SCENE I.

SO, Madam, now the course is finish'd, and your squeaking Instru­ments are silent; I hope a man may have the priviledge to re­tire and fan himself a little.

Yes, and I believe without danger of a second engage­ment, unless you could promise more skill than you have shewn hitherto.

Nay Tom, for shame desert not so beautiful a Partner so soon.

Not Desert her! Gad he that catches me cutting a Caper agen, I'le give him leave to cut a leg off, that I may have a maim to remember my folly by.

If you were to be maim'd for every folly you committed, I question whether you could find your fellow Cripple in any Hospital in Town.

So, there's one full hit, pray Heav'n, my friend have skill enough to defend himself.

Perhaps, Madam, Mr. Wilding (like an excellent Singer) thinks 'tis becomming to undervalue his perfection: Pray, Sir, be real: Do you not love Dancing?

Love it! oh extremely in a cold frosty morning, when a man has been at a true Debauch the night before: I hold it to be the only necessary Diversion: Dancing, Madam! why 'tis the very glowing-brand of Luxury that kindles the temperate blood, heats and fires us till we are fit for the Modish business 'twas design'd for: Then think not but I doat on it most violently.

Pox on him, now shall we have no more Dancing to night.

We Women find it otherwise; therefore value little what you think of it.

Think of it! why, Madam, to think, is contrary to those of his Complexion: I dare swear for the Gentleman, he seldom thinks of any thing, unless it be how to excuse his being second in a Duel. Come, prithee come away, he's pumping for a Repartee I warrant: but it shall not do Sir.

Ha, ha, ha; Why how now friend?

A commixture of pride, wantonness, and affectation handsomly bound up together: Prithee what is she?

You shall know that anon: but see! yonders Jack Townly courting the Captain's Lady, and the Old Tar-pawling, I think, is making tenders to my little Welsh Mistress.

The Autumn of Lust, and the blooming spring of Folly met in de­spite of nature.

In despight of it indeed; but the comfort is, it cannot last long.

No, 'tis only superficial, and extends to thought, foppery in ex­pression; but no further: An old mans Love is like Snow in Summer, always unnatural; and no sooner is, but it is not; the frigid nature of the one, not agreeing with the kindly warmth of to'ther.

Once! I tell thee I do love thee:

by Mars I do; Prithee furl thy Sails and let me view thee a little; I have no fine phrases, but by Boreas I affect thee heartily, thy face, thy leg, thy shape, thy every thing: When wilt thou come to the Tower, and let me salute thee with the great Guns — hah? Bounce, bounce, bounce, thou shalt have Royal sport my Girl.

I pray you Captains, of all Loves, no more of these creat 'ordes and noises; for look you, her has put a poor weak prains, and never apide creat Cuns, nor Pounce, pounce, pounce, her cannot apide pounces, look you.

Cannot her apide pounces! why her sall have Musicks, and Junkits, and Dances then, if her cannot apide pounces: the Kettle-Drums and Trumpets shall Divert thee, my little Juno: the Eagle shall clap her Wings in sign of joy, and the Royal Lyon shall Roar thee welcome.

Pless us awl, are you mads? if her hears Lyons, her is dead: the ferq and pictures of Lyons makes her swoon'd, her eyes close, and her breath Ferk, ferk, ferk, in her pelly with fits of Mothers and Fathers: I believe in my Conscience, look you, the Captain's is distractious: A Lyons! pless us awl, her cannot apide the name on't.

Cads plut, her cannot abide nothing, I think: Put does her preaths and her pelly's Ferk, ferk, ferk so much, does her say?

Pish, this is Simplicity's, look you, and Impertinencies. I pray you forbear, Captains.

Diddle, Diddle, Diddle, she has a Tongue as glib as an Eel; but no matter, she is Amsterdam built, and by Mars I love her for her Dutch Bottom.

Look! he has frighted her away already: I'le warrant there has bin an excellent Harangue betwixt 'em.

Blunt to some purpose, without doubt; but I believe very savoury, and full of good meaning.

Hey scowr, scowr my lads, and now for a Health-Royal; so here my Jolly hearts, Wat is return'd in triumph; view me round boys, honest Watt has been scowring for you: Watt must have a Health-Royal ere we part, faith: Hey, bring a Dozen of Glasses there.

Well, said Sir Walter Wiseacre, gad we thought you had left us.

Left thee! what before thou wert Drunk, Bully-Rock? Prithee don't think me such an unnatural Rogue to leave thee in a sneaking, sober con­dition: So, ho! where's this fellow? I was delay'd below by a Damn'd Rascal the Clerk of the Parish that came to me, Sir, for Church-duties; and I think I have paid him, for I took him into the Cellar, Drunk six pint Bumpers, a Health-Royal to him, tript up his heels with bonny Puntack, and left the Rogue singing Psalms under a Pipe of Malaga.

Why God-a-mercy Clerk, y' saith, and yet, Sir Walter, I see you are fresh still?

Fresh! not concern'd I: fresh as the morning, and as gay as the spring; ah! I can Drink like a fish man, and hold like a Kilderkin: but, come my lads, chuse, chuse — what Wine you like? this is Champaign, and this is Burgundy, this Obrion, this Puntack; and here's a deer Bottle of Cohorse that exceeds all.

There's a fine name now to put off pall'd Claret, and cheat the subject with.

Cohorse! a Pox o' these barbarous notions, why 'tis all but Claret still, and only the Vintners cheat to extort a shilling in a Pottle upon account of the Prohibition.

Prohibition! peace old Water Rat; peace I say, thou canst not fathom my depth old Plummet; for you must know, Sir, that I deal with an honest, civil person, and great friend of the Governours of — no matter where: Well, Sir, he upon occasion has sore eyes: Wines come Incognito; my friend breaks the Law, cheats the King, steals Custom, sells me a lumping pen­niworth; and, prithee, what signifies the Prohibition? but come, every one his Bottle, and a Health-Royal I must make you all Drunk: you know my way.

Tis not convenient to begin a match of Drinking in the Ladies company, Sir Walter?

Gad that's true, especially before my Mistress too; Come then, let's drink a civil glass, and retire to the next Room. Captain Porpuss, here old Spunge, thou art a man of a sound brain; Come, here's your Ladies Health.

Not mine, good Sir Knight; begin your own Ladies, we have not had that to night.

My Wives, Sir I'de have you know I'le have no such plebeian conjugal Customs in my house; besides 'twill pall the Wine, and give an unsa­voury relish to my mouth all the night after.

The pallat that's always out of taste, has no occasion to be made more insipid; and your customs, Sir (like your Counsel) are often too shallow to be very taking.

Here, here, take this Bumper; prithee let me make thee Drunk, that I may once see thee in a good humour; ah that she were gone once, that I might be Jocose, and break a Jest or two with my deer Mistriss there.

Your Servant Sir, I'le have no whispering here by Mars; I shall lay you short by the Mizzen, if you think to grapple my Pinnace: therefore, hands off, this, Sir, is my Wife, and this is my Sword; my name is Captain Porpuss, I drink Claret, and therefore should Dispute as well as she, Sir: Come, state your Question.

What question, Sir? — Plague of his Interruption.

What question, Sir? why a Mathematical question, terms of Na­vigation, Card, Compass, Lading, any thing; Come, what a Devil have you seen of the World, Sir? I have stood and fac'd both frigid and torrid Zones, plough'd up the Bosphorus like a Molehill, kindled a Torch in the Sun, shot both the Gulfs of Venice and Florida, and seen the Navel of the World, you Scoun­drel.

Ha, ha, ha, a pleasant humour, y' faith.

Prithee Captain leave this blustering: Gad thou hast got so ma­ny Damn'd, cramp, hard Sea-words, they are enough to fright an honest Country Gentleman out of the Company.

Madam we want ye to make one at Looe.

A Tarpawlin, a rude Sea-fellow, you must not mind him man; but, dear Jack, dost thou remember what I told thee to day concerning my Wife?

Very well Sir; but faith I wish you would chuse some other man, for my modesty is always so offenfive if I am to speak to a Woman.

Modesty! alas poor fellow: I'le tell thee what I'le do then, I'le make thee Drunk; prithee let me, I love it, I delight in't man: I make a dozen or two Drunk every day; get but Drunk, and then Boy, never doubt thy con­fidence; for a Collegian once intoxicated, is the most impudent creature that ever I met with.

And are not you then guilty of a great Imprudence to trust me with your Wife?

Not at all man, not a Jot; for though to me she be pall'd, nay to my grief a Wife all over; yet, Pox on't, I know she's honest, for she's a great Churchwoman.

A Churchwoman!

Ay.

Never the honester for that, to my knowledge.

Alas, poor soul, she prays continually; and as for her Virtue, she keeps that secure, close shut up in a Purse; the great Devil, her pride, pulling at one string, and Doctor Tickle-text the to'ther.

Well, Sir, you may command my service in any thing. Was ever such a Coxcomb?

Peace, not a word more, we are observ'd. — Come, a Song there: What say'st thou, Captain? Do'st love a Song?

Ay, a Battel, a Siege, a Storm, or so: Sing a Song that has some sense in't, and perhaps I may condescend to bear a Bob my self.

Nay, then we shall have charming-stuff.

We have not had a good bold well-season'd Song, as Gad save me, since Old Broom dy'd: 'Woon's we can get nothing now-a-days but Phillis and Chloris, and Celia, and the 'tother Whore in the Strand, that was kept by 'to­ther Fop, so long, till at last she was forc'd to keep him, Gads bud: Why now a Storm, a Sea-fight, or such a Song wou'd delight a man. — Sbud there's both Body and Soul in't; and a Pox on Phillis and Chloris, they were both Strumpets, I warrant.

Friend farewell, my patience is outworn, and I must begone, I am like a fish out of the water; methinks I gasp for breath, and grow sick by being so long out of my Element.

Nay, faith, you must not stir without me.

I shall never forget a frolick we had about Twelve years ago: I was then Captain of the Success, Heav'n bless her, she was a brave Ship: ah how she wou'd scud in the Winds Eye, and have made the Sea foam again after a Broad­side: by Mars I never think of her loss, but the pearly Dew falls from my Eyes.

Ha, ha, this is ridiculous enough.

To think what a Fighter she was; how she wou'd spoom along; top-sails a trip; and then the best Saylor in the World: 'tis a strange thing, Gentle­men, I have known that Ship sail tightly when she has had above Forty Cul­vering Bullets in her; all shot through betwixt Wind and Water.

How, how Sir! betwixt Wind and Water?

All betwixt Wind and Water, as Gad save me: Ah you are Pilchers to me in Sea-affairs: Well, she was riding at Soll-Bay, 'twas just before the sight there (wherein I did such notable service); I had then a Lieutenant aboard, a little Dapper fellow, but as stout as Hercules; and when we met a nights in the great Cabbin over a Jolly bowl of Punch, the Rogue wou'd sing us the finest Sea-Songs, and so Roar 'em out: I think I've a fellow can remember one of them. Sing sirrha.

There now! there's life, there's soul, there's sense: as I'm a living man, Gentlemen, the Rogue fox'd me three times, one after another, only by singing this Song.

Now, Madam, your Ladyship owes me fifteen.

But five indeed, Madam, your Ladyship was Loo'd last Deal upon my Blaze.

I beg your pardon, Madam, 'twas my Cozen here.

Upon my Souls, look you, her is not Loo'd; her had the good Kings guarded, and won two or three tricks indeed.

Nay, prithee do not wrangle, I swear thou art the worst player at Cards.

Heav'n deliver my Souls! is her distractious? was not her flushes of Clubs upon her last Deal? besides a Mournivals of Queens, and another of Knaves, for thirty Counters, besides the fifteen her Ladyship ow'd her? What does her Ladyship think her will lose thirty Counters, look you?

By no means — but pray let us give over now, for my part I am tyr'd.

And I faith.

Come Ladies, there's very good Wall fruit in the Garden, pray let's take a turn or two.

Now follow her Jack now; dear Jack, this is a rare opportu­nity.

This is an odd humour, faith, what intreat Townly to follow his Wife?

There is something more in it than I understand, but the fool is leaky as a Sieve; I am sure he can keep no secrets, we shall know all.

Come, my hearts, 'tother dozen Bottles, and then we shall be fit for the business of the night; Pox on't, 'tis so long since I was Drunk, that I'm as dull as a Country Student, poring upon Littleton; Hey boy, bring the Wine there.

Why you have spoil'd the Drinking-match, Sir Walter, by letting Jack Townly go.

Ay, he's so true a Son of Bacchus, he'l do every one Reason, Gad I'le go fetch him back.

Gad but you shall not though, by your favour, for to my know­ledge he's busie; he's engag'd with my Wife.

Ingag'd with her! what a Devil does the fool mean?

What! some Plot or other now I warrant: here's some Intrigue going forward, in which he is to be Agent: What an unnatural Rogue art thou to keep this from thy friends? Come, come, Discover.

Why then, the truth is, I have an excellent design on foot, but 'tis impossible you should fathom any thing of it, unless you were better ac­quainted with with my humours.

Humours! why, prethee, what are thy Humours?

Why, you must know, Sir, that I am famous over the Town for two topping humours: look you; for making people Drunk, that's one; and making Cuckolds, that's another.

Two very pretty topping humours, faith.

You know 'tis fashionable for a man to be famous for something; besides, I have the best Diversion in the world by it, for they reach to all quali­ties and constitutions; for if I meet with a young modish Fop, there I please one of my humours, and make him Drunk: If with a sober, grave, judicious, married Coxcomb, then I please my 'tother humour.

And lye with his Wife? —

I do so; I do y' faith, is't not fine? this last has been my humour many years.

If I had a mortal aversion to Women, I could never think 'em so notorious to consent to this.

Pox, a lye's as natural to him as Nonsense.

Come, y' are both my friends, and I think I may trust you with my secret: know then, that at this instant I have a violent passion for a Lady, another mans wife.

So, I knew we should have it.

But as the Devil wou'd have it, Jealousie, that Canker of Wed­lock, that Aquafortis of Matrimony, that eats and eats so damnably, till it hath devour'd all the love betwixt man and wife; incites, Sir, my plaguy Spouse just in the nick to interpose betwixt me and my design.

Gad that was very unlucky indeed, especially in such a juncture.

Juncture! — nay we had joyn'd, and joyn'd agen long before this, if it had not bin for that man: Now, Sir, I had no way to help my self, but by having Recourse to my cunning; and, by the way, let me tell you, Gentlemen, I do positively believe I am the most cunning person that ever breath'd: — I should ha' made a swinging Politician if I had but a Memory.

Your large ear and wry nose always signifie thought, Sir Walter.

For thinks I to my self, Love will root out love, and Company often diverts Jealousie; and if I could oblige some young and honest friend, who by pretending love to her, would amuse her a little; I might prosperously carry on my Intrigue abroad, and she be diverted, and rest very well satisfied at home.

So that you would expose your own Wife to the Addresses of some young Gallant, that you your self might have liberty to Debauch another mans?

Ay I wou'd so; Is't not a good one? and may I never more warm me by those fair eyes I so adore, if this spring clearly from my own natu­ral wit, my own invention by this light? Is't not an odd method?

Ay, the Devil take me, is it as ever I heard of.

Well, after a great deal of consultation whom to trust in so weighty a business, I pitch'd upon Townly, but with a great deal of caution first; for, Jack (says I) have a great care Jack of handling Cases about my Wife that does not concern you: — Yes, says Jack, demurely: (you know his way). And agen, said I, Jack be sure that you are not too forward in pressing my Wives con­stitution beyond her fidelity; no, says Jack, agen with a great deal of inte­grity, before Gad.

Is Townly a modest fellow, or does he only wheedle this fool?

Modest! Pox on him, I knew a Surgeon that cur'd him of two Claps when he was at Cambridge.

Uds so, here are the Ladies! I must wait on 'em home; Dear souls, you must pardon me, and have a little patience, I must be civil to the Ladies: he little thinks the Captain's Lady here is the Person I adore so much.

Sir, I have a Coach at the door, and shall need no Ceremony.

Nay you shall be both Drunk long enough before night, I war­rant you: you know my humour, Ha, ha.

Ay, enough of it to know thee for a damn'd Coxcomb.

And Cuckhold; I hope by this time, or Townly's an Eunuch.

The Rogue is as conceited as a Dancing-Master; and though he be the Vulcan of sense, yet thinks himself the Apollo of it.

I have ever observ'd, 'tis as impossible for an affected person to be a man of wit, as for a mercenary Bawd to turn honest.

Or a good Poet to be Religious.

'Tis so; but, prithee, what is that prink'd-up creature that went out with Livia just now?

Oh I was about to tell thee before; She's my Lord Lofty's Daugh­ter, a rich Heiress, Tom, and a vast fortune, and one that fantastically loves to rail at men, as much as thou dost at women: you two would make an excellent match; faith I'd have thee go and court her.

I would, if I thought my words could have influence enough upon her to make her hate her self.

What a strange humour thou art of; because one woman was false and jilted thee, is it infallible that the whole Sex are so?

The whole Sex, by Heav'n (if you love 'em): besides, the passion it self is foolish and unmanly: Love is the sickness of the mind; a man has his Ague and Feaver both at once, and often despairs of remedy for either.

Thus like a sick man you think no Dyet good, because your Sto­mach's naught: Well, I thank my Stars, the constitution differs with me; I can distinguish the great blessing of mans life, and in a pious zeal thank Pro­vidence for its bounty. Beautiful Women were ever my Tutelar and Guardian Angels, that give me an assurance of being ever happy in this world, and immor­tal in t'other.

A Coxcomb in t'other.

Prithee no more of this; a young brisk fellow, newly an Heir too, and Possessor of a plentiful Estate, whose good old Father was so gratefully civil, to dye orderly, and in good time, that thou might'st inherit, to stand at defi­ance with the only blessing of life, Women: I am asham'd of thee.

'Twould be more advantage to thee to be asham'd of thy Mistress; for if thou art not jilted, I am mistaken in her; She'l shew thee a Welsh trick sometime or other.

Oh, I'le venture that: hark 'e, wilt thou go with me, and speak to this Lady?

She that went hence now.

Ay, I'd have thee rally her a little.

Well Sir, I'le give her a hearing, if she be not too impertinent.

Come on then, I'le introduce thee.

How now! what noise is that below, sirrha?

Sir Barnaby Whigg, Sir, has been railing against his Nephew, Sir Wal­ter, for having ne'r a Musquet in's house.

Whigg is his name? Oh, I believe I know him, a huge fat fellow, one of Oliver's Knights.

The same, and the most busie, seditious Coxcomb alive, one that will be sure to Bet when he sees the best Trump, but ever shuffle and cheat, if fortune be against him.

In all turns of State, change his Opinion as easily as his Coat, and is ever zealous in Voting for that party that is most Powerful.

They of his Tribe say, theirs is the Church-Militant; but I say Mo­ney is both their God and King, and the greatest Zealot amongst them for the sake of the Popes Golden Slipper, shall not only kiss his Toe, but eat it, as the story goes of the hungry Spaniel.

If I mistake not, this fellow values himself extremely by playing on the Musick.

Oh yes, but the Town of late has us'd him so unkindly, that he has left it off, and now sets up for a grand Politician.

A care [...]ss Villain — he shall not own the blood of the Whiggs that neglects his Countrey thus: — ne'r a Musquet a Rogue — in this Popish Age too, and but one Sword, na [...], and in a family of sixteen People uprising and down-lying — a Dog — a Rascal — but one Sword?

Now Sir Barnaby, pray why this anger?

There's reason for't, Sir, as times go: how does your good Fa­ther, or rather your good Mother, Mr. Wilding? her zeal did once fructifie and increase, to my knowledge: Come, she was a good Woman — a Son of a Whore, ne'r a Dagger neither, nor a Case-knife sharp at end — nor nothing — not so much as a Pen-knife?

You seem disturb'd, Sir, pray what news abroad?

Only we are lost, undone; that's all Sir; and (like faggots) the bands of zeal being broken, must fall hudling to destruction — a Pox upon him, ne'r a Musquet?

How, to Destruction, Sir!

Come, come, things go ill, Mr. Wilding, things go ill; you have not Bulk enough to bear State-matters, or else I could tell you in your ear that — how do you rate this Beaver, good Mr. — a —?

At a friends acceptance, Sir: have you a mind to't?

No, no, not I by no means, not I: the Hat's well made though: I knew your Father long ago, Mr. Wilding; he was always a free, generous soul indeed — but (betwixt you and I) would not be rul'd: he would still be on the wrong side: Come, come, he lov'd the King too well; had he not lov'd the King, he had been a brave fellow.

Otherwise called a Rascal.

Come Sir, you are all mis-led, and will be all pickled ere long; I can tell you, that if our soul-saving Party do not settle the Nation, I say 'twill track, 'twill unhinge — whip you 're gen, old Antichrist will have your Lands and Bodies, and the Devil your Souls.

Your soul, I hope, will be in no great danger however, Sir.

No, not mine, I never carry mine about me: mine's always in the heart of the City — in Lumbard street.

The Rogue has once in his life spoke truth.

Incorrigible Villain! but I have made an Observation, That Fana­ticism Intoxicates like Wine, and has much the same effects: For as a true Drunkard cannot keep a secret, but must make some discovery, so your true Presbyter never talks of State-affairs without a Tang of Treason.

I was yesterday with an Astrologer, a learned man, and one of our Tribe, and (Lord bless us) he tells me we shall have a Famine.

A Famine! why, that's worse to you than Damnation.

'Tis so, as Gad save me, I swoon'd away twice at the very apprehen­sion on't; and had not a Suppose brought me some comfort, on my Conscience, had dyed: A Famine! Mercy on us; Come War, Pestilence, Fire, Sword, any thing but that; the Gut-Plague is sure more terrible than all those of Egypt.

This Epicure I see never considers life any further than the plea­sure of eating and drinking.

Were matters carried well, we should have none of this; no Meteors, nor Comets, nor Pestilences, were not our sins Contagious; were faith and frugallity among us, no hungry Tuscany-Stars would threaten neither: There's an Old saying, The Devil promises like a Merchant-man, but performs like a Man of War: 'Twas not so in the blessed year of 48, to my knowledge; I say no more — but — would I were at the Helm.

So, Treason agen! you at the Helm! yes, of a Ship I would thou wert, to be thrown off, and plung'd to the bottom for a Mutinous Traytor.

Ha — what the loud Traytor to a man of my kidney? a Portly, Jolly, Fat man; a man of Faith and Belly: Away fool, 'tis your lean, your scraggy fellows that Plot mischief; if the Pope himself had been a fat fellow, he had been honest.

Yes, as your Noble Ancestors the Sussex Whiggs were, or that Cursed Crew your Brethren of the Amsterdam-house, that cool their Coffee with the Breath of Rebellion, and hourly damn themselves by Whispering Treason.

Come, Sirs, here's the Kings Health: Long live his Sacred Majesty: kneel down, and cast your Bonnet.

Not I Sir, you must spare me: I never kneel (not I) but to pray: besides, I can drink no Healths, I am in a Milk-Dyet for the Scurvy.

For the Pox I believe; Come Sir, it must be done, therefore un­cover, and kneel.

Sir, we never uncover, 'tis not our method; we never use any Ceremony: with my Hat on — Let him live — But —

Let him live — But — these are rare Rascals.

A word more of Refusal, and my Sword shall pare that body of thine into shape.

Well Sir, I submit: But, Sir, tell not me: I understand my self: Moles (though blind) can hear: let him live; but I wish for the Nations sake — I wish my Council. —

What! more muttering of Treason? your Council?

Well, I acquiesce:

I am silent: you will awake when the Sword's at your throats; you will I say, and repent this prophane drinking of Healths; and so farewell t'ee.

Ha, ha; I knew there was no way to silence him but this: but see!

here's Jack Townly coming with Sir Walter's Wife: Come, faith 'tis uncivil to hinder an Intrigue; prithee let's go.

Tis almost time now to visit the Lady Lofty: I long to see you two rail a Courtship out.

I'le be as good as my word, faith.

The Captain's Lady say you, Madam?

She Sir, the beautiful Livia.

What! in love with me?

I know not what you call in love; but, to my knowledge, she was lavish in her Commendations of you just now in the Garden; sigh'd and look'd pale if your name were mention'd: and these are signs of something extra­ordinary.

Kind Chance: She's the person I love more than Health: But I must sift her further, this may be a trick.

'Tis a blessing, Madam, I am not ambitious of, since the charms of your Wit, Beauty, and Conversation, are to me all that can be extraordinary.

Mine! Sir, you have but an ill stomach if you can subsist with the thin dyer I can afford you: I am of a Volatile temper, and only admit of this Gallantry of yours for the sake of the mirth it brings with it: but the Cap­tain's Lady has a passion for you, languishes, loves you; therefore if you would share in my applause, go instantly, and Address to her: A young Gallant shou'd (like a Tow'ring Falcon) fly at all games: I hate a dull, sneaking, con­stant, tiresome fellow, that pins himself to one Ladies train, and will spend 14 long hours in praising the Dew on her under-lip, or the colour of her shoo­strings, whilst she is all the while cursing her company, and heartily wishes him hang'd.

What a Devil does she mean by this? S'death I was never so puzzl'd in my life.

In a word Sir; if you would purchase my good opinion, go and court this Lady: Come, I command you to do it: perhaps I have some reason for't.

Nay, you know, Madam, I want power to deny any Commands from you: Let me consider a little.

So, it begins to take, and by this means I shall get my Husband a Rival, too handsome, not to be belov'd as well as he. Whether Livia loves Townly, or no, I know not: Commend him she did, and that may in time in­duce Love. — Well Sir, have you thought?

I have, Madam, and for your sake will Address to her: I will storm her ears with a peal of Rhetorick: accost her with a number of whining, amo­rous phrases.

And all lyes: Well Sir, she's now at the Lady Lofty's: go, and get your Coach ready, and about half an hour hence I'le meet you there.

Of all Intrigues that ever I knew, this is the most quaint and pleasant: Here o' one side is a fantastick husband, that courts me to court his wife: On the other side, his wife commands me to address to another Lady, and (luckily) to the very person I love equal to my soul: Gad I think I'me a happy fellow: what she designs by engaging me thus, I know not, but am re­solv'd to proceed for the sweet sake of variety. One, I am inform'd, loves me, and therefore must be courted; and the other is not inexorable, but may be courted.

SCENE I.

SIR, I am now so happy to tell ye your trouble is at an end; I am at home. —

Wou'd my wits were at home too, that I might make a decent repartee — your Servant, Madam, 't no trouble.

Your Ladyship has a very, [...]etty apartment here, Madam.

Small, but convenient, yet shall henceforth have a greater share in my Esteem, because you like it, Madam.

A Plaguy sharp-witted creature, this, Gad, I'me almost afraid to speak to her, she always runs one down so confoundedly.

Your Ladyship does me too much honour.

For my part, I hate a Lodging next the street; the Coaches­keeps such a perpetual Ratling, one had as good live in a Mill.

I think these are private enough, Sir.

Private as Virgins thoughts, Madam. — Ah, this would be a rare place for my humour.

What's that, Sir, to game in?

No, to be Drunk in, Madam; that's my humour; 'tis the Talent of all the Wiseacres; our family has been famous for't above this Five hundred years.

I think you give a bottle, Sir, for the Crest of your Coat.

No, Madam, we give no Bottles, we drink off all the Bottles — we give the Cap of Fortune for our Crest.

Otherwise called the Fools Cap. —

Sir Jollynose Wiseacre, my Great Grandfather, Madam, was the first man that bore it; and my Father Sir Toby Wiseacre being a Favourite at Court, got it adorned with three Golden Bells in humour and imitation of the City-Cap of Maintenance.

How I hate this Fop, that has nothing but dull Repartee, and vented in defiance of Wit and good Language. Madam, when the Gentleman's story is ended, I shall expect you in the Garden.

What a whimsical creature is this — She's never two minutes in a humour.

She's always uneasie, Sir, in mens company.

What, not love a man! Alas poor Animal, she's miserable enough, faith — Not love a man! why she loses the only blessing of her Creation.

Rather say she reaps the only blessing, for Love in this age is as much sophisticated as Wine, and I think has as malignant effects.

Madam, the Wine I drink your Health in, is always unsophi­sticated, and so is the Love I bear you; I am compounded, Madam, of no­thing but Love and Wine; my heart is a meer Bunch of Grapes, from whence you may press the first running, luscious Juice, together with the true spirit of affection unpall'd, or uncorrupted.

There is nothing more corrupted than the love that Wine creates; therefore 'tis impossible you should love well, that are so grand a professor in drinking.

Oh the better for't, for you must know, Madam, I'me a sneak­ing dog when I'me sober — but I make Love like a Turk when I'me drunk.

Like a Turk indeed, for nothing but a Seraglio of women can then serve your turn; and if I am not mistaken, your Lady has Jealousie enough to resent such actions.

Nay, Gad, a Country-Copes, that has married a Player, cannot be more jealous; that's the truth on't: but I care not this for't; I laugh at it, faith, and that so mads her: besides, I have now laid a snare for her: I set Jack Townly to court her, that she may have the less leisure to disturb my passion for you: Did you praise him to her this afternoon, as I desired you, Madam?

Extremely Sir, and left 'um alone in her Closet; Ha, see yonder they come.

Ay, 'tis so, I see the Rogue Townly follows my instructions: Well, adieu dear Madam, she must not see us together; what, so familiar already — Gad my design goes on rarely.

Though the Love I had for this fool is vanisht, yet I am resolved to comply with him a little, if it be only to revenge my self on his Wife for being jealous of me: here she comes.

Always thus retired, Madam, and melancholy; sure this solitude must needs be prejudicial to your health; nay, and not only to your self, but me, and all your friends, that lose the pleasure of your company: Come, I have in­gag'd Mr. Townly here to wait on ye, handsome Mr. Townly: one I assure you, that is the most agreeable, most obliging, and best company of any man in Town.

Your Servant, Madam, I hope your Ladyship will prove this to her, for my part I am dumb.

I know the Gentleman too well, Madam, to be ignorant of his per­fections; I know he discourses Elegantly, Dances finely; then his carriage is easie and courtly, besides a most excellent quality he has in Singing.

So, she has found out a quality for me that I never knew in my felf, faith, that's Singing, for the Devil of any thing I can sing but the Ballad of John Dory: and oh the wretched damn'd Sham-plot, &c.

Pray observe, Madam, what a delicate shape he has; what an attra­ctive languishing; and then the prettiest leg and foot — O Venus — but 'tis in vain for me to praise him.

'Tis as Sir Walter inferr'd, she does love him;

and then, look Madam, he has the finest moulded face, the most taking features and graces; and each limb about his person so particularly graceful, that were I a woman of that brisk, free humour to entertain a Gallant — sweet Mr. Townly should be the man I would prefer before the world.

Her freeness in his Commendations declares her love to him: and thus far my designs has happy success.

Though I was not so happy as to hear the last of your Discourse, Ladies; yet, faith, I guess 'twas all in praise of me; for 'tis a vanity natural to us men, that when any one is commended by the Company, whatever whisper arises afterwards, is imagined to be only a pursuance of the first applause, and therefore it is requisite I make some return — Hum — hum —

Come Sir, begin, then we'l stand ye fairly.

First for you then, Madam,

your Eyes are the glittering Deities that command all hearts — And your Skin — smoother than Ve­nus Doves, and white as Innocence — And you, Madam,

have a voice so ravishing sweet, that Angels peeping down to listen to it, would think the Musick of their spheres a discord, and then each feature has so much of Divinity in't: oh Heaven! And for your part, Madam,

na­ture out did her self when she fram'd you, your Face is the Epitome of Elizium, a delicate fore head, high, smooth, and white; a little straight nose, a breath Rosy and refreshing; a pretty, ruddy, soft, round, dewy, melting under lip; and such a hand, so white, so plump, so little, and the fin­gers so round, long, straight, and small — d's death, such a sight has power to make a man of fourscore chatter, and frisk about the room like an over-grown Monkey.

Ha, ha, ha.

For your sake, Madam,

I could sacrifice my own life, and for you, Madam,

another mans; should you be offended with me,

I should hang my self, or stab my self, or poyson, or drown my self; and should you, Madam,

I should hang, stab, poyson, and drown my self altogether.

And she must be a very unreasonable person that expects more: but, Sir, in return of your Gallantry.

No returns, I befeech you, Madam; nay, faith, take a little pity on me now, you see I am out of breath: besides, to deal faithfully with ye, the weights of my Wits are all run down, and the Clock, by consequence, must awhile stand still.

So, — now they are ingaged — I'le strait away, and cunningly, by some means or other, inform my husband of her treachery to him, and love to this new Rival.

'Tis a sign you spoke on an unpleasing subject, you else doubtless could have held out longer.

Rather, Madam — the greatness of the Theme disabled me only through a modest apprehension of my defect in expressions, when they should be so divinely employed.

What, is my Lady gone?

I hope so, faith; she's a very well-bred person, and I see under­stands manners: And now, Madam, behold at your feet a man that loves you more than his immortal part, his soul.

Nay, if Railery come to love once, the jest is gone.

My Lady Millicent did me the honour to inform me of some ex­pressions of yours in favour of me; each syllable of which is engraven in my heart; nay, the very thought of it has transported me ever since.

My Lady Millicent inform him — What should this mean? Com­mend him, 'tis true, I did, but 'twas more on her account than my own; and why she should let him know it, is to me a wonder.

Release your Martyr from the Rack, dear Madam, and pronounce him happy.

Are you really then so miserable a creature as to love me?

Love ye, Madam, I do most infinitely, but can never be miserable, because 'tis impossible you can ever be cruel.

D'ee believe so?

Ay, and have all the reason in the world for't, faith; you can no more be unnaturally rigorous to a young Lover, than you can passionately dote upon an old Husband.

A very fine, sweet-natur'd opinion you have of me, Sir.

Gad I think so.

That to expel all unnatural cruelty, would oblige me to Cuckold my Husband by the way of Jest.

No, faith, I meant by the way of Earnest; I hate Jesting mortally in such cases.

And are not you a leud fellow for this — a damnable leud fellow? Come, speak.

Why, faith, I am so so — indifferent; we are all mortal, Madam, and subject to frailties; but I have this comfort, Gad, I sin brave and nobly; and like a generous Robber, if I do venture damning, 'tis for a prize of value: Pox, I hate a sneaking Crime, it gets a man no credit.

An agreeable fellow this is; and if Millicent had known the real worth of the Jewel she Ironically commended, I question whether I should have had the first refusal.

I wait your doom, Madam, in a cold sweat, Mercy, I beseech ye.

If I should take you into grace now, and prevent the approaching [Page 17] Ague and Feaver, are you sure you could be most passionately constant.

Stedfast as a Rock, Madam, fixt firm, not to be moved; I!

And will you say your Prayers every Morning and Evening, and thank Heaven for the timely blessing?

Ay, upon my Soul will I, with more zeal than ever I pray'd in my life.

Well, let me see you in the Park this evening, and then a Mistress, or no Mistress, a match, or no match; you shall know my mind, mum, — not a word — yours — bow and make your Exit: very well.

So, I find I must bend my neck to the yoke, if I intend to plough in the Soyl, for she means to use me as the Turkish Princesses do the Bassa's; first make them their slaves, that they may afterwards be fit to be their husbands: but come what will, Love is my Captain, and I must forward now.

What, Jack, art thou missing when there is such excellent sport yonder?

What sport, prithee?

Betwixt Wilding and my Lady Gratiana; he has so teiz'd her yon­der in the Garden, and there has been such bitter Jests between 'um, that now she has quitted the place: Hark! I believe here they come; prithee observe 'um a little, I am now in pursuit of my little Welsh Mistress, or I would keep thee company.

The Scene must be pleasant, for he rails as much against Women, as the greatest Men: but I have no time to throw away at present.

Is there no place free from impertinence? I'me resolv'd I'le change my Lodgings to morrow; I'le rather exclude my self from all society, than be thus tormented.

Modest sense is ever thus slighted — 'tis the noisie follies that are receiv'd, and take with your true women: Nay, there's so much indignity in ye, that ye are often destitute of common civility; and against all rules of breed­ing, shun a person that only makes ye an innocent visit.

A Fop, like a mad dog, shou'd ever be shun'd, there's danger and in­fection in his company.

A Fop! I see your Ladyships fancy quickens extremely; I beseech you, how long have you and your sex profess'd so much wit.

Ever since you and yours lost it: what think you, Sir? does it not become me rarely?

Faith, no, 'tis not seen enough; you should spot your face with it, in­stead of your patches, if you would have it discerned.

I thank ye, and so I should have you and your humourous brother Coxcombs continually buzzing about me to pick 'um off again.

If we were upon any Treacherous design, I confess we might have occasion; for a womans wit, like a Lawyers, is never considerable, but when absolutely bent to do mischief.

Then there's some applause due to us however: But I swear 'tis otherwise with you men, for you ever commit mischief without wit.

To our selves indeed, when we can be so weak to admire a piece of white point, a varnisht skin, and a corrupted heart; that indeed is mischief without wit.

And yet I have seen a person that has set up for a wit, wear his stockins out with kneeling, and kiss the dirty Glove of a tawdry creature in the 18 penny Gallery, though the Owl had a charming wife of his own, whose for­tune a week before purchas'd him a Barony.

Nay, 'tis true, the Devil has power over us sometimes; but if ever I lose more blood in lo [...]ing of a woman, than I can get again with drinking a bottle, I'le give him leave to execute the worst of his malice, and make me the first example.

A dear blessing to women, for none sure can be sorry when a dis­ease leaves her.

Pretty indifference! d's death, do not I know you cannot subsist without us? you would all dye like cramb'd chickens of the Pip, were it not for us men.

You wou'd not only dye, but be damned, were it not for us wo­men.

No, we should be as free as Air, our bosoms calm, serene, and undi­sturb'd, as Infants sleep, or peaceful Innocence. — Ah, 'tis the life of Angels, the only happy estate; a woman, Gad, is the unnecessary Parenthesis of Nature.

And a man without that woman is a silly Cypher: Mark me, Sir, a Cypher! that perhaps, when a material figure is added, may make a considera­ble sum; but alone is still a cypher, and signifies just nothing.

So, I have got much by railing — very much: If I could have been worded to death, I had, ere this, been past the help of Doctors. — How now! who have we here? what, my old Spunge of Rebellion! is he unshakled still?

Oh, Sir, have I found you — you are one of those that believe nothing — you fear no harm, not you; you are of the Tory-party, let the peo­ple be hang'd, you care not — the Nation is secure, you say: but, come Sir, I shall undeceive ye — oh impious Age, I shall convince you, Sir, I shall.

Thy Ravens voice perhaps may bode ill fortune, but as yet I know none: Come, what's the matter now?

Matter! rare matter — why, we are ridden, spur-gail'd, Jayl'd; the Turk, the French, the Moors, nay the very Devil will have us: Oh that ever the Noble family of the Whiggs should live to see this day — we are beset, the Ene­my is coming — and yet we are asleep: we are surrounded, and shall be con­founded: ah (Gads woons) (forgive me for swearing) it was not so in Oliver's time.

No, your villanous designs then kept you waking.

These wicked times keep us more waking; the wise fraternity, together with my self, as boldly, as pithy and politickly have now given our ad­vice; but I fear in vain — no satisfaction, no return; no, though I have pen'd it my self, and were I rightly rewarded, deserve —

To be hang'd — for an audacious and impudent Libeller — what you, forsooth, are griev'd, and yet not for your self, but for the Nation? why, how darest thou judg of Government? though of no more brain or birth than the Calf of the Shambles, yet you would be a States-man; and if each passage suit not with your judgment, the times go ill; all's lost, you'l mutiny; a sneaking, stig­matized, accursed crew, drawn lean by vice, or like thee swoln and bloated.

I bloated! what, because — I am plump, plump, a man of kidney, or so — I bloated.

Villains, that can rail at Monarchs, and not blush, upbraid him by whose Clemency you live, that fearless lets you indulge your horrid Treasons, nourish the musty seeds of Old Rebellion, so sure a guard is Sacred Royal Vertue; ye souless Insects, ye rotten sheep, that first your selves, and then infect a Nation.

Have you done yet? I think the Devil's in the fellow, he'l give no man leave to rail but himself: Sir, you talk largely, you do Sir; and let me tell you, though I am fat, I dare fight, Sir, — I can foyl as good a George-a-Green as your self: but more of that as occasion shall permit; and to let you see you do only chatter Magpye-like, without thinking, there's the Paper with all the Wise mens hands too't — Now read, and then judge; the wit and method I compos'd my self.

Wit — why thou double Traytor, dar'st thou assassinate that too — thou contrary to Wit as Loyalty.

Have I no wit? what! and have fin'd for Alderman; that's fine indeed — Come, read Sir, we shall have the note changed presently.

A plague on your Wit and Method; here's not a line but tends to Villany.

Sir, I shall not be ashamed to own it; there's no man there that will hide his face upon occasion.

To stir up Rebellion, and wound the bosom of his Country.

The best sport, the best voyage sure that ever man had.

Oh, here's the Captain now to be another spectator!

If he be a wise Captain, he will be of our side.

Mr. Wilding — Sir Barnaby, prithee old Boy tack about to Wind­ward, and harken to me: Sailing a hunting this morning, we had not Cruzed above a League or two, but we found a Hare a-ground.

Tell not me of Hares, Sir, — if you had hunted a Bishop out of the Nation, I should have said something t'ee.

'Tis but manners though to hear him out, Sir, by your favour.

Hear him you may, but 'tis impossible to understand him; for he stuffs a story so full of Sea-terms, the Devil himself can't tell what he means.

Sir, may I never enter the Straits mouth agen, if it was not the best sport that ever man saw: Oones he's for nothing, not he, but railing at Govern­ment, and cheating the People.

Right, nor will have any reward but hanging: Come, pray Sir, let me hear it, I love it; you have been a hunting, you say.

I Sir! and as I was saying we had not Cruzed above a League or two, but we found a Hare a-ground.

A Hare! so, Sir.

Finding her thus, we presently turned her a-drift; and then she stood off, and the Dogs stood after, and we stood after the Dogs; West Sou-West, Tail and End.

West, Sou-West, the Sea-Calf thinks he's on Ship-board.

After this, Sir, the Hare luff't, and the Dogs weatherd her agen; and then a stiff gale blowing, she bore swiftly round us, and we went after large Top-sails a trip, though one of our hearts of Gold making a shot at her, rak'd her fore and aft; then, Sir, springing a Leak, she bore down to the hedge; and there powdering in, we all boarded her: but, as the Devil would have it, my horse running swiftly a-head, Gads bud, I tumbled over-board.

Ha, ha, ha.

Did not I tell thee what a Tarpawlin-story we should have?

Tis better than your scrowl here, however, and has more sense in't.

Sense! why, does this Tun of mouldy Garbadg pretend to sense? Harkee, Guts, darest thou drink a Gallon, the Kings Health; Load the great Cannon, or ungrapple a Fire-Ship? if not, thou'rt a Rascal, and draw.

Well, Sir, when I have drunk a Gallon, I can draw.

Would I had thee a Ship-board to excuse the boys penance, and be lickt for a fresh wind: what a stirs here with Religion! Come, if you are that godly person you say, ye are to follow me, and make one at a Bowl of Punch; I find Lime-Juyce and Brandy.

Not I Sir, I hate all Heathen Liquors.

Then if thou lov'st Christian Claret, come sup with me; I make a Collation to night, and invite my friends; and in plain terms, if you'l come, you shall be welcome.

What, my Club I warrant: well, for their sakes I may chance to visit you; and so farewell.

I'le go too, but upon another design: Sir, I'le wait on you.

One pretty smile will recover all yet: come, I know this is but feign'd, thou art too well bred to be ill-natur'd.

Upon my Souls — her is well enough preads to take cares and cauti­ons of being cozen'd: look you, Shentlemens have creat deals of lyes and frau­dulences [Page 21] now a-days, and cheats poor Maids out of honour and virginities: pless us all.

By Heaven he has not a grain of human nature in him that could wrong thee; believe me, and be grateful: by this dear hand I love ye like my soul.

Like your Souls — Ay, that is fine falcity and equivocations: Look ye now, for you, Shentlemens, always loves your peddies petter than your own souls, a thousand times.

I would sacrifice my body for a kind look from thee.

I heard a Lords once say so much to a pegger-wench, I vow.

Imagine some Action that may be meritorious, and then lay your Commands upon me.

Her cannot commands, look you: Winny's hearts and posoms is too soft and tender to use Exercises of Discipline: Will her make Positions and Oaths, that her can be most confoundedly constant. —

Most zealously.

And will her weep, and sigh, and languish, and kneels at her feets one, three, four and twenty hours to wheedle her self into her passionate affe­ction and good crases.

I'le sigh enough to raise a Storm at Sea, and weep another de­luge.

I pray you of all Loves then, weep now, for there is nothing in the creat 'orld that mollifies Winny's hearts and bowels, — so much as tears and weep­ing. — I pray you, Sir, begin: now weep, I beseech you weep.

Now am I such a dry Dog, I cannot squeeze a drop out to save my life — Pox on't, I have forgot my Onion too.

In her own Country, that is, cood Montgomrey-shire; the Lovers will whine, and houl, look you, and make ferry ugly faces for whole days together: Come, let me see, do's her weep?

I must do something; I beseech ye, Madam, do not make me too much unman my self.

Upon my soul here is waters upon her cheeks: that's true, this is no dissimulation; ferry good, ferry good: weep on, I pray you, till night, but be sure come not from your knees, it will be preparations for Love and Passion: look you, and then her will visit you again, and pless you with some brave conso­lation and advices: Ha, ha, ha.

Consolations and advices — 'death, this Jilt plays upon me; I find it now, but, Gad, I'le after her, and tell her my mind more plainly — for I see there's nothing to be done by fair means with any of that Country.

SCENE II.

THis is the strangest adventure, Madam, that ever surpriz'd a Lover: Are you the charming person that Sir Walter adores?

He tells me so, Sir, and for whose sake he has ingag'd you to ad­dress to his wife.

Why, faith, I must needs say he has been very civil to me in that point: But I am so much a man of honour, I never desert the person that has first ingaged me: I never change parties — not I.

Not if you have the odds of your side, I believe, Sir; and yet a Command from my Lady Millicent would make you venture hard.

A smile from you would make me venture much more; I know not what influence she may have upon me: but heaven keep you in a loving humour, or l'm afraid I shall never dye decently in my bed: Ten to one I shall swing to th' other World with a silken string of your colours.

And what a pitiful object will that be to the female spectator — to see so proper a man, and so constant a Lover, hang dangling like a Puppy out at a Garret-window.

Gad it will be a most dismal, melancholy sight, that's the truth on't: then for you to be attainted of Homicide — how can you hope to be sav'd?

By pleading not guilty, Sir; for if the Devil and you fall out about the purchase — and you happen to be suspended by the by — how do's this con­cern me? am I culpable? — But, come — to prevent effusion of Christian Lovers blood — for once I will be merciful.

Ah blessing, and ten thousand Joys, and transports on thy heart for't — Gad it came very seasonably, for I was just a falling into a swound for fear of a repulse, I was seeking out for the Bottle of Mirabilis: but now all my disorders vanish, and this heavenly Cordial retrieves my dissipated spirits, and makes me all over Extasie.

My Wifes words have vext me, 'tis true, but she speaks no­thing but the effects of Jealousie.

Confusion! — what shall I do now? a bottle of Mirabilis would be very necessary in this juncture, whatever 'twas in t'other.

What's this I see? As I'm a true Son of Bacchus, here they are, [Page 23] he kneeling and kissing her hand: here's fine work; I'm bob'd — down-right bob'd, fool'd, made a Chouse — a double Cuckold, as Gad save me: Nay, nay, do not leave him, Madam, — the Son of a Whore, your Gallant, there — has more to say to ye yet: More, more, much more.

I have a thought sprung up however, and I hope 'twill prosper.

Your servant, Sir, — Pray, with submission to ye, give me leave to ask ye a question: Are not you a Rascal, Sir? Ha —

A Rascal, Sir!

Ay, a Rascal, a Traytor, a Villain, any thing; nay, I shall come home to ye, if you provoke me.

Pray hold, Sir.

Sir, I shall not hold, Sir, — I am mad, and I will fight; you have wrong'd me — and abus'd your friend; and, now I think on't, I will beat you damnably: — And, now I think on't again, I will consider first — Ah, most abomi­nable Varlet what, two at once: Come, come, prepare.

Prepare! for what, Sir?

To be kill'd, Sir, only to be dissected, anatomized like a Chiche­ster Cock-Lobster, or so; that's all. —

All in the Devils name: — But pray, Sir, do but hear me speak.

No, Sir, not till I've [...]t your throat, Sir; 'tis not my way; when I have done that, you may have the priviledge to speak what you please.

Nay if you are so resolute, I must not dye defenceless: Come, — come on, Sir.

Come on, Sir, come you on, Sir; — what a Pox, sure I understand what I have to do: — But hark you Jack, to argue coolly now upon this mat­ter: Come, put up; Was I so obliging to cause an intimacy betwixt thee and the wife of my own bosome? and would'st thou affront me and her so much, nay be so ungrateful — so false, so treacherous, to desert her, and seek to corrupt my Mistress?

Your Mistress!

Ay, Sir, my Mistress, the Idol of my soul, the Cordial of my heart, the Light of my eyes: My Mistress! what a Pox, do you question that? Come, draw, Sir, draw.

Well, Sir, you see I dare draw; but assure your self, I was igno­rant of your being concerned here; and my business with her, was only an hum­ble suit, that she would do me what good offices she could in commending me to your Wife.

And was that all, faith? What a Dog am I now to abuse so honest a fellow. Come, put up agen: But was that all, faith, swear, bounce out a swinger by way of confirmation.

By the God of Love, and the more Celestial Beauty of that Divine Creature, your Wife — I swear. — Pray Heaven this lye don't choak me.

Why, look now — what a Dog am I — Deed Jack I beg thy par­don: I am somewhat hasty. — But I only make an offer, or so; — I would not have fought with thee for all my jesting.

I do believe thee, I [...]aith,

Either my ears deceiv'd me, or I heard my husbands voice — Ha, 'tis so, yonder he is, and Townly familiarly talking with him; nay, then I see my Plot has taken little effect — I'le stand aside and listen.

To morrow, Jack, I'm oblig'd to wait on my Mistress, there­fore be very careful in addressing to my Wife.

Well, Sir, since you will have it so. —

His Mistress — rare Gentlemen.

I'le vow the Domestick Animal at home is grown so jealous of late, there's no enduring her.

'Tis pity, Sir, she has that fault; she's very handsome.

I, were she but another mans wife, she were a blessing; but the Devil's in't, she's mine: Jack, she's mine; I'm fed up with an everlasting dish of Mutton; yesterday she was Mutton, to day she's Mutton, and to morrow she will be Mutton; and for a man to feed eternally upon Mutton, — a Pox on't, 'tis unreasonable.

Sir, though she be Mutton to you, she's Venison to another man; every look from her is a delicious banquet; and a man must, as you say, be her husband to be cloyed with it.

Come, we shall find her at the Masquerades to night; then, dear Rogue, do but wheedle her finely, and thou wilt oblige me for ever.

If I fail, let me be an Eunuch; so I think I'm a lucky fellow.

Is it for this then I have been so constant? for this have slighted still the young and brave, and like Penelope, kept my tempted vertue, maugre the vice of this deluding age: nay, does my beauty deserve only this? My May of blood would give my cheeks a blush, greater than would appear on proof of Infamy, did he but know I had an Imperfection. And am I slighted thus? thus left — sold to another, and by my husband too — whom I have lov'd — far, far beyond his merit. Teach me then, ye Powers, Revenge, and Jealousie in­struct an injur'd woman: 'Tis done — Townly shall be the man; I'le instantly write to him, and let loose all my Charms to retrieve him from Livia. Then shall my husband find too late, that Marriage should have a relish of Love, as well as Duty.

SCENE I.

Was ever Luxury in love like mine? What! two at once? and two such Beauties as Livia and Millicent? By heav'n 'tis too much, and I grow jealous of my happiness; and yet my Assignation with the first, and this Letter from the last, confirms the certainty. Well, if this be not a false scrowl — my honest friend Sir Walter must excuse me in a certain punctilio about his Wife; I shall never be able to keep Covenants; Gad I must beg his pardon.

Whose pardon is this you are so zealous to beg, Sir? and what Co­venants are these that are so difficult for you to keep?

Those betwixt my heart and you, Madam; and therefore of whom should I beg pardon but you? for though you have charm'd me with the prospect of transporting hopes, yet so frail is humane nature; and I, amongst the rest, so faulty, that my soul hovers in the Purgatory of doubt, not know­ing what I deserve, nor whither I am to go.

A great proof of your desert, Sir, may be made by your service; and we, women, like Merchants, guess a servant's Merit by his fidelity — let me see! Have you been careful in the first point, and kept my Letter safe?

Safe! Judg you else: 'twas here quilted in my Coat, next my heart, and done up with as much care as a Miser does his broad Gold, when he's afraid of robbing.

And design'd to be sent as a Trophy to your new Mistress Livia.

My new Mistress!

Jealousie — good —

I vow I heard you were under the Surgeons hands for a strange bruise in your knee, occasion'd by your incessant kneeling to her.

Gad I was afraid she had heard I had been there for something else.

I kneel to her! why, Madam, I ne're had such a thought; I ne're made such a motion, ne're bow'd, hardly ever pull'd off my hat; and if I spoke any flashy, unballanc'd words to her, 'twas only in obedience to your Commands: my heart ador'd you, though my tongue flatter'd her.

So, now I'm going to be an excellent Rascal.

Nay, Sir, I did expect you could sing to this tune: you can out­flatter a Town-Poet, and out-lye a Mercer of Pater-noster-Row. Thus clouding Deceit under a pretty, modish, methodical way of Gallantry, you prove equally treacherous both to her and me: What say you? would you not prove such a villanous sort of a creature?

's death I'd be a Dog first: Treacherous! no, Madam, 'tis to your Altar I sacrifice: to you, and only you my heart pays tribute: Livia's a thing remote, when you are by; unknown, a very stranger; I hardly ever spoke to her, but when I was half asleep.

Now have I a great mind to be credulous, but that lying face of yours does so startle my Resolutions: but come, for once I'le put you to the Test, and give you leave to visit me; then, if you prove a Jewel —

You will wear me: Nay, nay, that must of necessity follow.

My Lady Millicent! Don't you intend to Dance? they are all ready to begin.

Ha! Livia! — I was just coming to wait on you, Madam, He's con­fus'd: now I shall note their carriage.

If she have over-heard any thing now, I'm in a fine condition.

Mr. Benedick has bin giving me a Song yonder: Mr. Townly, pray come hither and sing it, you have a good voice.

Ingrateful man! Is this your constancy?

So, there's one shot already; I shall be pepper'd.

We shall sup late to night, 'tis past sev'n o' Clock.

Mr. Townly, you have skill in Watches, pray give me your Judgment in this.

You can't hold out I see.

The Devil take me if I know how I should at this rate.

Nay Mr. Townly, pray come hither: a good Singer is so hard al­ways to be intreated.

You are very ready to obey her.

Not I faith, Madam; I design'd only to be civil.

Mr. Townly, pray help me to set the Hand right here, I shall spoil my Clock for want of skill.

Come, Sir, Begin, begin.

What! are you deaf o'th' suddain?

's death what shall I do?

Pray make no delays, Sir, but come hither.

Pray make no delays Sir, but sing.

Madam, I beg your pardon, he has some skill at this.

Madam, I beg your pardon, he has more skill at this.

s'death I shall be quarter'd.

Why then, by heav'n, I have skill at neither. I am plagu'd with an eternal Cold, and the most ignorant Artificer in the world beside: Hark, the Musick begins, we shall be too late. —

Anon we shall have more leisure.

At night we shall meet alone.

Come, come, to the Musick, to the Musick.

SCENE II.

COme, let's have t'other Dance, the Ladies are not warm yet.

Come, now let's talk of Shipping: Dean has built a brave Frigot, they say.

Prithee Tarr shew none of thy Sea-breeding now: Dancing is a gentile quality, which you Sea-sharks understand not: Come, shall thou and I go and drink a quart of Brandy to warm our stomachs.

More drink still! why thou art grown a meer spunge, do'st nothing but suck in, and squeeze out all day long: but I must confess 'tis natural to you all; and a man may as well know a foolish Country-Knight by his down-right drinking, as a Yeoman of the Guard by his infallible eating.

What! another Sea-joke? Ha, ha, well said Tarr. —

Do you not wonder, Madam, that having been so baffled at our [...] last meeting by your Wit and Disdain, that I have the confidence to appear agen?

Not at all for your true Spaniel; the worse he is us'd, grows still the civiller.

Come, Gentlemen, now another Lesson, the Ladies are impatient.

Oh! 'uds so, here comes my Uncle, now we shall have a full Consort.

Sir Barnaby, welcome, come pray let's have some of your skill.

Prithee observe with what state he takes place.

Caesar in triumph look'd not half so big.

No, nor thought himself so worthy: hark you Sir Walter, a word with you; prithee deal ingenuously, Does your Uncle play well on this Instru­ment?

Oh to a miracle, Sir, and has the best grace you ever saw.

Say you so?

His touches are always so soft and gentle: besides, I have ob­serv'd (Gentlemen) that your thick squab-hand and short thumb-like fingers always become a Lute extremely.

Ha, ha, ha, that indeed I ne'r took notice of.

Strike F-fa-ut sharp, and sing the Song.

I have a trick to get him away instantly.

What is't you say, friend? an Army raising, and 20000 in Arms already?

That there are, I saw 'em muster'd.

For the destruction of the Saints! this is but cold news.

They will not leave a Rebel in the Land.

Nay you must march, Uncle; you must swing; I do not doubt but I shall see you exalted for the honour of our family.

Unnatural Rogue! do'st hope to see me hang'd? Hang'd! — Gad that word has a plaguy sound: but come, let the worst happen, I can but turn; the Saints may revoke, if the game be near losing: Come, come, I can turn, I can turn.

I knew that news was worse than an Ague to him.

A Pox on't, the Women are all gone too, and I have had ne'r a buss of my Welsh Mistress; I must go seek her.

D'ee hear that, friend?

Let him go; the old Hound hunts upon a false scent, for I have her in chace my self.

Jack, Jack, my Wife's gone away alone man: Go, go for shame: — nay, prithee dear Jack, go now.

Well Sir, I follow her, since you'l have it so. But the Stars point otherwise to night; I am elsewhere engag'd, I thank my fortune.

Now if that Fairy have but Welsh Devils enough to charm the Captain for one hour, I shall love Mountgomery the better as long as I live for't.

Prithee no more excuses, but consent to go with me to morrow.

Hast thou the conscience to desire me to be stung agen by that Wasp, that Viper of Women, Gratiana?

I have, nay and thou shalt not deny me neither.

Sir, I must; I had rather Duel three hours, than Ward her words three minutes: her Tongue is like the Pendulum of a Clock, and she wants no­thing but talking in her sleep to make it a perpetual motion.

And yet for all that thou lov'st her, if the truth were sifted throughly.

Love her! yes, as I do bad Wine, or an unsound Wench.

Come, I know thy humour, and can make this Position; Thou ne­ver railed'st heartily at any Woman, thou did'st not then, or afterwards fall in love with.

Perhaps her Charms do not equal others.

Nay she's beautiful every way: however, do an honourable cour­tesie, and go to assist thy friend, for my little Winifrid is to be with her.

Pox on thee, thou art ever ingaging me in such affairs: I confess I have an inclination to see this Woman agen; and if I prove his words true, and fall in love with her, how this unmerciful Rogue will laugh at me: I am un­tainted [Page 30] yet, and am sure can hold out one skirmish more, whatever happens after.

Well, hast thou thought, shall I trust thee?

You will have your humour, Sir, and I'm oblig'd to serve you.

Here let's part then, and to morrow I'le call upon you at your Lodging.

I think I heard her voice just now here abouts, perhaps this old Kite has snatch'd her up before me: Gad I must go and see.

'Tis as he said; there is an Army raising, a great one too, and the fraternity will be swing'd, I profess: Well, stay then Brother Barnaby, what will you do, Brother, to save your neck? why look you, Brother, you must Conform; and as you have swore up your own party, now you must swear 'em down: 'Tis true, Brother, you are a Rascal; but so are many more that are preferr'd, therefore you must now speak for the King: Disguise your self; get a Commission, and fight for the King: Impeach your quondam Brethren that were against the King, and so, dear friend and brother, you may save your self — by the King.

SCENE III.

I Have mistook, and follow'd a wrong Woman, and now cannot find the way out agen: Hark! some-body is coming; perhaps 'tis the Captain, what shall I do? Oh, here's a door open, I'le go in and hide my self till they are past by.

Where are you, Sir?

Here divine Creature, waiting for the blessing with more Zeal, than Pilgrims a reward for their Devotion: Where (where) 's your Husband Sweet? your husband! your property I mean, that rusty Animal; abroad, or asleep, or drunk, or where?

Speak lower, Sir; he's not so far off, but Jealousie can quickly spur him hither: Go, get you in here, I must be your Jaylor, and lock you up for a-while, till I see how my Husband is employ'd: Come, haste, haste, the door is open already.

If every man for so delicious a sin had no severer a penance, the World would grow monstrous wicked in a short time.

If my Cause were to be tryed in a Court of Equity, I question whe­ther the most Reverend Head could blame my proceedings: in my opinion the scales are equal; for if my Husband slights me, to seek a Mistress that slights him; 'tis but reason that I should slight him, to love a man that adores me: but then Honour and Religion start up, two Bug-bears, and fright me terribly: but then agen, I love Townly more terribly: Honour is a fine thing, but Townly is a finer thing: What shall I do? Well, I'le first go and see whetehr my hus­band be safe, and then reconcile my self to Honour and Religion as well as I can.

Townly is, I hope, by this time at home solacing my Spouse: so she is safe, Gad that's a very honest fellow, as good a soul as breathes; and the very life of my design, because 'tis a harmless Rat, a bashful, unflesh'd young fool: why, I might ha' bin a Cuckold, had another man undertook the business but he; were she as loose as Lais, he'd not understand her: This 'tis to have Judgment to di­stinguish men now: — Well, he I say is with my Spouse, the Captain is gone out after his Welsh Mistress, and I am coming in here to his Wife; she must be there in her Closet, for I'me sure I saw her come up Stairs.

What! come already, my life, my soul?

What's here a man? ha! Townly! the Devil! 'tis impossible. Oh Rascal! Oh Traytor! what and conceal'd in the Closet too!

Impudently lying here perdue, for my Mi­stress, like a Villain, when he should be at home courting my Wife like an honest fellow: Oh the Devil! this is a treachery insupportable; and d'ee hear, Sir, I shall storm your Castle; I shall demolish; I shall slit that dog's nose of yours, incorrigible Rascal!

within. — So, ho, — where sits the Wind? what noise? what storm is this?

Ha! the Captain return'd? already too? had that Welsh Gip­sy no more sense than to leave her Cully so soon? A Pox o' their Mungril Welsh courtship, they make love like Sparrows; the Intrigue is no sooner begun, but ended.

My Husband return'd — Oh, I'me undone.

How now! who's there? — ha! — a Sword drawn? where are my Servants? Lock up all the doors there, here's a Jesuit, a Thief, a Fox in my Bed-Chamber.

Hold, hold! 'tis I, Captain, 'tis I, Watt, Watt, honest Watt, do'st not know me? why 'tis I man, thy friend Watt, I tell thee.

Friend Watt, with a Pox! what does my friend Watt do in my Chamber o' this time of night, hoh?

I come to bring thee news, old Culverin; thy well-rigg'd Frigot [Page 32] is grappl'd, her Sails unfurl'd, her Gun room blown up, and all her treasure in the Hold rifled and plunder'd.

My Frigat! why then I say, my friend Watt, with a Pox to him, is a damn'd lying Rascal; for my Lieutenant came from Sheerness this morning, and told me she was as tite as ever, and ready to set Sail.

Sheerness! ha, ha; well said apprehension: here's the wit of a Tarpawlin now; one ruffling Storm frights away all their brains, to make room for the fumes that make them Valiant; but know, friend, that I mean a Frigat of another nature; thy Wife, thy Wife man!

My Wife! why what of her?

Nay, no great matter, only she is beset, made unlawful prize, and to night to be grappl'd and boarded, that's all.

All in the Devils name! a very pretty All, faith: but hark you Sir Watt, or Coxcomb, or what may a man call you? if you run your Lancashire-Jests on me, I shall swinge you; I shall thrash you, in plain terms. D'ee see, Sir, therefore be serious: — My Wife d'ee say?

Nay if you are so Cholerick for nothing, I care not this for't; be a Cuckold, grow ridiculous; despair, and then hang your self on the top of the Main-Mast: Gad I'le not value it the cutting a corn, since you are so uncivil.

'Sbud speak to the purpose, or by Boreas I will eat thee up, as I would do a Sea-bisket.

What a damn'd Canibal-Rogue is this? Gad he looks as if he would eat me indeed — why then I say agen, thy Wife, thy Helen, thy Octavia, was this night to be engaged in an Intrigue; the business and place is only sup­pos'd, but the voracious Pirate is by my industry surpriz'd, detain'd a Prisoner of War, and confin'd to that Closet there.

How! a Rascal surpriz'd in my Wives Closet? So, ho: bring out the Mortar-piece there: 'Oones I'le surprize him with a vengeance.

Hold, hold, here comes your Lady; — urge her to a Discovery; command the key, and observe her excuses: So, so, I think I shall be reveng'd now.

If this project fail, I'me undone.

Your Servant, Madam; pray if a man may ask a civil question, What news from the Straits? it seems (good Pinnace) you were to be Boarded to night — hah!

Boarded, Sir?

Grappl'd, clapt a-stern; nay, and in danger to prove a Fire-ship — forc'd to a surrender by a through-shot betwixt Wind and Water, and then to be Mann'd by the Enemy in the Fore-Castle and Poop — with a Pox t'ee.

I wish you would give your meaning, Sir, in plainer terms, for I am utterly unprovided of an answer to this.

Ay, alas poor Innocence, she knows not what you mean, not she.

No, no: Come give me the key of this Closet, I'le shew my mean­ing presently; What, d'ee tremble? Come, the key, the key, where is't?

What key, Sir?

What key, Sir! the key that unlocks the Bawdy door to your Stallion, that lies there in the Bilbo's: I'le feez him: 'Sbud I'le have him condemn'd by a Jury of Tarpawlins; first flea'd, then hung by the heels at the Yard-arm, a dreadful example to all such Cuckoldmakers: — the key I say, the key.

Now, dear fortune, be propitious.

Come where is't? by Mars, my Lady Strumpet, I shall give you a salt Eel; I shall show you a touch of my Sea-office if you trifle any longer.

But why thus angry, Sir? you shall have the key, and instantly; but shew so much humanity to your poor Wife, one that has lov'd you (Heav'n knows too tenderly), to let her speak: give her time to unfold this mystical matter; let her plead her Innocence before she be condemn'd.

Innocence! ay, a Whore has a wonderful stock of Innocence in­deed: you are devout, are you? this is your zeal, is it? 'Sbud I ever thought there would come no good of your Devotion, you were so early at it.

Is my Integrity suppos'd my Crime then? must that be my Accu­ser? my Husband should have kinder thoughts; and you, my friend, are too much a Gentleman so to condemn me; Heav'n knows how little I deserve this Ignominy.

Ay, ay, weep: this rain shall not lay the dust, the Stallion must be produc'd; he must Spouse, he must.

I am her Friend now, but I was her Fool and Coxcomb an hour ago.

Produc'd, Sir: Can you think I would conceal him? Can you be­lieve your Wife, the partner of your Bed, and dearest thoughts, could know a secret that concerns your Honour, and keep you ignorant? See here the whole discovery; my heart was too full of grief to let me speak the fatal story, and therefore I committed it to Writing.

Your heart too full! your crime was too foul rather: but come, let's see; here's a pretty modest scrowl, no doubt.

The Devil's in these Women; they had rather do that business, than talk of it any time.

Here, here's the key; now do it cunningly, and gain my love for ever.

‘If Love were to be judg'd by Jealousie, then Jealousie were to be excus'd by Love; but the reason of the one, and the unreasonableness of the other, makes passionate Love suspected, and Jealousie hated; though to be jealous, is really to love, as to love is to be jealous, argued largely in the Amour of Min Heer Van Belgor, Admiral to the States-General; and the Skinckimurra Brachia del Pegoe, Wife of Prester-John.’

What the Devil is all this? Oones I can't understand a word on't: Do you?

Hum! Skinckimurra Pegee, hum! ay, 'tis as you said, Captain, a very pretty modest scrowl: Come, let's see further.

‘Courtesie is only a pretence, and Friend­ship grown a deceit, for your friend, Sir Walter, has bin these six months solliciting me unlawfully’ —

Ha! say you so — I understand that, Sir, — hum!

That, Sir! pray let's see't. This damn'd Jilt will discover all.

'Sbud this is a very fine business, pray read on, Sir.

‘Your friend, Sir Walter, has bin these six months sollici­ting me unlawfully.’

Friend! ay, a sweet friend, fine damn'd friend — hum.

‘And you are conscious to your self that you were for­merly very familiar with his Wife’ — Hah, hum — who must understand that? there's a bus'ness — hum — who must understand that, I say? Familiar with her; not sollicit, but familiar, intimate, profoundly acquainted — familiar with her: you have no Off-spring, no Issue, no Sons of Whores begotten on her body, have you, Sir? Hah, hum.

I! prithee leave thy prating: why, I hardly know her: I never came within shot of her in my life; these are Tricks, Wheadles, Clokes to cover the main matter, pray, Mistress, come to the point, the Rascal in the Closet there, the bawdy Intrigue — Where's that? where's that?

Be careful now, or we are lost.

Here, here, Sir, pray observe it, fix your eye here stedfastly.

Well, what's here?

And you, Sir Walter.

I warrant you, I warrant you.

‘The design being woven thus between you, about one ano­thers Wives, Townly makes a forcibly Entry upon the Premisses, by order of my Lady Millicent, who, in a kind of a disorderly manner, orders Mr. Townly and I to state a question in the Mathematicks, with design to put us all into dis­order; but Sir Walter politickly sifting into the matter, and well knowing that Townly, and my Lady Millicent, had instructed Sir Barnaby to wheadle the Cap­rain into a belief, that Welsh Winifrid and Benedick were playing at Hot-Cockles in the Mulberry-Garden, confirm'd the matter to be carried on by Wilding and Gratiana, who were to be expos'd, and Townly confin'd to the Clo­set upon due consideration: D'ee understand me?’

So, she has done it.

'Sbud, the Devil, though he were a Scrivener, could not understand this: Do you, Sir Walter?

Not a syllable, not I, as I am a true Knight.

Oh confounded misfortune! some damn'd Rascal, that had hid himself here, has made his escape instead of me.

Pox on't, this is another whim; 'tis plain now, there's not one word of sense in the whole Letter; thou Spawn of a Syren, give me the key without more Demurs, or by the North Star I will so mawl thee. —

Why then there 'tis: you can stoop and take it up to make your discovery, I hope.

How! my Lady Impudence! are you in earnest?

Ay, Sir, earnest; why thou base, ingrateful, jealous-headed, rusty, snoring, fumbling creature, thou worn out stump, thou very husband: — had the Devil so much power over thee, to make thee suspect my honesty? What! a person of my Candor, Religion and Virtue; a person of my birth and edu­cation; a person of my modesty and wife-like patience; and for the Asser­tion of that useless Tool there, that Knight of the Burning Pestle, that Lanca­shire-spoke for a Spinning-wheel, that fool of Quality, thing of title, and nothing else.

So, so: she's in her Altitudes now, but we shall fetch her down presently, Captain.

Had it been from a witty man, 'twere to be excus'd; but from him is a sin of Ignorance, not to be pardoned.

Good! very good: Come, Sir, the Closet, the Closet, the Gentleman wants company.

'Tis a merry Gale now, but here's a Storm coming.

Oh, Madam! we are all undone, by a strange mistake; instead of Mr. Townly, I let Mr. Benedick out of the Closet, who it seems had hid himself there.

Ha! what is Townly there still then?

Too true I fear.

The Devil has a mind to expose me, and I strive against it in vain: Curst, hellish, spiteful chance, 'tis impossible now to retrieve it, I have so rail'd at them.

Plant your self there, Sir Walter, in a posture of Defence, whilst I tack to Windward, and give the first Broadside.

Stay, Sir, stay a minute, as you would have me live, come back a little:

Ah, can you then be so cruel to shame me for ever? what though I have bin indiscreet, and spoke too much, will you expose your poor Wife for her first fault? Consider how I have lov'd you, with what a tender kindness I have nurs'd you, kiss'd you, hugg'd you, cherish'd you, comb'd your head, air'd your shirt, and lac'd your night-cap, clasp'd you in my arms, and let you snore with patience; and though you were then a heavy lump, a Statue, I've made you, stir, and move, and live a little.

Oh! sits the Wind there already? no Mermaid, Syren; I'le stop my ears to all but Revenge, thou Bankside Mawdlin, Disease of Matrimony, un­worthy the honour of being my Wife, and only fit for the Boatswain, or Swabber.

Can nothing mollifie your heart? Sir Walter, be you merciful then, 'tis in your power to save all yet.

In mine! what a Ninny, a Lancashire-tool, a Spoke for a Spin­ning-wheel? hum — in my power say you?

Sir Walter guard the door; and if he strives to escape, kill him. Housewife, come you and hold the Candle.

There's no way but to leap over the Balcony — and I must ven­ture.

What thinks your Ladyship of an Intrigue now — a Love-combat, a Jugling trick? Hey, pass, come aloft here; what! I am a fool, am I? Townly is the man, the taking-man, and I am a thing, a thing of nothing; but you shall find now, that he shall be nothing, nor (y' Gad) have nothing before I part with him. How now! who comes here? Give the word.

'Tis I, Sir.

I Sir! 'tis well you spoke, Gad I would have whipp'd you through the guts else.

Look up, Madam, and smile, there's no body in the Closet; Mr. Townly is gone, and as I believe, made his escape over the Balcony.

Then Fate's my own agen, beyond danger of Relapse, and I will use it most triumphantly.

Oones here's no body.

What, what! no body? that's a good Jest indeed, Ha, ha, no body?

Your servant sweet Sir,

with all the submission and respect due from an obliging Wife to a scurvy, jealous — no Husband: let me desire to know how Mr. Townly does, and how you have dealt with Mr. Townly, and how Mr. Townly has dealt with you: — Heaven avert my doubt, I fear you have murther'd him, Ha, ha, ha.

'Sbud I'le mawl this foolish Knight, I'le teach him to play tricks with me.

Well, what now?

Your servant sweet Sir;

the last courtesie you did me, in concealing my Intrigue was so generously perform'd, that I vow there is no favour you would demand, that I think I could deny:

Pray, Sir, speak, I beseech you let me be grateful.

Well, Madam, though the Devil is your friend, and so forth, yet I have eyes, Madam, I have eyes.

So has an Ass, from whom thou differ'st not, but by thy Ears: thou wicker-bottle, edg-less knife; thou Ape of generation, whom Providence shuffled hither in an unthinking Age, for no such fools are created now-a-days: Didst thou dare to blast my Virtue, my Integrity, thou laughter of our sex, [Page] and foot-ball of thy own? If I were a man, I would cut that Carkass of thine into as small a quantity as thy Wits; I'd make you an example.

Nay, now she has got the whip-hand of us, the Devil's in her. Well, I must take another time, 'tis in vain to contend now.

What, is he gone? 'Sbud I'le after him, and have satisfaction, or I'le whip him through the Mid-riff, by Mars.

SCENE I.

COme, prithee let's be gone; I wonder what delight thou canst take in this Garden, a place so intolerably pester'd with Flies and Fops.

By St. Tavy, Fop was fery coot Difersions, to Winny; there is fine tittle tattles, and pribbles and prabbles, that makes Winny laugh till her pones akes agen.

This place is the Retreat of Lewdness, the very Mart of Debau­chery: Here the raw Country-Fop treats the Town-Bully; the sneaking Cuck­old his ugly Wife, and more ugly Off spring; the Spindle-shank'd Prentice his dirty Drab, and the Court Flesh-fly his Miss of Quality.

And is not all this fery coot Difersions, look you? Pless us awll! sure your plood is corrupted with Flegmaticks and Melancholies.

Here's some encouragement however: that smile shews they'r in a good humour.

See, Madam, here's some of the company you wish'd for.

Are these fools? Pless us awll, how they stare at us?

She begins already, I find we shall have a blessed entertainment.

Prithee have patience.

There's a relish for you my friend, you shall have more anon.

An honourable Zeal to serve a Beauty, was ne're accounted Impudence till now: we are no Satyrs, Madam.

If you had their hoofs, as you have their manners, 'twas the best name I could call you.

Nay, nay, no strugling, for by St. Winifrid Hur will, and must be heard.

I know not what ails me, but of late I have no mind to rail against this Wilding: sure he wears some Charm about him.

The Devil's in her: that such a shape shou'd harbour so insufferable a humour.

Madam, though I hate Intrusion, it wou'd appear a grand rudeness in me not to entertain you in this juncture; for a good Wit (like yours) should never be alone.

And no Wit like yours should, Sir: and so your Servant.

Dam her, her Wit has Daggers in't, and every word she speaks stings like an Adder: Well; Come what will, I'le follow her, and rail victoriously this once, though I prove ever Dumb hereafter.

What! is hur Cozen gone, and has left hur?

Gone into the next Walk, 'tis a piece of civility in her to give Lovers opportunity.

Opportunity's! Pless us awll, for what? you will not Ravish hur, will you? nor rob Winny of precious Jewels and Virginities, I hope.

Upon my soul but I will though, and yet do thee no harm neither: — Come, prithee be willing, and save the trouble.

The Tevil shall have thee first; hur will not save the trouble, there­fore let hur have liperties and freedoms, or hur will cry out, and scratch, and bite, and kick, and sprawl; Oh heavens! what Ravish hur — at these years? Would he were in earnest, I vow.

Oh I Love a Ladies voice that cries out on such an occasion ex­tremely: and as for biting and scratching, 'tis better than tickling to me, the greatest motive to raise my appetite in the world: Come, come, you were made thus beautiful to be belov'd; and 'tis a sin to let your Lover languish for what you once must part with, or be wretched.

Ay, put then there is Marriages in the case: Look you; if hur were Married, then let 'em Ravish hur a Cods name.

Marriage! why, 'tis the Antidote of Love, the very thought on't makes me cold and spiritless: I'm stupid, numb'd now, that Damn'd word freezes more than the coldest blast in the North of Greenland.

Prea let hur go. This is a fery dull fellow, I swear.

You kill me if you speak on't: Come, come this way.

Why sure hur will not force hur.

I will not force thee: I know thou wilt consent, my Dear.

Hur cannot, dare not, must not consent; Oh, my heart, how it [Page] peats — is there no Honours nor Faith in men? Let hur co now, hur will be kinder another time.

Oh, I dare not trust to that, some peevish fit or other will happen, and then, like a true woman, you will recant, and perfidiously break your pro­mise; and a man may as soon get Money of a Jew upon Charity, as a Love­favour from a Woman, when she's out of humour.

Why then hur thinks hur is in humours now?

No, but I think you will be before the business is done; that's my comfort.

Prea do not fex hur thus: kind, sweet Sir, upon hur knees hur pegs hur to let hur go.

Will you be kind then next time? Swear upon your Soul. —

And upon hur Soul's and Podies hur will.

And love me?

Teerly.

And be so grateful to deny me nothing I shall ask?

Nothing that you shall desire.

This civil kiss then, and farewell: — nay go instantly from my sight, for if. I look on thee, there is a Dancing Devil in that Eye would make me turn Apostate, spite of Ten thousand Vows and Promises.

A the Tevil take thee for ferv fools; what! believe what Woman says in such cases, and talk of kisses and civilities? Farewell; Well Winny's shall never tesire thy dull Conversations more upon hur Souls.

When there are sure hopes of a surrender, there is the less need of force; besides, Compliance and Free-will is the Soul of enjoyment: for 'tis a folly for a man to snatch greedily a raw ill-dress'd morsel, when for a little patience a well-cook'd savoury Dish will court his appetite, and is purposely prepar'd for him. How now, Tom! is she gone?

Dam her: she is got amongst a Herd of She-Foxes yonder, and is not possibly to be hunted from 'em; but I have set my Footman to dog-where she goes, and am firmly resolv'd for another Tongue-combat.

My little Welsh Rogue is gone too; well, some grand mischief will certainly happen to me, for I'le tell thee what I did just now. — I miss'd the cri­tical minute, and let my ador'd creature go, meerly out of a high point of ho­hour: What think'st thou? is not this a damn'd Omen of more damn'd luck, ha?

'Tis, I confess, as usual with thee to be so civil, as 'tis to say thy prayers; but vet the Omen may be propitious enough, all things consider'd.

Dam consideration, would I had her agen; but I must be civil, forsooth, and so lose my Mistress: Civil, and value punctilio's of honour and virtue: Virtue, that Vanity of women, and Bugbear of fools.

Virtue, that was so civil to possess thy heart, which thou didst not [Page] desire; and so uncivil to hinder thee [...]om enjoying a Beauty, which thou did'st.

True, by you Stars! curs'd, foolish plebeian notion.

Ha, ha, ha: How now! who comes here?

Hah! what, my quondam Rabbi Achitophel, Sir Barnaby Whigg?

Captain Whigg, if you please, Sir:

Ah, you are a precious Turn-coat Rascal: What! now the Storm is coming, you are for the King, I warrant?

Ay, ay boy — thou'rt in the right: S'woones who should I be else for, hoh? —

He blusters, and pretends to Swear too.

No faith, I'm but a learner yet; I can't mouth an Oath worth a farthing, for I have bin so us'd to uds-nigs, uds-chitterlings, and the like, that my mouth is quite spoil'd for Swearing; but I don't doubt in a little time. —

This upstart in Debauchery, is wicked enough to Damn an Army.

From a Saint to a Devil, is but an odd Conversion.

Peace: Tace; not a word of that: — If thou had'st the Pox, would'st thou love to hear on't? besides, what I do, is not so much for my own sake, as for my poor Wives.

Your Wife! your Whore you mean.

She was my Whore once, 'tis true — but I have now Married her.

Lawfully are you sure?

So Parson Clammy says: you know him.

What is this Clammy?

O, a fellow of the true tone and cant, and famous amongst the long­ear'd Rout for his oily hand, goggle eyes, and stinking breath.

His Doctrine was not very savoury, that's the truth on't, for all his double way of exercising.

His double way! prithee what's that?

Why his holding forth to the Men all day, and to the Women all night; that I call his double way.

A precious brother indeed.

Then the green Ribbon Club I find is now dispers'd: pray, where's your late friend and brother Sir Miles Mutinons?

Where? why in Nowgate.

How! Newgate! who has Impeach't him?

I, I my self, man: Impeach't him! and more than that, intend to hang him next Sessions.

A fine, friendly, Christian-like Act, in troth.

Ay Gad — friend or father in such a case: up they-go to save my own neck: I don't love hanging, for my part — others may.

Well, thou art alter'd in thy nature, I see; prithee what Religion art?

Oh, Orthodox, good, sound, substantial: I love Bishops with all my heart; Gad they keep excellent Tables.

And 'tis for that, if the truth were known. Well, Sir, look to't, for if I find you change this Opinion.

If you do, Hang me, Impeach, Carbonado, Fricasee me: — I tell thee I am fix'd firm as a Rock; and so farewell. I have ten quart Bumpers to drink to the Kings Health to night, and they shall off as I'm an Orthodox Cap­tain; and so a Pox of all Roundheads: Come away, boy.

Who dares trust mankind that sees this fellow? I am resolv'd to have a trick upon him; I'le sift him once more; my Footman shall be my Agent.

And here opportunely he comes.

Sir, I dogg'd my Lady Lofty to the Captains house, and heard her or­der her Footman to fetch the Coach thither.

Why then hey for a tryal of Skill: Come friend; Sirrha come you hither too, you must do a bus'ness for me: You can Act a Scotch Priest, can't you, sirrha?

Bread a Gad, Can I, Sir? and weel too.

SCENE II.

FAir Lady, welcome aboard, heartily welcome, as a man may say: what, ho, there in the Cook-room? where's my Wife? have a little patience, Madam, and I'le fetch her instantly. —

'Sdeath how I tremble?

Oones, what a strapping Quean's this! what a Bulk she bears! and true Flemish built, I see that, by her Forecastle: Gad she's a brave Frigot, and by Castor and Pollux I'le give her a Broadside presently.

The Devil cram thee into one of thy own Guns, and shoot thee off at the Turks, e're thou liv'st to fright [...]e so agen.

Where did you meet him, Sir? I'm sure he did not come by me.

A Pox on him, at the Garden-gate, just as I was whistling to get in; and seeing me peep about, he bluntly ask'd me who I would speak with? At that word I gave a start, that I believe would have shook off Nature from a weaker constitution, and made shift to tell him, his Wife; and (I thank him) he is now going to fetch her to me.

The merchandize had need be good, I'm sure you venture hard.

Sirrha I had no way to get to her, but by this disguize: but, d'ee hear sirrha, go you instantly to my 'tother Mistress, the Lady Millicent, and de­sire her to meet me at Lockets this evening; and excuse my absence, and tell her I'm involv'd in a damnable Suit of Law, and have this day had a Tryal before the Judges in Westminster-Hall: you Dog, you could tell a lye handsomely once with a Pox to you.

O, Sir, never doubt me, I'm still Master of my faculty.

I hope I shall be Mistress of mine, if I continue in this habit two hours longer. — A pretty, decent Garb this faith, and very proper to the bus'ness; for a Petticoat is as necessary for one that designs to run to another mans Wife, as Breeches are for a woman that intends to run from her Husband: But hark! here they come; now to my posture.

Here is my Spouse ready to embrace thee, fair Syren of the Rocks.

Madam, I beg your Ladyships pardon, I have forgot you.

What's that! forgot her?

Hell and the Devil! I shall be betray'd; she does not know me. Forget me, Madam? what, your dear Sister?

O, dear Madam! is it you? I beg your pardon a thousand times; my dear (dear) Sister!

Oh! is your memory come agen? forget her Quotha! that's a good Jest indeed.

The solace of my youth, soul of my joys, my life, my heart, my dear, dear, sweet, charming —

Ah poor Rogues, they make my mouth water to see 'em: 'Sbud, Madam, I'm but a rough-hew'n Courtier; I cannot prate, nor complement, nor chatter fragments of Damn'd Poetry, not I. — But if you will have a taste of my skill, you shall: you shall hear me say, and Box my Compass.

Plague that will be insufferable.

Nore, Nore and by East, Nore, Nore-East, Nore-East and by Nore, Nore-East: Nore East and by East, East, Nore-East, East and by Nore, East: East and by Sou, East, Sou-East, Sou-East and by East, Sou-East: Sou-East and by Sou, Sou, Sou-East, Sou and by East: Sou, Sou and by West, Sou, Sou-West, Sou-West and by Sou, Sou-West: Sou West and by West, West, Sou-West, West and by Sou, West; West and by Nore, West, Nore-West, Nore-West and [Page] by West, Nore-West: Nore-West and by Nore, Nore, Nore-West, Nore and by West, Nore.

I must have a trick to get this old Porpuss out of the way, Sir; Captain Bluster has sent his Man to desire your company at the Three Cranes about earnest bus'ness.

Bus'ness! a Pox of his bus'ness, what does he trouble me for? Can­not he get a Commission for Convoy, cheat the King, and so forth without me: Prithee tell him I'm engag'd here with this Fairy, this Cherubin has engag'd me: Gads-bud, well remembred, I'le secure you both my self till I come agen; faith here's an Alcove, the best in the World for that bus'ness: Come, Madam, nay no drawing back; by Mars 'tis a frolick, and I am resolv'd to have my humour.

I shall laugh, I shall never contain my self.

Spouse, be sure you be kind to her; d'ee hear; give her a Buss for me: D'ee smile, Rogue? d'ee smile? I'le be with you presently, saith: Get you in; go, get you in:

So, if my bus'ness is not done now, the Devil's in't, for I'm sure of her till my return; then, if she yields upon a fair Summons, so; if not, I'le blow up her upper Deck, by Jove; I'me a true Tar­pawlin; I'me for no Parlies. But now I'le go to the Three Cranes, and see for Captain Bluster.

The old Blunderbuss is gone, though long first; I have bin stow'd up in a Cole-hole under the Stairs for these two hours; the Spiders and I have Roosted together only to watch his going out; for I am resolv'd to know the meaning of his Wives last project, for the Devil take me if I understood her; and who knows but it might be a Love-trick, a Sham, only to blind her Hus­bands eyes; I'm sure I us'd to be a lucky Dog at these matters. Hark! sure I hear her voice.

Prithee let us laugh: I swear this was the pleasantest Adventure I ever knew; Ha, ha, ha.

To bubble your Husband too, Madam, and make him the Procurer; Ha, ha, ha: Oh I could laugh eternally.

The Devil! what's this I hear? Townly in the Alcove?

And then to gull that Coxcomb, Sir Walter, of his Mi­stress too, that Tool of Knighthood, that Copper-farthing with the Kings stamp on't; to cheat him too is a true Scene of pleasure; Ha, ha, ha.

Is it so, damn'd Rascals? O, for a Pistol now charg'd with white Powder, that I might kill 'em both, and make no noise on't.

Could the Insect imagine I lov'd him! what I love a fool?

Fool! Ha, ha, ha; oh the damnable ignorance of Women.

I have bin at the Three Cranes, and the Devil of any one is there to speak with me: sure the Jilt abuses me.

The Captain! so, now for revenge: now Jilt, now Rascal, I'le requite your treachery: now shew a Jugling-trick and vanish: now shoot (like Atoms) through the key-hole, or like Mice under the door, if you can; I'le watch you, faith.

How now! uds bud what's here? this damn'd Coxcomb-Knight nosing my game already? what bus'ness have you here, Sir, ha?

Hush man, speak lower; and if you have any regard to your honour, now look about you, for to my knowledge there is in that Alcove a per­son with your Wife, whom —

Whom perhaps you love? Oones I love her too, make your best on't.

Pish, prithee have patience, and hear me: why thou think'st thou'rt in a Storm sure by this blustering and swearing: I tell thee there is a person in that Alcove — that —

That I desire should continue there still.

Continue, Sir! what, with your Wife, Sir?

With my Wife, Sir.

What, Townly! that Villain Townly?

Hey day! Townly! Ha, ha, ha, the fool's distracted; prithee is Townly a Man or a Woman, ha?

Nay she can best tell by this time.

Ay, ay, I'm a Cuckold, Ha, ha, ha, I'm a Cuckold, and Townly is with her, Ha, ha, ha?

What a Pox d'ee laugh at? I tell you he is with her, I heard his voice.

Well, Sir, let him be there, he'l do no hurt, Ha, ha, ha.

Do her no hurt? is the Devil in him? why, believe your eyes then; I'le open the door.

Sir, stand off, I'le not have 'em disturb'd, 'tis not civil.

Not civil! a Pox — he's bewitch'd sure; what, to be reveng'd of a man that lies with your Wife, not civil?

I say, not civil, Sir.

Then you allow it?

Yes, Sir, I will allow any thing they do.

And you saw 'em go in?

Ay, Sir; and more than that, I lock'd 'em in, and here's the key.

One is too little; all the Devils have possess'd him: and you will be a Cuckold then? you are resolv'd on't?

Now you lye, Sir, and so I lower your top-fail; go, scud away quickly, or (d'ee hear) I shall grapple, I shall board you; by this hand I shall, Sir Watt.

Why, Captain, are you mad? Do but hear me mun.

Away I say, before Durandon be unsheath'd.

I tell you I heard him there; what a Devil ails him.

I shall swinge you confoundedly if you stay.

Let me but open the door, and if I fly —

Ho, Bounce: there's a Gun then. Bounce: keep your Deck hoh.

What a Devil ails him? why, Captain! —

Hey boys, she flies — Scowr, scowr, scowr;

so, so, now the fool's gone, come out Chickens, come;

and how does my Mistress do? ha! what almost tyr'd I warrant.

No indeed, Sir, I'le stay another hour if you please.

Good faith no such matter, l've a cup of Sack within came from Teneriff; come, we'l go and make a Collation, and sing, and kiss, and be merry; come sweet Pinnace: Gadzooks she has the finest Buttocks; come Duck, come.

Thus far all is serene and clear; pray heav'n no Storm happen hereafter, for I must venture to go and part 'em, though I find it will be di [...]icult:

Hark! 'tis my Lady Lofty's voice. But I must beg her pardon now, I'm engag'd.

Livia, Livia, where are you?

An ill-natur'd beauty deserves to want company; who is't you seek?

'Tis my misfortune to find one I don't seek always.

Your notion is as treacherous as your humour: you would find me, I know you are in love with me.

Obliging Vanity; for what I pray?

My Person, my Humour, Language and Wit; all which you have the vanity to believe you can best judg of.

Yes, so well judg, to know your deficiency in either of these, I thank my Stars.

Can you disprove me?

Yes.

Do.

First for your Person then.

Come, what of that?

Heav'n keep me from prophaning it; 'tis a lend, foppish, censorious, noisy person, a meer piece of puff-past, a flesh-bag, that carries God a'mighty's fool to the Worlds great Mart, there sells him to the Devil by Inch of Candle for a Suburo Whore, and a Bottle of Champaign.

So, my Language?

'Tis more barbarous than Dutch; your words are creeping, the very Reptils of Language, and one would guess your Tutor was a Waterman.

Very well. My Wit?

Premeditation only; you are like a narrow-neck'd Bottle hastily turn'd downwards; upon surprize one can get nothing out of you. You, Sir, (amongst all men) should love Plays, and pay double when you go; for 'twas a Comedy, and not a Colledge that set you up for a Wit.

Excellent! Gad she has put me into a sweat. If abusive railing may pass for Wit, Madam, I confess, you have shewn some now.

What! and to one I'm in love withall? Consider, Sir.

Nay, do you consider, Madam, you that are the very Mint of fals­hood, in whose face treachery and smiles are promiscuously joyn'd to cheat the adventurous fool that comes to barter — You are —

You are.

Nay, Gad, now you shall hear what you are, [if I have a heart to speak it.

You are one that nature doggedly design'd a plague to vex mankind: have at you in Verse, y' faith.

So: these I dare swear, Sir, are the fruits of your own Muse by their little wit, and much ill nature: and, I vow, I am so ill at Rhiming, that I have only one poor Couplet to return by way of Answer.

'Sdeath I can hold out no longer: If so many graces appear when she's angry, what must she be when pleas'd.

Come, Sir, your Repartee — what! are you grown dull o'th' sud­dain?

I see then, Madam, you'l never have done: Come, speak on.

I take no pride in speaking of this subject.

That you glory to affront our Sex, I have prov'd by my self.

When you glory to begin Discourses of this nature, 'tis rather you that give the affront.

Meer design, upon my soul, on my side, and only to try your humour and wit: why should we differ thus, Madam, and waste those hours in tedious and unpleasant wranglings, that should be spent in the contrary extreme, kind wit, obliging looks, and tender notions.

And would you kill your Darling Satyr then? Satyr, your bosom­friend! and (if you are to speak to a Woman) the very key of your Eloquence, and soul of your Wit and Fancy.

Madam, this Satyr you speak of is a Cupid, bless'd, sweet, and charming: you saw it only in Disguise, which now pull'd off, the God himself appears, kind, beautiful, and young, to glad my heart with love and tender pas­sion.

Love! of what in the name of Virtue?

Of you. [Heav'n be prais'd 'tis out at last.

Of me! Ha, ha, ha: I swear you'r a fool then.

I am so, who can help it; yet still I must love on.

Swear.

By this dear hand.

Agen.

These dazling lovely eyes, that pretty powting lip, that Angels face, and Wit more sacred, I do; so help me Love, and so may I thrive and prosper.

You have brought your self into a fine condition.

The happiest and most sacred of my life. Loves intire self is here: my Heart's his Pallace, and every artery and vein about me is full of Love, no­thing but Love: Does not the sympathetick power Charm you? Do you not feel him, Madam?

A little.

It will be more e're long: the Deity is now just blowing up the Coles that are to Thaw that proud, hard, frozen heart; I know it will be mine: Come, banish (Madam) the Virgins pride and coyness, and let the Goddess, like her self, appear: Say then you love, you will; say instantly, for every word against it carries Fate.

Well, Sir, to save your life I will; but —

Ah dear, charming, heav'nly creature!

Nay, hear me out; for it concerns you nearly, besure you are con­stant: I say, be sure you are, for I am monstrous passionate, and extremely jea­lous, and hate a Rival ev'n to Death and Hell; take heed to oblige in this, and then —

Is there a pleasure like Content in Love? No, 'tis impossible.

THis comes of Railing, Tom: Did I not prognosticate the re­sult of this business? have I not hourly cultivated thee with that old phrase, Amantium irae Amoris? and art thou snapt at last? Ha, ha, ha.

You are merry, Sir; but he that laughs when there is no Jest, is like one that has a damn'd serious face, but no business, 'tis equally ridiculous.

Ha, ha, ha, to rail one self into a passion, is the oddest method I ever knew; 'tis a fit subject for a Scene; I intend to commend it to a Poet of my acquaintance.

Take heed, and pray that I get thee not at an advantage; for if I do, I will be a perpetual plague to thee. A Coward that by chance has won a prize, brags not so much as I will Tyrannize.

Ha, ha, ha; but see yonder's your man disguis'd, coming with Sir Barnaby: I find the trick takes.

The Rogue has dress'd himself like a Dominican; now for a Tryal of my Roundheads Orthodox-honesty; I believe I shall find him a Recreant-Knight. Come, let's retire, and observe.

How, Father? a Bassa's Widow, say you?

Gud feth is she, Sir, and Neice tal the Grand Vizier.

What, and in Love with me?

Sick, Sir, even to death for you; nay, if she were not almost past recovery, ye shou'd not so soon ha' known it, Sir; poor Lady, she was bred from an Infant under my Guardianship; I was her Confessor at Rome; and lately be­ing enjoyn'd a Pennance here into England to visit St. Coleman's Tomb; 'tis her hard fate to fall in love, Sir; nay, is likely to throw away a vast fortune upon a Heretick, a Protestant I fear; and if so, she's undone for ever.

Od's heart here's luck now: Nay, good Father say not so, I am her Vassal, her humble slave, her dog, any thing.

Ay, Sir, there may be love enough; and though you are Married, we can get a Dispensation: but where's the Blessing? where's the Sanctification? Pray what Religion are ye, Sir?

So, there' the Choak-pear; now listen.

What Religion am I? hum? why, faith, to tell thee the truth, Father, I am — hum — Of what Religion am I, d' you say?

Ah! damn'd Rogue, now the word Orthodox can't get out of's mouth.

Ay, Sir, what Sect? what Opinion?

Opinion? why, look Father, I'me of Opinion that — but by the way first, if I may be so bold, pray what Estate has this Lady? you say she's very rich.

Why, Sir, if you happen to prove an honest, godly Roman Catholick, she shall have Ten thousand pounds; but if you are a Protestant —

Not I man, I'me no Protestant, not I, nor never was, nor never will be, not I — 'Sbud Ten thousand pounds.

Or own any Allegiance or Power but his Holiness the Pope, and See of Rome.

Not I, faith, the Pope's a very worthy, civil Gentleman; and for my part, I ever lov'd and honour'd him.

So thou wou'dst the Devil if he brought but Money enough.

Without doubt, and own him, the same civil, worthy Person.

Son, Son, I fear you are not sound at heart; I fear the weed of He­resie has infected you, and you cannot dispence with our Doctrine.

Pish, I can I tell thee with all my heart man, the Doctrine's a good Doctrine; yes, faith, I like the humour of't well enough, and will dispence with't, bate me but the wearing of a hair Shirt, and using father Whitebread's unconscionable Cat of Nine-tails.

Not for the World, Sir; to what height wou'd that flesh rise, were it not sometimes Disciplin'd? you are full of sin, Son, Fat, fat, very fat.

Portly, portly, like the Ancient British Race, a Vessel of choice Wares, a Man of Kidney.

See how Fate orders things; I never cou'd perswade this Wise Lady to love a Lean man: by St. Andrew she never cou'd endure 'em.

Gad she's a witty Woman, a most ingenious person I warrant her: and Ten thousand pounds too! — Uds bud there's a Sum, there's luck, there's fortune: Go thy ways brother Fat, Gad thou'rt a brave fellow: but, Father, where is she, Father? I'me impatient; let me fix; let me see her.

First fix your faith, Sir; here are your Beads, the Consecrated tokens of your Conversion; be constant, and use 'em well; pray often, then be happy.

Faith I'le do what I can; but, Father, you'l do me a very great favour to oblige me with half a score good taking prayers: for to deal ingenu­ously with you, I am at present a little out of sorts; you know we Soldiers are seldom very devout.

My care shall still attend you, Sir, — Gud feth. —

For Father Sawney, these from Rhodes.

Hah! and come in most happy time from her Uncle the Bassa, with­out whose consent she has formerly Vow'd not to Marry: and this Letter doubtless contains his pleasure.

‘Since my Neice is driven to such extremity, and that her ill fortune obliges her to Love one whose Nation I hate; I am forc't to consent to't, but upon these two Conditions: First, that he be found of Quality; and, secondly, that he immediately turn Musselman, or else my Curse and Mahomets follow her.’

Woons what's here! why, this is worst of all, base, irreligious, worse, worse than any thing.

What? what's that? what, does he say I must turn Mustard­man?

Oh! more impious, barbarous, far beyond the vainest of all Sects and Heresies, a Fiend, a Mussle-man.

Mussleman! what a Fisherman?

Worse, worse still, far more criminal than the basest of Functions; he says you must never Marry his Neice, unless you turn Turk.

Turk! Well, well, since it can't be help't, I'le turn Turk, man, Jew, Moor, Graecian, any thing: Pox on't, I'le not lose a Lady, and such a sum for the sake of any Religion under the Sun, by Mahomet not I. —

But does not your Conscience prick you a little?

Not a jot, faith. Why you old fool, our Conscience is our In­terest always, and I have not been a Rebel so long sure to have any squeamish fits at these years.

Our Express from the Levant brings word of a Fleet of Turkish­men coming hither, and 'tis suppos'd upon some great design.

There's your way, Son; and since it must be so, obey Mahomet; sight for the Grand Signior, and win the Lady.

I'le do't by Alha, by Mahomet I will; I'le go presently and corrupt my Men; some with bribes, some with promises and fair words, others with preferments: Then sow Sedition 'mongst the Mobile, win 'em with Pots of Ale, and Peny Loass, to commit Ryots, Murders; there's your Policy! I'le do't I say; I'me sure I'me safe, for my Astrologer has secur'd my life, there­fore I'le go on; and when Signior Turk and I plunder the City, the Lady Mine, and Mine the Potent Bullion, then Grandsire Grey-beard shalt thou be my Bassa.

But e're that happen, grand Raseal, you shall be hang'd.

Wilding! then I'me undone, and all the Stars have fail'd me.

By Mahomet have they, and most basely too; Thou Turn Coat slave, where's your Orthodox Opinion now, your Healths in Ten quart Bumpers to the King? you are now first for the Pope, and then for Mahomet, either, or any side, so there's but Money: Plunder the City, raise the Mobile, Plot with a [Page] Priest here, otherwise call'd my Foot-man, and Coach-man the Tarpawlin: What think you now, Sir?

His Foot-man! was ever Politician so o're-reacht.

Secure him as a Traytor, and carry him to my house, where I'le take his Examination, and accordingly make his Mittimus to Newgate.

Well, I see I must be hang'd, and there's an end of't; but my Astrologer's a damn'd Dog for telling me I shou'd be a Duke though. But come, since it can't be help't, I'le e'en say my prayers, and suffer patiently, as the rest of my Tribe have done before me.

Away, away with him.

Was there ever such a Rascal?

Yes, Thousands in their hearts; but some are stanch Politicians with a Pox to 'em.

Rogues that speak Treason by allusion and smile; a new way they have got, wou'd there were a new way of hanging too: but come, 'tis late, my Mistress treats to night, thou shalt sup with me there.

Your Mistress! oh, is it come to that?

Yes, Sir, and shall continue so, I'm now Converted.

Was not that Mr. Wildings Coach that went away just as we came in.

Yes, Madam, and I heard him bid drive to my Lady Lofty's.

Pray heav'n he did not see me: Friend, your Master is a very naugh­ty person to occasion me to venture my reputation in such a censorious place.

He'l repair that fault, Madam, when he delivers his business.

Lord, what an odious house 'tis! sough, what a stink is here of Tobacco? Can this be a place of pleasure for men of sense?

Now, Madam, I hope you will believe me: here's my Master.

This he? what, and Metamorphos'd to an Exchange-Wench?

Madam, I see you'r a Woman of Honour by being thus punctual, and ought to be trusted another time.

I doubt that's more than I can safely say of you; I hope your Law­business is ended, Sir?

Yes, I have overthrown my Adversary at last; but we had a long bout of't first, faith.

And you came just now from Westminster-Hall in this garb?

No Child, in this garb, no: I only devis'd this to be secure from discovery; for if I am not mistaken, I saw Sir Walter below in a Ground-room; and he and I are fallen out of late.

Sir Walter! What a fright am I in? are you sure he did not see me?

No, nor me neither; he was very busie playing at Tick-tack with one of the Drawers.

Sir, the Porter has brought your Cloaths.

So, so that's well: Come, sirrah, help me to Unrig: Pull off these damn'd Cobweb-Caps here, and give me my Peruke.

And did you really disguise your self thus for my sake?

Upon my soul did I; and if you don't think this a proof of my Love and Constancy, Gad, Madam, you're ungrateful.

Nay, rather than be thought so, I will believe you.

You have reason I think; you know I hate Lying. Come, sirrah, give me my Coat.

I dogg'd my beloved Pinnace to this house, and have now lost her: 'Sbud I'me afraid she's no better than a Fireship, and ten to one comes here to be Man'd. How now! who are these?

Dammee, Sir, is this civil to intrude? Hah! the Captain!

Oh! fatal Chance!

Oones, what's here a Man! Oh! I'me undone! abus'd! a Cuckold! oh! damn'd Whore, what turn'd to a Man?

How! the Captain? nay, then all's discover'd; but I'le run and Inform Madam Livia, it may be she may help my Master.

A Hermophrodite, a Man! Oh! Villain, I'le give thee a Chace Gun presently, a damn'd Son of a Whore.

A Man! what d' you mean, Sir? why I'me a Woman I assure you, and a near Relation of this Lady's, upon my Honour.

What, a Woman?

Yes, and this habit is only a preparation for a Masquerade to night; pray reform your Error, and do not fright me, Sir; I tell you I'me a Woman.

'Sbud show, show, I'le not believe you unless you show.

'Sdeath what shall I do; nay more than that, Sir, upon my Honour I'me quick with Child.

How, Quick! that's very likely: Oh! Dolt, Dunce, Fool, not to per­ceive the cheat before. Quick in the Devil's name.

This is strange-rudeness, Sir, to one you never saw before.

No, no, I did not bring my Wife to you this afternoon, did I?

How, bring his Wife to him?

To me, Sir? Oh! the Devil now all comes out.

No, no, nor like a Sea-Calf as I was, I did not lock ye both up to­gether in the Alcove, did I?

'Tis plain now, this disguise was not meant to me, but Livia. Oh! perjur'd Traytor!

That I am a Cuckold, is most certain and a notorious Cuckold, and by my own contrivance too; had I been translated to a Sea horse, a Dog, a Calf, or any beast but that, I shou'd have been contented: but a Sea-Cuckold, 'sbud 'tis the most horrid Monster it has.

A Cuckold! why then, Sir, upon my faith I'me incapacitated for any such business.

A plague of your Capacity, I'le scowr your Midships presently; thus, Sir, and thus Monsieur Rampant.

How now, what's the matter?

A Rascal, a Cheat, a Cuckold-making Villain.

How, Townly?

What, Townly? Oh! Damn'd Rogue, is't he all this while too?

So, I've made a fine business on't.

Oh, Traytor! have we catcht you at last? Mawl him, Captain, Mawl him, he has Mawl'd you in the person of your Wife, to my knowledge. Hah! what's there my Spouse too!

My Husband! Oh! curst minute!

Nay, he has mawl'd us both if the truth were known.

My Wife found with him in an Eating alias Bawdy-house: Ay, 'tis evident now I'me a Cuckold both ways.

However this Horn of mine shall knock his brains out.

And mine.

'Sdeath I shall be Murder'd.

Here he is: Sir, I arrest you at the Suit of Timothy Turpentine, in an Action of 500 l. Come, you must along with me.

Sir Timothy Turpentine? what a Pox is the meaning of this? I know no such man: 'Tis Livia's hand; oh! the dear Creature.

‘I question whether you deserve this; however, knowing your necessity, I have contriv'd to get you off; meet me at the corner of the next Street, and hereafter (if possibly your sex can) be grateful.’

Sir we are not us'd to delay; come, Brother, take him away.

Ay, and the Devil go with him▪

Well, Gentlemen, stay till I put on my Breeches, and I'le obey your Authority.

Oh! Sir, we'l take care of the Breeches, never fear: Come away, away.

No remedy, no revenge upon this Rascal; have I boarded and took a Galiass of the Turks with 800 Men in her, to lose my Honour here at home by a damn'd Fly-boat, with one Gun, a Fisherman, a Flap-Dragon, a Plague upon his Capacity.

This comes of Pimping, Captain; you must keep the door; 'twas not civil to disturb 'em; a fine time to use manners in, by my troth: And a man of sense, as I was, was not to be believ'd; your own Judgment, forsooth, must pass, not knowing that 'tis as unnatural for a true Tarpawlin to have Wit, as a true Wit to have Money.

This comes of Matrimony. On my Conscience I had been an Ad­miral before now, if it had not been for a damn'd Wise.

Come, prithee let's go and make our selves drunk to put us in heart. 'Tis some comfort to me however, to know that this blust'ring fool is a Cuckold as well as my self.

A Quean, a Jilt; Oons I'le go home and flea her.

And so will I mine: and, Captain, dost hear, we'l have two pair of Gloves made of their skins, and make a present of 'em to the Devil, to keep us from any more such bargains.

With all my heart, Gads bud.

SCENE II.

RAchels.

Madam.

Give me the Pomatums and her Night-gloves; her hands have bin fery exceeding rough all this day.

There has been a sharp Air, Madam.

Got pless me, how pale her looks! It has made her lips chap too.

All will be smooth and beautiful to morrow, Madam.

No, I vow my pewties, I think, is in decays, as Moons in Wanes, or Flowers in Autumns. Rachels, how dost thou like me in these Dresses? should'st [Page] thou have heart-burnings and passions for me, if thou wert a Gentlemans, hah?

I wou'd I were one to put you to the proof.

Nay, without doubt these Pinners must be pecoming in beds, where there is good faces, look you; but what nauceous, ugly Night-dresses the men have, as got pless me; I never see a mans with his Crop-ears and his Night-caps, but I think upon crete Rogue, one Shinkin, ap Powell, ap Shone, ap Davy, ap Cadwaller, that was hang'd in Montgomery.

Will not Mr. Benedick go down with you, Madam? he, I hope, has a face that wou'd set off any Dress.

Dull faces is the worst of all I vow, he is the fery Snail of his Sex, and much fitter for Lawyers, than Lovers; he wou'd lose Mistress for punctilio's, like a silly Rogues; and as, got save me, he that loses one critical minute, shou'd never be happy by another for Winifrid.

I ever took him for a brisker man than to lose any Love-occasion.

Fery good, then you do not know him so well as I, Rachels; pesides, he has put wrongs and affronts upon Winny; and when her Welsh pload's up, Gads plut Revenges shall follow: Therefore, Rachels, persure you perform my Or­ders.

I have made ready the Hanging-bed, Madam, and Oyl'd the Cords and Pulleys, as you bid me, but am wholly ignorant of your design.

Designs is cood and fertuous, I wou'd expose leud fellows to Eyes and Observations, and Jeers and Laughters, look you: Heark what noise is that! 'tis he I hope: and now for Welsh tricks and fallacies.

Most certainly he has discover'd us, for he saw us take Coach.

And, Madam, are you sure he pursu'd you hither?

Ah! too sure, Madam, he's at the door by this time; and being almost drunk, is possest with the strangest fury and ill-nature, that unless you conceal me, who knows what his Barbarity may incite him to. Ah! Madam, Heav'n keep you from such a Husband.

Ah! Dear cunning Creature!

If these are the blessings incident to such a life, I think the Prayer is necessary. Come, Madam, be comforted, and all the assistance I can lend you be sure of. Poor soul, she weeps extremely.

Weep! I, Mill-stones.

You are not involv'd in this business; I hope, Sir, the Captain has no reason to extend his rage to you.

Not to me, 'dsheart I am plung'd deepest of all, Madam; he de­signs to cut my Throat, to Stab, to Pistol me only for taking her part.

Madam, that door opens into a private, back Apartment; go and lock your self in, whilst I try if I can pacifie him: Hark! I think I hear him, in, in quickly: Nay, not you, Sir, I tell you 'tis a pri­vate Apartment, and not fit to entertain men.

Entertainment! The Devil take me, Madam, if I expect any.

You'l not be rude I hope, Sir; pray come back, I wonder what you take me for.

Take thee for? why a good, fair, charming: Ah! Plague here shall I stand chatting punctilio's till I have a Bullet lodg'd in my head. For Heav'ns sake, Madam; if not there, show me some other place; for if he sees me, I'me undone.

Oh! you can shift, Sir, you can shift; your sex is excellent at it; and were you distress'd, I know cou'd climb a Chimney as dextrously as e're a black boy in Shoreditch.

Yes, choak't with Soot, e're I got half way, come tumbling down like a smoak't Flitch of Bacon.

Or upon occasion to show your Agility, leap from a Window; these are large, and wide, Sir, and fit for such a purpose.

Ay, and high enough to break ones neck too; 'Sdeath, Madam, d' you make a Gib-Cat of me, and think I can leap three Stories, and pitch up­on all four; Fye, fye, I beseech you have Charity.

What, lock you up in the dark with another mans Wife; a very de­cent piece of Charity indeed: but by this fear of yours, Sir, I guess you to be some Criminal; I have heard she had a Gallant; and now I think on't, it may be you are the Man.

Now a lucky lye to help me off, or I'me ruin'd: Tom Wilding, Madam, indeed was suspected: but for my part, I never had such good for­tune, I.

What is't he says, Wilding? who, Sir? Pray that agen.

Mr. Wilding, Madam, a witty man, and the best at a Wheadle and Town-Gallantry of any one I know.

Perjur'd Traytor! how oft has he swore he never Lov'd any one but me? And, Sir, are you sure he is the man?

Madam, why all the Town knows it: I know he's too cunning to confess any thing: Come, dear Madam, some Lobby or Closet, something Hark! what noise is that?

There is no Faith in man; none, none I swear; for when they vow, they lye; and if they weep, 'tis Crocodile-like, after they have done a mischief. Once more then farewell, soft passion, and all my tide of Love now turn to Anger.

Nay, Madam, Madam, — What gone at last, and left me, the De­vil's in these Virtuous Women, they are ever ill-natur'd. An honest, good-humour'd Whore wou'd have been damn'd e're she wou'd have left a Man so, but wou'd have found some hole or other to put one in. Well, here's hang­ings however, Gad I'le creep like a Rat in here, since there is no other hopes.

Is it possible there can be such Treachery? are you sure you saw him here with Livia?

Mr. Townly is a Man so generally known, Madam, that you need not fear my mistake.

'Tis plain now, the Arrest was only a trick of hers to get him off; Oh! subtle Devil, she out-wits me every way. Well, bring me but to him, and I have my wish: there's a Purse for thee; an Earnest of a greater reward, if I find thou canst keep a secret.

So these are the infallible keys that unlock the Consciences of all my Function: This is certainly one of Townly's conveniencies; a Miss of Qua­lity, as he calls 'em, that is grown jealous, has dogg'd him hither, and designs hereafter to make him pay for his Treachery. Madam, I have consider'd on't, and will do my best endeavour to serve you; pray follow me softly, I'me sure he's not far off.

Believe a man when he swears? No, I'de believe the Devil sooner, if he shou'd take a Ghostly Oath for Reformation.

And will you Marry me, as Got pless you? will you always have Loves and Fidelities indeed?

Oh! will I live? will I be happy? prithee do not doubt me.

I fow my heart does so tremble and peat, and her was so a­sham'd.

Of what, my Dear? there is no cause.

Oh! there is crete Causes; for when firginities is gone, what will pecome of my poor Souls, look you?

Thy Soul! why, it shall be exchang'd for mine, and, happy we, shall by the Transmigration be Immortal.

I swear you are fery leud mans to tempt me thus.

I swear you are more cruel to deny me thus.

Oh! Heav'ns! but her was afraid 'tis grievous sins.

'Pshaw, 'pshaw, a Sin! no, no, a Trifle, no more than telling a lye, a Venial Error. Gad I must make haste, for if she get once into a Reli­gious vein, the Devil can't retrieve her. Come, come dear creature, delay is death to me.

Well, get you to that ped there, I'le go and dispose Rachels out of the way, and then if you will be so unnaturals.

Do not believe I will. Go fly then with all the Wings of Love, for I shall wait thee with impatience.

Alas poor fools, her shall return too soon if her knew all. Now for the rest of tricks and projects, and then Winny shall laugh, and take re­venges of dull fellows, that lose Plessings, and Critical Minutes, and Love-seasons.

Consent adds as much to the Joys of Love as Beauty; 'tis the life, the soul of Enjoyment, when a dear-bought Amour, by talking, toyling, sweating and strugling diminishes half the pleasure; and is just like one that [Page] rides a tedious Journey upon a damn'd trotting Horse, to possess an inconside­rable profit, not worth a quarter of his pains. She stays long, pray heav'n she does not fall into a Fit of Religion agen, that's all my fear.

within. — There's a Room lock't; by Mars I'le see what's there.

Hark! what noise is that? a plague on her trifling; if she'de come and lock the door, we shou'd be safe.

I'le hear no Excuses, either let me search fairly, or I'le send for my Lord Chief Justices Warrant.

Was ever poor Woman so distress'd? if I had staid a minute longer in that room, he had certainly found me, for 'tis unfurnish'd, and has no place of shelter. Where I am, I know not, nor what way to escape. Oh! for a favourable Window now, but one Story high, opening into a heav'nly Garden; I'de venture a Leg or an Arm with all my heart: Hark! he's coming, oh! whither shall I run. — Ha, what's here a bed? I think 'tis so; I'le wrap my self in the Bed-cloaths, it may be some obliging Deity will pity me, and cast a mist before his Eyes.

She keeps her word I see.

Ah! what's here a Man.

Pray Sir, let me go, I am not the person you expect.

What's here a Chest? I'le get in here, it may be this may secure me.

Search you that Cabin, Sir Walter, whilst I go in here and sound yon­der Sugar-Chest.

Hah! that's a mans voice, some-body is coming in hither sure; but, by way of prevention, I'le go and bolt the door. How now! what a De­vil is the meaning of this? where's the Floor? I believe the Devil is building, and has taken it away to supply his Domestick occasions.

Jealousie, like sickness, is ever forming monstrous fancies: Pray what have you found now? wou'd he had her, for I hate her for that Traytor Wild­ing's sake.

She Scuds before the Wind now, but I shall weather her anon: How now? what have we here a bed, and hanging in the Air by Geometry?

My Nieces bed, Sir, made after the manner of a Welsh Hamock; I believe she's in it too, you had best be rude now, and disturb her.

Hamock? why how the Devil can she get into it? Oons can she fly?

No, Sir, and yet make use of it when she has occasion.

Come, come, I'le search, I'le see who's there. — Well, what News, Sir Walter?

News! rare News, blessed News; why I have found 'em at last; there has been hopeful doings yonder behind the Hangings.

Between whom?

Ev'n Townly and your blessed Wife; they have been Communi­cating, it seems, for your good, Captain.

Oh Dog! oh Rascal! steer me to him quickly — 'Sbud I'le flea him as I wou'd do an Eel.

I can but laugh to think how demurely, how sneakingly the Rogue stood up in the corner among the Cobwebs.

A Pox, bring me to him; do that; let me see him.

So this will be some revenge upon her however.

They are secur'd, and I'le shew thee the place; but I'le not be seen in person, for a private reason, best known to my self.

Nor I neither, though I wish her the punishment she deserves; I'le not be accessary.

I care not, away, Port hard, and put the Keel a-Weather; away, scowr.

So, now I hope Fortune will smile upon me.

'Sdeath here's a whole Troop coming, and Wilding amongst 'em; is there no way to escape?

Ha, ha, ha; there in that hanging-bed, say'st thou?

Yes, I fow in Altitudes and Expectations of Win [...]y's company's; Alas! poor Shentleman's.

Ha, ha, ha.

How Benedick?

Cood morrows, cood Sir, methinks Loves, and Passions, and kind Pedfellows makes her look fery pale and wan, cood Sir.

This comes of Whoring, Benedick; this comes of Whoring.

How? is she angry, say'st thou?

Ha, ha, ha.

I shall be angry, Sir, if you pursue this humour; but for thee, I'le only give thee this Curse, may Pride, Pox, and Poverty possess thee till thou art nauseous to thy own Sex, and contemptible to ours.

Ah, say your prayers petter, and chuse plessed minutes and oppor­tunities, you never else will win fair Ladies, upon my Souls, look you.

Udso, the Porpoise appears now, cheer up my hearts, here's a Storm a coming. So, Captain, you have found 'em I see.

Found who, Sir? what mean you, Sir, Hoh?

Mean, Sir, hoh? I mean you're a Cuckold, Sir; what a Pox shou'd I mean?

With your favour, Sir, I ever give precedence to one of your Qua­lity; you are a Knight, Sir.

But my Wife is no such Strumpet, Sir, to follow a man about the Town, Sir; Ha, ha, ha. Nay, Madam, you must not leave us, faith.

No, faith Madam, you must not leave us, you must unvail first; yours is a face, the Gentleman may know if he looks twice upon't.

Yes, yes, I have had the Honour to see her: — What's here? what my Wife!

No, no, a Strumpet, a Quean, that follows every man, Ha, ha; ha.

My Spouse! oh! Impudent! oh! Salacious Varlet! Jilt! Je­sabel! let me come to her.

Pray hear me, Sir.

Ay, pray hear him, Sir.

Yes, you're a precious fellow to be heard, Sir: Oh, Rascal, did you not swear by Gog, and Magog, and two or three Devils more, never to Violate the Person of my Wife.

Nor have I, Sir, upon my faith.

This is my time to escape, if ever, and I see I must make use of it.

And did I not for this reason read her o're, as it were a Lecture to thee? nay, there's ne're a Wart nor a Mole about her but I describ'd, like a Son of a Whore as I was.

I confess it, Sir, and my Fidelity both to her and you, I hope, has been apparent.

Ay, ay, behind the Hangings very apparent indeed. Well, since this is the fate of Wiving; 'Sbud, for the future, I'le ev'n revenge my self in the same manner; I have two Whores that lye yonder at Wapping, they are well wash't, and tallow'd, and want only Rigging: by Mars I'le board 'em to night.

What, both, Sir? both I beseech you, spare one till to morrow.

My Wife here too, and conceal'd in the Sugar-Chest.

Shall not I have the Honour to warm their Night-Cloaths, or untye their Shooes, Sir? a poor Cast Saylor of yours that wants employment.

No, Mistress, you are Boarded already, it seems by a new Officer there, and no doubt but he has giv'n thee Press-money.

Not yet, Sir; I am not prepar'd; I am not Wash't nor Tallow'd, as your two Whores are at Wapping.

Plague on her, the Jade has got the Wind on me.

Behaving your self so honourably towards me, cou'd you not for­bear being Jealous, Sir? nay, and of Mr. Townly too, when had not his In­trigue with my Lady Millicent a little free'd me, Lord, what a Storm poor I shou'd have suffer'd under your boisterous imagination.

Thou notorious Varlet, did not I positively enjoyn thee to rules of modesty, and not to touch any thing bare above her ankle, hah? Hold up your hand; art thou Guilty, or not Guilty? hah?

Not Guilty, my Lord.

Well, though I know thou lyest, a Pox take thee, I will be­lieve thee, because 'tis for my quiet; but I will fight with thee too, because it is for my honour; make thee beg thy life, and afterwards kill thee to satisfie my revenge; for thou hast, I vehemently suspect, made me a double Cuckold both in Wife and Mistress, and therefore double shall be the punishment.

Nay, it shall be Treble, for I'le have a snack of him, by Mars.

So I shall be cut into steakes sure, and fry'd for their Suppers: Look, Gentlemen, pray no more words on't; as far as my Sword can go, 'tis heartily at your service.

When this is done, I'le bid farewell to this damn'd debauch'd Town; for my part, I'le scowr down to Lancashire and reap my Barley.

And I'le to Sea agen, I and my Jolly Crew.

Whores and all, Sir?

Yes, Buttock, Whores and all; there will I Conquer some flourishing Island, where I will plant a Colony, live out the rest of my days merrily, and defie the Devil and Fortune.

And I, poor melancholy Widow, will devote my self to my Closet, and spend the rest of my days in Prayers and Contemplations.

And that is fery sollitary livings and recreations, upon my soul is it, look you.

Not to hear my defence, is barbarous.

'Tis Justice when the wrong's so palpable.

Your humour makes 'em so, although they are not.

You are rude, pray keep your way.

There's no such Pride as Womans!

had never half this Vanity; yet you shall see your Error. Heark, Sir! did you tell this Lady I was a Servant to Madam Livia there.

So, here's another Thunderbolt: A Pox on my Lying tongue, it will be my ruine one time or other.

Why, faith Tom, to deal freely with thee, I confess I did tell her some such busi­ness.

Then, Sir, you are a Raseal, and follow me.

Not a foot, by this light I will not fight with thee, Tom, before Supper: But to put an end to the business.

Madam, what I told you was a damn'd Lye, and there is no truth in me.

That's not enough, Sir: did ever I speak to thee of that Lady?

Never, never, the Devil take me if thou didst.

Now, Madam, what satisfaction must I expect?

A man of Honour will be contented with what's reasonable: there's my hand.

Heart and Lip too, or else the Article's not Seal'd.

Besides, if you love me, 'twill be the easier to pardon.

I swear I love thee; but this haughty humour, this Cloud that shades the Sun of Perfection, does somewhat cool my passion: for believe me, Madam, and let your Sex all heed this Observation.