SCENE I. The Street.

HOW do Men labour to fool themselves! What Pains did I spare, or Excuse did I not invent, to perswade my Friends I was going another way, to get rid of their troublesome Ceremony, that wou'd have waited on me home; and all this for an Opportunity only of taking a Turn or two before this Window.

Oh Love! How powerful are thy Charms, thus to unman, and send me like a Boy, gaping after Imaginary Joys.

Not all the Hazards of a Soldier's Life cou'd half so much assect me, as the dreadful Apprehension of displeasing this Girl.

Whatever I do, whether I Eat or Drink, whether I Sleep or Wake, whether I'm at home alone, or abroad in Company, my Thoughts are still of her: She's always present, I can see nothing [Page 2] but her, I can hear nothing but her, I can think of nothing but her; and in short, I care for nothing but her.

'Tis Happiness enough for any Man to love and be beloved by such a Woman, She's so Beautiful, so Agreeable, and so Loving; yet so Virtuous, so Ch [...]st, and so Constant, that it her Fathers rigid Opposition were remov'd, nothing cou'd add to the Blessing lyes in store for me.

Ho, this must be the House—But what the Devil am I the better for't, the Doors are lock'd, Windows bar'd, my Mistress asleep, and I may return like an Ass as I came, without so much as being dream'd of—Can Love, that never fails his Votaries at a pinch, inspire no Stratagem now? Egad I was never more able to offer him a plentiful Sacrifice; and did my Mistress know with what warm Desires I come, she'd meet me half way, or she deserves to dye a Maid.

The more I think, I still perplex my self the more; like a poor Fly in a Spiders Web, by labouring to get loose, I work my self faster in the Toyl.

And why shou'd I struggle any longer with what I can't master? or desire to be without what I'm perswaded is the greatest Blessing in the World—

I'm resolv'd I will Love on—

Ha! a Man, and if I mistake not, mad Bellmein, whom I left at the Rose, he's upon some Amorous Design, but is too open to hide any thing from his Friend, I'll accost him.

Good-morrow Captain, I commend your early Industry, you are choosing some fortify'd piece of Virtue to lay a manly Siege to.

Ha, Colonel, Good-morrow to you with all my heart: No, Faith, I never stay the Formality of a Siege; 'tis you honourable Lovers are forc'd to undergo that Drudgery; whene're I meet any, as I rarely do, that resist the shock of my first assault, I fairly draw off to the next, who are sure to surrender upon more easie Terms.

So you take all by Storm, Plunder the Garrison, Fire their Quarters, and march off in Triumph.

What I do can't be comprehended by constant p [...]leing Lovers.

They can't bear those strong Joys we suck from our lusty Draughts of Love; like weak-sighted Birds, they fly about in the twilight of Pleasure, not able to bear the Meridional Heat and Pleasure of it.

[Page 3] One kind glance crowns all your Hopes, and raises you to the highest Happiness; but then a Frown, or sower look, Colonel, throws you down again to despair. So that—

Have a care Captain, how far you launch out in this strain, lest you be too like our Modern Widows, who exclaim most against a second Husband, when they are just upon the point of having one.

So that from my laughing at honourable Lovers, as you call them, you wou'd learnedly infer I am one my self.

Nay Railery apart, it has been seriously observ'd that you are—

What?

Very much alter'd of late.

How! Faith I think my self the same Man, I have the same Appetites, the same Desires, that ever I had.

Ay, but you saunter about in Solitary places, avoid your Acquaintance, and when you can't escape them, art more uneasie than a rich Miser with a borrowing Friend: And here now I find you out of your way, addressing your self to senceless Wood and Stone.

Ay, my Friend, but this senseless Wood includes a more beautiful Daphne than e're the Delian God pursued, a Girl so bright, so sparkling, and what recommends her much more to me, so coming,

that had she liv'd in the days of Venus, she wou'd have rival'd that Goddess, and out-done her too in her own At­tributes.

Have a care you don't mis-place your Worship, for to my particular knowledge no such Person lodges in this House.

To my more particular knowledge such a Person does lodge in this House, and in the Room that looks out at that Window too.

Ha! Clarinda lodges there, 'tis true; but that she's such as he describes is false—Yet she's a Woman, and where Dissem­bling grows so much in use, Perfection must be a Stranger. I'll for a while lay by the implicit Lover for the more inquisitive jealous Man, and try him farther.

Well, I may be deceiv'd, but how do you know you are not so too?

Why Faith, since I know you to be an honest Fellow, and a Man of Honour, I don't care if I trust you with the Secret, upon condition your assistance shan't be wanting upon occasion.

'Slife I shall be drewn in to help him away with my Mistress.

If she be such as you describe, I believe you will have no great occasion for help. But to the purpose.

[Page 4]

Why you must know that in this House lives a dam'd Posi­tive ill-natu [...]'d old Fellow.

I know it too well, or by this time his Daughter had been out of your reach.

And that there's a young Lady, his Daughter, Neice, or something.—

A [...] very probable. What then?

Way, that [...] my [...]er [...], that's all.

H [...]w do you know this?

Know it? I have in [...]llible signs of it; she makes Assigna­tions with me, and kee [...]s them; receive my Addresses, L [...]ters, and Songs, nay sings 'em too, and if these ben't signs she likes me, the Devil's in't.

Well, but her Name—I'll yet believe Clarinda Innocent, and 'tis some one else he mistakes for her.

Nay, now faith Collonel you are unreasonable, you know 'tis not fair to tell Names.

Not tell me her Name! then I shall think you trin'd with me all this while, and scorn the Friendship I offer.

I'll rather tell you all I know, but as for her Name Faith and Troth I know no more hers than she does mine, her desire to be un­known her self, made her the less pressing, I suppose, so that we freely pass amongst our selves for Celadon and Cloe, as you may see by this Song, if you'll be at the pains of Reading it; 'tis the last I sent her, and tho' inconsiderable in it self, receives from her Voice inestemable value.

O' my Soul, the very Song I heard Clarinda sing, 'tis she past all doubt.

What, at a stand Colonel! ha [...] What means all this Con­cern?

'Tis for you, my Friend; that Woman you admire I know to be the most Cun [...]ing, Treacherous, false Dissembler, nay worse, if worse can be, in the World; I wou'd advise you to proceed with Caution; for Husbands, Captain, too late Repent, when they can't quit the ill.

[...], if it be only my danger that disturbs you I'll soon ease you of that [...]ouble; Marriage is not the Course I Stear, we never admit [...]o sour a thought to turn our more pleasant Conver­sation▪

[...]ow not Marry! What then does all this tend to?

Phoo, that's unreasonable again; why nothing, nothing, but a little harmless Mirth or so.

[Page 5]

On my Soul he designs to Debauch her.

Ha! the Colonel in his dumps again, there's something in [...] don't [...].

Harkee, Captain, I know you have Courage, and [...] took you for a [...] of honour, therefore think i [...] worth my while to tell you this Woman you have been so free [...] I have a [...] [...]ime lov'd, therefore expect you' [...] give me [...] of what you have said, o [...] meet me with your [...]word, and so I [...] your self f [...]r which you [...] most pro­per

[...]y da [...] I Have I b [...]n all this while making a [...] o [...] my [...] to the only [...] 'em from [...] made [...]im so [...] Friendship, [...] may be [...] I'll undertake to make out what I've s [...]id.

Upon [...] you Friend again, but if you shou'd [...] you had [...] [...]ook to it.

Here's some Company comin [...] this way, let's [...]etire till they pass, then I'll tell you our whole Intreigne, and leave you to judge whether I have reason to think as I do.

[...] Reviere.—( L [...]ric.) Sir. (Sir Will) Blister me if you don't speak plain English I shall have the World think I'm such a sloven as to keep an English Valet: Do you hear, if you don't Mini [...]k 'em better I shall tu [...]n you away.

Me vil take al de ca [...]e imaginable, Sir.

Very well, Is the Musick all come?

Y [...]ss Sire, here be de Fi [...]le, de H [...]uthois, de Cou [...]tel, and de Base Vial, dey be all despose for to receive your Command.

'Tis very w [...]ll—d'hear, do you Marshal them in order before this Window, and see they be ready to strike up as soon as I give the Word.

What the Devil's here, another Lover? What think you now, Colonel, your Mistress m [...]st be more than Woman if she can hold out against such a formal Seige.

This [...]op I know too well to be jealous of, and know her so far from encouraging him, that her Fathers Authority which countenances him, can scarce procure him Common Civility from her.

Hist, the thing opens.

Well, 'tis an unspeakable Happiness we Men of parts [Page 6] enjoy above the rest of Mankind: By our good Management we make our access to every thing we admire, easy and certain: How many thick-skul'd Fellows are content to dream of their Mistresses, while I take a more secure Method, and wake her in the Morning with Harmonious Musick.

I wonder how the Ladies can suffer these Idle Fellows that take no more Pains to please them; for my own part, I believe I have something extraordinary in me that makes me so acceptable to all the Women I come in Company with.—Well Musick!

I hope you will all show your selves Masters in your Performance, come strick up: Ah! Merciful Apollo, what a hideous noise you make; there's a found fitter to storm a Breach with, than approach a Ladies slumbers. Play some soft Air, a consort of Flutes wou'd have done well.

How, the Door open?

Ha! my dear Angel, How does my Goddess receive my Morning Sacrifice?

As she does every thing that comes from the incomparable Sir William Mode, with particular Marks of favour in Private, tho' she's oblig'd to lay great restraint on her Carriage in Publick, to ap­pear cold to him.

But methinks she need not be so reserv'd, since I have her Fathers Consent.

Ay, 'tis that makes her so; for his cross humour shou'd she show the Affection she realy has for you, wou'd make him run coun­ter to what he so eagerly pursues now out of meer Opposition: For he never oppos'd Colonel Manly, till she express'd some liking for him; and now she fears, shou'd she own her Love for you, 'twou'd prove as fatal to her hopes, therefore begs you by me to take all Indifference in publick for perticular marks of favour.

Well, I'll take your Advice, and sweet Mrs. Flora let me intreat you to accept of this small acknowledgement for favours I have receiv'd by your means.

Oh! Lord, Sir, I vow I'm asham'd; but I shall be always ready to do you good Offices with my Lady. Sir, your Servant.

Adieu Angel,—here Musick, strick up a merry ramble, and lead to my Lodgings.

O Woman! Woman! Now Friend I believe all you said, and a great deal more; yet who cou'd expect with so much Beauty [Page 7] such ug [...]y falshood. For thee, or any Man, she might have some plea; but this sign of a Man! to fall so low argues a very deprav'd Appe­tite: S'death I can't bear the thoughts on't.

Have a little Patience, and every small discovery will help you forward to your lost Liberty: Before to Morrow Night I'll lay such convincing proofs before your Eyes, as shall infallibly compleat your Cure.

What's here another Serenade? More Lovers yet?

Ha, ha, Drunken Toper Reeling home after a Nights deboach, sure he's no Lover, 'twou'd be impossible for the Blind god to find his heart for the fumes of Wine; besides, 'tis so indifferent to every thing else there's no taking it but with a Bottle.

Ha, Toper, thou holdest thy own yet I see.

Colonel, good Morrow, I wish you hold your own, Boy, for I met a thing in the next Street may chance undermine your foundati­on, one who says he can do more in one Night, than you in all the days of the Week.

What do you mean?

Why I met Sir VVilliam Mode big with success, returning from Clarinda, who, he says, encourages his address in private, and only favours you in publick, to egg her Father on to Consumation with him; and this he purchas'd with a Serenade.

S'death does he boast of his success, and must my Misfortune be the subject of the Coxcomb's Railery? Am I publish'd to the World as a blind for his designs? Hell and Furies, 'tis not to be born: I'll after him immediately, and were every Vanity about him a Hercules, I'd force my way thro' them all to stop that foul breath of his.

Hold, hold, you will but widen the Sore you design to heal, 'twill be no hard matter from the Coxcomb's fruitful Impertinence to take another occasion for quarreling, and then pay old scores; or if it be my luck first to meet the opportunity, you may be sure I'll throw in a hearty Thrust for you.

Nay, Sir, you may save your self the labour of quarreling, for he won't answer Expectation, I asure you.

A Coward; Nay then he shall dance a minute the length of the Street, while I beat time upon his back-side.

[Page 8]

Hang him, he's not worth our Resentment: Prithee Toper, what is he, for I have but barely seen him?

In the first place, he's a meer Compound of Powder, Paint and Affectation, so persum'd, you may smell him a Mile, he thinks every Woman in Love with him, and will allow no Man to claim a share in ought above a Chamber-maid; or stand in Competition with his Parts or Person.

And yet not fight, say you?

Fight, no, no, he hates the sight of a drawn Sword, as much as I do that of an empty Bottle. He will sometimes pretend to Courage, as some Women will to Honour and Honesty, tho' their Inclinations tend to neither, no more than mine to Matrimony. He has 4000 l. a Year, which he spends in Intrigues, sine Cloths, and Musick. And he has always as many Fiddlers at his heels, as a ge­neral, Officers at his Lovee.

Whose attendance is better rewarded, I fancy, no doubt they taste the Fruits of their labours sweetly.

I'my Conscience I believe they deserve it, for who becomes his Favourite, must use as many Complements as wou'd purchase a Maidenhead, tho' the Womans design was Marriage. Oh that For­tune shou'd be so liberal to such a Fool, when so many honest [...]ellows sit in a Coffee-house all the Evening, for want of Money to go to the Tavern.

Riches are the common Chance of Knaves and Fools, Fortune is rarely favourable to a Man of Sense, 'tis with difficulty and danger they purchase a Smile from that Fickle Mistress, but Fools are still her care.

I shall take more notice of this Fellow the next time I see him.

Which may be this Morning if you will, for he just now invited me to an Entertainment of Musick, that is to be perform'd at his Chamber by some of the best Masters; there will be Champaign Boy.

Will you go Colonel?

Not I; the Conversation of Town-Ladies; who entertain you with the Opinions of fifty Fools, of their Wit and Beauty, and how manag'd by them to their ruin, wou'd be a thousand times more acceptable to me, than the medly Chat of Fops and Fiddlers.

Then you won't go?

No, I'll expect you at my Lodgings.

But you will, there's Champaign, Pox o'the Company.

And Musick too, if that be good, the Company be hang'd.

Scene changes to Clarinda's Lodging in her Father's House.

Dear Emilia, you ask so many questions, prithee have some pitty, and spare me a little.

Dear Cousin, do you pitty me, and answer me a little.

I have answer'd you these three days you have been in Town, more Questions than all the Astrologe [...]s and Philomaths in London cou'd resolve in a month.

And I have as many more to ask before I can be satisfied: I'd fain know the cause of all this alteration, why so much uneasinels, and so much Spleen? Never pleas'd but when you are displeas'd, nor like your Company, but when you are alone. In short, I have observ'd—

What have you observ'd, Cousin?

Why that your Father is never well, but when talking to you of Sir William; nor you pleas'd, but when you are thinking of some body else.

Oh, How-inquisitive are Girls!

Oh, how reserv'd are Lovers!

Prithee, Cousin, learn to be more Serious.

Prithee, Cousin, learn to be more free.

Then you positively believe I am in Love.

Positively.

And with—

Another-guess'd Man than your Father designs for you.

And nothing—

Will perswade me to the contrary.

Why then I am; and since 'tis in vain to hide it from you, Emilia, I'll try you with that confidence I hitherto thought you too young for.

Alas she little thinks I have as great Intrigues of my own, as any she can trust me with, tho' I have been but three days in Town.

I am, as you see Cousin, besieg'd night and day, by two as different as night and day; one in the head of innumerable Fopperies and Insolencies, attacks me with the assurance of a Conqueror, before he enters the Field; being supported by the harsh Authority of a rigid Father. The other, after a thousand obsequious Demonstra­tions of Love at respectful distance, courts to be admitted mine, ra­ther than seeks to have me his.

I'my Conscience were it my case, I shou'd not be at a stand which to choose, there being such apparent difference.

Nay, there is more yet; for one is Generous and Brave, the other Cowardly and Pittiful; one Judicious, t'other Impe [...]tinent; [Page 10] one Const [...]t, [...]other Whimsical; one a Man of Sense, t'other a Block [...]ead; one admir'd by all, t'other ridicul'd by all.

One, I suppose, is the Gentleman that gave the Serenade, Sir William, of whom I have heard so much since I came to Town, but t'other, Clarinda, I fear is no where to be found, such Men appear but as they say the Phenix does, not above one in an Age.

And that ours has one in him, the Judicious part of Mankind bears me witness.

Lovers, Clarinda, like People in motion, fancy every thing t [...]ey see moves as they do; and may be from the knowledge of your own Principles and Resolutions, you from your Notion of his—Now cou'd I almost find in my heart to discover my own Intrigue, it'twere only to let her see, there are Men that equal, if not exceed hers, but that I'm asham'd of its forwardness in so snort a time,

But how comes it, Cousin, that we never see this Man?

Before you came to Town, my Father forbid him the House, with any farther Pretentions to me, upon Sir William's account, to whom his Honour was engag'd before he saw him, or else I believe his Follies wou'd have out-weigh'd his Estate, for he you know—

I know too much of him, for I have seen him.

So you have t'other too, he was one of the two that bow'd to us t'other night from the side-box, and of whom you have since been so inquisitive, tho' I never let you into the Secret till now.

Of one of those, I know a Secret which! believe you are a Stranger to, and which I wou'd not for the World discover, till I know more on't.

If that be he, I like him as well as you can, but I think a Gentleman of Sir William's Estate, shou [...]d not seem to contemptible.

O dear Cousin don't name him, [...]or besides the particular Aversion I have for him, 'twould beget in the World a very slender Opinion of my Sense, shou'd I encourage such a Fop.

O quite contrary; for Women of Sense strive to distinguish themselves, by their choice of Asses fit to bear their Burdens: Be­sides, Cousin, if you hate him, you can never get it in your power to torment him, more than by marrying him.

That would be making my self uneasie, purely to trouble another; No, no, I must have some Contrivance to expose him, and our Neighbour Mrs. Plotwell shall help me in it.

Does that Lady still continue her Persecution of [...]ops?

With as much address and success as ever; and her pleasant accounts of her feign'd Intreagues, makes her very entertaining Com­pany; she hates Sir William Mode, and I am sure will assist in any thing. I never had a stronger Temptation to Disobedience than now, Love and Merit plead on Manly's side, Reason too approves my Choice; [Page 11] the other's an empty nothing, a meer Talker, we'll shew his right side, expose him, shall we not my Dear.

With all my Heart, I love Mischief so well, I can refuse no­thing that farthers that.

SCENE. Sir William's Lodgings.

THis rising early is the most confounded thing on Earth, nothing so destructive to the Complexion. Blister me, how I shall look in the side box to night, wretchedly impair my Vi­gour.—

Yet it adds something of a languithing Air, not altogether unbecoming, and by Candle-light may do mischief; but I must stay at home to recover some colour; and that may be as well laid on too; so 'tis resolv'd, I will go. Oh 'tis an unspeakable Pleasure to be in the side box, or crowd to the Stage, and be distinguish'd by the Beau's of Quality; to have a Lord fly into ones Arms, and kiss one as amorously as a Mistress: Then tell me aloud, that he din'd with his Grace, and that he and the Ladies were so fond of me, they talk'd of nothing else. Then says I, my Lord, his Grace does me too much Honour—Then my Lord,—Pox on this Play, 'tis not worth seeing; we han't been seen at [...]'other House to-night; and the Ladies will be disappointed, not to receive a Bow from Sir William. He, he, he, says I, my Lord, I'll wait upon your Lordship. Then says my Lord, Lead the way Sir VVilliam. Oh, pray my Lord, I beg your Lordships Pardon—Nay, Sir VVilliam—Pray my Lord—

Pray Sir VVilliam—Pray my Lord.

Hey! What the Devil is he Conjuring, and talking with invisible Lords? He's in his Airs, some pleasing Imagination hurries him out of his Senses—But I must to my Lue, Hem, Hem, Sir, dere be one two Gentlemen below, come to wait upon you dis morning, fal I show dem up?

No, my Lord, by no means, I know better things.

What then am I a Lord? Egad I never knew my Quality before.

[Page 12]

'Shaw, this Blockhead has rous'd me from the prittiest Entertainment in the World.

Well, what would you, Sir?

I vovd tell you, Sir, dere be one two Gentlemen wait up­on you.

And let 'em wait till I have done—I had a thousand fine things to say upon that occasion, but this rude fellow has frighten'd 'em all out of my Head.

Well, since my better Diversion is [...]ver snow 'em up.

Y [...] Sir.

Gentlemen, I'm your most humble Servant, Mr. Toper I am extreamly yours for the honour you have done me in bringing your Friend; I [...]ay under severe apprehensions that nothing cou'd engage you but a Drinking bout.

Faith you were in the Right, for if your Champaine had not more charms than your Musick, your Fidlers might have play'd by themselves for me.

Oh, how unpolish'd! how, barbarous that is!

Why do you expect any other from him? He admi [...]es no Musick like Wine rattling in the throat of a Flask, with a Chorus of Drawers at Coming Sir.

And that to me is the most Nautious thing under the Moon, impair my Vigor.

Impair my vigor! ha, ha, very pritty Faith; Prithee where did'st get that Affirmative?

'Tis my own, at the purchase of some days study, for to use another Man's Oath, is, in my Opinion, as undecent, as wearing his Cloths: And to be in the Road of the vulgar, is beneath a Gentle­man, who, in my Judgment, ought to be as much distinguish'd by his Expressions, as by his Coach and Livery.

Right, Sir, for since every Body that has Mony enough, sets up an Equipage, a Gentleman ought to sind out some other way of distinguishing himself.

O' my Conscience they will ape us in that too, for they ape so proud of following their betters, that they even tread upon their heels: not a formal Cit, or awkard Lawyers Clerk, that [...]on' Cour [...] the Cook-wench a quarter for Oil and Flower enough to ga [...]ish [...]t his Wig for a day, that he may Impudently mimick a Beau; if 'twe [...] not beneath me, I cou'd kick such Animals to a Jelly.

How! kick 'em to a Jelly—why I have seen of that kind you talk of, brawny follows that cou'd kick and cuff too stoutly.

Ay, that may be; but 'tis not a Gentleman's business; that always wears a Sword, and has some half dozen of Footmen at his heels, to kick and cuff; nor stand and consider whether the Mecha­nick [Page 13] be arm'd or not, 'tis enough that he is, or but thinks he is, af­fronted, to attone for the Life of a Scounderel.

Now wou'd this Ass, rank Coward as he is, if not crab'd by the Law, kill a hundred Men honester and stouter than him­self, only because they don't wear Swords, or are not so sinical.

I should think, Sir William, these honest People that wear no Swords, very harmless, because they carry no Instruments of Mis­chief about 'em.

Instruments! their very hands, their di [...]ty clothes, are Instruments of Mischief. Lookee, Sir, I'll make it very plain to you, I may lawfully kill a Man in my own defence that comes A [...]m'd, in Terrorem, to Rob me of Fifty Pound.

Right, Sir.

You allow that?

We do.

Then I'll prove the [...]est in an instant; I have a new suit on that cost me [...]ifty Pound, here comes thundering by a di [...]ty Dray­man with his Cart, that puts me in bodily fear, and rushing rudely by, da [...]bs all my Clothes, so that I can't wear them any more; now here's Fifty Pound lost by this Rascals dirty Chothes, if I don't pre­vent it by [...]unning him through the Body.

How! kill a Man for wea [...]ing dirty Clothes, ha, ha, ha, the Law makes better Provision for Men's Live [...].

The Law shou'd make better provision for Men's Clothes too; for the Insolence of the Vulgar is insufferable, and if one or two of them were made examples, the rest wou'd be more Cautious.

One Night after Play, I waited on a Lady from the Box to her Coach, comes a clumsy Cit, with a paultry Mask out of the Gallery, rush'd against me, threw down the Ladies Page, brusht all the Pow­der out of my Wig, then cry'd ha, ha, ha, we have ruin'd the Beau; had I been a Lord, I wou'd have run him through the Guts, but to be try'd by a [...]iddlesex-Jury is the Devil.

Ay—these vulgar, as you call them, have a greater re­spect for Men's Lives, than to suffer that Man to escape that kills one of them. But I suppose your Principle concern rises from your loss of the Ladies favour.

It had no such essect on her, I assure you, Sir; where­ever I get sooting in a Ladies Esteem, I stand too firm to be justled out by a Cit; as for Instance, I'll give you another adventure of mine, Being engag'd by Appointment to meet a Lady at VVhite's, and detain'd by some extraordinary business, the Lady chanc'd to be there in her Coach as soon as I arriv'd in mine, so that lighting out of my Coach to go to hers, a nasty Fellow running just against me, [Page 14] almost beat me backward; and, tho' he did it designedly, yet cry'd Zounds, can't you see! Your Wig blinds you does it! so taking one side, gave it such a toss over my Shoulder, that, had not the Lady been passionatly in Love with my Person, the disorder I appear'd in might have spoil'd my Amour.

Incorrigable Coxcomb, pex on him, I'm weary of him, there's so little variety he proves dull, Come shall we go?

No, prithee stay a little till we see what becomes of the Musick.

Of the Champaine you mean, Toper, ha, ha, ha.

Ah! Gentlemen, I'm the most unfortunate Man this day alive.

Why, What's the Matter?

A curst mi [...]chance has [...]ob'd me.

Not of your Wine, I hope.

Nor your Mistress?

No, but of Mr. Quaver.

Why is he dead?

Not quite dead, but an unlucky accident has put it out of his Power to oblige us with his incomparable Singing.

Is he run thro' the Body?

Or Drunk before Dinner?

No, no, Gentlemen, but he has scalded his Mouth by Drinking his Chocolate too hot this Morning, and can't Sing.

Ha, ha, ha, a sad mischance indeed.

Prithee, Toper, who is this Fellow he laments so much, some Raskal that, finding his weakness, imposes on him?

No, 'tis an intimate Friend of his, one as Whimsical as him­self, and truly fit for no other company; he made shift in a Months time, to purchase the displeasure of most of the Quality in Town, in spight of some excellence he has in Musick; and now is become sit entertainment for such fops as this, who, after the strictest engage­ment, will be put off with trifling excuses.

You see, Gentlemen, how I spend my Life, I divide the greatest part of it between Love and Musick: And, to make amends for the disappointment of one, fate has sent me some new discovery of 'tother. A new Amour enfeeble me, for upon my Soul, Gentle­men, I never saw the hand before; and to convince you of its No­velty, I'll open it fairly before you.

Reads, Sir William, I'd beg the favour you'd meet me—Ay, as I said, Gentlemen—Prithee Toper Read it out.

A Belitdoux do you call [...]? 'Tis the most Mascaline one I [Page 15] ever saw, and invites you to a rougher entertainment than you ima­gin, 'tis a very prity Belitdoux truly, shall I read it out, Sir Willi [...]m?

Ay, prithee dear Mr. Toper.

Sir William, I beg the favour you'd meet me behind M [...]n­tague House, at Six to Mo [...]ow Morning, with your Sword in your h [...]nd, in order to answer what shall be alledg'd against you, by yours, as you use me,   Roughly.

A Bili [...]oux, do you call it? Why 'tis a Challenge.

Ha!

'tis so, im­pair my Vigour; now [...] me, if I did not think it as [...]lain a Bilit­doux, as ever I read in all my [...]. Where did the Porter say he brought this Letter from.

From [...]ill's [...], Sir

The De [...]l [...]e [...]! Why what has these Men of the Sword [...]roach'd upon our [...]riviledge there too? What business can they have am [...]ngst us Bea [...]s and Poets—What shall I do? For in short I won't sight a Man I don't know—and, Gentlemen, I vow I don't remember I ever saw this Mr. Roughly in all my Life.

Oh he's a damn'd fighting [...]ellow, your only way is to send him word you'll meet him on Calli [...] Sands, Duelling is unsafe in [...]n­gland for Men of Estates, he'll hardly be at the trouble of going over; so that if he will sight you, he must draw upon you whene'er he meets [...]o [...]; if so, you'll have both the Mob and the Law on your side; an [...] if you [...]ill him, you need not care a [...]o [...]s [...].

Say you so Sir, I'll take your Advi [...]e, and answer it im­mediately.

I think M [...]. [...] has given you Counsel as ni [...]ly, [...] you had given five [...] [...]or a [...]ee.

I [...]m in [...]initely oblig'd to him.

Sir William, I ki [...] your hand.

Good-by Knight.

Gentlemen, your most obsequious Servant.

SCENE II. Careful's House,

Who the Devil is that Fellow now? I think in my Con­science this place is become the Pa [...]ade of Lovers.

What, don't you know him! Why 'tis Ogl [...] the Fortune-hunter.

A Fortune-hunter! I shou'd sooner have taken him for a Sh [...]p stealer.

He was an Attorney's Cl [...]rk, but his Father dying, left him a small Estate; he bought out his Time, and set up for a Fortune: There's scarce a Match-maker in the whole Town, but has had a [Page 16] Fleece at his Purse; nor scarce a great Fortune in Town, but he'll tell you has receiv'd his Addresses. In short, He's a Medly of Fop, Fool and Coward. Prithee let's speak to him, he may divert us a little.

With all my Heart.

Mr. Ogle, your Servant—

Ha! Mr. Toper, I kiss your hand—Sir, I'm yours.

What makes you sauntering here? In my Conscience I be­lieve you are in Love with the great Fortune of this House.

Why really Mr. Toper, to be ingenious with you, I am, and not without some very good grounds neither, I assure you.

How! This Coxcomb encourag'd too.

I was in hopes to have wish'd you Joy e're now, I think the last time I saw you, you told me you was to be married to my Lady Rich.

I did so; but sure I am the most unlucky Fellow living, the poor Lady died e're she cou'd have an opportunity of declaring her mind to me; and truly I believe I may, without Vanity, say, she died for Love.

What, did you never speak to her?

Never.

How! Never speak to her say you; Why how the Devil did you make Love then?

By a Third Person, Sir.

I beg your Pardon, Sir—Great Persons, I remember, do court by Proxy.

I had several Letters from her, Mrs. Cuple was intimately acquainted with her; you know Mrs. Cuple, Mr. Toper?

Oh very well, Match making is her business.

I'll show you what she us'd to write to me

Here—no, hold, this is from a Baronets Lady, with whom I had an Intreague: This is it—no—this is from a Merchants Wife, a City Animal, that pretends to a nearer Tast than those of her Levell, and wou'd fain have a Child with the Air of a Gentleman, but I beg'd her Pardon, I left her to the Brutes of her own Corporation, for I will have nothing to do with the Body Politick.

Ha, ha, ha.

Rediculous Monster.

For if you observe, Sir, a Tradesman is the most litigious Cuckold living, he ne'er considers the Honour a Gentleman does him, but values himself upon his Charter, and moves for Cost and Damages, when he ought rather to be thankful for the Favour.

You are very severe upon the City, Sir, but where is the Letters you was about to show us?

Ha! upon my Life, Gentlemen, I put 'em into my Scrutore this Morning. But as I was saying, Mrs. Cuple had a hundred Guinea's [Page 17] of me for the management of that business; and if the Lady had not died, I'm certain she had been my Wife. Well, I shall ne'er forget what languishing looks she'd cast at me at Church; then put up her Fan to her Face and sigh, as much as to say, you are the only Man can make me happy.

Ha, ha, ha, extraordinary Symptoms Faith, 'twas very un­lucky that you cou'd not come to the speech of her.

'Twas my ill Fortune, but I am so us'd to Disappointments, that I bear them the easier; what I have met with, would have broke the Heart of some Men; the Lady Wealthy was perfectly forc'd from me by her Uncle, else I'm convinc'd she had now call'd me Husband.

Why what hopes had you of her?

Hopes: Why the greatest in the World; she prais'd me to every body she thought knew me; she said I had the hansomest Foot and Leg she ever saw, the best manner of Dressing, and the genteelest Carriage—She said she could hardly believe me an English-man, without doing Violence to her Reason.

I shou'd be glad that every English-born Blockhead wou'd dis­claim his Country,

Truly, Sir, I'm partly of the Ladies Opinion.

Sir, your very humble Servant—

But, Sir, was you not saying you had some reason to walk before this House?

I was so, Sir.

Do you know Mr. Careful's Daughter, Sir?

Oh very well, Sir; tho', I believe, not so well as she desires, and I hope to do, in a little time.

Say you so, Sir?

Then you are very well acquainted, Sir.

Yes, very well acquainted, Sir.

Pray, Sir, can you introduce me?

Faith, Sir, not very well, for I never spoke to the Lady in my Life.

How! never spoke to her: Why I understood you, that you was well acquainted, Sir; Ha, ha.

Why so I am, Sir—Why is it not possible to be acquainted without speaking, Gentlemen? Why a Friend of mine lay all night with a Lady, and never saw her Face, nor knows not who she is to this moment; now I think seeing is of greater consequence than speaking. But you shall hear how far I'm acquainted with this Lady; I lodge at her Milleners, you must know, and I have several times pass'd through the Shop when she has been in't, and as soon as my Back has been turn'd, she has always taken an occasion to commend me, and say something extraordinary in my praise, which my Land­lady never fail'd to tell me, but with such an Air, as if she was de­sired [Page 18] to tell me. Then if she sees me walking here—as I generally do every Morning, she straight repairs to the Window—thus do you see—stend you there—Now suppose me the Lady—you look up at my Window and walk thus, do you see?—Then I run to the Window thus—clap my Arms a-cross thus—and hang my Head thes—turn my Eyes languishing thus—as who shou'd say, if it were the Custom for Women to make the first Addresses, I wou'd [...] be [...]en you up.

And is this all the hopes you have?

Why is this nothing, Gentlemen?

Nothing at all; and six to four the Lady never thinks on you.

N [...] think on me—Eg [...]d if she don't Marry me, she's the arrantest Jilt in Christendom.

How Jilt!

Jilt! Ay Jilt: Why what the Devil need she have made any enquiry after me, prais'd or look'd at me; if she wou'd not have me, why did she give me Encouragement?

Ha, ha, ha.

Must a Woman be oblig'd to Marry every Man she looks at?

I am not every Man, Gentleman—Egad I'm resolv'd I'll write to her, I'll know what she means by her insinuating Carriage; I'll to the Rose and write my Letter, if you'll go with me, Gentlemen, you shall see what answer she'll send me.

Egad I'm resolv'd to have good Diversion with this Fellow, prithee Captain will you go with us?

I must pay a Visit to an old Mistress of mine that lodges hard­by, but I'll come to you.

To be Jilted! Egad I can't bear the thoughts on't; Come, Gentlemen.

The Scene changes to Mrs. Plotwell's Lodgings.

I grow weary of Persecuting these Blockheads, the very Idea of a Gallant is nauseo [...]s to me: Oh that all Women wou'd but treat [...] Fools as they deserve, wou'd they take my advice, no Fop, whose Impertinence tended to the Prejudice of Virtue, shou'd 'scape unexpos'd,

Ha! Who's this that Ecchos my sound so justly, yet so much inverts the Sence.

One that omits no pains to invert as many of your Sex as he can. A true try'd old Friend to Love.

Ha! Captain Bellmein?

My charming Plotwell, as Blooming, Young, and Fair as ever, as Beautiful as Masters Visions, and full of Pleasure and Delight as Dreams of longing Boys.

Oh Lord, give me breath—let me have a little Air, or I shall dy—so—, well, Where have you been all this while? And how have you spent your time? Lord I think I have a Thou­sand Questions to ask in one Breath.

And I have as many to ask you, but can't spare time now; some more pressing private business wou'd take me wholly up, fitter for the next Room—Shall we retire?

No, stand off, if we retire, it must be upon Conditions agreed to before-hand.

With all my heart Child, I was never better condition'd for a Ladies service in all my Life; lookee here—here are Conditions,

Observe the Conditions, and let's be happy; tho' I never thought you Mercinary till now.

I'm not so much displeas'd with your mistaking me, as I shou'd be with any one else; for besides some allowance for your Humour, your absence from Town so long, may excuse you from the knowledge of my present Principles and Designs; and as great a Libertine as you profess your self, I know the awful Lustre of Virtue has always met with due respect from you, and that respect is the only Condition I require you to observe.

Ha hy, Why what the Devil is here, my old Mistress setting up for Virtue? For Heaven's sake, What do you mean, Madam?

As I say, Sir, that I'm no more what you once knew me; since your abode in Ireland, my Uncle, who kept me from my Estate, is dead, thank Heaven, and I now am Mistress of a Fortune sufficient for my use; and, had I possest it sooner, I never had been what I was: But now, I scorn Mankind on terms like those, all Inno­cent Diversions I freely take, I keep the best Company, pay and re­ceive Visits from the highest Quality, People who are better bred than to examine into past Conduct.

[Page 20]

Hy! I find then that Reputation is never lost but in an empty Pocket; well then thou'rt grown Virtnous, and I must never hope for the Blessing again.

Never, but talk as free as you will, do but observe the Rules of Modesty; I like your Company and Conversation as well as ever, I'm not so Rigedly Virtuous to appear a Saint, I can lanch one and laugh with you sometimes; [...]ay, perhaps contribute to your Mirth. I'll give you a short account [...] my time, in exposing to publick view, all the Fo [...]ies or your Sex, that part of them, I mean, whose Vanity brought them under my lash, such whose Tiffany Natures are so easily impos'd upon, to have the commonest Drabs in Town topt upon them for Women of Quality.

This Town does abound with such as you speak of.

Oh, did you but see with what variety 'tis furnish'd, and how universally all Men are infected with an itch after Quality, you'd be convinc'd there's not one, from the Gentleman of the Bed-Chamber, down to a Life-guard Man, but thinks himself sufficiently qualified to deserve the favour of any Lady in St. James's. I pass'd upon one for a Countess, upon another for a Dutchess, another a Baronets Lady, and so forth—ha, ha, the poor Fools were lost in a cloud of Ignorance, rais'd by the hurry of their own Expectations.

Why, truly it wou'd surprise a Man, that never convers'd with ought above a Pit-Mask, to be invited to a Ladies Bed, ha, ha, ha.

Such awkard Address, and the means every Man finds to recommend himself by, one for Secrecy, 'tother Wit, a third his Person, so every Fool finds something to think valuable in himself:

There's your Weakly, Finieking, Dancing, Singing, Witty Fop, who values himself upon Writeing Bilitdoux.

And thinks his Company so very agreeable, that he Persecutes People to death, before they can get rid of his trouble­some Impertinence.

His chiefest Tallent consists in the Repertee of an Intrigue. But then there's your old harden'd Sinner.

Ay, he Crys up Secrecy and Security, his Years, Wrin­kles, and distorted Body, are sufficient defence against a slanderous Tongue; he values himself more for what he has been, than for what he is, recommending himself upon his knowledge and experience.

And his great Judgment in the happy management of an Intrigue. But the Man of Sense.

Him all Women ought to shun, that fears coming under his power; he approaches Securely.

Addresses cunningly.

Insinuates himself slily into a Ladies Favour.

Then seizes his Prey at once.

[Page 21]

Oh Lord, hold off.

Pox take her for coming so unluckily, this denyal of her's gives me a sharper desire than ordinary, that she shou'd grow so un­seas [...]ably Virtuous.

Well, Madam, you have business I see, I'll take my leave, some other time I'll hear it out—

My business, at present, is for the good of your Friend Many, and I don't know but we may have occasion for your head to help us out.

My head, together with the rest of my Body, is at your service, Madam, whenever you please to command your humble Servant.

Clarinda desires to speak with me at her Father's House, say you?

Yes, Madam, instantly.

I'll wait on her.

Scene changes to a Tavern.

Here, Porter, carry this Letter as 'tis directed, and bring me an Answer.

Yes, Sir.

Here, Drawer, show a Room, and send your Master to me.

Ha, that's Mode's Voice, a good hint, I'll have rare Sport with these two Puppies.

I think I heard Sir William Mode's Voice, Prithee Toper desire him to walk in.

Not for the World!

No, Why pray?

I know not, but some body has told him that you are his Rival, and he Swears he'll cut your Throat where-ever he sees you.

How, I his Rival? Where, pray you?

In Clarinda, I suppose.

But is it possible Sir William Mode shou'd be my Rival, and never tell me on't? But he's such an egregious Coxcomb, that he gives me no pain.

He call'd you Pop, Blockhead, Baboon—and said he'd make mince Meat of you.

Oh, impossible, Sir, he cou'd not mean me.

Do you think I lye, Sir?

Oh, by no means, Sir.

[Page 22]

Had any Man said so much of me, I wou'd have made the S [...]n shone through him; and I think you ought to send him a Challenge.

What, Challenge my Friend! by no means, Sir; why, Sir, he's my Friend.

So much the worse, you ought to resent an Affront from him the more for that.

Oh, Sir, you don't know us, we never mind what we say of one another; I dare swear he never ment it an Affront.

You ly, Sir, he did mean it an Affront.

Sir, I heartily beg your Pardon; I believe he did, because you say it, Sir, else I shou'd not believe it.

Sir, I say [...]ou m [...]st sight him, and I'll carry the Challenge.

That's a sure way that I Challenge him, but how to come off as sure, hang me if I know: Look you, Mr. Toper, I have not the ready use of both my Legs, for, dancing at a private Ball 'tother Night, I cut something higher than usually, and pitch'd upon a Cherry-stone, which t [...]rn'd my foot so violently, that I vow I have been lame ever since, so that positively I can't sight.

Zounds, I believe you dare not sight him.

Pardon me, Sir, I dare sight any Man, that will but give me time to prepare my self for a Duel; For I think there shon'd be a Diet us'd for sighting, as well as running.

Ha, ha, ha, well, I find what you hin't at, I'll engage to bring you off safe.

As how pray?

Why, as thus, do you Challenge him, and, when you meet, draw your Sword.

But suppose he draws again.

Then I'll step in and part you, so you are good Friends; for I don't design you shall sight in carnest.

A very good pr [...]ject.

Come, come, Write three Words to him upon this Paper.

But you'll be sure to part us.

Ay, certainly,

now I wish Bellmein was here to share the Diversion.

There, Sir, there's enough.

Let me see—Sir, you must resign all pretentions to Clarinda, or fight me immediately, I wait in the next Room for your Answer.

So, very well, do you stay here, I'll be back in a Minute.

The Scene changes to another Room in the same House.

This Hermatage is not brisk.

Upon my Word, Sir William, there's not better in London.

It is not so good as the last you sent me.

It is the very same, Sir.

Well, send me in four douzen.

And how much Champagne, Sir William.

Four douzen of that too, and four of Burgun [...]y.

You shall have it, Sir.

Sir William, I'm your humble Servant.

Mr. Toper yo [...] Servant Pray how did you know I was here, I am not usually found in a Tavern.

I heard your voice, Sir William; just as you enter'd, I was engag'd in a Quarrel of yours.

Of mine.

Ay, Sir William, 'ti [...] a damn'd foolish business, I wou'd have made it up, but I found it impossible; so that being your Friend, I undertook to deliver you this.

How's this! a Challenge from Ogle; certainly the Fel­low's Drunk, or he'd never do this.

No, that he is not I'll promise you, he's Sober enough, but in a damn'd Passion; he says you are a Fop, Fool, nay, Coward; if I might advise you, you shou'd sight him instahtly; 'Zdeath were I in your place, Sir William, such a Dog shou'd not dare to look, nay, think of a Woman I delign'd to ma [...]y.

I hate sighting, but dare not tell this blustering Fellow so

Nay, I know he's a Blockhead, and a Coward too, but what C [...]arage Lo [...]e may have infus'd into him, I know not—Why what the Devil he said not a word of his Passion to me yesterday, he din'd wit [...] me.

He did not know it then, but now he Swears he'll spoil your hansome [...]ace.

Oh Lord! I had rather be run through the Body, enfee­ble me; O'my Soul I wonder what makes Men so stout!

I'll tell you, Sir William, Courage is nothing, nothing at all; now if you look big, talk loud, and be very angry, you'll f [...]ighten a Man that can't do so as well as you, so you are [...]eckon'd a stout Man; and he that can do it better, is a stouter Man than you that's all.

Is that all? Why then I'm resolv'd to be stout, enfeeble me. But suppose he shou'd draw?

Why then I'll step in and part you.

A very good piece of Contrivance, impair my Vigour.

[Page 24]

Be sure you get the first word, for there's advantage in having the first word.

Did you call, Gentlemen?

Ay: Is Mr. Ogle below?

Yes Sir.

Hold. I'll fetch him my self.

Now am I confoundedly afraid, lest this Fellow shou'd let us fight in earnest.

Be sure you speak angerly, as if you wou'd not hear what I say.

Be sure you part us then—Sir, I say I will hear of no Recon­ciliation, except he resign Clarinda.

He's in a damn'd Passion, your hand to your Sword quickly Sir VVilliam, fear nothing, I'll stand by you—

Mr. Ogle!

Sir VVilliam!

Dear Mr. Ogle, I'm glad to see you.

Zounds have I taken all this pains for this—Harkee, Sir William, Dam you draw upon him, or I'll draw upon you; do you hear no reply, but draw, do you hear.

Oh Heaven! I must draw in my own defence; and I'm sure there's less danger in Ogle, than in this Fellow.

I think, Mr. Ogle, you sent me a Challenge just now, by Mr. Toper, and having paid the Ceremony due to Friends and Acquaintance, you must draw, Sir, and return my Compliment. I'll be sure to have some body to part us tho'.

Harkee, Ogle, you have ruin'd your self by letting him get the Advantage, draw, draw, Sir.

Draw, Sir; why, Sir, my Passion was over upon my Faith. Ho, here's Folks enough, I'm resolv'd to draw now.

Ah, stand off, I had [...]ather be run through the Guts than you shou'd touch me with your dirty Apron, 'twill daub all my Clothes, off Scounderel.

Let him come, let him come, one thrust will decide our dispute.

Pray give us way, 'twill soon be ended.

Hy day, what's here, Swords drawn? Nay, then I'll make one in the Number,

Why what the Devil do you hold the Gentlemen for? Let 'em go and give one another Satisfaction, Z'death, I'll fight that Man that shall but offer to hold 'em.

Why don't you fight now Gentlemen?

[Page 25]

A Pox take him for hs Brutish Civility.

Harkee Mr. Ogle, Do you come along with me, and well contrive some way to make these Fellows believe we dare Fight.

Agreed.—

Come Mr. Ogle you shall along with me, we'll find a more convenient Place to decide this Business in, where Friends shall not interrupt; you shall hear of a Duel Gentlemen, tho' 'tis not proper to see it. Your humble Servant.

With all my Heart, I dare Fight you any where.—

That's a Lie, prethee order thy Footmon to watch 'em, I fancy they'll have some Comical Stratagem to deceive us. Ha, ha, ha.

With all my Heart; d'ye hear, be sure you take notice where they go, and bring me word. Prethee how did'st work 'em up to this.

With a World of Pains and difficulty I assure you; but there is no fear of their doing one another any harm in a Fight­ing way. Is not that Collonel Manly yonder?

Tis, and I have some Business with him, will you walk.

My Business at present lies another way, else I'de be glad to drink a Bottle with him.

SCENE, Carefull's House.

VEry fine, I find my Daughter is resolv'd to have Strings enough to her Bow; Death, to give En­couragement to a Dog that has neither Wit nor Money to re­commend him; good Mr. Ogle, if I catch you ogling hereabouts, I'll Hamstring you, I can tell you that for your Comfort; I'm glad [Page 26] I got the Letter before her; my Spark's very familiar methiuks,

Madam I'm Inform'd you Entertain Sir William Mode, if so, I desire to know the reason why you Encourage me, I am not to be fool'd,—(who the Devil is this Coxcomb) if you clear not this Am­putation, I shall believe you design to Jilt me,—Very Complaisant truly—answer per bearer, as you value your Admirer Ogle; Yes I have answer'd per bearer with a broken Pate, and I wish yours had been in his Place. Lord, Lord, who would be plagu'd with Children, I'm resolv'd she shall Marry Sir William to Morrow; why she'll have as many Fellows at her Heels, as her Collonel has Soldiers waiting for their Pay; why, what a Medly of Suitors has she? Fighters, Fools, and Fops. Well, since you are so sickle, Mistress, I'll fix you presently, or Marry my self. Mr. Roarwell was wishing me to a Cousin of his, who will be in Town to day; adod if this perverse Baggage make one Scruple of obeying my Will, I'll have her, and try if a Mother-in-Law won't hamper her; but I'll in, and send for Sir William immediately.

The Scene changes to another Room in the same House,

Here, here, on with your Manhood quickly.

I fear, Clarinda, this Mosquerade will not be reputable for Women of nice Honour.

Oh don't fear that, since you only wear it to do your selves Justice; for Justice can never be dishonourable.

You are not Insensible, Cousin, how resoloutely my cruel Father Persecutes me with this Fop; therefore, since poor Cla­rinda is in all this Danger, I my own Knight-Errant, and thou my trusty Squire, will March Encavalier, and deliver the di­stress'd Damsel, by beating the Giant into a Pigmy, then be our own Heralds, and proclaim our Victory to my Father, and hollow the Coward so loud in his Ears, that we will shame him out of all Thoughts of this Fool.

If that don't do, my Plot shall, Roarwell has broke it to him, as I told you.

I readily submit to any Proposal of yours, and will re­ly on your Contrivance.

You may command me,—but be quick and Dress; who told you of this Duel?

Sir William's Valet makes Love to my Woman, through [...] [...]ve discover'd the Time and Place, but I know not the grounds of the Quarrel.

[Page 27]

That, I suppose, is your Ladyship; for, Mr. Ogle pub­lickly declares you are in Love with him.

Ogle, who is he?

A foolish Fellow about Town, he Lodges at Mr [...]. Commo's your Milliner's.

Oh Heavens, I believe I have seen him pass through the Shop, but never had Curiosity enough to ask his Name; in Love with him, I should as soon be in Love with a Weasel, Ha, ha, ha, why, is he Sir William's Antagonist, I fancy we shall have rare Sport.

They are as like as two Pees in every thing but E­state, and in that Sir VVilliam outdoes him.

He is the very Quintessence of Fopery; his Name and Nature suits exactly, for he's a nice Observer of the Modes; his Valet is forc'd to Counterfeit a Frenchman, or he would turn him away.

Ha, ha, ha, Rediculous enough; well, thus Drest, now what are we to do?

Why, when we are sated with their sordid Foppery, we'll kick 'em into better Manners.

How kick, Clarinda, if they should return our Compli­ment, I shall quickly discover my Manhood to be Counterfeit.

Never fear it, they won't sight with a Mouse, I dare swear, If it were out of a Trap.

I know Sir Wllliam's a Coward, I had been often told so, and to prove it, I sent him a Challenge, as from one Mr. Roughly, his Man said it put him into such a Consternation he shou'd never forget him, he sent me word that he'd meet me on Calais Sands, and give me Satisfaction, Ha, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha, A good Excuse,—Indeed he's sit for no­thing but to set upon ones Cabinet to watch ones China. Well, I wish you good Sport, and am your Humble Servant.

I'm resolv'd e're I'll be forc'd into the Arms of a Person I loath and despise, the Passion I have for Collonel Manly, will tempt me to make him my Sanctuary.

I must tell her of his Falshood, the thoughts of which has turn'd all the foolish Passion I had conceiv'd,

take Care Clarinda you ben't deceiv'd in him.

What mean you, Emilia?

That he is false.

False! Impossible, How know you this?

I have the best Proof in the World of it, Occular demon­strations. [Page 28] He makes Love to me; nay don't start; had I not been too much your Friend Clarinda, I had not let you into the Secret, for upon my word I dont think him disagreeable.

Oh Heavens she's in Love with him! and therefore would slyly perswade me into an Opinion of him,

How know you 'tis he Cousin?

I am sure that Gentleman that bow'd to us in the Side-Box the first Night I came to Town, has ever since pursued me with most violent Love; and I must confess I lik'd his Humour so well, that I could not be displeas'd with his playing the Fool.

Where did you see him next? How got he an Opportu­nity?

You know the next Night I went out with only my Woman.

I remember.

Why then I went to the Play in a Mask, purpose for a little Diversion, and 'twas my Fortune to sit next him inthe Pit, where, during the Play-time he entertain'd me with the prettiest Discourse in the World, and when 'twas done he wou'd not part with me till I had promis'd to write to him, and I cou'd not help keeping my Word if I was to be Hang'd,—But finding him false to you, I hate him; this Letter I have writ to upbraid him.

How's this! For Mr. Celadon?

Ay, we pass upon one another for Celadon and Cloe; for my part, I did not enquire his Name because he shou'd not ask mine.

Did he never ask your Name, nor tell you his?

No, and I suppose that was his Policy to prevent a dis­covery to you.

Ha! 'Tis from Manly,—what's this,

The private Encouragements you give that Fop Sir William, is not so closely ma­nag'd, to escape a Jealous Lovers Eye that sees you every where to be deceiv'd, touches my tenderest part, especially from one I thought my own, but we are subject to Mistakes I find, that I am so in you, my Eyes, my Ears are all Witnesses, I shall take what care I can not to be trouble­some to you, since I find you no longer value the Peace of Manly.

Oh Monstrous! perfidious Mankind! Oh I perceive your drift, he charges me with this Fool, on purpose to find pretence for his own Falshood,—It is a poor Excuse,—but what won't Men [Page 29] fall too, when they quit their Honour; Oh that I had but an op­portunity of upbraiding him to his Face.

That you shall, he knows not yet of the Discovery, I'll write to him to come here, I have no reason to suspect his diso­beying the Summons, no more now than formerly.

Did he use to meet you then?

Most punctually—But I'll in and write to him, and be here again in a Minute.

Well it is impossible to dive into the Heart of Man, for sure he has the Face of Truth, nay I can hardly believe he's false yet, so deep an impression did his seeming Honesty leave behind.

I have sent it away, and I doubt not but convince you of the Truth of what I say; but come don't think on't now, but let's away, methinks I long to Bully these Cowards, pray Hea­ven they prove so.—

Duce on't this will destroy half the Satisfaction I promis'd my self from this Frollick; but come.

SCENE, Hide-Park.

HEre's a Weapon Mr. Ogle will decide the Quarrel as well as e're a Sharp in Christendom, and with­out danger.

An Admirable Contrivance Sir William, for now they'll hear of a Duel, and we reckon'd such skillful Artists, that nei­ther cou'do'recome.

Right, I think a Gentleman ought to wear a Sharp for a terror to the Vulgar, and because 'tis the Fashion; but he shou'd never use it but as an Ornament, and part of his Dress, I hope to see it as much a Fashion to Fight with Files, as 'tis to Fence with them. If I was a Member of Parliament, I'de bring in a Bill a­gainst [Page 30] Duelling, I'm sure the Clause would pass, for there's a Majority in the House of my Constitution. Come approach, Sa, sa.

Hold Gentlemen, I'm bound in Honour to part you, ha, what's this!

Files upon my Honour, ha, ha, ha.

Why do you laugh Gentlemen? I think this the nicest way of deciding a Quarrel, the other is fit for none but Bullies and Soidiers, that get their Bread by't; 'tis easily seen this way who has most Skill; and pray what is got by the other more rude Method, but a scandalous Character, or a shameful Death.

And by my Consent, he that draws a Sword out of the Immediate Service of the Queen should be hang'd.

Say you so Sir! Now hear my Sentiments, he that wou'd not draw a Sword upon any Just Account, should be kick'd thus, and thus Sir.

What do you mean Gentlemen?

Only to rub up you Courage a little.

What's that Sir?

You don't hear well Sir, I'll lengthen your Ears a little.

I wonder that you who look so like a Gentleman, shou'd be guilty of such ill-bred Actions; Fye Kick! and Cuff! Exercises for Footmen; Pray learn better Carriage of us.

I'de as soon learn Manners of a Muscovite.

Pray Sir who are you? And what Affairs led you hi­ther?

I'm a Servant to Clarinda, and consequently a Rival of yours.

O Lord! a Rival of mine too.

I came hither to Kick you, and Expose you when I had done; the first you are sensible I have perform'd, and from that Instance of my Honesty, you may take my word for the rest.

I'm undone; Blister me if the very shadow of a Duel be not unfortunate.

Why how now young Gentlemen, are you breathing your selves, or giving Lessons in the Stoick Philosophy to that patient Disciple?

[Page 31]

Or have you a Journey to ride, that you are getting your Backside harden'd for it.

Manly here! I'de compound for half my Estate Blister me!

Ha! Manly here! We must retire Cousin, lest it spoils our Plot, as doubtless it will, if he knows us.

Methinks I could even here reproach him. Ex. Clar. and Emil.

This is a hearing of a Duel indeed,—Files Ha, ha, ha, you was resolv'd to prevent Murder; you need never fear the Exaltation of the Gallows, for your Courage reaches but to a Chance Medly at most.

Prethee who were those Gentlemen Sir William, methinks they us'd you very familiarly.

Men of no Honour you may conclude Collonel, else they would not have abus'd Gentlemen, when they was defenceless.

Right, but why wou'd you be defenceless? Faith Sir William if this News reaches your Mistress's Ears, it will ruin you in her Favour. Take this for a Rule, the less regard you have for your Honour the more you sink in the Esteem of your Mistress, for all Women hate a Coward; you ought to be forbid the Habits of Men, who can be guilty of Esseminency that even Women would blush at.

Why Gentlemen, I think Passive Valour sits well enough upon Men that have Estates, and have a Mind to live and enjoy them.

Damn him for a Cowardly Blockhead; prethee lets go, I'm sick of their Folly; besides you said you would convince me of Clarinda's Falshood.

I have run Sir all the way, for the Porter told me it must be given to you that Moment.

Ha! There's a lucky hit Collonel; she Invites me to come to her Lodging, and her Servant should be ready to convey me into her Apartment. Here read it Man, now you may convince your self.—Egad if I were not a damn'd Honest Fellow to my Friend, now cou'd I pass three hours the most agreeably in the World. Pox on me for a prating Coxcomb, could not I have held my Tougue. VVell what think you of it Collonel?

It is not her Hand, but that's nothing, she might disguise that to conceal it from me. I know not what to think, [Page 32] but I'm resolv'd to go, and if I find her false 'twill cure me effectually.

Come on then

I have been considering all this while upon what the Col­lonel said, and I am resolv'd to be Valiant; for if Ladies don't like a Coward—I shall never get a Fortune; for ought I know I may Fight as well as any Body, I'm resolv'd I'll try. Harkee Sr. William, our Servants are here by, let's send for our Swords and fight in Earnest.

Not I Mr. Ogle, I declare against Fighting positively.

But I declare for Fighting, and so shall you, or resign all Pretensions to Clarinda, for I design to Marry her my self, therefore don't think of her, do you hear.

You Marry her, Ha, ha, ha.

'Zounds Sir, dare you laugh at a Gentleman, you dare not Fight, take that Sir

and the next time I hear you speak a Word more of her, I'll cut your Throat, and so good by.—So, this is one step towards Courage; I am re­solv'd to Challenge every Man that pretends to a Fortune, till I have got one my self; and now my Hand's in, I'll Challenge this Collonel the next time. I see him, though at the Head of his Re­giment.

Rat this Blockhead, what a Metamorphosis is here; 'tis well I fell upon my Cloak, or I had daub'd all my Cloaths, Bli­ster me, Well, to sing, dance, or Court a Lady, or any such Gen­tieman-like Employments I'll turn my Back of none; but for this slovenly Exercise of Fighting, I shall never be brought to endure, impair my Vigour.

SCENE, Carefull's House.

WHo the Devil have we here? Nay, nay Sir, I must see your Face; another Gallant of my Daughter's I war­rant! Who are you Sir, from whence come you, what Business have you in my House, ha?

Oh Lord, what shall I say to this old Fellow, he'll certain­ly know me.

[Page 33]

What are you studying for a Lye Sir? Adod I shall make you find your Tongue, speak quickly or I'll cut your Throat

you Dog you.

Ah! Oh Lord a Sword! For Heavens sake Sir, Oh Lord Sir don't you know me?

Know you Sir? who the Pox are you Sir, ha? Emilia, why what Masquerade's this? VVhere's my Daughter.

Ho Sir, your Humble Servant, why what a Pox are you going into the Service; you are two pretty Volunteers faith.

Ha! my Father, what shall I say,—I'll e'en face it out since he has catc'd me; we have done a Friend of yours some Service Sir.

A Friend of mine! As how, pray forsooth?

Why you must know Sir I was inform'd of a Duel be­tween Sir William Mode, and a Brother Beau of his; the concern I knew you had for Sir William's safety, engag'd my Care for the Prevention; I was unwilling to Expose him, by sending any bo­dy else, so that my Cousin and I, by the help of this Disguise, pa [...]ted them; but we shou'd not need to have made such haste, for the Puppits was trying their Valour safely with a couple of Files, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha, And this was the occasion of your being in Breeches, ha?

And I think it a good project too Uncle.

You do,—Well Daughter pray let's have you in your Feminine Capacity again; for though you Bully in Breeches, I hope you'll Marry in Petticoats.

Marry Sir!

Yes forsooth, I have sent for Sir William, in order to have the settlement compleated to Night, and to Morrow your Ho­nour shall rise with the Sun; that is to say, you shall be my Lady Mode.

Honour Sir, where's the Honour of such a Husband? I hope Sir you will not Marry me to a Coward; why there's not a needy Bully about Town but will beat a Maintenance out of him, and where is the Reputation of such a Marriage.

But he'll make a swinging Jointure, and if you don't like him when you have him, you may live apart.—

Oh Heaven what shall I say,—Sir I beg you but delay your purpose for a Month.

Not for a Day.—

Sir I have sworn not to Marry this Month.

Have you so, pray who have you swora to Mistress, to Mr. Ogle, ha?

[Page 34]

Ogle, who is he pray Sir?—Heaven, has my Father got this Story too!

You don't know such a Person I'll warrant you as Mr. Ogle?

I have seen such a Fellow Sir, but never spoke to him.

No—look in my Face,—You never spoke to him, that is, encourag'd his Love?

No—Upon my Honour.

—You lie, you have no Honour, read that,

and do you hear, resolve to marry Sir William to morrow Morning by six, or I'll Marry my self before Twelve; so take your choice. I'll Ogle you, and Soldier you with a Pox to you.

Oh Impudence from Ogle, I'll have the Rascal tost in a Blan­ket; see Emilia what an audacious Letter tis, bless me, I have no Patience; I encourage such a Rascal.—

He is very familiar methinks—hang him, the Fool's below your Anger, never think on't; come prethee think which way to turn your self if the Colionel be false, as I dare swear he is. What think you of Marrying Sir William, he is Master of a fair Estate, which you may make subservient to your Pleasures, to makē Life's rugged Journey pass the smoother. If he be true, as you have but little rea­son to think he is, you may yet find some way to accomplish your de­sires. Come the time draws on in which you'll be convinc'd of his Truth or Falshhood.

Mr. Toper, Your Cousin is welcome, my House is at your Service Madam.

I thank thee, but pray thee do not Madam me, my name is Anne.

A very handsome VVomand, and very modestly drest.

I have us'd all the Arguments in my Power to Convert her from this Formality, but in vain, she's as averse to the Fashions, as other VVomen are fond of 'em; but I hope your Neice and Daugh­ter will work a Reformation in her.

I rather hope she'll work one in them, I'll assure you I'll recommend her as a Patron. Is this the woman you would recom­mend to me for a VVife Mr. Toper.

The same Sir.

I protest I like her exceedingly she seems, cut out on pur­pose for me; her plain way of Living will improve my Estate, and her Morals will hamper my Daughter, I like a Religious Woman.

[Page 35]

You can't be better match'd, if she has not too much; yesterday I carried her to wait on a Relation of ours that has a Parrot, and whilst I was discoursing about some private Business, she converted the Bird, and now it talks of nothing but the Light of the Spirit, and the inward Man. Ha, ha. Caref. Good lack, good lack.

Well, well, thee wilt never leave thy rediculous Jests; I say that Mankind were not made for Foppery and Pride, but to do good in their Generation,—Prethee shew me one Text of Scripture for the Fashions, or where Jewels are commanded, or what Holy Ma­tron ever had a Valet, to dress 'em, as they say the French Ladies have, Oh monstrous Fashion!—No no, our devoutest Women wore course Linnen, or rather none at all.

Ay, such Saints as wore their Congregations without side, and swarm'd with Christian Vermin, it must be them, ha, ha, ha, but you hold every handsome Garment a Sin.

Handsome Garment! Verily I believe, if we are punish'd with Taxes again to carry on another War, 'twill be a just Judgment upon this sinful Land for their full Wiggs, Favourites, Furbelows, false Teeth, and Patches.

Truly I'm of her opinion, she speaks like an Oracle, for the Devil was never so Proud as our Women are now a days,

I am resolv'd, if my Daughter shew the least relunctance to my will, to Marry her out of hand. I'll motion it to her, and try how she likes me.—

What think you of a Husband forsooth, for to be plain with you, your extraordinary qualities have rais'd a great desire in me of becoming such.

I doubt Friend thoul't expect a larger Fortune than I am Dame of.

I protest I don't care if you have not a Groat, your Vertue's a wealthy Dowry to me, say you'll but have me, and 'tis enough;

But it may be thou'lt be against my course of Life; I love Re­tirement, must have time for my Devotion in my own way; I'm not us'd to the Ceremony of Visits, and hate Tea-Table Vanity, and Card-play, as they call it. Toper. Our Plot takes rarely.

This makes me love you the more.

One thing more; Thou hast a Daughter they say, a topping Gallant, which I desire to see, and try if good Admonitions, together with Example, wont reform her; for plainly I dont care to come un­der the Roof where Children are, if they be not dutiful, so that I must see her first e're I can give thee my Answer.

That you shall presently—Here carry this Gentlewoman to my Daughter and tell her, she must entertain her as her Mother that is to be, tell her so from me, d'ye hear.

[Page 36] Really Mr. Toper, Your Cousin is a profound Christian, if my Daughter refuse to Marry Sir William,—I'll Jointure her in my whole Estate.

For ought I know, You can't do better than Marry; for who who would be plagu'd with a disobedient Child?

Especially when they depend upon us for their Fortunes, the Devil a Young Fellow would care a Souce for their Persons, did not our Purse-strings draw. Here forsooth my Daughter is running mad after a Soldier, a Fellow whose Fortunes depend upon his Sword, and here we are going to Wars again, and six to four but a Cannon-Bullet takes his Head off, and then the Wife is turn'd home to her Father again, and in such Cases a Father has never dispos'd of his Children entirely, and all the Jointure shee'll bring, will consist of Housings, Holster-Caps, Pistols, and Swords.

Here's Sir William Mode below Sir.

Tell him I'll wait on him presently. Come Mr. Toper, you shall be witness of our Agreement; I sent for him to compleat the Business, Sign Seal to Night, and to Morrow we'll have a Dance.

I fancy we shall drive Dancing out of your Head, Old Gen­tleman.

WEll, in my Conscience the first sight of you frighted me horribly, though I knew your Plot, I vow you make a sanctified Figure.

Might I pass upon the Brethren think you?

Ay, and hold forth too I'll warrant you, without being disco­ver'd. But is my Uncle so hot upon Matrimony say you.

As a hound upon the Scent, tho' he'll share no more of the Pleasure, than the Dog of the Game he runs down, ha, ha.

I vow I can't help laughing to think what a trick we shall put upon him,—but the duce on't I cannot be heartily merry till I se [...] Event of this Meeting; I long till the Collonel comes.

So do I as much as you, to upbraid him with his Treachery.

In my Conscience he's here,—show him into my Chamber, tell him Ill wait on him presently,—Now Clarinda you shall go in myplace.

Heaven! how I tremble. Oh the Perfidious Wreteh, sure he's [Page 37] quite lost to Vertue, that he dares thus impudently venture into the very House. Oh give me Patience Heaven, and Power to back my Resolution, and Scorn enough to show my deep Resentment.

I'll to the Old Man, and keep him in Discourse, that he mayn't interrupt you.

Do so,—I must listen a little to hear what Reception she gives him.

This Love makes Men the Errantest Asses in the World, what blustering Mars with all his Steely Garranture of War cou'd never do, this blind Boy does with a Feather'd Reed. Oh my Soul, I think I'm grown a Coward, and begin to fear, my Heart beats faster than a Raw Soldier's in his first Engagement, or a Longing Maid in the Arms of a Man she likes, when Opportunity makes her. Fear. Sure it cannot be Clarinda.

Ha! By Heaven the very Crocodile.

By all my hopes of Happiness the very Monster.

Madam, you are surpriz'd I believe, not to meet the Man you expected; I beg your Pardon for this Disappointment.

Oh. Indignation! No Sir I have met the Man I expected, though you are disappointed in your Woman.

What does she mean!—Have you a Stratagem Ma­dam, to bring you off,—come Ill help you; say, you happen'd in­to this Room by chance, and had no knowledge of the Plot, ex­pected no Gallant.

Oh unheard of Impudence! a Gallant! No thou Monster of Ingratitude; have I refus'd all Mankind for thee? Nay, broke in upon the Rules of my Obedience, that I might keep my Faith Invio­late, and am I thus Rewarded? Is it not enough that you are False, and that I see you so, but you must add to your Barbarity, and throw a Scandal on my Fame, to hide your base Proceeding. Marry thee, No! From this Moment I resolve to hate thee, and to put it out of thy Power ever to deceive me a second time I'll Marry. Instantly.

I must hear how the Collonel succeeds in my Place.—

It is enough I know thee guilty of that very Crime thou would'st impose on me; know that you writ to my Friend to come here with whom you have had many private Conferences, tho' I, Heaven knows, would not believe it, till my Eyes convinc'd me; but now thy Crimes are obvious to my Sight, and I take thee at thy word, and from this Moment I'll never see you more: Con­fusion on your Sex.

[Page 38]

Ha, his Friend! what can he mean,—sure there's some Mistake in this, yet I cannot call him back.

What have we Eves-droppers;—Oh Heavens! why was not you with my Cousin?

Hey day! why was not you with the Collonel?

Why, are not you the Collonel?

No faith, and now I begin to suspect you are not Clarinda.

you are in the Right indeed, I am not.

Oh Heavens I'm undone, Manly's innocent.

No, no Madam, I'll call my Friend back immediately, he shall beg Pardon upon the Spot,—Why, what a damn'd Mistake is here; faith he's gone, but here's an old Gentleman coming up.

Oh Lord, my Father, I'm undone if he finds a Man here; what shall I do? This was your Project, Emilia.

Ha! 'Zdeath Madam where shall I run? For methinks I would not do any more Mischief, what shall I do Ladies?

Ha, a lucky thought comes into my Head; here, here, here, lie down upon this Mat.

With all my Heart: Pox on't, to be thus put to't for nothing. If I had but got a Maidenhead, or made a Cuckold, it would not have vext me.

There, there, lye still.

A Pox on your Pride, we must have Matts with a Venge­ance, but I'll turn over a new Leaf with this House I'll warrant you; I'll have no Matts, but such as lie under the Feather-Beds: Here I might have broke my Neck.

Toby, Sirrah, remove that Matt, and do you hear, throw it into the Horse-Pond; I'll have no more Mats in my House.

Matt, 'tis damn'd heavy; come out here, I believe the Dog is got into it.

Oh Lord, what shall I do?

The Horse-pond! Nay then 'tis time to shift for my self.

Here, here, There's a Guinea for you Toby, bring him off some way or other.

Ha, what was that?

Bark Sir, bark; only the great Dog Sir was crept in the Matt.

[Page 39]

Wough, wough, wough, wough.

Rarely done; expect a better Reward for this, Toby.

The Dog was it, I protest I thought it had been a Thief.

No Sir, nothing else.

Why how now! Methinks you are mightily prink'd up. Mer­cy upon me, what a Bush of Hair is there fruz'd out; in my Consci­ence I believe you have got the Fore-top of some Beau's Wigg.

That's the Fashion Uncle, you wou'd not have us dress like my Quaking Aunt that is to be. Ha, ha, ha.

How now Sauce-box, your Quaking Aunt quotha.

Sir, I hope you don't design to Marry that thing.

Thing do you call her? Icod you shall Marry Sir William immediately, or call that thing Mother, I can tell you, that.

Oh Heaven, what shall I do?

Here Sir William, I give her to your Arms; I'll have my Coach harness'd, and to Church this Moment.

Madam tho' I don't pretend to be a Beau, yet I hope the World will distinguish the difference between a rough, unhewn Soldier, and a pollish'd Gentleman; I don't, in the least, hint at Manly.

Insipid Coxcomb.

For Heavens sake invent some way to give her an Hours time to consider, or she's undone.

Friend shall I speak one word with thee.

Twenty if you please.

Let me advise thee, do not be so passionate with thy Daughter, the little Discourse I had with her, shew'd her to be tractable; if thou think'st sit, Ill read her t'other Lesson upon her Duty, and I don't doubt but she'll comply.

With all my Heart; for whatever thou say'st, must be for her good, I'm convinc'd. Sir William we'll go take a Glass in the next Room till the Bride be ready, and then—

And then Madam I shall be the happiest Man alive; if I would change conditions with the Czar of Muscovy, may I be Condemn'd to the Smoak of Tobacco, and never know the Plea­sure of taking Snuff.

A very Courtly Wish indeed.

Come, don't trifle away the time I have given you, but write to Manly, and beg him to Protect you, and Rescue you from the Arms of this Fool.

Oh how can I write to him, whom I have abus'd?

[Page 40]

And did not he pay you in the same Coin! Come, come, this little Mistake rather serves to encrease his Love than diminish it, when he finds you true, as no doubt but Bellmein has told him e're this, he'll be glad to accept the Conditions. Come, come, write to him Toper is within, and he shall carry it.

Well, it being my last Shift, I'll follow your Advice.

Ay, ay, do so, I'll warrant you a Fortune, and the O [...]d Man's Consent before I have done with him.

Captain, Captain.

Ha, Serjeant.

I have got the finest Volunteer, a Beau, Captain.

A Beau! Nay, if the Beaus begin to List, let the French look to't. Where is he Serjeant?

He's coming Sir.

I can't stay now, but I'll be here in a Moment, and I'll bring the Collonel with me.

'll wait you here Sir.

The Captain will be here in a Moment Sir; but pray Sir why will you go for a Soldier, Methinks you might get a Commission.

Because I dreamt Sir I should be a General,—and I have a a mind to rise gradually, I hate Jumping into Honour at once.

Sir I honour you; no doubt but you Dream will come true.

Sir I dreamt last Night that I saw two Armys join Battle, and m [...]thought [...]n the Scuffle my Brains was knock'd out, and when I'wak'd, I wonder'd to find my self with all my Limbs, I straight felt for my other Leg, and suspected my Eyes when they inform'd me I had both Hands.

A very good Dream, and signifies your Advancement.

Nay, after that I had the strangest Dream, my Man found me Scaling my Curtains for a Fort, killing my Pillow, and entring Duel with my Breeches. Methought all the Trojan Faces in the Hang­ings were turn'd Frenchmen, and a Famine raging amongst 'em, they resolv'd to Eat me; so casting Dice what part of me to devour first, the [...]ot fell upon my Head. Now Sir, all these Dreams I interpret quite contrary, I know I shall be a great Man.

[Page 41]

No, doubt on't Sir—I'm afraid all this Fellow's Courage lies in his Sleep. I'm resolv'd to sound him a little.

Prithee, Serjeant, tell me, what sort of a Thing a Camp is?

Why truly Sir, a Camp wou'd be a pleasant place, did the Fields produce Feather-beds; or if the Streams like those of the Golden Age! did run pure Wine; Or if Camp Meals wou [...]d [...] Twelve and Seven observe due Hours!—But, Sir, [...] starv'd on scarce fresh Green Sword, just so much Earth, to [...] then to live the Life of Nature; Or as some do call it, The Life of the Hardy, to quench one's Thirst at the next Spring, [...] up one's self each Night in Turff, and thence come sorth, like one of [...] Soldiers, sown of Serpents Teeth, and [...] Furrow, is a Course of Life, I fear, will never suit with your [...] ­stitution.

'Tis something hard truly, but no matter, I'm resolv [...]d.

Oh! This is nothing Sir; here comes on a Troop, and you in Honour can't but lose an Eye; an Engine there goes off, and you will show your self a Coward, unless you lose an Arm—Here you are surrounded, and then 'twere base to bring more than one Sholder off.

Ha! I don't like it.

Nay Sir, consider ere you go—For 'tis a danm'd Discre­dit to have a Nose after a Battle, or to walk the Streets upon your own Legs.

Humph!—I feel my self already partly compos'd of Flesh, partly of Wood. Methinks, I hang between two Crutches, like a Man in Chains, tost by the Wind, I don't like this Sli [...]ing into Reputation.

But these Men that you raise Serjeant, Are they to go against the French or Spaniards?

Why do you ask Sir?

Because I cannot in Honour draw my Sword against the French.

How so, pray? You're no Jacobite, I hope.

Oh! Sir, my Scruples are not founded upon Religion; but I'll tell you, the last Long Vacation, I made the Tour of Paris, where I receiv'd such extraordinary Marks of Civility from the French Court, particularly from the Duke of Berry, the Duke of Burgundy and the Duke—and from the Governour of Callis, such extrava­gant Obligations; But above all, from the Governour's Daughter—That upon my Soul, I cannot descend so far from the Punctilio's of [Page 42] Honour, to go against 'em; But against Spain, I—Ha! the Coll. I'm resolv'd to fight him however, Death, Hell and Furies: Draw Sir!

That I shou'd be such a Sot to believe her false. Oh! I'm undone, ruin'd beyond retrieving!

Draw Sir, For what, Sir?

Sir, I say Draw Sir, or else resign all Pretensions to Cla­rinda.

Why what a Metamorphus is this? Is this your Voluntier, Serjant?

Yes, Sir, but if you had not come as you did, he had been gone, for I found his Courage began to sink.

To Clarinda! How dares such a Coxcomb as you Name Clarinda?

Now learn more Wit, or get more Courage.

Courage, Sir, Z'death, Sir, I'll Box with you,

you have got my Sword, but no matter for that, I ll Fight it out at Fists; Lose a Fortune for want of Fighting, No!

I'll Box you, you Dog; give me the Cane,

Sirrah, I'll make Mummy of your Bones, I'll make you forswear sauntering after Fortunes, nay you shall not dare to look towards the House where they live, or so much as think of them.

Oh Lord Sir, for Heaven's sake! Sir, I'll observe the Con­ditions.

Nay now you are too rigid, I dare promise for Mr. Ogle.

I will indeed Sir, only let me think of them, for who can help thinking, Sir—

No, here Serjeant, take this Fellow, and let him run the Gauntlet, I'll think you Sirrah.

Oh Lord Sir! spare that, and I will not think of 'em upon my Faith, Sir.

Nay one thing more you must promise, which is, to resume your w [...]nted Cowardice, and betake you to your Desk again. Go take Money of the Men you mean to Cozen; talk little, except when you are paid for't, 'tis an Antidote against Beating; keep your Hand from your Sword, and your Landresses Petticoats, and you'll live at peace.

I will Collonel—Give me Wisdom that is beaten into a Man, for that sticks to him Egad. I'm wiser than a Justice of Peace; your Precepts are very learned, Sir. I'm your humble Ser­va [...]t—Farewel Sword, and welcom Tongue again. Now can't I [Page 43] positively tell, whether 'tis best to be Couragious, or to have no Courage at all; Beaten if I Fight, and Beaten if I do not.—Now I think I know something of the Law, and yet if the Question was put to me I cou'd not Resolve it,

Ha! ha! ha!

Ha! Coll. Opportunly met, I bring an Express from the Queen of Beauty; her Orders are in that Paper.

Ha! 'Tis Clarindas hand—

I hope by this time, you are satisfied of my Innocence, as I'm of yours; if not, I beg of you, by all the Tyes of Honour, to rescue me from this foolish Knight, to whom I am this Moment to be married by the rigid Command of my barbarous Father; and if I don't clear your Censures, use me as you please. Yours Clairnda—Rescue thee yes, the Fool shall quit all Pretensions to thee, unless this Arm deceive me.

If it does Boy, here's another at thy Service.

You may seise her at the End of the Street as she passes; Be sure you marry her as soon as you have got her; Let me alone to bring her Fortune, the Captain must help our Plot forward, as soon as he has help'd you, away with her—

With all my Heart, I love Mischief; I have a plaguy han­kering Mind after this Cousin tho', e're since Manly told me she has Ten Thousand pounds.

The Yoak shou'd be well lin'd, or 'twill sit very uneasy at best.—

Ay, there must be Gold proportionable to the Alloy, or 'twou'd not be current Coin, Ha, ha.

Ha, ha, Well, I'm a good Natur'd Fellow now, to spend my time in your Business when I have an Assignation with one of the prettiest Girls about Town, Faith.

Some old o're worn Drab, I'll warrant, cast off by all the Beaus in Town, and now is become a new Face to the Drunkards.

No Faith, she's a kept Mistriss, she Cost me not a Souce.

Thou art still labouring between two Tides, Wine and Wo­men: [Page 44] Wilt thou never take up till thou art confin'd by a Doctor to dry Diet.

Dry Diet? You don't mean a Wife, I hope, catch me at that Meat and Choke me with it, that's just a Confinement to Sea-Bis [...]uet at Land; tho' I'd do you all the Service I can, Col­lonel, in helping you to your Mistriss, yet I can't help lamenting the loss of a Friend.

Why will Matrimony lose me to my Friends? I shall love them as well as ever, I assure you.

Ay, but your Friends won't care that for you,

for e're the second Bottle, you'll be calling, What's to pay? Your Wife won't go to Bed till you come Home; this makes Company uneasy, and what makes us uneasy decreases our Value for [...]t; For my Part, I had rather be confin'd to Sea-Men in a Storm, or the Cant of a Conventicle, than the Company of a Married Man, for at every Mouse stirring, I shou'd think the Comforts of Matrimony was coming, with all its Commanding Retinue; A Wife, Egad I'd want Wine, the only Support of this Body.—

Well, you declare for a Bottle, I for a Wife, which I think the greater pleasure far.

Where shall we find you?

At the Rose.

Adieu, Belmein shall come to you there.

Haste, my Fairest, and let us tye that Knot, which nought but Death can lose.

Certainly, I heard Sir William's Voice cry

[...]. What's the Matter Sir William? Where's my Daughter?

E [...]f [...]eble me if I know; you had best send after her [...], or she'll be married to Manly, who drew upon me; and i [...] I had [...]t [...]uitted her, he had run me quite thro' the Body, im­pair my V [...]g [...]r.

This was her Project of going on foot, she wou'd not have [...], under pretence of Notice being taken, forsooth; and [Page 45] your Perswasion made me go before to get the Parson ready. Od's flesh, had I been there, this had not happen'd, old as I am, they shou [...]d not have escap [...]d so easily. Z' [...]ath l [...]t a Man take your Mi­stress from you In my Conscience, young F [...]llows are so rotten now a-days, they are afraid of every S [...]uffle, l [...]st they drop in pieces. Zounds, I cou'd curse the Minute I got this Bastard, to think what a Fortune she has lost.

Do you take my Breeding to have been at a Bear-garden, Sir, or in Bedl [...]m, to endanger my Life for your Daughter. No, let her go, I'd marry an Ac [...]ress sooner, and have more Hopes of her Virtue.

Say you so, Mr. Di [...]ty Crown? Adod, I cou'd find in my heart to dash the Powder out of your Whores Hair for you.

Your Age protects you, Sir.

Well, if I don [...]t sit the Baggage, I'm mistaken, Egad, I'll marry Toper's Niece immediately.

Mr. Toper, you came luckily; I am resolv'd to marry your Cou­sin this Moment. N [...]y I [...]ll settle all I have upon her. I'll hamper my Daughter, I'll warrant her.

I came to inform you Sir, that I saw Coll. Manly and your Daughter enter the Church; the Parson met them at the Door, and I'm much afraid they will be married before you can get to 'em.

Let her marry and be pox't, I [...]ll not give her a Farthing, I am resolv [...]d. Let her go Soldiering with her Husband, and carry his Knap-sack, like a Trull as she is. If there be any Favour or Inte­rest to be [...]ad in an English Parliament, I [...]ll have the Parson turn'd out of his place, for a J [...]co [...]ite that coupled them.

I have a Friend of mine at the Rose, just come from Oxford, If you please Mr. Ca [...]e [...]ul, I'll fetch him, and you may be marry'd in your own House.

With all my heart. Adod, methinks I'm brisk and young again. This Auda [...]ious Wench▪

SCENE Careful's House.

Well, my dearest Ann, I think my self the happiest Man alive since I espous'd thee: I have settl [...]d my whole Estate upon thee, which, with this Kiss I do confirm to thee again.

Pray forbear Sir—

How Wife! Refuse to kiss me?

Yes, except a sweeter Air came from you—Faugh, you have turn'd my Stomach; I wonder you can ask me, knowing your Lungs are perish'd.

Mercy upon me; Why, what have I married!—

Here, Where are my Servants.

Run to the Exchange, Fetch me a French Night-gown, and French Head; Set my Dressing-table in order, Do you hear? Let my Paint, Powder, and Patches be ready.

Oh Lord! Oh lord! Paint, Powder, and Patches; Why, Hark y' Mistress, Are you not a Quaker?

No Sir, I only made use of that Disguise to catch you in, but you have Money enough to equip me after the Fashion, and that was the only Motive of my Sanctity.

Oh! undone, undone!

Look you Sir, I shall never endure your Conversation, I must have two Beds, two Chambers, and two Tables, it was an Ar­ticle of our Agreement, you know, that I shou'd live retir'd—That is a-part Sir.

A curse on that Agreement—But hark y' Wife, you are not in Earnest sure?

In earnest, Why, Do you think I jeast with Age?

And you won't Bed with me?

Did ever Man of your Hairs ask such Questions? I vow I blush at your Unreasonableness.

O Monstrous!—

Is it fit I shou'd be bury'd? For to Bed with you were a direct Emblem of my going to my Grave!

[Page 47]

Mercy upon me! Where is this Rogue, this Toper? What damn'd Succu [...]us has he topt upon me?

I'll have your Fict [...]e s [...]t in my Wedding Ring, to put me in Mind of Mortality; Do you think I [...]ll come within your winding Sheets! For what, to hear you [...] art all night, and in the Morning find half my Husband on the Hangings—

I am married.

Pray why did you marry? In my Conscience, you're as youthful as a Coffin, and as hot as the sultry Winter that froze over the Thames; they say the Hard Time did begin from you. Ha! ha! ha!

Oh Heaven! I am made the Curse of all Mankind! O Pati­ence! Patience!

Your Humors comes frost from you, and your Nose has Isicles in Luna

Hark y' Mistress, you that have a Feaver and Dog-days in your Blood; if you knew this, why did you marry me?

That your experienc'd Aches, that have felt Springs and Falls these Forty Years, shou'd ask such a Question, as if I could not find Friends to supply your cold Defects; Do you think a Young Woman high in her Blood!—

And hot as Goats and Marmosets.

Apt to take slame, at any Temptation.

And kindle at the Picture of a Man.

Wou'd w [...]d Dust and Ashes, unless she were—

Crack'd, try'd, or broken up ha!

Right Sir, or lack'd a Cloak.

Mischief, and Hell, was there none to make your Cloak but me!

Not so well lin'd Sir, Ha! ha!

Oh! You staid for a wealthy Cuckold, did you?

Your tame Beasts should have guilded Horns!—Besides Sir, I thought your Age wou'd wink at stolen Helps, if I took Comfort from abroad.

Yes, Yes, You shall have Comsomsort—I'll deliver Let­ters for you, or hold the Door!—

No Sir, I [...]ll not give you that Trouble, I'll have a Maid shall do that—

Oh Impudence, unheard of Impudence!

But, Sir. I look your Coffers shou'd maintain me at my Rate.

[Page 48]

How's that, pray?

Why like a Lady; I must have you Knighted, for I don't like Mistriss.—My Lady, wou'd sound better.

Yes,—I shall rise to Honour.—

I must have six Horses in my Coach, som are sit for those that have a Charge of Children, you and I shall never have any.

If we have, all Middlesex will be their Fathers.—

I'll have four Foot-Men, and this House clear'd of all this Old Lumber, and [...] [...]ainscotted, and lin'd with Looking-Glass, have [...], and China.

Mercy upon me. [...] ye, Mistriss, you told me you lov'd Retirement, hated Visits, and Bargain [...]d for Hours of Devo­tion.

Right, Sir, but what Woman speaks Truth before she's Married?

Politickly Answer'd, and like one perfect in the sinning Trade.

Well, Sir, don't discompose your self, 'twill signify nothing, I'll in and examin your Jewels, chuse some for every Day, and some for Masques and Balls.

The Devil go with you: Oh that I had my Daughter a­gain! Two Days more of this, and I shall grow Mad, or to Re­deem my self, dash out my Brains.

SCENE Changes to Plotwell's Lodgings:

We have done your Business, Collonel, Bellemin here has tack'd 'em together.

I Canted out the Form of Matrimony as gravely as if I had taken my Degree at Edinborrough.

And how does it take?

Oh! Admirably Well, I listen'd a while, and sound she manag'd it rarely.

She'll drive my Father out of his Wits.

Well, Captain, you'll observe what I told you, I'll fol­low you with another Project, I'll warrant you, will give the Old Fellow enough of Matrimony; Collonel, do you be ready when I call, to come in, do you hear? I fancy they are in such Confusion that it would be no hard Matter for all of you to get into the House unseen.

[Page 49]

We'll endeavour it.

But hark ye, Madam, there's something more to be said, before you and I part; Have you the Conscience to let your Friend launch into the Sea of Matrimony alone?

To chuse, Sir, for if the Voyage prove Dang [...], on at a time is enough to be lost.

Would you have her Surrender upon the first Summons, Captain? You must expect some Fateague in Love, as well as War, the little disquiet of Hopes and Fears, do but enhan [...] the Va­lue of a Mistriss when gain'd; Soldiers and Knight Erra [...] [...] Court Danger and Despise an Enterprise that had no Difficulty [...].

Ay, Madam, if I had but the Hopes of a Carnival [...] this Lent, 'twould be a sufficient Recompence, but Exp [...]lation and Uncertainty, is the worst Food in the World for a Fellow of my Constitution.

Come, Madam, be Generous, you cannot have an Honester Fellow, I'll say that for him.

Look ye there, Madam, he'll Vouch for me, if you don't think my own Word sufficient.

I shall trust no Bodies Judgment but my own, and that tells me, you are too much a Libertine for a Husband; why you have not the least Resemblence of a Lover.

No Resemblance! Why I am a perfect Skeleton, do but see how pale and wan I look! My Taylor shall Swear I am fall'n a­way six Inches in the Wast, since this Day seven Night, and if these be no Signs of being in Love, the Devil's in't.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Very violent Symptoms truly.—Have you any more of them, Sir.

A Thousand; do but feel here the Palpation of my Heart, the Irregularity of my Pulse, the Immotion of my Brain.—In short, my whole Frame's disorder'd, and without immediate Help, I'm a Dead Man.—I'm quite out of Breath, I hope she won't put me to the expence of any more lyes, for certainly I have told e­nough to deserve any one Woman in Christendom.

Poor Gentleman; Well, if your Distemper continues, I'll con­sult my Pillow for a Remedy.

Take me with you to that Study, Madam, the sight of me there, will very much improve your Understanding.

Come, I hope to see thee Blest as I am.—And now my Fairest, my whole Study shall be to make you Happy.

Well, Madam, you had as good give me my Answer.

[Page 50]

Not till I see the event of your Plot upon my Uncle.

Come, come, she's thine Boy.

SCENE Carefull's House.

Mercy upon me! What shall I do?—Well thou'rt right enough serv'd, old Boy—Eh—Pox of thy old doating Head

Thou must Marry for Revenge, must thou—I am reveng'd with a Witness—

Sir, your Servant, I come Sir, to do you a piece of Service, if it be not too late; I heard just now, that one Toper had lodg'd a Woman, under pretence of a Cousin, in your House.

Oh Heaven! I'm become the Town-talk already—Well Sir, and what then?

She's a common Strumpit, Sir.

How Sir! Have a care what you say.

I'll prove it Sir, she's of known Practice, the Cloaths she wears are but her Quarters Sins—She has no Lining but what she first offends for.

Oh! I sweat, I sweat.

Sir, she has known Men of all Nations, and lain in by two Parts of the Map, Africa and America.

Oh! oh! oh! oh!

What ail you Sir, Are you not well?

Oh undone! undone! I am married Sir

Nay then, Heaven help you—Why wou'd you trust To­per, the debauchest Fellow in Town; she was once his Mistress; Money falling short, I suppose, he has topt her upon you, and is [...] be maintain'd out of your Bags.

Oh! I have setl'd all I have in the World upon her, that damn'd Rascal. Oh that I cou'd see him stretch'd upon a Rack now, I'd give a thousand Pound for every Stretch that shou'd enlarge the Rogue thro' all his Joynts; that shou'd but show him Hell, and then recall his fleeting Soul, and give him strength to endure his Torment often. I'd have him as long a dying as a chop'd Eel.

What have we here?

My Lady has sent your Wife a Present Sir.

Who is your Lady?

My Lady Manlove.

Pray what is it?

A Picture for her Bed-chamber, Sir.

For her Bed-chamber? There are but one sort of Pictures will please my Wife there—Pray draw back the Curtain.

My Lady charg'd that none shou'd see it but your Wife, Sir.

Say you so Sir; but I will see it.

Hell! and Damnation! Are you there, Bawd, Pander, Sirrah, I'll cut your Ears off.

Hold Sir, I must prevent your running into sarther Mis­chief; if you kill him the Law pursues you.

The Law, who wou'd scruple Hanging to be reveng'd on such a Dog—Sirrah, you are a Villain—

Sir, you are rude, and wou'd be beaten; can't a Man come in private, on Business to your Wife, but you must be inquisi­tive—

Why this is beyond Example; Why do you hold me Sir? Z'death, I shall be Cuckolded before my face!

Ho! Are you come? I thought your Husband, to keep you chast, had set a Guard of Eunuchs over you, or shut you up in a Room, where no Male Beast is pictur'd, lest the sight of ought that cou'd beget, shou'd stir Desires, for I find he is as Jealous already as an Italian.

I wonder Sir, who licens'd you to pry, or spy out my Friends that come to me in private; it wou'd be more to your Re­putation to trust to my Management, than to be peeping; but it shows your unbred Curiosity, which I shall correct.

Zounds! This is beyond the Suffering of a Saint; let me go, and I'll slit her Nose—Thou Woman double stampt.

You'll dare to break up Letters shortly, and exa­mine my Taylor when he brings home my Gown, lest there be a Man in't. I'll have you to know Sir, I'll have whom I please, and when I please, and in what Disguise Iplease, and not have your sore Eyes so sawcy to peep, as if by Prevention, you meant to kill a Basilisk.

[Page 53]

Mercy on me! I s [...]all lose my Understanderstanding.

Cousin Topez, I'll setch you the Hundred Pound imme­diately.

A hundred Pound! Oh, oh, oh.

I vow Sir, I am very much concern'd at your Misfortune, if I was in your place, I'd take my Daughter home; the Collonel is a Man of Honour, and will at least secure you from such Affronts as these.

Ah poor Girl! But I have not a Farthing to give her—This [...] Woman has got all.

Suppose Sir, I cou'd contrive a way to null your Marriage, Wou'd you forgive your Daughter?

With all my Soul.

What wou'd you give for such a Project, Ha?

As much as I'd give to see you hang'd—Which is all I am worth—

Ha, ha, ha, Well, you wou'd forgive me too, wou'd you not?

Ay, tho' thou hadst murder'd my Father, and debauch'd my Mother.

Say you so Sir—Well, I will be with you in an instant.

But which way will you do it, Sir?

Why you have not Consummated yet, have you?

No, thank Heaven.

Well, then take you no Care; you'll give your Daughter the same Fortune you design'd for the Fop Knight?

Ay, that I will, and 500 l. more.

Come in Lovers, the Scene's chang'd.

Your Blessing, Sir.

And with it, your Pardon.

You have it, provided I get unmarried again.

We'll now call for your Lady; Oh, here she comes.

Zounds, I Tremble at the Sight of her.

You shan't need Sir, for my Fury is over: I wish you Joy, Madam, and Sir I here resign you up your Settlement a­gain.

How's this? Ha, pray unfold this Mystery.

Why, Sir, this is Mrs. Pl [...]twell, your Neighbour, who only put on this Disguise to be Serviceable to your Daughter—This honest Gentleman here, was the Parson that Coupled you.

[Page 54]

Now Sir. I think, I have kept my Word with y [...].

Very well.

Why, truly Sir, being [...]th to [...] this [...] thrown [...] h [...]d the Pro [...]p [...]ct [...]f s [...]h a Worthy [...] Coll [...]n [...]l [...] to [...] you [...] your Reason, and I don't [...] own I have done you a piece of Service, in for [...]ing yo [...] [...] Family, and in his [...] receiv'd [...].

Tis now Madam, my [...] my [...] for this [...] p [...]ay, which way I [...] be Grate [...]ul.

If I [...] done [...] R [...]wards it self; and if Mr. [...] be over-paid.

With all my Heart. I [...] Frolick was a pretty Frolick—Now 'tis over.

I heard you was Married, Mr. Careful, I wish you Joy.

You are mistaken, Sir William, 'tis my Daughter that is Married.

Ha, the Collonel Married to my Misiress.

Sir William, I desire all Quar [...]els between you and I may be Cancel'd.

Pray include me in that Treaty too, Sir William.

Here has been strange juggling, Sir William, I have been Trick'd out of my Consent, I hope you'll Pardon me too.

I▪m in such Confusion, that I know not what to say, but I must show [...] my Soul's above an Affront, and that nothing can disorder the Serenity of my Temper.

Ay, we are all Friends, Gentlemen, and I forgive the Lady too, for she has done more honestly by me than most Women wou'd, she has Married the Man she lik'd, tho' 'tis the Fashion to take the Rich Husband they don't like, and make a Friend of the Man they do.

Ha, ha, ha.

One thing I desire you'd make clear to me, Madam, which is, Why did you give me Encouragment by your Woman?

I give you Encouragment by my Woman? What do you mean?

I beg your [...]. Madam, his Gold prevail'd upon me, and I thought what I s [...]d would signify nothing, I hope you will forgive me.

Never: Our of my Doors, I suppose thro' your managment, Ogle was so Familiar with me too.—Out of my Sight.

[Page 54]

Indeed, my Dear, I cannot Interceed in her behalf, since thro' her means my first Suspicion came, that made us both un­easy; but as to Ogle, I sufficiently Reveng'd your Quarrel, for I'll engage he never sets up for a Beau again.

Confound your whole Sex, you're all not worth a Gentle­man's Anger; I'll to my Lodgings, and send for the Musick, and think no more of you nor Matrimony; if I do, I'll give 'em leave to ram me into a Hautboy and blow me out at the Holes; Impair my vigour.

Ha, ha, ha.

Well, Madam, What say you? Have you a mind to see me swing to Elizium in my Garters, and hear me sung about in a Ballad to a doleful new Tune, call'd, The Gentleman's Farewell to his unkind Lady—Or will you take Pity on me?

Well, Sir, to prevent such sad Disasters, I don't care if I give you my Hand, and as you deserve, my Heart shall follow.

Ay, give me but the Body, and I'll warrant you I'll get the rest.

Hey day! What a Wedding chopt up there too! Well, I never shall believe common Report again, That all Women are Jacobites, since I find them so ready to Reward the Soldiers Service to the Nation with their Persons and Fortunes.

I wish every Brave Man was Rewarded according to his Merit, I'm certain Captain Bellmein deserves more than I can give him.

Don't Compliment your Husband, Madam, you don't know half my Deserts yet.

Brave Boys, brave Boys.

Sir here's the Musick without, come to Congratulate your Marriage.

Bid 'em come in, we'll have a Dance.

Well, Gentlemen, I wish you Joy if there can be any such thing in a Wife; but for my part, it shall always be my Maxim not to part with my Liberty, till I can't help it; What Bird wou'd be confin'd to a Cage, when it can skip from Tree to Tree? Col­lonel, I'll come and take a Bottle with you by and by.

Madam, you deserve our best Thanks for this exemplary piece of Justice, and be assured, you have laid an eternal Obligation on me.

I am pleas'd that I have done you Service, and hence­forth shall Devote my self to Virtue, and I hope Heaven will Pardon the Follies of my past Life.

[Page 55]

Virtue thou shining Jewel of my Sex—Thou pre­cious Thing that none knows how to Value as they ought, while they Enjoy it, but like Spend-thrift Heirs, when they have wasted all their Store, wou'd give the World they cou'd retrieve their lost Estate: Therefore beware, you happy Maids, how you listen to the deluding Tongues of Men, 'tis only they have Power to betray you.