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قراءة كتاب The City Bride (1696) Or The Merry Cuckold

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The City Bride (1696)
Or The Merry Cuckold

The City Bride (1696) Or The Merry Cuckold

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
الصفحة رقم: 5

Nurse, my Wife shall send them to ye; in the mean time, there, there’s a Piece, to buy thee a Pair of Gloves, and so leave us, for I am busie at present, therefore steal away behind me, and slip out at the back Door.

Nurse. Yes Sir, I am gone, Heavens bless your Worship, a Piece! Marry! and that’s a sufficient Charm to lye up any Nurses Tongue in Christendom.
[Ex. Nurse

Just. Mer. Well well, it shall be done: Come Brother we are mist I warrant you amongst the Young Fry, let’s to ’um and, Dance till our Legs ake again, come I’ll lead the way.

Mr. Ven. We follow you.
[Exeunt.

Enter Friendly Reading the Letter.

Fr. Heaven in its excess of Goodness, bestow’d no greater Blessing on Mankind than that of Friendship—To Murder any one is a Crime unpardonable! But a Friend!—And of all Friends the nearest to my Heart,—’Tis such an Imposition that Hell it self ’till now cou’d never parallel; And yet this Devil of a Woman has power over me beyond all Virtue. I am distracted in my Thoughts, and know not what to do; yet something must be done without delay, or else I lose her quite: And yet I fear ’tis most Impossible, for Friendship left the World, when Justice fled, and all who now do wear that Name are the worst of Hypocrites,

Like Counterfeited Coin on which is seen,
The formal Stamp; but sordid Dross within.

Enter Bonivile.

Bon. My Friend alone and Thoughtful? say for what?
That you alone appear with Discontent,
When all my Friends Congratulate my Bliss?
Is it because (which I durst ne’re suspect)
Your Love to me was not intirely true?
Or else perhaps, this Crown of Happiness
You think Misplac’d, and Envy it not yours.
Fri. Forbear such cruel Words—
How can you entertain a Thought so Vile
Of him whom so long you have call’d your Friend?
May all the Blesings Heaven can bestow
On us poor Mortals in this World below,
Crown all your Days, and may you nothing see
But flowing Tides of sweet Felicity;
But I, alas!—
Bon. Alas! What means my Friendly?
Much hidden Grief that wretched Word portends,
Which thus disturbs the Quiet of my Friend?
But come disclose it to me,
And since the Burthen is too much for one,
I’ll bear a part to ease thy troubled Breast.
Fri. Oh Bonvile!
Seek not to force this Fatal secret from me—
Bon. I must know it, by my best hopes I must.
Fri. Oh no! I cannot, Nay I dare not—
Bon. How dare not trust a secret to a Friend?
Fri. Oh Bonville, Bonville! Call me not your Friend,
That Name strikes horrour to my very Soul.
Bon. Ha! Art thou then a Stranger to that Name?
Fri. Indeed I am, and must be so for ever now.
Bon. Yet hear me Friendly; Deny me if thou can'st,
Fixt as a Rock, I vow I’ll here remain,
Until I have forc’d this Dire secret from thee.
Fri. Pardon me Sir, I hope you soon will hear it,
But I—— [Offers to go.]
Bon. Yet stay, and since intreaty can’t prevail,
By all the Friendship which you once profess’d,
By all that’s Holy, both in Heaven and Earth,
I now Conjure thee to impart it to me,
Or by this Life——
Fri. Hold, hold, and since I can no longer hide it
Know ’tis my Honour then which lyes at Stake.
Bon. Thy Honour! How? Proceed.
Fri. By chance a Quarrel happen’d to arise
Betwixt another and my self, The Field,
Time, Place, and all appointed,
Nay Seconds must assist us in the Deed:
I have relied on many seeming Friends,
(Such as profess the bare and empty Name)
And all refuse to venture in my Cause.
Bon. Is this all?
Fri All, Is it not enough? To see my Reputation, (the Lifes Blood of my Soul)
Nay all that’s Dear, in Danger to be lost.
Bon. Not while thy Bonvile lives and wears a Sword:
May all things frown that I wou’d have to smile,
May I live Poor, and Dye despised by all,
If I out live the ruine of thy Honour!
Tell me the time my Friend?
Fri. Oh, spare me that, for, if once known the time,
You’l Cancel this your promise, and recall
Your Friendly proffer.
Bon. Away with these Excuses, come the time.
Fri. At Seven this Evening.
Bon. The place?
Fri. Barn-Elms:
Oh the fatal place! Where I too well foresee,
The certain fall and Ruine of my Honour!
Bon. No, Thou shalt not stay to forfeit thy lov'd Honour,
Come I’m ready to assist my Friend; and will along with you.
Fri. Alas. What mean you?
Of all my Friends on you I ne’re Relied;
But sure I Dream, I Rave, by Heav’ns I’m

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