Act the First.

PRithee good Siren, Sing no more! Do not spread thy Nets to my undoing, nor draw me any further; I am this hour a Man of busi­ness, Business, sweet heart▪ a blessing your Function alwayes must give way to. There­fore farewell: nay now thou wilt be so trou­blesome. Sirrah, bid the Coachman make ready.

Will ye ever use me thus? I swear you are lately grown so ill natur'd▪ my patience is quite tired—What Business can you have? or i [...] it be so, methinks my Company should outweigh all.

Well said Lady Vanity—I warrant you think that glance quaintly with the Corner of your eye beares an inestimable value, and not to be possibly deserted.

Not I, I assure you —

O yes! or that the soft Rosie inside of your hand, the In­dex of youth and Wealthy Nature deserves Millions of Kisses from the Charm'd Adorer; ha! come, confess, Is not this your thought?

I need not answer, Sir, if you were as ready to have a good nat [...]r'd Opinion of me, as you are to vent your ill-natur'd Jest. But, since Rai [...]lery is your Chief Diversion, I hope I may tell you, that whatever my Person has, my Love I'm sure has deserved bet­ter usage from you.

How better usage! nay, gad, I deny that, except I have dream't all this while—By heaven thou hast like a Usurer, hoarded up my Love for this halfe year, withou [...] allowing me▪ wherewith to defray Occasional Expences; and, that Craving Creature that expects more, I think is most unconscionable.

And that dull Flegmatick Creature, that pays less, I am sure is most ungrateful— But, Is this Raillery obliging d'ee think now? Is this consistent with the Love you have protested? Are these the fruits of passion?

Passion! fy fy! name it no more! Folly, though but once recited, is too much. 'Tis sh [...]meful to hear it twice: besides, Ma­dam, Love and Passion are onely fit for vacant houres, the friends of idleness, and fowl weather, when that Divine Essence our Reason has leisure to let loose our Soules to things transitory —Tis for a Cloudy season, sweet heart▪ There's other matters to be perform'd when the Sun shines.

And pray what do you call Celestial, [...]f Love and Beauty are such transitory things?

What— Why, Immortal Wit, true Friends, sprightly Champaign, heavenly Musick, Philosophical Arguments, Exercise, and a number more. Beauty is but a Sewer to these, a Grace Cup, when the great Banquet is ended, and is used by your true Lover, as the last Course, fruit is onely for the sake of Digestion.

Well — what you please, you know your power over me.

Ha, ha, ha — Come, I have done. I'll vex thee no more. Thou knowst my peevish temper, and shouldst bear with it — Come, no more of this April weather; Heark'ee, I have bespoke a Ring of my Goldsmith for Thee. 'Twill cost me 30 Guinnies, and expect it home this morning — let that reconcile all —by heaven I do love Thee.

You did love me before you were Marry'd: but these Wives are such Covetous Creatures, They'll be sure to grutch a shilling to another, be their own Coffers never so full —

Then more, to confirm my Love to Thee, know, that I am grown Jealous of my Wife, and fear I have Cause—

You have often begun to tell me how your Marriage c [...]me to effect, and the cause of changing your name— but never end­ed it.

Now listen then. There was a Gentleman, one Beauford, bred up here at our University, who, about two years since, unfortu­nately killing a Gentleman in a Duel, was forc'd to fly—but, ere he went, there was a Match propounded by his Father (and for some time secretly carried on by him) betwixt his Son, and my now Wife, the sole Daughter and Heir of the old Lord Thorough-good; she never saw Beauford but once, and then this misfortune happening, the business was deferred — till he got his Pardon; but, before he could procure it, the old man his Father dy'd, leaving his Estate in Trustees hands, till Beauford should come to age. Now, in this juncture, I neerly resembling him in stature, and complexion, and being then pas­sionately in Love with Olivia, boldly pursu'd the Plot, and, about six Months since, changing my Name for his, as if I came just then from Paris, made my Address; 'Twas doubtful at first, by reason we differ a little in Face; but, telling her I had lately been sick of the Small Pox, which had extremely alter'd me, it pass'd clearly, and in a Weeks time I Married her, then discover'd all, and ask'd her pardon, which she never wou [...]d grant, and that's the reason of all our Quar­rels and Jealousi [...]s—

But, What will you do, when the real Beaufort returnes? 'twill be no easie matt [...]r to perswade him out of his Name.

Nor he me out of my Wife; and, to deal freely, I exp [...]ct him every day. For, his Friends have got his Pardon, and ex­pect his return suddenly. How now!

Sir, my Lady is walking down this way.

Begon then my Dear. 'Tis not fit she see thee: but, be sure you come to morrow to my House, I'll contrive some way to shift her off, and then wee'll waste an hour or two alone.

Will you be sure to remember, a Wife is such a Mag­netick kind of Creature, that I am afraid you'll forget me.

I won't, my honor on my word.

And, Will you still remember your poor Love?

While my Life lasts.

Will you indeed?

Indeed I will; see, yonder she's coming, prithee goe.

Well then adue— What, won't you kiss me at part­ing? Lord, that a VVife should so alter a Man, a Kiss sure can't be mis't.

No, not a Thousand; but prithee now be gone, I am a­fraid she see's thee—

[Page 4] Amble, wait on her home, and then go to the Goldsmith, a [...]d see if the Ring be done—De'e hear▪

Yes Sir, —

Here she comes, now for a Scene of Love, Marriage-gal­lantry, which, in our modish sence is down-right Railing, the effect of Jealousy and Negligence, and as natural to the Marry'd-Tribe, as want of honesty is to those that profess it—hem— pray heaven I have but breath enough, that's all my fear.

What alone Sir! at this time of day, and musing too, this is a miracle, not one of your Brothers of the Bottle here, nor Dear Friends of t'other Sex, to keep off pelting Melancholly—this is very strange.

Let there be no Scandals rais'd upon the Bottle, I beseech you Madam, for, to my knowledge, the Wine within that Bottle has been a Blessing to a Man, when his Impertinent VVife has been a Plague to him.

Pardon me, Sir, think not that I find fault with the VVine, for that is our Friend as much as yours, and often to oblige us, makes the Jealous Husband sleep soundly▪ That the VVedlock-Bed may be free from his Midnight unseasonable railing.

Nay, rather, we may be free from your unreasonable Imper­tinencies; those houres Nature allows us for rest, you take the privi­ledge to disturbe with your damn'd Questions; and, gad I have of­ten answer'd e'm as Children say their prayers, so between sleep and awake—that I have never consider'd my own words, nor your satisfaction.

My satisfaction—I dare swear you did not, for if you had, you would have slept soundly, slep [...], Sir, as you us'd to do those nights, when you have been weary with the Dayes Fatigue. Your Mouth open, as if you were swallowing the Jealous Aire, th [...] was to be vented a­gainst me the next morning, and snoring in such a horrid VVhistling Tone, such a Barbrous Untunable Key — That the poor Bellman has often stood frighted at the dore, with the apprehension of Ghosts and Murders.

VVhat's this? I snore? I tell thee, Thou most intollerable provoking VVoman; No Man in Christendom sleeps more silently than I, or with a clearer Conscience, I thank Providence—

Nay, talk not of Conscience, Sir, for that, to my knowledge is in your Mistresses power, and she keeps it close shut up in the same purse where she keeps her Guinnyes.

I a Mistress— gad would I could get one at a reasona­ble rate, that I may be reveng'd on Thee! well, I'll comfort my self with the hopes, that there may a chance happen, and then thank your self, that are so ill furnish'd with new Charmes. That your [Page 5] very expressions, and sometimes Dress is grown old-fashion'd, and faith I ever hated Stale-Wares I confess▪ They were never for my purchase.—

Stale! what is it you think so Stale Sir?

Why, a Wife of six moneths standing is Stale I think; what a pox—would you have?

'Tis the corruption of Matrimony that make us so, if we are. Mix Gold with Lead, and see if the baseness of the one — does not Eclipse the luster of the other.

Ay that Luster you speak of, is so soon vanish'd, that a man ought to be of a good sound faith, to believe 'tis to be found in any Woman, much less in the married Tribe — for a Woman's like a false Guinney, that at first being little worn, might perhaps pass current, but once tryed by the Touchstone-Mariage, is found damna­bly counterfeit, and good for nothing.—

And to requite your Simile, Sir, a dull Husband is like an ill clock, he always strikes false, and is ever mending, and were it not for fashion sake, I swear, I think we had better have none.

The Devil's in her, she will have the last word, and▪ I must be gone in my own defence. Well Madam, I have other business now than to stand chatting with you; but assure your self, I shall find a time to requite your Repartee: and so adieu dear Wife.

Your servant dear Husband.

Very well. There's no harm in this I hope.

Sister, your punishment is like to increase, who d'ye think's coming yonder?

I cann't imagine, prethee who?

Beauford: the real Beauford is return'd, has got his pardon, and is just come to Town; I overtoook him just now, he and his Man are coming down this way.

Now Husband be kind to me, if thou canst, thou never hadst more cause. Come, let's make haste away, for I dare not let him know me now.

For fear of your Husband I warrant! well, if this be the Fate of Marriage, Heaven keep me in a better mind.

Sirrah, this is the place where we must first pitch our Ten [...] in pursuance of my designe. 'Twas here I had the misfortune of the Duel, which has since done me so much injury in causing my absence▪ for at that time I had commenced two Intrigues, that would have sufficiently recompenc'd my trouble, if the Devil had not ruled in [...]he air, and hedg'd me into that quarrel▪

Ah Sir! he rules in the Earth as well as the Air, and where there's any Wi [...]e or Women to be had, you may be sure the Devil's no [...] [...]ar off. But come Sir, my Charge, where lodges the Fairy that I am to be Ambassador to? I guess my Office, I am to be Pimp. Ge [...]eral still.

No sirrah, you must help me to contrive how to speak with Olivia; a sine Woman, and think I shall be welcome. But d'ye hear, do'nt let me relye upon my own invention; for 'tis forty to one but I spoil all, for I am the unluckiest fellow at an Intrigue, I be­lieve, that ever breath'd. I have run through more hazards than e­ver Don Quixot did, and I think have often escap'd as ill.

No faith Sir, you have done very well for your time, I think you were not pumpt and beaten above three times about your last business, were you Sir?

No Rascal, not pumpt at all: but the truth is, I was three times swing'd confoundedly.

Ha, ha, ha! great pity in good faith: but see the difference in Constitutions now: I warrant another man would have been such a fool to have left off, and ventur'd no more, and now you are rea­dy for another beating.

A Mistriss, but not beating Rascal, nor had the last pre­vail'd so, had I not been orepower'd; but the Devil's in't, my damn'd fortune still jades me, for when I have brought a Plot just to perfection, by some awkard negligent action or other, I am sure to spoil all agen, and then if no skirmish happen, 'tis ten to one but I am disgrac'd, and that's all one: as for example, When I was in Town last, dining at a Judges House, whilst he was in his study setling some Law-business, I took the boldness to make Love to his Wife.

A very pretty boldness truly—and yet I think you never saw her before, Sir.

Never not I; pox, I never consider acquaintance in these cases: w [...]ll, she was tollerable handsome faith, and of a good com­plexion, but had one damnable fault.—

What, Squinting eies, or rotten Teeth?

Neither sirrah, but damnably given to take tobacco, and ve­ry inclinable to drink Brandy: but in short, we agreed about the business, very well, and faith in a little time were grown very intimate.

Ay, very intimate; I knew 'twould come to that, a fine In­timacy indeed; why Sir, do you never intend to have any considera­tion? What cuckold a Judge? O Lord! a Reverend Judge—if you should happen to be a Plotter now, and come to have any Ses­sions-house business, you'll be in a fine condition, hang'd at least:— Mercy on us a Judge!

A Judge! ay a Judge. What a devil is that such a won­der now! Sirrah, here was the Mischief; My Lord, and she lay in [Page 7] two several Chambers, and I being commanded thither, came one night with my friend, and lay in another room close by; about mid­night I had occasion to rise, and go to my Lady to discou [...]se with her about, some very secret busines [...].

Ay ay! Law Cases State politicks, and such like.—

Right sirrah — but returning back agen—in the dark— as the devil would have it, that always helps me out at a dead lift— I thank him—instead of going into the right chamber to my friend— I makes into the other room, and goes to bed to my Lord—

Ha! ha! ha! very fine indeed —

There did I tell him (thinking it had been my friend) all that had past between me and this Lady, of a Jewel she gave me, and what time was appointed for our meeting agen—in fine so much, that the poor old man was e'en out of his wit — for he cries out murder, calls up his servants, hunts about for his sword, and had certainly kill'd me, if in this amazement I had not jumpt out of the Window into the Garden, and with the hazard of my Neck and Legs, made my escape: But what became of my sleeping friend, Heaven knows, I have neither seen him nor her since.

Why saith, Signior, this was ill Luck, that's the truth on't; but what if it should be catching now, and that I by following your ill fortune, should have the ill fortune to be hang'd for company— I question whether the wages you give would make me amends.

Ah sirrah— your cowardize▪ would be sure to secure you.

How now! who are these?

I know 'em, 'tis Sir Frolick Whimsey, an excellent old hu­mourist, one so much in love with the debauchery and vices of youth—that he is always complaing of his Age and impotence, tother is his Nephew, and Ward, one Sir Lubberly Widgeon, an in­corrigible fool, and so us'd.

Sol, la, me, fa, sol, la—Come Sir begin.

Hark, a Singing-Master I'll lay my life▪ let's stand by and listen.—

Give me patience, must I still be thus tormented? troth Sir Lubberly—let me tell you—ye are a very provoking fel­low, and had not your Father conjur'd me on his death-bed, to look after, ye, and breed ye up well, you should have look'd a Guardian for me, you should Sir Lubberly.—

Come Sir, pray be rul'd, and sing your Notes—Sol, la, come Sir, sol, la, me—Come.

Oh give me patience! not yet—Sir, do not provoke me. Do not I say—s'bud sing, and quickly, or by this hand.

Well come what is't▪ what is't? s'bud must I b [...] made a fool thus? — Well come 'tis all one, what is't?

Sol, sol.

Sol, sol—look now —What the devil has he to do with my soul! Oh Lord! must I be thus us'd? sirrah! you are a Canting Rascal, and sing worse than the Vinegar-man, or Clark of Pankridge! sirrah, you are—oh gods bud, must I be thus us'd?

Ay 'tis no matter, 'tis no matter Sir, I must bear with ye: Come sing your Note Come, Sol, la, me—

Sol, sol—la me—pox I shall never do't— no no, I shall never—why this is worse than learning the Catechism, and saying it at Church without book.—

Well — I must have patience — This is common with be­ginners, I must bear with ye.

Bear with him! hang him! a Dunce! a Cuckoo! no time, no tune, no ear—ah—hadst thou but known me a young man, I would have made thee asham'd of this Sir, believe me, I had the prettiest way of singing.

Sings very well Sir Frollick, and very well in Tune.

Ay very well, ha, ha, you lying Son of a whore! very well quotha, profoundly, he sings worse than the prisoners at New-gate (To buy us bread) ah that's heavenly to't.

Sir Lubberlly, you are a foolish fellow, and must, God m [...]nd me, be taught more manners! give me patience! is it fit for you to descant on a person of my age and experience? go to— ah, Mr. Crotchet, I am the most unfortunate person! I am grown old o'th' sudden, as 'twere, I know not how, all my good parts lost, quite lost as god save me. I am a Cipher now—good for nothing.

Oh think not so Sir, you are a lusty man. Now Sir, to divert you, I'll sing you a merry Song. 'Tis not customary with us Professors — but to oblige you Sir—

Thank you good Mr. Crotchet.

Ay, this is something. Well — you have notable skill on my word Sir—ha! ce [...]tainly if I am not very much mistaken, your name is Beauford Sir.

The same Sir, and ever servant to Sir Frollick Whimsey.

Or his Wife.

Sir Lubberly, I have an ambition to kiss your hand.

Sir, that ambition shall be forthwith satisfied.

Sir Frollick — I'll wait on your Nephew to morrow: I see now you are engaged —

Your servant Sir—but Mr. Bea [...]ford, could I have ima­gin'd you would have been such a stranger, and kept your affair so [Page 10] close from your friend: Troth I must tell you I take it ill—

Sir! you know 'twas fit a business of that nature should be carried with all secresie imaginable—for if I had been taken e'r I could have got my pardon.—

Ah Sir! you are merry Sir, and shoot wide o'th mark. But to come nearer to ye, 'tis matter of marriage I mean. Me­thinks Mr. Beauford I might have been trusted.

Doubtless Sir, very safely. Marriage Sir, What a devil does he mean?

Nay I know not, but my Corns ake; I am afraid here's some mischief towards.

How d'ye Sir Frollick? I believe you are not well.

Well in person, Sir, but in troth my Mind is disordered, I cannot drink, Sir; If I could but drink, my affliction would be the less, but I am the most unfortunate creature, I cannot last a moneth, that's certain, unless my faculty of drinking returns—

Eating signifies nothing, he never was the better for that

No!

Sir—I have known ye the time, when I should have drunk ye 1 2 4 6 8 bottles at a sitting, and been never the worse, give me patience, now halfe a pint makes me drunk, dead drunk Sir— I am almost out of my wits — distracted — I cannot bear it.

You must have patience Sir, was ever such an old cox­comb?

What to be drunk with halfe a pint—by Bacchus 'tis in­tolerable — Pray how does your Wife Mr. Beauford, is she breed­ing yet?

My Wife!

How! his Wife—why Sir he has no Wife.

No Wife—ha ha! you had best perswade me to that, why I came by your house not above two hours agoe, and saw her at a window—

And I kiss her yesterday as she was coming out of the Church —

Hey-day—why sure I am in Fairy-Land, a Wife and Fa­mily that every body knows, and I not know her my self.

Harkee Sir, for Heaven's sake let's away, for I believe that old Gentleman is bewitcht, and who knows but the Devil may have power over us too if we s [...]ay—

Nay—you may strive to carry it as secretly as your please Sir. But what I know I know, you have a house here in Chelsey.— a Wife and a Family, and have been married above six moneths.

Thank ye heartily Sir; faith tis the first time I knew on't.

'Tis so—the Devil is in him for certain.

Pray Gentlemen, which is Mr. Beauford's house?

Thou needst go no farther fellow —here he is himself.

My name is Beauford friend, ha [...]t thou any business with me?

No great business an't please your worship, only I have brought your Worship the Ring your Worship bespoke of my Ma­ster —

The Ring?

Ownds! These are the finest Wi [...]ches I ever heard of.

My Master says, if your Lady do not like the fashion, she may have it alter'd —but for the Stones, he dares reposite, they are as good as ever she wore, and of the right black Water, and true Luster.

POK—but what is it to me?—

Nay; e'en what your Worship pleases, [...]is at your dispose now—

Why Sir—you know you bespoke it for my Lady—see the defect of Memory now; Ownds! I remember it as well, as if it were but yesterday. Take it Sir, 'tis right.

Well, what's the purch [...]se friend?

Alas! I know not Sir, your Worship and my Master must agree for that.

Ay ay! a very honest fellow Ifaith, and of a good pleasing Phisiognomy—harkee! hast thou nothing for me friend? hah?

Oh gods me! yes, your name I think is Amble, Mr. Beau­ford [...] man?

My name is Tro [...], Co [...]in-German to Ambl [...], and thou see'st I am his man. Thou canst not be mistaken.

No no mistaken; I remember, I think I saw you once at the Talbot drinking of Mumm with my Cosin Scuttle-brain.

Ay the same the same. Well, S [...]uttle- [...]rain's a [...] honest fel­low—faith he and I have been old Cronies.

Have you so lack a day! Well Sir, here's your Watch, 'tis very well done, I assure you; and Sir, my Master bid me tell you, if you can spare that little Money now, 'twill do him a kindness.

Well, when my Master payes him for the Ring, tell him—

Very well Sir, your servant—I'll tell him so, god bouy to your Worship—

Friend, thou hadst best stay and take thy Money, for fear thou seest that nor me no more.

Ah God bless your Worship; you're a merry man. See ye no more quoth [...]? there's a jest indeed—

Ay, he jests, he jests—he's a wagg [...] a ver [...] [Page 12] honest fellow—See him no more quotha — ha ha—

What think you of this now Sir? you have no House, no Wife, no Family, not you I warrant ye, this amazes ye—

Gad and so it does—

Signior, I think 'tis best to draw off with the purchase, lest it be pursu'd and retaken —

Well Mr. Beaufort, your care in obscuring your Wife, has made me long to see my own. For know Sir, that since I saw you last, I am married too, and, tho I say it, to a Beauty, tho I do not exclude her from the view of the world as you do your—but you doubtless have some reason for it — and I'll urge it no further, and so farewel—

How? he married, and to a young Woman? I must know more of this; Sir Lubberly, a word with you. Prethee what young Lady is it your Unckle has married—hah—

Ha —what is she? why wou'd you know now, wou'd you know — gad it won't do — ha ha ha ! not a word of the pudding not I ha ha! are you thereabout faith?

The devil take thee for a positive fool; well I must leave it for time to discover—as to the tother business, the old Knight, and this Ring—give me sufficient cause to believe, I am mista­ken for another—be it so; 'Tis but fortune thrown upon me, and none of my seeking. Come sirrah▪ I have an old Aunt here in Town that I must instantly visit, she's call'd my Lady Beardly. Her cha­racter I'll give thee as we go along—how now, who's this?

Hah! I know not; I hope another Witch with a bag of Mo­ney.

What a silent Message, and no an answer to be given?

Your name has betray'd both you and me—for by that means [...]am married to the wrong person. Seek not to instring [...] the Marriage vow, since 'tis too late. And I charge ye, never disturb my evenings Walk. The backside of the Bowling green—

[Page 13]The Devil; What, marry'd to another, and in my name? 'Tis plain now I have been undermin'd, and here's the foundation of all mis­takes—'Sdeath, I'll challenge the Rascal instantly. But hold, that will ruine all, for then except I kill him, I shall never have the pri­viledge of seeing her. No — to Cuckold him▪ There's the re­venge. Gad, I have a fair invitation here, and I hope 'twill suc­ceed,

ACT. II.

ACT III.

THat row of Trees I remember. Yonder's the Bowling-green, Come sirrah. This is the place▪

Where 'tis ten to one, but we shall b [...] well cudgell'd, and so return home agen, like fools as we came.

Cudgell'd! why you cowardly Rascal; who should cudgel us?

Who? why Piccaroons Sir— Land-Pirats, that are doubt­less looking for Prize, as well as you.

Sirrah—thou art a cold spiritless Rascal, and only swaid by the motions of thy fear: but these are Trifles to men of wit and courage, pray— how came ye off with your last business, did you deliver my Letter to Isabella?

Ay there's another—I had like to have made a hopeful journey of that too. Yes Sir, I deliver'd it.

Well—and what said she?

Why, after she had snatch'd the Letter from me—she calls to her Footmen to go and whip that impudent Rascal that came to trouble her, where had not my legs been my best friends—I had been ty'd to a post and slash'd as god sa' me.

Ha ha—I find this was her cunning, her Husband was up­on the sent—but see who comes yonder—ha, it must be Olivia; oh the charming Rogue how she shines—sirrah not a word now in con­tradiction, I charge ye—for tho I am a little unlucky sometimes, ac­cording as the wind sits, yet for making a Court to a Lady, I defie all Europe, gad go go, your distance—

I think there are no men with her, that's one comfort.

I see he has pick'd the meaning out of your Letters —

'Tis he; Now would I give 20 Guineys, my Husband were by to hear the harangue betwixt us.

So would not I, for this object would so nettle his jealou­sie, there would be no enduring him—I vow methinks, he's a very handsome person, and I believe of a good Conscience.

A right Town-Gallant Madam, if those are your conscienti­ous persons, and one that wou'd as soon address to your Ladyship, if he knew the advantages he should get by it, as any one in Christendom. Prethee observe his demure countenance—I see Sir, you will take no warning; you will venture a great deal of my anger, to enjoy a little of my company.

No Madam, 'twas rather that I migh [...] enjoy a great deal of your company for a little of your anger—Ah! did you know the languishments, and heart-breakings I have suffer'd for you—well, 'tis gone and past — and heaven forgive you.

Ay and you too — ha ho▪ heart-breakings quotha!

'Tis as destiny pleases to order Sir. But methinks the Beau­ties of Paris, and the success that always attended your endeavours, should banish these resentments from you: I know the little Love you had for me has been dead long since—

Why the Devil take me Madam, if you are not the only person I adore, and ho [...]rly die for.

S'bud! every one he has met these six months, has been that only person to my knowledge—

You have deserv'd better I confess—but Sir, in this age, Merit like Wit, is never paid the applause due to it, till the owner be past receiving—For my own part, I am as comfortless as you, and as destitute of a Remedy; for my Husband is grown the unkindest man in the World to me.

Ah damn 'em Madam, they are all so now-a-days —

He keeps a Wench under my Nose; nay, is not so content­ed, but he le [...]s me see her, and courts her before my face — pray give me your advice now Sir; is it not reason that I should be re­veng'd of him for this?

Reason! ay—gad, the profoundest Philosophy in the world, has not halfe so much reason in't —

I knew it must, See now, what an extraordinary blessing a man judgement is! had you not ass [...]r'd me this, I vow I should have been fearf [...]l how to proceed.

Ah, Madam! would you but take my advice, you should find one Kind humble servant of more worth than Twenty resty peevish Husbands—a Husband, Madam, is the meo [...] Bank-rupt of [Page 28] Love▪ he scores for all he has without ever being able to repay a penny —but, a vigorous Lover still brings ready Money — here's this for that, without fraud or design — And, gad, a plain-Dealer in Love is as necessary as in Merchandize▪ there ought to be no goods delivered out without a just Exchange to the full value—

Well, I see you are owner of so much Wit and Reason, that I am resolv'd to discover my Design to you —And also to de­sire your assistance—

Assistance —so—D'ee hear that Sirra.

For, since no fair means, entreaty —nor Love, can make my Husband leave his lewd Courses, I am resolv'd to see what Jea­lousie can do, to which purpose you shall be my Gallant; Address to me; Court me; Sing—Cringe—Bow—Swear, and be very Mo­dishly soppish before all Company▪ which gallantry I will receive with as ridiculous an affected behaviour, as a Mail-Lady—an over­ture with Mr. Such-a-one, after a Midnight Assignation with my Lord—

Ha, ha, ha — very well — I vow to gad, Madam, very well.

Ay, ay—she's your own, Sir—She's your own—

But see the Sun declines—I must be gone, have a little pa­tience, Sir; and, if you think your time well employ'd, be here about an hour hence; perhaps there may a Messenger come that may guide you to a place where we may discourse further ▪ but, for the present, le [...] me entreat you to be gone, here's company coming.

Your humble Servant, Madam—I'll be as punctual as the minutes— Come, Sirra—

It would be now a doubtful question, whether any Woman, but I, would not make use of this opportunity; he, I find, Ima­gines the business half done already; and, there are some of my sex that I believe would think it great pitty, that troublesome Vertue shou'd dash a Man's hopes that means so well, and is so willing to revenge their Injuries. Heaven! of what corrupted Natures are these Men, especially when they come to be Husbands: But mine is sure the worst of all; There's nothing can reclaim him. However, he shall not think I resent it, for▪ in appearance, I'll be as careless and as wild as he —I've a Plot upon his Mistress too—'Tis here well forg'd, I am sure, and, I hope, will prove lucky—

Well, Sir; Have you consider'd on my Imposition? Have you fixt your resolution to Court this Widdow—

I have; I have consider'd her as the very seething pot of Iniquity, and my self the Ladle of Discretion, ordain'd to coole her when she boileth over.

But will you Marry her?

Marry her — a pox o'that word, I never hear it, but it gives me the Griping of the Guts—Could you not have nam'd any thing else—I'll lye with her, and that's all one.

No, no, Sir; there must be marriage in the Case—

Well—the Devil take her, I will Marry her then; I will do't in spight of her intollerable Age, and more intollerable qualities; for, to tell you the truth, the Devil and I have been drawing Cuts for this two hours, and the Change has alwayes falne on my side.

Oh you are merry, Sir I am glad on't, and I assure you, Coz, this Consent of yours pleases me well: alass—what I do is for thy good, Child —and, let people say what they will, the La­dy is rather to be admir'd then contemn'd —

I never knew a Witch that was not admir'd; Oh what fine thin hair she has—what a delicate low forehead what little pretty ferret hollow eyes, and what a tall and stately nose? then she must be very harmless, because she is toothless; then how thrifty must she be, that is so old? and how virtuous is she like to be, of whom no man can be jealous?

Right, as gad save me. Thy sentiments of her are right—

Then there's Counsel and Gravity, and Dullness; and then little or no Lechery, which, alass, in young ones is too predo­minant; besides, that antient Cornuted Philosopher instructs us well— give me, says he, a Pippin that's wither'd like an old Woman, and à contrario sequitur Argumentum, give me a Woman that's wither'd like an old Pippin—

An excellent Morral 'Faith —for, Sir, I have wrought the Fool finely; for; by this means, wanting heirs to inherit, the E­state must of necessity fall to me—ha, I think here she comes — Come Coz —let us not miss this opportunity.

'Sbud—how my heart pants now —here, Sirrah, take this Book, be sure to prompt — when I am out, d'ee hear?

Yes, Sir.

Stay, here's my Wife, and Company with her — per­haps she may be busie — stand by, and observe a little — Come, out with it Lettice — I like it well —

Very hot—soultry hot upon my honour—phoo— my Lady Whimsey—How does your Ladiship resent it? I shall be most horribly tann'd.

'Tis warm, Madam.

Oh hot▪ hot—I am ready to fry — good lack-a-day, how strange is this— Mrs. Lidia— pray feel me! pray feel my pulse—g [...]d forgive me how it beats, I see I must Purge and let Blood —

Marry does it, like one of five and twenty—I assure your good Ladiship.

My Lady Whimsey, Mrs. Lidia, pray feel, I protest I never felt the like! Why who would think this of one of my age?

'Tis very strange indeed Madam; so is your Complexion too: For my part I have often wonder'd how it was possible for your Ladiship to preserve [...]our Beauty so long—

Truly, Mrs. Lidia, it has been a wonder to many—but art is a rare thing — you must use art, Mrs. Lidia, if you would look attractively, and live long—Tissick — give me my Carra­wayes.

What Art I beseech your Ladiship?

Nay, 'tis worth your knowing in troth. Why Madam —the Face preservative is, to be sure to suite your Ingredient to your Complexion— your Tawny, or Olive-colour'd skin would look better if it were White; Therefore White must be added: Then your pale dead Tallow Colour requires a Tincture, and it must have it, 'tis very necessay, and no more discredit to ye, then 'tis to wear a piece of thin Gold for the Kings Evil; or a row of Ivory Teeth, when your own have uncivilly left their habitations.

So now shall we have a Description of her own Imperfecti­ons and Deformity, by a Misterious advice how to shun e'm—

Defects in Nature, Madam, must be supply'd by Art; 'Tis not onely requisite, but Customary — and 'tis the knowledge of what ingredient is most natural, is the main cause of b [...]ing beauti­ful—why now I alwayes us [...] a certain blew re [...]ection to my face.

How, Blew?

Me [...]cy on us.

Blew, Madam—and sometimes when I am sick and out of orde [...], Black and Blew are very convenient: 'Tis a little [Page 32] strange to you, I warrant — but my complection requires it▪ and I alwayes consult that.

Nay, any one that sees your Ladiships face, may easily guess your great knowledge in these matters.

Some observations Mrs. Lidia; some observations: I have not, I think, be [...]n backward in procuring the good of my Neigh­bors — pray let me look on ye—hold up your [...]ead — a little more — ay, 'tis so—a Phillamot would set off your Face extreme­ly—

'Twould make it Olive-Colour indeed, if you call that setting off.

Olive-colour! ah, you are ignorant Mrs. [...]idia, Olive-colour! 'Twould make it ruddy. Ruddy! there's your Com­plexion! Why that, which you have on, spoiles your face instead of beautif [...]ing it — I have some Powder in Boxes at home would do [...]e a kindness if [...]ou would use e'm.

Have you not a great care Madam — least some of [...]hose Boxes should come to publick view — you know that would not be for [...]our R [...]putation —

Care, Madam — yes, I warrant ye; never doubt that: For, if a stranger comes into the Room — whip — they'r gone in a moment —and now you put me in mind on't, in troth I was dam­nably frighted once about such a business.

Were [...]ou so?

Ay—I Swear, most strangely frighted, it makes me ready to tremble every time I think of it—I'll tell you how 'twas sitting one day dr [...]ssing my—'Twas before I was Marry'd, and I think truly 'tis now about Five and twenty years agoe—sitting, as I was saying, dressing my head, my Husband, who was then a Servant to me, and one, that though I say it, laid as close seige to me as any man in Europe could do— he, I say, stole softly into the Room, and stood just behind me—

As you were dressing your head?

Ay — but I presently turn'd back, and being ex­treamly surpriz'd to see him— thinking to mend all, snatch'd up my false head of Brown hair, and Curl'd Tower, that lay by me— (For, to tell you true, my own was ever of a scurvy colour) and, gad forgive me — in hast▪ put it on the wrong way— ha, ha, ha, Oh heaven! What a Case was I in— I look'd for all the World like one of the Satyrs in a Pastoral—ha, ha, ha—

I vow this was a strange Misfortune indeed—but, What said the Gentl [...]man? Did he not laugh soundly?

L [...]ugh — ay — I warrant ye— he Laugh'd, and I Blush't, and he Laugh'd, and I Trembled—for, you must think, I was most terribly fright [...]d — as I hope to be sav'd— I had like to [Page 33] have miscarry'd about it [...] I was fain to w [...]ar an [...]agles Stone abo [...] me for three months▪

[...]n Eagles stone

Yes, I assure you, the onely Sovereign Remedy in the World to keep young Ladies from miscarrying.

Misca [...]rying [...] Why▪ M [...]dam, you say, this was done be­fore you were M [...]rry'd▪ Fo [...] he [...]ven's sake what do [...]s your Ladi­ship mean?

Gad forgive me, What shall I say now? — Did I say be­fore? pray, p [...]rt Mrs. Lidia, remember your self, Did I say before? I said after we were Marr [...]'d I assure you —

Come, Sit▪ now I think we may venture— My La­dy Beardly, in all Joy and Duty, I kiss your Ladiships hand—in the next place give me the favour to introduce my Nephew here, Sir Lubberly Widgeon, a man of good quality and parts, and one that will be proud [...]o be grac'd with your Ladiships, acquaintance—

I [...] his humble servant, Sir.

Well, there's no such Kissing, as whe [...]e there are no Teeth.

Come, let us take this opportunity to get away, Madam: Wee'l wait for your Ladiship in the next walk.

Your Servant, my Deares; I'll oblige my self with your sweet company incontinently—

The Cause of my waiting on [...]ou Madam, is to inform you, That this Gentleman—loves [...]ou—

Ha, ha, ha—I protest, Sir Frollick— you make me laugh—Love me — why 'tis impossible—alass, Sir—I am old, I am old.

Your age has been cautiously consider'd, Madam: and, tho' my Nephew be backward [...]n these matters, and unwilling to break the Ice himself. Yet, he knows as much for his Inches, as any man on this side Rome, I'll say that for him.

Nay, verily, the Gentleman has a very hopeful Counte­nance; your Jolt-head—long Eare▪ and sober Sheeps look never failes. He should be a Barrister by his Phisiognomy.

He has some Knowledge in the Law indeed—besides, Madam, he has travell'd most parts of the World, and can discourse of the Manners and Customes of Nations very elegantly— ah, he has scap'd great Preferments very narrowly.

Well, Sir — I wish I were younger for his sake, then perhaps I might say something.

Madam, for ever I'll inclose you here, with the Cir­cuit of this Ivory pale— What's next Sirra?

You'll be the Park—

I'll be the Park, and you shall be the Deer:

Stray farther where the pleasant Fountains lie—

Stray further where the pleasant Fountains lie.

Very well—I vow there's a great deal of pleasure in being Courted, I Swear there is— Come, Sir Frollick, pray let us walk down the next walk—here's Company coming, and another time, Sir Lubberly, more of this if you please—but, let the next be [...]n Prose I beseech you—

Prose! Well—it shall sweet Queen; sweet old Queen it shall—any thing to please thee my Dear Landabrides.

So, now to my Mistriss; in this Disguise I think I need not fear being Dogg'd by my plaguy-Wife, or any of her Setters; for she's as Revengeful and jealous as an Italian that has trapan'd his Wife in Masquerade—Gad, these Wives are unreasonable Crea­tures, as headstrong as wild horses, and as unconscionable as a Iew to a Christian that owes him money. Marriage is a meer Game at Bowles: where the Wife is the Jack, to which, 'tis true, all our en­deavours should tend. But, how unreasonable is it to expect an ex­cellent Close cast, when the Biass of our Bowles run clear another way— Ha— sure that's Beauford: 'Tis so, what makes him here?

I think she'll esteem me for a Man of honour: I am sure I am very punctual, as Faith 'tis true, I ever was in these Cases— Sirrah, look up that Walk, and try if you can see any body coming— Now, Dear Olivia, keep but thy word, and I am blest for ever.

Olivia! on my life here's some Intrigue or other going forward—it may be I may make a Discovery.

Oh, here comes one I believe that will release my Doubts.

He does look as like a Pimp as another man, that's the truth on't—I believe Don, you may venture on him.

Have you no Message to deliver Friend, to a Gentleman that was to be walking here? no Ticket, nor Appointment, nor no such thing? hah!

From some distressed Lady, or Damsel, that is Destitute of [...]uc [...]or, or so? No tidings, Friend; no tidings?

Peace Sirrah: Come, I'm sure I'm right, thou art the per­son.

Why, Faith Sir, I have a Message to deliver.

Very well, a very honest Fellow, Faith; here's money for thee.

No reward, I' beseech you Sir, till you know whether I may deserve it or no? for I must know your name, and by some token or other, that you are the right perso [...], before I can discover any thing.

And all the reason in the world faith—gad a per­son of great Conduct, and understanding this—I see she's cunning; she chooses her man for these affairs. Well, to make all things clear friend, in the first place know my name is Beauford.

So — oh my propitions fate —

And I am known by the Name and Title of Diggory Brain­worm of B [...]oby-Town, in the County of Ham [...]hire, Yeoman.

Keep your distance, sirrah! then as a secure Token, Friend, that I am the true, real, appointed individual person, know that Olivia your Lady—and my goddess—about an hour since met me here, where after a world of happy raillery betwixt us, she bid me wait her here, and promis'd about this time to send a messenger to con­duct me to her—hah—What think you now, is this token enough?

Enough in conscience Sir, and I am now confirm'd, you are the right person, and may therefore be free in the relation; Know then Sir, that my Lady waits for you, she is alone Sir, and the cuckoldly Fop her Husband is abroad Sir.

Is he! the fool abroad—ha ha ha!

Ay ay Sir! go on, go on and prosper — ha ha ha! [...]'faith you are a happy man.

Ha ha ha—thank thee heartily faith; gad thou art a very obliging person—but thy Lady shall be good to thee upon my ac­count.

On his account—very good; oh how my heart beats for revenge—

Here's fortune now Rogue! here's fortune! well — I for­give all my ill luck past for this days happy success, and is she alone, say'st thou? and is the cuckoldly Fop her Husband gone out?

Gone, gone Sir, the coast is clear, and you may go and plunder the wealthy Magazine without controul; he Sir! alas she can quickly pop him out o'th' way, when she has any private designe— besides Sir, I was assistant in the business — for you must know Sir— I hate him mortally—

Dost thou? Why then the Devil tak [...] me, if thou art not the civilest fellow that ever I met with—here; prethee let me be a little grateful to thee—gad I shall be asham'd of my self [...]lse—

Not a penny [...]'faith Sir, let me beg you not to offer it.

Well—This is certainly the first pimp that ever refus'd money.

But come Sir, come away; methinks I long till you en­joy your happiness.

Ah dear Rogue, and so do I too faith: Here's fortune now Sirrah—here's fortune!

Hah! a Wag, you shall have her, wag you shall have her.

Ah dear Rogue, L'am bound to thee for ever—

And poor Cuckold shall be lock'd out—ha ha ha!

Ha ha ha! ay no matter, no matter; let him! let him! Pox, what should dull Husbands do with such blessings?

Ay, right, righ [...] ▪ wha [...] indeed? come, come, go with me, I'll place you both convenien [...]ly— ay wag wag come along▪

Thanks my dea [...] charming Rogue — here's fortune now; here's fortune—

My Lady sent me with a message to a Gentleman in these Walks, and the devil of any living creature I can find, but an old Woman a knitting —'faith I'll e'en go home agen; oh I think yonder he is—

So, now I think the Fox is shar'd, and cunningly, and shall accordingly be us'd, e'r he gets free agen — hah — This fellow must certainly be her messenger. 'Tis so — I know him now, but I'll hinder his discovery immediately —

Sir, Sir,— My Lady staies for you—Oh Lord my Master!

Yes Rascal 'tis I; your design is discover'd. Sirrah you come to convey Beauford to my wife?

Oh good Sir forgive me, I did but as my Lady command­ed.—

Well; to make you amends now, do what I command you, take no notice of my Disguis [...] — but tell your Lady that I dogg'd you and Beauford to the Gard [...]n-house—and as soon as he was entered—lock'd him in. Do this faithfully, or expect not to live a day —For if I find thou [...]ail'st in the least scruple, hadst thou a thou­sand lives, thou shou'dst loose 'em all.

Oh—I will be very faithful Sir.

Away then, and now for my reveng [...] — I ha [...]e this Beau­ford; whatever my Wives designe was in this business—he I find, had a down-right rank, lewd intent— for which I'll reward him▪ I'll instantly order my servants to be ready, and whipping, and [Page 37] pumping, tossing in a Blanket,—all that malice, or ill nature can in­vent, I'll inflict upon him — Let him hereafter demand what satis­faction he pleases.

ACT. IV.

ACT V.

PRethee my dear, defer my bliss no longer, oh how I long for the happy minute t [...]a [...] is [...]o compleat my Joys! methinks each hour is a day, and each day a thousand ages, I vow I'm a [...]aid you begin to repent your promise.

Never fear it, and since you are resolv'd to venture, goe and fetch me the key of the Cabinet, where your Jewels are, as you promis'd me, and th [...]n command me what you please.

I'l fly swifter than Thought, and am glad any price can purchase thee.

Ha, ha, ha! alas poor silly creature, if thou didst but know what an insufficient—what a sign of a Husband thou wert so ea­ger of, thou wouldst think the purchase dear at the rate of a [...]gilt shilling. Sure never was creature so fond, she haun [...]s me where ever I goe, smiles when I smil'd, and is sur [...] to be [...]el [...]ncholly when I am so, and then is eternally vowing perpetual Love and Constancy. Nay, and what feeds my revenge high, and pleases me most of all, is, she is now going to deliver me up all her Jewels—those very Jewels which my Husband has given her, as the price of his impure Love; and this is so full satisfaction, th [...]t my wishes are all bounded — here comes Beauford too, whom I must confes [...] I have u [...]'d but s [...]urvi­ly, in so long delaying the reward due to his passion, but 'tis his mis­fortune, for the only satisfaction he desires, is the only thing I dare not grant him. Well Sir, what now?

Madam, I have waited so long for the happy minute, and have had so little satisfa [...]tion on your part, [...]hat 'gad I can forbear no longer—what though Love did not induce you to recompence; methinks, in conscience you might a little consider my necessity.

Ha, ha, ha! well, I say Si [...], how [...]oor are they that have no patience▪

Ay gad, I say, how poor are they that have all patience, and no reward for't.

Reward— [...]ye Sir, come do not give me cause to think ye Mercinary, do all things free and generously; when service comes to [Page 53] be paid once, where lies the obligation?

And when Love Madam—like hoarded mettle, lies rust­ing, and is almost spoil'd for want of use, where lies the pleasure or profit?

Bring but your recompence within the list of Honor▪ Reason, and Virtue, and there's my hand, I'll be more free than your wishes in the performance.

Ah dear Rogue— on this white Altar I could eternally pay my hearts oblations — but a word more of Virtue and Reason, and I swound, my Teeth chatter already; 'gad 'tis like swallowing an Issicle just after a man has drunk a comfortable Elixir to warm him. But Madam, in strict sense, what greater reason is there, than in charitably saving a poor young hopeful fellow from the grave; or what's more like a Woman of Honor, than to be punctual in keep­ing her word?

Cucko [...]lding ones Husband is a glorious point of Honor, I must needs say.

And so it is, and necessary too, as your case stands; let me tell you that Madam, virtue has nothing to do here, you are to follow the dictates of Love and Revenge, without the consideration of what is right or wrong.—As in a D [...]el no man of Honor or Courage invited to be Second, stays to debate whose Cause is best, but boldly pushes on at all adventures—and makes his friends Life and Honor equal with his own; he that coldly stands in niceties or punctillo's, is a Craven and no Cock of the Game, I'll answer for him.

Well then, since 'tis decreed, and that I am to pay [...]o dear­ly for your service, I'm resolv'd to have my penny worth out of ye, therefore listen to my Commands, which obey'd and perform'd, perhaps I may come to terms.

Oh very well.

My Husbands Mistriss is so passionately in love with me, that she has discover'd all her secrets, and is now gone to fetch the key of her Jewels, that lye in a Cabinet at her old Lodgings, and your as­sistance I shall want in the conveying them hither; I had design'd you should have share with me, but since my Love is the only Reward you expe [...]t, that other profit must be wholly mine.

Ha! Jewels! gad such helps would be very necessary, as my condition stands, her love may be won at more leisure—nay Madam, if you are resolv'd to keep your vow, I cannot be so barba­rous to

To infringe it, I am not wi [...]ling—hah—

No, not for the world [...]adam—but these Jewels how are they to be purcha [...]ed? for you know 'tis not requisite for me to goe thither my [...]elf.

I have consider'd it, therefore your best way will be to seek out my old Servant, he tha [...] I sent to you in the Walks, he's an ho­nest [Page 54] fellow, and I'm sure be very careful in the performance; st [...]y you here, and I'll send her to ye with the key, this perform'd, my revenge is compleat; and I'll instantly write a challenge to my Husband to meet me this evening at my Lady Beardly's: perhaps now he finds his error, he may reform, if not, the Wit and Ho­nor of the enterprize rewards me, and so farewell to Love and Ma­trimony.

Hah! Jewels! gad this happens well, for my late extrava­gant expences have put me damnably out of Cash—and this sea­sonable recruit, just in this juncture, proves very happy—well, I see I have some propitious Stars, though they are commonly cloud [...]d.

How now sirrah, What's the news?

News, so, he has found it out already, sure there is some­thin [...] very like a Pimp in my Phisiognomy, for I never went about a bawdy business in my life, but if my tongue did not discover it, my looks did, and that's all one— would I had burnt this Letter, for ten to one but my bones must pay postage for it, the contents are doubtless Harbengers to another beating.

Sirrah, no more grumb [...]ing, but let me know the business; how now, What's that, a Letter you have in your hand there? come let's see't, let's see't.

A pox o' [...]our Eagles eyes.

Revenge, as it is the solace of wrong'd spirits, so 'tis a be­nefit design'd by Heaven, to shew the difference between the brave and coward: 'tis the Cordial drop that sweetens the injuries we have receiv'd, and gives us courage to repay 'em; if I should now rashly fight with Beauford about this, she would then be forwarn'd, and I should frustrate my designe upon her — no, I'll first pursue the effect of this disguise, I shall have Duelling hours enough here­after— hah, and as good fortune happil [...] ▪ orders it, yonder he is— now Cunning, Malice—Mans best Wit, and Womans damn'd Hypo­crisie, I implore your assistance.

Ay, here's your excuse, here's your melting expressions; what she did then sirrah, was upon compulsion, and against her Will poor soul.

Compulsion, ay that's a fine sham indeed; 'twas a pret­ty entertainment faith, to cudgel our bones out of Joynt, and then send word she did it upon compulsion, compulsion in the Devils name.

What! my dear, noble, and most accomlish'd spark of [Page 55] fortune, is it you? i'faith I am o'er joy'd to see ye, gad I was afraid, I should never have been so happy again.

Hah, my good and trusty old friend, letme embrace thee.

Ah deer Sir!

Why this is an excess of furtune, too happy for my hopes— for I was just now sending my man all o'er the Town to seek thee.

Why, what blessed chance had I to come so opportunely! Well Sir, and how came ye off with your last business? faith I heard the ill-natur'd cuckold us'd ye very ill.

Ah most damnably, o'ons I was beaten plaguily, and then tost in a Blanket.

A Blanket! why what an unnatural chance was that? 'sdeath is it possible that so witty, so amorous, and so politick a man as you, should have such damn'd Foot-boys luck to be tost in a Blanket? as I live 'twas intollerable.

'Twas so — but I thank fortune I have now the power of revenging my self sufficiently, for I have at this time both his Wife, and Mistriss in my custody, besides a third benefit, which out-weighs all; which thou shalt know presently.

How, his Wife too say ye Sir? oh [...]!

His Wife, rogue, his Wife, and she is in so quaint a dis­guise, that igad I defie him to find her out, if he has only instinct to make his discovery.

Death and Damnation▪ — I shall ne'r have patience.

Why this Sir, compleats your happiness, and I doubt not but you have made use of your time — Well, was she pliant—is the busi­ness done—hah —

No faith, to confess the truth to thee, I have been a little tardy in that business—and she has hitherto always put me off— but then it has been with so many smiles, and with such a soft lan­guishing Air, that my hopes are as great as ever, besides, 'tis now bounded with an affair I am to do for her: ha, ha! sirrah, there are Jewels in the case, Jewels which Beverly's Mistriss has given her, in which I'm to share, I thank him for being so bountiful.

Jewels too, Sir—now fortune be constant.

Jewels, and of Considerable value, all that that Coxcomb was so long troubling himself to bestow upon her, are ours in an in­stant; she'le presently be here he [...] self with the Key of the Cabinet, ha, ha, ha! Oh my gall will break with excess of Contentment.

A very quaint business, I vow to gad, Sir, ha, ha, ha!

Now, as good luck would have it (whom I will never blame again, I am resolv'd on't) thou art come exactly at the time to be Messenger, for 'twas Olivia's desire that yo [...] should be sound out, as the person amongst all her Creatures most fit to be trusted in so weight▪ a business.

Ah she's a good Lady, heaven bless her: O Propitious!

For you ma [...] go unsuspected to her lodging, and bring all off clearly; but I dare not, for fear of being discover'd; for I hear that Jealous Coxcomb watches for me, as I think he has reason, h'ah, Has he not?

Ha, ha, ay Sir; but I'le warrant we'le be cunning enough.

Oh here she comes her self with the Key—Madam, this is the honest Fellow the Gentleman order'd to fetch the Jewels.

Well, here's the Key, and pray Friend be careful, for, I assure ye they are of value.

I warrant ye, Madam; but, 'twould be more easily per­form'd, if you could go a little way and show me the house, for, to ask questions, will not be necessary; do but that, Madam, and for the rest let me alone.

That I will with all my heart; this Maske will disguise me a little.

Nay, Sir, I would not have you go, for if you are seen all's discover'd.

He sayes tr [...]e, stay you here, Sir; come, Friend, and be sure be careful.

Never fear, Madam— I'le secure the Jewels, and you too with a vengeance.

So, so, this will be some recompense however, for the ill fortune I have had formerly; I see now the Devil has a principle of Civility in him, and will not too much disoblige a person that de­serves better at his hand — let me see, What shall I do with these Jewels, hah? gad, I'le convert 'um instantly into Money, all Gold; fine yellow Rogues, and then will so Chine and Chink e'm in Bever­ly's Eares, I'le make him mad, ha, ha, ha! Sirrah, [...]ou shall have a new Livery too, and Money in your Pocket, Rogue; you can pro­vide your self a Whore, I think, can't ye?

A whore, ay, I'm a fine fellow for a whore indeed; alas Sir all natural motions were cudgell'd out of me a great while agoe, I can hardly remember what ma [...]es the distin [...]tion between the Sexes a whore quotha, alas — my capacity has not extended that way a long time.

Ha, ha, ha! and then we'll row and revel like Emperors; oh Madam, the business is done, I have been diligent you see.

Diligent! the Devil, what, and let Wheedle be carried away so tam [...]ly by heaven 'tis downright cowardize.

Carried away, ha, ha! that's a pretty jest indeed, why 'tis [Page 57] your man Madam, the honest fellow you bid me discover the business to; she's gone but a little way to show him the house, she'll be here again presently.

Oh intollerable blindess and stupidity! this honest fellow you speak of was my Husband in disguise; I saw him pull his false Beard off, and met her dragging her along: Oh I could curse!

Her Husband! Confusion, I have made a fine piece of Work on't.

So there's my new Livery gone again.

Come, pray Sir give me the Key of the Jewels, ten to one but your ill luck will make you lose that too — if I trust ye any longer—come, deliver, I'll do the business now my s [...]lf: the Key, the Key.

So, I'me a very pretty Fellow, 'Faith.

Ad'sdeath, What a sneaking look is there?—you look as if you were Arraigned for a Rape, and were now going to plead to the Indictment— come, Where is it? What a fumbling you keep—What, can't you find it?

Fumbling, Madam, I don't fumble, not I — I am look­ing, I don't fumble, not I, Madam — would I were in a Sea Fight!

What, not yet?— Oh, my prophetick fear — there must be something in this—What's the matter? speak —' Speak, thou vile Creature! Where is't? Still that leering Dog-look —a hundred to one but you've mistook, and given that to my Husband too.

I vow to gad and so I have Madam.

Ah que sui Malhereux!

Ah Mort dieu Jernie bougra.

This is the most unlucky could possibly have happen'd; all that my Wit has been so long toyling for, lost and ruin'd in a mo­ment: I warrant ye told him too that I was here with ye in disguise.

Yes, 'Faith, I told him that too.

Monstrous — Why this is meer infatuation — you are the most unhappy person that ever was.

The unlucky'st Dog that ever breath'd, as I hope to be sav'd.

Well, I have this Consolation however, it frees me from your importunate Adresses; you cannot sure have the impudence to persist after having fail'd the performance of so necessary an Injuction.

Faith, Mad [...]m, my impudence, like my ill fortune, will ne­ver leave me, till it has undone me. I am a very Spaniel, in Love, Madam; the more my ill usage, the greater my passion.

Then, to thy terror be it spoken; know (oh most unfor­tunate person) that I have fool'd thee all this while, made thee a down-right property, and am a very Miser in affection. In fine, Sir, by the way of Advice, let me tell ye — you do but swim against the stream, and vainly dash against the rock of my Constancy; there­fore [Page 58] desi [...]t in time, do; Marry, grow vertuous, and love ho­nestly;

Very good — I have been a Stock-fish to a fine purpose 'Faith—think of Hell in the Devil's name; and gad I will think so much on't, that I will keep my self from thence, if possible, least I should happen into thy d [...]mn'd company again. And now my eyes are open too; 'igad I begin to find that I am but a kind of a Cox­comb.

Oh d'ee begin to find it—'faith you might have found it before now, one would have thought, 'thas been visible enough.

I have now Mistriss, and, faith, little or no money; two necessities excellently well match'd; for a Man that has a Mistriss in this Age, and no Money to give her, is like one that sets a Lawyer to Plead without his Fee, whatever happens, his business is sure to be neglected — I have one stake left however— this Ring here — which, as it luckily came to me, shall now as luckily relieve me — Sirrah, go you to yonder shop, and bid the Goldsmith come hither to me.

Ay, ay, come, let the moveable vanish, that we may drink a Bottle, and put our selves in heart again.

This will make a little blaze; and, let the worst happen 'tis but practising Reformation at last, and wheedle my old Aunt into a belief of my Conversion, and then all's well again.

Oh here's the Goldsmith.

To buy a Ring, say'st thou — in troth it could not have happen'd in a worse time: For, I have just hir'd these Officers to arrest a person, that has lately put a Cheat upon me; but, come, I will have a little patience to do your Master a kindness.

Come, Sir, you must dispatch the business quickly, because he says, he's in haste.

Here, Friend, this is the Ring — good Stones, I assure ye, and of true vallue.

Ay, like enough, Sir —by Coxbodikins, the very self-same Ring I was cheated of, and which I made for Mr. Beau­ford, this was happy fortune I [...]ack; now Timothy Touchstone, show thy self to be a Citizen of Wit and Pollicy, and cramp this Gallant. And pray how long have you had this Ring, Sir?

How long have I had it, Sir?

Ay; How long have you had it, Sir? and, How came you by it, Sir? — Look'ee, Sir, I am a Magistrate, and, with your leave, may ask these Questions: I say, How came you by it, Sir?

A Constable! Oh gads bud I shall be hang'd.

Came by it, Sir? why, Sir, my Grandmother left it me for a Legacy; Sir, it has been worn by our Family this 500 year: what a Devil d'ee think I don't know how I came by it, Sir?

O damn'd lye, damn'd lye!

Very well, Sir; the King has a pretious Subject of you, that he has in troth, that can Cheat his Leige People, and carry it off with such confidence — Officers, I charge you in the Kings Name to Seise him — this Ring is mine, he cheated my Man of it, there­fore look to him.

So, a rare business again.

What hoa —there—Peter— come, Sir, we shall publish what you are.

Oh what shall I doe?— now will this plaguy Watch rise up in Judgment against me too—Is there no way to hide it? No con­trivance?— Oh that fellows face frights me worse then a Furys. Oh what shall I doe?

Come ye hither, Sirrah; d'ee know these persons?

Know 'em, ay, as well as I know my Dame at home, Sir; this is he that had the Ring and this other here Cheated me of the Watch; I'le fearch, I'le warrant he has it about him.

Search what pleaseth thee; but, do not Scandalize the In­nocent O Man!

O Man — What a dickins are you turn'd Quaker o'th sudden, and have the confidence to wear your Hat before Mr. Con­stable? Come, come, strike fail, Will ye Friend?

Look thee Friend; do not involve thy self in mischief, I profess my self to be no respecter of persons— nor will I vaile my Bonnet to any one, no not to the King profecto.

I [...]le try that Sirrah, presently.

Oh here's the reason, pray observe my Masters, he has ty'd it in's Hat, a cunning Rogue for ye; come, away with 'em; Are you so good at tricks? I'le trick ye.

This was your Project, Rogue; this was your Project.

A pox o' your Projects: Oh, What will become of me?

Come, come; away with 'em.

This damn'd City Rascal has no Mercy—and I see I must send to my old Aunt for her assistance— come, Whether would you have us your Polecats?

Oh we'le show ye presently—we'le show ye.

And is it all discover'd

All, I swear: and onely by his damnable misfortune, in mis­taking my Husband for my old Messenger.

Did he tell him you were in Mens Cloaths too?

That I think was omitted; he only nam'd a Disguise: but 'twould have been an excellent Scene of Mirth for thee, hadst thou but seen how he lookt, when I first rail'd, and at last discarded him; He was as pale as death, and shook, as if he had an Ague.

No such occasion of Mirth, if you knew all.

I expect him here at his Aunts presently, and then to ob­serve the harrangue between my Husband and he will be excellent diversion.

But, How shall I contrive to be there? I dare not let my Brother see me with you, for I have ever made him believe I was ig­norant of your designs; but, if I could be a private Spectator.

Private—Why 'tis but pinning up your Gown, putting on a Scarf, pulling your Hood over your Face, and practiceing a little the Chambermaids impudent Gate, and you may pass for one of my Lady Beardly's Family.

Well; I'me resolv'd I le venture, if it be onely for the sake of seeing so extraordinary an Encounter.

Follow me then; I think I hear some body coming.

By this means I shall observe Beauford's actions; for I be­lieve I'me alloted to prove his good genius when all's done.

Prithee Woman do not trouble me, I am busie.

Are ye so?— why then perhaps 'tis my pleasure to delay that business. I wonder Sir Lubberly you are not asham'd to use me thus. Why would [...]ou let me fall over the great Forme in the Hall, and not give me timely warning? knowing, like a cruel man as ye are, that the Monkey broak my Spectacles yesterday, g [...] ­ing to read a Proclamation.

I give ye warning— why what a Devil are ye blind—Cant ye see neither, this is worst of all, this raises my dislike of ye to an extravagant degree? Why hark'ee, speak in your own Conscience, Can you be so unreasonable to desire me to fall in Love with that Madrid Face of yours? come, I put it to ye, Can you be so unreasonable?

Madrid-Face, I scorn your words Sir: for, had not Age been a little too bold here, there's ne're a Woman in Christendome [Page 61] has a more comely countenance though I say it: come, I would fain know the defects of it.

Would ye, well, well, have patience, and you shall: Why, in the first place, [...]our eyes are sunk so hollow, that a man had need of a perspective Glass to look into your head to discern 'em; then your Nose is like the Gnomon of a Dial, which the Sun has warpt for ma­ny a year — but what is a continual eye-sore to me, is that intollera­ble Beard of yours—Why the devil don't you go to the Barbers? Why don't you shave? o'ons those whiskers are most abominable.

Ha —alack-aday, it does sprout indeed,

this is my purblind Womans fault now, oh fie! introth, I cannot blame him, this is a little unseemly, that's the truth on t;

but 'tis many a good Womans imperfection, that's my comfort — but come Sir Lubberly, I am the Consort of your bosom, and you should, methinks, wink at my im­perfections: consider, there is no wife but has external or internal fail­ings; ah Sir Lubberly! you could have wink d once—you could have born with this face of mine before [...]ou had your ends —but now my Nose is like the Gnomon of a Dial. Hah! well, you verifie the old proverb.

What proverb now? come, what proverb?

When the Devil was sick, the Devil a Monk would be, But when the Devil was well, the Devil a Monk was he.

What a pox then, you make a Devil of me do ye? hah? this is rare impudence, but I'll fetch your Similes out ye old Jade.

Help help there, why Sir Lubberly are you mad? gad for­give me, are you infatuated? what swinge your wife the first week of your marriage, before the Wedding-shooes are warm, as one may say—oh Villain, Fool, Coxcomb, why thou art like—

Like—what more Likes still —mum I say —Tace— I command ye, as you expect Bamboo should sleep in peace, be si­lent.

Oh woman, woman, what hast thou brought thy self too!

Come come, have patience Madam, have patience.

Patience — What a woman of quality as I am, and suf­fer my self to be thus us'd? I have made a fine business of it; in troth I have supported this decay'd frame of Beauty to a rare purpose, if this be the fruits on t! And yet 'tis no more than what all of us are liable too; Marriage is a thing we are as greedy of, as a Fish is o [...] a bait, though he swallows his destruction: we cannot help it, it is in our na [...]ures, nay, we cannot live without it; and then too, if we do marry, 'tis to these young Rascals, though we are sure it is not us they love, but our Money; well, I must do something by way of prevention; I'll go and invite all my Relations and Friends to dinner; [Page 62] it may be good admonition, may work much upon him; if not, my penitence shall be a warning to my whole Sex,

How now Sir Lubberly, what flinch from your friends, your guests, and Relations — give me patience! this is but an odd way of welcome— what my good Lady in tears too — hah, by my faith this is a little of the soonest Sir Lubberly.

Ah let her alone, let her alone—the more she howls, the less she scolds, you understand me.

Ay ay, Sir, I understand ye, ha, ha, ha! give me pati­ence: What an intolerable dunce is this Nephew of mine! come no more of this April weather; faith this ill agrees with a Bride the first week of her Marriage.

Especially one match'd so to her hearts content, one that mar­ried a young man for the pleasure of his company, and yet having possession, is not satisfied —fie—I swear this can be no fault of his, but the effects of your own ill nature.

Well Madam, mock on—it may be your own case another day, when you come to be old; I as little thought as you to come to this, but you see the consequence of Love and Folly.

Come good Madam, no more of this, I have an affair to inform ye of. I met your Nephew Mr. Beauford, just now in the Con­stables hands, and upon information of the busin [...]ss, found it to be a very slight matter; and though for my part, all things consider'd, I have of all men, the least reason to stand his friend, yet thinking my self sufficiently revenged on him, and my good nature prompt­ing me to forget and forgive, I took him into the next Tavern to know the truth of the matter, and after we had drunk halfe a dozen bottles, and debated on the matter, I desired the Officer to bring him hither to you to make an end, he is without there, and in my opinion, 'twill be for your credit, to discharge him as soon as ye can.

In troth and so I will — who knows—but I may live to have comfort of him —nay Sir, never mump nor lowre for the matter, as gad save me, I will have consolation one way or other, I in troth will I, and there's the resolution of a wrong'd Wife.

Then there's the resolution of an inrag'd Husband

Fie Sir Lubberly, what strike a Woman?

Woman, hang her, she's no Woman —nor on my con­science was — ah, if I could but create a fancy, or find by any [Page 63] Search, Art, or Industry —that she ever had been Woman, I could be patient, but to marry a piece of German Clockwork, that only hangs together like Geometry — a Hagg, a Witch of Endor — oh 'tis intollerable!

But will unmanning your self by beating her, help this?

I don't know—it gives my heart a little [...]ase how­ever.

But see, who comes here?

Nay Madam, no drawing back, I am resolv'd to have my humour.

Dear, Sweet Sir, do not shame me before all this com­pany.

Confound your Sirens note, I am deaf to entreaty. Gen­tlemen and Ladies pray view this Creature, peruse her well, she's worth your observation▪ this piece of Countrey dirt was once my Mistriss, Lady of my Heart, of all my Love, my Honour, whose face made me forget a virtuous Wife, to fawn and doat upon her hypo­crysie — I fell in love with her in a Countrey village, where her old Father lived, a peaceful Ploughman, that knew no Heaven beyond a fruitful Crop; no [...] Hell beyond foul weather; there at her Taske as she sate spinning, mourning in tears, the slavery of her life; And those hands that now appear so delicate, then parch'd and Sun­burnt, turning the rude Wheel; I saw her, pitty'd her, quickly woo'd and won her.

Very well Sir.

Brought her to Town, cherish'd her as my life, gave her rich Cloths and Jewels, made her sit at a new Play amongst the great­est Ladies: in Fine, so well I lov'd her, that had she not been less grateful than the Devil, she ne'er could have deserted me.

(as a person of great Wit and Honor satyrically says) this Devil, whose kindness all prov'd subtilty, mauger all my Favours left me, slighted me, and falling i [...] love with a smooth-fac'd flashy fellow, had the impudence to court him, with the very Jewels I had given her; but that, as good for­tune ordered it▪ I countermanded, and as the reward of your ingrati­tude, for ever banish'd you my heart; and thus in the same gorgeous habiliments I first found you in, have turn'd you loose upon the Com­mon.

Gad and prudently done too, for the down-right Devil's in 'um now-a days. But come, now I have another business: I have a Ticket from the young spark I lately spoke of, to meet him here, but am afraid he's too much a coward to keep his word.

Is he so Sir?

I beg your pardon Sir, for my suspition — but come, no more words, let's steal softly off, you understand me.

Ay Sir, I understand ye very well, but I know not what's the matter▪ I'm in so good a humor, that I am now more enclin'd to a reconciliation, than to fighting▪ Come faith Sir, let it be so, for what is past, I'll make ye amends, and because 'tis fit ye know the person that put that pleasant trick upon ye yesterday, you shall see my Face, how d'ye like it?

My Wife! sure 'tis not possible!

Hah! his Wife?

By heaven very possible Sir, and very true I assure ye; I am that v [...]r [...] Numerical person you were speaking of. One that to farther her revenge, has so long worn these fortunate breeches, that she can hardly consent to return to quondam Petticoats again; one that has cur'd your jealousie by giving the cause to be so, a [...]d lastly, won your Mistriss in spight of your Sword, and Policy. [...]ut for [...]ou Madam

I vow to gad, 'tis an extream affliction to me, that I am utterly incapacitated of serving ye in that manner you, I know, expect, and passionately desire: 'tis alas a cheat Madam, that Nature has impos'd upon our Sex: you must needs think much against my own good liking; yet though I cannot be the happy per­son, I'll give ye a word to some young spark that can, and I know, you'll like that as well.

Hark Sweetheart, if thou wilt accept of half a Crown a week, and be content to lye in a Garret.

Base treacherous Creature—ah curse upon my stupidity!

Come to my bosom, thou art mine again —all —all my own, and shalt be so for ever —for from this moment, all base drossy thoughts, that soil'd the life and lustre of my Judgement, shall vanish; and instead of those, thy Beauty, Love, Constancy, and Wit, sha [...]l crown my heart—blot from thy breast my faults, and let our union teach the Wild, Roving, and inconstant World, how they sho [...]ld Live and Love, my dearest Creature.

This now is like a Husbands love; free as it should be;

Come Sir, and pray let me hear no more of these Fro­licks, live civilly and orderly—and strive to oblige your Aunt— come, you may if you please, be a comfort to her in her calamity: [Page 65] We are not so near akin, thank heaven, but we may comfort one ano­ther.

Old Ioan cease your Clack, it offends my Ear: Cosin Beauford, welcome to my house, I'm your Uncle, d'ye see, and there's a respect due; but no words of that, let the old Women chatter to themselves, make thy address to me boy▪ Come, there's a Collation stays within, pray let's all go and toss a bottle or two — Coz, give me thy hand, dost hear—see me often— doe—igad, thou shalt be welcome; come Gentlemen, pray let's goe.

With all my heart Sir, I'll make one, Mr. Beauford and I have long been at difference, and many rough Scene has past betwixt us; come, let it end now: for the injuries I have done you, I as [...] [...]ou pardon , and will give you what other satisfaction, you will demand, for those you have done me, I forgive 'um freely.

And so do I.

And I.

And I.

And I, h [...] has got me many a beating, heaven pardon him, I do.

And further, by way of recompence for loss of this Lady, I promise upon my honor, that any thing (but her) shall on my [...] be readily tender'd, to express the endearments, I desire to pay Mr. Beauford.

Faith Sir, I am heartily sorry your Comple [...]ent is lost up­on me, but my brains are grown so watry, and my wit is so thin Sir, with my common Calamity, that I fear I should make but ungrate­ful Repartee: I am now studying new Philosophy, and to baffle my future ill luck, am resolv'd voluntarily to embrace some strange mis­fortune: that being once at the lowest ebb, the Devil may have no power over me; to which purpose I will instantly marry the most ugly, old, vicious, mercenary creature I can meet with; and if there can be worse luck than that, I am mistaken.

Ha, ha! this is an excellent humor i'faith.

Why, what a mad fool art thou? have not I told ye that I would stick by ye?

And will ye marry any Woman, d'ye say Sir?

Any Woman, by this light—thee if thou wilt—and faith, now I look on thee again, thou art a very fit person, and I be­lieve the Devil has sent the [...] hither just in the nick, to make thy market▪ come give me thy hand — let thy consent answer it▪ a [...]d here I do promise upon the honor of a Gentleman; I mean an unlucky Gentleman, to marry thee to morrow.

I most Religiously accept of it.

Hold, hold, we must deny this Contract.

Gentlemen, 'tis too late—but stay now, let me consi­der her a little, by her Face she may be a Witch, by her Tongue a Scold, and by her Habit a Whore—a very hopeful Spouse ifaith; but pray cause her to unvail, for I am resolv'd you shall see the worst of her, now my hand's in,

Give me patience — what — Madam Lidia!

How—my Sister!

Now do I expect some stale, rotten, overgrown Chamber­maid, some eternal Green sickness, some compound of Paint and Impudence, that has been suffer'd to live, meerly to plague morta­lity; but come, hang't, I'll stand up boldly, and bear my afflicti­on like a man. Well Sir Frolick, my doom is she, a Witch or a Gipsey.

O'ons, are you mad Sir?—why 'tis Mr. Beverly's Si­ster, one worth at least ten thousand pounds.

What ten thousand pounds?

Sister, this does not suit your Education.

Brother, your pardon, I am now at age, and will not be controul'd.

This was more than I expected, but I am glad on't fo [...] Beauford's sake.

What, I warrant Sir, you repent your bargain now? come what d'ye think on't.

Think on't! the Devil take me Madam, if I am not past thinking; I am all extasie, fear, hope, wonder; but will you really marry me? and are you worth ten thousand pound, is there no trick in't? gad, the apprehension of my late ill luck does so torture me; therefore dear Creature tell me; swear, is there no trick in this upon your soul?

None I swear—I am resolv'd to marry ye.

Not a word more, there's a bargain made.

Mr. Beauford, do not flatter your self; your Estate must be consulted, before we proceed further in this affair; she is my Si­ster, I am her Guardian too, and have now 6000 l. of hers in my hand.

Have ye so! I'gad I'le have something else of hers in my hands then, by to morrow night, I am resolv'd: and, now I think on't better, your Honor is pawn'd to assist me, and I challenge it as you are a Gentleman.

The Devil's in't, that this should happen thus.

Well, Sir, though this be an odd turn in fortune, yet never shall any breach of promise taint my Honor;

Well, if this should be a Dream at last now— but a pox 'tis impossible, I have her in my armes here, and if the Devil takes her from me now, gad he shall take me too. We'le go lo­vingly together.

Come, all's well, all's well: this was a lucky business, faith; but give ye Joy, Sir, give ye Joy.

Now, if my Grannum there and I were reconcil'd too, we should be all Friends; but, How the Devil is't possible, when a Man has such a continual Hagg-look from her? No, it will not be; 'Sbud, me thinks she looks more like a Witch every day then other; I shall be haunted [...]re long with her I [...]s, and Fairys; Well, I'me re­solv'd to spend all her Estate in comforting my heart up▪ I'me con­scious to my self how much I want it—for▪