SCENE. I.

WHy have the Doting Sages, of all Times, allow'd this Charme, call'd Marriage, yet less hurtful Witchcraft, punish'd as Horrible and Diabolick? The honest Con­jurer must be Burnt for's Circle, onely because 'tis thought he Raises Devils; yet the Vile Pulpit Drummer must be Pamper'd, whose Conjuring Rings prepares more Souls for Devils, then all the Seven Deadly Sins together. Here's one Marries in hast a Scold, her Noise makes him think Life a Tor­ment: then a second, one that is Rich, but Ugly—her Deformity eats him with Spleen; he fancy's Hell at home, and that he bears Damnation still about him: A Third torments with Pride; a Fourth with Wanton­ness; whose Face, Shape, Aire, Address, and Jigging Motion, giving the Lover hope: The Husband's Jealousy, 'twixt hot Desire and fierce Re­venge, Dams both. Now one o'th' worst of this Curst Tribe am I, doom'd to th' worst too of Husbands Torments, Jealousy; which, like a Ra [...]enous Canker, knaws my heart, and grants me no Cesation to my Doubt—here comes my Credulous Brother-in-Law, old Brissac, the meer Antipodes to me in Humour; he, tho' he Married a young Wife, fears nothing; simply secure of her, and partial to himself, in spite of Time, believes he's young; Talks, Drinks, Sings, Dances, Dresses like a Beau, and is never better pleas'd then when you say, Years leave no mark upon him—Pox on him, I must be Civil to him —So, Brother, I hope am so happy to have this Vi [...]it meant to me.

I, I my Lord to you; To whom else should I mean it? Gad, my Lord, we wish'd heartily for ye where I have been; two or three young brisk Fellows of us would have diverted your Spleen, Faith, ha, ha, ha—we have been up all Night Serenading my New Mistress—My Lord, what d'ee mean, no Ceremony I beseech ye? I have but just been at home to New Rig, Wash, Powder, Patch, and put on a clean Cherry-Colour'd Cravat-string.

And dare you publickly own a New Mistr [...]ss, Count, without fear of a Revenge from your Lady at home, if she should hear on't?— Is not there such a thing in Nature as a New Gallant?— Won't Horns grow in that Country think ye?

No, my Lord—the onely proper Soyle that I know for 'em to grow fast in, is your Lordship's Head.

'Pox on him; Pray Heaven he does not Prophesy.

Come, don't be too secure, Old Count.

Old Count— What a plague and ju [...]t come from Serena­ding—my Patch on—Peruke Powder'd, and Cherry-Colour'd-Cravat-string —Old Count—Harkee, my Lord, the first sign of Age is to be Jealous of ones Wife, take that from me, Old Duke.

Nay, that's no General Rule, Brother.

Most veritable— for 'tis ten to one he that suspects his Wife, does, in some kind, find a Defect in, and Suspect himself. And he that Suspects himself— 'tis vehemently to be suppos'd has some Feeble, Lepid—Frigid—Causes, that thank my Stars, I am a Stranger to—

Very well, Sir, I'm glad to see you so Active.

Humph— Indifferent well for an Old Count: Limps to him. Harkee, my Lord, Shall you and I run a Heat to Morrow morning, for Fifty Pistols, three times round the Park.

O not so fast, good Count— you Run— why I see ye halt now — you are foundred already.

A Corn—a plaguee Corn I have, a Pox on't; I trod upon a Nail with't—Halt—Oon's, I can run Forty Mile an end without breath­ing.

Come, come, take a Friend's Advice, and be more sparing of your Vigour; or if you will take a Journey of Forty Mile, let it be homeward, upon your Pad-Nag, that your Lady may take care of your Gout, in stead of your Corn —for you may Hop—Frisk, or fancy what you please, Brother, but you are Old.

Old agen, and can you, in Conscience, think [...]o my Lord?

Most unalterably.

What—for all my Peruke's Powder'd, and my Patch on?

Ah that won't do.

Zoons, what and for all my Cherry-Colour'd-Cravat-string.

Ay, for all your Cherry-Couler'd-Cravat-string, reserve your Remains for your Lady at home, good brother, and if you are wise look well to her, she may be gadding this miunte for ought you know, for take it once more from me, you are old, the Crow-foot appears Brother.

Spite by the Gods, meer spite, and burning Envy — my Wife gadding, Oon's, that I know is this minute sitting at ho [...]e in her Closset, that looks upon the Pond, Embroydering little Babies upon Dimety to make me a set of Chairs and Stools.

Ah brother! she is more likely to be making little Babes in your Bed-chamber for you to Embroyder—but since good Councel is lost upon ye, I'll be silent, only Informing ye this, that in Merchandize, Traders can mark their Wares, but a Wife is such a kind of a Commodity, [Page 12] that a man may be confoundedly cheated in her without missing one Penny-worth of the Property.

Sir, there's one below to speak with ye, that says his Name is Sir. Blunder Bosse.

Oh! Pox on him, Is he come then? 'Tis a new Aquaintance of mine, my Lord, he Lodges in the same house with me, gad I must beg your Lordships pardon for presuming upon my Interest here, I have Invited him to dinner—

The Devil ye have—this old fellow will make me Mad.

Oons, he's the rarest humorist, the most odd out of the way fellow, my Lord, that ever you knew—he's a right Mungril by Birth—his Father was an English North Country Wooller, for his Wealth made a Knight, who trading afterwards into Holland begot him upon a Dutch Woman in Rotterdam— And to see his way of Breeding, and hear—his method of Speech—is a Rarity you han't met with; harkee, boy, boy, Prithee what did he say too thee?

Why he ask'd me first whose little Pimp I was.

Hah a hah—well, And what else?—

And when I told him I was Page to the Duke de S [...]nserre, he ask'd me if the Mangy Curr, Old Brissac, were not with him.

Ay — ay— 'tis his way my Lord, 'tis his way—

And what other Dogs and Bitches were in the Company?

Ha, ha, ha, 'tis a strange sort of a fellow; go go, prithee bring him up, he calls every Body without distinction, by such names—'tis his way my Lord, Did you Lordship ever hear of such a Humour?

No: the Devil take me, nor I never since I was Born, con­fusion— What Company am I to have at Dinner?

Oh, Sir Blunder! your Servant—and with my Lord's leave here you are welcome.

Ay,—with all my heart, take whose leave thou wilt—well, you see ye old Theif I have found ye out at last, tho like a Cur Dog as you were, you gave but Scurvy Directions—Dost hear, is that the Duke thou toldst me of.

Ay, ay, Sir Blunder, this is the Duke, my Brother in Law.

Hugh — I knew one Gulchen, that us'd to carry Sacks to the Pinnace in our Dock at Rotterdam—just like him, 'tis a good lusty fore-handed well-set Son of a Bitch.

Sir—

Ha, ha, ha, ha,—his way Brother his way— I told ye—

Give me thy hand, Bully, Stiff-rump—What art loth to shew it? Hast got the Itch?—why ye whore [...]on dog you, you and I must be better acquainted before we part, my name's Bosse, Egh.

Ha, ha, ha, Brother, What dost think? Didst ever see such a sort of a Fellow? Gad, I don't think there's the like of him within the four Seas.

No, nor within the four quarters of the World, I dare answer for him.

Harkee dogs-head—prithee tell him that I am a Sociable Fellow and Love to be familliar.

Oh! Sir, I need no telling, I see it plainly, you are so far from Complementing, and [...]are so little for Corupting a Language with fine Epithites, that you give it us as 'tis primitively spoke—for Rogue, Dog, and such words are commonly the first we learn.

Right, Dear Son of a Whore, thou'rt in the right, faith; and I have been bred up in that way ever since: plain words have plain mean­ing. 'Tis true, sometimes when we have a Mind to Abuse any Body, we use the glozing English way of Prating—as thus now, I have Forty thousand pounds in my Purse, if I call any Acquaintance of mine Dog, Scowndrel, Rascal, or so, why I mean him well, and if he wants, will sup­ply him with Five hundred pounds—but when I Niggle him with Dear Friend, and Sweet Sir, and upon my Honour you shall Command me, or so forth—tho' he were certainly starving, Gads bud, I would not give him a Penny.

Why you ought to be valued extreamly for this Plain-dealing Sir Blunder.

I, I dear Pimp—I am honest at [...]ottom, and that's mor [...] then any of your Complementers can pretend to; but do'st hear, prithe [...] let me see thee at my Lodging—Gad I'll give thee a swinging Bowl o Punch—there's an English Son of a Curr, a Lord he is, tho' —on [...] Guillamour—newly come to lye there too: the Dog is a rare Joke [...] faith, I'll bring him into thy Company.

Guillamour—Ds'death, how the Name startles me! for I hav [...] often heard my Brother Brissac say, that the House where he Lodges joyn to my Garden: Well, Sir, go on, And what of this Guillamour?

What of him? why he's an Arch-Thief, a Plaguee Fellow at Wench—and the Rogue has found one out at the House joyning to us she comes to him every Night into the Garden, and he Whispers to he out of his Chamber-Window.

Hell and the Devil, it must be my Wife—for I've observ'd [...] late she has taken an Evening's Walk there—oftner than usual—ay ay. 'tis so, I'm certainly abus'd, and all my Blood's on fire at the thoug [...] on't: Now, Count, here [...]s a Discovery made by Chance— of yo [...] dam'd Sister's Intreague with Guillamour; What say ye now, am I s [...]i [...] blindly Jealous?

Phoo, pox, one of the Chambermaids comes to him I warran [...] or some such Trifle.

I've seen a Ramping thing in a Painted Night-gown twinkle there in an Evening —I saw her Face once, 'twas a good handsome Bitch, Faith.

Still, still my dam'd Wife, for she has such a Night-Gown— Oh Confusion! Is there no Faith in the Curst Sex?—No honour? — but Patience till I discover more; I'll have a Trick this Evening to surprize 'em both, and I'll about it instantly—Brother, you and your Friend must excuse me, that I can't entertain you my self at Dinner, a sudden Af­fair, which I had forgot, hurries me hence; but pray Command my House till your Sister comes, who went out this Morning about some private Af­fair of her own, but no doubt will soon be here — your Servant.

Oh your Servant, my Lord, your Servant, here's an odd Whim for ye.

Your Discovery, Sir Blunder, was the cause of this sudden go­ing; I tipt the Wink upon ye two or three times, but, like a Millstone, down a Hill, there was no stopping ye when ye were rowling.

What's the Clodpate Jealous?—nay then I warrant he's a Cuckold—

Gad, Cuckold or not Cuckold—I'm resolv'd my Sister, nor my Lord neither, shan't be surpriz'd this time; for I, my self, will give 'em timely Caution: What a Pox, my Blood runs warm, and I love these Young Tricks heartily; I'll therefore, like a kind Brother of Intrigue, pre­vent their being Catch't in the Evening—Then return with the Fiddles, Entertain my Mistriss, who is to be here with my Sister, by Appointment, and so all of us Laugh at my Lord—Come, Sir Blunder, we'll take none of his Dinner, since he is to Morose not to stay with us.

Well, well; Prithee good Rascal goe where thou wilt, I'll fol­low thee; but, as to my Lord's Moroseness, for my part I mind it not; 'tis a common thing with us, at Rotterdam—you shall have a Burger there Invite ye to a Shoulder of Mutton, and just as 'tis set on the Table, if any sudden business happens, he shall s [...]atch it out o'th' Dish, and Lock it up, run out of Doors, and leave you behind to suck your Fingers.

SCENE II. A Garden.

Nothing in Nature can make a Wife more Easy, than her Husband's good opinion of her: and I have moulded my Old Count so well to my hand— that if I should tell him my self, that I am really here in Specie, and run awayout of the Country hither, upon a Frolick , I dare Swear he would not believe his own Eyes.

Nay, dear Madam, do you but blind him on one Eye, and let me alone, for t'other—for he is so Mortify'd with his Passion for me, that he da [...]es make use of none of his Senses but as I shall Di­rect.

I believe I must call some body, that shall be nameless, to Coun­cil too, about the management of my Conjugal Gentleman, for he be­gins to be Obstreperously Jealous — And when once they are so, they cease to be Husbands, and turn Jaylors— for my part, I had as live be in the Bastile, and order'd to feed upon Bread and Water, as be Con­fin'd to the sneaking allowance that a Parsimonious Husband shall bestow on me.

Oh pox, a Husband's allowance, like a Prison Basket, will Starve those that have nothing else to subsist on.

I, 'tis well that we Women have sometimes Courage enough to usurp the Priviledge of Free-born Subjects, and Enjoy by Wit what our Husbands won't grant us by good Nature, for then the Pleasure of de­serving 'em is a Substantial happiness. Now do's my codel'd Matrimony securely believe, that I am at home looking after the Rose-cakes — or licking my Clammy Fingers after potting up the Marmalade of Quinces— when God knows I am here under his Nose, dress'd en Cavalier— ready for the Plays, the Musick, the Walks—and I may be for variety by to morrow, to please my self, will be in a Fruit Garden twenty Mile off, with a very good Friend.

Ay gad, and I hope at night, dear Madam, be better pleas'd in a better Place with a very good friend.

All Entertainments are priz'd as the Apetite is inclin'd, Count now if the Peaches, Apricocks, and Frontiniack Grapes, the Viand deli­cate—of the day shall regale my Sister better than your night treat; Lord, How Sneakingly you'd look in the Morning?

I Swear he relishes—So much of our Sex, by wearing Petti­coats so long—that if we chance to be straightn'd for Lodging, And I should be for [...]'d—to Roost with him—I Vow I should fancy I was going to bed to my Nurse, you'd be a very Nurse Count.

Such a Confounded Nurse, I should make too Child, gad, I fear, thou wouldst never be able to endure me. For I should be plaguy Cross if you tumbled or squawl'd in the Night time, if you'd take the Nipple quietly you might—but if I gave ye any thing with a Spoon the Devil take me.

I don't know what sort of Nurse the Count would make, Sister, but by his way of talking, he would make an Excellent Midwife— or else some Gossip Hostess— Oh! he would make a delicate Gossip at a City Christning for he talks just as they do to one another in a Lying-in-Room.

Ay, or as you do to one another in your dressing Rooms.

Come, come, prithee leave this unprofitable Chat, and show me the Garden and Rarities—I wa [...]rant there's twenty new Monsters [Page 16] come since I was ere—besides, I have been so long tormented in the Country with the lowing of Cows, bleating of Sheep, and Cawing of Rooks, that the least of the Town diversion's a Calf with▪ four Legs, or a Russia Ram, with a long Tail, will be a Rarity to me—or else let's go to the Opera—No, no, Stay — the Water-works, the Water­works —Oh God! but then they say there's the rarest Italian Rope-dancer come over—And a wonderful Creature, that has three or four Sexes—D'slife I've no patience till I see them all.

What altogether Sister? Prithee let 'em be seen one after another, if you Love me.

The greatest Rarity you can see, Madam, in this Disguise will be your Husband making Love to me, he's to bring the Fiddles here by and by; prithee dear Angel see that first for my Satisfaction.

With all my heart, and I'll Man it so, I warrant he never knows me, I'll venter what his Instinct can do for once; I believe—I may be a true or a false Princess as I please, I need not fear any discovery he can make by his Lyon like vertue.

'Tis a wild giddy-headed Creature—and I must take care to govern her Indiscretion for my own sake—let me see—

'Tis almost the hour—that by apointment I am to meet my dear Guillamour at the window on the other side the Garden, an assignation I would not break to be Mistress of Versailes—bless me! Is not this he? or do my Eyes Dazle?

That's Impossible; but mine do always dazle when they meet thy Luster, thou brightest and most Lovely of thy kind.

Heavens! my Lord, you amaze me—How durst you venture hither, my Husband being here, and knowing his Humour?

Led by resistless Love and a kind Genius that helps a Lover still on b [...]ld adventures to unriddle the Mistery, know, my better Angel, that the Marquess has casually had Information of our Window-Intreague, but my good Old friend Sessac, happening to be there at the time of the Discovery, and finding the Jealous Marquess was resolv'd to surprize us, was coming in all hast to give me caution, whom I luckilly met Just as we saw your Coach return home. Mrs. L. Buske here being at the Window, I beckon'd her down—the rest which will make you Laugh, and the reason of my ventring hither, you shall have from her.

Ha, ha, ha, yes if I have—breath enough to tell it for laughing—ha, ha, ha, be pleas'd to know th [...]n Madam—that Mrs. Danbray the new Spy that my Lord has lately E [...]ertain'd, has been dressing him up in your blew Night-gown and head- [...]othes, in which he makes so awkard a Figure, t'would make one Dye to see him, he's just gon to the Window that opens upon the wall—th [...] other side of the Garden— I got so near, that I found his business wa [...] to watch for my Lord here, [Page 17] and that he would stay at his Post some hours—which made me assure him, that he might venture to you without danger.

Ay Gad, and for that Assurance, there's a Token of my Love for thee, Ha, ha, ha; Was there ever so provoking an Adventure? Faith, Madam, it is but reasonable we should Pay this diligent Watchman for his Waiting.

I am for having him deserve a little more first; we can, at last, but Pay him alltogether—

Gad, for the Honour of my dear Country, England, I'm of a Tem­per, that desires to render every one his due; methinks I long to be out of his Debt.

For Punctual Payment of such kind of Debts, I have heard in­deed, that your Englishme [...] are very Consciencious, if C [...]ckoldome would pay a Cittizen's Bill—the good Apron-man need never stir over his own Threshold to Dun ye — But come, my Lord, not to discourage your Generous Intentions quite, I'll make ye a Present of my Picture here, Gives her Picture. the Shadow that you have so long desir'd; but I charge ye to think of no Substances—at least for a certain time that I shall prefix—What,— 'tis but reason you should Invoke your Saint, before you enter your Pa­radice.

Invok Gives her Picture. Ds'heart I shall turn Idolater, and forty to one be dam'd about it Gives her Picture. Oh! thou dear, sweet, pretty portraite of my Parradise In­deed—

To enjoy which Imaginary Paradice then—My Lord, for the present, I'll leave ye, to go and Play an After-Game with my Jealous Ma­trimony yonder— the result of it, and where we next shall meet, I'll send you word in a Billet: in the mean time, Adieu, Seducer of this heart of mine.

Joy Great, as thou to me, be always thine—

SCENE III.

No Bolting yet — And th' usual hour past; sure she's grown pal [...]'d to her New Amoretto; methinks, he else would be more Pun­ctual. Here is a hot Remembrancer shall meet his Glowing Passion with a quicker Flame: Stay—let me think a lit [...]le what I'm doing; Eter­nal Devil! Are these the Joys of Marriage? Gives her Picture. Here am I trick'd up like a Summer Bawd, Dress'd in the Tawdry Trappings of her Function, to take Revenge on a young Hotbrain'd Fellow, for onely managing the Common Fortune Intail'd on most of the Dull Fools that Marry, Cuc­kold — Damnation Cuckold— horrid sound, in that dear Bed, where, for my Term of Life, I fix'd my Pleasure, and my Soul's repose, to meet a Toad, for such to me's another, tho dress'd in all the Pride of Lavish Nature, is the worst of Torments, and extreamest Hell: the Window's open, What's that,

[Page 18] 'tis he sure; the shade o'th' Trees eclipse my light—I'll go nearer, that he may Lure me to him, for 'tis certainly he: Now do I expect to be Harrangu'd with some Lovers Amorous Couplet, beginning with

Well, 'tis a pure Song, I'll say't; Good Honny, Roger, Teach it me it once more.

Come—with all my heart; Strike up then — hem, hem.

Hah! What's that?

There was Andrew and Susan, Rebecca and Will;

Roger and Sisly, and William and Mary,

There was Kate of the Kitchin, and Kit of the Mill.

Iohn the Ploughman, and Ione of the Dairy.

To Sollace their Hearts, and to Sweeten their Labour,

All met on a time with a Pipe and a Tabor.

How—Nothing but two dirty Devils Singing a Dam'd Ballad; sure I have not mistook the Window; Offer agen, Sing agen. Ds'death, what a Squaling Noise the Quean makes. Hah, agen; A Plague on ye, stop your Braying, or I'll Shoot.

Oh, my Lord, we are ruin'd! your Design, by some means or o­ther, has taken Aire, and they [...]re turning it yonder all into Raillery: there's a Window and a Garden it seems at t'other side o'th' House, which that Dunce, Sir Blunder, mistook for this, and another Lady there too.

Ds'death! What with another Painted Night-gown and Petti­coat—

So it seems, my Lord; besides, I saw my Lord Guillamour, and your Brother Brissac this moment at the Door, shaking hands, and Laugh­ing, till they shook agen; and, by what I can guess by him, he's bringing him in.

The Devil he is—D'sdeath, I shall be the Laughing-stock of the whole Town—the very Footmen will Point at me—and ten to one, in three days time, have another Horrid Ballad made of the Noble Duke, and Sung to as Confounded a Tune, at my own Window—Run Daubray, and shut the Dining-Room Door, that I may sneak up the Back-stairs into my Chamber before they come.

Ah 'tis impossible, my Lord, they are got as far as the Garden already, and see, here comes my Lady▪

What a Devil shall I say unto her now?

So, Mrs. Daubry, this is very fine Confidence indeed, the first Week my Lord has Entertain'd ye— What Creature, Have you been so Saw [...]y to Dress in my Clothes? —Ha, let me see

ah, — in the Name of Virtue, is this possible? —By that Bak'd Pear-colour'd Complection, and that Stubbl'd Chin—this must be a Man—O thou odious Creature —How dare you bring your filthy odious Fellows here, to D [...]b [...]uch my things with?

I must brush through with it some way or other

Well, Madam, I must Cleer Mrs. Daubray — And pray reform your Mistake— 'tis I.

How, my Lord?— bless me—my Lord—In the Name of Virtue what Riddle's this?— What means this Metamorphosis?

Humph—I think I've got a Lye will fit her

Why my Brother B [...]issac— intends to bring the Fiddles here this Evening—and I intend­ed to Surprize the Company in Masquerade —being mighty frollicksome to day.

Frolliksome, my Lord—What with your Pistol there? Your Frollick, I find, would have had more of Revenge in't then Mirth, base Man—Must I always be the Miserable Subject of your horrid Jealousy?— Jealousy, that has always made you as Ridiculous to the World—as it will now be found to be in this—Charming Disguise—Heaven! that you could but see your self how you look.

Like a Witch in an Extasie, I believe; A Plague upon this head­geer here, would the Devil had the Inventor.

But 'tis Satisfaction enough to me, to know, that the shame that constantly attends this Frenzy, is always sufficient Punishment— which your Grace will apprehend better, when your Visitors within shall enter, in the mean time let me Teach ye this Poetical Maxime.

There's a short Touch for ye, and so I leave you to your Baiting— Sir—

I'll go and seek the Butler, and get a Gill of Comfort, for I'm ready to faint with Fretting as I'm a true Woman.

'Tis so— here they come— A Plague upon 'em; and now am I to be half suffocated with the Fulsome Jokes of that Eternal Old Cox­comb Brissac—D'sdeath, Is there no Avenue, nor Shelter here? What would I give to be a Rat now for two minutes?—A Rabbit, with a Burrow near me; or any other Vermin, so I had but a Hole to creep into.

Come, before the Fiddles play their Parts, Lets all resolve, by con­sent, to have a Merry touch or two at my Lord; Prithee mind me, sweet Empress, thou Soveraign Queen of all my Faculties, as the Poet sayes They Whisper. do but observe me a little

And you, my bold Britton Stick; by me, d'ee hear—I'll Joke him into a Fit of an Ague

but hold-first a word with you, Sir Blunder.

The Loadstone, I find, has lost: its Vertue; the Old Spark does not know me; Ton. I see it, but—the Defect is in the Steel, and not the Loadstone—A Pox on him, he has no more Natural Sympathy, then if his Skin were Stuft with Straw—

I'll try whether he has or no; for I'm resolv'd to Banter him before we part.

That Pretty Creature yonder has been Oagling me this half hour, hah—I know her now, it must be She, Fiesques Charming Mistress, that the Town Celebrates so for a Miracle of Beauty—Gad, her Smiles give me strange Incouragement, I'll go and talk to her—'Twill be a pretty Amusement for Sanserre there, who must then naturally believe my Intreng [...]e is with her, and not his Wife.

What a Bewitching Face and Aire has that Englishman? whose ve­ry Look so Charmes me, that, by Heav'n, I've hardly Patience to forbear some Love-Extravagance before the Company—hah—he Oagles me too—Now Beauty, do me right—Dear Face perform thy Of­fice.

T [...]at's all, Boy; Let him but think 'twas thy Mistake, and for the rest of the Banter let me alone.

Well, well, prethee Old Bullethead don't doubt me; if a Lye will do the Business, my Conscience is Wide enough— Pox, I hate a Jealous Rascal — more than a Dutch Cook does a French Kickshaw.

Come now then, let's all sowse in upon him, like Spaniels upon a Duck in a Pond—I'll set in first—Hey, where are these Fidlers— Come, let's have a Country Dance; Strike up there you Rogues; Come, Cuckolds▪ all-a-Row —. Here's a Bucksome Lass shall be my Partner— What say'st thou to't, my Jolly Sixteen Ribs?—Give me thy hand

Why where are these Cuckoldly Fidlers to Play this — Cuckoldly Dance?— Strike up, I say, to us, The Nimble Cuckold-makers of Versa [...]lles—Here's one will Foot it Briskly I'faith.

Harkee—Brother—No more Jesting, d'ee hear, I shall grow Angry.

Harkee, my Lord—So shall I ▪—You have wrong'd my Si­ster, d'ee hear — and I have enough in me to call you to Account for't—But hush, no more words on't, for her Quietssake, and the Love of some Body else here, at present I pass it by; but if I hinder any body from laughing at your Toppings here the Devil take me—ha, ha, ha, why Gentlemen and Ladies here [...]s a surprize will make ye dye with laughing, we are all deceiv'd here—this is no Lady, Gentlemen but a noble Lord, Gentlemen my Brother the Duke de Sanserre Gentlemen who being horribly suspicious of being hornified Genttlemen by his Lady at Court here.

As his Brother the old Count Briss [...]c Gentlemen is foolishly secure of not being hornified by his Lady i'th' Country.

Has most cunningly dress'd himself ha, ha, ha, in his Ladies Clothes, Gent. with designe to catch her napping, with a certain lusty young English Lord, alias Whoremaster, call'd Guillamour Gent▪ — at him my young Hercules—speak for thy self now, at him, at him.

Who he design'd to catch is not my business to examine, but I hope his Grace has nothing to say to my Conversation with his Lady.

Oh, my Lord you are much in the right.

His conversation with that Lady—when her coming hither was only an Assignation with me, ds'death, What means he?

Why the short and the long is, I was mistaken in the Whore, and my Lord there like a Coxcomb as he was, was mistaken in the Window-what a pox there's more windows than one to a house sare, and more Bitches then one in Painted Night-gowns and Peticoats.

If my Lord had not been discoverd to be a Man—by Iove, I should have taken him—for a very good fat jolly Lady of mine Ac­quaintance.

Which very good fat jolly Lady—is a Baud I'm sure, for that lewd smock fac'd [...]mp can have no other acquaintance.

I hope, Madam, my Lord has not so wholly Ingross'd your Con­versation, but you may have leasure to put in your Jest too; pray give me your opinion, methinks the head-clothes sitting so awry look like tawdry Mrs. Quakine— sitting at Cards in her Chamber, the Evening of the day she has taken Physick.

Ha, ha, ha, ha— dear Empress—a witty Observation faith.

Oh! I [...]m sorry they don't please ye Madam, I hope your Comode there sits cocking straight enough.

And the Night-gown there so loose and Negligent, looks just like the tawdry Countess of Iersy in a morning without her Stays.

What's that you say, Sir?

Oh fye! How ill a frown becomes that Dress, which I confess I must own is most extreamly perticular.

Is it indeed so perticular — Madam?

Oon's—the Dog looks like a Hermophrodite—at a Leaguer, drinking of Brandy with a Corporal of the Guard.

Nay, if that Porpuss be spouting too, 'tis time to shun drown­ing indeed, a plague of your Merriment—D'sheart I shall grow Mad if I stay and unman my self—

Ha, ha, ha, ha,—Now is he gon to vent the rest of his confound­ed humour upon his Valet de Chambre, and Pages—a pox on't, this con [...]s of foolish Jealousy; who the Devil would be Jealous, it makes a Man old, ill-natur'd, ill Company, ill-belov'd; And brings a thousand Inconveniences, a pox I hate the very thought on't.

Ay, but yet it shews Love, Count, it shews Love.

Ay, that's before Marriage, dear Empress—that's before—you know what, and then I grant there may be some reason to be Jealous to lose ones Mistress, but of on [...]s Wife—gad 'tis a meer breaking out, a Corruption of Soul and Body—'tis a Disease worse than the Pox— Why now have I a Wife in the Country—a very house-dove—A pretty poor harmless contented thing—that I warrant is this very minute reading the Ladies Calling to her Maids, or a Treatise of the Duty of a Wife to her Husband—and faith I Love her well enough too, for a Wife—She wants for nothing—

How — A young Wife left by her Husband want nothing? reflect a little on what you say, old Sir.

Why how now Monsieur, no Beard?—Do the farthing Candles of your Eyes want snuffing this Morning, old Sir? ye young Milksop, What do you see old about me?

Why you stoop in the Shoulders, and bend in the Hams—Old Aeson.

What a lying Jackanapes is this—prithee look on me, dear Empress—by gad I'm as straight as an Arrow.

Ay, 'tis true, he is a little malitious — but he's a very pretty fellow faith Count, and I can't forbear oagling him a little.

Prithee look on me— Oo'ns do but look on me, ye young Coxcomb—Am not I straight [...] Do I bend in the Hams, ye envious Puppy?—let all the World Judge if I am not as straight as an Arrow—a very Arrow.

Not if your Wife at home were to give her Judgment Sir — who, for all your Conjugal security, you shall give me leave to believe do's want something.

Hah — which want, you think your self proper to supply I warrant.

No fa [...]th, I should do what you ought to do, acknowledging my own single ability de [...]tive, call in another able Person to assist, and all wants indeed might be suply'd fairly.

Well said again young Sir I swear.

Who the Devil is this young Dog? I wonder whither he dares fight or no—gad I shall be provok'd to try if this hold, for to m [...] thinking she begins to be fond of him — this is the plaguy vice of the S [...] in general, all Woman-kind hanker after, and how to Debauch these Boys.

I heard you talk of Boys Sir—dam me, d'ee mean me Sir?

You Sir, yes Sir, dam me too—Are not you a Boy Sir?

No Sir, and I'll bring an abler witness then you are to justify the contrary.

That he can I assure ye Sir, there I must take his part.

How Madam, will you take his part against me?—pox prithee dear Empress let's leave him to his Raket and Balls—you shall do m [...] the honour now to let me treat ye with a little Entertainment of Musick and Dancing, after which I intend to lead ye up a Corrant my self, which is a gr [...]ye thing, and a graceful dance for a fine Lady—

And you and I will do a minuett Madam, which is a brisk thing and a more graceful dance for a fine Lady.

Prithee—male-varlet, What dost do here?—pox thou should'st post into Italy— here's no Boys play here—here's no use of unbeard­ed things—Oo'ns get thee to Rome amongst the Cardinals.

No faith, they are fitter for your Company, they are old fumbling fellows like your self.

This young Dog will never leave prating, gad I'll run my Sword in's Guts.

Oh fy, old friend! no fighting amongst Ladies — besides 'tis all Gallantry, and you can't in reason be angry.

Wher's the Musick? a pox on 'em let's begin then and put it out of my head, and in the mean time—de hear, let the banquet be made ready in the next Room.

Well, and to let him see I understand Gallantry, I'll add to his Musical Entertainment, and Sing my self, if any here can bear part in the late new Dialogue.

That can I, Sir, and in honour of the Count I'll shew ye my skill Immediately.

Nothing can make ye have a good thought of me, Sir, for this strange confession of my Love, but your extraordinary▪ Merit and good Nature—but pray believe this is not common with me.

Such beauty, Madam—must command all thoughts and services— by Heaven, 'tis a sweet Creature—oh dear, dear Inconstancy, Who can defend himself against thy Charms?—hah, la Buske here—nay then I'm catch'd in th' nick.

The Plannets shoot more strongly their Influence on t'other side, and 'tis Im­possible to resist the Lady of the Ascendant.

Hah, gon—ten thousand Furies take that Messenger, for 'tis certain she has fetch'd him away upon some other Intreague, but to go without taking leave, or an Excuse, or so much as an Assignation for some other time, D [...]'death, I'm all on flame with vexation at the thought on't— I'll run and overtake him in the Street, for I can't live till night without that Satisfaction.

Hold hold, Madam, Whither so fast? I hope you did not doubt my coming as soon as I could get loose from the Company.

He here, curst luck; but 'tis all one I am resolv'd I will go— pish —I neither wish'd nor doubted your coming Sir—pray let me go, for I've an extraordinary affair has happen'd that exacts it.

An affair, What greater then your Promise to me? come, you onl [...] jest I'm sure.

Oh, Sir, you shall find me no Jester, therefore on [...]e more let me go, 'tis my humour, and [...] all the reason you are like to have.

To follow my Lord Guillamour I suppose.

Suppose what you will—I'll follow my inclinations, though you and all such impertinent Teizers were dam'd in the preventing it.

Is't possible? Can you so soon forget your Promise?

Pox O' promises—that ever any fellow that proudly thinks he carries half an ounce of Brains, should heed A Woman of my Characters promise—Hell and Furies▪ How am I plagu'd wi [...]h this Coxcomb? D'sdeath stand out 'th way.

She Swears and Curses like a Baud in a Brandy-Celler—I find now Fiesque was in the right, and thou art indeed a very Devil.

I am so: why thou empty, hot-headed, flashy, Impertinent, ri­diculous Animal; Who would ever give her consent to make a lewd assignation with such a Rampant Monster as thy self, but a Devil?—when you deboach us first, you fix damnation, then shoals of dressing pouder'd Sons of Belzibub, mingle with us the daughters of Belphegor, and so the thriving Trade of Hell goes forward.

Stand sollid Impudence, case hard [...]'d, and well grounded in the Trade—and yet sometimes too you can act as an Angel.

I can act any thing to make a Fool—

And lately when you praiz'd my Face Shape, Tongue—you thought me a Monster or an Idiot.

Right—I never heard a fellow say he Lov'd me, but I had hopes to beg him for a changeling.

Thou art the exactest Jilt—I ever met with.

Thou art the veriest coxcomb I e're bubled—But why the Devil do I stand prating with thee—give me way to go whither my resolute humour drives me, or all the Mischif in a Womans Nature, all that Hells Legion can inspi [...]e me with, I'll vent upon thee.

Thou shalt not stir, I'll keep [...]hee here to plague thee.

Then take what follows—sure I shall find something to further my revenge— the trappings you usurp there of our Sex I shall demollish presently.

Witch—Fury—Succubus—tho as thou lookst like Woman I dare not strike thee—yet as a real Devil Incarnate, I may pinch.

Oh, here's something will do better Execution—look upon this thou hot brain'd fool, and tremble.

Thou wilt not Stab me—Harpy.

Not Stab thee, yes by the Rage that burns me, through Soul and Body, if I could—let this Confirm it.

Was there ever such a Devil?—'gad sh [...] frighted me—for this pretty Instrument had certainly bin sheath'd in my Guts if I had [...]pos'd her longer—well I'll straight to Fieske, discover our adventures, and beg his pardon—and hereafter agree with him.

SCENE I. Vendosme's Lodgings.

YOu have been to look for her in her Chamber then—

Yes, and there's no body there but Grossiere; I ask'd her for her Lady, and with a compos'd modest look, as if she had been at Confession, she answer'd, upon her veracity, she had not seen her since morning.

Pox on her veracity; She's as good as her Mis [...]ress, I'll warrant her, whenever any [...]hamber maid affects fine words, I take it for grant­ed, she's a Whore infallibly. Did you look into the Closet?

No, the door was lock'd. Besides, it can't enter into my head she could be there and deny her self to me, after our last recon­cilement, and the kindness past between us this morning.

Nay, if her Treachery can't enter into your head, after the story I told you of our late adventure, take it from me, your Head and the Brains belonging to it, are in an incureable condition. Oh, con­found her, she's the most treacherous, the most base, the most ungrateful, the most pernicious, the most —

Charming Creature.

Charming, damn her; she charms indeed, but 'tis by Witch­craft only, the Devil has sent her an Inchanting Out-side, t' impose on a young Amorous Fellow's Reason, till he [...]s reliev'd by wise Considera­tion; but then the Hag appears in her true colours, and nothing's seen but hellish ugliness.

I've cause to think this true, but yet must love her. Nay, by Heaven, it s [...]ems to me unnatural, to believe her treacherous; a thou­sand times—with Sighs, and trickling Tears, that down her Rosy Cheeks have sweetly fell — Has she sworn Constancy;

And a thousand times with fulsome scoffs and laughter, has she behind thy back abus'd thy kindness, and turn'd thy passionate Love to ridicule. Besides, prithee be not so blind to think her true for weep­ing, for Sighs and Tears are the Whore's Ammunition, the Tools and Implements of their damn'd profession: Thus, like the Prince o'th' Air, they use both Elements, and Blow and Rain, as often as they please.

So you think to all Mankind alike for Profit, she doles her private favours.

Most certainly, unless she's catch'd as the Jilt sometimes is, and falls in love: then the strongest back still carries her; he that has big­gest Bones, and drudges best. A pox on Merit, Wit, and Learning, Truckle the lustiest Bargeman is her best Philosopher.

Damn [...]d hellish Creature.

I believe I can luckily give thee an instance of this presently, for just now as I was coming to find thee out, I chanc [...]d to meet that Nau­seous fool Sir Blunder: I know not how, but it came into my Head to revenge my self, and wean thee from thy passion, to try him with Van­dosme; to pursue which, I told hi [...], she had kind thoughts of him; he ignorant of thy Intrigue with her, like a sense [...]ess Gudgeon, swal­lows the Bait greedily, and told me he would go presently and con­trive a Billet-doux for her, and come and shew it me. — I told him I should be here, and expect him in two Minutes.

Nay, if she cope with that Brute.

Why, that Brute has Money, and your t [...]ue Ji [...]t shall cope with that or any other Brute for Profit, with two Legs or with f [...]ur; take that for Gospel. Oh, here he comes, as merry as a

success­ful Lover, and laughing at the conceit of his rar [...]s [...]rowl, and the Rich­ness of his fancy in't, I warrant.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha — dear Devil ha, ha, ha, ha, ha— dear Son of a Bitch, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, Rog [...]e, ha, ha, ha, Rascal, ha, ha. I have done such a ha, ha, ha, such a ha, ha, ha,—such a thing—such a piece of Wit, ods Sacrament, nothing in al [...] France can mend it, I'm sure — ha, ha, ha, here prethee read — how now, who's that — hold, hold a little.

Oh, only a friend of mine — he's one that understands these sort of things very well—and has a great value for you and your Coun­try, Sir Blunder.

Has he, hal [...], 'tis a good tolerable sort of a scoundrel to look to. Dost thou understand Wit, Dogs-head—

Enough to commend yours, Sir Blunder — is it to a Lady?

Ay, ye Whelpsface, ha, ha, ha, — 'tis ha, ha, — tis ha, ha, ha, — 'tis to a Lady — if thou'lt have the word lac d, for my part now I love plain-work, I call 'em all Whores, faith.—Come, pri [...]hee good Scoundrel read it, let's hear, Gad I have tickled her off, I was in a confounded witty humour, when I writ it.

You plaguy confou [...]ded, little tempting Devil you.

Ha, ha, ha, smart — ha, ha, ha, smart — conceit at [...]irst dash — I love to begin merrily with the Jades—hah—

You begin very merrily with her indeed, Sir.

You can't believe I was such a Loggerhead, but that like a Cun­ning, Sly-leering, Tittilizing Quean, as you are, I minded your Ogling yester­day.

Ha, ha, ha, — smart agen—go on dea [...] Mongrel.

And if yours and my Father, Mother, Brothers, and Sisters, Un­kles, and Aunts, and all the Dogs & Bitches in both our Families should have hang'd themselves to hinder it — I could not forbear sending you my mind in this Letter.

Good agen, ha, ha, was not I a witty Dog there—humph!

Oh a prodigious witty Dog.

I know you are a well gascoin'd good handsom Iade, and you shall know that I am an honest, blunt, thundering strong-back'd Rascal, who in the hu­mour I'm in, resolve to beat up thy quarters.

Strong and sinewy still—on, on, to the conclusion, dear Rogue.

And since I have 500 l. to throw away upon a young Doxy, as well as other Fools, let your back door be open, do ye hear, about nine, and if I ha [...]'t a smack at yourChops before ten, say I amthe Son of a Mastiff, who now Sub­scribe my self — The obsequious puppy, and languishing Lapdog, Blunder-Bosse.

Right, Rogue, in great Letters at bottom, ha, ha, ha, Gad it makes me laugh to think how fast the Wit flow [...]d from me; why the Devil dost not laugh, how canst forbear? why ye grave Hermaphrodite thou do [...]t not laugh at me.

Ha, ha, ha, ha, — Gad, but I do, Sir, and more then that, I'll secure ye all that know ye shall laugh at ye.

Gad, I'le send it to London by the next Post; and have it Printed in the next Collection of Letters, that come out by the topping Wits there. I know a Bookseller that will give any rate for't, to set off the rest.

Why, faith, your stile will be very particular, Sir Blunder.

Pox on't I, if there were a thousand, tho I'm told there is but one comes to her — A Count they say, but a pitiful sneaking Puppy.

What says the Dog?

Nay, Fiesque, is this your temper?

Well, with [...]e good [...] scoundrel I [...]ll go and dispatch this away immediately, and afterwards, if e're I meet any Count there, I'll kick the Son of a Whore to Attoms

Oh, Slave, 'dsheart must I bear this and not cut his Throat.

Ye must; he is not worth your anger; besides, remember, friend, this fool is to be the touchstone to try the nature of that Jilt Van­dosme, and so procure thy happiness and freedom: Come, let's go and take a turn or two in the Garden, and then come again, perhaps she may have dispatcht her new Intrigue by that time and return.

Not within sayst thou, Sweet heart?

No indeed, my Lord — Oh dear, upon my veracity she'll be [Page 28] extreamly concerned to be from home, when your Grace does her this honour of a Visit, but she's so teized about recovering an Estate from some kindred of hers, and the troublesome Lawyers do so plague her eve­ry, day that I speak sincerely, my Lord, she's hardly ever at quiet for 'em.

Shes so incomparable a Beauty, that I should rather have thought her Lovers, than her Lawyers had plagu'd her.

Lovers — alas—upon my veracity, my Lord, her head's up­on something else, but she seldom stays lo [...]g out, and if your Grace pleases to take a turn or two in the Garden, I'll run and inform you the very minute she comes.

Ay, with all my heart.

Your Grace's most humble Servant, I'll go watch her coming.

This is a subtle Quean, for all her simpering, and train'd to lye; she's one o'th' Devils Scrutores, cramm'd full of secret sins, and never open'd but by the potent Master-Key cal [...]'d Gold: However, I am arm'd, and if I can by cunning, or some expence, discover from her Mi­stress, who I perceive is great with Guillamour, what I suspect b [...]tween him and my Wife, I have my ends; the Viper shall then leave gnawing me to prey on them: If she comes, to nights the time; if not, a Let­ter fill'd with Golden promises, and the present of some Jewel, shall charm her in the morning.

Are you sure the Coast is clear?

Yes, yes, very sure; they are all gone into the Garden, and if the truth were known, with heavy hearts.

Ay, 'tis all one; I had rather their hearts were out, than I had lost this dear minute.

Well, Madam, I see I shall never leave your service till I'm quite damn'd about it: This is the three and twentieth lye I have told to day for ye; Lord have mercy upon me, what will become of my Soul!

O prethee go and employ thy Soul in adding to the Musical per­formance within, that's all the use thou hast for't that I know of; for my part, I have not thought of my own this seven year. Come, my dear Lord.

Dear, sweetest Creature, I am charm'd to follow thee. Oh, I shall tire thee, my Dear. Besides, Fiesque may come.

—And go, when he does come, he has prov'd that already. Oh my dear Lord, there is vast difference between the man loves me, and him I love. Fiesque is witty, honest, brave, and generous. I know he loves me too, even to dispairing; but what's all this when inclination shuns him, I have no relish of his entertainment, he always treats me with a pall'd repast, which tho it feeds me, yet still it leaves me hungry.

And shall not I be pall'd too and insipid, when your nice fan­cy's pleased to change the Diet?

Oh no, you are a Regalia where there's all variety, your Tongue; your Face, your Shape, your Charming Air, your Motion, Mein, your every look's a Banquet: Y'are like that sweet Tree in the Sunny Continent, where all the best Spices grow together; and if you [...]an but bloom with Flowers of Constancy.

Oh enough of em to make a tollerable Nosegay, never fear, Child. Dear Dutchess I beg thy pardon, for I [...]m a very lying Rogue.

Could you but love me only, for your sake I'd sacrifice the rest of human kind, but you are an Englishman, and of a Nation, famous for Levity, full of wavering fancies; you are ne're contented with the pre­sent good, tho Ruin follows still the vice of changing.

Gad she has nick'd us to a hair, right as she had the Spirit of Prophesy. The very Women now have found us out.—This is our blessed Character all the World over.

Gurse on him — the impertinent is come back — Come, my [...]ord, let's go in agen to my Chamber, I'm resolved I won't see him.

Oh no, not now, for his curiosity must needs disturb us; be­sides, you must see him a little sometimes, 'twill give the less occasion to [Page 30] suspect us. I'll slip down the back stairs.

Hell take him, would he were blind. Oh how nauseous an old teizing Lover is, when our eager thoughts are bent upon a new one, I will not see him.—Grossi [...]re, do you come back and invent another lye?

Nay, Faith, you must do it your self now, for I have ne [...]re a one ready.

How different are the various accidents that still attend on Love, what vast distinctions between the happy and unfortunate: Now is Ton­nerre gone flush'd with expectation, to meet his charming Countess; lucky fellow! The Planets all conspire to bless his Minutes, whilst I, born in an unpropitious hour, wait for those favours, which the Fair in­grate, perhaps, just now is giving to another.—How now, what's here a Letter-case— 'tis so; by your leave, secret Carrier, you may make some discovery — hah, by Heaven, a Picture too, and of the charming Dutchess de Sannserre, join'd with a Letter of her Hand-writing, and Subscrib'd to the Lord Guillamont — Hell and Furies, 'tis plain now he has been lately here with false Vandosme, and negligently dropt these in his extasie, and to confirm it more, see here her Glove, wrought with Gold Flowers, the ve [...]y Glove I gave her; here has been claspings, twi­nings, close embraces, the hand that wore this circling round his Neck— Oh Jilt, vile Woman, base, ungrateful Traitress; oh here comes her Emissary, down passion for a moment, now where's your Lady? —

Not return'd yet, Sir, and affirmatively I fear, since her coming is so delay'd, that the Gentlewoman she went to see, has prevail'd with her to stay and dine

Very good, there's one lye gone already, and no doubt three or four more ready at her Tongues end; she keeps 'em lump'd up for her use in the corner of her Jaw, as a Monkey does the remainder of his dinner. Come, pray draw near a little, and answ [...]r, if you please, af­firmatively, do you know this?

Hah, my Lady's Glove! Oh unlucky negligence,

O me, what, has your Lordship found one of my Gloves? pray give it me, my Lord, I left it here about half an hour ago, there's the fellow on't within.

Good agen, there's another lye gone ou [...] of the lump; the stock will waste plaguily at this rate—Your Glove, Sock-mender, did I get this work done to Embroider your dirty Golls, hah? Besides, a pox on ye, your Gloves are both of em on.

Oh dear! so they are affirmatively.

Are they so? good Pomatum-pot, by which then I think your veracity is made out very plain, besides a Letter carelessly left here, sub­scribed to the Lord Guillamour; and a Picture too of the Lady that sent it, sufficiently tells me what Gentlewoman has been visited. Go, hunt her out, and tell her from me, that I'm glad her price is so faln, that [Page 31] she's subservient to one, that I find only uses her as a foyl to another. I have some other advices for her, tell her, which she shall have; at pre­sent I have chang'd my mind of seeing her: Away, and pray deliver this with your best veracity.

Oh dear, but really your Lordship is under a great mistake, a­bout my Lord Guillamour's being here on her account, tho your Lordship has found a Picture, and some things relating to him, yet I can assure your Lordship, upon my veracity, that my Lord Guillamour; I mean that my Lady, I-I-I say, that my Lord has been do-do-do doing, humph, that my Lady has been do-do-do doing, pish, that my Lord, humph, that my Lady. —

Humph, that my Lord and my Lady have been do-do-do doing a great deal of business, I don't doubt. Go, go, therefore without stut­tering more about the matter and do yours.

O dear, I can't get out one bit of a lye more, affirmatively. Ex.

This last lye was ty'd to the lump a little faster than the rest, and could not get passage. Stay, who comes here; hah, the Duke de San­serres; can his haughtiness condescend to an intrig [...]e with her too? Damn her, she deals will all sorts, qualities, and constitutions; now I have Gall enough to make his Veins Crackle with fiery rage, by shewing him his Ladies Picture and Letter here: But than I have a thought of putting the last to a better use, and since Guillamour and his Grace have privately their designs upon my Mistress, I'll try what my Brain can work out of this to effect upon his Wife.

She's not come yet I find. I must therefore have patience till to morrow. How now, who's this? My Lord Fiesque! Why this is half a Miracle, for you and I to meet in a young Ladies Lodgings: For my part, I am a grave Married Man which keeps my visit from sus­picion, but if my Amorous Lord Guillamour, who doats on her so, should find you, I fear there would be Heart burnings.

So, he knows of their Intrigue too, they are come to doting upon one another, it seems, already. My Lord, this may indeed pass upon me for a common visit of yours, but if the Dutchess knew of it, I question whether she would not have other sentiments; I believe she could hardly defend her self from jealousy, my good Lord.

Hah, that was meant as a hit to me.

Well, Count, your double entendre is not quite lost upon me, the shaft came a little oblique 'tis true, but we know your design was to aim right; and tho you care not to marry, and venture on your own Wife to be the Target, yet at another man's White, no doubt but you'd prove a very good Marks-man.

When ever I marry, my Lord, it shall be to such a one, that shall be uncapable to shoot others, and consequently, I need not fear her being shot at her self.

Oh this is cunningly crying down the Market, like one that's buying a rich Bargain of Land, and is afraid of being over-bid, and ha­ving it bought out of his hand by another — Come, come, Count, I know you love Beauty.

Ay, too well, to marry a Beauty that every body will love as well as my self, my Lord. Besides, I should hate to be jealous and stint the poor things of a little liberty; I should never think that giving 'em an inch they would take an ell: not I, I should always love to have em satisfy'd.

Faith, Count, if so little as you say will satisfy 'em, they must be very poor things indeed.

Ah, if that be the best reason for a Husband's jealousy, I should hold my old opinion. You see here my Lord, this picture in my hand.

Well, my Lord, and what of that.

Hah, the Duke de Sanserre and Fiesque here. By heaven, and my Picture that I lost, and have fretted so about, open in his hand.

'Tis of a Lady and infinitely beautiful.

Do I know her, prithee let me see it.

'Dshea [...] and death, not for a hundred thousand Worlds, my Lord. I must beg your pardon to concern my self in this matter, 'tis the Picture of a Relation of mine which I lost out of my Pocket: She's a Nun in Brussels, and excluding her self fr [...]m the World, oblig'd me up­on Oath, to keep her Picture from all Eyes. The priviledge this acci­dent has given yoo already▪ my Lord, is past my power of hindering, but, Fiesque, as you are a man of Honour.

And is not your Honour a little tainted, my Lord, in being false to her that gave this Picture, and does not the discovery of your flight here, at my Quarry, oblige me to a Revenge.

— Upon me what you please, but considering the Lady's quality and merit — to all men of honour her reputation ought to be sa­cred.

But there may be a very great reason for my seeing it, perhaps, my Lord, I have lost a Picture too.

You can't lose my Picture, my Lord, therefore I must beg your excuse; besides, my Relation here has a very long Nose, which is not customary, my Lord, in your French family.

My French Family have as good Noses and Faces belonging to 'em, as e [...]re an English Family in Christendom — and now I think more on [...]t, I believe I am concerned in the Picture—

Not in this, I once more am positive.

Nay, that 'tis his Picture, I must joyn with him there, but as to the Lady she may be related to both, for ought I know. However, to deal like a Man of Honour, the property being his, I must restore it to him.

And now my Lord, pray a word in pri­vate.

The property may be only his indeed, and it is not impossible that it may be mine too; but then methinks 'tis unnatural to believe that this Wild English Colt can have his Leaps with both of 'em, tho I once had an account of a hot fellow of that Na [...]ion, that debauch [...] whole Family together, the Mother, two Aunts, three Daughters, and four Niece [...], all at a time; [...]ut damn him this is not authentick enough to prove his double intrigue here: My Letter to morrow therefore to Vandosm must dissolve my doubt, I'll go and write it instantly.

The Duke is gone dissatisfy [...]d; and now, my Lord, I think you have reason to say I am a man of honour.

That I shall always say, I hope too I have satisfy'd you as to my proceedings with your Mistress Vandosm; I fear you and I are but two of her Lovers, my Lord; what discovery happens more, upon my honour, you shall know, and so your humble Servant.

As far as Generosity, by your own example obliges me, I am yours too, but you shall give me leave to be even with you if I can▪ Mistress for Mistress 'tis fit I should be rewarded, either by m [...]rit or stra­tagem; here is the Letter still, which I find he has forgot; this, with my cunning management, may give me a sweet revenge, and serve him in his kind too: Let me see—Hah, in a Poetical strain, by Heaven; I have heard indeed she had a pretty talent that way.

Oh charming Creature and above mortally happy Guillamour, was there ever any thing so tender; but now for the Postscript.

I shall be in the Arbor at the end of the Garden, every night about ten, which is the only time I have to undress, and my Husband spares me to play at Chess with his old Steward; the Maid will be at the back door, to be your Guide in the dark, if your heart inclines you to wast one short hour in my Conversation: Come therefore and be sure to make no noise — So, these are as plain instructions as heart can wish, and I am resolved to supplant this happy Lover, come what will on't, if I can but get in first, 'twill be easie to lock him out, and I'll be as punctual as the moment.

SCENE II.

Hang the Cards, I never have any luck when I play with you.

Quite contrary, for you never have better luck than when you play with me.

I won't play out the Game, I'm resolv'd you shan't conquer me now.

What now? You're got into your Petticoats agen, you think to bully me, Gad if you had been in Breeches, I'd have had satisfaction: Besides, I wonder you should talk of Conquering, I'm su [...]e at the end of the play, you have always the better of me.

Pish, you are always wresting ones words to your own silly meaning, if I should talk of a Charnel-house, on my Conscience, your lewd fancy would turn it to a House of good entertainment.

No, Child, not unless we had some Flesh there too, to make up our entertainment; to have a Regalia of all Bones only, is fitter for a Hound, than a Whore master.

Come, come, let's go into my Sister's Closet, and unbridle her Pegasus, she's making Verses there.

With all my heart: Oh, I love a Billet in Rhime from a sweet Lady, with all my Soul. Exeunt.

So, now I think my intelligence to my Lord, will be worth discovery; for the first that went into my Lady's Closet, was a man I am sure, I have observ'd him up and down here for two or three days to­gether, and just now I found his Coat and Breeches in an Alcove above Stairs, and who, now to keep his Intrigue the more secret, is gone to her in a female dress. This is a discovery worth Gold, Faith, and I'll give my Lord an account of it immediately.

What, Poetical Sophistry too, gad, Madam, you ought to be Arraign'd before Apollo, by all his Sons, for usurping their Masculine prerogative. Methinks your Province should be Loves soft Government, or Wits Fairy [...]and, and not grave sophistical Arguments. Why does not your Ladyship write a Play?

Because, like a new unpractic'd Pilot, tho I can make shift to steer my Vessel in a calm, yet in a storm, and where so many Rocks are too, I never durst have the rash assurance yet, to ven­ture splitting.

Pho? 'Tis not a small Rock, Sister, that can hurt a Woman, when her fancy is so vigorous as yours is. Besides, you have Examples enough: yo [...] see here are Poetical Sapho's venturing among the cri­tical Rocks every day; and I dare swear for 'em, with as little fear of splitting, as if, like little Pinnaces, they were entering a Dock where a Vessel was Riding of two hundred Tun.

[...] ha, ha — Faith, I e [...]en long, Madam, to see some of [Page 35] your productions in that kind, I'm sure they must be good, and full of fancy Come, I'll help ye to a Theme, and give ye a Name—Let me see, you shall call it the — humph —

Pish—you are as long in inventing a Name, as a good Poet would be writing an Act. If I were to undertake such a thing, I'd call it without more ado—The Intrigues at Versailles.

Good—that would raise expectation, Sister, because there's a double entendre in't: The Intrigues at Versailles — or, we must have an or—ye know.

Or, the Court Cuckolds—you must have something of Cuck­old-making in't, or else the Comedy won't be worth a farthing —

Phoo, and that jest is as stale too, as Matrimony is after the first twelve-month. — No, we'll have, or—let me see, or — ha, ha, ha, or the Count in Petticoats.

No, no, Sister, methinks the Countess in Breeches would do as well — ha, ha, ha,—and make a Character of a wild giddy head­ed young thing, that run out of the Country where her old Husband left her.

Ha, ha, ha, ay, and for the love that she bore to the aforesaid Breeches.

No, prithee the Count's love to the aforesaid Petticoats, will come better in first: And then to embellish it with the Character of a fine Poetical Lady, that has a horrible jealous Husband, and that uses him so properly, ha, ha, ha, ha.

That also keeps Company with an old Beau, who fancying his Wife is conserving in the Country, gives her opportunity to come to Court here, and use him so properly — ha, death, damnation, here he comes.

'Tis he by Heaven — curst accident—I have ne're a Mask neither — Oh, if he sees me I'm undone.

Why how now? What a Lady hide her self from me, that must never be said, (goes to see her. Tonn. hinders.) Pox, prithee, dear Empress, tell her I love Ladies; and if she be a friend to her that charms me, I'll wear her in my heart, tell her, as I do thee, my pretious—Goes to embrace her: She clasps about his Neck, and kissing, covers his Face, whilst L. Brissac goes out.

Oh my dear Count—

Oons, I'm in Heaven — oh, my lovely, dear, enchanting Creature! Why this is beyond imagination—I never was so hap­py before.

That embrace was wittily contriv'd o'th' sudden, he had certainly discover'd her else. Come, come off now. Count, you'll smother the Lady.

Ay, come, let's have a little Air—So, now I'm a little cooler.

And so am I now too, well, I am the happiest fellow—phoo— phoo —

Gad, these Love toyes have a greater fatigue in 'em than I imagin'd.

I must after her, and know where she hides, or else this old fool has disappointed me still.

What is she gone? gad I must Rally agen, I must not leave her so. Come, Madam, how shall we divert this Afternoon, are you for the Opera or Gardens. Hah, come, for my part I'm for any thing.

And at these years, troth, that [...] little less than a wonder. Well, Count, we'll resolve of that within; in the mean time let me give ye a little good advice.

'Gad thou't in the right — so I intend

SCENE I.

ANd have you really ventur'd, Madam, to send for the Count, after your resolution of not seeing him, and the last whim­sical trick you put upon him?

Yes that I have, and expect him here every minute — Resolu­tion ye fool, why what signifies a womans resolution, when any turn of interest appoints the contray? hast thou glean'd all this while from the harvest of my fertile brain, and have I taught thee so long in my own Instructive Catechism, to boggle at a silly word that signifies nothing? Resolution - why ye Moon-calf, I have resolv [...]d, and unresolv [...]d, and re­solvd agen, forty times in an hour, if the occasion has been proper.

And will the Onion that's wrapt up in the Handkerchief, and the repentant [...]story, and the Tears that shall issue thereupon pass upon him, think you, you know he's no fool.

Yes mine always — and so are all Mankind when I think fit — thou shalt see me mould his heart in the palm of my Hand like foft Wax, till I make it bear what impression I please. Always▪ remember this from me▪ a man is no longer wise than when a Woman is indifferent to him, if ever he falls in Love once, farewel Brains, his Wit deserts him presently—he's just like a Witch, detected when ever she's in hold once, her favorite Devil leaves her; But come now to our busi­ness. You say the Fool, Sir Blunder, that sent me this comical Love De­claration, is come already.

Yes, and I have lock'd him up in the Inner-chamber according to your order.

There let him stay then a little, and tell the Louisd Ors over, that he has brought me for Entrance money, for as sordid a Clown as he is, he knows nothing but the Gold Key can unlock the Cabinet of my Conversation. — So there let him cool a little, whilst in complaisance to the Duke de 'Sanserre's Letter, as also to deserve his noble Present here,

but particularly to revenge my self on Guilla­mour, whom I now know to be false, I'll discover the Intrigue between him ct the Dutchess, you saw the Letter in the Count's hand you say; that was found with the Picture.

Yes, and am sure it must come from the Dutchess by his follow­ing words. Tell her, says he with a scornful Air▪ I am glad her price is so fall [...]n, and that she's subservient to one that only uses her as foyl to another.

A foyl to another. Death—how that word inflames me. Be­sides▪ I find now too the reason of the Traitor's coldness, when I desir'd him to go in a second time; he had a greater summ to pay, it seems, and and so sneakingly only popp'd me off with h [...]s odd Money; but I'll re­venge my self on both, and by prevailing insinuation, and my never failing Tears, wheadle that Letter out of fond Fiesque, then shew it to the Duke to undo 'em; you have told the other fool within, that I'm at present only a little busie with a Relation that came to visit me.

I have told what you bid me, but affirmatively, Madam, it shocks me strangely to think that you should abuse the generous good natur'd Count; for such a horrid Monster as this Blunder, I swear I am extreamly dissatisfied.

You are dis [...]atisfied?

Well Madam as inconsiderable as you think me now, my Wit at a pinch sometimes, has done yo [...] considerable service. And I must be so bold to say once more, affirm [...]tively, I admire you should Jilt the Count for this Monster; for, if you would but give your self time to think a little, you'd find there's ne're a man in France, fuller of Love, fuller of Generosity, fuller of Wit good Humour, and all gentle Quali­ties upon my veracity, than the injur'd Coun [...]t is — but for the t'other.

But for the t'other—upon my veracity, he has one solid Vir­tue in a fu [...]l Purse of Louisd'Ors which he has brought yonder, that ex­cels all the Count's good Qualities together. He has come empty handed of late, and whenever he does so, I fancy his Qualifications weaken extremely.

Oh horrid forgetfulness, 'tis but a very few hours since, to my knowledge, he presented ye with a very good Diamond Ring, and be­fore that, hardly ever saw ye, without some acknowledgement o [...] other. Besides, a true Love always relish'd with a strong Inclination; what qualification has the t'other▪ I wonder?

Money▪ ye fool, Money.

The Count has a pretty Address, an excellent vein in Musick and Poety, and then the charms of such a Tongue, what can compare with it?

Money, Money, ye Ass, Money —

Besides, a Love so endearing and he himself so indefatigable, in proving it that even I my self that have been season'd in your prin­ciples, and bred as very a Jilt as your self — I beg your pardon, Madam, I cannot help owning his Perfection — can you deny this —has he any equal?

Money, Money, Money, Money, Money, Money.

Damnation on Money, have I not seen you sometimes in your freak, throw it like dirt about the room; nay, what has vext me to the Soul, and seems almost incredible—to a fellow you have fancy'd I have seen you refund; a thing unnatural to the two great damning fun­ctions of the World, Whores and Lawyers.

Pish, thy Soul is so sordidly mercenary, it can set no value up­on pleasure, which as well as I love Money, I always fix the highest rate upon. Besides, Bullion may be scarce, and then to Traffick with Goods for other Goods will be practicable. And don't you believe, I­diot, but that if ever I refund my Money, I have a prospect of other returns. — Hark, that's the Count's knock, — away, and remember your cue, leave me to manage him.

You cannot blame me, Madam, if after some late passages I am surpriz'd, to find my self summon'd hither by so obliging a Letter. 'Tis so extravagant a turn, that I fear I dream, or am in Fairy-land, where joys are only visionary. Pray resolve me, are you thus kind indeed, is it substantial happiness?

Pray sit down —

How irresistable are Beauty's charms, when such a gentle softness makes addition — hah — Tears too

Oh, you know I am not proof against 'em — whoever those dear pearly Treasures fall for, I am most prone to grieve.

They only fall for you.

Nay, do not kill me quite — A phrase like that, if true, wou'd murder me with Rapture—for Charity's sake, abuse me not so grossly, nor use my oft-try'd fondness to my ruine.

I do confess you ought not to believe, if my past faults sway your consideration. But, Sir, the vilest Creature may repent: Though Ihave sinn'd, Iam not reprobate; by all the sacred powers they are for you, and could Repentance this way merit pardon, thus they should drop e­ternally.

For me, for poor neglected me? What can I think of this!

Think me no real Devil, and every other wickedness I do confess, I've been in my ingratitude, for I have us'd the best of men most vilely, but oh my Conscience now flies in my face—now now — I smart for't—

Is it possible!

It is, dear Sir, it is — believe these Sighs, these true repentant Words and real Tea [...]s —

The brightest Jems that Beauty can put on, to make her self more Lovely — oh, who can resist 'em,

I wrong'd your Love, by an intrigue with Guillamour; your true, your generous, your perfect Love, that valued me in spight of Injuries. I own it, Sir, and thus low beg your pardon:

Oh, I could stab or tear my self in pieces, when I reflect upon my baseness to ye.

Nay, nay, sweet — no violence, I do forgive thee all.

Can you be so good.

So good! why [...]adst thou murder'd all my Family, ruin'd my Fortune, consum [...]d my Health, done Injuries above all human malice; yet, pleading in this posture, with those Tears, that lovely look, so us [...]d to charm my Heart, I should [...]orgive thee: Oh thou sweet influencer —

Charming, kind Fiesque— if I prove false agen —

Oh, I cannot doubt thee, this must be now the last of all our differences, forget but Guillamour, and then, my Love—

Forget him, yes, and for substantial reasons, my dear friend, for as you gave me a hint lately, I find he made me only a Minutes property, whilst his more lasting intrigue was with another, Witness the Picture and Letter which you found of his—I know he will visit me agen, to renew with [...]e upon better leisure: And if I had but ei­ther of them to fling in his face now, I should fit him rarely: What have you done with 'em, my dearest?

Why, Faith upon a high point of generosity, I gave him the Picture agen, but for the Letter —

Oh, if you have but that 'twill be enough — look in your Pock­et, dear Sir, and give it me to show him, and he shall know nothing but that I found it. I know the sight of it, I must give occasion for such a quarrel, as will be past all reconcilement, which is my design, for then I am yours entirely —

She has me agen — nor can I, for mySoul, help believing every word she says. We [...]l, tho we are reconciled, and do I give her this Let­ter, to compleat my Revenge upon Guillamour, she shall excuse my pre­sent design upon the Dutchess, or else I am not even with her : Her having it hinders me nothing, I know the contents well enough. There 'tis, Child, and let it, as you say, be thought as if you found it.

It shall, and doubt not but you shall be pleas'd with the effects of it,

She has her ends, and now 'tis my time to enter.

Oh hang him, she tell me, my dear, that nauseous fool: Sir Blunder B [...]sse is come to visit me, I'm sure you ca [...]t be jealous of that [Page 40] Monster; but I would not have him see you with me, because you kn [...]w 't [...]s such a prating fool —

Ay, he is so, therefore dear Child, for the present adieu:

I [...]m glad it hapned thus, for this being the hour, I should else have been puzled for an excuse to get away to the Dutchess; Humph! A double intrigue upon my hands, and with two such Angels, the Devil [...]s in't if I am not a happy Man now.

So, here's the L [...]tter, and in it the utter ruine of Guillamour's intrigue with his fine Poetical Lady; I [...]ll teach her to call me her foy! — ha, ha, ha, and then I can't forbear Laughing, to think how ar­tificially I have play [...]d this last Tear-shedding Scene— Here prethee take away the nasly Onion and Handkerchief, and give me another dipt in some Orange-flower Water to wipe my fingers.

Nay, you are a rare Actress, I [...]ll [...]ay that for you — What, and you are resolv'd then that Beast Blunder shall come.

Come, fool, yes, and this minute too; I'll supple my Face with a little Pomatum and Powder, to get it [...]n order, and then let him enter.

Pox on him, I can hardly endure the thoughts of him. Well, be sure you seize his Money on the first Attack, or e [...]se, the Devil take me, if I shall not rail outright.

Harkee, you Flea-bitten, thou seemst to be a very good neces­sary Quean, prethee get a Faggot or two into the next room against we come in — I have stay'd so long there without Fire, that, gadzooks, I'm damnably cold.

And where's the Money? without Money you may get 'em your self, if you please; for my part I do [...]'t owe ye so much service.

Why, how now, ye piece of old Hat, what are ye musty? the Jade's as musty as a st [...]le pot of Marmalade of her own making.

What sayst thou my pretty Baggage of ten thousand, shan't we have a Fire and a Bottle? ha.

Ay, by all means, Sir Grossiere, hold your Tongue, go and get a Fire.

Ay, do do, old Tag-snapper, and then look to the Door, do ye hear, that no body come and disturb us why, what ye lowring Jade, you know your function sure.

She [...]s gone, Sir; and in the mean time pray come and [...]it down.

Where's Money a sawcy Sow; Gad my Credit's very bad sure, if'twon't go for the price of a Faggot—And I think here's a Witness strong enough to shew, that the Family of the Bosseers hate to be stin­gy. There [...]s a hundred Louisd' Ors for ye, ye little twinckling Devil; and now give me a buss.

Your humble Servant, Sir,—a hundred Louisd'Ors, why, [Page 41] then the Devil take me, if the man be half so disagreeable, as I thought him.

Gad the Gipsie has a pure tickling touch with her; her Lips are as soft as Butter, they almost melt in my Mouth. Gadzooks I like her better than my former Punck the Potato-woman, a thousand times.

I warrant he'd cuff lustily, before A Woman should be taken from him—I like such a well-set Fellow, do ye hear; bring a Flask of Champaign hither.

Why▪ well said? Gad I must have t'other Buss, I must Faith. Hearkee, dost hear, I can't Complement and play the Fool, as the Coxcomby, F [...]ashy, Town Sons-of-Whores do, but I love thee [...]oundly; [...]nd, gadzooks, will give thee as hearty proof on't, as e're a fellow in Christendom.

Indeed, Sir, I'm extremely inclin'd to believe ye, your Air and Shape, shews ye to be a very good friend to a Woman.—

Nay, thou seest I'm lusty enough, if that will do't: My back is three quarters broad, measur [...]d by a Dutch Burgo-master's Yard, and the Calf of my Leg, eighteen Inches Diameter.

Well, I know not what ails me, but, methinks the blunt hu­mour of this fellow wins me strangely; methinks there's something so very new in him.

Pox on your cringing flashy Coxcombs —Come Chuck, sit down, and to make us merry, I have two English Chairmen without, shall sing a humour made upon on of those Puppies — Hey, Chairmen, come in their, bring the Chair, and Act it as you us'd to do.

Oh, she has the Purse, I see▪ Well, there's a Fire now?

Oh, that's well, tho, Gad I'm warmer by a great deal than I was: Give me a Woman I can excuse a Faggot at any time.

Nay, I believe a very little brush would kindle your Faggot, Sir. Come, here's your Health in a Bumper.

Why, Gad-a-mercy —ah, well drawn faith, — gad I must dis­patch quickly, I see the Jade will make me Drunk else. Come here's thy Health now, and zooks, to the happy Minute.

Gad I have mauld her already, the silly fool's in love with me, ha, ha, ha.

What a Devil does she mean by their Advances

Come, ne're stand [...]mpering for the matter; dost love me, my Lusious Landabrides.

By all the Arts of Woman-kind I do,

he has betwitch'd me sure — what if I should, Sir,

Marry, the Devil fetch him first — what dee mean, Madam▪

Hearkee, Goodee Crape, get you to your Post, or I have such a Salt-Eel in my Pocket for ye,

Huswife, get you gone—

Get me gone, Madam?

Ay, get you gone, Huswife, Jade, Cockatrice, oons, I'll maul ye else.

'Sdlife, here's likely to be fine work indeed, by her eager Ogling him, on my Conscience; she loves the Brute, and then she's ruin [...]d andI too.

Gad, thou canst not deny't, I see it plainly now, I see it in thy Phiz, thou dost love me.—Why how now, ye simple Quean you, why, what are ye asham [...]d to own it.

If you can be grateful, I must own it: Come, I've a cold Treat within, we'll go and eat it.

Ay, with all my heart, zooks, what a lucky dog am I. Nay, Faith, let me be Purse-bearer too then, let my gratitude appear altogether,

Zoons, you won't part from the Money, Madam.

Not with the Money, Sawcy-face, why who shall hinder? Hearkee, hold your Tongue, or —

Hinder it! 'Sdlife I [...]ll hinder it — why, what are ye Mad — dee know what you are doing.

Why how now, impudence, dare you dispute my Actions, Hus­wife, give it me, or I [...]ll tear your Eyes out.

You are an impudent Slut indeed, to dare to dispute our Actions. Come little Bo [...]a-roba, let [...]s go in and eat, humph, make your Curtsie and shew respect to your Master and Lady, ye Jade

Ten thousand Furies take her, is there in nature such another Succubus, not only to oblige her felf to a Monster like him, but in the Devils name, in her Cups, to refund his Money too: Oh, I shall run di­stracted at the thought on't, and she has vex'd me so, that I have a good mind to set Fire to the Lodgings, and burn 'em about her Ears, senseless Devil, [...]dsdeath, to pervert the main Topick of our function.

Subtlety, against method we [...] [...]ur Gain [...]

SCENE II. A Garden.

Then sister, you are resolv'd, you say, to go to this Masque­rade, at the Duke de Creque's—since your last scape from your Husband, I swear you grow as bold as a Lyon.

I have some thoughts of going, and yet the Musick that I hea [...] is to be at the Marquis de la F [...]rt's, makes me lean a little on t'other side—or else there's Basset at my Lady Cavoy's, what if I should go and venture twenty Pistoles there.

Ay, where the old Count your [...]usband comes every night to play, who, squatting down by you on the suddain, desires the civility to go your halfes. Well, if you will run these Risques, Madam, e'en get out of 'em as you can; for my part, I have ne're another Iudas kiss for him —a plague of Bristles, he half [...]lead my f [...]ce with the last.

Nay, you ought indeed, to brag of that exploit, for I never knew a kiss that did a Woman any kindness before.

Oh, you must allow i [...] a pretty Preludium to loves Musick.

I remember I read once, a strange, old, dry-headed Poet, that was damnably puzled to find out the Etimology of it; amongst all fan­cies, says he—ay, — 'tis so.

Well, and there's another old Rhimer, as great a Crambonian as himself, that answers pa [...] thus—

Why, God-a-mercy Dogrill, gad there's a conceit or two in this, tollerably well.

Ay, ay, and will do very well, to employ your thoughts upon in another quarter of the Garden. Go, go, get you gone thither. This is Fairy-land, a place where I always exercise my Poetical Talents.

What thus, in the Dark, Sister, why you cant see to write.

But I can see well enough to think; and if you don't go quick­ly, my first thought will be, that you are impertinent if you ask any more questions. Besides, darkness is naturally a confiner of fancy; and my Muse has taug [...]t me just as people do Starlings: I sing always bes [...] when I [...]ve least light: Go, go, get ye gone, I say.

I believe sweet Sister Sterling, yours is a tenth Muse and of Male-kind, who teaches you so well with his Flage [...]et, that Company and al [...] other Music is tedious to ye. W [...]l▪ adieu, we won [...]t hinder your proficiency: I hope I shall pitch upon some pleasurable diversion, to make me amends for your absence. I'll to the Musick, stay, or to the Co­medy, [Page 45] hold, or to the Basset, or to the Masquerade, or, or,— or some where, cod I can't tell where yet; come Count.

Come Count, ay but where, where the Devil must I come?

Why, come away, I tell ye I can't tell where yet: nay, if you grow resty, farewel t'ye.

Whiew! She [...]ll be at the Indies within this half hour: Resty! gad I think I have some reason, I'm sure I [...]m run hard.

I'm glad her giddy head has hurry'd her away so opportunely, for the happy minute just now comes on when I us'd to enjoy my dear Guillamour's Conversation — and hark, methinks I hear some walking; ay, 'tis certainly he, and La Busque, for she has been waiting at the Gar­den-door above this half hour.

There Sir, that's the way into the Arbor; I'll now go in and see whither the Duke be in his Closet still.

So, she mistakes me happily; and thus far propitious fortune is favourable; let me but manage my Voice well, the rest will all be easie.

The happy Ladder that I found hard by here, in a corner of a House that's new building, has done me signal service; but yet, I can't but wonder, why la Busque should be from the door, but, perhaps my Watch went wrong, and I have mistook the hour —her diligence else doubtless had not been wanting; for which — besides — this Purse that I have brought her here, I know her L [...]dys favours are not trivial

Stay, this must be the Arbor,—hah, and sure I hear some bustling,—'tis certainly she, — the kind Soul was impatient, and is got hither before me.

Why don't you speak to me, — am I grown stale, that you a­ford me now but half the joy I us'd to have.

Hah!

I'm only speechless, with excess of Rapture.

The Devil ye are, Furies and Hell I'm jilted; and to confirm it with the strongest proof, have catch'd her in the Fact. Come, Sir, guard your self who e're you are, I'll give ye some fair play.

Hah —'tis sure the Duke —now darkness favour me.

Ah curse of Cowardize, and the clowded Stars, are ye got from me, but I shall grope ye out.

Oh, softly, dear my Lord, and do but hear me —

Witch, Traiterous Devil, — I had rather hear a Mandrake Groan, or a Toad croaking Vespers.

By all that's good, I'm innocent in Will.

By all ill, that's thy self, I [...]ll be reveng'd.

Lights, lights there—hey, within, bring lights there.

So, that's well, first let the Cuckold play his horn part, I'll try [Page 46] to find out the Intriguer to inform him further,

and I'll bribe high to charm her.

And so vile Creature, farewel for ever.

I am so confounded —I have lost my Scences; Thieves; Thieves.

Lights, lights — O my Lord I'm heartily glad you're come, I've been so horribly fr [...]ghted with Thieves.

Thieves— what a Devil make you here?

'Tis my custom, my Lord, (how I tremble!) I do so every night after Supper, (I can hardly breathe!) to exercise my Poetical fancy.

O plague on your fancy — this cursed Poetry has made more Cuckolds than all the rest of the Liberal Sciences together: Go, search round the Garden Letts, see what sort of Thieves these are.

He you take for a Thief is far enough from thee by this time I hope, for I left the Key in the door.

If I mistake not, I heard a clashing of Swords; what were they fighting about their Booty before they had it? or were you that part of my Goods and Chattels they were tilting for, hah? they chose but an ill place for't here among the Flower-knots: How now, what's here? A Purse under my feet—'Tis so, 'dsdearh, and cramm [...]d with Gold! ah, 'tis plain now, these Rogues were too rich to come hither for Mo­ney, that could so carelessly drop a Treasure here.

A Purse! oh Heavens what shall I say now!

Oh, I have it — Oh, bless me, the fright I was in has made me drop my Purse too — Pray give it me, my Lord, 'tis my Card money, I have been lucky of late at Bassett, and improv'd my allowance by good for­tune.

Your Purse?

Mine! mine, who's should it be else? Nay, pray my Lord don't open it, there's some small Gold amongst the rest, and you may drop a piece or two.

You are as eager to hinder me, as if some little dandiprat Gal­lant of yours were lurking here, but I am resolv'd to know its inside however,—that I may say once in my life, Madam, I have div'd to the bottom of our Intellects— oh, here's a Paper too, a Billet dou [...] I'll lay my life.

Ten to one he's in the right, and then I'm ruin'd past re­demption. — Oh horrid, is it possible you should still plague me with your jealousie. Curse on't, if I had but taken a little faster hold —

Oh, is your Ladiship nettled, does the curious sec [...]et press ye so st [...]ongly, that yo [...] strive to tear the

Pape [...] — 'tis excellent, — but if I mistake not, here's enough left still to give me [...]now­ledge of your virtuous inclinations — humph — let me see, t— dear, dear, Mr. la Busque.

O Lord me, — odds heart the Letter to me, and ten to one but the Purse too — oh good.

Tho you receive thi [...] little tender of my kindness, I would have you believe that I still remain in your debt; for it is not possible your late diligence to serve me, can be two well rewarded. —

L [...]t but our Intrigue be still carried on cunningly, and then let the Horn-mad jealous D —and here the rest is tore —D—what the Devil follows now— Hell and Furies — the letter D —begins Duke—Curse on't, it must bo so — for what else can it stand for.

Stand for — D — D — why, why, D D— stands for Doctor — ha, ha — L Busque, 'tis thy Letter the Son sent thee—which I found and put in my purse to keep for thee. Come▪ I hope you'll give me my Mon [...]y now.

Humph — the Devil has got her off agen — here's no certainty, tho there be plag [...]y circumstances?

Yes, yes, Madam, I remember the Letter very well, and the Purse too, Madam.

Ay, ay, I know thou dost; you remember I told you when I won it.

Not I, Madam, I remember nothing of that, but you must needs know, Madam—

I do so, as well as if it were done but yesterday; and prithee come in with me, and I'll tell thee more of him and thee, and them, the Money, and my self, and every thing, for I dare not speak a word more here, for fear my Lord should be jealous.

'Dslife, what's all this banter, this shal [...] not pass upon me: Gad I'll discover all rather than lose the Purse; I can tell her, that—

There's no one in the Garden, my Lord, but we have found the back door open, and suppose the Thieves are gone out that way.

These might be Thieves, 'tis true, and they might be Cuckold-ma­kers. Damn that thought, how it stings me; oh how insupportable a Torment is doubt, in a condition of Life from which men ought to ex­pect all quiet and security: They may talk of Local-hells I know not where, but that poor Husbands Bosoms feels the hottest that doubts, and yet must Love.— How now?

Daubray,

Ay, my Lord, I have been labouring to do you service, ever since. the last time I saw ye, and now I think I may truly say, my intelligence is to the purpose,—for I have unrevell'd such a secret.—

Hast thou, come then give it me at once, I hate a lingring pain.

'Tis this, my Lord; I observed yesterday when your Grace was gone out, a young, dapper, sparkish Fellow with my Lady.

So!

And to day, my Lord, he was here agen, but had disguis'd him­self I suppose cunningly to prevent my discovery, in Women's Cloaths.

Women's Cloaths? good.

But for all his subtlety, I suspected at first it was the face agen, and to be sure of it, I watcht matters so closely, that going into La Busque's [Page 48] Closet after she had come out, and thinking he was hid there, amongst my Lady's foul Linnen, what did I find there, my Lord, but this vile Garment, the very same that I saw him wear the day before,

The Devil—

Ay, the Devil indeed, as you say, my Lord, for it puts me so in mind of an ill Husband I had once, who was always a very infirm consump­tive person; and it brings such things into my head, that I vow to Gad I hate the Garment of all others, I have a perfect aversion for the Garment.

A plague on the Ga [...]ment, it brings some things into [...]y head too that are not very divertive: But come to the purpose, dear diligence—can I, think'st thou, surprize this young dog with her.

Without sail, my Lord; come in with me and I'll put your Lord­ship in a way immediately.

Dispatch then, I'll follow thee. —Oh, thou absurd Philosop [...]e that against human ills did preach up patience, how art thou baffled here; A Cuckolds case, I find poor lazy Drone, was [...]e're thy study. Pl [...]gue, Death and Hell? What strange new unknown punishment shall I contrive for [...]? hah, let me see? keep her from Meat a month, [...]nd starve Concupisce [...] no, that won't do, or sha [...]l I cut her piece meal▪ that's impossible — her; impudence has so case-hardned her▪ that she'll exceed the valliant Greek of old, and prove her self all o're impenetrable. Well then, to smoother her with her own Pillow, the accessary Pillow—good, then to the Forum like re­nowned Brutus, and tell the weighty reason with la [...]ge Caveat.