Plays Vol. 1

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Sir John Vanbrugh, an eminent dramatic Writer, Son of Mr. Giles Vanbrugh, of London, Merchant, was born in the Parish of St. Stephen's, Wallbrook, in 1666. The Family of Vanbrugh were for many Years Merchants of great Credit and Reputation, at Antwerp, and came into England in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, on account of the Persecution for Religion.

Sir John received a very liberal Education, and at the Age of nineteen, was sent by his Father to France, where he continued some Years: He became very eminent for his Poetry, to which he discovered an early propension. And, pity it is, that this agreeable Writer had not discovered his Wit, without any Mixture of that Licentiousness, which, tho' it pleased, tended to corrupt the Audience.

The Relapse was the first Play our Author produced, but not the first he had written; for he had at that Time by him, all the Scenes of The Provok'd Wife; but being then doubtful whether he should ever trust it to the Stage, he flung it by, and thought no more of it: Why the last written Play was first acted, and for what Reason they were given to different Stages, what follows will explain.

Upon our Author's first Step into public Life, when he was but an Ensign in the Army, and had a Heart greatly above his Income, he happened somewhere at his Winter Quarters, upon a slender Acquaintance with Sir Thomas Skipwith, to receive a particular Obligation from him; and many Years afterwards, when Sir Thomas's Interest in a Theatrical Patent (which he had a large Share in, though he little concerned himself in the Conduct of it) was rising but very slowly, Sir John thought that to give it a lift by a new Comedy, might be the handsomest Return he could make to those his former Favours; accordingly he soon after finished The Relapse, or, Virtue in Danger, which was acted at the Theatre in Drury-Lane, in 1696, with universal Applause.

Upon the Success of The Relapse, the late Lord Hallifax, who was a favourer of Betterton's Company, having formerly heard some Scenes of The Provok'd Wife read to him, engaged Sir John Vanbrugh to revise it, and give it to that Company. This was a Request not to be refused to so eminent a Patron of the Muses as Lord Hallifax, who was equally a Friend and Admirer of Sir John himself; nor was Sir Thomas Skipwith in the least disobliged by so reasonable a Compliance. The Provok'd Wife was accordingly acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's Inn-Fields in 1697, with great Success.

Tho' this Play met with so favourable a Reception, yet it was not without its Enemies: People of the graver Sort blamed the looseness of the Scenes, and the unguarded freedom of the Dialect; and indeed Sir John himself appears to have been sensible of the immorality of his Scenes; for in the Year 1725, when this Play was revived, he thought proper to substitute a new Scene in the fourth Act, in place of another, in which, in the wantonness of his Wit, he had made a Rake talk like a Rake, in the Habit of a Clergyman; to avoid which Offence, he put the same Debauchee into the Undress of a Woman of Quality; by which means the Follies he exposed in the Petticoat, appeared to the Audience innocent and entertaining; which new Scene is now for the first Time printed at the End of the Play.

Soon after the Success of The Provok'd Wife, Sir John produced the Comedy of Esop, in two Parts, which was acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury Lane, in 1697. This was originally written in French by Mr. Boursaut, about six Years before; but the Scenes of Sir Polydorus Hogstye, the Players, and the Beau, were added by our Author. This Play contains a great deal of general Satire, and useful Morality; notwithstanding which, it met with but a cold Reception from the Audience, and its run ended in about nine Days. This seemed the more surprizing, as the French Comedy was played to crowded Audiences for a Month together. The little Success this Piece met with on the English Stage, cannot be better accounted for than in the Words of Mr. Cibber, who, speaking of this Play, makes the following Observation: "The Character that delivers Precepts of Wisdom, is in some sort severe upon the Auditor, for shewing him one wiser than himself; but when Folly is his Object, he applauds himself for being wiser than the Coxcomb he laughs at; and who is not more pleased with an Occasion to commend, than to accuse himself?"

The next Play our Author wrote, was The False Friend, a Comedy, which was acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury Lane, in 1702.

In 1703, Sir John formed a Project of building a stately Theatre in the Haymarket, for which he had interest enough to get a Subscription of thirty Persons of Quality, at one hundred Pounds each, in consideration whereof, every Subscriber was for his own Life to be admitted to whatever Entertainments should be publicly performed there, without any farther Payment for Entrance.

In 1706, when this House was finished, Mr. Betterton and his Co-partners, who then acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's Inn-Fields, dissolved their Agreement, and put themselves under the direction of Sir John Vanbrugh and Mr. Congreve, imagining, perhaps, that the Conduct of two such eminent Authors might give a more prosperous turn to their Affairs; that the Plays it would now be their interest to write for them, would soon recover the Town to a true Taste, and be an Advantage that no other Company could hope for; and that till such Plays could be written, the Grandeur of their House, as it was a new spectacle, might allure the Crowd to support them: But, if these were their Views, they soon found their Dependance upon them was too sanguine; for though Sir John was a very expeditious Writer, yet Mr. Congreve was too judicious to let any Thing come unfinished from his Pen. Besides, every proper Convenience of a good Theatre had been sacrificed to shew the Audience a vast triumphal Piece of Architecture, in which, by Means of the spaciousness of the Dome, plays could not be successfully represented, because the Actors could not be distinctly heard.

Not long before this Time, the Italian Opera began to steal into England, but in as rude a Disguise as possible: notwithstanding which, the new Monster pleased, though it had neither Grace, Melody, nor Action, to recommend it. To strike in therefore with the prevailing Fashion, Sir John and Mr. Congreve opened their New Theatre with a translated Opera, set to Italian Music, called The Triumph of Love; but it met with a very cool Reception, being performed only three Times—to thin Houses.

Immediately upon the Failure of this Opera, Sir John Vanbrugh brought on his Comedy, called The Confederacy, taken, but very greatly improved, from Les Bourgeoises à la Mode, of Monsieur D'Ancourt. The Success of this Play was not equal to its Merit; for it is written with an uncommon Vein of Wit and Humour; which plainly shews that the difficulty of hearing, distinctly, in that large Theatre, was no small Impediment to the Applause that might have followed the same Actors on any other Stage; and indeed every Play acted there before the House was altered, seemed to suffer greatly from the same Inconvenience; for what few could plainly hear, it was not likely many could applaud. In a Word, the Prospect of Profits from this Theatre was so very barren, that Mr. Congreve, in a few Months, gave up his Share in it wholly to Sir John Vanbrugh; who, as he had a happier Talent of throwing the English Spirit into his Translations, than any other Author who had borrowed from them, he in the same Season produced The Mistake, a Comedy, taken from Le D'epit Amoureux, of Moliere; and The Country House, a Farce, translated from The French, which has been acted at all the Theatres with general Applause.

Sir John soon afterwards, thoroughly tired of Theatrical Affairs, determined to get rid of his Patent on the best Terms he could; he accordingly made an Offer to Mr. Owen Swiney of his House, Clothes, and Scenes, with the Queen's Licence to employ them, upon Payment of the Rent of five Pounds upon every acting Day, and not to exceed 700 l. in the Year; with which Proposal Mr. Swiney soon complied, and managed that Stage for some Time after.

Sir John is not a little to be admired for his Spirit, and readiness in producing Plays so fast upon the Neck of one another; for, notwithstanding his quick Dispatch, there is a clear and lively Simplicity in his Wit, that neither wants the Ornaments of Learning, nor has the least Smell of the Lamp, as the Face of a fine Woman, with her Locks loose about her, may then be in its greatest Beauty; such were his Productions, only adorned by Nature. And there is, besides, something so catching to the Ear, and so easy to the Memory, in all he writ, that it has been observed by all the Actors of those Times, the Stile of no Author whatsoever gave their Memory less Trouble, than that of Sir John Vanbrugh. And indeed his Wit and Humour was so little laboured, that his most entertaining Scenes seem to be no more than his common Conversation committed to Paper. As his Conceptions were so full of Life and Humour, it is not much to be wondered at, if his Muse should be sometimes too warm to wait the slow Pace of Judgment, or to endure the Drudgery of forming a regular Fable to them.

Besides the Plays already mentioned, Sir John left behind him Part of a Comedy, called A Journey to London, which has since been made an entire Play of by Mr. Cibber, and called The Provoked Husband, and was acted at the Theatre-Royal, in Drury Lane, in 1727, for twenty-eight Nights successively, with universal Applause.

In 1703, he was appointed Clarencieux King of Arms, and in 1706 was commissioned by Queen Anne to carry the Habit and Ensigns of the Order of the Garter to King George the First, then at Hanover; he was likewise Comptroller-General of the Board of Works, and Surveyor of the Gardens and Waters. In the Year 1714, he received the Order of Knighthood; and in 1719 he married Henrietta Maria, Daughter of Colonel Yarborough, of Haslington, near York, by whom he had three Children; Charles the eldest was killed at the Battle of Fontenoy, the other two died young.

Sir John died at his House in Scotland-Yard, the 26th of March, 1726, and is interred in the Family Vault, under the Church of St. Stephen's, Wallbrook.

Being the Sequel of The Fool in Fashion.

To go about to excuse half the Defects this abortive Brat is come into the World with, would be to provoke the Town with a long useless Preface, when it is, I doubt, sufficiently soured already by a tedious Play.

I do therefore (with all the Humility of a repenting Sinner) confess, it wants every thing——but length; and in that, I hope, the severest Critick will be pleas'd to acknowledge I have not been wanting. But my Modesty will sure atone for every thing, when the World shall know it is so great, I am even to this Day insensible of those two shining Graces in the Play (which some part of the Town is pleas'd to compliment me with) Blasphemy and Bawdy.

For my part, I cannot find them out: If there were any obscene Expressions upon the Stage, here they are in the Print; for I have dealt fairly, I have not sunk a Syllable, that cou'd (though by racking of Mysteries) be rang'd under that Head; and yet I believe with a steady Faith, there is not one Woman of a real Reputation in Town, but when she has read it impartially over in her Closet, will find it so innocent, she will think it no Affront to her Prayer-Book, to lay it upon the same Shelf. So to them (with all manner of Deference) I entirely refer my cause; and I am confident they will justify me against those Pretenders to Good-manners, who at the same time have so little Respect for the Ladies, they wou'd extract a bawdy Jest from an Ejaculation, to put them out of countenance. But I expect to have these well-bred Persons always my Enemies, since I am sure I shall never write any thing lewd enough to make them my Friends.

As for the Saints (your thorough-pac'd ones, I mean, with skrew'd Faces and wry Mouths) I despair of them; for they are Friends to nobody: They love nothing but their Altars and themselves; they have too much Zeal to have any Charity; they make Debauches in Piety, as Sinners do in Wine; and are as quarrelsome in their Religion, as other People are in their Drink: so I hope nobody will mind what they say. But if any Man (with flat plod Shoes, a little Band, greasy Hair, and a dirty Face, who is wiser than I, at the Expence of being forty Years older), happens to be offended at a Story of a Cock and a Bull, and a Priest and a Bull-dog, I beg his pardon with all my Heart; which, I hope, I shall obtain, by eating my Words, and making this publick Recantation. I do therefore, for his Satisfaction, acknowledge I lyed, when I said, they never quit their hold; for in that little time I have liv'd in the World, I thank God I have seen them forc'd to it more than once; but next time I will speak with more Caution and Truth, and only say, they have very good Teeth.

If I have offended any honest Gentleman of the Town, whose Friendship or good Word is worth the having, I am very sorry for it; I hope they will correct me as gently as they can, when they consider I have had no other Design, in running a very great Risk, than to divert (if possible) some part of their Spleen, in spite of their Wives and their Taxes.

One Word more about the Bawdy, and I have done. I own the first Night this thing was acted, some Indecencies had like to have happened; but it was not my Fault.

The fine Gentleman of the Play, drinking his Mistress's Health in Nants Brandy, from six in the Morning to the time he waddled on upon the Stage in the Evening, had toasted himself up to such a pitch of Vigour, I confess I once gave Amanda for gone, and am since (with all due respect to Mrs. Rogers) very sorry she escaped; for I am confident a certain Lady (let no one take it to herself that is handsome) who highly blames the Play, for the Barrenness of the Conclusion, would then have allowed it a very natural Close.

Spoken by Miss Cross.

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THE
RELAPSE;
OR,
VIRTUE in DANGER.

Enter Loveless, reading.

Enter Amanda.

[Exeunt Hand in Hand.

Enter Young Fashion, Lory, and Waterman.

Young Fash. Come, pay the Waterman, and take the Pormanteau.

Lory. Faith, Sir, I think the Waterman had as good take the Portmanteau, and pay himself.

Young Fash. Why sure there's something left in't.

Lory. But a solitary old Waistcoat, upon my Honour, Sir.

Young Fash. Why, what's become of the blue Coat, Sirrah?

Lory. Sir, 'twas eaten at Gravesend; the Reckoning came to thirty Shillings, and your Privy-Purse was worth but two Half-Crowns.

Young Fash. 'Tis very well.

Wat. Pray, Master, will you please to dispatch me?

Young Fash. Ay, here a——Canst thou change me a Guinea?

Lory. [Aside.] Good.

Wat. Change a Guinea, Master! Ha, ha, your Honour's pleas'd to compliment.

Young Fash. I'gad I don't know how I shall pay thee then, for I have nothing but Gold about me.

Lory. [Aside.]—Hum, hum.

Young Fash. What dost thou expect, Friend?

Wat. Why, Master, so far against Wind and Tide, is richly worth half a Piece.

Young Fash. Why, faith, I think thou art a good conscionable Fellow. I'gad, I begin to have so good an Opinion of thy Honesty, I care not if I leave my Portmanteau with thee, till I send thee thy Money.

Wat. Ha! God bless your Honour; I should be as willing to trust you, Master, but that you are, as a Man may say, a Stranger to me, and these are nimble Times; there are a great many Sharpers stirring. [Taking up the Portmanteau.] Well, Master, when your Worship sends the Money, your Portmanteau shall be forthcoming. My Name's Tugg, my Wife keeps a Brandy-Shop in Drab-Ally at Wapping.

Young Fash. Very well; I'll send for't to-morrow.

[Exit Wat.

Lory. So—Now, Sir, I hope you'll own yourself a happy Man, you have outliv'd all your Cares.

Young Fash. How so, Sir?

Lory. Why you have nothing left to take care of.

Young Fash. Yes, Sirrah, I have myself and you to take care of still.

Lory. Sir, if you cou'd but prevail with somebody else to do that for you, I fancy we might both fare the better for't.

Young Fash. Why, if thou canst tell me where to apply myself, I have at present so little Money, and so much Humility about me, I don't know but I may follow a Fool's Advice.

Lory. Why then, Sir, your Fool advises you to lay aside all Animosity, and apply to Sir Novelty, your elder Brother.

Young Fash. Damn my elder Brother.

Lory. With all my heart; but get him to redeem your Annuity, however.

Young Fash. My Annuity! 'Sdeath, he's such a Dog, he would not give his Powder-Puff to redeem my Soul.

Lory. Look you, Sir, you must wheedle him, or you must starve.

Young Fash. Look you, Sir, I will neither wheedle him, nor starve.

Lory. Why? what will you do then?

Young Fash. I'll go into the Army.

Lory. You can't take the Oaths; you are a Jacobite.

Young Fash. Thou may'st as well say I can't take Orders because I'm an Atheist.

Lory. Sir, I ask your Pardon; I find I did not know the Strength of your Conscience, so well as I did the Weakness of your Purse.

Young Fash. Methinks, Sir, a Person of your Experience should have known, that the Strength of the Conscience proceeds from the Weakness of the Purse.

Lory. Sir, I am very glad to find you have a Conscience able to take care of us, let it proceed from what it will; but I desire you'll please to consider, that the Army alone will be but a scanty Maintenance for a Person of your Generosity (at least as Rents now are paid); I shall see you stand in damnable need of some auxiliary Guineas for your menu Plaisirs; I will therefore turn Fool once more for your Service, and advise you to go directly to your Brother.

Young Fash. Art thou then so impregnable a Blockhead, to believe he'll help me with a Farthing?

Lory. Not if you treat him, de haut en bas, as you use to do.

Young Fash. Why, how would'st have me treat him?

Lory. Like a Trout, tickle him.

Young Fash. I can't flatter——

Lory. Can you starve?

Young Fash. Yes——

Lory. I can't; Good-by t'ye, Sir—

[Going.

Young Fash. Stay, thou wilt distract me. What would'st thou have me to say to him?

Lory. Say nothing to him, apply yourself to his Favourites; speak to his Perriwig, his Cravat, his Feather, his Snuff-box, and when you are well with them——desire him to lend you a Thousand Pounds. I'll engage you prosper.

Young Fash. 'Sdeath and Furies! Why was that Coxcomb thrust into the World before me? O Fortune—Fortune—thou art a Bitch, by Gad——

[Exeunt.

Enter Lord Foppington in his Night-Gown.

Lord Fop. Page——

[Enter Page.

Page. Sir.

Lord Fop. Sir! Pray, Sir, do me the Favour to teach your Tongue the Title the King has thought fit to honour me with.

Page. I ask your Lordship's Pardon, my Lord.

Lord Fop. O, you can pronounce the Word then——I thought it would have choak'd you——D'ye hear?

Page. My Lord.

Lord Fop. Call La Varole, I wou'd dress—

[Exit Page.

Solus.

Well, 'tis an unspeakable Pleasure to be a Man of Quality——Strike me dumb——My Lord——Your Lordship——My Lord Foppington—Ah! c'est quelque chose de beau, que le Diable m'emporte——

Why the Ladies were ready to puke at me, whilst I had nothing but Sir Novelty to recommend me to 'em——Sure whilst I was but a Knight, I was a very nauseous Fellow——Well, 'tis Ten Thousand Pawnd well given——stap my Vitals——

Enter La Varole.

Me Lord, de Shoemaker, de Taylor, de Hosier, de Sempstress, de Peru, be all ready, if your Lordship please to dress.

Lord Fop. 'Tis well, admit 'em.

La Var. Hey, Messieurs, entrez.

Enter Taylor, &c.

Lord Fop. So, Gentlemen, I hope you have all taken pains to shew yourselves Masters in your Professions.

Tayl. I think I may presume to say, Sir——

La Var. My Lord——you Clawn you.

Tayl. Why, is he made a Lord?——My Lord, I ask your Lordship's Pardon; my Lord, I hope, my Lord, your Lordship will please to own, I have brought your Lordship as accomplish'd a Suit of Clothes, as ever Peer of England trode the Stage in, my Lord: Will your Lordship please to try 'em now?

Lord Fop. Ay, but let my People dispose the Glasses so, that I may see myself before and behind; for I love to see myself all raund——

[Whilst he puts on his Clothes, enter Young Fashion and Lory.

Young Fash. Hey-dey, what the Devil have we here? Sure my Gentleman's grown a Favourite at Court, he has got so many People at his Levee.

Lo. Sir, these People come in order to make him a Favourite at Court, they are to establish him with the Ladies.

Young Fash. Good God! to what an Ebb of Taste are Women fallen, that it shou'd be in the power of a lac'd Coat to recommend a Gallant to 'em——

Lo. Sir, Taylors and Perriwig-makers are now become the Bawds of the Nation, 'tis they debauch all the Women.

Young Fash. Thou sayest true; for there's that Fop now, has not by Nature wherewithal to move a Cook-maid, and by that time these Fellows have done with him, I'gad he shall melt down a Countess——But now for my Reception, I engage it shall be as cold a one, as a Courtier's to his Friend, who comes to put him in mind of his Promise.

Lord Fop. to his Taylor.] Death and eternal Tartures! Sir, I say the Packet's too high by a Foot.

Tayl. My Lord, if it had been an Inch lower, it would not have held your Lordship's Pocket-Handkerchief.

Lord Fop. Rat my Packet-Handkerchief! Have not I a Page to carry it? You may make him a Packet up to his Chin a purpose for it; but I will not have mine come so near my Face.

Tayl. 'Tis not for me to dispute your Lordship's Fancy.

Young Fash. to Lory.] His Lordship! Lory, did you observe that?

Lo. Yes, Sir; I always thought 'twould end there. Now, I hope, you'll have a little more Respect for him.

Young Fash. Respect! Damn him for a Coxcomb; now has he ruin'd his Estate to buy a Title, that he may be a Fool of the first Rate: But let's accost him——

To Lord Fop.] Brother, I'm your Humble Servant.

Lord Fop. O Lard, Tam; I did not expect you in England: Brother, I am glad to see you——

Turning to his Taylor.] Look you, Sir. I shall never be reconcil'd to this nauseous Packet; therefore pray get me another Suit with all manner of Expedition, for this is my eternal Aversion. Mrs. Callicoe, are not you of my Mind?

Semp. O, directly, my Lord, it can never be too low—

Lord Fop. You are passitively in the right on't, for the Packet becomes no part of the Body but the Knee.

Semp. I hope your Lordship is pleas'd with your Steenkirk.

Lord Fop. In love with it, stap my Vitals. Bring your Bill, you shall be paid to-marrow—

Semp. I humbly thank your Honour—

[Exit Semp.

Lord Fop. Hark thee, Shoemaker, these Shoes a'n't ugly, but they don't fit me.

Shoe. My Lord, my thinks they fit you very well.

Lord Fop. They hurt me just below the Instep.

Shoe. [Feeling his Foot.] My Lord, they don't hurt you there.

Lord Fop. I tell thee, they pinch me execrably.

Shoe. My Lord, if they pinch you, I'll be bound to be hang'd, that's all.

Lord Fop. Why, wilt thou undertake to persuade me I cannot feel?

Shoe. Your Lordship may please to feel what you think fit; but that Shoe does not hurt you—I think I understand my Trade——

Lord Fop. Now by all that's great and powerful, thou art an incomprehensible Coxcomb; but thou makest good Shoes, and so I'll bear with thee.

Shoe. My Lord, I have work'd for half the People of Quality in Town these Twenty Years; and 'tis very hard I should not know when a Shoe hurts, and when it don't.

Lord Fop. Well, pr'ythee, begone about thy Business.

[Exit Shoe.

[To the Hosier.] Mr. Mend Legs, a Word with you; the Calves of the Stockings are thicken'd a little too much. They make my Legs look like a Chairman's——

Mend. My Lord, my thinks they look mighty well.

Lord Fop. Ay, but you are not so good a Judge of those things as I am, I have study'd them all my Life; therefore pray let the next be the thickness of a Crawn-piece less——[Aside.] If the Town takes notice my Legs are fallen away, 'twill be attributed to the Violence of some new Intrigue.

To the Perriwig-maker.] Come, Mr. Foretop, let me see what you have done, and then the Fatigue of the Morning will be over.

Foretop. My Lord, I have done what I defy any Prince in Europe to out-do; I have made you a Perriwig so long, and so full of Hair, it will serve you for a Hat and Cloak in all Weathers.

Lord Fop. Then thou hast made me thy Friend to Eternity: Come, comb it out.

Young Fash. Well, Lory, What do'st think on't? A very friendly Reception from a Brother after Three Years Absence!

Lory. Why, Sir, 'tis your own Fault; we seldom care for those that don't love what we love: if you wou'd creep into his Heart, you must enter into his Pleasures—Here you have stood ever since you came in, and have not commended any one thing that belongs to him.

Young Fash. Nor never shall, while they belong to a Coxcomb.

Lory. Then, Sir, you must be content to pick a hungry Bone.

Young Fash. No, Sir, I'll crack it, and get to the Marrow before I have done.

Lord Fop. Gad's Curse! Mr. Foretop, you don't intend to put this upon me for a full Perriwig?

Fore. Not a full one, my Lord! I don't know what your Lordship may please to call a full one, but I have cramm'd twenty Ounces of Hair into it.

Lord Fop. What it may be by Weight, Sir, I shall not dispute; but by Tale, there are not nine Hairs on a side.

Fore. O Lord! O Lord! O Lord! Why, as God shall judge me, your Honor's Side-Face is reduc'd to the Tip of your Nose.

Lord Fop. My Side-Face may be in an Eclipse for aught I know; but I'm sure my Full-Face is like the Full-moon.

Fore. Heaven bless my Eye-sight——[Rubbing his Eyes.] Sure I look thro' the wrong end of the Perspective; for by my Faith, an't please your Honour, the broadest place I see in your Face does not seem to me to be two Inches diameter.

Lord Fop. If it did, it would just be two Inches too broad; for a Perriwig to a Man, should be like a Mask to a Woman, nothing should be seen but his Eyes—

Fore. My Lord, I have done; if you please to have more Hair in your Wig, I'll put it in.

Lord Fop. Passitively, yes.

Fore. Shall I take it back now, my Lord?

Lord Fop. No: I'll wear it to-day, tho' it shew such a manstrous pair of Cheeks, stap my Vitals, I shall be taken for a Trumpeter.

[Exit Fore.

Young Fash. Now your People of Business are gone, Brother, I hope I may obtain a quarter of an Hour's Audience of you.

Lord Fop. Faith, Tam, I must beg you'll excuse me at this time, for I must away to the House of Lards immediately; my Lady Teaser's Case is to come on to-day, and I would not be absent for the Salvation of Mankind. Hey, Page! Is the Coach at the Door?

Page. Yes, my Lord.

Lord Fop. You'll excuse me, Brother.

[Going.

Young Fash. Shall you be back at Dinner?

Lord Fop. As Gad shall jedge me, I can't tell; for 'tis passible I may dine with some of aur Hause at Lacket's.

Young Fash. Shall I meet you there? for I must needs talk with you.

Lord Fop. That, I'm afraid, mayn't be so praper; far the Lards I commonly eat with, are a People of a nice Conversation; and you know, Tam, your Education has been a little at large: but if you'll stay here, you'll find a Family Dinner. Hey, Fellow! What is there for Dinner? There's Beef: I suppose my Brother will eat Beef. Dear Tam, I'm glad to see thee in England, stap my Vitals.

[Exit, with his Equipage.

Young Fash. Hell and Furies, is this to be borne?

Lory. Faith, Sir, I cou'd almost have given him a knock o' th' Pate myself.

Young Fash. 'Tis enough, I will now shew you the excess of my Passion by being very calm: Come, Lory, lay your Loggerhead to mine, and in cool Blood let us contrive his Destruction.

Lory. Here comes a Head, Sir, would contrive it better than us both, if he wou'd but join in the Confederacy.

Enter Coupler.

Young Fash. By this Light, old Coupler alive still! Why, how now, Matchmaker, art thou here still to plague the World with Matrimony? You old Bawd, how have you the Impudence to be hobbling out of your Grave twenty Years after you are rotten!

Coup. When you begin to rot, Sirrah, you'll go off like a Pippin, one Winter will send you to the Devil. What Mischief brings you home again? Ha! You young lascivious Rogue, you: Let me put my Hand into your Bosom, Sirrah.

Young Fash. Stand off, old Sodom.

Coup. Nay, pr'ythee now don't be so coy.

Young Fash. Keep your Hands to yourself, you old Dog you, or I'll wring your Nose off.

Coup. Hast thou then been a Year in Italy, and brought home a Fool at last? By my Conscience, the young Fellows of this Age profit no more by their going abroad, than they do by their going to Church. Sirrah, Sirrah, if you are not hang'd before you come to my Years, you'll know a Cock from a Hen. But come, I'm still a Friend to thy Person, tho' I have a Contempt of thy Understanding; and therefore I would willingly know thy Condition, that I may see whether thou standest in need of my Assistance; for Widows swarm, my Boy, the Town's infested with 'em.

Young Fash. I stand in need of any body's Assistance, that will help me to cut my elder Brother's Throat, without the Risque of being hang'd for him.

Coup. I'gad, Sirrah, I cou'd help thee to do him almost as good a turn, without the danger of being burnt in the Hand for't.

Young Fash. Say'st thou so, old Satan? Shew me but that, and my Soul is thine.

Coup. Pox o'thy Soul! give me thy warm Body, Sirrah; I shall have a substantial Title to't when I tell thee my Project.

Young Fash. Out with it then, dear Dad, and take possession as soon as thou wilt.

Coup. Sayest thou so, my Hephestion? Why, then, thus lies the Scene: but hold; who's that? If we are heard we are undone.

Young Fash. What have you forgot Lory?

Coup. Who, trusty Lory, is it thee?

Lory. At your Service, Sir.

Coup. Give me thy Hand, old Boy; I'gad I did not know thee again; but I remember thy Honesty, tho' I did not thy Face; I think thou hadst like to have been hang'd once or twice for thy Master.

Lory. Sir, I was very near once having that Honour.

Coup. Well, live and hope; don't be discourag'd; eat with him, and drink with him, and do what he bids thee, and it may be thy Reward at last, as well as another's.

To Young Fash.] Well, Sir, you must know I have done you the Kindness to make up a Match for your Brother.

Young Fash. I am very much beholden to you, truly.

Coup. You may be, Sirrah, before the Wedding-day yet; the Lady is a great Heiress; fifteen hundred Pound a year, and a great Bag of Money; the Match is concluded, the Writings are drawn, and the Pipkin's to be crack'd in a Fortnight—Now you must know, Stripling (with Respect to your Mother), your Brother's the Son of a Whore.

Young Fash. Good.

Coup. He has given me a Bond of a Thousand Pounds for helping him to this Fortune, and has promis'd me as much more in ready Money upon the Day of Marriage; which, I understand by a Friend, he ne'er designs to pay me; if therefore you will be a generous young Dog, and secure me five thousand Pounds, I'll be a covetous old Rogue, and help you to the Lady.

Young Fash. I'gad, if thou can'st bring this about, I'll have thy Statue cast in Brass. But don't you doat, you old Pandar you, when you talk at this rate?

Coup. That your youthful Parts shall judge of: This plump Partridge, that I tell you of, lives in the Country, fifty Miles off, with her honoured Parents, in a lonely old House which nobody comes near; she never goes abroad, nor sees Company at home: To prevent all Misfortunes, she has her Breeding within Doors, the Parson of the Parish teaches her to play on the Bass-Viol, the Clerk to sing, her Nurse to dress, and her Father to dance: In short, nobody can give you admittance there but I; nor can I do it any other way, than by making you pass for your Brother.

Young Fash. And how the Devil wilt thou do that?

Coup. Without the Devil's Aid, I warrant thee. Thy Brother's Face not one of the Family ever saw; the whole Business has been manag'd by me, and all the Letters go thro' my Hands: The last that was writ to Sir Tunbelly Clumsey (for that's the old Gentleman's Name) was to tell him, his Lordship would be down in a Fortnight to consummate. Now you shall go away immediately; pretend you writ that letter only to have the romantick Pleasure of surprizing your Mistress; fall desperately in Love, as soon as you see her; make that your Plea for marrying her immediately; and when the fatigue of the Wedding-night's over, you shall send me a swinging Purse of Gold, you Dog you.

Young Fash. I'gad, old Dad, I'll put my Hand in thy Bosom now——

Coup. Ah, you young hot lusty Thief, let me muzzle you——

[Kissing.

Sirrah, let me muzzle you.

Young Fash. 'Psha, the old Letcher——

[Aside.

Coup. Well; I'll warrant thou hast not a Farthing of Money in thy Pocket now; no, one may see it in thy Face——

Young Fash. Not a Sous, by Jupiter.

Coup. Must I advance then?—Well, Sirrah, be at my Lodgings in half an Hour, and I'll see what may be done; we'll sign and seal, and eat a Pullet, and when I have given thee some farther Instructions, thou shalt hoist Sail and be gone——[Kissing.]——T'other Buss, and so adieu.

Young Fash. Um, 'psha.

Coup. Ah; you young warm Dog, you; what a delicious Night will the Bride have on't!

[Exit Coupler.

Young Fash. So, Lory; Providence, thou seest, at last takes care of Men of Merit: We are in a fair way to be great People.

Lo. Ay, Sir, if the Devil don't step between the Cup and the Lip, as he uses to do.

Young Fash. Why, faith, he has play'd me many a damn'd Trick to spoil my Fortune, and, I'gad, I'm almost afraid he's at work about it again now; but if I should tell thee how, thou'dst wonder at me.

Lo. Indeed, Sir, I shou'd not.

Young Fash. How dost know?

Lo. Because, Sir, I have wonder'd at you so often, I can wonder at you no more.

Young Fash. No! what wouldst thou say if a Qualm of Conscience should spoil my Design?

Lo. I wou'd eat my Words, and wonder more than ever.

Young Fash. Why, faith, Lory, tho' I am a young Rake-hell, and have play'd many a Roguish Trick; this is so full grown a Cheat, I find I must take pains to come up to't; I have Scruples——

Lo. They are strong Symptoms of Death; if you find they increase, pray, Sir, make your Will.

Young Fash. No, my Conscience shan't starve me, neither. But thus far I'll hearken to it; before I execute this Project, I'll try my Brother to the bottom, I'll speak to him with the Temper of a Philosopher; my Reasons (tho' they press him home) shall yet be cloth'd with so much Modesty, not one of all the Truths they urge, shall be so naked to offend his Sight: if he has yet so much Humanity about him, as to assist me (tho' with a moderate Aid) I'll drop my Project at his Feet, and shew him how I can do for him, much more than what I ask he'd do for me. This one conclusive Trial of him I resolve to make—

[Exeunt.

Enter Loveless and Amanda.

Lov. How do you like these Lodgings, my Dear? For my part, I am so well pleased with them, I shall hardly remove whilst we stay in Town, if you are satisfy'd.

Aman. I am satisfy'd with every thing that pleases you; else I had not come to Town at all.

Lov. O! a little of the Noise and Bustle of the World sweetens the Pleasures of Retreat: We shall find the Charms of our Retirement doubled, when we return to it.

Aman. That pleasing Prospect will be my chiefest Entertainment, whilst, much against my Will, I am obliged to stand surrounded with these empty Pleasures, which 'tis so much the Fashion to be fond of.

Lov. I own most of them are indeed but empty; nay, so empty, that one would wonder by what Magick Power they act, when they induce us to be vicious for their sakes. Yet some there are we may speak kindlier of: There are Delights, of which a private Life is destitute, which may divert an honest Man, and be a harmless Entertainment to a virtuous Woman. The Conversation of the Town is one; and truly (with some small Allowances) the Plays, I think, may be esteem'd another.

Aman. The Plays, I must confess, have some small Charms; and wou'd have more, wou'd they restrain that loose obscene Encouragement to Vice, which shocks, if not the Virtue of some Women, at least the Modesty of all.

Lov. But till that Reformation can be made, I would not leave the wholesome Corn for some intruding Tares that grow among it. Doubtless the Moral of a well-wrought Scene is of prevailing Force——Last Night there happen'd one that mov'd me strangely.

Aman. Pray, what was that?

Lov. Why 'twas about—but 'tis not worth repeating.

Aman. Yes, pray let me know it.

Lov. No, I think 'tis as well let alone.

Aman. Nay, now you make me have a mind to know.

Lov. 'Twas a foolish thing: You'd perhaps grow jealous shou'd I tell it you, tho' without a Cause, Heaven knows.

Aman. I shall begin to think I have cause, if you persist in making it a Secret.

Lov. I'll then convince you you have none, by making it no longer so. Know then, I happen'd in the Play to find my very Character, only with the Addition of a Relapse; which struck me so, I put a sudden Stop to a most harmless Entertainment, which till then diverted me between the Acts. 'Twas to admire the Workmanship of Nature, in the Face of a young Lady that sat some distance from me, she was so exquisitely handsome——

Aman. So exquisitely handsome!

Lov. Why do you repeat my Words, my Dear?

Aman. Because you seem'd to speak them with such Pleasure, I thought I might oblige you with their Echo.

Lov. Then you are alarmed, Amanda?

Aman. It is my Duty to be so, when you are in danger.

Lov. You are too quick in apprehending for me; all will be well when you have heard me out. I do confess I gaz'd upon her, nay, eagerly I gaz'd upon her.

Aman. Eagerly! That's with Desire.

Lov. No, I desir'd her not: I view'd her with a World of Admiration, but not one Glance of Love.

Aman. Take heed of trusting to such nice Distinctions.

Lov. I did take heed; for observing in the Play, that he who seem'd to represent me there, was, by an Accident like this, unwarily surpriz'd into a Net, in which he lay a poor intangled Slave, and brought a Train of Mischiefs on his Head, I snatch'd my Eyes away; they pleaded hard for leave to look again, but I grew absolute, and they obey'd.

Aman. Were they the only things that were inquisitive? Had I been in your place, my Tongue, I fancy, had been curious too: I shou'd have ask'd her Name, and where she liv'd (yet still without Design:)—Who was she, pray?

Lov. Indeed I cannot tell.

Aman. You will not tell.

Lov. By all that's sacred, then, I did not ask.

Aman. Nor do you know what Company was with her?

Lov. I do not.

Aman. Then I am calm again.

Lov. Why, were you disturb'd?

Aman. Had I then no cause?

Lov. None certainly.

Aman. I thought I had.

Lov. But you thought wrong, Amanda; For turn the Case, and let it be your Story; Should you come home, and tell me you had seen a handsome Man, shou'd I grow jealous because you had Eyes?

Aman. But shou'd I tell you he were exquisitely so; that I had gaz'd on him with Admiration; that I had look'd with eager Eyes upon him; shou'd you not think 'twere possible I might go one Step further, and enquire his Name?

Lov. [Aside.] She has Reason on her side, I have talk'd too much; but I must turn it off another way. [To Aman.] Will you then make no difference, Amanda, between the Language of our Sex and yours? There is a Modesty restrains your Tongues, which makes you speak by halves when you commend; but roving Flattery gives a loose to ours, which makes us still speak double what we think: You shou'd not therefore, in so strict a Sense, take what I said to her Advantage.

Aman. Those Flights of Flattery, Sir, are to our Faces only: When Women once are out of hearing, you are as modest in your Commendations as we are. But I shan't put you to the trouble of farther Excuses; if you please, this Business shall rest here. Only give me leave to wish, both for your Peace and mine, that you may never meet this Miracle of Beauty more.

Lov. I am content.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Madam, there's a young Lady at the door in a Chair, desires to know whether your Ladyship sees Company. I think her Name is Berinthia.

Aman. O dear! 'tis a Relation I have not seen this five Years. Pray her to walk in.

[Exit Servant.

To Lov.] Here's another Beauty for you. She was young when I saw her last; but I hear she's grown extremely handsome.

Lov. Don't you be jealous now, for I shall gaze upon her too.

Enter Berinthia.

Lov. [Aside.] Ha! By Heavens, the very Woman!

Ber. [Saluting Aman.] Dear Amanda, I did not expect to meet with you in Town.

Aman. Sweet Cousin, I'm overjoy'd to see you. [To Lov.] Mr. Loveless, here's a Relation and a Friend of mine, I desire you'll be better acquainted with.

Lov. [Saluting Ber.] If my Wife never desires a harder thing, Madam, her Request will be easily granted.

Ber. [To Aman.] I think, Madam, I ought to wish you Joy.

Aman. Joy! Upon what?

Ber. Upon your Marriage: You were a Widow when I saw you last.

Lov. You ought rather, Madam, to wish me Joy upon that, since I am the only Gainer.

Ber. If she has got so good a Husband as the World reports, she has gain'd enough to expect the Compliment of her Friends upon it.

Lov. If the World is so favourable to me, to allow I deserve that Title, I hope 'tis so just to my Wife, to own I derive it from her.

Ber. Sir, it is so just to you both, to own you are, and deserve to be, the happiest Pair that live in it.

Lov. I'm afraid we shall lose that Character, Madam, whenever you happen to change your Condition.

Enter Servant.

Ser. Sir, my Lord Foppington presents his humble Service to you, and desires to know how you do. He but just now heard you were in Town. He's at the next Door; and if it be not inconvenient, he'll come and wait upon you.

Lov. Lord Foppington!—I know him not.

Ber. Not his Dignity, perhaps, but you do his Person. 'Tis Sir Novelty; he has bought a Barony, in order to marry a great Fortune: His Patent has not been pass'd above eight-and-forty-Hours, and he has already sent How do-ye's to all the Town, to make 'em acquainted with his Title.

Lov. Give my Service to his Lordship, and let him know, I am proud of the Honour he intends me.

[Ex..

Ser. Sure this Addition of Quality must have so improv'd this Coxcomb, he can't but be very good Company for a quarter of an Hour.

Aman. Now it moves my Pity more than my Mirth, to see a Man whom Nature has made no Fool, be so very industrious to pass for an Ass.

Lov. No, there you are wrong, Amanda; you shou'd never bestow your Pity upon those who take pains for your Contempt; Pity those whom Nature abuses, but never those who abuse Nature.

Ber. Besides, the Town wou'd be robb'd of one of its chiefest Diversions, if it shou'd become a Crime to laugh at a Fool.

Aman. I could never yet perceive the Town inclin'd to part with any of its Diversions, for the sake of their being Crimes; but I have seen it very fond of some, I think, had little else to recommend 'em.

Ber. I doubt, Amanda, you are grown its Enemy, you speak with so much warmth against it.

Aman. I must confess I am not much its Friend.

Ber. Then give me leave to make you mine, by not engaging in its Quarrel.

Aman. You have many stronger Claims than that, Berinthia, whenever you think fit to plead your Title.

Lov. You have done well to engage a Second, my Dear; for here comes one will be apt to call you to an Account for your Country Principles.

Enter Lord Foppington.

Lord Fop. [To Lov.] Sir, I am your most humble Servant.

Lav. I wish you Joy, my Lord.

Lord Fop. O Laird, Sir——Madam, your Ladyship's welcome to Tawn.

Aman. I wish your Lordship Joy.

Lord Fop. O Heavens, Madam——

Lov. My Lord, this young Lady is a Relation of my Wife's.

Lord Fop. [Saluting her.] The beautifullest Race of People upon Earth, Rat me. Dear Loveless, I am overjoy'd to see you have brought your Family to Tawn again: I am, stap my Vitals—[Aside.] For I design to lie with your Wife. [To Aman.] Far Gad's sake, Madam, haw has your Ladyship been able to subsist thus long, under the Fatigue of a Country Life?

Aman. My life has been very far from that, my Lord, it has been a very quiet one.

Lord Fop. Why that's the Fatigue I speak of, Madam: For 'tis impossible to be quiet, without thinking: Now thinking is to me the greatest Fatigue in the World.

Aman. Does not your Lordship love reading then?

Lord Fop. Oh, passionately, Madam——But I never think of what I read.

Ber. Why, can your Lordship read without thinking?

Lord Fop. O Lard——Can your Ladyship pray without Devotion——Madam?

Aman. Well, I must own I think Books the best Entertainment in the World.

Lord Fop. I am so much of your Ladyship's Mind, Madam, that I have a private Gallery, where I walk sometimes, is furnished with nothing but Books and Looking-glasses. Madam, I have gilded them, and rang'd 'em, so prettily, before Gad, it is the most entertaining thing in the World to walk and look upon 'em.

Aman. Nay, I love a neat Library too; but 'tis, I think, the inside of a Book shou'd recommend it most to us.

Lord Fop. That, I must confess, I am not altogether so fand of. Far to my mind the Inside of a Book, is to entertain one's self with the forc'd Product of another Man's Brain. Naw I think a Man of Quality and Breeding may be much diverted with the natural Sprauts of his own. But to say the truth, Madam, let a Man love reading never so well, when once he comes to know this Tawn, he finds so many better ways of passing away the Four-and-twenty Hours, that 'twere ten thousand Pities he shou'd consume his time in that. Far example, Madam, my Life; my Life, Madam, is a perpetual Stream of Pleasure, that glides thro' such a Variety of Entertainments, I believe the wisest of our Ancestors never had the least Conception of any of 'em.

I rise, Madam, about ten o'clock. I don't rise sooner, because 'tis the worst thing in the World for the Complection; nat that I pretend to be a Beau; but a Man must endeavour to look wholesome, lest he make to nauseous a Figure in the Side-bax, the Ladies shou'd be compell'd to turn their eyes upon the Play. So at Ten o'clock, I say, I rise. Naw, if I find it a good Day, I resalve to take a Turn in the Park, and see the fine Women; so huddle on my Clothes, and get dress'd by One. If it be nasty Weather, I take a Turn in the Chocolate-house; where, as you walk, Madam, you have the prettiest Prospect in the World; you have Looking-glasses all round you——But I'm afraid I tire the Company.

Ber. Not at all. Pray go on.

Lord Fop. Why then, Ladies, from thence I go to Dinner at Lacket's, and there you are so nicely and delicately serv'd, that, stap my Vitals, they can compose you a Dish, no bigger than a Saucer, shall come to fifty Shillings; between eating my Dinner, and washing my Mouth, Ladies, I spend my time, till I go to the Play; where, till Nine o'clock, I entertain myself with looking upon the Company; and usually dispose of one Hour more in leading them aut. So there's Twelve of the Four-and-Twenty pretty well over. The other Twelve, Madam, are disposed of in two Articles: In the first Four I toast myself drunk, and in t'other Eight I sleep myself sober again. Thus, Ladies, you see my Life is an eternal raund O of Delights.

Lov. 'Tis a heavenly one, indeed!

Aman. But, my Lord, you Beaux spend a great deal of your Time in Intrigues: You have given us no Account of them yet.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] Soh, she wou'd enquire into my Amours——That's Jealousy——She begins to be in love with me. [To Aman.] Why, Madam——as to time for my Intrigues, I usually make Detachments of it from my other Pleasures, according to the Exigency. Far your Ladyship may please to take notice, that those who intrigue with Women of Quality, have rarely occasion for above half an Hour at a time: People of that Rank being under those Decorums, they can seldom give you a larger View, than will justly serve to shoot 'em flying. So that the Course of my other Pleasures is not very much interrupted by my Amours.

Lov. But your Lordship now is become a Pillar of the State; you must attend the weighty Affairs of the Nation.

Lord Fop. Sir——as to weighty Affairs——I leave them to weighty Heads. I never intend mine shall be a Burden to my Body.

Lov. O, but you'll find the House will expect your Attendance.

Lord Fop. Sir, you'll find the House will compound for my Appearance.

Lov. But your Friends will take it ill if you don't attend their particular Causes.

Lord Fop. Not, Sir, if I come time enough to give 'em my particular Vote.

Ber. But pray, my Lord, how do you dispose of yourself on Sundays? for that, methinks, shou'd hang wretchedly on your hands.

Lord Fop. Why, faith, Madam——Sunday——is a vile day, I must confess; I intend to move for leave to bring in a Bill, That Players may work upon it, as well as the Hackney Coaches. Tho' this I must say for the Government, it leaves us the Churches to entertain us——But then again, they begin so abominable early, a Man must rise by Candle-light to get dress'd by the Psalm.

Ber. Pray which Church does your Lordship most oblige with your Presence?

Lord Fop. Oh, St. James's, Madam——There's much the best Company.

Aman. Is there good Preaching too?

Lord Fop. Why, faith, Madam——I can't tell. A Man must have very little to do there, that can give an Account of the Sermon.

Ber. You can give us an Account of the Ladies, at least.

Lord Fop. Or I deserve to be excommunicated—There is my Lady Tattle, my Lady Prate, my Lady Titter, my Lady Lear, my Lady Giggle, and my Lady Grin. These fit in the Front of the Boxes, and all Church-time are the prettiest Company in the World, stap my Vitals. [To Aman.] Mayn't we hope for the Honour to see your Ladyship added to our Society, Madam?

Aman. Alas, my Lord, I am the worst Company in the World at Church: I'm apt to mind the Prayers, or the Sermon, or——

Lord Fop. One is indeed strangely apt at Church to mind what one should not do. But I hope, Madam, at one time or other, I shall have the Honour to lead your Ladyship to your Coach there. [Aside.] Methinks she seems strangely pleas'd with every thing I say to her—'Tis a vast pleasure to receive Encouragement from a Woman before her Husband's Face——I have a good mind to pursue my Conquest, and speak the thing plainly to her at once—I'gad, I'll do't, and that in so Cavalier a manner, she shall be surpriz'd at it—Ladies, I'll take my Leave: I'am afraid I begin to grow troublesome with the length of my Visit.

Aman. Your Lordship is too entertaining to grow troublesome any where.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] That now was as much as if she had said——Pray lie with me. I'll let her see I'm quick of Apprehension. [To Aman.] O Lard, Madam, I had like to have forgot a Secret, I must needs tell your Ladyship. [To Lov.] Ned, you must not be so jealous now as to listen.

Lov. Not I, my Lord; I'm too fashionable a Husband to pry into the Secrets of my Wife.

Lord Fop. [To Aman. squeezing her Hand.] I am in love with you to Desperation, strike me speechless.

Aman. [Giving him a Box o' th' Ear.] Then thus I return your Passion——An impudent Fool!

Lord Fop. Gad's Curse, Madam, I'm a Peer of the Realm.

Lov. Hey; what the Devil, do you affront my Wife, Sir? Nay then—

[They draw and fight. The Women run shrieking for Help.

Aman. Ah! What has my Folly done? Help! Murder, help! Part 'em, for Heaven's sake.

Lord Fop. [Falling back, and leaning upon his Sword.] Ah——quite thro' the Body——Stap my Vitals.

Enter Servants.

Lov. [Running to him.] I hope I han't kill'd the Fool, however——Bear him up! Where's your Wound?

Lord Fop. Just thro' the Guts.

Lov. Call a Surgeon there: Unbutton him quickly.

Lord Fop. Ay, pray make haste.

Lov. This Mischief you may thank yourself for.

Lord Fop. I may so—Love's the Devil indeed, Ned.

Enter Syringe and Servant.

Serv. Here's Mr. Syringe, Sir, was just going by the Door.

Lord Fop. He's the welcomest Man alive.

Syr. Stand by, stand by, stand by. Pray, Gentlemen, stand by. Lord have mercy upon us! Did you never see a Man run thro' the Body before? Pray stand by.

Lord Fop. Ah, Mr. Syringe.——I'm a dead Man.

Syr. A dead Man, and I by——I shou'd laugh to see that, I'gad.

Lov. Pr'ythee don't stand prating, but look upon his Wound.

Syr. Why, what if I won't look upon his Wound this Hour, Sir?

Lov. Why then he'll bleed to Death, Sir.

Syr. Why, then I'll fetch him to life again, Sir.

Lov. 'Slife, he's run thro' the Guts, I tell thee.

Syr. Wou'd he were run thro' the Heart, I shou'd get the more Credit by his Cure. Now I hope you are satisfy'd?——Come, now let me come at him; now let me come at him. [Viewing his Wound.] Oons, what a Gash is here!—Why, Sir, a Man may drive a Coach and Six Horses into your Body.

Lord Fop. Ho——

Syr. Why, what the Devil, have you run the Gentleman thro' with a Scythe?——[Aside.] A little Prick between the Skin and the Ribs, that's all.

Lov. Let me see his Wound.

Syr. Then you shall dress it, Sir; for if any body looks upon it, I won't.

Lov. Why, thou art the veriest Coxcomb I ever saw.

Syr. Sir, I am not Matter of my Trade for nothing.

Lord Fop. Surgeon!

Syr. Well, Sir.

Lord Fop. Is there any Hopes?

Syr. Hopes!—--I can't tell——What are you willing to give for your Cure?

Lord Fop. Five hundred Paunds with Pleasure.

Syr. Why then perhaps there may be Hopes. But we must avoid further Delay. Here, help the Gentleman into a Chair, and carry him to my House presently, that's the properest place [Aside.] to bubble him out of his Money. Come, a Chair, a Chair quickly—There, in with him.

[They put him into a Chair.

Lord Fop. Dear Loveless——Adieu. If I die——I forgive thee; and if I live——I hope thou wilt do as much by me. I am very sorry you and I shou'd quarrel; but I hope here's an end on't, for if you are satisfy'd——I am.

Lov. I shall hardly think it worth my prosecuting any farther, so you may be at rest, Sir.

Lord Fop. Thou art a generous Fellow, strike me dumb. [Aside.] But thou hast an impertinent Wife, stap my Vitals.

Syr. So, carry him off, carry him off, we shall have him prate himself into a Fever by and by; carry him off.

[Ex. Serv. with L. Fop.

Aman. Now on my Knees, my Dear, let me ask your pardon for my Indiscretion, my own I never shall obtain.

Lov. Oh, there's no harm done: You serv'd him well.

Aman. He did indeed deserve it. But I tremble to think how dear my indiscreet Resentment might have cost you.

Lov. O, no matter; never trouble yourself about that.

Ber. For Heaven's sake, what was't he did to you?

Aman. O nothing; he only squeez'd me kindly by the Hand, and frankly offer'd me a Coxcomb's Heart. I know I was to blame to resent it as I did, since nothing but a Quarrel could ensue. But the Fool so surpriz'd me with his Insolence, I was not Mistress of my Fingers.

Ber. Now I dare swear, he thinks you had 'em at great Command, they obey'd you so readily.

Enter Worthy.

Wor. Save you, save you, good People; I'm glad to find you all alive; I met a wounded Peer carrying off. For Heav'ns sake, what was the matter?

Lov. O, a Trifle: He would have lain with my Wife before my Face, so she oblig'd him with a Box o'the Ear, and I run him thro' the Body: That was all.

Wor. Bagatelle on all sides. But, pray, Madam, how long has this noble Lord been an humble Servant of yours?

Aman. This is the first I have heard on't. So I suppose 'tis his Quality, more than his Love, has brought him into this Adventure. He thinks his Title an authentick Passport to every Woman's Heart, below the Degree of a Peeress.

Wor. He's Coxcomb enough to think any thing. But I wou'd not have you brought into Trouble for him: I hope there's no Danger of his Life?

Lov. None at all: He's fallen into the Hands of a roguish Surgeon, who I perceive designs to frighten a little Money out of him. But I saw his Wound, 'tis nothing; he may go to the Play to-night, if he pleases.

Wor. I'm glad you have corrected him without farther Mischief. And now, Sir, if these Ladies have no farther Service for you, you'll oblige me if you can go to the Place I spoke to you of t'other Day.

Lov. With all my Heart. [Aside.] Tho' I cou'd wish, methinks, to stay and gaze a little longer on that Creature. Good God! How beautiful she is!—But what have I to do with Beauty? I have already had my Portion, and must not covet more. Come, Sir, when you please.

[To Wor.

Wor. Ladies, your Servant. Aman. Mr. Loveless, pray one Word with you before you go.

Lov. to Wor.] I'll overtake you, Sir: What wou'd my Dear?

Aman. Only a Woman's foolish Question, How do you like my Cousin here?

Lov. Jealous already, Amanda?

Aman. Not at all; I ask you for another Reason.

Lov. Aside.] Whate'er her Reason be, I must not tell her true. [To Aman.] Why, I confess she's handsome. But you must not think I slight your Kinswoman, if I own to you, of all the Women who may claim that Character, she is the last wou'd triumph in my Heart.

Aman. I'm satisfy'd.

Lov. Now tell me why you ask'd?

Aman. At Night I will. Adieu.

Lov. I'm yours. [Kissing her.]

[Exit Lov.

Aman. [Aside.] I'm glad to find he does not like her; for I have a great mind to persuade her to come and live with me. [To Ber.] Now, dear Berinthia, let me enquire a little into your Affairs: for I do assure you, I am enough your Friend, to interest myself in every thing that concerns you.

Ber. You formerly have given me such Proofs on't, I shou'd be very much to blame to doubt it; I am sorry I have no Secrets to trust you with, that I might convince you how entire a Confidence I durst repose in you.

Aman. Why is it possible, that one so young and beautiful as you, shou'd live and have no Secrets?

Ber. What Secrets do you mean?

Aman. Lovers.

Ber. O Twenty; but not one secret one amongst 'em. Lovers in this Age have too much Honour to do any thing under-hand; they do all above-board.

Aman. That now, methinks, wou'd make me hate a Man.

Ber. But the Women of the Town are of another mind: For by this means a Lady may, with the Expence of a few Coquet Glances, lead twenty Fools about in a String, for two or three Years together. Whereas, if she shou'd allow 'em greater Favours, and oblige 'em to Secrecy, she wou'd not keep one of 'em a Fortnight.

Aman. There's something indeed in That to satisfy the Vanity of a Woman, but I can't comprehend how the Men find their Account in it.

Ber. Their Entertainment, I must confess, is a Riddle to me. For there's very few of them ever get farther than a Bow and an Ogle. I have half a Score for my share, who follow me all over the Town; and at the Play, the Park, and the Church, do, with their Eyes, say the violent'st things to me——But I never hear any more of 'em.

Aman. What can be the Reason of that?

Ber. One Reason is, They don't know how to go farther. They have had so little Practice, they don't understand the Trade. But besides their Ignorance, you must know there is not one of my half-score Lovers but what follows half a score Mistresses. Now their Affections being divided amongst so many, are not strong enough for any one, to make 'em pursue her to the Purpose. Like a young Puppy in a Warren, they have a Flirt at all, and catch none.

Aman. Yet they seem to have a Torrent of Love to dispose of.

Ber. They have so: But 'tis like the River of a Modern Philosopher, whose Works, tho' a Woman, I have read: it sets out with a violent Stream, splits in a thousand Branches, and is all lost in the Sands.

Aman. But do you think this River of Love runs all its Course without doing any Mischief? Do you think it overflows nothing?

Ber. O yes; 'tis true, it never breaks into any body's Ground that has the least Fence about it; but it overflows all the Commons that lie in its way. And this is the utmost Achievement of those dreadful Champions in the Field of Love—the Beaux.

Aman. But pr'ythee, Berinthia, instruct me a little farther; for I am so great a Novice, I'm almost asham'd on't. My Husband's leaving me whilst I was young and fond, threw me into that Depth of Discontent, that ever since I have led so private and recluse a Life, my Ignorance is scarce conceivable. I therefore fain would be instructed: Not, Heaven knows, that what you call Intrigues have any Charms for me: my Love and Principles are too well fix'd. The practick Part of all unlawful Love is——

Ber. O 'tis abominable: But for the Speculative—that we must all confess is entertaining. The Conversation of all the virtuous Women in the Town turns upon that and new Clothes.

Aman. Pray be so just then to me, to believe, 'tis with a World of Innocency I wou'd enquire, Whether you think those Women we call Women of Reputation, do really 'scape all other Men, as they do those Shadows of 'em, the Beaux.

Ber. O no, Amanda; there are a sort of Men make dreadful Work amongst 'em: Men that may be call'd The Beaux Antipathy; for they agree in nothing but walking upon two Legs.

Aman. If this be their Character, I fancy we had here e'en now a Pattern of 'em both.

Ber. His Lordship and Mr. Worthy?

Aman. The same.

Ber. As for the Lord, he's eminently so; And for the other, I can assure you, there's not a Man in Town who has a better Interest with the Women, that are worth having an Interest with. But 'tis all private: He's like a Back-stair Minister at Court, who, whilst the reputed Favourites are sauntering in the Bed-chamber, is ruling the Roast in the Closet.

Aman. He answers then the Opinion I had ever of him. Heavens! What a difference there is between a Man like him, and that vain nauseous Fop, Sir Novelty! [Taking her Hand.] I must acquaint you with a Secret, Cousin. 'Tis not that Fool alone has talked to me of Love, Worthy has been tampering too: 'Tis true, he has done it in vain: Not all his Charms or Art have power to shake me. My Love, my Duty, and my Virtue, are such faithful Guards, I need not fear my Heart shou'd e'er betray me. But what I wonder at is this: I find I did not start at his Proposal, as when it came from one whom I contemn'd. I therefore mention this Attempt, that I may learn from you whence it proceeds, that Vice, which cannot change its Nature, shou'd so far change at least its Shape, as that the self-same Crime propos'd from one shall seem a Monster gaping at your Ruin, when from another it shall look so kind, as tho' it were your Friend, and never meant to harm you. Whence think you, can this Difference proceed? For 'tis not Love, Heaven knows.

Ber. O no; I wou'd not for the World believe it were. But possibly, shou'd there a dreadful Sentence pass upon you, to undergo the Rage of both their Passions; the Pain you apprehend from one might seem so trivial to the other, the Danger wou'd not quite so much alarm you.

Aman. Fy, fy, Berinthia! you wou'd indeed alarm me, cou'd you incline me to a Thought, that all the Merit of Mankind combin'd, cou'd shake that tender Love I bear my Husband: No, he sits triumphant in my Heart, and nothing can dethrone him.

Ber. But shou'd he abdicate again, do you think you shou'd preserve the vacant Throne ten tedious Winters more, in hopes of his return?

Aman. Indeed I think I shou'd. Tho' I confess, after those Obligations he has to me, shou'd he abandon me once more, my Heart wou'd grow extremely urgent with me to root him thence, and cast him out for ever.

Ber. Were I that thing they call a slighted Wife, some Body shou'd run the risque of being that thing they call—a Husband.

Aman. O fy, Berinthia! No Revenge shou'd ever be taken against a Husband: But to wrong his Bed is a Vengeance, which of all Vengeance——

Ber. Is the sweetest—ha, ha, ha! Don't I talk madly?

Aman. Madly indeed.

Ber. Yet I'm very innocent.

Aman. That I dare swear you are. I know how to make Allowances for your Humour: You were always very entertaining Company; but I find since Marriage and Widowhood have shewn you the World a little, you are very much improv'd.

Ber. [Aside.] Alack a-day, there has gone more than that to improve me, if she knew all.

Aman. For Heaven's sake, Berinthia, tell me what way I shall take to persuade you to come and live with me?

Ber. Why, one way in the World there is——and but one.

Aman. Pray which is that?

Ber. It is to assure me—I shall be very welcome.

Aman. If that be all, you shall e'en lie here to-night.

Ber. To-night?

Aman. Yes, to-night.

Ber. Why, the People where I lodge will think me mad.

Aman. Let 'em think what they please.

Ber. Say you so, Amanda? Why then they shall think what they please: For I'm a young Widow, and I care not what any body thinks. Ah, Amanda, it's a delicious thing to be a young Widow.

Aman. You'll hardly make me think so.

Ber. Phu, because you are in love with your Husband: but that is not every Woman's Case.

Aman. I hope 'twas yours, at least.

Ber. Mine, say ye? Now I have a great mind to tell you a Lye, but I shou'd do it so aukwardly, you'd find me out.

Aman. Then e'en speak the Truth.

Ber. Shall I?——Then after all, I did love him, Amanda——as a Nun does Penance. Aman. Why did not you refuse to marry him, then?

Ber. Because my Mother wou'd have whipt me.

Aman. How did you live together?

Ber. Like Man and Wife—asunder;

Aman. But tell me one thing truly and sincerely.

Ber. What's that?

Aman. Notwithstanding all these Jars, did not his Death at last extremely trouble you?

Ber. O yes: Not that my present Pangs were so very violent, but the After-pains were intolerable. I was forc'd to wear a beastly Widow's Band a Twelvemonth for't.

Aman. Women, I find, have different Inclinations.

Ber. Women, I find, keep different Company. When your Husband ran away from you, if you had fallen into some of my Acquaintance, 'twou'd have sav'd you many a Tear. But you go and live with a Grandmother, a Bishop, and an old Nurse, which was enough to make any Woman break her Heart for her Husband. Pray, Amanda, if ever you are a Widow again, keep yourself so as I do.

Aman. Why, do you then resolve you'll never marry?

Ber. O, no; I resolve I will.

Aman. How so?

Ber. That I never may.

Aman. You banter me.

Ber. Indeed I don't. But I consider I'm a Woman, and form my Resolutions accordingly.

Aman. Well, my Opinion is, form what Resolution you will, Matrimony will be the end on't.

Ber. Faith it won't.

Aman. How do you know?

Ber. I'm sure on't.

Aman. Why, do you think 'tis impossible for you to fall in love?

Ber. No.

Aman. Nay, but to grow so passionately fond, that nothing but the Man you love can give you rest?

Ber. Well, what then?

Aman. Why, then you'll marry him.

Ber. How do you know that?

Aman. Why, what can you do else?

Ber. Nothing—but sit and cry.

Aman. Psha.

Ber. Ah, poor Amanda, you have led a Country Life: But if you'll consult the Widows of this Town, they'll tell you, you shou'd never take a Lease of a House you can hire for a Quarter's Warning.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lord Foppington and Servant.

Lord Fop. Hey, Fellow, let the Coach come to the Door.

Serv. Will your Lordship venture so soon to expose yourself to the Weather?

Lord Fop. Sir, I will venture as soon as I can, to expose myself to the Ladies: tho' give me my Cloke, however; for in that Side-bax, what between the Air that comes in at the Door on one side, and the intolerable Warmth of the Masks on t'other, a Man gets so many Heats and Colds, 'twou'd destroy the Canstitution of a Harse.

Ser. [Putting on his Cloke.] I wish your Lordship wou'd please to keep House a little longer, I'm afraid your Honour does not well consider your Wound.

Lord Fop. My Wound!—--I wou'd not be in Eclipse another Day, tho' I had as many Wounds in my Guts as I have had in my Heart.

Enter Young Fashion.

Young Fash. Brother, your Servant. How do you find yourself to-day?

Lord Fop. So well, that I have arder'd my Coach to the Door: So there's no great Danger of Death this baut, Tam.

Young Fash. I'm very glad of it.

Lord Fop. aside.] That I believe's a Lye. Pr'ythee, Tam, tell me one thing: Did not your Heart cut a Caper up to your Mauth, when you heard I was run thro' the Bady?

Young Fash. Why do you think it shou'd?

Lord Fop. Because I remember mine did so, when I heard my Father was shat thro' the Head?

Young Fash. It then did very ill.

Lord Fop. Pr'ythee, why so?

Young Fash. Because he us'd you very well.

Lord Fop. Well?—naw strike me dumb, he starv'd me. He has let me want a Thausand Women for want of a Thausand Paund.

Young Fash. Then he hindered you from making a great many ill Bargains; for I think no Woman is worth Money, that will take Money.

Lord Fop. If I were a younger Brother, I shou'd think so too.

Young Fash. Why, is it possible you can value a Woman that's to be bought?

Lord Fop. Pr'ythee, why not as well as a Pad-Nag?

Young Fash. Because a Woman has a Heart to dispose of; a Horse has none.

Lord Fop. Look you, Tam, of all things that belang to a Woman, I have an Aversion to her Heart; far when once a Woman has given you her Heart——you can never get rid of the rest of her Bady.

Young Fash. This is strange Doctrine: But pray in your Amours how is it with your own Heart?

Lord Fop. Why, my Heart in my Amours——is like——my Heart aut of my Amours; a la glace. My Bady, Tam, is a Watch; and my Heart is the Pendulum to it; whilst the Finger runs raund to every Hour in the Circle, that still beats the same time.

Young Fash. Then you are seldom much in love?

Lord Fop. Never, Stap my Vitals.

Young Fash. Why then did you make all this Bustle about Amanda?

Lord Fop. Because she was a Woman of an insolent Virtue, and I thought myself piqu'd in Honour to debauch her.

Young Fash. Very well. [Aside.] Here's a rare Fellow for you, to have the spending of Five Thousand Pounds a-year. But now for my Business with him. [To Lord Fop.] Brother, tho' I know to talk of Business (especially of Money) is a Theme not quite so entertaining to you as that of the Ladies, my Necessities are such, I hope you'll have patience to hear me.

Lord Fop. The greatness of your Necessities, Tam, is the worst Argument in the Warld far your being patiently heard. I do believe you are going to make a very good Speech, but, strike me dumb, it has the worst beginning of any Speech I have heard this Twelvemonth.

Young Fash. I'm very sorry you think so.

Lord Fop. I do believe thou art. But come, let's know thy Affair quickly; for 'tis a new Play, and I shall be so rumpled and squeezed with pressing thro' the Crawd, to get to my Servant, the Women will think I have lain all Night in my Clothes.

Young Fash. Why then (that I may not be the Author of so great a Misfortune) my Case in a Word is this: The necessary Expences of my Travels have so much exceeded the wretched Income of my Annuity, that I have been forced to mortgage it for Five Hundred Pounds, which is spent; so that unless you are so kind to assist me in redeeming it, I know no Remedy but to take a Purse.

Lord Fop. Why, Faith, Tam——to give you my Sense of the thing, I do think taking a Purse the best Remedy in the Warld; for if you succeed, you are reliev'd that way; if you are taken——you are reliev'd t'other.

Young Fash. I'm glad to see you are in so pleasant a Humour, I hope I shall find the Effects on't.

Lord Fop. Why, do you then really think it a reasonable thing I should give you Five Hundred Paunds?

Young Fash. I do not ask it as a Due, Brother, I am willing to receive it as a Favour.

Lord Fop. Thau art willing to receive it any haw, strike me speechless. But these are damn'd times to give Money in: Taxes are so great, Repairs so exorbitant, Tenants such Rogues, and Perriwigs so dear, that the Devil take me, I'm reduc'd to that extremity in my Cash, I have been farc'd to retrench in that one Article of sweet Pawder, till I have braught it dawn to Five Guineas a Manth. Naw judge, Tam, whether I can spare you Five hundred Paunds?

Young Fash. If you can't, I must starve, that's all, [Aside.] Damn him.

Lord Fop. All I can say is, you should have been a better Husband.

Young Fash. 'Oons, if you can't live upon five thousand a-year, how do you think I should do't upon two hundred?

Lord Fop. Don't be in a Passion, Tam; far Passion is the most unbecoming thing in the Warld——to the Face. Look you, I don't love to say any thing to you to make you melancholy; but upon this occasion I must take leave to put you in mind, that a Running Horse does require more Attendance, than a Coach-Horse. Nature has made some difference 'twixt you and I.

Young Fash. Yes, she has made you older. [Aside.] Pox take her.

Lord Fop. That is nat all. Tam.

Young Fash. Why, what is there else?

Lord Fop. [Looking first upon himself, then upon his Brother.]——Ask the Ladies.

Young Fash. Why, thou Essence Bottle, thou Musk-Cat, dost thou then think thou hast any Advantage over me, but what Fortune has given thee?

Lord Fop. I do——stap my Vitals.

Young Fash. Now, by all that's great and powerful, thou art the Prince of Coxcombs.

Lord Fop. Sir——I am praud of being at the Head of so prevailing a Party.

Young Fash. Will nothing then provoke thee?—Draw, Coward.

Lord Fop. Look you, Tam, you know I have always taken you for a mighty dull Fellow, and here is one of the foolishest Plats broke out, that I have seen a long time. Your Paverty makes your Life so burdensome to you, you would provoke me to a Quarrel, in hopes either to slip thro' my Lungs into my Estate, or to get yourself run thro' the Guts, to put an end to your Pain. But I will disappoint you in both your Designs; far with the Temper of a Philasapher, and the Discretion of a Statesman—I will go to the Play with my Sword in my Scabbard.

[Exit Lord Fop.

Young Fash. So! Farewel, Snuff-Box. And now, Conscience, I defy thee. Lory!

Enter Lory.

Lo. Sir.

Young Fash. Here's rare News, Lory; his Lordship has given me a Pill has purg'd off all my Scruples.

Lo. Then my Heart's at ease again: For I have been in a lamentable Fright, Sir, ever since your Conscience had the Impudence to intrude into your Company.

Young Fash. Be at peace, it will come there no more: My Brother has given it a wring by the Nose, and I have kick'd it down Stairs. So run away to the Inn; get the Horses ready quickly, and bring them to old Coupler's, without a Moment's Delay.

Lo. Then, Sir, you are going straight about the Fortune.

Young Fash. I am: away; fly, Lory.

Lo. The happiest Day I ever saw. I'm upon the Wing already.

[Exeunt several ways.

Enter Loveless and Servant.

Lov. Is my Wife within?

Ser. No, Sir, she has been gone out this Half-hour.

Lov. 'Tis well; leave me.

Solus.

[Musing.

Enter Berinthia.

Ber. What makes you look so thoughtful, Sir? I hope you are not ill.

Lov. I was debating, Madam, whether I was so or not; and that was it which made me look so thoughtful.

Ber. Is it then so hard a matter to decide? I thought all People had been acquainted with their own Bodies, tho' few People know their own Minds.

Lov. What if the Distemper, I suspect, be in the Mind?

Ber. Why then I'll undertake to prescribe you a Cure.

Lov. Alas, you undertake you know not what.

Ber. So far at least then allow me to be a Physician.

Lov. Nay, I'll allow you so yet farther: For I have reason to believe, shou'd I put myself into your Hands, you wou'd increase my Distemper.

Ber. Perhaps I might have Reasons from the College not to be too quick in your Cure; but 'tis possible, I might find ways to give you often Ease, Sir.

Lov. Were I but sure of that, I'd quickly lay my Case before you.

Ber. Whether you are sure of it or no, what Risk do you run in trying?

Lov. O, a very great one.

Ber. How?

Lov. You might betray my Distemper to my Wife.

Ber. And so lose all my Practice.

Lov. Will you then keep my Secret?

Ber. I will, if it don't burst me.

Lov. Swear.

Ber. I do.

Lov. By what?

Ber. By Woman.

Lov. That's swearing by my Deity. Do it by your own, or I shan't believe you.

Ber. By Man then.

Lov. I'm satisfy'd. Now hear my Symptoms, and give me your Advice. The first were these:

Ber. Feverish every one of 'em. But what Relief pray did your Wife afford you?

Lov. Why, instantly she let me Blood, which for the present much assuag'd my Flame. But when I saw you, out it burst again, and rag'd with greater Fury than before. Nay, since you now appear, 'tis so increas'd, that in a Moment, if you do not help me, I shall, whilst you look on, consume to Ashes.

[Taking hold of her Hand.

Ber. [Breaking from him.] O Lard, let me go: 'Tis the Plague, and we shall all be infected.

Lov. [Catching her in his Arms, and kissing her.] Then we'll die together, my charming Angel.

Ber. O Ged——the Devil's in you. Lard, let me go, here's somebody coming.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, my Lady's come home, and desires to speak with you: She's in her Chamber.

Lov. Tell her I'm coming.

[Exit Serv.

To Ber. But before I go, one Glass of Nectar more to drink her Health.

Ber. Stand off, or I shall hate you, by Heavens!

Lov. [Kissing her.] In Matters of Love, a Woman's Oath is no more to be minded than a Man's.

Ber. Um——

Enter Worthy.

Wor. Ha! What's here? my old Mistress, and so close, I'faith! I wou'd not spoil her Sport for the Universe.

[He retires.

Ber. O Ged——Now do I pray to Heaven, [Exit Loveless running.] with all my Heart and Soul, that the Devil in Hell may take me, if ever——I was better pleas'd in my Life—This Man has bewitch'd me, that's certain. [Sighing.] Well, I am condemn'd, but, Thanks to Heaven, I feel myself each Moment more and more prepar'd for my Execution—Nay, to that degree, I don't perceive I have the least fear of Dying. No, I find, let the Executioner be but a Man, and there's nothing will suffer with more Resolution than a Woman. Well, I never had but one Intrigue yet: But I confess I long to have another. Pray Heaven it end as the first did tho', that we may both grow weary at a time; for 'tis a melancholy thing for Lovers to outlive one another.

Enter Worthy.

Wor. [Aside.] This Discovery's a lucky one, I hope to make a happy use on't. That Gentlewoman there is no Fool; so I shall be able to make her understand her Interest. [To Ber.] Your Servant, Madam; I need not ask you how you do, you have got so good a Colour.

Ber. No better than I us'd to have, I suppose.

Wor. A little more Blood in your Cheeks.

Ber. The Weather's hot.

Wor. If it were not, a Woman may have a Colour.

Ber. What do you mean by that?

Wor. Nothing.

Ber. Why do you smile then?

Wor. Because the Weather's hot.

Ber. You'll never leave roguing, I see that.

Wor. [Putting his Finger to his Nose.] You'll never leave——I see that.

Ber. Well, I can't imagine what you drive at. Pray tell me what you mean?

Wor. Do you tell me, it's the same thing.

Ber. I can't.

Wor. Guess!

Ber. I shall guess wrong.

Wor. Indeed you won't.

Ber. Psha! either tell, or let it alone.

Wor. Nay, rather than let it alone, I will tell. But first I must put you in mind that, after what has past 'twixt you and I, very few things ought to be Secrets between us.

Ber. Why what Secrets do we hide? I know of none.

Wor. Yes, there are two; one I have hid from you, and t'other you wou'd hide from me. You are fond of Loveless, which I have discover'd; and I am fond of his Wife——

Ber. Which I have discover'd.

Wor. Very well; now I confess your Discovery to be true, what do you say to mine?

Ber. Why, I confess——I wou'd swear 'twere false, if I thought you were Fool enough to believe me.

Wor. Now am I almost in Love with you again. Nay, I don't know but I might be quite so, had I made one short Campaign with Amanda. Therefore, if you find 'twould tickle your Vanity, to bring me down once more to your Lure, e'en help me quickly to dispatch her Business, that I may have nothing else to do, but to apply myself to yours.

Ber. Do you then think, Sir, I am old enough to be a Bawd?

Wor. No, but I think you are wise enough to——

Ber. To do what?

Wor. To hoodwink Amanda with a Gallant, that she mayn't see who is her Husband's Mistress.

Ber. [Aside.] He has reason: The Hint's a good one.

Wor. Well, Madam, what think you on't?

Ber. I think you are so much a deeper Politician in these Affairs than I am, that I ought to have a very great regard to your Advice.

Wor. Then give me leave to put you in mind, that the most easy, safe, and pleasant Situation for your own Amour, is the House in which you now are; provided you keep Amanda from any sort of Suspicion. That the way to do that, is to engage her in an Intrigue of her own, making yourself her Confidante. And the way to bring her to intrigue, is to make her jealous of her Husband in a wrong place; which the more you foment, the less you'll be suspected. This is my Scheme, in short; which if you follow as you shou'd do, (my dear Berinthia) we may all four pass the Winter very pleasantly.

Ber. Well, I could be glad to have nobody's Sins to answer for but my own. But where there is a Necessity—

Wor. Right! as you say, where there is a Necessity, a Christian is bound to help his Neighbour. So, good Berinthia, lose no time, but let us begin the Dance as fast as we can.

Ber. Not till the Fiddles are in tune, pray, Sir. Your Lady's Strings will be very apt to fly, I can tell you that, if they are wound up too hastily. But if you'll have patience to skrew them to a pitch by degrees, I don't doubt but she may endure to be play'd upon.

Wor. Ay, and will make admirable Musick too, or I'm mistaken; but have you had no private Closet Discourse with her yet about Males and Females, and so forth, which may give you hopes in her Constitution; for I know her Morals are the Devil against us.

Ber. I have had so much Discourse with her, that I believe were she once cur'd of her fondness to her Husband, the Fortress of her Virtue wou'd not be so impregnable as she fancies.

Wor. What! she runs, I'll warrant you, into that common Mistake of fond Wives, who conclude themselves virtuous, because they can refuse a Man they don't like, when they have got one they do.

Ber. True, and there I think 'tis a presumptuous thing in a Woman to assume the Name of Virtuous, till she has heartily hated her Husband, and been soundly in love with somebody else. Whom if she has withstood—then—much good may it do her!

Wor. Well, so much for her Virtue. Now, one word of her Inclinations, and every one to their Post. What Opinion do you find she has of me?

Ber. What you cou'd wish; she thinks you handsome and discreet.

Wor. Good, that's thinking half Seas over. One Tide more brings us into Port.

Ber. Perhaps it may, tho' still remember, there's a difficult Bar to pass.

Wor. I know there is, but I don't question I shall get well over it, by the help of such a Pilot.

Ber. You may depend upon your Pilot, she'll do the best she can; so weigh Anchor, and be gone as soon as you please.

Wor. I'm under Sail already. Adieu.

[Exit Wor.

Ber. Bon Voyage.

Sola.

Enter Amanda, her Woman following her.

Wom. If you please, Madam, only to say, whether you'll have me to buy 'em or not.

Aman. Yes, no, go fiddle; I care not what you do. Pr'ythee leave me.

Wom. I have done.

[Exit Wom.

Ber. What in the Name of Jove's the matter with you?

Aman. The matter, Berinthia! I'm almost mad, I'm plagu'd to death.

Ber. Who is it that plagues you?

Aman. Who do you think shou'd plague a Wife, but her Husband?

Ber. O ho, is it come to that? We shall have you wish yourself a Widow by and by.

Aman. Wou'd I were any thing but what I am! A base ungrateful Man, after what I have done for him, to use me thus!

Ber. What, he has been ogling now, I'll warrant you?

Aman. Yes, he has been ogling.

Ber. And so you are jealous? Is that all?

Aman. That all! Is jealousy then nothing?

Ber. It shou'd be nothing, if I were in your Case.

Aman. Why, what wou'd you do?

Ber. I'd cure myself.

Aman. How?

Ber. Let Blood in the fond Vein: Care as little for my Husband as he did for me.

Aman. That would not stop his Course.

Ber. Nor nothing else, when the Wind's in the warm Corner. Look you, Amanda, you may build Castles in the Air, and fume, and fret, and grow thin and lean, and pale and ugly, if you please. But I tell you, no Man worth having is true to his Wife, or can be true to his Wife, or ever was, or ever will be so.

Aman. Do you then really think he's false to me? for I did but suspect him.

Ber. Think so? I know he's so.

Aman. Is it possible? Pray tell me what you know.

Ber. Don't press me then to name Names; for that I have sworn I won't do.

Aman. Well, I won't; but let me know all you can without Perjury.

Ber. I'll let you know enough to prevent any wise Woman's dying of the Pip; and I hope you'll pluck up your Spirits, and shew, upon occasion, you can be as good a Wife as the best of 'em.

Aman. Well, what a Woman, can do I'll endeavour.

Ber. O, a Woman can do a great deal, if once she sets her mind to it. Therefore pray don't stand trifling any longer, and teasing yourself with this and that, and your Love and your Virtue, and I know not what. But resolve to hold up your Head, get a tiptoe, and look over them all; for to my certain knowledge your husband is a pickering elsewhere.

Aman. You are sure on't?

Ber. Positively, he fell in love at the Play.

Aman. Right, the very same; do you know the ugly thing?

Ber. Yes, I know her well enough; but she's no such ugly thing, neither.

Aman. Is she very handsome?

Ber. Truly I think so.

Aman. Hey-ho!

Ber. What do you sigh for now?

Aman. Oh my Heart!

Ber. [Aside.] Only the Pangs of Nature! she's in Labour of her Love; Heaven send her a quick Delivery! I'm sure she has a good Midwife.

Aman. I'm very ill, I must go to my Chamber; Dear Berinthia, don't leave me a Moment.

Ber. No, don't fear. [Aside.] I'll see you safe brought-to-bed, I'll warrant you.

[Exeunt, Amanda leaning upon Berinthia.

Enter Young Fashion and Lory.

Young Fash. So, here's our Inheritance, Lory, if we can but get into Possession. But, methinks, the Seat of our Family looks like Noah's Ark, as if the chief part on't were design'd for the Fowls of the Air, and the Beasts of the Field.

Lo. Pray, Sir, don't let your Head run upon the Orders of Building here; get but the Heiress, let the Devil take the House.

Young Fash. Get but the House, let the Devil take the Heiress, I say; at least if she be as old Coupler describes her. But come, we have no time to squander. Knock at the Door. [Lory knocks two or three times.] What the Devil, have they got no Ears in this House? Knock harder.

Lo. I'gad, Sir, this will prove some inchanted Castle; we shall have the Giant come out by and by with his Club, and beat our Brains out.

[Knocks again.

Young Fash. Hush! they come.

From within.] Who is there?

Lo. Open the Door and see: Is that your Country Breeding?

Within. Ay, but two Words to a Bargain: Tummus, is the Blunderbuss prim'd?

Young Fash. Oons, give 'em good Words, Lory; we shall be shot here a Fortune-catching.

Lo. I'gad, Sir, I think y'are in the right on't. Ho, Mr. What d'ye-call-um.—[Servant appears at the Window with a Blunderbuss.] Weal naw, what's yar Business?

Young Fash. Nothing, Sir, but to wait upon Sir Tunbelly, with your leave.

Ser. To weat upon Sir Tunbelly? Why, you'll find that's just as Sir Tunbelly pleases.

Young Fash. But will you do me the Favour, Sir, to know whether Sir Tunbelly pleases or not?

Ser. Why, look you, do you see, with good Words, much may be done. Ralph, go thy weas, and ask Sir Tunbelly if he pleases to be waited upon. And, do'st hear? call to Nurse, that she may lock up Miss Hoyden before the Gates open.

Young Fash. D'ye hear that, Lory?

Lo. Ay, Sir, I'm afraid we shall find a difficult Jobb on't. Pray Heaven that old Rogue Coupler han't sent us to fetch Milk out of the Gunroom!

Young Fash. I'll warrant thee all will go well: See; the Door opens.

Enter Sir Tunbelly, with his Servants arm'd with Guns, Clubs, Pitchforks, Scythes, &c.

Lo. [Running behind his Master.] O Lord, O Lord, O Lord, we are both dead Men!

Young Fash. Take heed, Fool, thy Fear will ruin us.

Lo. My Fear, Sir—'Sdeath, Sir, I fear nothing. [Aside.] Wou'd I were well up to the Chin in a Horse-Pond!

Sir Tun. Who is it here has any Business with me?

Young Fash. Sir, 'tis I, if your Name be Sir Tunbelly Clumsey.

Sir Tun. Sir, my Name is Sir Tunbelly Clumsey, whether you have any Business with me or not. So you see I am not asham'd of my Name—nor my Face—neither.

Young Fash. Sir, you have no cause, that I know of.

Sir Tun. Sir, if you have no cause neither, I desire to know who you are; for till I know your Name, I shall not ask you to come into my House; and when I know your Name—'tis six to four I don't ask you neither.

Young Fash. [Giving him a Letter.] Sir, I hope you'll find this Letter an Authentick Passport.

Sir Tun. God's my life, I ask your Lordship's Pardon ten thousand times. [To his Servant.] Here, run in a-doors quickly: Get a Scotch-Coal Fire in the great Parlour; set all the Turkey-work-Chairs in their places; get the great Brass Candlesticks out; and be sure stick the Sockets full of Laurel; run. [Turning to Young Fash.] My Lord, I ask your Lordship's pardon. [To other Servants.] And do you hear, run away to Nurse, bid her let Miss Hoyden loose again, and if it was not shifting Day, let her put on a clean Tucker—quick!

[Exeunt Servants confusedly.

To Young Fash.] I hope your Honour will excuse the disorder of my Family; we are not us'd to receive Men of your Lordship's great Quality every day; pray where are your Coaches and Servants, my Lord?

Young Fash. Sir, that I might give you and your fair Daughter a proof how impatient I am to be nearer akin to you, I left my Equipage to follow me, and came away Post with only one servant.

Sir Tun. Your Lordship does me too much Honour. It was exposing your Person to too much Fatigue and Danger, I protest it was; but my Daughter shall endeavour to make you what amends she can; and tho' I say it, that shou'd not say it—Hoyden has Charms.

Young Fash. Sir, I am not a Stranger to them, tho' I am to her. Common Fame has done her Justice.

Sir Tun. My Lord, I am common Fame's very grateful humble Servant. My Lord——my Girl's young: Hoyden is young, my Lord; but this I must say for her, what she wants in Art, she has by Nature; what she wants in Experience, she has in Breeding; and what's wanting in her Age, is made good in her Constitution. So pray, my Lord, walk in; pray, my Lord, walk in.

Young Fash. Sir, I wait upon you.

[Exeunt.

Miss Hoyden sola.

Sure never no body was us'd as I am. I know well enough what other Girls do, for all they think to make a Fool of me: It's well I have a Husband a coming, or I'cod, I'd marry the Baker, I wou'd so. No body can knock at the Gate, but presently I must be lockt up; and here's the young Greyhound Bitch can run loose about the House all the day long, she can; 'tis very well.

Nurse without, opening the Door.

Miss Hoyden! Miss, Miss, Miss! Miss Hoyden!

Enter Nurse.

Miss. Well, what do you make such a Noise for, ha! What do you din a body's Ears for? Can't one be at quiet for you?

Nurse. What do I din your Ears for? Here's one come will din your Ears for you.

Miss. What care I who's come? I care not a Fig who comes, nor who goes, as long as I shall be lockt up like the Ale-Cellar.

Nurse. That, Miss, is for fear you shou'd be drank before you are ripe.

Miss. O, don't you trouble your Head about that; I'm as ripe as you, tho' not so mellow.

Nurse. Very well; now I have a good mind to lock you up again, and not let you see my Lord to-night.

Miss. My Lord! Why, is my Husband come?

Nurse. Yes, marry is he, and a goodly Person too.

Miss. [Hugging Nurse.] O my dear Nurse, forgive, me this once, and I'll never misuse you again; no, if I do, you shall give me three thumps on the Back, and a great pinch by the Cheek.

Nurse. Ah the poor Thing, see how it melts; it's as full of Good-Nature as an Egg's full of Meat.

Miss. But, my dear Nurse, don't lie now; is he come, by your troth?

Nurse. Yes, by my truly, is he.

Miss. O Lord! I'll go and put on my lac'd Smock, tho' I am whipt till the Blood run down my Heels for't.

[Exit running.

Nurse. Eh——the Lord succour thee, how thou art delighted!

[Exit after her.

Enter Sir Tunbelly and Young Fashion. A Servant with Wine.

Sir Tun. My Lord, I'm proud of the Honour to see your Lordship within my Doors: and I humbly crave leave to bid you welcome in a Cup of Sack Wine.

Young Fash. Sir, to your Daughter's Health.

[Drinks.

Sir Tun. Ah poor Girl, she'll be fear'd out of her Wits on her Wedding Night; for, honestly speaking, she does not know a Man from a Woman, but by his Beard, and his Breeches.

Young Fash. Sir, I don't doubt she has had a virtuous Education, which, with the rest of her Merit, makes me long to see her mine. I wish you wou'd dispense with the Canonical Hour, and let it be this very Night.

Sir Tun. O not so soon, neither; that's shooting my Girl before you bid her stand. No, give her fair warning, we'll sign and seal to-night if you please; and this Day seven-night—let the Jade look to her Quarters.

Young Fash. This Day seven-night——Why, what do you take me for a Ghost, Sir? 'Slife, Sir, I'm made of Flesh and Blood, and Bones and Sinews, and can no more live a Week without your Daughter—than I can live a Month with her.

[Aside.

Sir Tun. Oh, I'll warrant you, my Hero; young Men are hot, I know, but they don't boil over at that rate, neither; besides, my Wench's Wedding Gown is not come home yet.

Young Fash. O, no matter, Sir; I'll take her in her Shift. [Aside.] A Pox of this old Fellow, he'll delay the Business till my damn'd Star finds me out, and discovers me. [To Sir Tun.] Pray, Sir, let it be done without Ceremony; 'twill save Money.

Sir Tun. Money——Save Money when Hoyden's to be marry'd? Udswoons, I'll give my Wench a Wedding-Dinner, tho' I go to Grass with the King of Assyria for't; and such a Dinner it shall be, as is not to be cook'd in the poaching of an Egg. Therefore, my Noble Lord, have a little Patience, we'll go and look over our Deeds and Settlements immediately; and as for your Bride, tho' you may be sharp-set before she's quite ready, I'll engage for my Girl, she stays your Stomach at last.

[Exeunt.

Enter Miss Hoyden and Nurse.

Nurse. Well, Miss, how do you like your Husband that is to be?

Miss. O Lord, Nurse, I'm so overjoy'd, I can scarce contain myself.

Nurse. O, but you must have a care of being too fond; for Men now a-days hate a Woman that loves 'em.

Miss. Love him! Why do you think I love him, Nurse? I'cod, I would not care if he were hang'd, so I were but once married to him——No——that which pleases me, is to think what Work I'll make when I get to London; for when I am a Wife and a Lady both, Nurse, I'cod, I'll flant it with the best of 'em.

Nurse. Look, look, if his Honour be not a coming to you; now if I were sure you wou'd behave yourself handsomely, and not disgrace me that have brought you up, I'd leave you alone together.

Miss. That's my best Nurse, do as you wou'd be done by; trust us together this once; and if I don't shew my Breeding from the Head to the Foot of me, may I be twice married, and die a Maid!

Nurse. Well, this once I'll venture you; but if you disparage me——

Miss. Never fear, I'll shew him my Parts, I'll warrant him.

[Exit Nurse.

Sola.

These old Women are so wise when they get a poor Girl into their Clutches; but ere it be long, I shall know what's what, as well as the best of 'em.

Enter Young Fashion.

Young Fash. Your Servant, Madam, I'm glad to find you alone; for I have something of Importance to speak to you about.

Miss. Sir, (my Lord, I meant) you may speak to me about what you please, I shall give you a civil Answer.

Young Fash. You give me so obliging a one, it encourages me to tell you in few Words, what I think both for your Interest and mine. Your Father, I suppose you know, has resolv'd to make me happy in being your Husband, and I hope I may depend upon your Consent, to perform what he desires.

Miss. Sir, I never disobey my Father in any thing but eating of green Gooseberries.

Young Fash. So good a Daughter must needs be an admirable Wife; I am therefore impatient till you are mine, and hope you will so far consider the Violence of my Love, that you won't have the Cruelty to defer my Happiness so long as your Father designs it.

Miss. Pray, my Lord, how long is it?

Young Fash. Madam, a thousand Year——a whole Week.

Miss. A Week!—--why, I shall be an old Woman by that time.

Young Fash. And I an old Man, which you'll find a greater Misfortune than t'other.

Miss. Why I thought it was to be to-morrow Morning, as soon as I was up; I'm sure Nurse told me so.

Young Fash. And it shall be to-morrow Morning still, if you'll consent.

Miss. If I'll consent! Why I thought I was to obey you as my Husband.

Young Fash. That's when we are married; till then, I am to obey you.

Miss. Why then if we are to take it by turns, it's the same thing: I'll obey you now, and when we are married, you shall obey me.

Young Fash. With all my heart; but I doubt we must get Nurse on our side, or we shall hardly prevail with the Chaplain.

Miss. No more we shan't indeed, for he loves her better than he loves his Pulpit, and wou'd always be a preaching to her, by his good Will.

Young Fash. Why then, my dear little Bedfellow, if you'll call her hither, we'll try to persuade her presently.

Miss. O Lord, I can tell you a way how to persuade her to any thing.

Young Fash. How's that?

Miss. Why tell her she's a wholesome, comely Woman——and give her Half a Crown.

Young Fash. Nay, if that will do, she shall have half a score of 'em.

Miss. O Gemini, for half that she'd marry you herself: I'll run and call her.

[Exit Miss.

Young Fashion solus.

So, Matters go swimmingly; this is a rare Girl, i'faith; I shall have a fine time of it with her at London. I'm much mistaken if she don't prove a March Hare all the Year round. What a scampering Chace will she make on't, when me finds the whole Kennel of Beaux at her Tail! Hey to the Park and the Play, and the Church, and the Devil; she'll shew them sport, I'll warrant 'em. But no matter, she brings an Estate will afford me a separate Maintenance.

Enter Miss and Nurse.

Young Fash. How do you do, good Mistress Nurse? I desir'd your young Lady would give me leave to see you, that I might thank you for your extraordinary Care and Conduct in her Education; pray accept of this small Acknowledgement for it at present, and depend upon my farther Kindness, when I shall be that happy thing her Husband.

Nurse. [Aside.] Gold by mackins! Your Honour's Goodness is too great: alas! all I can boast of is, I gave her poor good Milk, and so your Honour wou'd have said, an you had seen how the poor thing suck't it——Eh, God's blessing on the sweet Face on't! how it us'd to hang at this poor Teat, and suck and squeeze, and kick and sprawl it wou'd, till the Belly on't was so full, it wou'd drop off like a Leech.

[Miss to Nurse, taking her angrily aside.

Pray one word with you; pr'ythee, Nurse, don't stand ripping up old Stories, to make one asham'd before one's Love: do you think such a fine proper Gentleman as he is, cares for a fiddlecome Tale of a draggle-tail'd Girl;, if you have a mind to make him have a good Opinion of a Woman, don't tell him what one did then, tell him what one can do now. [To Young Fash.] I hope your Honour will excuse my Mismanners to whisper before you, it was only to give some orders about the Family.

Young Fash. O every thing, Madam, is to give way to Business; besides, good Housewifery is a very commendable Quality in a young Lady.

Miss. Pray, Sir, are the young Ladies good Housewives at London Town? Do they darn their own Linen?

Young Fash. O no, they study how to spend Money, not to save it.

Miss. I'cod, I don't know but that may be better Sport than t'other, ha, Nurse!

Young Fash. Well, you shall have your Choice when you come there.

Miss. Shall I——then by my troth I'll get there as fast as I can.

To Nurse.] His Honour desires you'll be so kind, as to let us be marry'd to-morrow.

Nurse. To-morrow, my dear Madam?

Young Fash. Yes, to-morrow, sweet Nurse, privately; young Folks, you know, are impatient, and Sir Tunbelly wou'd make us stay a Week for a Wedding-Dinner. Now all things being sign'd and seal'd, and agreed, I fancy there cou'd be no great harm in practising a Scene or two of Matrimony in private, if it were only to give us the better Assurance when we come to play it in publick.

Nurse. Nay, I must confess stolen Pleasures are sweet; but if you shou'd be married now, what will you do when Sir Tunbelly calls for you to be wedded?

Miss. Why then we will be married again.

Nurse. What, twice, my Child?

Miss. I'cod, I don't care how often I'm married, not I.

Young Fash. Pray, Nurse, don't you be against your young Lady's good; for by this means she'll have the pleasure of two Wedding-Days.

Miss to Nurse softly.] And of two Wedding-Nights too, Nurse.

Nurse. Well, I'm such a tender-hearted Fool, I find I can refuse you nothing; so you shall e'en follow your own Inventions.

Miss. Shall I? [Aside.] O Lord, I could leap over the Moon.

Young Fash. Dear Nurse, this Goodness of yours shan't go unrewarded; but now you must employ your Power with Mr. Bull the Chaplain, that he may do his friendly Office too, and then we shall be all happy; do you think you can prevail with him?

Nurse. Prevail with him——or he shall never prevail with me, I can tell him that.

Miss. My Lord, she has had him upon the hip this seven Year.

Young Fash. I'm glad to hear it; however, to strengthen your Interest with him, you may let him know I have several fat Livings in my Gift, and that the first that falls shall be in your Disposal.

Nurse. Nay, then I'll make him marry more Folks, than one, I'll promise him.

Miss. Faith, do, Nurse, make him marry you too; I'm sure he'll do't for a fat Living; for he loves Eating more than he loves his Bible; and I have often heard, him say, a fat Living was the best Meat in the World.

Nurse. Ay, and I'll make him commend the Sauce too, or I'll bring his Gown to a Cassock, I will so.

Young Fash. Well, Nurse, whilst you go and settle Matters with him, your Lady and I will go and take a walk in the Garden.

Nurse. I'll do your Honour's Business in the catching up of a Garter.

[Exit Nurse.

Young Fash. [Giving her his Hand.] Come, Madam, dare you venture yourself alone with me?

Miss. O dear, yes, Sir; I don't think you'll do any thing to me I need be afraid on.

Enter Amanda and Berinthia.

Aman. Well, now, Berinthia, I'm at leisure to hear what 'twas you had to say to me.

Ber. What I had to say, was only to echo the Sighs and Groans of a dying Lover.

Aman. Phu, will you never learn to talk in earnest of any thing?

Ber. Why this shall be in earnest, if you please; for my part, I only tell you Matter of Fact—you may take it which way you like best; but if you'll follow the Women of the Town, you'll take it both ways; for when a Man offers himself to one of them, first she takes him in jest, and then she takes him in earnest.

Aman. I'm sure there's so much jest and earnest in what you say to me, I scarce know how to take it; but I think you have bewitched me, for I don't find it possible to be angry with you, say what you will.

Ber. I'm very glad to hear it, for I have no mind to quarrel with you, for some Reasons that I'll not brag of; but quarrel or not, smile or frown, I must tell you what I have suffer'd upon your account.

Aman. Upon my account!

Ber. Yes, upon yours; I have been forc'd to sit still and hear you commended for two Hours together, without one Compliment to myself; now don't you think a Woman has a blessed time of that?

Aman. Alas! I shou'd have been unconcern'd at it; I never knew where the Pleasure lay of being prais'd by the Men: but pray who was this that commended me so?

Ber. One you have a mortal Aversion to—Mr. Worthy: he us'd you like a Text, he took you all to pieces, but spoke so learnedly upon every Point, one might see the Spirit of the Church was in him: if you are a Woman, you'd have been in an Extasy to have heard how feelingly he handled your Hair, your Eyes, your Nose, your Mouth, your Teeth, your Tongue, your Chin, your Neck, and so forth. Thus he preach'd for an Hour; but when he came to use an Application, he observ'd that all these, without a Gallant, were nothing—Now consider of what has been said, and Heaven give you Grace to put it in practice!

Aman. Alas! Berinthia, did I incline to a Gallant, (which you know I do not) do you think a Man so nice as he, cou'd have the least concern for such a plain unpolish'd thing as I am? It is impossible!

Ber. Now have you a great mind to put me upon commending you.

Aman. Indeed that was not my Design.

Ber. Nay, if it were, it's all one, for I won't do't, I'll leave that to your Looking-glass. But to shew you I have some Good-nature left, I'll commend him, and may be that may do as well.

Aman. You have a great mind to persuade me I am in love with him.

Ber. I have a great mind to persuade you, you don't know what you are in love with.

Aman. I am sure I am not in love with him, nor never shall be; so let that pass: but you were saying something you wou'd commend him for.

Ber. O, you'd be glad to hear a good Character of him, however.

Aman. Psha.

Ber. Psha——Well, 'tis a foolish Undertaking for Women in these kind of Matters, to pretend to deceive one another——Have not I been bred a Woman as well as you?

Aman. What then?

Ber. Why then I understand my Trade so well, that whenever I am told of a Man I like, I cry, Psha! But that I may spare you the pains of putting me a second time in mind to commend him, I'll proceed, and give you this account of him: That tho' 'tis possible he may have had Women with as good Faces as your Ladyship's, (no Discredit to it neither) yet you must know your cautious Behaviour, with that Reserve in your Humour, has given him his Death's Wound; he mortally hates a Coquette; he says 'tis impossible to love where he cannot esteem; and that no Woman can be esteemed by a Man who has Sense, if she makes herself cheap in the Eye of a Fool. That Pride to a Woman, is as necessary as Humility to a Divine; and that far-fetch'd, and dear bought, is Meat for Gentlemen, as well as for Ladies——In short, that every Woman who has Beauty may set a price upon herself, and that by under-selling the Market they ruin the Trade. This is his Doctrine, how do you like it?

Aman. So well that, since I never intend to have a Gallant for myself, if I were to recommend one to a Friend, he shou'd be the Man.

Enter Worthy.

Bless me, he's here! pray Heaven he did not hear me!

Ber. If he did, it won't hurt your Reputation; your Thoughts are as safe in his Heart as in your own.

Wor. I venture in at an unseasonable time of Night, Ladies; I hope if I am troublesome, you'll use the same freedom in turning me out again.

Aman. I believe it can't be late, for Mr. Loveless is not come home yet, and he usually keeps good Hours.

Wor. Madam, I'm afraid he'll transgress a little to-night; for he told me about half an Hour ago, he was going to sup with some Company, he doubted would keep him out till three or four o'clock in the Morning, and desir'd I would let my Servant acquaint you with it, that you might not expect him: But my Fellow's a Blunder-head; so, lest he should make some mistake, I thought it my Duty to deliver the Message myself.

Aman. I'm very sorry he shou'd give you that trouble, Sir: But——

Ber. But since he has, will you give me leave, Madam, to keep him to play at Ombre with us?

Aman. Cousin, you know you command my House.

Wor. to Ber.] And, Madam, you know you command me, tho' I'm a very wretched Gamester.

Ber. O you play well enough to lose your Money, and that's all the Ladies require; so without any more Ceremony, let us go into the next Room and call for the Cards.

Aman. With all my heart.

[Exit Wor. leading Aman.

Ber. sola. Well, how this Business will end, Heaven knows; but she seems to me to be in as fair a way——as a Boy is to be a Rogue, when he's put Clerk to an Attorney.

[Exit Berinthia.

Enter Loveless cautiously in the dark.

Lov. So, thus for all's well. I'm got into her Bed-Chamber, and I think nobody has perceiv'd me steal into the House; my Wife don't expect me home till four o'Clock; so if Berinthia comes to Bed by eleven, I shall have a Chace of five Hours. Let me see, where shall I hide myself? Under her Bed? No; we shall have her Maid searching there for something or other; her Closet's a better place, and I have a Master-Key will open it: I'll e'en in there, and attack her just when she comes to her Prayers, that's the most like to prove her critical Minute; for then the Devil will be there to assist me.

[He opens the Closet, goes in, and shuts the door after him.

Enter Berinthia with a Candle in her hand.

Ber. Well, sure I am the best-natur'd Woman in the World. I that love Cards so well (there is but one thing upon the Earth I love better) have pretended Letters to write, to give my Friends a Tête-à-Tête; however, I'm innocent, for Picquet is the Game I set 'em to: at her own peril be it, if she ventures to play with him at any other. But now what shall I do with myself? I don't know how in the World to pass my time; wou'd Loveless were here to badiner a little! Well, he's a charming Fellow, I don't wonder his Wife's so fond of him. What if I shou'd set down and think of him till I fall asleep, and dream of the Lord knows what? O, but then if I shou'd dream we were married, I shou'd be frighted out of my Wits. [Seeing a Book.] What's this Book? I think I had best go read. O Splenetique! 'tis a Sermon. Well, I'll go into my Closet, and read the Plotting Sisters. [She opens the Closet, sees Loveless, and shrieks out.] O Lord, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost, a Ghost!

Enter Loveless running to her.

Lov. Peace, my Dear; it's no Ghost, take it in your Arms, you'll find 'tis worth a hundred of 'em.

Ber. Run in again; here's somebody coming.

Enter Maid.

Maid. O Lord, Madam, what's the matter?

Ber. O Heav'ns! I'm almost frighted out of my Wits. I thought verily I had seen a Ghost, and 'twas nothing but the white Curtain, with a black Hood pinn'd up against it; you may be gone again, I am the fearfullest Fool.—

[Exit Maid.

Re-enter Loveless.

Lov. Is the Coast clear?

Ber. The Coast clear! I suppose you are clear, you'd never play such a Trick as this else.

Lov. I am very well pleas'd with my Trick thus far, and shall be so till I have play'd it out, if it ben't your Fault: where's my Wife?

Ber. At Cards.

Lov. With whom?

Ber. With Worthy.

Lov. Then we are safe enough.

Ber. You are so! Some Husbands wou'd be of another mind, if he were at Cards with their Wives.

Lov. And they'd be in the right on't too. But I dare trust mine:——Besides, I know he's in love in another place, and he's not one of those who court half a dozen at a time.

Ber. Nay, the truth on't is, you'd pity him if you saw how uneasy he is at being engag'd with us; but 'twas my Malice. I fancy'd he was to meet his Mistress some where else, so did it to have the pleasure of seeing him fret.

Lov. What says Amanda to my staying abroad so late?

Ber. Why she's as much out of Humour as he, I believe they wish one another at the Devil.

Lov. Then I'm afraid they'll quarrel at Play, and soon throw up the Cards: [Offering in pull her into her Closet.] Therefore, my dear charming Angel, let us make good use of our time.

Ber. Heavens! what do you mean?

Lov. Pray what do you think I mean?

Ber. I don't know.

Lov. I'll shew you.

Ber. You may as well tell me.

Lov. No, that wou'd make you blush worse than t'other.

Ber. Why, do you intend to make me blush?

Lov. Faith, I can't tell that; but if I do, it shall be in the dark.

[Pulling her.

Ber. O Heavens! I wou'd not be in the dark with you for all the World.

Lov. I'll try that.

[Puts out the Candles.

Ber. O Lord! are you mad! What shall I do for Light?

Lov. You'll do as well without it.

Ber. Why, one can't find a Chair to sit down?

Lov. Come into the Closet, Madam, there's Moonshine upon the Couch.

Ber. Nay, never pull, for I will not go.

Lov. Then you must be carried.

[Carrying her.

Ber. Help, help, I'm ravish'd, ruin'd, undone. O Lord, I shall never be able to bear it.

[Very softly.

Enter Miss Hoyden, Nurse, Young Fashion, and Bull.

Young Fash. This quick dispatch of yours, Mr. Bull, I take so kindly, it shall give you a claim to my Favour as long as I live, I do assure you.

Miss. And to mine too, I promise you.

Bull. I most humbly thank your Honours; and I hope, since it has been my Lot to join you in the holy Bands of Wedlock, you will so well cultivate the Soil which I have crav'd a Blessing on, that your Children may swarm about you like Bees about a Honey-Comb.

Miss. I'cod with all my Heart, the more the merrier, I say; ha, Nurse.

Enter Lory, taking his Master hastily aside.

Lo. One Word with you, for Heaven's sake.

Young Fash. What the Devil's the matter?

Lo. Sir, your Fortune's ruin'd, and I don't think your Life's worth a quarter of an Hour's Purchase: Yonder's your Brother arriv'd with two Coaches and six Horses, twenty Footmen and Pages, a Coat worth fourscore Pound, and a Perriwig down to his Knees: So judge what will become of your Lady's Heart.

Young Fash. Death and Furies! 'tis impossible.

Lo. Fiends and Spectres! Sir, 'tis true.

Young Fash. Is he in the House yet?

Lo. No, they are capitulating with him at the Gate; the Porter tells him, he's come to run away with Miss Hoyden, and has cock'd the Blunderbuss at him; your Brother swears Gad Damme, they are a parcel of Clawns, and he had a good mind to break off the Match; but they have given the Word for Sir Tunbelly, so I doubt all will come out presently. Pray, Sir, resolve what you'll do this Moment, for I'gad they'll maul you.

Young Fash. Stay a little. [To Miss.] My Dear, here's a troublesome Business my Man tells me of; but don't be frighten'd, we shall be too hard for the Rogue. Here's an impudent Fellow at the Gate (not knowing I was come hither incognito) has taken my Name upon him, in hopes to run away with you.

Miss. O the Brazen-fac'd Varlet, it's well we are married, or may be we might never have been so.

Young Fash. [Aside.] I'gad, like enough: Pr'ythee, dear Doctor, run to Sir Tunbelly, and stop him from going to the Gate, before I speak with him.

Bull. I fly, my good Lord——

[Exit Bull.

Nurse. An't please your Honour, my Lady and I had best lock ourselves up till the Danger be over.

Young Fash. Ay, by all means.

Miss. Not so fast, I won't be lock'd up any more. I'm marry'd.

Young Fash. Yes, pray my Dear do, till we have seiz'd this Rascal.

Miss. Nay, if you pray me, I'll do any thing.

[Exeunt Miss and Nurse.

Young Fash. O! here's Sir Tunbelly coming. [To Lo.] Hark you, Sirrah, things are better than you imagine; the Wedding's over.

Lo. The Devil it is, Sir.

Young Fash. Not a Word, all's safe: But Sir Tunbelly don't know it, nor must not yet; so I am resolv'd to brazen the Business out, and have the Pleasure of turning the Impostor upon his Lordship, which I believe may easily be done.

Enter Sir Tunbelly, Chap. and Servants arm'd.

Young Fash. Did you ever hear, Sir, of so impudent an Undertaking?

Sir Tun. Never, by the Mass, but we'll tickle him, I'll warrant him.

Young Fash. They tell me, Sir, he has a great many People with him disguis'd like Servants.

Sir Tun. Ay, ay, Rogues enow; but I'll soon raise the Posse upon 'em.

Young Fash. Sir, if you'll take my Advice, we'll go a shorter way to work; I find, whoever this Spark is, he knows nothing of my being privately here; so if you pretend to receive him civilly, he'll enter without Suspicion; and as soon as he is within the Gate, we'll whip up the Drawbridge upon his Back, let fly the Blunderbuss to disperse the Crew, and so commit him to Gaol.

Sir Tun. I'gad, your Lordship is an ingenious Person, and a very great General; but shall we kill any of 'em, or not?

Young Fash. No, no, fire over their Heads only to fright them; I'll warrant the Regiment scours when the Colonel's a Prisoner.

Sir Tun. Then come along, my Boys, and let your Courage be great——for your Danger is but small.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lord Foppington and Followers.

Lord Fop. A Pax of these Bumkinly People, will they open the Gate, or do they desire I shou'd grow at their Moat-side like a Willow? [To the Porter.] Hey, Fellow—Pr'ythee do me the Favour, in as few words as thou canst find to express thyself, to tell me whether thy Master will admit me or not, that I may turn about my Coach, and be gone.

Por. Here's my Master himself now at hand, he's of Age, he'll give you his Answer.

Enter Sir Tunbelly, and his Servants.

Sir Tun. My most noble Lord, I crave your pardon for making your Honour wait so long; but my Orders to my servants have been to admit no body without my Knowledge, for fear of some Attempts upon my Daughter, the Times being full of Plots and Roguery.

Lord Fop. Much Caution, I must confess, is a Sign of great Wisdom: But, stap my Vitals, I have got a Cold enough to destroy a Porter—He, hem—

Sir Tun. I am very sorry for't, indeed, my Lord; but if your Lordship please to walk in, we'll help you to some brown Sugar-Candy. My Lord, I'll shew you the way.

Lord Fop. Sir, I follow you with pleasure.

[Exeunt.

[As Lord Foppington's Servants go to follow him in, they clap the Door against La Varole.

Servants within. Nay, hold you me there, Sir.

La Var. Jernie, qu'est ce que veut dire ça?

Sir Tun. [Within.]——Fire, Porter.

Porter fires.——Have among you, my Masters.

La Var. Ah je suis mort—

[The servants all run off.

Port. Not one Soldier left, by the Mass.

Enter Sir Tunbelly, the Chaplain and Servants, with Lord Foppington disarm'd.

Sir Tun. Come, bring him along, bring him along.

Lord Fop. What the Pax do you mean, Gentlemen, is it Fair time, that you are all drunk before Dinner?

Sir Tun. Drunk, Sirrah! Here's an impudent Rogue for you! Drunk or Sober, Bully, I'm a Justice of the Peace, and know how to deal with Strolers.

Lord Fop. Strolers!

Sir Tun. Ay, Strolers; come, give an account of yourself; what's your Name? where do you live? Do you pay Scot and Lot? Are you a Williamite, or a Jacobite? Come.

Lord Fop. And why dost thou ask me so many impertinent Questions?

Sir Tun. Because I'll make you answer 'em before I have done with you, you Rascal you.

Lord Fop. Before Gad, all the Answer I can make thee to 'em, is, that thou art a very extraordinary old Fellow; stap my Vitals—

Sir Tun. Nay, if you are for joaking with Deputy-Lieutenants, we know how to deal with you: Here, draw a Warrant for him immediately.

Lord Fop. A Warrant——what the Devil is't thou wou'dst be at, old Gentleman?

Sir Tun. I wou'd be at you, Sirrah, (if my Hands were not ty'd as a Magistrate) and with these two double Fists beat your Teeth down your Throat, you Dog you.

Lord Fop. And why would'st thou spoil my Face at that rate?

Sir Tun. For your Design to rob me of my Daughter, Villain.

Lord Fop. Rab thee of thy Daughter——Now I do begin to believe I am a-bed and a-sleep, and that all this is but a Dream—If it be, 'twill be an agreeable Surprize enough, to waken by and by; and instead of the impertinent Company of a nasty Country Justice, find my self perhaps in the Arms of a Woman of Quality—[To Sir Tun.] Pr'ythee, old Father, wilt thou give me leave to ask thee one Question?

Sir Tun. I can't tell whether I will or not, till I know what it is.

Lord Fop. Why, then, it is, whether thou didst not write to my Lord Foppington to come down and marry thy Daughter?

Sir Tun. Yes, marry did I, and my Lord Foppington is come down, and shall marry my Daughter before she's a Day older.

Lord Fop. Now give me thy Hand, dear Dad, I thought we should understand one another at last.

Sir Tun. This Fellow's mad——here bind him Hand and Foot.

[They bind him down.

Lord Fop. Nay, pr'ythee, Knight, leave fooling, thy Jest begins to grow dull.

Sir Tun. Bind him, I say, he's mad——Bread and Water, a dark Room, and a Whip, may bring him to his Senses again.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] I'gad, if I don't waken quickly, by all that I can see, this is like to prove one of the most impertinent Dreams that ever I dreamt in my Life.

Enter Miss and Nurse. [Miss going up to him.]

Miss. Is this he that wou'd have run away with me? Fough, how he stinks of sweets! Pray, Father, let him be dragg'd through the Horse-Pond.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] This must be my Wife by her natural Inclination to her Husband.

Miss. Pray, Father, what do you intend to do with him? hang him?

Sir Tun. That at least, Child.

Nurse. Ay, and it's e'en too good for him too.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] Madame la Governante, I presume, hitherto this appears to me to be one of the most extraordinary Families that ever Man of Quality match'd into.

Sir Tun. What's become of my Lord, Daughter?

Miss. He's just coming, Sir.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] My Lord——What does he mean by that now?

Enter Young Fashion and Lory.

Seeing him.] Stap my Vitals, Tam, now the Dream's out.

Young Fash. Is this the Fellow, Sir, that design'd to trick me of your Daughter?

Sir Tun. This is he, my Lord, how do you like him? Is not he a pretty Fellow to get a Fortune?

Young Fash. I find by his Dress, he thought your Daughter might be taken with a Beau.

Miss. O Gemini! Is this a Beau? let me see him again——ha! I find a Beau is no such ugly thing neither.

Young Fash. I'gad, she'll be in love with him presently; I'll e'en have him sent away to Gaol. [To Lord Fop.] Sir, tho' your Undertaking shews you are a Person of no extraordinary Modesty, I suppose you han't Confidence enough to expect much Favour from me.

Lord Fop. Strike me dumb, Tam, thou art a very impudent Fellow.

Nurse. Look if the Varlet has not the Frontery to call his Lordship plain Thomas.

Bull. The business is, he wou'd feign himself mad, to avoid going to Gaol.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] That must be the Chaplain, by his unfolding of Mysteries.

Sir Tun. Come, is the Warrant writ?

Cler. Yes, Sir.

Sir Tun. Give me the Pen, I'll sign it——So now, Constable, away with him.

Lord Fop. Hold one Moment——Pray, Gentlemen; my Lord Foppington, shall I beg one Word with your Lordship?

Nurse. O ho, it's my Lord with him now; see how Afflictions will humble Folks.

Miss. Pray, my Lord, don't let him whisper too close, lest he bite your Ear off.

Lord Fop.. I am not altogether so hungry, as your Ladyship is pleased to imagine. [To Young Fash.] Look you, Tam, I am sensible I have not been so kind to you as I ought, but I hope you'll forget what's past, and accept of the five thousand Pounds I offer; thou may'st live in extreme Splendor with it; stap my Vitals.

Young Fash. It's a much easier matter to prevent a Disease than to cure it; a quarter of that Sum would have secur'd your Mistress; twice as much won't redeem her.

[Leaving him.

Sir Tun. Well, what says he?

Young Fash. Only the Rascal offer'd me a Bribe to let him go.

Sir Tun. Ay, he shall go, with a Pox to him: Lead on, Constable.

Lord Fop.. One word more, and I've done.

Sir Tun. Before Gad, thou art an impudent Fellow, to trouble the Court at this rate, after thou art condemned; but speak once for all.

Lord Fop. Why then once for all; I have at last luckily call'd to mind, that there is a Gentleman of this Country, who I believe cannot live far from this place, if he were here, would satisfy you, I am Novelty, Baron of Foppington, with five thousand Pounds a year, and that Fellow there a Rascal, not worth a Groat.

Sir Tun. Very well; now who is this honest Gentleman you are so well acquainted with. [To Young Fash.] Come, Sir, we shall hamper him.

Lord Fop. 'Tis Sir John Friendly.

Sir Tun. So, he lives within half a Mile, and came down into the Country but last Night; this bold-fac'd Fellow thought he had been at London still, and so quoted him; now we shall display him in his Colours: I'll send for Sir John immediately. Here, Fellow, away presently; and desire my Neighbour he'll do me the favour to step over, upon an extraordinary Occasion; and in the mean while you had best secure this Sharper in the Gate-House.

Const. An't please your Worship, he may chance to give us the Slip thence: If I were worthy to advise, I think the Dog-kennel's a surer Place.

Sir Tun. With all my heart, anywhere.

Lord Fop. Nay, for Heaven's sake, Sir, do me the favour to put me in a clean Room, that I mayn't daub my Clothes.

Sir Tun. O when you have married my Daughter, her Estate will afford you new ones: Away with him.

Lord Fop. A dirty Country Justice is a barbarous Magistrate, stap my Vitals——

[Exit Constable with Lord Foppington.

Young Fash. [Aside.] I gad I must prevent this Knight's coming, or the House will grow soon too hot to hold me.

To Sir Tun.] Sir, I fancy 'tis not worth while to trouble Sir John upon this impertinent Fellow's Desire: I'll send and call the Messenger back——

Sir Tun. Nay, with all my heart; for to be sure he thought he was far enough off, or the Rogue wou'd never have nam'd him.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, I met Sir John just lighting at the Gate; he's come to wait upon you.

Sir Tun. Nay, then it happens as one cou'd wish.

Young Fash. [Aside.] The Devil it does! Lory, you see how things are, here will be a Discovery presently, and we shall have our Brains beat out: For my Brother will be sure to swear he don't know me: Therefore run into the Stable, take the two first Horses you can light on, I'll slip out at the Back-Door, and we'll away immediately.

Lo. What, and leave your Lady, Sir?

Young Fash. There's no Danger in that, as long as I have taken possession; I shall know how to treat with them well enough, if once I am out of their reach. Away, I'll steal after thee.

[Exit Lory, his Master follows him out at one Door, as Sir John enters at t'other.

Enter Sir John.

Sir Tun. Sir John, you are the welcom'st Man alive; I had just sent a Messenger to desire you'd step over, upon a very extraordinary Occasion—we are all in Arms here.

Sir John. How so?

Sir Tun. Why, you must know——a sinical sort of a tawdry Fellow here (I don't know who the Devil he is, not I) hearing, I suppose, that the Match was concluded between my Lord Foppington and my Girl Hoyden, comes impudently to the Gate, and with a whole Pack of Rogues in Liveries, wou'd have pass'd upon me for his Lordship: But what does I? I comes up to him boldly at the Head of his Guards, takes him by the Throat, strikes up his Heels, binds him Hand and Foot, dispatches a Warrant, and commits him Prisoner to the Dog-kennel.

Sir John. So, but how do you know but this was my Lord? for I was told he set out from London the Day before me, with a very fine Retinue, and intended to come directly hither.

Sir Tun. Why now to shew you how many Lies People raise in that damn'd Town, he came two Nights ago Post, with only one Servant, and is now in the House with me: But you don't know the Cream of the Jest yet; this same Rogue, (that lies yonder Neck and Heels among the Hounds) thinking you were out of the Country, quotes you for his Acquaintance, and said, if you were here, you'd justify him to be Lord Foppington, and I know not what.

Sir John. Pray will you let me see him?

Sir Tun. Ay, that you shall presently——here, fetch the Prisoner.

[Exit Servant.

Sir John. I wish there ben't some Mistake in the Business, where's my Lord? I know him very well.

Sir Tun. He was here just now; see for him, Doctor, tell him Sir John is here to wait upon him.

[Ex. Chaplain.

Sir John. I hope, Sir Tunbelly, the young Lady is not married yet.

Sir Tun. No, things won't be ready this Week; but why do you say, you hope she is not married?

Sir John. Some foolish Fancies only, perhaps I'm mistaken.

Re-enter Chaplain.

Bull. Sir, his Lordship is just rid out to take the Air.

Sir Tun. To take the Air! Is that his London Breeding, to go to take the Air, when Gentlemen come to visit him?

Sir John. 'Tis possible he might want it, he might not be well, some sudden Qualm perhaps.

Enter Constable, &c. with Lord Foppington.

Lord Fop. Stap my Vitals, I'll have Satisfaction.

Sir John. [Running to him.] My dear Lord Foppington!

Lord Fop. Dear Friendly, thou art come in the critical Minute, strike me dumb.

Sir John. Why, I little thought to have found you in Fetters.

Lord Fop. Why truly the World must do me the justice to confess, I do use to appear, a little more degagé: But this old Gentleman, not liking the Freedom of my Air, has been pleased to skewer down my Arms like a Rabbit.

Sir Tun. Is it then possible that this shou'd be the true Lord Foppington at last?

Lord Fop. Why what do you see in his Face to make you doubt of it? Sir, without presuming to have any extraordinary Opinion of my Figure, give me leave to tell you, if you had seen as many Lords as I have done, you would not think it impossible a Person of a worse Taille than mine, might be a modern Man of Quality.

Sir Tun. Unbind him, Slaves: my Lord, I'm struck dumb, I can only beg Pardon by Signs; but if a Sacrifice will appease you, you shall have it. Here, pursue this Tartar, bring him back——Away, I say, a Dog, Oons——I'll cut off his Ears and his Tail, I'll draw out all his Teeth, pull his skin over his Head——and——what shall I do more?

Sir John. He does indeed deserve to be made an Example of.

Lord Fop. He does deserve to be chartrè, stap my Vitals.

Sir Tun. May I then hope I have your Honour's Pardon?

Lord Fop. Sir, we Courtiers do nothing without a Bribe; that fair young Lady might do Miracles.

Sir Tun. Hoyden, come hither, Hoyden.

Lord Fop. Hoyden is her Name, Sir?

Sir Tun. Yes, my Lord.

Lord Fop. The prettiest Name for a Song I ever heard.

Sir Tun. My Lord——here's my Girl, she's yours, she has a wholesome Body, and virtuous Mind; she's a Woman complete, both in Flesh and in Spirit; she has a Bag of mill'd Crowns, as scarce as they are, and fifteen hundred a-year flitch'd fast to her Tail: so go thy ways, Hoyden.

Lord Fop. Sir, I do receive her like a Gentleman.

Sir Tun. Then I'm a happy Man, I bless Heaven, and if your Lordship will give me leave, I will, like a good Christian at Christmas, be very drunk by way of Thanksgiving. Come, my noble Peer, I believe Dinner's ready; if your Honour pleases to follow me, I'll lead you on to the Attack of a Venison Pasty.

[Exit Sir Tun.

Lord Fop. Sir, I wait upon you: Will your Ladyship do me the favour of your little Finger, Madam?

Miss. My Lord, I'll follow you presently. I have a little Business with my Nurse.

Lord Fop. Your Ladyship's most humble Servant; come, Sir John, the Ladies have des Affaires.

[Exeunt Lord Fop. and Sir John.

Miss. So, Nurse, we are finely brought to bed! What shall we do now?

Nurse. Ah, dear Miss, we are all undone! Mr. Bull, you were us'd to help a Woman to a Remedy.

[Crying.

Bull. A lack a-day, but it's past my Skill now, I can do nothing.

Nurse. Who wou'd have thought that ever your Invention shou'd have been drain'd so dry?

Miss. Well, I have often thought old Folks Fools, and now I'm sure they are so; I have found a way myself to secure us all.

Nurse. Dear Lady, what's that?

Miss. Why, if you two will be sure to hold your Tongues, and not say a word of what's past, I'll e'en marry this Lord too.

Nurse. What! two Husbands, my Dear?

Miss. Why you had three, good Nurse, you may hold your Tongue.

Nurse. Ay, but not all together, sweet Child.

Miss. Psha, if you had, you'd ne'er thought much on't.

Nurse. O but 'tis a Sin—Sweeting.

Bull. Nay, that's my business to speak to, Nurse. I do confess, to take two Husbands for the Satisfaction of the Flesh, is to commit the Sin of Exorbitancy; but to do it for the Peace of the Spirit, is no more than to be drunk by way of Physick: Besides, to prevent a Parent's Wrath, is to avoid the Sin of Disobedience; for when the Parent's angry the Child is froward. So that upon the whole Matter, I do think, tho' Miss shou'd marry again, she may be sav'd.

Miss. I'cod, and I will marry again then, and so there is an end of the Story.

[Exeunt.

Enter Coupler, Young Fashion, and Lory.

Coup. Well, and so Sir John coming in—

Young Fash. And so Sir John coming in, I thought it might be Manners in me to go out, which I did, and getting on Horseback as fast as I cou'd, rid away as if the Devil had been at the Rear of me; what has happen'd since, Heav'n knows.

Coup. I'gad, Sirrah, I know as well as Heaven.

Young Fash. What do you know?

Coup. That you are a Cuckold.

Young Fash. The Devil I am! By who?

Coup. By your Brother.

Young Fash. My Brother! which way?

Coup. The old way, he has lain with your Wife.

Young Fash. Hell and Furies, what dost thou mean?

Coup. I mean plainly, I speak no Parable.

Young Fash. Plainly! Thou dost not speak common Sense, I cannot understand one Word thou sayst.

Coup. You will do soon, Youngster. In short, you left your Wife a Widow, and she married again.

Young Fash. It's a Lye.

Coup.——I'cod, if I were a young Fellow, I'd break your Head, Sirrah.

Young Fash. Dear Dad, don't be angry, for I'm as mad as Tom of Bedlam.

Coup. When I had fitted you with a Wife, you shou'd have kept her.

Young Fash. But is it possible the young Strumpet cou'd play such a Trick?

Coup. A young Strumpet, Sir——can play twenty Tricks.

Young Fash. But pr'ythee instruct me a little farther; whence comes thy Intelligence!

Coup. From your Brother, in this Letter; there, you may read it.

[Young Fashion reads.

So, here's rare Work, I'faith!

Lo. I'gad, Miss Hoyden has laid about her bravely.

Coup. I think my Country-Girl has play'd her part, as well as if she had been born and bred in St. James's Parish.

Young Fash.——That Rogue the Chaplain.

Lo. And then that Jade the Nurse, Sir.

Young Fash. And then that drunken Sot, Lory, Sir; that cou'd not keep himself sober to be a Witness to the Marriage.

Lo. Sir——with respect——I know very few drunken Sots that do keep themselves sober.

Young Fash. Hold your prating, Sirrah, or I'll break your Head; dear Coupler, what's to be done?

Coup. Nothing's to be done till the Bride and Bridegroom come to Town.

Young Fash. Bride and Bridegroom! Death and Furies! I can't bear that thou shouldst call them so.

Coup. Why, what shall I call them, Dog and Cat?

Young Fash. Not for the World, that sounds more like Man and Wife than t'other.

Coup. Well, if you'll hear of them in no Language, we'll leave them for the Nurse and the Chaplain.

Young Fash. The Devil and the Witch.

Coup. When they come to Town——

Lo. We shall have stormy Weather.

Coup. Will you hold your tongues, Gentlemen, or not?

Lo. Mum.

Coup. I say when they, come, we must find what Stuff they are made of, whether the Churchman be chiefly compos'd of the Flesh, or the Spirit; I presume the former——For as Chaplains now go, 'tis probable he eats three Pound of Beef to the reading one Chapter——This gives him carnal Desires, he wants Money, Preferment, Wine, a Whore; therefore we must invite him to Supper, give him fat Capons, Sack and Sugar, a Purse of Gold, and a Plump Sister. Let this be done, and I'll warrant thee, my Boy, he speaks Truth like an Oracle.

Young Fash. Thou art a profound Statesman, I allow it; but how shall we gain the Nurse?

Coup. O never fear the Nurse, if once you have got the Priest, for the Devil always rides the Hag. Well, there's nothing more to be said of the Matter at this time, that I know of; so let us go and enquire, if there's any News of our People yet, perhaps they may be come. But let me tell you one thing by the way, Sirrah, I doubt you have been an idle Fellow; if thou hadst behav'd thyself as thou shoud'st have done, the Girl wou'd never have left thee.

[Exeunt.

Enter her Maid, passing the Stage, follow'd by Worthy.

Wor. Hem, Mrs. Abigail, is your Mistress to be spoken with?

Ab. By you, Sir, I believe she may.

Wor. Why 'tis by me I wou'd have her spoken with.

Ab. I'll acquaint her, Sir.

[Exit Ab.

Worthy solus.

One Lift more I must persuade her to give me, and then I'm mounted. Well, a young Bawd, and a handsome one for my Money, 'tis they do the Execution; I'll never go to an old one, but when I have occasion for a Witch. Lewdness looks heavenly to a Woman, when an Angel appears in its Cause; but when a Hag is Advocate, she thinks it comes from the Devil. An old Woman has something so terrible in her Looks, that whilst she is persuading your Mistress to forget she has a Soul, she stares Hell and Damnation full in her Face.

Enter Berinthia.

Ber. Well, Sir, what News bring you?

Wor. No News, Madam, there's a Woman going to cuckold her Husband.

Ber. Amanda?

Wor. I hope so.

Ber. Speed her well.

Wor. Ay, but there must be a more than a God-speed, or your Charity won't be worth a Farthing.

Ber. Why, han't I done enough already?

Wor. Not quite.

Ber. What's the matter?

Wor. The Lady has a Scruple still which you must remove.

Ber. What's that?

Wor. Her Virtue——she says.

Ber. And do you believe her?

Wor. No, but I believe it's what she takes for her Virtue; it's some Relicks of lawful Love: she is not yet fully satisfy'd her Husband has got another Mistress, which unless I can convince her of, I have opened the Trenches in vain; for the Breach must be wider, before I dare storm the Town.

Ber. And so I'm to be your Engineer!

Wor. I'm sure you know best how to manage the Battery.

Ber. What think you of springing a Mine? I have a Thought just now come into my Head, how to blow her up at once.

Wor. That would be a Thought, indeed!

Ber.——Faith, I'll do't, and thus the Execution of it shall be. We are all invited to my Lord Foppington's to-night to Supper, he's come to Town with his Bride, and maketh a Ball, with an Entertainment of Musick. Now you must know, my Undoer here, Loveless, says he must needs meet me about some private Business (I don't know what 'tis) before we go to the Company. To which end he has told his Wife one Lye, and I have told her another. But to make her amends, I'll go immediately, and tell her a solemn Truth.

Wor. What's that?

Ber. Why, I'll tell her, that to my certain Knowledge her Husband has a Rendezvous with his Mistress this Afternoon; and that if she'll give me her Word, she will be satisfy'd with the Discovery, without making any violent Inquiry after the Woman, I'll direct her to a Place, where she shall see them meet.—Now, Friend, this I fancy may help you to a critical Minute. For home she must go again to dress. You, with your good-breeding, come to wait upon us to the Ball, find her all alone, her Spirit enflam'd against her Husband for his Treason, and her Flesh in a Heat from some Contemplations upon the Treachery, her Blood on a Fire, her Conscience in ice; a Lover to draw, and the Devil to drive——Ah, poor Amanda!

Wor. [Kneeling.] Thou Angel of Light, let me fall down and adore thee!

Ber. Thou Minister of Darkness, get up again, for I hate to see the Devil at his Devotions.

Wor. Well, my incomparable Berinthia——How shall I requite you——

Ber. O ne'er trouble yourself about that: Virtue is its own Reward: There's a Pleasure in doing good, which sufficiently pays itself. Adieu.

Wor. Farewel, thou best of Women.

[Exeunt several ways.

Enter Amanda, meeting Berinthia.

Aman. Who was that went from you?

Ber. A Friend of yours.

Aman. What does he want?

Ber. Something you might spare him, and be ne'er the poorer.

Aman. I can spare him nothing but my Friendship; my Love already's all dispos'd of: Tho', I confess, to one ungrateful to my Bounty.

Ber. Why there's the Mystery! You have been so bountiful, you have cloy'd him. Fond Wives do by their Husbands, as barren Wives do by their Lap-Dogs; cram them with Sweetmeats till they spoil their Stomachs.

Aman. Alas! Had you but seen how passionately fond he has been since our last Reconciliation, you wou'd have thought it were impossible he ever should have breath'd an Hour without me.

Ber. Ay but there you thought wrong again, Amanda; you shou'd consider, that in Matters of Love Men's Eyes are always bigger than their Bellies. They have violent Appetites, 'tis true, but they have soon din'd.

Aman. Well; there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me more than Men's Inconstancy.

Ber. Now there's nothing upon Earth astonishes me less, when I consider what they and we are compos'd of. For Nature has made them Children, and us Babies. Now, Amanda, how we us'd our Babies, you may remember. We were mad to have them, as soon as we saw them; kiss'd them to pieces, as soon as we got them; then pull'd off their Clothes, saw them naked, and so threw them away.

Aman. But do you think all Men are of this Temper?

Ber. All but one.

Aman. Who's that?

Ber. Worthy.

Aman. Why, he's weary of his Wife too, you see.

Ber. Ay, that's no Proof.

Aman. What can be a greater?

Ber. Being weary of his Mistress.

Aman. Don't you think 'twere possible he might give you that too?

Ber. Perhaps he might, if he were my Gallant; not if he were your's.

Aman. Why do you think he shou'd be more constant to me, than he wou'd to you? I'm sure I'm not so handsome.

Ber. Kissing goes by Favour; he likes you best.

Aman. Suppose he does; That's no Demonstration he wou'd be constant to me.

Ber. No, that I'll grant you: But there are other Reasons to expect it; for you must know after all, Amanda, the Inconstancy we commonly see in Men of Brains, does not so much proceed from the Uncertainty of their Temper, as from the Misfortunes of their Love. A Man sees, perhaps, an hundred Women he likes well enough for an Intrigue, and away; but possibly, thro' the whole Course of his Life, does not find above one, who is exactly what he could wish her: now her, 'tis a thousand to one, he never gets. Either she is not to be had at all (tho' that seldom happens, you'll say) or he wants those Opportunities that are necessary to gain her; either she likes somebody else much better than him, or uses him like a Dog, because he likes no body so well as her. Still something or other Fate claps in the way between them and the Woman they are capable of being fond of. And this makes them wander about from Mistress to Mistress, like a Pilgrim from Town to Town, who every Night must have a fresh lodging, and 's in haste to be gone in the Morning.

Aman. Tis possible there may be something in what you say; but what do you infer from it, as to the Man we were talking of?

Ber. Why, I infer, that you being the Woman in the World the most to his Humour, 'tis not likely he would quit you for one that is less.

Aman. That is not to be depended upon, for you see Mr. Loveless does so.

Ber. What does Mr. Loveless do?

Aman. Why, he runs after something for Variety, I'm sure he does not like so well as he does me.

Ber. That's more than you know, Madam.

Aman. No, I'm sure on't: I am not very vain, Berinthia; and yet I'll lay my Life, if I could look into his Heart, he thinks I deserve to be prefer'd to a thousand of her.

Ber. Don't be too positive in that neither: A Million to one, but she has the same Opinion of you. What wou'd you give to see her?

Aman. Hang her, dirty Trull; tho' I really believe she's so ugly, she'd cure me of my Jealousy.

Ber. All the Men of Sense about Town say she's handsome.

Aman. They are as often out in those things as any People.

Ber. Then I'll give you further Proof——all the Women about Town say, she's a Fool: Now I hope you are convinc'd?

Aman. Whate'er she be, I'm satisfy'd he does not like her well enough to bestow any thing more than a little outward Gallantry upon her.

Ber. Outward Gallantry!—--[Aside.] I can't bear this. [To Aman.] Don't you think she's a Woman to be fobb'd off so. Come, I'm too much your Friend, to suffer you should be thus grossly impos'd upon, by a Man who does not deserve the least part about you, unless he knew how to set a greater Value upon it. Therefore in one word, to my certain knowledge, he is to meet her now, within a quarter of an Hour, somewhere about that Babylon of Wickedness, Whitehall. And if you'll give me your Word that you'll be content with seeing her mask'd in his Hand, without pulling her Headclothes off, I'll step immediately to the Person, from whom I have my Intelligence, and send you word whereabouts you may stand to see 'em meet. My Friend and I'll watch 'em from another place, and dodge 'em to their private Lodging: But don't you offer to follow 'em, lest you do it awkwardly, and spoil all. I'll come home to you again, as soon as I have earth'd 'em, and give you an account in what corner of the House the Scene of their Lewdness lies.

Aman. If you can do this, Berinthia, he's a Villain.

Ber. I can't help that, Men will be so.

Aman. Well! I'll follow your Directions; for I shall never rest till I know the worst of this matter.

Ber. Pray, go immediately, and get yourself ready then. Put on some of your Woman's Clothes, a great Scarf and a Mask, and you shall presently receive Orders. [Calls within.] Here, who's there? get me a Chair quickly.

Serv. There are Chairs at the Door, Madam.

Ber. 'Tis well, I'm coming.

Aman. But pray, Berinthia, before you go, tell me how I may know this filthy Thing, if she would be so forward (as I suppose she will) to come to the Rendezvous first; for, methinks, I would fain view her a little.

Ber. Why, she's about my heighth; and very well shap'd.

Aman. I thought she had been a little crooked?

Ber. O no, she's as straight as I am. But we lose time, come away.

[Exeunt.

Enter Young Fashion, meeting Lory.

Young Fash. Well, will the Doctor come?

Lo. Sir, I sent a Porter to him as you order'd me. He found him with a Pipe of Tobacco and a great Tankard of Ale, which he said he wou'd dispatch while I cou'd tell three, and be here.

Young Fash. He does not suspect 'twas I that sent for him?

Lo. Not a Jot, Sir, he divines as little for himself, as he does for other Folks.

Young Fash. Will he bring Nurse with him?

Lo. Yes.

Young Fash. That's well; where's Coupler?

Lo. He's half way up the Stairs taking Breath; he must play his Bellows a little, before he can get to the top.

Enter Coupler.

Young Fash. O here he is. Well, old Phthisick, the Doctor's coming.

Coup. Wou'd the Pox had the Doctor——I'm quite out of Wind [To Lo.] Set me a Chair, Sirrah. Ah——[Sits down.] [To Young Fash.] Why the Plague can'st not thou lodge upon the Ground-Floor?

Young Fash. Because I love to lie as near Heaven as I can.

Coup. Pr'ythee let Heaven alone; ne'er affect tending that way: Thy Center's downwards.

Young Fash. That's impossible. I have too much ill Luck in this World, to be damn'd in the next.

Coup. Thou art out in thy Logick. Thy Major is true, but thy Minor is false; for thou art the luckiest Fellow in the Universe.

Young Fash. Make out that.

Coup. I'll do't: Last Night the Devil ran away with the Parson of Fat-goose Living.

Young Fash. If he had run away with the Parish too, what's that to me?

Coup. I'll tell thee what it's to thee. This Living is worth five hundred Pound a-year, and the Presentation of it is thine, if thou can'st prove thyself a lawful Husband to Miss Hoyden.

Young Fash. Say'st thou so, my Protector! then I'gad I shall have a Brace of Evidences here presently.

Coup. The Nurse and the Doctor?

Young Fash. The same: The Devil himself won't have Interest enough to make them withstand it.

Coup. That we shall see presently: Here they come.

Enter Nurse and Chaplain; they start back, seeing Young Fashion.

Nurse. Ah Goodness, Roger, we are betray'd.

Young Fash. [Laying hold on them.] Nay, nay, ne'er flinch for the matter; for I have you safe. Come to your Trials immediately; I have no time to give you Copies of your Indictment. There sits your Judge.—

Both kneeling. Pray, Sir, have Compassion on us.

Nurse. I hope, Sir, my Years will move your Pity; I am an aged Woman.

Coup. That is a moving Argument, indeed!

Coup. [To Bull.] Are not you a rogue of Sanctity?

Bull. Sir, with respect to my Function, I do wear a Gown. I hope, Sir, my Character will be consider'd; I am Heaven's Ambassador.

Coup. Did not you marry this vigorous young Fellow to a plump young buxom Wench?

Nurse. [To Bull.] Don't confess, Roger, unless you are hard put to it, indeed?

Coup. Come, out with't—Now is he chewing the Cud of his Roguery, and grinding a Lye between his Teeth.

Bull. Sir,——I cannot positively say——I say, Sir——positively I cannot say——

Coup. Come, no Equivocation, no Roman Turns upon us. Consider thou stand'st upon Protestant Ground, which will slip from under thee like a Tyburn Car; for in this Country we have always ten Hangmen for one Jesuit.

Bull. [To Young Fash.] Pray, Sir, then will you but permit me to speak one word in private with Nurse?

Young Fash. Thou art always for doing something in private with Nurse.

Coup. But pray let his Betters be serv'd before him for once. I would do something in private with her myself; Lory, take care of this Reverend Gownman in the next Room a little. Retire, Priest. [Exit Lo. with Bull.]—Now, Virgin, I must put the matter home to you a little: Do you think it might not be possible to make you speak Truth?

Nurse. Alas! Sir, I don't know what you mean by Truth.

Coup. Nay,'tis possible thou may'st be a Stranger to it.

Young Fash. Come, Nurse, you and I were better Friends when we saw one another last; and I still believe you are a very good Woman in the bottom. I did deceive you and your young Lady, 'tis true, but I always design'd to make a very good Husband to her, and to be a very good Friend to you. And 'tis possible in the end, she might have found herself happier and you richer, than ever my Brother will make you.

Nurse. Brother! Why is your Worship then his Lordship's Brother!

Young Fash. I am; which you should have known, if I durst have staid to have told you; but I was forc'd to take Horse a little in haste, you know.

Nurse. You were, indeed, Sir: poor young Man, how he was bound to scaure for't. Now won't your Worship be angry, if I confess the Truth to you; when I found you were a Cheat (with respect be it spoken) I verily believ'd Miss had got some pitiful Skip-Jack Varlet or other to her Husband, or I had ne'er let her think of marrying again.

Coup. But where was your Conscience all this while, Woman? Did not that stare you in the Face with huge Saucer-eyes, and a great Horn upon the Forehead? Did not you think you should be damn'd for such a Sin? Ha!

Young Fash. Well said, Divinity, press that home upon her.

Nurse. Why, in good truly, Sir, I had some fearful Thoughts on't, and cou'd never be brought to consent, till Mr. Bull said it was a Peckadilla, and he'd secure my Soul for a Tythe-Pig.

Young Fash. There was a Rogue for you.

Coup. And he shall thrive accordingly: He shall have a good Living. Come, honest Nurse, I see you have Butter in your Compound; you can melt. Some Compassion you can have of this handsome young Fellow.

Nurse. I have, indeed, Sir.

Young Fash. Why, then, I'll tell you what you shall do for me. You know what a warm Living here is fallen; and that it must be in the Disposal of him who has the Disposal of Miss. Now if you and the Doctor will agree to prove my Marriage, I'll present him to it, upon condition he makes you his Bride.

Nurse. Naw the Blessing of the Lord follow your good Worship both by Night and by Day! Let him be fetch'd in by the Ears; I'll soon bring his Nose to the Grindstone.

Coup. [Aside.] Well said, old Whit-Leather. Hey; bring in the Prisoner there.

Enter Lory with Bull.

Coup. Come, advance, holy Man! Here's your Duck does not think fit to retire with you into the Chancel at this time; but she has a Proposal to make to you in the Face of the Congregation. Come, Nurse, speak for yourself; you are of Age.

Nurse. Roger, are not you a wicked Man, Roger, to set your Strength against a weak Woman, and persuade her it was no Sin to conceal Miss's Nuptials? My Conscience flies in my Face for it, thou Priest of Baal; and I find by woful Experience, thy Absolution is not worth an old Cassock: therefore I am resolved to confess the Truth to the whole World, tho' I die a Beggar for it. But his Worship overflows with his Mercy, and his Bounty: He is not only pleas'd to forgive us our Sins, but designs thou sha't squat thee down in Fat-goose Living; and, which is more than all, has prevail'd with me to become the Wife of thy Bosom.

Young Fash. All this I intend for you, Doctor. What you are to do for me, I need not tell you.

Bull. Your Worship's Goodness is unspeakable: Yet there is one thing seems a Point of Conscience; and Conscience is a tender Babe. If I shou'd bind myself, for the sake of this Living, to marry Nurse, and maintain her afterwards, I doubt it might be look'd on as a kind of Simony.

Coup. [Rising up.] If it were Sacrilege, the Living's worth it: Therefore no more Words, good Doctor: but with the [Giving Nurse to him.] Parish——here——take the Parsonage-house. 'Tis true, 'tis a little out of Repair; some Dilapidations there are to be made good; the Windows are broke, the Wainscot is warp'd, the Ceilings are peel'd, and the Walls are crack'd; but a little Glasing, Painting, White-wash, and Plaster, will make it last thy time.

Bull. Well, Sir, if it must be so, I shan't contend: What Providence orders, I submit to.

Nurse. And so do I, with all Humility.

Coup. Why, that now was spoke like good People. Come, my Turtle-Doves, let us go help this poor Pigeon to his wandering Mate again: and after Institution and Induction, you shall all go a-cooing together.

[Exeunt.

Enter Amanda, in a Scarf, &c. as just returned, her Woman following her.

Aman. Pr'ythee, what care I who has been here?

Wom. Madam, 'twas my Lady Bridle, and my Lady Tiptoe.

Aman. My Lady Fiddle, and my Lady Faddle. What dost stand troubling me with the Visits of a parcel of impertinent Women? When they are well seam'd with the Small Pox, they won't be so fond of shewing their Faces——There are more Coquettes about this Town—

Wom. Madam, I suppose, they only came to return your Ladyship's Visit, according to the Custom of the World.

Aman. Wou'd the World were on Fire, and you in the middle on't! Be gone: leave me.

[Exit Wom.

Amanda sola.

[Going off, she meets Worthy.

Ha! He here? Protect me, Heaven, for this looks ominous.

Wor. You seem disorder'd, Madam; I hope there's no Misfortune happen'd to you?

Aman. None that will long disorder me, I hope.

Wor. Whate'er it be disturbs you, I wou'd to Heaven 'twere in my Power to bear the Pain, till I were able to remove the Cause.

Aman. I hope ere long it will remove itself. At least, I have given it warning to be gone.

Aman. Alas! 'tis in a tender Part. It can't be drawn without a World of Pain: Yet out it must; for it begins to fester in my Heart.

Wor. If 'tis the Sting of unrequited Love, remove it instantly: I have a Balm will quickly heal the Wound.

Aman. You'll find the Undertaking difficult: The Surgeon who already has attempted it, has much tormented me.

Wor. I'll aid him with a gentler Hand—if you will give me leave.

Aman. How soft soe'er the Hand may be, there still is Terror in the Operation.

Wor. Some few Preparatives would make it easy, could I persuade you to apply 'em. Make Home Reflections, Madam, on your slighted Love: Weigh well the Strength and Beauty of your Charms: Rouse up that Spirit Women ought to bear, and slight your God, if he neglects his Angel. With Arms of Ice receive his cold Embraces, and keep your Fire for those who come in Flames. Behold a burning Lover at your Feet, his Fever raging in his Veins. See how he trembles, how he pants! See how he glows, how he consumes! Extend the Arms of Mercy to his Aid: his Zeal may give him Title to your Pity, altho' his Merit cannot claim your Love.

Aman. Of all my feeble Sex, sure I must be the weakest, shou'd I again presume to think on Love. [Sighing.]—Alas! my Heart has been too roughly treated.

Wor. 'Twill find the greater Bliss in softer Usage.

Aman. But where's that Usage to be found?

Wor. 'Tis here, within this faithful Breast; which if you doubt, I'll rip it up before your Eyes; lay all its Secrets open to your View; and then you'll see 'twas sound.

Aman. With just such honest Words as these, the worst of Men deceiv'd me.

Wor. He therefore merits all Revenge can do: his Fault is such, the Extent and Stretch of Vengeance cannot reach it. O make me but your Instrument of Justice; you'll find me execute it with such Zeal, as shall convince you I abhor the Crime.

Aman. The Rigour of an Executioner has more the Face of Cruelty than Justice: And he who puts the Cord about the Wretch's Neck, is seldom known to exceed him in his Morals.

Wor. What Proof then can I give you of my Truth?

Aman. There is on Earth but one.

Wor. And is that in my Power?

Aman. It is: And one that would so thoroughly convince me, I should be apt to rate your Heart so high, I possibly might purchase't with a part of mine.

Wor. Then, Heav'n, thou art my Friend, and I am blest; for if 'tis in my Power, my Will I'm sure will reach it. No matter what the Terms may be, when such a Recompence is offer'd. O tell me quickly what this Proof must be! What is it will convince you of my Love?

Aman. I shall believe you love me as you ought, if from this Moment, you forbear to ask whatever is unfit for me to grant.——You pause upon it, Sir——I doubt on such hard Terms, a Woman's Heart is scarcely worth the having.

Wor. A Heart like yours, on any Terms is worth it; 'twas not on that I paus'd: But I was thinking [Drawing nearer to her.] whether some things there may not be, which Women cannot grant without a Blush, and yet which Men may take without Offence. [Taking her Hand.] Your Hand I fancy may be of the Number: O pardon me, if I commit a Rape upon it, [Kissing it eagerly.] and thus devour it with my Kisses!

Aman. O Heavens! let me go.

Wor. Never, whilst I have Strength to hold you here. [Forcing her to sit down on a Couch.] My Life, my Soul, my Goddess——O forgive me!

Aman. O whither am I going? Help, Heaven, or I am lost.

Wor. Stand neuter, Gods, this once I do invoke you.

Aman. Then, save me, Virtue, and the Glory's thine.

Wor. Nay, never strive.

Aman. I will; and conquer too. My Forces rally bravely to my Aid, [Breaking from him.] and thus I gain the Day.

Wor. Then mine as bravely double their Attack. [Seizing her again.] And thus I wrest it from you. Nay, struggle not; for all's in vain: On Death or victory; I am determin'd.

Aman. And so am I. [Rushing from him.] Now keep your distance, or we part for ever.

Wor. [Offering again.] For Heaven's sake——

Aman. [Going.] Nay then, farewel.

Wor. [Kneeling and holding by her Clothes.] O stay, and see the Magick Force of Love: Behold this raging Lion at your Feet, struck dead with Fear, and tame as Charms can make him. What must I do to be forgiven by you?

Aman. Repent, and never more offend.

Wor. Repentance for past Crimes is just and easy; but sin no more's a Task too hard for Mortals.

Aman. Yet those who hope for Heaven, must use their best Endeavours to perform it.

Wor. Endeavours we may use, but Flesh and Blood are got in t'other Scale; and they are pond'rous things.

Aman. Whate'er they are, there is a Weight in Resolution sufficient for their Balance. The Soul, I do confess, is usually so careless of its Charge, so soft, and so indulgent to Desire, it leaves the Reins in the wild Hand of Nature, who, like a Phaeton, drives the fiery Chariot, and sets the World on Flame. Yet still the Sovereignty is in the Mind, whene'er it pleases to exert its Force. Perhaps you may not think it worth your while to take such mighty pains for my Esteem; but that I leave to you.

[Exit Amanda.

Worthy solus.

Sure there's Divinity about her; and she'as dispens'd some portion on't to me. For what but now was the wild Flame of Love, or (to dissect that specious Term) the vile, the gross Desires of Flesh and Blood, is in a Moment turn'd to Adoration. The coarser Appetite of Nature's gone, and 'tis, methinks, the Food of Angels I require: how long this Influence may last, Heaven knows. But in this Moment of my Purity, I cou'd on her own Terms accept her Heart. Yes, lovely Woman, I can accept it. For now 'tis doubly worth my Care. Your Charms are much increas'd, since thus adorn'd. When Truth's extorted from us, then we own the Robe of Virtue is a graceful Habit.

[Exit.

Enter Miss and Nurse.

Miss. But is it sure and certain, say you, he's my Lord's own Brother?

Nurse. As sure, as he's your lawful Husband.

Miss. I'cod, if I had known that in time, I don't know but I might have kept him; For, between you and I, Nurse, he'd have made a Husband worth two of this I have. But which do you think you shou'd fancy most, Nurse?

Nurse. Why, truly, in my poor fancy, Madam, your first Husband is the prettier Gentleman.

Miss. I don't like my Lord's Shapes, Nurse.

Nurse. Why in good truly, as a body may say, he is but a Slam.

Miss. What do you think now he puts me in mind of? Don't you remember a long, loose, shambling sort of a Horse my Father call'd Washy?

Nurse. As like as two Twin-Brothers.

Miss. I'cod, I have thought so a hundred times: 'Faith, I'm tired of him.

Nurse. Indeed, Madam, I think you had e'en as good stand to your first Bargain.

Miss. O but, Nurse, we han't considered the main thing yet. If I leave my Lord, I must leave my Lady too: and when I rattle about the Streets in my Coach, they'll only say, there goes Mistress——Mistress——Mistress what? What's this Man's Name, I have married, Nurse?

Nurse. 'Squire Fashion.

Miss. 'Squire Fashion is it?——Well, 'Squire, that's better than nothing: Do you think one cou'd not get him made a Knight, Nurse?

Nurse. I don't know but one might, Madam, when the King's in a good Humour.

Miss. I'cod, that wou'd do rarely. For then he'd be as good a Man as my Father, you know.

Nurse. By'r Lady, and that's as good as the best of 'em.

Miss. So 'tis, faith; for then I shall be my Lady, and your Ladyship at every Word, that's all I have to care for. Ha, Nurse! But hark you me, one thing more, and then I have done. I'm afraid, if I change my Husband again, I shan't have so much Money to throw about, Nurse.

Nurse. O, enough's as good as a Feast: Besides, Madam, one don't know, but as much may fall to your share with the younger Brother, as with the elder. For tho' these Lords have a power of Wealth, indeed; yet as I have heard say, they give it all to their Sluts and their Trulls, who joggle it about in their Coaches, with a Murrain to 'em, whilst poor Madam sits sighing and wishing, and knotting and crying, and has not a spare Half-Crown to buy her a Practice of Piety.

Miss. O, but for that, don't deceive yourself, Nurse. For this I must [Snapping her Fingers.] say for my Lord, and a——for him: He's as free as an open House at Christmas. For this very Morning he told me, I shou'd have two hundred a-year to buy Pins. Now, Nurse, if he gives me two hundred a-year to buy Pins, what do you think he'll give me to buy fine Petticoats?

Nurse. Ah, my Dearest, he deceives these faully, and he's no better than a Rogue for his pains. These Londoners have got a Gibberidge with them, would confound a Gipsey. That which they call Pin-money, is to buy their Wives every thing in the varsal World, down to their very Shoe-tyes? Nay, I have heard Folks say, That some Ladies, if they will have Gallants, as they call 'em, are forc'd to find them out of their Pin-money too.

Miss. Has he serv'd me so, say ye?——Then I'll be his Wife no longer, that's fixt. Look, here he comes, with all the fine Folks at 's heels. I'cod, Nurse, these London Ladies will laugh till they crack again, to see me slip my Collar, and run away from my Husband. But, d'ye hear? Pray take care of one thing: When the Business comes to break out, be sure you get between me and my Father, for you know his Tricks; he'll knock me down.

Nurse. I'll mind him, ne'er fear, Madam.

Enter Lord Foppington, Loveless, Worthy, Amanda, and Berinthia.

Lord Fop. Ladies and Gentlemen, you are all welcome. [To Lov.] Loveless——That's my Wife; pr'ythee do me the favour to salute her: And do'st hear, [Aside to him.] if thau hast a mind to try thy Fartune, to be reveng'd of me, I won't take it ill, stap my Vitals.

Lov. You need not fear, Sir, I'm too fond of my own Wife, to have the least Inclination for yours.

[All salute Miss.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] I'd give a thausand Paund he wou'd make Love to her, that he may see she has sense enough to prefer me to him, tho' his own Wife has not: [Viewing him.]—He's a very beastly Fellow, in my Opinion.

Miss. [Aside.] What a Power of fine Men there are in this London! He that kist me first, is a goodly Gentleman, I promise you: Sure those Wives have a rare time on't, that live here always.

Enter Sir Tunbelly, with Musicians, Dancers, &c.

Sir Tun. Come, come in, good People, come in; come, tune your Fiddles, tune your Fiddles.

To the Hautboys.] Bag-pipes, make ready there. Come, strike up.

[Sings.

Ha! there's my Wench, I'faith: Touch and take, I'll warrant her; she'll breed like a tame Rabbit.

Miss. [Aside.] I'cod, I think my Father's gotten drunk before Supper.

Sir Tun. [To Lov. and Wor.] Gentlemen, you are welcome. [Saluting Aman. and Ber.] Ladies, by your leave. Ha——They bill like Turtles. Udsookers, they set my old Blood a-fire; I shall cuckold some body before Morning.

Lord Fop. [To Sir Tun.] Sir, you being Master of the Entertainment, will you desire the Company to sit?

Sir Tun. Oons, Sir,——I'm the happiest Man on this side the Ganges.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] This is a mighty unaccountable old Fellow. [To Sir Tun.] I said, Sir, it wou'd be convenient to ask the Company to sit.

Sir Tun. Sit——with all my heart: Come, take your places, Ladies; take your places, Gentlemen: Come, sit down, sit down; a Pox of Ceremony, take your places.

[They sit, and the Mask begins.

Dialogue between Cupid and Hymen.

The Mask ended, enter Young Fash, Coupler, and Bull.

Sir Tun. So, very fine, very fine, i'faith; this is something like a Wedding; now if Supper were but ready, I'd say a short Grace; and if I had such a Bedfellow as Hoyden to night——I'd say as short Prayers.

Seeing Young Fash. How now——what have we got here? A Ghost? Nay, it must be so; for his Flesh and Blood cou'd never have dar'd to appear before me. [To him.] Ah, Rogue——

Lord Fop. Stap my Vitals, Tam again?

Sir Tun. My Lord, will you cut his Throat? Or shall I?

Lord Fop. Leave him to me, Sir, if you please. Pr'ythee, Tam, be so ingenuous now, as to tell me what thy Business is here?

Young Fash. 'Tis with your Bride.

Lord Fop. Thau art the impudent'st Fellow that Nature has yet spawn'd into the Warld, strike me speechless.

Young Fash. Why you know my Modesty wou'd have starv'd me; I sent it a-begging to you, and you wou'd not give it a Groat.

Lord Fop. And dost thau expect by an excess of Assurance to extart a Maintenance fram me?

Young Fash. [Taking Miss by the Hand.] I do intend to extort your Mistress from you, and that I hope will prove one.

Lord Fop. I ever thaught Newgate or Bedlam wou'd be his Fartune, and naw his Fate's decided. Pr'ythee, Loveless, dost knaw of ever a Mad Doctor hard by?

Young Fash. There's one at your Elbow will cure you presently.

To Bull. Pr'ythee, Doctor, take him in hand quickly.

Lord Fop. Shall I beg the Favour of you, Sir, to pull your Fingers out of my Wife's Hand?

Young Fash. His Wife! Look you there; now I hope you are all satisfy'd he's mad.

Lord Fop. Naw is it not impassible far me to penetrate what Species of Fally it is thou art driving at?

Sir Tun. Here, here, here, let me beat out his Brains, and that will decide all.

Lord Fop. No, pray, Sir, hold, we'll destray him presently according to Law.

Young Fash. [To Bull.] Nay, then advance, Doctor: come, you are a Man of Conscience, answer boldly to the Questions I shall ask: Did not you marry me to this young Lady, before ever that Gentleman there saw her Face?

Bull. Since the Truth must out, I did.

Young Fash. Nurse, sweet Nurse, were not you a Witness to it?

Nurse. Since my Conscience bids me speak——I was.

Young Fash. [To Miss.] Madam, am not I your lawful Husband?

Miss. Truly I can't tell, but you married me first.

Young Fash. Now I hope you are all satisfy'd?

Sir Tun. [Offering to strike him, is held by Lov. and Wor.] Oons and Thunder, you lye.

Lord Fop. Pray, Sir, be calm, the Battle is in Disarder, but requires more Canduct than Courage to rally our Forces. Pray, Dactar, one word with you.

To Bull [Aside.] Look you, Sir, tho' I will not presume to calculate your Notions of Damnation, fram the Description you give us of Hell, yet since there is at least a passibility you may have a Pitchfark thrust in your Backside, methinks, it shou'd not be worth your while to risk your Saul in the next Warld, for the sake of a beggarly yaunger Brather, who is nat able to make your Bady happy in this.

Bull. Alas! my Lord, I have no worldly Ends; I speak the Truth, Heaven knows.

Lord Fop. Nay, pr'ythee, never engage Heaven in the matter; far, by all I can see, 'tis like to prove a Business for the Devil.

Young Fash. Come, pray, Sir, all above-board, no corrupting of Evidences; if you please, this young Lady is my lawful Wife, and I'll justify it in all the Courts of England; so your Lordship (who always had a Passion for Variety) may go seek a new Mistress, if you think fit.

Lord Fop. I am struck dumb with his Impudence, and cannot passitively tell whether ever I shall speak again, or nat.

Sir Tun. Then let me come and examine the Business a little, I'll jerk the Truth out of 'em presently; here, give me my Dog-Whip.

Young Fash. Look you, old Gentleman, 'tis in vain to make a Noise; if you grow mutinous, I have some Friends within Call, have Swords by their Sides, above four Foot long; therefore be calm, hear the Evidence patiently, and when the Jury have given their Verdict, pass Sentence according to Law: Here's honest Coupler shall be Foreman, and ask as many Questions as he pleases.

Coup. All I have to ask is, whether Nurse persists in her Evidence? The Parson, I dare swear, will never flinch from his.

Nurse. [To Sir Tun. kneeling.] I hope in Heaven your Worship will pardon me; I have served you long and faithfully, but in this thing I was over-reach'd; your Worship, however, was deceiv'd as, well as I; and if the Wedding-Dinner had been ready, you had put Madam to Bed with him with your own Hands.

Sir Tun. But how durst you do this, without acquainting of me?

Nurse. Alas! if your Worship had seen how the poor Thing begg'd, and pray'd, and clung, and twin'd about me, like Ivy to an old Wall, you wou'd say, I who had suckled it, and swaddled it, and nurst it both wet and dry, must have had a Heart of Adamant to refuse it.

Sir Tun. Very well.

Young Fash. Foreman, I expect your Verdict.

Coup. Ladies and Gentlemen, what's your Opinions?

All. A clear Case, a clear Case.

Coup. Then, my young Folks, I wish you Joy.

Sir Tun. [To Young Fash.] Come hither, Stripling; if it be true, then, that thou hast marry'd my Daughter, pr'ythee tell me who thou art?

Young Fash. Sir, the best of my Condition is, I am your Son-in-law; and the worst of it is, I am Brother to that Noble Peer there.

Sir Tun. Art thou Brother to that Noble Peer——Why then, that Noble Peer, and thee, and thy Wife, and the Nurse, and the Priest——may all go and be damn'd together.

[Exit Sir Tun.

Lord Fop. [Aside.] Naw, for my part, I think the wisest thing a Man can do with an aking Heart, is to put on a serene Countenance; for a Philosaphical Air is the most becoming thing in the Warld to the Face of a Person of Quality; I will therefore bear my Disgrace like a Great Man, and let the People see I am above an Affrant. [To Young Fash.] Dear Tam, since Things are thus fallen aut, pr'ythee give me leave to wish thee Jay. I do it de bon Cœur, strike me dumb: you have marry'd a Woman beautiful in her Person, charming in her Airs, prudent in her Canduct, canstant in her Inclinations, and of a nice Marality, split my Wind-pipe.

Young Fash. Your Lardship may keep up your Spirits with your Grimace, if you please; I shall support mine with this Lady, and two thousand Pound a-year.

Taking Miss.] Come, Madam:

Pointing to Lord Fop.] You'll find his Lordship ready to come to.}
}
Lord Fop. Her Ladyship shall stap my Vitals, if I do. }

Spoken by

Lord Foppington.

Gentlemen and Ladies,

Spoken by Mrs. Bracegirdle.

---

THE
PROVOK'D WIFE.

SCENE, Sir John Brute's House.

Enter Sir John, solus.

What cloying Meat is Love—when Matrimony's the Sauce to it! Two Years Marriage has debauch'd my five Senses. Every thing I see, every thing I hear, every thing I feel, every thing I smell, and every thing I taste—methinks has Wife in't. No Boy was ever so weary of his Tutor, no Girl of her Bib, no Nun of doing Penance, or old Maid of being chaste, as I am of being married. Sure there's a secret Curse entail'd upon the very Name of Wife. My Lady is a young Lady, a fine Lady, a witty Lady, a virtuous Lady,—and yet I hate her. There is but one thing on Earth I loath beyond her: That's Fighting. Would my Courage come up to a fourth part of my Ill-Nature, I'd stand buff to her Relations, and thrust her out of doors. But Marriage has sunk me down to such an Ebb of Resolution, I dare not draw my Sword, tho' even to get rid of my Wife. But here she comes.

Enter Lady Brute.

Lady Brute. Do you dine at home to-day, Sir John?

Sir John. Why, do you expect I should tell you what I don't know myself?

Lady Brute. I thought there was no harm in asking you.

Sir John. If thinking wrong were an excuse for Impertinence, Women might be justify'd in most things they say or do.

Lady Brute. I'm sorry I have said any thing to displease you.

Sir John. Sorrow for things past is of as little importance to me, as my dining at home or abroad ought to be to you.

Lady Brute. My Enquiry was only that I might have provided what you lik'd.

Sir John. Six to four you had been in the wrong there again; for what I lik'd yesterday I don't like to-day; and what I like to-day, 'tis odds I mayn't like to-morrow.

Lady Brute. But if I had ask'd you what you lik'd?

Sir John. Why then there wou'd have been more asking about it than the thing was worth.

Lady Brute. I wish I did but know how I might please you.

Sir John. Ay, but that sort of Knowledge is not a Wife's Talent.

Lady Brute. Whate'er my Talent is, I'm sure my Will has ever been to make you easy.

Sir John. If Women were to have their Wills, the World wou'd be finely govern'd.

Lady Brute. What reason have I given you to use me as you do of late? It once was otherwise: You marry'd me for Love.

Sir John. And you me for Money: So you have your Reward, and I have mine.

Lady Brute. What is it that disturbs you?

Sir John. A Parson.

Lady Brute. Why, what has he done to you?

Sir John. He has married me.

[Exit Sir John.

Lady Brute sola.

The Devil's in the Fellow, I think——I was told before I married him, that thus 'twou'd be: But I thought I had Charms enough to govern him; and that where there was an Estate, a Woman must needs be happy; so my Vanity has deceiv'd me, and my Ambition has made me uneasy. But there's some Comfort still; if one wou'd be reveng'd of him, these are good times; a Woman may have a Gallant, and a separate Maintenance too—The surly Puppy—yet he's a Fool for't: for hitherto he has been no Monster: But who knows how far he may provoke me? I never lov'd him, yet I have been ever true to him; and that, in spite of all the Attacks of Art and Nature upon a poor weak Woman's Heart, in favour of a tempting Lover. Methinks so noble a Defence as I have made, shou'd be rewarded with a better Usage—Or who can tell?——Perhaps a good part of what I suffer from my Husband, may be a Judgment upon me for my Cruelty to my Lover.——Lord, with what pleasure could I indulge that Thought, were there but a Possibility of finding Arguments to make it good!—--And how do I know but there may?—Let me see——What opposes?—My matrimonial Vow——Why, what did I vow? I think I promis'd to be true to my Husband. Well; and he promis'd to be kind to me. But he han't kept his Word——Why then I'm absolv'd from mine—Ay, that seems clear to me. The Argument's good between the King and the People, why not between the Husband and the Wife? O, but that Condition was not exprest—No matter, 'twas understood. Well, by all I see, if I argue the matter a little longer with myself, I shan't find so many Bug-bears in the Way as I thought I shou'd. Lord, what fine Notions of Virtue do we Women take up upon the Credit of old foolish Philosophers! Virtue's its own Reward, Virtue's this, Virtue's that——Virtue's an Ass, and a Gallant's worth forty on't.

Enter Belinda.

Lady Brute. Good-morrow, dear Cousin.

Bel. Good-morrow, Madam; you look pleas'd this Morning.

Lady Brute. I am so.

Bel. With what, pray?

Lady Brute. With my Husband.

Bel. Drown Husbands; for your's is a provoking Fellow: As he went out just now, I pray'd him to tell me what time of Day 'twas; and he ask'd me if I took him for the Church-Clock, that was oblig'd to tell all the Parish.

Lady Brute. He has been saying some good obliging things to me too. In short, Belinda, he has us'd me so barbarously of late, that I cou'd almost resolve to play the downright Wife—and cuckold him.

Bel. That would be downright indeed.

Lady Brute. Why, after all, there's more to be said for't than you'd imagine, Child. I know, according to the strict Statute-Law of Religion, I shou'd do wrong: But if there were a Court of Chancery in Heav'n, I'm sure I shou'd cast him.

Bel. If there were a House of Lords, you might.

Lady Brute. In either I should infallibly carry my Cause. Why, he is the first Aggressor, not I.

Bel. Ay, but you know we must return Good for Evil.

Lady Brute. That may be a Mistake in the Translation—Pr'ythee be of my Opinion, Belinda; for I'm positive I'm in the right; and if you'll keep up the Prerogative of a Woman, you'll likewise be positive you are in the right, whenever you do any thing you have a mind to. But I shall play the Fool, and jest on, till I make you begin to think I'm in earnest.

Bel. I shan't take the Liberty, Madam, to think of any thing that you desire to keep a Secret from me.

Lady Brute. Alas, my Dear, I have no Secrets. My Heart cou'd never yet confine my Tongue.

Bel. Your Eyes, you mean; for I'm sure I have seen them gadding, when your Tongue has been lock'd up safe enough.

Lady Brute. My Eyes gadding! Pr'ythee after who, Child?

Bel. Why, after one that thinks you hate him, as much as I know you love him.

Lady Brute. Constant you mean.

Bel. I do so.

Lady Brute. Lord, what shou'd put such a thing into your Head?

Bel. That which puts things into most People's Heads, Observation.

Lady Brute. Why what have you observ'd, in the Name of Wonder?

Bel. I have observed you blush when you met him; force yourself away from him; and then be out of humour with every thing about you: In a Word, never was poor Creature so spurr'd on by Desire, and so rein'd in with Fear.

Lady Brute. How strong is Fancy!

Bel. How weak is Woman!

Lady Brute. Pr'ythee, Niece, have a better Opinion of your Aunt's Inclination.

Bel. Dear Aunt, have a better Opinion of your Niece's Understanding.

Lady Brute. You'll make me angry.

Bel. You'll make me laugh.

Lady Brute. Then you are resolv'd to persist?

Bel. Positively.

Lady Brute. And all I can say——

Bel. Will signify nothing.

Lady Brute. Tho' I should swear 'twere false—

Bel. I should think it true.

Lady Brute. Then let us both forgive; [Kissing her.] for we have both offended: I, in making a Secret; you, in discovering it.

Bel. Good Nature may do much: But you have more Reason to forgive one, than I have to pardon t'other.

Lady Brute. 'Tis true, Belinda, you have given me so many Proofs of your Friendship, that my Reserve has been indeed a Crime: But that you may more easily forgive me, remember, Child, that when our Nature prompts us to a thing our Honour and Religion have forbid us; we wou'd (wer't possible) conceal even from the Soul itself, the Knowledge of the Body's Weakness.

Bel. Well, I hope, to make your Friend amends, you'll hide nothing from her for the future, tho' the Body shou'd still grow weaker and weaker.

Lady Brute. No, from this Moment I have no more Reserve; and for a Proof of my Repentance, I own, Belinda, I'm in danger. Merit and Wit assault me from without; Nature and Love sollicit me within; my Husband's barbarous Usage piques me to Revenge; and Satan, catching at the fair Occasion, throws in my way that Vengeance, which of all Vengeance pleases Women best.

Bel. 'Tis well Constant don't know the Weakness of the Fortification; for o' my Conscience he'd soon come on to the Assault.

Lady Brute. Ay, and I'm afraid carry the Town too. But whatever you may have observ'd, I have dissembled so well as to keep him ignorant. So you see I'm no Coquette, Belinda: And if you follow my Advice, you'll never be one neither. 'Tis true, Coquetry is one of the main Ingredients in the natural Composition of a Woman; and I, as well as others, cou'd be well enough pleas'd to see a Crowd of young Fellows ogling, and glancing, and watching all Occasions to do forty foolish officious Things: Nay, shou'd some of 'em push on, even to hanging or drowning, why—'faith—if I shou'd let pure Woman alone, I shou'd e'en be but too well pleas'd with it.

Bel. I'll swear 'twould tickle me strangely.

Lady Brute. But after all, 'tis a vicious Practice in us, to give the least Encouragement but where we design to come to a Conclusion. For 'tis an unreasonable thing to engage a Man in a Disease, which we beforehand resolve we never will apply a Cure to.

Bel. 'Tis true; but then a Woman must abandon one of the supreme Blessings of her Life. For I am fully convinc'd, no Man has half that Pleasure in possessing a Mistress, as a Woman has in jilting a Gallant.

Lady Brute. The happiest Woman then on Earth must be our Neighbour.

Bel. O the impertinent Composition! She has Vanity and Affectation enough to make her a ridiculous Original, in spite of all that Art and Nature ever furnish'd to any of her Sex before her.

Lady Brute. She concludes all Men her Captives; and whatever Course they take, it serves to confirm her in that Opinion.

Bel. If they shun her, she thinks 'tis Modesty, and takes it for a Proof of their Passion.

Lady Brute. And if they are rude to her, 'tis Conduct, and done to prevent Town-talk.

Bel. When her Folly makes 'em laugh; she thinks they are pleased with her Wit.

Lady Brute. And when her Impertinence makes 'em dull, concludes they are jealous of her Favours.

Bel. All their Actions and their Words, she takes for granted, aim at her.

Lady Brute. And pities all other Women, because she thinks they envy her.

Bel. Pray, out of pity to ourselves, let us find a better Subject; for I'm weary of this. Do you think your Husband inclined to Jealousy?

Lady Brute. O, no; he does not love me well enough for that. Lord, how wrong Men's Maxims are! They are seldom jealous of their Wives, unless they are very fond of 'em; whereas they ought to consider the Women's Inclinations; for there depends their Fate. Well, Men may talk; But they are not so wise as we——that's certain.

Bel. At least in our Affairs.

Lady Brute. Nay, I believe we shou'd out-do 'em in the Business of the State too: For, methinks, they do and undo, and make but bad Work on't.

Bel. Why then don't we get into the Intrigues of Government as well as they?

Lady Brute. Because we have Intrigues of our own, that make us more Sport, Child. And so let's in and consider of 'em.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady Fancyfull, Madamoiselle, and Cornet.

Lady Fan. How do I look this Morning?

Cor. Your Ladyship looks very ill, truly.

Lady Fan. Lard, how ill-natur'd thou art, Cornet, to tell me so, tho' the thing shou'd be true! Don't you know that I have Humility enough to be but too easily out of Conceit with myself? Hold the Glass; I dare swear that will have more Manners than you have. Madamoiselle, let me have your Opinion too.

Madam. My opinion pe, Matam, dat your Latyship never look so well in your Life.

Lady Fan. Well, the French are the prettiest, obliging People; they say the most acceptable, well-manner'd things—and never flatter.

Madam. Your Latyship say great Justice inteed.

Lady Fan. Nay, every thing's just in my House but Cornet. The very Looking-Glass gives her the Dementi. But I'm almost afraid it flatters me, it makes me look so very engaging.

[Looking affectedly in the Glass.

Madam. Inteed, Matam, your face pe handsomer den all de Looking-Glass in de World, croyez moy.

Lady Fan. But is it possible my Eyes can be so languishing—and so very full of Fire?

Madam. Matam, if de Glass was Burning-Glass, I believe your Eyes set de Fire in de House.

Lady Fan. You may take that Night-gown, Madamoiselle; get out of the Room, Cornet; I can't endure you. This Wench, methinks, does look so unsufferably ugly.

Madam. Every ting look ugly, Matam, dat stand by your Latyship.

Lady Fan. No really, Madamoiselle, methinks you look mighty pretty.

Madam. Ah Matam! de Moon have no Eclat ven de Sun appear.

Lady Fan. O pretty Expression! Have you ever been in Love, Madamoiselle?

Madam. Ouy, Matame.

[Sighing.

Lady Fan. And were you belov'd again?

Madam. Non, Matame.

Lady Fan. O ye Gods! What an unfortunate Creature shou'd I be in such a Case! But Nature has made me nice, for my own Defence: I'm nice, strangely nice, Madamoiselle; I believe were the Merit of whole Mankind bestow'd upon one single Person, I shou'd still think the Fellow wanted something to make it worth my while to take notice of him; and yet I could love; nay, fondly love, were it possible to have a thing made on purpose for me: For I'm not cruel, Madamoiselle; I'm only nice.

Madam. Ah Matam, I wish I was fine Gentleman for your sake. I do all de ting in de World to get leetel way into your Heart. I make Song, I make Verse, I give you de Serenade, I give great many Present to Madamoiselle; I no eat, I no sleep, I be lean, I be mad, I hang myself, I drown myself. Ah ma chere Dame, que je vous aimerois!

[Embracing her.

Lady Fan. Well, the French have strange obliging ways with 'em; you may take those two pair of Gloves, Madamoiselle.

Madam. Me humbly tanke my sweet Lady.

Enter Cornet.

Cor. Madam, here's a Letter for your Ladyship by the Penny Post.

Lady Fan. Some new Conquest, I'll warrant you. For without Vanity, I look'd extremely clear last Night when I went to the Park.—O agreeable! Here's a new Song made of me: And ready set too. O thou welcome thing! [Kissing it.] Call Pipe hither, she shall sing it instantly.

Enter Pipe.

Here, sing me this new Song, Pipe.

Lady Fan. Well, there may be Faults, Madamoiselle, but the Design is so very obliging, 'twou'd be a matchless Ingratitude in me to discover 'em.

Madam. Ma foy, Madame, I tink de Gentleman's Song tell you de Trute. If you never love, you never be happy—Ah—que l'aime l'amour moy!

Enter Servant with another Letter.

Ser. Madam, here's another Letter for your Ladyship.

Lady Fan. 'Tis this way I am importun'd every Morning, Madamoiselle. Pray how do the French Ladies when they are thus accablées?

Madam. Matam, dey never complain. Au contraire, when one Frense Laty have got hundred Lover—den she do all she can—to get a hundred more.

Lady Fan. Well, strike me dead, I think they have le Gout bon. For 'tis an unutterable Pleasure to be ador'd by all the Men, and envy'd by all the Women——Yet I'll swear I'm concern'd at the Torture I give 'em. Lard, why was I form'd to make the whole Creation uneasy! But let me read my Letter. [Reads.]

This is strangely familiar, Madamoiselle; now have I a provoking Fancy to know who this impudent Fellow is.

Madam. Den take your Scarf and your Mask, and go to de Rendezvous. De Frense Laty do justement comme ça.

Lady Fan. Rendezvous! What, rendezvous with a Man, Madamoiselle!

Madam. Eh, pourquoy non?

Lady Fan. What, and a Man perhaps I never saw in my Life?

Madam. Tant mieux: c'est donc quelque chose de nouveau.

Lady Fan. Why, how do I know what Designs he may have? He may intend to ravish me, for aught I know.

Madam. Ravish!—Bagatelle. I would fain see one impudent Rogue ravish Madamoiselle: Ouy, je le voudrois.

Lady Fan..O, but my Reputation, Madamoiselle! my Reputation! Ah ma chere Reputation!

Madam. Madame—Quand on la une fois perdue—On n'en est plus embarassée.

Lady Fan. Fe, Madamoiselle, Fe! Reputation is a Jewel.

Madam. Qui coute bien chere, Madame.

Lady Fan. Why sure you would not sacrifice your Honour to your Pleasure?

Madam. Je suis Philosophe.

Lady Fan. Bless me, how you talk! Why, what if Honour be a Burden, Madamoiselle, must it not be borne?

Madam. Chaqu'un a sa façon—Quand quelque chose m'incommode moy—je m'en defais vite.

Lady Fan. Get you gone, you little naughty French-woman, you; I vow and swear I must turn you out of doors, if you talk thus.

Madam. Turn me out of doors!—--Turn yourself out of doors, and go see what de Gentleman have to say to you—Tenez. Voila [Giving her her things hastily.] vostre Esharpe, voila vostre Quoife, voila vostre Masque, voila tout. Hey, Mercure, Coquin: Call one Chair for Matam, and one oder [Calling within.] for me: Va t'en vite. [Turning to her Lady, and helping her on hastily with her things.] Allons, Madame, depechez vous donc. Mon Dieu, quelles Scrupules!

Lady Fan. Well, for once, Madamoiselle, I'll follow your Advice, out of the intemperate Desire I have to know who this ill-bred Fellow is. But I have too much Delicatesse, to make a Practice on't.

Madam. Belle chose vrayment que la Delicatesse, lors qu'il s'agit de se devertir—à ça—Vous voila equipés, partons.—He bien!—qu'avez vous donc?

Lady Fan. J'ay peur.

Madam. Je n'en ay point moy.

Lady Fan. I dare not go.

Madam. Demeurez donc.

Lady Fan. Je suis poltrone.

Madam. Tant pis pour vous.

Lady Fan. Curiosity's a wicked Devil.

Madam. C'est une charmante Sainte.

Lady Fan. It ruined our first Parents.

Madam. Elle a bien diverti leurs Enfans.

Lady Fan. L'Honneur est contre.

Madam. La Plaisir est pour.

Lady Fan. Must I then go?

Madam. Must you go?—Must you eat, must you drink, must you sleep, must you live? De Nature bid you do one, de Nature bid you do toder. Vous me ferez enrager.

Lady Fan. But when Reason corrects Nature, Madamoiselle——

Madam. Elle est donc bien insolente, c'est sa Sœur aisnée.

Lady Fan. Do you then prefer your Nature to your Reason, Madamoiselle?

Madam. Ouy da.

Lady Fan. Pourquoy?

Madam. Because my Nature make me merry, my Reason make me mad.

Lady Fan. Ah la mechante Françoise!

Madam. Ah la belle Angloise!

[Forcing her Lady off.

Enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Fan. Well, I vow, Madamoiselle, I'm strangely impatient to know who this confident Fellow is.

Enter Heartfree.

Look, there's Heartfree. But sure it can't be him; he's a profess'd Woman-hater. Yet who knows what my wicked Eyes may have done?

Madam. Il nous approche, Madame.

Lady Fan. Yes, 'tis he: now will he be most intolerably cavalier, tho' he should be in love with me.

Heart. Madam, I'm your humble Servant; I perceive you have more Humility and Good-Nature than I thought you had.

Lady Fan. What you attribute to Humility and Good-Nature, Sir, may perhaps be only due to Curiosity. I had a mind to know who 'twas had ill manners enough to write that Letter.

[Throwing him his Letter.

Heart. Well, and now I hope you are satisfy'd.

Lady Fan. I am so, Sir: Good by t'ye.

Heart. Nay, hold there; tho' you have done your Business, I han't done mine: By your Ladyship's leave, we must have one Moment's Prattle together. Have you a mind to be the prettiest Woman about Town, or not? How she stares upon me! What! this passes for an impertinent Question with you now, because you think you are so already?

Lady Fan. Pray, Sir, let me ask you a Question in my Turn: By what Right do you pretend to examine me?

Heart. By the same Right that the strong govern the weak, because I have you in my power; for you cannot get so quickly to your Coach, but I shall have time enough to make you hear every thing I have to say to you.

Lady Fan. These are strange Liberties you take, Mr. Heartfree.

Heart. They are so, Madam, but there's no help for it; for know that I have a Design upon you.

Lady Fan. Upon me, Sir!

Heart. Yes; and one that will turn to your Glory, and my Comfort, if you will but be a little wiser than you use to be.

Lady Fan. Very well, Sir.

Heart. Let me see——Your Vanity, Madam, I take to be about some eight Degrees higher than any Woman's in the Town, let t'other be who she will; and my Indifference is naturally about the same Pitch. Now, could you find the way to turn this Indifference into Fire and Flames, methinks your Vanity ought to be satisfy'd; and this, perhaps, you might bring about upon pretty reasonable Terms.

Lady Fan. And pray at what rate would this Indifference be bought off, if one shou'd have so depraved an Appetite to desire it?

Heart. Why, Madam, to drive a Quaker's Bargain, and make but one word with you, if I do part with it—you must lay me down—your Affectation.

Lady Fan. My Affectation, Sir!

Heart. Why, I ask you nothing but what you may very well spare.

Lady Fan. You grow rude, Sir. Come, Madamoiselle, 'tis high time to be gone.

Madam. Allons, allons, allons.

Heart. [Stopping them.] Nay, you may as well stand still; for hear me you shall, walk which way you please.

Lady Fan. What mean you, Sir?

Heart. I mean to tell you, that you are the most ungrateful Woman upon Earth.

Lady Fan. Ungrateful! To whom?

Heart. To Nature.

Lady Fan. Why, what has Nature done for me?

Heart. What you have undone by Art! It made you handsome; it gave you Beauty to a Miracle, a Shape without a Fault, Wit enough to make them relish, and so turn'd you loose to your own Discretion; which has made such work with you, that you are become the Pity of our Sex, and the Jest of your own. There is not a Feature in your Face, but you have found the way to teach it some affected Convulsion; your Feet, your Hands, your very Fingers Ends are directed never to move without some ridiculous Air or other; and your Language is a suitable Trumpet, to draw people's Eyes upon the Raree-show.

Madam. [aside] Est ce qu'on fait l'amour en Angleterre comme ça?

Lady Fan. [Aside.] Now cou'd I cry for Madness, but that I know he'd laugh at me for it.

Heart. Now do you hate me for telling you the Truth, but that's because you don't believe it is so; for were you once convinc'd of that, you'd reform for your own sake. But 'tis as hard to persuade a Woman to quit any thing that makes her ridiculous, as 'tis to prevail with a Poet to see a Fault in his own Play.

Lady Fan. Every Circumstance of nice Breeding must needs appear ridiculous to one who has so natural an Antipathy to Good-manners.

Heart. But suppose I could find the means to convince you, that the whole World is of my Opinion, and that those who flatter and commend you, do it to no other Intent, but to make you persevere in your Folly, that they may continue in their Mirth.

Lady Fan. Sir, tho' you and all that World you talk of shou'd be so impertinently officious, as to think to persuade me I don't know how to behave myself; I shou'd still have Charity enough for my own Understanding, to believe myself in the right, and all you in the wrong.

Madam. Le voila mort.

[Exeunt Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Heart. [Gazing after her.] There her single Clapper has publish'd the Sense of the whole Sex. Well, this once I have endeavour'd to wash the Blackamoor white, but henceforward I'll sooner undertake to teach Sincerity to a Courtier, Generosity to an Usurer, Honesty to a Lawyer, nay, Humility to a Divine, than Discretion to a Woman I see has once set her Heart upon playing the Fool.

Enter Constant.

'Morrow, Constant.

Const. Good-morrow, Jack! What are you doing here this Morning?

Heart. Doing! Guess, if thou canst.——Why I have been endeavouring to persuade my Lady Fancyfull, that she's the foolishest Woman about Town.

Const. A pretty Endeavour, truly!

Heart. I have told her in as plain English as I could speak, both what the Town says of her, and what I think of her. In short, I have us'd her as an absolute King would do Magna Charta.

Const. And how does she take it?

Heart. As Children do Pills; bite them, but can't swallow them.

Const. But, pr'ythee, what has put it into your Head, of all Mankind, to turn Reformer?

Heart. Why one thing was, the Morning hung upon my Hands, I did not know what to do with myself; and another was, that as little as I care for Women, I cou'd not see with Patience one that Heaven had taken such wondrous Pains about, be so very industrious to make herself the Jack-pudding of the Creation.

Const. Well, now could I almost wish to see my cruel Mistress make the self-same Use of what Heaven has done for her, that so I might be cur'd of a Disease that makes me so very uneasy; for Love, Love is the Devil, Heartfree.

Heart. And why do you let the Devil govern you?

Const. Because I have more Flesh and Blood than Grace and Self-denial. My dear, dear Mistress! 'S death! that so genteel a Woman should be a Saint, when Religion's out of Fashion!

Heart. Nay, she's much in the wrong, truly; but who knows how far Time and good Example may prevail?

Const. O! they have play'd their Parts in vain already: 'Tis now two Years since that damned Fellow her Husband invited me to his Wedding; and there was the first time I saw that charming Woman, whom I have lov'd ever since, more than e'er a Martyr did his Soul; but she is cold, my Friend, still cold as the Northern Star.

Heart. So are all Women by Nature, which makes them so willing to be warm'd.

Const. O don't prophane the Sex! Pr'ythee, think them all Angels for her sake; for she's virtuous even to a Fault.

Heart. A Lover's Head is a good accountable Thing truly; he adores his Mistress for being virtuous, and yet is very angry with her because she won't be lewd.

Const. Well, the only Relief I expect in my Misery, is to see thee some Day or other as deeply engag'd as myself, which will force me to be merry in the midst of all my Misfortunes.

Heart. That Day will never come, be assur'd, Ned. Not but that I can pass a Night with a Woman, and for the time, perhaps; make myself as good Sport as you can do. Nay, I can court a Woman too, call her Nymph, Angel, Goddess, what you please: But here's the Difference 'twixt you and I; I persuade a Woman she's an Angel, and she persuades you she's one. Pr'ythee, let me tell you how I avoid falling in Love; that which serves me for Prevention, may chance to serve you for a Cure.

Const. Well, use the Ladies moderately then, and I'll hear you.

Heart. That using them moderately undoes us all; but I'll use them justly, and that you ought to be satisfied with. I always consider a Woman, not as the Taylor, the Shoemaker, the Tire-woman, the Sempstress, and (which is more than all that) the Poet makes her; but I consider her as pure Nature has contrived her, and that more strictly than I shou'd have done our old Grandmother Eve, had I seen her naked in the Garden; for I consider her turn'd inside out. Her Heart well examin'd, I find there Pride, Vanity, Covetousness, Indiscretion, but above all things, Malice; plots eternally a-forging to destroy one another's Reputations, and as honestly to charge the Levity of Men's Tongues with the Scandal; hourly Debates how to make poor Gentlemen in love with them, with no other Intent but to use them like Dogs when they have done; a constant Desire of doing more Mischief, and an everlasting War wag'd against Truth and Good-Nature.

Const. Very well, Sir! An admirable Composition, truly!

Heart. Then for her Outside, I consider it merely as an Outside; she has a thin Tiffany Covering over just such Stuff as you and I are made on. As for her Motion, her Mien, her Airs, and all those Tricks, I know they affect you mightily. If you should see your Mistress at a Coronation dragging her Peacock's Train, with all her State and Insolence about her, 'twou'd strike you with all the awful Thoughts that Heav'n itself could pretend to from you; whereas I turn the whole Matter into a Jest, and suppose her strutting in the self-same stately Manner, with nothing on her but her Stays and her under scanty quilted Petticoat.

Const. Hold thy profane Tongue; for I'll hear no more.

Heart. What, you'll love on, then?

Const. Yes, to Eternity.

Heart. Yet you have no hopes at all?

Const. None.

Heart. Nay, the Resolution may be discreet enough; perhaps you have found out some new Philosophy, that Love, like Virtue, is its own Reward: So you and your Mistress will be as well content at a Distance, as others that have less Learning are in coming together.

Const. No; but if she should prove kind at last, my dear Heartfree—

[Embracing him.

Heart. Nay, pr'ythee, don't take me for your Mistress; for Lovers are very troublesome.

Const. Well; who knows what Time may do?

Heart. And just now he was sure Time could do nothing.

Const. Yet not one kind Glance in two Years, is somewhat strange.

Heart. Not strange at all; she don't like you, that's all the Business.

Const. Pr'ythee, don't distract me.

Heart. Nay, you are a good handsome young Fellow, she might use you better: Come, will you go see her? Perhaps she may have chang'd her Mind; there's some Hopes as long as she's a Woman.

Const. O, 'tis in vain to visit her! Sometimes to get a Sight of her, I visit that Beast her Husband; but she certainly finds some Pretence to quit the Room as soon as I enter.

Heart. 'Tis much she don't tell him you have made Love to her too; for that's another good-natur'd thing usual amongst Women, in which they have several Ends. Sometimes 'tis to recommend their Virtue, that they may be lewd with the greater Security. Sometimes 'tis to make their Husbands fight, in hopes they may be kill'd, when their Affairs require it should be so: but most commonly 'tis to engage two Men in a Quarrel, that they may have the Credit of being fought for; and if the Lover's kill'd in the Business, they cry, Poor Fellow, he had ill Luck——and so they go to Cards.

Const. Thy Injuries to Women are not to be forgiven. Look to't, if ever thou dost fall into their Hands——

Heart. They can't use me worse than they do you, that speak well of 'em. O ho! here comes the Knight.

Enter Sir John Brute.

Heart. Your humble Servant, Sir John.

Sir John. Servant, Sir.

Heart. How does all your Family?

Sir John. Pox o' my Family!

Const. How does your Lady? I han't seen her abroad a good while.

Sir John. Do! I don't know how she does, not I; she was well enough Yesterday; I han't been at home to-night.

Const. What, were you out of Town?

Sir John. Out of Town! No, I was drinking.

Const. You are a true Englishman; don't know your own Happiness. If I were married to such a Woman, I would not be from her a Night for all the Wine in France.

Sir John. Not from her!—--'Oons——what a time should a Man have of that!

Heart. Why, there's no Division, I hope.

Sir John. No; but there's a Conjunction, and that's worse; a Pox of the Parson——Why the plague don't you two marry? I fancy I look like the Devil to you.

Heart. Why, you don't think you have Horns, do you?

Sir John. No, I believe my Wife's Religion will keep her honest.

Heart. And what will make her keep her Religion?

Sir John. Persecution; and therefore she shall have it.

Heart. Have a care, Knight! Women are tender things.

Sir John. And yet, methinks, 'tis a hard Matter to break their Hearts.

Const. Fy, fy! You have one of the best Wives in the World, and yet you seem the most uneasy Husband.

Sir John. Best Wives! The Woman's well enough; she has no Vice that I know of, but she's a Wife, and—damn a Wife! If I were married to a Hogshead of Claret, Matrimony would make me hate it.

Heart. Why did you marry, then? You were old enough to know your own Mind.

Sir John. Why did I marry? I married because I had a mind to lie with her, and she would not let me.

Heart. Why did you not ravish her?

Sir John. Yes, and so have hedg'd myself into forty Quarrels with her Relations, besides buying my pardon: But more than all that, you must know, I was afraid of being damn'd in those days: For I kept sneaking, cowardly Company, Fellows that went to Church, said Grace to their Meat, and had not the least Tincture of Quality about them.

Heart. But I think you are got into a better Gang now?

Sir John. Zoons, Sir, my Lord Rake and I are Hand and Glove: I believe we may get our Bones broke together to-night; have you a mind to share a Frolick?

Const. Not I, truly; my Talent lies to softer Exercises.

Sir John. What, a Down-Bed and a Strumpet? A pox of Venery, I say. Will you come and drink with me this Afternoon?

Const. I can't drink to-day, but we'll come and sit an Hour with you, if you will.

Sir John. Phugh, Pox, sit an Hour! Why can't you drink?

Const. Because I'm to see my Mistress.

Sir John. Who's that?

Const. Why, do you use to tell?

Sir John. Yes.

Const. So won't I.

Sir John. Why?

Const. Because 'tis a Secret.

Sir John. Would my Wife knew it, 'twould be no Secret long.

Const. Why, do you think she can't keep a Secret?

Sir John. No more than she can keep Lent.

Heart. Pr'ythee, tell it her to try, Constant.

Sir John. No, pr'ythee, don't, that I mayn't be plagu'd with it.

Const. I'll hold you a Guinea you don't make her tell it you.

Sir John. I'll hold you a Guinea I do.

Const. Which way?

Sir John. Why, I'll beg her not to tell it me.

Heart. Nay, if any thing does it, that will.

Const. But do you think, Sir——

Sir John. Oons, Sir, I think a Woman and a Secret are the two impertinentest Themes in the Universe: Therefore pray let's hear no more of my Wife, nor your Mistress. Damn 'em both with all my heart, and every thing else that daggles a Petticoat, except four generous Whores, with Betty Sands at the Head of 'em, who are drunk with my Lord Rake and I ten times in a Fortnight.

[Exit Sir John.

Const. Here's a dainty Fellow for you! And the veriest Coward too. But his Usage of his Wife makes me ready to stab the Villain.

Heart. Lovers are short-sighted: All their Senses run into that of Feeling. This Proceeding of his is the only thing on Earth can make your Fortune. If any thing can prevail with her to accept of a Gallant, 'tis his ill Usage of her; for Women will do more for Revenge, than they'll do for the Gospel. Pr'ythee, take heart, I have great hopes for you: And since I can't bring you quite off of her, I'll endeavour to bring you quite on; for a whining Lover is the damn'dest Companion upon Earth.

Const. My dear Friend, flatter me a little more with these Hopes; for whilst they prevail, I have Heaven within me, and could melt with Joy.

Heart. Pray, no melting yet; let things go farther first. This afternoon, perhaps, we shall make some advance. In the mean while, let's go dine at Locket's, and let Hope get you a Stomach.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Fan. Did you ever see any thing so importune, Madamoiselle?

Madam. Inteed, Matam, to say de trute, he want leetel Good-breeding.

Lady Fan. Good-breeding! He wants to be caned, Madamoiselle: an insolent Fellow! And yet let me expose my Weakness, 'tis the only Man on Earth I cou'd resolve to dispense my Favours on, were he but a fine Gentleman. Well! did Men but know how deep an Impression a fine Gentleman makes in a Lady's Heart, they would reduce all their Studies to that of Good-breeding alone.

Enter Cornet.

Cor. Madam, here's Mr. Treble. He has brought home the Verses your Ladyship made, and gave him to set.

Lady Fan. O let him come in by all means. Now Madamoiselle, am I going to be unspeakably happy.

Enter Treble.

So, Mr. Treble, you have set my little Dialogue?

Treb. Yes, Madam, and I hope your Ladyship will be pleased with it.

Lady Fan. O, no doubt on't; for really, Mr. Treble, you set all things to a wonder: But your Musick is in particular heavenly, when you have my Words to clothe in't.

Treb. Your Words themselves, Madam, have so much Musick in 'em, they inspire me.

Lady Fan. Nay, now you make me blush, Mr. Treble; but pray let's hear what you have done.

Treb. You shall, Madam.

A SONG, to be sung between a Man and a Woman.

Treb. How does your Ladyship like it, Madam?

Lady Fan. Rapture, Rapture, Mr. Treble! I'm all Rapture! O Wit and Art, what Power have you when join'd! I must needs tell you the Birth of this little Dialogue, Mr. Treble. Its Father was a Dream, and its Mother was the Moon. I dream'd that by an unanimous Vote, I was chosen Queen of that pale World; and that the first time I appear'd upon my Throne——all my Subjects fell in love with me. Just then I wak'd, and seeing Pen, Ink and Paper lie idle upon the Table, I slid into my Morning-Gown, and writ this impromptu.

Treb. So I guess the Dialogue, Madam, is suppos'd to be between your Majesty and your first Minister of State.

Lady Fan. Just: He, as Minister, advises me to trouble my Head about the Welfare of my Subjects; which I, as Sovereign, find a very impertinent Proposal. But is the Town so dull, Mr. Treble, it affords us never another new Song?

Treb. Madam, I have one in my Pocket, came out but Yesterday, if your Ladyship pleases to let Mrs. Pipe sing it.

Lady Fan. By all means. Here, Pipe, make what Musick you can of this Song, here.

Lady Fan. Very well: This is Heartfree's Poetry without question.

Treb. Won't your Ladyship please to sing yourself this Morning?

Lady Fan. O Lord, Mr. Treble, my Cold is still so barbarous to refuse me that Pleasure! He, he, hem.

Treb. I'm very sorry for it, Madam: Methinks all Mankind should turn Physicians for the Cure on't.

Lady Fan. Why, truly, to give Mankind their due, there's few that know me but have offer'd their Remedy.

Treb. They have reason, Madam; for I know no body sings so near a Cherubim as your Ladyship.

Lady Fan. What I do, I owe chiefly to your Skill and Care, Mr. Treble. People do flatter me, indeed, that I have a Voice, and a Je-ne-sçai-quoy in the Conduct of it, that will make Musick of any thing. And truly I begin to believe so, since what happen'd t'other Night: Wou'd you think it, Mr. Treble? Walking pretty late in the Park, (for I often walk late in the Park, Mr Treble) a Whim took me to sing Chevy Chase; and, wou'd you believe it? next Morning I had three Copies of Verses, and six Billet-doux at my Levée upon it.

Treb. And without all dispute you deserv'd as many more, Madam. Are there any further Commands for your Ladyship's humble Servant?

Lady Fan. Nothing more at this Time, Mr. Treble. But I shall expect you here every Morning for this Month, to sing my little Matter there to me. I'll reward you for your Pains.

Treb. O Lord, Madam——

Lady Fan. Good-morrow, sweet Mr. Treble.

Treb. Your Ladyship's most obedient Servant.

[Exit Treb.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Will your Ladyship please to dine yet?

Lady Fan. Yes, let 'em serve. [Exit Servant.] Sure this Heartfree has bewitch'd me, Madamoiselle. You can't imagine how oddly he mixt himself in my Thoughts during my Rapture e'en now. I vow 'tis a thousand Pities he is not more polish'd: Don't you think so?

Madam. Matam, I tink it so great pity, dat if I was in your Ladyship place, I take him home in my House, I lock him up in my Closet, and I never let him go till I teach him every ting dat fine Laty expect from fine Gentelman.

Lady Fan. Why, truly, I believe I shou'd soon subdue his Brutality; for without doubt, he has a strange Penchant to grow fond of me, in spite of his Aversion to the Sex, else he wou'd ne'er have taken so much Pains about me. Lord, how proud wou'd some poor Creatures be of such a Conquest! But I, alas! I don't know how to receive as a Favour what I take to be so infinitely my Due. But what shall I do to new-mould him, Madamoiselle? for till then he's my utter Aversion.

Madam. Matam; you must laugh at him in all de place dat you meet him, and turn into de reticule all he say, and all he do.

Lady Fan. Why, truly, Satire has ever been of wondrous use to reform Ill-manners. Besides, 'tis my particular Talent to ridicule Folks. I can be severe, strangely severe, when I will, Madamoiselle——Give me the Pen and Ink——I find myself whimsical——I'll write to him——Or I'll let it alone, and be severe upon him that way [Sitting down to write, rising up again.]—Yet Active Severity is better than Passive. [Sitting down.]——'Tis as good let it alone, too; for every Lash I give him, perhaps, he'll take for a Favour. [Rising.]——Yet 'tis a thousand pities so much Satire should be lost. [Sitting.]—— But if it shou'd have a wrong Effect upon him, 'twould distract me. [Rising.]——Well, I must write, tho', after all, [Sitting.]——Or I'll let it alone, which is the same thing. [Rising.]

Madam. La voilà determinée.

[Exeunt.

Sir John. Here, take away the Things; I expect Company. But first bring me a Pipe; I'll smoak.

[To a Servant.

Lady Brute. Lord, Sir John, I wonder you won't leave that nasty Custom.

Sir John. Pr'ythee, don't be impertinent.

Bel. [To Lady Brute.] I wonder who those People are he expects this Afternoon?

Lady Brute. I'd give the World to know: Perhaps 'tis Constant—he comes here sometimes: if it does prove him, I'm resolv'd I'll share the Visit.

Bel. We'll send for our Work, and sit here.

Lady Brute. He'll choak us with his Tobacco.

Bel. Nothing will choak us when we are doing what we have a mind to. Lovewell!

Enter Lovewell.

Lov. Madam.

Lady Brute. Here; bring my Cousin's Work and mine hither.

[Exit Lov. and re-enters with their Work.

Sir John. Whu! Pox, can't you work somewhere else?

Lady Brute. We shall be careful not to disturb you, Sir.

Bel. Your Pipe would make you too thoughtful, Uncle, if you were left alone; our Prittle-prattle will cure your Spleen.

Sir John. Will it so, Mrs. Pert? Now I believe it will so increase it, [Sitting and smoaking.] I shall take my own House for a Paper-mill.

Lady Brute. [To Bel. aside.] Don't let's mind him; let him say what he will.

Sir John. A Woman's Tongue a Cure for the Spleen!—Oons—[Aside.] If a Man had got the Head-ach, they'd be for applying the same Remedy.

Lady Brute. You have done a great deal, Belinda, since yesterday.

Bel. Yes, I have work'd very hard; how do you like it?

Lady Brute. O, 'tis the prettiest Fringe in the World. Well, Cousin, you have the happiest Fancy: Pr'ythee, advise me about altering my Crimson Petticoat.

Sir John. A Pox o' your Petticoat! Here's such a Prating, a Man can't digest his own Thoughts for you.

Lady Brute. Don't answer him. [Aside.] Well, what do you advise me?

Bel. Why, really, I would not alter it at all. Methinks 'tis very pretty as it is.

Lady Brute. Ay, that's, true: But you know one grows weary of the prettiest things in the World, when one has had 'em long.

Sir John. Yes, I have taught her that.

Bel. Shall we provoke him a little?

Lady Brute. With all my Heart. Belinda, don't you long to be marry'd?

Bel. Why, there are some things in it I could like well enough.

Lady Brute. What do you think you shou'd dislike?

Bel. My Husband, a hundred to one else.

Lady Brute. O ye wicked Wretch! Sure you don't speak as you think?

Bel. Yes, I do: especially if he smoak'd Tobacco.

[He looks earnestly at 'em.

Lady Brute. Why, that many times takes off worse Smells.

Bel. Then he must smell very ill indeed.

Lady Brute. So some Men will, to keep their Wives from coming near 'em.

Bel. Then those Wives shou'd cuckold 'em at a distance.

Sir John.. 'Oons, get you gone up Stairs, you confederating Strumpets you, o I'll cuckold you, with a Vengeance!

Lady Brute. O Lord, he'll beat us, he'll beat us. Dear, dear Mr. Constant, save us!

[Exeunt.

Sir John. I'll cuckold you, with a Pox.

Const. Heav'n! Sir John, what's the matter?

Sir John. Sure, if Women had been ready created, the Devil, instead of being kick'd down into Hell, had been marry'd.

Heart. Why, what new Plague have you found now?

Sir John. Why, these two Gentlewomen did but hear me say, I expected you here this Afternoon; upon which they presently resolv'd to take up the Room, o' purpose to plague me and my Friends.

Const. Was that all? Why, we shou'd have been glad of their Company.

Sir John. Then I should have been weary of yours; for I can't relish both together. They found fault with my smoaking Tobacco, too; and said Men stunk. But I have a good mind—to say something.

Const. No, nothing against the Ladies, pray.

Sir John. Split the Ladies! Come, will you sit down? Give us some Wine, Fellow: You won't smoak?

Const.. No; nor drink, neither, at this time—I must ask your Pardon.

Sir John. What, this Mistress of yours runs in your Head! I'll warrant it's some such squeamish Minx as my Wife, that's grown so dainty of late, she finds fault even with a dirty Shirt.

Heart. That a Woman may do, and not be very dainty, neither.

Sir John. Pox o' the Women! let's drink. Come, you shall take one Glass, tho' I send for a Box of Lozenges to sweeten your Mouth after it.

Const. Nay, if one Glass will satisfy you, I'll drink it, without putting you to that Expence.

Sir John. Why, that's honest. Fill some Wine, Sirrah: So here's to you, Gentlemen—A Wife's the Devil. To your being both married.

[They drink.

Heart. O, your most humble Servant, Sir.

Sir John. Well, how do you like my Wine?

Const. 'Tis very good, indeed.

Heart. 'Tis admirable.

Sir John. Then give us t'other Glass.

Const. No, pray excuse us now: We'll come another time, and then we won't spare it.

Sir John. This one Glass, and no more: Come, it shall be your Mistress's Health: And that's a great Compliment from me, I assure you.

Const. And 'tis a very obliging one to me: So give us the Glasses.

Sir John. So: let her live—

[Sir John coughs in the Glass.

Heart. And be kind.

Const. What's the matter? Does it go the wrong way?

Sir John. If I had Love enough to be jealous, I shou'd take this for an ill Omen: For I never drank my Wife's Health in my Life, but I puk'd in the Glass.

Const. O, she's too virtuous to make a reasonable Man jealous.

Sir John. Pox of her Virtue! If I cou'd but catch her Adulterating, I might be divorc'd from her by Law.

Heart. And so pay her a yearly Pension, to be a distinguish'd Cuckold.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Sir, there's my Lord Rake, Colonel Bully, and some other Gentlemen at the Blue-Posts, desire your Company.

Sir John. Cod's so, we are to consult about playing the Devil to-night.

Heart. Well, we won't hinder Business.

Sir John. Methinks I don't know how to leave you, tho': But for once I must make bold. Or look you; may be the Conference mayn't last long: So, if you'll wait here half an hour, or an hour; if I don't come then—why, then—I won't come at all.

Heart. [To Const.] A good modest Proposition, truly!

[Aside.

Const. But let's accept on't, however. Who knows what may happen?

Heart. Well, Sir, to shew you how fond we are of your Company, we'll expect your Return as long as we can.

Sir John. Nay, may be I mayn't stay at all. But Business, you know, must be done. So your Servant—Or hark you, if you have a mind to take a Frisk with us, I have an Interest with my Lord; I can easily introduce you.

Const. We are much beholden to you; but for my part, I'm engag'd another way.

Sir John. What! to your Mistress, I'll warrant. Pr'ythee, leave your nasty Punk to entertain herself with her own lewd Thoughts, and make one with us to-night.

Const. Sir, 'tis Business that is to employ me.

Heart. And me; and Business must be done, you know.

Sir John. Ay, Women's Business, tho' the World were consum'd for't.

[Exit Sir John.

Const. Farewel, Beast! And now, my dear Friend, would my Mistress be but as complaisant as some Men's Wives, who think it a piece of good Breeding to receive the Visits of their Husband's Friends in his Absence!

Heart. Why, for your sake I could forgive her, tho' she should be so complaisant to receive something else in his Absence. But what way shall we invent to see her?

Const. O, ne'er hope it: Invention will prove as vain as Wishes.

Enter Lady Brute and Belinda.

Heart. What do you think now, Friend?

Const. I think I shall swoon.

Heart. I'll speak first, then, whilst you fetch breath.

Lady Brute. We think ourselves oblig'd, Gentlemen, to come and return you thanks for your Knight-Errantry. We were just upon being devour'd by the fiery Dragon.

Bel. Did not his Fumes almost knock you down, Gentlemen?

Heart. Truly, Ladies, we did undergo some Hardships; and should have done more, if some greater Heroes than ourselves, hard by, had not diverted him.

Const. Tho' I'm glad of the Service you are pleas'd to say we have done you, yet I'm sorry we could do it in no other way, than by making ourselves privy to what you would perhaps have kept a Secret.

Lady Brute. For Sir John's part, I suppose he design'd it no Secret, since he made so much Noise. And for myself, truly I'm not much concern'd, since 'tis fallen only into this Gentleman's Hands and yours; who, I have many Reasons to believe, will neither interpret nor report any thing to my disadvantage.

Const. Your good Opinion, Madam, was what I fear'd I never could have merited.

Lady Brute. Your Fears were vain, then, Sir; for I'm just to every body.

Heart. Pr'ythee, Constant, what is't you do to get the Ladies good Opinions? for I'm a Novice at it.

Bel. Sir, will you give me leave to instruct you?

Heart. Yes, that I will, with all my Soul, Madam.

Bel. Why, then, you must never be slovenly, never be out of humour, fare well and cry Roast-meat, smoak Tobacco, nor drink but when you are dry.

Heart. That's hard.

Const. Nay, if you take his Bottle from him, you break his Heart, Madam.

Bel. Why, is it possible the Gentleman can love Drinking?

Heart. Only by way of Antidote.

Bel. Against what, pray?

Heart. Against Love, Madam.

Lady Brute. Are you afraid of being in Love, Sir?

Heart. I should, if there were any Danger of it.

Lady Brute. Pray why so?

Heart. Because I always had an Aversion to being us'd like a Dog.

Bel. Why, truly, Men in Love are seldom us'd better.

Lady Brute. But was you never in Love, Sir?

Heart. No, I thank Heav'n, Madam.

Bel. Pray, where got you your Learning, then?

Heart. From other People's Expence.

Bel. That's being a Spunger, Sir, which is scarce honest: If you'd buy some Experience with your own Money, as 'twould be fairlier got, so 'twould stick longer by you.

Enter Footman.

Foot. Madam, here's my Lady Fancyfull, to wait upon your Ladyship.

Lady Brute. Shield me, kind Heaven! What an Inundation of Impertinence is here coming upon us!

Enter Lady Fancyfull, who runs first to Lady Brute, then to Belinda, kissing 'em.

Lady Fan. My dear Lady Brute, and sweet Belinda, methinks 'tis an Age since I saw you.

Lady Brute. Yet 'tis but three Days; sure you have pass'd your time very ill, it seems so long to you.

Lady Fan. Why, really, to confess the truth to you, I am so everlastingly fatigu'd with the Addresses of unfortunate Gentlemen, that, were it not for the Extravagancy of the Example, I shou'd e'en tear out these wicked Eyes with my own Fingers, to make both myself and Mankind easy. What think you on't, Mr. Heartfree, for I take you to be my faithful Adviser?

Heart. Why, truly, Madam—I think—every Project that is for the good of Mankind ought to be encourag'd.

Lady Fan. Then I have your Consent, Sir?

Heart. To do whatever you please, Madam.

Lady Fan. You had a much more limited Complaisance this Morning, Sir. Would you believe it, Ladies? The Gentleman has been so exceeding generous, to tell me of above fifty Faults, in less time than it was well possible for me to commit two of 'em.

Const. Why, truly, Madam, my Friend there is apt to be something familiar with the Ladies.

Lady Fan. He is, indeed, Sir; but he's wondrous charitable with it: He has had the Goodness to design a Reformation, even down to my Fingers-ends.——'Twas thus, I think, Sir, [Opening her fingers in an aukward manner.] you'd have had 'em stand—My Eyes, too, he did not like: How was't you wou'd have directed 'em? Thus, I think. [Staring at him.]—Then there was something amiss in my Gait, too: I don't know well how 'twas; but as I take it, he would have had me walk like him. Pray, Sir, do me the Favour to take a turn or two about the Room, that the Company may see you.—He's sullen, Ladies, and won't. But, to make short, and give you as true an Idea as I can of the matter, I think 'twas much about this Figure, in general, he would have moulded me to: But I was an obstinate Woman, and could not resolve to make myself Mistress of his Heart, by growing as aukward as his Fancy.

[She walks aukwardly about, staring and looking ungainly, then changes on a sudden to the Extremity of her usual Affectation.

Heart.. Just thus Women do, when they think we are in love with em, or when they are so with us.

[Here Constant and Lady Brute talk together apart.

Lady Fan. 'Twould, however, be less Vanity for me to conclude the former, than you the latter, Sir.

Heart.. Madam, all I shall presume to conclude, is, That if I wer in love, you'd find the means to make me soon weary on't.

Lady Fan. Not by Over-fondness, upon my Word, Sir. But pray let's stop here; for you are so much govern'd by Instinct, I know you'll grow brutish at last.

Bel. [Aside.] Now am I sure she's fond of him: I'll try to make her jealous. Well, for my part, I should be glad to find somebody would be so free with me, that I might know my Faults, and mend 'em.

Lady Fan. Then pray let me recommend this Gentleman to you: I have known him some time, and will be Surety for him, that upon a very limited Encouragement on your side, you shall find an extended Impudence on his.

Heart. I thank you, Madam, for your Recommendation: But hating Idleness, I'm unwilling to enter into a Place where I believe there would be nothing to do. I was fond of serving your Ladyship, because I knew you'd find me constant Employment.

Lady Fan. I told you he'd be rude, Belinda.

Bel. O, a little Bluntness is a sign of Honesty, which makes me always ready to pardon it. So, Sir, if you have no other Exceptions to my Service, but the fear of being idle in it, you may venture to lift yourself: I shall find you Work, I warrant you.

Heart. Upon those Terms I engage, Madam; and this (with your leave) I take for Earnest.

[Offering to kiss her Hand.

Bel. Hold there, Sir; I'm none of your Earnest-givers. But if I'm well serv'd, I give good Wages, and pay punctually.

[Heartf. and Bel. seem to continue talking familiarly.

Lady Fan. [Aside.] I don't like this jesting between 'em—Methinks the Fool begins to look as if he were in earnest.——But then he must be a Fool, indeed.——Lard, what a Difference there is between me and her! [Looking at Bel. scornfully.] How I shou'd despise such a Thing, if I were a Man!—--What a Nose she has!—What a Chin——What a Neck!—--Then her Eyes——And the worst kissing Lips in the Universe——No, no, he can never like her, that's positive——Yet I can't suffer 'em together any longer. Mr. Heartfree, do you know that you and I must have no Quarrel for all this? I can't forbear being a little severe now and then: But Women, you know, may be allowed any thing.

Heart. Up to a certain Age, Madam.

Lady Fan. Which I'm not yet past, I hope.

Heart. [Aside.] Nor never will, I dare swear.

Lady Fan. [To Lady Brute.] Come, Madam, will your Ladyship be Witness to our Reconciliation?

Lady Brute. You agree, then, at last?

Heart. [Slightingly.] We forgive.

Lady Fan. [Aside.] That was a cold, ill-natur'd Reply.

Lady Brute. Then there's no Challenges sent between you?

Heart. Not from me, I promise. [Aside to Constant.] But that's more than I'll do for her; for I know she can as well be damn'd as forbear writing to me.

Const. That I believe. But I think we had best be going, lest she should suspect something, and be malicious.

Heart. With all my heart.

Const. Ladies, we are your humble Servants. I see Sir John is quite engag'd, 'twould be in vain to expect him. Come, Heartfree.

[Exit.

Heart. Ladies, your Servant. [To Belinda.] I hope, Madam, you won't forget our Bargain; I'm to say what I please to you.

[Exit Heartfree.

Bel. Liberty of Speech entire, Sir.

Lady Fan. [Aside.] Very pretty truly—But how the Blockhead went out—languishing at her, and not a Look toward me!—Well, Churchmen may talk, but Miracles are not ceas'd. For 'tis more than natural, such a rude Fellow as he, and such a little Impertinent as she, should be capable of making a Woman of my Sphere uneasy. But I can bear her sight no longer——methinks she's grown ten times uglier than Cornet. I must home, and study Revenge. [To Lady Brute.] Madam, your humble Servant; I must take my leave.

Lady Brute. What, going already, Madam?

Lady Fan. I must beg you'll excuse me this once; for really I have eighteen Visits to return this Afternoon: So you see I'm importun'd by the Women as well as the Men.

Bel. [Aside.] And she's quits with them both.

Lady Fan. [Going.] Nay, you shan't go one Step out of the Room.

Lady Brute. Indeed I'll wait upon you down.

Lady Fan. No, sweet Lady Brute, you know I swoon at Ceremony.

Lady Brute. Pray give me leave.

Lady Fan. You know I won't.

Lady Brute. Indeed I must.

Lady Fan. Indeed you shan't.

Lady Brute. Indeed I will.

Lady Fan.. Indeed you shan't.

Lady Brute. Indeed I will.

Lady Fan. Indeed you shan't. Indeed, indeed, indeed you shan't.

[Exit Lady Fan. running; they follow.

Re-enter Lady Brute sola.

This impertinent Woman has put me out of Humour for a Fortnight——What an agreeable Moment has her foolish Visit interrupted! Lord, how like a Torrent Love flows into the Heart, when once the Sluice of Desire is open'd! Good Gods! What a Pleasure there is in doing what we should not do!

Re-enter Constant.

Ha! here again?

Const. Tho' the renewing my Visit may seem a little irregular, I hope I shall obtain your Pardon for it, Madam, when you know I only left the Room, lest the Lady who was here should have been as malicious in her Remarks as she's foolish in her Conduct.

Lady Brute. He who has Discretion enough to be tender of a Woman's Reputation, carries a Virtue about him may atone for a great many Faults.

Const. If it has a Title to atone for any, its Pretensions must needs be strongest where the Crime is Love. I therefore hope I shall be forgiven the Attempt I have made upon your Heart, since my Enterprize has been a Secret to all the World but yourself.

Lady Brute. Secrecy, indeed, in Sins of this kind, is an Argument of weight to lessen the Punishment; but nothing's a Plea for a Pardon entire, without a sincere Repentance.

Const. If Sincerity in Repentance consists in Sorrow for offending, no Cloyster ever inclos'd so true a Penitent as I should be. But I hope it cannot be reckon'd an Offence to love where 'tis a Duty to adore.

Lady Brute. 'Tis an Offence, a great one, where it would rob a Woman of all she ought to be ador'd for—her Virtue.

Const. Virtue?—Virtue, alas! is no more like the thing that's call'd so, than 'tis like Vice itself. Virtue consists in Goodness, Honour, Gratitude, Sincerity, and Pity; and not in peevish, snarling, strait-lac'd Chastity. True Virtue, wheresoever it moves, still carries an intrinsick Worth about it, and is in every Place, and in each Sex, of equal Value. So is not Continence, you see: That Phantom of Honour, which Men in every Age have so contemned, they have thrown it amongst the Women to scrabble for.

Lady Brute. If it be a thing of so little Value, why do you so earnestly recommend it to your Wives and Daughters?

Const. We recommend it to our Wives, Madam, because we wou'd keep 'em to ourselves; and to our Daughters, because we wou'd dispose of 'em to others.

Lady Brute. 'Tis then, of some Importance, it seems, since you can't dispose of them without it.

Const. That Importance, Madam, lies in the Humour of the Country, not in the Nature of the Thing.

Lady Brute. How do you prove that, Sir?

Const. From the Wisdom of a neighbouring Nation in a contrary Practice. In Monarchies, things go by Whimsy; but Commonwealths weigh all things in the Scale of Reason.

Lady Brute. I hope we are not so very light a People, to bring up Fashions without some ground.

Const. Pray what does your Ladyship think of a powder'd Coat for deep Mourning?

Lady Brute. I think, Sir, your Sophistry has all the effect that you can reasonably expect it should have; it puzzles, but don't convince.

Const. I'm sorry for it.

Lady Brute. I'm sorry to hear you say so.

Const. Pray why?

Lady Brute. Because, if you expected more from it, you have a worse Opinion of my Understanding than I desire you should have.

Const. [Aside.] I comprehend her: She would have me set a Value upon her Chastity, that I might think myself the more oblig'd to her when she makes me a Present of it. [To her.] I beg you will believe I did but rally, Madam; I know you judge too well of Right and Wrong, to be deceiv'd by Arguments like those. I hope you'll have so favourable an Opinion of my Understanding too, to believe the thing call'd Virtue has Worth enough with me, to pass for an eternal Obligation where'er 'tis sacrific'd.

Lady Brute. It is, I think, so great a one as nothing can repay.

Const. Yes; the making the Man you love your everlasting Debtor.

Lady Brute. When Debtors once have borrow'd all we have to lend, they are very apt to grow shy of their Creditors' Company.

Const. That, Madam, is only when they are forc'd to borrow of Usurers, and not of a generous Friend. Let us choose our Creditors, and we are seldom so ungrateful to shun 'em.

Lady Brute. What think you of Sir John, Sir? I was his free Choice.

Const. I think he's married, Madam.

Lady Brute. Does Marriage, then, exclude Men from your Rule of Constancy?

Const. It does. Constancy's a brave, free, haughty, generous Agent, that cannot buckle to the Chains of Wedlock. There's a poor sordid Slavery in Marriage, that turns the flowing Tide of Honour, and sinks us to the lowest Ebb of Infamy. 'Tis a corrupted Soil: Ill-Nature, Avarice, Sloth, Cowardice, and Dirt, are all its Product.

Lady Brute. Have you no Exceptions to this general Rule, as well as to t'other?

Const. Yes; I would, after all, be an Exception to it myself, if you were free in Power and Will to make me so.

Lady Brute. Compliments are well plac'd where 'tis impossible to lay hold on 'em.

Const. I wou'd to Heaven 'twere possible for you to lay hold on mine, that you might see it is no Compliment at all. But since you are already dispos'd of, beyond Redemption, to one who does not know the Value of the Jewel you have put into his Hands, I hope you wou'd not think him greatly wrong'd, tho' it should sometimes be look'd on by a Friend, who knows how to esteem it as he ought.

Lady Brute. If looking on't alone wou'd serve his turn, the Wrong, perhaps, might not be very great.

Const. Why, what if he shou'd wear it now and then a Day, so he gave good Security to bring it home again at Night?

Lady Brute. Small Security, I fancy, might serve for that. One might venture to take his Word.

Const. Then, where's the Injury to the Owner?

Lady Brute. 'Tis an Injury to him, if he think it one. For if Happiness be seated in the Mind, Unhappiness must be so too.

Const. Here I close with you, Madam, and draw my conclusive Argument from your own Position: If the Injury lie in the Fancy, there needs nothing but Secrecy to prevent the Wrong.

Lady Brute. [Going.] A surer way to prevent it, is to hear no more Arguments in its behalf.

Const. [Following her.] But, Madam——

Lady Brute. But, Sir, 'tis my turn to be discreet now, and not suffer too long a Visit.

Const. [Catching her Hand.] By Heaven, you shall not stir, till you give me hopes that I shall see you again at some more convenient Time and Place!

Lady Brute. I give you just hopes enough——[Breaking from him.] to get loose from you: and that's all I can afford you at this time.

[Exit running.

Constant solus.

Now, by all that's great and good, she is a charming Woman! In what Extasy of Joy she has left me! For she gave me Hope, did she not say she gave me Hope?—Hope! Ay: what Hope? Enough to make me let her go—Why, that's enough in Conscience. Or, no matter how 'twas spoke: Hope was the Word: it came from her, and it was said to me.

Enter Heartfree.

Ha, Heartfree! Thou hast done me noble Service in prattling to the young Gentlewoman without there; come to my Arms, thou venerable Bawd, and let me squeeze thee [Embracing him eagerly.] as a new Pair of Stays does a fat Country Girl, when she's carried to Court to stand for a Maid of Honour.

Heart. Why, what the Devil's all this Rapture for?

Const. Rapture! There's ground for Rapture, Man; there's Hopes, my Heartfree, Hopes, my Friend!

Heart. Hopes! of what?

Const. Why, Hopes that my Lady and I together (for 'tis more than one Body's Work) should make Sir John a Cuckold.

Heart. Pr'ythee, what did she say to thee?

Const. Say? What did she not say? She said that——says she—she said—Zoons, I don't know what she said; but she look'd as if she said every thing I'd have her. And so, if thou'lt go to the Tavern, I'll treat thee with any thing that Gold can buy; I'll give all my Silver amongst the Drawers, make a Bonfire before the Door; say the Plenipo's have sign'd the Peace, and the Bank of England's grown honest.

[Exeunt.

All. Huzza!

Lord Rake. Come, Boys, charge again——So—Confusion to all Order! Here's Liberty of Conscience.

All. Huzza!

Lord Rake. I'll sing you a Song I made this Morning to this purpose.

Sir John. 'Tis wicked, I hope.

Col. Bully. Don't my Lord tell you he made it?

Sir John. Well, then, let's ha't.

Lord Rake Sings.

Lord Rake. [Rep.] And in Peace I jog on to the Devil. Well, how do you like it, Gentlemen?

All. O, admirable!

Sir John. I would not give a Fig for a Song that is not full of Sin and Impudence.

Lord Rake. Then my Muse is to your Taste. But drink away; the Night steals upon us; we shall want Time to be lewd in. Hey, Page! Sally out, Sirrah, and see what's doing in the Camp; we'll beat up their Quarters presently.

Page. I'll bring your Lordship an exact Account.

[Exit Page.

Lord Rake.. Now let the Spirit of Clary go round. Fill me a Brimmer Here's to our Forlorn Hope. Courage, Knight, Victory attends you.

Sir John. And Laurels shall crown me; drink away, and be damn'd.

Lord Rake. Again, Boys; t'other Glass, and damn Morality.

Sir John. [Drunk.] Ay—damn Morality—and damn the Watch. And let the Constable be married.

All. Huzza!

Re-enter Page.

Lord Rake. How are the Streets inhabited, Sirrah?

Page. My Lord, 'tis Sunday-night; they are full of drunken Citizens.

Lord Rake. Along, then, Boys, we shall have a Feast.

Col. Bully. Along, noble Knight.

Sir John. Ay——along, Bully; and he that says Sir John Brute is not as drunk and as religious as the drunkenest Citizen of them all—is a Liar, and the Son of a Whore.

Col. Bully. Why, that was bravely spoke, and like a free-born Englishman.

Sir John. What's that to you, Sir, whether I am an Englishman or a Frenchman?

Col. Bully. Zoons, you are not angry, Sir?

Sir John. Zoons, I am angry, Sir——for if I'm a free-born Englishman, what have you to do even to talk of my Privileges?

Lord Rake. Why, pr'ythee, Knight, don't quarrel here; leave private Animosities to be decided by Day-light; let the Night be employ'd against the publick Enemy.

Sir John. My Lord, I respect you because you are a Man of Quality. But I'll make that Fellow know, I am within a Hair's breadth as absolute by my Privileges, as the King of France is by his Prerogative. He by his Prerogative takes Money where it is not his due; I by my Privilege refuse paying it where I owe it. Liberty and Property, and Old England, Huzza!

All. Huzza!

[Exit Sir John reeling, all following him.

Enter Lady Brute and Belinda.

Lady Brute. Sure 'tis late, Belinda; I begin to be sleepy.

Bel. Yes, 'tis near Twelve. Will you go to Bed?

Lady Brute. To Bed, my Dear? And by that time I am fallen into a sweet Sleep (or perhaps a sweet Dream, which is better and better) Sir John will come home roaring drunk, and be overjoy'd he finds me in a Condition to be disturb'd.

Bel. O, you need not fear him; he's in for all Night. The Servants say he's gone to drink with my Lord Rake.

Lady Brute. Nay, 'tis not very likely, indeed, such suitable Company should part presently. What Hogs Men turn, Belinda, when they grow weary of Women!

Bel. And what Owls they are, whilst they are fond of 'em!

Lady Brute. But That we may forgive well enough, because they are so upon our accounts.

Bel. We ought to do so, indeed; but 'tis a hard matter. For when a Man is really in love, he looks so unsufferably silly, that tho' a Woman lik'd him well enough before, she has then much ado to endure the Sight of him: And this I take to be the Reason why Lovers are so generally ill-us'd.

Lady Brute. Well, I own, now, I'm well enough pleased to see a Man look like an Ass for me.

Bel. Ay, I'm pleas'd he should look like an Ass, too;—that is, I'm pleased with myself for making him look so.

Lady Brute. Nay, truly, I think if he'd find some other way to express his Passion, 'twould be more to his advantage.

Bel. Yes; for then a Woman might like his Passion and him too.

Lady Brute. Yet, Belinda, after all, a Woman's Life would be but a dull Business, if it were not for Men; and Men that can look like Asses, too. We shou'd never blame Fate for the shortness of our Days; our Time would hang wretchedly upon our Hands.

Bel. Why, truly, they do help us off with a good share on't: For were there no Men in the World, o'my Conscience, I shou'd be no longer a-dressing than I'm a-saying my Prayers; nay, tho' it were Sunday: For you know that one may go to Church without Stays on.

Lady Brute. But don't you think Emulation might do something? For every Woman you see desires to be finer than her Neighbour.

Bel. That's only that the Men may like her better than her Neighbour. No, if there were no Men, adieu fine Petticoats, we should be weary of wearing 'em.

Lady Brute. And adieu Plays, we should be weary of seeing 'em.

Bel. Adieu Hyde Park, the Dust would choak us.

Lady Brute. Adieu St. James's, walking would tire us.

Bel. Adieu London, the Smoke would stifle us.

Lady Brute. And adieu going to Church, for Religion wou'd ne'er prevail with us.

Both. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

Bel. Our Confession is so very hearty, sure we merit Absolution.

Lady Brute. Not unless we go thro' with't, and confess all. So, pr'ythee, for the Ease of our Consciences, let's hide nothing.

Bel. Agreed.

Lady Brute. Why, then, I confess, that I love to sit in the Fore-front of a Box; for if one sits behind, there's two Acts gone, perhaps, before one's found out. And when I am there, if I perceive the Men whispering and looking upon me, you must know I cannot for my Life forbear thinking they talk to my Advantage; and that sets a thousand little tickling Vanities on foot——

Bel. Just my Case, for all the World; but go on.

Lady Brute. I watch with Impatience for the next Jest in the Play, that I might laugh, and shew my white Teeth. If the Poet has been dull, and the Jest be long a-coming, I pretend to whisper one to my Friend, and from thence fall into a little small Discourse, in which I take occasion to shew my Face in all Humours, brisk, pleas'd, serious, melancholy, languishing——Not that what we say to one another causes any of these alterations. But——

Bel. Don't trouble yourself to explain. For if I'm not mistaken, you and I have had some of these necessary Dialogues before now with the same Intention.

Lady Brute. Why, I swear, Belinda, some People do give strange agreeable Airs to their Faces in speaking. Tell me true—Did you never practise in the Glass?

Bel. Why, did you?

Lady Brute. Yes, 'faith, many a time.

Bel. And I too, I own it; both how to speak myself, and how to look when others speak. But my Glass and I could never yet agree what Face I should make when they come blunt out with a nasty thing in a Play: For all the Men presently look upon the Women, that's certain: so laugh we must not, tho' our Stays burst for't, because that's telling Truth, and owning we understand the Jest. And to look serious is so dull, when the whole House is a laughing—

Lady Brute. Besides, that looking serious does really betray our Knowledge in the matter, as much as laughing with the Company would do: For if we did not understand the thing, we shou'd naturally do like other People.

Bel. For my part, I always take that occasion to blow my Nose.

Lady Brute. You must blow your Nose half off, then, at some Plays.

Bel. Why don't some Reformer or other be at the Poet for't?

Lady Brute. Because he is not so sure of our private Approbation, as of our publick Thanks. Well, sure there is not upon Earth so impertinent a thing as Women's Modesty.

Bel. Yes: Men's Fantasque, that obliges us to it. If we quit our Modesty, they say we lose our Charms: and yet they know that very Modesty is Affectation, and rail at our Hypocrisy.

Lady Brute. Thus, one would think 'twere a hard matter to please 'em, Niece; yet our kind Mother Nature has given us something that makes amends for all. Let our Weakness be what it will, Mankind will still be weaker; and whilst there is a World, 'tis Woman that will govern it. But, pr'ythee, one Word of poor Constant before we go to bed, if it be but to furnish matter for Dreams: I dare swear he's talking of me now, or thinking of me at least, tho' it be in the middle of his Prayers.

Bel. So he ought, I think; for you were pleas'd to make him a good round Advance to-day, Madam.

Lady Brute. Why, I have e'en plagu'd him enough to satisfy any reasonable Woman: He has besieg'd me these two Years, to no purpose.

Bel. And if he besieg'd you two Years more, he'd be well enough pay'd, so he had the plundering of you at last.

Lady Brute. That may be; but I'm afraid the Town won't be able to hold out much longer: for to confess the Truth to you, Belinda, the Garrison begins to grow mutinous.

Bel. Then the sooner you capitulate, the better.

Lady Brute. Yet, methinks, I wou'd fain stay a little longer to see you fix'd too, that we might start together, and see who cou'd love longest. What think you, if Heartfree shou'd have a Month's Mind to you?

Bel. Why, 'faith, I cou'd almost be in love with him for despising that foolish, affected Lady Fancyfull; but I'm afraid he's too cold ever to warm himself by my Fire.

Lady Brute. Then he deserves to be froze to death. Wou'd I were a Man for your sake, dear Rogue! [Kissing her.]

Bel. You'd wish yourself a Woman again for your own, or the Men are mistaken. But if I cou'd make a Conquest of this Son of Bacchus, and rival his Bottle, what shou'd I do with him? He has no Fortune, I can't marry him: and sure you wou'd not have me commit Fornication?

Lady Brute. Why, if you did, Child, 'twould be but a good friendly part; if 'twere only to keep me in countenance whilst I commit—you know what.

Bel. Well, if I can't resolve to serve you that way, I may perhaps some other, as much to your Satisfaction. But pray how shall we contrive to see these Blades again quickly?

Lady Brute. We must e'en have recourse to the old way; make 'em an Appointment 'twixt Jest and Earnest; 'twill look like a Frolick, and that you know 's a very good thing to save a Woman's Blushes.

Bel. You advise well; but where shall it be?

Lady Brute. In Spring Garden. But they shan't know their Women, till their Women pull off their Masks; for a Surprize is the most agreeable thing in the World: And I find myself in a very good Humour, ready to do 'em any good turn I can think on.

Bel. Then pray write 'em the necessary Billet, without farther delay.

Lady Brute. Let's go into your Chamber, then, and whilst you say your Prayers I'll do it, Child.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lord Rake, Sir John, &c. with Swords drawn.

Lord Rake. Is the Dog dead?

Col. Bully. No, damn him, I heard him wheeze.

Lord Rake. How the Witch his Wife howl'd!

Col. Bully. Ay, she'll alarm the Watch presently.

Lord Rake. Appear, Knight, then; come, you have a good Cause to fight for—there's a Man murder'd.

Sir John. Is there? Then let his Ghost be satisfy'd; for I'll sacrifice a Constable to it presently, and burn his Body upon his wooden Chair.

Enter a Taylor, with a Bundle under his Arm.

Col. Bully. How now? What have we got here? A Thief.

Taylor. No, an't please you, I'm no Thief.

Lord Rake. That we'll see presently: Here, let the General examine him.

Sir John. Ay, ay, let me examine him, and I'll lay a hundred Pound I find him guilty, in spite of his Teeth—for he looks—like a—sneaking Rascal. Come, Sirrah, without Equivocation or mental Reservation, tell me of what Opinion you are, and what Calling; for by them——I shall guess at your Morals.

Taylor. An't please you, I'm a Dissenting Journeyman Taylor.

Sir John. Then, Sirrah, you love Lying by your Religion, and Theft by your Trade: And so, that your Punishment may be suitable to your Crimes—I'll have you first gagg'd—and then hang'd.

Tayl. Pray, good worthy Gentlemen, don't abuse me: indeed I'm an honest Man, and a good Workman, tho' I say it, that should not say it.

Sir John. No Words, Sirrah, but attend your Fate.

Lord Rake. Let me see what's in that Bundle.

Tayl. An't please you, it is the Doctor of the Parish's Gown.

Lord Rake. The Doctor's Gown!—--Hark you, Knight, you won't stick at abusing the Clergy, will you?

Sir John. No, I'm drunk, and I'll abuse any thing—but my Wife; and her I name—with Reverence.

Lord Rake. Then you shall wear this Gown, whilst you charge the Watch; that tho' the Blows fall upon you, the Scandal may light upon the Church.

Sir John. A generous Design——by all the Gods——give it me.

[Takes the Gown, and puts it on.

Tayl. O dear Gentlemen, I shall be quite undone, if you take the Gown.

Sir John. Retire, Sirrah; and since you carry off your Skin—go home and be happy.

Tayl. [Pausing.] I think I had e'en as good follow the Gentleman's friendly Advice; for if I dispute any longer, who knows but the Whim may take him to case me? These Courtiers are fuller of Tricks than they are of Money; they'll sooner cut a Man's Throat, than pay his Bill.

[Exit Taylor.

Sir John. So, how do you like my Shapes now?

Lord Rake. This will do to a Miracle; he looks like a Bishop going to the Holy War. But to your Arms, Gentlemen, the Enemy appears.

Enter Constable and Watch.

Watch. Stand! Who goes there? Come before the Constable.

Sir John. The Constable is a Rascal——and you are the Son of a Whore.

Watch. A good civil Answer for a Parson, truly!

Constab. Methinks, Sir, a Man of your Coat might set a better Example.

Sir John. Sirrah, I'll make you know——there are Men of my Coat can set as bad Examples——as you can do, you Dog, you.

[Sir John strikes the Constable. They knock him down, disarm him, and seize him. Lord Rake, &c. run away.

Constab. So, we have secur'd the Parson, however.

Sir John. Blood, and Blood——and Blood.

Watch. Lord have mercy upon us! How the wicked Wretch raves of Blood! I'll warrant he has been murdering some body to-night.

Sir John. Sirrah, there's nothing got by Murder but a Halter: My Talent lies towards Drunkenness and Simony.

Watch. Why, that now was spoke like a Man of Parts, Neighbours; 'tis pity he shou'd be so disguised.

Sir John. You lye——I'm not disguis'd; for I am drunk barefac'd.

Watch. Look you there again—This is a mad Parson, Mr. Constable; I'll lay a Pot of Ale upon 's Head, he's a good Preacher.

Constab. Come, Sir, out of respect to your Calling, I shan't put you into the Round-house; but we must secure you in our Drawing-room till Morning, that you may do no Mischief. So, come along.

Sir John. You may put me where you will, Sirrah, now you have overcome me——But if I can't do Mischief, I'll think of Mischief—in spite of your Teeth, you Dog, you.

[Exeunt.

Enter Heartfree solus.

What the Plague ails me?——Love? No, I thank you for that, my Heart's Rock still——Yet 'tis Belinda that disturbs me; that's positive——Well, what of all that? Must I love her for being troublesome? At that rate I might love all the Women I meet, I'gad. But hold!—Tho' I don't love her for disturbing me, yet she may disturb me, because I love her——Ay, that may be, 'faith. I have dreamt of her, that's certain——Well, so I have of my Mother; therefore what's that to the purpose? Ay, but Belinda runs in my Mind waking—and so does many a damn'd thing that I don't care a Farthing for——Methinks, tho', I would fain be talking to her, and yet I have no Business——Well, am I the first Man that has had a Mind to do an impertinent thing?

Enter Constant.

Const. How now, Heartfree? What makes you up and dress'd so soon? I thought none but Lovers quarrell'd with their Beds; I expected to have found you snoring, as I us'd to do.

Heart. Why, 'faith, Friend, 'tis the Care I have of your Affairs, that makes me so thoughtful; I have been studying all Night how to bring your matter about with Belinda.

Const. With Belinda?

Heart. With my Lady, I mean: And, 'faith, I have mighty Hopes on't. Sure you must be very well satisfied with her Behaviour to you yesterday?

Const. So well, that nothing but a Lover's Fears can make me doubt of Success. But what can this sudden Change proceed from?

Heart. Why, you saw her Husband beat her, did you not?

Const. That's true: A Husband is scarce to be borne upon any terms, much less when he fights with his Wife. Methinks, she shou'd e'en have cuckolded him upon the very spot, to shew that after the Battle she was Master of the Field.

Heart. A Council of War of Women wou'd infallibly have advis'd her to't. But, I confess, so agreeable a Woman as Belinda deserves better Usage.

Const. Belinda again!

Heart. My Lady, I mean. What a Pox makes me blunder so to-day? [Aside.] A Plague of this treacherous Tongue!

Const. Pr'ythee, look upon me seriously, Heartfree—Now answer me directly: Is it my Lady, or Belinda, employs your careful Thoughts thus?

Heart. My Lady, or Belinda?

Const. In Love; by this Light, in Love.

Heart. In Love!

Const. Nay, ne'er deny it; for thou'lt do it so aukwardly, 'twill but make the Jest sit heavier about thee. My dear Friend, I give thee much Joy.

Heart. Why, pr'ythee, you won't persuade me to it, will you?

Const. That she's Mistress of your Tongue, that's plain; and I know you are so honest a Fellow, your Tongue and Heart always go together. But how, but how the Devil? Pha, ha, ha, ha—

Heart. Hey-dey! Why, sure you don't believe it in earnest?

Const. Yes, I do, because I see you deny it in jest.

Heart. Nay, but look you, Ned—a——deny in jest——a——gadzooks, you know I say——a——when a Man denies a thing in jest—a—

Const. Pha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Heart. Nay, then we shall have it: What, because a Man stumbles at a Word: did you never make a Blunder?

Const. Yes; for I am in Love, I own it.

Heart. Then, so am I—Now laugh till thy Soul's glutted with Mirth. [Embracing him.] But, dear Constant, don't tell the Town on't.

Const. Nay, then, 'twere almost pity to laugh at thee, after so honest a Confession. But tell us a little, Jack, by what new-invented Arms has this mighty Stroke been given?

Heart. E'en by that unaccountable Weapon call'd Je-ne-sçai-quoy: For every thing that can come within the Verge of Beauty, I have seen it with indifference.

Const. So in few Words, then, the Je-ne-sçai-quoy has been too hard for the quilted Petticoat.

Heart. I'gad, I think the Je-ne-sçai-quoy is in the quilted Petticoat; at least 'tis certain, I ne'er think on't without——a——a Je-ne-sçai-quoy in every Part about me.

Const. Well, but have all your Remedies lost their Virtue? Have you turn'd her inside out yet?

Heart. I dare not so much as think on't.

Const. But don't the two Years Fatigue I have had discourage you?

Heart. Yes: I dread what I foresee; yet cannot quit the Enterprize. Like some Soldiers, whose Courage dwells more in their Honour, than their Nature—on they go, tho' the Body trembles at what the Soul makes it undertake.

Const. Nay, if you expect your Mistress will use you as your Profanations against her Sex deserve, you tremble justly. But how do you intend to proceed, Friend?

Heart. Thou know'st I'm but a Novice; be friendly, and advise me.

Const. Why, look you, then: I'd have you—Serenade and a——write a Song——Go to Church; Look like a Fool——Be very officious; Ogle, write and lead out: And who knows but in a Year or two's time you may be——call'd a troublesome Puppy, and sent about your Business.

Heart. That's hard.

Const. Yet thus it oft falls out with Lovers, Sir.

Heart. Pox on me for making one of the Number!

Const. Have a care: Say no saucy things; 'twill but augment your Crime; and if your Mistress hears on't, increase your Punishment.

Heart. Pr'ythee say something, then, to encourage me; you know I help'd you in your Distress.

Const. Why, then, to encourage you to Perseverance, tho' you may be thoroughly ill-us'd for your Offences; I'll put you in mind, that even the coyest Ladies of 'em all are made up of Desires, as well as we; and tho' they do hold out a long time, they will capitulate at last. For that thundering Engineer, Nature, does make such havock in the Town, they must surrender at long run, or perish in their own Flames.

Enter a Footman.

Foot. Sir, there's a Porter without with a Letter; he desires to give it into your own Hands.

Const. Call him in.

Enter Porter.

Const. What, Joe! Is it thee?

Porter. An't please you, Sir, I was order'd to deliver this into your own Hands by two well-shap'd Ladies, at the New Exchange. I was at your Honour's Lodgings, and your Servants sent me hither.

Const. 'Tis well; are you to carry any Answer?

Porter. No, my noble Master. They gave me my Orders, and whip they were gone, like a Maidenhead at Fifteen.

Const. Very well; there.

[Gives him Money.

Porter. God bless your Honour!

[Exit Porter.

Const. Now let's see what honest, trusty Joe has brought us.

Reads.

So, Play-fellow: here's something to stay your Stomach till your Mistress's Dish is ready for you.

Heart. Some of our old batter'd Acquaintance. I won't go, not I.

Const. Nay, that you can't avoid; there's Honour in the Case; 'tis a Challenge, and I want a Second.

Heart. I doubt I shall be but a very useless one to you; for I'm so dishearten'd by this Wound Belinda has given me, I don't think I shall have Courage enough to draw my Sword.

Const. O, if that be all, come along; I'll warrant you find Sword enough for such Enemies as we have to deal withal.

[Exeunt.

Enter Constable, &c. with Sir John.

Constab. Come along, Sir; I thought to have let you slip this Morning, because you were a Minister; but you are as drunk and as abusive as ever. We'll see what the Justice of the Peace will say to you.

Sir John. And you shall see what I'll say to the Justice of the Peace, Sirrah.

[They knock at the Door.

Enter Servant.

Constab. Pray, acquaint his Worship, we have got an unruly Parson here: We are unwilling to expose him, but don't know what to do with him.

Serv. I'll acquaint my Master.

[Exit Serv.

Sir John. You——Constable—What damn'd Justice is this?

Constab. One that will take Care of you, I warrant you.

Enter Justice.

Just. Well, Mr. Constable, what's the Disorder here?

Constab. An't please your Worship——

Sir John. Let me speak, and be damn'd: I'm a Divine, and can unfold Mysteries better than you can do.

Just. Sadness, sadness! A Minister so overtaken! Pray, Sir, give the Constable leave to speak, and I'll hear you very patiently: I assure you, Sir, I will.

Sir John. Sir——You are a very civil Magistrate! Your most humble Servant.

Constab. An't please your Worship, then, he has attempted to beat the Watch to-night, and swore——

Sir John. You lye.

Just. Hold, pray, Sir, a little.

Sir John. Sir, your very humble Servant.

Constab. Indeed, Sir, he came at us without any Provocation, call'd us Whores and Rogues, and laid us on with a great Quarter-staff. He was in my Lord Rake's Company: They have been playing the Devil to-night.

Just. Hem——Hem——Pray, Sir——may you be Chaplain to my Lord?

Sir John. Sir——I presume——I may if I will.

Just. My meaning, Sir, is——Are you so?

Sir John. Sir—You mean very well.

Just. He, hem——hem——Under Favour, Sir, pray answer me directly.

Sir John. Under Favour, Sir——Do you use to answer directly when you are drunk?

Just. Good lack, good lack! Here's nothing to be got from him: Pray, Sir, may I crave your Name?

Sir John. Sir——My Name's——[He hiccups.] Hiccup, Sir.

Just. Hiccup? Doctor Hiccup, I have known a great many Country Parsons of that Name, especially down in the Fenns. Pray where do you live, Sir?

Sir John. Here——and there, Sir.

Just. Why, what a strange Man is this! Where do you preach, Sir? Have you any Cure?

Sir John. Sir——I have——a very good Cure——for a Clap, at your Service.

Just. Lord have mercy upon us!

Sir John. [Aside.] This Fellow asks so many impertinent Questions, I believe, I'gad, 'tis the Justice's Wife in the Justice's Clothes.

Just. Mr. Constable, I vow and protest, I don't know what to do with him.

Constab. Truly, he has been but a troublesome Guest to us all Night.

Just. I think, I had e'en best let him go about his Business; for I'm unwilling to expose him.

Constab. E'en what your Worship thinks fit.

Sir John. Sir——not to interrupt Mr. Constable, I have a small Favour to ask.

Just. Sir, I open both my Ears to you.

Sir John. Sir, your very humble Servant. I have a little urgent Business calls upon me; and therefore I desire the Favour of you to bring Matters to a Conclusion.

Just. Sir, if I were sure that Business were not to commit more Disorders, I wou'd release you.

Sir John. None——By my Priesthood!

Just. Then, Mr. Constable, you may discharge him.

Sir John. Sir, your very humble Servant. If you please to accept of a Bottle—

Just. I thank you, kindly, Sir; but I never drink in a Morning. Good-by t'ye, Sir, good-by t'ye.

Sir John. Good by t'ye, good Sir. [Exit Justice.] So——now, Mr. Constable, shall you and I go pick up a Whore together?

Constab. No, thank you, Sir; my Wife's enough to satisfy any reasonable Man.

Sir John. [Aside.] He, he, he, he—the Fool is married, then. Well, you won't go?

Constab. Not I, truly.

Sir John. Then I'll go by myself; and you and your Wife may be damn'd.

[Exit Sir John.

Constable. [Gazing after him.] Why, God a-mercy, Parson?

[Exeunt.

Constant and Heartfree cross the Stage. As they go off, enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle mask'd, and dogging 'em.

Const. So; I think we are about the time appointed: let us walk up this way.

[Exeunt.

Lady Fan. Good: Thus far I have dogg'd 'em without being discover'd. 'Tis infallibly some Intrigue that brings them to Spring-Garden. How my poor Heart is torn and rackt with Fear and Jealousy! Yet let it be any thing but that Flirt Belinda, and I'll try to bear it. But if it prove her, all that's Woman in me shall be employ'd to destroy her.

[Exeunt after Constant and Heartfree.

Re-enter Constant and Heartfree, Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle still following at a Distance.

Const. I see no Females yet, that have any thing to say to us. I'm afraid we are banter'd.

Heart. I wish we were; for I'm in no Humour to make either them or myself merry.

Const. Nay, I'm sure you'll make them merry enough, if I tell 'em why you are dull. But pr'ythee why so heavy and sad before you begin to be ill us'd?

Heart. For the same Reason, perhaps, that you are so brisk and well pleas'd; because both Pains and Pleasures are generally more considerable in Prospect, than when they come to pass.

Enter Lady Brute and Belinda, mask'd and poorly dress'd.

Const. How now! who are these? Not our Game, I hope.

Heart. If they are, we are e'en well enough serv'd, to come a-hunting here, when we had so much better Game in Chase elsewhere.

Lady Fan. [To Madamoiselle.] So, those are their Ladies, without doubt. But I'm afraid that Doily Stuff is not worn for want of better Clothes. They are the very Shape and Size of Belinda and her Aunt.

Madam. So dey be inteed, Matam.

Lady Fan. We'll slip into this close Arbour, where we may hear all they say.

[Exeunt Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Brute. What, are you afraid of us, Gentlemen?

Heart. Why, truly, I think we may, if Appearance don't lye.

Bel. Do you always find Women what they appear to be, Sir?

Heart. No, forsooth; but I seldom find 'em better than they appear to be.

Bel. Then the Outside's best, you think?

Heart. 'Tis the honestest.

Const. Have a care, Heartfree; you are relapsing again.

Lady Brute. Why, does the Gentleman use to rail at Women?

Const. He has done formerly.

Bel. I suppose he had very good Cause for't. They did not use you so well as you thought you deserv'd, Sir.

Lady Brute. They made themselves merry at your Expence, Sir.

Bel. Laugh'd when you sigh'd—

Lady Brute. Slept while you were waking—

Bel. Had your Porter beat—

Lady Brute. And threw your Billet-doux in the Fire.

Heart. Hey-day, I shall do more than rail presently.

Bel. Why, you won't beat us, will you?

Heart. I don't know but I may.

Const. What the Devil's coming here? Sir John in a Gown——And drunk, i'faith.

Enter Sir John.

Sir John. What a Pox——here's Constant, Heartfree—and two Whores, I'gad——O you covetous Rogues! what, have you never a spare Punk for your Friend?——But I'll share with you.

[He seizes both the Women.

Heart. Why, what the plague have you been doing, Knight?

Sir John. Why, I have been beating the Watch, and scandalizing the Clergy.

Heart. A very good Account, truly.

Sir John. And what do you think I'll do next?

Const.. Nay, that no Man can guess.

Sir John. Why, if you'll let me sup with you, I'll treat both your Strumpets.

Lady Brute. [Aside.] O Lord, we're undone!

Heart. No, we can't sup together, because we have some Affairs elsewhere. But if you'll accept of these two Ladies, we'll be so complaisant to you, to resign our Right in 'em.

Bel. [Aside.] Lord, what shall we do?

Sir John. Let me see; their Clothes are such damn'd Clothes, they won't pawn for the Reckoning.

Heart. Sir John, your Servant. Rapture attend you!

Const. Adieu, Ladies, make much of the Gentleman.

Lady Brute. Why, sure, you won't leave us in the Hands of a drunken Fellow to abuse us.

Sir John. Who do you call a drunken Fellow, you Slut you? I'm a Man of Quality; the King has made me a Knight.

[Heart. runs off.

Heart. Ay, ay, you are in good Hands! Adieu, Adieu!

Lady Brute. The Devil's Hands: Let me go, or I'll—For Heaven's sake, protect us!

[She breaks from him, runs to Constant, twitching off her Mask, and clapping it on again.

Sir John. I'll Devil you, you Jade you. I'll demolish your ugly Face.

Const. Hold a little, Knight, she swoons.

Sir John. I'll swoon her.

Const. Hey, Heartfree.

Re-enter Heartfree. Belinda runs to him, and shews her Face.

Heart. O Heavens! My dear Creature, stand there a little.

Const. Pull him off, Jack.

Heart. Hold, mighty Man; look ye, Sir, we did but jest with you. These are Ladies of our Acquaintance that we had a mind to frighten a little, but now you must leave us.

Sir John. Oons, I won't leave you, not I.

Heart. Nay, but you must, though; and therefore make no Words on't.

Sir John. Then you are a couple of damned uncivil Fellows. And I hope your Punks will give you Sauce to your Mutton.

[Exit Sir John.

Lady Brute. Oh, I shall never come to myself again, I'm so frightened.

Const. 'Twas a narrow 'Scape, indeed.

Bel. Women must have Frolicks, you see, whatever they cost them.

Heart. This might have proved a dear one, though.

Lady Brute. You are the more obliged to us for the Risk we run upon your Accounts.

Const. And I hope you'll acknowledge something due to our Knight-Errantry, Ladies. This is the second time we have delivered you.

Lady Brute. 'Tis true; and since we see Fate has designed you for our Guardians, 'twill make us the more willing to trust ourselves in your Hands. But you must not have the worse Opinion of us for our innocent Frolick.

Heart. Ladies, you may command our Opinions in every thing that is to your Advantage.

Bel. Then, Sir, I command you to be of Opinion, That Women are sometimes better than they appear to be.

[Lady Brute and Constant talk apart.

Heart. Madam, you have made a Convert of me in every thing. I'm grown a Fool: I cou'd be fond of a Woman.

Bel. I thank you, Sir, in the Name of the whole Sex.

Heart. Which Sex nothing but yourself cou'd ever have aton'd for.

Bel. Now has my Vanity a devilish Itch, to know in what my Merit consists.

Heart. In your Humility, Madam, that keeps you ignorant it consists at all.

Bel. One other Compliment, with that serious Face, and I hate you for ever after.

Heart. Some Women love to be abus'd: Is that it you wou'd be at?

Bel. No, not that, neither: But I'd have Men talk plainly what's fit for Women to hear; without putting 'em either to a real or an affected Blush.

Heart. Why, then, in as plain Terms as I can find to express myself, I could love you even to—Matrimony itself a'most, I'gad.

Bel. Just as Sir John did her Ladyship there.——What think you? Don't you believe one Month's time might bring you down to the same Indifference, only clad in a little better Manners, perhaps? Well, you Men are unaccountable things, mad till you have your Mistresses, and then stark mad till you are rid of 'em again. Tell me honestly, Is not your Patience put to a much severer Trial after Possession than before?

Heart. With a great many I must confess it is, to our eternal Scandal; but I——dear Creature, do but try me.

Bel. That's the surest way, indeed, to know, but not the safest. [To Lady Brute.] Madam, are not you for taking a Turn in the Great Walk? It's almost dark, no body will know us.

Lady Brute. Really I find myself something idle, Belinda: besides, I doat upon this little odd private Corner. But don't let my lazy Fancy confine you. [Const. aside.] So, she wou'd be left alone with me; that's well.

Bel. Well, we'll take one Turn, and come to you again. [To Heart.] Come, Sir, shall we go pry into the Secrets of the Garden? Who knows what Discoveries we may make?

Heart. Madam, I'm at your Service.

Const. [To Heart. aside.] Don't make too much haste back; for, d'ye hear?——I may be busy.

Heart. Enough.

[Exeunt Belinda and Heartfree.

Lady Brute. Sure you think me scandalously free, Mr. Constant. I'm afraid I shall lose your good Opinion of me.

Const. My good Opinion, Madam, is like your Cruelty——ne'er to be remov'd.

Lady Brute. But if I should remove my Cruelty, then there's an end of your good Opinion.

Const. There is not so strict an Alliance between 'em, neither. 'Tis certain I shou'd love you then better (if that be possible) than I do now; and where I love, I always esteem.

Lady Brute. Indeed, I doubt you much. Why, suppose you had a Wife, and she should entertain a Gallant?

Const. If I gave her just Cause, how cou'd I justly condemn her?

Lady Brute. Ah! but you'd differ widely about just Causes.

Const. But Blows can bear no Dispute.

Lady Brute. Nor ill Manners much, truly.

Const. Then no Woman upon Earth has so just a Cause as you have.

Lady Brute. O, but a faithful Wife is a beautiful Character.

Const. To a deserving Husband, I confess it is.

Lady Brute. But can his Faults release my Duty?

Const. In Equity, without doubt. And where Laws dispense with Equity, Equity should dispense with Laws.

Lady Brute. Pray let's leave this Dispute; for you Men have as much Witchcraft in your Arguments, as Women have in their Eyes.

Const. But whilst you attack me with your Charms, 'tis but reasonable I assault you with mine.

Lady Brute. The Case is not the same. What Mischief we do, we can't help, and therefore are to be forgiven.

Const. Beauty soon obtains Pardon for the Pain that it gives, when it applies the Balm of Compassion to the Wound: But a fine Face, and a hard Heart, is almost as bad as an ugly Face and a soft one; both very troublesome to many a poor Gentleman.

Lady Brute. Yes, and to many a poor Gentlewoman, too, I can assure you. But pray, which of 'em is it that most afflicts you?

Const. Your Glass and Conscience will inform you, Madam. But for Heaven's sake (for now I must be serious), if Pity, or if Gratitude can move you; [Taking her Hand.] if Constancy and Truth have power to tempt you; if Love, if Adoration can affect you; give me at least some Hopes, that Time may do what you perhaps mean never to perform; 'twill ease my Sufferings, tho' not quench my Flame.

Lady Brute. Your Sufferings eas'd, your Flame wou'd soon abate: And that I would preserve, not quench it, Sir.

Const. Wou'd you preserve it, nourish it with Favours; for that's the Food it naturally requires.

Lady Brute. Yet on that natural Food 'twould surfeit soon, shou'd I resolve to grant all you wou'd ask.

Const. And in refusing all, you starve it. Forgive me, therefore, since my Hunger rages, if I at last grow wild, and in my frenzy force at least this from you. [Kissing her Hand.] Or if you'd have my Flame soar higher still, then grant me this, and this, and Thousands more; [Kissing first her Hand, then her Neck.] [Aside.] For now's the time she melts into Compassion.

Lady Brute. [Aside.] Poor Coward Virtue, how it shuns the Battle! O Heavens! let me go.

Const. Ay, go, ay: Where shall we go, my charming Angel——into this private Arbour——Nay, let's lose no time——Moments are precious.

Lady Brute. And Lovers wild. Pray let us stop here; at least for this time.

Const. 'Tis impossible; he that has power over you, can have none over himself.

As he is forcing her into the Arbour, Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle bolt out upon them, and run over the Stage.

Lady Brute. Ah! I'm lost!

Lady Fan. Fe, fe, fe, fe, fe.

Madam. Fe, fe, fe, fe, fe.

Const. Death and Furies, who are these?

Lady Brute. O Heavens! I'm out of my Wits; if they knew me, I am ruin'd.

Const. Don't be frightened: Ten thousand to one they are Strangers to you.

Lady Brute. Whatever they are, I won't stay here a Moment longer.

Const. Whither will you go?

Lady Brute. Home, as if the Devil were in me. Lord, where's this Belinda now?

Enter Belinda and Heartfree.

O! 'tis well you are come: I'm so frightened, my Hair stands an end. Let's be gone, for Heaven's sake!

Bel. Lord, what's the matter?

Lady Brute. The Devil's the Matter; we are discovered. Here's a couple of Women have done the most impertinent thing. Away, away, away, away, away.

[Exit running.

Re-enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Fan. Well, Madamoiselle, 'tis a prodigious thing how Women can suffer filthy Fellows to grow so familiar with 'em.

Madam. Ah Madame, il n'y a rien de si naturel.

Lady Fan. Fe, fe, fe! But, oh my Heart! O Jealousy! O Torture! I'm upon the rack. What shall I do? My Lover's lost, I ne'er shall see him mine. [Pausing.]——But I may be reveng'd; and that's the same thing. Ah sweet Revenge! Thou welcome Thought, thou healing Balsam to my wounded Soul! Be but propitious on this one Occasion, I'll place my Heaven in thee, for all my Life to come.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Fan. Well, Madamoiselle, did you dog the filthy Things?

Madam. O que ouy, Madame.

Lady Fan. And where are they?

Madam. Au Logis.

Lady Fan. What, Men and all?

Madam. Tous ensemble.

Lady Fan. O Confidence! What, carry their Fellows to their own House?

Madam. C'est que le Mari n'y est pas.

Lady Fan. No; so I believe, truly. But he shall be there, and quickly too, if I can find him out. Well, 'tis a prodigious thing, to see when Men and Women get together, how they fortify one another in their Impudence. But if that drunken Fool, her Husband, he to be found in e'er a Tavern in Town, I'll send him amongst 'em: I'll spoil their sport.

Madam. En verité, Madame, ce seroit domage.

Lady Fan. 'Tis in vain to oppose it, Madamoiselle; therefore never go about it. For I am the steadiest Creature in the World—when I have determin'd to do Mischief. So, come along.

[Exeunt.

Enter Constant, Heartfree, Lady Brute, Belinda, and Lovewell.

Lady Brute. But are you sure you don't mistake, Lovewell?

Lov. Madam, I saw 'em all go into the Tavern together, and my Master was so drunk he cou'd scarce stand.

Lady Brute. Then, Gentlemen, I believe we may venture to let you stay, and play at Cards with us, an Hour or two: For they'll scarce part till Morning.

Bel. I think 'tis pity they should ever part.

Const. The Company that's here, Madam.

Lady Brute. Then, Sir, the Company that's here must remember to part itself in time.

Const. Madam, we don't intend to forfeit your future Favours by an indiscreet Usage of this. The Moment you give us the Signal, we shan't fail to make our Retreat.

Lady Brute. Upon those Conditions, then, let us sit down to Cards.

Enter Lovewell.

Lov. O Lord, Madam, here's my Master just staggering in upon you; he has been quarrelsome yonder, and they have kick'd him out of the Company.

Lady Brute. Into the Closet, Gentlemen, for Heaven's sake; I'll wheedle him to Bed, if possible.

[Const. and Heart. run into the Closet.

Enter Sir John, all dirt and bloody.

Lady Brute. Ah——Ah——he's all over Blood!

Sir John. What the plague does the Woman—squall for? Did you never see a Man in Pickle before?

Lady Brute. Lord, where have you been?

Sir John. I have been at——Cuffs.

Lady Brute. I fear that is not all. I hope you are not wounded.

Sir John. Sound as a Roach, Wife.

Lady Brute. I'm mighty glad to hear it.

Sir John. You know—I think you lye.

Lady Brute. You do me wrong to think so. For Heaven's my Witness; I had rather see my own Blood trickle down, than yours.

Sir John. Then will I be crucify'd.

Lady Brute. 'Tis a hard Fate, I shou'd not be believ'd.

Sir John. 'Tis a damn'd Atheistical Age, Wife.

Lady Brute. I am sure I have given you a thousand tender Proofs, how great my Care is of you. But, spite of all your cruel Thoughts, I'll still persist, and at this Moment, if I can, persuade you to lie down and sleep a little.

Sir John. Why—do you think I am drunk—you Slut, you?

Lady Brute. Heaven forbid I shou'd! But I'm afraid you are feverish. Pray let me feel your Pulse.

Sir John. Stand off, and be damn'd.

Lady Brute. Why, I see your Distemper in your very Eyes. You are all on Fire. Pray, go to Bed; let me intreat you.

Sir John.——Come, kiss me, then.

Lady Brute. [Kissing him.] There: Now go. [Aside.] He stinks like Poison.

Sir John. I see it goes damnably against your Stomach—And therefore—Kiss me again.

Lady Brute. Nay, now you fool me.

Sir John. Do't, I say.

Lady Brute. [Aside.] Ah, Lord have mercy upon me! Well—there: now will you go?

Sir John. Now, Wife, you shall see my Gratitude. You gave me two Kisses—I'll give you—two hundred.

[Kisses, and tumbles her.

Lady Brute. O Lord! Pray, Sir John, be quiet. Heavens, what a Pickle am I in!

Bel. [Aside.] If I were in her Pickle, I'd call my Gallant out of the Closet, and he shou'd cudgel him soundly.

Sir John. So, now you being as dirty and as nasty as myself, we may go pig together. But first I must have a Cup of your cold Tea, Wife.

[Going to the Closet.

Lady Brute. O I'm ruin'd! There's none there, my Dear.

Sir John. I'll warrant you I'll find some, my Dear.

Lady Brute. You can't open the Door, the Lock's spoil'd; I have been turning and turning the Key this half Hour to no purpose. I'll send for the Smith to-morrow.

Sir John. There's ne'er a Smith in Europe can open a Door with more Expedition than I can do——As for Example—Poh! [He bursts open the Door with his Foot.]——How now! What the Devil have we got here?——Constant——Heartfree——And two Whores again, I'gad——This is the worst cold Tea——that ever I met with in my Life——

Enter Constant and Heartfree.

Lady Brute. [Aside.] O Lord, what will become of us?

Sir John. Gentlemen——I am your very humble Servant—I give you many Thanks——I see you take Care of my Family——I shall do all I can to return the Obligation.

Const. Sir, how oddly soever this Business may appear to you, you would have no cause to be uneasy, if you knew the Truth of all things; your Lady is the most virtuous Woman in the World, and nothing has past but an innocent Frolick.

Heart. Nothing else, upon my Honour, Sir.

Sir John. You are both very civil Gentlemen—And my Wife, there, is a very civil Gentlewoman; therefore I don't doubt but many civil things have past between you. Your very humble Servant.

Lady Brute. [Aside to Const.] Pray be gone: He's so drunk he can't hurt us to-night, and to-morrow Morning you shall hear from us.

Const. I'll obey you, Madam. Sir, when you are cool, you'll understand Reason better. So then I shall take the pains to inform you. If not——I wear a Sword, Sir, and so good by t'ye. Come along, Heartfree.

[Exit.

Sir John. Wear a Sword, Sir—And what of all that, Sir? He comes to my House; eats my Meat; lies with my Wife; dishonours my Family; gets a Bastard to inherit my Estate——And when I ask a civil Account of all this—Sir, says he, I wear a Sword—Wear a Sword, Sir? Yes, Sir, says he, I wear a Sword——It may be a good Answer at Cross-purposes; but 'tis a damn'd one to a Man in my whimsical Circumstance——Sir, says he, I wear a Sword! [To Lady Brute.] And what do you wear now? ha! tell me. [Sitting down in a great Chair.] What, you are modest, and can't—Why, then, I'll tell you, you Slut, you. You wear——an impudent, lewd Face——A damn'd designing Heart——And a Tail——and a Tail full of——[He falls fast asleep, snoaring.]

Lady Brute. So; thanks to kind Heaven, he's fast for some Hours.

Bel. 'Tis well he is so, that we may have time to lay our Story handsomely; for we must lye like the Devil, to bring ourselves off.

Lady Brute. What shall we say, Belinda?

Bel. [Musing.]——I'll tell you: It must all light upon Heartfree and I. We'll say he has courted me some time, but, for Reasons unknown to us, has ever been very earnest the thing might be kept from Sir John. That therefore hearing him upon the Stairs, he ran into the Closet, tho' against our Will, and Constant with him, to prevent Jealousy. And to give this a good impudent Face of Truth, (that I may deliver you from the trouble you are in) I'll e'en, if he pleases, marry him.

Lady Brute. I'm beholden to you, Cousin; but that wou'd be carrying the Jest a little too far for your own sake: You know he's a younger Brother, and has nothing.

Bel. 'Tis true: But I like him, and have Fortune enough to keep above Extremity: I can't say I would live with him in a Cell, upon Love and Bread and Butter: But I had rather have the Man I love, and a middle State of Life, than that Gentleman in the Chair there, and twice your Ladyship's Splendour.

Lady Brute. In truth, Niece, you are in the right on't; for I am very uneasy with my Ambition. But, perhaps, had I married as you'll do, I might have been as ill us'd.

Bel. Some Risk, I do confess, there always is: But if a Man has the least Spark either of Honour or Good-nature, he can never use a Woman ill, that loves him, and makes his Fortune both. Yet I must own to you, some little struggling I still have with this teazing Ambition of ours; for Pride, you know, is as natural to a Woman, as 'tis to a Saint. I can't help being fond of this Rogue; and yet it goes to my Heart, to think I must never whisk to Hyde-Park with above a Pair of Horses; have no Coronet upon my Coach, nor a Page to carry up my Train. But above all—that Business of Place—Well, taking place is a noble Prerogative—

Lady Brute. Especially after a Quarrel—

Bel. Or of a Rival. But pray say no more on't, for fear I change my Mind; for, o' my Conscience, wer't not for your Affair in the Balance, I should go near to pick up some odious Man of Quality yet, and only take poor Heartfree for a Gallant.

Lady Brute. Then him you must have, however things go?

Bel. Yes.

Lady Brute. Why, we may pretend what we will: but 'tis a hard matter to live without the Man we love.

Bel. Especially when we are married to the Man we hate. Pray tell me: Do the Men of the Town ever believe us virtuous, when they see us do so?

Lady Brute. O, no: Nor indeed, hardly, let us do what we will. The most of them think, there is no such thing as Virtue, consider'd in the strictest Notions of it; and therefore when you hear 'em say, such a one is a Woman of Reputation, they only mean she's a Woman of Discretion. For they consider we have no more Religion than they have, nor so much Morality; and between you and I, Belinda, I'm afraid the want of Inclination seldom protects any of us.

Bel. But what think you of the Fear of being found out?

Lady Brute. I think That never kept any Woman virtuous long. We are not such Cowards, neither. No: Let us once pass Fifteen, and we have too good an Opinion of our own Cunning, to believe the World can penetrate into what we would keep a Secret. And so, in short, we cannot reasonably blame the Men for judging of us by themselves.

Bel. But sure we are not so wicked as they are, after all?

Lady Brute. We are as wicked, Child, but our Vice lies another way: Men have more Courage than we, so they commit more bold, impudent Sins. They quarrel, fight, swear, drink, blaspheme, and the like: Whereas we, being Cowards, only backbite, tell Lyes, cheat at Cards, and so forth. But 'tis late: Let's end our Discourse for to-night, and, out of an excess of Charity, take a small Care of that nasty, drunken Thing there——Do but look at him, Belinda!

Bel. Ah——'tis a savoury Dish.

Lady Brute. As savoury as 'tis, I'm cloy'd with't. Pr'ythee call the Butler to take it away.

Bel. Call the Butler!—--Call the Scavenger! [To a Servant within.] Who's there? Call Rasor! Let him take away his Master, scour him clean with a little Sope and Sand, and so put him to Bed.

Lady Brute. Come, Belinda, I'll e'en lie with you to-night; and in the Morning we'll send for our Gentlemen to set this Matter even.

Bel. With all my Heart.

Lady Brute. Good Night, my Dear.

[Making a low Curtsy to Sir John.

[Both.] Ha, ha, ha!

[Exeunt.

Enter Rasor.

Rasor. My Lady there's a Wag—My Master there's a Cuckold. Marriage is a slippery thing—Women have depraved Appetites.—My Lady's a Wag; I have heard all; I have seen all; I understand all; and I'll tell all; for my little French-woman loves News dearly. This Story'll gain her Heart, or nothing will. [To his Master.] Come, Sir, your Head's too full of Fumes at present, to make room for your Jealousy; but I reckon we shall have rare work with you, when your Pate's empty. Come to your Kennel, you cuckoldly, drunken Sot, you!

[Carries him out upon his Back.

Enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Fan. But, why did not you tell me before, Madamoiselle, that Rasor and you were fond?

Madam. De Modesty hinder me, Matam.

Lady Fan. Why, truly, Modesty does often hinder us from doing things we have an extravagant mind to. But does he love you well enough yet, to do any thing you bid him? Do you think, to oblige you, he wou'd speak Scandal?

Madam. Matam, to oblige your Ladyship, he shall speak Blasphemy.

Lady Fan. Why, then, Madamoiselle, I'll tell you what you shall do. You shall engage him to tell his Master all that past at Spring Garden: I have a mind he shou'd know what a Wife and a Niece he has got.

Madam. Il le fera, Madame.

Enter a Footman, who speaks to Madamoiselle apart.

Foot. Madamoiselle, yonder's Mr. Rasor desires to speak with you.

Madam. Tell him, I come presently. [Exit Footman.] Rasor be dare, Matam.

Lady Fan. That's fortunate. Well, I'll leave you together. And if you find him stubborn, Madamoiselle—hark you—don't refuse him a few little reasonable Liberties to put him into Humour.

Madam. Laissez moy faire.

[Exit Lady Fancyfull.

[Rasor peeps in; and seeing Lady Fancyfull gone, runs to Madamoiselle, takes her about the Neck, and kisses her.

Madam. How now, Confidence?

Rasor. How now, Modesty!

Madam. Who make you so familiar, Sirrah?

Rasor. My Impudence, Hussy.

Madam. Stand off, Rogue-Face.

Rasor. Ah——Madamoiselle——great News at our House.

Madam. Why, vat be de matter?

Rasor. The Matter?—Why, Uptails All's the Matter.

Madam. Tu te mocque de moy.

Rasor. Now do you long to know the Particulars: The Time when—The Place where—The Manner how. But I don't tell you a Word more.

Madam. Nay, den dou kill me, Rasor.

Rasor. Come, kiss me, then.

[Clapping his Hands behind him.

Madam. Nay, pridee tell me.

Rasor. Good by t' ye.

[Going.

Madam. Hold, hold: I will kiss dee.

[Kissing him.

Rasor. So, that's civil: Why, now, my pretty Poll, my Goldfinch, my little Waterwagtail——you must know, that——Come, kiss me again.

Madam. I won't kiss de no more.

Rasor. Good by t' ye.

[Going.

Madam. Doucement! Derre: es tu content?

[Kissing him.

Rasor. So: Now I'll tell thee all. Why, the News is, That Cuckoldom in Folio is newly printed; and Matrimony in Quarto is just going into the Press. Will you buy any Books, Madamoiselle?

Madam. Tu parle comme un Libraire; de Devil no understand dee.

Rasor. Why, then, that I may make myself intelligible to a Waiting-Woman, I'll speak like a Valet de Chambre. My Lady has cuckolded my Master.

Madam. Bon.

Rasor. Which we take very ill from her Hands, I can tell her that. We can't yet prove Matter of Fact upon her.

Madam. N'importe.

Rasor. But we can prove, that Matter of Fact had like to have been upon her.

Madam. Ouy da.

Rasor. For we have such bloody Circumstances—

Madam. Sans doute.

Rasor. That any Man of Parts may draw tickling Conclusions from 'em.

Madam. Fort bien.

Rasor. We found a couple of tight, well-built Gentlemen stufft into her Ladyship's Closet.

Madam. Le Diable!

Rasor. And I, in my particular Person, have discovered a most damnable Plot, how to persuade my poor Master, that all this Hide and Seek, this Will in the Whisp, has no other meaning than a Christian Marriage for sweet Mrs. Belinda.

Madam. Une Mariage?——Ah les Droles!

Rasor. Don't you interrupt me, Hussy; 'tis agreed, I say. And my innocent Lady, to wriggle herself out at the Back-door of the Business, turns Marriage-Bawd to her Niece, and resolves to deliver up her fair Body to be tumbled and mumbled by that young liquorish Whipster, Heartfree. Now are you satisfy'd?

Madam. No.

Rasor. Right Woman; always gaping for more.

Madam. Dis be all, den, dat dou know?

Rasor. All? Aye, and a great deal, too, I think.

Madam. Dou be Fool, dou know noting. Ecoute, mon pauvre Rasor. Dou sees des two Eyes?—Des two Eyes have see de Devil.

Rasor. The Woman's mad.

Madam. In Spring-Garden, dat Rogue Constant meet dy Lady.

Rasor. Bon.

Madam.——I'll tell dee no more.

Rasor. Nay, pr'ythee, my Swan.

Madam. Come, kiss me den.

[Clapping her Hands behind her as he did before.

Rasor. I won't kiss you, not I.

Madam. Adieu.

[Going.

Rasor. Hold——Now proceed.

[Gives her a hearty Kiss.

Madam. A ça——I hide myself in one cunning Place, where I hear all, and see all. First, dy drunken Master come mal a propos; but de Sot no know his own dear Wife, so he leave her to her Sport—Den de Game begin. De Lover say soft ting: De Lady look upon de Ground. [As she speaks, Rasor still acts the Man, and she the Woman.] He take her by de Hand: She turn her Head on oder Way. Den he squeeze very hard: Den she pull——very softly. Den he take her in his Arm: Den she give him leetel pat. Den he kiss her Tettons. Den she say—Pish, nay see. Den he tremble: Den she—sigh. Den he pull her into de Arbour: Den she pinch him.

Rasor. Aye, but not so hard, you Baggage, you.

Madam. Den he grow bold: She grow weak, he tro her down, il tombe dessu, le Diable assiste, il emport tout. [Rasor struggles with her, as if he would throw her down.] Stand off, Sirrah!

Rasor. You have set me a-fire, you Jade, you.

Madam. Den go to de River, and quench dy self.

Rasor. What an unnatural Harlot 'tis!

Madam. Rasor.

[Looking languishingly on him.

Rasor. Madamoiselle.

Madam. Dou no love me.

Rasor. Not love thee?—More than a Frenchman does Soup.

Madam. Den dou will refuse nothing dat I bid dee?

Rasor. Don't bid me be damn'd, then.

Madam. No, only tell dy Master all I have tell dee of dy Laty.

Rasor. Why, you little, malicious Strumpet, you, shou'd you like to be serv'd so?

Madam. Dou dispute den?—Adieu.

Rasor. Hold—But why wilt thou make me such a Rogue, my Dear?

Madam. Voila un vrai Anglois! Il est amoureux, et cependant il veut raisonner. Va t'en au Diable.

Rasor. Hold once more: In hopes thou'lt give me up thy Body, I resign thee my Soul.

Madam. Bon, ecoute donc;——If dou fail me——I never see de more——If dou obey me——Je m'abandonne a toy. [She takes him about the Neck, and gives him a smacking Kiss.]

[Exit Madamoiselle.

Rasor. [Licking his Lips.] Not be a Rogue?——Amor vincit Omnia.

[Exit Rasor.

Enter Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Lady Fan. Marry, say ye? Will the two Things marry?

Madam. On le va faire, Madame.

Lady Fan. Look you, Madamoiselle—In short, I can't bear it——No; I find I can't—If once I see 'em a-bed together, I shall have ten thousand Thoughts in my Head will make me run distracted. Therefore run and call Rasor back immediately; for something must be done to stop this impertinent Wedding. If I can but defer it four-and-twenty Hours, I'll make such Work about Town, with that little pert Slut's Reputation, he shall as soon marry a Witch.

Madam. [Aside.] La voilà bien intentionnée.

[Exeunt.

Enter Constant and Heartfree.

Const. But what dost think will become of this Business?

Heart. 'Tis easier to think what will not come on't.

Const. What's that?

Heart. A Challenge. I know the Knight too well for that; his dear Body will always prevail upon his noble Soul to be quiet.

Const. But tho' he dare not challenge me, perhaps he may venture to challenge his Wife.

Heart. Not if you whisper him in the Ear, you won't have him do't; and there's no other way left, that I see. For as drunk as he was, he'll remember you and I were where we shou'd not be; and I don't think him quite Blockhead enough yet to be persuaded we were got into his Wife's Closet only to peep into her Prayer-Book.

Enter a Servant with a Letter.

Serv. Sir, here's a Letter; a Porter brought it.

Const. O ho, here's Instructions for us.

Reads:

----Well, Woman for Invention! How long wou'd my Block-Head have been producing this!—--Hey, Heartfree? What, musing, Man? Pr'ythee be chearful. What say'st thou, Friend, to this matrimonial Remedy?

Heart. Why, I say, 'tis worse than the Disease.

Const. Here's a Fellow for you! There's Beauty and Money on her Side, and Love up to the Ears on his: and yet——

Heart. And yet, I think, I may reasonably be allow'd to boggle at marrying the Niece, in the very Moment that you are debauching the Aunt.

Const. Why, truly, there may be something in that. But have not you a good Opinion enough of your own Parts, to believe you cou'd keep a Wife to yourself?

Heart. I shou'd have, if I had a good Opinion enough of her's, to believe she cou'd do as much by me. For to do 'em right, after all, the Wife seldom rambles, till the Husband shews her the way.

Const. 'Tis true, a Man of real Worth scarce ever is a Cuckold, but by his own Fault. Women are not naturally lewd; there must be something to urge 'em to it. They'll cuckold a Churl, out of Revenge; a Fool, because they despise him; a Beast, because they loath him. But when they make bold with a Man they once had a well-grounded Value for, 'tis because they first see themselves neglected by him.

Heart. Nay, were I well assured that I should never grow Sir John, I ne'er shou'd fear Belinda, wou'd play my Lady. But our Weakness, thou knowest, my Friend, consists in that very Change we so impudently throw upon (indeed) a steadier and more generous Sex.

Const. Why, 'faith, we are a little impudent in that matter, that's the truth on't. But this is wonderful, to see you grown so warm an Advocate for those whom (but t'other Day) you took so much Pains to abuse.

Heart. All Revolutions run into Extremes; the Bigot makes the boldest Atheist; and the coyest Saint, the most extravagant Strumpet. But, pr'ythee, advise me in this Good and Evil, this Life and Death, this Blessing and Cursing, that's set before me. Shall I marry, or die a Maid?

Const. Why, 'faith, Heartfree, Matrimony is like an Army going to engage. Love's the forlorn Hope, which is soon cut off; the Marriage-Knot is the main Body, which may stand buff a long, long time; and Repentance is the Rear-Guard, which rarely gives ground as long as the main Body has a Being.

Heart. Conclusion, then; you advise me to whore on, as you do.

Const. That's not concluded yet. For tho' Marriage be a Lottery, in which there are a wondrous many Blanks; yet there is one inestimable Lot, in which the only Heaven on Earth is written. Wou'd your kind Fate but guide your Hand to that, tho' I were wrapt in all that Luxury itself could clothe me with, I still shou'd envy you.

Heart. And justly, too; for to be capable of loving one, doubtless, is better than to possess a thousand. But how far that Capacity's in me, alas! I know not.

Const. But you wou'd know.

Heart. I wou'd so.

Const. Matrimony will inform you. Come, one Flight of Resolution carries you to the Land of Experience; where, in a very moderate time, you'll know the Capacity of your Soul and your Body both, or I'm mistaken.

[Exeunt.

Enter Lady Brute and Belinda.

Bel. Well, Madam, what Answer have you from 'em?

Lady Brute. That they'll be here this Moment. I fancy 'twill end in a Wedding: I'm sure he's a Fool if it don't. Ten thousand Pounds, and such a Lass as you are, is no contemptible Offer to a younger Brother. But are not you under strange Agitations? Pr'ythee, how does your Pulse beat?

Bel. High and low, I have much ado to be valiant: sure it must feel very strange to go to Bed to a Man?

Lady Brute. Um——it does feel a little odd at first; but it will soon grow easy to you.

Enter Constant and Heartfree.

Lady Brute. Good-morrow, Gentlemen: How have you slept after your Adventure?

Heart. Some careful Thoughts, Ladies, on your accounts, have kept us waking.

Bel. And some careful Thoughts on your own, I believe, have hindered you from sleeping. Pray how does this matrimonial Project relish with you?

Heart. Why, 'faith, e'en as storming Towns does with Soldiers, where the Hope of delicious Plunder banishes the Fear of being knock'd on the Head.

Bel. Is it then possible, after all, that you dare think of downright lawful Wedlock?

Heart. Madam, you have made me so fool-hardy, I dare do any thing.

Bel. Then, Sir, I challenge you; and Matrimony's the Spot where I expect you.

Heart. 'Tis enough; I'll not fail. [Aside.] So, now, I am in for Hobbes's Voyage; a great Leap in the Dark.

Lady Brute. Well, Gentlemen, this Matter being concluded then, have you got your Lessons ready? for Sir John is grown such an Atheist of late, he'll believe nothing upon easy Terms.

Const. We'll find ways to extend his Faith, Madam. But pray how do you find him this Morning?

Lady Brute. Most lamentably morose, chewing the Cud after last Night's Discovery, of which, however, he had but a confus'd Notion e'en now. But I'm afraid the Valet de Chambre has told him all; for they are very busy together at this Moment. When I told him of Belinda's Marriage, I had no other Answer but a Grunt: From which, you may draw what Conclusions you think fit. But to your Notes, Gentlemen, he's here.

Enter Sir John and Rasor.

Const. Good-morrow, Sir.

Heart. Good-morrow, Sir John; I'm very sorry my Indiscretion shou'd cause so much Disorder in your Family.

Sir John. Disorders generally come from Indiscretion, Sir; 'tis no strange thing at all.

Lady Brute. I hope, my Dear, you are satisfied there was no wrong intended you.

Sir John. None, my Dove.

Bel. If not, I hope my Consent to marry Mr. Heartfree will convince you. For as little as I know of Amours, Sir, I can assure you, one Intrigue is enough to bring four People together, without further Mischief.

Sir John. And I know too, that Intrigues tend to Procreation of more kinds than one. One Intrigue will beget another, as soon as beget a Son or a Daughter.

Const. I am very sorry, Sir, to see you still seem unsatisfy'd with a Lady, whose more than common Virtue, I am sure were she my Wife, shou'd meet a better Usage.

Sir John. Sir, if her Conduct has put a Trick upon her Virtue, her Virtue's the Bubble, but her Husband's the Loser.

Const. Sir, you have receiv'd a sufficient Answer already, to justify both her Conduct and mine. You'll pardon me for meddling in your Family-affairs; but I perceive I am the Man you are jealous of, and therefore it concerns me.

Sir John. Wou'd it did not concern me, and then I shou'd not care who it concern'd.

Const. Well, Sir, if Truth and Reason won't content you, I know but one way more, which, if you think fit, you may take.

Sir John. Lord, Sir, you are very hasty! If I had been found at Prayers in your Wife's Closet, I should have allow'd you twice as much time to come to yourself in.

Const. Nay, Sir, if Time be all you want, we have no Quarrel.

Heart. I told you how the Sword wou'd work upon him.

[Sir John muses.

Const. Let him muse; however, I'll lay fifty Pound our Foreman brings us in, Not Guilty.

Sir John. [Aside.] 'Tis well——'tis very well——In spite of that young Jade's matrimonial Intrigue, I am a downright stinking Cuckold——Here they are——Boo——[Putting his hand to his Forehead.] Methinks, I could butt with a Bull. What the Plague did I marry her for? I knew she did not like me; if she had, she wou'd have lain with me; for I wou'd have done so, because I lik'd her; but that's past, and I have her. And now, what shall I do with her?——If I put my Horns into my Pocket, she'll grow insolent——if I don't, that Goat there, that Stallion, is ready to whip me thro' the Guts.—The Debate then is reduced to this: Shall I die a Hero, or live a Rascal?——Why, wiser Men than I have long since concluded, that a living Dog is better than a dead Lion.——[To Const. and Heart.] Gentlemen, now my Wine and my Passion are governable, I must own, I have never observ'd any Thing in my Wife's Course of Life, to back me in my Jealousy of her: But Jealousy's a Mark of Love; so she need not trouble her Head about it, as long as I make no more Words on't.

Lady Fancyfull enters disguis'd, and addresses to Belinda apart.

Const. I'm glad to see your Reason rule at last. Give me your Hand: I hope you'll look upon me as you are wont.

Sir John. Your humble Servant. [Aside.] A wheedling Son of a Whore!

Heart. And that I may be sure you are Friends with me, too, pray give me your Consent to wed your Niece.

Sir John. Sir, you have it with all my Heart: Damn me if you han't. [Aside.] 'Tis time to get rid of her: A young, pert Pimp; she'll make an incomparable Bawd in a little time.

Enter a Servant, who gives Heartfree a Letter.

Bel. Heartfree your Husband, say you? 'Tis impossible.

Lady Fan. Wou'd to kind Heaven it were! But 'tis too true; and in the World there lives not such a Wretch. I'm young; and either I have been flatter'd by my Friends, as well as Glass, or Nature has been kind and generous to me. I had a Fortune, too, was greater far than he could ever hope for; but with my Heart I am robb'd of all the rest. I am slighted and I'm beggar'd both at once: I have scarce a bare Subsistence from the Villain, yet dare complain to none; for he has sworn if e'er 'tis known I'm his Wife, he'll murder me.

[Weeping.

Bel. The Traitor!

Lady Fan. I accidentally was told he courted you: Charity soon prevail'd upon me to prevent your Misery: And, as you see, I'm still so generous even to him, as not to suffer he should do a thing for which the Law might take away his Life.

[Weeping.

Bel. Poor Creature! how I pity her!

[They continue talking aside.

Heart. [Aside.] Death and Damnation!—--Let me read it again. [Reads.] Tho' I have a particular reason not to let you know who I am till I see you; yet you'll easily believe 'tis a faithful Friend that gives you this Advice. I have lain with Belinda (Good!)—I have a Child by her (Better and better!) which is now at Nurse; (Heaven be prais'd) and I think the Foundation laid for another: (Ha!—Old Truepenny!)—No Rack cou'd have tortur'd this Story from me; but Friendship has done it. I heard of your Design to marry her, and cou'd not see you abus'd. Make use of my Advice, but keep my Secret till I ask you for't again. Adieu.

[Exit Lady Fancyfull.

Const. [To Bel.] Come, Madam, shall we send for the Parson? I doubt here's no Business for the Lawyer: Younger Brothers have nothing to settle but their Hearts, and that I believe my Friend here has already done very faithfully.

Bel. [Scornfully.] Are you sure, Sir, there are no old Mortgages upon it?

Heart. [Coldly.] If you think there are, Madam, it mayn't be amiss to defer the Marriage till you are sure they are paid off.

Bel. [Aside.] How the gall'd Horse kicks!

[To Heart.] We'll defer it as long as you please, Sir.

Heart. The more time we take to consider on't, Madam, the less apt we shall be to commit Oversights; therefore, if you please, we will put it off for just nine Months.

Bel. Guilty Consciences make Men Cowards; I don't wonder you want time to resolve.

Heart. And they make Women desperate; I don't wonder you are so quickly determin'd.

Bel. What does the Fellow mean?

Heart. What does the Lady mean?

Sir John. Zoons, what do you both mean?

[Heart. and Bel. walk chasing about.

Rasor. [Aside.] Here is so much Sport going to be spoil'd, it makes me ready to weep again. A Pox o' this impertinent Lady Fancyfull, and her Plots, and her French-woman too; she's a whimsical, ill-natur'd Bitch, and when I have got my Bones broke in her Service, 'tis ten to one but my Recompence is a Clap; I hear them tittering without still. I'cod, I'll e'en go lug them both in by the Ears, and discover the Plot, to secure my Pardon.

[Exit Rasor.

Const. Pr'ythee, explain, Heartfree.

Heart. A fair Deliverance; thank my Stars and my Friend.

Bel. 'Tis well it went no farther; a base Fellow!

Lady Brute. What can be the meaning of all this?

Bel. What's his Meaning, I don't know; but mine is, that if I had married him——I had had no Husband.

Heart. And what's her Meaning I don't know; but mine is, that if I had married her—I had had Wife enough.

Sir John. Your People of Wit have got such cramp ways of expressing themselves, they seldom comprehend one another. Pox take you both, will you speak that you may be understood!

Enter Rasor in Sackcloth, pulling in Lady Fancyfull and Madamoiselle.

Rasor. If they won't, here comes an Interpreter.

Lady Brute. Heavens! what have we here?

Rasor. A Villain——but a repenting Villain. Stuff which Saints in all Ages have been made of.

All. Rasor!

Lady Brute. What means this sudden Metamorphose?

Rasor. Nothing, without my Pardon.

Lady Brute. What Pardon do you want?

Rasor. Imprimis, Your Ladyship's; for a damnable Lie made upon your spotless Virtue, and set to the Tune of Spring-Garden. [To Sir John.] Next, at my generous Master's Feet I bend, for interrupting his more noble Thoughts with Phantoms of disgraceful Cuckoldom. [To Const.] Thirdly, I to this Gentleman apply, for making him the Hero of my Romance. [To Heart.] Fourthly, your Pardon, noble Sir, I ask, for clandestinely marrying you, without either bidding of Banns, Bishop's Licence, Friends Consent——or your own Knowledge. [To Bel.] And, lastly, to my good young Lady's Clemency I come, for pretending the Corn was sow'd in the Ground, before ever the Plough had been in the Field.

Sir John. [Aside.] So that, after all, 'tis a moot point, whether I am a Cuckold or not.

Bel. Well, Sir, upon Condition you confess all, I'll pardon you myself, and try to obtain as much from the rest of the Company. But I must know, then, who 'tis has put you upon all this Mischief?

Rasor. Satan, and his Equipage; Woman tempted me, Lust weakened me——and so the Devil over-came me; as fell Adam, so fell I.

Bel. Then pray, Mr. Adam, will you make us acquainted with your Eve?

Rasor. [To Madam.] Unmask, for the Honour of France.

All. Madamoiselle!

Madam. Me ask ten tousand Pardon of all de good Company.

Sir John. Why, this Mystery thickens, instead of clearing up. [To Rasor.] You Son of a Whore, you, put us out of our Pain.

Rasor. One Moment brings Sunshine. [Shewing Madam.] 'Tis true, this is the Woman that tempted me, but this is the Serpent that tempted the Woman; and if my Prayers might be heard, her Punishment for so doing shou'd be like the Serpent's of old—[Pulls off Lady Fancyfull's Mask.] She should lie upon her Face all the Days of her Life.

All. Lady Fancyfull!

Bel. Impertinent!

Lady Brute. Ridiculous!

All. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

Bel. I hope your Ladyship will give me leave to wish you Joy, since you have own'd your Marriage yourself—[To Heart.] I vow 'twas strangely wicked in you to think of another Wife, when you had one already so charming as her Ladyship.

All. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

Lady Fan. [Aside.] Confusion seize 'em, as it seizes me!

Madam. Que le Diable e toute ce Mauraut de Rasor.

Bel. Your Ladyship seems disorder'd: A breeding Qualm, perhaps, Mr. Heartfree: Your Bottle of Hungary Water to your Lady. Why, Madam, he stands as unconcern'd, as if he were your Husband in earnest.

Lady Fan. Your Mirth's as nauseous as yourself. Belinda, you think you triumph over a Rival now: Helas! ma pauvre fille. Where'er I'm Rival, there's no Cause for Mirth. No, my poor Wretch, 'tis from another Principle I have acted. I knew that Thing there wou'd make so perverse a Husband, and you so impertinent a Wife, that left your mutual Plagues should make you both run mad, I charitably would have broke the Match. He! he! he! he! he!

[Exit, laughing affectedly, Madamoiselle following her.

Madam. He! he! he! he! he!

All. Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!

Sir John. [Aside.] Why, now, this Woman will be married to somebody, too.

Bel. Poor Creature! what a Passion she's in! But I forgive her.

Heart. Since you have so much Goodness for her, I hope you'll pardon my Offence, too, Madam.

Bel. There will be no great Difficulty in that, since I am guilty of an equal Fault.

Heart. Then Pardons being past on all sides, pray let's to Church to conclude the Day's Work.

Const. But before you go, let me treat you, pray, with a Song a new-married Lady made within this Week; it may be of use to you both.

Heart. So, Madam; now had the Parson but done his Business——

Bel. You'd be half weary of your Bargain.

Heart. No, sure, I might dispense with one Night's Lodging.

Bel. I'm ready to try, Sir.

Heart. Then let's to Church: And if it be our Chance to disagree——

Bel. Take heed—the surly Husband's Fate you see.

[Exeunt omnes.