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ID Title Author Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) STC Words Pages
A30312 The reform'd wife a comedy, as it is acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury Lane. Burnaby, William, 1672 or 3-1706. 1700 (1700) Wing B5745; ESTC R7058 43,057 55

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Noble Captain Enter Freeman Freem Sir Solomon Empty Sir Sol. Welcome from Flanders Tom welcome from Flanders What ne'er a Wooden Leg yet Why thou art the unluckiest Fellow in the World Not an Ear or an Eye or a peice of thy Nose off but return'st to thy Friends like an ordinary Man Free Sighs Sir Sol. Come don't be Melancholly but tell us what weeping Orphans and smiling Widows thou hast made what Towns demolish'd this Campain Free Faith Sir Solomon I have demolish'd nothing but my Commission and made no Orphans but my self I am broke that 's all Sir Sol. Ay and enough too but how so Tom Do you know Free Prithee lay this aside all I know is that I am come from starving in a Crowd to starve in a Corner Sir Sol. Starve A young Fellow and talk of starving Free I know thou understand'st Men make me a little acquainted with my self and tell me what I am fit for I have been thinking a great while and can find no Virtue to lay to my charge Sir Sol. O! You are modest Tom you are modest but let me see fit for Thou hast a good Voice I have heard upon a Muster and wert of the Temple before the War what dost thou think of the Law Free Very well but I know nothing of it but what I have got from being Arrested Sir Sol. Enough enough Tom I knew several Eminent Pleaders that got Estates with as little 't is but talking on and loud Free But we Soldiers Sir Solomon are so us'd to dispatch a business at a blow that I should starve before I cou'd arrive at their secret of perplexing a matter and spining out a cause beside I want all the requisites the double Dealing the Impudence The Lungs The Conscience Sir Sol. Conscience Nay Tom if thou hast that in thy Head thou wert born to be a Beggar but is there no way hark ye Tom thou art a very Clean Shap'd-Fellow what if you went into the Playhouse and turn'd Actor Ha! ha I thought I shou'd make thy Fortune at last Why thou may'st come to be a King in time and keep Company with Princes I 'll warrant they shall make thee an Alderman the first dash Free I 'd rather be his Horse Sir Sol. They 'll try your Talent Tom not but thou may'st get as much honour from acting a Cobler as acting a Lord as an old Moralist said of the World and I had rather see a Scaramouch than an Emperor for there 's that Dog that sly Rogue that arch Son of a Whore that Pinkethman there 's always more in that Fellows Face than his words and to see that Rascal Act does me more good than railing against the Court party well Tom how do ye like a Player Free As ill as I do a Lawyer and I am quite as unfit for it I cou'd no more listen to the dull Chat of every Fop behind the Scenes than I cou'd bear his slinking Breath then I shou'd scarce be imploy'd enough to live by it for I cou'd not act in a dull Play because I hate to speak any Bodies nonsence but my own and to be Hist off the Stage or punish'd for an others Crime Sir Sol. Is the Devil but that would never happen if these silly Fellows the Poets would be rul'd they are still aiming at Wit If I was to write a Play Fre. You wou'd not split upon that Rock Sir Sol. No no Tom I 'd have something to divert every Body I 'd have your Atheism to please the Wits some affectation to entertain the Beaux a Rape or two to engage the Ladies and I 'd bring in the Bears before every Act to secure an interest in the Upper Gallery Fre. You have forgot one Range what wou'd you do for the Cits in the Middle Sir Sol. Why I 'd raise 'em a Ghost to tell their Children of when they come home but now you speak of Cits Tom I have an imployment that will fit thee The Ladies Tom the Ladies there 's the Treasure at last Fre. Ay such a Treasure as I shall spend my own before I shall find Sir Sol. Why what charges can there be when you Factor for your self Fre. O the greater He that won't imploy a Procuress out of good Husbandry is like him that shoots his Wild-fowl to save money when he reckons the Powder the Shot and other Expences he 'll find that he might a had 'em cheaper of a Poulterer Sir Sol. I see Tom thou run'st into the common error of ingenious Men who think the World is govern'd by reason you may perhaps come to live happy in it with your reason but the way to be a great Man is to be enterprizing Fre. Indeed I am apt to think he 'll never do Miracles that does nothing but what he should do Sir Sol. In that thought I leave you going But one hint more The two grand Lotteries Tom in this Town for broken Officers and Lovers are the Prayers and the Play go try your Fortune my Hercules I warrant you 're happy the Prayers and the Play Aside Exit Sir Sol. Fre. If I was sure of meeting any of thy Relations there it might tempt me to go Now this old Rascal thinks a Soldier fit for any thing that 's mean and values himself upon his Riches that we have secur'd to him with our Blood What Gallant Spirit would move a Finger for such Slaves To bear all hardships and stand intrepid midst a thousand horrours where Glory pushes us beyond our selves to be despised when we return and among the very People he has sav'd with all his wounds the tatter'd Hero starves but Ingratitude 's a humane Virtue no Beast ever pretended to it and it is so perfectly in our Nature that we may observe no People hate so heartily as those that have been highly obliged as for us it seems there is no Rogue like a Soldier we are a sort of Vagabonds that are fit indeed upon occasion to stand between sober folks and danger and are us'd just like a Militia Officer's Sword when training day's over 't is thrown aside O such Worthies Exit Re-enter Sir Solomon Ha ha ha Woe be to some poor Dog of a Husband who knows now whose fate may depend upon this advice of mine some Lord or Alderman or perhaps some industrious Merchant that may be sweating at the Indies while his Wife ha ha ha well I am a mischievous Dog but let 'em take what follows Enter Cleremont Ha my Friend Cleremont the Spirit of Mirth and Wickedness Cle. Singing Drink and drive care away Sir Sol. Now this Fellow 's Merry will I sift him 't was Machiavil's way aside I read Joy in thy Face has thy pony Mistress been kind hast thou Cur'd her of all Distempers and made her say Yes Cle. Ah don't speak of her Sir Solomon don't Name her 't is touching upon ones madness in an interval of Sence and enough to make me rave in Flames and darts