SCENE I. The Minſter-yard in Peterborough.

CLinch! Where are you Sirrah? Why don't you come along?

Ah! Pox of this riding Poſt,—Look ye, Cap⯑tain; if you have threeſcore Miles farther to go, I am your moſt humble Servant.

No, Sirrah, I am at my Journey's end—This Town of Peterborough is the bound of all my Wiſhes.

Say you ſo, Sir! Pray be pleas'd to make it mine too.

Why! what is your wiſh?

Why, with ſubmiſſion, Sir, to know the reaſon of your Expedition, and gravity of Habit: Have you a mind to ſet up the Buſineſs of an Undertaker here in the Country?

No, Clinch, my buſineſs is with the Living, not with the Dead, I'll aſſure you.

Then can't I for my blood imagine why you are thus dreſs'd; your Father, nay your whole Family are well; not ſo much as a Nephew, or ſecond Couſin dead; nay, nor no fear of Peace.——Then why the Devil are we in black? You laugh—Can theſe Cloaths cauſe Joy, without the Perqui⯑ſite that belongs to it: 'Tis a mournful Equipage, and ſhocks my Soul, I am ſure.

Perquiſite! Why what Perquiſite does Mourning bring with it to cauſe Joy? ha!

Oh, Sir, ſeveral—As when a Wife buries her Huſ⯑band, ſhe has Sorrow in one hand, and Joy in t'other; a ſhort Widowhood cures ſuch a Grief—Or a rich Heir at the laſt Gaſp of his Parent, when there is a Years Rent in the Stew⯑ard's [2] hands —But, Sir, to the point; either let me into the Secret, or diſcharge me.

Ha, ha, ha; Why then if I muſt tell thee; this Ha⯑bit, if Fortune favours me, will be worth to me two thou⯑ſand Pounds.

Say you ſo, Sir; and pray how much will it be worth to me? For I am dreſs'd like you—If I have not the ſame Privileges, why ſhould I be confin'd to the ſame Garb?

Oh! you ſhall have your part, Clinch, never fear.

Ay, Sir, but there are ſome parts I don't care for—— I hope you have no deſign to rob upon the Highway.

Raſcal!

Nay, ben't angry Sir; if there ſhou'd be Peace, 'tis what many an honeſt Gentleman muſt come to. I have no averſion for the Name; but I have for the Puniſhment— I'll not ſtrike a ſtroke—therefore what good can I do you?

Ha, ha, ha, I ſhall have more occaſion for your Eyes, than your Arm—You can weep, Sirrah, can't you?

Ay, Sir, I ſhall weep, that's certain, to ſee you come to the Gallows—

Ye Dog you, I tell you there is no danger.

No danger—Why then I ſhall weep for Joy, Sir— —but how, Sir, how; muſt I roar, or ſhed Tears?

So you do but counterfeit well, no matter which.

Ah, let me alone for counterfeiting, I defie a Woman to out-do me in that—Look ye Sir, you ſhall hear — —hem, hem.

Very well—be ſure when I weep—

I'll make terrible Faces—What think you; Sir, Is not my Pipe very muſical for weeping?

Oh! Excellent.

But what does this ſignifie! Where lies the Myſtery?

Well then—Since you muſt know it; You are not inſenſible how my Father has treated me, ever ſince I re⯑fus'd to marry Mrs. Homebred, whoſe Manners ſuited with her Name, and her Face was courſer than either; and becauſe I drew a Bill upon him for fifty Pounds laſt Campaign, he threatens to diſinherit me; nay, and ſwears, that if for the future I don't make it appear I live upon half my Pay, He'll [3] make my Serjeant his Heir, who was once his Footman. In ſhort, I can bear his ill uſage no longer.

Ah! Sir, had you married that Lady with twenty thouſand Pounds, you need not have drawn upon him for fifty.

If ſhe had twenty times as much, I ſhou'd refuſe her for Belinda's ſake.

But Sir Jeffrey reſolves againſt that Match—You muſt not marry his Steward's Daughter.

I hope to prove you a Lyar, Sir; and by this Dreſs to carry my deſign; which is to perſuade Truſty, that my Fa⯑ther dyed of an Apoplexy, by which means he muſt account with me for the half Years Rent, he ſent the old Gentleman word was ready for him.

Two thouſand Pound, Clinch—This Letter I ſur⯑priz'd by an Accident; 'tis from my Father to him.

Excellent, Sir! Why here may be a pretty Penny to⯑wards, if the Devil don't croſs it. But, Sir, if my old Ma⯑ſter ſhou'd take a Maggot, and write to Truſty, to return his Money after all—His Letter and our Story wou'd have ſmall connexion; we ſhou'd be oblig'd to alter our Note. I wou'd adviſe you to take the old Steward to the Tavern, and ſtay as little in his Houſe as you can, for fear of diſcovery: Beſides, Sir, a Glaſs of Wine and a Fowl, makes buſineſs go on chearfully, Sir.

Chearfully, Sirrah!—You don't conſider that it is not my buſineſs to be chearful—I admire Faithful ſtays ſo long.

Perhaps he can't find Mr. Lovely, Sir.

I directed him to the Coffee-houſe, where he ſeldom fails to be at this time of the Morning.

Poor Gentleman! I warrant he's ruminating upon his Misfortunes. Well! 'tis ſometimes a Bleſſing to want Money— —You 'ſcap'd the Highway-men, Sir!

What am I the better for that, Sirrah? My Pockets are as empty as my Friends, who fell into their Hands: But here comes my Fellow Traveller—and Lovely with him; He has found him at laſt— Dear Lovely, how is't?

Captain Conſtant! Welcome! Who expected to ſee you here? Why did [...]t you ſend me word of your coming?

He hardly knew it himſelf two hours before he got on Horſeback, Sir; nay, I much queſtion if he knows it yet.

My Journey indeed was ſomething Precipitate.

Ay, Sir, don't you ſee we are in Mourning?

Mr. Faithful has inform'd me of every Particular; and I wiſh I cou'd really give thee Joy of ſix thouſand a Year, Boy.

At the rate of half a Years Rent you may—If Fortune proves not an errand Jilt indeed, Sir.

Come Gentlemen; What think you of my Houſe? I'll get ſomething for Breakfaſt, whilſt you change your Linen.

'Tis near Six—I have a mind to ſee if Belinda comes to Church this Morning.

She ſeldom fails—

Prithee, Lovely; Can you inform me, if a young Lady that lives at Sir David Watchum's will be here too?

Mrs. Laura Wealthy, Your Miſtreſs you mean.

The ſame.

We have heard of the Lady; but I believe no body in Peterborough has ſeen her, except his own Servants.

What kind of a temper is the old Fellow of?

The moſt peeviſh, ſplenetick, miſtruſtful, ill-natur'd Wretch in the whole County: He comes to the Coffee-houſe every Morning in an old ruſty Chariot for haſte, the longeſt Jour⯑ney [5] he takes in the Year: He ſeldom comes to Church; nay, ſince that Lady came he has not once been ſeen there; we fancy he dares not ſtay two hours from home, for fear ſhe ſhould be ſtol'n away.

Ah! Sir, this account is moſt uncomfortable in our Affairs—

It gives me more Chagrin, than the Rogues did, when they ſtripp'd me of my Money this Morning— Which way ſhall I give Laura notice of my being in Town?

Have Courage, Faithful, I warrant we proſper.

Nothing like a good Heart; you ſhall not want a ſmall Sum of Money, Sir.

I thank you, Sir.

I'll be as diligent in thy Affairs, as in my own— if any lucky Opportunity offers, I'll be ready to ſerve thee.

I'll be the ſame to both.

I know it; and when I am able; as I hope if my de⯑ſign ſucceeds, thou ſhal't meet returns in me.

I am oblig'd to both—But who have we here?

Here comes Belinda, and with her my Tyrant Maria.

Well, Gentlemen; you'll beſt entertain your Mi⯑ſtreſſes alone; I'll back to the Coffee-houſe, and over a Diſh of Tea think what Courſe to ſteer—

Mind if the Courant be there, wherein I got my Fa⯑ther's Death inſerted, the better to favour my Plot.

I will, Captain, and be ſure to confirm the News.—

We'll call of you there preſently—

But is Maria obdurate ſtill Lovely?

Not in reality, Conſtant—But ſhe has ſo much of the Woman in her, to keep up her Rule till the laſt.

Ladies, good morrow! The ſound of the Saint's Bell brings Angels abroad.

Conſtant! and in Mourning! Pray who's dead?

One for whom I ought to grieve, did it not ſmooth a Paſſage to Belinda's Arms, through the Hearts of our inexo⯑rable Parents.

Your Father! Sir.

The ſame, Madam! He's as dead as an Herring, I pro⯑miſe you—

Now don't I know, whether I had beſt ſay I'm ſorry for your Loſs, or wiſh you much Joy of your Gain.

I dare ſwear, Madam, he can't tell you yet.

Peace, Blockhead.

Mr. Lovely, are you for Prayers?

You are the Shrine he kneels to, Madam; if you'll vouchſafe to hear him, he can pray moſt devoutly.

And diſſemble moſt fervently—

No faith, Madam, that Quality does not belong to us—that is the Womens Prerogative.

And do you never encroach upon our Privileges, ſweet Sir?

Yes, yes faith; I have encroach'd upon ſome of the Sexes Privileges in my time, I muſt own. Curioſity— Madam, ſeldom leads us to put on Maſking Habits; but a Lady cannot dreſs without 'em; Diſſimulation is as neceſſary as her Patches.

Ay! How do you prove that?

Why thus: When you wou'd gain a Man you like, you appear what you are not—We believe you Angels, but don't always find you ſo.

We always find you Angels, but of the fal'n kind.

'Tis impoſſible to be otherwiſe, whilſt Beauty keeps her Court below, you charm our Eyes, and all our Senſes wait you.

Pride and Vanity predominate in your Sex, and like Centinels relieve one another; Pride has made a Lady ſwear ſhe has Hated ſuch a Man, tho' ſhe was dying for the Sight of him—And Vanity made her Careſs a Fop, that at the ſame time ſhe wiſh'd at the Devil.

And are not you even with us? Will not you ſigh, ogle, cringe, flatter, ſwear, kneel, nay give it under your hand, you Love to deſperation; but let the poor miſtaken [7] Nymph once yield, and you'd give Bond and Judgment to that Old Gentleman you nam'd but now, in two Days to take her off your hands.

I hope you don't include the whole Sex, Madam.

That ſhe do's not, I'm ſure; for ſhe knows I never ſwore any thing to her, but what I am ready to make good— And if ſhe be not the moſt unconſcionable Woman living, ſhe will own I love her heartily.

That I dare witneſs for thee, Lovely.

Ay! Why, what Proofs has he given?

Proofs! Why I talk of her all Day—And dream, of her all Night——When ſhe's abſent, ſigh for her, and am tranſported when I ſee her. If theſe be not proofs of Love, let the Parſon ſay Grace and I'll give her better.

All this may be done without one Grain of Love, may it not Captain?

Not when you are the Object, Madam; and you are too well acquainted with my Heart, to aſk that Queſtion out of ſcruple, I'm certain.

Theſe are no Proofs; you muſt grow Lean and Mea⯑gre—Eat little, and Sleep leſs—Write fifty Letters in a Day, and burn them all again—Then ſtart up, and draw your Sword; hold it to your Breaſt; then throw it away agen — Then take your Pen and write your laſt Farewel—Diſpatch it to your Miſtreſs—Then take a Turn by ſome melancho⯑ly purling Stream, with Hat pull'd o'er your Eyes, in deep Contemplation reſolve thro' what Door to let in Death, if the Meſſenger return without Succeſs—When I ſee you do this, I'll write Lover upon your Brow.

When I do, you ſhall write Fool upon my Forehead.

Come, come Madam, a Truce; you know he loves you.

As well as I know ſhe loves me; we were born for one another, Child; no Man in the Kingdom ſhall have thee, but my ſelf.—Then if you will eat Chalk, and die of the Pip, I can't help it. Ha, ha, ha.

Be not ſo poſitive Lovely.—One Sect of Philoſo⯑phers tells you, you ought to doubt of every thing.

But the Topick was not a Woman in that Aſſertion; but if it were, Women in their Days were no more like Wo⯑men in ours, than a Clodhopper is to a Captain o' Foot. Our Ladies are like two Negatives, to be underſtood in the Affima⯑tive, ha, ha. Madam, do's not my Friend here look like one of thoſe Lovers you deſcrib'd? Faith, I think a Woman can⯑not wiſh a ſimpler Figure—Now has he a thouſand Things to ſay to Belinda alone.

You gueſs right, Lovely—I am going to your Father's, Madam, to ſettle our Accounts; I hope you'll return as ſoon as Prayers are over.

Directly—

You'll remember us in your Prayers, Ladies——

Amongſt Jews, Turks and Infidels—

Come, now for my Houſe—We'll call on Faithful.

Lead on—I'll change my Linen and to Truſty's immediately—But hold—Clinch, heark yee.

Sir—

I had no Opportunity to inform Belinda of my Pro⯑ject; you muſt away to Truſty's and let her Maid into the Secret, I wou'd not impoſe upon her—The Man that truly Loves, cannot deceive the Object of his Vows.

Or at the worſt, we are but as we were.

What think you Slouch! Had we beſt go into the Minſter, or tarry here whilſt Mrs. Belinda comes out; for her Maid ſays ſhe's here: Lord, Lord, how Religious Folk [9] are in this Town! Why they riſe as early to Church here, as our Parſon's Wife does to Milking, I think—Well, but what had we beſt to do, ha?

Why go in, I think—Or tarry here; which you will, Maſter.

Nay, nay mun, I don't know which is beſt, that makes me ask you; for I know, Slouch, you underſtand Breed⯑ing and Haviours; for you have been at London with fat Bullocks, and ſo was never I; but I reſolve to go next time, ha! Slouch!

Ay Maſter; but an you Marry this ſame Mrs. Be⯑linda, as ſure as your Name is 'Squire Num, ſhe'll not let you budge a Step.

Marry her! Nay, nay, I ſhall Marry her, that's ſure enough, I think; and yet I'll ſee London for all that— Why, what doſt thou think I'll be ty'd to a Wife's Tail all Days o' my Life? No, no; the Family of the Nums won't be Wife-rid, Slouch—But heark yee, an her Father ſhou'd chop up the Wedding to Day, before my New Cloathes are made; for he likes me woundily mun.

Od well thought on Maſter! don't go into the Church, I ſay; who knows but when the Parſon has done his Prayers, but he may begin your Plagues, Maſter ha!

Od that's ſmart now—Ha, ha, huſh, huſh, Slouch, they are here—Now ſhow your Manners—

I have met a Report in the Church, that the News ſays Sir Jeffry Conſtant is Dead; if it be true, there's a better Husband for Belinda than this Fool—Od! I'll for London as ſoon as I have Din'd; my Heart akes; pray Heaven he ſettled his Affairs before he died: I have no Receipt for the Money I paid him.

Sir, your Servant; Father has ſent me agen to ſee Mrs. Belinda, and bid me tell you, That he wou'd come over himſelf, I think, next Week, an do what you wou'd have him do, I think—And ſo, I ſuppoſe, we are agreed, forſooth ——Only I muſt deſire you to ſtay till my New Cloathes [10] are made. Father bought the Cloth laſt Sturbich Fair; and the Taylor comes to Morrow, don't he Slouch?

Ay, and his Man Staytape too; an he works like a Dragon—My Maſter will ſoon be fit, forſooth.

Fit quotha! for what? ha, ha.

For what! nay, nay, let me alone for that, an I don't ſhow her for what, when I have her once, I'll be flea'd.

Heaven defend me from the Tryal.

Sir, ſince I ſaw you laſt, I have conſider'd my Daughter is no proper Match for you; and therefore I deſire you to re⯑turn with all poſſible Speed, and acquaint your Father, that he may not undertake an unneceſſary Journey.

Ten thouſand Bleſſings on that Voice.

High day: What's the matter now! Why you don't pretend to make a Fool of me, do ye?

No, thou art made to his hands—ha, ha, ha—

Who ſpeaks to you Miſtreſs, I was not made for you I'm ſure.

No, I thank my Stars!

I'll not be chous'd at this rate, mun: Did you not tell me, if my Father wou'd ſettle ſo, and ſo, that I ſhou'd have her—And now you come with a Conſider— when it has coſt me the Lord knows what in Journeys, as Slouch can teſtifie.

Yes, with a ſafe Conſcience, I can ſwear it has coſt my Maſter—and me, above Thirty Shillings upon you.

What did you Club with your Maſter then, Mr. Slouch?

Now and then, for a Flagon of Ale, an it pleaſe you.

Oh you ſhall be no Loſer, Friend—There's ſome⯑thing to defray your Expences—

Thank you kindly, Forſooth—Od, this 'tis to be Sharp—Now wou'd I give Sixpence to know if this be a good Guinea, or a Counter—

As to your Charges, Mr. Num—If you pleaſe to give me a Bill, they ſhall be diſcharg'd—But for my Daughter, I have deſign'd her otherways.

A Bill! I ſcorn your Words; I'm as well able, de you ſee, to ſpend Thirty Shillings as you, for ought I know; yet I'm not angry neither; only what makes me mad, is, that you ſhou'd think me ſuch a Fool to be fob'd off I know not [11] how—Why mun, all our Town knows that I'm to have her, and they have promis'd me the Bells ſhou'd Ring a whole Day—And now you'd have me go home with the Tale of a Tub, like a Dog that has loſt his Ears—What did you come bouncing to our Houſe for! and ſay I ſhou'd have your Daughter—I did not come after her, nor you neither mun.

What I ſaid I thought at that time, Sir; but no Man can blame me for changing my Mind to Advantage in diſpo⯑ſing of my Child— I have a better Proſpect both in Birth and Eſtate, than you, or your Father can offer. Therefore I ſay without any Paſſion, I deſire you'd give your ſelf no far⯑ther Trouble about this matter, Mr. Num.

Birth, and Eſtate! What means my Father? how I tremble!

He has certainly heard of Sir Jeffry's Death, and de⯑ſigns to make thee Happy.

Impoſſible! He was in the Minſter before us.

Birth, and Eſtate! Slouch, come hither Sirrah! han't my Father a Thouſand a Year?

Yes that he has, an more too: He has Ten hundred, I'll ſwear it.

I believe he has, as you ſay, Slouch.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.

An I am all the Children he has, am I not, Slouch?

Ay, all that he dares own, Sir.

Look ye there now! An I'll hold you a Bottle of Cyder that I'm as well born as he; my Father's Church-warden and Captain of the Militia, as 'tis known very well; and I'm call'd the Young Captain, ſo I am.

Aye, that every Body knows.

Sir, I have nothing to ſay to that, and am your hum⯑ble Servant—Come Belinda.

I wiſh you a good Journey, Sir.

Captain, your Servant.

A murrain take your Fleer ——

You may go to London now, Sir.

Go to London, go to the Devil! 'Slife I'll follow them mun, mehap he do's but joke; and Father will break my Head, becauſe I did not underſtand a Joke— Therefore come along, Slouch—

SCENE, Sir David Watchum's Houſe.

I Have ſurvey'd my Houſe round and round to Night, from Door to Door, and Gate to Gate— —He that wou'd keep a handſome Woman of Twenty thouſand Pound, muſt learn the Gameſter's Art, to live with⯑out Sleep—Methought, from my Garret Window, I ſaw a Man ſauntring about my Ground, and ſeem'd to pry too narrowly into my Houſe—It may be a Rogue—I would not loſe Mrs. Laura; for, if poſſible, ſhe ſhall fill no Arms but mine. I have kept her from the ſight of Man theſe twelve Months; and now I deſign to offer her Liberty, pro⯑vided ſhe'll conſent to be my Wife; if ſhe refuſes, I'll have the Lights quite ſtop'd up, and ſhe ſhall not ſo much as ſee the Sun—Ha! who's here! Ho, 'tis Lucy, her Maid; I wiſh I cou'd make this Jade of my Intereſt—What the Vengeance do's ſhe do up ſo early?

This old Fellow is certainly the Devil—One can go no where, but one is ſure to meet him.

What makes you here, ha Miſtreſs?—Now am I afraid of venturing to the Coffee-Houſe, tho' my Coach is at the Door.

Too much Sleep is unwholſome, you know Sir, by your own Rule; ſo hearing the Door open, I came down to breath the Morning Air.

That you might have done at your Window; no, no, you have ſome Plot in hand now I warrant! Where's your Miſtreſs?

In her Chamber. Where ſhou'd ſhe be?

In her Bed wou'd be a fitter Place—Women of Virtue, that have no Intrigues, are faſt aſleep in their Beds at this time a-day

A ſleep! That's impoſſible in this Houſe—Pray how can any body ſ [...]eep, as long as you are awake; are you not rambling all Night; up Stairs, down Stairs, locking one Door, and opening another; heming, coughing, ſpitting, ſnee⯑zing, yawning, ſtamping, mutt'ring—One no ſooner ſhuts ones Eyes—but ſlap goes a Door, clatter goes a Key— down tumbles a Stool, bow wow goes the Dog—This is the conſtant Muſick you make, Sir: 'Slife, if one were a Slave in Turkey, one ſhou'd ſometimes reſt in quiet.

Good lack, good lack, all this I get for my care— —Why all this is for your Lady's good, Lucy.

Nay, if you call this Good! Then pray Sir employ your Study for the future, to do her ill Offices; for nothing can be more diſagreeable, than your preſent treatment both to my Lady and me.

Say you ſo! What, you don't like your way of living then? ha.

Not at all I aſſure you, Sir—Living! d'ye call it—We wou'd have Liberty, Sir.

You ſhall have Liberty, if your Lady is not her own Enemy——and for your part, if you pleaſe, you may ſerve your ſelf, and her, by being ſerviceable to me.

Which way, pray Sir? For there is not many things I wou'd refuſe to procure my Lady, her dear, dear Liberty; pray inform me, I'm impatient to know it.

Why thus—I have a very Cordial Affection for Mrs. Laura, out of pure Conſideration of her youth—I wou'd not have a young Woman fall into ill hands at firſt; therefore I deſign to marry her my ſelf.

Heaven forbid! that wou'd be falling into ill hands indeed.

Now I wou'd have you break this matter to her; and ſecond it with all the force of Argument you are capable of—When we are married, you ſhall both take what Liber⯑ty you pleaſe.

Why ſure a Perſon of your experienc'd Years, wou'd not be guilty of ſuch a Folly.

What do you call Folly? I had no Ch [...]ldren by my laſt Wife, and I wou'd willingly have an Heir to keep up my Name—and do you call this Folly?

Heirs! Why do you hope for an Heir of your own getting, Sir?

Why not, pray?

What, upon ſuch a fine Woman as ſhe is—In my Conſcience, were I in your place, I ſhou'd dread being the er⯑ranteſt, you know what, in Chriſtendom.

Oh Mrs. Pert! that's not your buſineſs, I ſhall dread no ſuch thing—All I deſire of you, is to tell her, my Eſtate, Prudence, Wiſdom and Temperance, out-weighs Youth, Folly, Titles, and Debauchery.

Yes, for one that is in Love with her Grave. Cer⯑tainly, Sir, you are not in your right Senſes—Why your Requeſt is ſo abominable, ſo vile, ſo ridiculous, and ſo unjuſt; that I wou'd not be concern'd in it for a thouſand Pounds— Indeed you have pitch'd upon the wrong Perſon, Sir.

Say you ſo! Good lack—So I have pitch'd up⯑on the wrong Perſon you ſay! ha! If I had deſir'd you to ſay your Prayers, I'll be hang'd, if I had not pitch'd upon the wrong Perſon too, Goſſip prate apace—but I'll hamper ye, I warrant you; I'll croſs your Deſigns, till I have finiſh'd my own —go, get out of my ſight.

Well, ſurely this Life won't laſt always.

My Maſter ſtays at the Coffee-houſe, and has ſent me to ſurvey this Dome, and try to give Mrs. Laura's Maid no⯑tice of his Arrival; but how far I may be ſerviceable to him, I know not—Ha! who have we yonder? The old Guar⯑dian himſelf I doubt—So, he has found me—What the duce muſt I pretend now?

What do you want Friend, ha?

Good morrow, Sir.

Well, Good morrow; what more?

I hope you are well, Sir.

Yes, thank Heaven, Sir! what then?

Why then I am very glad of it, Sir.

You are very glad of it, Sir! Why what a Pox is my Health to you? Who are you? What are you? And from whence come you, ha Sir?

Faith, Sir, your Queſtions are ſo copious, that they require a conſiderable Study to anſwer: let me recollect a little—I have gone through ſo many Trades, that with⯑out my Diary (which I have not about me at preſent) I can't remember half of them; nor indeed can I tell how to ſtile my ſelf otherwiſe than an univerſal Man —The World is my Country; and for want of an Eſtate, I live by my Wits—

A Rogue, I warrant him.

Sometimes an honeſt Man, ſometimes a Knave; juſt as occaſions fall out.

Ay! and you oftner happen to be a Knave, than an honeſt Man, I doubt, Friend.

Why look ye, Sir, that is juſt as I abound, or want Money; for my preſent Profeſſion is Phyſick—Now when my Pockets are full, I cure a Patient in three Days— —when they are empty, I keep him three Months.

An excellent Principle truly—But pray what is your buſineſs at my Houſe?—We are all in a good ſtate of health at preſent.

Nay no very great buſineſs, only I look'd in, as I paſs'd by, Sir, that's all.

Now in my Opinion you have another Reaſon; for you have the Aſpect of one of thoſe Sparks that comes in at a Window, or down a Chimney at two in the Morn⯑ing—

Have a care what you ſay, Sir, I'm known very well not far off.

Ay, too well perhaps! Zounds, Sir, what buſi⯑neſs have you here, ſpeak.

A queer old Duke this—Why, Sir, if you muſt know, I am in ſearch of ſome Simples which I have occaſion for—

Simples!

Yes, Sir.

Simples! A very ſimple Excuſe, ſaith—

Sir, I have many Years practis'd Chymiſtry, and there's ſcarce any Diſeaſe incident to Humanity, but I have cur'd; Stone, Gravel, Spleen, Vapours, fits of the Mother, and ſo forth—

Rather Fits of the Father, I fancy.

I had attain'd to ſuch perfections in the Chymical Art, that I wanted but one degree of heat to reach the Philo⯑ſopher's Stone.

That Habit methinks does not anſwer this migh⯑ty Skill.

Oh! Sir, Skill does not lie in Cloaths—And the moſt ingenuous, are not always the moſt fortunate— I have had many Croſſes in my time—Which has reduc'd me much below my Birth, I aſſure you—I ſerve an Officer at preſent, in the Quality of a Valet de Chambre, whoſe Life I ſav'd at the Battle of Audenard, when he was ſhot through with a Cannon Ball.

How! ſhot through with a Cannon Ball?

Yes, Sir; what, do you wonder at that? Why, Sir, I have a Water, that if your Head were off, I'd but waſh it with that, and clap it upon your Shoulders again; and you ſhou'd grow as perfectly well in half an hour, as ever you was in your Life; I have made the Experiment upon Thou⯑ſands; my Maſter's Brother was one of them—

If you were in Petticoats, I ſhou'd take you for the Kentiſh Miracle—What is this Officer's Name, Friend, that you ſerve?

Captain Bounce, Sir.

Bounce! I fancy you are related to him, are you not, Friend?

No, Sir, not at all; indeed he uſes me more like a Relation, than a Servant, for the reaſon before mentioned.

Ha! And where is he, pray?

At the Talbot, Sir; if you pleaſe I'll fetch him hi⯑ther?

By no means, Sir; but what buſineſs have you here in Peterborough?

We have been raiſing Recruits, Sir—A Pox of this old Dog; how many impertinent Queſtions does he aſk— Here's no hopes of ſeeing Lucy—

Well, Sir, I deſire you'd look your Simples elſe⯑where; for I don't like you, notwithſtanding your fair Pre⯑tences.

Sir, I ſhall obey you—But pray who does this Houſe belong to?

Why, this Houſe belongs to —its Maſter.

Indeed, Sir——Pray who is that Maſter? if I may be ſo bold to ask.

Why that Maſter is—a Man [...] Friend.

Really, Sir, your Anſwers are ſo conciſe and ſo inge⯑nious, that it is impoſſible to quit your Company——We deſign for Cambridge to Night, pray what time do you think we ſhall get in?

The Town Clock will tell you, when you come there.

Is it poſſible!—I humbly thank you, Sir—— one thing more I wou'd gladly be reſolv'd—I have a Bro⯑ther bound for Portugal; pray is the Wind fair, Sir?

What do you take me for, a Weather Cock, Sir⯑rah? Heark ye, the Wind will blow you no good, if you don't get about your buſineſs, remember that, and ſo fare⯑wel.

Very well——this muſt be Sir David his own ſelf— —'Egad he has all his Paces, it will be hard to bring matters about here; I'm juſt as wiſe as I was when I came—and have told fifty Lyes to no purpoſe——Ha! his Coach at the Door, I'll watch whither he goes, I'm reſolv'd—

What, are you not gone yet, Sirrah? I'll have you laid by the Heels, if you don't get off my ground this moment.

Sir, I am going this moment—A Pox of his Leathern Jaws —Well, I'll inform my Maſter what has paſs'd, and leave him to think on what's to come—

So, he is gone—I don't like the Countenance of this Fellow—Sam—

Sir.

Lock my Doors, d'ye hear; till I return from [18] the Coffee-houſe, let no body in or out—

I ſhall obſerve, Sir.

SCENE Changes to the Coffee-houſe, Lovely, Con⯑ſtant, and Faithful.

I have confirm'd the whole Town in the belief of thy Father's Death.

Then thou haſt done me Service—Come, you'll both go with me to Truſty's—

No, I have a mind to ſtay here; to ſee if Sir David comes; this Morning I will try to get acquainted with him; perhaps my being a Stranger, he may invite me to Dinner.

Ha, ha, He wou'd as ſoon give thee his Eſtate.

Ha! Manage, what News? Haſt thou ſeen Lucy?

No, Sir, but I have ſeen the Knight.

Well, and what have you diſcover'd?

That it was not worth your while to come Poſt from London, to return the ſame way—Ah Pox of the laſt Horſe I rid; what a curſed Fall had I in Stangate-hole— —don't you remember, Sir, how I lay over Head and Ears in Mire; whilſt the Gentlemen of the Pad diſburthen'd you of a hundred Pounds?

Hang your unſeaſonable Memory, Sirrah; leave fooling, and tell me—You ſee Sir David, did you ſpeak to him?

Yes, Sir, but he anſwer'd me with a damn'd ſowre Air; and I aſſure you it will require Cannon to reduce his Cit⯑tadel.

Love has taught me to ſurmount all Difficulties.

But here the Knight will be immediately; for I heard him give Orders to lock up the Doors, till he return'd from the Coffee-houſe.

Ay, that's right Sir David! ha, ha.

Lock up the Doors! Ah poor Laura! how ſhall I give thee notice of my being here—

I have a thought in my Head, if it cou'd be put in [19] practice——Heark, I hear the Coach——had here's no b [...] ⯑dy in the Room to diſcover the Trick——Let as pretend a Quarrel——Draw, Faithful.

To what purpoſe?

You ſhall know inſtantly——Lovely, do you ſeem to part us; he's here——Damn you Sir, you Lye.

I have not loſt, nor will I pay——

Take your Lye back, Sir,

Why Gentlemen, Gentlemen; what do you mean?

Damn you, Sir, you ſhall pay me—

There is the Money then, you have it——pretend to be wounded with that Thruſt, Faithful.

I am wounded——pray help to lead me home—

Oh Friend! what have you done?

What's here, Murder?

I hope the Wound's not mortal——Curſe on my unlucky Arm; how doſt thou, Ned?

Do quotha! If the Gentleman is wounded, I muſt ſecure you, Sir,

Secure me, Sir! Alas! Sir, I don't intend to fly; a Pox of all Wagers I ſay.

Pray lead me to my Inn, for I feel my Spirits very faint.

Lead you! Alas, I doubt you cannot walk ſo far.

What, is there not a Chair or a Coach to be got?

Sir David has a Coach at the Door, if you cou'd pre⯑vail with him to lend it you a little.

Sir, pray oblige us with your Coach, it ſhall re⯑turn immediately.

With all my heart—

Tom, Here, carry this Gentleman home—d'ye hear, and make haſte back again,

Oh! Friend, I underſtand you now; my Soul dan⯑ces with the bare Idea.

It has ſucceeded to my Wiſh—Lovely, help l [...]d him to the Coach.

If there be any Danger, Mr. Lovely, take care to ſecure the Murderer.

Oh! They are intimate Friends, Sir David, he won't flinch, I know.

Well, well, look you to that—

Manage! Come you along with us, I have ſome In⯑ſtructions for you.

SCENE Changes to the out ſide of Truſty's Houſe.

He'll certainly get admittance to his Miſtreſs by this Stratagem; but if the Knight ſhou'd find him there, how will he come off?

Nay, let him look to that—but Manage ſhall take Clinch's great Coat, 'tis like a Livery—Sweet Sir, can you condeſcend to wear a Livery an hour or two?

To ſerve my Maſter's Amour I will, Sir—elſe I ſcorn a Livery—. I muſt have that black Wig too.

Well, well! Here, Clinch, change, change with him.

So, Sir! Now I am your Valet de Chambre.

Well, Sir, what am I to do now?

Why, go watch about Sir David's Door, and as you ſee occaſion, employ your Wits.

Very well, Sir, let me alone for that; your humble Servant, Gentlemen.

Oh! Are you come Captain; I have told my Miſtreſs every particular—pleaſe to walk in, Sir, I'll inform my Maſter you are here.

The SCENE draws, and diſcovers them in a Room.

'Tis an admirable Project, Captain, if you are not diſ⯑cover'd; but your Father will certainly know it in a little time.

If poſſible, I'll marry the Woman to Night.

I fear Sir Jeffrey will reſent the Trick.

I hope to convince him the Trick was upon Truſty; for he may recover the Money of him, if he pleaſes, and with me it may paſs for his Daughter's Portion; but rather than fail, I'll give the Steward my Bond, when 'tis diſcover'd, to refund the Money, when I become Maſter of my Father's Eſtate; for without Belinda, nothing can make me Happy.

Ah, Sir, you'll ſcarce find a Man in the Army of your Mind—Prefer a Woman to Money! Why Sir, Mo⯑ney is the very Hinge the whole World turns upon——A Soldier, and not love Money!—Money has power to alter all Conſtitutions, and in ſpight of Cuſtom, ſtamp what Form it pleaſes—'Twill make an honeſt Man a Knave; nay, 'twill make a Knave an honeſt Man—'Twill make a Coward Va⯑liant—an Old Woman Young——a Young Woman a Saint ——a Lawyer Juſt—a Stateſman Loyal——and a Cour⯑tier keep his Word.

Ha, ha, Clinch is a Wit.

Faith, I always thought ſo by my Poverty.

Well hinted Clinch——I'm in thy Debt——

Oh Sir, I'm yours in all reſpects—Oh! this dear Colour!

Ha, ha. ha.

Ha, ha, ha.

Ad's heart, Sir, ſet your weeping Face in Order— Here comes the Steward—

Captain Conſtant, your Servant! you are welcome into the Country. What, you are in want of Men; I warrant you are going to raiſe Recruits.

Not at this time, Sir; 'tis a more unwelcome Acci⯑dent that brought me down.

Good lack! the News is really true then, Sir Jeffry is Dead.

Ay, poor Gentleman, he's laid low—

I confeſs I heard ſo, but I hop'd it might be Report only; I did deſign to have ſet out for London as ſoon as I had D [...]n'd—My Heart akes—Bleſs me! What have I paid him without any Receipt—I lov'd Sir Jeffry like a Brother; truly I am very much troubled—

Grief is very catching, I find; it makes me weep too —Be comforted, Sir

Fathers muſt go as well as Sons—Why do you afflict your ſelf at this [...]ate, Sir? Since Death is Death, who can help it?

Pray be comforted, Sir John—

Pray of what Diſtemper did he die?

Ah! duce on't! What was that hard Word? Now can't I think on't, as I hope to be Great—

Of an Apoplexy—A Pox of the Doctors, for giving Death ſo many ſtrange Names.

Right, Sir—He died of Apoplexy, Sir.

Of an Apoplexy! Why then I doubt he died ſud⯑dainly.

In a Moment's time, Sir, he was alive and dead—

Ay, without ever ſpeaking one Word, Sir —

Oh, oh, oh. Did he ſettle his Affairs in his Health? Did he make any Will?—

Not any, Sir.

No, Sir: He has left all at ſixes and ſevens.

Oh, oh, oh—

Ha! Help, Clinch, I hope he is not Dead.

No, no; he breaths, thank Heaven; pray you look up, Sir.

Why are you thus concern'd?

You really increaſe Sir John's Grief, Sir.

Oh what have I loſt!

I know you have loſt a Friend in my Father; but you ſhall find him again in me.

Oh but he has left all things at fixe [...] and ſe [...]s, Clinch ſays—Did he ſay nothing to you about me before he dy'd?

Not a Syllable—But I ſuppoſe your Concern proceeds from having paid him M [...]ney without any thin [...] ſhow for it under his hand.

Ay, Sir, there's my Misfortune— Oh, oh.

'Tis the Money, not the Man—Let not that trouble you, Sir, my young Maſter has been inform'd to a Farthing what it was —Tell him, tell him, Sir, your Father appear'd, and let me alone to clinch it.

Inform'd!

Yes Mr. Truſty; my Father cou'd not reſt till [...] had diſclos'd your Affair.

Ah good honeſt Soul; ſeeing he was ſnatch'd away ſo ſuddainly he has ſeveral times appear'd.

How! appear'd, ſay you?

Aſk my Maſter elſe.

Moſt certain, Sir—

He haunted us ſix Days like the Devil; ſometimes like a ſhag Dog—Sometimes like a white Pidgeon —At laſt he took his own Shape. Clinch, ſaid he, don't you know me? Then addreſſing himſelf to my Maſter; don't be afra [...], ſaid he, I come to tell you, that at ſeveral times I have [...] ⯑ceiv'd from Mr. Trusty.—

Ah dear Ghoſt, dear Ghoſt; how much did he ſay [...]

Eight hundred Pound.

Right to a Penny, look ye there now, ſee what it is to deal with honeſt Men; one loſes nothing by them, tho' [...] their Graves.

Oh, the Dead, Sir, are always Generous; they value Money no more than that—

Poor Gentleman, that he ſhou'd take a Journey ſic [...] the other World upon my account.

Ah, Sir, the Dead ride poſt upon the Winds— He charg'd me to tell you, for your Satisfaction, he wou [...]d come and give you an Acquittance himſelf.

By no means, I am content, let the Dead viſit wh [...] they will for me.

Oh fear not, Sir, he'll not trouble you; but to out Buſineſs, Sir, what you have paid I will diſcount.

And the reſt of the Money is at your Service, and my Daughter too, Sir John, if you have not loſt the Remem⯑brance of her.

To ſhow you that I have not, Mr. Truſty, I aſſure you ſhe will be the welcomeſt Preſent of the two.

Thy Buſineſs is done, Conſtant.

Say you ſo, Sir John! Well, I'll fetch the Writings, and diſpatch ſome Affairs, and then I'll carry you to my Daugh⯑ter—But upon ſecond Thoughts, pleaſe to walk into my Study, 'tis more convenient.

With all my Heart, I'll follow you—

Matters go as you cou'd wiſh; you'll be Married to Night, Captain.

I wiſh 'twere over; Egad I'd rather fight half a dozen Men, than deſcend to this Raſcally way of Lying, were there any help for i [...], it is beneath a Soldier—

SCENE, Truſty in his Study, with Conſtant, Lovely and Clinch. Papers and Money upon the Table.

THere, Sir John, there are in theſe Bags Two and twenty hundred Pound, which, with the Eight hundred I remitted Sir Jeffry, is juſt Three thouſand Pound; if you pleaſe you may count it, 'tis moſt in Gold.

No, I'll take your Word f [...]r [...]t [...] here, [...] to Drive the Carrier, he is juſt now going to [...]; Ord [...] him where to pay it in, d'ye heat?

Yes, Sir——

He is loaden with it, ha, ha, ha.——

Poor Sir Jeffry, reſt his Soul, did promiſe to ha [...]e me Twenty Pound a Year; for I have paid him Two hundred Pounds a Year theſe ſixteen Years, for that Land which is not worth an Hundred and fourſcore.

Say you ſo, Mr. Truſty? Then you muſt perform your Father's Promiſe, Sir John.

Ay, when he has paid me as much as he has my F [...] ⯑ther.

Come, ſhall I ſettle Matters between you? Advance Sir John a Hundred Pounds; you know he has been kept ſhort, and doubtleſs [...]s [...]caſion for ready Money, and he ſhall 'bate you Twenty Pound a Year.

Oh, that's all one, Mr. L [...]ly——I can't do that.

Nay, ſince Mr. Lovely has propos'd it, if you won't do that—

Well, but Sir John, perhaps you'll expect a large For⯑tune with my Daughter; I can't tell how to——

I aſk you for none, Sir.

Why then there's the Hundred Pound; but you muſt ſignifie at the bottom of this Leaſe our Bargain.

Give it me, I'll do't—

Morrow Landlord, I ha' brought you a little Rent, and in froth 'tis but a little neither; for we ha' had but ſorr [...] Crop of Barley, and the Crows, a murrain take 'em, ha' eat up all my Beans, I think.

But you have a new Landlord, Roger. Old Sir Jeffry is dead, and there's his Son.

Say you ſo, Maſter! Bleſs you, Sir, I did not know your Father, not I, tho' I have paid him many a fair Pound —Nor I dan't know you; but an you be my Landlord, I'm an honeſt Man; and tho' I ſay it, pay my Rent [...] well as any Body.

I don't doubt it, Friend—I am ſorry your Har⯑veſt has not prov'd ſo good as you expected.

I hope, Maſter, for Luck's ſake now, you'll 'bate me ſomething of my Rent.

I can't do that, Roger—For the Taxes take away all my Money—

Nay, as you ſay, Maſter, theſe Taxes are ſad things, that's the Truth on't —Od they find out ſtrange ways; they had got a Trick here once to make one pay for one's Head—Mercy on us, I was afraid they wou'd make one pay for one's Tail too—My Neighbour What de call um —ſays it coſt him the Lord knows what in Buryings and Chriſtnings—Adod 'tis a ſore Thing, a Man muſt pay for Lying with his own Wife.

Ha, ha, ha, 'twas a Grievance indeed; but Taxes can't be help'd, ſo long as the Wars continue.

Wars! Why what need there be any Wars? Can't People live peaceably and quietly among themſelves—If they will ſquable, and play the Rogue, let 'em go to Law,; can't they ſet the Lawyers to work; I warrant they'll quick⯑ly make them as quiet as Lambs.

Ha, ha, ha; but we are at Wars with a Prince that cares for no Laws but his own, nay he breaks them too, when 'tis his Intereſt—

Why then Mercy upon us, I ſay—Well an how! may one wiſh you much Joy? Ha, you got a Wife, Landlord? By the Meſs you are a pretty Man—

I'm not ſo happy yet, Roger.

Say you ſo? Good lack, I'm ſorry for't—Why now here's Maſter Truſty has a good▪ ſweatly look'd▪ Gen⯑tlewoman to his Daughter—What think you of her, Landlord?—Od, and all Parties were agreed, ſhe'd make a rare Bedfellow, I'm perſuaded.

I believe Sir John is of your mind; have you any Intereſt with her, Father?

Not I, in troth, Maſter Lovely—but the Gentle⯑woman is of a ſweet temper.

Do you think you cou'd perſuade her to run away with him?

Wou'd I cou'd, Sir —for a pretty Woman i [...] the beſt Luggage in the World—for when a Man in w [...]ry, he may reſt upon it; ha, ha.

You are waggiſh, Roger.

Yes, yes, Roger will joke; there's your Acquit⯑tance, if Sir John pleaſe to ſign it—

'Tis the ſame thing if you ſign it, Mr. Truſty.

I find my Daughter

ſtands fair in your Opinion, Roger.

Look ye, Sir—I hope you ar'n't angry! I meant no harm—I ſpoke as I thought; an I had a hundred Daugh⯑ters —my Landlord, and Mr. Lovely, ſhould have them all, and they wou'd, ha, ha.

I am oblig'd to you truly.

Oh! a hundred wou'd be too many.

Prithee haſt thou never a ſingle one at preſent?

Not that I know of, in troth, Sir; but an you'll do me a ſmall kindneſs, Sir, I may chance get you one about fourteen Years hence.

That will be ſomething too long to ſtay.

But what can I ſerve thee in, Roger?

Why, Mrs. Belinda has a kind of a Maid c [...]ll'd [...]r [...]in, I have had a hankering mind after her theſe two Y [...]ars, [...] the ſliving Baggage will not come to a Reſolution yet.

You muſt apply your ſelf to my Daughter, Roger, ſhe'll be the beſt Advocate; but I doubt ſhe's to [...] for you.

Too fine! nay, nay, I'll never quarrel [...]ith [...] that; an ſhe can win Gold, as the Saying is, [...] let her wear it.

But I doubt you are not fine enough for her.

Mehap ſo, as y [...]u ſay; indeed I have you ſuch [...]ay Cloaths as theſe Gentlefolk have, becauſe I can't afford it, do ye ſee? elſe I ſhou'd like 'em well enough—In troth, I believe I have ſome Seeds of a Gentleman in me; for methinks now I like broad Cloath better than my Leathern Breeches; and a Holland Shirt, far before a Hempen one——adod me⯑thinks, I, I, I, cou'd be well enough contented with a Bottle of Wine every day—I am m [...]inly inclin'd to ſtrong Beer— and don't care a Farthing i [...] I never were to drink any ſmall.

Oh! extraordinary Symptoms of a Gentleman, I'll aſ⯑ſure you—Well, we'll ſpeak to Dolly for you.

Ay, ay, we'll all ſpeak for you; go, go into the Cellar then, and drink thy Belly full.

Be ſure to drink Dolly's Health.

Thank you kindly, Sir—Ay, ay, Maſter, that I will I promiſe you, in a full Horn—So Landlord, good by to you with all my heart

Now, Sir John, I'll ſend my Daughter to keep you Company, till I look for ſome Leaſes your Father order'd me to get drawn, which if you think fit to ſign—

If the Tenants are able Men, with all my heart.

Oh! very ſufficient Men, Sir John.

Well, thou haſt ſecur'd the Money, Conſtant; and my Advice is to diſpatch the Woman, as faſt as you can, and find ſome pretence to defer theſe Leaſes for two or three days—Sir Jeffrey is whimſical, and if he ſhou'd alter his mind, and come down—

Here wou'd be no ſtaying for me, if he ſhou'd; there⯑fore I deſign to be as quick as poſſible—but here comes the Star that guides me to Happineſs.

And my Pilot—

What Voyage are you for, pray?

The everlaſting Voyage of Matrimony, Child— and your Eyes are two ſuch dangerous Rocks, that nothing. [...]ut your Tongue can ſteer me into Harbour.

But any of my Sex can ſteer you out, you'll be for croſſing from Port to Port, to make that everlaſting Voyage agreeable.

No, faith, where I drop my Anchor, there my Veſ⯑ſe [...] is moor'd for Life—Well, Conſtant, what ſays the La⯑dy? will ſhe let thy Habeas Corpus remove her?

Out of one Priſon into another, is it not ſo, Conſtant?

Interrogating! nay then 'tis proper to be alone; there is a very pretty Collection of Prints in the next Room, Ma⯑dam, will you give me leave to explain them to you?

Any thing that may divert your Love Subject.

Can Belinda term my Arms a Priſon?

But Marriage is a Better, Conſtant.

I'll not make it one; I'm a true Britiſh Subject, I'm for Liberty and Property—

And Self-intereſt, for they are inſepara [...]l [...].

I hope our Intereſts are the ſame, and when l [...]nk' [...], will be the ſtronger. C [...]me, Madam, con [...]d [...]r our opportu⯑tunity may be ſhort, we ought to be quick, to prevent diſco⯑very; I have your Father's conſent.

Diſcovery! Why what is a [...] but reaſo⯑nable I be let into the Secret, if I'm in danger of [...]ating the Puniſhment, Sir John.

Why that Sir John, Belinda? I know you are in⯑form'd of all, then [...] ridicule my [...] my Love for you that firſt inſpir'd me with this Stratagem; then prithee come, my deareſt——

Not a ſtep, ſweet Servant—I'll know [...] terms I capitulate, e'er I ſurrender.

Terms! Madam! Has not Dolly told you of the Plot?

Yes, upon your Father and mine. Captain, but I don't think it ſafe to join in it: Suppoſe my Father be [...]bl [...]g [...] to pay back this Money; may not that be provocation enough to diſown me? and i [...] your's ſhou'd for this trick diſinherit you?—What Joynture can you make me?

My Heart, Madam.

Pſhaw! that is the ſlippery'ſt piece in all Fortune's Treaſure—we never can be certain of that— —

Then my Soul.

Where ſhall I find it? the Learned c [...]n't agree where to place it; therefore I'll have no trouble ab [...]ut th [...].

Then take my Body for Bail, that I'm ſure is forth coming.

Ay, but there's No—No exeat Regnum in Love's Court—

To cut off all Objections, I ſettle this Money upon you; and either put it out to Intereſt, or purchaſe ſome pretty Retirement; where, if Belinda loves but half ſo well, as I flatter'd my ſelf ſhe did, I can forſake all Courts and Compa⯑ny—and prefer a Grott with Her, before all the trap⯑pings of the Fools of Fortune—

Generouſly ſaid! I have try'd thee, Conſtant; and find thy Nature like thy Name; there, take my Hand— my Heart was thine before.

Until that Hour, Belinda will be true.

Joy to thee, my Friend; and you, Madam, we over⯑heard your Proteſtations—

Prithee let's fetch the Parſon this Minute—

To chooſe—Ladies, we'll return inſtantly.

Proſperity to Belinda!

Why, what wou'd you have me do?

Even what I deſign to do—Marry—for I'm ſure thou lov'ſt that hanſome young Fellow.

I find you underſtand your own Conſtitution, Be⯑linda.

So well; that if you follow my Example, you'll act as reſolutely.

Thine is a raſh Venture, if Sir Jeffrey ſhou'd not forgive him.

The more honourable; we have Love, and that's the beſt Eſtate in a married Life.

True, but what can we poor Women do, whoſe Pa⯑rents are not inclin'd to gratifie our Wiſhes;—you know mine are ſet againſt this Match—

Pugh, Parents will relent in time—If not, Mr. Love⯑ly has Fortune enough to make you happy—You love him, and he loves you; were I in your place, I'd fain ſee a third ſhou'd part us.

True, I do love him—but will not marry him, without a Portion; he ſhall never throw that in my Diſh, I reſolve.

An admirable Reſolution truly—Then you'll go on; hang your Head, croſs your Arms, ſigh your Soul into the Air—ſit up all Night like a Watch Candle, and diſtil [31] your Brains through your Eye-lids—for ſo I have done— no, no, Girl, e'en let us ſave our T [...]rs t [...]ll [...] [...]ar⯑ried.

What, you think like moſt Wives, we ſhall have oc⯑caſion for them then, ha, ha.

As it may fall out—Then let us marry whil [...]t we are young, that we may be able to bear it with the better Courage—But here's my Father over head and ears in Pa⯑pers; I tremble though, to think what he will ſay when he finds the Cheat.

And ſee who is behind him——

I have a ſudden thought how to divert my Fa⯑ther's Anger; when all's diſcover'd, I'll put it in practice—— Sir, your humble Servant.

Od, She ſpeaks, Slouch——Nay, Madam, I'm your humble Servant.

Ha! what's that—Why, Sir, I admire—hey day, where are the Gentlemen, Daughter?

Gentlemen, Sir, why here is one Gentleman; indeed I can't ſay much for Slouch—

Why don't you anſwer me, ha?

I know not, Sir, they went out ſoon after we entred.

They whiſper'd, Sir, and left the Room.

Ha! I don't like that—

Mehap they are gone to fight for Mrs. Belinda. A [...] ſhe'd marry you, Maſter now, how rarely they'd be [...]h [...] [...] ha, ha.

Od, ſo they wou'd, as you ſay, Slouch——Madam, what ſay you? Mr. Truſty, ſhall we make an end on't? I know you are a merry Man, and did but joke wo' me.

Say you ſo! I doubt you won't find it ſo, Sir.

No! why I verify believe the Gentlewoman has [...] kindneſs for me, by her Looks; how ſay you, Miſtreſs? ſpeak the Truth, and ſhame the Devil, as the ſaying is— han't you?

Well, if I muſt ſpeak the Truth, 'Squire, I have as much kindneſs for you, as for any body; my Father com⯑manded me to love.

Ay! why what ſay you to Sir John Conſtant? don't you like him better?

I did once, Sir, but I don't remember I ever had your Conſent in that.

You have it now then—'tis time enough; it is good to know what one has to truſt to.

Your Leave now, Sir, comes too late, he may have chang'd his Mind.

No, no, you ſhall be married to Night, he ſhan't have time to think of Change.

Look ye, Sir, fair and ſoftly—he ſhall not have her to Night, mehap—for all your haſte; Slouch, ſtand by me.

That I will, Maſter, in any Ground in England.

Humph! I gueſs her drift—

Then 'tis time for me to think on't, Sir.

Hey day, What's here now!

I don't like Marches huddled up in haſte; and I learnt from your Inſtructions, Sir, to conſult my future Hap⯑pineſs in a Marry'd State.

Good again, I'faith, ha, ha.

Your future Hapineſs why what can croſs your future Happineſs, Miſtreſs?

What, will they quarrel about me now, Slouch, ha?

The Woman has a woundy mind to you, I ſee that, Maſter.

Sir John [...] Carriage is more looſe and familiar than for⯑merly—from which I draw this Concluſion, Sir; that he thinks his Quality may now command, and when a Lover loſes reſpect, his Sincerity quickly follows. I like not the me⯑thod of our Quality—The Name of Husband without the Fond⯑dneſs, is like a Title without an Eſtate, of no value with the Wiſe.

I am of her Opinion, Sir.

And I too, faith—Od, ſhe talks rarely; I ſhall have her, I find—In my Conſcience I love her ten times the better, becauſe I ſee ſhe loves me—and let me tell you, Sir, your Daughter is honester than you are—Why ſhou'd you pretend to croſs her Will? You plainly see, ſhe has a mind to no body but me—Mun—

I plainly ſee you are a Fool, and ſhe's another—

Look ye, ſay what you will o' me, but don't affront her; for all you [...]re her Father, I won't let my Wife be call [...]d Names, de ye ſee.

Zounds, get out of my Doors.

Ay, but who is the Fool then?

Pray be calm; ſince you once lik'd the 'Squire for a Son-in-law, I hope I ſhan't diſoblige you in preferring him before Sir John for a Huſband.

Diſoblige him! Who cares if it d [...]s, M [...]dam, [...] along—

Ha, ha. If thy Father ſhou'd take thee at thy Word, Belinda?

My Stars forbid—

Did you ever ſee ſuch a provoking Creature?

Oh, Sir John, 'Tis well you are come—Where have you been? You are in danger of loſing your Miſtreſs here.

I hope, Sir, I have taken the beſt way to ſecure her.

If the Parſon can do it, for we have got him in the next Room.

Humour what I ſay—

Now Miſtreſs, You had beſt bring your Objections again, and ſpoil your Fortune.

If you dare maintain your Ch [...]m to me. I am yours— I ſay again, Sir. I like the 'Squire beſt.

Dare! od I, I, I, I, dare a, a.

What dare you do, Sir?

What a Plague do you ſtare at ſo?

What was that you mutter'd! what dare you do?

I dare do as much as you dare do—What a Po [...]. I'm not to be frighted wi' Looks, mun.

Od, take heed Maſter, he has a woundy long Sword.

A Sword! I care not a—for his Sword, nor him neither.

Ha, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha, Sir John, this Gentleman is a Perſon whom I eſteem.

Ay, Sir, and one that She intends to marry too.

Marry! when, Sir?

When ſhe pleaſes, Sir; now, an you'll lend us your Parſon?

Ay, 'tis fit you aſk him leave indeed!

I'll lend you my Sword in your Guts firſt.

Your Sword in my Guts—Slouch, give me your Cudgel.

Ads blead, clear the way, clear the way; I'll turn the 'Squire looſe to any Man in Zomerſetſhire.

Come, out with your Spit, mun—Wounds, an I don't make ye put it up again, I'll ne'er ſtrike ſtroke more.

The Devil, he'll knock me down.

Oh don't draw, Sir John—lay down your Stick, Sir, and get you about your buſineſs, or you'll oblige me to uſe you worſe than I am willing to do.

Excellent Sport, ha, ha.

Incomparable, ha, ha.

Who cou'd have thought the Lout ſo couragious— —Oh pray let us have no fighting.

You have had your Anſwer, Sir, therefore pray be gone quietly.

You 'fright me out of my Wits, 'Squire; pray go out of my Father's Houſe peaceably; if you love me, do, we'll find ſome other way.

Love ye, yes, I do love you; or what makes me in ſuch a Paſſion, think you? Well, well, I will go out— Look ye, Sir, an you be a Man, follow me; I'll box fairly with you now, for half a Crown, and this Gentleman ſhall hold Stakes, and ſee fair play—If you dare now?

Fie, fie, 'Squire, Gentlemen don't uſe to Box.

Box, ye Blockhead, ha, ha, ha.

Blockhead!—Zounds, I'll learn you to call Names.

Come on, Sirrah, I'll fight with you at the ſame time—

I'll ſtand by Maſter, for the honour of Zomerſetſhire.

Death, you ſhamble ham'd Dog! I'll beat your Head off—

Ay! are you there? faith, come on—come on.

Hold, hold, two to one is odds.

Let me alone, Sir, egad I'll fight'em both.

Ha, ha, ha, what do you do, 'Squire, fight with a Footman! pray leave off, or you'll diſoblige me for ever.

Oh Lord, oh Lord! what ſhall I do?

What care I.

What, don't you care for your Miſtreſs?

Yes, yes, but I won't be made a Fool on; but I will go—an I were ſure you wou'd not be forc'd to marry this ſame Spark—I won't leave you in the lurch, Madam.

No, no, 'Squire, they ſhall not force me, I promiſe you.

Then I go—but look to't, an I catch you out of this Houſe; by the Maſs I'll rib you.

Ha, ha, ha.

Adod, I was out of all Patience with the Fool— Come, take her by the hand, Sir John, you ſhall be married this Minute, we'll ſettle buſineſs afterward.

Indeed, Sir, you'll repent this haſty Match.

What means Belinda?

You ſhall know within.

Get along —in my Soul, I think the whole Com⯑poſition of Women is Contradiction.

SCENE Sir David's Houſe.

There, honeſt Coachman, drink my Health; but pray can't I ſpeak with the Gentlewoman of the Houſe?

Sir David has no Wife, Sir; but here is a young Lady, I'll call her Maid; Mrs. Lucy, Mrs. Lucy, here is a Gentleman wou'd ſpeak with your Miſtreſs—

A Gentleman! bleſs me, how came you to let a Man in, Thomas, in Sir David's abſence?

Sir David bad me himſelf, or you may be ſure I had not done it— I thank you, Sir.

What do I ſee? Mr. Faithful!

The ſame! How fares my Love, my deareſt Laura? Quick, bring me to her, I am impatient till I ſee her.

Nay, nay, ſhe wou'd be as impatient as you, if ſhe [36] knew you were here —But by what Miracle did you pre⯑vail with Sir David?

Prithee ask no Queſtions—I'll inform thy Lady; haſte, my time's but ſhort, therefore muſt improve it.

Well, follow me then.

The SCENE draws, and diſcovers Mrs. Laura at her Spinet.

What did that Blockhead bawl ſo for, Lucy?

To have an Acquaintance of yours admitted, Madam.

An Acquaintance of mine!——ha! my dear Faithful! am I awake? and is it really he?

My deareſt Love—

Oh let me hold thee here for ever, for ever taſte the Nectar on theſe Lips——There is ſtill the ſame Fragrancy, as when we parted laſt.

Oh! it was a fatal parting—ſay my Love, how cam'ſt thou here? for the old Monſter allows no Mortal to viſit me.

By Stratagem, my Dear; he ſent me hither in his Coach, yet knows not I am come; thou ſhal't have the Story at more convenient leiſure; but now let us employ our time to advantage.

Heavens! how I tremble! he'll ſoon be back, for he's never out above half an Hour—Lucy, watch below.

What can this ſhort interview avail us? which way ſhall I get out of his power? The nauſeous Goat told Lucy he de⯑ſign'd to marry me himſelf—and caſts ſuch loving Looks every time he ſees me, that I am half diſtracted, leſt he ſhou'd give his horrid Paſſion vent.

Ha! Confound his Paſſion with himſelf—— conſent to fly with me to a Friend's Houſe in Town, where we'll be married, and put it out of his Power to confine thee.

With all my heart—My Priſon is ſo odious to me, I need but ſmall intreaties to make me quit it —this is the Cloſet he keeps my Writings in; if we cou'd contrive to get them along with us, or he'll give us trouble enough to get 'em out of his hands, here—don't you think one might wrinch it open?

So he may proſecute us for a Robbery.

Let him, I'll meddle with [...]

Oh, Madam! there's S [...]r David [...] [...]ent Paſſion, beating all the Servants in before him.

Undone! What ſhall I [...]s;ay [...] what will become of thee?

Sink the Villain—h [...]e [...] Deare [...] ▪ take no thought for me; ſeem not to know me; pretend ſur⯑prize, and beg me to be gone; leave the reſt to me.

Ye Dogs, what have ye done, ha?

What do you beat me for? Did you not bid me car⯑ry him home?

Zounds, not to my home▪ ye Raſcal.

What do you mean, Madam, by ſaying you don't know me; 'ſdeath, did not I lodge here laſt Night?

How's this? how's this?

No indeed, Sir, I never ſaw you before; neither do we let Lodgings, then pray be anſwer'd.

A very pretty trick, ſaith▪ What, have you a m [...] to cheat me of [...] Ho [...]s, and my P [...]rtman [...]a [...]—Look ye, Madam, this won't paſs upon me.

No, nor upon me, neither, Sir.

Sir, your humble Servant; I think I have had the Honour to ſee you ſomewhere. I am in diſpute with this Gentlewom [...]n here; ſhe'd fain perſwade me I have muſt [...] my Inn, — —and that I did not lie here laſt Night.

Lye here! Why, do you take this Lady for an Hoſteſs, [...]

Nay, Sir, ſhe is very handſome—but why the Devil muſt [...]eauty make her deny her Calling—Ad, you Country Gentlemen, do ſo kiſs and flatter your Landladies, that egad, they don [...] know where their Tails hang—but we make them know th [...]mſelves in London—Once more, will you call your Servants.

Oh the Devil! ye Dogs, I'll be reveng'd on you.

The Fault's not mine, Sir; Tomas bad me let him in.

What no Attendance yet? So, he, T [...]pſter, Cham⯑berlain — —Pray Sir ſit down— I w [...]rr [...]nt I [...]ll [...]ke [...] [38] Body hear—Heark ye, you Miſtreſs—You are not above your Buſineſs too, are you?

Oh, oh, oh, I ſhall go diſtracted.

Pray Sir know your way out, don't think I'm one of your Wenches.

Good lack, ha, ha, what are you a fine Lady too? the Devil! Sure this is a Bawdy-houſe—

I dare ſwear you'd make it one if you cou'd—

Sir, I take this for an extraordinary Inn—Pray do me the favour to ſit—I'll beat the Chamber down, but I'll make ſome Body come up. So, ho, the Houſe here—

A plague ſplit you, what do you make all this Noiſe for? oh, oh.

Pray, Sir David, humour the Gentleman, for I fan⯑cy he is a little beſide himſelf.

Humour the Devil! Hell and Furies! This muſt be ſome Rogue—Here, where are you Raſcals?

Ay Scoundrels, where are you? Ye Dogs, what is the reaſon we can have no Attendance?

Fetch us a Bottle of Claret, Sirrah, and bring us word what we can have to Eat—

Bring a Bottle of Claret! bring a Halter— What do you ſtrike my Servants for? ha, Sir.

Your Servants, Sir! They are my Servants, as long as I pay for what I call for—Ho! I find you are the Landlord of this well-govern'd Inn—Make your People more tractable, de you hear, Sir? Or I ſhall not only beat them, but you too——Death ye Villains, why don't you ſtir?

What will be the end of this? All my Comfort lies in his Aſſurance—

Zounds, let him ſtir if he dares—Get out of my Houſe, Sirrah, or I'll lay you by the Heels; don't put your Shams upon us—Don't Bully here; I thought you was wounded when I lent you my Coach—But I find you are a Rogue, and either deſign'd to Rob my Houſe, or [39] Raviſh this Lady—Fetch me a Conſtable [...] the De⯑vil! I'll Box with you, if you're for Boxing——Get into that Room Laura, I'll deal with him I warrant ye.

Oh unfortunate! How ſhall I ever ſee him agen?

I'll be here about an Hour hence before this Door.

Ay! But to what purpoſe?

I thought you was wounded when I lent you my Coach.

Wounded, Sir! why ſo I am, and my Wounds bleed afreſh with Vexation— —Was it your Coach! I and I was miſtaken then, you are not my Landlord; I ask your par⯑don, Sir.

Rot your Pardon—How now, who the De⯑vil are you, Sir?

I am this Gentleman's Servant—Bleſs me, Sir, what do you do here? Why Sir John and Mr. Lovely has been ſearching all the Town for you; they brought a Sur⯑geon to the Talbot, and not finding you there, nor no where elſe, ſent me to aſk this Gentleman's Coachman where he drove you to, and ſwear if you be not found preſently, they'll Indict the Coachman for your Murther.

I wou'd you were all Hang'd for Company; why what a Plaguy Miſtake was here?—

Ha! a lucky Hint —Bleſs me, Sir, I am under the greateſt Confuſion imaginable, can you forgive me, Sir? Upon my Honour, I thought I had been in my Inn; I aſk a thouſand Pardons, pray excuſe me to the Lady.

Oh Sir, never trouble your Head about the Lady.

Why Sir? I'm a Gentleman.

A Gentleman Sir! And what then Sir?

And am Maſter of an Eſtate to ſupport that Cha⯑racter Sir.

Zounds, was ever Man ſo plagu'd, to have his Servants kick'd about like Foot-balls, his Houſe thunder'd a⯑bout his Ears like a common Inn, then to be told impudently, I'm a Gentleman, and have an Eſtate to ſupport that Cha⯑racter?

I ask your pardon agen Sir, for the unlucky Accident, in miſtaking your Houſe, but cannot apprehend what Crime I have committed in my Apology.

Sir, without any manner of Apology, I wou'd be very proud to wait on you down Stairs.

By no means, Sir—I muſt not permit that.

Death and the Devil, be gon without it, then.

That I will Sir; but intreat the favour of ſeeing the Lady firſt; upon Honour I was never ſo concern'd in my Life: I wou'd not for Five hundred Pound quit the Houſe, till I have convinc'd her of my Error, and made my Acknow⯑ledgment upon my Knees.

Zounds, here's the Devil to do about her— Which way ſhall I get rid of him?

Pray Mrs. inform the Lady of my Reſolution.

Hark yee Huſwife, ſtir out of this place, and I'll break your Neck down Stairs.

Why then I muſt be guilty of a ſecond Rudeneſs to acquit my ſelf of the firſt, I think that's the Room the Lady went into, Sir.

Hold, hold, hold, Sir; where the Devil are you going—Zounds, advance one Step farther, and I'll indict you for a Robbery.

Well, ſince you are ſo poſitive, Sir, I will be gon; but pray Sir, is that Lady your Grand-daughter, Daughter, Neice, Couſin, or, or—

'Tis my Wife, my Wife, my Wife, my Wife Sir, do you hear that and tremble.

Ods my Life, Sir, I beg your pardon with all my Heart and Soul—Your moſt Obedient, humble Servant.

The Devil go with you.

My Maſter has not a Souſe of Money, elſe you wou'd not want your Fee. We were Robb'd coming down.

Zounds Sir, What do you loyter here for? Why don't you get after your Maſter. Go, troop.

What do you ſauntring here, get in to your Mi⯑ſtreſs! What do's your Chops water at the ſight of a Man, ha?

I'm ſure you are the worſt Sight I [...] h [...] ſeen [...] ſent.

I don't underſtand this Miſtake tho'—He is a ſtrapping young Dog; I wiſh Laura had not ſeen him—— But I'll go ſee if he is gone, leſt there ſhou'd be more Reg [...]y at the [...]t⯑tom.

SCENE, The Out-ſide [...]f Sir David's Houſe, Sir David in the Garden before his Door.

I remember▪ Saving of a certain Phil [...]ſ [...]her. [...] thing is harder to keep than a Secret; but I think 'tis [...] harder to keep a handſome Woman—I am ſtrangely affected w [...]th this laſt Accident; and then the t'other Rogue that was here in the Morning, that ſerves an Officer—A pox on theſe Office [...] [...] for they have more Stratagems in their Heads, than all the King⯑dom beſides. But I have order'd the Smith to Barrica [...]e my Win⯑dows, from the Cellar to the [...], he'l [...] [...] but Laura muſt not ſee him [...] Girl, [...] [...] ⯑ted at my Dog of a Co [...]hman's Miſtake; I have invited h [...] into the Garden, here the [...] M [...]i [...]nes.

What favour [...]d [...] Davil, [...], h [...]s procur'd us this Liber⯑ty? It happens as I wou [...]d have it, if Faithful he but here now▪

I'm am [...]n [...]d —For 'tis the faſt freſh open Air you have breath'd theſe twelve Months, Madam. But ſuppoſe Mr. Faithful ſhou'd be here! Yonder's the old Argus, he reſolves to watch you I ſee.

Nay then!

Well Madam, How do you after your Fright? I ſent for you into the Garden, to take the Air—The Air is g [...]d after a Fright —

Ay, if one cou'd change the Place too, Sir David, but the Air of my Chamber and this is much the ſame—But let [...] where I will, if you are there, I find no Difference in the Air— I know not what ails me, but when I ſee you▪ I [...] draw Breath.

Ha! ſhe loves me▪ Oh happy [...]— —Ir [...], Madam! And are thoſe Sighs pleaſant or painful, pray?

Oh very painful, Sir—

Then you muſt have a Huſband to care thoſe Sighs. Child.

She's here! Oh the charming Maid—but that old Monſter is with her.

What think you of a married Life, L [...]ra ▪

Of nothing better—I might diſſemble like many of my Sex; exclaim againſt Marriage and Mankind; profeſs to dye in a Cloyſter, or a Maid at large—Maſk my real Inclinations, fain Indifference to Love, and place all my Happineſs in my own Sex—But I have a Heart too ſincere; and therefore frankly own, that the utmoſt of my Ambition is to be a Wife.

To me ſhe means—Oh how ſhall I deliver her!

Well ſaid, Madam; why ſhou'd a Lady loſe the prime of her youth, when ſhe may do ſo much good in her Generation; I reſolve to follow your Example to a hair.

Good Wits jump—I reſolve to marry too; I have every day freſh Offers, very advantagious Offers, but my Heart is prepoſſeſs'd, dear Laura, for I will own it now, I love you excee⯑dingly.

So, now 'tis out.

More, if poſſible, than you love me.

That's very poſſible, truly.

Love her! Oh the rank old Goat; Death! that Confeſſion has made me looſe all Patience.

Hold, hold, Sir, pray be content a little.

Come, don't bluſh, Laura; thy Sighs betray'd thy Love, but I'm diſcreet.

Now do I long to tell him he lies in his Throat.

'Egad, Sir, you had better loſe your longing at this time.

What do you ſay, Sir—that I love you! your Opinion is ſmall proof of your Diſcretion.

Why ſo, Child?

Becauſe you never was more miſtaken in your Life; for inſtead of loving you, I hate you mortally.

Oh bleſſed Sound!

Really! but why ſo, prithee?

Nay, you love without Reaſon; and perhaps I hate by the ſame Rule.

Well, Sir, if her declaration be not ſo kind as you wou'd have it, it▪ is not the leſs ſincere.

Is it not, Gilflirt, after what I have done for her?

Yes, you have done for me, I thank you, Sir.

Nay, pray be not angry, but ſtate the Caſe right.

If Love has render'd me charming in your Eyes, conſider how he has drawn you in mine.

She's amiable, you ugly——She's gay, you moroſe— She's Generous—you a Miſer—She's ſixteen—You ſixty—She has the fineſt Teeth in the World——You but one in your Head, and that ſhakes, and the firſt Fit of Coughing, good by to it.

A Deviliſh Wench——She has drawn him to a Hair.

Mark Lucy's Deſcription, and then tell me if theſe be not irreſiſtible Charms, for one of my Age and Conſtitution.

What Woman do you think, Sir, on this ſide fourſcore, wou'd have ſuch a Bedfellow?

She ſhall, Miſtreſs, or ſhe ſhall have no body, mark that; and your Witticiſms, Mrs. Frippery, ſhall get you nothing— How now! who do you want?

My dear Faithful! I know him in all Diſguiſes; how ſhall I forbear running into his Arms?

Have a care, Madam, if you diſcover you know him, you'll never ſee him more; Manage has ſome Plot in his Head, by his winking.

What is it you look at, Sir! why don't you ſpeak?

Be calm, Sir, and take no notice of the Lady.

I was ſo charm'd with the fineneſs of the Proſpect in that Moment you ſpoke, Sir, I was not maſter of my Tongue.

And now you are Maſter of it, Sir, what have you to ſay?

Nothing, Sir; only having the misfortune to break my Chariot—I took a walk this way, till it is put in order again; and coming by this Houſe, my Man told me that you entertain'd ſome hard thoughts of him, from ſome diſcourſe that paſs'd between you to day—So I preſum'd to call, to clear his Reputation.

This is the Officer! A Rogue in red now; and the Simple-hunter with him—I don't like 'em—As for that, Sir, you need not give your ſelf any farther trouble, for I have nothing to do with his Reputation, nor yours neither.

I hope 'tis no offence to look about me a little; this Houſe is finely ſituated—'Tis the beſt Air I have breath'd this Twelve⯑month.

Pox o' your Compliment—That's your Miſtake, Sir; 'tis the worſt Air in the Univerſe—Let me adviſe you to get out of it as faſt as you can; for 'tis very fatal to Strangers.

He tells you truth, Sir; for ever ſince I breath'd this Air, I have neither eat, drank, or ſlept with Eaſe.

I am ſorry for that, Madam; but I find a quite contrary [46] effect; methinks I feel new Life, and I have a ſtrong hope to carry off the Health I wiſh.

I wiſh, Sir, your Legs wou'd be pleas'd to carry off your Body.

Sir, I will not be troubleſome—but I deſire you wou'd give me leave to take a view of your Gardens; I have bought me a ſmall Seat in a Country Village, and I deſign to have a pretty Garden made.

Ah! wou'd you were buried in the Garden—go, get in, Gentlewoman, go—he has no buſineſs with you, you don't belong to the Garden.

Find ſome way to bring your Lady down a⯑gain; do you hear? and let her pretend—

Yes, yes, I hear; but how to put it in practice, I know not.

I am diſtracted! Oh Invention! where art thou? help me Brains, or ceaſe to think.

What do you loiter for, ha? get in—

Sir David, you uſe us like Slaves; ſend us in and out at pleaſure—Is my Lady a Perſon to be treated ſo by her Guar⯑dian? Theſe twelve Months we have not ſeen the ſhadow of any Hat but yours—I'm ſure nothing that's Male has reach'd our Eyes.

Why how now, Mrs. Prate-apace; if you don't like your living, troop off. Go—There are more Servants to be had.

I ſhall certainly diſcover my ſelf, if he goes on at this Rate—Sir, I had rather quit this place immediately, than you ſhou'd incommode the Ladies.

Pray Sir David, mind your own Servants, you ſhall never have any power over mine. Sir, let me adviſe you to tarry till to morrow; 'tis dangerous travelling too late; let me intreat you ſtay in this Town till to morrow—What ſaid Manage to you Lucy?

Ay, pray take my Lady's advice, Sir. You ſhall know within; take Courage, Madam.

Zounds, get in, I believe you want to lie with him all Night, you are ſo concern'd for his ſtay.

I hope ſome brave Man will attempt the reſcue of my Miſtreſs.

My Heart ſwells at theſe Indignities, and I cou'd ſhake his deteſted rotten Soul, out of its wither'd ſapleſs Carcaſs.

Be eaſie, Sir, Paſſion will do us no good—I have ſomething in my Head may hit, perhaps.

I am ſorry, Sir, I ſhou'd be the cauſe of your being angry with your Daughter.

My Daughter!

I aſk your Pardon, Sir, may be 'tis your Wife.

She ſhall be e'er long, Sir.

And the next moment fetches you to Goal. Indeed, Sir, you had better keep your temper:—You have made a very excel⯑lent Choice, Sir, wou'd all Huſt [...] m [...]nage their Wi [...]es ſo, [...] ſhou'd not have ſo many C [...]quers bread.

I don't deſign my Wife ſhall follow the way of the World.

Second him, Sir, keep him in talk a l [...]ttle—

You do well, Sir, 'tis below a Man to let his Wife rule, and rattle where ſhe pleaſes; to viſit, and be viſited by half the Fops; in the Nation; for my part, had I a Wife, I ſhou'd follow your Method.

'Egad, I believe I was miſtaken in this Gentleman. I wiſh, Sir, I had this Lecture read to ſome that blame me for my Conduct.

If you pleaſe, Sir, I'll go into your Houſe, and write it down this moment; it ſhan't coſt you a Farthing, Sir.

I'll not give you the trouble, Sir, I ſhall remember [...].

Oh! undone, undone; help, help; oh Sir David! what have you brought upon us?

What the Devil do you bawl ſo for?

Oh! the ſaddeſt Accident has befallen my poor Lady!—

Ha! her Lady, ſaid She?

Peace, Sir, and mind the Plot—

What accident, ha? You roar as ſhe had broke a Leg, or an Arm.

Worſe, Sir, worſe, much worſe; She's mad, Sir—

Mad!

Ay, Diſtracted, Sir—When you thruſt us in, ſhe found the Smith barricading her Windows; aſſoon as ever ſhe l [...]id her Eyes upon the Ir [...]n [...]ars; her looks grow wild, her [...] [48] Starts and broken Speeches, convince me of her Brain being turn'd —When before I was aware—She catch'd up an Iron Bar, and broke the Blackſmith's Pate; She beat her head againſt the Wall—runs, skips, ſings, dances, ſtamps, raves, and throws all the things about the Room—I wou'd have ſhut her in, but ſhe ſet up ſuch a Roar, that I left the Door open, and fled for my Life.—Make the beſt of your Plot, Manage—

Ay, ay, let me alone.

Mercy on us! what ſhall I do?

Here ſhe comes, oh my poor Lady!—with your great Baſe Viol in her hand; oh, oh, oh!

Oh the Devil! if ſhe breaks my Baſe, I had rather loſe five Pounds: Oh, oh, oh!

Have Patience, Sir, I may be ſerviceable to you in this Affair, as little Opinion as you had of my ſkill to day.

What deſign you by this, Manage?

To put you in poſſeſſion of your Miſtreſs, before I have done, Sir, if you'll be quiet.

What, are you a Blackſmith?

Oh pox o' the Blackſmith, how ſhe harps upon him!—

Ho! now I know you, you are a Singing-maſter.

A Singing-maſter! good lack, good lack—

Here is a piece of Muſick, which I have juſt now receiv'd from London; 'tis part of the laſt new Opera—there, there, there's a Part for you.

Ha! are not you the new Eunuch? Ay, 'tis he! here, here, here's your part.

A Letter, Oh! for an opportunity to read it.

Poor Laura, I can't ſing, Child—Zounds, Death and the Devil, ſhe has kill'd my Toe.

What, won't you ſing, I'll break the Fiddle then.

Pray, Sir David, humour her.

Let me adviſe you comply with her, Sir; ſhe's poſſeſs'd, and with a very miſchievous Daemon.

Come, begin. Give me Liberty and Love.

Give me Liberty and Love.

Give me Liberty and Love.

Give me Liberty and Love.

Yes, I will deliver thee, or dye for it. Manage, read that.

Recommend me for a white Witch to Sir David; let me alone for the reſt.

Poor Lady! I am extremely concern'd for her, Sir; pray conſult my Servant about her Diſtemper; in my Opinion ſhe's bewitch'd.

I doubt ſo too, Sir; has he really ſkill in theſe matters?

No Man in the Kingdom more, I aſſure you, he has cur'd ſeveral to my Knowledge, both in Spain and Flanders.

Why do you look at me ſo? Did you never ſee an old Woman before? I'd have you to know, Miſtreſs, I have been as handſome as you—but Age alters every body—I have been the Mother of ſixteen Children—all Boys——Heark ye, let me council you—don't marry an old Fellow.

No, why ſo pray?

Becauſe your Youth will renew his Age—and you'll be plagu'd with him to eternity—I married an old fuſty Guardian, becauſe I cou'd not get out of his hands; which is the reaſon why you ſee ſo many Wrinkles in my Face, ha, ha, ha. In my conſcience there he ſtands—What, can I go no where, but you muſt follow me—ye old cripling Cuckold you—Look ye how angry he is now at being call'd Cuckold——Yet he wou'd marry a young Wife— —ha, ha, ha.

Mercy upon us! how does ſuch things come in her head?

The Wildneſs of her Fancy—

I'll do your buſineſs for you, Sir; I have conſulted the Stars, and find ſhe is bewitch'd by an old Woman.

By an old Woman! Ay indeed ſhe talks of an old Woman.

It is a very troubleſome Spirit that is in her, and muſt be charm'd out into another, or ſhe can't be cur'd —Tell me, Sir, can you procure any body for that purpoſe?

Here's her Maid, won't ſhe do?

What! Do you think I'd have the Devil put into me, Sir, I aſk you pardon for that.

Heark! There's my Drum beating up for Volunteers— What ſay you my Lads, are you for the Wars? Her Majeſty has honour'd me with a Collonel's Commiſſion; I'm juſt now raiſing my Regiment—you ſhall all ſerve under me. Come—hold, now I think on't, I want a hundred Guineas to raiſe Men with—Heark ye, won't you lend me a hundred Guineas?

Lack a day, it makes me weep, to ſee how many ſorts of Madneſſes poſſeſs her.

A good thought for ſome Money—Humour her, Sir, whatever ſhe aſks for, let her have.

Lend me a hundred Guineas, I ſay, or my Soldiers ſhall batter your Houſe about your Ears.

For Heavens ſake, Sir, give 'em her, you'll have them again ſafe.

I wou'd adviſe you to let her have 'em, Sir.

Well, be ſure you take care of them; there, there is threeſcore in that Purſe, you may tell her there is a hundred; but take care I have them again.

Ay, when we have nothing elſe to do with 'em.

Give it me—ſo, now my Boys will you ſerve the Queen?

Ay, with all my heart, under you, Sir.

There then, there's Gold for you, Sirrah;

and what ſay you, you are a handſome proper Fellow, ſix foot high —I'll make you Serjeant of the Grenadiers—What ſay you, will you ſerve under me?

Humph! He wou'd rather ſerve her another way, I dare ſwear.

And know no Joy beyond it; ſerve ye!—by Heaven, [51] that I will, with my Life, [...] through all Difficulties and Danger; and die by your ſide, or [...] you off ſafe.

Then there's M [...]ney, my [...] to [...]

Hold, hold, Laura, you muſt [...] [...] ⯑ney; Lu [...]y take care [...]. I hope, Sir, you'll [...]

Certainly, Sir.

I'll ſee to that, Sir.

Return the Money, to whom? They are my Soldiers, [...] the Money mine—I borrow'd it of the moſt confounded old Rogue in Peterborough; tell him I ſay ſo ——but you look [...] an honeſt Man, I'll mak [...] your [...]: — [...] you exerciſe, Serjeant.

Oh Lord, oh Lord!

Serjeant t [...]ke heed; to the right and left by half [...] form Files upon the Flanks of the Battalion—March—ha, ha, you are curſed dull, Serjeant —

I am a little aukward at firſt, Collonel, but I ſhall learn.

Oh, oh, oh!

Well, well, I'll teach you then— Silence, Join your right hand to your Firelock — Cock your Firelock— — Preſent; Fire—Excellent.

Oh ſad, oh ſad! what ſhall I do? Pray Sir deſire y [...]r Man to try his ſkill,

Manage, the Gentleman implores your Aid.

I am ready, if he can find any body to make the F [...] ⯑ment; it muſt be a Man, Sir—will you endure it your ſelf?

No, faith and troth not I!

Well, Sir, to do you and the Lady ſervice. I'll venture — —but take care, Manage, that you bring the Devil out of [...] again — —

Yes, Sir, that I can eaſily; for he is not half ſo hard to get out of a Man, as he is out of a Woman.

Good lack! what ſhou'd the reaſon of th [...]t be, I [...] ⯑der!

Sir, I thank you heartily — a very [...] ⯑thy Gentleman thi [...],— —Well, what [...], Sir?

Stand ſtill, I charge you—And do you fetch us an eaſie Chair, Miſtreſs.—

Yes, Sir.

Stay, I muſt limit your bounds; there Sir, you muſt not for your Life croſs this Circle.

Well, Sir, I ſhall obſerve you.

Here, Sir.

Very well; Pray, Madam, be pleas'd to fit down.

Sit down! why is Dinner coming?—Ho, cry a Mercy! you are a Barber; hold, hold, you ſhall ſhave my Corpo⯑ral firſt, to try your Razor.

Oh Lord, oh Lord! what ſhall I ſay to her?

Keep your place, Sir——No, no, Sir, I am a Shoe-maker, and if I fit your Foot, and pleaſe you, I deſire your Honour wou'd let me have the buſineſs of your Regiment.

With all my heart.

Then pray ſit down, Sir, that I may take meaſure.

Now for you, Sir, you muſt kneel right before her— cloſer—cloſer yet; there, look full in her Eyes—Claſp both her Hands in yours.

My Charming Angel, Oh let me kneel here for ever, for ever gaze on thoſe dear Eyes; how I have languiſh'd for thee, Heaven only knows.

And what I have born for thee, Hell cannot match; Oh, if Manage fail in his Plot, I'm undone for ever.

Fear not, my Love, he is lucky at Contrivance.

What are they doing?

Alpha, Beta, Gama, Delta.

Bleſs me, what are thoſe the Names of the Spirits?

Philo ſe en paſias, gloſſais, kai en to panti poto, kai en to panti topo—Now do you be well, Madam; and do you ſeem to be Mad, Sir, quick, quick—

Why what a many Devils there are! certainly ſhe has a Legion in her.

Where am I, Lucy? Methinks I wake from ſome unto⯑ward Dream.

She recovers, Sir. How do you, [...]

I'm glad on't. How doſt thou do, [...]

Pretty well.

Death, Sir, keep your Place, or you'll [...]poil [...]

Ha! my Brain-pan ſplits—I'm all [...]fam [...], my [...] boils o'er, give me room, I'll ſcale the Region of the [...], and [...] the Winds down headlong on us all.

Oh, oh, oh, he's ſtark Mad; What ſhall we do [...] him now?

We ſhall do well enough with him; but keep your Pl [...] for he's very Deſperate.

Defend me Heaven, what ails the Gentlem [...] ▪

He'll kill us all; the Man's bewitch'd.

Here, here, Ladies ſtand in this Circle, and don't [...] it for your Lives.

Oh pray Sir, read again—

What's here, old Belzebub! No, 'tis his S [...]h [...] Cracker; I'll ſet fire to it and blow it up—Ho, lo, where [...] you Scoundrels, Dogs, Rogues, Cooks, the Devil wants his Din⯑ner, and you muſt ſpit this Swine, Hell dines on Hog's Fleſh to Day.

Undone, undone; the Spirit grows too ſtrong for [...]y Art! fly, fly, Sir, for Life—

Oh, oh, oh, ſave me, ſave me.

Now, now, make your Eſcape; he has ſlap'd the Door after him—Quick▪ quick—

My Life, my Soul!

My Angel, my All.

Oh the Devil! Don't ſtand Lifeing and Dearing now, but make haſte to Mr. Truſty's, I'll bring the Parſon after you.

Ay, good Madam, be quick.

Any where, good Manage.

Fly Manage, and bring Lovely with thee too, to be Wit⯑neſs of my good Fortune, this Hour makes thee mine for ever:

Now Heav'n be prais'd, we've Liberty at laſt.

Oh, I'm Robb'd, Raviſh'd, Dead and Buried—My Cloſet is broke open, and all my Writings gone; Mr. Conjurer, [54] Mr. Conjurer, can you help me to the Thief? Ha! no Body to be ſeen! Bleſs me—Lucy—Laura, why Laura? Ah Murder, Murder, Thieves, Thieves.

Here, where are all my Servants?

Run ſome one way, ſome another; make enquiry thro' the whole Town for Mrs. Laura; ſhe is carry'd away by two Rogues or Devils, I know not which, run, run—

Why if the Devil has carry'd her away, Sir, where can we run?

To Hell, ye Dog, do you ſtand to prate?—

Marry look her there your ſelf an you will—

Oh that I ſhou'd believe theſe Conjuring, Soldiering Raſcals; but I'll find 'em, if they are above ground; and if they are mortal, I'll hang 'em, that's my Comfort.

SCENE, The Street before Mr, Truſty's Door; Roger comes out of the Houſe with a Pitch-fork on his Shoulder, and a Lantern in his Hand.

IT will be very dark e'er I get home—Od, I'm main Merry, Maſter Truſty keeps rare Nappy Ale, and Dick the Butler is an honeſt Fellow; Lord, Sirs, how bravely theſe Gen⯑tlefolk live—Methinks I like it hugely; and I'm perſuaded, I was deſign'd for a Gentleman, but was ſpoil'd in the making; nay, nay, I was made well enough too, that's the Truth on't; but 'tis that Damn'd Jade Fortune that has ſpoil'd me; for an I had an Eſtate now, I know how to live like a Gentleman—I cou'd ſcorn the Poor, and ſcrew up my Tenants, and wou'd ſooner give Ten Pound to a Wench, than Two Pence for Charity; I cou'd quickly turn—My Cart into a Coach, and my Man Plod into a Coachman—I cou'd hurry into the Tradeſmen's Books— Wear fine Cloaths, and never pay for them —Lie with their Wives, and make my Footmen beat their Huſbands, when they come to aſk me for Money. Get drunk with Lords, and break the [55] Watchmen's Heads—Scour the Streets, and ſleep in a Bawdy-houſe—Sell my Lands, and pay no Debts—Get a Charge of Baſtards for the Pariſh to maintain—Then, by the help of a Commiſſion, Tranſport my ſelf out of their Reach—

Do you hear, Friend?

Mehap I do—And mehap I do not; What then, Sir?

Nay, the Matter's not great—Do you live at that Houſe?

I did a little while ago——When I was in the Cellar.

A Comical Fellow. Then you don't ſerve Mr. Truſty?

No, Sir, I ſerve his Maſter, tho' as moſt Farmers do their Landlords.

I underſtand you: You Rent one of the Knight's Farms?

Ay, and a Plaguy Dear one too——

Say you ſo! That's pity; I'll ſpeak a good Word for thee——Is Mr. Trusty at home?

I thank you heartily. Yes, Sir, he's at home.

Wookers, what's the Matter now?

Was not that Mr. Truſty?

Yes, Sir, I think ſo.

Oh undone, undone;

here's my old Maſter.

What's that?

Nay, I heard a Noiſe, but can't tell what they ſaid—— But on you pleaſe to come wo' me, Sir, I'll carry you in the Back-way.

The Back-way——What can be the meaning of this? Why ſhou'd he ſtart at ſight of me? There muſt be ſomething more in it than I can fathom; and yet I think he's an honeſt Man. I never found any thing to the contrary. Prithee, Friend, knock again.

They are all aſleep, Sir—For I cannot ſo much as hear a Mouſe ſtir——

Aſleep! That's impoſſible——But come, Friend, ſhew me the Back-door you ſpoke of——

Ay, Sir: But upon ſecond Thoughts,——I muſt be a little wary too. Are not you ſome Rogue, that comes to rob the Houſe [56] with half a dozen Piſtols about you? For look yee, I'm an honeſt Man, and won't be drawn in for a Halter.

You Raſcal, Do I look like a Thief?

Nay, nay, as for Looks—That's no matter, de yee ſee —I have known many a Rogue with as good a Countenance— No Diſparagement to your's, I promiſe you. So that I ſhall not ſtir one ſtep without you'll ſtand ſearch—

I ſhall break your Head, Sirrah, if you provoke me, I tell you but that.

And what muſt I be doing on the mean time,—Ha! old Gentleman?—Break my Head, quotha!—You are miſtaken— —We don't uſe to take broken heads in our Country, mun—Ha, ha, I won't ſhew you the Back-door now, and how will you help your ſelf?—

I know all the Doors of this Houſe as well as you— And can ſhew my ſelf in—

Can you ſo—But I'll watch you—I wonder who this old Fellow is.

Sure ſome Madneſs has ſeiz'd the Family; for certain⯑ly I'm not chang'd—Without Diſpute, Truſty knows me; but I'll find the Cauſe preſently.

And ſo will I—

So, Sir, here's Muſick to your Wedding, with a Witneſs. What do you intend to do now?—Do you think it poſſible to perſuade your Father too, that he died of an Apoplexy?

I fear, Clinch, that's beyond the Art of thy Impudence to do—

Nay, this Plot was none of my Impudence's contriving, that's my Comfort—I'm but a Servant; my Maſter told me, he was in Mourning for his Father—And faith I reſolve not to believe the Father to the contrary. Such an entire Deference have I for all your Commands, Sir.

Why thou can'ſt not ſure have the Confidence to ſtand it out to his Face.

Never fear me, Sir—You don't know what I can do —What ſay you, Sir? Shall we perſuade the old Gentleman in⯑to a Ghoſt; or will you own your Fault, and refund the Money?

Neither, Clinch—I have more Duty, than to attempt the [...]; and more Neceſſity, than to ſubmit to the other—

Nay, if you be ſo divided—What do you propoſe?

I know not what to do—I'm glad the Ceremony was over, before he came.

And the Money ſent away—What think you of my Houſe, till the Heat of the Diſcovery be over? 'Tis my Opinion your Preſence won't be proper—I warrant Sir David will be in purſuit of Mrs. Laura preſently too—But we have ſeen her fairly Marry'd; ſo that Faithful is out of Danger; we'll leave him here —

Shall I not take Belinda with us? I fear as much for her, as for my ſelf—

No, truſt to her Management—She turn'd the Act up⯑on her Father, you know, and made him impoſe her own Choice upon her. Let Clinch ſtay and uſe his own Diſcretion—If he can banter Sir Jeffry, and ſave his Bones, let him: But be ſure to give us notice of all that paſſes.

What if my Bones are broke?—I thank you heartily for your Love, Sir.

No, no, Clinch; take heed you keep out of the reach of his Cane.

Or he'll make me feel; he's Fleſh and Blood—Heark, I hear him coming, Good bye to you, Sir—

'Tis time for us to fly—

Well, I'm glad my Lady's Marry'd; for if this old Spark had come three Hours ſooner, I wou'd not have ventur'd Two to Ten of the Match—I can't imagine where the Bridegroom's gone—Nor what he will do, when my Maſter comes to have a right Underſtanding; but I reſolve to keep him ignorant as long as I can. Ho, here he comes.

Oh, Sir, I am frighted out of my Wits; I went to ſerve my Lady's Italian Greyhound, and I found a great ſwinging Dog, as large as an Ox, with two great Eyes, as big as Buſhels; and be⯑fore I cou'd call out,—Whip it was vaniſh'd—

Mercy upon us —'Twas certainly Sir Jeffry,— Clinch.

Sir, did you call—

Did not you ſay your old Maſter appear'd in the Shape of a Dog?

Ay, Sir, ſeveral times.

In a huge great Dog?

As big as an Ox.

Ay, Sir, as big as an Elephant.

Ah! then it was certainly him I ſaw. Oh dear, oh dear, if the Houſe be haunted, I muſt leave it. I cannot live in't, if I might have a Thouſand Pounds; and may be, he'll appear to no Body but me—I am ſure I never did him any harm; 'tis true, I did not love him, becauſe he was ſomething Stingey—— He never gave me a Farthing in his Life—

Nay, for that matter, I have got many a fair Pound by him, and yet he appear'd to me to Day.

Indeed, Sir. In what Shape, pray?

Like an Ox, or an Elephant.

No, in his own Shape; but I wiſh I may never ſee him more, for I was horribly fear'd.

What had he a Cloven Foot, Sir, did you mind?

Nay, for my part,— I know not whether he had any Feet or no,—Ha! bleſs me, defend me,—Protect me— Avoid, Satan—

I never wrong'd that Form, which thou haſt ta'en; ſo tell him—And for my Money, I have accounted for that; and all Things are rectify'd—

Oh! ſhield me ye Stars.

O Legs! ſave me, ſave me.

What? Am I become a Monſter! Do I affright all I come near? What can be the Reaſon of this? The Doors are all Barricaded; and when I knock, none will anſwer—Prithee, Friend, aſk ſome Body the Cauſe of theſe Diſorders?

No! Sir, I'll not budge a Foot; for I dan't know what to ſay to you. The Family were all well, and in their right Sen⯑ſes, when I left them; and now upon Sight of you, they are all diſtracted, I think—I wiſh you be'n't a Conjurer, or heark ye, Sir,—Is not your Name Emmes—Rais'd by the French Prophets to Life again?

Sirrah, I believe you are the Devil: This Fellow will make me Mad. This muſt be ſome Stratagem to abuſe me; and this Rogue is in their Intereſt. Why don't you go about your Buſineſs, Sirrah? What do you hanker after me for?

Nay—an you go to that, what do you lounge about [59] this Houſe for?—Oh! Dolly, are you there; here's an old Gentleman is quite out of Patience.

Oh, oh, oh, oh—

Hey day! What have you got the Palſy?

What ails you to tremble ſo, Sweetheart? Is Mr. Tru⯑ſty within?

I, I, I, I, I, o, o, o, o, Roger—Ha, ha, have a care, ca, care—Don't yo, yo, you come near him—Nor let him to, to, to, touch you, even with his Little Finger—

Bleſs me! What ails the Wench?

No, why what's the Matter? He has not the Plague about him, has he? Or is he a Spy from the King of France—Od an he be, I'll maul him—

Oh, oh,——'tis a, a, Ghoſt.

The Devil it is—

A Ghoſt, where?—Who—What's a Ghoſt? Death, what means ſhe?

Od's fleſh, my Hair ſtands an end. Look ye—Keep off Mr. Belzebub, or—or—

Look ye, Sweetheart, what Frenzy has poſſeſs'd you, I know not—But if you take me for a Ghoſt—You are deceiv'd. Therefore look well at me —Do I not appear like Fleſh and Blood?

Ay, bo, bo, bo, but we, we, we know yo, yo, you a, a, a, a, are not ſo, Sir—

Zounds, will they perſuade me out of my Life? See, Friend,—Do I walk like a Spirit? Do's the Dead move, and talk as I do?

When I am Dead,—If you aſk me, I'll reſolve you, if I can.

Why? Feel me, feel me—

Feel the Devil—Mercy upon me—Keep off, I ſay— Will ye—Or I'll ſtick your Ghoſtſhip thro' the Guts——

What ſhall I do—Nay, prithee, Friend.

Friend me no Friends—Look ye, I am not to be coax'd by the Devil, when I know 'tis the Devil. Indeed when you are got into a Lawyer, or a handſome Woman, one may be trapan'd.

Why will you be ſo poſitive? Has any Body impos'd upon you?—Pray who told you I was dead?

Thoſe that knew very well, Sir

But I am not able to bear the fight of you any longer—Now let Clinch take his Part.

Go to be Hang'd—Hell and Furies!—Ha, what do I ſee—My Son's Man! Sirrah, Sirrah, what makes you here?—

Mercy upon me—

What do you ſtare at, Raſcal, ha?

But that I believe you are dead, Sir, or I ſhou'd ſwear you are alive—

You believe I am dead, Rogue,—How dare you be⯑lieve ſuch an impud [...] Lye?—Where's the Rake your Maſter? I find now who has rais'd this Report. Sirrah, what's your Buſi⯑neſs here?

To wait on my Maſter, Sir—

To wait on your Maſter——And where is your Ma⯑ſter, pray?

Nay, for my part, Sir, I am not qualify'd to anſwer a Spirit—There's Mr. Anthem, the Afternoon Lecturer, within. He has juſt Marry'd Mr. Faithful to a great Heireſs which he brought in juſt now—Roger here may ſtep and call him out a little.

With all my Heart—If there be any thing that troubles his Mind, I'll go this Minute—

Sirrah—I'll qualify you for an Hoſpital—I will ye Dog—

Oh, oh, oh

Well run, Clinch; Well run, Ghoſt!—Ad 'tis a Plaguy Malitious Spirit tho'.

Oh, oh, oh.

I'll venture to ſpeak to it once more—— In the Name of Goodneſs—What is it that diſturbs your Reſt? Pray tell me; and as I'm an honeſt Man, I'll do you Juſtice as far as Twenty Pounds a Year Free-Land, and all the Crops of my Fa [...] goes—For I perceive you was my Landlord, whilſt you was Living; and tho' your Son ſeems to be a very honeſt Gentleman, yet I don't know what he may prove for a Landlord—Then pray ſpeak, can I ſerve you?

'Tis in vain to be angry—I muſt ſeem to comply with this Fellow—Yes, Friend, it is in thy power to ſerve me; if thou can'ſt procure me the ſight of Mr. Truſty, 'tis with him my [...]

I'll do my beſt Endeavours, Sir—but keep your diſtance—

But heark ye, Sir, ſuppoſe he won't come out, can't I tell him your Mind?

No, no; I muſt ſpeak with him my ſelf—Death!—

Good lack—what, perhaps—your Soul won't reſt elſe—

Heaven give me Patience!

But after you have ſpoken with him, will you be quiet, and haunt this Houſe no more? That's the Que⯑ſtion, look ye!

A Pox of thy impertinent Interrogations; no—

That's enough!—but hold, muſt he come out, or ſpeak to you through the Window?

Any way, ſo I do but ſpeak to him—Oh, oh!—

Very well, very well.

But heark ye, Sir Ghoſt —you'll be here—or Mr. Truſty will be woundy angry with me.

Oh Patience, Patience! or I ſhall burſt.

Ay, ay, I'll not ſtir.

Well, I'll take your word.

Hold, hold, one thing more, and I ha' done—Pray tell me the Nature of a Ghoſt— do you troubled Spirits fly in the Air, or ſwim in the Water, pray?

Oh! the Devil—

Mercy upon us! what, are you with the Devil, ſay you; Oh Heaven help you! Well then, are you ſure he will ſee you? for every body can't ſee a Ghoſt, they ſay, eſpecially if the Devil be in't.

Zounds, I tell you, he'll ſee me as plain as you ſee me.

Nay, nay, that's plain enough—Well, I'll knock, but, but, but don't you come an Inch nearer me, I charge you

Wou'd I had been a hundred Miles off, when I firſt ſaw thee. What has my graceleſs Son been doing!

Who's there?

'Tis I, Dolly, prithee tell Maſter Truſty that he muſt ſpeak to this Ghoſt, or there's nothing to be done—

I doubt he will not be perſuaded to it.

Why, let him ſpeak to it through the Window, or from the top of the Houſe—ſo he does but ſpeak to it; but in ſhort, it muſt be ſpoke to, and by him, for it is a confounded ſullen Spirit, and will tell its mind to no body elſe—He ſmells curſedly of Brim⯑ſtone—Look ye, if Maſter will come out, it ſhan't hurt him— for I'll keep it off with my Fork, ſo tell him, Dolly.

I'll inform him.

So, I have done it you ſee—Here's Maſter Truſty.

I thank you.

I am not able to ſtand, if it comes near me—Why are you thus diſturb'd, Sir Jeffrey?—I aſſure you, your Son has done every thing very juſtly.

Why are you thus impos'd upon, Mr. Truſty, to believe I am dead?—My Son, quotha!—Oh that I had never got that Son—

I know not what to think; ſure 'tis no Ghoſt.

Well, this thing is the likeſt Fleſh and Blood, that ever I ſaw—

Pray do but touch me, Mr. Truſty,—'tis very odd, you will not be perſuaded to touch me.

Take heed, Mr. Truſty.

Why ſhou'd I fear, I never wrong'd him—I'll ven⯑ture; but firſt—

now—ha! 'tis a real Hand,—He's living;—Sir, I am convinc'd.

Say you ſo—why then if you are alive, the Fright's over, and I'm glad on't with all my Heart.

I aſk your pardon, Sir; I have been abus'd—groſly abus'd; Sir Jeffrey your Son came down in Mourning, and aſſur'd me you was dead.

I'll make him mourn for ſomething, I warrant him.

Ah! that he does already, Sir, for I have paid him all the Rents in my hands.

Have you ſo?—'Tis the laſt Rents he ſhall ever take for any Land of mine—I'll diſinherit him this Day.

Oh! undone, undone for ever—Oh, oh, oh!

Here's ſmall Mirth towards, as far as I can find. I'll e'en take t'other Horn of Ale, and t'other Buſs of Dolly—

What has that Rogue's Extravagance coſt me? But if he ſtarves for the future, I care not; he never ſhall get a Groat from me.

Nay, then we may all go for Soldiers.

Where is he?

Oh, oh, oh! I know not; but wherever he is —I am wretched, he has made me miſerable, I'm ſure. Oh, oh, oh!

No, Mr. Truſty; though you have us'd me dirtily, in making me the Jeſt of your Family; for you might have diſcover'd the Impoſture with leſs precaution; yet I'll not take that advantage which the Laws allow. You have ſerv'd me long, and I believe you honeſt. I'll diſcharge you from what you have paid my undu⯑tiful Child—Let him take what he has got, and make the beſt on't.

That's ſomething however.

You are generous, Sir Jeffry, even beyond my hopes: But Oh! there is yet a greater offence behind, which cuts me dee⯑per than the Money—Alas! my Daughter—

What of her?

Is married to your Son; Oh, oh, oh!

Then he is compleatly wretched—A Wife, and no Eſtate; ha, ha, ha; I'm glad on't with all my Heart.

There's a kind Father now —I muſt give my Maſter no⯑tice of his good Fortune.

Oh! ſay not ſo, Sir; be not glad of my Child's Ruin; had I known you liv'd, the Match had never been.

Go; You are not the Man I took you for—you are but a Knave. You ought to have been as juſt to my Heir, as to my ſelf—What, was your Blood fit to be popt into my Eſtate? Ha! or have you been really a Steward, and cheated me out of a Fortune for your Daughter?

Sir, what I am Maſter off, I got fairly under you, part, and part under my Lord Belville in Ireland, whom I ſerv'd twenty Years in the ſame Poſt I do you; when he died, he truſted me with a Secret, which yet I have divulged to no Man; and when I do, the World will ſay I am an honeſt Man. Love firſt join'd their Hearts, and my Ignorance their Hands; uſe me as you pleaſe, but pardon them.

I muſt become an Interceſſor in that too, Sir Jeffrey; Love is the great Cementer of the Marriage State; it reconciles all Dif⯑ferences—it bends the Stubborn—and it tames the Bold, it wins the Haughty, ſoftens the Savage, and reclaims the Libertine; then will you caſt off your Son for a Vertue, you ought rather to prize him for?

That Love can never be a Vertue, Mr. Lovely, that teaches a Child to trick his Parents.

Stratagems ever were allow'd of in Love and War; Sir, you muſt forgive him.

And I muſt ſecond Mr. Lovely, Sir, the Captain has mar⯑ried a virtuous Woman, and I believe you'll confeſs a handſome one too.

Nay, I have nothing to ſay againſt her Virtue, nor her Beauty neither; ſhe's a pretty Woman, that's the truth on't; if ſhe had married any Body's Son but mine, I ſhou'd have wiſh'd her Joy with all my heart——Oh thou graceleſs Wretch, get out of my ſight.

I confeſs, Sir, I am unworthy of your Mer⯑cy, but throw my ſelf wholly upon your good Nature and fa⯑therly Affection, with this Reſolution, never to attempt ought a⯑gainſt your Pleaſure more.

No, Sir, nothing you can do for the future, ſhall ei⯑ther pleaſe, or diſpleaſe me; mark that.

Give us but your Bleſſing, Sir, and we ſhall never quarrel with Fortune for her Favours, Love ſhall ſupply that defect; my chief Concern ſhall be to ſhew my Duty, and by my Care to pleaſe you, prove the entire Affection I have for your Son; and that way make up the inequality of my Birth and Fortune.

You ſhall never make up any thing with me, I promiſe you, Madam, whilſt he is your Father—Death, marry my Slave?

The name of Slave belongs not to us free-born People, Sir Jeffrey; but were I your Slave, ſhe is not; for ſince the truth muſt out, ſhe is no Child of mine, but Daughter to my Lord Belville; which I have brought up ever ſince ſhe was three days old; her Mother dying in her Labour, and her Marriage being private, becauſe ſhe was much below my Lord's Quality; and He at that time under the tuition of a Father; He never made it pub⯑lick, but put her into my hands to breed up as my own; when he came to his Eſtate, he purchas'd a thouſand Pounds a Year, and ſettled it on her; which I have manag'd ever ſince, and now will deliver it up to Captain Conſtant. This I had told in the Infancy of their Loves; but that I ſaw your Son was not well with you, and did not then think him a Match good enough for her; but ſince he has over reach'd me, I hope you'll prove a Father.

Is it poſſible! Od, Madam, I wiſh you Joy with all my Soul, Faith I do; and if this is matter of Fact, you ſhall find me a Father, Jack: You ſhall go to Flanders no more.

Dear Conſtant, I congratulate thy good For [...]une—

And I your's, Madam, ſince I [...] Couſin.

Still let me hold that Name; for ſince I never know my Fa⯑ther, I ſhall acknowledge this good Man as ſuch.

Sir Jeffrey, I was poſitive you wou'd not report.

You that are ſo poſitive in theſe matters; why don't you and Mr. Lovely ſtrike up a Bargain? he has follow'd you a con⯑ſiderable time.

That Queſtion is A-propos, Sir Je [...]; What can you ſay, Madam? muſt I dangle after your two or three Ye [...]rs [...], I wiſh I hold out.

Give him th [...] [...] Father, or [...]

Why [...]

Only Principles [...], and th [...]s honeſt Gentleman's a Whi [...] [...]

Ha, h [...], [...]

I'll [...]ring [...] th [...], [...].

Upon that Condition, there's my hand.

And here's my Heart.

Why that [...] only [...]nt the [...] now.

We [...] with ou [...]; he [...] ſtill.

Dear Mr. [...], I with thee [...] [...]ll my heart, and you, Madam.

We all do the ſame.

I think y [...] all, [...] your [...] I would have the whole [...]

There [...]

I hope, [...]

I ſhall be very ambitious [...]f the Ho [...]r.

[...] and you, [...] you all in the Queen's Name, [...] in ſo [...]rin [...] thi [...] [...]

[...] are [...]

[...] they are.

[...]

[...].

And with my own Conſent, Paſſure you—You may barricade your Windows now, Sir David, I ſhall run mad no more; Ha, ha, ha.

I ſhall trouble your Houſe no more, Sir, I am diſpoſſeſs'd, Sir David, you need not run from me now; ha, ha, ha.

And he will know his Inn for the future, Sir, ha, ha.

And am perfectly recover'd of my Wound, Sir; and ſhall have no occaſion to borrow your Coach again; without you'll do me the favour to let it carry my Wife to London.

Carry her to Hell—Here's a ſhuffling cutting Raſcal in all his Tropes and Figures: Zounds, how I am trick'd; But you have robb'd me, Miſtreſs.

Of nothing but my Writings, Sir, mark that.

The Law ſhall tell you that; and ſo, may the itch of Variety ſeize you, and the Curſe of Cuckoldom fall on him, Ar⯑reſts and Poverty on you all.

Ha, ha, ha; now Lovely, for the Parſon.

Hold! I forbid the Banes; you ſhan't have her, mun, for all you are ſo Cock ſure.

What Banes do you forbid, Friend?

Why Mr. Truſty's Daughter's Banes.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Alas! 'Squire, you come too late; She that was Mr. Truſty's Daughter, is married; and I am juſt going to't.

That was! what do you mean?

Why I mean that Mrs. Belinda, that has ſnapt your Heart, 'Squire, proves to be a Lord's Daughter, and not Mr. Truſty's, as you believe; and now is Captain Conſtant's Wife, here.

A Lord's Daughter! Nounds, I'm glad▪ I'm rid of her— Captain, I wiſh you much Joy with all my heart—Od, I'll en⯑gage ſhe ſhakes your Commiſſion for you; ha, ha.

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Why, what Luck have I had, Slouch! Mercy on us; what a Ruin had I brought upon all our Country Gentlemen inno⯑cently? For ſhe wou'd have corrupted all their Wives; the Devil a one wou'd have made her own Butter, after being acquainted with her.

Oh! you miſtake, 'Squire, I am an excellent Houſewife; ha, ha, ha.

Yes, yes, ſome in our Country knows by woful Experience, what Houſewifes you Quality make; Nounds, 'twou'd undo the High Sheriff of the County to find you in clean Cards; then your [67] plaguy O [...]tlandiſh Liquors, your Coff [...]e and Tea, ſucks up the Cr [...]r [...] whole D [...]ry, and your [...] Collips wou'd confound all the [...] and [...] you game away, wou'd ruin a Lord of a Mannor, No, no, no Quality Breed for us Country Gentlemen [...] worſe than double Tax [...] [...] ha, ha.

Ha, ha; Well then, 'Squire, I have done you a [...] of Service; I hope all Animoſities are forgot.

They are i [...] ſaith, Sir; and if you'll [...] me low [...] heartily merry with you.

You ſhall b [...] [...] Muſick —Heark, I hear [...] [...]

Muſick! 'Egad, if they can play my [...]an [...] I'll give y [...] [...]

Come, let's in then, [...].

SCENE, The in- [...] [...]f the [...].

Save you all—Maſter and Landlord that was, and Maſte [...] and Landlord that is, I'm glad to hear all i [...] eve [...] wi [...]h [...] Soul—I hope you'll not forget your promiſe th [...] to [...] Tenānt Roger——which was to ſpeak to Maſter——no, no, no ſpeak to your ſelf now▪ Sir—My Farm is woundy dear.

You are wondre [...] merry, Roger.

So is every body you know, Sir, when they are prepare [...] for the Parſon; are they not, Mrs. Belinda? I hope I ſhall h [...]v [...] your Conſent; for I have got D [...]lly in the mind at laſt.

I wiſh you Joy with all my heart, R [...]g [...].

I'm glad to ſee you follow your Lady's Example, Mrs. [...] ⯑rothy.

She ſet t [...] [...].

Here [...] Clinch, Lucy, and [...].

The beſt Proviſion I deſire, is to wait on my Lady ſtill, [...].

And [...] my [...], who kno [...] [...] Wedding between you and I, [...]hild.

Your Deſires [...] what ſays [...]?

I had a kin [...] [...] of, I'll ſtand as I do.

Then we are all [...]

Well, [...] Song now, I'll [...] the Rent for the next [...].

Say you ſo? I thank you heartily, Maſter, I'll do my beſt, I can't ſing like your Londoners—But 'tis a new Ballad; and 'twas made at London, by a very honeſt Country Gentleman, laſt Seſſions of Parliament. Hum, hum.

Ads blead, you ſing, Sir; and the 'Squire by, that's more than any Man in Zumerſetſhire will venture to do: Maſter, Ods Wounds, hold your own, Maſter.