Alexander Pope - Delphi Poets Series

by Alexander Pope

  [Knocking at the door. Enter footman, gives a letter, and exit.]

  Enter another footman gives a letter, and exit.

  Foss. [reads] ‘Sincerely, madam, I cannot spare that sum; especially in monthly payments. My good friend and neighbour Pinch, a quiet sober man, is content to go a third part, only for leave to visit upon sabbath days.

  ‘Habakkuk Plumb.’

  ‘

  Well, frugallity is laudable even in iniquity! Now for this other.

  Opens the second letter.

  Foss. [reads] ‘Madam, I can’t make you rich, but I can make you immortal.

  Verses on Mrs. Susanna Townley, in the front box dress’d in green.

  In you the beauties of the spring are seen,

  Your cheeks are roses, and your dress is green.

  A poor dog of a poet! I fear him not.

  Enter a ragged fellow with a letter.

  Foot. My master is at present under a cloud —— He begs you will deliver this letter to your lady.

  [Exit.

  Foss. [reads] ‘I am reduced by your favours to ask the thing I formerly deny’d; that you would entertain me as a husband, who can no longer keep you as a mistress.

  ‘Charles Bat.’

  Why did I part with this fellow? This was a proposal indeed, to make both me and himself happy at once! He shall have her, and a twelve-month’s fees into the bargain. Where shall I find him? — Why was the mistress of all mankind unknown to thee alone? Why is nature so dark in our greatest concerns? Why are there no external symptoms of defloration, nor any pathognomick of the loss of virginity but a big belly? Why has not lewdness its tokens like the plague? Why must a man know rain by the aking of his corns, and have no prognostick of what is of infinitely greater moment, cuckoldom? Or if there are any marks of chastity, why is the enquiry allowed only to Turks and Jews, and denyed to Christians? O Townley, Townley! once to me the fragrant rose; now aloes, wormwood and snake-root! but I must not be seen.

  As Townley and Sarsnet enter, Fossile sneaks off.

  Town. Sarsnet, we are betray’d. I have discovered my husband posted at the door in Hugh’s livery, he has intercepted all my letters. I immediately writ this, which is the only thing that can bring us off. Run this moment to Plotwell, get him to copy it, and send it directed to me by his own servant with the utmost expedition. He is now at the chocolate-house in the next street.

  Sars. I fly, madam; but how will you disengage yourself from the affair with Underplot?

  Town. Leave it to me. Though he wants sense, he’s handsome, and I like the fellow; and if he is lucky enough to come in my husband’s absence. —— But prithee Sarsenet make haste.

  [Exit Townley and Sarsenet, upon which Fossile re-enters, to him Underplot.]

  Underp. Harke’e, friend. I never talk with one of your coat, but I first tip him.

  Foss. Behold the lucre of a pimp! Between the pox abroad, and my plague at home, I find a man may never want fees. [aside.] Your honour’s commands, I pray. I long to serve you.

  Underp. Ah, boy! thou hast a rare mistress for vails. Come I know thou art a sly dog; can’st thou introduce me to her for a moment’s conversation?

  Foss. Impossible.

  Underp. What, still impossible?

  [Gives more money.

  Foss. Still impossible.

  Underp. Poh, pox. But prithee, friend, by the by, is there any thing in this report that she is marry’d to the doctor here?

  Foss. I am afraid there is something in it.

  Underp. What a spirit does a jealous husband give to an intrigue! Pray, is he not a most egregious silly animal?

  Foss. Not exceeding wise indeed,

  Underp, Rich?

  Foss. He has money.

  Underp. That will save the expence of her gallants. Old?

  Foss. Ay, too old, heaven knows.

  Underp. How came it into the puppy’s head to marry?

  Foss. By the instigation of Satan.

  Underp. I’ll help the old fool to an heir.

  Foss. No doubt on’t. If the whole town can do it, he will not want one.

  [Aside.

  Underp. Come, prithee deal freely with me, Has Plotwell been here since the wedding?

  Foss. He has! too sure: [aside.] He’s a dangerous rival to you; if you have a mind to succeed, keep a strict watch upon him, that he may not get admittance before you.

  Underp. Well since thou hast shown thyself so much my friend, I’ll let thee into a secret. Plotwell and I no sooner heard of the wedding, but we made a bett of a hundred guineas, who should dub the doctor first. Remember you go twenty pieces with me.

  Foss. But here is some body coming. Away you are sure of my interest.

  [Exit Underplot.

  Foss. This was well judg’d. I have a small territory coveted by two rival potentates. It is profound policy to make them watch one the other, and so keep the ballance of power in my own hands. Certainly nothing so improves one’s politicks, as to have a coquet to on’es wife,

  Enter a footman with a letter,

  Foot. This is for your lady, Deliver it safe into her own hands.

  [Exit Footman.

  Fos. [reads.] ‘Know, cruel woman, I have discovered the secret of your marriage; you shall have all the plague of a jealous husband, without the pleasure of giving him cause. I have this morning counterfeited billetdoux and letters from bawds; nay, I have sent pimps; some of which, I hope, are fallen into your old coxcomb’s hands. If you deny me the pleasure of tipping him a real cuckold, at least, I’ll have the resentment to make him an imaginary one. Know that this is not the hundredth part of the revenge that shall be executed upon thee, by

  R. P.’

  Town. [peeping.] So. The letter works as I would have it.

  [Aside.

  Foss. How true is that saying of the philosopher! ‘We only know, that we know nothing.’ The eruption of those horns which seem’d to make so strong a push is now suppress’d. Is the mystery of all these letters nothing but the revenge of a disappointed lover? The hand and seal are just the same with the Welchman’s that I intercepted a while ago. Truly, these Welch are a hot revengeful people. My wife may be virtuous; she may not. Prevention is the safest method with diseases and intrigues. Women are wanton, husbands weak, bawds busy, opportunities dangerous, gallants eager; therefore it behoves honest men to be watchful. But here comes my Wife, I must hide myself; for should I be detected, she might have a just cause of complaint for my impertinent curiosity.

  Exit Fossi.

  Enter Townley; and to her Sarsnet at the other door.

  Sars. Your orders, madam, have been executed to a tittle, and I hope with success.

  Town. Extremely well. Just as we could have wish’d. But I can’t forgive that rascal Hugh. To turn him away would be dangerous. We will rather take the advantage of the confidence my husband has in him. Leave the husband to me, and do you discipline the footman. Such early curiosity must be crush’d in the bud. Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. [calls aloud, and rings.] What is become of the rogue?

  [Townley runs in, and drags out Fossile changing his cloaths with Hugh.

  Why sirrah! must one call all day for you?

  [cuffs him.

  Sars. This is not Hugh, madam; a rouge in disguise, got in to rob the house! thieves, thieves!

  Enter Clinket, Prue with the writing-desk, and servants

  Foss. St. St — no noise. Prithee, dearee, look upon me. See, see, thy own dear husband. It is I.

  Town. What an unfortunate woman am I! Could not you pass one day without an intrigue? and with a cookwench too! for you could put on a livery for no other end. You wicked man.

  Sars. His coldness, madam, is now no longer a mystery. Filthy monster! wer’t not thou provided with my mistress as a remedy for thy rampant unchastity?

  Town. Was all your indeffierence to me for this! you brute you.

  [weeps.

  Foss. Nay, prithee, dearee, judge not rashly. My character is establish’d in the wor
ld. There lives not a more sober, chaste, and virtuous person than doctor Fossile.

  Town. Then why this disguise?

  Foss, Since it must come out; ha, ha, ha, only a frolick on my wedding day between Hugh and I. We had a mind to exhibit a little mummery.

  Clink. What joy arises in my soul to see my uncle in a dramatick character! Since your humour lead you to the drama, uncle, why would you not consult a relative muse in your own family? I have always used you as my physician; and why should not you use me as your poet?

  Foss, Prithee, dear, leave me a moment. This is a scandal to my gravity. I’ll be with you, as my self, immediately.

  [Exeunt omnes, except Fossile and Hugh. As they are changing habits, Fossile says,

  As a mark of my confidence in thee, I leave thee guardian of my house while I go my rounds. Let none in but patients; wan sickly fellows, no person in the least degree of bodily strength.

  Hugh. Worthy doctor, you may rely upon my honour.

  Exit Fos.

  I have betray’d my mistress. My conscience flies in my face, and I can ease it noway but by betraying my master.

  Knocking at the door.

  This is not the doctor; but he is dress’d like him, and that shall be my excuse.

  [He lets Plotwell in, Townley meets him, they embrace.

  Town. Hugh, go, wait at the door.

  [Exit Hugh.

  Plotw. This disguise gives spirit to my intrigue. Certainly I am the first person that ever enjoy’d a bride without the scandal of matrimony.

  Town. I have a different relish, Mr. Plotwell, for now I can’t abide you, you are so like my husband.

  Plotw. Underplot, I defy thee. I have laid the wager, and now I hold the stakes.

  Town. Opportunity Mr. Potwell, has been the downfall of much virtue.

  [As he is leading her off, enter Hugh.

  Hugh. Ah, madam! the doctor! the doctor!

  Exit Hugh.

  Plot. Fear nothing. I’ll stand it. I have my part ready.

  [Exit Townley.

  Enter Fossile.

  Foss. I promised lady Langfort my eagle-stone. The poor lady is like to miscarry, and ‘tis well I thought on’t. Ha! who is here! I do not like the aspect of the fellow. But I will not be over censorious.

  [They make many bows and cringes in advancing to each other.

  Plot. Illustrissime domine, huc adveni —

  Foss. Illustrissime domine —— non usus, sum loquere Latinum —— If you cannot speak English, we can have no lingual conversation.

  Plot. I can speak but a little Englise. Me ave great deal heard of de fame of de great luminary of all arts and sciences, de illustrious doctor Fossile. I would make commutation (what do you call it) I would exchange some of my tings for some of his tings.

  Foss. Pray, Sir, what university are you of?

  Plot. De famous university of Cracow in Polonia minor. I have cured de king of Sweden of de wound. My name be doctor Cornelius Lubomirski.

  Foss. Your Lubomirskis are a great family. But what Arcana are you master of, Sir?

  Plot. [Shows a large snuff-box.] See dere, Sir, dat box de snuff.

  Foss. Snuff-box.

  Plot. Right. Snuff-box. Dat be de very true gold.

  Foss. What of that?

  Plot. Vat of dat? me make dat gold my own self, of de lead of de great church of Crawcow.

  Foss. By what operations?

  Plot. By calcination; reverberation; purification; sublimation; amalgamation; precipitation; volitilization.

  Foss. Have a care what you assert. The volitilization of gold is not an obvious process. It is by great elegance of speech called, fortitudo fortitudinis fortissima.

  Plot. I need not acquaint de illustrious doctor Fossile, dat all de metals be but unripe gold.

  Foss. Spoken like a philosopher, And therefore there should be an act of parliament against digging of lead mines, as against felling young timber. But inform me, Sir, what might be your menstruum, snow-water, or May-dew?

  Plot. Snow-vater.

  Foss. Right. Snow is the universal pickle of nature for the preservation of her productions in the hyemal season.

  Plot. If you will go your self, and not trust de servant, to fetch some of de right Thames sand dat be below de bridge, I will show you de naked Diana in your study before I go hence.

  Foss. Perhaps you might. I am not at present dispos’d for experiments.

  Plot. This bite wont take to send him out of the way, I’ll change my subject. [Aside.] Do you deal in longitudes, Sir?

  Foss. I deal not in impossibilities. I search only for the grand elixir.

  Plot. Vat do you tink of de new metode of fluxion?

  Foss. I know no other but my mercury.

  Plot. Ha, ha. Me mean de fluxion of de quantity.

  Foss. The greatest quantity I ever knew, was three quarts a day.

  Plot. Be dere any secret in the hydrology, zoology, minerology, hydraulicks, acausticks, pneumaticks, logarithmatechny, dat you do want de explanation of?

  Foss. This is all out of my way. Do you know of any hermaphrodites, monstrous twins, antediluvivian shells, bones, and vegetables?

  Plot. Vat tink you of an antediluvian knife, spoon, and fork, with the mark of Tubal Cain in Hebrew, dug out of the mine of Babylon?

  Foss. Of what dimensions, I pray, Sir?

  Plot. De spoon be bigger dan de modern ladle; de fork, like de great fire-fork; and de knife, like de cleaver.

  Foss. Bless me! this shows the stature and magnitude of those antidiluvians!

  Plot. To make you convinced that I tell not de lie, dey are in de Turkey ship at Vapping, just going to be disposed of. Me would go there vid you, but de businss vil not let me.

  Foss. An extraordinary man this! I’ll examine him further. [Aside.] How could your country lose so great a man as you?

  Plot. Dat be de secret. But because me vil have de fair correspondence with de illustrious doctor Fossile, me vil not deny dat Orpheus and me had near run de same fate for different reason. I was hunted out of my country by de general insurrection of de women.

  Foss. How so pray?

  Plot. Because me have prepare a certain liquor which discover whether a woman be a virgin or no.

  Foss. A curious discovery! have you any of it still?

  Plot. Dere it is, Sir. It be commonly called de Lapis Lydius Virginitatis, or touch-stone of virginity.

  [gives him a vial.

  Foss. It has the smell of your common hart’s-horn. But all your volatile spirits have a near resemblance.

  Plot. Right, Sir. De distillation be made from the Hippomanes of a young mare. When a deflower’d virgin take ten drops, she will faint and sneeze, and de large red spot appear on the cheek; which we call de spot of infamy. All de young bridegroom make de experiment. De archbishop did make obligation to de nun to take it every ninth month. And I fly for the hurlyburly it make.

  Enter Hugh.

  Hugh. Sir here is a patient in a chair.

  Foss. Doctor Lubomirski, let me conduct you into my study, where we will farther discuss the wonderful virtues of this liquor. Tell the patient I will attend him this instant.

  [Exeunt Plotwell and Fossile.

  Enter Underplot in a chair like a sick man.

  Hugh. The doctor will wait upon you immediately.

  [Exit Hugh.

  Underp. I dogg’d Plotwell to this door in a doctor’s habit. If he has admittance as a doctor, why not I as a patient? Now for a lucky decision of our wager! If I can’t succeed myself, I will at least spoil his intrigue.

  Enter Fossile.

  Underp. Ah! ah! have you no place? Ah! where can I repose a little? I was taken suddenly. Ah! ah! ‘tis happy I was so near the house of an eminent physician.

  Foss. Rest yourself upon that couch.

  Underp. If I lay a few minutes cover’d up warm in a bed, I believe I might recover.

  [Fossile feels his pulse. Plotwell peeps.

  Plot. Underplot in disguise! I’ll b
e his doctor, and cure him of these frolicks.

  [aside.

  Foss. What are your symptoms, Sir? a very tempestuous pulse, I profess!

  Underp. Violent head-ach, ah! ah!

  Foss. All this proceeds from the fumes of the kitchen, the stomachic digester wants reparation for the better concoction of your aliment: But, Sir, is your pain pungitive, tensive, gravitive, or pulsatory?

  Plot. All together, ah!

  Foss. Impossible Sir; but I have an eminent physician now in the house, he shall consult. Doctor Lubomirski, here is a person in a most violent cephalalgy, a terrible case!

  Enter Plotwell.

  Foss. Feel his pulse. [Plotwell feels it.] You feel it, Sir, strong, hard and labouring.

  Plot. Great plenitude, Sir.

  Foss. Feel his belly, Sir; a great tension and heat of the abdomen — A hearty man, his muscles are torose; how soon are the strongest humbled by diseases! let us retire, and consult.

  Enter Sarsnet in haste.

  Sars. My mistress approves your design, bear it out bravely, perhaps I shall have a sudden opportunity of conveying you into her bed-chamber, counterfeit a fainting fit and rely upon me.

  [Exit.

  Underp. As yet I find I am undiscover’d by Plotwell; neither is his intrigue in such forwardness as mine, though he made a fair push for it before me.

  [aside.

  [Fossile and Plotwell come forward.

  Foss. I am entirely for a glister.

  Plot. My opinion is for de strong vomit.

  Foss. Bleed him.

  Plot. Make de searrification, give me de lancet, me will do it myself, and after dat will put de blister to de sole of de feet,

  Foss. Your dolor proceeds from a frigid intemperies of the brain, a strong disease! the enemy has invaded the very citadel of your microcosm, the magazine of your vital functions; he has set down before it; yet there seems to be a good garrison of vital spirits, and we don’t question to be able to defend it.

  Plot. Ve will cannonade de enemy with pills, bombard him wid de bolus, blow him up with volatiles, fill up the trenches wid de large innundation of apozems, and dislodge him wid de stink pot; let de apotecary bring up de artillery of medicine immediately.

  Foss. True, we might unload the stomach by gentle emeticks, and the intestines by clysters stimulative, carminative, and emollient, with strong hydroticks, quiet the spasms of the viscera by paregoricks, draw off the stagnant blood by deep scarrifications, and depurate its fæculencies by volatiles; after this, let there be numerous blisters and potential cauteries — I consult my patient’s ease; I am against much physick — He faints, he is apoplectic, bleed him this moment.