WELL, well, Aemilia, You may pre­tend what you please; But I am sure, You go to Church thus constantly, on­ly to Pray for an Easterly Wind.

Truly Marina, if my Love has made me De­vout, yours has made you very Lazy; for ever since you saw Bellmine, you are grown as fond of your Bed, as a young Poet is of his first Works.

And is not that a properer place to think of one's Lover, than the Church? I am as much teaz'd with your Devotion, as a Rake is with Dunns, or as a Mask in the Play-House is, with that Rake.

Love that sweetens all Tempers, has sowr'd thine.

Pray let me hear no more of it then.

And yet if I should Talk of any thing else, you would no more mind me, than our Gallery does the Parson. What! Last Pacquet brought you no Letters? Why, he's Coming

So is Freelove; That makes you so Gay. But Dear Aemilia, now I have mention'd him, inform me better of his Character, and tell me how you came acquainted with him, for he must be an Extraordinary Person that cou'd please you.

While I waited for a Wind at Chester, he chanc'd to come thither. He saw me, and it seems I displeas'd him not. He quickly found an opportunity to be acquainted, since I did not shun it; for I own at first view I lik'd him.

How, at first View! What! You that such Num­bers have sigh'd for, and have been insensible to all; Like at sight!

'Twere a Wrong to Friendship, and Beneath me, to dissemble with you. His Person pleas'd me; but when he talk'd, his Discourse appear'd so Soft, so Natural; his Wit so Lively and so Unconstrain'd; That, tho' I ever Dreaded the Inconveniencies of Love, I struggled harder to conceal my Flame, than to restrain my Heart; for ha­ving Seen and Heard, 'twas mine no more.

Meer Rapture! But what Reputation has he in the World? For I regard that more than his Person or Wit.

As I, so he, was to most a Stranger. All agreed he had no Estate, but a Fine Gentleman.

How's that! No Estate, and a Fine Gentleman! Advise him to keep where he is, if he would preserve that [Page 3] Character. I assure you, 'tis as Difficult to be thought so here, without an Estate; as it is to be thought Honest and Get one.

All are not of that Opinion, for if Bellmine had no Fortune, I suppose you wou'd think him a Fine Gentle­man.

I thank Heaven he has a very good one, and really Cousin, I find it much for his Interest in my Heart, that I never Considered him without One.

You are Mercenary.

Not wholly so; perhaps I shou'd not esteem an ac­quaintance the worse; But I think a Good Estate is one of the prettiest Qualifications a Husband can have; my Love may decay, but an Estate is a certain Good. Oh, 'tis such a Comfort! When my Husband is in a Dogged Humour, to call for my Glass Chariot, take the Air on the Strand, and make half a score pleasant Visits, and as many Conquests.

Conquests! I hope you wou'd not receive Ad­dresses if you were Married?

Not Bare-fac'd Love, not Plain so; but certainly nothing pleases us more, than to be Admir'd; pleases us! pleases every Thing; What thing is not pleas'd to be Lik'd? Then 'tis a certain Cure for the Spleen. Can any thing be more Diverting than to have a Man who has ten times more Wit than I have, fall at my Feet, and Adore mine.

Can you think so, and not conclude it Flattery?

Flattery! What then? Is not my Power still the Greater, to force him to say, what he does not think? Then I make my Husband Jealous by it.

Is that an Advantage?

Oh a Great One! I have known it sharpen many a Stomach that was Cloy'd before. At Least, if Jealousie [Page 4] will not make him Kind, 'twill make him Civil, out of fear of what I may do; Nay, I think it shou'd make him Proud too.

There is indeed a secret pleasure in having our Choice approv'd of; and I never knew a Man fond of his VVife, when she was slighted by others. He will no more boast of his Choice then, than she with Reason will boast of her Virtue. And it seems then, you do not doubt being Admir'd.

Truly Aemilia, I fancy this Face, Bad as it is, with the advantage of Gay Cloaths, Coach and Equipage, will draw Admirers, when there are so many Stait Fellows in Red out of Employment.

Fy, fy, You begin to talk madly; come, let's haste to Church, and drive away these Thoughts; I believe they have almost done.

Well, Thou art the strangest Creature; You are always interrupting my Mirth with Church, and at Church I am sure you are thinking of something else.—Come pri­thee, Let us take t'other Turn—What you will go—Well I follow.

We have had a pleasant Quick Passage. Wou'd there were no more Shelves, nor Quicksands, no more Dif­ficulties in my Voyage of Love, and that it might be as soon finish'd.

I am sure I have been aboard long enough to smell like one of the Cabbin Boys; I fancy I totter still; the Ground seems to rise in Waves before me, and when I walk, [Page 5] I lift my Feet and Paw like a Horse who has just lost his sight.

A pleasant place this! The Name of it?

St. Stephen's-Green.

I like the Air.—I am glad your House has the benefit of it. Here Sirrah—what, you are Surveying where you shall get Drunk to Night; this Rogue looks out for a Brandy Shop with more Earnestness and Joy, than a Privateer for a Merchant Man. I wonder Bellmine you dare trust this Drunken Rogue with so many weighty Affairs.

Alas Sir, Your Worship knows, I am the soberest Man alive: But if ever I do drink, 'tis always after I have dis­patch'd my Business, I divide my time well.

Oh yes! Exceeding well! Between Drinking for your Diversion, and Pimping for his. But while you are Sober, and before he has any New Honourable Employment for you, go see that our Things are brought from Ship-board. We shall walk here till you return.

If all my Old Friends have not forgot me, I hope to employ him.

I thought this last Amour wou'd have made a Convert of thee, and Cur'd thee of all Extravagancies.

This last Amour has Quite spoyl'd thee; thou wer't once one of the prettiest Fellows about the Town; thy Advice assisted me in Love, thy Wit promoted Drinking, thy Exam­ple Encourag'd both; But now thou art Grown a Downright Damn'd, Sober, Dull, Virtuous Fellow.

Well, You are upon the Brink of Matrimony; if it does not Cure thee, 'twill at least tame thee.

Oh for Heaven's sake Name it not! I dread it as much as our Farmers do the Wool-Bill.

If you have such terrible apprehensions of it; How came you to think on't?

Think on't! Why I don't think on't; norever will think on't. If I Repent, which 'tis a thousand to one but I shall, I am Resolv'd to have that Excuse, that I Marry'd inconsiderately.

'Tis as extravagant and unaccountable for a Man of your Sentiments, and loose Life, to Marry, as for a Coward with a good Estate to turn Souldier; Yet I have seen both; and as in an Engagement, they VVink and Dye, so you'll VVink and Marry.

I beseech you, no more of it. I hate the word, Mar­riage, as much as a Mariner does whistling at Sea; and for the same Reason, I fancy it will raise Stormy VVeather. 'Tis a hard Case that we must submit to the thing we Hate, before we can have the VVoman we Love.

The Ladies have a much harder Case with Men of your Extravagant Principles: You are always Teazing 'em with Love; if they Return it, you Insult; if they Refuse it, you Rail; if they Marry you, you grow weary of them; if they Comply without it, you Contemn them.

Aemilia has made you a Rare Advocate for the Sex; I have known the time, when you wou'd no more allow Virtue in VVomankind, than Honesty in a Jesuit, or Sincerity in a Courtier.

VVhenever you hear any Man talk so, take it for Granted, that he has lately met with some Disappointment; or that he is more Conversant with the Bottle than with them; and 'tis then we chiefly deny them to be Virtuous, when we find they are so: For some of you prudent Sparks, never Com­mend a VVoman, but to Conceal an Intrigue with her; and the readiest way to ruin their Reputation, is for such to give her a good Character.

I confess I have more Charity for them since I knew Marqia, than formerly; and you are giving a sufficient Proof of your good Opinion of the Sex, and of the Violence of [Page 7] your Love, that have come from London hither, to Marry a Lady without a Fortune.

And wou'd think my Travel round the Earth Reward­ed with a Look.

I know I please you, by daily asking her Character.

My Heart is never Easy, while my Tongue is em­ploy'd about any other Subject. She has Goodness without Folly or Easiness; Wit and Virtue without ill Nature or Va­nity; Beauty without Art or Affectation: She is so Excellent, that even her own Sex Admires her, for those very Charms which Create their Envy.

Young, I don't doubt.

She is so Young, she wou'd not take it Ill, to be call'd Old.

But has she such an entire Possession of your Heart, that you can make Love to no other?

I cou'd not even Affect it.

I can, as you shall see immediately; for I perceive some Ladies coming this way Mask'd.

Well, I'll give you an Opportunity and Leave you.

No, to give me an Opportunity, you must stay; En­gage one, while I talk to the other.

You must Excuse me.

Away; Thou art Grown as Surly, as if thou wert al­ready Married; Come, no Denial, walk on a little, well take a short Turn and Meet them.

Now as I live Cousin our Prayers are heard; Yonder is certainly my Spark Bellmine.

And with him Freelove! How my Heart beats and labours in my Breast! And now my Blood has taken the Alarm, [Page 8] flies to its Spring to be Assistant there, forsakes its Channels, and leaves each distant part Pale and Faint.

Pale and Faint! That is pleasant! Now am I ten times more Lively than I was; my Heart is a little Unruly too; But that is only, because it is weary of this Old Dull Prison, and has a mind to exchange Quarters with that Gentleman's. Prithee don't stand Trembling here, but let us walk towards 'em.

Marina, Hold! I must be recovered a little before I own my self: But what say you, if we shou'd keep on our Masks, and see if they will Attack us; we shall try their Con­stancy by it.

Nay, as for Constancy, I am not so Unreasonableas to expect that yet. 'Twill be very well, if my Spark leaves Rambling to a half Crown Ordinary abroad, when he has a plentiful Feast provided for him at home. However, I like the Proposal, I shall try his Wit, and Rally him by it: And Nothing pleases me more than making an Ass of a Man of Wit; and a Mask is a Rare Opportunity, it Conceals who we are, and Encourages us to be Bold, while our Sex Protects us.

Ladies your Servant! We think our selves very For­tunate, That the first we see have so fine a Mien and Shape, and I am confident your Faces are answerable: VVill not you have the good Nature as to Unmask, and prove me in the Right?

A good reasonable Request truly in your first Speech: Are the Ladies of your Acquaintance so very Coming? But you are as much Strangers to us in Expecting it, as you are to the place by Demanding it.

You like us the worse it may be for being so?

That supposition shews you are Strangers, or you wou'd know, that to be so, is a recommendation here.

Does that humour reign here? I hope it does in you too; then I may succeed; for I assure you I am but this mo­ment arriv'd; and to make me still the more acceptable to thee, my Pretty Dear Creature; know, that I have brought over some New Fashions, New Tunes, and New Plays; I can tell you which House has the best Audience, which Player is most Applauded; who the Celebrated Beauty of the Town, who keeps the best Equipage; I can tell you who Loves who, and who does worse; what Duels have been lately Fought; who Kill'd, who Hang'd, who Jilted, who Married, who—

And so Convince me, you go abroad for the same wise Intent, most of our young Sparks do. But you may as soon Borrow Money of a grave Citizen, by this Character of your self, as expect any Favour from me by it.

Will not this please you? why then I can give you an account of the Court; I can tell you which Lord has the greatest Levy; I can tell you of great Favourites, who scarce cou'd Breathe for Crowds of servile Sycophants, and in a days time as lonely as if it had been Writ over their Doors, This House is Infected with the Plague I can tell you of the Advance­ment of Fools and Knaves, and the Disgrace of Men of Se [...]e Worth, I can—

Hold, hold, you will only perswade me you have met with some Disappointment there, for few rail at the Court for any other Reason.

Let me but have one stroke at Rogues in Power—;

Not a Syllable, or I shall believe you are vext, because you cannot be one in your turn.

Will not this do? why then have at the Parliament—

Worse and worse.

Nay then, I find no subject will please you but Love, and the tender soft Things I have to say on that, must be whisper'd.

A pretty New VVay your Ladyship has of Rallying truly. You think Flattery too great a Good to be enjoy'd by Men only, and I'll lay my Life if once you aim at it, you will be too hard for us, 'tis said we cannot keep pace with you in Virtue, I am sure you outstrip us in Vice, when once you set your selves to it.

'Twere very unhappy a Man of your VVit and Judgment should have a mean Opinion of us.

My VVit and Judgment! very pretty. Take my Advice, never Admire a Man for those Qualifications, which I assure you are the greatest Enemies imaginable to your Sex. VVit and Judgment! why a Man must prove he has neither, before you'll allow him to be in Love.

You harbour severe Thoughts of us, and Love.

I seldom speak my Thoughts to a Mask; But for once, to Convince you I have Charitable Thoughts of both; I'll venture to tell you I am in Love.

I fancy then your Mistress treats you with severity, or requires unreasonable things of you.

There is nothing she requires I can think so.

If she be unkind, try another; I am confident so fine a Gentleman must succeed.

You are so very lavish in your Praises, that I know you expect I shou'd proffer you a Bottle of Wine and a cold Chicken.

My Praises at least deserve a civiller Reply.

Nay if you knew with what indifference I proffer it; you wou'd have more reason to affect an angry Tone; for if you shou'd comply, I assure you my usage shou'd be much Civiller than possibly you expect.

Come, this ill Nature is meer affectation in you; you have so good an Appearance, I am resolv'd to esteem you, spite of your indifference.

I am sorry, Madam, my indifference has not the same effect on you, that your forwardness has on me. Here Bel­mine, prithee relieve me; I am the dullest Fellow at this Common-place Chat.

You have done very Charitably, Sir, to call to your Friend; Poor Gentleman! he has ran himself clear out of Breath by Protesting his Passion for me.

VVho I, Madam? alas, I have said nothing yet; why Madam, if I do not admire your VVit, your Shape, your Mien, the colour of your Hair, your Fancy in your Dress, more than—

Have a Care what you say, Sir; pray let your Simile be short, for I fancy you are so very Fickle, that before you have made an end of it, your mind may change.

VVell, we will give the Gentleman leisure to reflect till Evening, and perhaps by that time his Friend may be in a better Humour.

Dear, Kind, Obliging Creature, we will certainly at­tend ye.

VVhy, what a damn'd unlucky Rogue was I now? that I did not attack her: she seems to be half won already, and I'll engage you did not say one kind passionate thing to her.

Not a Syllable truly.

And she was very Compliant?

So she seem'd.

VVhy there's it now. Oh Fortune, Fortune! how dost thou shower VVealth upon the Rich?

You have great reason to complain of Fortune in­deed, because you have not succeeded with such as these.

Such as these! why, who do you take 'em for, pray?

For VVomen of the Town.

Women of the Town! why, thou dost not know where thou art. Women of the Town! why, there are no such things in this Town.

No! then I have found the Reason you spend so lit­tle time in your own, Country.

Freelove, not a word more of my Extravagancies as you tender my Pleasures; I am not so much Reform'd yet, but I have a Mind to enjoy them a little farther, and I cannot do that here, but under the Disguise of a Sober, Discreet Person.

And so you wou'd be thought Virtuous, that you may be the more Conveniently Wicked.

Even so Faith.

A very pious Design truly! yet I have known you affect a quite contrary Reputation, and were industrious to be thought a very Lewd Fellow; Nay, and I have known such a Character do a Man effectual Service with Women.

Ay, where Opportunities were easily met with; Wo­mens Inclinations are alike in all places, but all Places are not alike. In London, tis difficult to be known; here, im­possible to be conceal'd. Such a Character may do one Ser­vice with the Woman, but not with her Relations. There, you may make a thousand Cuckolds, yet they never hear of your, Name: Here, you cannot make one without being Intimate with him; and I'll undertake you shall not be three days in Town, but every Body in Town will know you; nay, and know, whence you came, how long you stay, what's your Business, and if you have none, they will feign enough for you; for I could name you such a Sett, so Inquisitive, such De­tractors—But hold, yonder comes one will spare my pains.

VVho, that Old Fellow?

He's their President: One who never spoke Commen­dably of any Mortal. There are no Degrees of Good with him, only some are less Bad than others; and indeed he has reason to talk, for he has been a Bubble to Man and VVo­man from his Infancy.

Methinks his ill Nature shou'd prevent him from that.

His ill Nature prevents him from designing to oblige any one, but he has so good an Opinion of his own VVis­dom, that any one may make an Ass of him. Scurrility with him, is giving an Impartial Character, and that you may think he speaks Truth, he rails most at those of his own temper.

Enough of him; Pray let me avoid being known to him.

Impossible; I'll undertake, tho' we have not been Landed these two hours, he has had an account of it already; and comes to Congratulate our Arrival, for he will be tolera­bly civil to the present Company, either out of fear, or de­sign to gather something he may rail at.

Mr. Bellmine, Your humble Servant.

Your Servant, Mr. Wormwood.

I am glad to see you in your own Country again; I heard you were come.

Freelove, d'ye hear?

I was told too there is an English Gentleman, your Friend, accompany'd you hither: I suppose that may be he. Prithee what may be his Business? they say he is come to—

VVhat, know his Business already! Come, I'll pre­sent you to him, and you may know it from himself Mr. Freelove be pleas'd to know this Gentleman, he is a plain [Page 14] Impartial Historian of the Times, and a very proper Acquain­tance for a Stranger; for he knows the whole Town, and gives every one their just Character.

VVhy truly, Sir, as this Gentleman says, I do speak my Mind; I think no Body can tax me with Flattery.

You shou'd bid him have a care of Detraction too.

You'll spoil all, if he hears you

you'll terrify him into good Nature. No, he hates Detraction too; for 'tis not Detraction to speak ill of those who deserve it.

You are in the right, Sir, and that I wou'd do, tho it were of a Judge, and I had a Suit depending. I wou'd sooner loose my Cause, than my honest way of Speaking.

I believe you will be more Entertaining to this Gen­tleman, if you will tell him who are the Beauties of the Town.

If you will rely on the Ladies Characters of one another, there are none: For they are so Envious here (for which you must know I hate 'em) that each thinks the Com­mendation of another is a wrong done to her self, and that you deprive her of that Beauty you approve of in another.

I have heard there were many fine VVomen in this Town.

It may be so; But you who are a young Gentle­man, and I suppose would be acceptable to them, must have a care of saying so.

VVhy so?

Because you must make your Court to the present, by railing at the absent.

That is a New VVay indeed.

An infallible VVay to succeed. 'Tis what they practice to one another. I can name you some VVomen who visit and are visited by half the Town, are civilly treated, and have no Merit but Impudence and Scurrility. As for Example—

Have a care of Names.

I'll venture at hers. My Lady Volant.—

How, my Lady Volant! I never saw her, but have heard abundance of her. And is she in Being still: why what a bottomless sink of Malice is her Breast, that is not yet exhausted?

'Tis a Corrupted one, and taints every thing comes within it. She hates every Body, yet is the civilest Person in the whole VVorld, when she wou'd dive into your Affairs.

Or wou'd borrow a Guinea. However she is a good Manager; for her Lodging and Dyet cost her Nothing; she Bilks one, and Spunges for t'other.

I see you can Rail too.

Oh she's a publick Pest. She has done more harm to deserving young Ladies Reputations, than the Small Pox has to their Faces.

No more of her, I beseech you. But is there no Bo­dy Merits a Good Character?

You that are a Stranger may think there is. But those who deserve to be Laugh'd at next, are that young, Pert, Conceited Fool Vainly, who construes every Abuse a Com­plement, and that old Lewd, Fat, Doting Feignyouth, who are both bewitch'd by her Ladyship.

How, Sir Francis Feignyouth.

The same. He fancies her Virtuous and Rich, tho' she has so very little of either, she wou'd renounce her Virtue to borrow a Crown. And because she is reserv'd to him, he concludes she is is so every Body else.

This is Incredible. Is it possible he can be ignorant of her Character? he has Friends enough to inform him.

If you went about to inform him, you wou'd find it a hard Matter to convince him of your Friendship; For [Page 16] he believes whoever speaks against her, has some design on her himself. As for Vainly, I think no Body values him enough to advise him.

VVhat if I shou'd advise Sir Francis; he cannot be­lieve I have a design on her.

But he knows you have one on his Daughter Mari­na, and he'll imagine you advise out of Interest.

VVell, Sir, I thank you for your Information, it may be of use to me. VVill you please to Dine with us at the Globe: and let us know more of the Affairs of the Town. Come Freelove, I see your Man yonder, I suppose he has ta­ken care of our Things; we'll Dine and change our Cloaths, and then take another Turn here.

No, I can Feign, and yet my Heart defend.

POx on this troublesome Coxcomb, he follows me again, there is no getting from him. If I abuse him, he thinks 'tis either Raillery, or like a Friend to tell him of his Faults.

I ask your Pardon, Sir, for staying behind you, but I cou'd not help it. You saw the Occasion.

Not I, Sir, I did not mind it.

No! why some Ladies stopt their Coach, and de­sired to speak with me.

It may be so.

Well, certainly there is not so true a Friend, nor one so fit for a Confident as you are. You'll never seem to know any thing of your Friend's secrets. I do not believe if you saw me in bed with one of those Ladies, you wou'd take any Notice of it; at least, I am sure you wou'd not speak of it.

I am sure if I did, I shou'd not be believ'd.

What!—You think I soar higher. No Faith, a Man in this Town must sometimes stoop below Title.

I'll say that for thee Vainly, thou hast Assurance and Pride enough to aim at an Empress.

I vow your Complements make me blush, 'tis true, tho' I have just Pride enough to keep the Best Company, and Assurance to make use of an Opportunity.

Mistake me not, you have however Humility to dispense with a Kitchin Wench.

Thou art the most agreeable Man upon Earth; you say as obliging things to me, as I cou'd to my Mistress. But dear Wormwood, dost thou really think that I can Suit my self so handsomly to my Company? am I so very obliging, so wondrous Civil?

The Civilest Person alive, for you never contra­dicted any Man, tho' he abus'd thee, nor ever made any Re­turn to it but Thanks.

Why cou'd any thing but so good a Friend, put the Construction of Civility upon such things, if I were Guilty of them.

There is no freeing my self from him, but by beat­ing him.

Look ye, Sir, I shall not be so wondrous Civil as you are, therefore in short, neither trouble me with your Company, nor with your professions of Friendship.

Why, as you say, a professing Friend is to be sus­pected; we that are so Intimate, need not tell each other that we are so.

We Intimate! Leave abusing me. Dost think I wou'd be Intimate with thee? for what? for that abundance of Powder in thy Perrewig? or for neatly Twisting that great Slabbering Bib? or for the nice Rowl of your Stockings? or for your Muff-String and the Buckle?

Better and better. Why then you do think I dress well; I confess all the Ladies in Town are of that Opinion.

Abominable Rogue!

I tell thee thou dost nothing well; thou art as dull in thy Conversation, as thou art pert in thy Behaviour. You set up for Dressing, as if you were newly return'd from Paris, but do it as awkward­ly as one of our Attorneys Clerks, or a young Collegian, who has just thrown off his Gown. Thou wou'dst be thought Brave by that Long Sword, but wou'dst fly the sight of a Bod­kin. In short, thou art in nothing what thou woud'st be thought, but art in every thing what thou seem'st.

Well, such a Friend is an inestimable Jewel. I now pronounce my self a happy Man in having so sincere a Friend, so plain dealing an Acquaintance.

Again Friend; abuse me so again, and I'll spit thee with thy own Sword.

Why thou hast as much Modesty as good Nature.

Death, I have neither.

Who can deal thus honestly by me; and cannot hear your self commended with the Title of my Friend.

The Title of thy Friend a Commendation: why this is past all Sufferance. Look ye, Sir, since I cannot per­swade you to understand me by Words, I'll try to make you understand me by my Sword. Come, Draw Sir.

Draw Sir!

Ay, draw Sir, so I say, no Repetition.

What a Plague will you Fight a Man, because he calls you his Friend?

Friend again! that word has wing'd thy Destiny, as the Poets have it. I see the Rogue dare not Fight, I may push this matter home.

But Good Mr. VVormwood.—

Death, Sir, Draw I say, I shall make you Dance to a New Tune.

Oh Lard, Sir, is that all! how dull was I that I did not understand you! I protest, dear Sir, you had reason to take it ill, that I shou'd be so tedious in Gratifying you. I learn'd a New Minuet yesterday; and tho' the place be not so proper, yet to shew how earnest I am to oblige you. La, La, La, La.

Nay, then I think I may venture to put up my Sword, and beat Time with my Feet on your Buttocks thus and thus—

What, Quarrelling Gentlemen! hold, hold.

Oh no, Sir, by no means; you do not know Mr. Wormwood, he's a facetious Person, and had a Mind we shou'd practice a New Dance.

An Antick, I suppose.

Right, Sir, 'tis even so: if we can but get a Sett, you shall see what Sport we'll make at the next Ball.

That, I hope, will be difficult.

Gentlemen, a word—I wou'd not have you seen in that little thing's Company; you see he has no Sense nor Courage, and it may make the Wise and Brave reflect on you.

We thank you for your Caution, Sir.

Mr. Bellmine, you know I always had a value for you; your Friend too seems a fine Gentleman, and I suppose is of your temper; wou'd be acceptable to the Ladies; but nothing can be so destructive to that, as being seen with that old snarling ill bred Fellow; hang him, despise him, leave him.

Indeed to leave him to himself, is the surest way to Plague him, for ill Nature is its own Greatest Torment.

You are most Ingenious. Dear Mr. Bellmine, you and I will be wondrous great. Call your Friend away, and come with me. By your absence for some time, you may be out of Acquaintance. Come, I'll shew you every Body. I'll make you acquainted with the whole Town this Afternoon. I have access every where. You know the Ladies were al­ways Fond of me.

I desire not to intermeddle between such Ladies and you; therefore pray Excuse me.

Extreamly obliging, kind to the last Degree; to deny your self so great a Pleasure, for fear of Rivaling me. But I will not suffer that so much Goodness should prejudice you. Come, we are hard by Sir Francis Feignyouth's, I'll car­ry you thither.

Are you acquainted there?

Goodness that you shou'd not know that! most in­timately, Sir. Truth is, they wou'd be much fonder of me, but I'am often troubled with the Spleen, exceedingly trou­bled with the Spleen, Mr. Bellmine, and they poor Crea­tures [Page 21] do so Sympathize with me, that I never go there but I give it to them.

Faith thou art enough to give any one the Spleen.

Oh Good Sir, be not concern'd; I wou'd not for the world infect you; 'tis too much to be so nearly concern'd for me: Besides there is no Danger of having it in your In­genious Company; and that is the reason I go there so often to divert it, for Sir Francis's Daughter Mrs. Marina has a world of Wit, and her Cousin Aemilia is nothing short of her, they have both vast Sense, vast Sense they have indeed; and you know you may depend on my Judgment. Then they Write so Charmingly.

Have you any of their Letters?

Oh Goodness, Sir, what a Question is there?

A Question! why dost thou dare to say it?

Not a word you say, but gives me a proof how in­finitly you value me. No 'tis base to boast of a Ladies Fa­vour, that is the truth on't. I take your Caution extream kindly Mr. Bellmine.

Death and Hell dare not to think it, not to hope it, nay, not to wish it.

Oh Enough, enough, a Word to the Wise; I will be more discreet for the future.

Discreet! Insolent Wretch—Death, thou deservest to be beaten.

Bellmine so loud! Dost thou not know that next to the Disgrace of being Beaten, is that, of Beating those we know will bear it.

For thee even to name the Woman I admire, is al­most enough to lessen my Good Opinion of her, did I not know you both.

Away, mind him not.

Od's my Life, is one of them his Mistress? I thought there was something extraordinary it makes him so Cho­lerick; he is Jealous and takes me for his Rival; nothing less cou'd make him angry with me; But we that are admir'd by the Women, must expect to be envied by the Men. Pox take 'em, I cou'd bear their Envy, but I don't rellish this Quarrel­ling and Striking, and Hurting and Fighting, and Wounding and Dying, and the Devil and all. Where is the sense of it? I am sure every Body is so fond of me, that if they did but know how little I care for such things, there is not one wou'd offer it to me, not one, I'm confident: Least these Strangers shou'd mistake my humour, I'll march off; and there is a rare Oppor­tunity, a Hackney Coach coming this way with two Masks; I'll pretend they call'd me. Heigh! you Rascal! Coach-man, don't you hear the Ladies cry hold? Dear Gentlemen, you see the Rea­son of my leaving you, there are some Ladies in the Coach call me; therefore I hope you will pardon the abrupt Depar­ture of your most obedient faithful Servant.

There's a Dog now, there's a Rogue. Why, wou'd you prevent my Drubbing him? I wou'd have kick't him in­to Jelly.

If you had persever'd, you had quickly made his feel­ing as dull as his understanding.

I attack'd his most sensible part.

And yet I have known some as Contemptible as he, boast of their success in Intreagues; nay, and boast with truth too, tho' one shou'd imagine that Vice alone shou'd destroy their future Success; since it is as imprudent in Women to put it in such Mens power to boast, as it is in the Men base to be Guilty of it.

There is none so Despicable, but have some Quality to recommend them to some Body. Nay, it oft happens that a Man is admir'd by some, for that very Quality, for which [Page 23] others despise him: And Vainly has one Qualification will make many Men, and most Women value him.

What is that?

A Good Estate.

Those who want one, and imagine it to be a much greater Blessing than it is found to be by you, or any who possess it.

For my Part, I cannot help fretting that such dull Rogues as that, shou'd have one. 'Tis a Gift of Fortune, as much missapply'd, as to confer swiftness on the Blind; for he can make no use of it; and that is all my Comfort. He Squanders it all away in Sword, Knots, Perrewigs, Essence, Powder, and such material Things.

Oh Sir, Let every Man dispose of his Money as he pleases, so he is inoffensive to others. We have all different Appetites; his satisfaction lies in Gay Cloaths, your pleasure lies in not being pleas'd. One Man loves Drinking, another Intreagueing, Bellmine both; being a Man of an universal Genius.

Your Servant, Good Sir, you needed not have Tra­vell'd so far for an Example. But yonder, I think, comes my old Dad that must be, who will exceed both you and I in those.

Yes, yes, 'tis all about the Town already that you are to marry his Daughter. But let me advise you one thing; Break off the Match between Sir Francis and my Lady Vo­lant, or you will have but a slender Fortune with your Spouse.

But can it be possible that thou should'st give this Ad­vice, purely out of good Nature?

No, I do not; mind it not; 'twill Gratifie my ill Nature, that thou shou'dst not follow good Counsel. For­ward the Match, and then Marry the Daughter for pure Love. But if I were you, I wou'd chuse to Marry his Niece Aemi­lia, that I might be sure not to have a Groat with her.

And is not she a Fortune without Money?

Ha! ha! ha! the Man's mad. Why, what the Devil is Fortune but Money, or what is Woman or Honour or any thing else without it?

Has she not Virtue, Sense, and Beauty?

The Woman is not ugly, that's the Truth on't. But where hast thou been Educated? where hast thou spent thy time? what hast thou convers't with? Nothing but old Fables and Romances, with your Lucretia's and Sempronia's, with your Cassandra's and Clelia's, and such stuff. In this Age talk of Virtue and Sense! why I tell thee—

Wormwood have a care, he's the Sex's Knight Errant.

Is he? why then let him suffer as much as any of those fancy'd ones to get his Mistress, (and she prove to be a VVhore)

but if you will not give me leave to vent plain truths, I'll go think 'em.

I am much mistaken if this Fellow wou'd not stand Kick and Cuff as heroically as t'other.

Altogether as rank a Poltroon; they only differ in the manner, not in the thing. But here is one will please us better,

Mr. Bellmine, how I rejoyce to see you again in Ireland! Well, and what price bear Wine and Women now in London? hah! does the Mall swarm with Masks, and is French VVine admitted yet?

Before we talk of such weighty Affairs, let me desire you wou'd know my Friend here.

Mr. Bellmine, Sir, has given you a Character will introduce you into the good opinion of all this Town.

If it can purchase me yours, 'twill be the greatest Ser­vice it can ever do me.

Oh Sir, your own Merit will always give you an ab­solute sway over, Sir, your most faithful humble Servant.

My Merit, Sir, will make but a slender Figure in the presence of so accomplish'd a Person as Sir Francis Feign­youth.

I protest, Sir, you make me blush—Nay no more I beseech you, my modesty will not suffer you to proceed. (an exceeding well-bred ingenious Person!)

So, he has won his heart already.

Mr. Bellmine, no one has a better taste of Man than you. You have done your Country Service by bring­ing so fine a Gentleman to it. May I crave your Name, Sir?

Freelove, at your Service, Sir.

I have known several of that Name in England, fine Gentlemen all. VVell, Sir, for your comfort, you will find VVomen here that are not Despicable; I know 'tis the greatest Commendation of any place to you young Gentlemen; But then Opportunities are scarce, there's no getting at 'em.

I hope that is no Fault to you who have a Family, Sir Francis?

No, no, I speak in reference to you Gentlemen; I am past such things my self.

Past it, Sir! a Man of your Make, your Health and Sanguine Constitution, past it! no Sir, you are as Vigorous as ever.

Think you so, Mr. Freelove? Do I seem very Strong, very Sanguine, very Vigorous? hah!

As Five and Twenty, Sir.

You Flatter me; I shou'd find it hard to perswade the VVomen to that Belief.

No VVoman that has Eyes in her Head will doubt it; if she does, you can convince her another way.

Ods me, I'll go see my Mistress incontinently: I am not so decay'd as I thought. VVell, Mr. Freelove, I am much oblig'd to you for your Complements; if you will meet me at the Coffee-House this Evening, I'll carry you to see my Mistress, to receive your Sentiments of her. I have a great Relyance on your Judgment; so much, that since you think me fit for it, I am resolv'd to be Marry'd to Morrow.

How Sir! to be Marry'd.

Ay, to be Marry'd, Sir, what have you to say against that Holy State? you will not declaim against Marriage be­fore me, I hope?

By no means, Sir, since I admire your Daughter, you may be sure it is that I covet.

Do you so, then why do you not Marry, if you like one another?

I can promise for my self, and I hope there is no A­version on her side. But there is something else to be Con­sidered.

VVhat than Love! Do you pretend to Love, and Consider any thing else but Love? Consider! pish, that word agrees as ill with Love, as with one of thy age. VVhy, when I was a young Fellow, I never consider'd any thing but how to get a Mistress, and then how to get rid of her.

But you know, Sir Francis, in Matrimonial Cases, we are to consider how to maintain Children, and House-keeping, and a VVife will expect a Coach, and a fine Equipage, and Gay Cloaths, and—

And the Devil and all, I know it Sir, I know it.

Now Sir, tho' I have a tolerable Estate, yet the better to support your Daughter's Grandeur—

You wou'd have me starve my self.

No, no, I shall be very Moderate.

Phoo, trust to my Fatherly Love Boy, trust to that. If not, yonder she goes, look upon her, and Consider if you can.

Is that she Sir? Freelove, the very Two we have been talking with this Morning! what a couple of Dull Rogues were we?

Is that she? you a Lover, and can't distinguish your Mistress in a Mask! Yes, 'tis she, and my fine Niece Aemilia. Talk of Portions! Look on 'em I say; there's a Motion, there's an Air, there's an Air: See, see, how firm they tread, hah? and then see their Hips, how they jut, how they rowl. Go, get ye gone, ye lazy Fellows, get ye gone. Ods me, don't stand staring after them, but follow them, and try how our Ladies can talk. Go, get ye gone.

Well Sir, I'll meet you at the Coffee-House.

Very well, away, away.

These young Fellows now adays are perfectly of the VVo­mens temper, must be forc'd to do what they Languish for, or they keep themselves so low, they must take time to be mis'd; I believe I am brisker than any of them—How the Jades have fir'd me. VVou'd I cou'd meet with any thing that were not my own Flesh and Blood now—Any thing tho' she were in a Stuff Riding-hood.

VVe that have Vigour, and our Stomachs keen,

Can eat of any Dish, that's sound and clean.

Now am I resolv'd, for once, to give her a small proof of my unshaken Fidelity.

Now cannot I find in my heart to discover my self, tho' I long he shou'd know me. I see, to Deceive is a greater Pleasure to our Sex, than to Love.

I perceive you are a VVoman of Honour, by being so punctual to your assignation; but I am sorry so much Kind­ness as well as Justice, is thrown away on a Man, who is not inclinable to make use of either.

So indifferent, Sir! you talk't in another strain this Morning.

Then I had some Reasons.

Why do you not still?

The Cause is remov'd.

VVhat was that?

To give my Friend an Opportunity to talk to yours.

VVhy do you follow me now?

To contradict what I then said.

Truly, Sir, 'tis a very needless Trouble you give your self, for be assur'd, I as little valu'd, as I credited what you said.

You see however, I am a Man of Conscience, and cou'd not rest satisfied, till I endeavour'd to convince you—

How little you value me.

That I value you—as much as a prudent Man ought to do a Mask. But that the Fates have otherwise dispos'd of my Heart.

Oh Ridiculous: is the Creature in Love!

Ridiculous:

Do not you know that every particular VVoman de­spises a Man for Loving any thing but her dear Self? and will you be contemn'd by the whole Sex, to be esteem'd by one?

I very well know, Madam, Love is a Passion despis'd by all over whom it has not a present Sway; not only by those who never yet Lov'd, but even by those who have Lov'd. But I never make other Men's sentiments a standard for my Pleasures.

And will you be laugh'd at by your own Sex, and de­spis'd by ours? and all perhaps for one who Loves some body else; Nay, 'tis very likely for one of so little VVit, that you will be laugh'd at more for your choice than passion.

Nothing can justify the Excess of my Passion, but the Excellence of the Object.

I have known some doat even on Deformity, and say the same thing; have fancy'd Beauties where there was no­thing but Faults. But for my part, I shou'd think it a scur­vy Complement to have my Lover say, his Passion and my Beauties, were owing to his Fancy.

And yet the most perfect owe their Conquests to that, or we shou'd all Love the same Person.

I doubt not but your Fancy is unrivall'd. Some Nauceous thing.

I tell thee perverse Woman, she is the most excellent of her kind; she is beyond my description; not only beyond your belief, but imagination.

Fulsom.

Thou dost almost provoke me to treat thee roughly; but that I perceive something in thy Air and Shape, not much different from hers, and for which I honour you.

Alas poor Dissembler! I thought I shou'd Discover whence this uncommon Fidelity of yours proceeded. You very well knew to whom you profess'd it, and to whom you address'd these Commendations. I do not doubt but the old Gentleman I saw you talk to, discover'd to you, who your humble Servant was.

Bless me, Madam, is it you!

How cou'd you have the Conscience to tempt Humane Frailty thus? and wou'd you have blam'd me, if I had been false to you, when tempted by you?

As if you did not know me!

Know you [...] impossible. Come, indeed I shou'd chide you, as well for trying my Faith, as for concealing your self so long, when you know the Business of my coming here was to see you, and the Business of my Life to serve you. When I am sensible of no pleasure without you, and have no wish beyound you.

Hold, hold, or I shall believe you imagine I have my Mask on still; when nothing will pass for good Sense that is not strain'd beyond it; nor for a Complement under Profaneness; nor for Love that is not ridiculously affected.

You must allow a little heat at first sight, after so tedi­ous an Absence.

That shall not excuse you, if I find you knew me, for I cannot endure to be undermin'd.

What will convince you that I did not? shall I have recourse to Swearing? and—

And Dissembling. No, those are too oft practis'd to gain Credit with me. But come, I'll refer it to your Friend that is walking before us; I hear he's a Man of Sincerity: And if you have fool'd me, by talking thus, when you all the time knew me, expect nothing but Frowns from me these three Days.

I will still pretend I know her not, that I may see how she will resent my Passion for another.

Believe me, Madam, when I protest it was an affected, and own it was a brutal Entertainment you receiv'd from me this Morning. But I come now full of Repentance, and full of Hopes you entertain the same favourable Thoughts of me, you then seem'd to have.

There has no alteration happen'd in my Mind since, but there seems to be in yours.

A Reflection on your Goodness, Wit, Shape, and Air, was able to soften a heart more hard than mine; But a second View and farther Proofs, have confirm'd it to you.

Shou'd he say this and not know me? I'm lost.

A bad Face (as perhaps mine is) will soon lose my Conquest.

It must be bad indeed, if so many other Charms can­not attone for it. Be what it will, I admire it.

You prove your Generosity in giving your heart to a Stranger; but that makes me doubt your Constancy; a Vir­tue in a Lover, which every Woman has the Vanity to expect, tho' so few deserve it.

You want no assurances of my future Constancy, if you believe I now Love you; for no one ever Lov'd, who did not conclude he shou'd always Love the same.

I must conclude you very Rash and Imprudent, to profess such Love to you know not whom.

The more I shew my Imprudence, the fiercer I prove my flame; trust me, it is a Dull and Languid Passion, which can be check'd by any Consideration. Shall I, to be thought prudent by a World, where some will hate me for being so, and the rest do me no good, debar my self of real Pleasures? No, no, Prudence must submit to pleasure, with me.

What! have you no regard to Reputation?

As much as any Man. But whatever we pretend 'tis pleasure rules us. We do not this, nor forbear that, for the real good of the thing, but that it pleases us. The VVoman that is Chast, is not so for the sake of that Virtue, but the Fame of being so, delights her more, than the Joys she re­ceives by being otherwise. When any Woman refuses what I request, and Love prompts; I conclude, 'tis because she values [Page 32] something more than Love and me; and she who suffers any thing to come in Competition with her Love, Loves not.

You have given me great Advantage over you; for since I have not profess'd a Passion for you, I am not oblig'd to any of these Extravagancies, but you are.

I own it. There is nothing I will refuse, that Love and you require.

And you profess this mighty Passion to me only?

Witness it Heaven and Earth, to you only.

Ungrateful Fickle Mah! Look here, behold this Face, and be as much confounded to behold who 'tis, as grieved 'tis not a Stranger to your Baseness.—Oh that Sub­mission well becomes thee now, but dost thou think I am that tame forgiving Fool, a Bow can Reconcile me to thee, make me forget thy inconsiderate Rash Temper? when e're I do, I shall forget thee too; remembring one, I shall remember both, and both despise.

'Tis as I wish'd.

What's as you wish'd? that I have found thee false; art thou come here only to publish it? 'tis well thou canst not publish too, that I ever made thee a Return to thy feign'd Passion; that wou'd indeed encrease thy Pride.

You never have till now.

Till now! unheard of Impudence! what! when I tell how I disdain a Vice, must you misconstrue it for Love?

Yet, am I pleas'd, o'rejoy'd at all this Wrath, which shews your Jealousy; the greatest sign I e're cou'd yet receive, that I am not indifferent to you; to have this proof it was, that I disguis'd my knowledge who you were.

Oh Hypocrite! Artful Dissembler! how quick to catch at an Excuse! this shews thy Cunning, not thy In­nocence, while I suppos'd thee Honest, 'twas easy to delude me, and gain a Credit in every thing. Now thou art known, [Page 33] I doubt each word, Even known Truths utter'd by thee, wou'd be suspected.

Do not Persist in this; why will you dash my rising Joy, my first and only hour of Bliss? I sought to know if you valu'd me enough to be Jealous, and wou'd be happy in the search, cou'd I now remove your Doubts—for I Love—

No doubt, you Love; Love every thing you meet; and therefore 'tis I'll none of it. Therefore I'll leave you to gratify your Roving Humour. Run, Fawn, Caress each Common Thing you meet; give them thy heart, a present only fit for such; try which can affect a Passion most, and which can first Deceive. While such as I, look with disdain on thee, and pity upon them.

Oh Confusion! what have I done? searching to dis­cover her Love, my only Happiness, I have forfeited it. Curse on my impertinent Curiosity.

Curse on my dull Designs! my Concern too hindred my telling her, her Uncle cou'd witness I knew her. Before she's undeceiv'd, she may take some resolution for ever Fatal to my Love and Quiet. Nay, I have given her a Moments disquiet; were I an Age upon a Rack, 'twere but a poor Attonement. Oh, I cou'd tear this prating Tongue out by the Roots, beat out these stupid Brains; and only spare my heart, because 'tis hers.

What's the meaning of all this? here's some Mis­chief towards. I met your Mistress frowning, and find you ranting. What Quarrel already! this Matrimony runs so in, your head, it has quite spoil'd your Humour; stay till the Comfortable indissolvable Knot is ty'd, and then I shan't wonder. You Jarr like Man and Wife already.

Oh Bellmine! I have done the most imprudent thing—You need not wonder at my Rage, since you beheld her frowns. I am the Ridiculous Cause of Both. I must be making Ex­periments.

Why, I have been about some such matter too, which had like to have happen'd ill. But thanks to a little decent Assurance, and some few necessary Oaths, all's well again. My fair Lady having no great reason to think me the most constant of Lovers, I was resolv'd to let her see, I was not to be tempted, and pretended not to know her.

Did you leave her in that Opinion?

Or I wou'd ne're have left her. I were a hopeful Fellow indeed; and had improv'd my Time well in the world, if I cou'd not perswade and swear my Mistress to any Opinion.

You swore it too, you did not know her?

Swore it! ay lustily: what dost think I wou'd scruple an Oath to put a Lady in a good Humour?

What unlucky Stars were they which brought us to­gether, and what an unnatural Conjunction; that ever I should enter into strict Friedship with one who is my perfect Reverse!

What art thou mad?

I Dreaded I had ruin'd my self, and you have Con­scientiously by your Genteel Qualities of Lying and Swearing confirm'd it. I am undone, if Aemilia believes I did not know her, and Marina will confirm her in that belief, thanks to your Industry and Conscience.

Pish is that all? why, I'll forswear it again, Man, to do you Service.

If you cou'd but prevail with your self to speak truth, there wou'd be no occasion for this Complaisance.

Speak truth to a Woman! why you see what comes of it. I tell thee the Sex bear such a Detestation to it, that no man ever succeeded with them that practis'd it. But come, Sir Francis Feignyouth expects us by this time to carry us a vi­siting; I have a mind to see whither her Ladyship be improv'd in Scandal; what new Reputations she has sacrific'd to her Malice.

I am in no humour to be delighted with such things.

I never knew any Man so easily dejected in Love Af­fairs. I have already advis'd you always to dissemble in Re­lation to Women. I will give you one Caution more, in re­lation to all matters as well as to that.

Ne're let your mind be with Despair o'recast;

But always hope, you will Succeed at last.

'Tis better far to hope, altho' those hopes deceive,

Than to despair of Bliss, and yet the Bliss receive.

DOn't you think, Madam, that I'll bear this Life any longer, I will not endure to be us'd thus; nor must you think to talk to me at this Rate.

Not suffer me to talk! you sawcy Fellow; do you know who I am?

A very needless Question to be put to me by my La­dy Volant, considering the Familiarities that have past be­tween us; your Pride, your Malice, your Inquisitiveness, your Detraction, are known to all the Town; and your Ladyships Chastity and Wealth in a more particular manner to your pre­tended Steward, Timothy Tellpenny.

And do you upbraid me for having these Qua­lities so agreeable to your self; and for the want of those you have ruin'd? Did I take you up half Starv'd, and in Rags, Fed you like an Epicure, and Cloath'd you like a Gentleman, till you are as overgrown in Bulk, as with Pride? maintain'd you so well, made you live in so much Plenty and Ease, that [Page 36] there is as great an alteration in your Person as Circumstances; so great, that you neither are known by others nor by you self: And is this the Reward I have?

No, you have been rewarded to the full, my Good Lady. That you nourish'd my Person, was for your own sake; if I had not been of more than Herculean strength, you had reduc'd me to a Shadow e're this, to ashes. And has not the Credit of my being your Steward gain'd you so much? Have not I manag'd and spar'd prudently, and bor­row'd for you profusely? Have not I by my Art impos'd you on the Town for a great Fortune, when you know you were never able to give me a Guinea, that I did not first borrow for you?

But who must pay those Debts?

Who? my Wit must; your Jointure never will. Have not I wrought Sir Francis Feignyouth to Love you? Have not I perswaded him to a Belief, that your ill Nature is Wit, and that your Pride is Virtue; that the decay of your Per­son proceeds from a neglect of your self, and not from Age; tho' you know you are equally industrious to be thought hand­some your self, as that no body else may be thought so. And have not I made your Poverty pass upon him for good Management? and least we shou'd be disappointed of him, have I not us'd the same Arts to Vainly?

You have taken Pains to get me a Husband, that I must own.

As much as ever a young sanguine Wife did, to get an Heir to a Rich feeble Husband; gone to as many places, and try'd as many Men.

But to what purpose have you succeeded yet?

Ay, to be sure 'tis the Man is always blameable. I had succeeded long since, if you wou'd be pleas'd to govern that unruly Member, your Tongue; which is ever employ'd in [Page 37] Flattering the present, and Railing at the absent; so disoblige both, for so you do but rail, you no more consider to whom, than of whom you speak.

Nay, Good Tim, I relent, thy words pierce my heart.

You will exclaim against a standing Army before a broken Officer, and praise one before a politick Senator; you are never of the same Religion with those you are in Company with, but change it with every Visitor: A Fanatick before Papists, and with Fanaticks for Jure divino; you commend Ireland when out of it, and abominate it now you are here; you condemn Plays before Poets, and adore Sermons before Atheists; you rail at Ladies before their Lovers; and at Hus­bands before their Wives; but that I think is not much minded, you have not got many Enemies by that.

I beseech you, do not treat me thus.

Is there one Person in Town you have not vilified? and to make the Scandal bring more certain Ruin with it, have you not aspers'd other people with your own actions? Do I not know all your Faults, and have not I carefully conceal'd all for above these three years, that I have known you?

Thou hast, I own it, I was to blame to deny thee.

And after all I have done, and all I expect to do, re­fuse me a Guinea, and when I carry'd the Plate to pawn too.

There, there's a couple for you, tho' you know dear Tim, how very few more I have left.

Pretty Rogues! Comfortable Rogues! how they mollify me! how they smile on me! you know Madam, is to entry on your Projects, alas, what occasion shou'd I have for Money, but to do you Service! what have I almost forgot! Mr. Bellmine, who they say is to Marry Sir Francis's Daughter, is Landed this Morning; now you must use all your Art to delay this Marriage, till your own [Page 38] be perfected, and till you have got the Knights Money in your own hands; for Mr. Bellmine, having a good Estate, will require a great Portion, which will disable Sir Francis from paying your Debts, and spoil our Projects on him, for his Estate being Entail'd, he cannot raise much, and the moment he is Married, I will arrest him for Four or Five thousand Pounds you must pretend to owe me.

Four or Five thousand! Ten or Twelve.

Ever insariable. No, no, such a Debt and the Bon­dage of Matrimony together, will break his heart.

Well, I leave all to your Management.

Is not that a Coach stopt? 'tis some visitor, I will usher them up.

How insolent the Rogue is grown! Thus we are ever us'd by such Fellows, when we put our selves in their Power; and we never treat them better than they deserve, but they treat us as we deserve; I am glad however he knows not my Grand Secret; that wou'd make him Ten times more sawcy. I have conceal'd it above these five years, not only from him, but from the whole Town, and with much ado, heaven knows, considering how much depends on it, the place, and my Female Frailties, for I have observ'd that Secrets of the greatest Consequence, are preserv'd with the greatest pain. That we cou'd but keep a Secret with as much ease, as we can dissem­ble! but the Reason's plain, the one gives us trouble, the other pleasure, as for Example.

Mr. Vainly, your most humble Servant.

Your most Obedient Vassal, Dear Madam.

Your Company, Mr. Vainly, is so coveted by every one, that it is impossible you shou'd make any particu­lar person happy with it, often or long. You are grown a Stranger here.

I protest Madam, ever since I was here last night, I have been so tormented with the Spleen.

Alas Sir, that is a cruel Distemper truly. But it is a Fine you must pay for Wit. You Wits are all subject to that.

We are so indeed, Madam; and really I believe I have it to a more violent degree than anyone. I swear Madam, it has such an effect on me sometimes, that I do not put above half a pound of Powder in my Perriwig for a whole day, and Discomposes my Face so violently, that I cannot bear even the sight of a Looking-Glass, and I hurry abroad without the Garniture of a Patch, or a Sword-knot.

Is't possible! nay, if it makes you neglect your self, your Friends must expect to be serv'd so too.

Every thing is disagreeable to me then, but your La­dyship. That I think was Nice.

Oh Lard, Sir!

Nay, I swear 'tis truth. Alas Madam, 'tis scarce a Complement in this dull Town.

Do you think it so too, Mr. Vaînly?

Oh Madam, I cannot bear it.

Nay solemnly, Sir, it was a great while before I cou'd; it agreed as ill with my Constitution, as it doth with my Inclinations; but, thank my Stars, I have done tolerably well, since my being Naturaliz'd. How fortunate am I to have my Opinion strengthen'd by one of your Judgment! 'tis a horrid place, and I vow. (as you say Mr. Vainly) I do not see a pretty VVoman in it.

Not one but your Ladyship; nor is there an agree­able Man here.

Only Mr. Vainly. The Women are so affected.

And the Men so Proud.

So Censorious—

And so selfish—and when a parcel of 'em are met together, so talkative.

They make as much Noise as a Crowd of Ap­prentices at a Bonfire.

But now we talk of such People; Mr. Bellmine is Landed this Morning, who is to Marry Mrs. Marina; and with him there is come a Gentleman who has the same design on Aemilia.

No doubt they'll succeed; since one is as little admir'd for her Wit and Beauty, as the other is for her Fortune.

Ha, ha, ha, Your Ladyship has the neatest VVay of Railery, I have had some Encouragements there; and I do nor doubt but Mr. Freelove (for that's his Name) will desist as I did, when she hears he is a Beggar, and when he has seen your Ladyship.

You are so obliging—But pray what sort of a Man is he? he must needs be an extraordinary Person who has so particular a Fancy.

He was very fond of me, till he began to suspect me for his Rival, so was Bellmine too. The best I know of him is, he is just come from dear England, and has been lately in much dearer France The worst I know of him, or indeed can know is, that tho he wears fine Cloaths, he has no more Money than his Mistress.

Oh hideous!

The best Jest is (for all the Town know it already) tho' they are acquainted with each other's Condition, they are in Love with each other, and are resolv'd to Marry.

And Starve. Oh Matrimony and Poverty join'd, are Comfortable Things! Sure his Head is as empty as his Pocket.

That I suppose, you will soon be convinc'd of; for I saw him with Sir Francis Feiguyouth, who I do not Question will bring him here this Evening.

Alas, Mr. Vainly, you know I cannot be so rude to refuse a Visit, or I wou'd never suffer that Ridiculous Fel­low to come within my Doors; but Civility often constrains us to do what we hate.—I think I hear some Body coming—You'll pardon me if I retire, it wou'd not bear the appearance of Decency to be found Entertaining you alone; I assure you my Woman wou'd not behave her self thus, were any other here but you. You'll Excuse me Sir—

Oh Dear Madam, this Confidence in me, is the greatest Honour that can be conferr'd on, Madam, your most Obedient Servant.

She is fond of me to a violent Degree, that's plain; the next time I come, I will propose Marriage to her; I fear no Rival, especially that Old Fopp.

Come Gentlemen, come, you shall see now, if I han't made a Good Choice, you shall.—Ha! how! what! Vainly here! Pray Sir, if I may be so bold, what is your Business here?

My Business, Sir!

Ay Sir, your Business, Sir; I think I speak very plain, Sir?

Oh Dear Sir Francis! Plain Dealing is a Jewel, you cannot oblige me more, than to deal plainly and freely by me. I take it for a signal proof of your Kindness.

Here's a shifting young Rogue; who wou'd have thought it had so much Cunning. But answer me to the pur­pose, or I shall try how you can evade a Pass of this. What is your Business here?

The Business of all the World, Sir; to wait on my Lady Volant.

Is it so? And have you seen her?

Have I seen her! Oh Goodness, what a Question there is? Pray Sir, do my Visits use to be refus'd, Sir?

There are indeed some Ladies, who treat all Men alike, the Impertinent with the same Regard they do the Man of Sense, the Little, Fidling, Prating Fop like the Man of Honour and Discretion; But my Lady Volant is no such, she can distinguish, she can Sir—

Ay, I know it Sir, I know it; and you will find so in a little time.

Why ye Little, Young Pert, Prating, Fidling Boaster, do you hope to Succeed, where I have Pretensions? Don't you know that I can Fight? ha—

Not with this Gentleman I hope, Sir Francis. Me­thinks you mistake the right use of him; he is properer for your Diversion than your Anger.

Ay Sir, 'tis very true. I have fought, Sir, several times, but in my Opinion, Laughing and Talking is better Sport by the half.

Especially to one whom it becomes so well as you.

Your most humble Servant, Sir: I am glad we have Gentlemen come to us now that understand Breeding and Conversation; 'Tis not to be had here. I protest, Sir, I am forced to go to England once a year, to refine my under­standing.

VVhat need you put your self to that Trouble? Cannot you keep a Correspondence with your Taylor?

With my Taylor, Sir!

Yes; For all you Learn by your Journey, is a New Fashion; and all you understand is, whither your Cloaths be well made.

You are so obliging, Sir. Truly I think this Coat is very well Cut, sits with a Good Air. I had it sent me by an Express from London; for I cannot bear any thing [Page 43] but what comes from thence. Oh 'tis a happy Place! and in a blessed Country, where there are all things necessary, where there are such pleasures, and such Conveniencies to enjoy them!

I have been told you have all those here.

Oh not one, Sir, not one.

You have good Wine?

Yes, yes, that's true, I had forgot that.

Plenty of all sorts of Fish and Flesh.

Phoo, they are perfect Drugs. Plenty of Meat and Drink; but nothing else.

The People are Civil and Obliging.

Especially to Strangers.

And Hospitable.

To a Fault, Sir.

The Air is Good, a temperate Climate.

Much the same as in England.

The Soil is Rich.

Oh 'tis too Rank.

VVhat necessaries then, or what pleasures do you want? You have fine Women.

They are kind I am sure.

To you chiefly I suppose.

Shall I make a Confession then among my Friends? I do not believe ever any Man has been so successful. I do not know that ever I ask'd in vain.

I can hold no longer. Why thou little worthless Contemptible Wretch! Do you entertain Strangers with your aversion for your Country, without being able to give one Reason for it; and can you give but one Reason for liking it, which if it were true, would make all others abhor it. The Women fond of thee! Why the Common Hackneys who live by thee, Contemn thee. But such as he think if he is not affronted, he is belov'd.

You must know, Sir,

he is Jealous of me, that makes him so peevish, he us'd to be very fond of me. Therefore I'll tell you more of this some other time, and in the mean time study all Opportunities of shewing how much I am, Sir, Your most Obedient humble Servant.

Your Servant Sir. This Spark takes leave, I perceive, always alike, I suppose too of every Body alike, and in the same Stile as he concludes his dull Insipid Billet-doux.

Ay, hang him, hang him, he is always dully Brisk and Impertinent. But here she comes who is all perfection.

Madam, Your Ladyships Slave. Be pleas'd to know these Two Gentlemen; this is Mr. Freelove, and this is Mr. Bell­mine. You see, Madam, how Communicative I am to you of every thing that is Good; you shall share all my Goods.

This is a signal Proof indeed.

This Gentleman is in Love with my Niece, and this with my Daughter. VVhat say you, Madam, shall we be Married all together? keep time, odd, I believe I cou'd—make it a day of Revelling, and a night of Loving, Feast all day and Kiss all night.

Sir Francis, I have all the Respect and Friend­ship for you, that a Man of your Excellent Parts can require with Modesty, but I must desire you not to talk so loosly be­fore me. Marriage is a sacred thing, Sir Francis, a very sacred thing; yet it is a thing, Sir Francis, that may be abus'd, and may be perverted to raise indecent and unruly Cogitations.

I told you how reserv'd she was.

I presume you found Mr. Vainly here. I assure you, Sir Francis, I left the Room because he tacitly imply'd the thing Marriage, tho' on his knees, and with all the Chastity and Modesty imaginable.

There she has given the Reason.

Can he mistake this for Virtue? I wou'd as soon take a Bully's Rant for true Courage, or a Cringing Designing Cour­tiers low bow for true Humility. This Ridiculous Cant, this affected Squeamishness is as nauseous to me, as open Lewdness, and I am sure as certain a sign, and a greater Crime, for she adds Hypocrisy.

I am so far of your Opinion, that if you will take him aside, I am resolv'd to make Love to her.

VVhat at first! and to what end?

I have just now a Project conceiv'd in my head, but I have not time now to impart it.

Son Bellmine, you must try to prevail with my La­dy here, and as you succeed with her for me, so you must ex­pect to succeed with me for my Daughter.

Oh for some Art to Charm him from Marina; or at least delay the Match; for I must dally no longer with my old Gentleman.

This is a severe Task, Madam, that Sir Francis has impos'd upon me: To require me to make Love to you, and not for my self.

He is very sensible, Sir, that his Daughter has Charms to secure you from one much more engaging.

Fathers are as Blind as Lovers. And give me leave to think he is a much more indulgent Father, than passionate Lover, or he wou'd dread your greater Power wou'd make me false both to my Love and Friendship: And shou'd Marina make the same Tryal of my Constancy, she wou'd convince me she exceeds you as much in Vanity, as she is inferiour to you in every Charm.

Truly, Sir, if Sir Francis had such a Talent of Elocution, I believe he might have succeeded long since. And for his Daughter, I conjecture I am not much inferiour to her in the superlative Charm, Fortune.

That never was a Charm to me; tho' I cou'd wish it were one to you, since I can at least equal Sir Francis's.

Sure, Sir, you can have no other design in this, but to try with what temper I can support such Complements.

That is not my design, I assure you.

Is it not indeed, Sir? on your Veracity.

No, on my Honour, Madam; nor can you suppose it is. Methinks a Lady of your piercing Wit, shou'd in a Moment read ones thoughts, as in a Moment so much Beauty Conquers.

'Tis as dangerous to believe one of you young Gentlemen, as it is difficult to deny so fine a Person.

Convince me, you think me the latter, by allowing me a Moments Free Conversation.

Alas Sir, even to talk thus is a Liberty I never permitted to any before; and I am sure you cannot in reason ask more.

Lovers are always thought Extravagant in their De­mands, by the indifferent. Therefore I fear to ask what I wou'd give the World for, that you wou'd let me see you this Evening in St. Stephen's-Green.

Oh me Sir, what wou'd the World say! or what I value more, what wou'd you think?

The World shall never know it, and for me—

What say you Sir, have you no Estate?

Not an Acre, Sir.

Nor Money?

Not a Penny.

A strange dull Fellow this!

And have you really now the Conscience to make Love to my Niece. Can you imagine that she will throw her self away upon you in the Bloom of her Youth; one of her Wit and Beauty. But perhaps you think she has an Equal Stock of Money, and [Page 47] so hope to make your Fortune by her: But I can assure you, she is in the same Circumstances as you are, not worth a Penny.

I knew it when first I saw her, yet my Love receiv'd not the least Check by that; I hope she will prove as Generous.

Generous do you call it? Death! you make me mad. What a Pox is there no way to be thought Generous, but by becoming Mad and Begging. And pray Sir, if I may ask you a Civil Question, if she were Generous enough, as you call it, and mad enough, as I call it, to Marry you, how wou'd you Maintain her, Sir?

Oh, trust to our Stars for that.

I hope she will have more Grace. Trust to your Stars for that! I wou'd as soon trust you for ten Thousand Pounds. I have not heard a Fellow talk so Sillily in all my life.

And I assure you Sir, were our Circumstances chang'd, you shou'd command that Summ from me. I have so great an Honour for you, and so high an Opinion of your Worth and Integrity.

Strangely Impertinent!

I beseech you good Romantick Sir, put not your self to the trouble of making these professions to me, for to be free with you, I no more re­gard your Complements than I want your assistance. A per­fect Fool! Methinks too a very ugly, ungentile Man, as ever I saw!

I hope, Sir, I shall not find you my Enemy in this matter however.

No, no Sir, you need no other Enemy than your self, and those Stars you were talking of. Your Servant Sir, I must mind my own Affairs now. What a confounded Friend has Bellmine chosen out? no doubt a Sharper, and lives upon him. But I'll quickly part 'em, when he is Married to my Daugh­ter.

'Tis well my Breach with Aemilia is repaired; by his owning he told me who she was, or he wou'd never do me that Justice now; for I perceive by this Declaration of mine, I have forfeited his good Opinion. He cannot relish even Flattery from the mouth of a Man he thinks is in want.

And she has listned to your Arguments, you say, and seems Compliant?

Yes Sir, she has promis'd to comply with what I de­sired.

Madam, here are some Ladies come to wait on you.

Oh me! I wou'd not for a Kingdom be found alone Entertaining Men. This is a Censorious Town, and I wou'd not give them an Advantage over my Bright Reputation.

I believe it may be my Niece and Daughter, I or­der'd them to attend your Ladyship this Evening. Ay, 'tis so, 'tis so. Observe now, Sir, if she has not too much Wit, to be so Generous as to Marry you for Love only, and to trust to your Stars.

I am sure if she Marrys for any other Reason, it shall not be me.

I protest Ladies, were it any but you, who sur­priz'd me in this indecent Criminal Converse, I shou'd never have the assurance to obtrude my self upon Company again.

I assure your Ladyship, we have not perceived any thing Criminal; and if you please to keep your own Coun­cil, we are not at all Curious.

Ay, but Madam, to be entertaining men alone, that's the thing grieves me.

No, 'tis because that you have not a Man alone, that's the thing Grieves you.

For they are so Censorious here, that really I do not in all the Sphere of my Memory recollect one Woman whose Reputation is not Contaminated.

I am sorry to hear that.

Your Ladyships excepted. Truth on't is, they make themselves obnoxious to such Calumnies by their Im­prudent Behaviour. For was not my Lady Courtly seen twice in one week at the Play? and was not my Lady Blame­less in a Mask in the Gallery? and was not Mrs. Wellbred heard most Impiously and Obscenely to wish it were the Custom in this Town, for Women to sit in the Pit? and is not Mrs. Winlove seen to walk often in St. Stephen's-Green.

I beseech you, Madam, do not Censure Ladies for this, for I have been Guilty of all these things several times.

What! and do you own it?

Certainly own it; for if there be a Fault in it, it is only when it is made a secret.

Sir Francis, I protest you must pardon me, if I Conjecture these Ladies have strange Crude Notions of Ho­nour.

Well Ladies, you may do what you please, but I wou'd no more be Guilty of these things, than I wou'd sit at a Play in the second Row, which I think very improper for one of my Quality.

And Beauty, Madam.

Oh Sir! why really I think it a Disgrace to both. But I hope you do not approve the Behaviour of some, who are remark'd for daily admitting the visits of Men.

I must Confess, Madam, I seldom refuse their visits whose Conversation I like.

Oh hideous! what can you regard in Mens Conversation, that is Divertive? they are all Insidious, you may believe me. They are always pestring a Woman with [Page 50] their Love, then they beg Liberty to repeat their Visits, and implore a reciprocal Passion; and not contented with that, they desire to wait on her abroad, nay, to meet 'em abroad alone, and Mask'd, and when they have procur'd our Consent so far, then they imprudently proceed to—

Good Madam, do not you proceed farther at this time.

I was only going to Caution you of the Danger, and warn you to keep them at a distance, a vast distance, for some of 'em are so forward, that if we permit 'em to squeeze our Hand, they will incontinently Write to us, and the first Opportunity that offers, will force a Kiss, and they have no sooner ravish'd that, but—

Indeed, Madam, we want no Caution to avoid all this, nor shou'd I think any Man Impudent, who attempted all these things, if I granted him any one of them.

'Tis my great Concern for you, that's all; for I wou'd have every ones Reputation as unsully'd as my own.

What a damn'd Malitious Jade it is?

No Niece, you want no Caution in this matter; but you do in another as Material as your Reputation; your Fortune, I mean. For indeed who can preserve a Reputation without Money, or if one shou'd, who regards it?

So, now for a Lash at me.

Look here, Niece, here is a Gentleman has given himself the trouble to come hither to make Love to you, without having Money enough to pay for a License, or the VVedding Dinner.

Madam, I own.—

Ay, ay, he owns it, what wou'd you have more; a very honest undesigning Gentleman as ever I saw.

I have no hopes you shou'd ever have a favourable thought for me, if it is to be purchas'd with Wealth. But if the sincerest Passion, the humblest Adoration, a Heart [Page 51] immov'd by any thing but you, can atone for the want of Wealth—

Satisfy your self, Sir, they will not. Nor your fine Person, nor your VVit, nor your Courage, nor your Stars, nor a thousand things more. To convince you how small I think their Power, I will leave you in my Mistress's Lodgings. Come Girls, come away. Madam, as soon as I have dispos'd of my Daughter, I will beg to be made happy.

Your Ladyships Servant.

Your most humble Servant. Nay, I will wait on you down. Do you think I wou'd be left alone with Men?

So you have very industriously ruin'd your self with the old Gentleman. But let us be gone before her Ladyship returns.

Yes, he will avoid me as carefully as we wou'd an old cast Mistress.

But where is the necessity of perswading him you have no Estate?

That Aemilia may be the more convinc'd it is so.

Wou'd you have her Love a Man because he is poor?

No, but I wou'd not have her for bear it for that Reason.

He will make use of all his Power to oppose you.

SUre I shou'd know that Face. My old Acquain­tance Timothy in Being!

VVhat, my dear Rakehell alive still!

Nor Time nor thy Disguise can hide thee from me.

I think indeed it is five years since we have seen each other; but what Disguife prithee?

Why that bloated Belly, and those bladder Cheeks, that Crimson Hue, and those huge Pillars which support thee. Thou wer't as VVan and Thin when last I saw thee, as if you were just escaped from the Gallies.

Ease and Plenty have made this Alteration, Eating well, and Lying soft. Thank my Stars, I thrive very well in this Coutry.

Then I suppose you Despise it.

That's but an odd Reason.

A very common one, for I have observ'd that none Despise Ireland so much as those who thrive best in it. And none are so severe in their Reflections upon it, as those who owe their Birth and Fortune to it; I have known many of 'em, when they come first to London, think there is no way so ready to purchase the Title of a Wit, as to Ridicule their own Country.

But tell me, hast thou thrust thy self into any Business? Hast thou got any Employment?

Yes, a very pleasant one, I am in keeping.

In keeping!

Ay, I am kept.

Kept!

Kept! ay kept; so I say, don't you hear.

But not understand. Kept! for what in the name of Venus? to roll on some Body's Bowling Green?

VVell, Sir, you may be as merry as you please with my Shape, but I have other secret Charms, Sir, I have. For know that I have been in keeping these three years, and by a fine Lady; A VVitty Lady.

And a Rich one?

Not altogether so Rich, as when I knew her first, but she has somewhat left still.

Then I suppose as her Fortune declines, so does your Passion. And so you are now about quitting her.

But like a Man of Honour, not till I have first pro­vided for her; I am about Marrying her to a considerable Man.

O Rare Tim! now her Name?

I know thou art a Trusty Dog, or I had not told you so much; but in a little time you shall know all. And now pray give me an account of your Affairs, for I think you seem to be much in the same Circumstances as formerly.

I do but seem to be so. You must know I'm Marry'd.

See the difference of our Cases, how I thrive upon one, more than you on the other. But pray let me know farther.

You remember about five years ago, I waited on Collonel Worthy; I attended him to Flanders, where he was kill'd, but before he dy'd, for some secret services, he gave me all his Cloaths and Linning and Fifty Guineas.

Lucky Rogue! sure you fancy'd your self a Collonel then?

No, I had the humility to dispense with the Title of Captain, which I assum'd immediately after my Arrival [Page 54] in London; 'tis true I pretended to an Estate too, and so went a Fortune hunting.

Very prudently done.

In short, I met with a Lady who was on the same scent; and we Believ'd, Cheated, and Marry'd each other.

The common Fate of Fortune-hunters. But what is become of your Spouse?

I can no more give you a particular account of her, than how I spent my fifty Guineas. She first apprehended the Cheat, and taking the opportunity of my being Drunk one Night, march'd off, and I never heard of her since. In a little time after having lost my VVife, pawn'd my Cloaths, and spent all my Money; I return'd to my old way of Living, and have got into a good Service again.

So 'tis but the Right about as you were.

I wish I cou'd find her out tho, not out of the least Passion for her Person, but for her Fortune, for she has some. Here comes the Getleman I now serve, an Admirable Man.

I saw him to day. But they say he is poor.

You must know that—

Come hither, Good Sir.

VVe'll talk another time.

VVell, well, Adieu.

VVith your Master's Leave, I have an Affair, which I can only trust a Man of your Diligence and Art with.

Your most humble Servant, Sir, I will discharge it accordingly.

You see that Gentleman that comes this way.

Him with the Two Ladies?

The same. That is Sir Francis Feignyouth; go to him directly, he does not know you, and with all the Cun­ning you have perswade him there is a Lady desperately in Love with him.

VVith an old Man, Sir!

Have a little patience. First fire him with a descri­ption of her, and when you find him eager; seem to have taken him for me all the while, that will vex him. Then ad­vise him to come disguis'd, and pass for me, and assure him she shall meet him here this Evening, and let him know he may be very free with her.

It shall be done, Sir.

VVell, walk on a little, that you may not be seen talking to us.

And so you design he shall meet my Lady Volant in your place. VVhat will be the effect of that?

He will discover that she had an Appointment with me, and if he is not stark mad, it will Convince him what a Creature she is.

But is this very Honourable in you to deceive a poor Lady thus?

It wou'd be much less Honourable to suffer him to Marry her; for he will not be perswaded but she is very Rich.

He mistakes her for a Woman of Wit too; But I fancy except Virtue, that is the greatest want she has.

She has some Wit when she talks to Inferiour People; but when in Conversation with those of Fashion and of Sense, she endeavours to elevate her Thoughts, (as she calls it) and refine her Language, and makes both unintelligible, so is af­fectedly Ridiculous, To be Witty she spoils her Language, and her Language confounds even what is Wit.

'Tis strange he shou'd be blind to so many Faults, but you are in the right to prevent his Ruin, since you [Page 56] hope to Marry his Daughter. Do you start at the VVord.

The nearer the Precipice, the more it dazles my sight and understanding. VVhy you us'd to dislike the thing as much as I, till you saw this Aemilia; and remember if e're I am weary of the Bondage, 'twas by your Example I sub­mitted to it. Tho' I expect to be thought the more prudent Person, who have my fancy for the Lady back'd with a good Fortune.

You deserv'd to be ill us'd for your suspitions; and may be no greater a Gainer than I am; for (as the VVorld goes) whatever Fortune the Lover gains by his Mistress, 'tis ten to one but the Husband will repay with Interest, to get rid of his Wife. I hope we shall succeed, and shall have no reason to Repent. I am impatient to know my Fate; Let us lose no time; your Emissary's Discourse with Sir Francis may give us an Opportunity to speak to the Ladies; I see them coming, let us walk on.

Sir, will you be pleas'd to favour me with a Minuits Audience?

VVhat's thy Business?

I wou'd wish you were alone, Sir. I have some­thing to deliver to you from a fair Lady.

Em—walk on, I'll overtake you, this is my Lawyers Servant about an Extraordinary Affair. And what Commands pray has this same fair Lady for me?

Commands! alack, alack, poor Soul she has no Commands, no Sir, her Empire's at an end, and conferr'd on you. Don Cupid has taken stand on your shoulders, and with all his might has shot her thro' and thro'.

Heark ye Friend, if you wou'd have me believe you are in earnest, speak sense, speak sense d'ye see, and don't prate to me of Empires, and Don Cupids, and Darts, and such stuff, but tell me plainly, and in short, what it is you wou'd be at.

Well then, Sir, since you will have it without any Decoration or Preamble, you shall; and truly Sir, I do not wonder you are impatient to know, that the prettiest Woman, the sweetest Woman, the wittiest Woman, and till she saw you, the modestest Woman even in her heart, shou'd slight all the Men in Town, and fall desperately in Love with you, only upon seeing you.

Do not you banter now my Friend? hah! do not you banter.

To Convince you I do not, Sir, I will tell you where you shall see her, and I will not take one Penny for my pains.

Two of the best Proofs a Man wou'd desire. But to raise my Spirits a little, pray tell me what sort of a Woman is she?

Why Sir, in the first place then, she is of a consi­derable Family.

Phoo, Pox of her Family.

And of a most accomplish'd Education—

A Pox of her Education too; that may render all her other Beauties useless.

I mean, Sir, she Sings, Dances, Plays on several In­struments, speaks French, and the like, Sir.

Ay, now thou say'st something. But her Person, let me hear somewhat of that. She is not little?

Of middle Stature.

That's well; I hate a Dwarf and a Maypole. A little Frisking, Jumping, tumbling Ball; and a Long, Thin, Scraggy, ungainly Lath. Her Complexion next.

Like her Stature, between Extreams; Neither White nor Brown; Sanguine, but no fix'd Red, except upon her Lips, a faint Blush seems always rising in her Face, but clear­est on her Cheoks.

Admirable, admirable! not Lean you say.

You know the Song.

I am all on Fire. Deiicate Creature! I have done with my Lady Volant, that's certain. I do not want Money, why then shou'd I be a Slave for it? Now her Eyes, her Eyes, if they prove right!

Of a sprightly Blew.

That's not so well. I cou'd wish 'em Languishing, and of a Glossy Black.

See them, see them, Sir, and dislike 'em if you can. But her Temper is so Gentle, so Meek—

Oh I abhor a Termagant; I hate a Mistress that a Man must go to Cuffs with. I wou'd have her just such a Woman as you Describe her, Soft, and Compliant; only her Eyes, I cou'd wish her Eyes were Black.

Ne're mind the Colour, Sir, 'tis not the Colour makes the Eye beautiful, 'tis the shape of it, the Lustre.

VVell, well, go on with her Description.

Her Teeth are small, even, white and clean; smooth, and look as if just polish'd.

If she answers this Description, I will make thy Fortune, thou hast made me already fancy my self Happy, I am in Raptures. But go on, go on, be never silent in her praise. I am sorry her Eyes a'n't. Black tho'.

'Twere endless, to recount all her Perfections; but to conclude, Sir, to prove how large a share she has of VVit and Judgment, this delicate Creature, with thousand [Page 59] other Charms, all in their Bloom, offers her Heart to you.

Patience, Patience! I am Five and twenty again, Eighteen, and shall I have the riffling of all these Charms say'st thou?

For my part, I believe she will deny you nothing No one that Loves so much can. In sleep she dreams of you, and all her waking hours are spent in sighs and wishes for her admir'd Charming Bellmine.

The Devil! for whom?

For her dear Lovely Bellmine.

For the Devil.

What mean you, Sir?

For Bellmine! ah Plague is all this meant to him!

Meant to him! why are not you Mr. Bellmine? did she not point you to me this very day as you walk'd here with three or four more?

No Sir, I am not Mr. Bellmine, nor have I been like him these Twenty years. A Curse on your mistake! that has kindled all this Fuel within me for nothing. I am struck cold already. I fancy my self Fourscore. But Sirrah, I'll be reveng'd on you for giving me these hopes to no purpose. I wou'd not have been balk'd thus for a Thousand Pound.

I am sure Sir, if it be not you, that she Loves, I cou'd wish it were you. I have a greater Inclination for your Service than for his.

VVhat good, will your Inclinations or VVishes do me?

VVhy, a great deal Sir; since I have committed this mistake, I will persevere in it.

How, how!

I have already betray'd the poor Lady's Secrets, and to make you amends for this Disturbance, I will order matters so, that you shall be the happy Man.

I burn again. Let me Embrace thee. But the Way, the Way, the Method, my dear Rogue!

You shall meet her, and act like him.

That will be somewhat difficult, I fear me, for an old Man.

For once, Sir, you may do well enough. I will perswade her to meet you here this Evening as soon as it is growing dark; she shall come in a Mask, and do you come muffl'd in a Cloak; she is so excessively Fond of Mr. Bellmine, that I am sure, she will comply with my Proposal, and with his Desires; therefore you may be very Free with her, hurry her immediately into a Coach; and Fear will make her yield to you, as Love wou'd to him.

Excellent, Excellent! I shall not contain my self till the happy hour. But will not you play the Rogue, and deceive me?

Upon my Honour, Sir, it shall be as I say.

Enough. The Honour of a Pimp is sacred. The next thing dear to him is Gold; here are five Guineas for you before hand, that thy Honour may be more sacred; (and pray consider how Guineas are rais'd) and if I find every thing an­swerable to what you have said, I will Love her, and Reward thee immoderately. I will go and prepare my self, and be sure you be punctual.

At least Madam, you must acknowledge I am indu­strious for the good of your Family.

And I suppose, I must be Claim'd as a Reward for your good Service to my Father.

For my part, I doubt the success of your Design; for I have so good an Opinion of my Uncle, that I do not think he will be perswaded to meet a Mask. I am sure he rails against such People more than any Man.

Railing is no more a sign of Virtue, than of Wit. In this age People are seldom what they seem; there are some go to Church without Devotion. We have Criticks without Wit or Judgment; and some Fight without Courage; and there are Women very precise without Virtue. And I equally suspect the Woman who Boasts her Virtue, and the Man who Boasts his Valour; and it generally has the same effect, we are picked at it, and provok'd to destroy their Reputation.

To Convince you, Madam, we make a right Judg­ment of Sir Francis; Come hither Trickwell, and give an Account how you have succeeded.

I have succeeded as much to your Desires, Sir, as for my own Profit. VVitness this Gold, Sir. Thus has he Re­warded me for Obeying you.

VVhat do you think now, Madam? You behav'd your self very Cunningly to get Money from him. Yet I have often known Men Starve their Family, and Feast their Mistress.

I remember, Sir, I heard you give a Description of one of your Mistresses, and I entertain'd him with that, which agreed almost perfectly with what he Admires. He is gone in Raptures, to prepare himself for the wish'd for hour.

And you depend on my Lady Volant's coming.

I have Enticed her by the hopes both of Love and Profit; which will make her as punctual to me, as a Sharper wou'd be to a young Rich Cully he had Set. She will no more fail meeting me, than Mrs. Flippant, with her new Equipage, wou'd miss the Strand on a Sunday.

If she be such a VVoman, 'twill be Charity to prevent the Match. But I fancy, Mr. Bellmine, you have some self Interest in this Matter: You expect my Cousin's Fortune shou'd be encreas'd by this, to make you digest Ma­trimony the better, for I hear you have dreadful apprehensi­ons of it, and are resolv'd to have a great Fortune.

Both Reports of me have been truth, I must confess, Madam; but the more I see this Lady, the more my Aver­sion for the one, and my Regard for the other, are lessen'd.

If you Marry for Money, you must expect to be severely Censured by one who has none.

But Madam, you will not have favourable Thoughts for one who knows that, and yet dies for you. Who wou'd sacrifice his Life to be in that state which he there dreads.

But have you Consider'd all the Inconveniencies of Marrying a VVoman without a Fortune?

All, all Madam; and wou'd undergo a thousand more for you.

And how you will be laugh'd at by the World.

I'll pitty their Ignorance. I have Consider'd all Madam, all the Hazards, all the Inconveniencies; how difficult to have a Man's Behaviour approv'd by all, that it is impossible to be thought a Kind Husband by the Women, and a prudent one by the Men. But you shall ever Rule your Conduct and my Heart. I give my Heart without Reserve, had I the World, I wou'd bestow it so. I will be still your Slave, still gaze upon those Eyes, and every look shall make me more your Slave. Oh I want words to tell how truly I adore you! or had I words that were Expressive, my Passion is too fierce to utter them.

If you declare your real Thoughts, your Passion cannot be greater than your Generosity; and may be easier Feign'd. You see I listen to your Love, because I believe it disinterested; if I thought it were not, not all your Art [Page 63] shou'd gain a Moments Audience. I hear you talk of Love, tho' I were silent, to hear, gives hopes.

Let me for ever talk, and only talk of Love. To Love be all the Business of my Life; it were abuse of Life to Live to any other End, be every Moment so employ'd; I talk, but it is Faint and Mean; my Heart now swells, and seems to heave and rage, that I no better can describe its Passion. It bids me say, amongst a thousand things that crowd upon my Tongue, I cannot Love you more, I ne're will Love you less.

It wou'd be a damn'd unconscionable thing now in her, to remember all this after Marriage; for 'tis as unrea­sonable for VVomen to expect Love after enjoyment, as for a Man who had spent his Fortune, to expect as much Credit as when he had it in possession.

VVhat is that you mutter of unconscionable?

VVhy, I say it is an unconscionable thing of you both, to keep us in pain thus, when you may so easily remove it. And to seem to doubt our Passion, when we offer so fair to prove it.

And what is that, Good Sir?

VVhat I cou'd never bear the sound of, till those be­witching Eyes of yours sweeten'd it; Marriage.

Why do you expect that I shou'd disobey my Father?

VVhy do you suppose that I expect you will be obe­dient to him?

Nay Cousin, you need not fear he will oppose you; but I owe some Obedience to an Uncle too, and I am very sure, I never shall have his Consent. But we'll talk no farther of this Matter, till we see what becomes of his Intrigue.

I think the Hour of the Lovers Meeting is almost come. I suppose you will hover hereabout, to see what will be the Issue of it.

It may be some diversion to you Ladies to be VVit­ness to it.

No, that will not be so proper; we shall be satis­fied to receive an account of it from you. Till when your Servant.

Tho' griev'd to part, I ought not to Complain, since you have bid me hope.

Prithee Aemilia, why wou'd you put this Con­straint upon your Inclinations? I am sure you had rather he had stay'd, I read it in your looks; I found your Eyes had al­most betray'd your Heart.

I found so too. That made me more desirous he shou'd be gone. I have Confest enough for this time.

Yes truly, so you have, since you design to Marry him. For Men's Importunity and our Shyness have the same end.

Their subtle Sex is violent to Gain,

And we Deny, more surely to Obtain.

YOnder she comes; now if I can Disguise my self till I get her to a Coach, she's my own. Wou'd it were a little darker however.

VVho is there? Mr. Bellmine.

The same.

You see, Dear Sir, what an excessive Sovereignty you have over me, to compel me to meet you. But you have an irresistible way with you; and all the World extols you for a Man of Honour, and I hope you will behave your self like one to me.

Methinks I shou'd know that Voice.

I, I, my Dear, I will; I'll make your Fortune.

Your obedient Servant, Dear Sir; indeed it is as uncommon to meet with a Generous Lover in this profligate Age, as with a Secret or a Constant one. But I Conjecture you to have all these Virtues, or I had not consented to meet you at first Request.

First Request! What a Pox does she mean? I'm certain I know her voice.

Pray Heaven, I be not mistaken in my Man.

But now I have met you, sure you can desire no more.

By all that's Virtuous, my Lady Volant! Is she the amorous Lady! This was a lucky Discovery; I'll try her farther.

Come my dear, I am impatient till we are more private, I have a Coach waiting at the end of the Green.

I'll wait on you immediately. Oh Heavens! how near was I to be ruin'd! This is Sir Francis! what can this mean? ha! I have it now. A Trick of that Villain Bellmine's to prevent our Marriage; but I'll be even with him.

Come, are you ready?

Ungrateful Worthless Fellow!

Not only base thy self, but wou'd have me too, share thy Guilt: how canst thou be that Mercenary Wretch, to Abuse thy Noble Friend Sir Francis Feignyouth, to deceive his Vir­tuous Beautiful Daughter, forsake and leave her when the Match is concluded on, and Marry me, because I am Weal­thier? But tho' thou woud'st be so Base, think you I am so? [Page 66] Do you imagine I wou'd be unjust to him, a Man of that Worth, that Honour, so fine a Gentleman, because you prof­fer'd me a larger Settlement? No, coud'st thou give me this Island, I wou'd refuse it, and rather starve with him.

Now, let me never drink Claret more, if I can tell what it is you mean by all this.

Who do I see? Sir Francis! It seems then you came with a Design to meet some Lewd Woman; oh me un­fortunate! is there nothing but Treachery and Inconstancy in the Sex? Have I refus'd so many great Matches, and at last Consented to be yours, and is this my Reward?

Why, as I take it, my Good Lady, you came with a Design to meet some Body too.

If my Trouble wou'd give me leave to speak! That Traytor Bellmine, whom you intrusted to plead for you, offer'd to forsake your Daughter, and Marry me himself—

And so you met him to that purpose.

Han't I already told you how I resented his Baseness, when I thought you were he. 'Tis true I consented to meet him, in hopes to perswade him to a more Virtuous and Just Proceeding. I wou'd have conceal'd his Crime from you, being always inclin'd to do Good!

Oh the damn'd young Rogue, I'll be so Reveng'd on him—

And thus while I endeavour'd to do your Fa­mily Service, even at the hazard of my Reputation; you su­spect me. This is a plain Conspiracy between you both to ruin me; is this like a Man of Honour? this the Behaviour I hop'd for from the worthy Sir Francis! I am ruin'd, undone, betray'd; what will become of me?

Nay hear me, Good Lady, do but hear me.

No, I will never hearken to Man more. I will retire from the VVorld, and leave my VVealth to erect Hos­pitals to maintain Mad men and Fools; rather than enrich the iniust

Hear me but speak.

That Sir Francis Feignyouth shou'd suspect me! the only Person in the VVorld I ever gave the least Encourage­ment to; I easily cou'd revenge my self, by marrying Bellmine, and deprive you both of my Fortune, and of your Son-in-Law; had I not still a zeal for your interests, and an Abhorrence for his Treachery.

Come, I'll tell you how we shall be both reveng'd on this Insinuating, VVheedling, Deceitful young Dog. I'll Marry you instantly, and will not give him the value of a Rapparce Farthing with my Daughter.

VVhy verily Sir Francis, you speak like a Man of Honour; indeed to Marry an injur'd VVoman, is the only way to do her Right. But I can hardly Reinstate you in my good Opinion, sufficiently to Consent to that yet.

Nay, I will not delay it a moment; I have a Chaplain ready at my House, and we will spend the Night in Embraces, and Laughing at this Impudent Cozening Knave.—See where he comes, if I were not about taking a surer and sweeter Revenge, I wou'd cut his Throat directly.

For Virtues sake, let us be gone, I have that Detestation for a Cheat, that I cannot brook his appearance.

VVe may venture to approach them now; we shall confound her more, tho' I suppose he is already sufficiently convinc'd what a Virtuous Lady she is.

Your Servant, your Servant, Sir, my Honest, Faith­ful, Plotting, Undermining, Dear, Half witted Rival and Son-in-Law! This was a rare Design of yours, an admirable De­sign.

Sir!

A curious Design, a deep Design! Oh these young Fellows are subtle Dogs at a Plot!

VVhat wou'd you be at, Sir?

VVhat wou'd you be at, Sir, this Lady, Sir. But I shall prevent you, Sir, for I am going to be Marry'd to her instantly, Sir.

You are not serious sure? why Sir, I'll convince you that—

Oh I cannot bear that Traytors sight, let us be gone, I shall faint, if I stay a moment longer. He will have the impudence to deny he made Love to me, and desir'd a Meeting.

I own I did, Sir, but—

Oh! Did you so? truth will out.

And I design'd—

To Marry her your self—Not a word more, Sir, nor a step farther—In half an hours time, I'll admit you to wish me Joy. And so your Servant.

Your Servant Good Mr. Little-plot. Ha, ha.

VVhat is the meaning of all this? I cannot under­stand it.

To me the matter is very plain. She has out-witted you; and made him believe you wou'd have Marry'd her; this you see has enrag'd him against you; and being Mad e­nough to think her Rich, and to be Reveng'd on you, he is gone to Marry her.

He will be Ruin'd, Undone, Beggard.

And Marina the less Fortune. That Consideration is of no small moment to you.

Your Example is of so much greater weight with me, that it has not only reconcil'd me to Marriage, but I think in my Conscience, I cou'd Marry Marina without a [Page 69] Fortune. But it mads me that she shou'd have such a Mother in Law.

She will not be much improv'd by her Example.

As much as a Man may improve himself in Conver­sation, by Drinking with the silent Club here.

'Tis such an improvement as Expert Musitians receive by hearing Bunglers, she may learn what to avoid.

But is there no way to prevent it.

None, that I know of, unless you had some fresh Matter to urge against her. And here comes the likeliest Man to assist you, to furnish you with Scandal.

This will be Joyful News to him. Oh he is so face­tious when any one has been Guilty of an indiscretion, and has so many smart Jokes upon the Unfortunate?

Your Servant Gentlemen. My Spleen has been so tickled just now, at the most diverting sight. Ha, ha.

What, has any one broke his Neck? or has some young Lady run away with her Brothers Footman? or is the hopeful Son expell'd the Colledge? or has there been a Fire lately in Town? or any Merchants broke?

Almost as Comical as any of these. I just now met Sir Francis Feignyouth handing my Lady Volant into his House, he told me he was that Moment going to be Mar­ry'd, and bid me come to you to be Confirm'd of the Truth. Ha, ha.

And is this so great a Jest?

Ay, is it not? to have an old Fellow, who is so fond of Whoring and Freedom and Money, make himself a Slave to Marry a Beggar; that she is one I am now convinc'd Come, will you along with me, I have a Cordial for him [Page 70] that will spoil the effects of Sack-Posset. I suppose the Busi­ness is finish'd by this time, he shall not know it before. 'Tis such a Jest!

No, no, I am Melancholly enough already, and thy Jests always give me the Spleen.

Well, I'll go alone then, for I long to plague him.

That a Fellows whole Delight shou'd be the Tor­ment of others.

Sir, Sir, I have rare News for you. I have found out that will break off Sir Francis's Match.

Be quick in telling it.

Hearing you in great concern to day for his Design to Marry my Lady Volant, I went immediately to her pre­tended Steward, who you must know, Sir, is my old Ac­quaintance.

The properest Person to detect her.

And wheedled him into a Confession that she has kept him two or three years.

Kept him! To what End?

Why, faith Sir, I believe to much the same End, that you kept the Fine Lady that Lodg'd in Convent-Garden.

This indeed may do, if the Intelligence comes not too late; but can you produce him that we may Confront her with him.

He is waiting for me at the end of the Walk.

Hast to him then, and pretend his Lady wants him; send him to us at Sir Francis Feignyouth's, and wait you be­low till I call.

It shall be done, Sir.

Excellent Fellow! For thy Reward, if thy hopeful Spouse be in this Country, I'll find her out for you; But away.

[Page 71] Come Freelove, you will go with me, you may have an opportunity to see your Aemilia.

That Consideration will carry me any where.