ACT. I.

MY Dear—

My Dear, how is it with thee? What amend­ment in thy Brothers humour, and thy condition?

None.

Oh! thou break'st my heart, for I love him extreamly, and am, I think, as well belov'd by him; but whil'st he has this Disease upon him so mortal to Liberty, dare venture on him no more, than if he had the Plague, or any other Distemper dangerous to Life. For what is life with­out Liberty? To be his Wife is worse than to be a Ghost, for that walks and enjoys a little chat sometimes, but I must be laid by a Conjurer call'd a Husband for my whole life, I would not be a Queen on the tearms; no nor on any tearms, because a Queen is confin'd to Forms, so fond am I of Liberty; but next to that I love your Brother; I wou'd give all the World to cure him, is there no way?

None that I know off.

Must we then be for ever unhappy, I in the loss of him, and you in Eternal Slavery?

I might have Liberty, but on such tearms—

What Tearms?

Marriage with such a Coxcomb, you know him—Sir Courtly Nice.

A tempting Man, he has a vast estate.

But incumber'd.

With what?

A Fop, 'tis morgag'd to a thousand expensive Follies, if it were not, I wou'd not drink water for the sake of a fine Bowl chain'd to the Well. The Youth I love has a fair and free Estate.

Mr. Farewel is it not?

The same.

Ay, but he's forbidden Fruit.

I know it to my sorrow.

What's the reason?

History must tell you. There has been a pique between our Fa­milies since the Conquest; none were thought truly of our Blood, that had not that Scurvy in it; because mine began to sweeten, my Father almost suspected my Legitimacy; and left me no Fortune but on condition I re­tain'd the Ancient mark of our House.

There arises then your Brothers great Authority. He has the disposal of your Fortune, by consequence of your Person; Fortune is all Men seek now. They are so cow'd from Marriage, they will go Voluntiers into a Battle but must be prest to marriage; and 'tis the Shilling does it.

Too true, But I believe Mr. Farewel of a more generous tem­per, he addresses still.

It may be he does not know how it is with you, you have the Fame of Ten thousand pound.

And the Money too, if I marry with my Brothers consent, not else.

That's hard, but Mr. Farewel has enough for you both.

Ay, if he will venture on me; yet if he will I know not how to come at him, I am so watch'd, not only at home but abroad. I never stir out but as they say the Devil does, with Chains and Torments. She that is my Hell at home, is so abroad.

A new Woman.

No, an old Woman, or rather an old Devil; nay worse than an old Devil, an old Maid.

Oh! there's no Fiend so envious.

Right, she will no more let young People sin, that the Devil will let 'em be sav'd, out of envy to their happiness.

Who is she?

One of my own Blood, an Aunt.

I know her, she of thy bloud? she has not had a drop of it, these Twen­ty Years; the Devil of envy suck'd it all out, and left verjuice in the roome.

True, this Aunt hangs on me like a daily Ague; but I had rather endure her, then be cur'd by such a nonsensical Charm as Sr. Courtly is. And nothing else can be applyed to me; for to assist my governing Aunt, there is a whole Army of Spies in the House; and over them two Spies General: And there my Brother thinks he shews a Master-piece of Policy.

Why? what are they?

Two, that will agree in nothing but one anothers confusion. The one is a poor Kinsman of ours, so fierce an Enemy to Fanaticks, that he cou'd eat no other meat; and he need no other Fire than himself to roast 'em, for he's always in a flame when he comes near 'em, his Name is Hot-head.

And I warrant thee the other is a Fanatick.

Oh! a most Zealous Scrupulous one; with a conscience swadled so hard in its Infancy by strict Education, and now Thump'd and Cudgel'd so sore with daily Sermons and Lectures, that the weak ricketty thing can endure nothing.

Certainly these two, must make you sport.

Oh! their faces, Dresses, Names are jests. The Fanatick's Name's Testimony.

Where is my Lord? Where's my Lord?

Oh! I hear my Cholerick Cousin Hot-head.

Where's my Lord? Where's my Lord, I say?

What wou'd you do with my Lord?

Call him to an account if he were not my Cousin, cut his pate, it may be Cudgel him. Heaven be thank'd to Cudgel a Lord is no Scandalum Magnatum.

What's the reason of all this anger?

He affront's me, he invites me to live in his house, and then keeps a Fanatick to make a jest o' me. He knows I sweat when I see one.

May be he has occasion for one.

What occasion? He is not in a Plot, is he? Fanaticks are good for nothing else that I know of.

Why not? Toads are good for something.

Ay, when they are hang'd and dryed, so is no Fanatick. He is such a canker'd Rogue, he does mischief when he's hang'd; let him spread Ink upon Paper and it raises blisters.—But here the Rogue is.

[Sirrah! Sirrah, What's your business in this House, Sirrah?

What Authority have you to examine me, Friend?

Friend, you Dog! call me. Friend, I'le knock you down Sirrah.

Poor Soul—poor Soul—

You are an Impudent Rascal to call me poor Soul—Sirrah, I have a Loyalty and a good Conscience, and that's a better Estate, than any [Page 4] of your Party have; and if you live in the House with me, I'le settle it on you with a Pox to you.

Yes, Mr. Hot-head I know you well enough, I know you would hang us all if you could.

I need not Sirrah, for Heaven be prais'd now you begin to hang your selves; I knew when Tyburn was bestow'd upon the Priests and Jesuits, the Fanaticks and Re-publicans wou'd not long be without it, for they are very fond of all Church Lands, come, Sirrah, if you live here, I'le make you turn over a new leaf, I'le make you go to Church, Sirrah.

That's more than you do your self Mr. Hot-head, you go not often to Church.

What then? I'm for the Church, Sirrah. But you are against the Church, and against the Ministers, Sirrah.

I cannot be Edifyed by 'em, they are formal, weak, ignorant, poor Souls—Lord help 'em—poor Souls.

Ignorant? you're an impudent Rascal to call Men o' their Learning Ignorant; there's not one in a hundred of 'em, but has taken all his Degrees at Oxford, and is a Doctor, you Sot you.

What signifies Oxford? can't we be sav'd unless we go to Oxford?

Oxford don't lye out o' the road to Heaven; you Ass.

Pray what do they learn at Oxford? only to study Heathens; they'l talk of Aristotle in the publick, they may be asham'd to name A­ristotle among civil People.

Oh! you Sot.

Our Ministers are powerful Men. Oh! Forsooth I wish

you were under one of our Ministers; you wou'd find they wou'd pierce you forsooth; they wou'd go to your inward parts.

This Rogue is talking Bawdy.

They would shew you the great—great sinfulness of sin, that sin is one of the sinfullest things in the whole World.

You senceless Rascal, what should be sinful but sin? what should be foolish but a Fool?

Are not these a ridiculous Couple?

Come this is very provoking, and very Prophane; I shall have a sad time on't in this wicked Family.

Wicked! Sirrah: What wickedness do you see in this Family?

Ay, Mr. Testimony, now we are all concern'd, what Vices do you find among us?

Suppose I see not many Vices, morality is not the thing; the Hea­thens had morality, and forsooth would you have your Coachman or your Footman to be no better Men than Seneca?

A Coachman a better Man then Seneca?

I wou'd have him be a better Coachman than I believe Seneca was.

Ay, and a better Christian too, or woe be to him. But truly I see great wantonness even in your self forsooth,—the very Cook debauches you.—

How? call the Cook!—Cook!—Cook!—

The Cook debauch me, Sirrah?

I mean by pampring you, Morning, Noon, and Night with one wanton kickshaw or another.—

You Coxcomb.

Sot.

Rascal, I thought the Cook had layn with my Cousin—Sirrah, you deserve to have your bones broke. Well Sirrah, since you find my Lords. Table is too Iusty, I'le have it guelded; I'le make you keep Lens, and fast Wednesdays and Fridays.

I will not, I abhor it, 'tis Popery.

Then you shall fast Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And then the Family will slander me, and say I do it out o' con­tradiction,—I will not do it, I do not love to grieve the weak.

To grieve the strong thou mean'st, thy own strong stomack.

You are offensive.

I will be more. I will watch you Sirrah, and know why my Lord feeds such Rascals.

I tarry not for his feeding, the Family is a sad Family, and I tarry out of pure Bowels.

Out of empty Bowels, which you have a mind to fill, and it may be you may fill other empty bellys, I mean among the Wenches, some of you Godly Rogues play such tricks some times. I'le watch you Sirrah.

And I'le watch you, my Spirit rises at this Man exceedingly.

These are a pleasant Couple.

Is not my Brother politick? These are to see no Provisions for wan­tonness be conveigh'd to me from abroad, and be sure they will not agree to deceive him. And that I may have none at home, My Brother will not venture a handsome Servant in the house; he swears he will not be Brother in Law to er'e a Butler or Footman in England; and he has cull'd for his Family, the most choice peices of deformity he cou'd find in the Nation. I believe they are now altogether in the Pantry, and my Aunt among 'em distributing their Breakfasts—the Monsters will be worth seeing—open the Door.—

How now? Who open'd the Door without my leave? Neice, this is one o' your Girlish tricks, will you always be a Child? Will you never learn staidness and gravity, notwithstanding the perpetual Counsel you have from me, the perpetual displeasure I shew at all sort of youthful Fol­lies; do not you know how I hate impertinent Youth?

Or any sort o' youth to my knowledge.

Do not I always tell you how sine a thing it is to be Grave; that Youth with Gravity is very passable, and almost esteem'd equal with years? Very wise Persons will not be asham'd to match with Grave Youth; daily experience shews it, and will you never leave? Fye—fye—fye—I [Page 6] wou'd not for the World any Wise Sober Person o' Quality that has an In­clination for you, shou'd ha' seen this rudeness in you, to Expose your Aunt in this manner, in her undress; it might ha' created in him an aver­sion for you.

An aversion to me, to see your ill dress?

Madam, I hope you'l pardon the liberty I take in your presence.

Oh! good Madam.—

Oh! Madam—pardon me—I know I commit a Solecism in good Manners,—but you are a Lady that has a great deal o' goodness, and a great deal o' worth.—

Oh! sweet Madam!—

Oh! Madam! our Family has found it—you are pleas'd to Ho­nour us with your Friendship. We may venture to expose our Frailties before you, Madam, you'l be so good to pardon—Madam—

Oh! Madam!—

Well really Madam—I wonder where my Neice learns her wan­tonness, we are the most reserv'd Family in the World. There were Four­teen Sisters of us, and not one of us married.—

I'st possible?

To your great grief—

We were all so reserv'd. Oh! Madam! no Man durst presume to think of us;—I never had three love Letters sent to me in my whole life.

Oh! strange!

Oh! we were very reserv'd. Well Madam I am very much out o' Countenance to appear thus before you.

Oh! Madam, every thing becomes you Madam.

Oh! you are very obliging Madam.—Do you hear Neece—learn o' this Lady?

To flatter you.—

Madam I am extream unfortunate, the affairs o' the Family call me away from your sweet Conversation.

the misfortune is mine, Madam.

Oh! sweet Madam your most humble Servant.

Your humbler Servant dear Madam. Ha! ha! ha! what

ridiculous peice of Antiquity is this? Thy Brother has a great Ho­nour for his Family since he will keep such a relick of his Ancestors as this.

All the house is of a piece.

Nay if thou learn'st lewdness at home, thou hast a great Genius to it.

Well, what do you think of my condition?

I like it.

Like it?

Ay, for I perceive your Brother has put the whole force of his Wit into this Form of Government; now if we can baffle it, he will find it is a dream fit for nothing but Utopia; and never torment himself and his Friends with it any more, then he'l be a faultless Creature, and all of us hap­py in our Loves, Here he comes.

Your Servant good my Lord.

Your most humble Servant Madam.

My Lord, why do you call him Lord? he's a Doctor and curing me o' the Palpitation o' the heart, Falling-sickness, Convulsions in the Eyes, and other such Distempers.

A Doctor? a Quack by his false Medecines; shortly we shall see him mount the Stage, or stand at the Old—Exchange and cry a Cure for your Horns, a Cure for your Horns.

I'm glad to see you so pleasant Madam.

How can I otherwise chuse my Lord, and see your Family and Government?

Faith, Madam he that will have a Garden must inclose it, and cover tender Plants: This is a very blasting age to Vertue, 'twill not thrive with­out a covering.

Ay, but my Lord, you force your ground too much, what Horns wou'd not grow in your Soyle? When wou'd not your Forehead sprout? Were I your Wife and thus kept, I shou'd spread like a Vine, and all the Walls in England wou'd not hold me.

I'm not o' that opinion, Madam.

Why shou'd you think better o' me than your Sister?

I judge very well of her, but must speak freely I think few Women may be trusted in this life, this World is, and ever was a great brothel; where? or with whom may a Woman be trusted? with ancient Ladies; they are the chief Beauty Merchants, venders of fine Love.

Ladies o' that Profession.

Oh! the most excellent, and most in Employ. Pedling Wo­men cry Scotch Cloath of a groat a yard, stuff only fit for Footmen. But wou'd you have fine Beauty, Choice of Beauty, and with ease Security and Decency, go to your Lady Merchants; in Common houses the work is manag'd as slovenly as Religion in Conventicles, enough to put one out of conceit with it; but in Brothels o' Quality, Iniquity is carried on with that venerable order wou'd intice any one to Devotion.

Fye! fye!

And with that security. A Man may there enjoy a Lady whilst her Husband holds her Cards.

And shall the Lady o' the house know o' these things?

And manage 'em too; break the Lady to the Lovers hands; that's the advantage o' Quality, if a young Lady has not a natural amble, a poor Bawd cannot have access to teach her.

What can a Lady o' Quality propound by such doings?

Oh! many things. As Presents; and Pleasures. She has her house full of good Company, her Ears full of wanton Stories; her Eye full of tempting Sights, and now and then her Lips get a close kiss. Oh! Madam! do you think it does not warm an Elderly Lady's blood, to have a brisk young Spark always by her side? he is her Liquour of life, and though she never gets a full draught, a tast chears her heart.

Who are these Ladies? where do they live?

Oh! you'd feign be acquainted with 'em? no such matter; and yet I'le tell you where they live.

Where?

Almost every where; where there is an Amorous Aunt, or over-in­dulgent Mother.

Mothers? will Mothers corrupt their Daughters?

Ay, or if they wont Daughters will corrupt their Mothers. Things are so inverted, that Ladies who were honest all their Youth to be like their Mothers, turn lew'd in their old Age to be like their Daughters. There never was such an open and general War made on Virtue; young ones of Thirteen will pickeere at it, and by that time they are twenty, they are risen to be Strumpets General, and march in publick with their Baggage, with Miss, and Mass, and Nurse and Maid, and a whole train of Reformade sinners, expecting the next Cully that falls.

You talk of paltry husses.

Very good Gentlewomen.

Gentlewomen o' those employments.

Ay, purchase 'em. I have known a fair young Lady give all her Fortune to attend a Man o' Quality in his Bed-Chamber; be his chief Gen­tlewoman.

Suppose so, what's all this to me? If they be bad must I be so?

Truly Sister, a rambling Woman let her be never so good a mana­ger, will be apt to bring her Vertue as a Traveller does his Money, from a Broad peice to a brass Farthing: But say she does not, is reputation no­thing? and let me tell you, Reputation will hang loose upon a galloping Lady; you may as well go among high Winds and not be ruffled, as among Men and not have your good Name blown over your Ears.

Those Winds blow where they list. A Woman is not secue rat home from Censure.

But you must allow a Jewel is not so safe in a Crow'd as when lock'd up.

Lock'd up? do you think to lock me up?

I think to secure thee, my dear Sister.

ACT II.

IS Mr. Farewel coming?

Yes Madam, he's just at the Door.

That's well, if this brisk young Fellow, has but Love enough to undertake this work, and Wit enough to go through with it, we shall all be happy.

Where's your Lady? Madam, your most humble Servant.

Your Servant Mr. Farewel; you are a happy Man, young, rich, and in the Ladies Favours.

I'm glad to hear that, Madam; who are these Ladies Madam,? a day, and hour of Youth and good Fortune is precious; and Ladies like Birds must be aim'd at whilst they hop about us, miss that opportunity you may loose 'em for ever. Therefore the Ladies, good Madam, quick, quick, for if you defer but half an hour, they'l be in love with some body else.

No Mr. Farewel, there is one Lady more Constant, you'l own it when I name her; my Lord Belguard's delicate young Sister. What say you to her?

I adore her.

And dare you attempt her?

Dare I?

Ay, for do not you know you are the only Man forbidden her.

Do I know of what Race I am, Madam? Never was such a pack of Fops as my Lord Belguard's Ancestors and mine. They lov'd wrangling more than we do intriguing; kept Lawyers instead o' Wenches, and begot upon their bodies, a thousand illegitimate Law Suits, the Terms they ob­serv'd as duly as the River does t [...]e Tydes, and Land was carried too and frow, as mud is in the Thames. Nor were their quarrels so bitter about Land, as place; so big were their great hearts, they cou'd not come into one Room together, for fear of loosing place. My Lord Belguard's Father to end the difference, most piously endeavours to be a better Man than any of his Ancestors. That is to say a Lord.

And then the strife ended?

Was more enflam'd. For my Lord was more insolent, as having Authority under the Broad Seal to be proud, by Consequence my Father more enrag'd; and both the old Gentlemen contended who shou'd have the greatest Estate in malice, and attain'd to be very considerable, and when [Page 10] they dyed, endeavourd to settle it all upon us. But truly the young La­dy and I most prodigally consum'd all our Portions at one look, and agreed to cut of the wicked Entail.

You did well, but how will you accomplish your desires? her Brother has such guards upon her.

Oh! 'tis Decreed! nor shall thy Fate oh! Brother! resist my Vow, though Guards were set on Guards, till their confounded Coxcombs reach'd the Skies, I'd or'e 'em all—

You are in a Rapture.

Ten thousand when ever I think of her.

But how will you do this?

I have leagu'd with a Witch; at least a young Fellow that has more tricks than a Witch; he was a poor Scholler at Oxford, but expell'd for studying the Black Arts.

For Conjuring?

Yes, Madam, not only any Mans Pigs or Poultry, but Wife or Daughter into his Chamber. Nothing cou'd scape him, and he scap'd every thing. The Proctors watch'd more diligently for him, then a Benefice, and cou'd never catch him. The Grave Doctors abhor'd him worse than a Haeresie, and studyed more to keep him out of their Families, but he con­futed their Skill, and they cou'd no more light upon him than on a jest.

I long to see him.

I ordered him to come hither to me.

Here's one Mr. Crack enquires for you, Sir.

That's he—bring him in—

Crack your Servant.

Your Servant Sir, your humble Servant, Madam.

Your Servant Sir, I am told you ha' been an Oxford Scholler.

A Scholler Madam? a Schollers Egg—emptyed by old suck. Eggs, of all that Nature gave me, and crumbled full of Essences, Hypo­stases, and other stuff o' their baking.

Why did not you apply your self to Divinity?

Leave Wenches for Pigs, Madam; 'tis true I may Wench then too, but it must be with Fear and Reverence, I hate that.

Why wou'd not you be a Physician?

A Gold-finder Madam? look into Jakes for bits o' money? I had a Spirit above it. I had an ambition to be of some honourable profession; such as People of Quality undertake. As for instance, Pimping. A Pimp is as much above a Doctor, as a Cook is above a Scullion; when a Pimp has foul'd a Dish, a Doctor scours it.

This is an arch Blade.

Oh! you are pleas'd to say so, Madam; 'tis more your goodness than my desert.

Well Mr. Crack, you know what you have undertaken.

I'le do't—The Lady's yours.—Give me some Mony.

There, there.—

Gold! thou Son o' the Sun, and Brother o' the Stars, Nutmeg o' comfort, and Rose o' delight, as my Friend the King o' Persia call's him­self,—what can'st thou not do great Prince, if I be thy chief Mini­ster?—

This is a notable Fellow,—our next Plot must be to secure your Rival Sr. Courtly Nice.

Hang him, he secure's himself by his Foppery's, she despises him.

Not many Lady's do so.

Oh! no, Madam, he's the General Guitarre o' the Town, inlay'd with every thing Women fancy; Gaytry, Gallantry, Delicacy, Nicety, Courtesy.

And pray, put in Gold too.

True Madam, Oh! the Ladies love to have him in their Chambers. and play themselves a sleep with him.

Well, I have provided one shall thrumble on him.

Who's that?

Surley.

Oh! Fire and Water are not so contrary, Sr. Courtly is so civil a Creature, and so respectful to every thing belongs to a Gentleman, he stand's bare to his own Perewig. Surly uncovers to nothing but his own Night­cap, nor to that if he be drunk, for he sleeps in his Hat. Sr. Courtly is so gentle a Creature, he writes a challenge in the stile of a Billet-doux. Sur­ley talks to his Mistress, as he wou'd to a Hector that wins his Mony. Sr. Courtly is so pleas'd with his own Person, his daily contemplation, nay his Salvation is a Lookinglass, for there he finds Eternal happyness. Surley's Heaven at least, his Priest is his Claret Glass; for to that he confesses all his Sins, and from it receives Absolution and Comfort. But his damnation is a Looking glass, for there he finds an Eternal fire in his Nose. In short if you wou'd make a Posset for the Devil, mingle these two, for there never was so sweet a thing as Sr. Courtley, so sower as Surley. But how will you get 'em together? for nothing has power over Surley, but Claret and the Devil.

Yes I have. Heaven is pleas'd to think the Devil himself has not mischief enough to plague that ill-natur'd Rogue, and joyns me in Com­mission with him to torment him with Love; he loves me.—

Love? can he love?

So much, he neglects his Claret for me; and comes hither hourly to perform his Devotions to me, but in such a slovenly manner; 'tis such a Non-Conformist to all decent Ceremonies.

Where's your Mistress?

I hear him, we'l ha' sport with him. He abhors his Love worse than [Page 12] Murder or Treason, for those are mischiefs to others, but Love he accounts High-Treason against his own damnable Person; and he's more asham'd of it, than he wou'd be of a Beasts Taile if it grew out of him. Therefore I'le conceal, and do you charge him with it, you shall hear how he'l renounce it, then will I appear like Conscience to a sick debauch, and you shall see what an aukard Penitent I'le make him.

Honest Surly, how do'st do?

Prethee look in my Water.

In thy Water?

Ay, for I don't love to answer impertinent questions,

Is it impertinent to enquire after the health of a Friend?

A Friend? thy talk is more boyish than thy Face. Do'st thou think there are such Friends? thou believ'st there are Mair-maids and Centaures I warrant; for such Friends. Monsters that grow to some other Beasts, and are the least part o' themselves?

Why? hast thou no concern for any Beasts but thy self?

Yes Bird, for many things for my own sake; for Witty Men whil'st they drink with me, handsome Whores whil'st they lye with me, Dogs, Horses or Cattle whil'st they belong to me; after that, I care not if the Wits behang'd, the Whores be pox'd, and all the Cattle bewitch'd.

A very generous temper.

'Tis a wise and honest temper. The pretended good nature is ill nature; it makes a Man an Ass to others he bears their Burden, a Rogue to himself, he cheats himself of his quiet and Fortune. I am so very honest to my self, if the whole World were hang'd it shou'd not rob me of a Minutes ease, I thank Heaven for it.

Was ever such a Barbarian?

Thou 'rt an Ass; which is the Barbarian, he that eats Man, or the Man that's eaten? The Rogue that grieves away my Flesh eats me, and is a Barbarian; so is he that with vexation gnawes himself; I am no such Can­nibal.

Hast thou no compassion?

I know not what it is.

Suppose you see a Man o' Quality in misery.

Let him be in misery and be damn'd.

Are you not concern'd for his Quality?

The less for that, because if he fancies the whimsey he has it to please him.

To trouble him.

Then to comfort him I'le tell him he's the Son of a Whore, and his Grandfather rose by Pimping.

Suppose you saw a Man o' parts unfortunate?

Let his parts look after him.

They'l afflict him.

Then to quiet him I'le tell him he's an Ass.

Have you no charity? do you never give any thing to the Poor?

As much as any Man.

What's that?

Nothing.

Does no Man give any thing?

Not to the Poor; they give it to themselves; some Fools have Di­seases in their Natures, they never see any one in pain, but they feel half on't, and so they give money to ease themselves.

Ha' you no love for any thing?

I have Appetite.

Have you no love for Women?

I ha' Lust.

No Love?

That's the same thing, the word Love is a Fig-Leaf to cover the na­ked sence, a fashion brought up by Eve, the Mother of Jilts, she Cuckolded her Husband with the Serpent then pretendedto modesty and fell a making Plac­kets presently. And her Daughters take up the Trade, you may import what Lewdness you will into their Common-wealth, if you will wash it over with some fine Nmae. You may proclaime at Mercat-cross, how great an Adorer you are of such a Womans Charms? how much you desire to be admitted into her Service; that is, how lusty a Centaur you are, that the Horse in you is much the major part, and she shall receive all this without a blush, whil'st the Beast trots to her under the Name of a Lover; when if she had any Wit she'd know, a Lover is a more impudent Name than Whoremaster; for a Whoremaster throws all his Bombes at a whole City, your Lover wasts all his upon a single House. That when a Woman desires a Lover, she desires to have the whole Brute to her self.

Ha! ha! ha!

What do you laugh at Sir?

Only that your Mistress has heard your learned Discourses Sir. Pray appear Madam, and own you have lost your Wager, is he a Lover or no?

Here's a young Treacherous Rogue.

Yes—a Brutal one—are these your Sentiments of Love Sir? was it this you meant when you talk'd of Love? when we grow Lovers do we degenerate into Brutes? I thought there was a generous Passion, of which a Beast cou'd have no more sence, than he has of Musick or Poetry. And to such Love you pretended Sir.

I'le whedle her,

So I do still Madam, but why must I let a Boy Catechise me? I have that Musical, Poetical, Fantastical love, you speak of, and a pox on me for it; you'l neither be my Slipper, nor my Shooe, my Wench to slip on and of at pleasure, nor my Wife, that is a Whore buckled on.

You are charming in your expressions.

Mr. Surly, Madam, is a mistical peice, to be understood like a Prophe­cy, where Rams and He-Goats stand for Kings and Princes. Mr. Surly's, rank expressions must signifie Virtue and Honour.

No, no, they signifie his own filthy meaning; and the truth is, love has no other sence, in this corrupt Age. Now if a Woman by blushes or otherwise, confesses she thinks a Man, a fine Gentleman, he to requite her sends her presently a Libel call'd a Billet-doux, where he in fine words tells her to her Face, he thinks her a Wench, and invites her to lye with him. This ruins all Conversation, Men are always driving their brutal appetites to the Plays, the Court, to Church, like Drovers their Beasts to every Market; and there's no conversing with 'em, unless you'l take their Cattel of their hands.

Madam, I love your in your own fashion, admire you, adore you, and the Devil and all, what wou'd you have?—Now will this simple Jade believe me?

He calls you simple Jade, Madam, and say's you'l believe him.

You Malapert Boy, why do you meddle in my business?

'Tis my business, she's my Friend, and I wont see her abus'd.

A Friend to the Woman loves your Enemy, Tom-Fool?

No, she hates him, and has quarrel'd with him, and I wou'd ha' had you step into his room.

Oh! ho!

Now who's the Tom-Fool?

I am, look you Madam, that Rogue despayr made me talk like an Ass, and I am sorry for it.

I know you are Sir, I know your base desire is for your punishment; confin'd to my Eyes, and I'le use you as you deserve.

Come, Madam, let me interpose; though you will not receive Mr. Sur­ly as a half Horse, you may as a whole Ass, a Drudge, you know you have business most agreeable to his ill Nature, pray employ him.

Well; I'le make tryal of him, you pretend you love me Gene­rously.

Yes, and Damnably.

Know then my Lord Belguard, is (as I have of late perceiv'd) sunk with the rest of the Age, into base opinions of Love and Women, that I am angry I ever had a good thought of him.

Good.

Look upon his address to me, as an affront, and will re­venge it.

Better and better.

And you shall do it.

Best of all.

Do not you know Sir Courtly Nice?

That you shou'd joyn knowledge with such a Fop? 'tis a question to be put to a Boy? I may know Philosophy, but to ask a Man if he knows a Horn-Book? for such a thing is this Fop; guilded on the out side, on the inside, the Criss Cross row, and always hanging at the Girdle of a Girl.

You have describ'd him right. This rop has my Lord Belguard en­tie'd to accept his Sister with no Fortune, but her Birth and Beauty. Now if you'l break the Match, you'l be to me the most annable Creature in the World.

Or the most damnable, if you Jilt me.

In earnest of a farther favour here's my hand.

There's the Devil in it. Tis transforming my shape, I am growing a Womans Ass, I feel the Ears prick out o' my skin already; and I must hoof it away with her load of Folly upon my back. Well I am thy Ass at present, but if thou Jilts me, I will be thy Devil.

'Tis the fittest Office for thee; thou art so like one already, you may pass for Twins. Now Mr. Farewel let's go in and Laugh.

He shall not speak with her, I dont approve of it.

You approve Sirrah? what ha' you to do?

I have Authority.

You Authority?

Yes, from my Lord.

You had it then out of his Kitchin, Sirrah; the Beef o' the Nation breeds all the Maggots in the Peoples heads. I am sometimes tempted to throw down their Porridge-pots, and spill the Divine Right of Presbitery. In short my Lord is a man of honour, and you have belyed him, Sirrah.

It is well known I make a Conscience.

Ay, you Rogues making o' Consciences is a great trade among your Party, and you deserve to loose your Ears for it.

I mean I keep a Conscience.

Y'ave reason Sirrah, it keeps you; but that an honest Lord shou'd give money for a Rogues false Conscience.—Oones!—

Well but dont swear.

Sirrah, who swears?

Dee hear?—don't swear I say.

Oones! Sirrah, don't preach to me.

Don't swear then.

Sirrah, if you preach to me, I'le cut your Pate.

Had I a Sword 'twere more than you cou'd do.

How now Sirrah?

Nay but don't throttle me, don't Godfrey me.

What's the noyse? what's the rudeness, Cousin Hot-head? you a Gentleman, and make a Bear-Garden of a Persons of Honours house?

Better make a Bear-garden of it than a Conventicle; here's a Fana­tick Rogue ordain'd ruling elder o'th' Family by my Lord, as the Rogue says, so he undertakes to govern and Preach.

And you undertake to Govern and correct? Cousin no body Go­verns here but I; if he had committed faults, you shou'd have brought him before me.

Oh! you'd have him enter'd in your Office?

What do you mean? obscenely? you are confident You are the first [Page 16] Gentleman that offer'd to say a wanton thing to me.

To your great sorrow.

What's the quarrel here?

There's a Taylor wou'd fain speak with you.

All this noyse to introduce a Taylor?

He can't get through this Fellows narrow Conscience, yet there is room for a whole Common-wealth.

Call in the Taylor; there must no Cloaths be made without my or­ders, that I may see 'em modest.

A Taylor? I order'd no Taylor.

How now, Sir? what are you?

A Taylor, Madam.

Who sent you? I know you not.

Your own Taylor, Mr. Stitch, Madam.

How chance he came not himself?

He's sick, Madam.

And can you work well, for we are very hard to please? There's scarce a Taylor in Town can make me endure to see my self.

The fault lyes in—Fifty—Fifty—.

Indeed Madam, I must needs say my Country men are not the best Tay­lors in the World. This is a fine Nation, and all spoyl'd by the Taylors. Heaven makes the Women Angels, and Taylors make 'em Hedg-hogs; 'tis a sad sight to see 'em, now I'le make an Angel of a crooked Pin.

Ay, where did you learn your Skill?

In France, Madam.

In France? then Friend I believe you are a Papist.

Sirrah, I believe you are a Presbyterian.

Friend, if you be a Papist I'le ha' you before a Justice.

Sirrah, if you be a Presbyterian, I'le kick you down Stairs.

What are you Friend?

Ay, what are you Sirrah?

What am I? why, I'm a Taylor, I think the Men are mad.

Intolerable; Mr. Testimony pray leave us, and Cousin Hot-head, I shall desire the same of you, unless you'l behave your self like a Gentle­man.

I will behave my self like a Gentleman, for I'le know of my Lord when he comes home, if he has given this Rogue Authority over me; if he has I'le demand Satisfaction of him; if he be innocent woe be to your prick­ears, Sirrah.

I fear you not.

Mr. Testimony, I once more desire you'l give us liberty.

Yes, Forsooth, I dare trust the young Gentlewoman with you, For­sooth [Page 17] —you are a grave—Gentlewoman and in years—For­sooth.—

In years, rude Clown.—

And truly she's a very pretty sweet Woman, and deserves to have great care taken of her.

Well Sir, we'l excuse the care at this time.—

Pretty Woman.—

Pray leave us—.

Sweet Woman—I profess she's strangely alluring, I had best retire least I fall into frailty, and be discovered.

Now, Madam, before I take measure of you, I'l shew you some Patterns—please you to look upon some Madam, you have judg­ment—.

Let me see.

To you, Madam, I wou'd recommend this peice.

Mr. Farewel's Picture? oh! I Sirrah! now I guess thee—my Dear—Dear—

Have a care o' your Aunt Madam.—I have a Letter too.—

Give it me—quick—quick—

These are pretty Silks.

The best in France, Mdaam.

Where's my Sister?

My Brother? I hope he does not know thee.

No, if he does I'm a dead Man.

Hast thou no disguise for fear he shou'd?

Only this great pair of Spectacles.

What Fellow's this?

A Taylor.

Not your Taylor?

No, he's sick and sent this Fellow in his Room.

How comes such a young Fellow to wear Spectacles?

Young my Lord? I'm above Five and Fifty.

Thou bear'st thy age well.

Ay, every where but in my Eyes I thank Heaven.

This Fellow may be a Bawd for ought I know, I'le watch him.

Well, Madam, I perceive your Ladyship likes the Pattern I shew'd you first.

I have seen the whole piece.

And your Ladyship likes it?

Oh! very well.

I'le assure you, Madam, you'l like it mightily when 'tis upon you, and you have a sweet body to work for. I do not doubt, Madam, but to get a great deal o' credit and a great deal o' Custome by you, among the Ladies, as soon as ever they see my work.

Well let's see your work, and I'le say something.

That you shall and speedily, Madam, I'le bring you home as sweet a peice o' Work, as ever you had in your Life. You'l look upon the Pat­tern I shew'd you last?

Yes.

That's for the inside; do you like much Bombast, Madam?

No—.

Well, Madam—I ha' taken a Surveigh o' your fine Body—now you shall be pleas'd according to your own hearts desire—your Ser­vant Madam—.

Well Sister—prepare to receive a Visit from Sr. Courtly Nice, this Afternoon.

Oh! dear! then I must dress. He's a great Critick.

She designs him for her self, wou'd she cou'd get him.

Sr. Courtly and I have agreed; pray give him your promise.

So soon? 'twill be fulsome, he's abstemious.

Therefore take him whil'st he has an edge.

You use to despise Fools, how chance you marry amongst 'em?

Because none but Fools will marry. Wits are but few and common­ly poor; Fools are numerous and rich. Fortune is as fond of those bits of Men, as Bigots are of Reliques; wraps 'em in Silver.

Better they were buryed. A Fool in a Coach is like a Knave in a Pillory, the Object of publick derision.

Oh! there are few to deride 'em, many to admire 'em, so many, I have oft admired how one Apple,

ACT. III.

Oh! the News! the News! art thou an Angel or a Devil? bring'st thou Joys or Torments?

Joys! joys! joys!

Angel! Angel! Angel!

In the first place I deliver'd your Picture.

Rare.

And she kissed it.

kissed it?

Sweetly, wantonly, lasciviously. She set me so on fire, I kiss'd all the Wenches as I came along, and made their moyst lips fiz again.

Oh! Rogue! Rogue! delicious Rogue.

Then I deliver'd the Letter, and before her Brothers face.

Before his face? ha! ha! ha!

Prepare this Night to be the happyest o' Mortals. Give me some more Mony.

Mony? I'le sell my Land rather than thou shalt want. That one Inheritance will purchase me two, one in Love, and another in laughing at this politick Brother.

No, no, Inheritances as for laughing, I believe you will have an Anui­ty for life; but for Love you'l only have a lease for three or four Years.

Pleasant Rogue! here's Money.

So, so, I wish you joy I wish you joy.

See Surly going to my Rival; my affair thrives admirably.

Is Nice within?

Nice Sir?

Ay, Nice Sir; is not your Masters name Nice.

'Tis Sir Courtly Nice.

Well Sir, if I have a mind to clip half his Name, 'tis not Treason, is it Sirrah?

I believe not Sir.

Then get you in, and tell your Master I'd speak with him

What sort o' domineering Man is this?

Very fine! extreamly fine. Gentlemen and Ladies, will you do me the favour to walk in, and accept of a small Collation? I am in some hast to dress upon an extraordinary occasion. You'l Pardon me?—your ve­ry humble Servant—.

Very fine.

You Sot, 'twas very barbarous.

Your honour said 'twas very fine.

You Clown, don't you know what belongs to a Gentleman? Com­plaisance is the very thing of a Gentleman, The thing that shew's a Gentleman. Wherever I go, all the World cryes that's a Gentleman, my life on't a Gentleman; and when y'ave said a Gentleman, you have said all.

Is there nothing else Sr. belongs to a Gentleman?

Yes, Bon mine, fine Hands, a Mouth well furnish'd—

With fine Language—.

Fine Teeth you sot; fine Language belongs to Pedants and poor Fellows that live by their Wits. Men of Quality are above Wit. 'Tis true for our diversion sometimes we write, but we ne'r regard Wit. I write but I never writ any Wit.

How then Sir?

I write like a Gentleman, soft and easie.

Does your Honour write any Plays?

No, that's Mechanick, I bestow some Garniture on Plays, as a Song or a Prologue.

Then your Honour is only a Haberdasher o' small Wares?

A Haberdasher, you sawcy Rascal?

Here's one Mr. Surly to visit your Honour.

Surly, what the Devil brings him hither?

He has been walking about the Rooms this quarter of an hour, and wou'd not let me bring him in, till he had fould 'em all with his dirty Shoes.

A Nauseous, Beastly, Sloven, Clown, Fool, Sot.

Surly your most humble Servant. (Sir Co. Bows to receive him.

What, are you unbu—buckling my Shooe?

Dear Mr. Surly—he stinks horribly—

How came I to enjoy—a very Polecat—

This great happyness?—pox! foh! you and I have been

long piquee, and I'm amaz'd to see you at my levee.

I begin to think, thou art a good honest Fellow, and have a mind we shou'd no longer be two lo—lo—Loggerheads, but one.

Dear Sir, you are always so divertising; Well Sir, shall I beg a fa­vour of you?

What's that?

Leave to dress before you, Sir. I am to meet some fine Women to day, one presently.

Prethee dress, and be damnd—shall we di—dine together?

Yes Sir, I suppose, and Sup too—.

That's kind, well when?

About Five o' clock Sir.

Where?

In the Kings Box, Sir.

Must you and I, dine in the Kings Box?

Oh! dearest! I beg your Pardon Ten thousand times, I thought you ask'd me where I shou'd meet the Lady.

Pox o' the Lady; I ask where we shall Dine?

Really Sir I don't know, I can't put my head into one o' your beastly eating houses, nor swallow the filthy meat you eat there, if you'd give me One hundred pound.

Filthy Meat? Sir I eat as good Meat as you do.

Oh! dear Mr. Surly, no doubt the meat in its own nature may be very innocent; but when once it has committed familiarity with the beastly Fists of Cooks and Butchers, 'tis to me an unpardonable Sinner. My Butcher cuts up all his Meat with a Fork.

Does he cut up an Ox with a Fork?

Ay, and he cuts up an Ox as neatly as a Lady does a Partridge.

Well, then I'le accept o' thy Dinner.

Dear Sir, your most humble Servant; pox on him

I wish I be capable o' the great happyness. For I came but last Night from my Country house, and I question whether I have all things in order or no, Whose there? are all things brought from my Country house?

No Sir, your Butler has forgot your Salt.

Left my Salt? careless Rascal. Let him take Horse imme­diately.

Sir he's rid post for it.

Rid post for Salt? whether?

To my Country house.

How far's that off?

But a little way, not above Forty miles.

Send Forty miles out o' London for Salt? Is there not Salt enough in London for you?

Ay, stuff pawm'd by Butlers and Waiters, they take up the Wen­ches coats, then handle the Salt.

Here's a Rogue—

well come let's drink a Glass o' Wine then.

Oh! dear Mr. Surly, if you name Wine, you make me throw up my Soul. I have abhor'd Wine ever since I was in France, and saw what [Page 22] barbarous Education they give that generous Creature. Duce take me, Sir, if the Clowns don't press all the Grapes with their filthy naked Feet. Oh! beastly nasty Dogs! no wonder we are poyson'd with their Wine.

Prethee what o' that? the Wine purges before it comes over.

Oh! Lord Mr. Surly what a Phrase is there? you'l Pardon my Freedom, Sir?—

Most civil Coxcomb

well what must we drink for drink I must?

I have several drinks of my own composing at your Service, as Mead, Syder, Ale.—

Ale? there's Sauce for a Woodcock. Come let's tast a Bottle.

Fetch a Bottle; This Fellow will Poyson me—.

Well I come to request a favour o' thee.

Your most humble Servant Sir, how de'e' like this Cravat?

What's that to my business? I come to make a request to thee.

'Tis well tyed too, with a great deal o'humour.

A Pox on thee, mind me.

Your most humble Servant Sir.

I am going to make Love.

Before you drink Sir?

Before I drink Sir—.

Well Sir, since you'l have it so, I'le wait on you down stairs.

Is the Devil in the Fellow? I tell thee I'm going to make love.

Oh! Lord Sir, I beg your pardon a thousand times.

And I come to beg thy assistance.

Oh! dear Sir.

For thou hast a knack on't. Thou art the only Court Card Wo­men love to play with; the very Pam at Lantereloo, the Knave that picks up all.

Oh! Sir, you are so obliging;—and stinking—Pox take him.—

And 'tis a very pretty Woman I'm in love with; my Lord Bel­guard's Sister Leonora; thou know'st her.

The Rogue's my Rival, he was born for my confusion

Ay, Sir, I have the honour of some small acquaintance there.

Prethee speak for me.

Oh! dear Sir, you have a great Talent of your own:

But thine's a better. One thing I am sure thou may'st do, there's an a­bominable Fop makes Love to her, and I am told is to marry her; prethee tell him he's a Son of a Whore.

Really Sir I'm unfortunate; I ha' no manner o' Genius to that sort o' Conversation.

Say my words. Tell him if he proceeds, I'le not only Libel him, but tweag him by the Nose, Kick him, Cudgel him, and run him through the Guts. Prethee tell him this.

Oh! pray Sir give me Ayr.

Prethee do.

Sir I am ready to—

And thou wilt tell the Puppy this?

I will upon my Soul.

Then thou art an honest Fellow—so, is the drink come? fill a Glass, why two Glasses? do you think I cannot drink after your Master?

Pox o' your Complyment—.

Here Nice, my Mistresses health.

What misery is this Beast imposing on me? he coughs in the Glass too—

Pox on't, a whole gulp went the wrong way, come off with it 'Tis my Mistresses health.

This Fellows the Devil—

Off with it, Man.

I never was so embarass'd since I was born.—

Oones! off with it.

I must take the beastly portion down, but I shall be most horrible sick after it.—

So, now thou art an honest Fellow, now I'le kiss thee.

The Devil thou wilt? more miseries?

nay but Mr. Surly.

I swear I will.

Nay but you'l disorder me.

I swear I will.

But Sir I'm going upon your occasions to your Mistress.

Nay then I'le give thee two kisses, one for thy self and another for her.

Oh! Hell.

nay but Mr. Surly.

I swear I will.

This Bottle Beer is damn'd windy—well honest Nice farewell to thee.

Who's there? I'm sick to death,—to death!—lead me in—get my bed ready—and a Bath—and some Perfumes—I'm sick to death,—I'm dead.

Thou horrid Vision! wou'd I had met with the worst Fiend in Hell, rather than thee; in thee there is a Legion exciting me to Blood—blood—Who's there?

My Lord—

My Coach—to blood—blood—

To Blood? what means my Brother?

Be gone:

To whom do you speak?

Bless us; Nephew what ailes you?

Alas my Lord, I fear you are a going to quarrel.

Yes, I'm going to punish one who Violates my Fathers, my Will and calls my Mother Whore.

What execrable Wretch is that?

Thy self.

Me?

Yes, what dost thou else but proclaim our Mother false, when she conceiv'd a thing so opposite to all our Fathers race as thou art?

In what?

In Infamy; when was there a spot in our name, till Heaven for our sins sent thee among us? and I am going to destroy thee in thy lewd undoer

I know of no reproach in our Family but your madness, destroy that. What are your Spyes and Coxcombs, but so many Capital Letters, wherein you write over your Door, My Sister is a wanton Woman.

'Tis truth, you are not only a wanton, but a wicked Woman; not only Intrigue, but with the Enemy of our Family, Farewel.

How?

I am betray'd—

Do you blush?

At your Folly.

Dare you deny it?

Who dare accuse me?

This Picture, which I found in your Chamber.

Horrid Creature!—I shall swoon away.

How shall I bring off this

All this noise for a Picture? if you had found a little humane Effigies in swadling Clouts, there might ha' been some squawling.

Do you laugh at your shame?

She shall ha' no cause.

Do, kill me, before you know whether he's guilty or no.

I'le know it from himself. If he denys it, it will be some revenge to make him stab his Soul with Lyes. He shall swear not only that he never did, but never will send so much as an Imagination to you.

Do, if you wou'd force him hither, what charm to a Man of spirit, like daring?

She speaks sence in that.

If you wou'd be fighting, fight your own jealousie, which abuses you worse than Mr. Farewel can do, my Honour protects you from him; but neither Wit or Honour, can guard you from the rude insolence of your jealousie, which is now sending you of an Errant, a Footman o' Spirit wou'd scorn, to proclaim the dishonour of your own Sister. Fye! Fye!

And so I must sit down tamely with this abuse?

You are not abus'd, the Picture was found at Church.

At Church? do you intrigue at Church?

They do nothing else, the Church is almost as bad as the Porch.

Nay there's shameful doings, that's the truth on't, it provokes my Flesh to see how the young Men fling their Eyes about.

And not upon her.—

But 'tis no marvail; when Women will encourage 'em. No Fellows dare gape upon me, because I never encourage Fellows.

A Face of Fifty is small encouragement.

Nay no wonder the Devils cause thrives, he has a numerous Clergy, Heaven has but one Minister in the Church, and whil'st he is Preaching Divinity, the Devil has a thousand of both Sexes, by all the Oratory of looks and dresses, preaching Fornication and Adultery.

Too true, well she's certainly undone. I dare not examine her Breasts, if there shou'd be any thing in 'em, I shou'd dye.

In my breasts?

Ay, Gentlewoman, do you think I regard your Flim flam story o'the Church?

'Tis not my story, my Woman found it in Westminster Abby, at Prayers, and I knowing what work wou'd be made with it, commanded her to burn it, and she has dar'd to dissobey me.

Indeed, Madam, I thought to have presented it to a Friend o' mine; and laying it out o' my hand unfortunately in your Honours Chamber, my Lord found it.

Oh! how nimbly she takes the lye at the first rebound?

Out upon you; I'm extream sick—lead me in—not you—you are not fit to touch a Woman o' my Virtue. These things have strange impression upon me.—

That you don't share in 'em—

Pray, Sister, go out o' my sight, you are an horrour to me.

Your own Dreams are. Y'are as mad as a Prophet, you have al­ways before your Eyes a Vision of Horns and Whores.

All this goes upon the score of Farewel's heart blood if he be guil­ty, I'le make enquiry presently, and search at what gap this Treachery entred.

Oh! unfortunate negligence!

Who's there, Cousin Hot head, Testimony?

Oh! are you here?

Ay, to your sorrow, if you have play'd me false.

You ha' serv'd me finely.

Do you first complain?

Coupled me with a Dog?

But you ha' Coupled my Sister Sir.

With a Fanatick Rogue.

No—with a finer Gentleman. Who brought this Picture?

The common Fire-fork of Rebellion.

A Fire-fork.—Fork me no Forks—Who brought this Picture?

The rotten rump shou'd ha' been burnt—when 'twas only Roasted.

The rotten Rump—Answer me, or i'le fight thee.

Answer you what?

Who brought this Picture? I found it in my Sister's Chamber.

Then your Fanatick Rogue conveigh'd it thither to make me su­spected, out of his malice to the Common-Prayer. I'le cut the Rogue to peices.

Testimony.

I am here.

How now, Sworded?

To preserve my Life. My life is threatned by that bloody Papist.

How, Sirrah? dare you think of fighting me?

Yes, and hope to do it, through Providence.

Drawing before me?

Will you protect a Fanatick? I see what you are.

Well Sirrah, though I may not cut your Throat, i'le choak you Sirrah.

De'e, hear the bloody Papist? He'l throttle me.

Sirrah, i'le cram the Oaths of Allegiance, and Supremacy into you, and they'l stick in your Throat, though Treason wont, and so i'le to a Justice presently.

And stay with him, and never plague me more. Now Sir do you resolve my question.

I do resolve I will not take the Oaths.

I do not ask you about the Oaths.

Why, if you ask me Ten thousand times, I will not take the Oaths.

Did one ever see such a Coxcomb?

Call me what you please, I will not take the Oaths—So do your worst.

A very fine account of my business.

My Lord a Gentleman desires to speak with your Honour.

I'm not to be spoke with, i'm a broad—my Soul is—in the heart of Farewel, ripping it up for this Secret. What Gentleman?

One from th' East-Indies, My Lord, he brings a Letter from your Uncle Rich.

He comes in a Storm; he will find worse Weather here, than any he met at Sea. But i'le endeavour to compose my self—admit him—

My Lord, your Lordships most humble Servant. I perceive your Lordship has forgot me; you will know me better, when I acquaint you, who I am. My Father had the honour of being a Retainer to your Lord­ships Father, of Honourable memory; and sent me some Years since to the East Indies, in the Service of your Noble Uncle, Mr. Rich. My name is Waytewel.

Oh! Mr. Waytewel, I am glad to see you, truly you are so chang'd, if you had not told me who you was, I shou'd never ha' known you.

I believe so my Lord—for I'm sure you never saw my Face before, but the Picture of it you have—for Waytewel was my Pi­cture.

Time and Travels will alter a Man, but truly I have lost nothing by my Travels but my Countenance; and in the room have gotten what's better, a convenient small competency of some Seven or Eight thousand pound; Heaven and your Uncles love be prais'd. I have brought Your Lordship some Letters from your Noble Uncle, and a small Present of some Threescore thousand pound.

How?

Only the trouble of it, my Lord. Your Uncle contracted in th' Indies an intimate Friendship with Sir Nicholas Calico, President for the East India Company. Sir Nicholas dyed, and left most part of his Estate (which was near a Hundred thousand pound,) to his only Son, Sir Thomas. But poor Sir Thomas happen'd in his Fathers Life time to fall into a Distem­per, which gave him a scurvy flaw in his Brain, that Sir Nicholas left him and all his Estate to your Uncles Guardianship. Now your Noble Uncle perceiving his affairs are like to detain him many Years in th' Indies, and fearing if he shou'd dye, poor Sir Thomas might be cheated of all; he has like a Worthy and honest Gentleman, sent Sir Thomas and all his Estate to your Lordships care, as these Letters will testifie. I suppose your Lordship is well acquainted with your Uncles Hand and Seal.

I am, and this is his Hand and Seal reads—um—um—um—to preserve him from being cheated here, or beg'd in England, I take the boldness to recommend him, to the care of so Noble a Person as your Lordship—um—um—um—. Well Sir the Letter expresses what you told me.—Where is the Gentleman.

I brought him along with me; he's in the next room, my Lord. Poor Gentleman, he has the oddest Phrases and ways with him. He will needs be attended like a great Indian Mandarine, or Lord. And has brought with him several Siamites and Bantammers, that serve him as his Slaves, in the ridiculous Dresses and Modes of their own Countries. we had such a gaping Rabble after us, as we came along.

Pray call him in, I long to see him—

—Sir Thomas—pray come to my Lord.

Which is the Peer?

This is my Lord.

Great Peer, your extream humble Servant.

Your Servant Sir, you are recommended to me, by my Uncle.

I know it my Lord, and am most incomparably oblig'd to him—. He is a Person, my Lord, that as to the altitudes of Friendship, and the most glorious Circumstances of a Singular Person, is not to be cast up by the Lo­garithmes of Oratory, nor his Latitude to be taken by the quadrangle of Circumlocution.

So—I find I shall ha' store o' Non-sence.

My Lord, I'm a Person that as to the Circumstances of Mony, am not indifferently contemptible; and as to the circumstances of Honour, I am by profession a Merchant, by Generation a Knight. Sir Nicholas Calico apply­ing his Person to my Mother, was the Author of, Sir, Your humble Ser­vant.

So the Letter says.

The Letter contains Verity.

Pox I shall be teaz'd.

One thing more Sir, I am a Person that as to understadning, am under the circumstances of Witchcraft. I lov'd in th' Indies, a fair Christian Curio­sity, and a nauseous Indian Baggage, had a mind to apply to my Person her Tawny Circumstances; and finding she cou'd not obtain her Ambition, ap­plys her self to an Indian Bawd, and Bewitches me.

Pshaw! Bewitch! what stuffs here?—

Bewitches me Sir, what follow's thereupon? a loathing in me of Fe­males? I abhor Women; fall into Agonys when I see Women. Pray let me see no Women.

You shall not Sir.

Pray My Lord, no Women.

I'le warrant you Sir.

But as much Supper as you please, my Lord.

You shall Sir.

You are highly civiliz'd.

I told Your Honour he had such odd ways; well My Lord, as soon as the Ship is come up the River, which will be in few days, I'le bring the Captain to wait upon Your Lordship, with the account of Sir Thomas his Estate, Aboard; which will amount to Forty thousand pound, besides Ten thousand pound he has brought a shore in rough Diamonds. So, My Lord, your very humble Servant. Sir Thomas your Servant I leave you in good hands.

Your Servant, Sir.

I'le order things for you. I must dispose this Man quickly, for i'm horribly weary of him, and also impatient to go about my Affairs.

'Tis he—I'm sure 'tis he—

How now Sister? what's your business here?

Staring at this strange sort o' Man.

You were no Woman else—pray get from him speedily.

You are not jealous of a Mad-man sure? he's mad is he not?

Yes, and impertinently brings me vexation too from the Indies, at a time when I've enough at home, as every Man has, that keeps a Woman. Pray get from him, he hates to see Women.

Hates to see Women? ha! ha! Sir Thomas Calico your humble Servant, you are welcome from the Indies; but have a care of being disco­ver'd, least you be under the circumstances of a Cudgel.

Truly Madam, I expect to have something stick by my ribs pre­sently, that is to say a good Supper; which I have order'd. My Lord and I will sup together, and you and Mr. Farewel.

We sup together? where? in the Grave? a fatall accident has' hap­ned, will bring us both thither. My Brother has found Mr. Farewel's Pi­cture in my Chamber.

He shall not keep it, he shall deliver both Picture and jealousie.

Then thou art a Master. I told him my Woman found it in West­minster-Abby; may be thou may'st make something out o' that?

Stay let me consider Westminster-Abby, or the Abby of Westminster—um—um—Let me alone—begone—he comes.

Come Sir, let me wait on you to your Chamber.

Hold, my Lord, a word, I have business of great consequence, I must humbly apply to your understanding.

So, I must be hindred with more Non-sence.

I've in the Indies, a delicate peice of my Fathers Rib, I beg your Lordship to advise me in the disposal.

Oh! dispose it how you please, Sir.

'Tis a Sister I mean, Sir.

Oh! that's something.

She's sweet and slender as a Clove, and is worth two Millions o' Cox­combs—Three hundred of 'em comes to Three Farthings; 'tis a Chinese Mo­ny. This Mony makes her much sought in Marriage: The great Hobbom­moccoes o' the Indies come gallopping upon Elephants, Camels, Rhinoceroses, and Oxen to see her. Now my Father was under the circumstances of great obligation, to a Gentleman in England; and out o' gratitude to him, order­ed me on his Death bed, to bestow my Sister on his Son, and Heir, if his actions have any sort o' smile in 'em to his incompatible Father, which is the query. Pray resolve it.

First let me know the Gentleman.

You shall, I'le give you a Map of his Face, a Picture contain'd in my pocket.—ha!—I ha' lost it,—I ha' lost it—.

Tell me his Name, Sir.

I ha' dropt it out o' my pocket.

I, but his name.

I ha' dropt it out o' my pocket.

Ha' you dropt his Name out o' your pocket? his Name Sir?

Oh! his Name, I'le tell you both his Name, and Cogname. His Name is Andrew, his Cogname Farewel.

Farewel? what comes into my head? Sir can you guess where you might loose this Picture?

A guess may be obtain'd—by the Prayers of Marriners—

No other way? those I seldome hear of—

—I was drawn down—stay let me see—remembrance begins to be idle—has London no place in the West?

Ay, no doubt.

Ay, but something very West? something call'd West?

Yes—there's VVest-Smithfield.

That's not th' appellative. Is there no Monster in the West, call'd Westmonster?

Westminster I believe you mean.

Y'ave nick'd it it. To Westminster I rode, to behold the Glorious circumstances o' the Dead; and diving into my pocket, to present the repre­senter with a Gratification, I am fully confirm'd, I then lost it; for my Eyes and the Picture had never any rencounter since.

This exactly agrees with my Sisters story, what a Prodigious thing is this? a discovery o' my Sisters innocence, sent to me from th' Indies, in a heap o' Non-sence? and in so Critical a minute; excellent Providence?

What's an excellent Providence, Sir, that I ha' lost my Picture?

No Sir, that I ha' found your Picture.

Found my Picture?

Ay, Sir, 'twas found by a Friend o' mine, in Westminster-Abby—there it is—

Oh! my Picture!—my Picture!—my Picture!—

Oh! my eas'd heart!

Oh! my Picture! my Picture! my pretty Picture!

My Lord I must requite this favour, open that Casket, and give my Lord a handful of Diamonds.

A handful o' Diamonds.

Ay, my Lord, I beg your Pardon for the inconsiderableness o' the Present.

Inconsiderableness? what a Market wou'd some make o' this Man?—put up your Diamonds.

By no means, my Lord.

Put 'em up Sir, or you'l dissoblige me.

You overwhelm me with Favours, I wish I had you at my house in Bantam.

I thank you, Sir; we are better where we are.

My Lord, you put me under the circumstance o' blushing.

Pray let me put you into a Chamber, to rest your self.

Rest is good—yours humbly—

Yours as humbly—What a Fire did I kindle in my house, to clear the Air of a Pestilence, was not in it? my Sister and all my Family are inno­cent. But what a fantastick thing is Womens Honour?

ACT. IV.

HA! ha! ha! what an excellent Fellow is this? what Engines he has in his head? not only to wind himself into my Lords house, but the Picture out of his hands?

He undertakes to bring Mr. Farewel hither to Night. If he en­gag'd to bring him in a Church with a Parson to marry us, I wou'd not doubt it.

Certainly my Lord must be in a most mortified humour; now is the time to scarify him, and take out his Worm.

Here he comes, now will I carry my self with all the insolence of a Vertuous Woman.

So my Lord have your Slaves been gathering any more scatter'd smiles o' mine? what loads o' that Gold Sand have your Asses brought home?

They have heard all, now I am asham'd to shew my Face.

Come, my Lord, wou'd you confine a Woman of Honour? give her Liberty; wou'd you corrupt her? confine her.

'Tis true; were I a Wife to such a Man, I shou'd abuse him out o' Pride; and think my self not an ill but a great Woman, since to punish is a mark of Princely Dignity.

This I confess is the English Dialect; and when I talk of Governing Women, I talk of a thing not understood by our Nation. I admire how it came about, that we who are of all Nations, the most wise and free in other respects, shou'd be the only Slaves and Fools to Women.

Oh! you are the Wisest of all Nations, you know let Men do what they can, Women will do what they please; and whereas other Nations by their spyes and Governantes are at great toyle and charges to be Cuckolds, you have it for nothing.

Come Brother, do not dress me in a Fools Coat, nor hang spyes a­bout me, like so many gingling Bells, to give notice of all my motions. I can count, and know that one and one, put shamefully together, are two lewd Fools, and not one happy pair, as ill Women reckon, and deceive them­selves.

Sister, I believe you Virtuous, but I wou'd have you not only be Virtuous but thought so. And truly a Woman may be Virtuous, but is sel­dome [Page 33] wise in Mens company. Her vain honour will put her on new Con­quests. And Womens Conquests are pretty things; they often end like those of Highway Men, in a shameful Execution on their one Persons. And yet all the business of their lives is mustering up Forces. To day the Beauty Lyes ambush'd in undresses, the hair pin'd up in Papers, like Serpents coyl'd to fly on you with greater force; the Garments are loose and flowing as the Sea, to shew a Venus is there. To morrow she's as regularly fortified as a Low Country Town, and oft a party of Charming looks are sent abroad to put all Spectators under a contribution.

Your Wife must not dress?

Why shou'd she? I think Womens Poynts and Embroyderies, but so many Billet-doux in Needle work.

She must not go abroad or see a play.

Yes, She may go to Plays, provided she'l see Plays and not Fools, it may be enter into Conversation with 'em, and instead of getting Wit from the Plays, get folly from the Fops; and so her Wit being spoyl'd in her Youth, shall like a Clock set wrong in the Morning, go false all the day af­ter. In short, no Wife or Sister of mine shall dabble in conversation with any Man; I hate a Slattern in her credit.

I' my conscience I think I hear Belguard and his Mistress quarrel in good earnest.

Let no Woman marry a Man o' your humour, but she that for her Crimes is condemn'd to Transportation. The Slave that in Virginia toyls to plant her Lord Tobacco, is not more miserable, than she that in your bo­some Labours to plant a good opinion; both drudge for smoke. I scorn the slavery, nor will marry a King to encrease his Dominions, but to share 'em.

I offer you the entire Dominion o' my self; only desire you, not to aim at further conquests.

I shou'd be a fine Soveraign, where Jealousie, Pride, Rage, and such a sawcy Committee shall give me Laws; which they wou'd never do to a Prince they lov'd.

I think I've given convinceing Proofs of Love.

When?

When I offer'd, Madam, to take you for better and for worse; those are Heroical Complements. The form of Matrimony out-does Ovid for passionate expressions.

Ay, my Lord, but that's none o' your Wit, and I wou'd not have a Man o' your parts, steal other Mens Phrases; so Your Lordships humble Servant.—Come away Child

Rare! they'r parted; once a Woman spoke truth. My Lord, your Servant. I've over heard your quarrel, and I honour you, you are the only Man in the Nation that understands himself. Lock up the Women till they'r musty, better they shou'd have a Hogo, than their Reputations. And their [Page 34] Honours are not like their Smocks, whitened by lying abroad.

Nor have their ador'd Faces the more esteem, for often appearing.

pox on 'em, they varnish like Copper, and the Women are sensible of it, that's the reason they forge new faces every time they go abroad; and all the Arts of Paint and dress are suborn'd to give a Bastard beauty Title to Reign, because the Legitimate Face is fallen into contempt by familiarity. No more to be said, keep your ground like a Man of honour; and loose your Mistress like a Coxcomb.—

An't please your Honour, Mr. Hothead and Mr. Testimony, are re­turn'd, as your Honour gave order.

That's well—come Mr. Testimony; here has been a mistake gave me a harsh opinion of you—I'm sorry for it.

Oh! My Lord, have a care of censuring Professors—for a Professor.

Nay, prethee don't profess too much. I am satisfied with thee.

Truly you would, if you knew of what a tender Spirit I am of. I was only deluded the other day into a Play-house, and truly it will be a bur­den to my Spirit whilst I live.

A lack a day, well I hope you'l be the more tender of my Sister, your trouble will not be long. I have engag'd her to a Gentleman, whom about this time I expect. What a clock is it?

Truly I do believe it is about Four, I cannot say it positively; for I wou'd not tell a Lye for the whole World.

This is an excellent Fellow, if he be what he pretends.

Hark! some one at the Door—may be 'tis he—see—

Did you send for me, my Lord?

Ay, Cousin, to reconcile my self to thee; I was in a mistake.

I think you was, when you judg'd a Rascally Fanatick a better Man than I.

The contrary Cousin—I think thee so much the better Man, I keep thee to have an eye over him, because I don't know if he be a Knave.

Not know if a Fanatick be a Knave? You'r fit to sit in the House o' Peers I faith.

Well, thou art a very honest Fellow Cousin—let me have thy Company. But what are those Patches on thy Face, for Ornament?

they are for Plaisters, but they are Ornaments. I have been in a Fanatick Coffee-House, and this is the Beauty they gave me.

'Twas to reward some honourable Names, thou gav'st 'em.

I gave 'em no wrong names. I call'd 'em Rogues indeed, but that's their proper Name; and they all set their hands to it immediately, and sub­scribed themselves Rogues upon my Chops, the only true Narrative they ever writ.

Thou art a mad Fellow—prethee go in.

Well—who's at the Door?

A lamentable Soul.

A Beggar?

A more sad Object; but I conceive he comes rather to rob than beg, for he comes Arm'd with a strong Bow and Arrows.

A Bow and Arrows? what, is he a Tartar?

A Bow and Arrows made of Ribons, Laces, and other idle Vanities, wherewith he intends to wound your Sister's heart.

Oh! the canting Coxcomb.

Nay, why canting Coxcomb?

Be gone you senceless Ass; and bring in the Gentleman.

Nay, why senceless Ass? this is unseemly.

He wont stir.

I am no senceless Person—I ha' more sences than your self▪ I have a sence o' Vanity, and of the nothingness o' the things o' this World—and a sence o' Sin, and a sence o' the insinuating nature o' sin—I dare not bring this wanton frothy young Man to your Sister—for she is frothy also—and sin will get in at a little crany—and if sin once get in his head, he'l get in all his whole body. now your honour has not that sence o' these things. You ought to have that Your Honour is a senceless Person—

—How Sirrah—?

In a spiritual sence—.

There's no getting this preaching Fellow away.—Cousin Hothead.

My Lord.

Why do you let this canting Coxcomb plague me?

Why do you keep such a canting Coxcomb? let him plague you, Pox you, and Damn you, I don't care.

Oh! sad! oh! sad!

Oh! shad! oh! Sot!

So, now I've brought 'em both upon me.

He's always tuning his Nose, too high too low, like a Sowgelders Horn

Well, Sir, if you please, tell me who's at my Door?

Forty One is coming in ding dong.

Into My Door? who's at my Door, I say?

Old Forty One, I'faith.

I cannot have an answer—Sirrah—who's at my Door?

Popery, I'm sure is coming in.

Into my Door? I ask you, who's at my Door?

Popery I'm sure.

Roguery I'm sure.

Popery I'm sure.

Roguery I'm sure.

Confound you both.

And confound you both.

You Boy, is there any one at Door?

Yes my Lord.

So, this Boy can answer, who is it?

Sir Courtly Nice, My Lord.

O! these Rogues, have they made him wait all this while? intro­duce him quickly. He comes most seasonably to rid me of my plague, now I'm very sick of it.

Dear Sir Courtly, my Servants did not tell me who you were, that I have ignorantly made you wait, I am a sham'd to see you.

Your Lordships most humble Servant.

Your very humble Servant Page—call my Sister.

Madam your most—

Sir Courtly, your very humble Servant.

Oh! your Ladyships very humble Servant—

Your most humble Servant.

Now Madam, your most humble Servant.

An incomparable fine Gentleman.

Well, Sir Courtly, now I've brought you thus far o' your way to my Sisters inclinations; I'le leave you to pursue the rest o' your journey by your self; you need no guide to Ladies hearts.

Oh! your most humble Servant.

No, Sir Countly commands all. If my Neice does not receive you, Sir Courtly, in all the obliging manner in the World, 'tis for want of ex­perience and understanding merit—I'le assure you, Sir Courtly, I who have some little more judgment, have had a very particular value for you, Sir, from the first Minute I had the honour to see you, Sir.

Oh! Madam, your most humble Servant.

A very particular—

Oh! your most humble Servant.

And if my Neice has not, it proceeds from her want of Years to know Desert. And indeed all Youth is indiscreet, I wou'd by no means ad­vise a Gentleman of Merit, to marry any Person, that has not some Years and experience upon her—

She's setting up for her self I think. Aunt.—

Nephew—

Pray leave the Lovers together.

Sir Courtly, your most humble Servant.

Madam, your most humble Servant.

Pray, Neice, behave your self so to Sir Courtly, as at least to do me right; and by all your expressions and behaviour, he may know how very particular an honour I have for him.

She has for him?—

Most particular.—

Pray Aunt in particular—come with me—

Very particular—

Oh! Madam—Madam—

Aunt—

Yes Nephew—Sir Courtly, I am exceeding unwilling to leave you to to the Conversation of a young Lady, whose Years I'm afraid will not afford her Wit enough to entertain so fine a Gentleman—

Oh! Madam! Madam! Madam!

But I'le return with all speed possible.—

But you shall not, if I can help it—

And so your very humble Servant.

Oh! Madam! your most humble Servant.

Now will I manage him, humour him—pretend to admire him—to draw him into love, laugh at him and revenge my self on him, for plaguing me.

Now, Madam, is the glorious opportunity come, which my Soul has long wish'd, to express how much I admire, adore—

Oh! Sir Courtly—

Extravagantly adore!—

Oh! Sir Courtly—I cannot receive all this.

Oh! Madam, is there any thing on the Earth so charming?—I never saw any thing so fine as your Ladyship, since I was born.

Fye, Sir Courtly—

Never since I was born—

You'l kill me with blushing.

I speak my Soul—Heavens! what Divine Teeth there are?

Fye! fye! I shall never open my mouth more.

Then you'l undoe all the World. Oh! there's nothing so charm­ing as admirable Teeth. If a Lady fastens upon my heart, it must be with her Teeth.

That's a pleasant Raillery—ha! ha! ha!

Oh! Madam, I hope your Ladyship has a bet­ter opinion o' my good Manners—Railly a Lady o' your quality?

Oh! you Wits, turn all things into ridicule.

Madam, I never was so serious since I was born; therefore I be­seech your Ladyship have pitty upon me.—I swear and vow if you do not, I shall dye.

Dye! ha! ha! you Wits will be raillying.

Heavens, Madam! how shall I convince you, I am serious.?

Really, Sir Courtly, I shou'd be very sorry if you be serious.

Oh! Heavens! why so Madam?

Because 'tis pitty so fine a Gentleman shou'd lose all his Gallan­try—

Now you frighten me, Madam. Is it impossible for me to attain the Glory of your inclinations?

It will be impossible for me to keep the Glory of your inclinations, Sir Courtly; so I dare not venture on 'em.

Oh! as to that, Madam, I'le swear Eternal constancy, eternal ser­vices, and all those things.

You are not in your own power, Sir Courtly. You fine Gentlemen, like fine Countries, are desir'd and fought by all, and therefore in a perpetual War. If I shou'd place my heart in you, it wou'd not have a minutes quiet. A thousand Potent Beauties wou'd every day assault you, and you'd yield out o' Complaisance, your good Breeding wou'd undo me.

Oh! Madam, this is extremity o' Gallantry; your Ladyship pu­shes things to a strange height.

I speak my Soul. Besides i've another humour, but that's a Foibless will ridicule me.

Oh! Madam.

Nay i'le confess it. I am strangely curious—extravagantly cu­rious—I nauseate a Perfume if it ever saluted any Nose but my one.

Oh! fortunate! my own humour.

Nothing must come near me, that was ever once touch'd by another.

Is it possible?

Not if you'd give a Hundred pound.

My own Phrase too, i've observ'd it in my self, i'me strangely for­tunate—we shall be fond to an infinite degree.

For that reason, your fine Gentlemen is my aversion, he's so tempt­ed by all Ladies, so Complaisant to all Ladies, that to marry a fine Gentle­man, is to accept the leavings of a Thousand Ladies.

Oh! Madam! you ha' met with the Creature you desire;—I never touch'd Woman since I was born.

That's pleasant, I believe you have ruin'd a thousand.

Not one upon my Soul.

'Tis impossible.

Oh! Madam! there's not one Lady in a thousand I can Salute. I only touch the tip o' their ear with my Cheek.

Fy! fye!

Not one Lady in a Million, whose breath I can endure. But I cou'd not go into their Beds, if you'd give me a Thousand pound. I cou'd not come into the Ayr of any Bed in England but my own, or Your Lady­ships, if you'd give me all the World.

This is all Gallantry, Sir Courtly. You have been told this is my humour.

Is it really, Madam?

Oh! above all things. I suffer nothing to come near my bed, but my Gentlewoman.

Nor I, but my Gentleman. He has a delicate hand at making a Bed, he was my Page, I bred him up to it.

To making Beds?

Ay, Madam, and I believe, he'l make a Bed with any Gentle­man in England.

And my Woman has a great Talent.

Is it possible? Ladies commonly employ ordinary Chamber Maids—with filthy Aprons on, made by sluttish Women that spit as they—spin—foh!

Foh!

Your Ladyship will pardon me—my Linnen is all made in Holland, by neat Women that dip their Fingers in Rose-water, at my charge.

Delicate.

And all wash'd there.

And so is mine at Hearlem.

At Hearlem, I hold a constant correspondence with all the Eminent Washers there.

That's delicate, and agrees wonderfully with my humour.

Oh! happy! we shall be fond to an infinite degree.

Oh! foh! here's that beastly rude Clown Mr. Surly.

Oh! foh! what shall we do with him?

How now? how now? you two are intimate—heark you, Madam.

Oh! foh!

Foh!

Foh! what's this fohing at?

No body Mr. Surly; only at present we are accosted with an un­grateful smell.

Yes, I smell an ungrateful smell, your Rogury. Madam, I employ'd this Fellow to speak for me, and i'le be hang'd if he be not false to me.

To speak for him? ha! ha!

Ay, for him, Madam, ha! ha!

Ay, for me Nickumpoop.

Your humble Servant Sir, y' are very civil.

So I am, that I do not execute thee for this theft upon the place; but thou plead'st thy Face, as Whores do their Bellys; 'tis big with Fool.

Very civil—Sir.

Sure, Madam, a Woman o' your sence, will not chuse him before me. He has more Land? not more improv'd Land. His Acres run up to one great Weed, I mean himself; and there it Blossoms in Periwigs and Ribons. Oh! but he has a finer Person! that's a cheat; a false Creed impos'd on you, by a General Council of Taylors, Milleners and Sempstresses; let my hat expound his Face, and youl see what a peice o' simple stuff it is.

Horrid! he has put his beastly Hat upon my Head—pray Sir do me the favour to remove it, or I shall grow very sick—

Sick? I hope thou wilt eat my Hat. Now, Madam, you see what a cheat he is, and whether he deserves any more favours, then to be decently hang'd with the rest of his Brothers.

My Brothers hang'd, Mr. Surly?

I mean the Pictures in the Hangings, for they and thou are all but Needle-work; and thou would'st serve for a peice o' Tapstery, but for a Husband, Lord, ha' Mercy on thee.

Your Servant, Mr. Surly. You are a very well bred Gentleman, Sir, and pay great Veneration to a Lady o' Quality, and your Mistress—ha! ha!

His Mistress? ha! ha!

Let's railly him to death, Madam—ha! ha!—

Railly? does the ridiculous Figure pretend to laugh at any thing?

Dee' hear, Madam?

Sir Courtly, you are a Martyr to good manners, and suffer out o' re­spect to me, more than is fit for a Man to bear.

He a Man? I ha' seen a Butler make a better thing out of a Diaper Napkin.

Your most obliged humble Servant—Sir.

Sir Courtly, I'le withdraw, that you may do your self Justice—and be kick'd—

Your Ladyships most humble Servant.

I'le no longer protect such a Coxcomb—as your self.

Your very humble Servant, Madam; I'le push his Soul out pre­sently.

Oh! don't do him that favour, Sir, only correct him.

Well, Madam, what your Ladyship pleases.—

Your Ladyships very humble Servant.

I have receiv'd some favours from you, Sir, and I desire the Honour of your Company, Sir, to Morrow morning at Barn-Elms, Sir,—please to name your Weapon, Sir.

A Squirt.

A Squirt?

Ay, for that will go to thy heart, I'm sure.

Well, Sir, I shall kiss your hands.

Kiss my Breech.—

Beast, Clown, Fool, Rascal. Pox take him—what shall I do with him? it goes against my stomach horribly to fight such a Beast. If his filthy Sword shou'd touch me, 'twou'd make me as sick as a Dog.

Ha! ha! I'le secure the Coxcomb—I'le get him confin'd upon the Guard, among Tobacco takers and that will confine him to his Bed and Ba­gnio's for one Month.

That will do rarely. About this time I expect Mr. Farewel, I ha sent for your Brother to introduce him.

My Brother?

Your Brother I say, to shew my skill. Retire, and stay conceal'd in the Garden. Here your Brother comes.

Now for lies and nonsence to entertain this jealous Brother till the Lo­ver comes.

Sir Thomas your Servant, what's your will with me?

Talk—I love talk—begin.

Very pithy.

In what circumstance are we?

Circumstance?

Ay, what call you this, where we are?

A Garden.

A Garden? i've seen in the Indies a Melon as big.

As all this Garden?

Bigger.

Well lyed of a Mad-man.

Are all your Fruit so large?

All.

Your Nutmegs and Pepper are not.

Your History is erronious. We have Nutmegs as big as small Fly-boats, I have sail'd a hundred Leagues in a Nutmeg.

Well lyed.

Our Oysters have wonderful conferrence.

Circumference I suppose you mean.

Y' ave nick'd it. Three of 'em block up a Harbour. 'Tis our way of Mortification.

Fortification.

You are in the right—Pox on't I have been so long abroad, I have almost forgot my Mother tongue.

Well—when will this Lover come? 'tis near the hour, and de­licately dark.

Murder! murder! murder!

That's he! he's come!

murder cryed out.

And at my Coach-house Door?

Oh! Cowardly Rogues! Four upon one.

A Gentleman assassinated?

Open the Door.

Who's there?

My Lord.

Call some o' the Servants to assist a Gentleman, set upon at my Coach-House Door.

Ay—quick—quick—

How, Sir Thomas? will you venture among 'em?

Dee' think I wont? a Gentleman and not fight?

I must not suffer it, you may be hurt.

No Sir, I'le fight like a Gentleman; I'le come by no hurt I'le warrant you.—Come quick—quick—open the Door—

Now Sound a Trumpet, Tivy—tivy—tan tan—tivy—Tone,—Pox on't 'tis a Horn—I don't know a Horn, I ha' forgot every thing belongs to a Gentleman.—among 'em—helter skelter—

I' my conscience this is Cracks design to let in Mr. Farewel.

Dear Madam you are in the right.

Mr. Farewel? I know your voice—

Oh! Madam, I adore you for this bounty.

And I shou'd blush for it.

Why so, Madam?

Shou'd a Woman admit a Lover by night at a Back-Door into the same house wher she lyes, and converse privately with him before Mar­riage.

Your Brother admitted me.

'Tis true indeed, you may thank him for the favour, I thought your sufferings deserv'd pity, and my Brother wou'd let me shew it, no other way.

A thousand Blessings on you.

I doubt not but my honour is very safe in your keeping, I wish your Person, were as secure in mine.

I am glad o' the danger, since tis some assurance o' my Love.

Your Friend Mr. Crack plays his part very well, and I doubt not but he will secure us here, and conveigh us hence, but then other dangers will follow you.

What are those, Madam?

The danger of marrying without a Fortune, my Ten thousand pound is at my Brothers dispose.

I am glad of that too, Madam, 'twill shew my love is not mercenary.

The danger of being laught at by the Wits, for marrying at all.

Oh! let the Wits keep the Jilting rotten Wenches, and leave the sweet Virtuous Ladies to us marrying Fools, I can be as well pleas'd to keep a fine Wife to my self, as they can be to maintain five Wenches for all the Town.

Nay, your keeping Men, Keepers like have commonly but the Of­fals for their Slave. Well the Evening Ayr will be unwholsome to you, if you stay longer in it, you'l be in danger of Thunder and Lightning presently, I mean my Brother—he comes—follow me—

What Cowardly Rogues were these? they ran upon our first sal­lying.

They had a reason, you'r a Lyon.

I us'd to kill Lyons and Tygers in the Indies, as you do Hares and Co­nyes here. I kept a Tyger Warren, I kill'd a brace every morning to get me a stomack.

It was a good one sure, you offer'd dear for it. Well I hope you ha' got no hurt?

Yes, something very sharp, went quite through my stomack.

How? through your stomack? then you cannot live.

Yes, if you noint it presently with a good dish o' Jelly-broth, and Tent it with a bone o' Roast-beef.

Is that the wound? it shall be heal'd presently.

Presently, for my stomack is Captious.

It shall be done. Go to my Aunt and desire her to order Sir Tho­mas his Supper—

She's not very well, my Lord, and gone to bed.

Then let the Steward do it. Sir Thomas I am going out and shall stay late. Pray command my house—good Night to you—

Your Servant Sir—you keep a Woman?—now to the Lovers—where are they?—

Here! here! thou Divine Fellow.

So, so, kiss! kiss! kiss!—

Before Marriage?

Ay, for fear you shou'd not kiss after marriage—well the house is our own, and the Night our own—your Aunts gone to bed, and your Bro­ther abroad, we'l Tory—rory, and 'tis—a fine Night, we'l Revel in the Garden—Slaves go bring my Supper—quick—quick—

Now a Song and Dance o' your own fashion—but shut the Garden. Gates—and look to 'em well, for I'le be private in my pleasures—

—So—now to my Chamber—well—there is no publick Officer like your Pimp—.

ACT. V.

OH! thou Divine Fellow, what joys hast thou procured me?

What joys?

All that Innocence cou'd afford.

Innocence? that's insipid stuff.

No Mr. Crack, there's difference between the Mannah that came, from Heaven, and that out of 'Pothecaries Shops; a touch of Leonora's hand like Mannah from Heaven has all that Man can fancy. Here she comes.

This, Madam, is bountiful after an Evenings Conversation, to afford me a Morning too.

We shou'd be charitable [...]o Prisoners.

I am a Prisoner, but such a happy one, as a King is when Lodg'd in a Royal Tower, to prepare for his Coronation. My hour of Coronation draws near, I want only the Church Ceremony and the Oath.

Madam, how dirst you venture hither, by day light?

My Aunt, and Brother, are both gone abroad, and won't come home till Noon. So all those hours are mine, and now Mr. Crack to re­quite your Musick I ha' brought some o' mine to entertain you.

Oh! Madam—undone—your Brother.

How? how?

Just coming up stairs, to visit—you Sir Thomas.

Pox of his civility. Hide, Sir Hide. And do you Women shreike!—shreike! and cry out murder.

So, here's my Sister got into the Madmans Room; and has put him into a frantick fit. Oh! the insatiable curiosity o' Women.

You Whores!—you bewitching Whores, do you come to bewitch me? I'le fetch blood from you.

Why wou'd you offer to come hither, Sister?

What are you, Sir, the King of Bantam?

No Sir, no.

Oh! the Mogul.

Nor the Mogul.

What do you then with all these Concubines?—Oh! I know you now, you'r a fine man, you have put me into brave circumstances. Did not I desire you to let me see no Women? and here, you keep a company o'ramb­ling Whores in your house, that have put me into the circumstances o' di­straction. I was a top o' the Staircase taking a prospect o' the Cape of Good-Hope, and these Flyboats came sayling under my Nose. What do me I? but leap down to break their Necks? and ha' broke my own I think. I am certain, I have broke something, but what I don't know. Pray take me up, and look over my bones, see if none be missing; if they be, Bone for Bone will be demanded.

Poor creature! who's there?

Who's there? will you trust me to your servants! so if a Leg or an Arm of mine be broke, they'l leave it behind e'm, and I shall loose it. I ex­pect all my Limbs and Bones from you, as you received 'em. So—come and take account of 'em.

I will—I will—

Oh! have a care—Oh!—

Alas! I fear he's hurt; your foolish curiosity ha's done this? did you not gape enough upon him before?

Oh! gently! gently!—so—so—

Oh! this pleasant Rogue! ha! ha!

Tis an excellent fellow. As soon as we hear my Brother is returning, slip into that passage, 'twill lead you to Crak's Bed-chamber.

How now Gentlewoman? a man wi' you? Nephew—Nephew—Nephew.—

Begone—begone—through that Entry.

What's the matter?

Our family's dishonour'd, dishonour'd—here was a fellow, a handsome young fellow wi' my Neice. Oh! my flesh! my flesh.

Wi' me?

Will you deny it Confidence?

Who's there? Hothead, Testimony, all of you come hither.

What's your honours pleasure?

To cut all your throats, you are all Bauds and Villains.

Leave me out o' the number you had best.

I will not Sir, For here was a young fellow wi' my Sister;

My Aunt's whimsy and jealousie.

I cou'd tread you under my feet.

Which way went he?

Into that passage: He cannot be got further, then Sir Thomas Ca­licoes Bed-chamber.

Lock all the doors, Arm and beset Sir Thomas Calicoes lodgings.

This will prove such another wise business as the Picture.

Hold your peace—get you into that room wi' my Aunt. Aunt pray look to her.

I'le keep her, I warrant her—come in gentlewoman.—you are a fine gentlewoman.

Oh! my heart trembles—Heaven inspire Crack.

Oh! cursed fortune.

Well don't trouble your self. I'le bring you off safe.

Not trouble my self, when Leonora's honour is in danger? she'l be the jest of every prating Fop, and malitious beauty.

Her honour shall be safe too. This blustering—Brother shall entertain you.—

With a Blunderbuss?

Ay, full o' Claret. Away—away—he comes?

How? the High and glorious Emperour o' Siam with all his guards? Thou most invincible Paducco, Farucco,—nelmocadin—bobbekin—bow——wow—ww—why dost thou seek to destroy us English, seated on thy Do­minions by thy own Letters Patents?

Pish!—take him away.

Take away our Priviledges? then this goes to my heart.

Hold, hold—Sir Thomas—Sir Thomas, no hurt is ment to you.

Most Great and Glorious Emperour, I humbly thank, and do hum­bly Implore thee; that thou wou'dst command thy Invincible guards, to lay down their arms, and put us out of our frights, and we'l submit our persons to thee. This is some Interlopers work.

Pox o' this impertinent mad—coxcombe? Lay down your wea­pons, [Page 48] may be if we humour him, he may come to his sences, and give us leave to search the rooms.

My Lord Bellguard, your most humble servant.

He's come to himself; that's well. Sir Thomas your servant, how do you?

A little discompos'd, something has frightned me, and put me into the circumstance of a sweat.

I'me sorry for that. Shall I beg leave, to search your rooms for a theif that's got in?

Pardon's beg'd; search must not be made; for I have a friend there, you must not see. Wou'd you and your friend were hanged.

A very honest Gentleman, but very much addicted to marriage. 'Tis he that I told you, is to marry my Indian Fubs of a Sister—Mr Farewel.

Mr. Farewel?

Ay, hearing of my arrival, and what circumstance I was in; hover'd all this morning about the house to get a sight o' me; but car'd not to come in, for it seems there is enmity between you.

'Tis True, and I wonder how he got in without my knowledge.

I made him come in. I was throwing my legs about in the Hall, and the door being open, our eyes knock'd immediately, and gave remembrance such a bang, that we ran full speed into the circumstances of embracing?

And pray who saw this?

Who saw? what care I who saw? I care not if the whole Town saw, I'm not asham'd of owning Mr. Farewel.

No Sir, but I mean which of my family saw? that I may thank 'm for their care.

What do I care for your family? if I may not bring a friend into your family, a fart for your family.

Nay be not angry Sir Thomas, your friend's welcome.

I doubt it not, for I have found you a very civil person. And now recollection is active, I fancy he's the man you take for a theif. Tis so—ha! ha!—excuse me—ha! ha!—leave is implord—ha! ha!—brot'her Fare­wel.

Brother.

Come out, and participate o' laughter.

So, now have I play'd the fool again, vex'd my self, and wrong'd my Sister with my impertinent jealousies.

Come brother—ha! ha! laugh—but first salute.

My Lord, I believe you wonder to see me here, and you may; I call my self Bastard, and renounce the blood o' my family, by coming under your roof with any design, but to prejudice you, which at present I must ac­knowledge to my shame is not my intention. I visit my friend here for his [Page 49] own sake, and the sake of a great Beauty, which you shall not hinder me of, My Lord.

I will not Mr. Farewel, I scorn those effeminate revenges. If I hurt any Man it shall be with my Sword.

Your Sword, my Lord?

Hold? hold.

Ay any where but here Mr. Farewel, my House is your Sanctua­ry, and here to offer you violence, wou'd prejudice my self.

What a quarrelling's here? i'my conscience I believe, my Lord, 'tis because you think he came to steal me, I being under whimsical circumstan­ces, for I remember you call'd him a Thief. Look you, My Lord don't fear me, I won't be stole—I know when I'm well—Brother I'm very well provided for, I want nothing but my Wits; and what do they signifie? if a Man lives like a Gentleman, no matter whether he has Wit or no—

Well, my Lord, though I have the misfortune to be your Enemy, I am none to good manners; I am sorry I ha' given your house this trouble, and the more because my Friend receives such generous usage in it.

Nor am I an Enemy to Love, and the fair Sex. If the Lady you come for loves you, for her sake I wish you success.—

Now my Lord you vanquish me.

He's a brave Man—Faith.—

I fancy we shall live to be better Friends, at present I'le take my leave,—my Lord your Servant.—

Your Servant Sir.

Brother I must see you down stairs. This was a Master-peice. ha! ha!

Now I am cool again. What a flame had your negligence put me into. Here release my Sister, I'm asham'd to see her—

Sirrah! Sirrah! you did this to make me suspected.

Ay—ay, I must be abus'd, because I'm a Protestant.

A Protestant? a Dog. But with such Names the Rogues divide the Rabble, and make the Nation go like the Devil, upon Cloven Feet.

Hold your prating, and by your future care make amends for your past negligence; your trouble shall not be long, within this Eight and forty hours I'le marry her, or send her into the Country.

Well—well—I'le look to her, for the Honour of my Family, not your huffing.

I to discharge a Conscience—

So—Sir—

My Sister—

Do you run from me? is that the reparation you make for the in­tolerable wrongs you have done me?

Well, I have wrong'd you, I'm sorry for it, and beg your Pardon— [Page 50] I must be gone—about business—your business—to fetch Sir Courtly Nice. your Servant, Sister.

Oh! your Servant Sir—ha! ha!—he runs—I may chance Sir to run as nimbly from you, if Cracks Wit do not fail him—here he comes—

Thou admirable Fellow, what hast thou done with Mr. Farewel?

He's in the Street staying for you.

Staying for me? and can'st thou conveigh me to him?

Dee' question it? put on a Vizard and something over your Cloaths.

Sweet Rogue.

Nay, nay be gone.

Delicate Rogue.

Nay, nay he stays for you.

Incomparable Rogue.

Pshaw! put on your Vizard.

Most excellent Rogue.

Oones! put on your Vizard.

I will—I will—ha! ha! toll—loll—derol—

Oh! Sister your tune's alter'd.

Oh! Madam! I'm happy to find your Ladyship, in so gay a humour.

You'l not find it so—

Sir Courtly I'le betray her to you. I left her in Tears upon an un­happy occasion, and at parting told her I wou'd bring you. Now you are come, I find her in joy. Nothing else cou'd cause the change.

Oh! fortunate.

Oh! Fop!—

Now improve your interest, and let us see how great a Master you are in Courtship, by your dextrous dispatch. I leave you together—

And upon my Soul I will. Oh! Madam, am I so Fortunate, so Glorious, to be well in your fine inclinations?

Oh! fye, Sir Courtly—if I had any such guilt upon me, do you think I wou'd confess?

You do confess, Madam—your fine Eyes, and your languish­ing Ayr, and your charming Blushes, and all those things—

I hope I carry no such false things about me; for if they say any such thing they infinitely wrong me.

Oh! now you are cruel, Madam; you kill me.

Can you hope for my heart Sir Courtly, till I've some assurance o' yours.

What assurance wou'd your Ladyship have?

All manner—he that pretends to my heart—must sigh, and wait, [Page 51] and watch—and pant—and fight, and write—and kill himself.

All this I ha' done, Madam, and Ten thousand things more. Drove by your Windows, a thousand times a day, sought you at the Parks and the Plays. Was a constant faithful Attendant at all Tragedys—for I presum'd your Ladyship nauseates Comedys—

Oh! Foh!—

They are so ill—bred—and sawcy with Quality, and always cram'd with our odious Sex—that have not always the most inviting smell—Madam, you'l Pardon me—Now at Tragedies, the House is all lin'd with Beauty, and then a Gentleman may endure it. And I have gone, found not your Ladyship there, drove home, kill'd my self with sigthing, and then writ a Song.

Oh! Heavens! Sir Courtly, did you ever write a Song upon me?

Above a thousand.

Oh! there's nothing charms me like a Song—

For Heavens sake—the Song!—the Song—

I've above forty here in a sweet Bag, I'le shew you the first I made upon Your Ladiship. 'Tis thought to be a pretty Foolish soft Song, most Ladies are very kind to it.

Oh! Sir Courtly—

Oh! fine! oh! fine!

That stop Thief, Madam, is pretty Novel.

Oh! delicate! I'm charm'd! I'm lost!—fye what have I said—

What makes me the happyest of Creatures.

I only railly—I renounce all—

Not for the World—

Away—the Song again—the Song—I'le hear nothing but the Song. Is there no tune to it?

One of my own composing.

That accomplishment to? Heavens! how fine a Gentleman is this?

Oh! Madam, how prou'd you make me?

Oh! dear, how I betray my self? foolish Creature—no more—no more—the Tune, the tune.

I always humour my words with my Ayr. So I make the Voice shake at the last Line, in imitation of a Man that runs after a Thief. Sto—ho—ho—hop—Thief—

Oh! delicate! cannot I learn it? sto—ho—ho—ha! ha! ha!

Dear Madam, what makes your Ladyship laugh?

At a Coxcomb, that thought to win me with a Foolish Song, this puts it into my head.

Oh! Foolish! there are abundance of those Foolish Fellows, and does the Song please your Ladyship?

Infinitely, I did not think you had been so fine a Poet.

Poetry, Madam, is my great foible, and when I see a fine Wo­man I cannot command my foible.

How? dee' make Songs upon other Ladies? unfortunate I've given my heart to aninconstant Man—

Oh! Madam,—only Gallantry.

I'm abus'd—unfortunate—

Oh! Madam, you take it wrong—

I'm abus'd.—

Oh! Heavens!

But the Songs very fine!—sto—ho—ho—ha! ha!

Pleasant Creature.

Coxcomb.—

We shall be infinitely fond—a pretty Glass, this Madam

So he's making an assignation with his own foolish Face, I'le leave him to Court that and steal away.

Sto—ho—ho—hop—

Singing, Sir Courtly?

At your Service, Madam. Well, Madam, you have said so ma­ny fine things to me, that I assure my self of your heart, and now I am re­solv'd to push this opportunity, to an extremity o' happyness.

Oh! fortunate! this to me? I did make him some advances to day I confess, and have they had this success? my heart pants: I am surpris'd with infinite joy, and am not able to answer—

Well, Madam, I must be happy, and so upon my—the Lady gone—

Sir Courtly you put me in great confusion—

The Lady's consent is very considerable—she governs her Neice, and under her conduct may make me happy, with a reserve to Mo­desty.

Well, Madam, shall I have your consent to my happy­ness, my glory?

Oh! dear Sir! is it possible to answer you so soon?

So soon, Madam? you know my passion has been long.

Is it possible? I swear I never heard of it before.

That's strange; wou'd not my Lord, your Nephew acquaint you?

He never said one word of it to me.

That's amazing.

I find my Nephew has been false to me. It seems 'tis me the Gentle­man loves, and my Nephew wou'd defrau'd me of him, for his Sister—heres fine doings.—

I swear I thought your Ladyship had known, and granted your consent—you said so many fine things—

I said no more,—Sir Courtly, then what were the result o' my thoughts, upon the contemplation of your great desert—

Your Ladyships most humble Servant—then I hope, Madam, since my passion has been long, though you knew not of it, you will not deferr my hapyness—'tis in your power I'm certain, no Person controuls you—

Controuls me? that's pleasant—no Sir.

She says true—she can bring her Neice—

I beseech you, Madam, take pity of a suffering Lover.

Oh! Sir, shou'd I consent so soon, 'twou'd be against all Forms.—

I would not for the World offend against any Forms. No Man living more studyes, and adores all manner of Forms—but my passion has been long.

I know not what to say, Sir, indeed I must not.—

Oh! Pardon me!

Oh! Pardon me!

Oh! Madam!

You confound me, Sir:

You distract me, Madam. It must be.—

Well, Sir I yield, but with an extremity o' blushing.

Your most obliged humble Servant.

My severe temper wou'd never ha' been wrought on so soon, but by so fine a Gentleman.

Your most humble Servant.

And to revenge my self on my Nephew, for his false play.

Well, Madam, we'l in my Coach to the next Church presently.

'Tis very hard to resist you, Sir Courtly. If you please I will first put on a Disguise; for I desire it may be manag'd with all secrecy, till the Ceremony of Marriage be over.

With all my Soul; for I infinitely love a secret Intrigue, espe­cially when every body knows of it.

Least my Nephew light on us, and prevent it.

He's for the Match.

He's very false.

Is it possible?

Is it not apparent, when he conceal'd the whole matter from me, least I shou'd promote it?

That's unanswreable, I'm amaz'd at it. Well, Madam, I shall not fail of being happy?—

Immediately, Sir.

And you think you have power?

Power? that's pleasant.

So—so—she'l bring or send her—

Well, Madam, Your most humble Servant.

Your very blushing Servant—

Your humble—sto—ho—ho—hop—Thief—

An humble Thief indeed, steal an old Woman?—

This was a pleasure I cou'd not ha' thought of. Now to our Affair.

Come—on with your Vizard.

Barbarity! falsehood! treachery! murder

What's the matter?

Did not I stipulate upon the surrendry of my self to this House, to be kept from Women? and I am devour'd with e'm; here's come into my Chamber, a hot burnt Whore, with a black crust upon her face—here she is, Avant.

You damn'd Whore, how came you into this house? and what are you? I'le see your face.

Then I'le see your braines, I swear by Gogmagog, and all the seven damnable Sinnes.

Oh! sad! oh! sad

Shew me the face of a Woman? I had rather see forty full moons.

Stand off Impertinence; I will see her face.

Murder! murder! call my Lord—Lord, Lord—murder—murder! Lord—Lord—Lord.

Hold your bauling, I'le let her go.—For now I think on't, If my Lord shou'd find this Whore here when he gave such strickt orders, we shou'd let no body out, or in, he'l make more noise than this mad fool—so let us kick her out o' Doors, and say nothing.

Hold, let us not use violence to her—she's a great temptation to me.

I'le reprove the idle Woman, it may be, I may gain upon her.

Gain a Clap Sirrah! for this is some of the footmens Whores, pick'd up in the dark. Get you out you Whore.

No violence pray. She's a great snare to me.

wo­man get you out woman—and dee hear?—I'le follow you, and we'l drink a bottle.

Do old godly knave, and thou shalt be welcome.

I come! I come!

get you out woman.

Get you out—you Whore.

Good morrow—up so early?

What's the whimsy now?

Am not I i' Bed?

In Bed?

Poor soul, poor soul—

I am not i' faith. Then I walk in my sleep: I was fast a sleep just now, and dream't I saw women, and Vizards, and all that Trash; and the fright put me in a Feaver. I burn; prethee give me a mouth full of sweet ayr.

Prethee take a belly full and be damn'd. A fine time on't I have; with Whores, and Fools, and mad Men, and Fanatiques.

So, now I'le steal after her; for I find in me a very great up­roar.

Come in, come in honest old Fornicator, though the girle be mine, when I have had my collation, if she'l consent, faith, thou shalt have a bit; I love a Wenching Rogue i' my heart.

Oh! dear Sir, your very humble servant, and truly I am a kind of a wag. I love a pretty bit sometimes.

And I love thee the better for it, and this is a pretty bit, thou shalt see her

Oh! dear! undone! undone!

Nay, nay Mr. Testimony won't you be as good as your word? shan't we have a Bottle?

Oh! Madam, don't discover me to my Lord, and you shall not only have my prayers, but the prayers of all the sober party for you all days o' my life.

So, he runs from Whoring to Praying.

Are not you a Rogue Sirrah?

I know I shall be called Rogue, by the Popish party—they will re­joyce at my fall, but I hope my fall will be sanctified unto me for my bet­ter Upstanding.—

Among the Wenches—Sirrah—come, Sirrah, you shall stay till my Lord comes, for his mortification, as well as yours.

Oh! my flesh, it has undone me.

My dear.

My dear.—

Excellent Crack; for this great peice o' service, I'le ha' thee knigh­ted under a petticote. Well we must send for my Lord, to laugh at him.

Oh! dear! I tremble!

Who's there? well my Lord, I desire to speak with him.

Pray let him bring Sir Courtly Nice, and his bride with him; be sure you say nothing o' me.—

Are you a Bride yet?

Not yet.

Get in, and let my Chaplain make you one.

Come Mr. Testimony. Mr. Crack, bring him.

How now you Rogue? what's your business?

Oh! my reproach will be great.

Mr. Surly.

Well, what now?

Now, you shall be my Husband.

Your Jack, to turn and roast you for another, whilst I ha' no share in you.

According to the share I have in you: You men wou'd feign en­gross all manner o' Sinnes, by the pretended Prerogative o' your Sex; well if iniquity be your Estate, when you ha' married me, I'le put in for my thirds.

I doubt it not; within this week, I shall see in a Fop's hand, a Bil­let Doux, that is a Ticket to let him into your Play-house.

Prethee leave of this doged humour.

I ha' none; fawning is a Dogs humour.

Nay but Sullenness; it taxes thy Estate, that thou art never the better for it; tis a french Estate.

Ay, but to lick a fool's shoe, is a Spaniels Estate.

Prethee dress like a Gentleman.

So I do,; but I wou'd not dress like a Gentleboy, lag at my years among those Children, to play with their Toys; be always followed up like a love letter, with a superscription, these to the next pretty girle.

There's no altering thee—go in a while.

My Lord, your humble servant. I invited you hither, to recon­cile you to your Sister, she's weary of your Government, and has dispos'd of herself.

Ay, Madam, but according to my own desires, that now I suppose you will acknowledge the good effects of my Government;—Sister salute your friend.

Do you take that for your Sister? then I'le shew you the good effects of your Government. Open the Door.

My Sister there? call my servants.

Nay then call mine, the great Mogul, and the King o' Bantam, I'le pepper you.

Then you were the Pimp were you—Sirrah—I may chance begin with you.

How? i' my house and presence? touch him if you dare.

I'm made an Ass on.

Not far from that circumstance.

You Rascal—

Again?

But what the Devil am I made? what have I got?

Even my stale Aunt.

Sawcy huzzy.

The Aunt? what have you put upon me, Madam?

What have I put upon you, Sir, more than your self desir'd? Did not you declare you have long had a passion for me?

A Passion for you? Comical! that's probable! Rot me if ever I had a Passion for you in my Life. I meant all to your Neice; a Passion for an old Woman?

Ill-bred Fop.

Very fine—

Now, my Lord, what say you of your fine Cotqueen art of Con­serving Woman? will she keep if not candied with Virtue? here is a peice o' dryed Sweet-meat, you see cou'd not keep; and proves by her example, that the Hufls of either Sex, when they are boldly attacqued in private, soonest deliver their Weapons.

This is all ill manners.

Ay, but here's an old Cat will suffer no Vermin to come into the House; but then he has a Liquorish tooth, and loves to have a sweet bit for himself; he wou'd fain ha' pick'd up your Sister for a Wench.

How?

'Tis true indeed my Lord; I will not tell a lye for the whole World.

Oh! Villain—well Sirrah—I'le leave you to my Cousin Hot­heads correction.

But your faults my Lord I'le take into my correction, and give my self to Mr. Surly—! Mr. Surly.

Well—

To Surly?

Ay, now Nico thy quarrel and mine is at an end, Ile let thee be an Ass forty years longer.

You are a rude fellow and you are all ill—bred—and I'le re­venge my self on you all, as far as my Sword and my Wit can go—

Wit—ha! ha—

—Very fine manners this—my Coach—Madam, you may follow your own occasions—I have none with an Old Woman.

You are a Coxcomb.

Your Servant—my Coach—

Must I lose you Sir Courtly—stop Theif—stop Theif—

Oh! your Servant—my Coach you Dogs—

Come my Lord, I see Patience in your Face, all may be well yet.

How! Jilting already?

Promise I shall enjoy all and singular the Priviledges, Liberties, and immunities of an English Wife.

All.

That is to say, Ramble, Rant, Game, Dress, Visit, Prate, Ogle, Kiss—and—

Hold—hold—whether the Devil is she running: Kiss, kiss—and—stop for Heavens sake.

Kiss, and before your Face; is it not the Prerogative of an English Wife? Surly, I owe thee a reward for Service, kiss me.

That's not to be borne.

Surly, I am thy Wife.

Hold—hold—for Heavens sake—do not use me thus?

Then do not Rebel but practise obediently, the postures of an Eng­lish Husband, before you are Listed; Poise your Hat, draw your left Leg backward, bow with your Body, and look like an Ass, whilest I kiss like a—Wife—Surly kiss me.

—If he does—

With all my Heart. If I kiss thee, let the Devil Marry thee.

And the Devil kiss thee, cou'dst thou think any Woman wou'd suf­fer thy face to come near her, but some Dairy Milk, to curdle her Milk?

Ha! ha! ha!

Hoh! hoh! What a society o' Gotam's are here, to laugh at Man for missing a Woman? had I Married her, as my Lord Wise-acre intends to do, I had deserv'd to ha' been laught at, for a Coxcomb, and a Cuckold, as he will be in few Days.

How?

Ay, you are all Whores, Pox on you, all Whores.

Did you send for us?

Yes, do you see where my Sister is?

By what witch craft was this?

Do not you remember a Vizard you turn'd out o' Doors?

Was it you?

Even the same.

Then you deserve to be turn'd out o' Doors again.

But what do you deserve Sir? that not only turn'd my Sister out o' Doors—but let Mr. Testimony—pick her up for a Wench.

Oh! Dog—oh! Rogue—

I am no Rogue—a Man may fall, and be Godly in the main—I am satisfied in my Spirit, I am a Godly Man—

—Here's a Rogue—Sirrah—Sirrah—

Persecution—Persecution—Papist—do—kick the Godly, kick the Protestants out o' Kingdom—do Papist—I see what you wou'd be at—

So Cousin now I have done with spyes—you may follow your own business, if you have any—

Business? yes I have business, and will have business as long as there is a Fanatick in the Kingdom, and so farewell—

I am now convinced, Vertue a Womans only guard. If she be base Metal, to think by Chimistry, to turn her into Gold,