There be those that wait for me in the cellar.

WOODVIL Who are they?

DRUNKEN MAN Gentlemen, my good friends, Cleveland, Delaval, and Truby. I know by this time they are all clamorous for me. (_Exit, singing._)

WOODVIL This keeping of open house acquaints a man with strange companions.

(Enter, at another door, Three calling for Harry Freeman._)

Harry Freeman, Harry Freeman.

He is not here. Let us go look for him.

Where is Freeman?

Where is Harry?

(_Exeunt the Three, calling for Freeman._)

WOODVIL Did you ever see such gentry? (_laughing_). These are they that fatten on ale and tobacco in a morning, drink burnt brandy at noon to promote digestion, and piously conclude with quart b.u.mpers after supper, to prove their loyalty.

LOVEL Come, shall we adjourn to the Tennis Court?

WOODVIL No, you shall go with me into the gallery, where I will shew you the _Vand.y.k.e_ I have purchased. "The late King taking leave of his children."

LOVEL I will but adjust my dress, and attend you. (_Exit Lovel._)

JOHN WOODVIL (_alone_) Now Universal England getteth drunk For joy that Charles, her monarch, is restored: And she, that sometime wore a saintly mask, The stale-grown vizor from her face doth pluck, And weareth now a suit of morris bells, With which she jingling goes through all her towns and villages.

The baffled factions in their houses sculk: The common-wealthsman, and state machinist, The cropt fanatic, and fifth-monarchy-man, Who heareth of these visionaries now?

They and their dreams have ended. Fools do sing, Where good men yield G.o.d thanks; but politic spirits, Who live by observation, note these changes Of the popular mind, and thereby serve their ends.