[1] MAR-PLOT.

SCENE I.
SCENE, The Terriera de Paſſa in Lisbon.

WHY Brother, you are diſtracted; how often have you fill'd my Brain with theſe Chyme⯑ra's? Why ſhould I murder my Wife with⯑out a Cauſe?

A Cauſe! Do's a Cuckold want a Cauſe?

Look ye, Senior, keep that Word Cuckold between your Teeth, till you can prove me ſuch, or by St. Anthony you ſhall feel what Mettle my Spado is made of.

Name your Spado again, and I'll ſhake thee into Duſt, thou feeble Dotard. Your Spado! employ it againſt the Man that robs you of your Honour, and not againſt him that would preſerve it. I ſay, My Siſter, your Wife, is a Strumpet, the Strumpet of a damn'd Heretick: I ſaw the Looks, nay the Signs, ſhe gave ſome of the Engliſh Officers, as ſhe came from Church this Morning.

Engliſh Officers!

Engliſh I'm ſure they were, I can't ſwear they were all Officers, nor cou'd I perceive which ſhe ſign'd to, or he ſhou'd not live to meet her Wiſhes—Now if you don't like the Name of Cuckold, find another for the Husband of a Whore, if you can—For my part I know of none; but this I know, if you won't puniſh her as a Wife, I will as a Siſter; ſhe ſhall not ſtain [2] the Honour of my Houſe this way; ſhe injur'd it too much in marrying you. I ſhall purſue my own Method, and ſo Fare⯑well.

So, there's the Bleſſing of matching into an ho⯑nourable Family: Now muſt I bear all Affronts patiently, be⯑cauſe I'm but a Merchant, forſooth—Oh, give me any Curſe but this—Pray, Senior, give me leave to ſpeak one Word with you: I am convinc'd of my too much Indulgence for this very Cockatrice, and there remains nothing to quicken my Re⯑venge, but certain Demonſtration.

Certain Demonſtration! Muſt you have Ocular Proof? Muſt your Coward Heart be animated with the Sight? A Curſe of your Equivocations—

No, any other Senſe will ſerve; let me hear 'em, feel 'em, nay, ſmell 'em; and ſure Cuckoldom is ſo rank a Scent, that, tho' I liv'd in England, where they ſcarce breathe any other Air, I cou'd diſtinguiſh it.

Now you talk like a Portugueſe; keep up this Paſ⯑ſion, and ſecure the Honour of your Houſe and mine, and deſerve the Alliance of my Blood, it ſhall be my Care to fix them.

And when they are ſo, mine to execute.

Colonel Ravelin!

Charles Gripe! honeſt Charles, how doſt thou do, Boy? Why, what brought thee to Lisbon?

Part of the Cauſe that brought you, Colonel.

What? art thou in the Army?

No, Colonel, I leave Honour to you, Intereſt brought me.

They are Twin-Brothers, Charles; if Intereſt did not drive, Honour wou'd come ſlowly on: Art thou turn'd Mer⯑chant then?

No, faith, not I; but it pleas'd Heav'n to take my Wife's Father out of the way, who left me Executor, and his Concerns here oblig'd me to take this Voyage.

So then, old Sir, jealous Traffick is dead at laſt. How long do you intend to ſtay?

Longer than I expected when I embark'd: I came away in ſuch a Hurry, the Ship ſailing ſooner than I thought ſhe [3] wou'd, I forgot to put up ſome Papers, without which I can't adjuſt my Accounts with ſome Merchants here; I have writ to my Wife to ſend them.

That was very unlucky; prithee, how doſt thou ſpend thy Time?

Why very inſipidly: How do you paſs yours? What Company have you here?

All ſorts; the Women, I'll ſay that for 'em, are kind enough, and won't put you to the Expence of Swearing and Lying to gain them; but a Man is as ſafe in an Engagement, as in their Arms; Fortune is the kind Friend in both the On⯑ſets: But I have got acquainted in a French Family, which are not altogether ſo dangerous one way, but much more ſo ano⯑ther.

Ay! how's that, Colonel?

Why, I'm fearful of dwindling into an honourable A⯑mour there.

Exert your Gallantry, gain your Point once, and thoſe Fears will vaniſh. The French Ladies are eaſie of Acceſs.

Right, the French Gayety reſembles the Engliſh Com⯑plaiſance, yet they have always a Reſerve to daſh your Ex⯑pectations, and when you think your ſelf in a manner Maſter of their Cover'd-way, they ſpring a Mine of Coquetry, and blow you up at once.

Say you ſo, Colonel? Why then give me the Lisbon Dames, that ſurrender to the Bold and Brave: He deſerves not a Woman, that would not run ſome Hazard, provided ſhe be kind.

Some are of Opinion, that the jilting Fair gives the ſureſt Blow, and Sucklin ſays, 'Tis Expectation makes the Bleſſing dear. This French Woman has found the way to unite my jarring Inclinations, and tune 'em to the pitch of Conſtancy, and I am very apprehenſive of becoming that tame Monſter, call'd a Husband. Ah! I find I am caught, for I can name that terrible Word without ſtarting.

Ha, ha, ha! I ſhall have you in my Claſs: Sure the La⯑dy that can make ſuch an entire Conqueſt over your Heart muſt be a Perſon of extraordinary Parts, Colonel.

Yes, faith, her Ladyſhip has very extraordinary Parts; ſhe's airy to Affectation, and changeable as the Wind: She has [4] Tongue enough for a Lawyer, but as hard to be underſtood as an Apothecary: She begins as many Stories as a Romance, and ends them as intricately, or, to ſpeak more properly, ſeldom ends them at all: She's as whimſical as a Projector, as obſtinate as a Phyſician, and as faithful as the Monarch of her Country.

Admirable Qualities for a Wife; and can you forſake the whole Sex for this Woman?

Humph! that I won't ſwear; but I find I can't forſake her for the whole Sex: To be plain with you, I have try'd the Strength of Variety, and at this time am in proſpect of the Fa⯑vour from as fine a Woman as any in Lisbon; yet this Medly of Womankind triumphs over all, and in the midſt of my Rap⯑tures I murmur Joneton.

But may I not ſee this wondrous Engineer, who can countermine her whole Sex, and blow up the Magazine of your Affections, Colonel?

You ſhall, but you muſt give me your Honour not to rival me.

The Deſcription you have given, Colonel, ſecures you from that Fear; beſides, you know I am marry'd, neither am I deſtitute of a Miſtreſs, tho' in a ſtrange Place. I this Morning was a aſſur'd, by a Sign from a Lady's Hankerchief, that my Wants ſhou'd be ſupply'd upon Occaſion. I did not rightly underſtand her, till the good old Duena explain'd her Mean⯑ing; and this Night I ſhall be happy in her Arms.

You are a Stranger to theſe Affairs Charles, take heed, proceed with caution, for the Women here are as warm in their Revenge as in their Inclinations, bare Suſpicion juſtifies Murder; if you manage your Intreague ſo cloſely to eſcape the Husband and Relations, 'tis odds but your Miſtreſs finds ſome pretence to employ her Bravoes, Fellows that will diſpatch a dozen Men for a Moydre.

I go well arm'd, underſtand the Language, and will not eaſily fall a Victime, but reſolve to ſee the event of this In⯑treague; the old Matron told me that the Lady was young and beautiful, her Husband a Merchant, rich, covetous, old, and ugly; that ſhe hated him worſe than Penance, and lov'd me bet⯑ter than her Prayers; ſhall I be ſuch a Poultroon to decline a Lady's Summons? No, for the honour of Britain, it ſhall never be ſaid an Engliſhman fled either from the Wars of Mars, or [5] Venus; let her bring me on, if I diſcharge not my ſelf with Honour, and make my Retreat ſecure, may I forfeit the Embraces of the Sex.

Well ſaid Charles, in my Conſcience you married Men encroach too much upon our Prerogative methinks; you who purchaſe pleaſure by way of Annuity, ſhould leave us Batchel⯑lours the liberty of the Freehold.

The Ground we courſe in, is never the worſe for your Uſe.

No, 'tis ſometimes the better; there's many a Wife lies Fallow, and many a good Eſtate wou'd want an Heir, if it were not for us young Fellows, eſpecially Soldiers.

I think you ought to make Proviſion for the Recruits you raiſe, as much as for your Widows, they are far more Nu⯑merous.

Ha! What noiſe is that?

'Tis Mar-plot's Voice, his damn'd Curioſity has brought him into ſome Miſchief, I'll lay my Life on't.

The Devil's in that Fellow; what made you bring him with you?

Murder, murder,

Ah Charles, help me dear Charles, for Heav'ns ſake.

A Curſe on your Paper Skull, what have you been doing now?

Nothing at all, as I hope to be ſaved; only I had a mind to ſee where that Lady liv'd that ſhook her Handkerchief at you, and out of no other deſign than to inform you, I proteſt, Charles, when immediately theſe two Scoundrels came ſlap upon me, I know no more for what than the Child that's unborn; but I'm ſure I ſhall feel their blows this Month, pox take 'em.

For what? Why you took the only method in the World to have your Guts let out: Ha, ha! watch a Woman in Lisbon! Hark you young Gentleman, ſuppreſs that natural Curioſity of diving into other Peoples Affairs, or never hope to ſee old Eng⯑land again.

I wiſh I were ſafe in it, Colonel Ravelin! The duce take me if I ſaw you before, my Senſes was all in ſuch a hurry, with theſe unconſcionable Villains, that—

That you over-look'd your Friends, I warrant.

You have ſaid it Charles, but I hope the Colonel will forgive me.

To be plain with you, Mr. Mar-plot, I ſhall take theſe kind of Over-ſights for particular Favours, if you don't ſhake off that Temper of yours.

Piſh, prethee Colonel don't put on thoſe grave Airs, why what harm is there in't?

There's ill Manners in't, I'm ſure, and have a care you han't your Bones broke for it.

Look ye Mar-plot, you muſt either reſolve to quit this inquiſitive Humour, or forfeit my Acquaintance,

A Man may be ruin'd by your fooliſh Quarrels.

Upon my Soul, Colonel, I never quarrel'd with any Man, out of deſign to hurt him in my Life: Charles can witneſs for me, that I hate fighting.

So can every Body elſe that knows you; I wiſh you hated Impertinence as much, for the good of Society.

Well, you of all Men living have the leaſt reaſon to complain; I have run the hazard of my Life many a time for you, and in my Conſcience I believe I ſhall fall your Martyr one time or another.

Your own you mean, you'll certainly be Canoniz'd by all the Buſie-body's about Town.

Is this all the thanks I get for my Friendſhip? Well Charles, well, you ſhall ſee I can prefer Safety, and ſacrifice my Curioſity too, as you call it.

That's the way to oblige your Friends, Mr. Mar-plot, ne⯑ver deſire to know more than they are willing to tell you, readily comply with a reaſonable Demand, and never meddle with any body's Buſineſs but your own, this will render you agreeable to all Companies.

Ay! But that will make all Companies very diſagree⯑able to me.

But Colonel, is there nothing due from one Friend to another? One ought to be let into the boſom Secrets of a Friend.

Not always, for there are ſome Secrets of ſuch a Nature that will not admit of that Freedom; for Example, ſuppoſe your Friend had an Affair with another Man's Wife, or Daughter, where's the advantage of your knowing it?

Why I wou'd watch the Husband or Father in the mean time, prevent his being ſurpriz'd, and perhaps ſave his Life.

But how wou'd you ſave his Honour? A Man of Ho⯑nour muſt have no Confidents in thoſe Caſes.

Then hang Honour, I ſay, 'tis good for nothing but to ſpoil Converſation. Shall I beg a pinch of your Snuff, Colonel?

With all my Heart.

The Meſſenger ſtays for your Anſwer, Sir.

A Letter! Wou'd I were a Fly now, that I might ſwop down upon the Paper, and read it before his Face: Lord, Lord, what wou'd I give for an univerſal Knowledge?

Tell the Meſſenger I'll obſerve Orders to a ſecond

Orders! Why, what have you Orders to march, Colonel?

From this place I have, Sir. Charles, I'd be glad to drink a Bottle with you and Mr. Mar-plot in the Evening at my Lodg⯑ings: There's the Directions.

I'll wait on you home Colonel, that I may know the Houſe again exactly.

Excuſe me Sir, I'm not going home perhaps. Charles, I'll expect you.

I'll do my ſelf the honour to wait on you; adieu.

Perhaps! but perhaps I won't believe you: He has a world of Manners to a Gentleman in a ſtrange Place, I'll be ſworn; ha! Charles's gone, nay, then I have a rare opportuni⯑ty, egad he has forgot his Snuff-Box, an excellent Excuſe to follow him; the Devil take his Letter for me, it has given me the Cholick.

SCENE, A Chamber in Don Perriera's Houſe.

Are you ſure the Engliſhman will come? What ſaid he?

He [...]ſwer'd me in Tranſport, I warrant him a Man every inch of him Come, Seniora? Yes, yes, he'll come, tho' a thouſand Dangers threatned him; theſe Engliſhmen are brave Fellows, if they were not Hereticks.

If he has but the Faith of a Lover, no matter for his Religion Margaritta; but what came of the buſie Fellow that watch'd us? Did you obey my Orders?

Yes marry did I, and the Bravo's aſſur'd me they had taught him to look another way for the future.

They diſpatch'd him, I hope.

No, he was reſcu'd, upon the Terriera de Paſſa.

Ill Fate; he did not ſee where I enter'd.

No, no, Madam, you are ſafe; huſh, here's my Ma⯑ſter Don Perriera.

Then there's my Jaylor: This Engliſhman runs in my Head ſo much, that methinks I hate the Sight of my Husband.

So, you have been at Church to Day, my Dear, have you not?

Yes, my Dear.

And who did you ſee there, Wife?

Do you think I paſs my Time in Obſervation at Church, my Dear? I hope I have other Buſineſs to do there.

And you are baſely bely'd, if you have not other Buſineſs to do elſewhere too, Wife.

What do you mean, my Dear?

Nay, ask your Brother Don Lopez, who will have it that you ſend your Eyes a m [...]rroding for Engliſh Forage; my Dear, have a care of an Ambuſcade; for the whole Artil⯑lery of his Senſes are drawn down upon you, and Jealouſie leads the Force of his Invention; and though I love you, Wife, yet if his Spies bring certain Intellige [...]ce of your holding Correſpondence with thoſe Heretick Dogs, the Engliſh Of⯑ficers, I ſhall infallibly treat you like a Traitreſs to your Lord and Husband.

Ha! I fear I'm betray'd.

My Lady a Traitreſs to her Lord and Husband! Don Lopez is a Traitor to his own Fleſh and Blood for ſaying ſo, by my Virginity—

Away, away; that's ſo ſtale an Oath, 'twill not be credited.

The Accuſation's falſe, I do not know one Engliſh Officer in Lisbon, by this ſacred Sign;

For my Duena aſſures me my Lover is no [9] Officer; ſo far I'm not forſworn.

I thought, my Dear had promis'd me never more to mind the Inſinuations of that cruel Brother; his Prejudice is founded on our Marriage, his proud imperious Temper ſcorns your Alliance, and racks his Soul to find a Cauſe to ruin you: And muſt it be by blaſting of my Fame? Will not my Life ſuffice? And dares he not employ his own Hand? But wou'd he make you guilty of my Murther? oh barbarous inhumane Thought!

Cruel Don Lopez, now do I wiſh I may die a Maid; a terrible Wiſh, were I not out of Danger of the Curſe falling upon me; if I believe my Lady ever thought of any Man but your ſelf, Senior. Poor Creature, I'm ſure her Heart is full of Fears about you when you are abſent.

Ay, leſt I ſhou'd come back before ſhe'd have me.

He is the Devil of a Gueſſer.

Unkindly urg'd, Deary; I'm ſure, by my own Conſent, I wou'd never have you—

In your Sight.

The Man is certainly a Witch.

Out of my ſight, I meant, Deary.

That wou'd be as bad on the other ſide.

For my part, Deary, I'm never happier than when thou art in my Arms, and cou'd be content to have thee always there.

Yes, I ſhou'd have a fine Life truly, to be always in your Arms.

Look ye there now, the Dog in the Manger.

What wou'd you have me ſay, my Dear, to con⯑vince you of my Love?

Look ye, Wife, 'tis no matter what you ſay, do but take care what you do: No regaling your Pallate with Fo⯑reign Diſhes, they are very dangerous. Take my Word for't, you'll live longer upon your own Food, and with leſs Danger of your Health.

Nay, if Diſeaſes are prevented by dry Meats, he's in the right on't.

I know not what you'd have me ſay, my Dear; but if you think me falſe, confine me to my Chamber, or ſend me to a Monaſtery. Grant, Heav'n, he do's not take me at my Word.

I wou'd not give a Cruſada for my Place, if he ſhou'd; a cloyſter'd Miſtreſs brings no Griſe to the Servant's Mill.

Sure Don Lopez do's belye her; I always found her thus pliable, kind, and modeſt; however, I'll watch her narrowly. In the mean time, to take off her Suſpicion, I'll ſeem to believe her.

So, all's right once more, I ſee by that Ogle of his.

Come, my Love, dry thy Eyes; I am not jealous, nor ſhall thy Brother make me ſo; I'll be an Engliſhman to thee. Come, buſs thy own Husband then, do Deary.

That Buſs ſecures me a Moydre before I ſleep, for the Engliſh are the moſt generous Men living in their Love Affairs.

And won't you be jealous of me no more indeed, and indeed, nor let that naughty Brother vex you, till you fright me out of my Wits again? Will you promiſe me that?

Yes indeed, and indeed, I will, you little coaxing Thief you. By St. Anthony, thou doſt look wondrous handſome methinks. Od! if I were not to meet ſome Merchants about Buſi⯑neſs, thou ſhould'ſt to Bed this Moment.

To Bed quotha? I had rather thou wert in thy Grave.

What? then are you going to leave me, my Jewel?

But for two or three Hours, my Dear; and then I will ſo buſs it, and love it, and hug it, and ſqueeze it.

Ah! the very Apprehenſion makes me ſick.

What makes my Dear ſick?

The Duce take his Ears—The Apprehenſion of loſing my dear, little, old Man.

Well turn'd.

Thou ſhalt quickly have me again, my Jewel.

Too ſoon, I dare ſwear.

By Deary, go make much of thy ſelf till I come back. Here, Seniora Margaritta, take care of your Lady.

Yes, Senior, a better Care than you think for. Come, Madam, now prepare to receive the charming Engliſhman.

I think I had better let it alone; do you conſider the Hazard which I run?

Hazard! Are you born in Portugal, and talk of Ha⯑zard? Why, there is not a Woman in Lisbon that wou'd not run twice as much for ſuch a Fellow—Do you conſider the Difference between him and your old Husband?

Yes, and what I muſt ſuffer too, if I am caught.

Nay, nay, if Fear throws ſo many Bug-bears in your way, follow your own Fancy: I'm like to make a fine Penny on't truly—Pray ſend me of no more Fool's Errands; I'll car⯑ry no more Challenges, if you do not mean to engage: I trifle my Time away ſweetly.

Nay, don't be angry, Marget; 'tis not but that I have as much Inclination for that handſome Man as ever, were I ſure not to be diſcover'd, I ſhou'd not alter my Reſolution.

That ſhall be my Care, I warrant you, Madam; he comes in by a Rope-Ladder at your Cloſet-window, by which he may return with Secrecy and Expedition upon the leaſt Surprize.

My Cloſet-window looks upon the River, how can he come that way?

By a Boat, that ſhall wait to receive him again.

Let him come then.

SCENE changes to Colonel Ravelin's Lodgings.

'Tis within two Minutes of the Time; I muſt be pun⯑ctual; for Women here forgive not the leaſt Omiſſion. Let me ſee, is my Trap-door unbolted? Not yet?

Here's a Gentleman to wait on you, Colonel.

I'll ſee no body: Did not I tell you ſo, Block-head?

Nay, 'tis only I, Colonel; don't be angry, you for⯑got your Snuff-box, and I thought you wou'd want it, ſo I brought it you, that's all, Sir.

Oh, Sir, you need not have given your ſelf the Trouble.

I think it no Trouble, upon my Soul, Sir. Ad! you have very pretty Lodgings here, Colonel: What a very fine Collection of Pictures you have got? Pray who is this at length, Colonel?

I can't tell indeed, Sir; they belong to the Houſe. Pox take this Coxcomb.

Ho, do they ſo? Pray what do you give a Week for theſe Lodgings?

Prithee ask me no Queſtions; I don't know, I have forgot. Ha! the Door unbolts, which way ſhall I get rid of this Puppy?

Hey-day! forgot! that's impoſſible.

Look ye, Sir, I perceive it is impoſſible for me to an⯑ſwer all the Queſtions you may poſſibly ask at this time; but in the Evening I promiſe to ſolve all your Interrogatories.

Nay, nay, Colonel, if I am troubleſome, I'll be gone—This Uneaſineſs has a Meaning.

You'll oblige me in ſo doing, Mr. Mar-plot; for I have a Viſit to make this Moment.

Is it to Man or Woman, Colonel? Come hang it, you may tell me that.

Why then, it is to a Lady: Now I hope you'll leave me.

Ay, ay, with all my Heart; but I may go with you to the Door, may I not?

Go to the Devil, Sir. Death, how ſhall I ſhift him off?

How ſnappiſh he is—how the duce ſhall I manage to find out this Intrigue?

Well, well, don't be angry Colonel: I'll leave you below Stairs,

Confound his Impertinence. Death Sir, ſuppoſe I don't go down Stairs, how then?

How then? Why how then do you intend to make your Viſit, Colonel? You don't go out at the Window, do you?

No more of your Impertinence, Sir, but be gone, or I ſhall fling you out at Window.

Nay, if you be ſo Cholerick, your humble Servant Egad I'll ſecure the Key, I will know the bottom of this, if I die for't.

This is the moſt intolerable Dog I ever ſaw: Pox take him, there's half a minute claps'd.

Egad he's not come out yet, what is he a doing? Ha! I don't ſee him—nor hear him neither—od, I'll venture in—upon my Soul here's no Body: Why ſure he deals with the Devil—here's no Door but this that I can ſee—Is there any way out at Window?—No, faith, that's impoſſible, they have all Iron Bars.—What can be become of him? Oh! I have it now, before George he's gone up the Chimney, for there is no other Paſſage—it muſt be ſo,

Egad the Chimney is large, and eaſy enough to mount, now have I a ſtrong inclination to follow him—troth and I will too—ſure the greateſt pleaſure in this World, l [...]s in diſco⯑vering what other People take ſuch pains to conceal—now they may call me impertinent Block head—inquiſitive Fool—and ill-bred Puppy—and what they pleaſe, but I'd not quit the pleaſure of knowing this Secret, for the fineſt breeding in France.—I'm afraid I ſhall ſpoil my Coat—rot him, what a curſed, dirty Contrivance has he found out; hold, well thought on—I'll, I'll, turn the wrong ſide outwards—Ay, that will do,

ſo now for the Art of Chimney Sweep⯑ing; egad Colonel, in ſpight of all your caution, ten to one but I know your haunts; Lord how I ſhall laugh at Night, when we meet, how I will Joak upon him. Ha, ha, ha.

SCENE I.
SCENE, Dona Perriera's Apartment.

COme, Courage, Senior Engliſe, fear nothing.

I hope you have a better Opinion of my Country, Seniora, than to think me afraid; but where is the Lady? the beautiful young Lady, which you told me off, my dear?

She's forth-coming, Sir—So, ſee what it is to be ſtricken in years now, he looks over me, as if I were a thing of his own Species. Well Senior, I aſſure you I have done you no ſmall ſer⯑vice with my Lady, poor young thing, ſhe had ſo many ſcru⯑ples, but I told her a thouſand things in your Favour: Seniora ſaid I, the Cavalier is a fine Cavalier, he is—

Oh the Devil, if this old Woman's Clack ſets a going, there will be no end—I underſtand you Senior, pray give me leave to thank you; and to engage you more heartily in my In⯑tereſt, be pleas'd to accept this Token of my Eſteem.

Ah Seniora, you Engliſh have excellent faculties to pleaſe us Women; I'll ſwear they have exceeding good natural Parts, and readily conceive our Meaning,

I'll acquaint my Lady that you are here, Senior.

Prethee do—So, I am enter'd, but how I ſhall come off, I am not able to determine: If inſtead of a Lady, there ſhou'd come an old ſurly Dog, with half a dozen Bravoes at his back, it would give a ſtrange turn to my Inclinations; how fooliſhly a Man muſt look upon ſuch an Occaſion; egad ſup⯑poſe ſome Body ſhould be doing me the ſame favour in England now with my Wife, cou'd I be angry? No faith; if a Man is born to be a Cuckold 'tis none of his Wife's fault, and therefore Senior, Don, what de call 'em, by your leave, if your Wife be handſome.

Ha! here ſhe comes; a thouſand Darts iſſue from her Eyes—What a Forehead's there? Her Lips exceed the redneſs of the Coral—'tis ſure the Queen of Love—Ay, 'tis ſhe, thoſe dimples in her Cheeks are Cupid's bathing Tubs, and that ſnowy [15] Boſome the Plain he keeps his Revels on—Seniora

the duce take me if I can ſpeak to her.

You ſeem ſurpriz'd, Senior.

Who can look on ſuch amazing Brighneſs without aſto⯑niſhment of Senſe? Semele, when Jove approach'd her in all his Glory, had not more cauſe to be ſurpriz'd.

You begin as if we had years to waſte in Court⯑ſhip, Senior, pray deſcend from your high-flown Raptures, the Gods are no Example, let us talk like Mortals.

But are you ſure, Madam, that you are Mortal?

I'm afraid he'll find me ſo, he's a charming hand⯑ſome Fellow.

By your Diſtance one wou'd imagine that you took me for a Shadow, but you may venture to approach, I am Fleſh and Blood, I ſhan't vaniſh. Ha, ha, ha.

Say you ſo Madam? Why then have at you, I was never afraid of Fleſh and Blood in my Life—Ha! The Devil! a Dagger!

Ha, ha, ha; what, do you ſtart at a Dagger, Se⯑nior?

Yes, in a Female Hand, thoſe Limbs were made for ſofter Uſes; and we Britains are not wont to ſee our Ladies arm'd with Steel: Loves Combats are fought with Kiſſes, in my Country, I know not what his Laws are here.

The Engagements are the ſame, only a little dif⯑ference in the Preparation; a Wound in the Reputation of an Engliſh Woman, they ſay, only lets in Allimony, but with us it lets out Life: And therefore, tho' we proceed with caution, a Lover ought to think us ſincere, when we run ſuch hazards to receive him.

But to what end is the Dagger, Madam; is it to diſpatch your Lover by way of keeping the Secret—faith he'll have but ſmall ſtomach to Eat, that knows he muſt Die as ſoon as he has Din'd.

No Senior, by this I wou'd imprint in your Mind the danger which we are both expos'd to, if we are not both diſcreet; Favours in Portugal muſt not be boaſted off.

Nor any where elſe, Madam; a Man of Honour ſcorns ſo poor a piece of Treachery; he that owns he ever had a Favour, [16] proclaims himſelf both lewd and fooliſh, but he that points the Woman out is a Villain, and ought to have that Dagger in his Heart.

Nobly ſaid.

That Sen⯑tence has diſarm'd and left me at your Mercy.

Then thus I ſeize, and thus I will revenge the Arts you took to fright me. Ha! her Kiſſes would warm the Dead, I'm all Extacy. I fancy the next Room is more private Madam, and I have a ſecret to impart of mighty Conſequence, therefore pre⯑thee let's withdraw.

Oh happy Engliſh Women, that have ſuch Men as theſe plenty. Oh my Heart, I find I have not power to deny him—Open that Door, Margaritta.

So, ſo, they underſtand one another,

Ah, Zounds I have broke my Leg.

Ah! Thieves, Thieves.

Ah! Murder, Murder.

Mar-plot! The Devil break your Neck, which way got you hither? I have a good mind to ſtick you, you Raſcal.

Ah, dear Charles, is it you? Oh forgive me for Heav'ns ſake, this was pure Accident, as I hope to be ſav'd, the Devil take me if I dreamt of finding you.

Thieves! Murder! Murder!

Death, they'll raiſe the Houſe, and I ſhall be taken for a Thief, the Women will ſwear they know nothing of me, I war⯑rant 'em. Rogue, Dog, Poultroon.

Nay, good Charles——Oh, oh, oh, what ſhall I do? Oh Lord, oh Lord, dear Charles take me out with you

Oh, woe's me that ever I was born, he is leapt into the River; was there ever ſuch an unfortunate Dog as I am, to be in queſt of one, and tumble upon t'other? tho' if I cou'd but get ſafe out, and Charles ſcape with Life, the Accident wou'd not diſpleaſe me neither, but if Charles be drown'd, I ſhall hang my ſelf, that's certain.

Thieves, Thieves! Lorenzo, Pedro Sancho; where are you all?

Oh frightful! the whole Houſe is up in Arms, which way ſhall I eſcape? Ah! methinks I feel a Spado thro' my Guts already: Egad, there is no way but up the Chimney again.

Whre are theſe Rogues, my Dear? I'll ſwinge 'em. How many was there?

We ſaw ten at leaſt.

Yes indeed did we—with Piſtols and Spa⯑does, and Heav'n knows what. Is my Lover got off clear?

Without Diſpute, for the Ladder is gone.

What cou'd that Fellow be? I wiſh he was no Spy from my Brother Don Lopez.

Why where are they all? And which way got they in?

They all came down the Chimney, Senior.

Down the Chimney? here, Raſcal, ſearch the Chimney.

Take heed, Lorenza, and kill the firſt you light on—The Dead can diſcover nothing.

Here's one of 'em.

Take him alive, I charge you.

Ah! then all will out, and I'm ruin'd.

How now, Sir? What are you?

I can't tell what I am, Sir, not I.

'Tis an Engliſhman, and can't belong to Don Lo⯑pez.

Can't you ſo, Sir? Death! how came you here?

Nay, I know as little of that too, for my part; what will become of me? Theſe Fellows have damn'd Murdering Faces.

Where are the reſt of your Gang, Sirrah?

Nay, Heav'n knows; wou'd I were with them.

Zounds, Sirrah, anſwer without theſe Equivoca⯑tions, or, by St. Anthony, I'll have you wrack'd to Death.

Ah! the Devil take your Popiſh Saints; for they are always bloody-minded: I can't think of any tolerable Lye to ſave my Life now.

Why don't you ſpeak, I ſay? Where are the other Nine? Here was Ten of you juſt now.

Ten! As I hope for Mercy from your Hands, Sir, I ſaw but one; and how he came here, may I be caſtrated if I know. 'Tis true, he is a Friend of mine, but I won't anſwer for his Virtue for all that, when there is a handſome Woman in the caſe; for Beauty is a Temptation, you know, Sir.

Undone! this Fellow knew the other.

How's this? a handſome Woman—I wiſh my Wife has not a Hand in the Plot.

Recal what you have ſaid; not one Word more of the Man you ſaw here, as you hope to live two Hours.

Ah, wretched Mar-plot, what will become of thee?

Did you not tell me you ſaw ten arm'd Men come down the Chimney, Wife?

For my part I was ſo frighted, my Dear, that I durſt have ſworn I ſaw twenty.

Ay, ſo did I too, Senior; for People in a Fright ſee double.

Pray Heav'n, ſome body had no Deſign to be double.

Where is this Friend of your's, Sir?

What Friend, Sir?

Why him you ſaid you ſaw here juſt now.

Ah! that was all a Miſtake, Sir; I did not know what I ſaid, Sir, nor, I believe, did not know what I meant, and I'm ſure I did not neither, except I meant my ſelf, Sir. Nay, now I think on't, I did mean my ſelf, Sir—Oh Lord, oh Lord, which way ſhall I come off?

Don't ſtammer ſo, Raſcal; I ſhall have no Mercy on you preſently——Did you not ſay you ſaw a Friend of yours here?

Why if I did, Sir, I meant my ſelf; and there needs no Logick to prove a Man's beſt Friend is himſelf, tho' I am ſure I am my own worſt Foe. Oh, I ſhall ſwoond away with the Fright.

You ſaid, you knew not how he came here nei⯑ther.

My ſelf again, Sir; for as I hope to get ſafe out, I had no more Deſign to come into your Houſe, than I had to eat it, Sir.

And dare not you ſwear for your own Virtue nei⯑ther [...]?

No really, Sir, no Man knows his own Strength; and I confeſs ingenuouſly, Sir, that a pretty Woman has Power to diſſolve my Reſolutions of Virtue at any time.

Say you ſo, Sir? Why then there are things to be us'd to preſerve Virtue, which I'll take care to adminiſter I'll engage you ſhall attempt no Man's Wife for the future. Here, bind his Hands.

'Tis a handſome Young-Man, and no Fool. I wiſh I cou'd tell how to ſave him.

Ah, dear Sir, what do you mean? I deſign upon a Man's Wife! Upon my Soul, Sir, I never had any ſuch damna⯑ble Deſign in my Days, Sir.

Sirrah, Sirrah, you wou'd not have come down my Chimney for nothing; you are a Rogue, I ſee by your Diſ⯑guiſe, Sirrah. Bind him, I ſay.

Diſguiſe! hold, hold, if the Truth muſt out, it muſt; then to deal ingenuouſly—

Ah! now it comes out, I'm ruin'd paſt Redemption.

I am very ſubject to an itching in my Nature to know every body's Concerns, and being thruſt out of an Officer's Lodgings of my Acquaintance, for my Impertinence (as he call'd it) I ſuſpected he had ſome Intrigue on foot: So I watch'd his coming out; but finding he ſhut himſelf up, I imagin'd he had got his Miſtreſs with him. So, Sir, I found means to get in again; but not meeting with him, I fancy'd he had ſome private way up the Chimney. So, Sir, my confounded Curio⯑ſity, with a Pox to't, muſt needs try to ſmell him out—So, Sir, I turn'd my Coat here to ſave it clean, and up I ſcrambl'd; but when I came without-ſide, I ſaw no body there then: Sir, ſome⯑thing whiſper'd me in my Ear, that he might be gone down the next Chimney: So, Sir, that deviliſh Deſire of mine brought me down hither, as you ſee, Sir; and this is the Truth, and no⯑thing but the Truth, as I hope for your Pardon, Sir—Ah, poor Mar-plot, if this brings thee not off, thou art undone for ever.

A well compact Lye. I'll Officer you, with the Devil to you. I ſuppoſe your Country-men think they have a Licenſe for Cuckoldom. Do you hear? ſearch the whole Houſe; for this Rogue in Red may lurk in ſome Corner or other, and [20] watch his Opportunity to preſs my Wife to the Service, and think to raiſe Recruits out of my Family: And for you, ſweet Senior Sweep-Chimney, the Corrigadore ſhall let you into the Secrets of our Laws in Portugal.

The Devil take all Secrets for me.

Lorenzo, go let him know his Preſence is requir'd. Come, Sir, I ſhall put you into a ſafer Place till he comes, where there is no Chimney to get out at. Margaritta, take care of my Wife—Hold, now I think on't, I'll eaſe you of that Trouble, and do it my ſelf. Go, get in there.

What Fault have I committed, my Dear, to be imur'd? If I had not cry'd out, you had not taken this Villain.

I wiſh you had been dumb, with all my Blood.

When he is gone, and the Houſe found to be clear, you ſhall have your Liberty again; therefore no Diſpute, but in, I ſay.

Now bring him along into the next Chamber.

O you malignant Stars—Oh, take pity upon me, and let me go, or I ſhall die with Vexation, and you'll be acceſſary to my Murder, and that will trouble your Conſcience.

Conſcience! you Heretick Dog; do you talk of Conſcience? Drag him along.

Heretick Dog! a good Hint; ad, I'll pretend to turn Papiſt. Oh, hear me one Moment, Sir; I do confeſs I am a Heretick, and my Conſcience tells me very unfit to die. Ah, dear Sir, be ſo charitable to afford me a little Inſtruction, and recommend me to ſome Saint that may take care of me in the other World.

Oh, Anthony! thou haſt touch'd his Heart, and put me upon a meritorious Action—I muſt have regard to his poor Soul—Well, young Man, ſince I find thou art become the Care of Heav'n, I think thee worthy my Regard. I'll ſend for a Prieſt that ſhall inſtruct thee in the Myſteries of our Religion. Come, come along.

Ah, for ſome Inſtructions how to get out; here's a little time gain'd however.

Well, by St. Anthony, I am much concern'd for him, methinks I feel a more than ordinary motion about my Heart. Ha! My pulſes beat quicker than they uſed to do; oh dear, how my Breaſts heave; I am much diſorder'd, but I believe my Di⯑ſtemper [21] wou'd not prove dangerous, were he my Phyſician; well, if I thought he would be grateful I'd releaſe him. I have a Key will open that Door; beſides, he knows my Lady's Gallant, and perhaps they may force him to diſcover who he is, and where he lodges; and if he falls into Don Lopez's Hands, fare him well, and farewel my Fees too; now if I convey him out, I may prevent future Miſchief, and may be get a Love of my own, at leaſt I cannot fail of Rewards from all ſides, I'll do't I'm re⯑ſolv'd.

Well Senior Engliſe, what think you of finding out ſecrets again?

For my part I ſhall hate every thing that is but ſpell'd with any one Letter that belongs to it: Have you no Bowels of Mercy for one neither? Ah, Seniora, for honeſt Charles's ſake let me go, you ſee I brought you off, then prethee take ſome pity on me

Fie Senior, a Lady may compaſſionate your Perſon for your own ſake, to do you Juſtice, you are a clever young Man, and may make your Fortune.

I wiſh I cou'd make my Eſcape,

Suppoſe a Lady ſhou'd take a liking to you, cou'd you be kind?

Kind? ods Heart, is it poſſible for a Man to think of kindneſs when the Knife's at his Throat—What the Devil does this old Hag mean?

But ſet the caſe a Woman ſhou'd procure the liberty of your Perſon, what Charms muſt ſhe be Miſtreſs off to cap⯑tivate your Heart?

Charms! Egad if ſhe had never a Noſe, I ſhould think my ſelf bound in Honour to be grateful.

Tho' ſhe was not altogether ſo young.

Nay, tho' ſhe were as old again as thou art, I wou'd love her monſtrouſly. I fancy 'tis her ſelf ſhe means; egad I begin to conceive hopes of Liberty.

Indeed! And do you really think you cou'd love me, Senior?

Do you really think you can let me out?

It lies in my Power.

Why then t'other ſhall lye in my Will: And to prove my Love, there's Gold for thee, old Girl.

This is as it ſhould be now, nothing like Earneſt to bind [22] [...] Bargain—Well Senior, upon condition you'll meet me whenever I ſhall give you Notice, I'll take pity on you, and let you Eſcape.

My Angel, my Life, my Soul; od I'm wondrous full of Raptures of a ſudden.

Hark, I hear ſome Body coming, follow me quickly.

With all my Spirit.

Stupidity! Give a Villain fair play for his Life, that wou'd rob you of your Honour! What buſineſs cou'd this Fel⯑low have in your Houſe? And by ſo Clandeſtine a way as the Chimney? Where is he? give him to my Revenge.

Nor for the World; you wou'd not kill him now, when he is willing to be Converted: Juſt when his Eyes are opening? That wou'd be to deſtroy his Soul with his Body.

His Soul? I'd rather give a hundred Moydres to have it pray'd out of Purgatory, then loſe my Revenge. Open the Door I ſay, or I will force it open.

I ſay you ſhall not ſee him till the Corrigadore comes, I'll deliver him into the Hands of Juſtice; I will not have a Man murder'd without a juſt Cauſe; touch the Door if you dare, I'd have you to know I am Maſter of my own Lodgings.

And I'd have you to know, Sir, that I'll batter your Lodgings about your Ears, before I'll ſuffer in my Honour: Where is this ſalacious Woman, this adulterous Siſter, this Con⯑taminated fair One, this Viper of our Family?

Safe enough out of your reach I know ſhe's inno⯑cent of this, and therefore will preſerve her. Pray mittigate your Paſſion, Senior, and you ſhall have all the ſatisfaction in this matter you can deſire from a Brother.

Brother! Dam the Alliance, I ſcorn the Title.

Right, juſt as my Wife ſaid—he does hate me heartily—

How now, is the Corrigadore come?

Yes Sir, he's without.

Bring him in.

I charge you, Senior Don Garcia Pedro Compoſtello, to keep the Peace, and protect the Priſoner which I ſhall deliver into your Hands from the fury of Senior Don Lopez, whoſe fiery [23] Temper hurries him on to execute, before he knows the Na⯑ture of the Offence.

Sure you miſtake, Senior; Raſhneſs has no Connexion with true Courage; and I look upon Don Lopez to be a Perſon of a ſingular good Conduct.

Rot your fawning Praiſe—Do Juſtice, demand your Priſoner, let me ſee the Engliſh Dog.

Nay Senior, if you are in earneſt, I am oblig'd by my Offices to keep the Peace; diſarm him.

A Curſe of your Authority.

Now Don Perriera, bring out the Offender.

That I will. Here open that Door, and bring him hither.

Here is no Body within, Sir,

How! no Body within? Ah, thou art a blind Booby.

Mercy upon me! The Rogue was in the right, there is no Body there, 'twas certainly the Devil, and he's gone through the Key⯑hole; for no Humane Creature cou'd get out; bleſs me, how I tremble!

The Devil! I wiſh I had met with that Devil, I'd have try'd to have made him Mortal for the good of Mankind.

Pray let's ſee this Room from whence he eſcap'd, per⯑haps he may be hid ſomewhere.

Oh, it is to no purpoſe, there is nothing to be ſeen.

[The Scene draws, and diſcovers them ſearching about.

Hark ye Don Perriera, if your Wife be not va⯑niſh'd too, prethee ask her what Species he was compos'd of, I warrant, ſhe can tell you, he had no ſulphureous Scent about him.

'Tis very odd; was the Door lock'd are you ſure?

Yes Senior, I'm ſure I unlock'd it.

I lock'd it my ſelf, and have had the Key in my Pocket ever ſince.

But all your Locks are not ſecur'd, by carrying the Key about you. I doubt Senior, I hope I may put on my Spado again.

Pray be certain of your Criminals, Senior, the next time you ſend for me.

S'death! am I flouted—I have loſt all Patience, I'd give my whole Eſtate to know which way this Dog eſcap'd, if he were Fleſh and Blood.

Ask your Wife that,—Confuſion.

My Wife! If I ſhou'd find my Wife guilty, I'd practice ſuch unheard of Cruelties on her, as ſhou'd out-do our Inquiſition.

Pſhaw! All Talk, all Talk; you ſhou'd have cruſh'd when in your Power, but then the Law muſt right you; you had a meritorious Work to do, there was ſo much care taken on his Soul, that you left the Body unguarded, and it has made bold to ſlip thro' your Fingers: Confound your Ignorance.

Amen I ſay, with all my Heart, and ſend me more Senſe—I own my good Nature has abus'd me, but here I throw it off; and now, Senior, I am apt for any Impreſſion, your Will ſhall be my Law; ſay what's to be done?

Why, if you will take my Advice, cauſe diligent ſearch to be made thro' all the Family, there is certainly a falſe Key to that Door, and thoſe you find it upon diſpatch, but rack 'em firſt to bring the Secret out.

It ſhall be done. What more?

If you find it not, put on the ſame Humour you us'd to wear, ſeem not to ſuſpect my Siſter, but pretend ſome Buſineſs at St. Ubes for two or three Days; take your leave, return privately, and conceal your ſelf in ſome convenient Place: I warrant you'll make ſufficient Diſcovery.

All this I'll obſerve to a tittle, and if I do find her falſe, by St. Anthony ſhe dies.

In the mean time I'll not be Idle, my Revenge ſhall purſue theſe Engliſh Dogs ſo cloſe, that I'll find out this Villain, or write Villain on the Heart of all his Country-Men.

A Curſe of the Cauſe that brought theſe Whore-maſters to Portugal. What a numerous Progeny will they leave behind them; the next Generation will be all Mungrils—But I'll endeavour to prevent the Increaſe in my Family.

SCENE I.
SCENE the Terriera de Paſſa.

HA, ha, ha; certainly this Fellow is the moſt miſchie⯑vous Rogue that ever liv'd; which way got he down the Chimney?

Nay that's paſt my finding out, as alſo what's become of him: I cou'd have cut his Throat with all my Soul juſt then, and yet I can't help being concern'd for him now, I fear he is kill'd.

I ſhou'd be ſorry for that, tho' in my Conſcience he de⯑ſerves it, this buſie humour of his is as natural to him as his Food; he follow'd me home this Morning, I was forc'd to uſe him very roughly to get rid of him, for you muſt know, I have a trap Door in my Chimney, thro' which I deſcend into a back Street, where I am conducted by an old Negro to an Angel of a Woman; I had her Summons, and the hour of Aſſignation was come when he en⯑ter'd my Chamber.

A very unſeaſonable Viſit, faith Colonel.

Ay, was it not? but I quickly diſpatch'd him, tho' how he ſtumbl'd upon you afterwards, and in ſo odd a manner, is a miracle.

If he lives we ſhall know when next we meet; I never catch'd him in a lye, which is the beſt Qualification he has: But Colonel, did not you promiſe to introduce me to your French Miſtreſs? What, this Lady incog. has not beat her out by the by, has ſhe Colonel?

No, no, ſhe maintains her Ground too well, there's more danger of my raiſing the Siege, than her beating the Chamade; ſhe has ſo many retreats of Pride, Vanity, and Affectation, that without ſome lucky Accident toſs a Granade into the Magazine of her Inclination, there'll be no hopes of the Town.

Storm then, Colonel, ſtorm.

I rather chuſe to block her up and ſtarve her out, ſuffer no Admirer to enter; and if once a Woman of her temper want the Proviſion of Vanity, ſhe ſurrenders of courſe.

An admirable Stratagem, but prithee let me ſee her before you put it in practice.

It ſhall be now, if you pleaſe, Charles.

With all my Heart: Is it far?

At that Houſe, yonder.

Lead the way then.

Lead the way—where the Devil are they going? now can't I help having a violent deſire to follow them, tho' I ſcap'd ſo narrowly in my laſt Project: Yonder they go, ha! they are enter'd already, that is no publick Houſe I'm ſure: Egad, may be it is ſome private Bourdell, or what buſineſs can both of 'em have at one Houſe? Well, Charles, tho' you was ſo barbarous to deſert me in my Afflictions, I won't ſerve you ſo, I'll not ſtir from this place 'till I ſee you ſafe out—Od, upon ſecond thoughts I'll knock at the Door, and ask for him, perhaps three may be as welcome as two.

Ha! Mar-plot here, this is lucky.

Mr. Mar⯑plot, fortunately met.

That's more than I can tell yet, for I don't know you, Sir.

Nor wou'd I have you,

But you know thoſe that do; can you tell me where Mr. Charles Gripe is to be found?

Ha! my Mind miſgives me plaguily that this is an En⯑voy from the old Man's Wife, pray Heav'n he has never a Sum⯑mons from my old Matron too; for tho' I comply'd with all ſhe ask'd to purchaſe my Liberty, I am ſure I ſhall have no Stomach to perform Articles.

Don't you hear me, Sir?

Yes, yes, Sir, I hear you—What the duce ſhall I ſay to him, he muſt not know that Charles is gone into yon Houſe; for Women here, they ſay, are curſed Jealous, and that may be a means to have his Throat cut.

Why don't you anſwer? where does he Lodge?

Where does he Lodge?—this muſt be ſome new In⯑treague, for doubtleſs t'other knows his Lodgings: Look ye, Sir, one good turn deſerves another; let me know what buſineſs you have with him, and accordingly as I like it, your Queſtion ſhall be anſwered.

Mar-plot ſtill, I find he's no changling.

Why then, Sir, if you muſt know, I have a Letter for him from a La⯑dy who is deſperately in love with him.

So, here's another Intreague popt into my Mouth. In Love with him? prithee dear Youth who is ſhe? where does ſhe live? What's her Name? Is ſhe Maid, Wife, or Widow? Young, or Old? Black, Brown, or Fair? Short, or Tall? Fat, or Lean? this Country, or a Foreigner? quick, quick, quick my dear lit⯑tle Rogue, let me into the ſecret, and I'll carry thee to his Lodg⯑ings immediately—Egad this Diſcovery will make my peace with Charles compleatly.

I can only anſwer him theſe queſtions, Sir, I am no Blab, you muſt excuſe me if I'm ſilent.

So muſt you me, Sir, I'm no Blab neither, Sir, if you go to that, I'd have you to believe I can keep my Friend's ſecrets when intruſted; I don't know his Lodgings, find them out as you can.

You are very ſhort, Sir; I have nothing to ſay againſt your ſecrecy, but it wou'd be Impudence in me to run the hazard, beſides foreſtalling your Friend's Generoſity, he ought to have the diſpoſal of his own ſecrets.

Ay, if it comes into his Hands once 'twill coſt me more pains to find out? than 'tis worth.

Pains to find out? I hope you never endeavour to find out what other People wou'd conceal.

No? yes to chuſe; why the duce ſhou'd any Man know more than my ſelf? We came into the World alike, and I can ſee no occaſion for his ſuperior knowledge.

I admire you are not for levelling Eſtates too; how can you bear any Man to be richer than your ſelf?

Oh with eaſe, my Wealth lies in my Mind, I had rather fathom the depth of a Man's Thoughts, than his Pockets; yet to ſhow you I can ſuppreſs my Curioſity, let me read the Letter, and I'll excuſe the reſt.

It is as much as my Life's worth to open the Letter.

Pox take his Life—tell me what's in't then, or may I be carbonaded if you know his Lodgings. I'd give a Finger to have this Intreague rightly.

I muſt not let this Fellow know me, if I intend to con⯑ceal my being in Lisbon; I'll humour him a little, and try what [28] diſcovery I can make.

Well, Sir, if you'll promiſe to be ſecret, I'll let you into this Affair.

Secret as a Prieſt, Child—Egad I ſhall have it, pray Heav'n Charles does not come out before he has done, if he ſhou'd I ſhould be undone.

Why then the Lady I belong to, is a rich Merchant's Daughter, near the Convent of Santo Vincente, her Name is Dona Cephiſa, ſhe ſaw your Friend at Church, is extremely charm'd with him, and reſolves to marry him.

Marry him! ha, ha, ha, ha, poor Lady! why now to return ſecret for your ſecret, he's Married already, but perhaps he may prick her down amongſt the reſt of his Miſtreſſes: You underſtand me?

Too well—the reſt of his Miſtreſſes? has he ſuch ſtore then?

As many as he can well manage, I believe.

Oh my Heart, the danger of intreaguing in this place alarms my fears, and ſhocks my very Soul.

What I have ſaid makes you thoughtful, I perceive; will no Body do but Charles? What think you of me?

Why really, Sir, were I a Woman, I ſhou'd prefer you before him, but I can't anſwer for my Lady; if you pleaſe I'll mention you.

Your moſt humble Servant, Sir,—Egad there may be new pleaſure in having an Intreague of ones own, for ought I know, for I never had one in my Life.

But, Sir, there is one Article in our Agreement which you have not perform'd,

What's that?

Where your Friend lodges?

Why he lodges at yon green Windows, where if you have any Service from your Lady for your humble Servant, you'll find me there alſo.

Sir I kiſs your Hand, I'll do my beſt to ſerve you.

Sir, I kiſs yours—I'm glad he's gone before Charles came out; this is a Nonſenſical Secret, tho' methinks I had rather know what the Colonel and he is doing in yon Houſe—Shall I knock at the Door or not? If I ſhou'd, ten to one but I do Miſ⯑chief—and ſhall be beaten again: To prevent which I'll wait [29] within ſight for their coming out, ſo when they are paſs'd by, I may with more Security make my Enquiry.

SCENE Changes to Mademoiſel Joneton's Lodgings.

Suſan, bring me the Glaſs.

Yes, Madam.

Don't I look wretchedly to Day, Siſter?

Your looks are the ſame to Day they always are, I ſee no Difference.

How do you mean that, Siſter? That I always look curſedly, or how?

She looks too well for my Eaſe, ſince ſhe's belov'd by Colonel Ravelin.

I'm ſure your Vanity and Affectation does not put that Conſtruction upon my Words, Siſter.

Affectation! Ladies, pray what am I affected in? Nay, take the Glaſs away again.

My Siſter Marton ſays, I'm affected, ſo I will not look in't, to oblige her: Am I not very compliſant, Ladies?

Mademoiſel Joneton is always ſo, I think you have the moſt agreeable manner of ſpeaking—

Fye Madam, how can you do your Reaſon ſo much Violence, to commend the moſt ridiculous Humour that ever Woman took up, it muſt needs be agreeable to hear Words ſpun out to half an Hours length.

Well, I muſt own I like it in her extremely, I think there is a particular Grace in't.

Yes, it is ſomething particular truly, ſometimes to talk as faſt as School-Boys read, and other ſome ſo ſlow, that we for⯑get the Senſe of the Argument before ſhe has done ſpeaking.

One wou'd really think my Siſter of Spaniſh Production, ſhe is ſo formal—I ſee no reaſon why one may not alter and change the Form and Manner of ſpeaking, according to the Company one keeps, as well as the Mode and Faſhion of one Clothes—Now when I converſe with my own Sex, I love to indulge my ſelf, and let my Words fall from me with Indolence and Eaſe, becauſe their Converſation is inſipid, and we only prattle away time.

Inſipid! Ha, ha, ha, pray what reliſh have the Mens beyond ours?

Oh, that Queſtion is Prepoſterous—But you have no Taſte Siſter, you deteſt Mankind.

Ay, but the Colonel has found the way to Convert that Notion.

I confeſs, Siſter, I never cou'd ſee any thing in thoſe lordly Creatures of force enough to make me ſubmit blind⯑ly to their tyrannick Sway.

But there's a vaſt Pleaſure in making them ſubmit to ours, to make ſo fine a Gentleman as Colonel Ravelin obey my Nod, ſigh, weep and kneel at ones Frown, then give him Rap⯑tures with a Smile. The Colonel! Oh! the moſt engaging Man alive—When he comes next you ſhall ſee him, Siſter.

Not for the Spaniſh Mines—I am too well acquainted with the Colonel, which ſhe muſt not know.

Excuſe me Siſter, I ſhou'd only ſpoil your Converſation.

Does Madamoiſel Marton hold her Reſolution of a Moneſtery yet?

have not yet laid aſide all Thoughts on't, Madam—tho' 'tis in the Colonel's Power to make me do it, I fear.

Well, follow your own way, get up to a Six a Clock Maſs, then ſtitch till Dinner, tattle away your Hours with two or three ſilly Women, till Veſpers; then work again till Bed⯑time; and have no Pleaſure beyond a Dream.

Oh wou'd I cou'd retrieve that tranquil State, ſhe talks of what I was.

Every one to their Inclinations, Siſter.

But pray inform me, Madamoiſel Joneton, for I am very Ambitious of coping you, where lies the Magick in Men to alter your manner of ſpeaking?

Deſire to pleaſe ſets all the Senſes in a Ferment, and Inclination preſſes ſo hard upon the Faculty of Speech, that our Words hurry out with Precipation, Vanity muſters the Force of our Charms, and Pride leads us on the attack of our Wiſhes, and a janty Variety of Airs compleat the Conqueſt.

Here's Collonel Ravelin and another Gentleman to wait on you, Madam.

Bring 'em up; une outer Galant.

Ha! the Collonel, oh my Heart: I muſt be gone, I wou'd not have him know me for the World—Well, Siſter, I'll leave you to your deſirable Company.

Adieu, ma Soer—ah Maria Mater! how I look to day, je ſuis lead comme le diable.

We'll wait on you another time, Mademoiſel.

When you pleaſe, my dear Ladies.

Ah Monſieur le Colonel, je ſuis ravi de vous voir.

Ah Madmoiſel Joneton, je meur tout le moment que je ete abſant de vous.

Ah Cela galant, ha, ha, ha, I have a moſt comical Story to tell you, ha, ha, ha; ſuch an Amour, ha, ha, ſuch a Letter, ha, ha, ſuch a Conqueſt; le pleaſer une Chatulez, ha, ha, ha.

Oh pleaſant Raviſhment, ha, ha, ha, ha.

What is it that is ſo Raviſhing, Colonel, in your Opini⯑on?

Well Queſtion'd.

Your Letter, Madam.

Then have you ſeen it, ma chear Colonel?

Not I, Madam, I depend upon your ſuperior Judgment for the Merit.

Moſt politely ſaid: You are certainly the beſt bred Man in Europe, Colonel.

I am ſure this is the worſt proof of his being ſo I ever knew him give.

You are certainly the moſt polite diverting charming Wo⯑man that ever told a Story; but pray proceed, Madam; the Let⯑ter, ha, ha, ha, ha.

Oh ridiculous! a Letter from a High Dutch Servant; you ſhall hear it Colonel.

Ha, ha, ha, methinks it has a rumbling ſound.

He makes Love like a Cannon, ha, ha.

A mon Dieu! What makes me ſo merry? I am ſure I have cauſe enough to the contrary; my poor Paroquet is dead, Colonel.

Dead!

Dead, it died upon my Hand, it talk'd and buſs'd me to the laſt moment; oh my Heart is broke, oh, oh, oh, oh,

So ſhe's reſolv'd to play over all her tricks I ſee.

Oh I can't contain my ſelf when I think on't, oh, oh.

Oh unlucky Accident; give her Air.

In my Opinion ſhe has already too much of that.

Mrs. Suſan, looſe her Lace; within there, bring ſome cold Water.

She revives; for Heav'ns ſake how do you do, Madam? Come, I'll procure you another Paroquet.

Oh not ſo divertiſant, it had a thouſand pretty Actions; one day as Monſieur le Markee de belle Jambe was entertaining me with a Recital of his Amours—ha, ha, ha, I have a pleaſant Tale to tell you of him too, ha, ha, ha, he's marriy'd, ha, ha, ha.

Upon the titter again, deliver me from ſuch a medley I ſay.

To a thirty thouſand Pound Fortune, ha, ha, but the Eſtate lies in terra incognita, I have recommended Imagination for his Steward, and Philoſophy for his Equipage, ha, ha, ha.

The Marquiſs let into the ſecret, ha, ha, pray who is the Lady that has done him the favour?

Oh my Stars what ails me? ah Maria Mater, the Room goes round.

A Chair there, Mrs. Suſan; repoſe your ſelf a little, Madam, 'tis only Vapours and will off again; theſe affectations in another I ſhou'd hate, but here I'm fated to the folly.

Moſt fantaſtical: the duce take me if I can bring my ſelf to the Complacence of asking her how ſhe does.

How do you, Madam?

Oh much better, Colonel, 'tis impoſſible any Malady can ſtay long in your Company; I admire your Friend can be ſo melancholy with a Companion ſo diverting.

I confeſs the Colonel is of a ſingular good humour, Ma⯑dam, for an Engliſhman; we, generally ſpeaking, are dull heavy thinking Animals, not mov'd by the loſing of a Father.

Moſt unpolite, ſuch a Lover as this would make me as ſplenetick as fourſcore.

Alas, Madam, he's married.

Married! nay then I forgive him;—yet upon ſecond thoughts, I won't neither, for he ought to have left his dogged [33] Humours at home, and not ſtamp Wife in the Forehead of every Woman he meets.

He's mad that wou'd ſtamp any thing upon thee, I'm ſure.

Since I offend you, Madam, I humbly take my leave.

I beg you wou'd excuſe the bluntneſs of my Friend, Ma⯑dam, he's a very honeſt Fellow. Oh that I cou'd look upon her with his indifference.

Oh fie Colonel, why that requeſt? Your Friend is a fine Gentleman—Mais je ne ſcay pas en qui—Nay, you ſhan't go, Monſieur; you being a married Man, muſt underſtand every thing that belongs to our Sex.

Heav'n deliver me from the Study.

Ha, ha, ha; poor Charles, how he frets.

Here! give me your Opinion, how do you like theſe Cloaths?

As I like every thing elſe that belongs to them, Madam.

A very odd Expreſſion that—but don't you think our Airs plus Engageant, than the Ladies in England, Monſieur? How did your Lady dreſs, to catch your Heart?

I never minded the Airs of her Perſon, Madam, ſhe had other Charms for me.

This Fellow will give me the Hip confoundedly, if he goes on thus—What! ſhe ſings; I fancy you love ſinging, Mon⯑ſieur—come I'll oblige you.

She reſolves to teaze him.

Well, Monſieur, Comment agrez vous cela?

The Words are very pretty, Madam.

And your manner of ſinging extremely engaging.

That's not your Friend's Opinion, Colonel: He has cer⯑tainly no Soul. If all his Sex were ſuch mortifying Animals, what a number of faſting Days ſhou'd we have in the Kalender; we ſhou'd have no need of Indulgences, Pardons, and Penance; we ſhou'd live Saints, and dye without the fear of Purgato⯑ry.

Colonel, you'll excuſe me if I leave you, for faith ſhe has tired my Patience.

No, prithee tarry a little longer.

What are you two whiſpering about? You ſhan't go 'till you have drank ſome Tea; Suſan, get Water for Tea, and ſet the Table ready.

'Tis ready in the next Room, Madam.

My Friend is a lover of Tea, and was juſt enquiring of me where I thought the beſt was to be got.

The Devil take his Excuſe, now there is no getting off.

That I am Miſtreſs of any thing worth his Admiration, is no ſmall pleaſure to me; I dare be vain to ſay, I can recommend him to the beſt in Portugal. Along Meſſieurs. Fa, la, la, lera lal.

SCENE the Terriera de Paſſa.

They ſtay a curſed while, Egad I'll e'en ask for Charles; the Story this young Fellow brought of a Letter will be a rare excuſe.

What Countryman are you, Sir?

Countryman, Sir? why I am an Engliſhman, Sir, I'm not aſham'd of my Country.

I have a Letter for an Engliſhman, but thoſe that ſent it don't know his Name.

From a Lady I warrant? Egad here's another Intreague of ſome Bodies pop'd in my way now; I've a good mind to own the Letter, open it and ſee what's in't; but if it ſhou'd come from the old Woman—Pray, Sir, does it come from Youth or Age?

From Youth and Fire, I aſſure you.

Becauſe I expect a Summons from a very beautiful young Lady my ſelf.

Your Deſcription is juſt, Sir.

Say you ſo, Sir, why then I believe it is for your humble Servant, Sir. Diſcoveries come thick to day.

I am a lucky Dog, Faith.

Not unlikely; there it is, Sir.

Ah Colonel, ah Charles, what wou'd you give to be in [35] my place now? But hang it, I'm good-natur'd, ſhe ſhall fall to one of your ſhares, for I wou'd not give a Half-penny for the fineſt Wo⯑man in Lisbon, for my own ſake.

What's here? The Reader is a Villain, and deſerves to have his Throat cut. Surpriſing! upon my Soul, Sir, this Letter does not belong to me. I am a lucky Dog now indeed.

Upon my Soul, Sir, you lie. Draw Sirrah, or I'll rip your Guts up.

Draw, Sir? for what, Sir? Oh bloody-minded Wretch, what will come of me?

For opening the Letter, Villain.

Ah pox of my Curioſity—The Devil take the Letter, 'twas none of my ſeeking, the Fellow ſaid it was for an Engliſh⯑man, an, an, an I did not know but it might have been for me as well as another; I ask your Pardon with all my Heart.

Rot your Compliment; if it had come from my Siſter it had been for you, Sir; therefore Draw, or by St. Anthony—

Siſter! as I hope to be ſav'd, Sir, I know never a Man's Siſter in the Univerſe.

Cowardly Dog,

dare to lie with a Man's Wife, and not dare to fight for her?

Mercy upon me, I lie with a Man's Wife? oh, Sir, you are the moſt miſtaken in me that ever you was in your days, Sir; Upon my Faith, I never knew what Woman was, nay, Sir, I never car'd for a Woman, that's more—But indeed here is two or three Gentlemen of my Acquaintance very much given that way.

Is there ſo, Sir?

Oh exceedingly—now I won't ſwear it is not one of them. I wiſh I were fairly rid of him.

Your Safety depends upon your Information, let me know where to find them, and you ſhall live.

Thank you heartily, Sir,—What a curſed Premenary I have brought my ſelf into now, for Egad I'll not tell where Charles lives, if I dye for't—I'll, I'll, I'll tell him a wrong Place, I'm reſolv'd.

Come, where do they lodge? What are you ſtudying for, ha?

I, I, I, I, can't think of the name of the Street for my Blood—it is, it is—what de ye call the Street when you turn the Corner of your right Hand, and then turn again of your left, and then again of the right, and ſo back by the left, an, an, an, ſo, an, an a croſs the what de call 'em, an, an.

No equivocating, Sirrah.

I thought it was Mar-plot's Voice.

Since he lives, well preſerve him.

Ah, good Sir, I, I, I, I, I,—Ah Charles, dear Charles.

Guard your Life, Sir, or ceaſe to inſult this Gentleman.

Victoria! Victoria! Faith Gentlemen you came in the lucky Minute, or I had been a dead Man.

Nay, in my Conſcience I believe thou'lt never die in thy Bed. Which of your inquiſitive Actions brought this upon you?

Was this your Chimney Adventure, or another?

No, faith this was another, about a damn'd Letter, and Cuckolding ſome Body, and debauching that Spaniard's Siſter, and the Devil knows what; I wiſh one of you two is not at the bottom of this.

Ha, ha! come Charles, we'll to your Lodgings, where he ſhall give us the whole Relation of his Adventures.

With all Sincerity—and I have ſomething elſe to tell you, Charles; there's a Lady in Love with you, and has ſent you a Letter, but mum, you ſhall promiſe to let me into the Secret, or you ſhall know no more on't.

How brisk the Rogue is again already? I thought you might have had enough of Secrets.

SCENE I.
SCENE, Charles's Lodgings.

A Very pretty Account, ha, ha, ha, what do you ex⯑pect will be the end of your Curioſity, Mar-plot?

No good in this Country I fear, yet for my Blood I can't help it.

What, can't you help dogging People, and opening Let⯑ters of no Concern to you?

O' my Soul, I have made Reſolutions upon Reſolutions to the contrary, but to no purpoſe; there is a tickling deſire runs thro' my Veins, which is always craving as my Stomach—and makes theſe Diſcoveries as neceſſary as my Food. Tho' faith I never mean any harm—Why this Letter now, who the Devil dream'd of a conſumed Challenge?

You ſhou'd always dream of the worſt, Sir.

That's not my Maxim, Colonel; methinks ill luck comes faſt enough. Look ye Gentlemen, 'tis as much your fault as mine, if you wou'd take me with you, or tell me the bottom of things, I ſhou'd trouble my Head no farther; but here you leave me in the Dark, and nothing to do, but entertain my Fears, which are ſtrong for my Friends, and moſt of the Miſchiefs I do, proceeds from my Concern for their Safety; and here I get thump'd and beaten for my good Intentions, and that's all, on every ſide.

And all you deſerve; ha, ha, ha.

There's a Gentleman below inquires for you, Sir; he has Buſineſs with you from England, he ſays, Sir.

From England! who the Devil can this be now?

Bring him up.

I have a Letter and Packet for Mr. Charles Gripe.

I am the Perſon, Sir. Robin, reach a Chair; pray be pleas'd to ſit, Sir.

From England! Ha, ha, Sir, your humble Servant; why this is the very Gentleman I told you of, Charles—So, ſo, well, well, and how does Donna Cephiſa? What, ſhe will have him then, and no Body elſe? ha? What does ſhe ſay to you, Charles? Ha? How does ſhe write, Ha? Nay, egad you ſhall let me into this Buſineſs, Mun—for I have been chief Promoter of it I am ſure, therefore no ſhuffling, Charles—

No, no, I ſcorn it, Mar-plot; there read, read.

Why that's civil now—Let me ſee how theſe Spaniſh Dames expreſs themſelves—My deareſt Life—Humph—As frank and fond, as if it came from an Inhabitant of Covent-Garden, egad—I hope this will find you ſafely arriv'd in Lisbon—Ha, Liſ⯑bon—Why what the Devil does ſhe mean? Lets ſee what's at bottom: From your ever loving Wife, Iſabinda Gripe. A murrain Gripe you—Piſh, Pox, I wonder'd you was ſo ready to ſhow it me indeed.

Ha, ha, what does not the Secret pleaſe you?

Pleaſe a Fiddle-ſtick; why what did this young Dog mean? Egad I wiſh Charles wou'd beat him for the Diſappoint⯑ment.

Pardon my Memory, Sir, I have ſeen your Face ſomewhere, but cannot recollect where.

Heav'n continue his Ignorance.

Very likely, Sir, I have liv'd moſt of my time in this Place.

Ay; why how in the Name of Wonder did he come by this Letter then?

A Factor to my Uncle, Sir Francis Tradewell, from whom I receiv'd that Pacquet, with Orders to deliver it to you.

Oh, ſo it came.

I know Sir Francis very well, and for his ſake, Sir, ſhou'd be prowd of being better acquainted with you.

Sir, you Honour me—

Pies of his Acquaintance, I ſay.

I hope your Lady's well, Charles.

At your Service, Colonel—She has ſent the Papers I told you I forgot; now I ſhall diſpatch my Buſineſs very quickly, ſhe ſongs to ſee me, ſhe ſays—'tis a Poor good-natur'd Tit, and I lov'd her heartily till I married her; but whether her Overfond⯑neſs, or the eaſy Acceſs every Man has to his Wife, takes off the edge [39] of my Appetite, but methinks I ſee her not with half that deſire I us'd to do, when I ſcal'd her Window for a Kiſs, the Memory of it ſtill is Pleaſant.

Ay! my Shoulders remember that time too.

Ungenerous Declaration, 'tis very unjuſt in my Opinion to ſlight the thing that loves you, I'm ſure 'tis what I cou'd not do.

I fancy you never try'd the Matrimonial ſtrength of In⯑clination yet, Sir, therefore can be no Judge: Nature abhors Con⯑ſtraint.

Ay ay, Inconſtancy is a fault in Nature, and who can help it?

Right, Colonel! and when you marry Mademoiſel Flut⯑ter yonder, you'll have a Proof of what I ſay.

Mademoiſel Flutter, who's ſhe? I never heard of her be⯑fore.

Let her look to that—I thought Charles's Wife had been a Favorite of yours, Mr. Mar-plot, but I don't hear you make the leaſt Inquiry after her Health.

Look ye, Colonel, I hate to be baulk'd, for that puts every thing out of ones Head—Hark ye, what did you mean by telling me ſuch a confounded Story upon the Terriera de Paſſe, of a rich Merchant's Daughter Dona Cephiſa, and I can't tell who? What, was it all but a ſham then?

Why really, Sir, you was ſo inquiſitive, that I had no o⯑ther way to diſmiſs you, and it is not my Cuſtom to let one Man into the Affairs of another.

Poor Mar-plot, thou art baulk'd every way; ha, ha.

Well, there was never good times ſince this ſhuffling and lying came in Faſhion.

Ha day! Where the Devil came that from?

I fancy it came from that Fellow which looks up yonder, there is no Body elſe near—Ha, my Eyes deceive me, or he belongs to ſome Body in the Houſe where I lodge—I'll home, and make the beſt Obſervation I can in this matter. Ah, poor Charles, theſe Courſes are more dangerous than thou art aware of; I'll not diſcover my ſelf yet, perhaps I may ſatisfie my Curioſity better as I am.

An Aſſignation, Charles; ſend thee better Fortune than laſt time.

'Tis from the ſame Woman, Colonel—No, no, 'tis only ſome roguiſh Boy, toſſing Stones about in Pieces of his Copy-Book.

Humph, but that ſham won't take tho'.

Oh well diſſembel'd—Sir, I'm your humble Servant.

Sir, I hope I ſhall have the Honour to ſee you here again.

Sir, the Honour will be mine.

The Trap-door is unbolted, Colonel.

What's that of a Trap-door now? Ods heart here's two confounded Intreagues on Foot, and I'm out at both, and they'll be hang'd before they'll let me into one of them.

I'll be there immediately.

Where, Colonel? I wiſh I cou'd ſpilt my ſelf in half now, that I might follow them both.

Again at your Impertinence? Ha, ha.

He can't help it for his Soul—Tho' we take different Poſts, Colonel, I fancy 'tis one and the ſame Action, Proſperity to yours.

The ſame to thine. Mr. Mar-plot, Adieu.

What ſhall I do between both? Pox on't, 'tis very un⯑lucky—Then you won't let me into the Secret, Colonel?

Poſitively no.

Nay, nay, nay, Charles, you won't both leave me, will you?

Indeed, Mar-plot, I have extraordinary Buſineſs.

Do but tell me what it is, nay, tell me but ſomething relating to't, and I am ſatisfy'd.

Why then to be ingenious, the Letter which was toſs'd in is a Challenge, and I am going to ſeek for a Second; now if you cou'd Fight, you'd ſave me the Labour.

Ah, the Devil take it, that I never learn'd to Fence—Why did you not engage the Colonel?

Becauſe I ſaw he had Affairs of his own to purſue.

What wou'd I give for Courage now—Pies on't, what is it that makes Men ſo ſtout? Egad I'm ready to weep to think I can't ſerve my Friend, I have the Theory of fighting, methinks—I only want the practick Part.

So, I have found the way to drop him at laſt—Well, I hope you are ſatisfied.

Satisfied? no faith, Charles, I am not ſatisfied; ods Life, I'll tell you what I can do, I'll Charge my brace of Pocket Pi⯑ſtols, and ſhoot him—if you will.

Oh fye, there's a diſhonourable Action indeed.

The Devil take Honour; when Life's concern'd, what will a Man get by't?

I have not time at preſent to clear that Queſtion, fare⯑well.

Farewel! Egad 'twou'd be faring very ill tho' if he ſhou'd be kill'd. I wiſh I knew where to find Colonel Ravelin—Oh Lord, oh Lord; I never thought to ask Charles where this Duel was to be fought, and then whither cou'd I ſend him? Well thought on, yonder he goes, I'll follow till I fix him, and then I'll ſoon call Company enough to part them—Egad I love my Friend, as I love my Life.

SCENE the Street.

Let me ſee, ſhe has chang'd her Appartment, ſhe has ſent me Word—Her Window now is over the Door, this muſt be it.

Humph, I ſee what kind of Challenge it is now; a Man muſt have a rare fighting Stomach, that will ſcale the Win⯑dow of his Antagoniſt.

Here, here, Senior, the Coaſt is clear, come in at the Door boldly, my Lady is all Impatience to ſee you.

Mine is the greateſt; in, in my Dear.

Ah, put her in mind how her time ſteals on—Oh, Charles, the Devil a Second did you want; that was only a ſham to get rid of me. Ha, ha, ha, how comically things jump in my way? I'll ſecure the Ladder tho' for him; this is a great Houſe, but whoſe it is, is the Query? If I thought I ſhou'd not have my Bones broke, I wou'd make bold to Enquire—Who

have we here? They ſeem in deep Conſultation—Oh bleſs me, [50] one of them is the Bloody-minded Spaniard, egad it is not ſafe to be ſeen.

I have done all you order'd me to a tittle, and have taken leave of my Wife for three Days, under pretence of Buſi⯑neſs at St. Ubes.

That's well I can't find who this Villain is, but I warrant we ſhall have him faſt enough. Now do you return, and cunningly convey your ſelf into the Antichamber-cloſet, there lye conceal'd, he'll not be long abſent, if he's not there already; in the mean time I'll wait in the Street, with two or three truſty Fellows, that ſhall diſpatch him if he falls in our way.

And if I find my ſelf a Cuckold, fire, blood and brimſtone, if I catch 'em, I'll ſend them both to the Devil.

Mercy upon me, what an Oath was that? Why certainly, they think Murder a venial Sin here, and make no more of kil⯑ling a Man, then cracking a Nut. This is certainly Charles which they threaten, for the old Cacademon is gone into that Houſe; which way ſhall I give Charles notice of his danger? I have a good mind to cry our Fire; ay, but when they find there is no ſuch thing, they may burn me perhaps—Hark, I hear ſome Body coming, 'gad I ſhall be beat again.

My Fear hears double, I think, I can ſee no Body—Od I'll make uſe of this Ladder; he talk'd her Appartment was over the Door, ſo that perhaps I may give him warning at the Window, and he may come down the ſame way—Oh lord, which is the Houſe, now? Is it this, or this, I wonder; choke me if I can tell what a blundering Sot was I not to take better notice, this muſt be it certainly,

Heav'n ſend me good luck, for I tremble horridly.

SCENE draws and diſcovers Marron's Apartment.

Nay this is ſtarving a Man in the ſight of Plenty; how many times have you put me off with Excuſes and fair Promiſes▪

And how often have you ſworn Conſtancy, Colonel?

Why you won't give me leave to be conſtant, my Dear; let me once poſſeſs, and then.

And then Mademoiſel Joneton's Charms will be ſuffici⯑ent to excuſe the Perjury.

Ha! how does ſhe know my Pretenſions there? I fancy I ſhall have warmer buſineſs by and by than I expected.

Be not ſurpriz'd at my knowledge of that Affair, nor apprehenſive of the leaſt danger, tho' I know you love her, ſpight of all her Affectation, ſhe's the darling Miſtreſs of your Soul, yet you are ſafe, I ſcorn thoſe poor Revenges which my Sex too of⯑ten take; 'tis the Heart, not the Life, I'd make my Prize.

Generouſly ſaid,—But you are miſinform'd, Madam. I'll carry it off if poſſible—She's handſome, and I don't find my Love to the other renders me incapable of a Compliment to this.

She has too much Vanity, Colonel, to keep your Paſſion a Secret, and it is diſhonourable in you to deny your Love.

Humph! Look you, Madam, I am a true Proteſtant, and have a mortal Antipathy to Confeſſion; I bear the Queen's Com⯑miſſion, and will entertain all that will fairly liſt under me; then let me have no more of theſe little Jealouſies; I'll make as good Proviſion for thee as for any Lady in Portugal, ſo prithee let's come to a right Underſtanding; if thou art plagu'd with an old ſuperannuated Husband, who wants a young Fellow to aid and aſſiſt him, here he ſtands; if thou'rt a Widow, and wants one to ma⯑nage the Affairs of Love, I'll give you my word you can't have a better; I'm an Arithmetician, as well as a Soldier, and can caſt Account as faſt as any Man: And if thou'rt a Virgin, Egad I'm as good an Engineer.

You have miſtaken your Plan, and may raiſe the Siege, Colonel, for you'll ne'er carry the Town this way; I own I love you, and if I ſaid with more Sincerity than ſhe, I fancy I ſhou'd not injure her Paſſion; my Birth's as noble, my Fortune not leſs; you give me ſome Proofs indeed, that my Perſon falls ſhort of her Charms to engage the Heart of Colonel Ravelin.

Thy Perſon? thy Perſon is a charming Perſon, and my Heart, and all the reſt of the Appurtenances, are at thy Service, my Dear; thy Birth and Fortune are things indifferent, ſo no more to be ſaid about them.

Will you marry me then?

Ah! what a Turn's there? Who cou'd have thought, after thy manner of proceeding, thou wou'dſt have ask'd ſuch Security; why thou art an Uſurer in Love, but prithee uſe a Conſcience; don't expect a Man to be a Slave all his life. Marriage! why what confounded Extortion is that! ods heart thou art more mercena⯑ry than an Agent; look ye, Madam, I'll give you Heart for Heart, and I think that good lawful Int'reſt, and thou ſhalt have my Body for performance of Articles.

Ah, Colonel, you'll bring a Habeas Corpus, and remove it as ſoon as the Campaign begins. I don't like theſe Priſoners at large.

And great Souls hate Reſtraint.

I have him faith—ah, how cloſe they are, Egad, it grieves me to part 'em—but there is no help for't—Fly, Charles, fly, there's the Devil and all of Plots againſt you—here, here, give me your hand, come this way thro' the Window.

Oh! a Man at my Window! oh! my Reputation is un⯑done for ever.

How's that? a Man?

The Devil! the Colonel!—Zounds, I am certainly be⯑witch'd—I, I, I, had as good faln into the Hands of Turks and Tartars. O Lord, O Lord, my Ladder is gone, what ſhall I do now?

Mar-plot. S'death you Son of a Whore, I'll make an Ex⯑ample of you, to all inquiſitive Raſcals in the Univerſe.

Ah, Colonel, for Heav'ns ſake ſave my Life; upon my Soul you'll make me break my Neck, for I hang only by my Hands; may I be ſlic'd into Collops, if I knew any thing of your being here; certainly I am the moſt unfortunate Fellow breath⯑ing.

Zounds come down Sirrah, and ceaſe your bawling, or I'll ſhoot you thro' the Head.

Oh, oh, oh, I will, I will, I will, dear Colonel,

For Heav'n ſake, Madam, don't be frighted! 'tis an honeſt fooliſh Fellow of my Acquaintance, there's no danger of your Reputation, my Angel.

What Noiſe was that? ha! what do I ſee? My Siſter and the Colonel? ah, ah!

Confuſion! ſhe here? I'm betray'd: What, ho, within there.

Ha! my Siſter! nay then I'm compleatly wretch⯑ed.

Nay, now we ſhall be murder'd—Oh Lord, what do you mean by calling out, Colonel?

S'death, what did you mean, Raſcal, by coming here? This Miſchief is all owing to you. I have a good mind to cut your Throat.

Madam, Madam; ods heart was ever Man in this condition? What ſhall I do between 'em? Run Sirrah, and call ſome Body.

Lord, Colonel, have a little Patience; ſee, ſee, ſhe re⯑vives.

Is this your Reſervedneſs, this your Modeſty, this your hating Mankind, Siſter?

How's that, her Siſter? I have made a fine piece of work, Faith: Raſcal, I cou'd find in my Heart to beat your Eyes out.

Look ye, Colonel, be merciful, and if I don't bring all this buſineſs off clear, I'll forfeit my Neck, that's all.

Hang your Contrivance; nothing proſpers you have a Hand in.

You have decent Inclinations for a Nun; you had a mind for a taſte of the World before you left it, Siſter.

The World—the World is ſurfeited with your Imperti⯑nence, and I wou'd avoid taſting what may breed a feaver.

Why, what an Inundation of Miſtreſſes has this Colo⯑nel?

If he is ſo good a Phyſician, how comes yours to rage ſo high, Madam? Methinks you are delirious—

It wou'd not be amiſs to confirm your Opinion—

Hold, hold, hold, Madam; for Heav'ns ſake, Ladies, let's have no Petticoat War.

Ay! See what Example does, Colonel; Egad, Boxing's as catching as the Small-Pox—Nay, pray Madam let it go round—od if I were a Woman, I cou'd Box titely, but a pox on theſe Swords, they Spitchcock a Man in a Moment.

Did not your Temper carry a Puniſhment in its ſelf, I ſhould return the Favour you deſign'd me.

Shou'd! And won't you Madam? Egad, I'd fain ſee them pull one anothers Coifes.

Dog, miſchievous Toad.

Oh your moſt humble Servant, Colonel—I wiſh your Toes were not quite ſo Complaiſant. Their Intriegues tumble comically in my way—But egad, I pay a tragical price for my Knowledge.

Whatever Face this Accident may wear, Madam, give me leave to clear my ſelf—upon Honour—I have not—

Ceaſe your odious Excuſes, in vain you endeavour to be well with me—and the civilleſt Action you can do, is to quit the Room—

That we ſhall immediately Madam; upon my Soul, it was no deſign of ours to come into it, for to be plain with you Ladies, I am only in fault, and yet not in fault neither, for you muſt know that I luckily, or unluckily, as it may fall out—

What, in the name of Jupiter, is he a going to ſay?

Chanc'd to over-hear a Quarrel between a Friend of ours and a Portugueſe; the latter was foil'd in the Duel, and fled into your Neighbourhood here; but our Friend being a mettl'd Fellow, purſu'd him into the very Houſe. Seeing that, Madam, away ran I, and call'd this Gentleman to his Aſſiſt⯑ance; but finding every Door ſhut, and being very impatient to ſuccour our Friend, as I told you, Madam, we reſolv'd to ſcale the Window; but for want of taking good Notice, we miſtook the Houſe, it ſeems, and ſo happen'd in here. The Sight of two Men at the Window ſurpriz'd that Lady, and threw her into Fits—Compaſſion for the Sex made the Co⯑lonel fall foul upon me—And ſo this created the Buſtle, which brought you, Madam; an, an, an, ſo, ſo, ſo, an, an, that's all, Madam—Pray Heav'n this brings us off.

Excellent Fellow!

The Dog deſerves to be forgiven for this plauſible Pre⯑tence; I'll ſtrike in with him—This is matter of Fact, [55] Ladies; yet ſure there is a Fate in all I do, which guides my Steps ſtill towards ſomething that relates to you.

Well there is a Beauty in that Expreſſion, 'twas a ſur⯑prizing Accident,—Can you forgive my raſh Suſpicions, Siſter?

And our unlucky Adventure—What induces me to hope your Pardon, is your being related to this Lady, whoſe good Humour cancels all Faults as ſoon as acknowledg'd—for her ſake then.—

Ungrateful! For her ſake! Methinks I hate him now, nay, hate my ſelf for indulging a fooliſh Paſſion, equally deſtru⯑ctive to my Eaſe and Fame—that has reduc'd me to this low Contempt, but with this Breath I baniſh the ſoft Paſſion from my Breaſt, and will this moment reaſſume my former Re⯑ſolution.

You ſeem out of Humour, Siſter.

Have I not Reaſon, but 'tis paſt; the Gentleman wou'd be forgiven for your ſake, but I forgive him for my own, re⯑ſolving to let nothing ruffle that Calmneſs with which my Soul's poſſeſt at preſent, for this Day ſhuts me from the World and you for ever.

What does ſhe mean by that now? But Colonel, Charles will be kill'd—

Huſh, huſh, enough, the Jeſt will grow ſtale. 'Tis pity ſo much Youth and Beauty ſhould be ſacrificed to a Cloyſter, for if I apprehend you right, 'tis that you mean, Madam.

I wiſh they were both there, ſo that Charles was but out of Danger.

Turn Nun! Who wou'd have thought it? So, there's an end of one Intreague.

Some forty years hence, perhaps, I may follow her Ex⯑ample—

Upon my Soul Colonel, Charles is in danger.

What do you mean? 'Sdeath I'll toſs you out the ſame way you came in, you long to ſpoil all again—

Spoil the Devil—I tell you, he is in one of theſe Houſes, I ſaw him go in, and heard an old Cuckold ſwear what [56] he'd do if he caught him with his Wife; and then egad went into that very Houſe. My eagerneſs to give Charles notice of the Danger, tumbled me a top of you, a pies on't; and tho' I have brought you off, you are for toſſing me out at Window. Egad I think no Man meets ſuch barbarous returns for his good Nature, as I do.

Nay, if Charles is really in Danger, I beg your Pardon with all my Heart, Mr. Mar-plot.

What is this Conſultation about? Et bein Monſieur, who are you thinking of?

Of you, Madam: Inclination and Honour holds Diſ⯑pute, Inclination chains me to your Preſence, but Honour calls me to the reſcue of my Friend: And I hope his Diſtreſs will excuſe my abrupt Departure. Adieu, ma chear ange.

And will you then precipitate your ſelf into danger? This Gentleman will go—

She's very charitably inclin'd towards me, I thank her.

Won't you, Sir?

Why look ye Madam, I, I, I will go with all my Heart, but, but, but, but,

But a ſingle Arm is weak Aſſiſtance, where the danger is ſo ſtrong—beſides it would be a Reflection upon mine Ho⯑nour—You are my Guardian Angel, if you ſmile I ſhall re⯑turn in ſafety.

Faith is the main Point of Religion: Pray take me in⯑to your Protection too, Madam.

So, he is gone then; now wou'd not I give a Diſh of Tea for a Lover that I could not make ſacrifice every thing to me. Theſe Engliſhmen have too much Senſe to make Huſ⯑bands on:

SCENE, The Inſide of Dona Perriera's Houſe.

I like the Deſcription you have given me of Eng⯑land extreamly, and envy the pleaſant Life your Ladies live. Here's a Health to their Husbands; I wiſh they cou'd teach ours their Complaiſance.

We had rather teach their Wives, Madam, who have much more Docility: But here's to their Converſion.

We! Why are you in the Number of marry'd Men?

I have a Breviat to act as one, Madam, in the Abſence of your Husband, if it is not your Fault. Come, my Angel, we ſhall be interrupted again.

Why? you have no more Friends to come down the Chimney, have you?

If you have, I waſh my Hands of him; no more De⯑liverance from me, I aſſure him. I hate to have a Scheme baulk'd that is ſo well laid.

No, no, Seniora Margaritta: What I apprehend is the Return of your Maſter.

He's ſafe for three Days, which time I expect you paſs with me. I have ſeveral Doubts to be reſolv'd, and as many Articles to make, e'er I give my ſelf entirely to your Power.

What Agreements are we to make, I wonder? This In⯑trigue will end very fooliſhly, I foreſee that.

All Secrets, I ſuppoſe. The next Room is more private, I fancy; there I'll do my Endeavour to ſolve your Scruples.

Margaritta, bring in the Wine.

Well thought on.

And is it then true at laſt? Am I a Cuckold? Oh Vengeance! Vengeance! Oh Anthony, thou Guardian Saint of [51] Lisbon, give me Patience; let me have Chriſtian Charity upon their Souls, for I ſhall have no Mercy upon their Bodies. I have ſent for two Prieſts to take their Confeſſions, and then they die: Here I'll wait their Coming; ſhou'd I enter, my Eyes wou'd let looſe my Revenge too ſoon: 'Tis enough that I have them ſecure, and that my Ears have heard a Man's Voice with this vile Adultreſs.

SCENE changes to the Terriera de Paſſa.

As I ſuſpected, he is here in this Houſe; thro' the Sove⯑reign Power of Gold I have diſcover'd all; but for my Eaſe, wou'd I had been ignorant ſtill. Vice, thou uglieſt Picture of the Soul, by what Power doſt thou charm, and lull aſleep the Dictates of a Conſcience? And who can boaſt of Honour, that ſtarts not at the Breach of Vows? Who have we here?

Methinks I never went ſo heavily of an Errand in my Life: I am ſorry for this Engliſhman, and heartily ſorry for my Miſtreſs; for, to give her her due, ſhe is the beſt-natur'd Wo⯑man to her Servants living: And, faith, I can't blame her for loving this Gentleman better than that old gouty, ptiſicky, crook-back'd, covetous Hunks my Maſter.

Ha! this is the Servant which I brib'd. Of what Er⯑rand is he ſent?

What Saint ſhall I invoke, to ſave this wretched Pair? I know St. Anthony is engag'd on Don Perriera's Side—Let me ſee, there is ſome She-Saint that has been a Sinner this way her ſelf; if I cou'd think of her Name, ſhe'd be the fitteſt Perſon to do their Buſineſs.

Their Buſineſs! Oh, my boading Heart foretels ſome Miſchief. Lorenzo—

Ha! who's there?

'Tis I, fear not: What is the Cauſe of your Com⯑plaint?

Oh! is it you, Senior? Oh, your Country-man's un⯑done. My Maſter, pretending to go to St. Ubes for three Days, conceal'd himſelf in the Houſe unknown to every body, and has diſcover'd all. I'm ſent this Moment for two Monks from the Convent of Sante Vincente to confeſs the Criminals, and then you know what follows.

Death! Oh Diſtraction! which, oh, which way, ye Powers, ſhall I ſave this perjur'd Man?

Ay, dear Sir, think, if it be poſſible.

Oh Charles! little doſt thou think how dear thy un⯑lawful Joys are purchas'd; three Lives for a momentary Bliſs: For, in ſpight of all the Cauſe that thou haſt given me, thou'rt ſtill as dear as Virtue to my Soul, and Life without thee is not to be born. Oh, hear me Heav'n, that knows my chaſte Deſires, and pity the Diſtreſs that tears my Breaſt; inſtruct me how to ward this fatal Blow, and ſave a Man that may return to thee. Ha! methinks I feel the inſpiring Thought, and Hope begins to feed the Springs of Life—Lorenzo, firſt bring the Prieſts to me. If you perform this Buſineſs with Succeſs and Secrecy, I'll double twice this Sum.

May I meet the Fate deſign'd for them, if I'm not faithful to you.

SCENE I.

PLead not for Adultery; wou'd you have us draw a Scandal on our Function?

All we can do is to ſet the Criminals right in their Journey to the other World, Son.

Oh, 'tis a long Journey, Fathers; and who ſhall bring you word how they arrive? Tell me, even you who purchaſe [52] Heav'n daily by your Prayer, to ſell and canton out as you think fit, how wou'd you receive a Summons of this Nature? Wou'd ſudden Death appear a welcome Gueſt?

The Innocent can never fear to die. Had he, for whom you plead, liv'd free from Guilt, Death wou'd appear no formidable Enemy.

Suffer us to diſcharge our Office, or we muſt leave you.

Oh, my tortur'd Soul! if they go, Charles is loſt for ever.

He that treads this way treads upon his Death.

Ha! St. Vincent defend us.

Not all the Saints your Calendar can boaſt ſhall ſave you, except you ſave my Brother; your Innocence can never fear to die—

And tho' your Souls will know no Pity here, when I've diſ⯑charg'd 'em from thoſe heavy Carcaſſes, they may prove a Con⯑voy to theſe Strangers. You who daily trade with Heav'n, muſt ſurely know the Road.

Hold, hold—if we thought this Matter cou'd be done with Safety, and that it was Charity to ſave them—

That it is Charity, let this demonſtrate—Here's 200 Moydres to be employ'd in charitable Uſes.

This is a Youth of excellent Parts.

A Favourite of St. Vincent's, I warrant, he's ſo charitable. Well, Son, ſeeing you ſo well inclin'd, we do conſent, propoſe the way: Take care you do not expoſe us—

I'll tell you my Deſign within, 'tis free from Hazard, or may the Puniſhment deſign'd for them be mine. I'll follow you, Fathers.

SCENE, Don Perriera's Houſe.

What a curſed while this Raſcal ſtays; if he comes not inſtantly my Rage will get the better of my Reaſon, and I ſhall diſpatch the foul Adulterers without Confeſſion.

I have obey'd your Orders, Senior, here are the Prieſts.

But very ſlowly, Hang-dog.

Peace be to you, Son.

That's not your Buſineſs, Father; try if you can adminiſter Peace to my ſalacious Wife and her young Amouretta within there; but do you hear, Fathers? Diſpatch the Buſi⯑neſs of their Souls as ſpeedily as I will that of their Bodies: But if Heav'n has no more Mercy than I ſhall have, your La⯑bours might have been ſpar'd.

Speak not ſo irreligiouſly—Which is the Room? Keep your diſtance.

Make haſte then, or I ſhall take your Work out of your Hands. Now let me conſult my inſtruments of Death, for I'll have no bounds in my Revenge. I'll, I'll, I'll, flea 'em alive.

Scene draws and diſcovers Dona Perriera and Charles.

Is it the unreaſonableneſs of my Requeſt, or the ſmallneſs of your Reſpect, that cauſes this Heſitation, Senior? Sure if I give my ſelf intirely to your Arms, I may deſerve to be freed from the Embraces of a Wretch I hate. I'll not be chargea⯑ble to you in my Paſſage, I have Jewels of conſiderable Value to defray that Expence; I inſiſt upon a Promiſe, that you will convey me to England, and then I am yours.

Why then to deal ingeniouſly, Madam, I am married in England, and ſhan't well know how to beſtow you there—But whilſt I am here, Child, I am thine—

Ah! Maria mater, dic ora pro nobis,

Oh, we're undone, this hour is our laſt.

Ha! What are you?

Our Habits ſhow what we are, and your Guilt what you have need of.

Prieſts! Nay, then our condition is worſe than I ex⯑pected.

Oh, confeſs me ſtreight, my Soul is taking flight already; I ſee a thouſand dire revengeful Fiends hovering o'er me, and watching all to catch it in the Air. Oh ſave it Father by your Holy Prayers, for in you only all my Comforts center.

Come Son, conſider the great Work you have to do, Death waits without, therefore examine your ſelf within.

The Work muſt be all my own, Father, I have no occa⯑ſion for a Journey-man, ſo you may ſpare your Pains.

How, a Heretick! alas poor Soul, how much it troubles me.

Pray good Father expreſs your trouble ſome where elſe, I have no Faith in your living Doctrine, and reſolve to have nothing to do with you in Death, therefore don't trouble me—Is there no way to eſcape, and muſt I die cowardly? No, that I will not,

the firſt that enters dies; I'll have Com⯑pany at leaſt.

A weak Defence, alas, ſhou'd I deſert him—Put up your Sword, in pity to your Ignorance, and in hopes of Con⯑verting you to the true Faith, I'll deliver you from this hazard.

But can you ſave her too?

How Son! Is this a time to dream of future Pleaſures?

I'll give you mine Honour, Father, never to ſee her more; but as I am Partner in the Guilt, I wou'd not have the Puniſh⯑ment be only hers.

Well, I'll endeavour to preſerve her too; obſerve my Orders well, turn your Face, here put on this Garment, my Brother there will conduct you to a place of ſafety, where I de⯑ſire you'll wait till I come; look not behind you, nor ſpeak as you paſs the Husband of that Lady.

This Prieſt is an honeſt Fellow,

nothing like the Habit of Sanctity to cover cloſe Deſigns, I ſhall obſerve your Directions moſt religiouſly, Father.

Come Son, your Hand—Madam, I leave you one to comfort your Diſtreſs.

[Scene ſhuts, then draws and diſcovers Don Perreira Liſſening.

How ſtill they are at Confeſſion, I fancy the Pe⯑nance I ſhall enjoin them, will quicken their Voice. So,

So your parts are done then, Fathers? Now for mine.

Done! I'm afraid Son, you are not right in your Senſes, you have given us the trouble of coming to confeſs two Adul⯑terers, you ſaid, but how you can make two Women ſuch; I leave to you, for there is no Male thing in the Room by my Prieſthood; take care you put no more Affronts upon our Cloth.

Women! I'm amaz'd! Women! Egad I'm raviſh'd, tranſported, nay, tranſlated methinks above the Stars; I'm, I'm, I'm, I'm, od I know not what I am, I'm ſo glad to find my ſelf no Cuckold—Ah, but how ſhall I look my Wife in the Face tho', for having blam'd her wrongfully? Ay, there's the Devil now—Pox take her Brother for inſtilling theſe Jealouſies into my Head, I fear ſhe will never forgive me—and indeed 'tis more than I deſerve—Oh, that ever I ſhould ſuſpect her Virtue.

The Scene draws and diſcovers Dona Perriera on her Knees to Iſabinda.

Oh Madam, you have ſet Vice and Virtue in their proper Light, from whence I ſee the Deformity of one, and Beauty of the other; your generous Forgiveneſs is all I want, to raiſe my Soul above a ſecond fall. I have injur'd you, but—

No more of that; the good Inclination which you ſhow wipes out all faults with me, and your Perſeverance will give you as large a ſhare in my Breaſt, as if you never had offended. Riſe Madam, I hear the Door unlock, prepare your Husband according to my direction, and leave the reſt to me.

Ay, there they are—both Woman by St. An⯑thony—that ever I ſhould be ſuch a Dunce to think my ſelf a Cuckold—Which way ſhall I ſpeak to her now? Oh, my poor dear innocent Lamb is all in Tears, nay thou haſt cauſe to weep, that is the truth on't.

What have I done, my Dear, that you ſhou'd ex⯑poſe me thus?

That thou haſt done nothing at all to merit it, is my grief—Nay do not weep, thou wilt break my Heart, indeed thou wilt; I wiſh with all my Soul thou hadſt Cuckolded me; I think in my Conſcience I cou'd forgive thee now.

What Reparation can you ever make me, for the ſtain you have caſt upon my Fame, expos'd me to the Prieſts, cou'd you have found no other way?

I was to blame indeed, Wife; oh forgive me,

or my Heart will burſt: Oh, oh, oh, oh!

Nay, now, Madam, you muſt forgive him.

Ay do, dear Madam, intercede for me; I'll never riſe, except my dear virtuous Spouſe will ſay ſhe pardon me.

What! Hangman like, are you asking Pardon e'er you diſpatch her? I'll lend you a helping hand, ſince you are not Maſter of your Reſolution.

Zounds, put up your Sword, or by St. Anthony I'll ſhoot you through the Head.

Do you ſtart, Brother? Cou'd you inflict that on me which your own Courage ſtarts at? Cruel Man.

A Brother ſhou'd rather reconcile, than blow the Coals of ſtrife; 'tis barbarous in Strangers, but much more ſo in thoſe ally'd to us by Blood: Revenge, tho' juſt, excludes Religion, and he that purſues it poiſons all his Morals, and impudently affronts that Power which gave him Breath to threaten.

Hie day, what Philoſopher have we here?

Out of my Lodgings, I ſay, without one queſtion more, and never ſet foot into them again, as you hope to keep your Guts in▪ I'll be plagu'd with no more of your Jealouſies, I warrant you.

Fine! your Lodgings!—but hear me, Don, dare not for your Soul, ſay you match'd into my Family, or you Miſtreſs boaſt of any Blood of mine, as you value thoſe Eyes—for from [57] this day I hold you as a Baſtard, and may Perdition ſeize you both.

Was ever Man ſo plagu'd?—Come, dry thy Eyes, my Dear, and mind him not, I'm glad I'm rid of him—and if thou doſt but forgive me now, by this I'll ne'er offend again.

Then I am happy.

Pray Wife, who is this Lady?

Heav'ns! what ſhall I ſay now?

Hold, Madam,—Let me intreat your Preſence, with your Lady's, in my Apartment, which is directly under this, and that you wou'd ſuſpend you Curioſity 'till that time.

This is certainly an Angel in diſguiſe.

We'll wait on you.

Here's Mademoiſel Joneton to wait on you.

Bring her up.

I'll take my leave, and ſhall expect you with impa⯑tience.

The deſire of knowing how to treat you as I ought, Madam, will give me Wings to follow you.

My Dear, I'm glad to ſee you—Oh Senior, are you there? Pray when do you intend to return to your Houſe? Will it never be finiſh'd? It is enough to Murder one to come up thus high—Poſitively I'm as much out of Breath as a Trumpeter. Ah peſt, it has given me a Colour like a Cook-Maid.

Thou art more impertinent than a Valet de Chambre. My Houſe will be finiſh'd next Week, Madam, and then 'tis to be hop'd theſe Diſorders which you complain of will ceaſe.

Very probable they may—I am horridly chagreen'd to Day, my Dear, I have made twenty Viſits within this hour, and can meet with no Converſation to my Gout; the Vanity of the Men gives me the Spleen, and the Inſipidneſs of the Women makes me ſleepy—I came juſt now from my Lady Betty Trifle's, where I ſet the whole Room a yawning; ha, ha, ha.

Impertinence—A Perſon of your polite Conver⯑ſation, muſt not expect to be diverted every where: How does your Siſter, Madam?

Oh my Siſter is this day dead, my Dear.

How! Dead?

How! Dead?

Metaphorically ſpeaking, ſhe has enclos'd herſelf, where ſhe intends to mortifie with Hymns, and ſpiritual Songs, and has left me the whole World to range in.

And I warrant you think that but a Garden.

If the Sea cou'd be drain'd, 'twou'd make a very pretty Park, Senior.

Humph! This is a Woman of a copious Fancy—Well my Dear, I'll go before you.

Not for the World—Madam, if you pleaſe, ſince you are upon the viſiting Pin, I'll introduce you to a new Ac⯑quaintance—I'd rather take her with me, than ſuffer him to go without me.

With all Satisfaction, I love new Acquaintance extremely, is it a Man?

No; a Lady.

What has ſhe to recommend her?—But, no matter, I'll wait on you. The Devil take this Colonel, I can't get him out of my Head, I am half afraid I indure him more than I imagin'd.

Madam, will you give me leave to wait on you down?

The SCENE draws and diſcovers Charles ſolus, in Iſa⯑binda's Appartment looking about him.

What will be the iſſue of this Affair, Heav'n knows. To what end am I order'd to ſtay here, under the ſame Roof? And why is this Prieſt ſo long a coming? My Mind miſgives me, it was no Prieſt—But ſome Rival, jealous of her Favours, found the way to ſurpriſe us, and contrary to the Cuſtom of a Portu⯑gueſe, has Honour enough to diſpute it with me fairly; faith I wiſh that may be the worſt on't.

Egad, here he is—Charles, I'm glad to find thee alive with all my Blood—

The Devil! Ha! Colonel Ravelin there too? You ſur⯑priſe me? How did you find me?

By Mar-plot's Direction, you know he's a very good finder, he aſſur'd me you wanted my Aſſiſtance—

Ah Charles, which got the better in the Duel, Ha? What Weapons did you fight with?

I can't tell what Engagement thou haſt been in, Charles, but by thy Looks, I fancy it has not pleas'd thee.

I have run ſome hazard ſince I ſaw you, Colonel, but if I had caught you dogging me, I'd a hamſtring'd you, Raſcal—

Very fine—See what a Man gets for his good will now—But if I had not thought you in danger of Hamſtringing, and Heartſtringing too; the Devil a ſtep wou'd I a fetch'd. I'm ſure the old Cuckold frighted me out of my Wits with his threats, and the Colonel here has almoſt broke my Bones, and all for you—And thus you reward me—

The old Cuckold! What do you mean?

Nay, let the Colonel tell you what I mean, for my part I'll have nothing to do with you as long as I live again—Bleſs me, what do I ſee? The very old Dog that ſwore by Fire, Blood and Brimſtone, he wou'd ſend you to the Devil—Oh Lord, oh Lord, draw Gentlemen, draw, put your ſelf upon your Guard, Charles, oh dear Colonel ſtand by him; ods life I trem⯑ble ſo, I cannot get my Sword out for my Blood—

Ha! What are you, Sir?

Get you behind me, you timerous Puppy.

What do you mean, Gentlemen, to murder me?

I mean that you ſhan't murder me, Sir.

You, Sir? why I don't know you, Sir.

Not know him, Sir, what a confounded lying old Thief you are, I'll take my Oath I heard you and that bloody-minded Spaniard, threaten what you'd do to this Gentleman, if you catch'd him in your Houſe; egad Charles, knock him down.

Oh Mr. Sweep-chimney, are you here? St. Anthony defend me, what Ambuſcade am I tumbled into? This was cer⯑tainly my Wife's Gallant, and has impos'd upon the Prieſts, as well as me, in Petticoats, and now has trapan'd me here to murder me—Help, Murder, Treaſon, Murder, help—

Ceaſe your bawling, old Luci⯑fer, or expect no Mercy.

Confeſs your deſign, and produce your villainous Gang, and they ſhall have Satisfaction, equal to their Merits.

Gang? By St. Anthony, I have no Gang; I came hi⯑ther to wait on the Lady who belongs to this Appartment, but little thought of meeting with my damnable virtuous Wife's Gal⯑lant. I ſuppoſe I am decoy'd hither to have my Throat cut, there⯑fore come on both of you, old as I am, I yet can ſtand a Puſh.

Oh, oh, Murder, Murder, Murder.

I wiſh I had known you in Petticoats.

Ha, this muſt be Don Perriera; but what does he mean by Petticoats? Hold, Sir—What is the Lady's Name of this Appartment?

I know not, it was to be inform'd of that I came, but I ſuppoſe you are the Lady, Sir.

This ſhallow-brain'd Whelp has made a damn'd blunder here—This is a very odd Riddle, Sir, pray—

Ah! a Ghoſt, a Ghoſt, a Ghoſt—

St. Anthony defend me, a Ghoſt? where?

Oh, Madam, is it you? This is the Lady I came to wait on, Gentlemen.

Ha! She here!

That Lady, in the Habit of a Prieſt, delivered you—Do you know her?

Know her! Yes—Delivered by my Wife—

The Colonel here too? I'm not diſpleas'd with this Viſit.

My Miſtreſs—a pretty kind of a Rencounter.

Oh let me fly into thy Arms, my Iſabinda, my charm⯑ing Love, thou holdeſt more Virtues in thy Breaſt, than thy whole [...] b [...]ſt▪ Can'ſt thou forgive me, Iſabinda?

As freely as thou can'ſt ask it; but huſh, we ſhall be ob⯑ſerv'd; let not the Company know this is our firſt meeting. I was loath to truſt the Writings with Strangers, ſo brought them my ſelf.

Thou are all Goodneſs.

I thought I heard Murder cry out as I enter'd, Senior.

Why truly, Madam, if you had not come as you did, I was in danger of my Life here.

'Twas only a Miſtake, my Dear. I ask your Pardon, Sir.

Pardon, Sir? This is a very odd miſtake, Sir.

Egad, and ſo it is; a Pox of my Zeal—

I hope all Miſtakes will be clear'd, Sir, I know you loved my Father, Sir, Jealous Traffick; and for his ſake, I hope you'll know my Husband.

What, my old Friend? Yes faith will I, Sir, I am yours, but I muſt kiſs your Wife. My Dear, why did not you tell me who ſhe was before?

A good Reaſon, becauſe I did not know.

You ſaw ſhe forbad me, my Dear.

Now you are all acquainted, I'll tell you how I came to miſtake this Matter: I did not know this was a Houſe of Lodgings, nor that my Friend had remov'd hither, till I found him out by Accident, upon my Honour, Senior—

The Rogue will ſtumble out an Excuſe.

Honour! Pray, Sir, upon your Honour tell me how you got out of my Room?

For your Soul, no ſqueaking—

No, no; never fear me. Egad, what ſhall I ſay now? Why, Sir, you muſt know I am a Chimiſt, and have found out a Secret that will open and ſhut all Locks whatever; that help'd me out, Sir.

Say you ſo, Sir? Pray will you communicate.

Not for your whole Eſtate, Sir.

I'll have this Fellow ſent out of Town, for by the help of this Secret he'll Cuckold all the Men in Lisbon.

Ha, ha, ha, what a Lie has he lit of—Colonel, won't the Lady capitulate upon Honourable Terms?

She deſires two days Conſideration, a great while for a Man to faſt, that is almoſt ſtarv'd already.

Well, Colonel, to ſhew you I am good-natur'd, I'll put it to Arbitration.

Nay, then Madam, we ſhall all give it againſt you.

What's here, a Wedding on foot? Prithee let's have it juſt now, to reconcile all Differences, and tho' I have not danc'd theſe forty Years, will take a turn among you.

So! I'll be hang'd if this is not Mademoiſel Flutter now. Pox of theſe Matrimonial Intreagues—but Egad we will have Dan⯑cing—I'm reſolv'd.

Faith, Madam, the Cannon of Conſtancy is a heavy Car⯑riage, and if I ſhou'd ſummon my Senſes to a Council of War, and make Reaſon Judge-Advocate, 'tis odds but I raiſe the Siege.

Well, Colonel, if I ſurrender Priſoner of War, remem⯑ber I expect to be generouſly us'd.

You ſhall have no cauſe to complain.

We wiſh you Joy, Colonel.

Now for a Dance.

And I have brought the Muſick.