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_Bel_. Death, you Dog! you deserve to die, for your base Designs upon a Maid of her Quality--How durst you, Sister, without my leave, marry that Rascal?
_Phil_. Sir, you deny'd me my Portion, and my Uncle design'd to turn me out of doors, and in my Despair I accepted of him.
_Flaunt_. Married! and to a Wife of no Fortune! that's the worst part on't--what shall I do?
_Bel_. Renounce this leud Fool, and I'll make thee a Fortune suitable to thy Quality.
Sir _Tim_. Say you so?--Renounce me, Sir! I'd have you to know I merit her: And as for Leudness, I name no body, _Bellmour_--but only some have the Art of hiding it better than I--but for Whoring, Drinking, Dicing, and all the deadly Sins that thereupon depend, I thank my Stars, I come short of you: And since you say, I shall not have your Sister, by Fortune, I will have your Sister, and love your Sister, and lie with your Sister, inspite of you.
_Lord_. Well, Sir _Timothy_, since my Niece has done amiss, 'tis too late to mend it--and that you may not repent, I'll take care her Fortune shall be suitable to the Jointure you'll make her.
_Bel_. With this Proviso, that you make no Settlement to Misses, Sir _Timothy_--I am not so unreasonable to tie you up from all of that Profession; that were to spoil a fas.h.i.+onable Husband, and so put you quite out of Fop-road.
_Lord_. This Day we'll set apart for Mirth, And all must make my House their happy home.
_Bel_. To thee, _Celinda_! all my Good I owe, My Life, my Fortune, and my Honour too, Since all had perish'd by a broken Vow.
_Flaunt_. What, am I like to lose my _Timmy_? Canst thou have the Heart to leave me for ever? I who have been true and constant to you?
Sir _Tim_. Alas! now I must melt again, by Fortune--thou art a Fool, dost think I wou'd have had her, but for her Fortune? which shall only serve to make thee out-flaunt all the Cracks in Town--go--go home and expect me, thou'lt have me all to thy self within this Day or two:
Since Marriage but a larger Licence is For every Fop of Mode to keep a Miss.
EPILOGUE.
Spoken by Sir _Timothy Tawdrey_.
_Sir_ Timothy, _Gallants, at last is come To know his Sentence, and receive his Doom, But pray before you are resolv'd to be Severe, look on your selves, and then on me; Observe me well, I am a Man of Show, Of Noise, and Nonsense, as are most of you.
Though all of you don't share with me in t.i.tle, In Character you differ very little.
Tell me in what you find a Difference?
It may be you will say, you're Men of Sense; But Faith-- Were one of you o'th' Stage, and I i'th' Pit, He might be thought the Fop, and I the Wit.
On equal Grounds you'll scarce know one from t'other; We are as like, as Brother is to Brother.
To judge against me then wou'd be Ill-Nature, For Men are kind to those they're like in Feature.
For Judges therefore I accept you all; By you, Sir_ Timothy _will stand or fall.
He's too faint-hearted that his Sentence fears, Who has the Honour to be try'd by's Peers_.
Written by Mr. _E.R_.
THE FALSE COUNT.
ARGUMENT.
Don Carlos, Governor of Cadiz, who has been contracted to Julia, now married to a rich old churl, Francisco, in order to gain her, mans a galley, which has been captured from the Turks, with some forty or fifty attendants disguised as ferocious Ottomans; and whilst she, her husband and a party of friends are taking a pleasure trip in a yacht, they are suddenly boarded and all made prisoners by the supposed corsairs, who carry them off to a country villa a few miles from the town belonging to Carlos' friend, Antonio, which, however, they are firmly convinc'd is a palace inhabited by the Great Turk himself. Here Carlos appears, dressed as the Sultan, with much pomp, and Francisco, overwhelmed with terror, speedily relinquishes Julia to his captor. In order to punish her for her intolerable arrogance, Isabella, Francisco's daughter by his former wife, who is designed to wed Antonio, is introduced to a chimney-sweep, Guiliom, masquerading as a n.o.ble of high degree. She forthwith strikes up a match with the False Count, leaving Antonio free to marry Clara, Julia's sister, whom he loves. No sooner, however, has the knot been securely tied than Guiliom, appearing in his sooty rags and with s.m.u.tched face, publicly demands and humiliates his haughty bride. The trick of the feigned Turks is discovered by the arrival at the villa of Baltazer, Julia's father. Don Carlos, however, claims his mistress by reason of his former contract, which is perforce allowed.
SOURCE.
Guiliom, masquerading as a Count, is of course directly derived from _Les Precieuses Ridicules_, first performed 18 November, 1659, and Isabella is a close copy of Cathos and Magdelon. Flecknoe had already adapted Moliere in _The Damoiselles a la Mode_, unacted (4to 1667); and seven years later than Mrs. Behn, Shadwell, in his fine comedy, _Bury Fair_ (1689), drew largely from the same source. His mock n.o.ble is a French peruke-maker, La Roch, who marries Lady Fantast's affected daughter.
Miller, in his _The Man of Taste; or, The Guardian_ (1735), blended the same plot with _L'Ecole des Maris_. The stratagem of the feigned Turkish s.h.i.+p capturing the yacht is a happy extension of a hint from the famous galley scene (Que diable allait-il faire a cette galere?), Act ii, 7, _Les Fourberies de Scapin_. This, however, is not original with Moliere, being entirely borrowed from _Le Pedant Joue_, Act ii, 4, of Cyrano de Bergerac (1654). What is practically a translation of _Les Fourberies de Scapin_ by Otway, was produced at the Duke's Theatre in 1677, and in the same year Ravenscroft included a great part of it in his _Scaramouch a Philosopher, Harlequin a Schoolboy, Bravo, Merchant, and Magician_.
In the Epilogue Mrs. Behn a.s.serts that she wrote _The False Count_ with ease in something less than a week. This may be a pardonable exaggeration; but there are certainly distinct marks of haste in the composition of the play. In Act iii, I, she evidently intended Francisco and his party to be seized as they were returning home by sea, at the end of the act she arranges their sea trip as an excursion on a yacht.
THEATRICAL HISTORY.
_The False Count; or, A New Way to Play an Old Game_ was produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorset Garden, in the autumn of 1682, not later than the end of October. An excellent rattling farce, it seems to have kept the stage at intervals for some twenty years. On 11 August, 1715, there was a revival at Lincoln's Inn Fields. It is billed as 'not acted ten years'. Spiller played Guiliom, Mrs. Moor Isabella, and Mrs. Thurmond Julia. There is no further record of its performance.
THE FALSE COUNT: or, A New Way to play an old Game.
PROLOGUE.
Spoken by Mr. _Smith_.
_Know all ye Whigs and Tories of the Pit, (Ye furious Guelphs and Gibelins of Wit, Who for the Cause, and Crimes of Forty One So furiously maintain the Quarrel on) Our Author, as you'll find it writ in Story, Has. .h.i.therto been a most wicked Tory; But now, to th'joy o'th' Brethren be it spoken, Our Sister's vain mistaken Eyes are open; And wisely valuing her dear Interest now, All-powerful Whigs, converted is to you.
'Twas long she did maintain the Royal Cause, Argu'd, disputed, rail'd with great Applause; Writ Madrigals and Doggerel on the Times, And charg'd you all with your Fore-fathers Crimes; Nay, confidently swore no Plot was true, But that so slily carried on by you: Raised horrid Scandals on you, h.e.l.lish Stories, In Conventicles how you eat young Tories; As_ Jew _did heretofore eat_ Christian _Suckling; And brought an _Odium_ on your pious Gutling: When this is all Malice it self can say, You for the good Old Cause devoutly eat and pray.
Though this one Text were able to convert ye, Ye needy Tribe of Scriblers to the Party; Yet there are more advantages than these, For write, invent, and make what Plots you please, The wicked Party keep your Witnesses; Like frugal Cuckold-makers you beget Brats that secur'd by others fires shall sit.
Your Conventicling Miracles out-do All that the Wh.o.r.e of_ Babylon _e'er knew: By wondrous art you make Rogues honest Men, And when you please transform 'em Rogues again.
To day a Saint, if he but hang a Papist, Peach a true Protestant, your Saint's turn'd Atheist: And dying Sacraments do less prevail, Than living ones, though took in Lamb's-Wool-Ale.
Who wou'd not then be for a Common-weal, To have the Villain covered with his Zeal?
A Zeal, who for Convenience can dispense With Plays provided there's no Wit nor Sense.
For Wit's profane, and Jesuitical, And Plotting's Popery, and the Devil and all.
We then have fitted you with one to day, 'Tis writ as 'twere a Recantation Play; Renouncing all that has pretence to witty, T'oblige the Reverend_ Brumighams _o'th' City: No s.m.u.tty Scenes, no Jests to move your Laughter, Nor Love that so debauches all your Daughters.
But shou'd the Torys now,--who will desert me, Because they find no dry bobs on your Party, Resolve to hiss, as late did Popish Crew, By Yea and Nay, she'll throw her self on you, The grand Inquest of Whigs, to whom she's true. Then let 'em rail and hiss, and d.a.m.n their fill, Your Verdict will be_ Ignoramus _still_.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
MEN.
Don _Carlos_, Governour of _Cadiz_, young and rich, in love with _Julia_, Mr. _Smith_ _Antonio_, a Merchant, young and rich. Friend to _Carlos_, in love with _Clara_, but promis'd to _Isabella_, Mr. _Wilts.h.i.+re_ _Francisco_, old and rich, Husband to _Julia_, and Father to _Isabella_, Mr. _Nokes_.
_Baltazer_, Father to _Julia_ and _Clara_, Mr. _Bright_.