THE WILD-GOOSE CHASE: A COMEDY. The Commendatory Verses by Hills ascribe this Comedy wholly to Fletcher. In 1647, (the Playhouse Copy having been lent out of the honse, and lost) The Wild-Goose Chase could not be inserted among our Authors' other Plays: It was, however, afterwards recovered, and published in 1652, by Lowin and Taylor, two Players. Farquhar's Inconstant is built on this Play; the mad scene of Oriana, and others, are almost transcribed; al though both the Author in his Preface, and Mr. Rowe in the Epilogue, assert that only the hint was taken from this piece of our Author. SCENE I. ACT I. De Ga. In truth, you shall not take it; 'tis There's for your provender. Bespeak a dinner Make ready all things at my lodging, for me, Boy. The ten-crown ordinary? De Ga. Yes, sir, if you have not forgot it. "Tis the best part of a footman's faith. De Ga. These youths, [Exit Boy. And then hang saving, let the sea grow high! Enter La Castre and Oriana. Ori. Brother! De Gu. My dearest sister! Indeed, you are welcome home, most wel- De Ga. Thank ye! You're grown a handsome woman, Oriana: Monsieur La Castre, let not my affection La Ca. Fair sir, I thank you. Good men have still good welcome: Give me your hand, sir. Once more, you're welcome home! You look still younger. [us; De Ga. Time has no leisure to look after We wander every where; age cannot find us. } La Ca. And how does all? De Ga. All well, sir, and all lusty. [sir, La Ca. I hope my son be so: I doubt not, But you have often seen him in your journies, And bring me some fair news. De Ga. Your son is well, sir, And over-ey'd him, having some slight business entreat you, That forc'd me out o' th' way.] Over-ey'd is plainly a corruption, and out o' th' way unsatisfactory. Mr. Seward reads with me, 'And over-rid him on the way: But yet I have some doubt whether over-rid is the true lection, there being a reading which has occurred to me, much nearer the traces of the letters than that advanced above, viz. • And over-yed him, i. e. over-went him; though I am afraid the reader will think this too obsolete a word to stand in the text, as fitter for Chaucer or Spenser, than Mr. Fletcher, and therefore I have chose to leave the passage just as I found it. Sympson. The opening of the play, Sirrah, I have rid hard,' seems to countenance the conjectural reading of over-rid him. Obsolete and uncouth indeed is Mr. Sympson's 'over-yed him.' Were we to offer a reading near the trace of the letters,' w. would rather propose overhied him,' which might, we think, much more familiarly express De Gard's having gone on before his fellow-traveller. As to out of the way, we see no difficulty requiring an alteration. a love-sick wench will allow it.] As plausible as this passage may seem at first sight, yet I am afraid it is unsound; for whatever reasons the poor wench might have to induce her to allow her lover's absence, yet notwithstanding them, she might bear it still with the utmost impatience. Why may not we read, therefore, 2 love-sick wench will swallow it:' A three-years absence (De Gard says) is nothing; it will go easily down, even with a lovesick girl. So, in the concluding scene of this play, Mirabell says, I am pleas'd ye have deceiv'd me; And willingly I swallow it, and joy in't.' Sympson. Mr. Sympson's conjecture, enforced by the authority which he quotes, is not unplausible; yet he mistakes the sense of the word allow as here used, supposing it to be genuine : 'A love-sick wench will allow it' not meaning that she will permit her lover to be absent for three years; but that she will allow, i. e. agree, that three years' absence is no such great matter. tell me, And tell me true, what end had you, Oriana, In trusting your money here? He is no kinsNor any tie upon him of a guardian; [man, Nor dare I think you doubt my prodigality. Orí. No, certain, sir; none of all this provok'd me; Another private reason. De Ga. 'Tis not private, Nor carried so; 'tis common, my fair sister; Your love to Mirabell: Your blushes tell it. 'Tis too much known, and spoken of too largely ; And with no little shame I wonder at it. Ori. Is it a shame to love? De Ga. To love undiscretely: A virgin should be tender of her honour, [too; Ori. I am as close as can be, And stand upon as strong and honest guards Unless this warlike age need a portcullis. Yet, I confess, I love him. [darcs De Ga. Hear the people. Ori. Now I say, Hang the people! he that Believe what they say, dares Le mad, and give His mother, nay, his own wife, up to rumour, All grounds of truth, they build on, is a tavern; And their best censure's sack, sack in abundance; For as they drink, they think: They ne'er speak modestly, Unless the wine be poor, or they want money. Believe them? Believe Amadis de Gaul, The Knight o' th' Sun, or Palmerin of England; [ries! For these, to them, are modest and true sto'Pray understand me; if their tongues be truth, And if In vino veritas be an oracle, What woman is, or has been ever honest? Give 'em but ten round cups, they'll swear Lucretia Died not for want of power to resist Tarquin, But want of pleasure, that he stay'd no longer; And Portia, that was famous for her piety To her lov'd lord, they'll face ye out, died o' th' pox. De Ga. Well, there is something, sister. Ori. If there be, brother, [strous: 'Tis none of their things; 'tis not yet so mon My thing is marriage; and, at his return, I hope to put their squint eyes right again. De Ga. Marriage? 'Tis true, his father is a rich man, Rich both in land and money; he his heir, A young and handsome man, I must confess 3 All his travel, and bought experience.] Mr. Theobald fills up the measure thus, Mr. Seward thus, and his bought experience;' and dear-bought experience;' which he thinks is not only a completion of the measure, but an improvement of the sense. Sympson. Theobald's filling up the measure, and Seward's completion of the measure, and improvement of the sense, are both unnecessary. The measure and sense are each sufficiently perfect; especially supposing the word experience, after the manner of our Authors, to be resolved into distinct syllables. VOL. II, 2 A riage, [strangers: (As 'twill be no small labour) thy hopes are I know, there is a labour'd match now follow'd, Now at this time, for which he was sent for home too: [ters, Be not abus'd; Nantolet has two fair daughAnd he must take his choice. Ori. Let him take freely: For all this I despair not; my mind tells me That I, and only I, must make him perfect; And in that hope I rest. De Ga. Since you're so confident, Prosper your hope! I'll be no adversary! Keep yourself fair and right, he shall not wrong you. Ori. When I forget my virtue, no man know me! [Exeunt. SCENE II. Enter Mirabell, Pinac, Belleur, and Servants. Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, gentlemen! We have had a merry and a lusty ordinary, And wine, and good meat, and a bouncing reckoning! And let it go for once; 'tis a good physick: Give me the plump Venetian, fat, and lusty, That meets me soft and supple; smiles upon me, As if a cup of full wine leap'd to kiss me; Pinac. They're ill built! Mir. There's nothing good or handsome bred amongst us: Till we are travell'd, and live abroad, we're coxcombs. You talk of France; a slight unseason'd courtry, [blockheads! Abundance of gross food, which makes us We're fair set out indeed, and so are forehorses: Men say, we are great courtiers; men abuse We are wise, and valiant too; non credo, signior! [rots; fus! Our women the best linguists; they are parO'this side the Alps they're nothing but mere drolleries 4. Ha! Roma la Santa, Italy for my money! Their policies, their customs, their frugalities, Their courtesies so open, yet so reserv'd too, As, when you think you're known best, you're a stranger 5; [we do, Their very pick-teeth speak more man than And season of more salt! Pinac. 'Tis a brave country; [pies, Not pester'd with your stubborn precise pupThat turn all useful and allow'd contentments To scabs and scruples: Hang 'em, caponworshippers! Bel. I like that freedom well, and like their women too, [bashful, And would fain do as others do; but I'm so So naturally an ass-Look ye, I can look upon And very willingly I go to see 'em, ['em, (There's no man willinger) and I can kiss 'em, And make a shift Mir. But if they chance to flout you, Or say, 'You are too bold! fy, sir, remem'I pray, sit further off [ber! flene'd: Bel. Tis true-I'm humbled, Yet, where I fasten well, I am a tyrant. Bel. Yes, certainly, I dare fight, And fight with any man at any weapon; 'Would, the other were no more! but a pox on't, When I am sometimes in my height of hope, And reasonable valiant that way, my heart harden'd, And Some scornful jest or other chops between me my desire: What would you have me to do then, gentlemen? Mir. Belleur, you must be bolder: Travel three years, And bring home such a baby to betray you As bashfulness? a great fellow, and a soldier? Bel. You have the gift of impudence; be thank ful; [study, Every man has not the like talent. I will And if it may be reveal'd to me Mir. Learn of me, [ment; And of Pinac: No doubt you'll find employLadies will look for courtship. Pinac. 'Tis but fleshing, But standing one good brunt or two. Hast thou any mind to marriage? We'll provide thee some soft-natur'd wench, that's dumb too. Mir. Or an old woman that cannot refuse. thee in charity. Bel. A dumb woman, or an old woman, that were eager, ♦ Mere drolleries.] This countenances, and perhaps confirms, our conjectural reading of drolleries for dralleries in the Tragedy of Valentinian. It is there as well as here applied to women: Dralleries too is, as far as we can discover, absolute nonsense; and the corruption is easy. If the reader has any curiosity to refer to the passage in question, he will find it And car'd not for discourse, I were excellent at. Mir. You must now put on boldness (there's no avoiding it) And stand all hazards, fly at all games bravely; They'll say, you went out like an ox, and returu'd like an ass else. Bel. I shall make danger sure. Mir. I am sent for home now, [pardon me: I know it is to marry; but my father shall Altho' it be a weighty.ceremony", And may concern me hereafter in my gravity, I will not lose the freedom of a traveller; A new strong lusty bark cannot ride at one anchor. [cyes? Shall I make divers suits to shew to the same 'Tis dull and home-spun! study several plea[first! And want employments for 'em? I'll be hang'd Tie me to one smock? make my travels fruitless? sures, tesics. Nant. They're bound much to your cour [ed. La Ca. I hope we shall be nearer acquaintNant. That's my hope too; For, certain, sir, I much desire your alliance, You see 'em; they're no gypsies; for their breeding, It has not been so coarse, but they are able To rank themselves with women of fair fashion. Indeed, they have been trained well". Nant. Fit for the heirs of that state I shall [sou, To say more, is to sell 'em. They say, your Now he has travell'd, must be wondrous curious, And choice in what he takes; these are no coarse ones. Sir, here's a merry wench-let him look to himself; All heart, i' faith!-may chance to startle him; Else I would tell you, sir, she is a mistress Yet she can dance, and has studied the court elements, And sings, as some say, handsomely; if a woman, [lar, With the decency of her sex, may be a scho- A witty ceremony.] Where the wit of the matrimonial ceremony lies, will, I believe, puzzle, at this time of the day, any of our wits to discover. Mr. Seward saw with me that the true reading ought to be, a weighty ceremony.' Sympson. The old reading, however, is not entirely indefensible: Wit and wisdom, as the late learned Editor of Evelyn's Silva observes, were, at the time when his Author wrote, and long before, synonymous terms, of which he gives the following instance: " then might I by councell help my trouth, which by mine own witt I am not able againste such a prepared 'thynge.' Sir Thomas Wyatt's Defence, No. ii. Walpole's Miscell. Ant. 22. Mr. Evelyn's words are, Rather, therefore, we should take notice how many great wits and ingenious persons, who have leisure, and faculty, are in pain for improvements of their heaths and barren hills, &c.' Other examples might be produced. R. 7 A kind of bæboes to be married.] As this is a word I do not remember any where to be found, I have altered it, with Mr. Seward and Mr. Theobald, into one, which, as it is congruous to the sense of the place, might very probably have been the original. bilboes to be married.' 8 To rank themselves with women of fair fashion; Sympson. Indeed, they have been trained well.] Nantolet had expressed himself modestly and genteelly of his daughters' education, in the former part of his speech, and the last line will be equally proper and genteel when given to La Castre, to whom it seems therefore evidently tu belong. Seward. We think the old reading best. |