THE FALSE COUNT, OR, A New Way To play an old GAME
Scanned, proofed and corrected from the original edition for your reading pleasure. It is also
searchable and contains hyper-links to chapters.
***
From the PROLOGUE - Spoken by Don Carlos
KNOW all ye Whigs and Tories of the Pit,
(Ye furious Guelphs and Gibelins of Wit,
Who for the Cause, and Crimes of Forty One
So furiously maintain the Quarrel on)
Our Author, as you'll find it writ in Story,
Has hitherto been a most wicked Tory ;
But now, to th' joy o'th' Brethren be it spoken,
Our Sister's vain mistaken Eyes ate open;
And wifely valuing her dear Interest now,
All-powerful Whigs, converted is to you.
'Twas long she did maintain the Royal Cause,
Argu'd, disputed, rail'd with great Applause;
Writ Madrigals and Doggerel on the Times,
And charg'd you all with your Fore-fathers Crimes;
Nay, confidently swore no plot was true,
But that so slyly carried on by you:
Rais'd horrid Scandals on you, hellish Stories,
In Conventicles how you eat young Tories;
As Jew did heretofore eat Christian Suckling;
And brought an Odium on your pious Gulling:
When this is all Malice it self can say,
You for the good Old Cause devoutly eat and pray,
Tho this one Text were able to convert ye,
Ye needy Tribe of Scriblers to the Party;
Yet there are more advantages than these,
For write, invent, and make what Plots you please,
The wicked Party keep your Witnesses,
Like frugal Cuckold-makers you beget
Brats that secur'd by others fires shall sit.
Your Conventicling Miracles out-do
All that the Whore of Babylon e'er knew:
By wondrous art you make Rogues honest Men,
And when you please transform 'em Rogues again.
To day a Saint, is he but hang a Papist,
Peach a true Protestant, your Saint's turn'd Atheist:
And dying Sacraments do less prevails
Than living ones, tho took in Lamb's-Wool-Ale.
Who wou'd not then be for a Common-weal,
To have the Villain cover'd with his Zeal?
A Zeal, who for Convenience can dispense
With Plays provided there's no Wit nor Sense.
For Wit's profane, ,and Jesuitical,
And Plotting's Popery, and the Devil and all.
We then have fitted you with one to day,
'Tis writ as 'twere a Recantation Play;
Renouncing all that has pretence to witty,
T' oblige the Reverend Brumigham's o' th' City:
No smutty Scenes, no Jests to move your Laughter,
Nor Love that so debauches all your Daughters.
But shou'd the Torys now, who will desert me,
Because they find no dry bobs on your Party,
Resolve to hiss, as late did Popish Crew,
By Yea and Nay, she'll throw her self on you,
The grand Inquest of Whigs, to whom she's true.
Then let 'em rail and hiss, and damn their fill,
Your Verdict will be Ignoramus still.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
ACT I. - SCENE I.
The Street.
Enter Carlos, Antonio, and Guzman.
Car.
By all that's good, I'm mad; stark raving mad, to have a Woman young, rich, beautyfull,
Just on the point of yeilding to my Love,
Snatcht from my Armes by such a Beast as this;
An Old ridiculous Buffoon, past Pleasure,
Past Love, or any thing that tends that way;
Ill-favour'd, Ill-bread, and Ill-qualify'd,
With more Diseases than a Horse past Service;
And onely blest with Fortune and my Julia:
For him, I say, this Miser, to obtain her,
After my tedious nights and dayes of Love,
My midnight Watchings, Quarells, Wounds and Dangers;
—My Person not unhansom too,
By Heav'n, 'twas Wonderous strange
Anto.
And old Francisco, without the expence of an hours Courtship, a Billet Doux, or scarce a Sight of her, could gain her in a day; and yet 'tis wonder, your Fortune and your Quality, should be refus'd by Don Baltazer, her Father.
Car.
A Pox upon't, I went the wrong way to work, and courted the Daughter, but indeed my Father, the late Governor of Cadez, whose Estate and Honour I now enjoy, was then living; and, fearing he would not consent to my Passion, I endeavor'd to keep it secret, though sacred Vows had past between us two.
Anto.
Did she not tell you of this Marriage with old Francisco?
Car.
The night before, she did; but onely by a Letter from her window dropt; which when by the help of a dark Lantern, I had read, I was struck dead with Grief.
[gives him the letter.
Anto. reads.]
Expect to morrow night to hear I'm dead, since the next Sun will guide me to a fatall Marriage with old Francisco. Your Julia.
Car.
Judge, dear Antonio, my Surprise and Grief;
A while I stood unmov'd, thoughtless, and silent,...
1104159911
searchable and contains hyper-links to chapters.
***
From the PROLOGUE - Spoken by Don Carlos
KNOW all ye Whigs and Tories of the Pit,
(Ye furious Guelphs and Gibelins of Wit,
Who for the Cause, and Crimes of Forty One
So furiously maintain the Quarrel on)
Our Author, as you'll find it writ in Story,
Has hitherto been a most wicked Tory ;
But now, to th' joy o'th' Brethren be it spoken,
Our Sister's vain mistaken Eyes ate open;
And wifely valuing her dear Interest now,
All-powerful Whigs, converted is to you.
'Twas long she did maintain the Royal Cause,
Argu'd, disputed, rail'd with great Applause;
Writ Madrigals and Doggerel on the Times,
And charg'd you all with your Fore-fathers Crimes;
Nay, confidently swore no plot was true,
But that so slyly carried on by you:
Rais'd horrid Scandals on you, hellish Stories,
In Conventicles how you eat young Tories;
As Jew did heretofore eat Christian Suckling;
And brought an Odium on your pious Gulling:
When this is all Malice it self can say,
You for the good Old Cause devoutly eat and pray,
Tho this one Text were able to convert ye,
Ye needy Tribe of Scriblers to the Party;
Yet there are more advantages than these,
For write, invent, and make what Plots you please,
The wicked Party keep your Witnesses,
Like frugal Cuckold-makers you beget
Brats that secur'd by others fires shall sit.
Your Conventicling Miracles out-do
All that the Whore of Babylon e'er knew:
By wondrous art you make Rogues honest Men,
And when you please transform 'em Rogues again.
To day a Saint, is he but hang a Papist,
Peach a true Protestant, your Saint's turn'd Atheist:
And dying Sacraments do less prevails
Than living ones, tho took in Lamb's-Wool-Ale.
Who wou'd not then be for a Common-weal,
To have the Villain cover'd with his Zeal?
A Zeal, who for Convenience can dispense
With Plays provided there's no Wit nor Sense.
For Wit's profane, ,and Jesuitical,
And Plotting's Popery, and the Devil and all.
We then have fitted you with one to day,
'Tis writ as 'twere a Recantation Play;
Renouncing all that has pretence to witty,
T' oblige the Reverend Brumigham's o' th' City:
No smutty Scenes, no Jests to move your Laughter,
Nor Love that so debauches all your Daughters.
But shou'd the Torys now, who will desert me,
Because they find no dry bobs on your Party,
Resolve to hiss, as late did Popish Crew,
By Yea and Nay, she'll throw her self on you,
The grand Inquest of Whigs, to whom she's true.
Then let 'em rail and hiss, and damn their fill,
Your Verdict will be Ignoramus still.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
ACT I. - SCENE I.
The Street.
Enter Carlos, Antonio, and Guzman.
Car.
By all that's good, I'm mad; stark raving mad, to have a Woman young, rich, beautyfull,
Just on the point of yeilding to my Love,
Snatcht from my Armes by such a Beast as this;
An Old ridiculous Buffoon, past Pleasure,
Past Love, or any thing that tends that way;
Ill-favour'd, Ill-bread, and Ill-qualify'd,
With more Diseases than a Horse past Service;
And onely blest with Fortune and my Julia:
For him, I say, this Miser, to obtain her,
After my tedious nights and dayes of Love,
My midnight Watchings, Quarells, Wounds and Dangers;
—My Person not unhansom too,
By Heav'n, 'twas Wonderous strange
Anto.
And old Francisco, without the expence of an hours Courtship, a Billet Doux, or scarce a Sight of her, could gain her in a day; and yet 'tis wonder, your Fortune and your Quality, should be refus'd by Don Baltazer, her Father.
Car.
A Pox upon't, I went the wrong way to work, and courted the Daughter, but indeed my Father, the late Governor of Cadez, whose Estate and Honour I now enjoy, was then living; and, fearing he would not consent to my Passion, I endeavor'd to keep it secret, though sacred Vows had past between us two.
Anto.
Did she not tell you of this Marriage with old Francisco?
Car.
The night before, she did; but onely by a Letter from her window dropt; which when by the help of a dark Lantern, I had read, I was struck dead with Grief.
[gives him the letter.
Anto. reads.]
Expect to morrow night to hear I'm dead, since the next Sun will guide me to a fatall Marriage with old Francisco. Your Julia.
Car.
Judge, dear Antonio, my Surprise and Grief;
A while I stood unmov'd, thoughtless, and silent,...
THE FALSE COUNT, OR, A New Way To play an old GAME
Scanned, proofed and corrected from the original edition for your reading pleasure. It is also
searchable and contains hyper-links to chapters.
***
From the PROLOGUE - Spoken by Don Carlos
KNOW all ye Whigs and Tories of the Pit,
(Ye furious Guelphs and Gibelins of Wit,
Who for the Cause, and Crimes of Forty One
So furiously maintain the Quarrel on)
Our Author, as you'll find it writ in Story,
Has hitherto been a most wicked Tory ;
But now, to th' joy o'th' Brethren be it spoken,
Our Sister's vain mistaken Eyes ate open;
And wifely valuing her dear Interest now,
All-powerful Whigs, converted is to you.
'Twas long she did maintain the Royal Cause,
Argu'd, disputed, rail'd with great Applause;
Writ Madrigals and Doggerel on the Times,
And charg'd you all with your Fore-fathers Crimes;
Nay, confidently swore no plot was true,
But that so slyly carried on by you:
Rais'd horrid Scandals on you, hellish Stories,
In Conventicles how you eat young Tories;
As Jew did heretofore eat Christian Suckling;
And brought an Odium on your pious Gulling:
When this is all Malice it self can say,
You for the good Old Cause devoutly eat and pray,
Tho this one Text were able to convert ye,
Ye needy Tribe of Scriblers to the Party;
Yet there are more advantages than these,
For write, invent, and make what Plots you please,
The wicked Party keep your Witnesses,
Like frugal Cuckold-makers you beget
Brats that secur'd by others fires shall sit.
Your Conventicling Miracles out-do
All that the Whore of Babylon e'er knew:
By wondrous art you make Rogues honest Men,
And when you please transform 'em Rogues again.
To day a Saint, is he but hang a Papist,
Peach a true Protestant, your Saint's turn'd Atheist:
And dying Sacraments do less prevails
Than living ones, tho took in Lamb's-Wool-Ale.
Who wou'd not then be for a Common-weal,
To have the Villain cover'd with his Zeal?
A Zeal, who for Convenience can dispense
With Plays provided there's no Wit nor Sense.
For Wit's profane, ,and Jesuitical,
And Plotting's Popery, and the Devil and all.
We then have fitted you with one to day,
'Tis writ as 'twere a Recantation Play;
Renouncing all that has pretence to witty,
T' oblige the Reverend Brumigham's o' th' City:
No smutty Scenes, no Jests to move your Laughter,
Nor Love that so debauches all your Daughters.
But shou'd the Torys now, who will desert me,
Because they find no dry bobs on your Party,
Resolve to hiss, as late did Popish Crew,
By Yea and Nay, she'll throw her self on you,
The grand Inquest of Whigs, to whom she's true.
Then let 'em rail and hiss, and damn their fill,
Your Verdict will be Ignoramus still.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
ACT I. - SCENE I.
The Street.
Enter Carlos, Antonio, and Guzman.
Car.
By all that's good, I'm mad; stark raving mad, to have a Woman young, rich, beautyfull,
Just on the point of yeilding to my Love,
Snatcht from my Armes by such a Beast as this;
An Old ridiculous Buffoon, past Pleasure,
Past Love, or any thing that tends that way;
Ill-favour'd, Ill-bread, and Ill-qualify'd,
With more Diseases than a Horse past Service;
And onely blest with Fortune and my Julia:
For him, I say, this Miser, to obtain her,
After my tedious nights and dayes of Love,
My midnight Watchings, Quarells, Wounds and Dangers;
—My Person not unhansom too,
By Heav'n, 'twas Wonderous strange
Anto.
And old Francisco, without the expence of an hours Courtship, a Billet Doux, or scarce a Sight of her, could gain her in a day; and yet 'tis wonder, your Fortune and your Quality, should be refus'd by Don Baltazer, her Father.
Car.
A Pox upon't, I went the wrong way to work, and courted the Daughter, but indeed my Father, the late Governor of Cadez, whose Estate and Honour I now enjoy, was then living; and, fearing he would not consent to my Passion, I endeavor'd to keep it secret, though sacred Vows had past between us two.
Anto.
Did she not tell you of this Marriage with old Francisco?
Car.
The night before, she did; but onely by a Letter from her window dropt; which when by the help of a dark Lantern, I had read, I was struck dead with Grief.
[gives him the letter.
Anto. reads.]
Expect to morrow night to hear I'm dead, since the next Sun will guide me to a fatall Marriage with old Francisco. Your Julia.
Car.
Judge, dear Antonio, my Surprise and Grief;
A while I stood unmov'd, thoughtless, and silent,...
searchable and contains hyper-links to chapters.
***
From the PROLOGUE - Spoken by Don Carlos
KNOW all ye Whigs and Tories of the Pit,
(Ye furious Guelphs and Gibelins of Wit,
Who for the Cause, and Crimes of Forty One
So furiously maintain the Quarrel on)
Our Author, as you'll find it writ in Story,
Has hitherto been a most wicked Tory ;
But now, to th' joy o'th' Brethren be it spoken,
Our Sister's vain mistaken Eyes ate open;
And wifely valuing her dear Interest now,
All-powerful Whigs, converted is to you.
'Twas long she did maintain the Royal Cause,
Argu'd, disputed, rail'd with great Applause;
Writ Madrigals and Doggerel on the Times,
And charg'd you all with your Fore-fathers Crimes;
Nay, confidently swore no plot was true,
But that so slyly carried on by you:
Rais'd horrid Scandals on you, hellish Stories,
In Conventicles how you eat young Tories;
As Jew did heretofore eat Christian Suckling;
And brought an Odium on your pious Gulling:
When this is all Malice it self can say,
You for the good Old Cause devoutly eat and pray,
Tho this one Text were able to convert ye,
Ye needy Tribe of Scriblers to the Party;
Yet there are more advantages than these,
For write, invent, and make what Plots you please,
The wicked Party keep your Witnesses,
Like frugal Cuckold-makers you beget
Brats that secur'd by others fires shall sit.
Your Conventicling Miracles out-do
All that the Whore of Babylon e'er knew:
By wondrous art you make Rogues honest Men,
And when you please transform 'em Rogues again.
To day a Saint, is he but hang a Papist,
Peach a true Protestant, your Saint's turn'd Atheist:
And dying Sacraments do less prevails
Than living ones, tho took in Lamb's-Wool-Ale.
Who wou'd not then be for a Common-weal,
To have the Villain cover'd with his Zeal?
A Zeal, who for Convenience can dispense
With Plays provided there's no Wit nor Sense.
For Wit's profane, ,and Jesuitical,
And Plotting's Popery, and the Devil and all.
We then have fitted you with one to day,
'Tis writ as 'twere a Recantation Play;
Renouncing all that has pretence to witty,
T' oblige the Reverend Brumigham's o' th' City:
No smutty Scenes, no Jests to move your Laughter,
Nor Love that so debauches all your Daughters.
But shou'd the Torys now, who will desert me,
Because they find no dry bobs on your Party,
Resolve to hiss, as late did Popish Crew,
By Yea and Nay, she'll throw her self on you,
The grand Inquest of Whigs, to whom she's true.
Then let 'em rail and hiss, and damn their fill,
Your Verdict will be Ignoramus still.
***
An excerpt from the beginning of:
ACT I. - SCENE I.
The Street.
Enter Carlos, Antonio, and Guzman.
Car.
By all that's good, I'm mad; stark raving mad, to have a Woman young, rich, beautyfull,
Just on the point of yeilding to my Love,
Snatcht from my Armes by such a Beast as this;
An Old ridiculous Buffoon, past Pleasure,
Past Love, or any thing that tends that way;
Ill-favour'd, Ill-bread, and Ill-qualify'd,
With more Diseases than a Horse past Service;
And onely blest with Fortune and my Julia:
For him, I say, this Miser, to obtain her,
After my tedious nights and dayes of Love,
My midnight Watchings, Quarells, Wounds and Dangers;
—My Person not unhansom too,
By Heav'n, 'twas Wonderous strange
Anto.
And old Francisco, without the expence of an hours Courtship, a Billet Doux, or scarce a Sight of her, could gain her in a day; and yet 'tis wonder, your Fortune and your Quality, should be refus'd by Don Baltazer, her Father.
Car.
A Pox upon't, I went the wrong way to work, and courted the Daughter, but indeed my Father, the late Governor of Cadez, whose Estate and Honour I now enjoy, was then living; and, fearing he would not consent to my Passion, I endeavor'd to keep it secret, though sacred Vows had past between us two.
Anto.
Did she not tell you of this Marriage with old Francisco?
Car.
The night before, she did; but onely by a Letter from her window dropt; which when by the help of a dark Lantern, I had read, I was struck dead with Grief.
[gives him the letter.
Anto. reads.]
Expect to morrow night to hear I'm dead, since the next Sun will guide me to a fatall Marriage with old Francisco. Your Julia.
Car.
Judge, dear Antonio, my Surprise and Grief;
A while I stood unmov'd, thoughtless, and silent,...
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THE FALSE COUNT, OR, A New Way To play an old GAME
THE FALSE COUNT, OR, A New Way To play an old GAME
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940012854209 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Leila's Books |
| Publication date: | 07/05/2011 |
| Series: | The Plays, Histories, And Novels Of The Ingenious Mrs. Aphra Behn , #3 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 284 KB |
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