[1]THE Baſſet Table.

ACT I.

CErtainly they'l Play all Night, this is a curſed Life.

How long have you liv'd with your Lady?

A Month, too long by thirty Days, if this be her way of living; I ſhall be dead before the Year's out; ſhe Games all Night, and Sleeps all Day.

As long as you ſleep, what's Matter?

But I do not, for while ſhe ſleeps, I'm Employ'd in Howdee's, from one end of the Town to the other.

But you reſt while ſhe's Gaming; What would you do, if you led my Life? This is my Lady's conſtant Practice

Your Lady keeps a Baſſet Table, much good may do you with your Service—Hark, they are broke up.

ha, hy, my Lady Gamewel's Chair ready there—Mr. Sonica's Servant

Where the Devil is my Flambeaux?

So-hey—Robin, get the Chair ready, my Lady's coming; ſtay, ſtay, let me light my Flambeaux.

Hey, hoa, what han't they done Play yet?

They are now coming down, but your Lady is gone half an hour ago.

The Devil ſhe is, why did not you call me?

I did not ſee you.

Was you Blind?—She has loſt her Mo⯑ney, that's certain—She never flinches upo naW in⯑ning-Hand—her Plate and Jewels Walks to Mor⯑row to repleniſh her Pocket—a Pox of Gaming, I ſay.

Mr. Looſeall's Man—

Here—So-ho, who has ſtole my Flam⯑beaux?

My Lady Umbray's Coach there.—

Hey! Will, pull up there

My Lady Raffle is horridly out of humour at her ill Fortune, ſhe loſt 300 l.

She has generally ill luck, yet her Inclination for Play is as ſtrong as ever.—Did your Ladyſhip win, or loſe, Madam?

I won about 50 l.—prethee what ſhall we do, Alpiew? 'Tis a fine Morning, 'tis pity to go to Bed.

What does your Ladiſhip think of a Walk in the Park?—The Park is pleaſant in a Morning, the Air is ſo very ſweet.

I don't think ſo; the ſweetneſs of the Park is at Eleven, when the Beau Monde makes their Tower there, 'tis an unpoliſh'd Curioſity to walk when only Birds can ſee one.

Bleſs me, Madam! Your Uncle—now for a Ser⯑mon of two Hours.

So Niece! I find you're reſolv'd to keep on your courſe of Life; I muſt be wak'd at Four with Coach, Coach, Chair, Chair; give over for ſhame, and Marry, Marry, Niece.

Now would I forfeit the Heart of my next Ad⯑mirer, to know the cauſe of this Reproach. Pray, Uncle, explain'd your ſelf; for I proteſt I can't gueſs what Crime I have unhappily committed to merit this advice.

How can you look me in the Face, and ask me that Queſtion? Can you that keep a Baſſet-Table, a publick Gaming-Houſe, be inſenſible of the ſhame on't? I have often told you how much the vaſt concurſe of Peo⯑ple, which Day and Night make my Houſe their Ren⯑devouze, incommode my Health; your Apartment is a Pa⯑rade for Men of all Ranks, from the Duke to the Fidler, and your Vanity thinks they all pay Devoir to your Beau⯑ty—but you miſtake, every one has his ſeveral end in Meet⯑ing here, from the Lord to the Sharper, and each their ſeperate Intereſt to Admire—ſome Fools there may be, for there's ſeldom a crowd without.

Malice—ſome Fools? I can't bear it.

Nay, 'tis very affronting, truly Madam.

Ay, is it not Alpiew?—Yet, now I think on't, 'tis the defect of Age to rail at the Pleaſure's of Youth, there⯑fore I ſhall not diſorder my Face with a frown about it. Ha, ha, I hope, Uncle, you'l take peculiar care of my Couſin Valeria, in diſpoſing of her according to the Breed⯑ing you have given her.

The Breeding I have given her! I would not have her have your Breeding, Miſtreſs, for all the Wealth of England's Bank; no, I bread my Girl in the Country, a ſtranger to the Vices of this Town, and am reſolv'd to Marry her to a Man of Honour, Probity and Courage.

What the Sea Captain, Uncle? Faugh, I hate the ſmell of Pitch and Tarr; one that can Entertain one with nothing but Fire and Smoak, Larboard and Starboard, and t'other Bowl of Punch, ha, ha, ha.

And for every fault that ſhe commits he'll condemn her to the Bilboes, ha, ha.

I fancy my Couſin's Philoſophy, and the Cap⯑tain's Couragious Bluſter, will make Angelick Harmony.

Yes, Madam, ſweeter Harmony than your Sept & Le [...] Fops, Rakes and Gameſters; give me the Man that ſerves my Country, that preſerves both my Eſtate and Life—Oh, the glorious Name of Soldier; if I were Young, I'd go my ſelf in Perſon, but as it is—

You'll ſend your Daughter—

Yes, Minx, and a good Dowry with her, as a reward for Virtue like the Captains.

But ſuppoſe, Sir, Mrs. Valeria ſhould not like him?

I'll ſuppoſe no ſuch thing, Miſtreſs, ſhe ſhall like him.

Why, there tis now, indeed, Uncle, your're too poſitive.

And you to Impertinent: Therefore I reſolve to quit your Houſe; you ſhan't keep your Revels under the Roof where I am.

I'd have you to know, Sir, my Lady keeps no Re⯑vels beneath her Quality.

Hold your Tongue, Mrs. Pert, or I ſhall diſ⯑play your Quality in its proper Colours.

I don't care, ſay your worſt of me, and ſpare not; but for my Lady—my Lady's a Widdow, and Widdows are accountable to none for their Actions—Well, I ſhall have a Husband one of thoſe days, and be a Widow too, I hope.

Not unlikely, for the Man will hang himſelf the next day, I warrant him.

And if any, Uncle, pretends to controul my Actions—

He'd looſe his labour, I'm certain—

I'd treat him—

Don't provoke me, Houſwife, don't.

Be gone, and wait in the next Room.

The Inſolence of a Servant, is a great Honour to the Lady, no doubt; but I ſhall find a way to humble you both.

Lookee, Unkle, do what you can, I'm reſolv'd to follow my own Inclinations.

Which infallibly carries you to Noiſe, Non⯑ſence, Foppery and Ruin; but no matter, you ſhall out of my Doors, I'll promiſe you, my Houſe ſhall no longer bear the Scandalous Name of a Baſſet Table: Husbands ſhall no more have cauſe to date their Ruin from my Door, nor cry there, there my Wife Gam'd my Eſtate away—Nor Children Curſe my Poſterity, for their Parents knowing my Houſe.

No more threatning, good Unkle, act as you pleaſe, but don't ſcold, or I ſhall be oblig'd to call Alpiew again.

Very well, very well, ſee what will come on't; the World will cenſure thoſe that Game, and, in my Conſci⯑ence, I believe not without Cauſe.

Advice! Ha, ha, ridiculous Advice.

No ſooner rid of one miſchief, but another follows—I foreſee this is to be a day of Mortification, Alpiew.

Madam.

My Uncle's gone, you may come in, ha, ha, ha.

Fye, Couſin, does it become you to Laugh at thoſe that give you Council for your good?

For my good! Oh, mon cour? Now cannot I Divine what 'tis, that I do more than the reſt of the World, to deſerve this blame.

Nor I, for the Soul of me.

Shou'd all the reſt of the World follow your Ladyſhip's Example, the order of Nature would be inver⯑ted, and every good, deſign'd by Heaven, become a Curſe, Health and Plenty no longer would be known among us.—You croſs the purpoſe of the Day and Night, you Wake when you ſhould Sleep, and make all who have any dependence on you, Wake while you Repoſe.

Bleſs me, may not any Perſon Sleep when they pleaſe?

No, there are certain Hours, that good Man⯑ [...] Modeſty and Health require your Care; for Exam⯑ [...] diſorderly Hours are neither Healthful nor Modeſt— [...] not Civil to make Company wait Dinner for your [...].

Why, does any body Dine before four a Clock in London? For my part I think it an Ill-bred Cuſtom, to make my Appetite Pendulum to the Twelfth hour.

Beſides, 'tis out of Faſhion to Dine by Day light, and ſo I told Sir Richard yeſterday, Madam.

No doubt, but you did, Mrs. Alpiew; and then you entertain ſuch a Train of People, Couſin, that my La⯑dy Reveller is as noted as a publick Ordinary, where every Fool with Money finds a Welcome.

Would you have me ſhut my doors againſt my Friends—Now ſhe is jealous of Sir James Courtly.

Beſides, is it poſſible to paſs the Evenings without Diverſions.

No certainly—

I think the Play-houſe, the much more innocent and commendable Diverſion.

To be ſeen there every Night, in my Opinion, is more deſtructive to the Reputation.

Well, I had rather be noted every Night in the front Box, then, by my abſence, once be ſuſpected of Ga⯑ming; one ruins my Eſtate and Character, the other di⯑verts my Temper, and improves my Mind. Then you have ſuch a number of Lovers.

Oh Cupid, is it a Crime to have a number of Lovers? If it be, 'tis the pleaſanteſt Crime in the World. A Crime that falls not every day, to every Womans Lot.

I dare be poſitive every Woman does not wiſh it.

Becauſe wiſhes have no Effect, Couſin, ha, ha.

Methinks my Lord Worthy's Aſſiduity might have baniſh'd the admiring Croud by this time.

Baniſh'd 'em? Oh, Mon cour! what pleaſure is there in one Lover; 'tis like being ſeen always in one Suit of Cloaths; a Woman, with one Admirer, will ne'er be a Reigning Toaſt.

I am ſure thoſe that Encourage more, will ne⯑ver have the Character of a Reigning Virtue.

I ſlight the malicious Cenſure of the Town, yet defy it to aſperſe my Verture; Nature has given me a Face, a Shape, a Mein, an Air for Dreſs, and Wit and Hu⯑mour to ſubdue. And ſhall I loſe my Conqueſt for a Name.

Nay, and among the unfaſhionable ſort of People too, Madam; for Perſons of Breeding and Quality will allow, that Gallantry and Virtue are not inſeperable.

But Coquetry and Reputation are, and there is no differerence in the Eye of the World, between ha⯑ving really committed the Fault, and lying under the Scan⯑dal; for, my own part, I would take as much Care to pre⯑ſerve my Fame, as you would your Virtue.

A little pains will ſerve you for that, Couſin; for I never once heard you nam'd—A Mortification would break my Heart, ha, ha.

'Tis better never to be nam'd, than to be ill ſpoke of; but your Reflections ſhall not Diſorder my Tem⯑per. I could wiſh, indeed, to convince you of your Error, becauſe you ſhare my Blood; but ſince I ſee the Vanity of the attempt, I ſhall deſiſt.

I humbly thank your Ladiſhip.

Oh! Madam, here's my Lord Worthy, Sir James Courtly, and Enſign Lovely, coming down; will your Lady⯑ſhip ſee them?

Now have I a ſtrong Inclination to Engage Sir James, to diſcompoſe her Gravity; for if I have any Skill in Glances, ſhe loves him—but then my Lord Worthy is ſo peeviſh ſince our late Quarrel, that I'm afraid to En⯑gage the Knight in a Ducl; beſides, my Abſence, I know, will teize him more, therefore, upon Conſideration, I'le retire. Couſin Lucy; Good Morrow. I'le leave you to bet⯑ter Company, there's a Perſon at hand may prevent your Six-a-Clock Prayers.

Ha! Sir James Courtly—I muſt own I think him agreeable—but am ſorry ſhe believes I do. I'le not be ſeen; for if what I ſcarce know my ſelf be grown ſo viſible to her, perhaps, he too may Diſcover it, and then I am loſt.

Ha! was not that Lady Lucy?

It was—ah, Sir James, I find your Heart is out of Order about that Lady, and my Lord Worthy lan⯑guiſhes for Lady Reveller.

And thou art ſick for Valeria, Sir Richard's Daughter. A poor diſtreſled Company of us.

'Tis true, that little ſhe-Philoſopher has made me do Pennance more heartily than ever my ſins did; I deſerve her by meer Dint of Patience. I have ſtood whole hours to hear her Aſſert that Fire cannot Burn, nor Water Drown, nor Pain Afflict, and forty ridiculous Syſtems—and all her Experiments on Frogs, Fiſh—and Flies, ha, ha, ha, without the lcaſt Contradiction.

Contradiction, no, no, I allow'd all ſhe ſaid with undoubtedly, Madam,—I am of your mind, Ma⯑dam, it muſt be ſo—natural Cauſes, &c.

Ha, ha, ha, I think it is a ſupernatural cauſe which Enables thee to go thro' this Fatigue, if it were not to raiſe thy Fortune, I ſhould think thee Mad to purſue her; but go on and proſper, nothing in my Power ſhall be wanting to aſſiſt you—My Lord Worthy—your Lordſhip is as Melancholy as a loſing Gameſter.

Faith, Gentlemen, I'm out of Humour, but I don't know at what.

Why then I can tell you, for the very ſame reaſon that made your Lordſhip ſtay here to be Spectator of the very Diverſion you hate—Gaming—the ſame Cauſe makes you uneaſy in all Company, my Lady Reveller.

Thou haſt hit it, James, I confeſs I love her Per⯑ſon, but hate her Humours, and her way of Living; I have ſome reaſons to believe I'm not indifferent to her, yet I deſpair of fixing her, her Vanity has got ſo much the Miſtreſs of her Reſolution; and yet her Paſſion for Gain furmounts her Pride, and lays her Reputation open to the World. Every Fool that has ready Money, ſhall dare to boaſt himſelf her very humble Servant; 'ds Death, when I could cut the Raſcal's Throat.

your Lordſhip is even with her one Way, for you are as teſty as ſhe's vain, and as fond of an opportu⯑nity to Quarrel with her, as ſhe of a Gaming Acquaintance; my Opinion is, my Lord, ſhe'll ne're be won your Way.

Thou'rt of a happy temper, Sir James, I wiſh I could be ſo too; but ſince I can't add to your Diverſion, I'll take my leave, good Morrow, Gentlemen.

This it is to have more Love than Reaſon about one; you and I Lovely will go on with Diſcretion, and yet I fear it's in Lady Lucy's Power to baniſh it.

I find Mrs. Sago, the Drugſters Wife's Intereſt, begins to ſhake, Sir James.

And I fear her Love for Play begins to ſhake her Husband's Baggs too—faith, I am weary of that In⯑treague, leſt I ſhould be ſuſpected to have a hand in his Ruin.

She did not loſe much to Night, I believe; pree⯑thy, Sir James, what kind of a temper'd Woman is ſhe? Has ſhe Wit?

That ſhe has—A large Portion, and as much Cunning, or ſhe could never have manag'd the old Fellow ſo nicely; ſhe has a vaſt Paſſion for my Lady Re⯑veller, and endeavours to mimick her in every thing—Not a ſute of Cloaths, or a Top-knot, that is not exactly the ſame with hers—then her Plots and Contrivances to ſupply theſe Expences, puts her continually upon the Rack; yet to give her her due, ſhe has a fertile Brain that Way; but come, ſhall we go home and ſleep two or three Hours, at Dinner I'll introduce you to Capt. Hearty, the Sea Officer, your Rival that is to be, he's juſt come to Town.

A powerful Rival, I fear, for Sir Richard reſolves to Marry him to his Daughter; all my hopes lyes in her Arguments, and you know Philoſophers are very poſitive—and if this Captain does but happen to Contradict one Whim⯑ſical Notion, the Poles will as ſoon join, as they Couple, and rather then yield, ſhe would go to the Indies in ſearch of Dampier's Ants.

Nay, ſhe is no Woman if ſhe Obeys.

ACT II.

GOod Morrow.

Good Morrow.

Good Morrow, good Morrow, is that all your bu⯑ſineſs here; What means that Affected Look, as if you long'd to be examin'd what's the Matter.

The Capricio's of Love, Madamoſelle; the Capricio's of Love.

Why—are you in Love?

I—in Love! No, the Divel take me if ever I ſhall be infected with that Madneſs, 'tis enough for one in a Family to Fall under the whimſical Circumſtances of that Diſtemper. My Lord has a ſufficient Portion for both; here—here—here's a Letter for your Lady, I believe the Contents are not ſo full of Stars and Darts, and Flames, as they us'd to be.

My Lady will not concern her ſelf with your Lord, nor his Letters neither, I can aſſure you that.

So much the better, I'le tell him what you ſay—Have you no more?

Tell him it is not my fault, I have done as much for his Service, as lay in my Power, till I put her in ſo great a Paſſion, 'tis impoſſible to Appeaſe her.

Very good—my Lord is upon the Square, I promiſe ye, as much inraged as her Ladiſhip to the full. Well, Mrs. Alpiew, to the longeſt Day of his Life he fwears, never to forget Yeſterday's Adventure, that's given him perfect, perfect Liberty.

I believe ſo—What was it, pray?

I'll tell you; 'twas a matter of Conſequence, I aſſure you, I've known Lovers part for a leſs Triffle by half.

No Diſgreſſions, but to the point, what was it?

This—my Lord, was at the Fair with your Lady.

What of that?

In a Raffling-ſhop ſhe ſaw a young Gentleman, which ſhe ſaid was very handſom—At the ſame time, my Lord, prais'd a young Lady; ſhe redoubles her Commen⯑dations of the Beau—He enlarges on the Beauty of the Bell; their Diſcourſe grew warm on the ſubject; they Pauſe; ſhe begins again with the Perfections of the Gentle⯑man; he ends with the ſame of the Lady; Thus they per⯑ſu'd their Arguments, ſtill finding ſuch mighty Charms in their new Favourites, till they found one another ſo Ugly—ſo Ugly—that they parted with full Reſolutions never to meet again.

Ha, ha, ha, pleaſant; well, if you have no more to tell me, adieu.

Stay a Moment, I ſee my Lord coming, I thought he'd follow me. Oh, Lovers Reſolutions—

So, have you ſeen my Lady Reveller?

My Lord—

Ha! Mrs. Alpiew.

There's your Lordſhip's Letter.

An Anſwer! She has done me very much Honour.

My Lord, I am commanded—

Hold a little, dear Mrs. Alpiew.

My Lord, ſhe would not—

Bequiet, I ſay—

I am very ſorry—

But a moment—Ha, why, this is my own Letter.

Yes, my Lord.

Yes, my Lord—what, ſhe'd not receive it then?

No, my Lord.

How durſt you ſtay ſo long.

I beg your Lordſhip not to harbour an ill Opinion of me, I oppoſed her anger with my utmoſt Skill, prais'd all your Actions, all your Parts, but all in Vain.

Enough, Enough, Madam, ſhe has taken the beſt method in the World—Well, then we are ne'er to meet again?

I know not that, my Lord—

I am over-joy'd at it, by my Life I am, ſhe has only prevented me; I came a purpoſe to break with her—

Yes, ſo 'twas a ſign by the pleaſure you diſcover'd, in thinking ſhe had writ to you.

I ſuppoſe, ſhe has entertain'd you with the Cauſe of this?

No, my Lord, never mention'd a Syllable, only ſaid, ſhe had for ever done with you; and charg'd me, as I valued her favour, to receive no Meſſage nor Letter, from you.

May I become the very'ſt Wretch alive, and all the Ills immaginable fall upon my Head, if I ſpeak to her more; nay, ever think of her but with Scorn—Where is ſhe now?

In her Dreſſing-room.

There let her be, I am weary of her fantaſtick Humours, affected Airs, and unaccountable Paſſions.

For half an Hour.

Do you know what ſhe's a doing?

I believe, my Lord, trying on a Mantua; I left her with Mrs. Pleatwell, and that us'd to hold her a great while, for the Woman is ſaucily Familiar with all the Qua⯑lity, and tells her all the Scandal.

And conveys Letters upon occaſion; 'tis tack'd to their Profeſſion—But, my Lady Reveller may do what ſhe pleaſes, I am no more her Slave, upon my Word; I have broke my Chain—She has not been out then ſince ſhe Roſe?

No, my Lord.

Nay, if ſhe has, or has not, 'tis the ſame thing to me; ſhe may go the end of the World, if ſhe will; I ſhan't take any pains to follow her—Whoſe Footman was that I met?

I know not, my Lord, we have ſo many come with How-dee's, I ne'er mind them.

You are uneaſy, Child, come, I'll not detain you, I have no curioſity, I proteſt I'm ſatisfied if ſhe's ſo, I aſſure ye, let her deſpiſe me, let her hate me, 'tis all one, adieu.

My Lord, your Servant.

Mrs Alpiew, let me beg one favour of you,

not to ſay I was here.

I'll do juſt as you pleaſe, my Lord.

Do that then, and you'll oblige me,

I will.

Don't forget.

Your Lordſhip may depend upon me.

Hold, now I think on't—Pray [...]ll her you did ſee me, do ye hear?

With all my Heart.

Tell her how indifferent ſhe is to me in every re⯑ſpect.

I ſhan't fail.

Tell her every thing, juſt as I expreſt it to you.

I will.

Adieu

Your Servant.

Now, I think on't, Mrs Alpiew, I have a great mind ſhe ſhou'd know my Sentiments from my own Mouth.

Nay, my Lord, I can't promiſe you that.

Why?

Becauſe ſhe has expreſly forbid your admittance.

I'd ſpeak but one Word with her.

Impoſſible.

Pugh, prethee do, let me ſee her,

So now, all this mighty rage ends in a begging Submiſſion.

Only tell her I'm here.

Why ſhould you deſire me to meet her Anger, my Lord?

Come, you ſhall oblige me once.

Oh, dear, my Lord, you have ſuch a command over your Servant, I can refuſe nothing.

Have you been at the Goldſmiths about the Bills, for I am fix'd on Travelling.

Your Lordſhip's ſo diſturb'd, you have forgot you Countermanded me, and ſend me hither.

True.

Juſt as I told your Lordſhip, ſhe fell in a moſt vio⯑lent Paſſion, at the bare mention of your Name; tell him, [17] ſaid ſhe, in a heroick Strain, I'll never ſee him more, and command him to quit that Room, 'cauſe I'm coming to't.

Tyrant, curſe on my Follies, ſhe knows her Power; well, I hope, I may walk in the Gallery; I would ſpeak with her Uncle.

To be ſure, my Lord.

Learn, Miſtreſs, learn, you may come to make me Mad in time, ha, ha, ha.

Go Fool, follow your Lord.

Well, I'll ſwear, Alpiew, you have given me the Vapours for all Day.

Ah! Madam, if you had ſeen him, you muſt have had Compaſſion; I would not have ſuch a Heart of Ada⯑mant for the World; poor Lord, ſure you have the ſtran⯑geſt Power over him.

Silly—one often Fanices one has Power, when one has none at all; I'll tell the Alpiew, he vex'd me ſtrangely before this grand Quarrel; I was at Picquet with my Lady Love-Witt four Nights ago, and bid him read me a new Copy of Verſes, becauſe, you know, he never Plays, and I did not well know what to do with him; he had ſcarce begun, when I being eager at a Pique, he roſe up, and ſaid, he believ'd I lov'd the Muſick of my own Voice, crying Nine and Twenty, Threeſcore, better than the ſweeteſt Poetry in the Univerſe, and abruptly left us.

A great Crime, indeed, not to read when People are at a Game they are oblig'd to talk to all the while.

Crime, yes, indeed was it, for my Lady loves Poetry better than Play, and perhaps before the Poem had been done had loſt her Money to me. But, I wonder, Alpiew, by what Art 'tis you engage me in this Diſcourſe, why [18] ſhou'd I talk of a Man that's utterly my Averſiou—Have you heard from Mrs. Sago this Morning?

Certainly, Madam, ſhe never ſails; ſhe has ſent your Ladiſhip the fineſt Cargo made up of Chocolate, Tea, Montifiaſco Wine, and 50 Rarities beſide, with ſomething to remember me, good Creature, that ſhe never forgets. Well, indeed, Madam, ſhe is the beſt natur'd Woman in the World; it grieves me to think what Sums ſhe loſes at Play.

Oh fye, ſhe muſt, a Citizen's Wife is not to be endur'd amongſt Quality; had ſhe not Money, 'twere im⯑poſſible to receive her—

Nay, indeed, I muſt ſay that of you Women of Quality, if there is but Money enough, you ſtand not up⯑on Birth or Reputation, in either Sex; if you did, ſo ma⯑ny Sharpers of Covent-Garden, and Miſtreſles of St. James's, would not be daily admitted.

Peace, Impertinence, you take ſtrange Freedoms.

Why in ſuch haſt Couſin Valeria.

Oh! dear Couſin, don't ſtop me, I ſhall loſe the fineſt Infect for Deſection, a huge Fleſh Fly, which Mr. Lovely ſent me juſt now, and opening the Box to try the Experiment away it flew.

I am glad the poor Fly eſcap'd; will you never be weary of theſe Whimſies?

Whimſies! natural Peiloſophy a Whimſy! Oh, the unlearn'd World.

Ridiculous Learning?

Ridiculous, indeed, for Women; Philoſophy Sutes our Sex, as Jack Boots would do.

Cuſtom would bring them as much in Faſhion as Furbeloes, and Practice would make us as Valiant as e're a Hero of them all; the Reſolution is in the Mind,—Nothing can enſlave that.

My Stars! this Girl will be Mad, that's certain.

Mad [...] ſo Nero Baniſh'd Philoſophers from Rome, and the firſt Diſcoverer of the Antipodes was Condemn'd for a Heretick.

In my Conſcience, Alpiew, this pritty Creature's ſpoil'd. Well, Couſin, might I Adviſe, you ſhould be⯑ſtow your Fortune in Founding a College for the Study of Philoſophy, where none but Women ſhould be admitted, and to Immortalize your Name, they ſhould be call'd Va⯑le [...]ans, ha, ha, ha.

What you make a Jeſt of, Id'e Execute, were For⯑tune in my Power.

All Men would not be Excluded, the handſom Enſign, Madam.

In Love? Nay, there's no Philoſophy againſt Love, Solon for that.

Piſha, no more of this Triffling Subject; Couſin, will you believe there's any thing without Gaul?

I am ſatisfy'd I have one, when I loſe at Play, or ſee a Lady Addreſt when I am by, and 'tis equal to me, whe⯑ther the reſt of the Creation have or not.

Well, but I'le convince you then, I have diſſected my Dove—and poſitively I think the Vulgar Notion true, for I could find none.

Oh, Barbarous; kill'd your pritty Dove!

Kill'd it! Why, what did you Imagine I bred it up for? Can Animals, Inſects or Reptils, be put to a No⯑bler uſe, than to improve our Knowledge? Couſin, I'll give you this Jewel for your Italian Grey-hound.

What, to Cut to Pieces? Oh, horrid! he had need be a Soldier that ventures on you, for my part, I ſhould Dream of nothing but Inciſion, Diſſection and Amputa⯑tion, and always fancy the Knife at my Throat.

Madam, here's Sir Richard, and a—

A— What, is it an Accident, a Subſtance, a Mate⯑rial Being, or, a Being of Reaſon?

I don't know what you call a Material Being; it is a Man.

P'sha, a Man, that's nothing.

She'll prove by and by out of Diſcartes, that we are all Machines.

Oh, Madam, do you ſee who obſerves you? My Lord walking in the Gallery, and every Minute gives a Peep.

Does he ſo? I'll fit him for Eves-dropping—

Sir, I like the Relation you have given me of your Naval Expedition, your Diſcourſe ſpeaks you a Man⯑fit for the Sea.

You had it without a flouriſh, Sir Richard, my Word is this, I hate the French, Love a handſome Woman, and a Bowl of Punch.

Very Blunt.

This is my Daughter, Captain, a Girl of ſo⯑ber Education; ſhe underſtands nothing of Gaming, Parks and Plays.

But wanting theſe Diverſions, ſhe has ſup⯑ply'd the Vacancy with greater Follies.

A Tite little Frigate,

Faith, I think, ſhe looks like a freſhman Sea-ſick—but here's a Gallant Veſſel—with all her Streamers out, Top and Top Gal⯑lant—with your leave, Madam,

who is that Lady, Sir Richard?

'Tis a Niece of mine, Captain—tho' I am ſorry ſhe is ſo, ſhe values nothing that does not ſpend their days at their Glaſs, and their Nights at Baſſet, ſuch who ne'er did good to their Prince, nor Country, except their Taylor, Peruke-maker, and Perſumer.

Fy, fy, Sir, believe him not, I have a Paſſion, an extream Paſſion, for a Hero—eſpecially if he belongs to the Sea; methinks he has an Air ſo Fierce, ſo Piercing, his very Looks commands Reſpect from his own Sex, and all the Hearts of ours.

The Divel—Now, rather than let another Female have a Man to her ſelf, ſhe'll make the firſt Ad⯑vances.

Ay, Madam, we are preferr'd by you fine Ladies ſometimes before the ſprucer Sparks—there's a Conve⯑niency in't; a fair Wind, and we hale out, and leave you Liberty and Money, two things the moſt acceptable to a Wife in Nature.

Oh! ay, it is ſo pretty to have one's Husband gone Nine Months of the Twelve, and then to bring one home fine China, fine Lace, fine Muſlin, and fine Indian Birds, and a thouſand Curioſities.

No, no, Nine is a little too long, ſix would do better for one of your Conſtitution, Mrs.

Well, Madam, what think you of a cruiſing Voy⯑age towards the Cape of Matrimony, your Father deſigns me for the Pilot, if you agree to it, we'll hoiſt Sail imme⯑diately.

I agree to any thing dictated by good Senſe, and comprehended within the Borders of Elocution, the con⯑verſs I hold with your Sex, is only to improve and culti⯑vate the Notions of my Mind.

What the Devil is ſhe going upon now?

I preſume you'r a Mariner, Sir—

I have the Honour to bear the Queen's Commiſſi⯑on, Madam.

Pray, ſpeak properly, poſitively, Laconically and Naturally.

So ſhe has given him a Broadſide already.

Laconically? Why, why, what is your Daugh⯑ter? Sir Richard, ha

May I be reduc'd to Wooden-Shoes, if I can tell you, the Devil; had I liv'd near a College, the Haunts of ſome Pedaunt might have brought this Curſe upon me; but to have got my Eſtate in the City, and to have a Daughter run Mad after Philoſophy, I'll ne'er ſuffer it in [22] the rage I am in, I'll throw all the Books and Mathemati⯑cal Inſtruments out of the Window.

I dare ſay, Uncle, you have ſhook hands with Philoſophy—for I'm ſure you have baniſh'd Patience, ha, ha, ha.

And you Diſcretion—By all my hatred for the French, they'll drive me Mad; Captain I'll expect you in the next Room, and you Mrs Laconick, with your Phi⯑loſophy at your Tail.

Shan't I come too, Uncle, ha, ha.

By Neptune, this is a kind of a whimſical Family; well, Madam, what was you going to ſay ſo poſitively and properly, and ſo forth?

I would have ask'd you, Sir, if ever you had the curioſity to inſpect a Mermaid—Or if you are convinc'd there is a World in every Star—We, by our Telliſcopes, find Seas, Groves and Plains, and all that; but what they are Peopled with, there's the Query.

Let your next Contrivance be how to get thither, and then you'll know a World in every Star—Ha, ha, ſhe's fitter for Moorfields than Matrimony, pray, Madam, are you always infected, full and change, with this Diſtem⯑per?

How has my reaſon err'd, to hold converſe with an irrational Being—Dear, dear Philoſophy, what im⯑menſe pleaſures dwell in thee!

Madam, John, has got the Fiſh you ſent him in ſearch of.

Is it alive?

Yes, Madam.

Your Servant, your Servant, I would not loſe the Experiment for any thing, but the tour of the new World.

Ha, ha, ha, is your Ladiſhip troubled with thefe Vagaries too; is the whole Houſe poſſeſt?

Not I, Captain, the ſpeculative faculty is not my Talent; I am for the practick, can liſſen all Day, to hear you talk of Fire, ſubſtantial Fire, Rear and Front, and Line of Battle—admire a Seaman, hate the French,—love a Bowl of Punch? Oh, nothing ſo agreeable as your Converſation, nothing ſo Jaunty as a Sea Captain.

So, this engages him to Play,—If he has either Manners or Money.

Ay, give me the Woman that can hold me tack in my own Dialect—She's Mad too, I ſuppoſe, but I'll humour her a little.

Oh, Madam, not a fair Wind, nor a rich Prize, nor Conqueſt o're my Enemies, can pleaſe like you; accept my Heart without Capitulation—'Tis yours, a Priſoner at Diſcretion.

Hold, Sir, you muſt there contend with me; the Victory is not ſo eaſy as you imagine.

Oh fye, my Lord, you won't fight for one you hate and deſpiſe? I may truſt you with the Captain, ha, ha, ha.

This muſt be her Lover—And he is Mad ano⯑ther way; this is the moſt unaccountable Family I ever met with.

Lookye, Sir, what you mean by contend⯑ing I know not; but I muſt tell you, I don't think any Woman I have ſeen ſince I came aſhoar worth Fighting for. The Philoſophical Gimcrack I don't value of a Cockle Shell—And am too well acquainted with the danger of Rocks and Quick-ſands, to ſteer into t'others Harbour.

He has diſcover'd her already; I, only I, am blind.

But, Sir, if you have a mind to a Breathing, here tread upon my Toe, or ſpeak but one Word in favour of the [...], or againſt the Courage of our Fleet, and my Sword will ſtart of its ſelf, to do its Maſter, and my Coun⯑try, Juſtice.

How ridiculous do I make my ſelf—Pardon me, Sir, you are in the right. I confeſs I ſcarce knew what I did.

I thought ſo, poor Gentleman, I pitty him; this is the effect of Love on ſhoar—When do we hear of a Tarr in theſe [...]its, longer then the firſt freſh Gale—Well, I'll into Sir Richard, Eat with him, Drink with him: but to Match into his Generation, I'd as ſoon Marry one of his Daughters Mermaids.

Was ever Man ſo ſtupid as my ſelf? But I will rouſe from this Lethargick Dream, and ſeek elſewhere what is deny'd at home, abſence may reſtore my Liberty.

Pray, my Lord, did you ſee my Keecky.

Keecky, what's that?

My Wife, you muſt know, I call her Keecky, ha, ha.

Not I, indeed—

Nay, pray my Lord, ben't angry, I only want her, to tell her what a Preſent of fine Wine is ſent her juſt now; and ha, ha, ha, ha, what makes me Laugh—Is that, no Soul can tell from whence it comes.

Your Wife knows, no doubt.

No more than my ſelf, my Lord—We have often Wine and Sweet-meats; nay, whole pieces of Silk, and the duce take me, if ſhe could deviſe from whence; nay, ſometimes ſhe has been for ſending them back again, but I cry'd, whoſe a Fool then—

I'm ſure thou art one in perfection, and to me in⯑ſupportable.

My Lord, I know your Lordſhip has the Privi⯑ledge of this Houſe, pray do me the Kindneſs if you find my Wife to ſend her out to me.

I ne'er ſaw ſo much of this Lord's Humour before; he is very Surly Methinks—Adod there are ſome Lords of my Wives Acquaintance, as Civil and Familiar with me, as I am with my Journeyman—Oh! here ſhe comes.

Oh Puddy, ſee what my Lady Reveller has preſented me withal.

Hey Keecky, why ſure you Riſe—as the ſaying is, for at Home there's Four Hampers of Wine ſent ye.

From whence, Dear Puddy?

Nay, there's the Jeſt, neither you nor I know. I offer'd the Rogue that brought it a Guinea to tell from whence it came, and he Swore he durſt not.

No, if he had I'd never have Employ'd him again.

So I gave him Half a Crown, and let him go.

It comes very Opportunely pray Puddy ſend a Couple of the Hampers to my Lady Revelleras a ſmall Acknowledgement for the Rich Preſent ſhe has made me.

With all my Heart, my Jewel, my Precious.

Puddy, I am ſtrangely oblig'd to Mrs. Al⯑piew, do, Puddy, do, Dear Puddy.

What?

Will ye, then? Do, Dear Puddy, do, lend me a Guinea to give her, do.

P'ſhaw, you are always wanting Guineas, I'll ſend her Half a Pound of Tea, Keecky.

Tea—ſha—ſhe Drinks Ladies Tea; do, Dear Pudd, do; can you deny Keecky now?

Well, well, there.

Mrs. Alpiew, will you pleaſe to lay the Silk by for me, till I ſend for it, and accept of That?

Your Servant Madam, I'll be careful of it.

Thank ye, Borrow as much as you can on't, Dear Alpiew.

I warrant you, Madam.

I muſt Raiſe a Summ for Baſſet againſt Night.

Preethy Keecky, what kind of Humour'd Man is Lord Worthy? I did but ask him if he ſaw thee, and I Thought he would ſnapp'd my Noſe off.

Oh a meer Woman, full of Spleen and Va⯑pours, he and I never agree.

Adod, I thought ſo—I gueſt'd he was none of thy Admirers—Ha, ha, ha, why there's my Lord Courtall, and my Lord Harncit, bow down to the Ground to me wherever they meet me.

Madam, Madam, the Goldſmith has ſent in the Plate.

Very well, take it along with the Silk.

Here's the Jeweller; Madam, with the Diamond Ring, but he don't ſeem willing to leave it without Money.

Humph? I have a ſudden Thought, bid him ſtay, and bring me the Ring—Now for the Art of Wheedling.—

What are you Whiſpering about? Ha? Preci⯑ous.—

Mrs. Alpiew ſays, a Friend of her has a Diamond Ring to Sell, a great Penny-worthand I know you love a Bargain Puddy.

P'ſhaw, I don't care for Rings; it may be a Bar⯑gain, and it may not; and I can't ſpare Money; I have Paid for a Lot this Morning; conſider Trade muſt go forward, Lambkin.

See how it Sparkles.

Nay, Puddy, if it be not Worth your Mo⯑ney I don't deſire you to Buy it; but don't it become my Finger, Puddy? See now.—

Ah! that Hand, that Hand it was which firſt got hold of my Heart; well what's the Price of it; Ha, I am raviſh'd to ſee it upon Keecky's Finger.—

What did he ſay the Price was?

Two Hundred Guineas, Madam.

Threeſcore Pound, Dear Pudd, the De⯑vils in't if he won't give that.

Threeſcore Pounds? Why 'tis Worth a Hundred Child, Richly—'tis Stole—'tis Stole.—

Stole? I'd have you to know the Owner is my Re⯑lation, and has been as great a Merchant as any in London, but has had the Misfortune to have his Ships fall into the Hands of the French, or he'd not have parted with it at ſuch a Rate; it Coſt him Two Hundred Guineas.

I believe as much; indeed 'tis very fine.

So it is Keecky, and that Dear little Finger ſhall have it to let me Bite it; a little Tiny bit.—

Oh! Dear Pudd, you Hurt me.

Here—I han't ſo much Money about me, but ther's a Bill, Lambkin—there now, you'll Buſs poor Pud⯑dy now, won't you?

Buſs him—yes that I will agen, and a⯑gen, and agen. Dear Pudd.

You'll go Home with Puddy now to Dinner, won't you?

Yes—a—Dear Puddy, if you deſire it—I will—but—a—

But what?

But I promis'd my Lady Reveller to Dine with her, Deary—do, let me Pudd—I'll Dine with you to Morrow-day.

Nay, I'm ſure my Lady won't Eat a bit if ſhe don't ſtay.

Well, they are all ſo Fond of my Wife, by Keecky, ſhow me the Little Finger agen—Oh! Dear Little Fin⯑ger, by Keecky.

By own Pudd—Here Alpiew give him his Ring agen, I have my End, tell him 'tis to Dear.

But what will you ſay when Mr. Sago. Miſſes it.

I'll ſay—that it was two big for my Finger, and I loſt it; 'tis but a Crying-bout, and the good Man melts into Pity—

ACT. III.

SHA! Thou fluttering Thing.—So now I've fix'd it.

Madam, here's Mr. Lovely; I have introduc'd him as One of my Lady's Viſitors, and brought him down the Back-ſtairs.

I'm oblig'd to you, he comes opportunely.

Oh! Mr. Lovely, come, come here, look through this Glaſs, and ſee how the Blood Circulates in the Tale of this Fiſh.

Wonderful! but it Circulates prettier in this Fair Neck.

Pſhaw—be quiet—I'll ſhow you a Curio⯑ſity, the greateſt that ever Nature made—

in opening a Dog the other Day I found this Worm.

Prodigious! 'tis the Joint-Worm, which the Learned talk of ſo much.

Ay, the Lumbricus Latus, or Foeſcia, as Hippocra⯑tes calls it, or Vulgarly in Engliſh the Tape-Worm.—Thudaeus tells us of One of theſe Worms found in a Hu⯑man Body 200 Foot long, without Head or Tail.

I wiſh they be not got into thy Brain.

Oh you Charm me with theſe Diſcoveries.

Here's another Sort of Worm call'd Lumbricus te⯑res Inteſtinalis.

I think the Firſt you ſhow'd me the greateſt Cu⯑rioſity.

'Tis very odd, really, that there ſhould be every Inch a Joint, and every Joint a Mouth.—Oh the pro⯑found Secrets of Nature!

'Tis ſtrangely Surprizing.—But now let me be heard, for mine's the Voice of Nature too; methinks you neglect your ſelf, the moſt Perfect Piece of all her Works.

Why? What Fault do you find in me?

You have not Love enough; that Fire would Conſume and Baniſh all Studies but its own; your Eyes wou'd Sparkle, and ſpread I know not what, of Lively and Touching, o'er the whole Face; this Hand, when Preſs'd by him you Love, would Tremble to your Heart.

Why ſo it does,—have I not told you Twen⯑ty Times I Love you,—for I hate Diſguiſe; your Temper being Adapted to mine, gave my [...] the Firſt Im⯑preſſion;—you know my Father's Poſitive,—but do not believe he ſhall Force me to any Thing that does not Love Philoſophy.

But that Sea Captain Valeria.

If he was a Whale he might give you Pain, for I ſhould long to Diſſect him; but as he is a Man, you have no Reaſon to Fear him.

Conſent then to Fly with me.

What, and leave my Microſcope, and all my Things, for my Father to break in Pleces?

Valeria, Valeria.

Oh Heav'ns! Oh Heav'ns! he is coming up the Back-ſtairs. What-ſhall we do?

Humph, ha, cann't you put me in that Cloſet there?

Oh no, I han't the Key.

I'll run down the Great Stairs, let who will ſee me.

Oh no, no, no, no, not for your Life;—here, here, here, get under this Tub.

Sir, I'm here.

What, at your Whims—and Whirligigs, ye Baggage? I'll out at Window with them.

Oh Dear Father, ſave my Lumbricus Latus.

I'll Lamprey and Latum you; what's that I wonder? Ha? Where the Devil got you Names that your Father don't underſtand? Ha?

Oh my poor Worm! Now have you deſtroy'd a Thing, that, for ought I know, England cann't produce again.

What is it good for? Anſwer me that?—VVhat's this Tub here for? Ha?

What ſhall I do now?—it is, a 'tis a—Oh Dear Sir! Don't touch the Tub,—for there's a Bear's Young Cub that I have brought for Diſſection,—but I dare not tonch it till the Keeper comes.

I'll Cub you, and Keeper you, with a Venge⯑ance to you; is my Money laid out in Bears Cubs?—I'll drive out your Cub.—

Oh the Devil diſcover'd, your Servant Sir.

Oh! your Servant Sir—What is this your Bear's Cub? Ha Miſtreſs? His Taylor has lick'd him [32] nto Shape I find.—What did this Man do here? Ha Huſ⯑wife?—I doubt you have been ſtudying Natural Phi⯑loſophy with a Vengeance.

Indeed, Sir, he only brought me a ſtrange Fiſh, and hearing your Voice I was afraid you ſhould be Angry, and ſo that made me hide him.

A Fiſh,—'tis the Fleſh I fear; I'll have you Married to Night.—I believe this Fellow was the Beg⯑garly Enſign, who never March'd farther than from White⯑hall to the Tower, who wants your Portion to make him a Brigadier, without ever ſeeing a Battel—Huſwife, ha—tho' your Philoſophical Cant, with a Murrain to you—has put the Captain out of Conceit, I have a Husband ſtill for you;—come along, come along, I'll ſend the Servants to clear this Room of your Bawbles,—

I will ſo.

But the Servants won't, Old Gentleman, that's my Comfort ſtill.

I'm glad they are gone, for the Duce take me if I cou'd hit the Way out.

Ha—Enſign! luckily met; I have been Labouring for you, and I hope done you a Piece of Ser⯑vice. Why, you look ſurpriz'd.

Surpriz'd! ſo wou'd you, Sir Harry, if you had been whelm'd under a Tub, without Room to Breath.

Under a Tub! Ha, ha, ha.

'Twas the only Place of Shelter.

Come, come, I have a better Proſpect, the Captain is a very Honeſt Fellow, and thinks if you can bear with the Girl, you deſerve her Fortune; here's your [33] Part,

he'll give you your Cue, he ſtays at his Lodging for you.

What's the Deſign?

That will tell you; quick Diſpatch.

Well, Sir James, I know you have a Prolifick Brain, and will rely on your Contrivances, and if it ſucceeds the Captain ſhall have a Bowl of Punch large enough to ſet his Ship afloat.

The Tea-Table broke up already! I fear there has been but ſmall Recruits of Scandal to Day.

Well, I'll ſwear I think the Captain's a Plea⯑ſant Fellow.

That's becauſe he made his Court to her.

Uh—I Nauſeate thoſe Amphibious Creatures.

Umph, ſhe was not Addreſs'd to.

He ſeems neither to want Senſe, Honour, nor True Courage, and methinks there is a Beauty in his Plain Delivery.

There ſpoke Sincerity without Affectation.

How ſhall we paſs the Afternoon?

Aye, Ladies, how ſhall we?

You here! I thought you had Liſted your ſelf Volunteer under the Captain to Board ſome Prize, you whiſper'd ſo often, and ſneak'd out one after another.

Who would give one ſelf the Pains to Cruiſe Abroad, when all one Values is at Home?

To whom is this Directed? Or will you Mo⯑nopolize and Ingroſs us all?

No,—tho' you would wake Deſire in every Beholder, I reſign you to my Worthy Friend.

And the reſt of the Company have no Pre⯑tence to you.

That's more than ſhe knows.

Beauty, like yours, wou'd give all Mankind Pretence.

So, not a Word to me; are theſe his Vows?

There's One upon the Teaze already.

Why, you are in Diſorder, my Dear; you look as if you had loſt a Trant-Leva: What have you ſaid to her, Sir James?

I ſaid, Madam? I hope I never ſay any Thing to offend the Ladies. The Devils in theſe Married Women, they cann't conceal their own Intriegues, though they Swear us to Secrecy.

You miſtake, Couſin, 'tis his ſaying nothing to her has put her upon the Fret.

Ah, your Obſervations are always Malici⯑ous.

I deſpiſe them, Dear Lady Reveller, let's in to Picquet; I ſuppoſe Lady Lucy would be pleas'd with Sir James alone to finiſh her Remarks.

Nay, if you remove the Cauſe, the Diſcourſe ceaſes.

This you draw upon your ſelf, you will diſcover it.

Yes, your Falſhood.

Come my Dear, Sir James, will you make One at a Pool?

Pardon me, Madam, I'm to be at White's in Half an Hour, anon at the Baſſet-Table. I'm Yours.

No, no, he cann't leave her.

They play Gold, Sir James.

Madam, were your Heart the Stake I'd Renounce all Engagements to win that, or retrieve my own.

I muſt like the Counterſtake very well er'e I play ſo high.

Sir James, hearkee, One Word with you.

Ha, ha, I knew ſhe could not ſtir; I'll re⯑move your Conſtraint, but, with my wonted Freedom, will tell you plainly—your Husband's Shop wou'd better become you than Gaming and Gallants. Oh Shame to Virtue, that we ſhou'd Copy Men in their moſt Reigning Vices!

Farewel Sentences.

Madam—

So then, you'd perſuade me 'twas the Care of my Fame.

Nothing elſe I proteſt, my Dear little Rogue; I have as much Love as you, but I have more Conduct.

Well, you know how ſoon I forgive you your Faults.

Now to what Purpoſe have I Lied my ſelf in⯑to her good Graces, when I would be glad to be rid of her?

Booted and Spurr'd ſay you? Pray ſend him [36] up, Sir James; I ſuppoſe Truſty Buckle is come with ſome Diverting Embaſſy from your Friend.

Why in this Equipage?

Ah! Madam.—

Out with it.

Farewel Friends, Parents, and my Country; thou Dear Play-houſe, and ſweet Park, Farewel.

Farewel, why, whither are you going?

My Lord and I am going where they never knew Deceit.

That Land is Inviſible, Buckle.

Ha, ha, ha.

Were my Lord of my Mind your Ladiſhip ſhould not have had ſo large a Theme for your Mirth. Your Servant Ladies.

Well, but what's your Buſineſs?

My Lord charg'd me in his Name to take his Everlaſting Leave of your Ladiſhip.

Why, where is he a going pray?

In ſearch of a Country where there is no Women.

Oh dear, why what have the Women done to him pray?

Done to him, Madam? He ſays they are Proud, Perfidious, Vain, Inconſtant, Coquets in England.

Oh! He'll find they are everywhere the ſame.

And this is the Cauſe of his Whimſical Pilgrimage? Ha, ha.

And this proceeds from your ill Uſage, Madam; when he left your Houſe,—he flung himſelf into his Coach with ſuch a Force, that he broke all the Windows,—as they ſay,—for my Part I was not there;—when he came Home he beat all his Servants round to be Re⯑veng'd.

Was you there, Buckle?

No, I thank my Stars, when I arriv'd the Expe⯑dition was over;—in Haſte he Mounted his Cham⯑ber,—flung himſelf upon his Bed,—Burſting out into a Violent Paſſion,—Oh that ever I ſhould ſuffer my ſelf to be impos'd upon, ſaid he, by this Coquetiſh Beau⯑ty!

Meaning me, Buckle, Ha, ha?

Stay till I have finiſh'd the Piece, Madam, and your Ladiſhip ſhall judge;—ſhe's as Fickle as ſhe's Fair,—ſhe does not uſe more Art to Gain a Lover, ſaid he, than to deceive him when he is fix'd.—Humph.

Pleaſant—and does he call this taking Leave?

A Comical Adieu.

Oh, Madam, I'm not come to the Tragical Part of it yet, ſtarting from his Bed.—

I thought it had been all Farce,—if there be any Thing Heroick in't I'll ſet my Face and look Grave.

My Relation will require it, Madam, for I am ready to weep at the Repetition: Had you but ſeen how often he Travaſt the Room,

heard how often he ſtamp'd, what diſtorted Faces he made, caſting up his Eyesthu [...], Biting his Thumbs thus.

Ha, ha, ha, you'll make an Admirable Actor,—ſhall I ſpeak to the Patentees for you?

But pray how did this end?

At laſt, Madam, quite ſpent with Rage, he ſunk down upon his Elbow, and his Head fell upon his Arm.

What, did he faint away?

Oh, no.

He did not die?

No, Madam, but he fell aſleep.

Oh Brave Prince Pretti [...]an.

Ha, ha, ha.

After Three Hours Nap he Wak'd—and cal⯑ling haſtily—my Dear Buckle, ſaid he, let's to the End of the World; and try to ſind a Place where the Sun Shines not here and there at one Time—for 'tis not fit that it ſhould at once look upon Two Per⯑ſons whoſe Sentiments are ſo Different—She no longer regards my Pain, Ungrateful, Falſe, Inhumane, Barbarous Woman.

Fooliſh, Fond, Believing, Eaſie Man; there's my Anſwer—Come, ſhall we to Piquet, my Dear?

Hold, hold, Madam, I han't half done—

Oh! Pray my Dear Lady Reveller, let's have it out, 'tis very Diverting—

He call'd me in a feeble Voice; Buckle, ſaid he, bring me my little Serutore—for I will write to Lady Reveller before I part from this Place, never to behold her more—what, don't you Cry, Madam?

Cry—No, no, go on, go on.

'Tis done, Madam—and there's the Letter.

So, this Compleats the Narration.

Can any Man in the World write more Tenderly, Madam? Does he not ſay 'tis Impoſſible to Love you, and go for Flanders? And that he would rather hear of your Death then Return.—

Excellent, Ha, ha.

What, do you Laugh?

Who can forbear?

I think you ought to Die with Grief; I warrant Heaven will puniſh you all.

But hearkee, Buckle, where are you going now?

To tell my Lord in what Manner your Lady re⯑ceiv'd his Letter; Farewel—now for Flanders.—

A fair Wind, and a good Voyage to you.

My Lord, here? So now may I have my Head Broke for my long Harangue if it comes out.

Oh! Miraculous—my Lord, you have not finiſh'd your Campaign already, have you? Ha, ha, ha; or has the French made Peace at hearing of your Lordſhip's intended Bravery, and left you no Enemies to Combate?

My worſt of Foes are here—here, within my Breaſt; your Image, Madam.

Oh Dear, my Lord, no more of that Theme, for Buckle has given us a Surfeit on't already—even from your Breaking the Glaſſes of your Coach—to your falling faſt Aſleep. Ha, ha, ha.

The Glaſſes of my Coach! What do you mean, Ma⯑dam—Oh Hell!

Ruined quite.—Madam, for Heavens ſake what does your Ladiſhip Mean? I Li'd in every Syllable I told you, Madam.

Nay, if your Lordſhip has a Mind to Act it over agen we will Oblige you for once—Alpiew ſet Chairs—come, Dear Sago, ſit down—and let the Play begin—Buckle knows his Part, and upon Neceſſity cou'd Act yours too my Lord.

What has this Dog been doing? When he was only to deliver my Letter, to give her new Subject for her Mirth—Death, methinks I hate her,—Oh that I cou'd hold that Mind—what makes you in this Equipage? Ha! Sirrah?

My Lord, I, I, I, I,

Peace Villain—

Hey—this is Changing the Scene—

Who the Devil would Rack his Brains for theſe People of Quality, who like no Body's Wit but their own?—

If the Beating were Invention before, thou haſt it now in Reality; if Wars begin I'll Retire. They may agree better alone perhaps.

Where did you learn this Rudeneſs, my Lord, to Strike your Servant before me?

When you have depriv'd a Man of his Reaſon how can you blame his Conduct?

Reaſon—Egad—there's not Three Drams of Reaſon between you both—as my Cheek can teſtifie.

The Affront was meant to me—nor will I en⯑dure theſe Paſſions—I thought I had forbid your Viſits.

I thought I had Reſolv'd againſt them to.

But Reſolutions are of ſmall force of either ſide.

Grant me but this One Requeſt and I'll remove this hated Object.

Upon Condition 'tis the laſt.

It ſhall—I think it ſhall at leaſt—Is there a Happy Man for whom I am Deſpiſed?

I thought 'twas ſome ſuch ridiculous Queſtion; I'm of the Low-Church, my Lord, conſequently hate Con⯑feſſors; ha, ha, ha.

And Penance to I dare Swear.

And every thing but Play.

Dare you, the Subject of my Power—you, that Petition Love, Arraign my Pleaſures? Now I'm ſixt—and will never ſee you more.

Now wou'd any Body Swear ſhe's in Earneſt.

I cannot bear that Curſe—ſee me at your Feet again,

Oh! you have Tortur'd me enough, [41] take Pity now Dear Tyrant, and let my Suffering end.

I muſt not be Friends with him, for then I ſhall have him at my Elbow all Night, and ſpoil my Luck at the Baſſet-Table.

Either Cringing or Correcting, always in Extreams—I am weary of this Fatigue.

There's the Inſide of a Woman.

Gon—now Curſes on me for a Fool—the worſt of Fools—a Woman's Fool—

ACT. III.

Well, my Lord. I have left my Cards in the Hand of a Friend to hear what you have to ſay to me. Love I'm ſure is the Text, therefore Divide and Subdivide as quick as you can.

Coud'ſt thou Infuſe into me thy Temper, Sir James, I ſhou'd have thy Reaſon too; but I am Born to Love this Fickle, Faithleſs Fair—what have I not Eſſay'd to Race her from my Breaſt? But all in Vain; I muſt have her, or I muſt not Live.

Nay, if you are ſo far gone, my Lord, your Diſtemper requires an Able Phyſician—what think you of Loveley's bringing a File of Muſcqueteers, and car⯑ry her away, Via & Armis?

That Way might give her Perſon to my Arms, but where's the Heart?

A Trifle in Competition with her Body.

The Heart's the Gem that I prefer.

Say you ſo my Lord? I'll Engage Three Parts of Europe will make that Exchange with you; Ha, ha, ha.

That Maxim wou'd hold with me perhaps in all but her, there I muſt have both or none; therefore In⯑ſtruct, me Friend, thou who negligent in Love, keeps al⯑ways on the Level with the Fair—what Method ſhou'd I take to Sound her Soul's Deſign? For tho' her Carriage puts me on the Rack when I behold that Train of Fools about her, yet my Heart will plead in her Ex⯑cuſe, and Calm my Anger Spite of all Efforts.

Humph? I have a Plot, my Lord, if you'll comply with it.

Nothing of Force.

Whate're it be you ſhall be Witneſs of it, 'twill either Quench your Flame, or Kindle hers. I only will appear the Guilty; but here's Company, I'll tell you all within.

I'll expect you.

Ha, Captain, How ſits the Wind between you and your Miſtreſs? Ha?

North and by South, Faith; but here's one Sails full Eaſt, and without ſome unexpected Tornado, from the Old Man's Coaſt—he makes his Port I warrant ye.

I wiſh I were at Anchor once.

Why, thou art as arrant a Tar as if thou hadſt made an Eaſt-India Voyage, ha, ha.

Ay, am I not, Sir James? But Egad I hope the Old Fellow underſtands nothing of Navigation; if he does I ſhall be at a loſs for the Terms.

Oh! no matter for Terms—look big, and Bluſter for your Country—deſcribe the Vigo Buſineſs—publick News will furniſh you with that, and I'll engage the Succeſs.

Ay, Ay, let me alone, I'll bear up with Sir Richard, and thou ſhalt Board his Pinnace with Conſent ne'er fear.—ho, here he comes full Sail.

I'm glad to ſee you; this is my Kinſman which I told you of, as ſoon as he Landed; I brought him to Kiſs your Hands.

I Honour you, you are welcome.

I thank you Sir,—I'm not for Compliments; 'tis a Land Language I underſtand it not; Courage, Honeſty, and Plain-dealing Truth, is the Learning of our Element; if you like that I am for ye.

The Rogue does it to a Miracle.

He's an improving Spark I find, ha, ha.

Like it, Sir, why 'tis the only Thing I do like, hang Compliments, and Court-Breeding, it ſerves only to make Men a Prey to one another, to Encourage Cowardice, and Ruin Trade—No, Sir, give me the Man that dares meet Death and Dinner with the ſame Appe⯑tite— [44] one who rather than let in Popery, wou'd let out his Blood; to Maintain ſuch Men I'd pay Double Cuſtom; nay, all my Gain ſhou'd go for their Support. Gaptain lanch off a round Lie or Two.

The beſt Well-wiſher to his Country of an Engliſhman I ever heard.

Oh, Sir Richard, I wiſh the Nation were all of your Mind, 'twou'd give the Soldiers and the Sailors Life.

And make us Fight with Heart and Hand; my Kinſman, I'll aſſure you, fits your Principle to a Hair; he hates the French ſo much he ne'er fails to give them a Broad⯑ſide where'er he meets them; and has Brought in more Privateers this War than half the Captains in the Navy; he was the firſt Man that Boarded the French Fleet at Vigo—and in Gibraltar Buſineſs—the Gazettes will inform you of the Name of Captain Match.

Is this that Captain Match?

For want of better, Sir.

Sir, I ſhall be Proud of being known to you.

And I of being Related to you, Sir,—I have a Daughter Young and Handſome, and I'll give her a Portion ſhall make thee an Admiral Boy; for a Soul like thine is fit only to Command a Navy—what ſay'ſt thou, art thou for a Wife?

So, 'tis done, ha, ha, ha.

A proſperous Gale I'faith.

I don't know, Sir Richard, mehap a Woman may not like me; I am Rough and Storm-like in my Temper, unacquainted with the Effeminacy of Co [...]rts; I was Born upon the Sea, and ſince I can remember never Liv'd Two Months on Shore; if I Marry my Wife muſt go Abroad, I promiſe you that.

Abroad Man? Why ſhe ſhall go to the Indies with the—Oh! ſuch a Son-in-Law—how ſhall I be Bleſt in my Poſterity? Now do I foreſee the Greatneſs of [45] my Grand-Children; the Sons of this Man ſhall, in the Age to come, make France a Tributary Nation.

Once in an Engagement, Sir, as I was giving Or⯑ders to my Men, comes a Ball and took off a Fellow's Head, and ſtruck it full in my Teeth; I wipp'd it up, clapp'd it into a Gun, and ſhot it at the Enemy again.

Without the leaſt Concern?

Concern, Sir,—ha, ha, ha, if it had been my own Head I would have done the like.

Prodigious Effect of Courage!—Cap⯑tain I'll fetch my Girl, and be here again in an Inſtant:—What an Honour 'twill be to have ſuch a Son!

Ha, ha, ha, ha, you outdo your Maſter.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Old Knight's Tranſported.

I wiſh 'twas over, I am all in a Sweat; here he comes agrin.

I'll hear none of your Excuſes,—Captain your Hand,—there take her,—and theſe Gentle⯑men ſhall be Witneſſes, if they pleaſe, to this Paper, where⯑in I give her my whole Eſtate when I die, and Twenty Thouſand Pounds down upon the Nail; I care not whe⯑ther my Boy be worth a Groat,—get me but Grandſons and I'm Rich enough.

Generouſly ſaid I'faith—much Good may do him with her.

I'll do my Eedeavour, Father, I promiſe you.

I wiſh you Joy, Captain, and you, Madam.

That's Impoſſible;—can I have Joy in a Spe⯑cies ſo very different from miy own? Oh my Dear Love⯑ly!—We were only form'd one for another;—thy Dear Enquiring Soul is more to me—than all theſe uſeleſs Lumps of Animated Clay: Duty compels my Hand,—but my Heart is ſubject only to my Mind,— [46] the Strength of that they cannot Conquer;—no, with the Reſolution of the Great Unparallell'd Epictetus,—I here proteſt my Will ſhall ne're aſſent to any but my Lovely.

Ay, you and your Will may Philoſophize as long as you pleaſe,—Miſtreſs,—but your Body ſhall be taught another Doctrine,—it ſhall ſo,—Your Mind,—and your Soul, quotha! Why, what a Pox has my Eſtate to do with them? Ha? 'Tis the Fleſh Huſwife, that muſt raiſe Heirs,—and Supporters of my Name;—and ſince I knew the getting of the E⯑ſtate, 'tis fit I ſhou'd diſpoſe of it,—and therefore no more Excuſes, this is your Husband do you ſee,—take my Word for it.

Come, Captain,—my Chaplain is within, he ſhall do the Buſineſs this Minute: If I don't uſe the Autho⯑rity of a Father, this Baggage will make me loſe ſuch a Son-in-law that the City's Wealth cann't purchaſe me his Fellow.

Thanks Dear Invention for this Timely Aid.

The Baits gon down, he's by himſelf betray'd.

Thus ſtill where Arts both True and Honeſt fail,

Deceitful Wit and Policy prevail.

To Death, or any Thing,—'tis all alike to me.

Get you in I ſay,—Huſſey, get you in. In my Conſcience my Niece has ſpoil'd her already; but I'll have her Married this Moment; Captain, you have bound [47] me ever to you by this Match, command me and my Houſe for ever.—But ſhall I not have your Company, Gen⯑tlemen, to be Witneſſes of this Knot, this joyful Knot?

Yes Faith, Sir Richard, I have too much Reſpect for my Kinſman to leave him—till I ſee him ſafe in Har⯑bour; Ill wait on you preſently.

I am engag'd in the next Room at Play, I beg your Pardon, Sir Richard, for an Hour; I'll bring the whole Company to Congratulate the Bride and Bridegroom.

Bride and Bridegroom? Congratulate me, Man: Methinks I already ſee my Race Recorded amongſt the foremoſt Heroes of my Nation.—Boys, all Boys,—and all Soldiers.

Ha, ha, ha, never was Man ſo Bigotted be⯑fore;—how will this end when he diſcovers the Cheat? Ha, ha, won't you make One with the Ladies, Captain?

I don't care if I do venture a Piece or Two, I'll but diſpatch a little Buſineſs and meet you at the Table, Sir James.

Ha, Lady Lucy! Is your Ladiſhip reconccil'd to Baſſet yet? Will you give me leave to loſe this Purſe to you, Madam?

I thank Fortune I neither wiſh, nor need it, Sir James; I preſume the next Room is furniſh'd with Ava⯑rice enough to ſerve you in that Affair, if it is a Burden to you; or Mrs. Sago's ill Luck may give you an Opportunity of returning ſome of the Obligations you lye under.

Your Sex, Madam, extorts a Duty from ours, [48] and a well-bred Man can no more refuſe his Money to a La⯑dy, than his Sword to a Friend.

That Superfluity of good Manners, Sir James, would do better Converted into Charity; this Town abounds with Objects—wou'd it not leave a more Glorious Fame behind you to be the Founder of ſome Pious Work; when all the Poor at mention of your Name ſhall Bleſs your Memory; than that Poſterity ſhou'd ſay you Waſted your Eſtate on Cards and Women?

Humph, 'tis pity ſhe were not a Man, ſhe Preaches ſo Emphatically.

Faith, Madam, you have a very good Notion, but ſomething too Early—when I am Old, I may put your Principles in Practice, but Youth for Pleaſure was deſign'd—

The trueſt Pleaſure muſt conſiſt in doing Good, which cannot be in Gaming.

Every thing is good in its Kind, Madam; Cards are harmleſs Bits of Paper, Dice inſipid Bones—and Women made for Men.

Right, Sir James—but all theſe things may be perveted—Cards are harmleſs Bits of Paper in themſelves, yet through them what Miſchiefs have been Done? What Orphans Wrong'd? What Tradeſmen Ruin'd? What Coach and Equipage diſmiſt for them?

But then, how many fine Coaches and Equi⯑pages have they ſet up, Madam?

Is it the more Honourable for that? How ma⯑ny Miſſes keep Coaches too? Which Arrogance in my Opinion only makes them more Eminently Scandalous—

Oh! thoſe are ſuch, as have a Mind to be Damn'd in this S [...]ate, Madam—but I hope your Ladi⯑ſhips don't Rank them amongſt us Gameſters.

They are Inſeparable, Sir James; Madam's Grandeur muſt be Upheld—tho' the Baker and Butcher ſhut up Shop.

Oh! your Ladiſhip wrongs us middling Gentlemen there; to Ruin Tradeſmen is the Qualities Pre⯑rogative only; and none beneath a Lord can pretend to do't with an Honourable Air, ha, ha.

Their Example ſways the meaner Sort; I grieve to think that Fortune ſhou'd Exalt ſuch Vain, ſuch Vitious Souls—whilſt Virtue's Cloath'd in Raggs.

Ah! Faith, ſhe'd make but a ſcurvy Figure at Court, Madam, the Stateſ-men and Politcians wou'd Suppreſs her quickly—but whilſt ſhe remains in your Breaſt ſhe's ſafe—and makes us all in Love with that Fair Covering.

Oh! Fie, Fi, Sir James, you cou'd not Love one that hates your chief Direction.

I ſhou'd Hate it too, Madam, on ſome Terms that I cou'd Name.

What wou'd make that Converſion pray?

Your Heart.

I cou'd pay that Price—but dare not Venture upon one ſo Wild—

Firſt let me ſee the Fruit e'er I take a Leaſe of the Garden, Sir James.

Oh! Madam, the beſt Way is to Secure the Ground, and then you may Manure and Cultivate it as you pleaſe.

That's a certain Trouble and uncertain Profit. and in this Affair; I prefer the Theory before the Practick But I detain you from the Table, Sir James—you are wanted to Tally—your Servant—

Nay, if you leave me, Madam, the Devil will Tempt me—ſhe's gone, and now cann't I ſhake off the Thought of Seven Wins, Eight Loſes—for the Blood of me—and all this Grave Advice of hers is loſt, Faith—tho' I do Love her above the reſt of her Sex—ſhe's an exact Model of what all Women ought to be,—and yet your Merry little Coquetiſh Tits are very Di⯑verting—well, now for Baſſet; let me ſee what Money have I about—me. Humph! about a Hundred Gnineas—half of which will ſet the Ladies to Cheating—falſe Parolies in Abundance.

Oh! Sir James, are you come? We want you to Tally for us.

What Luck, Ladies?

I have only won a Sept & Leva.

And I have loſt a Trante & Leva—my Ill Fortune has not forſook me yet I ſee.

I go a Guinea upon that Card.

You loſe that Card.

I Mace Sir James's Card Double.

Seven wins, and Five loſes; you have loſt it, Madam.

Agen?—ſure never was Woman ſo Unlucky—

Knave wins, and Ten loſes; you have Won, Sir James.

Clean Cards here.

Burn this Book, 'thas an unluckly Air.

Bring ſome more Books.

Oh! Captain—here ſet a Chair, come, Captain you, ſhall ſit by me—now if we can but Strip this Tarr.

Withal my Heart, Madam—come, what do you Play Gold?—that's ſomething High tho'—well a Guinea upon this Honeſt Knave of Clubs.

You loſe it for a Guinea more.

Done, Madam.

The Five Wins, and the Knave loſes.

You have loſt it, Captain.

The Knave wins, for Two Guineas more, Madam.

Done Sir James.

Six Wins—Knave Loſes.

Oh! the Devil, I'm Fac't, I had rather have loſt it all.

Nine wins, Queen loſes—you have won,

I'll make a Paroli—I Mace as much more; your Card loſes, Sir James, for Two Guineas, your's, Captain, loſes for a Guineas more.

Four wins, Nine loſes—you have Loſt, Madam.

Oh! I cou'd Tear my Fleſh—as I Tear theſe Cards—Confuſion—I can never win above a wretch'd Paroli; for if I puſh to Sept & Leva, tis gone.

Ace wins, Knave loſes.

Sink the Knave, I'll ſet no more on't.

Fac't agen—what's the meaning of this Ill-luck to Night? Bring me a Book of Hearts, I'll try if they are more Succeſsful, that on the Queen; yours and your Cards loſes.

Bring me a freſh Book; bring me another Book; bring me all Diamonds.

That can never be lucky, the Name of Jewels don't become a Citizen's Wife.

King wins, the Tray loſes.

You have great Luck to Night, Mr. Sharper.

So I have Sir James—I have won Sonica every time.

But if he has got the Nack of winning thus he ſhall ſharp no more here, I promiſe him.

I Mace that.

Sir James, pray will you T [...]lly.

With all my Heart, Madam.

Pray give me the Cards, Sir.

I ſet that.

I ſet Five Guineas upon this Card, Sir James.

Done Madam,—Five wins,—Six loſes.

I Set that.

Five don't go, and Seven loſes.

I Mace double.

I Mace that.

Three wins, Six loſes.

I Mace, I Mace double, and that—Oh ye malicious Stars!—again.

Eight wins Seven loſes.

So, this Trante & leva makes ſome Amends;—Adsbud I hate Cheating,—What's that falſe Cock made for now? Ha, Madam?

Nay, Mrs. Sago, if you begin to play foul.

Rude Brute, to take Notice of the Slight of Hand in our Sex—I proteſt he wrongs me, Madam,—there's the Dernier, Stake,—and I'll ſet it all,—now Fortune Favour me, or this Moment is my laſt.

There's the laſt of Fifty Pounds,—what's the Meaning of this?

Now for my Plot, her Stock is low I perceive.

I never had ſuch ill Luck,—I muſt fetch more Money: Ha; from whence comes this? This is the Genteeleſt Piece of Gallantry, the Action is Sir Harry's, I ſee by his Eyes.

Nine wins, Six loſes

I am ruin'd and undone for ever; oh, oh, oh, to looſe every Card, oh, oh, ho.

So there's one Veſſel ſprung aleek, and I am almoſt aſhoar—If I go on at this Rate, I ſhall make but a lame Voyage on't I doubt.

Duce wins, King loſes.

I Mace again,—I Mace Double, I mace again;—now the Devil blow my Head off if ever I ſaw Cards run ſo; Dam 'em.

Fie, Captain, this Concern among the Ladies is indecent.

Dam the Ladies,—mayn't I ſwear,—or tear my Cards if I pleaſe, I'm ſure I have paid for them; pray count the Cards, I believe there's a falſe Tally.

No, they are Right, Sir.

Not to turn One Card! Oh, oh, oh.

Madam, if you play no longer pray don't diſturb thoſe that do.—Come, Courage, Captain,—Sir James's Gold was very lucky;—who cou'd endure theſe Men did they not loſe their Money?

Bring another Book here;—that upon Ten,—and I Mace that.—

King face't, Eight wins, Ten loſes.

Fire and Gunpowder.

Ha, ha, ha, what is the Captain vaniſh'd in his own Smoak?—Come, I Bett with you, Mr. Sharper; your Card loſes.

Sir, do you think it poſſible to loſe a Trante & Leva a Quinſe-leva,—and a Sept-et-leva,—and never turn once

No ſure, 'tis almoſt Impoſſible.

Ounds you lie, I did Sir.

Ah, ah.

What the Devil, had I to do among theſe Land-Rats?—Zounds, to loſe Forty Pounds for nothing, not ſo much as a Wench for it; Ladies, quotha,—a Man [54] had as good be acquainted with Pick-pockets.

Ha, ha, ha, the Captain has frighted the Wo⯑men out of their Wits,—now to keep my Promiſe with my Lord, tho' the Thing has but an ill Face, no Matter.

ACT. V.

SIR James, what have you done with the Rude Porpois?

He is gone to your Uncle's Apartment, Madam, I ſuppoſe.—I was in Pain till I knew how your La⯑diſhip did after your Fright.

Really, Sir James, the Fellow has put me into the Spleen by his ill Manners. Oh my Stars! That there ſhould be ſuch an unpoliſhed Piece of Humane Race, to be in that Diſorder for loſing his Money to us Women.—I was apprehenſiev he would have beat me, ha, ha.

Ha, ha, your Ladiſhip muſt impute his ill Breeding to the Want of Converſation with your Sex; but he is a Man of Honour with his own, I aſſure you.

I hate out of faſhion'd Honour.—Bu [...] where's the Company, Sir James? Shan't we play again?

All diſperſs'd, Madam.

Come, you and I'll go to Picquet then.

Oh I'm tir'd with Cards, Madam, cann't you think of ſome other Diverſion to paſs a chearful Hour?—I cou'd tell you One if you'd give me leave.

Of your own Invention? Then it muſt be a pleaſant One.

Oh the pleaſanteſt one in the World.

What is it I pray?

Love, Love, my Dear Charmer.

Oh Cupid! How came that in your Head?

Nay, 'tis in my Heart, and except you pity me the Wound is Mortal.

Ha, ha, ha, is Sir James got into my Lord Worthy's Claſs?—You that could tell me I ſhould not have ſo large a Theme for my Diverſion, were you in his Place, ha, ha, ha; what, and is the Gay, the Airy, the Wit⯑ty, Inconſtant, Sir James overtaken? Ha, ha.

Very true, Madam,—you ſee there is no jeſting with Fire.—Will you be kind?

Kind? What a diſmal Sound was there?—I'm afraid your Feaver's high, Sir James, ha, ha.

If you think ſo, Madam, 'tis time to apply cooling Medicines.

Ha, what Inſolence is this? The Door lock'd! What do you mean Sir James?

Oh 'tis ſomething indecent to Name it, Ma⯑dam, but I intend to ſhow you.

Unhand me, Villain, or I'll cry out.—

Do, and make your ſelf the Jeſt of Servants, expoſe your Reputation to their vile Tongues,—which if you pleaſe ſhall remain ſafe within my Breaſt; but if with your own Noiſe you Blaſt it, here I bid Defiance to all Honour and Secrecy,—and the Firſt Man that enters dies.

What ſhall I do? Inſtruct me Heaven—Monſter, is this your Friendſhip to my Lord? And can you wrong the Woman he Adores.

Ay, but the Woman does not care a Souſe for him; and therefore he has no Right above me; I love you as much, and will poſſeſs.

Oh! hold—Kill me rather than deſtroy my Honour—what Devil has Debauch'd your Temper? Or how has my Carriage drawn this Curſe upon me? What have I done to give you cauſe to think you ever ſhou'd ſucceed this hated Way.

Why this Queſtion, Madam? Can a Lady [56] that loves Play ſo paſſionately as you do—that takes as much Pains to draw Men in to loſe their Money, as a Town Miſs to their Deſtruction—that Careſſes all Sorts of People for your Intereſt, that divides your time between your Toylet and the Baſſet-Table; (can you, I ſay, boaſt of Innate Virtue?—Fie, fie, I am ſure you muſt have gueſs'd for what I Play'd ſo Deep—we never part with our Money without Deſign—or writing Fool upon our Foreheads;—therefore no more of this Re⯑ſiſtance, except you would have more Money.

Oh! horrid.

There was Fifty Guineas in that Purſe, Ma⯑dam—here's Fifty more; Money ſhall be no Diſpute.

Periſh your Money with your ſelf—you Villain—there, there; take your boaſted Favours, which I reſolv'd before to have Repaid in Specie; Baſeſt of Men I'll have your Life for this Affront—what ho, within there.

Huſh—Faith, you'll Raiſe the Houſe.

And 'tis in Vain—you are mine; nor will I quit this Room till I'm Poſſeſt.

Raiſe the Houſe, I'll raiſe the World in my Defence, help, Murther, Murther,—a Rape, a Rape—

Ha! Villain, unhand the Lady—or this Moment is thy laſt.

Villain, Back my Lord—follow me.

By the Bright Sun that Shines you ſhall not go—no, you have ſav'd my Virtue, and I will preſerve your Life—let the vile Wretch be puniſh'd by viler Hands—yours ſhall not be Prophan [...]d with Blood ſo Baſe, if I have any Power—

Shall the Traytor Live?—Tho' your Barbarous Uſage does not Merit this from me, yet in Conſideration [57] that I Lov'd you once—I will Chaſtiſe his Inſolence.

Once—Oh! ſay not once; do you not Love me ſtill? Oh! how pure your Soul appears to me above that Deteſted Wretch.

It takes as I cou'd Wiſh—

Yet how have I been ſlighted, every Fop preferr'd to me?—Now you Diſcover what Inconveniency your Gaming has brought you into—this from me wou'd have been unpardonable Advice—now you have prov'd it at your own Expence.

I have, and hate my ſelf for all my Folly—Oh! forgive me—and if ſtill you think me Worthy of your Heart—I here Return you Mine—and will this Hour Sign it with my Hand.

How I Applaud my ſelf for this Contrivance.

Oh! the Tranſporting Joy, it is the only Happi⯑neſs I Covet here.

Sir James. Ha, ha, ha, ha, how am I Cenſur'd now for doing this Lady a iece of Service, in forcing that upon her, which only her Vanity and Pride Reſtrain'd.

Ha, Lady Lucy!—Having Succeeded for my Friend, who knows but this may be my Lucky Mi⯑nute too?—Madam, you come Opportunely to hear.

Stand off Baſeſt of Men, I have heard too much; coud'ſt thou Chuſe no Houſe but this to Act thy Villanies in? And cou'd'ſt thou fairly offer Vows to me, when thy Heart, Poiſon'd with vicious Thoughts, harbour'd this Deſigns againſt my Family?

Very fine, Faith, this is like to be my Lucky [58] Minute with a Witneſs; but Madam—

Offer not at Excuſes, 'tis height of Impu⯑dence to look me in the Face.

Egad ſhe Loves me—Oh! Happy Rogue—this Concern can proceed from nothing elſe.

My Heart till now unus'd to Paſſion ſwells with this Affront, wou'd Reproach thee—wou'd Re⯑proach my ſelf, for having Harbour'd one favourable Thought of thee.

Why did you, Madam?—Egad I owe more to her Anger than ever I did to her Morals.

Ha! What have I ſaid?

The only kind Word you ever utter'd.

Yes, Impoſture, know to thy Confuſion that I did love the, and fancy'd I Diſcover'd ſome Seeds of Virtue amongſt that Heap of Wickedneſs; but this laſt Action has betray'd the Fond Miſtake, and ſhow'd thou art all o'er Feign'd.

Give me leave, Madam—

Think not this Confeſſion meant to ad⯑vance thy Impious Love, but hear my Final Reſolution.

Egad I muſt hear it—I find for there's no ſtopping her.

From this Moment I'll never—

Nay, nay, nay, after Sentence no Criminal is allow'd to Plead; there⯑fore I will be hear'd—not Guilty, not Guilty. Madam, by—if I don't prove that this is all a Stratagem, Con⯑triv'd, Study'd, Deſign'd, Proſecuted, and put in Executi⯑on, to reclaim your Couſin, and give my Lord Poſſeſſion—may you Finiſh your Curſe, and I Doom'd to Everlaſting Abſence—Egad I'm out of Breath—

Oh! Cond'ſt thou prove this?

I can, if by the Proof you'll make me Hap⯑py; my Lord ſhall Convince you.

To him I will refer it, on this Truth your Hopes Depend.

I was never out at a Critical Minute in my Life.

Hearkee, Miſtreſs, is my Wife here?

Truly I ſhant give my ſelf the Trouble of ſeeking her for him; now ſhe has loſt all her Money—your Wife is a very Indiſcreet Perſon, Sir.

I'm afraid I ſhall find it ſo to my Coſt.

Come, come, Sir, we cann't wait all Day—the Actions are a Thouſand Pound—you ſhall have time to ſend for Bail, and what Friends you Pleaſe.

A Thouſand Pound?

Oh! Lambkin have you Spent me a Thouſand Pound.

Who, I Pudd? Oh! undone for Ever—

Pud me no Pud,—do you Owe Mr. Tabby the Mercer Two Hundred Pounds? Ha.

I, I, I, don't know the Sum Dear Pudd—but, but, but I do Owe him ſomething; but I believe he made me Pay too Dear.

Oh! thou Wolfkin inſtead of Lambkin—for thou haſt Devour'd my Subſtance; and doſt thou Owe Mr. Dollor the Goldſmith Three Hundred Pound? Doſt thou? Ha, ſpeak Tygreſs.

Sure it cann't be quite Three Hundred Pound.

Thou Iſland Crocodile thou—and doſt thou Owe Ratsbane the Vintner a Hundred Pound? And were thoſe Hampers of Wine which I receiv'd ſo Joyfully ſent by thy ſelf, to thy ſelf? Ha.

Yes indeed, Puddy—I, I, I, beg your Pardon.

And why didſt not thou tell me of them? Thou Rattle-Snake?—for they ſay they have ſent a Hundred times for their Money—elſe I had not been Arreſted in my Shop.

Be, be, be, becauſe I, I, I was afraid, Dear Puddy.

But wer't not thou afraid to Ruin me tho, Dear Pudd. Ah! I need ask the, no more Queſtions, thou Ser⯑pent in Petticoats; did I Doat upon thee for this? Here's a Bill from Calico the Linnen-Draper, another from Setwell the Jeweller—from Coupler a Mantua-Maker, and Pimpwell the Milliner; a Tribe of Locuſts enough to undo a Lord Mayor.

I hope not, truly, Dear, Dearey, I'm ſure that's all.

All with a Pox—no Mrs. Jezebel, that's. not all; there's Two Hundred Pound Due to my ſelf for Tea, Coffee and Chocolet, which my Journey-man has Confeſs'd fince your Roguery came out—that you have Imbezell'd, Huſwife, you have; ſo, this comes of your keep⯑ing Quality Company—e'en let them keep you now, for I have done with you, you ſhall come no more within my Doors I promiſe you.

Oh! Kill me rather; I never did it with De⯑ſign to part with you, indeed Puddy.

No, no, I believe not whilſt I was Worth a Groat. Oh!

How! Mrs. Sago in Tears, and my honeſt Friend in Ruffins Hands; the meaning of this.

Oh! Sir James—my Hypocritical Wife is as much a Wife as any Wife in the City—I'm Arreſted here in an Action of a Thouſand Pound, that ſhe has taken up Goods for, and Gam'd away; get out of my ſight, get out of my ſight, I ſay.

Indeed and indeed.

Dear Puddy but I cannot—no, here will I Hang forever on this Neck.

Help, Murder, Murder, why, why, what will you Collar me?

Right Woman, I muſt try to make up this Breach—Oh! Mr. Sago, you are unkind—'tis pure Love that thus Tranſports your Wife, and not ſuch Baſe Deſigns as you Complain of.

Yes, yes, and ſhe run me in Debt out of pure Love to no doubt.

So it was Pudd.

VVhat was it? (Ha Miſtreſs) out of love to me that you have undone me? Thou, thou, thou, I don't know what to call thee bad enough.

You won't hear your Keckey out, Dear Pudd, it was out of Love for Play,—but for Lo, Lo, Love to you, Dear Pudd; if you'll forgive me I'll ne'er play again.

Nay, now, Sir, you muſt forgive her.

What, forgive her that would ſend me to Jayl?

No, no, there's no Danger of that, I'll Bail you, Mr. Sago, and try to Compound thoſe Debts.—You know me Officers.

Very well, Sir James, your Worſhip's Word is ſufficient.

There's your Fees, then leave here your Priſo⯑ner, I'll ſee him forth coming.

With all our Hearts; your Servant, Sir.

Ah thou wicked Woman, how I have doated on thoſe Eyes! How often have I kneel'd to kiſs that Hand! Ha, is not this true, Keckey?

Yes, Deary, I, I, I, I do confeſs it.

Did ever I refuſe to grant wbatever thou ask'd me?

No, never, Pudd.—

Might'ſt thou not have eaten Gold, as the Say⯑ing is? Ha?—Oh Keecky, Keecky!

Leave Crying, and wheedle him, Madam, whee⯑dle him.

I do confeſs it, and cann't you forgive your Keckey then that you have been ſo Tender of, that you ſo of⯑ten confeſt your Heart has jump'd up to your Motuh when you have heard my Beauty prais'd.

So it has I profeſs, Sir James,—I begin to melt,—I do; I am a good-natur'd Fool, that's the Truth on't: But if I ſhould ſorgive you, what would you [62] do to make me Amends? For that Fair Face, if I turn you out of Doors, will quickly be a cheaper Drug than any in my Shop.

And not maintain her half ſo well;—pro⯑miſe largely, Madam.

I'll Love you for ever, Deary.

But you'll Jigg to Covent-Garden again.

No, indeed I won't come within the Air on't, but take up with City Acquaintance, rail at the Court, and go Twice a Week with Mrs. Outſide to Pin-makers-hall.

That would rejoice my Heart.

See, if the good Man is not ready to weep; your laſt Promiſe has conquer'd.—Come, come, Buſs and be Friends, and end the Matter.—I'm glad the Quarrel is made up, or I had had her upon my Hands.

Pudd, don't you hear Sir James, Pudd?

I can hold no longer,—yes, I do hear him,—come then to the Arms of thy n'own Pudd.

Now all's well; and for your Comfort Lady Reveller is by this Time married to my Lord Worthy, and there will be no more Gaming I aſſure you in that Houſe.

Joys upon Joys. Now if theſe Debts were but Accommodated, I ſhould be happier than ever; I ſhould indeed Kickky.

Leave that to me, Mr. Sago, I have won Part of your Wife's Money, and will that Way reſtore it you.

I thank you, good Sir James, I believe you are the Firſt Gameſter that ever Refunded.

Generouſly done,—Fortune has brought me. off this Time, and I'll never truſt her more.

But ſee the Bride and Bridegroom.

This Match which I have now been Witneſs to, is what I long have wiſh'd, your Courſe of Life muſt of Neceſſity be chang'd.

Ha, Sir James here!—Oh if you love me, my Lord let us avoid that Brute, you muſt not meet him.

Oh, there's no Danger, Madam.—My Lord, I wiſh you Joy with all my Heart; we only quarrell'd to make you Friends, Madam, ha, ha, ha.

What, am I trick'd into a Marriage then?

Not againſt your Will, I hope.

No, I forgive you; tho' had I been aware of it, it ſhould have coſt you a little more Pains.

I wiſh I could return thy Plot, and make this La⯑dy thine, Sir James.

Then I ſhould be paid with Intereſt, my Lord.

My Fault is Conſideration you know, I muſt think a little longer on't.

And my whole Study ſhall be to improve thoſe Thoughts to my own Advantage.

I wiſh your Ladiſhip Joy, and hope I ſhall keep my Kickey to my ſelf now.

With all my Heart Mr. Sago, ſhe has had ill Luck of late, which I am ſorry for.

My Lord Worthy will confine your Ladiſhip from Play as well as I, and my Injunction will be more caſie when I have your Example.

Nay 'tis Time to throw up the Cards when the Games out.

Well, Sir James, the Danger's over, we have doub⯑led the Cape, and my Kinſman is Sailing directly to the Port.

A Boon Voyage.

'Tis done, and my Heart is at Eaſe.—Did you ever ſee ſuch a perverſe Baggage, look in his Face I ſay, and thank your Stars, for their beſt influences gave yon this Hus⯑band.

Will not Valeria look upon me? She us'd to be more Kind when we have ſiſh'd for Eals in Vinegar.

My Lovely, is it thee? And has natural Sympathy for⯑born to inform my Senſe thus long?

How! how! This Lovely? What does it [...] the Enſign I have ſo carefully avoided!

Yes, Sir, the ſame; I hope you may be brought to like a Land Soldier as well as a Seaman.

And, Captain, have you done this?

Yes, Faith, ſhe was too whimſical for our Element; her hard Words might have Conjur'd up a Storm for ought I know—ſo I have ſet her aſhore.

What, my Uncle deceiv'd with his Stock of Wiſdom? Ha, ha, ha.

Here's ſuch a Coupling, Mrs. Alpiew, han't you a Month's Mind?

Not to you I aſſure you.

I was but in Jeſt, Child, ſay nay when you're ask'd.

The principal Part of this Plot was mine, Sir Richard.

Wou'd 'twas in my Power to hang you for't.

And I have no Reaſon to doubt you ſhould re⯑pent it, he is a Gentleman, tho' a younger Brother, he loves your Daughter, and ſhe him, which has the beſt Face of Hap⯑pineſs in a married State; you like a Man of Honour, and he has as much as any one, that I aſſure you, Sir Richard.

Well, ſince what's paſt is paſt Recal I had as good be ſatisfied as not, therefore take her, and bleſs ye together.

So now each Man's Wiſh is Crown'd, but mine with double Joy.

Well ſaid, Sir Richard, let's have a Bowl of Punch, and Drink to the Bridegroom's good Voyage to Night,—ſteady, ſteady, ha, ha.

I'll take a Glaſs with you Captain,—I reckon my ſelf a Bridegroom too.

I doubt Kickey won't find him ſuch.

Well,—poor Keckky's bound to good Be⯑haviour, or ſhe had loſt quite her Puddy's Favour.