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THE

PLAIN DEALER.

BY WYCHERLY.

PROLOGUE

SPOKEN BY THE PLAIN DEALER.

I THE Plain Dealer am to act to-day;

And
your

fair neighbours, in a limning poet, And my rough part begins before the play. No more than in a painter will allow it. First, you who scribble, yet hate all that write, Pictures too like, the ladies will not please: And keep each other company in spite,

They must be drawn too here like goddesses. As rivals in your common mistress, Fame, You, as at Lely's too, would truncheon wield, And, with faint praises, one another damn, And look like heroes in a painted field; 'Tis a good play (we know) you cann't forgive, But the course dauber of the coming scenes, But grudge yourselves the pleasure you receive; To follow life and nature only means; Our scribbler, therefore, bluntly bid me say, Displays you as you are; makes his fine woman He would not have the wits pleas’d here to-day. A mercenary jilt, and true to no man: Next, you, the fine, loud gentlemen o'th' pit, His men of wit and pleasure of the age Who damn all plays; yet if y’ave any wit, Are as dull rogues as ever cumber'd stage: 'Tis but what here you spunge, and daily get; He draws a friend, only to custom just, Poets, like friends to whom you are in debt, And makes him naturally break his trust. You hate: and so rooks laugh, to see undone I, only, act a part like none of Those pushing gamesters whom they live upon. And yet, you'll say, it is a fool's part too,Well, you are sparks, and still will be i' th' fa- An honest man, who, like you, never winks shion;

At faults, but, unlike you, speaks what he thinks: Rail, then, at plays, to hide your obligation. The only fool who ne'er found patron yet; Now, you shrewd judges who the boxes sway, For truth is now a fault, as well as wit. Leading the ladies hearts and sense astray,

And where else but on stages do we see And, for their sakes, see all, and hear no play, Truth pleasing, or rewarded honesty? Correct your cravats, foretops, lock behind; Which our bold poet does this day in me. The dress and breeding of the play ne'er mind. If not to th' honest, be to th’ prosperous kind; Plain dealing is, you'll say, quite out of fashion; Some friends at court let the Plain Dealer find. You'll hate it here, as in a dedication;

you;

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

My Lord PLAUSIBLE, a ceremonious, supple, comMEN.

mending coxcomb, in love with Olivia. Manly, of om honest, surly, nice humour, sup- JERRY BLACKACRE, a true raw squire, under age

posed first, in the time of the Dutch war, to and his mother's government, bred to the law. have procured the command of a ship, out of honour, not interest, und chusing a sea-life, only

WOMEN. to avoid the world.

OLIVIA, Manly's mistress. FREEMAN, Manly's lieutenant, a gentlenan well Fidelia, in love with Manly, and followed him

educated, but of a broken fortune, a complier to sea in man's clothes. with the cge.

ELIZA, cousin to Olivia. VARNISH, Manly's bosom and only friend.

LETTICE, Olivia's woman. Novel, a pert, railing coxcomb, and an admirer

The Widow BLACKACRE, a petulant, litigious wiof novelties, makes love to Olivia.

dou, always in law, and mother to Squire Jerry. Mujor OldFox, an old, impertinent fop, given to scribbling, makes love to the Widow Black. Lawyers, Knights of the Post, Bailiffs, and Al

dermen, a Bookseller's 'Prentice, a Foot-boy, Sailors, Waiters, and Attendants.

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ucre.

SCENE,-London.

ACT I.

SCENE 1.-Captain MANLY's Lodgings. for such as you, like common whores and pickEnter Captain MANLY surlily, and my Lord pockets are only dangerous to those you embrace.

L. Pluu. Such as I! Heavens defend mePLAUSIBLE following him, and two Sailors be

upon my honourhind.

Man. Upon your title, my lord, if you'd have Man. Tell not me, my good Lord Plausible, of me believe you. your decorums, supercilious forms, and slavish L. Plau. Well, then, as I am a person of hoceremonies; your little tricks, which you, the spa- nour, I never attempted to abuse or lessen any niels of the world, do daily over and over, for, and person in my life. to one another, not out of love or duty, but your Man. What, you were afraid ? servile fear.

L. Plau. No; but, scriously, I hate to do a L. Plau. Nay, i'faith, i' faith, you are too pas- rude thing: no, faith, I speak well of all mankind. sionate, and I must humbly beg your pardon, and Mun. I thought so ; but know, that the speakleave to tell you, they are the arts and rules the ing well of all mankind is the worst kind of deprudent of the world walk by.

traction ; for it takes away the repntation of the Man. Let'em. But I'll have no leading-strings; few good men in the world, by making all alike: I can walk alone; I hate a harness, and will not

now, I speak ill of most men, because they deserve tug on in a faction, kissing my leadier behind, that it; I that can do a rude thing, rather than an unanother slave may do the like to me.

just thing. L. Plau. What, will you be singular then, like L. Plau. Well, tell not me, my dear friend, nobody? follow love, and

eem nobody? what people deserve; I ne'er mind that; I, like Man. Rather than be general, like you; follow an author in a dedication, never speak well of a every body, court and kiss every body; though, man for his sake, but my own; I will not dispą. perhaps, at the same time, you hate every body. rage any man, to disparage myself; for to speak L. Plau. Why, seriously, with your pardon, ill of people behind their backs is not like a per

son of honour; and, truly, to speak ill of 'em to Man. With your pardon, my no friend, I will their faces is not like a complaisant person : but not, as you do, whisper my hatred or my scorn, if I did say or do an ill thing to any, it should be call a man fool or knave, by signs or mouths over sure to be behind their backs, out of pure good his shoulder, whilst you have him in your arms;

my dear friend

manners,

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Man. Very well; but I, that am an unmanner| hulls, to sell a king's ship, when a brave fellow ly sea fellow, if I ever speak well of people, (which has fought her almost to a long-boat. is very seldom indeed,) it should be sure to be be- 1st Sail. On my conscience, then, Jack, that's hind their backs; and if I would say or do ill to the reason our bully tar sunk our ship; not only any, it should be to their faces : I would jostle that the Dutch might not have her, but that the a proud, strutting, over-looking coxcomb at the courtiers, who laugh at wooden legs, might not head of his sycophants, rather than put out my make her prize. tongue at him when he were past me; would 2d Sail. A pox of his sinking, Tom! We have frown in the arrogant, big, dull face of an over- made a base, broken, short voyage of it, grown knave of business, rather than vent my 1st Sail. Ay, your brisk dealers in honour alspleen against him when his back were turn'd; ways make quick returns with their ship to the would give fawning slaves the lie, whilst they em- dock, and their men to the hospitals : 'tis, let me brace or commend me; cowards, whilst they brag; see, just a month since we set out of the river, call a rascal by no other title, though his father and the wind was almost as cross to us as the had left him a duke; laugh at fools aloud, before Dutch. their mistresses; and must desire people to leave 2d Sail. Well, I forgive him sinking my own me, when their visits grow at last as troublesoine poor trunk, if he would but have given me time as they were at first impertinent.

and leave to have saved black Kate of Wapping's L. Plau. I would not have my visits troublesome. small venture.

Man. The only way to be sure not to have 'em 1st Sail. Faith, I forgive him, since, as the troublesome, is to make 'em when people are not purser told me, he sunk the value of five or six at home; for your visits, like other good turns, thousand pound of his own, with which he was are most obliging when made or done to a man to settle himself somewhere in the Indies; for our in his absence. A pox! why should any one, be- merry lieutenant was to succeed him in his comcause he has nothing to do, go and disturb ano

mission for the ship back; for he was resolved ther man's business?

never to return again for England.
L. Plau. I beg your pardon, my dear friend. 2d Sail. So it seemed, by his fighting.
What!

you
have business?

1st Sail. No, but he was a weary of this side Man. If you have any, I would not detain your of the world here, they say. lordship.

2d Sail. Ay, or else he would not have bid so L. Plau. Detain me, dear sir! I can never have fair for a passage into t’other. enough of your company.

1st Sail. Jack, thou think'st thyself in the Man. I'm afraid I should be tiresome: I know forecastle, thou’rt so waggish; but I tell you, then, not what you think.

he had a mind to go live and bask himself on the L. Plau. Well, dear sir, I see you would have sunny side of the globe. me gone.

2d Sail. What, out of any discontent ? for he's Man. But I see you won't.

(Aside. always as dogged as an old tarpaulin, when L. Plau. Your most faithful

hindered of a voyage by a young pantaloon capMan. God be wi'ye, my lord.

tain. L. Plau. Your most humble

1st Sail. 'Tis true; I never saw him pleased Man. Farewell.

but in the fight, and then he looked like one of L. Plau. And eternally—

us coming from the pay-table, with a new lining Man. And eternally ceremony—ihen the devil to our hats (inder our arms, take thee eternally.

(Aside. 2d Sail. A pox! he's like the Bay of Biscay,L. Plau. You shall use no ceremony, by iny life. rough and angry, let the wind blow where 'twill, Nlan. I do not intend it.

1st Sail. Nay, there's no more dealing with L. Plau. Why do you stir then?

him than with the land in a storm ; no near Man. Only to see you out of doors, that I 2d Suil. 'Tis a hurry-durry blade. Dost thou may shut 'em against more welcomes.

remember, after we had tugged hard the old leaky L. Plou. Nay, faith, that shall not pass upon long-boat, to save his life, when I welcomed him your most faithful, humble servant.

a-shore, he gave me a box on the ear, and called Man. Nor this any more upon me. (Aside. me fawning water-dog. L. Plau. Well, you are too strong for me. Man. I'd sooner be visited by the plague;

Enter MANLY and FREEMAN. for that only would keep a man from visits, and 1st Sail. Hold thy peace, Jack, and stand by; his doors shut.

[ Aside. the foul weather's coming. [Exit, thrusting out my Lord PlausiBLE. Man. You rascal dogs, how could this tame

thing get through you? Manent Sailors.

1st Sail. Faith, to tell your honour the truth, 1st Sail. Here's a sinical fellow, Jack! What we were at Hob in the Hall, and whilst my broa brave fair-weather captain of a ship he would ther and I were quarrelling about a cast, he slunk make!

by us. 2d Sail. He a captain of a ship! it must be 2d Suil. He's a sneaking fellow, I warrant for't. when she's in the dock then; for he looks like Man. Have more care for the future, you one of those that get the king's coinmissions for 1 slaves. Go, and, with drawn cutlasses, stand at the stair-foot, and keep all that ask for me from co- Free. But what ! will you see nobody? not ming up : suppose you are guarding the scuttle to your friends? the powder-room: let none enter here, at your Man. Friends! I have but one, and he, I or their peril.

hear, is not in town; nay, can have but one 1st Sail

. No; forthe danger would be the same; friend; for a true heart admits but of one you would blow them and us up, if we should. friendship, as of one love. But in having that

2d Sail. Must no one come to you, sir? friend, I have a thousand; for he has the courage Man. No man, sir.

of men in despair, yet the diffidency and caution 1st Sail. No man, sir ? but a woman, then, of cowards; the secrecy of the revengeful, and an't like

your
honour-

the constancy of martyrs; one fit to advise, to Man. No woman neither, you impertinent keep a secret, to fight and die for his friend. dog. Would you be pimping? A sea pimp is the Such I think him; for I have trusted him with strangest monster she has.

my mistress in my absence; and the trust of 2d Sari. Indeed, an't like your honour, 'twill beauty is, sure, the greatest we can shew. be hard for us to deny a woman any thing, since Free. Well, but all your good thoughts are not we are so newly come on shore.

for him alone, I hope? Pray, what d'ye think of 1st Sail. We'll let no old woman come up, me for a friend? though it were our trusting landlady at Wapping. Man. Of thee! Why, thou art a latitudina

Man. Would you be witty, you brandy cask rian in friendship, that is, no friend; thou dost you? You become a jest as ill as you do a horse. side with all mankind, but wilt suffer for none. Be gone, you dogs; I hear a noise on the stairs. Thou art, indeed, like your Lord Plausible,—the

[Ereunt Sailors. pink of courtesy, therefore hast no friendship; Free. Faith, I am sorry, you would let the fop for ceremony and great professing renders friendgo; I intended to have had some sport with him. ship as much suspected as it does religion.

Man. Sport with him! A pox, then, why did Free. And no professing, no ceremony at all you not stay? you should have enjoyed your cox- in friendship, were as unnatural and as indecent comb, and had him to yourself for me.

as in religion; and there is hardly such a thing Free. No, I should not have cared for him as an honest hypocrite, who professes himself to without you neither; for the pleasure which fops be worse than he is, unless it be yourself; for, afford is like that of drinking, only good when though I could never get you to say you were my 'tis shared ; and a fool, like a bottle, which would friend, I know you'll prove so. make you merry in company, will make you dull Mun. I must confess, I am so much your friend, alone. But how the devil could you turn a man I would not deceive you; therefore must tell you, of his quality down stairs? You use a lord with (not only because iny heart is taken up, but acvery little ceremony, it seems.

cording to your rules of friendship,) I cannot be Man. A lord! What, thou art one of those your friend. who esteem men only by the marks and value

Free. Why, pray? fortune has set upon 'em, and never consider in- Man. Because he hat is, you'll say, a true trinsic worth? but counterfeit honour will not be friend to a man, is a friend to all his friends: but current with me: I weigh the man, not his title: you must pardon me: I cannot wish well to pimps, 'tis not the king's stamp can make the metal bet- Hatterers, detractors, and cowards, stiff-nodding ter, or heavier: your lord is a leaden shilling, knaves, and supple, pliant, kissing fools : now, all which you may bend every way, and debases the these I have seen you use like the dearest friends stamp hebears, instead of being raised by't.-Here in the world. again, you slaves ?

Free. Ha, ha, ha!
me, I warrant, in the galleries at Whitehall, do-

I
Enter Sailors.

ing the business of the place! Pshaw! court pro 1st Sail. Only to receive farther instructions, fessions, like court promises, go for nothing, man! an't like your honour.- What if a man should but, faith, could you think I was a friend to all bring you money; should we turn him back? those I hugg’d, kiss'd, flatter’d, bow'd to? ha, ha!

Alun. All men, I say.—Must I be pester'd with Man. You told 'em so, and swore it too; I you too? You dogs, away.

2d Sail. Nay, I know one man your honour Free. Ay, but when their backs were turn’d, would not have us hinder coming to you, I'm sure. did I not tell you they were rogues, villains, ras

Mun. Who's that? speak quickly, slaves. cals, whom I despis’d and hated ? 20 Sait. Why, a man that should bring you a

Man. Very fine ! But what reason had I to bechallenge; for though you refuse money, I'm sure lieve you spoke your heart to me, since you proyou love fighting too well to refuse that. fess’d deceiving so many? Mlan. Rogue, rascal, dog !

Free. Why, don't you know, good captain, (Kicks the Sailors out. that telling truth is a quality as prejudicial to a Free. Nay, let the poor rogues have their fore- man that would thrive in the world, as square castle jests; they cannot help 'em in a fight, play to a cheat, or true love to a whore? Would scarce when a ship's sinking.

you have a man speak truth to his ruin? You Man. Damn their untimely jests; a servant's are severer than the law, which requires no man jest is more sauciness than his counsel,

to swear against himself: You would have me

What, you observ'd

heard you:

speak truth against myself, I warrant, and tell my other, whilst they can hardly hold their solemn promising friend, the courtier, he has a bad me- false countenances. mory?

Free. Well, they understand the world. llan. Yes.

Man. Which I do not, I confess. Free. And so make him remember to forget Free. But, sir, pray believe the friendship I my business. And I should tell the great lawyer, promise you real, whatsoever I have profess’d to too, that he takes oftener fees to hold his tongue others : try me, at least. than to speak?

Man. Why, what would you do for me? Man. No doubt on't.

Free. I would fight for you. Free. Ay, and have him hang or ruin me, Man. That you would do for your own honour, when he should come to be a judge, and I be

--but what else? fore him. And you would have me tell the new Free. I would lend you money, if I had it. officer, who bouglit his employment lately, that Mun. To borrow more of me another time. he is a coward?

That were but putting your money to interest : Man. Ay.

an usurer would be as good a friend. But what Frec. And so get myself cashier'd, not him, he other piece of friendship? having the better friends, though I the better Free. I would speak well of you to your enemies. sword. And I should tell the scribbler of honour, Mun. To encourage others to be your friends, that heraldry were a prettier and fitter study for by a shew of gratitude-but what else? so fine a gentleman than poetry?

Free. Nay, I would not hear you ill spoken of Man. Certainly.

behind your back, by my friend. Free. And so find myself mauled in his next Mun. Nay, then thou’rt a friend indeed; but lampoon. And you would have me tell the holy it were unreasonable to expect it from thee, as lady, too, she lies with her chaplain?

the world goes now,

when new friends, like new Man. No doubt on't.

inistresses, are got by disparaging old ones. Free. And so draw the clergy upon my back, and want a good table to dine at soinetimes.

Enter FIDELIA. And by the same reason, too, I should tell you But here comes another, will say as much, at least. that the world thinks you a madman, a brutal, -Dost not thou love me, devilishly too, my little and have you cut my throat, or, worse, hate me volunteer, as well as he or any man can ? What other good success of all my plain dealing Fid. Better than any man can love you, my could I have, than what I've mentioned ? dear captain.

Man. Why, first, your promising courtier Mun. Look you there; I told you so. would keep his word, out of fear of more re- Fid. As well as you do truth or honour, sir; proaches; or, at least, would give you no more

as well. vain hopes: your lawyer would serve you more Man. Nay, good young gentleman, enough :faithfully; for he, having no bonour but his in- For shame: thou hast been a page, by thy flatterterest, is truest still to him he knows suspects ing and lying, to one of those praying ladies who him : the new officer would provoke thee to love flattery so well, they are jealous of it, and make him a coward, and so be cashiered, that

wert turn'd

away

for saying the same things to thou, or some other honest fellow, who had more the old house-keeper, for sweet-meats, as you did courage than money, might get his place: the to your lady; for thou flatterest every thing and noble sonneteer would trouble thee no more with

every body alike. his madrigals: the praying lady would leave off Fid. You, dear sir, should not suspect the truth railing at wenching before thee, and not turn of what I say of you, though to you: Fame, the away her chamber-inaid, for her own known frail-old liar, is believ'd when she speaks wonders of ty with thee: and I, instead of hating thee, should you: you cannot be flattered, sir; your merit is love thee, for thy plain dealing, and, in lieu of unspeakable. being mortified, am proud that the world and I Man. Hold, hold, sir, or I shall suspect worse think not well of one another.

of you,—that you have been a cushion-bearer Free. Well, doctors differ. You are for plain to some state hypocrite, and turn’d away by the dealing, I find; but against your particular no- chaplains, for out-flattering their probation-sertions, I have the practice of the whole world.- mons for a benefice. Observe but, any morning, what people do, when Fid. Suspect me for any thing, sir, but the they get together on the Exchange, in West- want of love, faith, and duty to you, the bravest, minster-hall, or the galleries in Whitehall. worthiest of mankind : believe me, I could die for

Man. I must confess, there they seem to rehearse Bayes's grand dance :---here you see a bishop Nun. Nay, there you lie, sir:-Did I not see bowing low to a gaudy atheist; a judge to a door- thee more afraid in the fight than the chaplain keeper; a great lord to a fishmonger or a scri- of the ship, or the purser, that bought his place? vener, with a jack-chain about his neck; a lawyer Fid. Can he be said to be afraid that ventures to a serjeant-at-arms; a velvet physician to a to sea with you? threadbare chymist; and a supple gentleman- Mun. Fie, fie, no more; I shall hate thy flatusher to'a surly beef-eater; and so tread round tery worse than thy cowardice, nay, than thy bragin a preposterous huddle of ceremony to each ging

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yoli, sir,

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