Scene 1. The Street.

HEreabouts is the House wherein dwells, the Mistriss of my heart; For she has money Boyes, mind me, money in abundance, or she were not for me—the Wench her self is good natur'd, and inclin'd to be civil, but a Pox on't—She has a Brother a conceited Fellow, whom the world mistakes for a fine Gentleman, for he has Travell'd, talks Languages, bows with a bone meine, and the rest, but by fortune he shall entertain you with nothing but words—

Nothing else?—

No—He's no Countrey Squire Gentlemen, will not Game, Whore, nay, in my Conscience you will hardly get your selves Drunk in his Company—He Treats A-la-mode, half Wine, half Water, and the rest—But to the business, this Fellow loves his Sister dearly, and will not trust her in this lewd Town, as he calls it, without him, and hither he has brought her to marry me.

A Pox upon him for his pains—

So say I—But my comfort is, I shall be as weary of her, as the best Husband of 'em all—But there's conveniency in it; besides, the match being as good as made up by the old Folks in the Countrey, I must submit—The Wench I never saw yet, but they say she's handsom— But no matter for that, there's Money, my Boyes!

Well Sir, we will follow you—but as dolefully as people do their Friends to the Grave, from whence they're never to return, at least not the same substance, the thin aiery Vision of a brave Good Fellow, we may see thee hereafter, but that's the most.

Your pardon, sweet Sharp, my whole design in it is to be Master of my self, and with part of her Portion to set up my Miss, Betty Flauntit, which, by the way, is the main end of my [...]arrying, the rest you'll have your shares of—Now I am forc [...]d to take you up Suits at treble Prizes, have damn'd Wine and Meat put upon us, 'cause the Reckoning is to be Book'd: But ready Money ye Rogues! What Charms it has! Makes the Waiters flie Boyes, and the [...]aster with Cap in hand— excuse what's amiss, Gentlemen—Your Worship shall command the best—and the rest—How briskly the Box and Dice dance, and the ready Money submits to the lucky Gamester, and the gay Wench consults with every Beauty to make her self agreeable to the Man with ready Money. In fine, dear Rogues! All things are sacrific'd to it's pow'r; and no Mor­tal conceives the joy of, Argent Content. 'Tis this pow'rful God that makes me submit to the Devil Matrimony; and then thou art assur'd of me, my stout Lads of brisk Debauch.

And is it possible you can be ty'd up to a Wife? Whil'st here in London, and free, you have the whole World to range in, and like a wan­ton Heifer, eat of every Pasture.

Why dost think I'll be confin'd to my own dull Enclosure? No, I had rather feed coarsly upon the boundless Common, perhaps two or three dayes I may be in Love, and remain constant, but that's the most.

And in three Weeks, should you Wed a Cinthia, you'd be a Monster.

What, thou meanest a Cuckold, I warrant? God help thee▪ But a Monster is only so from its Rarity, and a Cuckold is no such [...]strange thing in our Age.

Sir Tim. Tawdrey!—

The same, by fortune, dear Ned; And how, and how Man, how go matters?

Between who Sir?

Why any body Man: But, by fortune, I'm overjoy'd to meet thee: But where dost think I was going?

Is't possible one shou'd divine?

Is't possible you shou'd not, and meet me so near your Sisters Lodgings? Faith I was coming to pay my Respects and Services, and the rest—Thou know'st my meaning—The old business of the Silver World Ned; by Fortune it's a mad Age, we live in Ned, and here be so many—wicked Rogues, about this damn'd lewd Town, that 'Faith I am fain to speak, in the vulgar modish stile, in my own defence, and Rally Matrimony, and the rest.

Matrimony!—I hope you are so exactly refin'd a Man of the Town, that you will not offer once to think of so dull a thing, let that alone for such cold complexions as Bellmour here, and I that have not attain'd to that most excellent faculty of keeping yet, as you, Sir Timothy, have done, much to your glory, I assure you.

Who I Sir? You do me much Honour: I must confess I do not find the softer Sex cruel; I am received as well as another Man of my Parts.

Of your Money, you mean Sir.

Why Faith Ned, thou art i'th' right, I love to buy my plea­sure, for, by Fortune, there's as much pleasure in Vanity and Variety, as any Sins I know; What think'st thou Ned?

I am not of your mind, I love to love upon the square; and that I may be sure not to be cheated with false Ware, I present 'em no­thing but my heart.

Yes, and have the consolation, of seeing your frugal Hus­wifery Miss, sit in the Pit, at a Play, in a long Scarf, and Night-gown, for want of Points, and Garniture.

If she be clean, and pretty, and drest in Love, I can excuse the rest, and so will she.

I vow to Fortune Ned, thou must come to London, and be a little manag'd: 'Slife Man, should'st thou talk so aloud in good Compa­ny, thou would'st be counted a strange Fellow, Pretty—and drest with Love—a fine Figure, by Fortune; No, Ned, the painted Chariot, gives a Lustre, to every ordinary Face, and makes a Woman, look like Quality; ay, so like, by Fortune, that you shall not know one from t'other, till some scandalous, out-of-favor'd-laid-aside-Fellow of the Town, cry— Damn her, for a Bitch—how scornfully the Whore regards me—She has forgot since Iack—such a one, and I, club'd for the keeping of her, when both our Stocks, well manag'd, wou'd not amount to above seve [...] shillings six pence a week; besides now and then a Treat of a Breasto [...] Mutton▪ from the next Cooks—Then the other laughs, and cryes— I—Rott her—And tells his Story too, and concludes with who ma [...]nages the Gilt now? Why Faith some dismal Coxcomb or other, yo [...] may be sure, replies the first: But Ned, these are R [...]gues, and Rascals, th [...] value no Mans Reputation, because they despise their own: But Faith [...] have laid aside all these vanities, now I have thought of Matrimony; b [...] I desire my Reformation may be a secret, because, as you know for [...] [Page 4] Man of my Address, and the rest—'Tis not altogether so Jantee.

Sir, I assure you, it shall be so great a Secret for me, that I will never ask you who the happy Woman is, that's chosen for this great work of your Conversion.

Ask me!—No, you need not, because you know al­ready.

Who I? I protest Sir Timothy—

No Swearing, dear Ned, for 'tis not such a Secret, but I will trust my Intimates; these are my Friends, Ned; pray know them— This Mr Sham and this—by fortune, a very honest Fellow

Mr Sharp, and may be trusted with a bus'ness that concerns you as well as me.

Me? What do you mean Sir Timothy?

Why Sir, you know what I mean.

Not I Sir.

What, not that I am to marry your Sister Celinda?

Not at all.

O this unsufferable Sott!

My Sister, Sir, is very nice.

That's all one, Sir, the old People have adjusted the matter, and they are the most proper [...] a Negotiation of that kind, which saves us the trouble of a tedious Courtship.

That the old People have agreed the matter, is more than I know.

Why Lord Sir, will you persuade me to that? don't you know that your Father (according to the method in such cases, being certain of my Estate) came to me thus—Sir Timothy Tawdrey!—You are a young Gentleman, and a Knight, I knew your Father well, and my right wor­shipful Neighbor, our Estates lie together, therefore Sir, I have a desire to have a near Relation with you—At which, I interrupted him, and cry [...]d —Oh Lord Sir! I vow to Fortune, you do me the greatest Honour Sir, and the rest—

I can endure no more, he marry fair Celinda?

Prethee let him alone.

To which he answer'd—I have a good Fortune—Have but my Son Ned, and this Girl, call'd Celinda, whom I will make a For­tune, sutable to yours▪ your honoured Mother, the Lady Tawdrey, and I, have as good as concluded the match already. To which I (who, tho I say it, am well eno [...]gh bred for a Knight) answer'd the Civility thus— I vow to Fortune Sir—I did not swear, but cry'd—I protest Sir, Celinda, deserves—no, no, I lye again, 'twas merits—I, Celinda— merits a much better Husband than I.

You speak more truth than you are aware of.

Well, Sir, I'll bring you to my Sister, and if she likes you, as well as my [Page 5] Father does, she's yours; otherwise, I have so much tenderness for her, as to leave her choice free.

Oh Sir you Compliment. Alons, Entrons.

Scene 2. A Chamber.

I wonder my Brother stayes so long; sure Mr Bellmour is not yet arriv'd, yet he sent us word he would be here to day. Lord how impa­tient I grow.

Ay, so methinks if I had the hopes of enjoying so sweet a Gentleman, as Mr Bellmour, I shou'd be so too—But I am past it— Well, I have had my pantings, and heavings, my impatience, and qualms, my heats, and my colds, and my I know not whats—But I thank my stars, I have done with all those Fooleries.

You need not, your sighs, and daily (nay, and nightly too) disorders, plainly enough betray the truth.

Or I must dye.

I, but you know the Lord Plotwell, has the possession of all his Estate, and if he Marry without his liking, has power to take away all his Fortune, and then I think it were not so good Marrying him.

Good lack! how prettily Love teaches his Scholars to prattle? —But hear ye, fair Mrs Celinda, you have forgot to what end and pur­pose you came to Town, not to Marry Mr Bellmour, as I take it—but Sir Timothy Tawdrey, that Spark of Men.

Faith Mistriss I took pity of thee, I saw you so elevated with thoughts of Mr Bellmour, I found it necessary to take you down a degree lower.

Sister, I've brought you here a Lover, this is the worthy per­son you have heard of, Sir Timothy Tawdrey.

Yes, [...]aith Madam, I am Sir Timothy Tawdrey, at your ser­vice —Pray are not you Mrs Celinda D [...]esswell?

The same, but cannot return your Compliment.

Oh Lord, oh Lord, not return a Compliment, faith Ned thy Sister [...]s quite spoil'd, for want of Town Education; 'tis pity, for she [...]s Devilish pretty.

She [...]s modest. Sir, before Company; therefore these G [...]ntle­men and I will withdraw into the next Room.

Inhumane Brother, will you leave me alone with this Sott?

Yes, and i [...] you would be rid of the trouble of him, be not coy, nor witty; two things [...]e hates.

'Sdeath! Must she be blown upon by that Fool?

Patience dear Frank, a little while.

Oh dear Nurse, what shall I do?

I that ever help you at a dead Lift, will not fail you now.

What a Pox not a word?

Sure this Fellow believes I [...]ll begin.

Not yet—sure she has spoke her last—

The Gentleman's good natur'd, and has took pity on you, and will not trouble you, I think.

—Hey day, here [...]s Wooing indeed—Will she never begin trow—This some would call an excellent quality in her Sex—But a Pox on [...]t I do not like it—Well, I see I must break silence at last— Madam—not answer me—shaw this is meer ill breeding—by For­tune —it can be nothing else—Oh my Conscience, if I should kiss her, she w [...]uld not bid me stand off—I'll try—

Hold, Sir, you mistake your Mark.

So I should, if I were to look in thy mouldy Chaps, good Matron—Can your Lady speak?

Try Sir.

Which way?

Why speak to her first.

I never knew a Woman want a Cue, for that, but all that I have met with, were still before-hand with me, in tittle tattle.

Likely those you have met with may, but this is no such Crea­ture Sir.

And if I cannot, how will you be answer'd?

Faith that's right; why then you must do't by signs.

But grant I can speak, what is't you'll ask me?

Can you Love?

Oh yes, Sir, many things; I love my Meat, I love abundance of Adorers, I love choice of new Cloaths, new Playes, and like a right Woman, I love to have my Will.

Spoke like a well-bred person, by Fortune; I see there's hopes of thee Celinda; thou wilt in time learn to make a very fashionable Wife, having so much Beauty too. I see Attracts, and Allurements, wan­ton Eyes, the languishing turn of the Head, and all that invites to Tem­ptation.

Would that please you in a Wife?

Please me, why Madam, what do you take me to be? a Sott?—a Fool?—or a dull Italian, of the humor of your Bro­ther? —No, no, I can assure you, she that Marries me, shall have Franchise—But my pretty Miss, you must learn to talk a little more.—

I have not Wit, and Sense enough, for that.

Wit! Oh la, O la, Wit! as if there were any Wit requir'd in a Woman when she talks; no, no matter for Wit, or Sense: talk but loud, and a great deal, to shew your white teeth, and smile, and be very confident, and 'tis enough.—Lord what a [...]ight 'tis to see a pretty Woman stand right up an end in the middle of a Room, playing with her Fan, for want of something to keep her in countenance. No, s [...]e that is mine, I will teach to entertain at another rate.

How Sir? Why what do you take my young Mistriss to be?

A Woman—and a fine one, and so fine as she, ought to permit her self to be seen, and be ador [...]d.

Out upon you, would you expose your Wife; by my troth and I were she, I know what I wou'd do.—

Thou do—what thou wouldst have done sixty Years ago, thou meanest.

Marry come up, for a stinking Knight, worse than I have gone down with you, e're now—Sixty Years ago quoth ye—As old as I am—I live without Surgeons, wear my own Hair, am not in Debt to my Taylor, as thou art, and art fain to kiss his Wife, to persuade her Hus­band to be merciful to thee—who wakes thee every morning with his Clamour and long Bills, at thy Chamber door.

Prethee good Matron peace, I'll Compound with thee.

'Tis more than thou wilt do with thy Creditors, who, poor Souls, despair of a Groat in the Pound for all thou ow [...]st them, for Points, Lace, and Garniture—for all in fine, that makes thee a complete Fopp.

Hold, hold, thy eternal Clack.

And when none would trust thee farther, give Judgments for twice the Money tho [...] borrowest, and swear thy self at Age; and lastly, —to patch up your broken Fortune, you wou'd fain Marry my swe [...]t Mistriss Celinda here—But 'faith Sir, you're mistaken, her For [...]une shall not go to the maintenance of your Misses, which being once sure of, she, poor Soul, is sent down to the Coun [...]rey house, to learn Housewifery, and live without M [...]nkind, unless she can serve her s [...]lf with the handsom Steward, or so—whil'st you tear it away in Town, and live like Man and Wife with your Jilt, and are every day seen in the Glass Coach, whil'st your own natural Lady is hardly worth the hire of a Hack

Why thou damnabie confounded torment, wilt thou never cease?

No, not till you raise your Siege, and be gone; go march to your Lady of Love, and debauch—go—You get no C [...]linda here.

The Devil's in her tongue.

Good gentle Nurse, have mercy upon the poor Knight.

No more Mistriss, than he'll have on you, if Heaven had so abandon'd you, to put you into his power:—Mercy—quoth ye—no, no more than his Mistriss will have, when all his money's gone.

Will she never end?

Prethee forbear.

No more, than the Usurer would, to whom he has mortgag'd his best part of his Estate, would forbear a day after the promis'd pay­ment of the money. Forbear—

Not yet end: Can I Madam, give you a greater proof of my passion for you, than to endure this for your sake?

This—thou art so sorry a creature, thou wilt endure any thing, for the lucre of her fortune; 'tis that thou hast a passion for: not that thou carest for money, but to sacrifice to thy lewdness, to purchase a Mi­striss, to purchase the Reputation of as errant a Fool, as ever arriv'd at the honour of keeping, to purchase a little Grandeur, as you call it; that is, to make every one look at thee, and consider what a Fool thou art, who else might pass unreguarded amongst the common crowd.

The Devil's in her tongue, and so 'tis in most Womens of her Age; for when 't has quitted the Tail, it repairs to her upper Tire.

Do not persuade me, Madam, I am resolv'd to make him weary of his Wooing.

So God be prais'd, the storm is laid—And now Mrs. Celin­da▪ give me leave to ask you, if it be with your leave, this affront is put [...] of my Quality?

Thy Quality—

Yes, I am a Gentleman, and a Knight.

Yes, Sir, Knight of the ill-favour'd Countenance is it?

You are beholding to Don Quixot for that, and [...]tis so many Ages, since thou couldst see to read, I wonder thou hast not forgot all that ever belong [...]d to Books.

My eye-sight [...]s good enough to see thee in all thy colours, thou Knight of the Burning Pestle thou.

Agen, that was out of a Play—heark ye Witch of Endor, hold your prating tongue, or I shall most well- [...]avourdly Cudgel ye.

As your Friend the Hostess has it in a Play too, I take it, Ends which you pick up behind the Scenes, when you go to be laught at even by the Player Women.

Wilt thou have done, by Fortune I'll endure no more.

Murder, Murder.

Hold, hold.

Oh Ned, i [...] m glad thou [...]rt come—never was Tom Dove bait­ed as I have been.

By whom? my Sister.

No, no, that old Mastiff there;—the young Whelp, came not on, thanks be prais'd.

How, her Father here to morrow, and here he sayes, that shall be the last moment, he will defer the Marriage of Celinda, to this Sott— Oh God, I shall grow mad, and so undo 'em all—I'll kill the Villain at the Altar—By my lost hopes I will—And yet there is some left—Could I but—speak to her—I must relie on Dresswells friendship—Oh God to morrow—Can I endure that thought—Can I endure to see the Tray­tor there, who must to morrow rob me of my Heaven—I'll own my flame—and boldly tell this Fopp, she must be mine—

I assure you, Sir Timothy, I am sorry, and will chastise her.

Ay Sir, I that am a Knight—a Man of Parts and Wit, and one that is to be your Brother, and design'd to be the glory of marrying Celinda.

I can endure no more—How Sir—You marry fair Ce­linda!

Ay Frank, Ay—Is she not a pretty little plump white Rogue, hah—

Yes.

Oh I had forgot, thou art a modest Rogue, and to thy eternal shame, hadst never the Reputation of a Mistri [...]s—Lord, Lord, that I could see thee address thy self to a Lady—I fancy thee a very ridicu­lous Figure, in that posture, by Fortune.

Why Sir—I can Court a Lady—

No, no, thou'rt modest; that is to say, a Countrey Gentle­man; that is to say, Ill-bred; that is to say, a Fool by Fortune, as the World goes.

Neither Sir—I can Love—and tell it too—and that you may believe me—look on this Lady Sir—

Loo [...] on this Lady Sir—Ha, ha, ha,—Well Sir— Well Sir—And what then—

Nay view her well Sir—

Pleasant this—Well Frank I do—And what then?

Is she not charming Fair—Fair to a wonder!

Well Sir, 'tis granted—

And canst thou think this Beauty meant for thee, for thee dull common Man?

Very well, what will he say next?

I say, let me no more see thee approach this Lady.

How Sir, how?

Not speak to her, not look on her—by Heaven—not think of her.

How Frank, art in earnest?

Try, if thou dar'st?

Not think of her—

No not so much as in a Dream, could I Divine it.

Is he in earnest Mr Friendlove?

I doubt so Sir Timothy.

What does he then pretend to your Sister?

Yes, and no Man else, shall dare do so.

Take notice I am aff [...]onted in your Lodgings—for you Bellmour—You take me for an Ass—therefore meet me to morrow morning about 5, with your Sword in your hand, behind Southamp [...]on House.

Scene 1. A Palace.

WEll, 'tis an endless trouble, to have the Tuition of a Maid in Love, here is such Wishing and Longing—And yet one must force them to what they most desire, before they will admit of it— Here am I sent out a Scout of the Forlorn Hope, to discover the approach of the Enemy—Well—Mr. Bellmour, you are not to know, 'tis with the consent of Celinda, that you come—I must bear all the blame, what mischief soever comes of these Night-works.

Oh are you come—Your hour was Twelve, and [...]ow 'tis almost Two.

I could not get from Friendlove—Thou hast not told Celinda of my coming.

No, no, ee'n make peace for me, and your self too.

I warrant thee Nurse—Oh how I hope and fear this nights suc­cess!

Scene a Chamber, Celinda in her Night A [...]tire, leaning on a Table.

Nay then dispose of your self, I say, and leave dissembling, 'tis high time.

But now my Friend, I'de have you take your leave, the day comes on apace, and you [...]ve not seen your Uncle, since your arrival.

Hang him, he'll ne're meet thee; to beat a Watch, or kick a Drawer, or batter Windows, is the highest pitch of Valor he e're ar­riv'd to.

However I'll expect him, lest he be Fool-hardy enough to keep his word.

No, no, there [...]s no need of that—Good morrow my best Friend.

Scene 2.

Good morrow Sir Timothy, what not yet ready, and to mee [...] Mr. Bellmour at five, the time's past.

—Ay Pox on't—I han't slep to night for thinking on't.

Well Sir Timothy, I have most excellent News for you, that will do as well, I have found out—

A new Wench, I warrant—but prethee Sham, I have [...]ther matters in hand; 'Sheart I am so mortifi'd with this same though [...] of Fighting, that I shall hardly think of Woman kind again.

You were so forward Sir Timothy—

Ay Sharp, I am alwayes so when I'm angry; had I been but a little more provok'd then, that we might have gone to't when the heat was brisk, I had done well—but a Pox on't this fighting in cool blood I hate.

'Shaw, Sir, 'tis nothing, a Man wou'd do't for Exercise in a morning.

Ay, if there were no more in't than Exercise; if a Man co [...]'d take a Breathing without breathing a Vein—but Sham, this Wounds, and Blood, sounds terribly in my ears; but since thou say'st 'tis nothing, prethee do thou meet Bellmour in my stead; thou art a poor Dog, and 'tis no matter if the world were well rid of thee.

I wou'd do't with all my Soul—but your Honour Sir—

—My Honour! 'tis but Custom that makes it Honourable to fight Duels—I warrant you the wise Italian, thinks himself a Man of Honour; and yet when did you hear of an Italian, that ever fought a Duel? Is't not enough, I am affronted, have my Mistriss taken away be­fore my face, hear my self call'd, Dull, Common Man, Dull Animal, and the rest—But I must after all give him leave to kill me too, if he can— And this is your damn'd Honourable English way of shewing a Mans Courage.

I must confess I am of your mind, and therefore have been studying a Revenge, sutable to the Affront: and if I can judge any thing, I have hit it.

Hast thou? dear Sham, out with it.

Why Sir—what think you of debauching his Sister?

Why is there such a thing in Nature?

You know he has a Sister, Sir.

Yes, Rich, and Fair.

Both, or she were not worthy of your Revenge.

Oh how I love Revenge, that has a double pleasure in it— and where—and where—is this fine piece of temptation?

In being Sir—but Sharp here, and I, have been at some cost in finding her out.

Ye shall be overpaid—there's Gold, my little Maquero but she's very handsom?

As a Goddess, Sir.

And art thou sure she will be Lewd?

Are we sure she's a Woman, Sir?—Sure she's in her Teens? has Pride and Vanity—and two or three Sins more, that I cou'd [...]ame, all which never fails to assist a Woman in Debauchery—But Sir, there are certain people that b [...]long to her, that must be consider'd too.

Stay Sir, e're I part with more money, I'll be certain what returns 'twill make me—that is—I'll see the Wench, not to inform my self, how well I like her, for that I shall do, because she is new, and Bell­mours Sister—but to find what possibility there is in gaining her—I am us'd to these things, and can [...]uess from a look, or a kiss, or a touch of the hand—but then I warrant, 'twill come to the knowledge of Betty Flau [...]tit.

What Sir—then it seems you doubt us?

How Sir? doubt our honesty?

Yes—why I hope neither of you pretend to either, do you?

Why, Sir, what do you take us for Cheats?

As errant, as any's in Christendom.

How Sir?—

Why how now—what flie in my face? are you [...] stomachs so queasie, that Cheat won't down with you?

Why Sir—we are Gentlemen—and tho' our ill Fortunes have thrown us on your Bounty—we are not to be term'd—

Yes, but we knew not that you were a Coward before. You talkt big, and huft where e [...]re you came, like an errant Bully, and so long we Reverenc'd you—but now we find, you have need of our Courage— we'll stand on our Reputations.

C [...]urage and Reputation!—h [...], ha, ha—why ye lowsie Tatter­demallions —dare ye talk of Courage and Reputation?

Why, Sir, who dares question either?

He that dares try it.

Hold, Sir, hold.

Enough, enough, we are satisfi'd.

So am not I, ye mangy Mungrels, till I have kickt Courage and Reputation out of ye.

Hold there Sir, [...]tis enough we are satisfi'd, that you have Courage.

Oh are you so? then it seems I was not to be believ'd— I told you I had Courage when I was angry.

'Tis an Honour we are proud of Sir.

Oh is it so Rascallians! then I hope I am to see the Lady without I [...]dentures.

Oh Lord Sir! any thing we can serve you in.

And I have brib'd her Maid to bring her this morning into the M [...]ll.

Well, let's about it then; for I am for no Fighting to day— De'e hear Boy—Let the Coach be got ready, whilst I get my self drest

The Coach Sir! Why you know Mr Shatter has pawn'd the Horses.

I had forgot it—A Pox on't, this 'tis to have a Partner in a Coach; By Fortune I must Marry, and set up a whole one.

Scene 3.

Mr Charles, your Brother, my young Master Bellmour is come.

I [...]m glad on't; my Unkle, began to be impatient that he came not, you saying you left him but a dayes journey behind you yesterday. My Unkle has something of importance to say to him, I fansie it may be about a Marriage between him and my Lady Diana—such a whisper I heard—

I Marry Sir, that were a Match indeed, she being your Unkles onely Heir.

Ay but they are Sisters Children, and too near akin to be happy.

'Twere pity my young Master shou'd be unhappy in a Wife; for he is the sweetest natur'd Gentleman—But one comfort is Mr Charles, you, and your Sister Mrs [...]hillis, will have your Portions assign'd you [...]f he Marry.

Yes, that he can't deny us the very day after his Marriage.

I shall be glad to see you all dispos'd of well; but I was half afraid, your Brother wou'd have Married Mrs Celinda Friendlove, to whom he made notable Love in Yorkshire, I thought; not but she's a fine Lady; but her Fortune is below that of my young Master [...], as much as my Lady Diana's is above his—But see, they come—let us retire, to give 'em leave to talk alone.

And well Frank, how dost thou find thy self inclin'd, tho [...] [...]o [...]'dst begin to think of something more than Books? Dost thou not [Page 19] wish to know the joyes that are to be found in a woman Frank? I well remember at thy age I fancy'd a thousand fine things of that kind.

Ay my Lord, a thousand more perhaps than are to be found.

Not so; but I confess Frank unless the Lady be fair, and there be some Love too, 'tis not altogether so well; therefore I, who am still busie for thy good, have fixt upon a Lady—

Ha!—

What dost start? Nay, I'll warrant thee she'll please, A Lady rich, and fair, and Nobly born, and thou shalt Marry her Frank.

Marry her my Lord—

Why yes Marry her—I hope you are none of the fashionable Fopps, that are alwayes in mutiny against Marriage, who never think themselves very witty, but when they rail against Heav'n and a Wife— But Frank, I have found better Principles in thee, and thou hast the Re­putation of a sober young Gentleman, thou art besides a Man of great Fortune Frank.

And therefore Sir, ought the less to be a Slave.

But Frank, we are made for one another, and ought by the Laws of God, to communicate our blessings▪

Sir, there are Men enough, fitter much than I, to obey those Laws, nor do I think them made for every one.

But Frank, you do not know what a Wife I have provided fo [...] you.

'Tis enough I know she's a Woman, Sir.

A Woman, why what should she be else?

An Angel, Sir, e're she can be my Wife.

In good time, but this is a Mortal Sir—and must serve your turn—but Frank, she is the finest Mortal—

What, thou canst not think I am in earnest, I confess Frank, she is above thee in point of Fortune, she being my onely Heir—but sup­pose 'tis she.

Oh I'm undone—Sir I dare not suppose so greatly in favour of my self.

But Frank, you must needs suppose—

Oh I am ruin'd, lost, for ever lost.

What do you mean Sir?

I mean I cannot Marry fair Diana.

Death how's this?—

She is a thing, above my humble wishes—

Is that all? take you no care for that, for she loves you already, and I have resolv'd it which is better yet.

Even those of your Fathers disposal, who seeing so many exam­ples, in this lewd Age, of the ruine of whole Families, by imprudent Marriages, provided otherwise for you.

Indeed Sir but I will not, love me this Lady, and marry me this Lady, or I will teach you what it is to refuse such a Lady.

Who you've married!—By all that's Sacred if that be true, thou art undone for ever.

Very fine! where is the Priest that durst dispose of you, with­out my order? Sirrah you are my slave—at least your whole Estate is at my mercy—and besides, I'll charge you with an Action of 5000 l. for your ten Years maintenance: Do you know that this is in my pow'r too?

Very well, Sir, I shall [...]ame that Courage, and punish that Har­lot, who e're she be, that has seduc'd ye.

Was I call'd back for this? Yes, I shall take it Sir, do not fear.

Heart and Faith, I am glad 'tis no worse; if the Ceremony of the Church has not past, 'tis well enough.

All Sir, that Heaven, and Love requires, is past.

No more—by Heaven, if you resist my Will, I'll make a strange example of thee, and of that Woman, who e're she be, that drew thee to this folly. Faith and Vows quoth ye.

Look ye here Frank, is this a Lady to be dislik'd? [Page 23] Come hither Frank—Trusty— Haste for Dr. Tickletext, my Chaplain's not in Town; I'll have them instantly Married—Come hither Diana— Diana, will you Marry your Cozen Frank Bellmour?

Yes, if it be your pleasure; Heaven cou'd not let fall a greater blessing.

And you Frank, will you Marry my Neece Diana?

Since you will have it so.

Come follow me then, and you shall be both pleas'd.

Scene 4. The Street.

Now Sham, art not thou a damn'd lying Rogue, to make me [...]aunter up and down the Mall all this morning, after a Woman that thou knowst in thy Conscience was not likely to be there?

Why Sir—if her Maid will be a jilting Whore, how can I help it—Sharp— Thou knowst we presented her handsomly, and she protested she'd do't.

Ay, Ay Sir

but the Devil a Maid we saw.

Sir, it may be Things have so fallen out, that she could not pos­sibly come.

Things! a Pox of your Tricks—Well, I see there's no trusting a poor Devil—Well, what device will your Rogueship find out to Cheat me next?

Prethee help me out at a dead Lift Sharp.

Cheat you Sir!—If I been't reveng'd on this She-Counsellor of the Patching and Painting, this Letter-in of Midnight Lovers, this Receiver of Bribes for stol'n Pleasures; may I be condemn'd never to make Love to any thing of higher quality.

Nay, nay, no Threatning Sharp, it may be she's Innocent yet—Give her t'other Bribe, and try what that will do.

No, Sir, I'll have no more to do with frail Woman, in this case, I have a surer way to do your business.

Is not that Bellmour's Page?

It is Sir.

By Fortune the Rogue's looking for me; he has a Challenge in his hand too.

No matter, Sir, Huff it out.

Prethee do thee Huff him, thou knowst the way on't.

What's your bus'ness with Sir Timothy Sir?

Mine Sir, I don't know the Gentleman, pray which is he?

I, I,'t is so—Pox on him.

Well, Boy, I am he—what—Your Master—

My Master Sir—

Are not you Bellmour's Page?

Yes, Sir.

Well, your News.

News Sir? I know of none, but of my Masters being this morning—

Ay, there it is—behind Southampton House.

Married▪ this morning

How? Marry'd! 'Slife, has he serv'd me so?

The Boy is drunk—Bellmour Married!

Yes indeed, to the Lady Diana.

Diana! Mad by Fortune; what Diana?

Neece to the Lord Plotwell.

Come hither Boy—Art thou sure of this?

Sir, I am sure of it; and I am going to bespeak Musick for the Ball anon.

What hast thou there—a Letter to the Divine Celinda; A dainty Boy—there's money for thee to buy Nickers.

I humbly thank you.

Well, Sir, if this be true, Celinda will be glad of you again.

Ay, but I will have none of her—For, look you Sham, there is but two sorts of Love in this World—Now I am sure the Rogue did love her; and since it was not to Marry her, it was for the thing you wot on, as appears by his writing to her now—But yet I will not believe what this Boy said till I see it,

Faith Sir, I have thought of a thing, that may both clear your doubt, and give us a little mirth.

I conceive thee.

I know y'are quick of apprehension, Sir Timothy.

O your servant dear Sham—But to let thee see I am none of the dullest, we are to Jigg it in Masquerade this evening, hah.

Faith, Sir, you have it, and there you may have an opportunity to Court Bellmour's sister.

'Tis a good motion, and we will follow it; send to the Dukes House, and borrow some Habits presently.

I'll about it, Sir.

Make haste to my Lodging—But heark ye—not a word of [Page 25] this to Betty [...]launtit, [...]he'll be up in Arms these two dayes, if she go not with us; and tho [...] I think the fond Devil is true to me, yet [...]twere worse than Wedlock, if I should be so to her to.

Scene 1. The Street.

HEre Nephew, I resign that Trust which was repos'd in me by your dead Father, which was that on your Wedding day, I should thus—make you Master of your whole Fortune, you being Mar­ried to my liking—And now Charles, and you my Neece Phillis, you may demand your Portions to morrow, if you please, for he is oblig'd to pay you the day after that of his Marriage.

There's time enough my Lord.

Come, come Ladies, in tro [...]h you must take but little rest to night, in complasance to the Bride, and Bridegroom, who I believe, will take but little—Frank—why Frank—what hast thou chang'd thy humor with thy condition? thou wert not wont to hear the Musick play in vain.

'Tis true, and I have now felt the extremes of both.

Why Nephew Charles—has your breeding at the Academy in­structed your heels in no motion?

My Lord, I'll make one.

And I another, for joy that my Brother's made happy in so fair a Bride.

The Rogue is Married, and I am so pleas'd, I can forgive him our last Nights quarrel; prithee Sharp, if thou canst learn that young things name, 'tis a pretty airy Rogue, whil [...]st I go talk to her.

What's this?

The answer of a Letter, Sir, you sent to the Divine Celinda; for so it was directed.

How do you know that Sir?

I see y'are fair, and I guess you're a Maid.

Your guess, is better than your eye-sight, Sir.

What e're you are, by Fortune, I wish you would permit me to love you with all faults.

You? Pray who are you?

A Man, a Gentleman—and more, a Knight too, by For­tune.

Then 'twas not by merit Sir—But how shall I know you are either of these?

That I'm a Man, the effects of my vigorous [...] f [...]ame shall prove— a Gentleman my Coat of Arms shall testifie, and I have the Kings Patent for my Title.

For the first you may thank your Youth, for the next your Fa­ther, and the last your Money.

By Fortune, I love thee for thy pertness.

Is it possible you can love at all?

As much as I dare.

How de ye mean?

Not to be laught a [...]; 'tis not the Mode to love much: A Platonick Fopp, I have heard of, but this is an Age of sheere enjoyment, and little Love goes to that; we have found it incommode, and loss of time, to make long Addresses.

Enough, enough at this time, let's see the Bride to Bed, the Bridegroom thinks it long.

Here are too many to encounter, and I'll defer my ven­geance.

Villain! defend thy Life!

Who I Sir? I have no quarrel to you, nor no Man breath­ing, not I, by Fortune.

This Coward cannot be my Brother!

What made thee draw upon my Brother?

Who? I Sir? by Fortune I love him—I draw upon him!

Why he's gone Sir; a Pox of all Mistakes, and Masquera­dings I say—this was your Plot Sham.

Coward! shew then thy face.

I'll be hang [...]d first, by Fortune; for then 'twill be plain 'twas I, because I challeng'd Bellmour last night, and broke my assignation this morning.

Shew thy face without delay, or—

My face, Sir, I protest, by Fortune, 'tis not worth see­ing.

Then Sirra, you are worth a kicking—take that—and that—

How Sir? how?

So Sir, so.

Have a care Sir—by Fortune, I shall fight with a little more.

The Rogue took courage, when he saw there was not remedy; but there's no hurt done on either side.

'Tis fit such as he shou'd be chastis'd, that do abuse Hospitali­ty. Come, come, to Bed, the Lady, Sir, expects you.

Gentlemen, good night.

The Scene a Street.

I believe this is the Bed-chamber Window where the Bride and the Bridegroom lies.

Well, and what do you intend to do, if it be Sir?

Why first sing a Bawdy Song, and then break the Windows, in Revenge for the Affront was put upon me to night.

Faith, Sir, that's but a poor Revenge, and which every Foot­man may take of his Lady, who has turn'd him away for filching— You know, Sir, Windows are frail, and will yield to the lusty Brick-bats; 'tis an Act below a Gentleman.

That's all one, 'tis my Recreation; I serv'd a Woman so the other night, to whom my Mistriss had a Pique.

Mistake! how can that be?

Why, Sir, did you not mind, that he that drew upon Bellmour, was in the same dress with you?

How shou'd his be like mine?

Why by the same chance, that yours was like his—I suppose sending to the Play-house for them, as we did, they hapned to send him such another [...]abit, for they have many such for dancing Shepherds.

Well I grant it a mistake, and that shall repri [...]ve the Win­dows.

Then, Sir, you shew'd so much courage, that you may bless the minute that forc'd you to fight.

Ay, but between you and I, 'twas well he kick'd me first, and made me angry, or I had been [...]ustily swing'd, by Fortune—but thanks to my spleen that sav'd my bones that [...]bou [...]—but then I did well —hah! came briskly off, and the rest.

With honour▪ Sir, I protest.

Come then, we'll Serenade him. Come, Sirra, [...]une your Pipes, and sing.

What shall I sing, Sir?

Any thing sutable to the time and place.

God morrow Mr. Bellmour, and to your lovely Bride, long may you live, and love.

What a pox is that Bellmour? The Rogue's in choler, the Bride has not pleas'd him.

Lord, Lord, that you should not know, your friend and hum­ble servant, Tim. Tawdrey—But thou lookst as if thou hadst not been a Bed yet.

No more I have.

Nay then thou losest precious time, I'll not detain thee.

Tho [...] art mistaken, I hate all Woman-kind—

How, how!

Above an hour—heark ye Knight—I am as lewd, and as debaucht as thou art.

What do you mean Franck?

Bless me!

From such a Villain, hah!

No, but that thou shouldst hide it all this while.

Till I was married only, and now I can dissemble it no longer— come—let's to a Bawdy-house.

Oh thou'rt a puny sinner!—I'll teach thee Arts▪ (so rare) of sin, the least of them shall damn thee.

By Fortune, Franck, I do not like these Arts.

Then thou'rt a Fool—I'll teach thee to be rich too.

Ay, that I like.

Scene 1.

The Treatment you this Night have given a distressed Maid, enough obliges me; nor need I tell you, I m Nobly born, something about my dress, my looks and meen, will doubtless do me reason.

But in the Family where I was Educated, a Youth of my own Age, a Kinsman too, I ch [...]nc'd to fall in Love with; but with a Passion my Pride still got the better of, and he, I thought, repaid my young de­sires: [Page 39] but Bashfulness on his part, did what Pride had done on mine, and kept his too conceal'd.—At last my Uncle, who had the absolute domi­nion of us both, thought good to Marry us together.

Scene a Bawdy-house.

Driver, prethee call for a Glass, that I may set my self in or­der, before I go up, for really my Knight has not been at home all this night, and I am so confus'd—

Lord Mrs. Driver, I wonder you shou'd send for me when other Wome [...] are in company; you know, of all things in the World, I hate Whores, they are the pratingst lewdest poor Creatures in nature; and I wou'd not for any thing, Sir Timothy shou'd know that I keep company, 'twere enough to lose him.

Truly Mrs. Flauntit, this young Squire that you were sent to for, has two or three persons more with him that must be accommo­dated too.

Driver, tho' I do recreate my self a little sometimes, yet you know I value my Reputation and Honour.

Mrs. Driver, why shou'd you send for us where Flauntit is? stinking proud Flirt, who, because she has a tawdrey Petticoat, I warrant you, will think her self so much above us, when if she were set out in her own natural colours, and her original garments, wou'd be much be­low us in beauty.

Look ye Mrs. Ienny, I know you, and I know Mrs. Flaun­tit, but 'tis not Beauty or Wit that takes now adayes; the Age is alter'd since I took upon me this Gentile Occupation, but 'tis a fine Petticoat, right Points, and clean Ga [...]nitures, that does me credit, and takes the Gallant, tho' on a stale Woman: And again, Mrs. Ienney, she's kept, and [Page 44] Men love as much for Malice, as for Lechery, as they call it. Oh 'tis a great mover to joy, as they say, to have a Woman that's kept.

Well! be it so, we may arrive to that excellent degree of Crack­ing, to be kept too one day.

Well, well, get your selves in order to go up to the Gentle­men.

Driver, what art thou talking to those poor creatures, Lord how they stink of Paint and Pox, faugh—

They were only complaining that you that were kept, shou'd intrude upon the priviledges of the Commoners.

Lord, they think there are such joyes in keeping, when I vow Driver, after awhile, a Miss has as painful a life, as a Wife, our Me [...] [...]rink, stay out late, and Whore, like any Husbands.

But I hope in the Lord, Mrs. Flauntit, yours is no such Man, I never saw him, but I have heard he is under decent correction.

Thou art mistaken Driver, I can keep him within no moderat [...] bounds without blows; but for his filthy custom of Wenching, I have almost broke him of that—but prethee Driver, who are these Gentle­men?

Truly, I know not, but they are young, and fine as Princes; two of 'em were disguis'd in Masquing Habits last night, but they have sent 'em away this morning, and they're free as Emperors—one of 'em has lost a thousand pounds at Play, and never repin'd at it: one's a Knight, and I believe his courage is cool'd, for he has ferretted my Maids over and over to night—But 'tis the fine, young handsom Squire th [...]t I design you for.

No matter for his handsomness, let me have him that has most money.

Scene a Chamber, a Tabl [...] with Box and Dice.

Faith, Sir, your luck's so bad, I han't the conscience to play longer—Sir Timothy and you play off a hundred Guinneys, and see if luck will turn.

Do you take me for a Countrey Squire, whose Reputation will be crackt at the loss of a petty thousand? you have my Note for't to my Goldsmith.

'Tis sufficient if it were for ten thousand▪

Why Sir Timothy—Pox on't thou'rt dull, we are not half d [...] ­baucht and lewd enough, give us more Wine.

Faith Franck, I'm a little maukish with sitting up all night, and want a small refreshment this morning—Did we not send for Whores?

I'm for any thing that's out of the common Road of Sin, I love a Man that will be damn'd for something! To creep by slow degrees to Hell, as if he were afraid the World shou'd see which way he went, I scorn it, 'tis like a Conventickler—No, give me a Man, who, to be certain of's damnation, will break a Solemn Vow to a Contracted Maid.

Ha, ha, ha, I thought thou wou'dst have said at least—had murder'd his Father, or ravish [...]d his Mother—break a Vow quoth ye—by Fortune I have broke a thousand.

Well said my Boy! a Man of Honour! and will be ready when e're the Devil calls for thee—So—ho—more Wine, more Wine, and Dice.

Cater Tray—a hundred Guinneys—oh damn the Dice— 'tis mine—come a full Glass—Damnation to my Uncle.

By Fortune, I'll do thee reason—give me the Glass—and Sham, to thee—Confusion to the musty Lord.

Why how now Franck—by Fortune the Rogue is Maud­lin —So, ho, ho, so-ho.

How the Women?—Hold, hold, Bellmour, let me choose too—Come, come, unmask, and shew your pretty Faces.

Come, unmask, I say, a willing Wench wou'd have shew'd all in half this time.

This is the Trade you drive, you eternal Fopp, when I sit at home expecting you night after night.

'Tis here you spend that which should buy me Points, and Pet­ticoats, whil'st I go like no bodies Mistriss, I'd as live be your Wife at this rate, so I had; and I'm in no small danger of getting the Foul Disease by your Lewdness.

Victorious Betty, be merciful, and do not ruine my Reputa­tion amongst my Friends.

I've won Money to night, Betty, to buy thee Cloaths—hum —hum—Well said Franck, towse the little Jilts, they came for the purpose.

The Devil confound him, what a Prize have I lost by his be­ing here—my comfort is, he has not found me out tho', but thinks I came to look for him, and accordingly I must dissemble.

An old acquaintance of mine, that takes it unkindly that I am for change—Betty, say so too, you know I can settle nothing till I'm Married, and he can do it swingingly, if we can but draw him in.

This mollifies something, do this, and you'll make your peace; if not, you Rascal your Ears shall pay for this nights transgression.

Come, come, approach her, for if you'll have a Miss, this has all the good qualities of one—go, go—Court her, thou art so bash­ful—

I cannot frame my tongue to so much blasphemy, as 'tis to say kind things to her—I'll try my heart tho'—Fair Lady—Damn her, she [Page 47] is not fair—nor sweet—nor good—nor—something I must say for a beginning. Come Lady—dry your eyes.

Not that I know of, Sir—Lord he's very silly, or very inno­cent, I hope he has his Maidenhead; if so, and rich too, oh what a booty were this for me!

Come, Sir, you must learn to be gay, to sing, to dance, and talk of any thing, and fancy any thing that's in your way too.

Oh sweet Sir—wou'd my Knight were hang'd, so I were well rid of him now—Well Sir, I swear you are the most agreeable per­son —

Am I?—let us be more familiar then—I'll kiss thy hand; thy breast, thy lips—and—

All—you please Sir—

A tractable Sinner!

Faugh—how she smells—had I approach'd so near divine Celinda, what a natural Fragrancy had sent it self through all my ravisht senses!

I'll assure you, Sir, she's kept—and is a great Rarity, but to a Friend or so—

I, I, silly indeed—a Pox upon her—a silly Knight you say—

Ay so methinks—but she's kind, and will do reason for all him.

Alas, Sir, easily—he, poor Cully, thinks her a very Saint— but when he's out of the way, she comes to me to pleasure a Friend.

She cryes Whore first, brings him upon his Knees for her fault, and a piece of Plate, or a new Petticoat, makes his Peace again.

Why—look you Mistriss, I am that Fopp, that very silly Knight, and the rest that you speak of.

How Sir? then I m [...]undone, she's the upholder of my Calling, the very grace of my Function.

Is she so? ee'n keep her to your self then, I [...]ll have no more of her, by Fortune—I humbly thank you for your intelligence, and the rest. Well—I see there's not one honest Whore i'th' Nation, by For­tune.

Nay never be surpriz'd, for your Intrigues are discover'd, the good Matron of the House (against her Will) has done me that kind­ness —you know how to live without your Keeper, and so I'll leave you.

How, Sir, am I a stranger to you! but I shou'd not wonder at it, since all your last Nights actions betray'd a strange depravity of Sense. —Sir, I have sought you long, and wish I had not found you yet, since both the place and company declare, how grosly you've dissembled Vir­tue all this while.

How Sir?—You are my elder Brother, yet I may be allow'd to do the bus'ness that I came for, and from my Uncle to demand your Wife.

But since y'are so free Sir, I demand that Fortune, which by my Fathers Will, y'are bound to pay the day after your Wedding day; my Sister's too is due.

Ha, ha, ha—Sir Timothy, come hither—who dost think this is?

A Fidler perhaps—let him play in the next Room.

No, my Brother—come to demand his Portion of me—he says I am in lewd company, and, like a Boy, he wou'd correct me.

Why this comes of idleness, thou shouldst have bound him Prentice in time, the Boy wou'd have made a good sawcy Taylor.

Sirra, y'are a Rascal, whom I must thus chastise.

Hold, hold, I beseech you my dear Masters! oh what a sight is this! two Brothers fighting with each other! oh, were my old Master alive, this wou'd break his heart: oh, Sir, you've kill'd your Brother.

Why then his Portion's paid.

How kill [...]d? nay 'tis time we departed then, and shifted for our selves.

Oh Sir, shall I send for a Chyrurgion.

No for a Coach rather, I am not wounded much.

How dar'st thou trust thy self alone with me?

Why shou'd I fear thee?

Scene Covent-garden.

SUre I rose the wrong way to day, I have had such damn'd ill luck eve­ry way: First to be [...]ent for to such a Man as this Bellmour, and, as the Devil wou'd have it, to find my Knight there: Then to be just upon the point of making my Fortune, and to be interrupted by that virtuous Brother of his: Then to have a quarrel happen, that (before I could whisper him in the ear, to say so much as meet me here again—anon) forc'd me to quit the house, lest the Constable had done it for me: Then that that silly Bawd shou'd discover all to my Cully; if this be not ill luck, the Devil [...]s in't—But Driver must bring matters about, that I may see this liberal Squire again—But here comes my Noddy, I must pretend to be angry.

Lord, Lord, how you look now, as if you had committed no misdemeanor; alas, good Innocent, what canst thou say for thy self, thou Renegado thou, for being false to my bosom, say?

False to your bosom! You silly impudent Sott you—who dares accuse me?

E'en your trusty and well-beloved Friend Mrs. Driver the Bawd.

She! she's an impudent confounded Lyar—and because she wou'd have your Worshipful Custom—scandaliz'd me, to breed a dif­ference between us.

I, if you cou'd make me believe that indeed, when she knew me not, nor ever saw me all dayes of her life before.

I know that Simpleton, but when I went to inquire for you by your name, and told her my bus'ness, our Amours are not kept so secret, nor was she so dull, as not to understand how matters went between us.

Now, tho [...] I know this to be a damn'd Lye, yet the Devil has assisted her to make it look so like Truth, that I cannot in Honour but forgive her.

Forgive me!—Who shall forgive you your debauch'd Who­ring and Drinking—marry y'had need so you are such a Ruffler, at [Page 52] least if y'are everywhere as you are at home with me—No, Sirra, I'll never Bed with you more; here I live sneaking without a Coach, or any thing to appear withall; when even those that were scandalous two Ages ago, can be seen in Hide-Park in their fine Chariots, as if they had purchas'd it with a Maidenhead; whil'st I, who k [...]p my self entirely for you, can get nothing but the Fragments of your Debauches—I'll be damn'd before I'll endure it.

Just as the Bawd said, yet I am mollifi'd—nay, dear Betty forgive me, and I'll be very good for the future.

Will you swear to be so?

I, by Fortune I will.

Come, what will you give me then to be Friends? for you won Money last Night.

Ay, that [...]s it that appeases her highest storms—here my Jewel, here's a hundred Guineys to buy thee fine things.

Yes, great store of fine things, indeed, with this pitifu [...] Sum, let me feel in your Pockets, and see if you have no more.

So, 'twas well I laid by the rest, my Peace had not been made under every Rag on't else; and what I was painfully cheating for all this Night, would have been laid out at the Mercers and Lacemans in half an hour—Well, are you satisfi'd I have no more?

Have you sunk none indeed, and indeed, my Timmy?

No, I need not, you sink mine fast enough, I thank ye.

Well, get your self ready to go abroad with me.

I have other matters in hand—now have I Four hun­dred Guineys in Bank, which I won last Night of Bellmour, which I'll make use of to debauch his sister, with whom I'm damnably in love, and long for the return of my two Setting Dogs, to bring me News of the Game.

Oh are you come.

Ay, Sir, with News worth the hearing; I have been diligent, Sir, and got my self acquainted with the old Steward of the Family, an avaricious Iudas, that will betray for Gold.

And that we'll furnish him with—his Masters Gold, like all other mortal things, must return from whence it came.

Not all, Sir, for Sham and I have dispos'd of part.

Indeed you are a little shabby.

Ay, Sir, Fools were made to repair the breaches of us that have Wit enough to manage 'em.

What—the Goldsmith paid the Money at sight, without demanding why?

Readily Sir—he's a brave Fellow, and must not be lost so.

By no means, we must make use of him whil'st he's hot, for I doubt the humor is not natural, and I fear he may cool.

But to our bus'ness.

Ay, Sir, this same Sister of his you must have.

If it be but to put that insolent Whore Flauntit out of favour, who ma­nages this Fopp too intirely.

Ay, but art thou sure there is no danger in this Enterprize? shall I not have my throat cut? and the rest.

We have none of that Italian humor now adayes, I can assure ye; they will sooner with a Brotherly kindness, assist the yielding Sister, to the willing Gallant.

A good thriving inclination, by Fortune.

And, Sir, you have all encouragement; her Brother, you heard, refus'd to pay her Portion, and you know the Fate of a young handsom Wench in this Town, that relies on weak Virtue—then be­cause she's in the house with her Uncle, this same Steward has contriv'd matters so, to bring you in at the Back-door, her Lodgings being in the Garden.

This is something—oh I'm impatient to be with her— Well, I must in, and make some Lye to Betty for my absence, and be with you presently.

What design hast thou in hand? for I suppose there is no such real thing, as the debauching of this Lady.

Look ye Sharp, take to thee an implicit Faith, and believe im­possibilities; for thou and I must cozen this Knight.

What our Patron?

I Sharp, we are bound to labour in our Callings, but mum— here he comes.

Come, let's away, my Lyoness begins to roar.

—You Sharp go seek after Bellmour, watch his motions, and give us no­tice.

He is gone, and I believe

For no goodness; I'll after him, and watch him.

In a Bawdy-house, with Whores, Hectors, and Dice! oh that I shou'd be so deceiv'd in Mankind, he whom I thought all Virtue and [Page 54] Sobriety! but go some of you immediately, and take Officers along with you, and remove his Quarters, from a Bawdy-house to a Prison, charge him with the murder of his Wife.

My Lord, when I demanded her, he said indeed that she was dead, and kill'd by him; but this, I guess, was the effects of madness, which debauchery, and want of sleep, has brought him to.

That shall be try'd; go to the place where Charles has directed you, and do as I command you.

Ay, there's his grief; there is some Jilting Hussy has drawn him in, but I'll revenge my self on both.

A Letter for your Lordship.

A Divorce; yes, if all my Interest or Estate can purchase it—some joy yet that thou art well.

Doubtless her Reasons must be great for this Request.

Yes, for she lov'd him passionately, when I first told her of my desi [...]ns to Marry 'em together, she could not hide her joy; which was one Motive, I urg'd it to him with such violence.

Persons so near of Kin, do seldom prosper in the Marriage Bed.

Sir, I beseech you.

You beseech me! you, the Brother of the Villain! That has abus'd the best of all my hopes?—no I think—I shall grow (for his sake) to hate all that belong to him.

Sir, how have I offended?

Yes Sir, you have offended me, and Nature has offended me; you are his Brother, and that's an offence to me.

Is that a fault, my Lord?

Yes, Sir, a great one, and I'll have it so; and let me tell you, you nor your Sister (for that Reason) must expect no more friendship at my hands, than from those that are absolute strangers to you: your Brother has refus'd you your Portions, and I'll have as little mercy as he, and so farewell to you—But where's the Messenger that brought the Letter?

Without my Lord.

Here's like to be a hopeful end of a Noble Family. My com­fort is, I shall dye with grief, and not see the last of ye.

No Trusty, I have not been so meanly educated, but I know how to live, and like a Gentleman: all that afflicts me in this misfortune, is my dear Sister Phillis; she's young, and to be left poor in this loose Town, will ruine her for ever.

Sir I think we were best to Marry her out of the way.

Marry her! to whom? who is't regards poor Virtue?

For that let me alone; and if you dare trust her to my manage­ment, I'll undertake to Marry her to a Man of 2000 l. a year; and if I fail, I'll be sure to keep her Honour safe.

Prethee how wilt thou do this?

Sir, I have serv'd your Family these thirty years, with faith and love, and if I lose my credit now, I'll ne'r pretend to't more.

No News yet of my Brother.

None: the next you'll hear is, that he's undone, and that you must go without your Portions; and worse than that, I can tell you your Uncle designs to turn you out of doors.

Alas! what shou'd I do, if he shou'd be so cruel? Wou'd I [Page 56] were in Flanders at my Monastry again, if this be true.

I have better bus'ness for you, than telling of Beads— No, Mrs. Phillis you must be Married.

Alas! I am too young, and sad for Love.

The younger, and the less Love, the better.

Mr. Trusty, here's a Gentleman wou'd speak with you, he says his name [...]s Mr. Sham.

Gud's me Mistriss, put on all your Holyday looks, for this is the little Merchant of Love by Retail, that brings you the Husband I promis'd you.

Well Mr. Trusty, I have brought Sir Timothy, as I promis'd, he is at the Garden door.

The best time in the World, my Lord's out of the way.

But you know our conditions.

Yes, that if he Marry her, you are to have all the Money that he offers to debauch her.

Right.

Bring him in then, and I'll civilly withdraw.

Well Sham, thou hast prepar'd all things, and there needs no Ceremony.

None, none Sir, you may fall down-right to the bus'ness.

What sort of Courtship's this? 'tis very odd!

'Pox on Formal Fopps, we have high-born and generous Souls, and scorn the common Road—Come, let's enjoy, whil'st Youth and Beauty lasts.

What means this Rudeness? I'll tell my Brother.

Your Brother, by Fortune he's so lewd, that should I be so unconscionable to leave thee a Virgin but this Night, he would Ravish thee himself, and that at cheaper Rates than I design to do it.

How dare you talk to me at this rate?

Talk to thee—by Fortune I'll play the Tarquin with thee, if thou yieldst not quickly—for thou hast set me all on fire.

Defend me, Heav'n from such a Man.

Then it must defend you from all the Sex, for all Mankind are like me, nay, and all Woman-kind are, or wou'd be, what I must make thee

What's that, a Wench?

Fie, fie, that's a gross name, no, a Miss, that's the word— a Lady of delight, a Person of pleasure, and the rest; I'll keep thee, not a Woman of Quality shall be half so fine—Come, dear Phillis, yield▪ Oh I am mad for the happy hour—come, say the word, 'tis but incl [...]ning thy head a little thus—the pretty Eyes down, and thy Cheeks all blushes, and fetching a long sigh—thus—with—do—what you please—at the end on't—and I shall take it for granted.

That, Sir, you'll never hear me say to any thing but a Husband, if I must say it then.

A Husband! it is enough to spoil a Mans appetite, the very naming on't—By Fortune thou hast been bred with thy great Grand­mother, some old Queen Elizabeth Lady, that us'd to preach warnings to young Maidens; but had she liv'd in this Age, she wou'd have re­pented her Error, especially had she seen the Sum that I offer thee— Come, let's in, by Fortune, I'm so vigorous, I shall ravish else.

Unhand me, or I'll call out. I assure you this is not the way to gain me.

I know there is a way to gain all mortal Woman-kind, but how to hit the Critical Minute of the Berjere—

Is past your Politicks at this time Sir.

I'll try all wayes, and the Devil's in't if I don't hit upon the right at last.

All the soft things I've said—

That a [...]night of your Parts ought to say.

Then I have kneel'd—and cry d—and swore—and—

And damn'd your self five hundred times—

Yet still y'are impregnable—I [...]ll make another Propo­sition to you, which is both reasonable and modish—If it prove a Boy— I'll Marry you—the Devil's in't, if that be not fair.

You get no earnest of me, Sir, and so farewell to you.

Oh Sham, I am all over fire, mad to enjoy! I have done what Man can do (without doing what I wou'd do) and still she's Flint; no­thing will down with her but Matrimony—what shall I do? for thou [Page 58] knowst I cannot Marry a Wife without a Fortune.

Sir, you know the old Cheat, hire a Lay Rascal in a Canonical Habit, and put a false Marriage upon her.

Lord, that this shou'd not enter into my Coxcomb before? haste then and get one—I'll have it done immediately, whilst I go af­ter her to keep up my flame.

And I'll fit you with a Parson presently.

The Scene a Street.

I find Diana knows me not, and this years absence, since I fir [...] made my Addresses to her, has alter'd me much, or she has lost the re­membrance of a Man, whom she ever disesteem'd till in this lucky dress, the price of her Favour is Bellmour's life; I need not have been brib'd for that, his breach of Faith both to my sister and my self, enough incites me to Revenge—He has not yet enjoy'd her, that blessing is reserv'd for me alone; and tho' the Priest have join'd 'em, that Marriage may be disan­null'd, and she has a Fortune sufficient to excuse her other faults.

—Look on this face, if thou dar'st look on him, whom thou hast doubly wrong'd—and draw thy Sword.

Oh Madam, here's Mr. Bellmour, he has wounded my young Master, who deni'd him entrance, and is come into the house, and all in Rage demands his Wife.

There only wants the ceremony of the Law to undo what's be­tween you and Diana, if she remain a Virgin.

You may believe him, Sir▪ and this alone's the Man [...] I will, or never will be happy.

Mr. Friendlove, I give consent to't, he has a Noble Character, and what he wants in Fortune, has in Virtue—take her young Man.

'Tis such an Honour, Sir, that (my Gratitude) without the mighty Passion I have for her, would make me ever thankful.

This Term, we shall make the former Marriage void, till then love on, and fear no frowns from Fortune—but Nephew—now I hope your Brother shall have his Portion.

My dearest Charles, forgive me all that's past, And share the Fortune, Heaven has given thy Brother.

The joy I have, Sir, to be undeceiv'd, is much the greatest bles­sing Heav'n can send me.

I am pursu'd by two impertinent Women, prethee Friendlove, tell 'em I am gone out at the Back-door, and send 'em away.

What's the News here?

How Celinda here, and Bellmour too! nay, now wou'd I com­pound for my Life, at any rate, by Fortune.

Sir, this Villain here has abus'd me, and with a false Marriage has rob'd me of my Honour.

How!

My Lord, I say this young Jilt wou'd rob me of my self, and courting her, and enjoying her only for a Miss, would persuade me I am Married to her.

Sir, I say, I am doubly wrong'd; first by this false Knight, who has belong'd to me these three years, which gives me a right to him, as good as if I were Married to him; who has now unlawfully left my Bed, for that of this Gillflurt, who on the other side takes away my Knight, and consequently eats the bread out of my mouth.

Oh Lord! who's here? the fine Squire.

Sir Timothy Tawdrey, Sir, is Married to Mrs. Phillis.

How can that be a Marriage, when he who join'd us, was but a hired Fellow, drest like a Parson?

Sir, 'twas Parson Tickle-text, that Marry'd 'em.

Oh what a damn'd lying Pimp is this!—Sham didst not thou hire a Fellow, (because I was damnably in Love, and in haste) to Marry us, that was no Parson?

Why truly Sir—I did go to hire such an one—

Look ye there now.

But cou'd meet with none; and because you said you shou'd dye if you enjoy'd her not presently, and that she wou'd not yield on any other terms, but those of Marriage, I e'ne brought the Parson that Trusty had provided for you.

Oh Villain to betray me! and for no Reward!

Yes indeed, Sir, the 400 Guineys you left behind my young Mistresses Looking-glass fell to his share.

What's my Money gone! and am I Marry'd too! This 'tis not to use to go to Church; for then I might have chanc'd to know the Parson.

Death you Dog! you deserve to dye, for your base designs up­on a Maid of her quality—how durst you, Sister, without my leave, Marry that Rascal?

Sir, you deny'd me my Portion, and my Uncle design'd to turn me out of doors▪ and in my despairs, I accepted of him.

Married! and to a Wife of no Fortune! that's the worst part on't—what shall I do?

Renounce this lewd Fool, and I'll make thee a Fortune sutable to thy quality.

Say you so?—Renounce me Sir! I'de have you to know I merit her: and as for Lewdness, I name no body Bellmour—but on­ly some have the Art of hiding it better than I—but for Whoring, Drinking, Dicing, and all the deadly sins that thereupon depend, I thank my stars I come short of you: And since you say, I shall not have your Sister, by Fortune, I will have your Sister, and love your Sister, and lie with your Sister, in spite of you.

Well Sir Timothy, since my Neece has done amiss, 'tis too late to mend it—and that you may not repent, I'll take care her Fortune shall be sutable to the Jointure you'll make her.

With this Proviso that you make no Settlements to Misses, Sir Timothy—I am not so unreasonable to tye you up from all of that Pro­fession; that were to spoil a fashionable Husband, and so put you quite out of Fopp Road.

What am I like to lose my Timy? Canst thou have the heart to leave me for ever? I who have been true and constrant to you.

Alas! now do I melt again, by Fortune—thou art a Fool, dost think I wou'd have had her, but for her Fortune; which shall only serve to make thee out-flaunt all the Cracks in Town—go—go home and ex­pect me, thou'lt have me all to thy self within this day or two.