WEll, I am resolved to win this pretty Creature, what­ever it cost me: I'll spend the value of half a Spanish Plate-Fleet, but I'll have her.

Dear Sabina, welcome my little Princess; if thy Cargo consists of that dear treasure Hope, unlade, unlade: what news? no signe, no light, no glimmering? what hopes? tell me.

Senior Claudio, question not the success of your designe; for I have made such a progress already into it, as will admit of no ob­struction.

Flie to the relation of it.

Well, thus it is: Your dear Leonora, and the fool her Hus­band, takes it for granted that I am Servant to my Lady Abbess of the Covent of St. Sylvester; and under that character I have been several times with them for gold-wyre for the use of the Covent, as I pretend. The advantage they hope from the custom of the Covent by my means, gains me a very favourable reception.

And the charge of it, Sabina, I will not grudge to bear; thou mayst command my whole Estate upon this Errand.

Well then, if I do not deliver this Fort, with all the Out­works belonging to it into your hands, and before this night be over, may I never bring kinde couple together again, but live as poor and wretched as a Confessor in a Garison, and as shabby as a Bawd in a Pillory.

And if thou dost, be consident to be as happy as I can make thee.

Marry, Senior, and my own happiness is so material a thing, that should I omit any thing that might gain it, I wish all the Curses of an Ash. wednesday may fall upon me.

I fear, Sabina, you will finde it a more difficult piece of ser­vice than you yet apprehend: for she is so tainted with that morose Spanish gravitie of ours, that she put the Slight upon the Charms of Treats and Presents.

Then she's no English woman, I dare swear: for, as I am infor­med, Treats and Presents meet with no opposition there. I have wisht my self in England many a time.

Why so, Sabina?

Why, Senior, 'tis the Land of Priviledge for women: the ve­ry daughter of a Laundress there, after she bears the honourable title of a Miss, expects, nay commands Attendance and Equipage suitable to a Dutchess. And for the men, they are such lovers of change of Fa­ces, that 'tis thought if there were a Colony of Lapland, Witches tran­sported thither, for the sweet sin of Variety, they would sometime be courted for Beauties. And now I talk of Variety, how do you think, Senior, I might pass there?

You are pleasant, Sabina; but all this adds nothing to my affairs: therefore prethy remove the Scene from England into Spain, and tell me, shall my dear Leonora

Well, Senior, and now you put me in minde of England, I cannot chuse but pity your case, that such a noble young rich Don as you should be put to that toil, that charge, and that trouble, for the obtaining such a paltry creature as a Citizens Wife. An Intrigue with a Citizens Wife in England, is as common as a Frolick at a Carni­val here, and has full as little danger in't. There's no locking up their Wives, nor engaging whole Families to punish their frailties. If a Gallant be caught in the fact by a Wives Brother, nay, or a Husband himself, he may as easie come off for Adultery there, as a man may for Murther here. The Gallant gets but out of the way for sanctuary, and the Wife gets her Parents to make up the Breach, at worst, but to pay a new Portion, and all is well. The kinde Cit uses his Wife that wrongs him, as he does the man that robs him; he had rather have his stolen goods quietly agen, than to hang the thief and loose them.

Well, but to my business.

Aye, aye, to your business; you shall have her, you shall [Page 3] have her: I am already so forward in my projection, that

Kinde wench!

She's your own, and so your Servant Sir. Expect to see me come loaded with the best news you ever heard in your life: Such a Mistriss, and such a Plot

Hark you, one word more.

Your Servant, your Servant.

Whirz!—Well, if her wit be as fleet as her heels, the Devil's in't if I miscarry. This is the nimblest little Bawd I ever met with: Most of her profession are such heavie bundles of filth, that the very sight of the nauseous Caterer is enough to spoil a mans appe­tite to the Venison.

Sir, there's a Monsieur came from Madrid would speak with you.

Go fetch him in.

You are come in a very fortunate minute.

Why, Senior?

Faith, to give me your approbation of a Monsieur I have sent me from Madrid.

Dam your Monsieurs, I hate 'em.

Faith I am no admirer of 'em my self; but the Embassadours kindness I could not refuse.

Well Gentlemen, how do you like my Frenchman?

There's a head of hair like the Forest of Arden.

And a pair of Breeches like the Crim Tarters Pavilion. The French and English are such Prodigals, that you shall have a French Monsieur, or an English Lord, bestow more in cloathing themselves and Footboys, than would compleatly robe all the Infantry belonging to one of our Spanish Armies.

Senior Claudio, if you do not put the change upon his Dress, your whole Fortune must go to purchase him Ribbon, Pantaloons, and Perrywigs.

Fear not that: I intend that one yard of Cloath shall make him a whole Sute, and one Mode serve him his life.

I would gladly know the reason of the mutability of those people: I have seen a French Courtier in twelve several Modes in one day.

The reason I'll tell you: They make an advantage by it.

An advantage? prethee how?

They have gain'd such an influence over the English Fops, that they furnish them with their French Puppy-dogs for Valet de Chambres.

And I have heard of an English Captain that threw up his Commission because his Company would not Exercise after the French Discipline. But your opinion of my Monsieur.

Gad, mine is, that one born and educated in the very bow­els of the various Modes of France, and one that has lived among the Belly-gods of England, can never make a fit Servant for the gravity and severity of our Spanish Dress and Diet.

Take the Monsieur in, and let the Taylor and Barber be sent for, and bid 'em be sure to put him into a right Spanish dress. Here's a Bush sit for a Signe-post, and there's a pair of Breeches so large, that the motion of 'em is enough to raise a Hurricane. Sirrah, let his Breeches be made straight, and stufft with Whalebone, to reduce his Limbs into a Spanish Posture. These Monsieurs walk and salute as though their Joynts went on hinges.

Let me pray give te little more room in te Breek, for te varre good reason.

Your reason.

Fait me have to var sore Breek. Oh te damn'd Osteler tat sent a me from Madrid on te damn'd trotting-horse; and te pockie Spanish Gypsey in te ditch, Morbleau.

Well, I am satisfied with your reason; your Breeches shall be a little larger.

Me confess te var great Obligation.

Well, I finde I shall have a hopeful Servant of this Mon­sieur; but before I have done with him, he shall be able to give les­sons of Frugality to both the Courts of England and France.

We are infinitely bound to my Lady Abbess for her good cu­stome.

So are we to her Servant Sabina. Well, that's an innocent virtuous Maiden, on my Conscience.

Look, Husband, where she comes. Welcome, dear Sabina, how does my Lady Abbess?

She is well, and making heavenly preparation for her self and all her good friends.

I am glad to hear that; then I hope we shall not be forgot.

Be confident of that.

Then, Wife, we will e'en leave that tedious troublesome work of heavenly preparation to that good Lady; for she understands the knack of it better than we: besides, she has nothing else to do.

Good Husband, talk not so profanely.

Good Wife, by your favour, is it not a little unconscionable for a man to be put to the Trouble of making provision both for this world and the next too?

Oh fie upon you for a wicked man!

Well, Senior Pedro and Leonora, I have a request to you both, from my Lady Abbess.

What is it, Sabina? but no matter what it is, for I will grant it before I know any further: So will you, Wife, will you not?

But however, Sabina, let us know my Ladies commands first: It is not discreet to subscribe to a blank.

It is to bear my Lady company to morrow, being the Mid­summer-feast: And this, I hope, Leonora, you will not refuse.

I were to blame, if I should.

Nay, thou deservest to be curst by Bell, Book and Candle, if thou dost. But have a care, Wife, that you do not return as some Puri­tan Ladies have done, who will not admit of carnal converse with their Husbands, because wicked and profane, and pretend a command from the Spirit for it; which in my conscience, if there be such a thing as Divinity in Matrimony (and Faith that's a question, as the world goes now) such a command must come from the Devil.

Do you think, Husband, that my Devotion can ever injure my Love or Obedience?

I hope not, Wife; but you must pardon me if I a little fear it: for I have observed that those who are so passionately in love with Religion, never love any thing else: All other duties must be slighted for that. You shall have a Wife shut her self up for a whole day to prepare for an evenings Vespers, and then unconscionably deny her Husband a whole nights Benevolence to prepare for a mornings Lecture. Out upon her!

Well, Husband, if you fear that, I'll stay at home.

No, go, and take my Prayers along with thee, that thou mayst return so severe in Sanctity, that thou mayst be able to work Mira­cles, whilst I get an Abbots Estate by shewing 'em.

Devotion destroy Obedience, Senior Pedro? in that you are [Page 6] mistaken: I have as much Zeal as may justly title me Religious, yet it never obstructed my duty to my Lady, or love to my Friend: A hundred Prayers a day I never omit; and I think that may be call'd Zeal.

Yes marry, and the height on't too. Thou exceedest me Ninety eight: two short Prayers a day I can make a hard shift to run over, and I think that's enough in Conscience for a man that ne'er de­signes himself a Factor in Piety. I did at a high Festival once, but venture at the trouble of Four Avemaries extraordinary, and it threw me into a Fever of six months after.

But Sir, the Gold Wyre. I shall be chid for staying.

I'll step and fetch it.

I shall think the time long till I see you in the Monastery: You will finde a Reception there you little expect.

Indeed, Sabina, every minute will be an age to me, till I am at that pious Feast.

You'll meet such warm devotion there, let me tell you, you'll have a heav'nly entertainment.

Here's the Gold Wyre. Was there ever such Obligations thrown upon wretches of our mean condition? Well, Wife, we are the happiest people in the whole world: Such a Customer, and such a Lady Abbess—I can't but think how she'll tickle thy sweet ima­gination with her heav'nly Company.

Journee Morbleau; oh Diabolo, Diabolo, &c.

Prethy Monsieur be patient; look in this Glass, and be so wise as to grant this dress much better than Pantaloons and Perriwigs.

Begar, mater Fashner, te Devil take you for mine Breek; my foy, me must do my beseness in te Breek.

A pox on you; and be glad you have Breeks to do your business in.

Well, me vill make te varre great complaint to Senior Claudio.

If you do, the next Breeches I make you, shall be so straight that they shall be laced on.

But hark you; what shall we do for Mustachioes?

I have an artificial pair will do as well, till his own grows up.

Te little Vig and te grand Mustach, be var fine tings for te Spanish Commodity. Begar, var me in London in tis garb on St. Taf­fies day, me should be hang on te Signe-post for te Jack-a-Lent.

I wish he had been hang'd, before he came hither, that it might have stopt his journey.

Now me be te right Spaniard.

Yes marry are you, and by the virtue of that dress may chal­lenge as much freedom as any he in Sevil.

Your Mustaches secure you against all affronts.

My foy, var fine; ten tare for your Mater Circumsiser—and tare for you te damn'd Fashner.

What's the matter here?

Begar me be var glad you be come to Fashner and Barber.

What have they done?

My foy, mine Breek be much te straight, and te Mustach so great, tat it much be trouble to sup the Pottage, Morbleau.

Your Breeches must be straight to put your legs and whole body into a right order. Come, let us see you walk.

Be not tis var well?

Is not that better than going and saluting as though your body were dis-joynted, and every limb taking leave of one ano­ther? Truro, how do you like the Monsieur now?

So well, that when I die I'll make him my Executor.

Indeed, Truro, me give te var great thanks for te civility.

You are beholding to Truro, Monsieur; and, Truro, you have a great deal of reason to esteem the Monsieur, for he is recom­mended to me for a man of Parts, and a great Prosicient in the study of Astrology.

Oonds, does he look like a Conjurer?

None my foy, me be no Conjure, but me have te little ac­quaintance wit te Star.

That is an Art I have a kindness for. I must propose a Question to you; if you can give me satisfaction in it, you shall com­mand what respect you please.

And begar if me give you not te var great satisfaction, let [Page 8] me nere be drest A-la-mode again. What be te Question, Senior?

Whether or no I shall gain the thing I hope for? That's all I will say at present: a dark Question I must confess; but the Resolu­tion of it will gain you the greater Reputation.

My foy, Senior, tis Question be deman in te hour of Venus, tarefore it must be for te woman. To morrow me will tell you more.

Well, be sure you do. Be gone, be gone all.

Methinks, Sabina, I read hopes in thy very looks.

Do you so, Senior? That's an argument your eyes are good, that can read at this distance without Spectacles.

Be quick, and tell me what you have done, Sabina.

Done! I have made Leonora, and her Husband both, believe that my Lady Abbess expects her company to morrow in the Covent. She has promis'd to be ready when I call her; and I will here pro­mise to convey her into what room of your own house you please to have her. When I have done that, do you manage the rest as you please.

Dear Sabina, do this, and thou shalt drein me into Gold: do it, and thou shalt finde mē as generous as a Miser on his death-bed.

Then fear not commanding what woman you please. Those Embassadours from Peru and Mexico negotiate more Love-affairs, than all the Ministers of Cupid put together. But, Senior, what stranger was that I see in the Family?

That's a French man presented to me by the French Em­bassadour, and a great Astrologer.

I must needs see him, and talk with him.

I'll bring you to him.

What te Devil, must me feed on noting but te lang Sleeves, straight Breeks, and grand Mustach? Begar me do not like te diet var well.

Pox choak you, what would you have? Have you not al­ready eat about three parts of a Pilchard, besides a dish of Vegetives? when half a one use to serve me above three days.

Damn te Pilchar, a barrel would be noting in my stomack. Oh te Anglitar, te boon Anglitar, me never break mine Fass tare, but with half dozen Pigeon, Three four Chicken, good strong Beer, and half dozen bottle de Wine: Was not tat var boon, Truro?

Boon? a Devil on you; if all this went to the making of a Breakfast, what the Devil must your Dinners and Suppers be? That damn'd English stomack of yours will ne'er make a fit Souldier for the Low Countries. Thou wilt ne'er be like the brave Castilian, who can carry as much Provision in his Mustaches as serves him a Campagne of six months.

Begar, me be so hungry, as tat me vill to my Closet and make complain to the Star, journee.

Thou mayst gaze at 'em long enough, before thou fill'st that unmerciful wem of thine.

Did you see the Monsieur, Truro?

Had you come a little sooner, you had seen a pretty War between him and his ravenous stomack. He is so hungry, that he's gone to Breakfast with Mars, Jupiter, and Venus; where his food will be nothing but heads and tails of Dragons. But if the Coele­stial Cook dress 'em up in foul dishes, he destroys his pocky squeazy French stomack.

Where is he gone?

Into his studious Closet to stuff his Lunatick head, since he can get nothing for his belly.

Pray direct me to him.

Come, follow me then. Well, if there be such a thing as A­strology, a State-policie amongst the Stars, and this French fool be an Astrologer, the Coelestial government has not over-wise headpieces for Privie-Councellours.

OH, Scintillia, what a part have I to act? To gain that lit­tle opportunity we have, I am forced to appear willing to live and die in a Nunnery, to humour my Father's covetous resolu­tion of saving a Portion by me. Though I am satisfied, I cannot live without my dear Dorido.

Madam, Love was never subject to any Law, nor did ever call to its counsel Duty or Reason; and if so, why should you bring [Page 10] your Obedience to a doating old Father, in competition with the love and preservation of your self and Dorido? Let the Sacred Knot be tied, Madam, and then farewel all dispute. Whether would you sacrifice your self to a peevish old Father, or make your self happy in an accomplish'd loving Husband? Come, be ruled by me; stear the neerest course to your own bliss.

I thank thee, Scintillia, for thy advice, and I will use all the means I can to follow it. But prethee what's a clock, Girl?

About Ten.

About that hour I expect Dorido. Prethee see if my Father be busie in discourse with that Gentleman that came to traffick with him for Pieces of Eight.

I go.

If Dorido come but at this luckie minute, I shall have the opportunity of letting him into the house; a blessing we rarely meet with. My Father, when he's within, watches me; when he goes out, locks me up for fear of being stolen; and when he goes to bed, takes the keys up with him: So that our stolen interviews are no neerer than from a Balconie, or through a Window; when iron bars and stone walls maliciously interpose.

Madam, if Dorido comes now, you are secure. Your Fa­ther is as safe as if he were in Heaven: He is within, counting his Bags at a large round Table spread with Gold.

Then I'm safe: His soul and body are both charm'd to that Circle. Oh that Dorido were but come! Hark, one knocks, that must be he.

Oh, Madam, the house is alarm'd! Your Father is a co­ming.

Step in here.

Oh, Daughter, did you not hear a noise in the house? I am consident somebody was attempting to rob us.

Indeed, Sir, I heard no noise that disturb'd me, till I heard you.

Why up so late, Girl?

Why, Sir, 'tis but Eleven.

Time for young Girls to be in bed.

Indeed, Father, I fell a reading my Lady Sylvanes account of a Religious life; and it so pleased me, I had quite forgot my self.

Alas, poor Clor. thou art always thinking of the Monastery. I protest this Religion does so run in her head! Well, have patience, the time draws nigh.

Yes, to marry Dorido.

Well, good night, Clo. So, so, haste, haste to bed, Girls.

A good night to you, Sir.

I hope he had no mistrust of me.

No, no, this is but th'effect of his Fear, and the product of his Dreams. He dream'd last night of his being robb'd to day; and he's so great an observer of Dreams, that whatever impression he takes in his sleep, is never to be removed when he wakes.

Hark, Madam, a fresh alarm. He is returning agen.

And if he finde you here, we're ruin'd. Oh, Sir, be gone.

Must I go—I cannot—But if I do, spight of the watchful eyes of an obdurate Father, my soul shall stay behinde—

Farewel, my faithful Dorido. Time I hope hereafter will be more kinde to us.

Were I not consident of that, I'd stay and dare my fate.

Oh, Sir, make haste!

Once more, and I am satisfied against all affliction.

Why did my fate this pleasing Scene begin?

Just shew me bliss, then take it back agen!

Look where he sits, like the man in the Moon with his bundle of sticks at his back, peeping into the Heavens as if he were ac­quainted there; when, in my conscience, he is as great a stranger there as I am.

Prethee call him.

'Tis to no purpose: His soul is got into the body and bow­els of the Stars.

However call him.

Monsieur, Monsieur, are you at leisure? have you done breakfasting with the Stars? if you have, this friend of mine would speak with you.

Donna Sabina! Oh my varre good friend, velcome.

I'll e'en leave you together.

What be your business!

I have a Question to propose.

What be your Question? tis be de var good hour of Luna.

I am concern'd in an affair for Senior Claudio, and would gladly know what success I shall have.

Oh, oh, me will tell you presently.

Dear Monsieur, make what haste you can; for I am to be at Senior Pedro's the Gold-wire-drawer, about Three a clock: Oh that fair Wife of his! Claudio shall have her. Good Monsieur dispatch.

Begar, me was so intent on te Figure, tat me forgot Sabi­na; but now me will give you var great satisfaction. Tis about te woman, te fair woman.

It is, dear Monsieur, a Beauty.

She be te married woman, and her Husband have te relati­on to te Gold trade.

He is a Gold-wire-drawer indeed: A blessing on thy pro­phetick Spirit; this can be nothing but Divine Revelation.—But Monsieur, for a confirmation of your judgement, describe her to me.

I will. Hole—tis be a woman of te middle size, inclining—

Inclining to tallness.

To tallness: And as for her hair, it be—

Black.

Var black, her visage var—

Round.

Round.

Oh heavenly, this is fine!

Let me see, her nose pretty size; but she have a mark on her—

On her chin. You say right, Monsieur.

On her chin, and a mold on her—

Left cheek. Very right agen—prodigious—

Her left cheek. Shall I proceed, and tell her private marks?

No, no, Monsieur, you have described her as exactly as if you had been married to her. But to my main business, shall I gain this woman for Senior Claudio?

Me vill tell dat var quick. Here be Sol and Luna in Con­junction in te seven house, var boon; Jupiter and Venus look on te Ascend wit te good grace. Begar, if he not get her, me will turn [Page 13] eiter te Physician or Divine, rail against te Star, and all toes tat give te credit to deir prediction.

Well, Monsieur, I know what I know: You must deal with the Devil.

O fee, fee! no Diabolo—wit te Star, dat be all.

Well, certainly you must have the very soul of Prophecie — such a man—Well, you are sure he shall gain her?—

Fait, te more sure of tat ten te Pope be of his salvation.

Nay then I'll never question it. Well, dear Monsieur, adieu. You shall have more of my Company. This Art is such a bewitching thing; and I do so love a man of Parts! Well, dear Monsieur, adieu.

Well, well, adue, adue.

Will Senior Claudio be here to day?

Yes, Sir, I expect him.

He shall be welcome. I protest I have not seen him since his return from Flanders.

I suppose you have heard of the worthy deeds he has done in those parts.

Indeed, Son, I have not heard of braver actions done by any man.

Who is this, Sir, that you give such a Character of?

Senior Claudio, Childe.

Senior Claudio, welcome. I protest you are so welcome to me—

Senior Avaritio, I have no question of it. The fair Clo­rinia!

Madam, the world is not so just in that Character it gave of you, though very honourable. Your Beauty I finde is much above what common fame has proclaimed it.

Senior, you are a Courtier, and therefore have the priviledge to flatter without wounding Reputation or Judgement.

Well, Senior, for all that Beauty you lay to her charge, she's resolved for a Nunnery.

A Nunnery, Sir!

Resolved upon it to a miracle.

Yes, where my friend Dorido acts the part both of Lady Abbess and Confessor.

But what do you say to this resolution of hers?

Faith, Sir, I say she does well in it; for she is too Divine for any service but Heaven's.

Now to try my Daughter, I will get Claudio seemingly to perswade her from a Monastick life.

Good Claudio, see what arguments you can use to her to perswade her from this Covent-voyage: I would willingly have her marry, that she may make me an aged Grandfather.

It shall be none of my fault if you be not one.

At your request I'll use my interest.

But I'll watch your—Now for the trial of my Daughters heavenly inclinations.

Madam, why so violently bent on a Nunnery! I grant it may correspond with the Laws of Heaven, but not of Nature: for she undoubtedly designed you for a Mother of a most glorious Issue, or she would never have rob'd both Heaven and Earth for your com­position. Can you imagine, Madam, that so much Beauty was de­signed to be concealed like a Taper in a Tomb?

Good, I profess, Don. Now let's hear what she'll say to this.

Senior Claudio, desist—You must allow, were I Mistriss of a far greater share of Beauty and Parts than those you flatter me with, it were profaneness in you to say they were ill disposed on a religious life.

Oh my blest Childe! I see thou art not to be shaken.

Come, Madam, I must be plainer with you: I know you love Dorido, and let me beg you to love him well.

Yes, I will love him, and love him truly, love him as I ought.

What does she say?

I'll pray for him: That is the best and truest love, and that's the onely love that I can pay.

Enough, Clor. enough. Come, Senior, I heard all. Oh my best Girl! Well, this Religion is a sweet thing.

Why, did you hear us? If you had not interrupted me, I had made astrange discovery.

As how, Senior?

Onely that this very Dorido that has been so long suspected for a Loverof hers, is so strangely possest—

With what?

Nay, they may e'en go together; never were two so well pair'd.

Pair'd? how, Sir?

Nay, they hit one anothers humours so exactly—

Pray, Sir, be plainer, I do not understand you.

Why, do I talk Riddles to you? I warrant you, you have not heard then that Dorido designes for a Covent?

Lord, Sir, not I, I profess.

Why 'tis all the talk of the Town. Not heard on't!

Not a syllable.

Are you in earnest?

Why, Senior, as I hope to be saved, you are the first man that ever told me on't.

Alas, Sir, it has been his private designe this Seven years, onely he durst not make it publick in his Fathers life-time, because his violent Father was so absolutely against it. But now his Estate is in his own hands, the world shall not hinder him.

Is't possible, Senior? Nay then I'll give him the greater free­dom with my Daughter. I profess he was the onely man I feared.

This news is so stale, that I am half ashamed to tell it. I have 2000 l. of his in my hands already, for the building of an Ho­spital. He's not a man for this world, I can assure you.

Well, Senior, I applaud him; he's a prudent wise ingenious man, take it from me. This building of Hospitals is a fine thing. Truly I design'd to build an Hospital my self when I was a young man, but my Father, as thou sayst, was absolutely bent against it. Building an Hospital! You shall stay and dine with me for this good news.

A Pox take that nitty confounded French man, he has talkt and stargazed himself into more favour with my Master, than any true-born Castilian can ever expect to do with all his faith­ful service. How often has my Master condemn'd the English for be­ing such Apes to the French, and now himself becomes guilty of as great a folly!

I hope not so, Truro.

Do you not see, that nothing is to be done in our Family, [Page 16] before application be made to the Monsieur for advice and counsel?

Hold, Truro; he shall never command in chief there: I ex­pect a Quarter-masters place at least.

Still we must be in the damn'd English fashion, a Whore or a French Rogue must command the whole Family.

What do you say?

Faith, Dona Sabina, I am glad to hear you are like to have so great a power in the Family.

Truro, it shall be ne'er the worse for you.

Well, but as I was saying before, you see that the great Wig must be worn again, in despight of all opposition; the grand Moun­tach, the grace and beauty of a right Spanish face, must now, Turk-like, be circumcised. Nay, the gravity of our Breeches, which for so many ages have scorned all change, must now, within their own Dominions, be outfaced with profane Pantaloons: and all this, be­cause my Master is bewitcht with his Astrologer.

Senior Claudio, the Monsieur does so stick in Truro's stomach, that except you command a Peace, Wars will ensue.

The Monsieur merits all the freedom I give him; but did he not, my actions shall admit of no controul.

Sir, I have known you the most violent against the French, of any Don in Spain; but I see you are resolved to make the world believe the Monsieur is a Conjurer: for certainly nothing but Ma­gick could make this alteration in you.

No disputes, but call him in. I suppose by this time he is in his A-la-mode agen.

If he be, Sabina, have you a care of him.

Why so, Truro?

The air of his great fluttering Wig, and the waft of his Pan­taloons, will blow your Coats about your ears.

Marry come out, my sawcie Companion! I'd have you to know, my Coats are not blown up so easily.

Stay, Sabina, you shall see him in his French dress. Truro, call him in.

The Devil, if you please; for he's the better Companion o'th' two.

I see Truro is no lover of the French.

No, he is not. The English Mechanicks would throw a whole year into Play-days, on condition their great men loved the French and their Kickshaws no better.

Are the English Dons such lovers of the French then?

Oh so much, that a French Clap is more welcome at Court than a dull English Ague. Then their Language they do so doat on, that they have Masters out of France to teach French to their Magpies, Parrots, and Starlings. And if their Sawce be not Frenchisied, their Meat is not fit for Dogs.

Now I hope, Monsieur, you are drest to your own satisfaction.

We, Senior.

This is a very graceful dress, Truro.

Graceful! Pox take him, he raises such a dust with combing his Wig, it's enough to stifle one.

How do you like that Hat, Truro?

Why should his shallow Coxcomb have so broad a Cover­ing?

Methinks his Breeches are like the Tower of Babel, hung round with Confusion.

In my opinion they are like Bells hung in a Steeple, where his legs serve for Clappers.

Fie, Senior Claudio, you will destroy the Monsieurs good opinion of his dress.

Noune, my foy, me like it much te better, for te pleasure it give Senior Claudio.

Go, Monsieur, you may to your study again.

He likes your Spanish diet so ill, that now will he mount himself upon a Cloud and ride into the Heavens to dine with those false Fotune-tellers the Planets; a crowd of wandring Gypsies that pick our pockets with a lye, and we are such silly fools as to believe 'em.

Then, Truro, you have no great opinion of the Stars.

No more than of a pound of Candles lighted at the wrong end: for as sure as I am here, their influence over us at birth is equal. Nay, for my part I declare, 'tis my opinion, that a Candle lighted in the Room when and where the Childe is born, must needs have a greater power over it, than a Star in the Heavens some hundred thou­sand miles from it.

Well, you may say what you will; but I have so great an opinion of Monsieurs study, though I think he's no great Conjurer, that I intend to be his Scholar. How like you that?

Shall I be free in my answer?

I'll give you the freedom of a Companion.

Then let me beg you not to concern your self with those Starry studies.

Why, prethee?

Why, would it not be ridiculous for a man of your wis­dom and quality to waste either time, money, or pains in drawing of a Circle, and then dividing of it into twelve parts, placing a Bull here, a Lion there, a Crab in one corner, and a Goat in another; and then to fall a cursing that old Dog Saturn, that bloody Rogue Mars, that jilting Quean Venus, and that slie Cur Mercury, and the rest of the Gang, for looking askew on your Ascendant: and when all comes to all, and you come to give a grave judgement upon your Houses with all those monstrous Cattel in them, faith the conclusion is, Per­haps it may be so, and perhaps it may be otherwise; and who the devil would give himself such a trouble about a Perhaps?

And do you think there's no more truth than this in Astro­logy?

Faith, no more truth in the answers of the Stars, than in a pair of Dice thrown upon the Wheel of Fortune.

I am glad you are come, Monsieur: Now if you can but say as much for the Stars as Truro has said against 'em,—

Morbleau, what have Truro said agains te Star?

Onely that there's ne'er a word of Truth nor a grain of Sense in Astrology.

Begar, me vill let you see tat tare be te much truth in te Star. Had te grand Julius Caesar take te advice of te Astrologer, my foy, he had no bin butcher in te Senate-house; nor had Henry te second of France bin kilt riding at te Tilt, if he had been rule by te Astro­loger: And let me tell Truro, if he no be rule by me, and mend his behaviour, he shall die by te Hangman.

What say you to this? does not the Monsieur speak to the purpose now?

Good Senior give me leave to turn Fortune-teller for once.

With all my heart.

Well then, if the Monsieur do not die of a French Clap, be buried in a House of Office, and afterwards be sung about the streets for a false Fortune-teller, let me ne'er feed more of any thing but Radishes.

My foy, Senior Claudio, me see tat te Star be so var anger [Page 19] wit Truro for his slight 'em, tat me fear for his sake dey vill throw tar vengeance on te whole Family.

Truro, be gone; I have some private business with the Monsieur.

Come, Monsieur, your answer to the Question I proposed.

Awe, Senior.

Tis Skeam vill tell me all.

Shall I gain this woman?

Hole, hole; here be Mars in Conjunction wit te fair Venus, and Sol look var well upon Madam Luna: Begar, if you no get her, me vill draw te Curtain before te Heav'n, tat te Star shall no more see vat ve do. But te Dragon tail in te second house make you pay var dear for her.

That I am confident on already. Go thy ways, Monsieur, if thy Prediction comes to pass, I am resolved to write a book in de­fence of Astrology. Yet

No matter what those idle Planets prate;

She is the onely Star that tells my fate.

Clorinia, I am troubled at a dream I dreamt last night.

Fie, Sir, the prejudice you have received by those false Visions, should, one would think, make you not regard 'em. What was it, Sir?

You are concern'd in't.

I, Sir!

It was, That thou hadst changed thy Resolution for a Re­ligious life.

That's the greater argument for it: for Dreams are always to be construed quite contrary to what they seem.

I protest I was mightily troubled at it.

Indeed, Sir, you have paid a dear rate for the experience of the truth of Dreams. Have you forgot since you untiled your house for a bag of gold you dreamt was hid in the Roof of it, and when you had done, found nothing but a Sparrows nest, and some few pieces of old Iron?

And you may remember that another time on the same oc­casion, you kill'd a hundred head of Cattel, by reason you dreamt the Philosophers stone was to be found in their kidneys.

Away, you waggish girl.

Senior Dorido, welcome. Well, Claudio has told me all your designes.

My designes?

About you know what I mean.

What does he say?

My Father has heard of all your designe for Religion, your going into a Covent. The two thousand pounds you have put into Claudio's hand for the building an Hospital, is a very pious work.

I understand her.

To him, daughter, to him. Ah, you're well met, I profess.

Your pious care—to cheat my old Father,

—to provide for another world, has strangely pleas'd me.

That's a good Girl. Do you hear, Senior?

Pursue this holy principle, and we shall meet together—as often as we please

—in Heaven.

Hah!

My kinde Father, I say,—will ne'er suspect us,

—will make me the happiest woman in the world—in letting me see you often,

—in letting me lead a Religious life, and crown my days amongst a Quire of Cherubims.

Oh, my childe, my childe! let me embrace thee. This Re­ligion is such a Jewel! Let your foolish sottish old Fathers breed up their Children in the vanities of the world, I have a Daughter will make an Angel.

Sir, by your favour let me answer her.

By all means, Sir; your discourse I know will charm her.

Madam,—Sister I should say, oh that you could but look into my Soul, and know how much I am transported—to see you thus kinde,

—to hear you talk so piously.

Good agen. Well, such a Daughter, and such a Friend, are not in the world agen!

Your thoughts, divine Sister, are so much mine, such bliss, such charms, and such raptures there are—in thy dear Love,

—in true Devotion, that on my knees I vow to live and die—my dear Clorinia's,

—in a Cloyster.

Oh rise, rise, Senior. Well, you are a good man: Oh, Do­rido, this is heavenly musick to my Daughter. Come, Dorido, since you are in so good a humour, you shall go in with me, and we'll dis­course furder of a Religious life.

Sir, I wait on you. But is it not your pleasure that Clorinia should go with us? A pious minde cannot be too much strengthen'd.

Alas, Sir, she has been reading all this afternoon. I protest [Page 21] she's so given to Books, that I am afraid she'll pore her eyes out upon 'em. No, no, she shall stay and play a game at Chess with Senior Horatio. You know Devotion must have a little respit.

Pox on him.

Come, will you play?

If I do, I must be sure to loose. Chess is a game requires more care than a man of my temper can have in such fair company.

Come, venture that.

Madam, the opportunity's too precious to be so lost.

Ha! what's this?

Onely I dare not play with you, you are too much a Conque­ror already.

Nay, then I'll call in better company.

Stay, Madam, hear me but one word, and then call in the Company to witness your Cruelty and my Misery.

Go on, Sir.

The danger of your Father's return, and the peace your Beauty robb'd me of, will not give me time nor thought enough for a studied address; therefore take it thus:

I love you, Madam.

Are you in earnest?

Are doubts, fears, distractions, jealousies, and all the torments of a bleeding heart, things to be jested with?

And dare you tell me this?

Bid a wretch on a Wrack in all the agony of his dis-joynted limbs, not dare to groan, and be as easily obey'd.

And can you be this villain to your friend? Do you not blush? Does not your guilty blood flie in your Traytors face?

Madam, if I blush, 'tis not my Treason, but my Love that brings that glowing colour in my face. I can't keep down my boy­ling blood and carry

Such sire as mine within me. Dear Madam,

Have you no pity for my sighs? Yes, do,

Resolve to see me die.

To see you damn'd.

Yes, Devil, to thy hell, there thou wilt finde

A conversation fit for thy black Soul.

Had you proclaim'd defiance to your friend,

Renounc'd his friendship first, and then invaded

His right, your guilt had been more pardonable:

[Page 22] But the base Hypocrite's a part so abject,

As is below my scorn.

Her scorn!

A Rebel is a glorious Villain, when a Traytor

Is but a despicable slave. But, Sir,

To put an end to your vain hopes, were your Love

As brave and generous as 'tis base and barbarous,

I should abhor the thoughts of him that could

Suspect me guilty of a change so mean:

My constancy's not to be blasted so.

Faith, Madam, now have I onely rallied with you all this while, and now must I expect to finde you as furious as an Amazon, for this trick I have put upon you; never to see your face agen is the least Composition I can make.

How, Senior!

'Twas an odde exploit, an Artifice I used to try your Con­stancy, and my friends Interest. And now this rage and scorn from you, confirms his happiness and my hopes.

A Tryal of my Constancy call you it? Did not your zeal for your friend atone for you, I know not how I should bear so bold a piece of curiosity.

Never was an Heretick in an Inquisition so baited as I have been.

Daughter Clo. daughter!

Friend,

I know 'tis towards bed-time with this old fool, and he always takes the Keys up with him; and I have not said half my minde to my dear Clorinia: Take an occasion of telling her, I desire a little discourse with her at the Parlour-window at Eleven; by that time he'll be asleep. She knows the old signe.

Enough.

Well, Daughter, this Dorido is a fine man I profess; I once design'd him for thy Husband—

How this old Gentleman can dissemble!

But now you have both made a better choice. Senior Dorido,

there are strange blessings in store for you: So pious a minde in a young man, and a Gentleman too, I profess is admirable.

Enough, I'll steal down to him.

Daughter.

[Page 23] Senior, good night. Well, I protest he is a miracle.

Her Constancy is the Rock on which I split; I must make her hate Dorido; remove the Giant, and the Maid's my own. I am none of those whining Lovers that can fall sick and die at the feet of a Denial.

I will go on, and scorn a base retreat;

Despair the Coward onely does defeat.

CAn you be nimble and dextrous, Master Engineer?

As a Mercury, Senior.

Then thus: Watch at the turning of this street, and when you see Senior Dorido come by, put out your Light, and that shall give me notice for my Designe. When he hears the noise I shall raise, I know he will make up hither; then do you alarm the Watch, and play the part I order'd you.

To a tittle.

To your Post quickly, the minute draws nigh; 'tis neer E­leven.

Now must I act the subtlest piece of Treason

That Love, animated

By Jealousie and Revenge, could e'er inspire.

I love Clorinia, and consequently hate

Her darling Favourite Dorido;

And what we hate, we're prompted to destroy.

Tis true, I am false to my friend; but what's friendship in one scale, when Love is in the other? Love is a passion that's taught and rooted in our Souls by nature, when Friendship is but a humour put off or on at pleasure. Love comes by force, and Friendship but by choice, and is but generally the Creature of Fear or Interest.

Ha! he has put out his Light, and Dorido's coming. Now for my signe.

Dorido!

I, dear Madam.

Oh, dear Dorido, my unkinde Father is not yet in bed, and I am in such danger here, that I cannot tell you half the kinde things I have to say. Let that Letter speak for me.

Murder, murder!

So, take that Letter and Dagger, and convey 'em into Dorido's pocket.

Enough.

Death and Confusion! My Clorinia's voice! What infernal sound is this?

Ha, murder! what's the matter?

Oh, Sir, as I was going up to bed, I saw the Parlour-win­dow open, and as I went to shut it, some wicked villain caught me by the hand and stab'd his Dagger into my arm.

Lightning blast him for't.

Geraldo, Diego, Sanco, Francisco, rise you rogues. Dorido!

There's no staying till your Servants rise: the villain will be gone beyond their reach. Do you run and fetch a Surgeon, and let my Sword pursue the impious Devil.

That's he, seize him.

Bold slaves, what's this for?

Are you the Lady that cried out murder?

Yes, what then?

Oh, Madam, this is the barbarous villain that stab'd you.

Dorido!

I the villain!

Hey day! now has he the impudence to deny it. Did not I see you steal up to that house, then whistle, and a Lady put her hand out of that window and give you a Letter; which you received, and returned the Compliment with your Dagger?

Blasphemous dog! Is the Traytor distracted?

I am all amazement!

Do you intend to face me out of my senses? Madam, I thought he had been going to rob the house, and watch'd him, and saw him do't.

Hell and Damnation! Traytor, Lyer, Hell-hound, what did you see me do?

What I'll justifie to be true. Nay, I am sure the Dagger must be about him, or not far off: for he did not stir one step, Gen­tlemen, before I call'd you.

The Dagger about me! search me, Devil.

Search him, Gentlemen.

A bloody Dagger, and a Letter for one Senior Dorido.

Did I not tell you, Gentlemen?

Ha! what inchanting Fiend has convey'd that Dagger into my pocket? Madam, if there be truth in Heav'n, or faith in man, I could no more be guilty of this Outrage, than I could burn a Church. Some malicious Devil, envying our Loves, has us'd this artifice to undo me.

If there be truth in Heav'n, or faith in man, this blustring Gentleman is as truly guilty of this Outrage, as you are the infortu­nate Lady that suffer'd it.

Infamous Varlet! what art thou, that such an Imputation should be believed from thy mouth?

Gentlemen, convey us both before the next Judge; I am ready to attest by oath what I have seen and known.

Gentlemen, pray lend me your Prisoner for one minutes discourse. Ungrateful man!

Is this your best return for all my kindness?

And can you persecute me too? My angry stars

And this false impudent slave, has made me mad.

No, your guilt, not he, has made you so.

Madam, by all that's good, I neither receiv'd that Letter nor ever saw that Dagger, whatever Magick convey'd it into my pocket. I heard you cry out Murder, ran in to your assistance, saw you blee­ding, and my Soul bled for you.

I heard your shreeking voice with so much horrour,

That I'd have given my Life, and half my right

To Heav'n, to have reach't the villains heart for't.

[Page 26] And can this be the man that stab'd Clorinia?

No, Sir, these Evidences are too plain.

Convey'd by Magick thither! If there be such a thing as

Magick, 'tis in impious mens false Oaths and broken Vows,

That can bewitch believing Virgins hearts,

And use 'em as thou dost.

Oh, Madam, as you'd keep me on this side Hell,

And hold my hand from tearing out my heart,

Oh, do not lay this horrid Crime against me:

A Crime so distant from my purer thoughts,

As my heart trembles but to hear.

They that can prove such Traytors as thou art,

Want not pretences to seem innocent.

And can you still suspect such faith as mine?

Did I for this run to the window

With as much haste and zeal to meet you there,

As a departing Saint mounts up to Heav'n!

And when, like a poor fond mistaken fool,

My eager hand so kindly gave that Letter,

And in it all the tendrest thoughts that Love

Could e'er inspire; this cruel man,

When he receiv'd my very Soul,

Could barbarously stab the hand that gave it.

Oh, cruel savage woman!

Take him hence.

Oh, my best Angel, hear me.

Oh, my Devil!

Make haste, take him away: and, perjur'd man,

Tell the new Mistriss, for whose sake you did

This hellish deed, to make your title good,

You seal'd your falsehood in Clorinia's blood.

What lazie Rogues are these Physicians! he was in bed, and I was forced to stay till the reverend fool rise.

Ha! Girl, where's Clo?

Oh, Sir, she's gone in almost distracted.

Oh Heav'ns, distracted! The loss of blood will put her in a Feavour. Dear Sir, make haste.

I wonder Sabina comes not; it is about the time of her ap­pointment. What a Pettycoat have you got on there, Wife?

'Tis very well, Husband: My Lady Abbess I know hates a gawdy dress.

Nay, a modest garb certainly becomes Devotion best.

I am afraid I have staid to the prejudice of your patience.

No, I have a greater stock than so. But I pray how does my Lady?

Very well. Dear Leonora, she will expect us. Are you ready?

I am ready.

She got no sleep to night for thinking of this Holy voyage.

And Claudio will keep her waking a little longer.

Good woman, her thoughts are on Heav'n. Well, I hope the Mo­nastery is not out of the road to it.

I'll lead you to the door. Well Wife, when you are in your Altitudes, have some little thought on the good man at home.

Since this Monsieur got into his French dress, he struts it at a wondrous rate: But I hope once more to uncase him, and bring that rotten Carcase of his into Spanish fetters again.

Truro, be wise, and te Star will be your good friend.

Oh, plague light upon the nonsensical babling of your Stars, and all your French acquaintance with them.

My foy, Truro, you have much te pride, and tat be no boon. Te French man get var great regard from te English Lord, by tare great submission.

Millia, be sure when you hear any knock at the gate, look out of the window; if they be women that enquire for Dona Betrix, be you quick in opening the door and shewing 'em a room.

I shall, Senior.

And let not one of you appear besides. Go, be gone eve­ry one about his business.

And now will I to my Chamber and expect my call.

Oh, dear Madam, I had almost forgot Dona Betrix, though I promis'd to call her: that's the house; come, Madam, I must beg your pardon for one minute.

I am solely at your service.

Who's there? and who would you speak with?

Is Dona Betrix within?

Yes. I'll come and conduct you to her.

You shall go with me, we sha'nt stay.

Use your pleasure.

Will you be pleas'd to walk in, and I'll acquaint her.

Will you rest your selves here till I return?

Millia, I'll go along with you. Dear Leonora, assure your self I'll make a quick dispatch.

O Heav'ns, my Virtue is betray'd!

My dearest Leonora! welcome. Now, my best life, thou'rt mine. Dear Madam, surrender, and save the trouble of a storm.

You may thank wretched Sabina for it. Is this the Mona­stary, thou wicked Hag—and are you my Lady Abbess—How durst you act so villanous a part under so holy a pretence?

Dear Madam, look but into the Affairs of the world, and you'll discover the Mask of Religion frequently put upon worse de­signes than this.

Come, my pretty Saint, this inclination of man to your Sex is so uni­versal, as renders it not such an offence to Heav'n, as men of Holy Orders are pleas'd to tell us 'tis: No, no, dear Leonora.

How can you talk so! Were I convinc'd it were no Crime, yet the blemish it would throw upon my Reputation, will never suf­fer me to yield.

Your Reputation, on my life, shall not be wounded.

What! and yield to your base desires?

The Light shall be no witness to what we do; and a thing so conceal'd can never call your Honour into question. 'Tis not the doing of a thing, but the knowledge of it after 'tis done, that gives the fatal blow to Reputation.

However, vile man, 'twill wrong my Husband.

It can be none to him, so long as his ignorance has no other opinion of you than what's just and honourable. But I delay my joys—Come, dear Madam—

Oh, Sir, you make me stark mad: What do you mean, you wicked lascivious man you?—

Nothing, dear Leonora, but all the Kindness, all the Love, and all the Raptures in the world.

Touch me if you dare! I'll tear your eyes out: If you come but neer me, I'll—nay I'll—

What will you do?

Why, what will you have me do? Well, this opportunity's a meer Devil!

Consent to make me the happiest man that lives.

Well, Sir, I protest 'tis not in my nature to use so fine a Gen­tleman unkindly. Alas, I would submit to any thing, and make you happy, if I durst: But oh, the sin, the sin! I won't; let me go, you are a villanous man, would betray my Honour, damn my Soul, and—I hate you. I'll cry out; help, murder!

Well, dear Leonora, I'll grant you your desire. I will deny my self the greatest happiness Beauty can give, and man possess, rather than force that bliss you cannot yield. But, divinest Madam, if you could be kinde, what charming Magick would there be in those dear Arms, what Nectar in those Lips, and what Elysium on that soft Bo­some!

Nay, Sir, go on, you speak so prettily! Though I must ne­ver yield to any wicked thing, yet we may talk as kindly as we please.

And is that all?

No, Sir, were I a single woman, or if you were my Husband, or so, I could deny you nothing—But—

Well, I'll send for a Priest, and marry you presently.

Two Husbands! Alas, Sir, I have too much of one al­ready.

Madam, your sweetness has so transported me, that if you cannot yield, I must force you—

But are you sure you'll force me? for I vow I won't go wil­lingly.

I'm past all patience.

Stay, Sir, if I must go, let us resolve to be as little wicked [Page 30] as we can: Let's stay and say our Prayers before we go.

Let's love first, and pray afterwards.

But you shall promise me first you will not use me too roughly, for my poor Husband's sake.

Oh, Madam, I'm a tender-hearted man;

Indeed I'll be as gentle as I can.

WAs ever so much inhumanity!

How are my Thoughts distracted! Well, if this

Perfidious Dorido be what I suspect him,

His Love defaced, and such a Monster made,

No Angel ever fell so soon, or turn'd

So black as he. The change appears so dreadful,

That I dare scarce believe my Eyes and Senses.

My Father and Horatio! This interview

May give some new discovery. I'll o're-hear 'em.

This Dorido is the wickedst Rogue that ever breath'd.

Alas, Sir, he's all wickedness. His very pretences for Religion were all baits to trapan you.

What's this I hear?

The truth on't is, he lov'd your Daughter, and design'd to steal her.

Steal her!

And all his fair disguises of Devotion were but to gain access to accomplish it.

Pretious Rascal!

I am all astonishment.

And because she refus'd to break open your house last night, and run away with him, he stab'd her.

Dainty Rogue!

Death, what a Traytor's here!

Sir, I confess he was my friend, and under that name I long [Page 31] concealed his crimes; but now they are grown too odious for my friendship to wink at: my zeal for Justice, and my sence of your In­juries, h [...]ve waked my sleeping Reason. I cannot see you cheated and abused.

Then belike all this Monastery-business is laid by.

The devil of any such place did he e'er intend to trouble.

And I warrant he'll build no Hospital neither.

An Hospital! a Bawdy-house. He build an Hospital! No, Sir, his hot Spanish blood will finde other uses for his money.

What's become of the two thousand pounds in Senior Clau­dio's hands?

Call'd in agen, I can assure you: 'twas onely laid there for a bait for you. Sir, to be plainer with you, I do not like your Daugh­ters proceedings.

How, my Daughter!

I say, she's to blame, to have Love in her heart, and Religion in her tongue.

This is beyond all sufferance.

How! is not my Clo for a Nunnery?

She's no more for a Nunnery than you are for an Alms-house.

No Nunnery!

They onely masqueraded with you all this while. Their midnight-assignations at your Parlour-window, have secur'd her from ever troubling a Monastery.

Monster, Barbarian!

O Rogues, Cheats, Gypsies! Francisco, Diego, Sancho, Ge­raldo.

Sancho, send for a Mason: I'll have the Parlour-window next the street taken down, and the wall made up; and, you Rascal, see that no body comes into my house without my orders. I shall have this Rogue come in disguise into my house, and some Ganonical Thief steal like a Pimp in after him, and marry them. But now I think on't, I am a Magistrate, and will give every body their Oaths that comes within my doors. And, Sirrah, do you see that the Balcone be nail'd up: The Gypsie may drop down Love into the street. Cheat her old Father! And, you Rascal, take notice these two Rooms are all the walk I allow her. Assignations! I'll spoil their sport.

Pray, Senior, do me the favour, when you tell whence you had this intelligence, not to name your Author. I am unwilling to gain a fair Ladies displeasure.

I profess, Sir, I will not speak a word of you. Cheat her old Father!

Sir, I am afraid I have disturb'd you: I'll take my leave of you till some other time.

I profess you are the best friend I have in the world.

Not one word of me.

Not a syllable.

Run away with a young Rascal! I'll watch your waters, I'll warrant you.

Well, I am the most unfortunate of women!

What's the matter, Sister?

Oh, Brother, had you been here, you had discover'd the vi­lest piece of Treachery—That Barbarian Horatio, Dorido's false friend, has disclosed all our designes, and so incens'd my peevish old Father, that these two Rooms are my Prison, and my Servants my Jaylours.

And can Horatio be so great a Villain!

This is the least of my Misfortunes. I have abused the best of men. Now am I certain 'twas this villain stab'd me; and I, un­happily deceived by that mercenary slave the accomplice in his de­signe, have laid the Crime upon the guiltless Dorido; and to com­pleat my miseries, must never see him more.

Prethee thank thy Master for my admission; but tell him

I have no designe upon his Daughter, that he need be so cautious.

Pray, Sir, be not angry with me, I onely execute my Com­mission.

Begar, dese Spanish Lady be kep up as close as de Jack in box, Morbleau.

Senior Claudio, you are come to see the unhappiest Maid that Fortune ever persecuted.

Aye, Madam, with much ado I am come to see you; but your Father keeps a pack of the most ill-natur'd Rascals about him.

Oh, Sir, they are my Jaylours. That Monster Horatio has discover'd all our plots, and I must never see Dorido agen.

Indeed, Madam, I fear you will not.

How, Sir!

His grief and his distractions for your unkind suspition, [Page 33] have so dejected him, that you'll either never see him more; or so alter'd, that you'll scarce know he was the man that loved you.

Oh, Sir, you stab me to the very heart.

That attempt upon you was so far from being his act, that 'tis impossible but it must be done by some malicious Rival or De­vil.

That Devil is Horatio: And I like an inchanted fool could suspect the innocent Dorido; and as a just Reward for my suspition, I am for ever doom'd to live immur'd within these walls. I've so much injur'd the unhappy Dorido,

That I can no ways recompence his griefs,

But by some bold adventure for his sake.

What is't I would not do for that brave man?

Sister, let's set some new designes afoot.

Designes! I'll fire the house, and run away with him.

'Tis no mean act can expiate my Crime.

To talk of Monasteries, and delude

A credulous Father, is too mean a service.

I cannot testifie that love I bear him,

But by some noble Passage to his Arms.

This kindness, Madam, will revive him. But, Madam, you shall steer a safer way: I have a new plot.

What is't?

To rob your Father. You know he's covetous, and could we neatly and handsomly be masters of two or three of his Bags, the fright 'twould put him into to loose his Money, and the way that I'd propose to finde the Thief, shall bring you into Dorido's very Arms; nay, you shall marry him before your Father's face.

'Tis a brave Project, if it do but take.

Trust to my Conduct.

But now I think on't, Sir, his Money is all out at use. Yet now I think on't, I have found a way as well. My Father, about six months since, lent a Spanish Lord Six hundred Ducatoons upon a Necklace of Pearl. I'll steal that: and as good luck would have it, he is just now gone into his Closet. I'll after him; and whilst I hold him in a Tale, I'll steal it: 'tis in a little box, and will be easily slipt into my pocket. I'll be with you presently.

Good luck attend you.

Truro and Monsieur, my two trusty Servants, shall be in the Plot. This Monsieur, you know, has set up for an Astrologer: [Page 34] I'll perswade your Father he is a Conjurer, and can raise the Devil to get his Pearl agen: and so we'll wheedle the old Gentleman, with your Brother and you, to my house, where Dorido disguised shall at­tend us; and whilst the Monsieur is charming your Father to get his Pearl agen, a Priest shall be there and conjure you two together.

I like it rarely!

Truro, when Valerio returns, and brings the Pearl, do you slip out and disguise your self, and come in this Lord's name to de­mand the Pearl.

I'll do the business. Within three or four doors lives a Barber of my acquaintance, he shall transform me. But, Sir, the Lord's name.

Oh, Madam, what shall we do for his name?

As I remember I have heard my Father speak of him. His name is Don Antonio Don Rinaldo du Peralta.

I have it.

Enough.

As I could wish.

I began a very serious discourse with him, and I had scarce spoke ten words, but he fell so horribly a railing against you as ama­zed me. And whilst he was busie in the heat of all his fury, I per­form'd the Operation. But see, he's here!

Oh, Hussey, are you there? You are an excellent jilting Baggage: Nothing would serve your turn, but cheating your old Father, would it?

Cheat my old Father! Heav'n defend me!

Oh, no, not you. You have done nothing: Onely lov'd Dorido, made Midnight-Assignations with Dorido, and contriv'd to run away with Dorido; that's all.

Who I, Sir!

Oh, do you start! You see I have found you out. These young sluts think they have all the Wit, and their silly old Fathers want Sense: but, Hussey, you shall finde you are mistaken.

Indeed I never intended any such thing.

Hussey, you lye. I know your haunts, Mistriss. My Par­lour-window has been sweetly visited between you; but I'll stop your peep-hole. If I had not discover'd you, I should have been made a Grand-father through the Casement. Is this your pretence for Religion! You'll make a precious piece of Nuns-flesh.

Come, Senior, you must forgive her; Love is a Passion that can't be resisted. If she have transgrest a little before-hand, she'll make never the worse Nun for't afterward.

By your favour, Sir, I'll ne'er forgive her. Forgive the Baggage!

Senior Avaritio.

With me, Senior?

From my worthy Patron Don Antonio Don Rinaldo du Peralta.

I have the honour to keep a Neck-lace of Pearl belonging to his Lordship.

Senior, the Six hundred Ducatoons, with the Interest and Principal, are in Don Oreate the Goldsmiths hands, whither I am commanded to desire your company; where, upon returning the Pledge, the Money shall be paid.

I'll fetch it, and wait upon you to his Lordship.

Now, Truro, when he comes back and misses it, bear up briskly to him.

I understand you.

Valerio, Valerio.

It works. To him quickly.

Valerio!

Now, Monsieur, can you bluster out a few hard words, and Hocus pocus him dextrously?

Let me alone for de sheat: begar, me vill represen de Conjure tolde life.

When we have him at our house, we'll humour it rarely. I have Trap-doors, and God knows what: and we'll raise Thunder and Lightning, and play the Devil and all.

Undone, undone, undone!

Heav'n forbid!

Oh the Pearl, the Pearl!

What do you say, Sir?

Oh 'tis stolen, lost, gone! I'm betray'd, I'm robb'd, I'm ruin'd! Unconscionable Rogues, Six hundred Ducatoons at one clap!

Six hundred, Sir! Two thousand, Senior, two thousand: [Page 36] It cost my Lord no less; and, though I say't, 'twas a penieworth.

Worse and worse! I am blown up! my heart, my life, my blood's all gone!

Truly, Senior, I pitie your loss, considering you must pay my Lord the price on't to buy another.

Pay the price on't!

Why, Sir, do you think my Lord will not have satisfaction?

Satisfaction! Let him stab me, drown me, hang me, send me to th'Gallies; do any thing with me. Two thousand Ducatoons!

Well, Senior, be not dejected; I have some comfort for you.

What's that?

My good Lord—

Oh, sweet Sir.

My good Lord—for my sake—do you mark it—

You are a kinde man.

For my sake (take notice) shall bate you (pray observe me) shall bate you (do you see) Fiftie Ducatoons. You shall pay him but Nineteen hundred and fiftie.

Plagues and Furies! Had I lost both my Eyes, an Arm, and a Leg, 't had been nothing; but this affliction is unsufferable.

You may see how Heav'n is angrie with you, and lays this calamitie upon you for afflicting your poor innocent obedient Daughter; and abusing so honest and so worthie a Gentleman as Se­nior Dorido.

He's a Rogue, he's a Villain; 'tis he has stolen my Pearl, he's a Thief: bear witness, Gentlemen, I say he's a Thief, I say he stole the Pearl; nay, I'll vow he stole 'em. I'll go instantly to a Judge, have him apprehended and hang'd for stealing 'em, and then beg his Estate to pay for 'em.

Oh fie, Sir, how can you lay so scandalous a Crime to so guiltless a Gentlemans charge?

Nay, Hussey, I can prove 'twas he that stole 'em, and you were his Confederate; and I'll have you both hang'd.

How, Sir?

Did not he, by the malice and instigation of the Devil, come to you at the wicked hour of Midnight at my Parlour-win­dow, which you open'd to him, and let him feloniously in at it to rob me?

Oh fie, Sir, 'tis not wide enough for him to put his hand through.

Bear witness, Gentlemen, she confesses he put his hand through; and I'll swear the Devil stood behinde him and thrust his bodie after it. I say, 'twas he that robb'd me, and I can prove. 'twas he that robb'd me; and I'll have him hang'd like a Thief as he is. Two thousand Ducatoons!

Well, Sir, I pitie your case, and have bethought a way to get your Pearl agen.

The Pearl agen!

Nay, 'tis an infallible way: It must do in spight of fate. If I do not bring 'em agen, nay, though the Thief had swallow'd 'em—

Swallowed 'em! Pox choak him.

Nay, though he had swallow'd 'em, I'd make him dis­gorge 'em, but you should have 'em agen.

Oh, Sir, this is divinely spoken! But how, how, dear Senior?

You must know, this Monsieur is a profest Astrologer, and by the by, to serve a friend or so, can conjure; that is, can raise the Devil: You understand me.

Raise the Devil!

To raise him in an honest way's nothing. Monsieur, give him a taste of your skill.

Oh hold, hold, dear Sir, hold, hold.

Oh, Sir, I have not been at Confession these two years; let me but go to Confession first, and then raise the Devil and welcome.

Your humble Serviture; commanda me, and me vill raise de Spirit, de Tunder, de Lightning, de Cloud, de Vind, and de Tempest.

Aye, but are you sure they can raise the Pearl agen?

Morbleau, de great Devil not able to raise de little Pearl! fee, fee, Senior.

But are you sure he can get at 'em?

Noting surer, noting surer. Rater den fail, me vill send him to Sea to fish for more.

Well, I profess 'tis a good-natur'd Devil. But hark you, Sir, are you sure 'tis a Devil that you dare trust?

Journee, vit mine whole Estate.

Two thousand Ducatoons is a tempting sum; and if he shou'd keep 'em when he has got 'em?

Courage, fear noting.

Sir, the place of his Operation is at his Study at my house; we must desire your company thither.

Well, I'll onely order my Servants to have a care of my Daughter, and go along with you.

Senior, de whole Famile must go along wit you, de young Son and de fair Daughter; dey may be concern in de Robbery. Pardonna me, Madam; my Art spare no body.

Aye, now I think on't, she shall go with us. If Dorido and she have laid their heads together, he'll firk it out of her with a vengeance.

Senior, pray beg his Lordships pardon, and tell him his Neck-lace is at present in Hucksters hands; but we'll firk it out of 'em with a vengeance. Clo, come along with me.

Tief, steal de Jewel!

De teevish hide of Rogua me vill drub,

Journee, by Lucifere and Belzebub.

Well, Wife, now give us a little of your Entertainment at the Monastery.

Oh, 'tis extreme fine!

Aye, but I would fain have you describe it.

What shall I do?

Oh, 'tis the sweetest, rarest En­tertainment in the world!

Aye, but let us hear the particulars. What did you see? what did you hear? what did you do? what did you say? Come, let's know all.

I shall be undone, if this discourse hold.

What did I see? what did I do? Oh 'tis not to be exprest! In the first place, I went along with Sabina, and she led me into the most delicious sweet place—But, Husband, I have News to tell you: I heard just now of a famous Astrologer newly come to Town.

But you don't tell me your Entertainment.

Oh, you can't imagine it, unless you saw it, so rich, and so divine—Well, but this Astrologer is so wittie and so ingenious a man, that I long to ask him a question.

With all my heart. But what did the Nuns do?

Oh, Sir, they knelt, and they pray'd, and they sung, and they—Prethee, my dear, let us go to him; I have a question to ask him, you little think of. Guess, my dear, prethee guess—I am so [Page 39] ashamed—Well, but for once I'll tell you: I'd ask him how many Children we shall have; I do so long for a Childe, and I would have it a Boy, that it may be like thee, my dear.

Kinde dear Rogue! Well, but you are the strangest woman! I ask you about the Nuns, and you answer about Boys and Girls. Prethee, dear, I do so long for this Entertainment.

Well, now I think on't, I'll have my will before yours. You shall go along with me to this Astrologer's, and then I'll tell you my Entertainment: I vow and swear I won't tell you else. Now, do, make me forsworn.

Well, thou art so cross!

Besides, this Astrologer lives at Senior Claudio's; and I am sure we shall be welcome thither.

Senior Claudio's! Boy, your Mistrisses Vail, and my Sword and Cloak.

'Tis a very odde place, Senior.

The Spirits he deals with, like it the better.

Velcome into mine Cell. Te Star, and de Constella­tion—

The wandring Spirits of the Air.

De superlunary and de sublunary Minister—

The Demons and the Cacodemons—

De eterial Peripatetick—

And all the Coelestial Outacoustions—

De great Devil and de little Devil, my foy, votre tres humble Serviture.

Pray thank 'em, and tell 'em I am their humble Servant. Dear Sir, stand by me,

I no not like those Outacousti­ons. But hark you, Sir, if a man may be so bold, what kind of things are those Demons and Cacodemons?

Demons and Cacodemons? why, dey be de Pimp to de great Devil; me send 'em on de Errand, de Message; dey pierce into de Eart, dive into de Sea; flie in de Air, mount into de Cloud; dey raise de Wind, de Lightning, de Tunder; and obey me in all my command.

Pray desire his Devilship to use no Ceremonie with me. Can't I get my Pearl without all these Demons and Cacodemons?

Oh, no, Senior; it be deir business to serve my friend.

Pray desire his Devilship not to take it ill.

He will no take it ill.

Two thousand Ducatoons is a great loss.

Do not me tell you—

I vow and swear I would not trouble him, if I could pos­sibly help it.

It be no trouble.

I would not gain his anger for twice the sum.

Journee, he vill be no anger—

I profess, if I thought he would—

Morbleau, I say he vill be no anger. Do you tink me lye?

I ha'done, Sir, I ha'done.

Now, Sir, me vill proceed to my Operation.

Great Sir, your Art and Experience in this profound study, needs no advice.

Alas, me understand noting. Me have de little civilitie from de Spirit, de little command ore de Familiar; dat be all.

I profess he's a modest Gentleman.

Now, Sir, place a de Circle on de right hand, and anoder on de left; var boon.

Now, Sir, set de fair Lady in dat Circle, and me vill set de ancient Gentleman in dis: var boon!

My dear Clorinia!

Now, Dorido, if fortune favour us!

Now, Sir, vatever you see, or vatever you hear, you no speak nor stir: take care you be safe in dat Circle.

Aye, Sir.

My Leonora here! Senior Pedro, this visit is wondrous kinde: What your Lady too! This favour is extraordinary. What kinde Gale has brought such fair Company to visit my poor house!

My Wife, you must know, has a strange desire to put a Que­stion to the Cunning man you keep.

With all my heart, Sir.

Well, I hope you'll pardon a bold intruder? But Curio­sity's a venial sin in our Sex. Pray excuse may Blushes when I tell you before my Husband that I have extremely long'd for that satis­faction which can be onely had at Senior Claudio's.

This kindness is beyond expression!

I know you'll call me a confident creature for this: but I vow 'tis a fault I cannot help.

Was there ever such a wittie charming Rogue! She courts me before her Husband's face.

Well, Madam, the honour you have vouchsafed your humble Ser­vant, has so obliged me, that if there be any Art or Magick in the world that can please a fair Lady—Sir, you'll pardon me—by this kiss you shall have it.

Aye, good Senior, let her have it: for uds-bodikins if you don't, she'll lead me so troublesom a life—

Oh, Sir, leave her to my care. Senior,

here's a little important business has made me rude. Monsieur, you must use a little slight of hand with this Gentleman, and get that Lady off for me; you understand me.

Senior, me vill do't.

Sir,

by de favour of your good Star, you be come in de fortunate minute of my Operation. Here be de Gentleman dat have been robb'd of de Jewel vort Two tousand Ducatoons.

And can you help him to't agen?

Journee, wit as much ease as me drink, or me sleep.

Oh, Wife, this is a fine man indeed!

Me beg your patience.

Remember my coun­cel; no speak, no stir from dat Circle.

I warrant you.

Whatever you see or hear, be not afraid, 'tis all but Jug­ling.

What shall I do! what shall become of me!

Wife, wife, oloh!

Heaven have mercy upon us. Claudio, Valerio, stand by me.

O fee, de coward; fear noting.

Wife, wife, oloh.

O death, hell, what shall I do!

O fee, in de Circle, de Circle.

Oh, Sir, if you have any pity for me, don't fright me at this unmerciful rate.

Morbleau, you be de strange man in de whole world: none but de boy, de shilde, be frighted at de Tunder: De grave Cavalier, and be fraid!

Oh, Sir, I can't help it, if it would save my life. The next clap of Thunder strikes me dead.

Aye, Sir, the Gentleman says right; it makes me tremble e­very joynt.

Oloh!

Dear Monsieur, I love thee. Now will I flie into my dear Leonora's arms.

Oh my Wife, my Wife, my Wife!

De grave Gentleman, and cry! For shame, for shame!

You may see what comes of your wicked Conjuring; the Devil has fetcht away one of our company already.

Aye, aye, the Devil has got her. She's gone, and I shall ne­ver see her agen!

I am afraid the house will fall upon our heads.

Oh my Wife!

Journee, vat be de matter? You shall have your Wife a­gen safe and sound, safe and sound.

No, no, the Devil has tore her to pieces by this time! I am undone, you wicked man you! If I had but received all her Portion, and she had gone to the Devil then, 'twould ne're ha'vext me: But she's under age, and I have not been married this half year, and I shall be hang'd for bringing her hither. I am accessary to her Mur­der. Oh my Wife, my Wife!

Morbleau, you shall be no hang, nor she be no murder: she be alive and var well; nay, she be in dis room, dis var room still.

In this Room!

Say that agen.

Me have onely cast a Mist before your eye.

A Mist!

She be in dis Room; onely she be invisible.

Invisible!

Dis be noting but de trick of my Skill, my Art: me can make de whole Famile de whole invisible, si you play, Monsieur.

And are you sure my poor Dear is onely invisible?

Noting else. She be in dis Room still. Hist, dare she go.

Where?

Dare, just dare.

O fee, she be too nimble for you, you canno catch her; she serve you de slippery trick.

Aye, Sir, I am satisfied you can do Miracles, and all that; but dear Sir, help me to her as soon as possibly you can.

She shall come by degree: De Mist before your eye shall vanish presant.

Sir, Sir, pray make an end of my business, I am not very well, I am all-o're in a cold sweat; and therefore pray help me to my Pearl agen, that I may go home to bed.

Bring in de Priest.

Priests, Sir, for what?

Because me raise de Spirit, and when de Priest stand by, de Spirit have no power.

But are you sure they ha'nt? wo'nt he tear me to pieces?

No, no, dey be as innocent as de Lamb.

Dear Divinitie, stand by me.

Fear nothing, Sir, I am your protectour.

The Devil, the Devil, the Devil!

I am dead, dead, stark dead—

Courage, dis be de harmless innocent Spirit; dis Devil hurt no body.

Oh, Sir, the sight of him kills me!

Kill! O fee, he be de good-natur'd Devil; he be so far from killing, dat me vill make him dance to entertain you.

Dance, said you!

Me can command de Musick in de Air.

Now kneel, and take her by the hand.

My dear Clorinia, this blessing is so ravishing, that I can scarce contain my Joys.

Upon thy knees, Clo! that's a good girl; pray for me, pray for me.

Aye, Senior, she be very good Daughter, de pious Lady. But now observe my Art.

Now, Sir, dere be de Jewel; make him a ver low bow, pass him a Compliman, kiss his hand, and tank him.

Kiss hand, said you?

Vat, vill be uncivil to de generous kind Spirit?

Uncivil, with a Pox! I dare not come neer him.

Vat vill you no take de Jewel?

Let him but lay it down, and stand a little further off, and I dare venture to take it.

Oh dat be no good fashion. You mus-take it from his own hand. Forward, forward, courage.

Your Compliman, your Compliman.

Oh, Sir, you kill me, you kill me!

Your tank, your tank.

I shall die, I shall die!

Your tank.

And please—your Devilship—I am your Devilships most—humble Servant—I kiss your fair hand, and so I take my leave.

Is he gone?

Now vere be you hurt?

Well, I shall never claw off this fright.

My Dear, art thou come agen!

Did me no tell you she wou'd come agen?

My Dear, where hast thou been?

Oh, I have been the Lord knows where! I have been in a Trance, my Dear.

A Trance!

When I sunk under the ground, a great two-handed Devil got me into his Cell, and caught me in his arms and held me so close, that he had like to have stifl'd me.

Stifl'd thee, poor Rogue!

And would you think it? he had scarce let me go two mi­nutes, but the furious Devil caught me so agen.

Come, Wife, let us be gone. I have been frighted almost out of my wits. Senior, your humble Servant.

Are you going, Senior?

Yes, Sir.

I thought to have put a Question—

Oh, no more Questions, no raising of damn'd Spirits, good Wife.

But some other time will do better. I am very well satisfi'd at present.

Dear Madam, adieu.

Clo, and Valerio, come, have me home to bed. Oh sick, sick!

Oh no, Sir, your Daughter mus stay, and go to bed wit dat Gentleman.

How! what's this?

Sir, your Son-in-Law, the happy Dorido.

And your dutiful Daughter Clorinia.

Beg your Pardon and your Blessing.

Come, Sir, forgive 'em; they have lov'd one another, and now have made one another happy.

Hussey, is all this true?

I can't deny what's made in Heav'n. Yes, Sir, he is my Husband.

Cheats, Rogues, Villains, I am betray'd!

Betray! Oh no, your Daughter be onely marri'd to dat Gentleman by a trick of my invention; dat's all.

All, said you? Gypsie, how durst you play the Traytor, and see the Devil so neer you?

'Twas her best policie to avoid him. The Devil could have no power over her whilst she was at so pious a work.

We, Senior; de Devil have no pow'r to take de fair Lady, especial when she be taking de fine Gentleman.

Not take her, with a Pox! If he would not take her then, let him take her now: for she shall never get one Cross from me.

However, let us have your Blessing, if we have nothing else.

Dissembling, cheating, jilting Varlets, go hang your selves.

Gentlemen, I have been seeking for Senior Dorido, and was directed hither.

Sir, I am the man.

An't please you, Sir, your rich Unkle at Madrid, Senior Fa­bricio, God rest his Soul, is dead; and dying without Issue, you are left Heir to his Estate. I am come Post to inform you, and desire you to come to take possession.

Heir to Senior Fabricio's Estate!

Twenty thousand Crowns per annum, is a Blessing comes not every day.

Twenty thousand Crowns per annum!

But is my Uncle dead?

Aye, so the Gentleman says. But be not afflicted; alas, we must all die.

I am not so much afflicted at his death, as at your anger and displeasure for marrying your Daughter.

Why truly, Senior Dorido, I have been a little angry with you; but I vow my anger's soon o're. And for any ill will I bear you, God knows my Soul—

Fabricio's Estate!

Why really, Sir, I always had a great esteem for your person. Your Father was my very intimate Acquaintance, a worthy honest Gen­tleman.

But, Sir, shall we have your Blessing?

Lord, Sir, what do you mean! Rise, rise; my Blessing on you both.

Monsieur, I shall study to requite this kindness.

Sir, it be always de grand business of de French man, to oblige de fair Lady.

But here—

—I must die a Deb­tour.

Vell, Sir, now me have done my magick Charm,

Next Circle dat you make be in her arm.

My Conjuring Art can boast var little merit;

'Tis de fair Lady dat can raise de Spirit.