[1] THE Beau's Duel: OR A Soldier for the Ladies.

SCENE I. The Street.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I'm reſolv'd I will Love on—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

Very much alter'd of late.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What, at a ſtand Colonel! ha [...] What means all this Con⯑cern?

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

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

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

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

On my Soul he deſigns to Debauch her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Very well, Is the Muſick all come?

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

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

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

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

Hiſt, the thing opens.

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

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

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

How, the Door open?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What's here another Serenade? More Lovers yet?

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

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

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

What do you mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And yet not fight, ſay you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will you go Colonel?

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

Then you won't go?

No, I'll expect you at my Lodgings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What have you obſerv'd, Couſin?

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

Oh, How-inquiſitive are Girls!

Oh, how reſerv'd are Lovers!

Prithee, Couſin, learn to be more Serious.

Prithee, Couſin, learn to be more free.

Then you poſitively believe I am in Love.

Poſitively.

And with—

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

And nothing—

Will perſwade me to the contrary.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With all my Heart, I love Miſchief ſo well, I can refuſe no⯑thing that farthers that.

SCENE. Sir William's Lodgings.

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

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

Pray Sir VVilliam—Pray my Lord.

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

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

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

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

Well, what would you, Sir?

I vovd tell you, Sir, dere be one two Gentlemen wait up⯑on you.

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

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

Y [...] Sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right, Sir.

You allow that?

We do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why, What's the Matter?

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

Not of your Wine, I hope.

Nor your Miſtreſs?

No, but of Mr. Quaver.

Why is he dead?

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

Is he run thro' the Body?

Or Drunk before Dinner?

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

Ha, ha, ha, a ſad miſchance indeed.

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

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

You ſee, Gentlemen, how I ſpend my Life, I divide the greateſt part of it between Love and Muſick: And, to make amends for the diſappointment of one, fate has ſent me ſome new diſcovery of 'tother. A new Amour enfeeble me, for upon my Soul, Gentle⯑men, I never ſaw the hand before; and to convince you of its No⯑velty, I'll open it fairly before you.

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

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

Ay, prithee dear Mr. Toper.

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

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

Ha!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good-by Knight.

Gentlemen, your moſt obſequious Servant.

SCENE II. Careful's Houſe,

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

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

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

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

With all my Heart.

Mr. Ogle, your Servant—

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

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

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

How! This Coxcomb encourag'd too.

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

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

What, did you never ſpeak to her?

Never.

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

By a Third Perſon, Sir.

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

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

Oh very well, Match making is her buſineſs.

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

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

Ha, ha, ha.

Rediculous Monſter.

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

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

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

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

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

Why what hopes had you of her?

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

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

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

Sir, your very humble Servant—

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

I was ſo, Sir.

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

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

Say you ſo, Sir?

Then you are very well acquainted, Sir.

Yes, very well acquainted, Sir.

Pray, Sir, can you introduce me?

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

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

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

And is this all the hopes you have?

Why is this nothing, Gentlemen?

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

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

How Jilt!

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

Ha, ha, ha.

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

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

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

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

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

The Scene changes to Mrs. Plotwell's Lodgings.

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

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

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

Ha! Captain Bellmein?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This Town does abound with ſuch as you ſpeak of.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Addreſſes cunningly.

Inſinuates himſelf ſlily into a Ladies Favour.

Then ſeizes his Prey at once.

Oh Lord, hold off.

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, Madam, inſtantly.

I'll wait on her.

Scene changes to a Tavern.

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

Yes, Sir.

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

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

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

Not for the World!

No, Why pray?

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

How, I his Rival? Where, pray you?

In Clarinda, I ſuppoſe.

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

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

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

Do you think I lye, Sir?

Oh, by no means, Sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zounds, I believe you dare not ſight him.

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

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

As how pray?

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

But ſuppoſe he draws again.

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

A very good pr [...]ject.

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

But you'll be ſure to part us.

Ay, certainly,

now I wiſh Bellmein was here to ſhare the Diverſion.

There, Sir, there's enough.

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

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

The Scene changes to another Room in the ſame Houſe.

This Hermatage is not brisk.

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

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

It is the very ſame, Sir.

Well, ſend me in four douzen.

And how much Champagne, Sir William.

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

You ſhall have it, Sir.

Sir William, I'm your humble Servant.

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

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

Of mine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why then I'll ſtep in and part you.

A very good piece of Contrivance, impair my Vigour.

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

Did you call, Gentlemen?

Ay: Is Mr. Ogle below?

Yes Sir.

Hold. I'll fetch him my ſelf.

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

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

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

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

Mr. Ogle!

Sir VVilliam!

Dear Mr. Ogle, I'm glad to ſee you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pray give us way, 'twill ſoon be ended.

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

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

Why don't you fight now Gentlemen?

A Pox take him for hs Brutiſh Civility.

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

Agreed.—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SCENE, Carefull's Houſe.

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

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

The Scene changes to another Room in the ſame Houſe,

Here, here, on with your Manhood quickly.

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

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

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

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

I readily ſubmit to any Propoſal of yours, and will re⯑ly on your Contrivance.

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

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

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

Ogle, who is he?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha, ha, ha, A good Excuſe,—Indeed he's ſit for no⯑thing but to ſet upon ones Cabinet to watch ones China. Well, I wiſh you good Sport, and am your Humble Servant.

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

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

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

What mean you, Emilia?

That he is falſe.

Falſe! Impoſſible, How know you this?

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

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

How know you 'tis he Couſin?

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

Where did you ſee him next? How got he an Opportu⯑nity?

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

I remember.

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

How's this! For Mr. Celadon?

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

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

No, and I ſuppoſe that was his Policy to prevent a diſ⯑covery to you.

Ha! 'Tis from Manly,—what's this,

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

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

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

Did he uſe to meet you then?

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

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

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

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

SCENE, Hide-Park.

HEre's a Weapon Mr. Ogle will decide the Quarrel as well as e're a Sharp in Chriſtendom, and with⯑out danger.

An Admirable Contrivance Sir William, for now they'll hear of a Duel, and we reckon'd ſuch skillful Artiſts, that nei⯑ther cou'do'recome.

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

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

Files upon my Honour, ha, ha, ha.

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

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

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

What do you mean Gentlemen?

Only to rub up you Courage a little.

What's that Sir?

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

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

I'de as ſoon learn Manners of a Muſcovite.

Pray Sir who are you? And what Affairs led you hi⯑ther?

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

O Lord! a Rival of mine too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come on then

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

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

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

You Marry her, Ha, ha, ha.

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

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

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

SCENE, Carefull's Houſe.

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

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

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

you Dog you.

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

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

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

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

A Friend of mine! As how, pray forſooth?

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

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

And I think it a good project too Uncle.

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

Marry Sir!

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

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

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

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

Not for a Day.—

Sir I have ſworn not to Marry this Month.

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

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

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

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

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

No—Upon my Honour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

A very handſome VVomand, and very modeſtly dreſt.

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

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

The ſame Sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This makes me love you the more.

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

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

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

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

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

Here's Sir William Mode below Sir.

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

I fancy we ſhall drive Dancing out of your Head, Old Gen⯑tleman.

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

Might I paſs upon the Brethren think you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha! By Heaven the very Crocodile.

By all my hopes of Happineſs the very Monſter.

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

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

What does ſhe mean!—Have you a Stratagem Ma⯑dam, to bring you off,—come Ill help you; ſay, you happen'd in⯑to this Room by chance, and had no knowledge of the Plot, ex⯑pected no Gallant.

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

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

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

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

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

Hey day! why was not you with the Collonel?

Why, are not you the Collonel?

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

you are in the Right indeed, I am not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

There, there, lye ſtill.

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

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

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

Oh Lord, what ſhall I do?

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

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

Ha, what was that?

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

Wough, wough, wough, wough.

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

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

No Sir, nothing elſe.

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

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

How now Sauce-box, your Quaking Aunt quotha.

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

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

Oh Heaven, what ſhall I do?

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

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

Inſipid Coxcomb.

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

Friend ſhall I ſpeak one word with thee.

Twenty if you pleaſe.

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

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

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

A very Courtly Wiſh indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

Captain, Captain.

Ha, Serjeant.

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

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

He's coming Sir.

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

'll wait you here Sir.

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

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

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

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

A very good Dream, and ſignifies your Advancement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha! I don't like it.

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

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

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

Why do you aſk Sir?

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

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

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

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

Draw Sir, For what, Sir?

Sir, I ſay Draw Sir, or elſe reſign all Pretenſions to Cla⯑rinda.

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

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

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

Now learn more Wit, or get more Courage.

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

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

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

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

Oh Lord Sir, for Heaven's ſake! Sir, I'll obſerve the Con⯑ditions.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha! ha! ha!

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

Ha! 'Tis Clarindas hand—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where ſhall we find you?

At the Roſe.

Adieu, Belmein ſhall come to you there.

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

Certainly, I heard Sir William's Voice cry

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

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

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

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

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

Your Age protects you, Sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

SCENE Careful's Houſe.

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

Pray forbear Sir—

How Wife! Refuſe to kiſs me?

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

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

Here, Where are my Servants.

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

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

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

Oh! undone, undone!

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

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

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

And you won't Bed with me?

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

O Monſtrous!—

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

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

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

I am married.

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

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

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

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

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

And hot as Goats and Marmoſets.

Apt to take ſlame, at any Temptation.

And kindle at the Picture of a Man.

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

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

Right Sir, or lack'd a Cloak.

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

Not ſo well lin'd Sir, Ha! ha!

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

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

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

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

Oh Impudence, unheard of Impudence!

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

How's that, pray?

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

Yes,—I ſhall riſe to Honour.—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SCENE Changes to Plotwell's Lodgings:

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

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

And how does it take?

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

She'll drive my Father out of his Wits.

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

We'll endeavour it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Come, come, ſhe's thine Boy.

SCENE Carefull's Houſe.

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

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

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

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

She's a common Strumpit, Sir.

How Sir! Have a care what you ſay.

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

Oh! I ſweat, I ſweat.

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

Oh! oh! oh! oh!

What ail you Sir, Are you not well?

Oh undone! undone! I am married Sir

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

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

What have we here?

My Lady has ſent your Wife a Preſent Sir.

Who is your Lady?

My Lady Manlove.

Pray what is it?

A Picture for her Bed-chamber, Sir.

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

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

Say you ſo Sir; but I will ſee it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Couſin Topez, I'll ſetch you the Hundred Pound imme⯑diately.

A hundred Pound! Oh, oh, oh.

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

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

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

With all my Soul.

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

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

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

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

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

But which way will you do it, Sir?

Why you have not Conſummated yet, have you?

No, thank Heaven.

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

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

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

Your Bleſſing, Sir.

And with it, your Pardon.

You have it, provided I get unmarried again.

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

Zounds, I Tremble at the Sight of her.

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

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

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

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

Very well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha, the Collonel Married to my Miſireſs.

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

Pray include me in that Treaty too, Sir William.

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

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

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

Ha, ha, ha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ha, ha, ha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brave Boys, brave Boys.

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

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

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

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

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

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