[]A Bold Stroke for a WIFE.

SCENE I. SCENE a Tavern.

COME, Colonel, His Majeſty's Health—You are as melancholly as if you were in Love; I wiſh ſome of the Beauties at Bath ha'n't ſnapt your Heart.

Why faith, Freeman, there is ſome⯑thing in't; I have ſeen a Lady at Bath, who has kindled ſuch a Flame in me, that all the Waters there can't quench.

Women, like ſome poiſonous Animals, carry their Antidote about 'em:—Is ſhe not to be had, Colonel?

That's a difficult Queſtion to anſwer; however, I reſolve to try: Perhaps you may be able to ſerve me; you Merchants know one another—The Lady told me herſelf ſhe was under the Charge of four Perſons.

Odſo! 'tis Mrs. Ann Lovely.

The ſame; do you know her?

Know her! Ay—Faith, Colonel, your Con⯑dition is more deſperate than you imagine; why ſhe is the Talk and Pity of the whole Town; and it is the Opi⯑nion of the Learned, that ſhe muſt die a Maid.

Say you ſo? That's ſomewhat odd, in this charita⯑ble City—She's a Woman, I hope.

For ought I know; but it had been as well for her, had Nature made her any other Part of the Creation. The Man which keeps this Houſe, ſerv'd her Father; he is a very honeſt Fellow, and may be of uſe to you; we'll ſend for him to take a Glaſs with us; he'll give you the whole Hiſtory, and 'tis worth your hearing.

But may one truſt him?

With your Life; I have Obligations enough up⯑on him, to make him do any thing; I ſerve him with Wine.

Nay, I know him pretty well my ſelf; I once us'd to frequent a Club that was kept here.

Gentlemen, d'you call?

Ay, ſend up your Maſter.

Yes, Sir.

Do you know any of this Lady's Guardians, Free⯑man?

Yes, I know two of them very well.

What are they?

Here comes one will give you an Account of them all—Mr. Sackbut, we ſent for you to take a Glaſs with us. 'Tis a Maxim among the Friends of the Bottle, that as long as the Maſter is in Company one may be ſure of good Wine.

Sir, you ſhall be ſure to have as good Wine as you ſend in—Colonel, your moſt humble Servant; you are welcome to Town.

I thank you, Mr. Sackbut.

I am as glad to ſee you, as I ſhould a Hundred Tun of French Claret Cuſtom-free—my Service to you, Sir.

You don't look ſo merry as you us'd to do; are you not well, Colonel?

He has got a Woman in his Head, Landlord, can you help him?

If 'tis in my Power, I ſhan't ſcruple to ſerve my Friend.

'Tis one Perquiſite of your Calling.

Ay, at t'other End of the Town, where you Of⯑ficers uſe, Women are good Forcers of Trade; a well⯑cuſtom'd Houſe, a handſome Bar-keeper, with clean ob⯑liging Drawers, ſoon get the Maſter an Eſtate; but our Citizens ſeldom do any thing but cheat within the Walls—But as to the Lady, Colonel; point you at Particu⯑lars, or have you a good Champagne Stomack? Are you in full Pay, or reduc'd, Colonel?

Reduc'd, reduc'd, Landlord.

To the miſerable Condition of a Lover!

Piſh! That's preferrable to Half-pay; a Woman's Reſolution may break before the Peace; puſh her home, Colonel, there's no parlying with that Sex.

Were the Lady her own Miſtreſs, I have ſome Rea⯑ſons to believe I ſhould ſoon command in Chief.

You know Mrs. Lovely, Mr. Sackbut.

Know her! Ay, poor Nancy; I have carried her to School many a froſty Morning. Alas, if ſhe's the Wo⯑man, I pity you, Colonel: Her Father, my old Maſter, was the moſt whimſical, out-of-the-way temper'd Man, I ever heard of, as you will gueſs by his laſt Will and Teſtament—This was his only Child: I have heard him wiſh her dead a thouſand times.

Why ſo?

He hated Poſterity, you muſt know, and wiſh'd the World were to expire with himſelf—He uſed to ſwear, if ſhe had been a Boy, he would have qualify'd him for the Opera.

'Tis a very unnatural Reſolution in a Father.

He dy'd worth Thirty thouſand Pounds, which he left to this Daughter, provided ſhe married with the Conſent of her Guardians: But that ſhe might be ſure never to do ſo, he left her in the Care of four Men, as oppoſite to each other as Light and Darkneſs: Each has his quarterly Rule, and three Months in a Year ſhe is oblig'd to be ſubject to each of their Humours, and they are pretty different, I aſſure you—She is juſt come from Bath.

'Twas there I ſaw her.

Ay, Sir, the laſt Quarter was her Beau Guar⯑dian's—She appears in all publick Places during his Reign.

She viſited a Lady who boarded in the ſame Houſe with me: I lik'd her Perſon, and found an Op⯑portunity to tell her ſo: She reply'd, ſhe had no Obje⯑ction to mine; but if I could not reconcile Contra⯑dictions, I muſt not think of her, for that ſhe was con⯑demned to the Caprice of four Perſons, who never yet agreed in any one thing, and ſhe was oblig'd to pleaſe them all.

'Tis moſt true, Sir; I'll give you a ſhort De⯑ſcription of the Men, and leave you to judge of the poor Lady's Condition. One is a kind of a Virtuoſo, a ſilly, half-witted Fellow, but poſitive and ſurly; fond of nothing but what is Antique and Foreign, and wears his Cloaths of the Faſhion of the laſt Century; doats upon Travellers, and believes Sir John Mandiville more than the Bible.

That muſt be a rare old Fellow!

Another is a Change-Broker; a Fellow that will out-lie the Devil for the Advantage of Stock, and cheat his Father that got him in a Bargain: He is a great Stickler for Trade and hates every thing that wears a Sword.

He is a great Admirer of the Dutch Management, and ſwears they underſtand Trade better than any Nation under the Sun.

The Third is an old Beau, that has May in his Fancy and Dreſs, but December in his Face and his Heels; [5] he admires nothing but new Faſhions, and thoſe muſt be French; loves Operas, Balls, Maſquerades, and is always the moſt tawdry of the whole Company on a Birth-day.

Theſe are pretty oppoſite to one another, truly! And the fourth, what is he, Landlord?

A very rigid Quaker, whoſe Quarter begun this Day—I ſaw Mrs. Lovely go in not above two Hours ago—Sir Philip ſet her down. What think you now, Colonel, is not the poor Lady to be pity'd?

Ay, and reſcued too, Landlord.

In my Opinion, that's impoſſible.

There is nothing impoſſible to a Lover. What would not a Man attempt for a fine Woman and Thirty Thouſand Pounds? Beſides, my Honour is at Stake; I promis'd to deliver her—and ſhe bad me win her, and take her.

That's fair, faith.

If it depended upon Knight-Errantry, I ſhould not doubt your ſetting free the Damſel; but to have A⯑varice, Impertinence, Hypocrifie, and Pride, at once to deal with, requires more Cunning than generally attends a Man of Honour.

My Fancy tells me I ſhall come off with Glory; I reſolve to try, however.—Do you know all the Guardians, Mr. Sackbut?

Very well, Sir, they all uſe my Houſe.

And will you aſſiſt me, if occaſion be?

In every thing I can, Colonel.

I'll anſwer for him; and whatever I can ſerve you in, you may depend on. I know Mr. Periwinkle and Mr. Tradelove; the latter has a very great Opinion of my Intereſt Abroad.—I happen'd to have a Letter from a Correſpondent two Hours before the News arrived of the French King's Death; I communicated it to him; upon which he bought up all the Stock he could, and what with that, and ſome Wagers he laid, he told me, he had got to the Tune of Five Hundred Pounds; ſo that I am much in his good Graces.

I don't know but you may be of Service to me, Freeman.

If I can, command me, Colonel.

Is it not poſſible to find a Suit of Cloaths ready made at ſome of theſe Sale Shops, fit to rig out a Beau, think you, Mr. Sackbut.

O hang 'em—No, Colonel, they keep nothing ready-made that a Gentleman would be ſeen in: But I can fit you with a Suit of Cloaths, if you'd make a Figure—Velvet and Gold Brocade—they were pawn'd to me by a French Count, who had been ſtript at Play, and wanted Money to carry him home; he promis'd to ſend for them, but I have heard nothing from him.

He has not fed upon Frogs long enough yet to re⯑cover his Loſs; ha, ha.

Ha, ha,—Well, thoſe Cloaths will do, Mr. Sackbut—tho' we muſt have three or four Fellows in tawdry Liveries; thoſe can be procur'd, I hope.

Egad, I have a Brother come from the Weſt-In⯑dies, that can match you; and, for Expedition ſake, you ſhall have his Servants; there's a Black, a Tawny-moor, and a Frenchman; they don't ſpeak one Word of Engliſh, ſo can make no Miſtake.

Excellent—Egad, I ſhall look like an Indian Prince. Firſt I'll attack my Beau-Guardian; where lives he?

Faith, ſomewhere about St. James's; tho' to ſay in what Street, I cannot; but any Chairman will tell you where Sir Philip Modelove lives.

Oh! you'll find him in the Park at Eleven every Day; at leaſt I never paſs'd thro' at that Hour without ſeeing him there.—But what do you in⯑tend?

To addreſs him in his own Way, and find what he deſigns to do with the Lady.

And what then?

Nay, that I can't tell, but I ſhall take my Meaſures accordingly.

Well, 'tis a mad Undertaking, in my Mind; but here's to your Succeſs, Colonel.

'Tis ſomething out of the Way, I confeſs; but Fortune may chance to ſmile, and I ſucceed—Come, Landlord, let me ſee thoſe Cloaths. Freeman, I ſhall ex⯑pect you'll leave Word with Mr. Sackbut, where one may find you upon occaſion; and ſend my Equipage of India immediately, do you hear?

Immediately.

SCENE II. Prim's Houſe.

Bleſs me, Madam! why do you fret and teaze your ſelf ſo? This is giving them the Advantage with a Witneſs.

Muſt I be condemned all my Life to the prepoſterous Humours of other People; and pointed at by every Boy in Town?—Oh! I could tear my Fleſh, and curſe the Hour I was born.—Is it not monſtrouſly ridiculous, that they ſhould deſire to im⯑poſe their Quaking Dreſs upon me at theſe Years? When I was a Child, no matter what they made me wear; but now—

I wou'd reſolve againſt it, Madam; I'd ſee 'em hang'd before I'd put on the pinch'd Cap again.

Then I muſt never expect one Moment's Eaſe; ſhe has rung ſuch a Peal in my Ears already, that I ſhan't have the right Uſe of them this Month—What can I do?

What can you not do, if you will but give your Mind to it? Marry, Madam.

What! and have my Fortune go to build Churches and Hoſpitals?

Why, let it go—If the Colonel loves you, as he pretends, he'll marry you without a Fortune, Ma⯑dam; and I aſſure you, a Colonel's Lady is no deſpicable thing; a Colonel's Poſt will maintain you like a Gentlewo⯑man, Madam.

So you wou'd adviſe me to give up my own Fortune, and throw my ſelf upon the Colonel's.

I would adviſe you to make your ſelf eaſie, Ma⯑dam.

That's not the Way, I am ſure. No, no, Girl, there are certain Ingredients to be mingled with Matrimony, without which, I may as well change for the worſe as for the better. When the Woman has For⯑tune enough to make the Man happy, if he has either Ho⯑nour or Good Manners, he'll make her eaſie. Love makes but a ſlovenly Figure in that Houſe, where Poverty keeps the Door.

And ſo you reſolve to die a Maid, do you Ma⯑dam?

Or have it in my Power to make the Man I love, Maſter of my Fortune.

Then you don't like the Colonel ſo well as I thought you did, Madam, or you would not take ſuch a Reſolution.

It is becauſe I do like him, Betty, that I take ſuch a Reſolution.

Why, do you expect, Madam, the Colonel can work Miracles? Is it poſſible for him to marry you with the Conſent of all your Guardians?

Or he muſt not marry me at all, and ſo I told him; and he did not ſeem diſpleas'd with the News.—He promis'd to ſet me free, and I, on the Condition, promis'd to make him Maſter of that Free⯑dom.

Well! I have read of inchanted Caſtles, Ladies delivered from the Chains of Magick, Giants kill'd, and Monſters overcome; ſo that I ſhall be the leſs ſurpriz'd, if the Colonel ſhould conjure your [9] out of the Power of your Guardians: If he does, I am ſure he deſerves your Fortune.

And ſhall have it, Girl, if it were ten times as much—For I'll ingenuouſly confeſs to thee, that I do like the Colonel above all Men I ever ſaw—There's ſome⯑thing ſo Jantée in a Soldier, a kind of a Je ne ſcay quoi Air, that makes 'em more agreeable than the reſt of Man⯑kind—They command Regard, as who ſhould ſay, We are your Defenders, We preſerve your Beauties from the Inſults of rude unpoliſh'd Foes, and ought to be preferr'd before thoſe lazy indolent Mortals, who by dropping into their Fathers Eſtate ſet up their Coaches, and think to rat⯑tle themſelves into our Affections.

Nay, Madam, I confeſs that the Army has en⯑groſs'd all the prettieſt Fellows—A lac'd Coat and Feather have irreſiſtable Charms.

But the Colonel has all the Beauties of the Mind, as well as Perſon.—O all ye Powers, that favour happy Lovers, grant he may be mine! Thou God of Love, if thou be'ſt ought but Name, aſſiſt my Fainwell.

SCENE 1. SCENE the Park.

So, now if I can but meet this Beau—'Egad, methinks I cut a ſmart Figure, and have as much of the tawdry Air, as any Italian Count, or French Mar⯑quée of 'em all—Sure I ſhall know this Knight again,—ah! yonder he ſits, making Love to a Mask, i'faith, I'll walk up the Mall, and come down by him.

Well, but, my Dear, are you really conſtant to your Keeper?

Yes, really, Sir—hey day! who comes yonder, he cuts a mighty Figure.

Ha! A Stranger, by his Equipage keeping ſo cloſe at his Heels—He has the Appearance of a Man of Quality—Poſitively, French by his dancing Air.

He croſſes, as if he meant to ſit down here.—

He has a mind to make love to thee, Child.—

It will be to no Purpoſe if he does.

Are you reſolv'd to be cruel then?

You muſt be very cruel, indeed, if you can de⯑ny any thing to ſo fine a Gentleman, Madam.

I never mind the Outſide of a Man.

And I'm afraid thou art no Judge of the Inſide.

I am poſitively of your Mind, Sir. For Crea⯑tures of her Function ſeldom penetrate beyond the Pocket.

Creatures of your Compoſition have, indeed, generally more in their Pockets than in their Heads.

Pray what ſays your Watch? mine is down.

I want 36 Minutes of Twelve, Sir—

May I preſume, Sir?

Sir, you honour me.

He ſpeaks good Engliſh—tho' he muſt be a Foreigner;—this Snuff is extreamly good—and the Box prodigious fine; the Work is French I preſume, Sir.

I bought it in Paris, Sir,—I do think the Workmanſhip pretty neat.

Neat! 'tis exquiſitely fine, Sir; pray, Sir, if I may take the Liberty of inquiring—what Country is ſo happy to claim the Birth of the fineſt Gentleman in the Univerſe? France, I preſume.

Then you don't think me an Engliſhman?

No, upon my Soul don't I.

I am ſorry for't.

Impoſſible you ſhould wiſh to be an Engliſh⯑man—Pardon me, Sir, this Iſland could not pro⯑duce a Perſon of ſuch Alertneſs.

As this Mirrour ſhews you, Sir.

Coxcombs! I'm ſick to hear 'em praiſe one another; one ſeldom gets any thing by ſuch Animals, not even a Dinner, unleſs one can dine upon Soop and Sallery.

O Ged, Sir! Will you leave us, Madam? ha, ha.

She fears 'twill be only loſing Time to ſtay here, ha, ha,—I know not how to diſtinguiſh you, [12] Sir, but your Mien and Addreſs ſpeak you Right Honou⯑rable.

Thus great Souls judge of others by them⯑ſelves—I am only adorn'd with Knighthood, that's all I aſſure you, Sir, my Name is Sir Philip Modelove.

Of French Extraction?—

My Father was French.

One may plainly perceive it—there is a cer⯑tain Gaiety peculiar to my Nation, (for I will own my ſelf a Frenchman) which diſtinguiſhes us every where. A Perſon of your Figure would be a vaſt Addition to a Coronet.

I muſt own, I had the Offer of a Barony about five Years ago, but I abhorr'd the Fatigue which muſt have attended it—I could never yet bring my ſelf to join with either Party.

You are perfectly in the right, Sir Philip—a fine Perſon ſhould not embark himſelf in the ſlovenly Concern of Politicks; Dreſs and Pleaſure are Objects proper for the Soul of a fine Gentleman.

And Love—

Oh! that's included under the Article of Plea⯑ſure.

Parbleu, il eſt un homme d'eſprit, I muſt em⯑brace you—

Your Sentiments are ſo agreeable to mine, that we appear to have but one Soul, for our Ideas and Conceptions are the ſame.

I ſhould be ſorry for that

You do me too much Honour, Sir Philip.

Your Vivacity and Jantée Mien aſſured me at firſt ſight there was nothing of this foggy Iſland in your Compoſition. May I crave your Name, Sir?

My Name is La Fainwell, Sir, at you Service.

The La Fainwells are French, I know; tho' the Name is become very numerous in Great Britain of late Years.—I was ſure you was French the Moment I laid my Eyes upon you; I could not come in to the Suppoſition of your being an Engliſhman, this Iſland pro⯑duces few ſuch Ornaments.

Pardon me, Sir Philip, this Iſland has two things ſuperior to all Nations under the Sun.

Ay! what are they?

The Ladies, and the Laws.

The Laws indeed do claim a Preference of o⯑ther Nations,—but by my Soul there are fine Wo⯑men every where—I muſt own I have felt their Power in all Countries.—

There are ſome finiſh'd Beauties, I confeſs, in France, Italy, Germany, nay, even in Holland; mais ſont bien rare: But les belles Angloiſes!—Oh, Sir Philip, where find we ſuch Women! ſuch Symetry of Shape! ſuch Elegancy of Dreſs! ſuch Regularity of Features! ſuch Sweetneſs of Temper! ſuch commanding Eyes! and ſuch bewitching Smiles?

Ah! parbleu vous eſtéz attrapér.

Non, je vous aſſure, Chevalier—but I declare there is no Amuſement ſo agreeable to my Goût, as the Converſation of a fine Woman—I could never be prevail'd upon to enter into what the Vulgar calls the Pleaſure of the Bottle.

My own Taſte, poſitivement—A Ball, or a Maſquerade, is certainly preferable to all the Producti⯑ons of the Vineyard.

Infinitely! I hope the People of Quality in Eng⯑land will ſupport that Branch of Pleaſure, which was imported with their Peace, and ſince naturaliz'd by the ingenious Mr. Heidegger.

The Ladies aſſure me it will become Part of the Conſtitution,—upon which I ſubſcrib'd a hun⯑dred Guineas—it will be of great Service to the Publick, at leaſt to the Company of Surgeons, and the City in general.

Ha, ha, it may help to ennoble the Blood of the City. Are you married, Sir Philip?

No, nor do I believe I ever ſhall enter into that honourable State; I have an abſolute Tender for the whole Sex.

That's more than they have for you, I dare ſwear.

And I have the Honour to be very well with the Ladies, I can aſſure you, Sir; and I won't affront a Million of fine Women, to make one happy.

Nay, Marriage is really reducing a Man's Taſte to a kind of half Pleaſure, but then it carries the Bleſſing of Peace along with it, one goes to ſleep without Fear, and wakes without Pain.

There's ſomething of that in't; a Wife is a very good Diſh for an Engliſh Stomach—but groſs Feeding for nicer Palates, ha, ha, ha!

I find I was very much miſtaken,—I imagin'd, you had been married to that young Lady which I ſaw in the Chariot with you this Morning in Grace-church-ſtreet.

Who, Nancy Lovely? I am a Piece of a Guar⯑dian to that Lady, you muſt know; her Father, I thank him, join'd me with three of the moſt prepoſterous old Fellows—that upon my Soul I'm in pain for the poor Girl,—ſhe muſt certainly lead Apes, as the Say⯑ing is; ha, ha.

That's pity, Sir Philip; if the Lady would give me leave, I would endeavour to avert that Curſe.

As to the Lady, ſhe'd gladly be rid of us at any Rate, I believe; but here's the Miſchief, he who marries Miſs Lovely, muſt have the Conſent of us all four,—or not a Penny of her Portion.—For my Part, I ſhall never approve of any, but a Man of Fi⯑gure,—and the reſt are not only averſe to Clean⯑lineſs, but have each a peculiar Taſte to gratify.—For my Part, I declare, I would prefer you to all Men I ever ſaw.—

And I her to all Women—

I aſſure you, Mr. Fainwell, I am for marry⯑ing her, for I hate the Trouble of a Guardian, eſpecially among ſuch Wretches; but reſolve never to agree to the Choice of any one of them,—and I fancy they'll be even with me, for they never came into any Propoſal of mine yet.

I wiſh I had your Leave to try them, Sir Philip.

With all my Soul, Sir. I can refuſe a Perſon of your Appearance nothing.

Sir, I am infinitely oblig'd to you.

But do you really like Matrimony?

I believe I could with that Lady, Sir,

The only Point in which we differ—but you are Maſter of ſo many Qualifications, that I can ex⯑cuſe one Fault, for I muſt think it a Fault in a fine Gen⯑tleman; and that you are ſuch, I'll give it under my hand.

I wiſh you'd give me your Conſent to marry Mrs. Lovely under your Hand, Sir Philip.

I'll do'r, if you'll ſtep into St. James's Cof⯑fee-Houſe, where we may have Pen and Ink—tho' I can't foreſee what Advantage my Conſent will be to you, without you could find a way to get the reſt of the Guardians—but I'll introduce you however, ſhe is now at a Quaker's where I carried her this Morn⯑ing, when you ſaw us in Grace-church-ſtreet.—I aſſure you ſhe has an odd Ragoût of Guardians, as you will find when you hear the Characters, which I'll en⯑deavour to give you as we go along—Hey! Pierre, Jaque, Renno—where are you all, Scoundrels?—Order the Chariot to St. James's Coffee-Houſe.

Le Noir, la Brun, le Blanc—Mortblu, ou ſont ces Coquins-la? Alons, Monſieur le Chevalier.

Ah! Pardonnez moy, Monſieur.

Not one Step upon my Soul, Sir Philip.

The beſt-bred Man in Europe, poſitively.

SCENE Changes to Obediah Prim's Houſe.

Then thou wilt not obey me; and thou do'ſt really think thoſe Fallals becometh thee?

I do, indeed.

Now will I be judged by all ſober People, if I don't look more like a modeſt Woman than thou doſt, Anne.

More like a Hypocrite you mean, Mrs. Prim.

Ah! Anne, Anne, that wicked Philip Mode⯑love will undo thee—Satan ſo fills thy Heart with Pride, during the three Months of his Guardianſhip, that thou becomeſt a Stumbling-block to the Upright.

Pray who are they? Are the pinch'd Cap, and formal Hood, the Emblems of Sanctity? Does your Virtue conſiſt in your Dreſs, Mrs. Prim?

It doth not conſiſt in cut Hair, ſpotted Face, and bare Necks,—Oh the Wickedneſs of this Gene⯑ration! The Primitive Women knew not the Abomina⯑tion of hoop'd Petticoats.

No, nor the Abomination of Cant neither. Don't tell me, Mrs. Prim, don't—I know you have as much Pride, Vanity, Self-conceit and Ambition among you, couch'd under that formal Habit, and ſanctify'd Countenance, as the proudeſt of us all; but the World begins to ſee your Prudry.

Prudry! What! do they invent new Words as well as new Faſhions? Ah! poor fantaſtick Age, I pity thee—poor deluded Anne; Which doſt thou think moſt reſembleſt the Saint, and which the Sinner, thy Dreſs, or mine? Thy naked Boſom allureth the Eye of the By-ſtander—encourageth the Frailty of Hu⯑mane Nature—and corrupteth the Soul with evil Longings.

And pray who corrupted your Son Tobias with evil Longings? Your Maid Tabitha wore a Hand⯑kerchief, and yet he made the Saint a Sinner.

Well, well, ſpit thy Malice—I con⯑feſs Satan did buffet my Son Tobias, and my Servant Ta⯑bitha; the Evil Spirit was at that time too ſtrong, and they both became ſubject to its Workings—not from any outward Provocation—but from an inward Call;—he was not tainted with the Rottenneſs of the Faſhions, nor did his Eyes take in the Drunkenneſs of Beauty.

No! that's plainly to be ſeen.

Tabitha is one of the Faithful, he fell not with a Stranger.

So! Then you hold Wenching no Crime, provided it be within the Pale of your own Tribe—you are an excellent Caſuiſt truly.

Not ſtripp'd of thy Vanity yet, Anne! Why doſt not thou make her put it off, Sarah?

She will not do it.

Verily, thy naked Breaſts troubleth my outward Man; I pray thee hide 'em, Anne; put on a Handker⯑chief, Anne Lovely.

I hate Handkerchiefs when 'tis not cold Weather, Mr. Prim.

I have ſeen thee wear a Handkerchief; nay, and a Mask to boot, in the middle of July.

Ay, to keep the Sun from ſcorching me.

If thou cou'd'ſt not bear the Sun-beams, how doſt thou think Man ſhou'd bear thy Beams? Thoſe Breaſts inflame Deſire, let them be hid, I ſay.

Let me be quiet, I ſay:—Muſt I be tormented thus for ever? Sure no Woman's Condition ever equal'd mine; Foppery, Folly, Avarice and Hypo⯑criſy, are by Turns my conſtant Companions,—and I muſt vary Shapes as often as a Player.—I can⯑not think my Father meant this Tyranny! No; you uſurp an Authority which he never intended you ſhou'd take.

Hark thee, Do'ſt thou call good Counſel Ty⯑ranny? Do I, or my Wife, tyrannize, when we deſire thee in all Love to put off thy Tempting Attire, and vail thy Provokers to Sin?

Deliver me, good Heaven! or I ſhall go di⯑ſtracted.

So! now thy Pinners are toſt, and thy Breaſts pull'd up;—verily they were ſeen enough [18] before;—fie upon the filthy Taylor who made them Stays.

I wiſh I were in my Grave! Kill me rather than treat me thus.—

Kill thee! ha, ha; thou think'ſt thou art Act⯑ing ſome lude Play ſure;—kill thee! Art thou prepar'd for Death, Anne Lovely? No, no, thou wou'dſt rather have a Husband, Anne:—Thou want⯑eſt a Gilt Coach, with ſix lazy Fellows behind, to flant it in the Ring of Vanity—among the Princes and Ru⯑lers of the Land,—who pamper themſelves with the Fatneſs thereof; but I will take care that none ſhall ſquander away thy Father's Eſtate; thou ſhalt marry none ſuch, Anne.

Wou'd you marry me to one of your own Canting Sex?

Yea, verily, no ne elſe ſhall ever get myon⯑ſent, I do aſſure thee, Anne.

And I do aſſure thee, Obadiah, that I will as ſoon turn Papiſt, and dye in a Convent.

Oh Wickedneſs!

Oh Stupidity!

Oh Blindneſs of Heart!

Thou Blinder of the World, don't provoke me—leſt I betray your Sanctity, and leave your Wife to judge of your Purity:—What were the Emotions of your Spirit,—when you ſqueez'd Ma⯑ry by the Hand laſt Night in the Pantry,—when ſhe told you, you buſs'd ſo filthily? Ah! you had no A⯑verſion to naked Boſoms, when you begg'd her to ſhow you a little, little, little Bit of her delicious Bubby:—don't you remember thoſe Words, Mr. Prim?

What does ſhe ſay, Obadiah?

She talketh unintelligibly, Sarah. Which Way did ſhe hear this? This ſhou'd not have reach'd the Ears of the wicked ones;—verily, it troubleth me,

Philip Modelove, whom they call Sir Philip, is below, and ſuch another with him, ſhall I ſend them up?

Yea.

How do'ſt thou do, Friend Prim; odſo! my She-Friend here too! What, you are documenting Miſs Nancy, reading her a Lecture upon the pinch'd Coif, I warrant ye.

I am ſure thou never readeſt her any Lecture that was good.—My Fleſh riſeth ſo at theſe wicked Ones, that Prudence adviſeth me to withdraw from their Sight.

Oh! that I cou'd find Means to ſpeak to her! How charming ſhe appears! I wiſh I cou'd get this Letter into her Hand.

Well, Miſs Cockey, I hope thou haſt got the better of them.

The Difficulties of my Life are not to be ſur⯑mounted, Sir Philip,—I hate the Impertinence of him, as much as the Stupidity of the other.

Verily, Philip, thou wilt ſpoil this Maiden.

I find we ſtill differ in Opinion; but that we may none of us ſpoil her, pr' ythee, Prim, let us conſent to marry her—I have ſent for our Brother Guardians to meet me here about that very Thing.—Madam, will you give me Leave to recommend a Husband to you.—Here's a Gentleman, which, in my Mind, you can have no Objection to.

Heaven deliver me from the Formal, and the Fantaſtick Fool.

A fine Woman,—a fine Horſe, and fine Equi⯑page, are the fineſt Things in the Univerſe:—And if I am ſo happy to poſſeſs you, Madam, I ſhall become [20] the Envy of Mankind, as much as you out-ſhine your whole Sex.

I have no Ambition to appear conſpicuouſly ridiculous, Sir.

So fall the Hopes of Fainwell.

Ha! Fainwell! 'tis he! What have I done? Prim has the Letter, and all will be diſcover'd.

Friend, I know not thy Name, ſo cannot call thee by it; but thou ſeeſt thy Letter is unwelcome to the Maiden, ſhe will not read it.

Nor ſhall you;

I'll tear it in a thouſand Pieces, and ſcatter it, as I will the Hopes of all thoſe that any of you ſhall recommend to me.

Ha! Right Woman, faith!

Excellent Woman.

Friend, thy Garb ſavoureth too much of the Vanity of the Age for my Approbation; nothing that re⯑ſembleth Philip Modelove ſhall I love, mark that;—therefore, Friend Philip, bring no more of thy own Apes under my Roof.

I am ſo entirely a Stranger to the Monſters of thy Breed, that I ſhall bring none of them, I am ſure.

I am likely to have a pretty Task by that time I have gone thro' them all; but ſhe's a City worth ta⯑king, and 'egad I'll carry on the Siege: If I can but blow up the Out-works, I fancy I am pretty ſecure of the Town.

Toby Periwinkle and Thomas Tradelove demand⯑eth to ſee thee.

Bid them come up.

Deliver me from ſuch an Inundation of Noiſe and Nonſenſe. Oh Fainwell! whatever thy Con⯑trivance [21] is, proſper it Heaven;—but oh! I fear thou never canſt redeem me.

Sic tranſit Gloria Mundi!

Theſe are my Brother Guardians, Mr. Fainwell; pr'ythee obſerve the Creatures.

Well, Sir Philip, I obey your Summons.

Pray, what have you to offer for the Good of Mrs. Lovely, Sir Philip?

Firſt I deſire to know what you intend to do with that Lady? Muſt ſhe be ſent to the Indies for a Ven⯑ture,—or live to be an old Maid, and then enter'd a⯑mongſt your Curioſities, and ſhewn for a Monſter, Mr. Periwinkle?

Humph, Curioſities! that muſt be the Virtuoſo.

Why, what wou'd you do with her?

I wou'd recommend this Gentleman to her for a Husband, Sir—a Perſon whom I have pick'd out from the whole Race of Mankind.

I wou'd adviſe thee to ſhuffle him again with the reſt of Mankind, for I like him not.

Pray, Sir, without Offence to your Formality, what may be your Objections?

Thy Perſon; thy Manners; thy Dreſs; thy Acquaintance;—thy every Thing, Friend.

You are moſt particularly obliging, Friend, ha, ha.

What Buſineſs do you follow, pray Sir?

Humph, by that Queſtion he muſt be the Broker.

—Buſineſs, Sir! the Buſineſs of a Gentleman.

That is as much as to ſay, you dreſs fine, feed high, lie with every Woman you like, and pay your Sur⯑geon's Bills better than your Taylors or your Butchers.—

The Court is much oblig'd to you, Sir, for your Character of a Gentleman.

The Court, Sir! What wou'd the Court do with⯑out us Citizens?

Without your Wives and Daughters you mean, Mr. Tradelove?

Have you ever travell'd, Sir?

That Queſtion muſt not be anſwer'd now—In Books I have, Sir.

In Books? That's fine travelling indeed!—Sir Philip, when you preſent a Perſon I like, he ſhall have my Conſent to marry Mrs. Lovely, 'till when, your Ser⯑vant.

I'll make you like me before I have done with you, or I am miſtaken.

And when you can convince me, that a Beau is more uſeful to my Country than a Merchant, you ſhall have mine: 'till then you muſt excuſe me.

So much for Trade,—q'll fit you too.

In my Opinion, this is very inhumane Treat⯑ment, as to the Lady, Mr. Prim.

Thy Opinion and mine happens to differ as much as our Occupations, Friend; Buſineſs requireth my Preſence, and Folly thine, and ſo I muſt bid thee farewel.

Here's Breeding for you, Mr. Fainwel!—Gad take me, I'd give half my Eſtate to ſee theſe Raſcals bit.

I hope to bite you all, if my Plots hit.

SCENE I. SCENE the Tavern;

A Lucky Beginning, Colonel—you have got the old Beau's Conſent.

Ay, he's a reaſonable Creature; but the other three will require ſome Pains—Shall I paſs upon him, think you? Egad, in my Mind, I look as Antique as if I had been preſerv'd in the Ark.

Paſs upon him! ay, ay, as roundly as White-wine daſh'd with Sack does for Mountain and Sherry, if you have but Aſſurance enough—

I have no Apprehenſion from that Quarter; Aſſu⯑rance is the Cockade of a Soldier.

Ay, but the Aſſurance of a Soldier differs much from that of a Traveller—Can you lye with a good Grace?

As heartily when my Miſtreſs is the Prize, as I would meet the Foe when my Country call'd, and King commanded; ſo don't you fear that Part; if he don't know me again I'm ſaſe—I hope he'll come.

I wiſh all my Debts would come as ſure. I told him you had been a great Traveller, had many valuable Curioſities, and was a Perſon of a moſt ſingular Taſte; he ſeem'd tranſported, and begg'd me to keep you till he came.

Ay, ay, he need not fear my running away—Let's have a Bottle of Sack, Landlord, our Anceſtors drank Sack.

You ſhall have it.

And where-abouts is the Trap-door you men⯑tioned?

There's the Conveyance, Sir.

Now if I ſhould cheat all theſe Roguiſh Guar⯑dians, and carry off my Miſtreſs in Triumph, it would be what the French call a Grand Coup d'Eclat—Odſo! here comes Periwinkle—Ah! duce take this Beard, pray Jupiter it does not give me the ſlip, and ſpoil all.

Sir, this Gentleman hearing you have been a great Traveller, and a Perſon of fine Speculation, begs leave to take a Glaſs with you; he is a Man of a curious Taſte him⯑ſelf.

The Gentleman has it in his Face and Garb: Sir, you are welcome.

Sir, I honour a Traveller, and Men of your en⯑quiring Diſpoſition; the Oddneſs of your Habit pleaſes me extreamly; 'tis very Antique, and for that I like it.

'Tis very Antique, Sir;—This Habit once belong'd to the famous Claudius Ptolomeus, who liv'd in the Year a Hundred and Thirty Five.

If he keeps up to the Sample, he ſhall lye with the Devil for a Bean-Stack, and win it every Straw.

A Hundred and Thirty Five! why, that's prodi⯑gious now—Well, certainly 'tis the fineſt thing in the World to be a Traveller.

For my part I value none of the modern Faſhions of a Fig-Leaf.

No more do I, Sir; I had rather be the Jeſt of a Fool, than his Favourite,—I am laugh'd at her for my Singularity—This Coat you muſt know, Sir, was formerly worn by that Ingenious and very Learned Per⯑ſon, John Tradeſcant.

John Tradeſcant! Let me embrace you, Sir—John Tradeſcant was my Uncle, by Mother-ſide; and [25] I thank you for the Honour you do his Memory; he was a very curious Man indeed.

Your Uncle, Sir,—Nay then, 'tis no won⯑der that your Taſte is ſo refin'd; why, you have it in your Blood—My humble Service to you, Sir, to the im⯑mortal Memory of John Tradeſcant, your never-to-be-for⯑gotten Uncle.

Give me a Glaſs, Landlord.

I find you are Primitive, even in your Wine; Ca⯑nary was the Drink of our wiſe Forefathers; 'tis Balſa⯑mick, and ſaves the Charge of Apothecaries Cordials.—Oh! that I had liv'd in your Uncle's Days! or rather, that he were now alive;—Oh! how proud he'd be of ſuch a Nephew!

Oh Pox! that would have ſpoil'd the Jeſt.

A Perſon of your Curioſity muſt have collected many Rarities.

I have ſome, Sir, which are not yet come aſhore, as an Egyptian Idol.

Pray what might that be?

It is, Sir, a Kind of an Ape, which they formerly worſhipp'd in that Country; I took it from the Breaſt of a Female Mummy.

Ha, ha! our Women retain part of their Idolatry to this Day, for many an Ape lies on a Lady's Breaſt, ha, ha—

A ſmart old Thief.

Two Tusks of an Hippotamus, two Pair of Chineſe Nut-crackers, and one Egyptian Mummy.

Pray, Sir have you never a Crocodile?

Humph! the Boatſwain brought one with De⯑ſign to ſhew it, but touching at Rotterdam, and hear⯑ing it was no Rarity in England, he ſold it to a Dutch Poet.

The Devil's in that Nation, it rivals us in every thing.

I ſhould have been very glad to have ſeen a living Crocodile.

My Genius led me to things more worthy my Regard—Sir, I have ſeen the utmoſt Limits of this Globular World; I have ſeen the Sun riſe and ſet; know in what Degree of Heat he is at Noon, to the Breadth of a Hair, and what Quantity of Combuſtibles he burns in a Day, how much of it turns to Aſhes, and how much to Cinders.

To Cinders? You amaze me Sir; I never heard that the Sun conſum'd any thing—Deſcartes tells us—

Deſcartes, with the reſt of his Brethren both an⯑cient and modern, knew nothing of the Matter—I tell you Sir, that Nature admits an annual Decay, tho' imperceptible to vulgar Eyes—Sometimes his Rays deſtroy below, ſometimes above—You have heard of Blazing Comets, I ſuppoſe.

Yes, yes, I remember to have ſeen one; and our Aſtrologers tell us of another which ſhall happen very quickly.

Thoſe Comets are little Iſlands bordering on the Sun, which at certain Times are ſet on Fire by that Luminous Body's moving over them perpendicular, which will one Day occaſion a general Conflagrati⯑on.

One need not ſcruple the Colonel's Capacity, Faith

This is marvellous ſtrange! Theſe Cinders are what I never read of in any of our Learned Diſſerta⯑tions.

I don't know how the Devil you ſhould.

He has at this Fingers Ends; one would ſwear he had learned to lye at School, he does it ſo cleverly.

Well! you Travellers ſee ſtrange things! Pray, Sir, have you any of thoſe Cinders?

I have, among my other Curioſities.

Oh, what have I loſt for want of Travelling!—Pray what have you elſe?

Several Things worth your Attention—I have a Muff made of the Feathers of thoſe Geeſe that ſav'd the Roman Capitol.

Is't poſſible?

Yes, if you are ſuch a Gooſe to believe him.

I have an Indian Leaf which open, will cover an Acre of Land, yet folds up in ſo little a Compaſs, you may put it into your Snuff-Box.

Humph! that's a Thunderer.

Amazing!

Ah! mine is but a little one; I have ſeen ſome of them that would cover one of the Carribian Iſlands.

Well, if I don't travel before I die, I ſha'nt reſt in my Grave—Pray, what do the Indians with them?

Sir, they uſe them in their Wars for Tents, the Old Women for Ridinghoods, the Young for Fans and Umbrellas.

He has a fruitful Invention.

I admire our Eaſt-India Company imports none of them, they would certainly find their Account in them.

Right, if they could find the Leaves.

—Look ye, Sir, do you ſee this little Vial?

Pray you, what is it?

This is called Poluflosboio.

Poluflosboio!—it has a rumbling Sound.

Right, Sir. it proceeds from a rumbling Na⯑ture—This Water was part of thoſe Waves, which bore Cleopatra's Veſſel when ſhe ſail'd to meet Anthony.

Well, of all that ever travell'd, none had a Taſte like you.

But here's the Wonder of the World—This, Sir, is called Zona, or Moros Muſphonon, the Virtues of this is ineſtimable.

Moros Muſphonon! What, in the Name of Wiſ⯑dom, can that be?—to me it ſeems a plain Belt.

This Girdle has carried me all the World o⯑ver.

You have carried it, you mean.

I mean as I ſay, Sir—Whenever I am girded with this, I am inviſible; and by turning this little Screw, can be in the Court of the Great Mogul, the Grand Seig⯑nior, and King George, in as little Time as your Cook can poach an Egg.

You muſt pardon me, Sir, I can't believe it.

If my Landlord pleaſes, he ſhall try the Experi⯑ment immediately.

I thank you kindly, Sir, but I have no Inclina⯑tion to ride Poſt to the Devil.

No, no, you fhan't ſtir a Foot, I'll only make you inviſible.

But if you could not make me viſible again.

Come try it upon me, Sir, I am not afraid of the Devil, nor all his Tricks.—Zbud, I'll ſtand 'em all.

There, Sir, put it on—Come, Landlord, you and I muſt face the Eaſt.

Is it on, Sir?

'Tis on.

Heaven protect me! where is he?

Why here, juſt where I was.

Where, where, in the Name of Virtue? Ah, poor Mr. Periwinkle!—Egad look to't, you had beſt, Sir, and let him be ſeen again, or I ſhall have you burnt for a Wizzard.

Have Patience, good Landlord.

But really don't you ſee me now?

No more than I ſee my Grandmother that dy'd forty Years ago.

Are you ſure you don't lye? Methinks I ſtand juſt where I did, and ſee you as plain as I did before.

Ah! I wiſh I could ſee you once again.

Take off the Girdle, Sir.

Ah, Sir, I am glad to ſee you with all my Heart.

This is very odd; certainly there muſt be ſome Trick in't—Pray, Sir, will you do me the Favour to put it on your ſelf.

With all my Heart.

But firſt I'll ſecure the Door.

You know how to turn the Screw, Mr. Sack⯑but.

Yes, yes—Come Mr. Periwinkle, we muſt turn full Eaſt.

'Tis done, now turn.

Ha! Mercy upon me! My Fleſh creeps upon my Bones—This muſt be a Conjurer, Mr. Sackbut.

He is the Devil, I think.

Oh! Mr. Sackbut, why do you name the Devil, when perhaps he may be at your Elbow.

At my Elbow! marry, Heaven forbid.

Are you ſatisfied, Sir?

Yes, Sir, yes—How hollow his Voice ſounds!

Yours ſeem'd juſt the ſame—Faith, I wiſh this Girdle were mine, I'd ſell Wine no more. Hark ye, Mr. Periwinkle,

if he would ſell this Girdle, you might travel with great Expedition.

But it is not to be parted with for Money.

I am ſorry for't, Sir, becauſe I think it the great⯑eſt Curioſity I ever heard of.

By the Advice of a learned Phiſiognomiſt in Grand Cairo, who conſulted the Lines in my Face, I returned to England, where, he told me, I ſhould find a Rarity in the Keeping of four Men, which I was born to poſſeſs for the Benefit of Mankind, and the firſt of the four that gave me his Conſent, I ſhould preſent him with this Girdle—Till I have found this Jewel, I ſhall not part with the Girdle.

What can that Rarity be? Did he not name it to you?

Yes, Sir; he call'd it a Chaſte, Beautiful, Unaf⯑fected Woman.

Piſh! Women are no Rarities.—I never had any great Taſte that Way. I married, indeed, to pleaſe a Father, and I got a Girl to pleaſe my Wife; but ſhe and the Child (thank Heaven) died together—Women are the very Gewgaws of the Creation; Play-things for Boys, which, when they write Man, they ought to throw aſide.

A fine Lecture to be read to a Circle of La⯑dies!

What Woman is there, dreſt in all the Pride and Foppery of the Times, can boaſt of ſuch a Foretop as the Cockatoor.

I muſt humour him.

Such a Skin as the Lizzard?

Such a ſhining Breaſt as the Humming-Bird?

Such a Shape as the Antilope?

Or, in all the artful Mixture of their various Dreſſes, have they half the Beauty of one Box of Butter⯑flies?

No, that muſt be allow'd—For my part, if it were not for the Benefit of Mankind, I'd have nothing to do with them, for they are as indifferent to me, as a Sparrow or a Fleſh-Fly.

Pray, Sir, what Benefit is the World to reap from this Lady?

Why, Sir, ſhe is to bear me a Son, who ſhall re⯑ſtore the Art of Embalming, and the old Roman Man⯑ner of Burying their Dead; and, for the Benefit of Poſte⯑rity, he is to diſcover the Longitude, ſo long ſought for in vain.

Od! theſe are very valuable Things, Mr. Sack⯑but.

He hits it off admirably, and t'other ſwallows it like Sack and Sugar.

Certainly this Lady muſt be your Ward, Mr. Periwinkle, by her being under the Care of four Perſons.

By the Deſcription it ſhould—Egad, if I could get that Girdle, I'd ride with the Sun, and make the Tour of the whole World in four and twenty Hours

And are you to give that Girdle to the firſt of the four Guardiar s that ſhall give his Conſent to marry that Lady, ſay you, Sir?

I am ſo order'd, when I can find him.

I fancy I know the very Woman—her Name is Ann Lovely.

Excellent!—he ſaid, indeed, that the firſt Let⯑ter of her Name was L.

Did he really?—Well, that's prodigiouſly amazing, that a Perſon in Grand Cairo ſhould know any thing of my Ward.

Your Ward?

To be plain with you, Sir, I am one of thoſe four Guardians.

Are you indeed, Sir? I am tranſported to find the Man who is to poſſeſs this Moros Muſphonon is a Perſon of ſo curious a Taſte—Here is a Writing drawn up by that famous Egyptian, which, if you will pleaſe to ſign, you muſt turn your Face full North, and the Girdle is yours.

If I live till this Boy is born, I'll be embalm'd and ſent to the Royal Society when I die.

That you ſhall moſt certainly.

Here's Mr. Staytape the Taylor, enquires for you, Colonel.

Who do you ſpeak to, you Son of a Whore?

Ha! Colonel!

Confound the blundering Dog!

Why, to Colonel—

Get you out you Raſcal.

What the Devil is the Matter?

This Dog has ruin'd all my Scheme, I ſee by Peri⯑winkle's Looks.

How finely I ſhould have been chous'd—Colonel, you'll pardon me that I did not give your Title before—it was pure Ignorance, Faith it was—Pray—hem, hem—Pray, Colonel, what Poſt had this Learned Egyptian in your Regiment?

A Pox of your Snear

I don't underſtand you, Sir.

No? that's ſtrange! I underſtand you, Colonel—An Egyptian of Grand Cario! ha, ha, ha—I am ſorry ſuch a well-invented Tale ſhould do you no more Service—We old Fellows can ſee as far into a Mill-ſtone, as him that picks it—I am not to be trick'd out of my Truſt—mark that.

The Devil! I muſt carry it off; I wiſh I were fairly out.

Look ye, Sir, you may make what Jeſt you pleaſe—but the Stars will be obey'd, Sir, and, depend upon it, I ſhall have the Lady, and you none of the Girdle—Now for Freeman's Part of the Plot.

The Stars! ha, ha—No Star has favour'd you, it ſeems—The Girdle! ha, ha, ha, none of your Lagerdemain's Tricks can paſs upon me—Why, what a Pack of Trumpery has this Rogue pick'd up?—His Pagod, Poluflosboios, his Zonas, Moros Muſphonons, and the Devil knows what—But I'll take Care—Ha gone?—Ay, 'twas time to ſneak off—Soho! the Houſe!

Where is this Trickſter? Send for a Conſtable, I'll have this Raſcal before the Lord May⯑or; I'll Grand Cairo him, with a Pox to him—I believe you had a Hand in putting this Impoſture upon me, Sack⯑but.

Who I, Mr. Periwinkle? I ſcorn it; I perceiv'd he was a Cheat, and left the Room on purpoſe to ſend for a Conſtable to apprehend him, and endeavour'd to ſtop him when he went out—but the Rogue made but one Step from the Stairs to the Door, call'd a Coach, leapt into it, and drove away like the Devil, as Mr. Free⯑man can witneſs, who is at the Bar, and deſires to ſpeak with you; he is this Minute come to Town.

Send him in.

What a Scheme this Rogue had laid! How I ſhould have been laugh'd at, had it ſucceeded!

Mr. Freeman, your Dreſs commands your Welcome to Town; what will you drink? I had like to have been impos'd upon here by the verieſt Raſcal—

I am ſorry to hear it,—The Dog flew for't—he had not 'ſcap'd me, if I had been aware of him; Sackbut ſtruck at him, but miſs'd his Blow, or he had done his Buſineſs for him.

I believe you never heard of ſuch a Contri⯑vance, Mr. Freeman, as this Fellow had found out.

Mr. Sackbut has told me the whole Story, Mr. Periwinkle; but now I have ſomething to tell you of much more Importance to your ſelf—I happen'd to lie one Night at Coventry, and knowing your Uncle Sir Toby Periwinkle, I paid him a Viſit, and to my great Surprize found him dying.

Dying!

Dying, in all Appearance; the Servants weeping, the Room in Darkneſs; the Apothecary ſhaking his Head, told me, the Doctors had given him over; and then there is ſmall Hopes, you know.

I hope he has made his Will—he always told me, he wou'd make me his Heir.

I have heard you ſay as much, and therefore reſolv'd to give you Notice. I ſhould think, it would not be amiſs if you went down to-morrow Morn⯑ing.

It is a long Journey, and the Roads very bad.

But he has a great Eſtate, and the Land very good—Think upon that.

Why that's true, as you ſay; I'll think upon it: In the mean time I give you many Thanks for your Civili⯑ty, Mr. Freeman, and ſhould be glad of your Company to dine with me.

I am oblig'd to be at Jonathan's Coffee-Houſe at Two, and it is now half an Hour after One; if I [34] diſpatch my Buſineſs, I'll wait on you; I know your Hour.

You ſhall be very welcome, Mr. Freeman; and ſo your humble Servant.

Ha, ha, ha,—I have done your Buſineſs, Colo⯑nel; he has ſwallow'd the Bait.

I overheard all, tho' I am a little in the dark: I am to perſonate a Highway-Man, I ſuppoſe—That's a Project I am not fond of; for tho' I may fright him out of his Conſent, he may fright me out of my Life when he diſcovers me, as he certainly muſt in the End.

No, no, I have a Plot for you without Danger; but firſt we muſt manage Tradelove—Has the Taylor brought your Cloaths?

Yes, Pox take the Thief.

Pox take your Drawer, for a jolt-headed Rogue.

Well, well, no matter, I warrant we have him yet—But now you muſt put on the Dutch Mer⯑chant.

The Duce of this Trading-Plot—I wiſh he had been an old Soldier, that I might have attack'd him in my own Way, heard him fight over all the Battles of the Civil War—but for Trade, by Jupiter I ſhall ne⯑ver do it.

Never fear, Colonel, Mr. Freeman will inſtruct you.

You'll ſee what others do, the Coffee-houſe will inſtruct you.

I muſt venture, however—But I have a farther Plot in my Head upon Tradelove, which you muſt aſſiſt me in Freeman; you are in Credit with him, I heard you ſay.

I am, and will ſcruple nothing to ſerve you, Co⯑lonel.

Come along then—Now for the Dutchman—Honeſt Ptolomy, by your Leave,

SCENE I. SCENE, Jonathan's Coffee-Houſe in Ex⯑change-Alley. Crowd of People with Rolls of Paper and Parchment in their Hands; a Bar, and Coffee-Boys waiting.

SOuth-Sea at ſeven Eights! who buys?

South Sea Bonds due at Michael⯑mas, 1718. Claſs-Lottery Tickets.

Eaſt India Bonds?

What all Sellers and no Buyers? Gentle⯑men, I'll buy a thouſand Pound for Tueſday next at 3 Fourths.

Freſh Coffee, Gentlemen, freſh Coffee?

Hark ye, Gabriel, you'll pay the Difference of that Stock we tranſacted for t'other Day.

Ay, Mr. Tradelove, here's a Note for the Mo⯑ney, upon the Sword-Blade Company.

Bohea-Tea, Gentlemen?

Is Mr. Smuggle here?

Mr. Smuggle's not here, Sir, you'll find him at the Books.

Ho! here come two Sparks from the other End of the Town; what News bring they?

I would fain Bite that Spark in the brown Coat, he comes very often into the Alley, but never employs a Broker.

Who does any thing in the Civil Liſt Lot⯑tery? or Caco? Zounds, where are all the Jews this Afternoon? Are you a Bull or a Bear to day, Abraham?

A Bull, faith,—but I have a good Putt for next Week.

Mr. Freeman your Servant! Who is that Gen⯑tleman?

A Dutch Merchant, juſt come to England; but hark yee, Mr. Tradelove,—I have a Piece of News will get you as much as the French King's Death did, if you are expeditious.

Say you ſo, Sir! Pray, what is it?

Read there, I receiv'd it juſt now from one that belongs to the Emperor's Mi⯑niſter.

Sir, As I have many Obligations to you, I cannot miſs any Opportunity to ſhow my Gratitude; this Moment my Lord has receiv'd a private Expreſs, that the Spaniards have rais'd their Siege from before Cagliari; if this prove any Advantage to you, it will anſwer both the Ends and Wiſhes of, Sir, Your moſt obliged humble Servant, Henricus Duſſeldorp.

Poſtſcript. In two or three Hours the News will be publick.

May one depend upon this, Mr. Freeman?

You may—I never knew this Perſon ſend me a falſe Piece of News in my Life.

Sir, I am much oblig'd to you, 'Egad 'tis rare News.—Who ſells South Sea for next Week?

Job.

I ſell; I, I, I, I, I ſell.

I'll ſell 5000 l. for next Week, at five Eighths.

—I'll ſell ten thouſand at five Eighths for the ſame time.

Nay, nay, hold, hold, not all together, Gentle⯑men, I'll be no Bull, I'll buy no more than I can take: [38] Will you ſell ten thouſand Pound at a half, for any Day next Week, except Saturday?

I'll ſell it you, Mr. Tradelove.

The Spaniards rais'd the Siege of Ca⯑gliari! I don't believe one Word of it.

Rais'd the Siege! as much as you have rais'd the Monument.

'Tis rais'd I aſſure you, Sir.

What will you lay on't?

What you pleaſe.

Why, I have a Brother upon the Spot, in the Emperor's Service; I am certain if there were any ſuch Thing, I ſhou'd have had a Letter.

How's this? The Siege of Cagliari rais'd;—I wiſh it may be true, 'twill make Buſineſs ſtir, and Stocks riſe.

Tradelove's a cunning fat Bear; if this News proves true, I ſhall repent I ſold him the five thouſand Pounds.—Pray, Sir, what Aſſurance have you that the Siege is rais'd?

There is come an Expreſs to the Emperor's Mi⯑niſter.

I'll know that preſently.

Let it come where it will, I'll hold you fifty Pounds 'tis falſe.

'Tis done.

I'll lay you a Brace of Hundreds upon the ſame.

I'll take you.

'Egad, I'll hold twenty Pieces 'tis not rais'd, Sir.

Done, with you too.

I'll lay any Man a Brace of Thouſands the Siege is rais'd.

The Dutch Merchant is your Man to take in.

Does not he know the News?

Not a Syllable; if he did, he wou'd bet a Hun⯑dred thouſand Pound as ſoon as one Penny;— [39] he's plaguy Rich, and a mighty Man at Wagers.

Say you ſo—'Egad, I'll bite him if poſſi⯑ble:—Are you from Holland, Sir?

Ya, Mynheer?

Had you the News before you came away?

Wat believe you, Mynheer?

What do I believe? Why, I believe that the Spaniards have actually rais'd the Siege of Cagliari.

Wat Duyvels Niews is dat? 'Tis niet waer, Myn⯑heer,—'tis no true, Sir.

'Tis ſo true, Mynheer, that I'll lay you two thouſand Pounds upon it—You are ſure the Let⯑ter may be depended upon, Mr. Freeman?

Do you think I would venture my Money if I were not ſure of the Truth of it?

Two duyſend Pond, Mynheer, 'tis gedaen—dis Gentleman ſal hold de Gelt.

With all my Heart,—this binds the Wager.

You have certainly loſt, Mynheer, the Siege is raiſed indeed.

Ik gelove't niet, Mynheer Freeman, ik ſal ye dubbled houden, if you pleaſe.

I am let into the Secret, therefore won't win your Money.

Ha, ha, ha! I have ſnapt the Dutchman, faith, ha, ha! this is no ill Day's Work,—pray may I crave your Name, Mynheer?

Myn Naem, Mynheer! myn Naem is, Jan van Timtamtirelereletta Heer van Fainwell?

Zounds 'tis a damn'd long Name, I ſhall never remember it—Myn Heer van Tim, Tim, Tim,—What the Devil is it?

Oh! never heed, I know the Gentleman, and will paſs my Word for twice the Sum.

That's enough.

You'll hear of me ſooner than you'll wiſh old Gentleman, I fancy.

You'll come to Sackbut's, Freeman.

Immediately.

Humphrey Hump here?

Mr. Humprey Hump is not here; you'll find him upon the Dutch Walk.

Mr. Freeman, I give you many Thanks for your Kindneſs.—

I fear you'll repent when you know all.

Will you dine with me?

I am engag'd at Sackbut's; adieu.

Sir, your humble Servant. Now I'll ſee what I can do upon Change with my News.

SCENE the Tavern.

Ha, ha, ha! the old Fellow ſwallow'd the Bait as greedily as a Gudgeon.

I have him, faith, ha, ha, ha—His two thou⯑ſand Pounds ſecure—if he wou'd keep his Mo⯑ney, he muſt part with the Lady, ha, ha—What came of your two Friends? they perform'd their Part very well; you ſhould have brought 'em to take a Glaſs with us.

No matter, we'll drink a Bottle together another Time,—I did not care to bring them hither; there's no Neceſſity to truſt them with the main Secret, you know, Colonel.

Nay, that's right, Freeman.

Joy, Joy, Colonel! the luckieſt Accident in the World!

What ſay'ſt thou?

This Letter does your Buſineſs.

To Obediah Prim, Hoſier, near the Build⯑ing call'd the Monument, in London.

A Letter to Prim; how came you by it?

Looking over the Letters our Poſt-Woman brought, as I always do, to ſee what Letters are directed to my Houſe, (for ſhe can't read you muſt know) I ſpy'd this to Prim, ſo paid for't among the reſt; I have given the old Jade a Pint of Wine on purpoſe to delay Time, 'till you ſee if the Letter will be of any Service; then I'll ſeal it up again, and tell her I took it by Miſtake;—I have read it, and fancy you'll like the Project—read, read, Colonel.

Friend Prim, there is arriv'd from Pen⯑ſilvania, one Simon Pure, a Leader of the Faithful, who hath ſojourn'd with us eleven Days, and hath been of great Comfort to the Brethren—He intendeth for the Quarterly Meeting in London; I have recommended him to thy Houſe; I pray thee intreat him kindly, and let thy Wife cheriſh him, for he's of weakly Conſtitution—he will depart from us the third Day; which is all from thy Friend in the Faith, Aminadad Holdfaſt.

Ha, ha! Excellent! I underſtand you, Landlord, I am to perſonate this Simon Pure, am I not?

Don't you like the Hint?

Admirably well!

'Tis the beſt Contrivance in the World, if the right Simon gets not there before you.—

No, no, the Quakers never ride Poſt; he can't be here before to-morrow at ſooneſt: Do you ſend and buy me a Quaker's Dreſs, Mr. Sackbutt; and ſuppoſe, Freeman, you ſhould wait at the Briſtol Coach, that if you ſee any ſuch Perſon, you might contrive to give me Notice—

I will—the Country Dreſs and Boots, are they ready?

Yes, yes, every thing—Sir.

Bring 'em in then,—

Thou muſt diſpatch Periwinkle firſt,—remember his Uncle Sir Toby Periwinkle is an old Batchelor of ſeventy five,—that he has ſeven hundred a Year, moſt in Abbey-Land; that he was once in Love with your Mother, and ſhrewd⯑ly ſuſpected by ſome to be your Father,—that you [42] have been thirty Years his Steward,—and ten Years his Gentleman—remember to improve theſe Hints.

Never fear, let me alone for that,—but what's the Steward's Name?

His Name is Pillage.

Enough—

Now for the Country Put—

Egad, Landlord, thou deſerveſt to have the firſt Night's Lodging with the Lady for thy Fidelity;—What ſay you, Colonel, ſhall we ſettle a Club here, you'll make one?

Make one; I'll bring a Sett of honeſt Officers, that will ſpend their Money as freely to the King's Health, as they would their Blood in his Service.

I thank you, Colonel. Here, here.

So now for my Boots.

Shall I find you here, Freeman, when I come back?

Yes,—or I'll leave Word with Sackbut, where he may ſend for me—Have you the Wri⯑tings? the Will,—and every thing?

All, all!—

Zounds! Mr. Freeman! yonder is Tradelove in the damned'ſt Paſſion in the World.—He ſwears you are in the Houſe,—he ſays you told him you was to dine here.

I did ſo. Ha, ha, ha! he has found himſelf bit already.—

The Devil! he muſt not ſee me in this Dreſs.

I told him I expected you here, but you were not come yet.—

Very well,—make you haſte out,! Colonel, and let me alone to deal with him: Where is he?

In the King's-Head.

You remember what I told you?

Ay, ay, very well. Landlord, let him know I am come in,—and now, Mr. Pillage, ſucceſs at⯑tend you.

Mr. Proteus rather.—

'Zounds! Mr. Tradelove, we're bit it ſeems.

Bit do you call it, Mr. Freeman? I am ruin'd,—Pox on your News.

Pox on the Raſcal that ſent it me.—

Sent it you! Why Gabriel Skinſtint has been at the Miniſter's, and ſpoke with him, and he has aſſur'd him 'tis every Syllable falſe; he receiv'd no ſuch Expreſs.—

I know it: I this Minute parted with my Friend, who proteſted he never ſent me any ſuch Letter,—ſome roguiſh Stockjobber has done it on purpoſe to make me loſe my Money, that's certain; I wiſh I knew who he was, I'd make him repent it—I have loſt three hundred Pounds by it.

What ſignifies your 300 l. to what I have loſt? There's two thouſand Pounds to that Dutchman with the curſed long Name, beſides the Stock I bought; the Devil! I cou'd tear my Fleſh,—I muſt never ſhow my Face upon Change more,—for, by my Soul, I can't pay it.

I am heartily ſorry for't! What can I ſerve you in? Shall I ſpeak to the Dutch Merchant, and try to get you Time for the Payment?

Time! 'Ad'sheart! I ſhall never be able to look up again.

I am very much concern'd that I was the Oc⯑caſion, and wiſh I could be an Inſtrument of retrieving your Misfortune; for my own I value it not.—'Adſo! a Thought comes into my Head, that well improv'd, may be of Service.—

Ah! there's no Thought can be of any Ser⯑vice to me, without paying the Money, or running a⯑way.

How do you know? What do you think of my propoſing Mrs. Lovely to him? He is a ſingle Man,—and I heard him ſay he had a mind to marry an Engliſh Woman—nay, more than that, he ſaid ſomebody told him, you had a pretty Ward—he wiſh'd you had betted her inſtead of your Money.

Ay, but he'd be hang'd before he'd take her in⯑ſtead of the Money; the Dutch are too covetous for that; beſides, he did not know that there were three more of us I ſuppoſe.

So much the better; you may venture to give him your Conſent, if he'll forgive you the Wager: It is not your Buſineſs to tell him, that your Conſent will ſig⯑nifie nothing.

That's right, as you ſay; but will he do it, think you?

I can't tell that; but I'll try what I can do with him—He has promis'd me to meet me here an Hour hence; I'll feel his Pulſe, and let you know: If I find it feaſible, I'll ſend for you; if not, you are at liberty to take what Meaſures you pleaſe.

You muſt extol her Beauty, double her Portion, and tell him I have the entire Diſpoſal of her, and that ſhe can't marry without my Conſent;—and that I am a covetous Rogue, and will never part with her without a Valuable Conſideration.

Ay, ay, let me alone for a Lye at a Pinch.

Egad, if you can bring this to bear, Mr. Free⯑man, I'll make you whole again; I'll pay the Three Hundred Pounds you loſt, with all my Soul.

Well, I'll uſe my beſt Endeavours—Where will you be?

At Home; pray Heaven you proſper—If I were but the ſole Truſtee now, I ſhould not fear it. Who the Devil would be a Guardian,

Ha, ha, ha—he has it.

SCENE changes to Periwinkle's Houſe.

A Gentleman from Coventry enquires for you, Sir.

From my Uncle, I warrant you, bring him up—This will ſave me the Trouble, as well as the Expences of a Journey.

Is your Name Periwinkle, Sir?

It is, Sir.

I am ſorry for the Meſſage I bring—My old Maſter, whom I ſerved theſe forty Years, claims the Sorrow due from a faithful Servant to an indulgent Maſter.

By this I underſtand, Sir, my Uncle Sir Toby Pe⯑riwinkle is dead.

He is, Sir, and he has left you Heir to Seven Hundred a Year, in as good Abbey-Land as ever paid Peter-Pence to Rome—I wiſh you long to enjoy it, but my Tears will flow when I think of my Bene⯑factor—

Ah! he was a good Man—he has not left many of his Fellows—the Poor la⯑ments him ſorely.

I pray, Sir, what Office bore you?

I was his Steward, Sir.

I have heard him mention you with much Re⯑ſpect; your Name is—

Pillage, Sir.

Ay, Pillage! I do remember he call'd you Pillage—Pray, Mr. Pillage, when did my Uncle die?

Monday laſt, at Four in the Morning. About Two he ſigned this Will, and gave it into my Hands, and ſtrictly charged me to leave Coventry the Moment he expir'd, and deliver it to you with what Speed I could; I have obey'd him, Sir, and there is the Will.

'Tis very well, I'll lodge it in the Commons.

There are two Things which he forgot to in⯑ſert, but charged me to tell you, that he deſired you'd perform them as readily as if you had found them writ⯑ten in the Will, which is to remove his Corpſe, and bury him by his Father in St. Paul Covent-Garden, and to give all his Servants Mourning.

That will be a conſiderable Charge; a Pox of all modern Faſhions.

Well! it ſhall be done, Mr. Pillage; I will agree with one of Death's Faſhion-Mon⯑gers, call'd an Undertaker, to go down, and bring up the Body.

I hope, Sir, I ſhall have the Honour to ſerve you in the ſame Station I did your Worthy Uncle; I have not many Years to ſtay behind him, and would glad⯑ly ſpend them in the Family, where I was brought up—

He was a kind and tender Maſter to me.

Pray don't grieve Mr. Pillage, you ſhall hold your Place, and every thing elſe which you held under my Uncle—You make me weep to ſee you ſo con⯑cern'd.

He liv'd to a good old Age—and we are all mortal.

We are ſo, Sir, and therefore I muſt beg you to ſign this Leaſe: You'll find Sir Toby has ta'en particular Notice of it in his Will—I could not get it time enough from the Lawyer, or he had ſign'd it before he dy'd.

A Leaſe for what?

I rented a Hundred a Year of Sir Toby upon Leaſe, which Leaſe expires at Lady-Day next, and I deſire to renew it for twenty Years—that's all, Sir.

Let me ſee.

Matters go ſwimmingly, if nothing intervene.

Very well—Let's ſee what he ſays in his Will about it.

He's very wary, yet I fancy I ſhall be too cun⯑ning for him.

Ho, here it is—The Farm lying—now in Poſſeſſi⯑on of Samuel Pillage—ſuffer him to renew his Leaſe—at the ſame Rent—Very well, Mr. Pillage, I ſee my Uncle does mention it, and I'll perform his Will. Give me the Leaſe—

Pray you ſtep to the Door, and call for a Pen and Ink, Mr. Pillage.

I have Pen and Ink in my Pocket, Sir,

I never go without that.

I think it belongs to your Profeſſion—

I doubt this is but a ſorry Pen, tho' it may ſerve to write my Name.

Little does he think what he ſigns.

There is your Leaſe, Mr. Pillage,

Now I muſt deſire you to make what Haſte you can down to Coventry, and take Care of every thing, and I'll ſend down the Undertaker for the Body; do you attend it up, and whatever Charge you are at, I will re⯑pay you.

You have paid me already, I thank you, Sir.

Will you dine with me?

I would rather not, there are ſome of my Neigh⯑bours which I met as I came along, who leaves the Town this Afternoon, they told me, and I ſhould be glad of their Company down.

Well, well, I won't detain you.

I don't care how ſoon I am out.

I will give Orders about Mourning.

You will have Cauſe to mourn, when you know your Eſtate imaginary only.

Seven Hundred a Year! I wiſh he had died ſe⯑venteen Years ago;—What a valuable Collection of Rarities might I have had by this time?—I might [48] have travell'd over all the known Parts of the Globe, and made my own Cloſet Rival the Vatican at Rome.—'Odſo, I have a good Mind to begin my Travels now;—let me ſee,—I am but Sixty! My Father, Grandfather, and Great-Grandfather, reach'd Nine⯑ty odd;—I have almoſt forty Years good:—Let me conſider! What will Seven Hundred a Year a⯑mount to—in—ay! in thirty Years, I'll ſay but thir⯑ty;—Thirty times Seven, is ſeven times Thirty—that is—juſt twenty one thouſand Pound,—'tis a great deal of Money,—I may very well reſerve ſixteen Hundred of it for a Collection of ſuch Rarities, as will make my Name famous to Poſterity;—I wou'd not die like other Mortals, forgotten in a Year or two, as my Uncle will be—No.

SCENE changes to a Tavern; Freeman and Tradelove over a Bottle.

Come Mr. Freeman, here's Mynheer Jan, Van Tim, Tam, Tam;—I ſhall never think of that Dutchman's Name.—

Mynheer Jan Van Timtamtirelireletta Heer Van Fainwell.

Ay, Heer Van Fainwell. I never heard ſuch a confounded Name in my Life,—here's his Health I ſay.

With all my Heart.

Faith, I never expected to have found ſo gene⯑rous a Thing in a Dutchman.

Oh, he has nothing of the Hollander in his Tem⯑per—except an Antipathy to Monarchy—As ſoon as I told him your Circumſtances, he reply'd, he would not be the Ruin of any Man for the World,—and immediately made this Propoſal him⯑ſelf:—Let him take what time he will for the Pay⯑ment, [49] ſaid he; or if he'll give me his Ward, I'll forgive him the Debt.

Well, Mr. Freeman, I can but thank you,—'Egad you have made a Man of me again; and if ever I lay a Wager more, may I rot in a Goal.

I aſſure you, Mr. Tradelove, I was very much concern'd, becauſe I was the Occaſion,—tho' very innocently I proteſt.

I dare ſwear you was, Mr. Freeman.

Pleaſe to have a Leſſon of Muſick, or a Song, Gen⯑tlemen?

A Song? Ay, with all our Hearts; have you ever a merry one?

Yes, Sir, my Wife and I can give you a merry Dialogue.

'Tis very pretty, Faith.—

There's ſomething for you to drink, Friend, go, loſe no Time.

I thank you, Sir.

Ha, Mynheer Tradelove, Ik ben ſorry voor your Troubles—maer Ik ſal you eaſie maeken, Ik wil degelt niet hebben.—

I ſhall for ever acknowledge the Obligation, Sir.

But you underſtand upon what Condition Mr. Tradelove, Mrs. Lovely.

Ya, de juffrow ſal al te regt ſetten; Mynheer.

With all my Heart, Mynheer, you ſhall have my Conſent to marry her freely.—

Well then, as I am a Party concern'd be⯑tween you, Mynheer Jan Van Timtamtirelireletta Heer Van Fainwell ſhall give you a Diſcharge of your Wager under his own Hand,—and you ſhall give him your [50] Conſent to marry Mrs. Lovely under yours;—that is the way to avoid all manner of Diſputes hereafter.

Ya, Waeragtig.

Ay, ay, ſo it is, Mr. Freeman, I'll give it under mine this Minute.

And ſo ſal Ik.

So, ho, the Houſe,

Bid your Maſter come up—I'll ſee there be Witneſſes enough to the Bargain.

Do you call, Gentlemen?

Ay, Mr. Sackbut, we ſhall want your Hand here.—

There Mynheer, there's my Conſent as amply as you can deſire; but you muſt inſert your own Name, for I know not how to ſpell it; I have left a Blank for it.

Ya, Ik ſal dat well doen.—

Now, Mr. Sackbut, you and I will witneſs it.

Daer Mynheer Tradelove is your Diſcharge.

Be pleas'd to witneſs this Receipt too, Gentle⯑men.

Ay, ay, that we will.

Well, Mynheer, ye moſt meer doen, ye moſt Myn voorſpraek to de juffrow Syn.

He means you muſt recommend him to the La⯑dy.—

That I will, and to the reſt of my Brother Guar⯑dians.

Wat voor den Duyvel heb you meer Guardians?

Only Three, Mynheer.

Wat donder heb ye Myn betrocken Mynheer? Had Ik that gewoeten, Ik ſoude eaven met you geweeſt Syn.

But Mr. Tradelove is the Principal, and he can do a great deal with the reſt, Sir.

And he ſhall uſe his Intereſt I promiſe you Myn⯑heer.

I will ſay all that ever I can think on to recom⯑mend you, Mynheer, and if you pleaſe, I'll introduce you to the Lady.

Well, dat is waer.—Maer ye muſt firſt ſpreken of, Myn, to de juffrow, and to de oudere Gentlemen.

Ay, that's the beſt way,—and then I and the Heer Van Fainwell will meet you there.

I will go this Moment, upon Honour,—Your moſt obedient humble Servant.—My ſpeaking will do you little Good, Minheer, ha, ha; we have bit you, Faith, ha, ha; my Debt's diſcharg'd,—and for the Man, He'as my Conſent—to get her if he can.

Ha, ha, ha, this was a Maſter-Piece of Contrivance, Freeman.

He hugs himſelf with his ſuppoſed good Fortune, and little thinks the Luck's of our Side;—but come, purſue the fickle Goddeſs while ſhe's in the Mood.—Now for the Quaker.

That's the hardeſt Task.

SCENE I. SCENE Prim's Houſe.

SO, now I like thee, Anne: Art thou not better without thy monſtrous Hoop Coat and Patches!—If Heaven ſhou'd make thee ſo ma⯑ny black Spots upon thy Face, wou'd it not fright thee, Anne?

If it ſhou'd turn your Inſide outward, and ſhow all the Spots of your Hypocriſy, 'twou'd fright me worſe.

My Hypocriſy! I ſcorn thy Words, Anne, I lay no Baits.

If you did, you'd catch no Fiſh.

Well, well, make thy Jeſts;—but I'd have thee to know, Anne, that I cou'd have catch'd as ma⯑ny Fiſh (as thou call'ſt them) in my Time, as ever thou did'ſt with all thy Fool-Traps about thee.—If Ad⯑mirers be thy Aim, thou wilt have more of them in this Dreſs than thy other.—The Men, take my Word for't, are moſt deſirous to ſee what we are moſt careful to conceal.

Is that the Reaſon of your Formality, Mrs. Prim? Truth will out: I ever thought, indeed, there was no more Deſign than Godlineſs in the pinch'd Cap.

Go, thou art corrupted with reading lude Plays, and filthy Romances,—good for nothing but to lead Youth into the High Road of Fornication.—Ah! I wiſh thou art not already too familiar with the wicked Ones.

Too familiar with the wicked Ones! Pray no more of thoſe Freedoms, Madam,—I am fa⯑miliar with none ſo wicked as your ſelf;—How dare you talk thus to me! you, you, you unworthy Woman you.

What, in Tears, Nancy? What have you done to her, Mrs. Prim, to make her weep?

Done to me! I admire I keep my Senſes, among you;—but I will rid my ſelf of your Ty⯑ranny, if there be either Law or Juſtice to be had;—I'll force you to give me up my Liberty.

Thou haſt more need to weep for thy Sins, Anne,—Yea, for thy manifold Sins.—

Don't think that I'll be ſtill the Fool which you have made me,—No, I'll wear what I pleaſe—go when and where I pleaſe,—and keep what Com⯑pany I think fit, and not what you ſhall direct,—I will.

For my Part, I do think all this very reaſonable, Mrs. Lovely,—'tis fit you ſhould have your Liberty, and for that very purpoſe I am come.

I have bought ſome black Stockings of your Hus⯑band, Mrs. Prim, but he tells me the Glover's Trade be⯑longs to you, therefore I pray you look me out five or ſix Dozen of mourning Gloves, ſuch as are given at Fu⯑nerals, and ſend them to my Houſe.—

My Friend Periwinkle has got a good Wind⯑fall to Day—ſeven Hundred a Year.

I wiſh thee Joy of it, Neighbour.

What, is Sir Toby dead then?

He is! You'll take care, Mrs. Prim.

Yea, I will, Neighbour.

This Letter recommendeth a Speaker, 'tis from Aminadab Holdfaſt of Briſtol; peradventure he will be here this Night; therefore Sarah, do thou take care for his Reception.—

I will obey thee.

What art thou in the Dumps for, Anne?

We muſt marry her, Mr. Prim.

Why truly, if we cou'd find a Husband worth having, I ſhou'd be as glad to ſee her married as thou woud'ſt, Neighbour.

Well ſaid, there are but few worth having.

I can recommend you a Man now, that I think you can none of you have an Objection to!

You recommend? Nay, when ever ſhe marries, I'll recommend the Husband.—

What muſt it be, a Whale or a Rinoceros, Mr. Periwinkle, ha, ha, ha? Mr. Tradelove, I have a Bill upon you

and have been ſeeking for you all over the Town.

I'll accept it, Sir Philip, and pay it when due.—

He ſhall be none of the Fops at your End of the Town, with full Perukes and empty Skulls,—nor yet none of your Trading Gentry, who puzzle the He⯑ralds to find Arms for their Coaches,—No, he ſhall be a Man famous for Travels, Solidity and Curio⯑ſity,—one who has ſearch'd into the Profundity of Nature! when Heaven ſhall direct ſuch a one, he ſhall have my Conſent, becauſe it may turn to the Benefit of Mankind.

The Benefit of Mankind! What, wou'd you anatomize me?

Ay, ay, Madam, he wou'd diſſect you.

Or, pore over you through a Microſcope, to ſee how your Blood circulates from the Crown of your Head to the Sole of your Foot,—ha, ha! but I have a Husband for you, a Man that knows how to im⯑prove your Fortune; one that trades to the four Corners of the Globe.

And wou'd ſend me for a Venture per⯑haps.

One that will dreſs you in all the Pride of Eu⯑rope, Aſia, Africa and America—a Dutch Merchant, my Girl.

A Dutchman! ha, ha, there's a Husband for a fine Lady—Ya Juffrow, will you met myn Slapen—ha, ha; he'll learn you to talk the Language of the Hogs, Madam, ha, ha.

He'll learn you that one Merchant is of more Service to a Nation, than Fifty Coxcombs.—The Dutch know the Trading Intereſt to be of more Benefit to the State, than the Landed.

But what is either Intereſt to a Lady?

'Tis the Merchant makes the Belle—How would the Ladies ſparkle in the Box without the Mer⯑chant? The Indian Diamonds! The French Brocade! The Italian Fan! The Flanders Lace! The fine Dutch Hol⯑land!—How would they vent their Scandal over their Tea-tables? and where would you Beaus have Cham⯑paigne to toaſt your Miſtreſſes, were it not for the Mer⯑chant?

Verily, Neighbour Tradelove, thou doſt waſte thy Breath about nothing—All that thou haſt ſaid tendeth only to debauch Youth, and fill their Heads with the Pride and Luxury of this World—The Merchant is a very great Friend to Satan, and ſendeth as many to his Dominions as the Pope.

Right, I ſay Knowledge makes the Man.

Yea, but not thy kind of Knowledge—it is the Knowledge of Truth—Search thou for the Light within, and not for Bawbles, Friend.

Ah, ſtudy your Country's Good, Mr. Peri⯑winkle, and not her Inſects.—Rid you of your home⯑bred [56] Monſters, before you fetch any from abroad—I dare ſwear you have Maggots enough in your own Brain to ſtock all the Virtuoſo's in Europe with Butter⯑flies.

By my Soul, Miſs Nancy's a Wit.

That is more than ſhe can ſay by thee, Friend—Look ye, it is in vain to talk, when I meet a Man worthy of her, ſhe ſhall have my leave to marry him.

Provided he be one of the Faithful—Was there ever ſuch a Swarm of Caterpillars to blaſt the Hopes of a Woman!

Know this, that you con⯑tend in vain: I'll have no Husband of your chuſing, nor ſhall you lord it over me long—I'll try the Power of an Engliſh Senate—Orphans have been redreſs'd, and Wills ſet aſide—and none did ever deſerve their Pity more—Oh Fainwell! where are thy Promiſes to free me from theſe Vermin? Alas! the Task was more difficult than he imagin'd!

One Simon Pure enquireth for thee.

The Woman is mad.

So are you all, in my Opinion.

Friend Tradelove, Buſineſs requireth my Pre⯑ſence.

Oh, I ſhan't trouble you—Pox take him for an unmannerly Dog—However, I have kept my Word with my Dutchman, and will introduce him too for all you.

Friend Pure, thou art welcome; how is it with Friend Holdfaſt, and all Friends in Briſtol? Ti⯑mothy [57] Littlewit, John Slenderbrain, and Chriſtopher Keep⯑faith?

A goodly Company!

They are all in Health, I thank thee for them.

Friend Holdfaſt writes me Word, that thou cameſt lately from Penſilvania, how do all Friends there—

What the devil ſhall I ſay? I know juſt as much of Penſilvania as I do of Briſtol.

Do they thrive?

Yea, Friend, the Bleſſing of their good Works fall upon them.

Sarah, know our Friend Pure.

Thou art welcome.

Here comes the Sum of all my Wiſhes—How charming ſhe appears, even in that Diſguiſe?

Why doſt thou conſider the Maiden ſo inten⯑tively, Friend?

I will tell thee: About four Days ago I ſaw a Viſion—This very Maiden, but in vain Attire, ſtand⯑ing on a Precipice; and heard a Voice, which called me by my Name—and bad me put forth my Hand and ſave her from the Pit—I did ſo, and me-thought the Damoſel grew to my Side.

What can that portend?

The Damoſel's Converſion—I am perſwaded.

That's falſe, I'm ſure—

Wilt thou uſe the Means, Friend Pure?

Means! what Means? Is ſhe not thy Daughter, and already One of the Faithful?

No, alas! ſhe's One of the Ungodly.

Pray thee mind what this good Man will ſay unto thee; he will teach thee the Way that thou ſhouldeſt walk, Anne.

I know my Way without his Inſtructions: I hop'd to have been quiet, when once I had put on your odious Formality here.

Then thou weareſt it out of Compulſion, not Choice, Friend?

Thou art in the right of it, Friend—

Art not thou aſhamed to mimick the good Man? Ah! thou art a ſtubborn Girl.

Mind her not; ſhe hurteth not me—If thou wilt leave her alone with me, I will diſcuſs ſome few Points with her, that may, perchance, ſoften her Stub⯑borneſs, and melt her into Compliance.

Content, I pray thee put it home to her—Come, Sarah, let us leave the good Man with her.

What do you mean—to leave me with this old Enthuſiaſtical Canter? Don't think, becauſe I comply'd with your Formality, to impoſe your ridiculous Doctrine upon me.

I pray thee, young Woman, moderate thy Paſ⯑ſion.

I pray thee, walk after thy Leader, you will but loſe your Labour upon me—Theſe Wretches will certainly make me mad.

I am of another Opinion; the Spirit telleth me that I ſhall convert thee, Ann.

'Tis a lying Spirit, don't believe it.

Say'ſt thou ſo? Why then thou ſhalt convert me, my Angel.

Ah! Monſter hold off, or I'll tear thy Eyes out.

Huſh! for Heavens ſake—doſt thou not know me? I am Fainwell.

Fainwell!

Oh I'm un⯑done! Prim here—I wiſh with all my Soul I had been dumb.

What is the Matter? Why didſt thou ſhriek out, Ann?

Shrick out! I'll ſhriek and ſhriek again, cry Murder, Thieves, or any thing, to drown the Noiſe of that Eternal Babbler, if you leave me with him any longer.

Was that all? Fie, fie, Ann.

No matter, I'll bring down her Stomach, I'll warrant thee—leave us, I pray thee.

Fare thee well.

My charming lovely Woman.

What mean'ſt thou by this Diſguiſe, Fain⯑well?

To ſet thee free, if thou wilt perform thy Pro⯑miſe.

Make me Miſtreſs of my Fortune, and make thy own Conditions.

This Night ſhall anſwer all thy Wiſhes—See here, I have the Conſent of three of thy Guardians already, and doubt not but Prim ſhall make the fourth.

I would gladly hear what Argument the good Man uſeth to bend her.

Thy Words give me new Life, methinks.

What do I hear?

Thou beſt of Men, Heaven meant to bleſs me ſure, when firſt I ſaw thee.

He hath mollified her—Oh wonderful Con⯑verſion!

Ha! Prim liſtening—No more, my Love, we are obſerv'd; ſeem to be edify'd, and give 'em Hopes that thou wilt turn Quaker, and leave the reſt to me.

I am glad to find that thou art touch'd with what I ſaid unto thee, Ann; another time I will explain the other Article to thee; in the mean while be thou dutiful to our Friend Prim.

I ſhall obey thee in every thing.

Oh what a prodigious Change is here! Thou haſt wrought a Miracle, Friend! Ann, how doſt thou like the Doctrine he hath preached?

So well, that I could talk to him for ever, methinks—I am aſhamed of my former Folly, and ask your Pardon, Mr. Prim.

Enough, enough that thou art ſorry, he is no Pope, Ann.

Verily thou doſt rejoice me exceedingly, Friend; will it pleaſe thee to walk into the next Room, and refreſh thy ſelf—Come, take the Maiden by the Hand.

We will follow thee.

There is another Simon Pure enquireth for thee, Maſter.

The Devil there is.

Another Simon Pure? I do not know him, is he any Relation of thine?

No, Friend, I know him not—Pox take him, I wiſh he were in Penſilvania again, with all my Blood.

What ſhall I do?

Bring him up.

Humph! then one of us muſt go down, that's certain—Now Impudence aſſiſt me.

What is thy Will with me, Friend?

Didſt thou not receive a Letter from Aminadab Holdfaſt of Briſtol, concerning one Simon Pure?

Yea, and Simon Pure is already here, Friend.

And Simon Pure will ſtay here, Friend, if poſſi⯑ble.

That's an Untruth, for I am he.

Take thou heed, Friend, what thou doſt ſay; I do affirm that I am Simon Pure.

Thy Name may be Pure, Friend, but not that Pure.

Yea that Pure, which my good Friend Aminadab Holdfaſt wrote to my Friend Prim about, the ſame Simon Pure that came from Penſilvania, and ſojourned in Briſtol eleven Days; thou would'ſt not take my [61] Name from me, would'ſt thou?—till I have done with it.

Thy Name! I am aſtoniſhed.

At what? at thy own Aſſurance?

Avant, Sathan; approach me not; I defy thee and all thy Works,

Oh, he'll out cant him—Undone, undone for ever.

Hark thee, Friend, thy Sham will not take—Don't exert thy Voice, thou art too well-acquainted with Sathan to ſtart at him, thou wicked Reprobate—What can thy Deſign be here?

One of theſe muſt be a Counterfeit, but which I cannot ſay.

What can that Letter be?

Thou muſt be the Devil, Friend, that's cer⯑tain, for no humane Power can ſtock ſo great a Falſe⯑hood.

This Letter ſayeth that thou art better acquaint⯑ed with that Prince of Darkneſs, than any here—Read that, I pray thee, Simon.

'Tis Freeman's Hand—

There is a Deſign form'd to rob your Houſe this Night, and cut your Throat, and for that purpoſe there is a Man diſguiſed like a Quaker, who is to paſs for one Simon Pure; the Gang where⯑of I am one, tho' now reſolv'd to rob no more has been at Bri⯑ſtol, one of them came up in the Coach with the Quaker; whoſe Name he hath taken, and from what he hath ga⯑thered from him, formed that Deſign, and did not doubt but he ſhould impoſe ſo far upon you, as to make you turn out the real Simon Pure, and keep him with you. Make the right Uſe of this. Adieu.—Excellent well!

Doſt thou hear this?

Yea, but it moveth me not; that, doubtleſs, is the Impoſtor.

Ah! thou wicked one—now I conſider thy Face I remember thou didſt come up in the Leathern Convenience with me—thou hadſt a black Bob-Wig [62] on, and a brown Camblet Coat with Braſs Buttons—canſt thou deny it, ha?

Yea, I can, and with a ſafe Conſcience too, Friend.

Verily, Friend, thou art the moſt impudent Villain, I ever ſaw.

Nay then, I'll have a Fling at him.

I remember the Face of this Fellow at Bath—Ay, this is he that picked my Lady Raffle's Pocket upon the Grove—Don't you remember that the Mob pump'd you, Friend? This is the moſt notorious Rogue—

What doth provoke thee to ſeek my Life? Thou wilt not hang me, wilt thou, wrongfully?

She will do thee no hurt, nor thou ſhalt do me none; therefore get thee about thy Buſineſs Friend, and leave thy wicked Courſe of Life, or thou may'ſt not come off ſo favourably every where.

Go, Friend, I would adviſe thee, and tempt thy Fate no more.

Yea, I will go, but it ſhall be to thy Confuſion; for I ſhall clear my ſelf: I will return with ſome proofs that ſhall convince thee, Obediah, that thou art highly impoſed upon.

Then there will be no ſtaying for me, that's cer⯑tain—What the Devil ſhall I do?

What monſtrous Works of Iniquity are there in this World, Simon!

Yea, the Age is full of Vice—Z'death, I am ſo confounded, I know not what to ſay.

Thou art diſordered, Friend—art thou not well?

My Spirit is greatly troubled, and ſomething tel⯑leth me, that tho' I have wrought a good Work in con⯑verting this Maiden, this tender Maiden, yet my La⯑bour will be in vain; for the Evil Spirit fighteth againſt her; and I ſee, yea I ſee with the Eyes of my inward Man, that Sathan will re-buffet her again, whenever I withdraw my ſelf from her; and ſhe will, yea, this very Damoſel will return again to that Abomination [63] from whence I have retrieved her, as if it were, yea as if it were out of the Jaws of the Fiend—hum—

Good lack! thinkeſt thou ſo?

I muſt ſecond him.

What meaneth this Struggling within me? I feel the Spirit reſiſting the Vanities of this World, but the Fleſh is rebellious, yea the Fleſh—I greatly fear the Fleſh, and the Weakneſs thereof—hum—

The Maid is inſpir'd.

Behold, her Light begins to ſhine forth—Ex⯑cellent Woman!

This good Man hath ſpoken Comfort unto me, yea Comfort, I ſay; becauſe the Words which he hath breathed into my outward Ears, are gone thro' and fixed in mine Heart, yea verily in mine Heart, I ſay,—and I feel the Spirit doth love him exceedingly, hum—

She acts it to the Life.

Prodigious! the Damoſel is filled with the Spi⯑rit. Sarah!

I am greatly rejoic'd to ſee ſuch a Change in our beloved Anne—I came to tell thee that Supper ſtayeth for thee.

I am not diſpoſed for thy Food, my Spirit long⯑eth for more delicious Meat;—fain would I re⯑deem this Maiden from the Tribe of Sinners, and break thoſe Cords aſunder wherewith ſhe is bound—Hum—

Something whiſpers in my Ears, methinks,—that I muſt be ſubject to the Will of this good Man, and from him only muſt hope for Conſolation,—Hum—it alſo telleth me that I am a choſen Veſſel to raiſe up Seed to the Faithful, and that thou muſt conſent that we two be one Fleſh according to the Word—hum—

What a Revelation is here? This is certainly Part of thy Viſion, Friend, this is the Maiden's grow⯑ing to thy Side; Ah! with what Willingneſs ſhou'd I give thee my Conſent, could I give thee her Fortune too,—but thou wilt never get the Conſent of the wicked Ones.

I wiſh I was as ſure of yours.

My Soul rejoiceth, yea, it rejoiceth, I ſay, to find the Spirit within thee; for lo, it moveth thee with natural Agitation,—yea, with natural Agitation, I ſay again, and ſtirreth up the Seeds of thy Virgin-Incli⯑nation towards this good Man—yea, it ſtirreth, as one may ſay,—yea verily, I ſay it ſtirreth up thy Inclination—yea, as one would ſtir a Pudding.

I ſee, I ſee! the Spirit guiding of thy Hand, good Obediah Prim, and now behold thou art ſigning thy Conſent;—and now I ſee my ſelf within thy Arms, my Friend and Brother, yea, I am become Bone of thy Bone, and Fleſh of thy Fleſh

Hum—

Admirably perform'd

And I will take thee in all ſpiritual Love for an Helpmate, yea, for the Wife of my Boſom,—and now, methinks—I feel a Longing,—yea, a longing, I ſay for the Conſummation of thy Love,—yea, I do long ex⯑ceedingly.

And, verily, verily, my Spirit feeleth the ſame Longing.

The Spirit hath greatly mov'd them both,—Friend Prim, thou muſt conſent, there is no reſiſting of the Spirit.

Yea, the Light within ſheweth me, that I ſhall fight a good Fight—and wreſtle thro' thoſe repro⯑bate Fiends, thy other Guardians—yea, I perceive the Spirit will hedge thee into the Flock of the Righteous,—Thou art a choſen Lamb—yea a choſen Lamb, and I will not puſh thee back—no, I will not, I ſay—no, thou ſhalt leap-a, and frisk-a, and skip-a, and bound, and bound, I ſay—yea, bound within the Fold of the righteous—yea even within thy Fold, my Brother— [65] Fetch me the Pen and Ink, Sarah—and my Hand ſhall confeſs its Obedience to the Spirit.

I wiſh it were over.

I tremble leſt this quaking Rogue ſhould return and ſpoil all.

Here Friend, do thou write what the Spirit prompteth, and I will ſign it.

Verily, Anne, it greatly rejoiceth me, to ſee thee reformed from that original Wickedneſs wherein I found thee.

I do believe thou art, and I thank thee.—

This is to certifie all whom it may con⯑cern, that I do freely give up all my Right and Title in Anne Lovely to Simon Pure, and my full Conſent that ſhe ſhall become his Wife, according to the Form of Marri⯑age. Witneſs my Hand.

That is enough—give me the Pen.

Oh! Madam, Madam, here's the Quaking Man again, he has brought a Coachman and two or three more.

Ruin'd paſt Redemption!

No, no, one Minute ſooner had ſpoil'd all, but now—here is Company coming, Friend, give me the Paper.

Here it is, Simon, and I wiſh thee happy with the Maiden.

'Tis done, and now Devil do thy worſt.

Look thee, Friend, I have brought theſe Peo⯑ple to ſatisfy thee that I am not that Impoſtor which thou dideſt take me for, this is the Man that did drive the Leathern Conveniency, that brought me from Briſtol,—and this is.—

Look ye, Friend, to ſave the Court the Trouble of examining Witneſſes—I plead guilty,—ha, ha!

How's this? is not thy Name Pure, then?

No really, Sir, I only made bold with this Gen⯑tleman's Name;—but I here give it up ſafe and found, it has done the Buſineſs which I had occaſion for, and now I intend to wear my own, which ſhall be at his Service upon the ſame Occaſion at any Time: ha, ha, ha!

Oh! the Wickedneſs of this Age.

Then you have no farther need of us, Sir.

No, honeſt Man, you may go about your Buſi⯑neſs.

I am ſtruck dumb with thy Impudence, Anne, thou haſt deceived me,—and perchance undone thy ſelf.

Thou art a diſſembling Baggage, and Shame will overtake thee.

I am grieved to ſee thy Wife ſo much troubled; I will follow and conſole her.

Thy Brother Guardians enquireth for thee; there is another Man with them.

Who can that other Man be?

'Tis one Freeman, a Friend of mine, whom I or⯑der'd to bring the reſt of thy Guardians here.

Is all ſafe? did my Letter do you Service?

All, all's ſafe! ample Service.

Miſs Nancy, how do'ſt do, Child?

Don't call me Miſs, Friend Philip, my Name is Anne, thou knoweſt.—

What, is the Girl metamorphos'd?

I wiſh thou wert ſo metamorphos'd. Ah! Philip, throw off that gaudy Attire, and wear the Clothes becoming of thy Age.

I am aſhamed to ſee theſe Men.

My Age! the Woman is poſſeſs'd.

No, thou art poſſeſs'd rather, Friend.—

Hark ye, Mrs. Lovely, one Word with you.

This Maiden is my Wife, thanks to Friend Prim, and thou haſt no Buſineſs with her.

His Wife! hark ye, Mr. Freeman.

Why you have made a very fine Piece of Work of it, Mr. Prim.

Married to a Quaker! thou art a fine Fellow to be left Guardian to an Orphan truly—there's a Husband for a young Lady!

When I have put on my Beau-Cloaths, Sir Philip, you'll like me better.—

Thou wilt make a very ſcurvy Beau, Friend.—

I believe I can prove it under your Hand, that you thought me a very fine Gentleman in the Park to⯑day, about thirty ſix Minutes after Eleven; will you take a Pinch, Sir Philip—out of the fineſt Snuff-Box you ever ſaw.

Ha, ha, ha! I am overjoy'd, faith I am, if thou be'ſt the Gentleman,—I own I did give my Conſent to the Gentleman I brought here to-day,—but if this is he I can't be poſitive.

Canſt thou not—Now I think thou art a fine Fellow to be left Guardian to an Orphan—Thou ſhallow-brain'd Shuttlecock, he may be a Pick⯑pocket for ought thou doſt know.

You would have been two rare Fellows to have been truſted with the ſole Management of her Fortune, would ye not, think ye? But, Mr. Tradelove and my ſelf, ſhall take Care of her Portion.—

Ay, ay, ſo we will. Did not you tell me the Dutch Merchant deſired me to meet him here, Mr. Free⯑man?—

I did ſo, and I am ſure he will be here, if you'll have a little Patience.

What, is Mr. Tradelove impatient? nay then, ik ben gereet voor you, heb ye, Jan van Timtamtirelire⯑letta Heer van Fainwell, vergeeten?

Oh! pox of the Name! What have you trick'd me too, Mr. Freeman?

Trick'd, Mr. Tradelove! did I not give you Two thouſand Pound for your Conſent fairly? and now do you tell a Gentlemen that he has trick'd you?

So, ſo, you are a pretty Guardian, faith, ſell your Charge; what, did you look upon her as part of your Stock?

Ha, ha, ha! I am glad thy Knavery is found out however,—I confeſs the Maiden over-reach'd me, and no ſiniſter End at all.

Ay, ay, one thing or another over-reach'd you all—but I'll take care he ſhall never finger a Penny ofher Money, I warrant you,—Over-reach'd quoth'a? Why I might have been over-reach'd too, if I had had no more Wit: I don't know but this very Fellow may be him that was directed to me from Grand Cairo to⯑day. Ha, ha, ha.

The very ſame, Sir.

Are you ſo, Sir? but your Trick would' not paſs upon me.—

No, as you ſay, at that Time it did not, that was not my lucky Hour;—but hark ye, Sir, I muſt let you into one Secret—you may keep honeſt John Tradeſcant's Coat on, for your Uncle Sir Toby Periwinkle is not dead,—ſo the Charge of Mourning will be ſaved, ha, ha,—don't you remember Mr. Pillage your Uncle's Steward, ha, ha, ha.

Not dead! I begin to fear I am trick'd too.

Don't you remember the ſigning of a Leaſe, Mr. Periwinkle?

Well, and what ſignifies that Leaſe, if my Uncle is not dead? ha! I am ſure it was a Leaſe I ſign'd.—

Ay, but it was a Leaſe for Life, Sir, and of this beautiful Tenement, I thank you.

Ha, ha, ha, Neighbours Fare!

So then, I find you are all trick'd, ha, ha!

I am certain I read as plain a Leaſe as ever I read in my Life.

You read a Leaſe I grant you, but you ſign'd this Contract.

How durſt you put this Trick upon me Mr. Free⯑man? did not you tell me my Uncle was dying?

And would tell you twice as much to ſerve my Friend, ha, ha.

What the learned, famous Mr. Periwinkle chous'd too—ha, ha, ha!—I ſhall dye with laughing, ha, ha, ha.

It had been well if her Father had left her to wiſer Heads than thine and mine, Friend, ha, ha.

Well, ſince you have outwitted us all, pray you what, and who are you, Sir?

Sir, the Gentleman is a fine Gentleman.—I am glad you have got a Perſon, Madam, who under⯑ſtands Dreſs and good Breeding,—I was reſolved ſhe ſhould have a Husband of my chuſing.

I am ſorry the Maiden is fallen into ſuch Hands.

A Beau! nay then ſhe is finely help'd up.

Why Beaus are great Encouragers of Trade, Sir, ha, ha!

Look ye, Gentlemen,—I am the Perſon who can give the beſt Account of my ſelf, and I muſt beg Sir Philip's Pardon, when I tell him that I have as much Averſion to what he calls Dreſs and Breeding, as I have to the Enemies of my Religion. I have had the Honour to ſerve his Majeſty, and headed a Regiment of the braveſt Fellows that ever puſh'd Bayonet in the Throat of a Frenchman; and, notwithſtanding the Fortune [70] this Lady brings me, whenever my Country wants my Aid, this Sword and Arm are at her Service.