Complete Fictional Works of Henry Fielding

by Henry Fielding

  MR. SPINDLE. Captain Weazel, I thank you. I hope you are well.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. AS well as a dead man can be, my dear.

  MR. SPINDLE. And faith! that’s better than any living man can be, at least, any living beau. Dead men (they say) feel no pain; and I am sure we beaus, while alive, feel little else; but however, at last, thanks to a little fever and a great doctor, I have shaken off a bad constitution; and now I intend to take one dear swing of raking, drinking, whoring, and playing the devil, as I have done in the other world.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. I suppose then you think this world exactly like that you have left?

  MR. SPINDLE. Why, you have whores here, have you not?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Oh, in abundance.

  MR. SPINDLE. Give me a buss for that, my dear. And some of our acquaintance, fine ladies, are there not?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Ay, scarce any other.

  MR. SPINDLE. Thou dear dog! Well, and how dost thou lead thy life, thy death I should say, among ‘em?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Faith! Jack, even as I led my life between cards, dice, music, taverns, wenches, masquerades.

  MR. SPINDLE. Masquerades! Have you those too?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Those! Ay, they were borrowed hence.

  MR. SPINDLE. What a delicious place this hell is!

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Sir, it is the only place a fine gentleman ought to be in.

  MR. SPINDLE. How it was misrepresented to us in the other world!

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Pshaw! that hell did not belong to our religion; for you and I, Jack, you know, and most of our acquaintance, were always heathens.

  MR. SPINDLE. Well, but what sort of a fellow is the old gentleman, the devil, hey?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Is he? Why, a very pretty sort of a gentleman, a very fine gentleman; but, my dear, you have seen him five hundred times already. The moment I saw him here I remembered to have seen him shuffle cards at White’s and George’s; to have met him often on the Exchange, and in the Alley, and never missed him in or about Westminster Hall. I will introduce you to him.

  MR. SPINDLE. Ay, do. And tell him I was hanged, that will recommend me to him.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. No, hanged, no; then he will take you for a poor rogue, a sort of people he abominates so, that there are scarce any of them here. No, if you would recommend yourself to him, tell him you deserved to be hanged, and was too great for the law.

  MR. SPINDLE. Won’t he find me out?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. If he does, nothing pleases him so much as lying: for which reason he is so fond of no sort of people as the lawyers.

  MR. SPINDLE. Methinks, he might, for the same reason, be fond of us courtiers too.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Sir, we have no cause to complain of our reception.

  MR. SPINDLE. But have you no news here, Jack?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Yes, truly, we have some, and pretty remarkable news too. Here is a man come hither after his wife.

  MR. SPINDLE. What, to desire the devil to take great care of her, that she may not come back again?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. No, really, to desire her back again; and ‘Tis thought he will obtain his request.

  MR. SPINDLE. Ay; he must be a hard-hearted devil indeed, to deny a man such a request as that.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Did you never hear of him in the other world? he is a very fine singer, and his name is Orpheus.

  MR. SPINDLE. Oh, ay! he’s an Italian. Signior Orpheo — I have heard him sing in the opera in Italy. I suppose when he goes back again they will have him in England. But who have we here?

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. This is the woman I spoke of, Madam Eurydice.

  MR. SPINDLE. Faith! she is handsome; and if she had been anybody’s wife but my own, I would have come hither for her with all my heart.

  AUTHOR. That sentiment completes the character of my courtier, who is so complaisant, that he sins only to comply with the mode; and goes to the devil, not out of any inclination, but because it is the fashion. Now for Madam Eurydice, who is the fine lady of my play: and a fine lady she is, or I am mistaken.

  Enter EURYDICE.

  EURYDICE. Captain Weazel, your very humble servant.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Your servant, Lady Fair. A gentleman of my acquaintance desires the honour of kissing your hands.

  EURYDICE. Any gentleman of your acquaintance! From England, I presume?

  MR. SPINDLE. Just arrived thence, madam.

  EURYDICE. You have not been at court, yet, sir, I suppose.

  You will meet with a very hearty welcome from his majesty.

  He has a particular kindness for people of your nation.

  MR. SPINDLE. I hope, madam, we shall always deserve it.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. But I hope the news is not true that we are to lose you, Madam Eurydice?

  EURYDICE. How can you doubt it, when my husband is come after me? Do you think Pluto can refuse me, or that I can refuse to go back with a husband who came hither for me?

  MR. SPINDLE. Faith! I don’t know; but if a husband was to go back to the other world after his wife, I believe he would scarce persuade her to come hither with him.

  EURYDICE. Oh but, sir, this place alters us much for the better. Women are quite different creatures after they have been here some time.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. And so you will go?

  EURYDICE. It is not in my power. You know it is positively against the law of the realm. In desiring to go I discharge the duty of a wife. And if the devil won’t let me, I can’t help it.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. I am afraid of the power of his voice. I wish he be able to resist that charm; and I fancy, if you was to confess ingenuously, it is his voice that charms you to go back again.

  EURYDICE. Indeed, sir, you are mistaken. I do not think the merit of a man, like that of a nightingale, lies in his throat. It is true, he has a fine pipe, and if you will carry your friend to court this morning, he may hear him; but though it is possible my heart may have its weak sides, I solemnly protest no one will ever reach it through my ears.

  MB. SPINDLE. That’s strange; for it is the only way to all the ladies’ hearts in the other world.

  EURYDICE. Ha, ha, ha! I find you beaus know just as much of a woman as you ever did. Do you imagine when a lady expires at an opera she thinks of the signior that’s singing? No, no, take my word for it, music puts softer and better things in her head.

  AIR I. Do not ash me, charming Phillis.

  When a woman lies expiring

  At fal, lal, lal, lal, la!

  Do you think her, sir, desiring

  Nothing more than ha, ha, ha?

  [Exit between the Beaus.

  CRITIC. If you will give me leave, sir, I think you have not enough distinguished the character of your courtier from your soldier.

  AUTHOR. What soldier! Have you mistaken my armybeau for a soldier? You might as well take a Temple-beau for a lawyer. Sir, a beau is a beau still, whatever profession he belongs to; the beaus in all professions differ in nothing but in dress; and therefore, sir, to distinguish the character of my army-beau from my court-beau, I clap a cockade into his hat, and that is all the distinction I can make between them — But mum: Pluto is going on.

  SCENE. — The Court of PLUTO.

  Enter PLUTO, PROSERPINE, and ORPHEUS.

  PLUTO. Indeed, friend Orpheus, I am concerned I cannot grant your request without infringing the laws of my realm. Ask me any thing else, and be certain of obtaining: riches, power, or whatever is in my gift. Indeed, you ought to be contented with the common fate of men. Consider, you had the possession of your wife something more than a twelvemonth.

  PROSERPINE. Long enough, I am sure, for any poor woman to be confined within the fetters of matrimony.

  PLUTO. Is it possible that that voice, which can lull the cares of every other asleep, should not be able to assuage those of your own breast?

  AUTHOR. NOW for a taste of Recitativo. My farce is an Oglio of tid-bits.

  ORPHEUS, (in Recitativo.)

  Curst be the cruel scissors of the fates


  That snipt her thread of life, and curst that law

  Which now forbids her to my arms.

  No, cruel King, detain your offered wealth,

  And hang my harp forsaken in your realm:

  For all things useless are to me

  Without Eurydice.

  AIR II.

  Riches, can you ease restore,

  Riches make me wish the more

  The possession of my sweet,

  To bestow them at her feet.

  What relief in softest lays

  Warbling all my charmer’s praise,

  Bidding fiercer passion rise,

  Teaching languish to my eyes.

  Then can wealth and music please,

  When my charmer smiles at these;

  But lest envy these bemoan,

  Give me, give me her alone.

  PLUTO. [In raptures.] O caro caro. — (What shall I do? If I hear another song I am vanquished. Should he desire thee, my dear, I could hardly deny him.)

  [Aside to Proserpine.

  PROSERPINE. That may possibly be, my dear (and I wish he would with all my heart). [Aside.

  PLUTO. Consider, child, there is no danger in the precedent: for as he is the first man who ever desired to have his wife again, it is possible he may be the last.

  PROSERPINE. I own the request odd enough; nor do I know any miracle that would equal it, unless she should consent to go along with him, which I much question; for I don’t remember to have ever heard her mention her husband’s name till his arrival here. And though you may make free with your own laws, and your own people, I hope, Mr. Pluto, you will not usurp any authority over mine. By Styx, if you give one dead wife back again to her husband against her will, I will make hell too hot to hold you.

  PLUTO. Do not be in a passion, my dear.

  PROSERPINE. My dear, I will be in a passion. Shall you prescribe to me what to be in?

  PLUTO. You need not fear the loss of your subjects; though you should promise to return every wife that was asked.

  PROSERPINE. How, sir! have I not several widows, whose jointures died with them; whose husbands would not only ask but walk hither barefoot to get them again? But you are always despising my subjects. I am sure no goddess of quality was ever used as I am. It would never be believed on earth, that the devil is a worse husband than any there.

  AUTHOR. Considering where the scene lies, I think these sentiments are not mal-à-propos.

  Enter EURYDICE, CAPTAIN WEAZEL, MR. SPINDLE. CAPTAIN WEAZEL introduces MR. SPINDLE to PLUTO and PROSERPINE. EURYDICE goes to ORPHEUS.

  ORPHEUS. (Recitativo.)

  Oh, my Eurydice! the cruel king,

  Still obdurate, refuses to my arms

  The repossession of my love.

  EURYDICE. (Recitativo.)

  Unkind Fate,

  So soon to put an end to all our joys!

  And barbarous law of Erebus

  That will not reinstate us in our bliss.

  ORPHEUS. And must you stay?

  EURYDICE. And must you go?

  ORPHEUS. Oh no!

  EURYDICE. ‘Tis so.

  ORPHEUS. Oh no!

  EURYDICE. ‘Tis so.

  CRITIC. Why does Eurydice speak in recitativo?

  AUTHOR. Out of complaisance to her husband. As you will find her to behave through my whole piece, like a very polite and well-bred lady. — I intend this couple as a contrast to the devil and his wife.

  AIR III.

  ORPHEUS. Farewell, ye groves and mountains,

  Ye once delighted fountains,

  Where my charmer used to stray,

  Where in gentle am’rous play,

  Wanton, willing,

  Burning, billing,

  Ever cheerful, ever gay,

  We have spent the summer-day,

  Where herds forget their lowing,

  And trees forget their blowing,

  Joining with the fleecy flocks,

  And the hard and massy rocks,

  All came prancing,

  Skipping, dancing:

  Not the magic of my song

  But thy eyes draw all along.

  PLUTO. I am conquered; by Styx, you shall have her back. Take my wife too; take every thing; another song, and take my crown.

  PROSERPINE. Hold, hold, not so generous, good King

  PLUTO. If the young lady pleases to return with her husband, as you have sworn by Styx, she may.

  AUTHOR. There, sir, there. I have carried the power of music beyond Orpheus, Amphion, and all of them; I have made it inspire a man to get the better of his wife.

  PROSERPINE. But I insist on her consent being asked.

  MR. SPINDLE [To Weazel]. I find in hell the grey mare is the better horse.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL. Yes, faith! Jack, and no where else, I believe.

  ORPHEUS. Thanks, most infernal majesty; I ask no greater boon.

  EURYDICE. You may depend too surely on your Eurydice, to doubt her consent to whatever would make you happy. But — it is a long way from hence to the other world; and you know, by experience, my dear, I am an exceeding bad traveller.

  ORPHEUS. I’ll carry you on my shoulders.

  EURYDICE. O, dear creature! your shoulders would fail; indeed, they would. And if I should be taken sick on the road, what should I do? Indeed, in this world, I might make a tolerable shift; but on the other side the river Styx, if I was fainting, no public-house dare sell me a dram.

  ORPHEUS. I will buy two gallons, and carry them with me.

  EURYDICE. Life, child, is so very uncertain, that who knows but as soon as I am got hence I may be summoned back the next day; and consider, what an intolerable fatigue two such journeys taken together would be.

  ORPHEUS. Is it not a journey which I have undertaken for you?

  EURYDICE. O you great creature, you! You are a man, and I am a poor weak woman. I hope you don’t compare your strength with mine. Besides, if I was able to go, it is really so much better to be here than to be married, that I must be mighty silly to think of returning. Indeed, dear Orphy, I should be ashamed to show my face after it.

  AIR IV.

  Oh Lud! I should be quite ashamed,

  My former friends to see;

  In an assembly if I’m named,

  They’d point and cry, That’s she.

  From husbands when ‘Tis thought so fine

  For wives to run away,

  Should I return again with mine,

  What can the world all say?

  ORPHEUS. Can you go then? will you refuse me?

  EURYDICE. My dear, you know I always hated to refuse you so much, that I hated you should ask me any thing: if it was reasonable, I should do it of my own accord: but I never will be persuaded out of my reason.

  AIR V.

  ORPHEUS. That marriage is a great evil,

  Who’ll ever dispute more in life,

  When they hear I’ve prevailed on the devil,

  And cannot prevail on my wife, poor man!

  And cannot prevail on my wife.

  EURYDICE. But when those who hear your sad ditty

  Shall the date of your wedding explore,

  Do you think men a husband will pity,

  Who should have known better before, poor man!

  Who should have known better before.

  PLUTO. The doom is fixed, I ask your pardon, my dear;

  [To Proserpine] but I swore by Styx before I thought of it, that she should go.

  PROSERPINE. Ay, you are always swearing before you think of it: However, Eurydice, since that’s the case, the oath must be kept. But I can add a clause to the bill, if he looks back on you once in the way, you shall return, and that I swear by Styx.

  PLUTO. Do you hear, sir, what my wife says?

  MR. SPINDLE [To Weazel]. This river Styx seems a pretty way of ending controversies between man and wife. It is pity the Thames had not the same virtue.

  ORPHEUS. Thanks, most diabolical majesty, for your infernal kindness.

  PLUT
O. I hope you will take care, and not forfeit the advantage of this favour I have granted you.

  PROSERPINE. Which I have granted, if you please, sir.

  PLUTO. Ay, which my wife has granted.

  CAPTAIN WEAZEL [To Spindle]. You see how ill people express themselves, when they call a bad husband the devil of a husband.

  EURYDICE. I thank your majesty, madam, for your interposition in my behalf, and if I did not improve it, I should be unworthy of your royal favour.

  PROSERPINE. I doubt not but you have been here long enough to learn to outwit your husband.

  EURYDICE. Few women, madam, need come hither to learn that art.