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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Aphra Behn, by Aphra Behn
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of Aphra Behn
+       Volume IV.
+
+Author: Aphra Behn
+
+Editor: Montague Summers
+
+Release Date: November 15, 2008 [EBook #27273]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF APHRA BEHN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Hope, Wendy Bertsch and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+This e-text comes in two forms: Latin-1 and ASCII-7. Use the one that
+works best on your text reader. In the Latin-1 version, French words
+like "étude" have accents and "æ" is a single letter. If you see any
+garbage in this paragraph and can't get it to display properly, use the
+ASCII-7 or rock-bottom version. All necessary text will still be there;
+it just won't be as pretty.
+
+In the printed book, all notes were grouped at the end of the volume
+as "Notes on the Text" and "Notes: Critical and Explanatory". For this
+e-text, notes have been placed after their respective plays. The Notes
+as printed give only page and line numbers; act-and-scene designations
+shown between +marks+ were added by the transcriber. Labels such as
+"Scene IIa" refer to points where the scene description changes without
+a new scene number.
+
+The critical notes include a few cross-references to other volumes of
+the Complete Works. Where appropriate, these texts are quoted after each
+play's Notes, before the Errata. The "N.E.D." of the Notes is now
+generally known as the OED.
+
+Except in the Errata lists, all brackets are in the original.
+
+Typographic note: In the printed book, all references to plays give the
+Act in lower-case Roman numerals and the Scene in small capital Roman
+numerals; the two look identical except for the dots over the i's. For
+this plain-text version, the conventional "IV.iv" sequence was used
+instead.]
+
+
+
+
+                   THE WORKS
+
+                       of
+
+                   APHRA BEHN
+
+
+                   Edited by
+                MONTAGUE SUMMERS
+
+                    VOL. IV
+
+  Sir Patient Fancy
+  The Amorous Prince--The Widow Ranter
+  The Younger Brother
+
+
+       [Illustration: (Publisher's Device)]
+
+           LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+        STRATFORD-ON-AVON: A. H. BULLEN
+                     MCMXV
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+                                                        Page
+
+  Sir Patient Fancy                                        1
+  The Amorous Prince                                     117
+  The Widow Ranter                                       215
+  The Younger Brother; Or, The Amorous Jilt              311
+  Notes                                                  401
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATIENT FANCY.
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+Entrances and bracketed stage directions were printed in _italics_,
+with proper names in roman type. The overall _italic_ markup has been
+omitted for readability.]
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Sir Patient Fancy, a hypochondriacal old alderman, has taken a second
+wife, Lucia, a young and beautiful woman who, although feigning great
+affection and the strictest conjugal fidelity, intrigues with a gallant,
+Charles Wittmore, the only obstacle to their having long since married
+being mutual poverty. However, the jealousy and uxoriousness of the
+doting husband give the lovers few opportunities; on one occasion,
+indeed, as Lady Fancy is entertaining Wittmore in the garden they are
+surprised by Sir Patient, and she is obliged to pass her visitor off
+under the name of Fainlove as a suitor to her step-daughter, Isabella,
+in which rôle he is accepted by Sir Patient. But Isabella has betrothed
+herself to Lodwick, a son of the pedantic Lady Knowell: whilst Lucretia
+Knowell loves Leander, the alderman's nephew, in spite of the fact that
+she is promised by her mother to Sir Credulous Easy, a bumpkinly knight
+from Devonshire. Lodwick, who is a close friend of Leander, has been
+previously known to Sir Credulous, and resolving to trick and befool the
+coxcomb warmly welcomes him on his arrival in town. He persuades him, in
+fine, to give a ridiculous serenade, or, rather, a hideous hubbub, of
+noisy instruments under his mistress' window. A little before this Lady
+Knowell with a party of friends has visited Sir Patient, who is her next
+neighbour, and the loud laughter, talking, singing and foppery so enrage
+the precise old valetudinarian that he resolves to leave London
+immediately for his country house, a circumstance which would be fatal
+to his wife's amours. Wittmore and she, however, persuade him that he is
+very ill, and on being shown his face in a looking-glass that magnifies
+instead of in his ordinary mirror, he imagines that he is suddenly
+swollen and puffed with disease, and so is led lamenting to bed, leaving
+the coast clear for the nonce. Isabella, however, has made an
+assignation with Lodwick at the same time that her stepmother eagerly
+awaits her own gallant, and in the dark young Knowell is by mistake
+escorted to Lucia's chamber, whilst Wittmore encountering Isabella, and
+thinking her Lady Fancy, proceeds to act so amorously that the error is
+soon discovered and the girl flies from his ardour. In her hurry,
+however, she rushes blundering into Lucia's bedchamber, where she finds
+Knowell. It is just at this moment that Sir Credulous Easy's deafening
+fanfare re-echoes in the street, and Sir Patient, awakened and
+half-stunned by the pandemonium, is led grouty and bawling into his
+wife's room, where he discovers Knowell, whom Lucia has all this time
+taken for Wittmore; but her obvious confusion and dismay thereon are
+such that Sir Patient does not suspect the real happenings, which she
+glozes over with a tale concerning Isabella. Meantime the serenaders are
+dispersed and routed by a band of the alderman's servants and clerks.
+Sir Credulous courting Lucretia, who loathes him, meets Knowell bringing
+a tale of a jealous rival able to poison at a distance by means of some
+strangely subtle venom, upon which the Devonshire knight conceals
+himself in a basket, hoping to be conveyed away to his old uncle in
+Essex, whereas he is merely transported next door. Sir Patient, who
+surprises his lady writing a love-letter, which she turns off by
+appending Isabella's name thereto, is so overwhelmed with her seeming
+affection and care for his family that he presents her with eight
+thousand pounds in gold and silver, and resolves to marry his daughter
+to Fainlove (Wittmore) without any further delay. But whilst he is gone
+down to prayers and Lucia is entertaining her lover, the old nurse
+informs him that his little daughter Fanny has long been privy to an
+intrigue between Knowell and Isabella, whereupon, in great perturbation,
+he rushes upstairs again to consult with his wife, who hurries Wittmore
+under the bed. Sir Patient, however, warmed with cordials which he
+quaffs to revive his drooping spirits, does not offer to quit the
+chamber, but lies down on the bed, and the gallant is only enabled to
+slip out unobserved after several accidents each of which nearly betrays
+his presence. Upon the marriage morning Isabella in a private interview
+rejects her pseudo-suitor with scorn and contumely, whereat Knowell, who
+has of intent been listening, reveals to her that it is his friend
+Wittmore and no real lover who is seemingly courting her, and with his
+help, whilst Sir Patient is occupied with a consultation of doctors
+(amongst whom Sir Credulous appears disguised as a learned member of the
+faculty), Isabella and Knowell are securely married. Lady Knowell, who
+has feigned a liking for Leander, generously gives him to Lucretia, Sir
+Patient's attention being still engrossed by the physicians who assemble
+in great force. Soon after, at Leander's instigation, in order to test
+his wife, Sir Patient feigns to be dead of a sudden apoplexy, and for a
+few moments, whilst others are present, Lucia laments him with many
+plaints and tears, but immediately changes when she is left alone with
+Wittmore. The lovers' plans, however, are overheard by the husband, who
+promptly confronts his wife with her duplicity. Amazed and confounded
+indeed, he forgives Leander and his daughter for marrying contrary to
+his former wishes; and when Lucia coolly announces her intention to play
+the hypocrite and puritan no more, but simply to enjoy herself with the
+moneys he has settled on her without let or proviso, he humorously
+declares he will for his part also drop the prig and canter, and turn
+town gallant and spark.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+In spite of Mrs. Behn's placid assertion in her address 'To the Reader'
+that she has only taken 'but a very bare hint' from a foreign source,
+_Le Malade Imaginaire_, the critics who cried out that _Sir Patient
+Fancy_ 'was made out of at least four French plays' are patently right.
+Sir Patient is, of course, Argan throughout and in detail; moreover, in
+the scene where the old alderman feigns death, there is very copious and
+obvious borrowing from Act III of _Le Malade Imaginaire_. Some of the
+doctors' lingo also comes from the third and final interlude of
+Molière's comedy, whilst the idea of the medical consultation is
+pilfered from _L'Amour Médecin_, Act II, ii. Sir Credulous Easy is
+Monsieur de Porceaugnac, but his first entrance is taken wholesale from
+Brome's _The Damoiselle; or, The New Ordinary_ (8vo, 1653), Act II, i,
+where Amphilus and Trebasco discourse exactly as do Curry and his
+master. The pedantic Lady Knowell is a mixture of Philaminte and Bélise
+from _Les Femmes Savantes_. The circumstance in Act IV, ii, when Lucia,
+to deceive her husband, appends Isabella's name to the love-letter she
+has herself just written, had already been used by Wycherley at the
+commencement of Act V of that masterpiece of comedy, _The Country Wife_
+(4to, 1675, produced in 1672), where Mrs. Pinchwife, by writing 'your
+slighted Alithea' as the subscription of a letter, completely befools
+her churlish spouse.
+
+Molière's comedies, which were so largely conveyed in _Sir Patient
+Fancy_, have been a gold mine for many of our dramatists. From _Le
+Malade Imaginaire_ Miller took his _Mother-in-Law; or, The Doctor the
+Disease_, produced at the Haymarket, 12 February, 1734, and Isaac
+Bickerstaffe, _Dr. Last in his Chariot_, produced at the same theatre 25
+August, 1769. In this farce Bickerstaffe further introduces the famous
+consultation scene from _L'Amour Médecin_, a play which had been made
+use of by Lacy, _The Dumb Lady; or, The Farrier made a Physician_
+(1672); by Owen Swiney, _The Quacks; or, Love's the Physician_, produced
+at Drury Lane, 18 March, 1705; by Miller, _Art and Nature_, produced at
+the same theatre 16 February, 1738; and in an anonymous one act piece,
+which is little more than a bare translation under the title _Love is
+the Doctor_, performed once only at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 4 April, 1734.
+
+_Monsieur de Pourceaugnac_ supplied Ravenscroft with material no less
+than three times. In _Mamamouchi; or, The Citizen turn'd Gentleman_,
+acted early in 1672, we have Sir Simon Softhead, who is Pourceaugnac in
+detail; in _The Careless Lovers_, produced at the Duke's House in 1673,
+and again in _The Canterbury Guests; or, A Bargain Broken_, played at
+the Theatre Royal in 1694, we have _in extenso_ Act II, Scenes viii, ix,
+x, of the French comedy. Crowne's Sir Mannerley Shallow (_The Country
+Wit_, 1675) comes from the same source. _Squire Trelooby_, produced at
+Lincoln's Inn Fields, 20 March, 1704, and revived as _The Cornish
+Squire_ at Drury Lane, 3 January, 1734, is ascribed to Vanbrugh,
+Congreve, and Walsh; but this, as well as a farce produced at Dublin in
+1720 by Charles Shadwell and entitled _The Plotting Lovers; or, The
+Dismal Squire_, cannot claim to be anything but translations. Miller's
+_Mother-in-Law_, again, includes much of _Monsieur de Pourceaugnac_; and
+Thomas Sheridan's _Captain O'Blunder; or, The Brave Irishman_, produced
+at Goodman's Fields, 31 January, 1746, is a poor adaptation. Mrs.
+Parsons abbreviated Molière to _The Intrigues of a Morning_, played at
+Covent Garden, 18 April, 1792, a jejune effort. _Les Femmes Savantes_
+was rather racily transformed by Thomas Wright into _The Female
+Virtuosoes_, and produced at Drury Lane in 1693. It was revived as _No
+Fools like Wits_ at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 10 January, 1721, to
+anticipate Cibber's _The Refusal; or, The Ladies' Philosophy_, which had
+a run of six nights. Miller, in his _The Man of Taste_, once more had
+resource to Molière. His play was produced at Drury Lane, 6 March, 1735.
+It has no value.
+
+Of all these borrowers Mrs. Behn is infinitely the best. _Sir Patient
+Fancy_ is, indeed, an excellent comedy, and had she used more leisure
+might have been improved to become quite first rate. Perhaps she
+plagiarized so largely owing to the haste with which her play was
+written and staged, but yet everything she touched has been invested
+with an irresistible humour. A glaring example of her hurry remains in
+the fact that the 'precise clerk' of Sir Patient has a double
+nomenclature. In Act III he appears as Abel; in Act IV, iii, he is
+referred to as Bartholomew, and under this last name has an exit marked
+in Act V. This character is only on the stage twice and is given but
+some three or four lines to speak. Obviously, when writing her fourth
+act, Aphra forgot she had already christened him.
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+_Sir Patient Fancy_ was produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorset Garden,
+in January, 1678, with an exceptionally strong cast which included both
+Betterton and his wife. It met with the great success it fully deserved.
+The critics, indeed, were not slow to detect Mrs. Behn's plagiarisms,
+but the only real opposition was negligible disapproval of a modest
+clique, who a few years later vainly tried to damn _The Lucky Chance_.
+After the death of the two famous comedians Antony Leigh and James Nokes
+in December, 1692, _Sir Patient Fancy_, owing to the inability of
+succeeding actors to sustain the two rôles, Sir Patient and Sir
+Credulous, which had been created by this gifted pair, completely
+dropped out of the repertory of the theatre. It was not singular in its
+fate, for Cibber expressly tells us that D'Urfey's excellent comedy _The
+Fond Husband_, and Crowne's satirical _City Politics_, 'lived only by
+the extraordinary performance of Nokes and Leigh.'
+
+
+
+
+TO THE READER.
+
+
+I Printed this Play with all the impatient haste one ought to do, who
+would be vindicated from the most unjust and silly aspersion, Woman
+could invent to cast on Woman; and which only my being a Woman has
+procured me; _That it was Baudy_, the least and most Excusable fault in
+the Men writers, to whose Plays they all crowd, as if they came to no
+other end than to hear what they condemn in this: _but from a Woman it
+was unnaturall_: but how so Cruell an unkindness came into their
+imaginations I can by no means guess; unless by those whose Lovers by
+long absence, or those whom Age or Ugliness have rendered a little
+distant from those things they would fain imagin here--But if such as
+these durst profane their Chast ears with hearing it over again, or
+taking it into their serious Consideration in their Cabinets; they would
+find nothing that the most innocent Virgins can have cause to blush at:
+but confess with me that no Play either Ancient or Modern has less of
+that Bug-bear Bawdry in it. Others to show their breeding (as _Bays_
+sayes) cryed it was made out of at least four _French_ Plays, when I had
+but a very bare hint from one, the _Malad Imagenere_, which was given me
+translated by a Gentleman infinitely to advantage; but how much of the
+_French_ is in this, I leave to those who do indeed understand it and
+have seen it at the Court. The play had no other Misfortune but that of
+coming out for a Womans: had it been owned by a Man, though the most
+Dull Unthinking Rascally Scribler in Town, it had been a most admirable
+Play. Nor does it's loss of Fame with the Ladies do it much hurt, though
+they ought to have had good Nature and justice enough to have attributed
+all its faults to the Authours unhappiness, who is forced to write for
+Bread and not ashamed to owne it, and consequently ought to write to
+please (if she can) an Age which has given severall proofs it was by
+this way of writing to be obliged, though it is a way too cheap for men
+of wit to pursue who write for Glory, and a way which even I despise as
+much below me.
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATIENT FANCY.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+Spoken by Mr. _Betterton_.
+
+
+  We write not now, as th' antient Poets writ,
+  For your Applause of Nature, Sense and Wit;
+  But, like good Tradesmen, what's in fashion vent,
+  And cozen you, to give ye all content.
+  True Comedy, writ even in _Dryden's_ Style,
+  Will hardly raise your Humours to a Smile.
+  Long did his Sovereign Muse the Scepter sway,
+  And long with Joy you did true Homage pay:
+  But now, like happy States, luxurious grown,
+  The Monarch Wit unjustly you dethrone,
+  And a Tyrannick Commonwealth prefer,
+  Where each small Wit starts up and claims his share;
+  And all those Laurels are in pieces torn,
+  Which did e'er while one sacred Head adorn.
+  Nay, even the Women now pretend to reign;
+  Defend us from a Poet _Joan_ again!
+  That Congregation's in a hopeful way
+  To Heaven, where the Lay-Sisters teach and pray.
+  Oh the great Blessing of a little Wit!
+  I've seen an elevated Poet sit,
+  And hear the Audience laugh and clap, yet say,
+  Gad after all, 'tis a damn'd silly Play:
+  He unconcern'd, cries only--Is it so?
+  No matter, these unwitty things will do,
+  When your fine fustian useless Eloquence
+  Serves but to chime asleep a drousy Audience.
+  Who at the vast expence of Wit would treat,
+  That might so cheaply please the Appetite?
+  Such homely Fare you're like to find to night:
+  Our Author
+  Knows better how to juggle than to write:
+  Alas! a Poet's good for nothing now,
+  Unless he have the knack of conjuring too;
+  For 'tis beyond all natural Sense to guess
+  How their strange Miracles are brought to pass.
+  Your Presto Jack be gone, and come again,
+  With all the Hocus Art of Legerdemain;
+  Your dancing Tester, Nut-meg, and your Cups,
+  Out-does your Heroes and your amorous Fops.
+  And if this chance to please you, by that rule,
+  He that writes Wit is much the greater Fool.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  MEN.
+
+  Sir _Patient Fancy_, an old rich Alderman,
+    and one that fancies himself always sick,   Mr. _Anthony Leigh_.
+  _Leander Fancy_, his Nephew,
+    in love with _Lucretia_,                    Mr. _Crosby_.
+  _Wittmore_, Gallant to the Lady _Fancy_,
+    a wild young Fellow of a small Fortune,     Mr. _Betterton_.
+  _Lodwick Knowell_, Son to the Lady
+    _Knowell_, in love with _Isabella_,         Mr. _Smith_.
+  Sir _Credulous Easy_, a foolish _Devonshire_
+    Knight, design'd to marry _Lucretia_,       Mr. _Nokes_.
+  _Curry_, his Groom,                           Mr. _Richards_.
+  _Roger_, Footman to the Lady _Fancy_.
+  _Abel (Bartholomew)_,
+    Clerk to Sir _Patient Fancy_.
+  _Brunswick_, a friend to _Lodwick Knowell_.
+  Monsieur _Turboon_, a French Doctor.
+  A Fat Doctor.
+  An Amsterdam Doctor.
+  A Leyden Doctor.
+  Page to the Lady _Knowell_.
+
+    Guests, Six Servants to Sir _Patient_, Ballad-Singers
+    and Serenaders.
+
+
+  WOMEN.
+
+  The Lady _Fancy_, Young Wife
+    to Sir _Patient_,                           Mrs. _Currer_.
+  The Lady _Knowell_, an affected learned
+    Woman, Mother to _Lodwick_ and _Lucretia_,  Mrs. _Gwin_.
+  _Lucretia_, Daughter to the L. _Knowell_,     Mrs. _Price_.
+  _Isabella_, Daughter to Sir _Patient Fancy_,  Mrs. _Betterton_.
+  _Fanny_, a Child of seven Years old,
+    Daughter to Sir _Patient Fancy_.
+  _Maundy_, the Lady _Fancy's_ Woman,           Mrs. _Gibbs_.
+  _Betty_, Waiting-woman to _Isabella_.
+  _Antic_, Waiting-woman to _Lucretia_.
+  Nurse.
+
+
+  SCENE _London_, in two Houses.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Room in Lady _Knowell's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_ with _Isabella_.
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis much I owe to Fortune, my dear _Lucretia_, for being so
+kind to make us Neighbours, where with Ease we may continually exchange
+our Souls and Thoughts without the attendance of a Coach, and those
+other little Formalities that make a Business of a Visit; it looks so
+like a Journey, I hate it.
+
+_Lucr._ Attendance is that Curse to Greatness that confines the Soul,
+and spoils good Humour; we are free whilst thus alone, and can laugh at
+the abominable Fopperies of this Town.
+
+_Isab._ And lament the numberless Impertinences wherewith they
+continually plague all young Women of Quality.
+
+_Lucr._ Yet these are the precious things our grave Parents still chuse
+out to make us happy with, and all for a filthy Jointure, the undeniable
+argument for our Slavery to Fools.
+
+_Isab._ Custom is unkind to our Sex, not to allow us free Choice; but we
+above all Creatures must be forced to endure the formal Recommendations
+of a Parent, and the more insupportable Addresses of an odious Fop;
+whilst the Obedient Daughter stands--thus--with her Hands pinn'd before
+her, a set Look, few Words, and a Mein that cries--Come marry me: out
+upon't.
+
+_Lucr._ I perceive then, whatever your Father designs, you are resolv'd
+to love your own way.
+
+_Isab._ Thou mayst lay thy Maidenhead upon't, and be sure of the
+Misfortune to win.
+
+_Lucr._ My Brother _Lodwick's_ like to be a happy Man then.
+
+_Isab._ Faith, my dear _Lodwick_ or no body in my heart, and I hope thou
+art as well resolv'd for my Cousin _Leander_.
+
+_Lucr._ Here's my Hand upon't, I am; yet there's something sticks upon
+my stomach, which you must know.
+
+_Isab._ Spare the Relation, for I have observ'd of late your Mother to
+have order'd her Eyes with some softness, her Mouth endeavouring to
+sweeten it self into Smiles and Dimples, as if she meant to recal
+Fifteen again, and gave it all to _Leander_, for at him she throws her
+Darts.
+
+_Lucr._ Is't possible thou should'st have perceived it already?
+
+_Isab._ Long since.
+
+_Lucr._ And now I begin to love him, 'twould vex me to see my Mother
+marry him--well, I shall never call him Father.
+
+_Isab._ He'll take care to give himself a better Title.
+
+_Lucr._ This _Devonshire_ Knight too, who is recommended to my Mother as
+a fit Husband for me, I shall be so tormented with--My Brother swears
+he's the pertest, most unsufferable Fool he ever saw; when he was at my
+Uncle's last Summer, he made all his Diversion.
+
+_Isab._ Prithee let him make ours now, for of all Fops your Country Fop
+is the most tolerable Animal; those of the Town are the most unmanagable
+Beasts in Nature.
+
+_Lucr._ And are the most noisy, keeping Fops.
+
+_Isab._ Keeping begins to be as ridiculous as Matrimony, and is a
+greater Imposition upon the Liberty of Man; the Insolence and Expence of
+their Mistresses has almost tir'd out all but the Old and Doting part of
+Mankind: The rest begin to know their value, and set a price upon a good
+Shape, a tolerable Face and Mein:--and some there are who have made
+excellent Bargains for themselves that way, and will flatter ye and jilt
+ye an Antiquated Lady as artfully as the most experienc'd Miss of 'em
+all.
+
+_Lucr._ Lord, Lord! what will this World come to?--but this Mother of
+mine--_Isabella_.
+    [Sighs.
+
+_Isab._ Is discreet and virtuous enough, a little too affected, as being
+the most learned of her Sex.
+
+_Lucr._ Methinks to be read in the Arts, as they call 'em, is the
+peculiar Province of the other Sex.
+
+_Isab._ Indeed the Men would have us think so, and boast their Learning
+and Languages; but if they can find any of our Sex fuller of Words, and
+to so little purpose as some of their Gownmen, I'll be content to change
+my Petticoats for Pantaloons, and go to a Grammar-school.
+
+_Lucr._ Oh, they're the greatest Babelards in Nature.
+
+_Isab._ They call us easy and fond, and charge us with all weakness; but
+look into their Actions of Love, State or War, their roughest business,
+and you shall find 'em sway'd by some who have the luck to find their
+Foibles; witness my Father, a Man reasonable enough, till drawn away by
+doting Love and Religion: what a Monster my young Mother makes of him!
+flatter'd him first into Matrimony, and now into what sort of Fool or
+Beast she pleases to make him.
+
+_Lucr._ I wonder she does not turn him to Christianity; methinks a
+Conventicle should ill agree with her Humour.
+
+_Isab._ Oh, she finds it the only way to secure her from his Suspicion,
+which if she do not e'er long give him cause for, I am mistaken in her
+Humour.--
+
+    Enter L. _Knowell_ and _Leander_.
+
+But see your Mother and my Cousin _Leander_, who seems, poor man, under
+some great Consternation, for he looks as gravely as a Lay-Elder
+conducting his Spouse from a Sermon.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, fy upon't. See, Mr. _Fancy_, where your Cousin and my
+_Lucretia_ are idling: _Dii boni_, what an insupportable loss of time's
+this?
+
+_Lean._ Which might be better imploy'd, if I might instruct 'em, Madam.
+
+L. _Kno._ Ay, Mr. _Fancy_, in Consultation with the Antients.--Oh the
+delight of Books! when I was of their age, I always imploy'd my looser
+Hours in reading--if serious, 'twas _Tacitus_, _Seneca_, _Plutarch's
+Morals_, or some such useful Author; if in an Humour gay, I was for
+Poetry, _Virgil_, _Homer_ or _Tasso_. Oh that Love between _Renaldo_ and
+_Armida_, Mr. _Fancy_! Ah the Caresses that fair _Corcereis_ gave, and
+received from the young Warrior, ah how soft, delicate and tender! Upon
+my Honour I cannot read them in the Excellence of their Original
+Language, without I know not what Emotions.
+
+_Lean._ Methinks 'tis very well in our Mother Tongue, Madam.
+
+L. _Kno._ O, Faugh, Mr. _Fancy_, what have you said, Mother Tongue! Can
+any thing that's great or moving be express'd in filthy _English_?--I'll
+give you an Energetical proof, Mr. _Fancy_; observe but divine _Homer_
+in the _Grecian_ Language--_Ton d' apamibominous prosiphe podas ochus
+Achilleus!_ Ah how it sounds! which English't dwindles into the most
+grating stuff:--Then the swift-foot _Achilles_ made reply: oh, faugh.
+
+_Lucr._ So now my Mother's in her right Sphere.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, Mr. _Fancy_, we'll pursue our first design of retiring
+into my Cabinet, and reading a leaf or two in _Martial_; I am a little
+dull, and wou'd fain laugh.
+
+_Lean._ Methinks, Madam, Discourse were much better with these young
+Ladies. Dear Lucretia, find some way to release me.
+    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, how I hate the impertinence of Women, who for the
+generality have no other knowledge than that of dressing; I am uneasy
+with the unthinking Creatures.
+
+_Lucr._ Indeed 'tis much better to be entertaining a young Lover alone;
+but I'll prevent her, if possible.
+    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ No, I am for the substantial pleasure of an Author.
+_Philosophemur!_ is my Motto,--I'm strangely fond of you, Mr. _Fancy_,
+for being a Scholar.
+
+_Lean._ Who, Madam, I a Scholar? the greatest Dunce in Nature--Malicious
+Creatures, will you leave me to her mercy?
+    [To them aside.
+
+_Lucr._ Prithee assist him in his misery, for I am Mudd, and can do
+nothing towards it.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Isab._ Who, my Cousin _Leander_ a Scholar, Madam?
+
+_Lucr._ Sure he's too much a Gentleman to be a Scholar.
+
+_Isab._ I vow, Madam, he spells worse than a Country Farrier when he
+prescribes a Drench.
+
+_Lean._ Then, Madam, I write the leudest hand.
+
+_Isab._ Worse than a Politician or a States-man.
+
+_Lucr._ He cannot read it himself when he has done.
+
+_Lean._ Not a word on't, Madam.
+
+_L. Kno._ This agreement to abuse him, I understand--    [Aside.
+  --Well, then, Mr. _Fancy_, let's to my Cabinet--your hand.
+
+_Lean._ Now shall I be teas'd unmercifully,--I'll wait on you, Madam.
+    [Exit Lady.
+  --Find some means to redeem me, or I shall be mad.
+    [Exit _Lean._
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Hah, my dear Isabella here, and without a Spy! what a blessed
+opportunity must I be forc'd to lose, for there is just now arriv'd my
+Sister's Lover, whom I am oblig'd to receive: but if you have a mind to
+laugh a little--
+
+_Isab._ Laugh! why, are you turn'd Buffoon, Tumbler, or Presbyterian
+Preacher?
+
+_Lod._ No, but there's a Creature below more ridiculous than either of
+these.
+
+_Lucr._ For love's sake, what sort of Beast is that?
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous Easy_, your new Lover just come to town Bag and
+Baggage, and I was going to acquaint my Mother with it.
+
+_Isab._ You'll find her well employ'd with my Cousin _Leander_.
+
+_Lucr._ A happy opportunity to free him: but what shall I do now,
+Brother?
+
+_Lod._ Oh, let me alone to ruin him with my Mother: get you gone,
+I think I hear him coming, and this Apartment is appointed for him.
+
+_Lucr._ Prithee haste then, and free _Leander_, we'll into the Garden.
+
+    [Exeunt _Luc._ and _Isab._
+
+    A Chair and a Table. Enter Sir_ Credulous _in a riding habit.
+    _Curry_ his Groom carrying a Portmantle._
+
+_Lod._ Yes--'tis the Right Worshipful, I'll to my Mother with the News.
+    [Ex. _Lod._
+
+Sir _Cred._ Come undo my Portmantle, and equip me, that I may look like
+some body before I see the Ladies--_Curry_, thou shalt e'en remove now,
+_Curry_, from Groom to Footman; for I'll ne'er keep Horse more, no, nor
+Mare neither, since my poor _Gillian's_ departed this Life.
+
+_Cur._ 'Ds diggers, Sir, you have griev'd enough for your Mare in all
+Conscience; think of your Mistress now, Sir, and think of her no more.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Not think of her! I shall think of her whilst I live, poor
+Fool, that I shall, though I had forty Mistresses.
+
+_Cur._ Nay, to say truth, Sir, 'twas a good-natur'd civil beast, and so
+she remain'd to her last gasp, for she cou'd never have left this World
+in a better time, as the saying is, so near her Journey's End.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A civil Beast! Why, was it civilly done of her, thinkest
+thou, to die at _Branford_, when had she liv'd till to morrow, she had
+been converted into Money and have been in my Pocket? for now I am to
+marry and live in Town, I'll sell off all my Pads; poor Fool, I think
+she e'en died for grief I wou'd have sold her.
+
+_Cur._ 'Twas unlucky to refuse Parson _Cuffet's_ Wife's Money for her,
+Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, and to refuse her another kindness too, that shall be
+nameless which she offer'd me, and which wou'd have given me good luck
+in Horse-flesh too; Zoz, I was a modest fool, that's truth on't.
+
+_Cur._ Well, well, Sir, her time was come you must think, and we are all
+Mortal as the saying is.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, 'twas the lovingst Tit:--but Grass and Hay, she's
+gone--where be her Shoes, _Curry_?
+
+_Cur._ Here, Sir, her Skin went for good Ale at _Branford_.
+    [Gives him the Shoes.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ah, how often has she carry'd me upon these Shoes to Mother
+_Jumbles_; thou remember'st her handsome Daughter, and what pure Ale she
+brew'd; between one and t'other my Rent came short home there; but let
+that pass too, and hang sorrow, as thou sayst, I have something else to
+think on.
+    [Takes his things out, lays them upon the Table.
+  And, _Curry_, as soon as I am drest, go you away to St. _Clement's
+Church-yard_, to _Jackson_ the Cobler there.
+
+_Cur._ What, your Dog-tutor, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, and see how my Whelp proves, I put to him last
+Parliament.
+
+_Cur._ Yes, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Leander_, and starts back seeing Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ And ask him what Gamesters come to the Ponds now adays, and
+what good Dogs.
+
+_Cur._ Yes, Sir.
+
+_Lean._ This is the Beast _Lodwick_ spoke of; how could I laugh were he
+design'd for any but _Lucretia!_
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And dost hear, ask him if he have not sold his own Dog
+_Diver_ with the white Ear; if I can purchase him, and my own Dog prove
+right, I'll be Duke of Ducking-Pond, ads zoz.
+    [Sir _Cred._ dresses himself.
+  Well, I think I shall be fine anon, he.
+
+_Cur._ But zo, zo, Sir, as the saying is, this Suit's a little out of
+fashion, 'twas made that very year I came to your Worship, which is five
+Winters, and as many Summers.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What then Mun, I never wear it, but when I go to be drunk,
+and give my Voice for a Knight o'th' Shire, and here at _London_ in Term
+time, and that but eight times in Eight Visits to Eight several Ladies
+to whom I was recommended.
+
+_Cur._ I wonder that amongst eight you got not one, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Eight! Zoz, I had Eight score, Mun; but the Devil was in
+'em, they were all so forward, that before I cou'd seal and deliver,
+whip, quoth _Jethro_, they were either all married to some body else,
+or run quite away; so that I am resolv'd if this same _Lucretia_ proves
+not right, I'll e'en forswear this Town and all their false Wares,
+amongst which, zoz, I believe they vent as many false Wives as any
+_Metropolitan_ in Christendom, I'll say that for't, and a Fiddle for't,
+i'faith:--come give me my Watch out,--so, my Diamond Rings too: so,
+I think I shall appear pretty well all together, _Curry_, hah?
+
+_Lean._ Like some thing monstrously ridiculous, I'll be sworn.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Cur._ Here's your Purse of broad Gold, Sir, that your Grandmother gave
+you to go a wooing withal, I mean to shew, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, for she charg'd me never to part with it;--so, now for
+the Ladies.
+    [Shakes his Ribbons.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ _Leander_, what mak'st thou here, like a Holy-day Fool gazing at
+a Monster?
+
+_Lean._ Yes; And one I hope I have no great reason to fear.
+
+_Lod._ I am of thy opinion; away, my Mother's coming; take this
+opportunity with my Sister, she's i'th' Garden, and let me alone with
+this Fool, for an Entertainment that shall shew him all at once: away--
+    [Exit _Lean._
+    [_Lod._ goes in to Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ _Lodwick_, my dear Friend! and little Spark of
+Ingenuity--Zoz, Man, I'm but just come to Town.
+    [Embrace.
+
+_Lod._ 'Tis a joyful hearing, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Not so joyful neither, Sir, when you shall know poor
+_Gillian's_ dead, my little grey Mare; thou knew'st her, mun: Zoz, 'thas
+made me as melancholy as the Drone of a _Lancashire_ Bag-pipe. But let
+that pass; and now we talk of my Mare, Zoz, I long to see this Sister of
+thine.
+
+_Lod._ She'll be with you presently, Sir _Credulous_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ But hark ye, Zoz, I have been so often fob'd off in these
+matters, that between you and I, _Lodwick_, if I thought I shou'd not
+have her, Zoz, I'd ne'er lose precious time about her.
+
+_Lod._ Right, Sir; and to say truth, these Women have so much
+Contradiction in 'em, that 'tis ten to one but a Man fails in the Art of
+pleasing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, there's it:--therefore prithee, dear _Lodwick_, tell me
+a few of thy Sister's Humors, and if I fail,--then hang me, Ladies, at
+your Door, as the Song says.
+
+_Lod._ Why, faith, she has many odd Humors hard enough to hit.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, let 'em be as hard as _Hercules_ his Labors in the Vale
+of _Basse_, I'll not be frighted from attempting her.
+
+_Lod._ Why, she's one of those fantastick Creatures that must be courted
+her own way.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, let's hear her way.
+
+_Lod._ She must be surpriz'd with strange Extravagancies wholly out of
+the Road and Method of common Courtship.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Shaw, is that all? Zoz, I'm the best in Christendom at your
+out-of-the-way bus'nesses.--Now do I find the Reason of all my ill
+Success; for I us'd one and the same method to all I courted, whatever
+their Humors were; hark ye, prithee give me a hint or two, and let me
+alone to manage Matters.
+
+_Lod._ I have just now thought of a way that cannot but take--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, out with it, Man.
+
+_Lod._ Why, what if you should represent a dumb Ambassador from the
+Blind God of Love.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, a dumb Ambassador? Zoz, Man, how shall I deliver my
+Embassy then, and tell her how much I love her?--besides, I had a pure
+Speech or two ready by heart, and that will be quite lost.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lod._ Fy, fy! how dull you are! why, you shall do it by Signs, and I'll
+be your Interpreter.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, faith, this will be pure; I understand you now, Zoz,
+I am old excellent at Signs;--I vow this will be rare.
+
+_Lod._ It will not fail to do your business, if well manag'd--but stay,
+here's my Sister, on your life not a syllable.
+
+    Enter _Lean._ _Lucr._ and _Isab._
+
+Sir _Cred._ I'll be rackt first, Mum budget,--prithee present me, I long
+to be at it, sure.
+    [He falls back, making Faces and Grimaces.
+
+_Lod._ Sister, I here present you with a worthy Knight, struck dumb with
+Admiration of your Beauty; but that's all one, he is employ'd Envoy
+Extraordinary from the blind God of Love: and since, like his young
+Master, he must be defective in one of his Senses, he chose rather to be
+dumb than blind.
+
+_Lucr._ I hope the small Deity is in good Health, Sir?
+
+_Isab._ And his Mistress _Psyche_, Sir?
+    [He smiles and bows, and makes Signs.
+
+_Lod._ He says that _Psyche_ has been sick of late, but somewhat
+recovered, and has sent you for a Token a pair of Jet Bracelets, and a
+Cambrick Handkerchief of her own spinning, with a Sentence wrought in't,
+_Heart in hand, at thy command._
+    [Looking every word upon Sir _Credulous_ as he makes signs.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, _Lodwick_, what do you mean? I'm the Son of an
+_Egyptian_ if I understand thee.
+    [Pulls him, he signs to him to hold his peace.
+
+_Lod._ Come, Sir, the Tokens, produce, produce--
+    [He falls back making damnable signs.
+  How! Faith, I'm sorry for that with all my heart,--he says, being
+somewhat put to't on his Journey, he was forced to pawn the Bracelets
+for half a Crown, and the Handkerchief he gave his Landlady on the Road
+for a Kindness received,--this 'tis when People will be fooling--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, the Devil's in this _Lodwick_, for mistaking my Signs
+thus: hang me if ever I thought of Bracelets or a Handkerchief, or ever
+received a Civility from any Woman Breathing,--is he bewitcht trow?
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lean._ _Lodwick_, you are mistaken in the Knight's meaning all this
+while. Look on him, Sir,--do not you guess from that Look, and wrying of
+his Mouth, that you mistook the Bracelets for Diamond Rings, which he
+humbly begs, Madam, you would grace with your fair Hand?
+
+_Lod._ Ah, now I perceive it plain.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Compliment. Why, this is worse than
+t'other.--What shall I do in this case?--should I speak and undeceive
+them, they would swear 'twere to save my Jems: and to part with
+'em--Zoz, how simply should I look!--but hang't, when I have married
+her, they are my own again.
+    [Gives the Rings, and falls back into Grimaces. _Leander_ whispers
+    to _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Enough--Then, Sister, she has sent you a Purse of her own
+knitting full of Broad Gold.
+
+Sir. _Cred._ Broad Gold! why, what a Pox does the Man conjure?
+
+_Lod._ Which, Sister, faith, you must accept of, you see by that Grimace
+how much 'twill grieve him else.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A pretty civil way this to rob a Man.--Why, _Lodwick_,--why,
+what a Pox, will they have no mercy?--Zoz, I'll see how far they'll
+drive the Jest.
+    [Gives the Gold and bows, and scrapes and screws.
+
+_Lod._ Say you so, Sir? well I'll see what may be done.--Sister, behold
+him, and take pity on him; he has but one more humble request to make
+you, 'tis to receive a Gold Watch which he designs you from himself.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, how long has this Fellow been a Conjurer? for he does
+deal with the Devil, that's certain,--_Lodwick_--
+    [Pulls him.
+
+_Lod._ Ay do, speak and spoil all, do.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Speak and spoil all, quoth he! and the Duce take me if I am
+not provok'd to't; why, how the Devil should he light slap-dash, as they
+say, upon every thing thus? Well, Zoz, I'm resolv'd to give it her, and
+shame her if she have any Conscience in her.
+    [Gives his Watch with pitiful Grimaces.
+
+_Lod._ Now, Sister, you must know there's a Mystery in this Watch, 'tis
+a kind of Hieroglyphick that will instruct you how a Married Woman of
+your Quality ought to live.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, my Watch Mysteries and Hieroglyphicks! the Devil take
+me, if I knew of any such Virtues it had.
+    [They are all looking on the Watch.
+
+_Lod._ Beginning at Eight, from which down to Twelve you ought to imploy
+in dressing, till Two at Dinner, till Five in Visits, till Seven at the
+Play, till Nine i'th' Park, Ten at Supper with your Lover, if your
+Husband be not at home, or keep his distance, which he's too well bred
+not to do; then from Ten to Twelve are the happy Hours the Bergere,
+those of intire Enjoyment.--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Say you so? hang me if I shall not go near to think I may
+chance to be a Cuckold by the shift.
+
+_Isab._ Well, Sir, what must she do from Twelve till Eight again?
+
+_Lod._ Oh! those are the dull Conjugal Hours for sleeping with her own
+Husband, and dreaming of Joys her absent Lover alone can give her.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, an she be for Sleeping, Zoz, I am as good at that as
+she can be for her Heart; or Snoring either.
+
+_Lod._ But I have done; Sir _Credulous_ has a dumb Oration to make you
+by way of farther Explanation.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A dumb Oration! now do I know no more how to speak a dumb
+Speech than a Dog.
+
+_Luc._ Oh, I love that sort of Eloquence extremely.
+
+_Lod._ I told you this would take her.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, I know your silent Speeches are incomparable, and I
+have such a Speech in my Head.
+
+_Lod._ Your Postures, your Postures, begin, Sir.
+    [He puts himself into a ready Posture as if he would speak, but
+    only makes Faces.
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+_Pag._ Sir, my Lady desires to speak with you.    [To _Lean._
+
+_Lean._ I'll wait on her,--a Devil on't.--
+
+_Pag._ I have command to bring you, Sir, instantly.
+
+_Lean._ This is ill luck, Madam, I cannot see the Farce out; I'll wait
+on you as soon as my good Fortune will permit me.
+    [Exit with _Page_.
+
+_Luc._ He's going to my Mother, dear _Isabella_, let's go and hinder
+their Discourse: Farewel, Sir Ambassador, pray remember us to _Psyche_,
+not forgetting the little blind Archer, ha, ha, ha.--
+
+    [Ex. _Lucr._ and _Isab._ laughing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ So, I have undone all, they are both gone, flown I protest;
+why, what a Devil ail'd em? Now have I been dumb all this while to no
+purpose, you too never told her my meaning right; as I hope to breathe,
+had any but yourself done this, I should have sworn by _Helicon_ and all
+the rest of the Devils, you had had a design to have abus'd me, and
+cheated me of all my Moveables too.
+
+_Lod._ What a hopeful Project was here defeated by my mistake! but
+courage, Sir _Credulous_, I'll put you in a way shall fetch all about
+again.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Say you so? ah, dear _Lodwick_, let me hear it.
+
+_Lod._ Why, you shall this Night give your Mistress a Serenade.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How! a Serenade!
+
+_Lod._ Yes, but it must be perform'd after an Extravagant manner, none
+of your dull amorous Night-walking Noises so familiar in this Town;
+_Lucretia_ loves nothing but what's great and extravagant, and passes
+the reach of vulgar practice.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What think you of a silent Serenade? Zoz, say but the word
+and it shall be done, Man, let me alone for Frolicks, i'faith.
+
+_Lod._ A silent one! no, that's to wear a good humour to the Stumps;
+I wou'd have this want for no Noise; the extremes of these two Addresses
+will set off one another.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Say you so? what think you then of the Bagpipe, Tongs, and
+Gridiron, Cat-calls, and loud-sounding Cymbals?
+
+_Lod._ Naught, naught, and of known use; you might as well treat her
+with Viols and Flute-doux, which were enough to disoblige her for ever.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, what think you then of the King of _Bantam's_ own
+Musick.
+
+_Lod._ How! the King of _Bantam's_ Musick?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, the King of _Bantam's_: a Friend of mine had a
+Present sent him from thence, a most unheard of curiosity I'll assure
+you.
+
+_Lod._ That, that by all means, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, I'll go borrow 'em presently.
+
+_Lod._ You must provide your self of a Song.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Song! hang't, 'tis but rummaging the Play-Books, stealing
+thence is lawful Prize--Well, Sir, your Servant.
+    [Exit.
+
+    Enter _Leander_.
+
+_Lod._ I hope 'twill be ridiculous enough, and then the Devil's in't if
+it do not do his Business with my Mother, for she hates all impertinent
+Noises but what she makes herself. She's now going to make a Visit to
+your Uncle, purposely to give me an opportunity to _Isabella_.
+
+_Lean._ And I'm ingag'd to wait on her thither, she designs to carry the
+Fiddles too; he's mad enough already, but such a Visit will fit him for
+Bedlam.
+
+_Lod._ No matter, for you have all a leud Hand with him; between his
+continual imaginary Sickness, and perpetual Physic, a Man might take
+more Pleasure in an Hospital. What the Devil did he marry a young Wife
+for? and they say a handsome Creature too.
+
+_Lean._ To keep up his Title of Cuckold I think, for she has Beauty
+enough for Temptation, and no doubt makes the right use on't: wou'd I
+cou'd know it, that I might prevent her cheating my Uncle longer to my
+undoing.
+
+_Lod._ She'll be cunning enough for that, if she have Wit: but now thou
+talk'st of Intrigues, when didst see _Wittmore_? that Rogue has some
+lucky Haunt which we must find out.--But my Mother expects your
+attendance; I'll go seek my Sister, and make all the Interest there I
+can for you, whilst you pay me in the same Coin to _Isabella_. _Adieu._
+
+_Lean._ Trust my Friendship.--
+
+    [Ex. severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Garden to Sir _Patient Fancy's_ House.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_, _Wittmore_, and _Maundy_.
+
+_Wit._ Enough, my charming Mistress, you've set my Soul at Peace, and
+chas'd away those Fears and Doubts my Jealousy created there.
+
+_Maun._ Mr. _Wittmore's_ satisfy'd of your Constancy, Madam; though had
+I been your Ladyship, I should have given him a more substantial Proof,
+which you might yet do, if you wou'd make handsome use of your time.
+
+_Wit._ _Maundy_ advises well; my dearest, let's withdraw to yonder
+Covert Arbour, whose kind Shades will secure us a Happiness that Gods
+might envy.
+    [Offers to lead her out.
+
+L. _Fan._ I dare not for the world, Sir _Patient_ is now asleep, and
+'tis to those few Minutes we are oblig'd for this Enjoyment, which
+shou'd Love make us transgress, and he shou'd wake and surprize us, we
+are undone for ever: no, let us employ this little time we have in
+consulting how we may be often happy, and securely so: Oh, how I
+languish for the dear opportunity!
+
+_Wit._ And cou'd you guess what Torments I have suffer'd in these few
+fatal Months that have divided us, thou wou'dst pity me.
+
+L. _Fan._ --But to our Business; for though I am yet unsuspected by my
+Husband, I am eternally plagu'd with his Company; he's so fond of me, he
+scarce gives me time to write to thee, he waits on me from room to room,
+hands me in the Garden, shoulders me in the Balcony, nay, does the
+office of my Women, dresses and undresses me, and does so smirk at his
+handywork: In fine, dear _Wittmore_, I am impatient till I can have less
+of his Company, and more of thine.
+
+_Wit._ Does he never go out of Town?
+
+L. _Fan._ Never without me.
+
+_Wit._ Nor to Chuch?
+
+L. _Fan._ To a Meeting-house you mean, and then too carries me, and is
+as vainly proud of me as of his rebellious Opinion, for his Religion
+means nothing but that, and Contradiction; which I seem to like too,
+since 'tis the best Cloke I can put on to cheat him with.
+
+_Wit._ Right, my fair Hypocrite.
+
+L. _Fan._ But, dear _Wittmore_, there's nothing so comical as to hear me
+cant, and even cheat those Knaves, the Preachers themselves, that delude
+the ignorant Rabble.
+
+_Wit._ What Miracles cannot your Eyes and Tongue perform!
+
+L. _Fan._ Judge what a fine Life I lead the while, to be set up with an
+old formal doting sick Husband, and a Herd of snivelling grinning
+Hypocrites, that call themselves the teaching Saints; who under pretence
+of securing me to the number of their Flock, do so sneer upon me, pat my
+Breasts, and cry fie, fie upon this fashion of tempting Nakedness.
+    [Through the Nose.
+
+_Wit._ Dear Creature, how cou'd we laugh at thy new way of living, had
+we but some Minutes allow'd us to enjoy that Pleasure alone.
+
+L. _Fan._ Think, dear _Wittmore_, think, _Maundy_ and I have thought
+over all our Devices to no purpose.
+
+_Wit._ Pox on't, I'm the dullest dog at plotting, thinking, in the
+world; I should have made a damnable ill Town Poet: Has he quite left
+off going to the Change?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, he's grown cautiously rich, and will venture none of his
+substantial Stock in transitory Traffick.
+
+_Wit._ Has he no mutinous Cabal, nor Coffee-houses, where he goes
+religiously to consult the Welfare of the Nation?
+
+L. _Fan._ His imagin'd Sickness has made this their Rendesvouz.
+
+_Wit._ When he goes to his blind Devotion, cannot you pretend to be
+sick? that may give us at least two or three opportunities to begin
+with.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh! then I should be plagu'd with continual Physick and
+Extempore Prayer till I were sick indeed.
+
+_Wit._ Damn the humorous Coxcomb and all his Family, what shall we do?
+
+L. _Fan._ Not all, for he has a Daughter that has good Humour, Wit, and
+Beauty enough to save her,--stay--that has jogg'd a Thought, as the
+Learned say, which must jog on, till the motion have produc'd something
+worth my thinking.--
+
+    Enter _Roger_ running.
+
+_Maun._ Ad's me, here's danger near, our Scout comes in such haste.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Roger_, what's the matter?
+
+_Rog._ My Master, Madam, is risen from sleep, and is come in to the
+Garden.--See, Madam, he's here.
+
+L. _Fan._ What an unlucky Accident was this?
+
+_Wit._ What shall I do, 'tis too late to obscure my self?
+
+L. _Fan._ He sees you already, through the Trees,--here--keep your
+distance, your Hat under your Arm; so, be very ceremonious, whilst I
+settle a demure Countenance.--
+
+_Maun._ Well, there never came good of Lovers that were given to too
+much talking; had you been silently kind all this while, you had been
+willing to have parted by this time.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ in a Night-Gown, reading a Bill.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hum,--Twelve Purges for this present _January_--as I take it,
+good Mr. Doctor, I took but Ten in all _December._--By this Rule I am
+sicker this Month, than I was the last.--And, good Master Apothecary,
+methinks your Prizes are somewhat too high: at this rate no body wou'd
+be sick.--Here, _Roger_, see it paid however,--Ha, hum. [Sees 'em, and
+starts back.] What's here, my Lady Wife entertaining a leud Fellow of
+the Town? a flaunting Cap and Feather Blade.
+
+L. _Fan._ Sir _Patient_ cannot now be spoken with. But, Sir, that which
+I was going just now to say to you, was, that it would be very
+convenient in my opinion to make your Addresses to _Isabella_,--'twill
+give us opportunities. [Aside.] We Ladies love no Imposition; this is
+Counsel my Husband perhaps will not like, but I would have all Women
+chuse their Man, as I have done,--my dear _Wittmore_.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I profess ingenuously an excellent good Lady this of mine,
+though I do not like her Counsel to the young Man, who I perceive would
+be a Suitor to my Daughter _Isabella_.
+
+_Wit._ Madam, should I follow my inclinations, I should pay my Vows no
+where but there,--but I am inform'd Sir _Patient_ is a Man so positively
+resolv'd.--
+
+L. _Fan._ That you should love his Wife.    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ And I'll comply with that Resolve of his, and neither love nor
+marry _Isabella_, without his Permission; and I doubt not but I shall by
+my Respects to him gain his Consent,--to cuckold him.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I profess ingenuously, a very discreet young Man.
+
+_Wit._ But, Madam, when may I promise my self the satisfaction of coming
+again? For I'm impatient for the Sight and Enjoyment of the fair Person
+I love.
+
+L. _Fan._ Sir, you may come at night, and something I will do by that
+time shall certainly give you that access you wish for.
+
+_Wit._ May I depend upon that Happiness?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, doubt not my power over Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Lady _Fancy_, you promise largely.
+
+L. _Fan._ Sir _Patient_ here!
+
+_Wit._ A Devil on him, wou'd I were well off: now must I dissemble,
+profess, and lye most confoundedly.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Your Servant, Sir, your Servant.--My Lady _Fancy_, your
+Ladyship, is well entertain'd I see; have a care you make me not
+jealous, my Lady _Fancy_.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed I have given you cause, Sir _Patient_, for I have been
+entertaining a Lover, and one you must admit of too.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Say you so, my Lady _Fancy_?--Well, Sir, I am a Man of
+Reason, and if you shew me good causes why, can bid you welcome, for I
+do nothing without Reason and Precaution.
+
+_Wit._ Sir, I have--
+
+Sir _Pat._ I know what you wou'd say, Sir; few Words denoteth a Wise
+Head,--you wou'd say that you have an Ambition to be my Son-in-Law.
+
+_Wit._ You guess most right, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, I'll warrant I'll read a Man as well as the best,
+I have studied it.
+
+_Wit._ Now, Invention, help me or never.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Your Name, I pray?
+    [Putting off his Hat gravely at every Word.
+
+_Wit._ _Fainlove_, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Good Mr. _Fainlove_, your Country?
+
+_Wit._ _Yorkshire_, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What, not Mr. _Fainlove's_ Son of _Yorkshire_, who was
+knighted in the good days of the late Lord Protector?
+    [Off his Hat.
+
+_Wit._ The same, Sir.--I am in, but how to come off again the Devil take
+me if I know.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ He was a Man of admirable parts, believe me, a notable Head
+piece, a publick-spirited Person, and a good Commonwealths-man, that he
+was, on my word.--Your Estate, Sir, I pray?
+    [Hat off.
+
+_Wit._ I have not impair'd it, Sir, and I presume you know its
+value:--For I am a Dog if I do.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ O' my Word, 'tis then considerable, Sir; for he left but one
+Son, and fourteen hundred Pounds _per Annum_, as I take it: which Son,
+I hear, is lately come from _Geneva_, whither he was sent for virtuous
+Education. I am glad of your Arrival, Sir.--Your Religion, I pray?
+
+_Wit._ You cannot doubt my Principles, Sir, since educated at _Geneva_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Your Father was a discreet Man: ah, Mr. _Fainlove_, he and I
+have seen better days, and wish we cou'd have foreseen these that are
+arriv'd.
+
+_Wit._ That he might have turn'd honest in time, he means, before he had
+purchas'd Bishops Lands.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, you have no Place, Office, Dependance or Attendance at
+Court, I hope?
+
+_Wit._ None, Sir,--Wou'd I had--so you were hang'd.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Fan._ Nay, Sir, you may believe, I knew his Capacities and Abilities
+before I would encourage his Addresses.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Lady _Fancy_, you are a discreet Lady;--Well, I'll marry
+her out of hand, to prevent Mr. _Lodwick's_ hopes: for though the young
+man may deserve well, that Mother of his I'll have nothing to do with,
+since she refused to marry my Nephew.
+    [Aside.
+
+    Enter _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ Sir Father, here's my Lady _Knowell_, and her Family come to see
+you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! her whole Family! I am come to keep open House; very
+fine, her whole Family! she's Plague enough to mortify any good
+Christian,--Tell her, my Lady and I am gone forth; tell her any thing to
+keep her away.
+
+_Fan._ Shou'd I tell a lye, Sir Father, and to a Lady of her Quality?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Her Quality and she are a Couple of Impertinent things, which
+are very troublesome, and not to be indur'd I take it.
+
+_Fan._ Sir, we shou'd bear with things we do not love sometimes, 'tis a
+sort of Trial, Sir, a kind of Mortification fit for a good Christian.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, what a notable talking Baggage is this! How came you by
+this Doctrine?
+
+_Fan._ I remember, Sir, you preach'd it once to my Sister, when the old
+Alderman was the Text, whom you exhorted her to marry, but the wicked
+Creature made ill use on't.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Go your way for a prating Huswife, go, and call your Sister
+hither. [Exit _Fanny_.] --Well, I'm resolv'd to leave this Town, nay,
+and the World too, rather than be tormented thus.
+
+L. _Fan._ What's the matter, Dear, thou dost so fret thy self?
+
+Sir _Pat._ The matter! my House, my House is besieged with Impertinence;
+the intolerable Lady, Madam _Romance_, that walking Library of profane
+Books is come to visit me.
+
+L. _Fan._ My Lady _Knowell_?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, that Lady of eternal Noise and hard Words.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed 'tis with pain I am oblig'd to be civil to her, but I
+consider her Quality, her Husband was too an Alderman, your Friend, and
+a great Ay and No Man i' th' City, and a painful Promoter of the good
+Cause.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But she's a Fop, my Lady _Fancy_, and ever was so, an idle
+conceited she Fop; and has Vanity and Tongue enough to debauch any
+Nation under civil Government: but, Patience, thou art a Virtue, and
+Affliction will come.--Ah, I'm very sick, alas, I have not long to dwell
+amongst the Wicked, Oh, oh.--_Roger_, is the Doctor come?
+
+    Enter _Roger_.
+
+_Rog._ No, Sir, but he has sent you a small draught of a Pint, which you
+are to take, and move upon't.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah,--Well, I'll in and take it;--Ah--Sir, I crave your
+Patience for a moment, for I design you shall see my Daughter, I'll not
+make long work on't, Sir: alas, I would dispose of her before I die:
+Ah,--I'll bring her to you, Sir, Ah, Ah.--
+    [Goes out with _Roger_.
+
+L. _Fan._ He's always thus when visited, to save Charges,--But how, dear
+_Wittmore_, cam'st thou to think of a Name and Country so readily?
+
+_Wit._ Egad, I was at the height of my Invention, and the Alderman
+civilly and kindly assisted me with the rest; but how to undeceive him--
+
+L. _Fan._ Take no care for that, in the mean time you'll be shreudly
+hurt to have the way laid open to our Enjoyment, and that by my
+Husband's procurement too: But take heed, dear _Wittmore_, whilst you
+only design to feign a Courtship, you do it not in good earnest.
+
+_Wit._ Unkind Creature!
+
+L. _Fan._ I would not have you endanger her Heart neither: for thou hast
+Charms will do't.--Prithee do not put on thy best Looks, nor speak thy
+softest Language; for if thou dost, thou canst not fail to undo her.
+
+_Wit._ Well, my pretty Flatterer, to free her Heart and thy Suspicions,
+I'll make such aukward Love as shall persuade her, however she chance to
+like my Person, to think most leudly of my Parts.--But 'tis fit I take
+my leave, for if _Lodwick_ or _Leander_ see me here, all will be ruin'd;
+death, I had forgot that.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Leander's_ seldom at home, and you must time your Visits: but
+see Sir _Patient's_ return'd, and with him your new Mistress.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ and _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Here's my Daughter _Isabella_, Mr. _Fainlove_: she'll serve
+for a Wife, Sir, as times go; but I hope you are none of
+those.--Sweet-heart, this Gentleman I have design'd you, he's rich and
+young, and I am old and sickly, and just going out of the World, and
+would gladly see thee in safe Hands.
+
+_Maun._ He has been just going this twenty Years.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Therefore I command you to receive the tenders of his
+Affection.
+
+    Enter _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ Sir Father, my Lady _Knowell's_ in the Garden.
+
+L. _Fan._ My Dear, we must go meet her in decency.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A hard case, a Man cannot be sick in quiet.
+    [Exit with L. _Fan._
+
+_Isab._ A Husband, and that not _Lodwick_! Heaven forbid.    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ Now Foppery assist to make me very ridiculous,--Death, she's very
+pretty and inviting; what an insensible Dog shall I be counted to refuse
+the Enjoyment of so fair, so new a Creature, and who is like to be
+thrown into my Arms too whether I will or not?--but Conscience and my
+Vows to the fair Mother: No, I will be honest.--Madam,--as Gad shall
+save me, I'm the Son of a Whore, if you are not the most Belle Person I
+ever saw, and if I be not damnably in love with you; but a pox take all
+tedious Courtship, I have a free-born and generous Spirit; and as I hate
+being confin'd to dull Cringing, Whining, Flattering, and the Devil and
+all of Foppery, so when I give an Heart, I'm an Infidel, Madam, if I do
+not love to do't frankly and quickly, that thereby I may oblige the
+beautiful Receiver of my Vows, Protestations, Passions, and Inclination.
+
+_Isab._ You're wonderful ingaging, Sir, and I were an Ingrate not to
+facilitate a return for the Honour you are pleas'd to do me.
+
+_Wit._ Upon my Reputation, Madam, you're a civil well-bred Person, you
+have all the Agreemony of your Sex, _la belle Taille_, _la bonne Mine_,
+& _Reparteeé bien_, and are _tout oure toore_, as I'm a Gentleman, _fort
+agreeable_.--If this do not please your Lady, and nauseate her, the
+Devil's in 'em both for unreasonable Women.--
+    [To _Maun._
+
+_Fan._ Gemini, Sister, does the Gentleman conjurer?
+
+_Isab._ I know not, but I'm sure I never saw a more affected Fop.
+
+_Maun._ O, a damnable impertinent Fop! 'tis pity, for he's a proper
+Gentleman.
+
+_Wit._ Well, if I do hold out, Egad, I shall be the bravest young Fellow
+in Christendom: But, Madam, I must kiss your Hand at present, I have
+some Visits to make, Devoirs to pay, necessities of Gallantry only, no
+Love Engagements, by _Jove_, Madam; it is sufficient I have given my
+Parole to your Father, to do him the honour of my Alliance; and an
+unnecessary Jealousy will but disoblige, Madam, your Slave.--Death,
+these Rogues see me, and I'm undone.--
+    [Exit.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_, Lady _Knowell_, Sir _Credulous_ and
+    _Lucretia_, with other Women and Men, _Roger_ attending.
+
+L. _Kno._ _Isabella_, your Servant, Madam: being sensible of the
+insociable and solitary Life you lead, I have brought my whole Family to
+wait on your Ladyship, and this my Son _in Futuro_, to kiss your Hands,
+I beseech your Ladyship to know him for your humble Servant: my Son and
+your Nephew, Madam, are coming with the Musick too, we mean to pass the
+whole Day with your Ladyship:--and see they are here.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_ pulling in _Wittmore_, _Leander_ with them.
+
+_Lod._ Nay, since we have met thee so luckily, you must back with us.
+
+_Wit._ You must excuse me, Gentlemen.
+
+_Lod._ We'll shew you two or three fine Women.
+
+_Wit._ Death, these Rogues will ruin me--but I have Business, Gentlemen,
+that--
+
+_Lean._ That must not hinder you from doing Deeds of Charity: we are all
+come to teeze my Uncle, and you must assist at so good a Work;--come,
+gad, thou shall make love to my Aunt.--I wou'd he wou'd effectually.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lod._ Now I think on't, what the Devil dost thou make here?
+
+_Wit._ Here!--oh, Sir--a--I have a design upon the Alderman.
+
+_Lod._ Upon his handsome Wife thou meanest; ah, Rogue!
+
+_Wit._ Faith, no,--a--'tis to--borrow Mony of him; and as I take it,
+Gentlemen, you are not fit Persons for a Man of Credit to be seen with,
+I pass for a graver Man.
+
+_Lod._ Well, Sir, take your Course--but, egad, he'll sooner lend thee
+his Wife than his Money.
+    [Exit _Wittmore_, they come in.
+
+_Lean._ Aunt, I have taken the boldness to bring a Gentleman of my
+Acquaintance to kiss your Ladyship's Hands.
+
+_Lod._ Thy Aunt!--death, she's very handsome.--Madam, your most humble
+Servant.
+    [Kisses the L. _Fan._
+
+_Lean._ Prithee imploy this Fool, that I may have an opportunity to
+entertain thy Sister.
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous_, what, not a Word? not a Compliment? Hah,--be
+brisk, Man, be gay and witty, talk to the Ladies.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Talk to 'em! why, what shall I say to 'em?
+
+_Lod._ Any thing, so it be to little purpose.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, Sir, let me alone for that matter--but who are they,
+prithee?
+
+_Lod._ Why, that's my Lady _Fancy_, and that's her Daughter-in-Law,
+salute 'em, Man.--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Fair Lady,--I do protest and vow, you are the most beautiful
+of all Mothers-in-Law, and the World cannot produce your equal.
+
+_Lod._ The Rogue has but one method for all Addresses.    [They laugh.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, absurd! this, Sir, is the beautiful Mother-in-Law.
+    [To L. _Fan._
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Most noble Lady, I cry your mercy. Then, Madam, as the Sun
+amongst the Stars, or rather as the Moon not in conjunction with the
+Sun, but in her opposition, when one rises the other sets, or as the
+Vulgar call it, Full Moon--I say, as the Moon is the most beautiful of
+all the sparkling Lights, even so are you the most accomplish'd Lady
+under the Moon--and, Madam, I am extremely sensible of your Charms and
+celestial Graces.
+    [To _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, this is abominable and insupportable.
+
+_Lucr._ I find, Sir, you can talk to purpose when you begin once.
+
+Sir _Cred._ You are pleased to say so, noble Lady: but I must needs say,
+I am not the worst bred Gentleman for a Country Gentleman that ever you
+saw; for you must know, incomparable Lady, that I was at the University
+three Years, and there I learnt my Logick and Rhetorick, whereby I
+became excellent at Repartee, sweet Lady. As for my Estate, my Father
+died since I came of Age, and left me a small younger Brother's Portion,
+dear Lady.
+
+_Lucr._ A younger Brother's, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ha, ha, I know what you would infer from that now: but you
+must know, delicious Lady, that I am all the Children my Father had.
+
+_Lucr._ Witty, I protest.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, Madam, when I set on't I can be witty.
+
+_Lean._ Cruel _Lucretia_, leave 'em, and let us snatch this opportunity
+to talk of our own Affairs.
+
+Sir _Cred._ For you must know, bright Lady, though I was pleas'd to
+railly my self, I have a pretty competent Estate of about 3000_l._ a
+Year, and am to marry Madam _Lucretia_.
+
+L. _Fan._ You are a happy Man, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Not so happy neither, inestimable Lady, for I lost the
+finest Mare yesterday,--but let that pass: were you never in
+_Devonshire_, Madam?
+
+L. _Fan._ Never, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ In troth, and that's pity, sweet Lady; for if you lov'd
+Hawking, Drinking, and Whoring,--oh, Lord, I mean Hunting; i'faith,
+there be good Fellows would keep you Company, Madam.
+
+Sir _Pat._ This is a Plot upon me, a mere Plot.--My Lady _Fancy_, be
+tender of my Reputation, Foppery's catching, and I had as lieve be a
+Cuckold as Husband to a vain Woman.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, and that may be as you say, noble Sir. Lady, pray what
+Gentleman's this?--Noble Sir, I am your most humble Servant.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, cry your mercy, Sir.    [Walks away.
+
+Sir _Cred._ No Offence, dear Sir, I protest: 'slife, I believe 'tis the
+Master of the House, he look'd with such Authority;--why, who cares, let
+him look as big as the four Winds, East, West, North and South, I care
+not this,--therefore I beg your Pardon, noble Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Pray spare your Hat and Legs, Sir, till you come to Court,
+they are thrown away i'th' City.
+
+Sir _Cred._ O Lord! dear Sir, 'tis all one for that, I value not a Leg
+nor an Arm amongst Friends, I am a _Devonshire_ Knight, Sir, all the
+World knows, a kind of Country Gentleman, as they say, and am come to
+Town, to marry my Lady _Knowell's_ Daughter.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'm glad on't, Sir.    [Walks away, he follows.
+
+Sir _Cred._ She's a deserving Lady, Sir, if I have any Judgment; and I
+think I understand a Lady, Sir, in the Right Honourable way of
+Matrimony.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Sir, that is to say, you have been married before, Sir;
+and what's all this to me, good Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Married before! incomparable, Sir! not so neither, for
+there's difference in Men, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Right, Sir, for some are Wits, and some are Fools.
+
+Sir _Cred._ As I hope to breathe, 'twas a saying of my Grandmother's,
+who us'd to tell me, Sir, that bought Wit was best. I have brought Money
+to Town for a small purchase of that kind; for, Sir, I wou'd fain set up
+for a Country Wit.--Pray, Sir, where live the Poets, for I wou'd fain be
+acquainted with some of them.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, I do not know, nor do I care for Wits and Poets. Oh,
+this will kill me quite; I'll out of Town immediately.
+
+Sir _Cred._ But, Sir, I mean your fine railing Bully Wits, that have
+Vinegar, Gall and Arsenick in 'em, as well as Salt and Flame, and Fire,
+and the Devil and all.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, defend me! and what is all this to me, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, Sir, they are the very Soul of Entertainment; and, Sir,
+it is the prettiest sport to hear 'em rail and haul at one another--Zoz,
+wou'd I were a Poet.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I wish you were, since you are so fond of being rail'd
+at.--If I were able to beat him, I would be much angry,--but Patience is
+a Virtue, and I will into the Country.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ 'Tis all one case to me, dear Sir,--but I should have the
+pleasure of railing again, _cum privilegio_; I love fighting with those
+pointless Weapons.--Zoz, Sir, you know if we Men of Quality fall out--
+(for you are a Knight I take it) why, there comes a Challenge upon it,
+and ten to one some body or other is run through the Gills; why, a Pox
+on't, I say, this is very damnable, give me Poet's Licence.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Take him off in pity.    [To _Leander_.
+
+_Lod._ Indeed Railing is a Coin only current among the Poets, Sir
+_Credulous_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh blest Deliverance!--what a profane Wretch is here, and
+what a leud World we live in--Oh _London_, _London_, how thou aboundest
+in Iniquity! thy young Men are debauch'd, thy Virgins defloured, and thy
+Matrons all turn'd Bauds! My Lady _Fancy_, this is not Company for you,
+I take it, let us fly from this vexation of Spirit, on the never-failing
+Wings of Discretion.--
+    [Going to lead Lady _Fancy_ off,--the Lady _Knowell_ speaking to
+    _Isabella_ all this while.
+
+L. _Kno._ How! marry thee to such a Fop, say'st thou? Oh egregious!--as
+thou lovest _Lodwick_, let him not know his Name, it will be dangerous,
+let me alone to evade it.
+
+_Isab._ I know his fiery Temper too well to trust him with the secret.
+
+L. _Kno._ Hark ye, Sir, and do you intend to do this horrible thing?--
+
+Sir _Pat._ What thing, my Lady _Knowell_?
+
+L. _Kno._ Why, to marry your Daughter, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, Madam.
+
+L. _Kno._ To a beastly Town Fool? _Monstrum horrendum!_
+
+Sir _Pat._ To any Fool, except a Fool of your Race, of your
+Generation.--
+
+L. _Kno._ How! a Fool of my Race, my Generation! I know thou meanest my
+Son, thou contumelious Knight, who, let me tell thee, shall marry thy
+Daughter _invito te_, that is, (to inform thy obtuse Understanding) in
+spite of thee; yes, shall marry her, though she inherits nothing but thy
+dull Enthusiasms, which had she been legitimate she had been possest
+with.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh abominable! you had best say she is none of my Daughter,
+and that I was a Cuckold.--
+
+L. _Kno._ If I should, Sir, it would not amount to _Scandalum Magnatum_:
+I'll tell thee more, thy whole Pedigree,--and yet for all this,
+_Lodwick_ shall marry your Daughter, and yet I'll have none of your
+Nephew.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Shall he so, my Lady _Knowell_? I shall go near to out-trick
+your Ladyship, for all your politick Learning. 'Tis past the Canonical
+Hour, as they call it, or I wou'd marry my Daughter instantly; I profess
+we ne'er had good days since these Canonical Fopperies came up again,
+mere Popish Tricks to give our Children time for Disobedience,--the next
+Justice wou'd ha' serv'd turn, and have done the Business at any Hour:
+but Patience is a Virtue--_Roger_, go after Mr. _Fainlove_, and tell him
+I wou'd speak with him instantly.
+    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, come, Ladies, we lose fleeting time, upon my Honour, we
+do; for, Madam, as I said, I have brought the Fiddles, and design to
+sacrifice the intire Evening to your Ladyship's Diversion.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Incomparable Lady, that was well thought on; Zoz, I long to
+be jigging.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Fiddles, good Lord! why, what am I come to?--Madam, I take
+it, Sir _Patient Fancy's_ Lady is not a proper Person to make one at
+immodest Revellings, and profane Masqueradings.
+
+L. _Fan._ Why; ah, 'tis very true, Sir, but we ought not to offend a
+Brother that is weak, and consequently, a Sister.
+
+Sir _Pat._ An excellent Lady this, but she may be corrupted, ah, she may
+fall; I will therefore without delay, carry her from this wicked Town.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, come, Gentlemen, let's in; Mr. _Fancy_, you must be my
+Man;--Sir _Credulous_, come, and you, sweet Sir, come, Ladies,--_Nunc
+est saltandum_, &c.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. Changes to a Chamber.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ as before, Lady _Fancy_, _Wittmore_, _Maundy_,
+    and _Roger_ with things.
+
+Sir _Pat._ _Maundy_, fetch my Clothes, I'll dress me and out of Town
+instantly,--persuade me not.
+    [To _Wit._
+  _Roger_, is the Coach ready, _Roger_?
+
+_Rog._ Yes, Sir, with four Horses.
+
+L. _Fan._ Out of Town! Oh, I'm undone then, there will be no hopes of
+ever seeing _Wittmore_. [Aside.] --_Maundy_, oh, help me to contrive my
+stay, or I'm a dead Woman.--Sir, sure you cannot go and leave your
+Affairs in Town.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Affairs! what Affairs?
+
+L. _Fan._ Why, your Daughter's Marriage, Sir:--and--Sir,--not, Sir, but
+that I desire of all things in the World the Blessing of being alone
+with you, far from the Noise and leud Disorders of this filthy Town.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Most excellent Woman! ah, thou art too good for sinful Man,
+and I will therefore remove thee from the Temptations of it.--_Maundy_,
+my Clothes--Mr. _Fainlove_, I will leave _Isabella_ with my Lady
+_Fidget_, my Sister, who shall to morrow see you married, to prevent
+farther Inconveniences.
+
+L. _Fan._ What shall I do?
+
+_Maun._ Madam, I have a Design, which considering his Spleen, must this
+time do our Business,--'tis--
+    [Whispers.
+
+L. _Fan._ I like it well, about it instantly, hah--
+    [Ex. _Maundy_.
+   Alas, Sir, what ails your Face? good Heaven,--look, _Roger_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Face! why, what ails my Face? hah!
+
+L. _Fan._ See, Mr. _Fainlove_, oh, look on my Dear, is he not strangely
+alter'd?
+
+_Wit._ Most wonderfully.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Alter'd, hah--why, where, why, how alter'd?--hah, alter'd say
+you?
+
+_Wit._ Lord, how wildly he stares!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, stare wildly!
+
+_Rog._ Are you not very sick, Sir?
+
+L. _Fan._ Sick! oh, Heavens forbid!--How does my dearest Love?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Methinks I feel myself not well o'th' sudden--ah--a kind of
+shivering seizes all my Limbs,--and am I so much chang'd?
+
+_Wit._ All over, Sir, as big again as you were.
+
+L. _Fan._ Your Face is frightfully blown up, and your dear Eyes just
+starting from your Head; oh, I shall sound with the apprehension on't.
+    [Falls into _Wittmore's_ Arms.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Head and Eyes so big, say you: oh, I'm wondrous sick o'th'
+sudden,--all over say you--oh, oh--Ay, I perceive it now, my Senses fail
+me too.
+
+L. _Fan._ How, Sir, your Senses fail you?
+
+_Wit._ That's a very bad sign, believe me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, ay, for I can neither feel nor see this mighty growth you
+speak of.
+    [Falls into a Chair, with great signs of Disorder.
+
+_Wit._ Alas, I'm sorry for that, Sir.
+
+_Rog._ Sure, 'tis impossible, I'll run and fetch a Glass, Sir.
+    [Offers to go.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, stay, I wou'd not for the world he should see what a
+Monster he is,--and is like to be before to morrow.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Rog._ I'll fit him with a Glass,--I'll warrant ye, it shall advance our
+Design.
+    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ with the Clothes, she starts.
+
+_Maun._ Good Heaven, what ails you, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh--oh--'tis so.
+
+_Maun._ Lord, how he's swoln! see how his Stomach struts.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, 'tis true, though I perceive it not.
+
+_Maun._ Not perceive it, Sir! put on your Clothes and be convinc'd,--try
+'em, Sir.
+    [She pulls off his Gown, and puts on his Doublet and Coat, which
+    come not near by a handful or more.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, it needs not,--mercy upon me!--    [Falls back.
+  I'm lost, I'm gone! Oh Man, what art thou but a Flower? I am poison'd,
+this talking Lady's Breath's infectious; methought I felt the Contagion
+steal into my Heart; send for my Physicians, and if I die I'll swear
+she's my Murderer: oh, see, see, how my trembling increases, oh, hold my
+Limbs, I die.--
+
+    Enter _Roger_ with a magnifying Glass, shews him the Glass; he
+    looks in it.
+
+_Rog._ I'll warrant I'll shew his Face as big as a Bushel.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh,--I'm a dead Man, have me to Bed, I die away, undress
+me instantly, send for my Physicians, I'm poison'd, my Bowels burn,
+I have within an _Ætna_, my Brains run round, Nature within me reels.
+    [They carry him out in a Chair.
+
+_Wit._ And all the drunken Universe does run on Wheels, ha, ha, ha.
+
+Ah, my dear Creature, how finely thou hast brought him to his Journy's
+end!
+
+L. _Fan._ There was no other way but this to have secur'd my Happiness
+with thee; there needs no more than that you come anon to the Garden
+Back-gate, where you shall find admittance;--Sir _Patient_ is like to
+lie alone to night.
+
+_Wit._ Till then 'twill be a thousand Ages.
+
+  L. _Fan._ At Games of Love Husbands to cheat is fair,
+  'Tis the Gallant we play with on the square.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+_Scene draws off to a room in Sir _Patient Fancy's_ house, and discovers
+Lady _Knowell_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, _Lodwick_, _Leander_,
+_Wittmore_, Sir _Credulous_, other Men and Women, as going to dance._
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, one Dance more, and then I think we shall have
+sufficiently teaz'd the Alderman, and 'twill be time to part.--Sir
+_Credulous_, where's your Mistress?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Within a Mile of an Oak, dear Madam, I'll warrant
+you.--Well, I protest and vow, sweet Lady, you dance most nobly,--Why,
+you dance--like--like a--like a hasty Pudding, before _Jove_.
+    [They dance some Antick, or Rustick Antick. _Lodwick_ speaking to
+    _Isabella_.
+
+  SONG made by a Gentleman.
+
+      _Sitting by yonder River side,
+    _Parthenia_ thus to _Cloe_ cry'd,
+    Whilst from the fair Nymph's Eyes apace
+  Another Stream o'er-flow'd her beauteous Face;
+    Ah happy Nymph, said she, that can
+    So little value that false Creature, Man._
+
+  _Oft the perfidious things will cry,
+    Alas they burn, they bleed, they die;
+    But if they're absent half a Day,
+  Nay, let 'em be but one poor Hour away,
+    No more they die, no more complain,
+    But like unconstant Wretches live again._
+
+_Lod._ Well, have you consider'd of that Business yet, _Isabella_?
+
+_Isab._ What business?
+
+_Lod._ Of giving me admittance to night.
+
+_Isab._ And may I trust your honesty?
+
+_Lod._ Oh, doubt me not, my mother's resolv'd it shall be a match
+between you and I, and that very consideration will secure thee:
+besides, who would first sully the Linen they mean to put on?
+
+_Isab._ Away, here's my Mother.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Maundy_.
+
+L. _Fan._ Madam, I beg your pardon for my absence, the effects of my
+Obedience, not Will; but Sir _Patient_ is taken very ill o'th' sudden,
+and I must humbly intreat your Ladyship to retire, for Rest is only
+essential to his Recovery.
+
+L. _Kno._ Congruously spoken, upon my Honour. Oh, the impudence of this
+Fellow your Ladyship's Husband, to espouse so fair a Person only to make
+a Nurse of!
+
+L. _Fan._ Alas, Madam!--
+
+L. _Kno._ A Slave, a very Houshold Drudge.--Oh, faugh, come never
+grieve;--for, Madam, his Disease is nothing but Imagination,
+a Melancholy which arises from the Liver, Spleen, and Membrane call'd
+_Mesenterium_; the _Arabians_ name the Distemper _Myrathial_, and we
+here in _England_, _Hypochondriacal Melancholy_; I cou'd prescribe a
+most potent Remedy, but that I am loth to stir the Envy of the College.
+
+L. _Fan._ Really, Madam, I believe--
+
+L. _Kno._ But as you say, Madam, we'll leave him to his Repose; pray do
+not grieve too much.
+
+_Lod._ Death! wou'd I had the consoling her, 'tis a charming Woman!
+
+L. _Kno._ Mr. _Fancy_, your Hand; Madam, your most faithful
+Servant.--_Lucretia_, come, _Lucretia_.--Your Servant, Ladies and
+Gentleman.
+
+L. _Fan._ A Devil on her, wou'd the Nimbleness of her Ladyship's Tongue
+were in her Heels, she wou'd make more haste away: oh, I long for the
+blest minute.
+
+_Lod._ _Isabella_, shall I find admittance anon?
+
+_Isab._ On fair Conditions.
+
+_Lod._ Trust my Generosity.--Madam, your Slave.    [Ex.
+    [To L. _Fan._ gazing on her, goes out.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Madam, I wou'd say something of your Charms and celestial
+Graces, but that all Praises are as far below you, as the Moon in her
+Opposition is below the Sun;--and so, luscious Lady, I am yours: Now for
+my Serenade--
+
+    [Ex. all but L. _Fan._ and _Maundy_.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Maundy_, have you commanded all the Servants to bed?
+
+_Maun._ Yes, Madam, not a Mouse shall stir, and I have made ready the
+Chamber next the Garden for your Ladyship.
+
+L. _Fan._ Then there needs no more but that you wait for _Wittmore's_
+coming to the Garden-Gate, and take care no Lights be in the House for
+fear of Eyes.
+
+_Maun._ Madam, I understand Lovers are best by dark, and shall be
+diligent: the Doctor has secur'd Sir _Patient_ by a sleeping Pill, and
+you are only to expect your approaching Happiness.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. Lady _Knowell's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_ and _Leander_.
+
+L. _Kno._ _Leander_, raise your Soul above that little trifle
+_Lucretia_;--cannot you guess what better Fate attends you? fy, how dull
+you are! must I instruct you in plain right-down Terms? and tell you,
+that I propose you Master of my Fortune.--Now possibly you understand
+me.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_, and peeps.
+
+  _Lean._ I wish I did not, Madam,
+  Unless I'd Virtue to deserve the Bounty;
+  I have a thousand Faults Dissimulation hides,
+  Inconstant, wild, debauch'd as Youth can make me.
+
+_Lucr._ All that will not do your Business.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ Yet you wou'd have my Daughter take you with all these Faults;
+they're Virtues there, but to the name of Mother, they all turn
+retrograde: I can endure a Man
+  As wild and as inconstant as she can;
+  I have a Fortune too that can support that Humour,
+  That of _Lucretia_ does depend on me,
+  And when I please is nothing;
+  I'm far from Age or Wrinkles, can be courted
+  By Men, as gay and youthful as a new Summer's Morn,
+  Beauteous as the first Blossoms of the Spring,
+  Before the common Sun has kiss'd their Sweets away,
+  If with salacious Appetites I lov'd.
+
+_Lean._ Faith, Madam, I cou'd wish--
+
+L. _Kno._ That I were but Fifteen: but
+  If there be inequality in Years,
+  There is so too in Fortunes, that might add
+  A Lustre to my Eyes, Charms to my Person,
+  And make me fair as _Venus_, young as _Hebe_.
+
+_Lean._ Madam, you have enough to engage any unconquer'd Heart; but
+'twas, I thought, with your allowance I dispos'd of mine, and 'tis a
+Heart that knows not how to change.
+
+L. _Kno._ Then 'tis a foolish unambitious Heart, unworthy of the
+Elevation it has not glorious Pride enough to aim at:--Farewel,
+Sir,--when you are wiser, you may find admittance.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Lean._ Stay, Madam--
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_.
+
+_Lucr._ For what? to hear your Penitence! Forgive me, Madam, I will be a
+Villain, forget my Vows of Love, made to _Lucretia_.
+  And sacrifice both her, and those to Interest.
+  Oh, how I hate this whining and dissembling!
+
+_Lean._ Do, triumph o'er a wretched Man, _Lucretia_.
+
+_Lucr._ How! wretched in loving me so entirely, or that you cannot marry
+my Mother, and be Master of her mighty Fortune? 'Tis a Temptation indeed
+so between Love and Interest, hang me if ever I saw so simple a Look as
+you put on when my Mother made love to you.
+
+_Lean._ You may easily guess the Confusion of a Man in my Circumstances,
+to be languishing for the lov'd Daughter, and pursu'd by the hated
+Mother, whom if I refuse will ruin all my hopes of thee.
+
+_Lucr._ Refuse her! I hope you have more Wit.
+
+_Lean._ _Lucretia_, cou'd she make a Monarch of me, I cou'd not marry
+her.
+
+_Lucr._ And you wou'd be so wise to tell her so?
+
+_Lean._ I wou'd no more abuse her, than I cou'd love her.
+
+_Lucr._ Yet that last must be done.
+
+_Lean._ How!
+
+_Lucr._ Dost believe me so wicked to think I mean in earnest? No, tell
+her a fine Story of Love and Liking, gaze on her, kiss her Hands, and
+sigh, commend her Face and Shape, swear she's the Miracle of the Age for
+Wit, cry up her Learning, vow you were an Ass not to be sensible of her
+Perfections all this while; what a Coxcomb, to doat upon the Daughter
+when such Charms were so visible in the Mother? Faith, she'll believe
+all this.
+
+_Lean._ It may be so, but what will all this serve for?
+
+_Lucr._ To give us time and opportunity to deceive her, or I'm mistaken.
+
+_Lean._ I cannot teach my Tongue so much Deceit.
+
+_Lucr._ You may be a Fool, and cry, Indeed forsooth I cannot love, for
+alas I have lost my Heart, and am unworthy of your proffer'd
+Blessings--do, and see her marry me in spite to this Fop _Easy_, this
+Knight of Nonsense: no, no, dissemble me handsomely and like a
+Gentleman, and then expect your good Fortune.
+
+    Enter _Antick_.
+
+_Ant._ Madam, your Mother's coming.
+
+_Lucr._ Away then, she must not see us together, she thinks you gone.
+
+_Lean._ But must I carry off no Comfort with me?
+
+_Lucr._ Will you expose me to the incens'd Jealousy of a Parent? go, or
+I shall hate ye.
+    [Thrusts him out.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Garden.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ by dark: Opens the Garden-Door.
+
+_Maun._ Now am I return'd to my old Trade again, fetch and carry my
+Lady's Lovers; I was afraid when she had been married, these Night-works
+wou'd have ended; but to say truth, there's a Conscience to be used in
+all things, and there's no reason she should languish with an old Man
+when a Young Man may be had.--The Door opens, he's come.--
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+I see you're a punctual Lover, Sir, pray follow me as softly as you can.
+
+_Lod._ This is some one whom I perceive _Isabella_ has made the
+Confident to our Amours.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _Draws off, and discovers L. _Fancy_ in her Night-gown, in a
+Chamber as by the dark._
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, the agreeable Confusion of a Lover high with expectation
+of the approaching Bliss! What Tremblings between Joy and Fear possess
+me? All my whole Soul is taken up with _Wittmore_; I've no Ideas, no
+Thoughts but of _Wittmore_, and sure my Tongue can speak no other
+Language, but his Name.--Who's there?
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ leading _Lodwick_.
+
+_Maun._ Madam, 'tis I, and your expected Lover here--I put him into your
+hands, and will wait your Commands in the next Chamber.
+    [Exit _Maun._
+
+_Lod._ Where are you, my dearest Creature?
+
+L. _Fan._ Here--give me your Hand, I'll lead you to those Joys we both
+so long have sigh'd for.
+
+_Lod._ Hah! to Joys; sure she doth but dally with me.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Fan._ Why come you not on, my dear?
+
+_Lod._ And yet, why this Admission, and i' th' dark too, if she design'd
+me none but virtuous Favours?--What damn'd Temptation's this?
+
+L. _Fan._ Are you bewitch'd? what is't that frights you?
+
+_Lod._ I'm fix'd: Death, was ever such a Lover?
+  Just ready for the highest Joys of Love,
+  And like a bashful Girl restrain'd by Fear
+  Of an insuing Infamy--I hate to cuckold my own Expectations.
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens! what can you mean?
+
+_Lod._ Death, what's this?--sure 'tis not Virtue in me,--Pray Heaven it
+be not Impotence!--Where got I this damn'd Honesty, which I never found
+my self master of till now!--why shou'd it seize me when I had least
+need on't?
+
+L. _Fan._ What ails you? are you mad?--we are safe, and free as Winds
+let loose to ruffle all the Groves; what is't delays you then? Soft.
+
+_Lod._ Pox o' this thought of Wife, the very Name destroys my appetite.
+  Oh, with what Vigour I could deal my Love
+  To some fair leud unknown,
+  To whom I'd never made a serious Vow!
+
+L. _Fan._ Tell me the Mystery of this sudden Coldness: have I kept my
+Husband in Town for this? Nay, persuaded him to be very sick to serve
+our purpose, and am I thus rewarded--ungrateful Man!
+
+_Lod._ Hah,--'tis not _Isabella's_ Voice,--your Husband, say you?
+    [Takes hold greedily of her Hand.
+
+L. _Fan._ Is safe, from any fear of interrupting us.
+  Come--these Delays do ill consist with Love
+  And our Desires; at least if they are equal.
+
+  _Lod._ Death, 'tis the charming Mother!
+  What lucky Star directed me to night?
+  O my fair Dissembler, let us haste
+  To pay the mighty Tributes due to Love.
+
+L. _Fan._ Follow me then with careful Silence,--for _Isabella's_ Chamber
+joins to this, and she may hear us.
+
+  _Lod_. Not Flowers grow, nor smooth Streams glide away,
+  Not absent Lovers sigh, nor breaks the Day,
+  More silently than I'll those Joys receive,
+  Which Love and Darkness do conspire to give.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE V. Changes again to a Garden.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ and _Fanny_ in their Night-gowns.
+
+_Isab._ Well, I have no mind to let this dear mad Devil _Lodwick_ in to
+night.
+
+_Fan._ Why, Sister, this is not the first Venture you have made of this
+kind, at this Hour, and in this Place; these Arbours were they
+tell-tales, cou'd discover many pretty stories of your Loves, and do you
+think they'll be less faithful now? pray trust them once again. Oh, I do
+so love to hear Mr. _Lodwick_ protest, and vow, and swear, and
+dissemble, and when you don't believe him, rail at you,--avads, 'tis the
+prettiest Man--
+
+_Isab._ I have a strange apprehension of being surpriz'd to night.
+
+_Fan._ I'll warrant you, I'll sit on yon Bank of Pinks, and when I hear
+a Noise I'll come and tell you; so _Lodwick_ may slip out at the back
+Gate, and we may be walking up and down as if we meant no harm.
+
+_Isab._ You'll grow very expert in the Arts of Love, _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ When I am big enough I shall do my Endeavour, for I have heard
+you say, Women were born to no other end than to love: And 'tis fit I
+should learn to live and die in my calling.--Come, open the Gate, or
+you'll repent it, we shall have my Father marry you within a day or two
+to that ugly Man that speaks hard Words,--avads, I can't abide him.
+
+_Isab._ What Noise is that?
+
+_Fan._ Why, 'tis Mr. _Lodwick_ at the Garden-Door;--let him in whilst
+I'll to my flowry Bank, and stand Centinel.--
+    [Runs off. _Isabella_ opens the Gate.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+_Wit._ Who's there?
+
+_Isab._ Speak low, who shou'd it be but the kind Fool her self, who can
+deny you nothing but what you dare not take?
+
+  _Wit._ Not take! what's that? hast thou reserves in store?
+  --Oh, come and let me lead thee to thy Bed,
+  Or seat thee on some Bank of softer Flowers,
+  Where I may rifle all thy unknown Store.
+
+_Isab._ How! surely you're not in earnest?--Do you love me?
+
+  _Wit._ Love thee! by thy dear self, all that my Soul adores,
+  I'm all impatient Flame! all over Love!
+  --You do not use to doubt, but since you do,
+  Come, and I'll satisfy thy obliging Fears,
+  And give thee Proofs how much my Soul is thine,
+  I'll breathe it all anew into thy Bosom.--
+  Oh, thou art fit for the transporting Play,
+  All loose and wanton, like the Queen of Love
+  When she descends to meet the Youth in Shades.
+
+_Isab._ And are you, Sir, in earnest? can it be?
+
+  _Wit._ That question was severe, what means my Love?
+  What pretty Art is this to blow my Flame?
+  Are you not mine? did we not meet t'enjoy?
+  I came not with more vigorous eager Haste,
+  When our first Sacrifice to Love we paid,
+  Than to perform that Ceremony now.
+  Come do not let the Sacred Fire burn out,
+  Which only was prepar'd for Love's rich Altar,
+  And this is the divine, dark, silent Minute--
+    [Goes to lead her off.
+
+  _Isab._ Hold, Ravisher, and know this saucy Passion
+  Has render'd back your Interest. Now I hate ye,
+  And my Obedience to my Father's Will
+  Shall marry me to _Fainlove_, and I'll despise ye.
+    [Flings from him.
+
+_Wit._ Hah! _Isabella!_ Death, I have made sweet work,--stay, gentle
+Maid,--she'll ruin all if she go:--stay--she knew me, and cunningly drew
+me to this Discovery; I'll after her and undeceive her.
+    [Runs after her.
+
+
+_A confused Noise of the Serenade, the_
+
+SCENE VI draws off to Lady _Fancy's_ Anti-chamber.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ groping as in the dark.
+
+_Isab._ Pray Heaven I get undiscover'd to my Chamber, where I'll make
+Vows against this perjured Man; hah, sure he follows still; no
+Wood-Nymph ever fled before a Satyr, with half that trembling haste I
+flew from _Lodwick_.--Oh, he has lost his Virtue, and undone me.
+    [Goes out groping, and the noise of Serenade again.
+
+
+SCENE VII. _Changes to Lady _Fancy's_ Bed-chamber, discovers her as
+before; _Lodwick_ as just risen in Disorder from the Bed, buttoning
+himself, and setting himself in order; and Noise at the Door of
+unlatching it._
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ groping, Sir _Patient_ without.
+
+L. _Fan._ It is this Door that open'd, and which I thought I had
+secur'd.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Within.] Oh, insupportable, abominable, and not to be
+indur'd!
+
+_Isab._ Hah, my Father! I'm discover'd and pursu'd,--grant me to find
+the Bed.
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens! 'twas my Husband's Voice, sure we're betray'd. It
+must be so, for what Devil but that of Jealousy cou'd raise him at this
+late hour?
+
+_Isab._ Hah, where am I, and who is't that speaks--    [To her self.
+
+_Lod._ So, he must know that I have made a Cuckold of him.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Within.] Call up my Men, the Coachman, Groom, and Butler,
+the Footmen, Cook, and Gardiner; bid 'em all rise and arm, with long
+Staff, Spade and Pitchfork, and sally out upon the Wicked.
+
+_Lod._ S'heart! what a Death shall I die:--is there no place of safety
+hereabouts--for there is no resisting these unmerciful Weapons.
+
+_Isab._ A Man's Voice!
+
+L. _Fan._ I know of none, nor how to prevent your Discovery.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Within.] Oh, oh, lead me forward, I'll lie here on the
+Garden-side, out of the hearing of this Hellish Noise.
+
+L. _Fan._ Hah, Noise!--what means he?
+
+_Lod._ Nay, I know not, is there no escaping?--
+
+_Isab._ Who can they be that talk thus? sure I have mistook my Chamber.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, he's coming in--I'm ruin'd; what shall we do? here--get
+into the Bed--and cover your self with the Clothes--quickly--oh, my
+Confusion will betray me.
+    [_Lodwick_ gets into the Bed, _Isabella_ hides behind the Curtain
+    very near to him.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_, led by _Nurse_ and _Maundy_, with Lights.
+
+_Maun._ Pray go back, Sir, my poor Lady will be frighted out of her Wits
+at this danger you put your self into, the Noise shall be still'd.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, what's the matter with my Love? what, do you mean to
+murder him? oh, lead him instantly back to his Bed.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh, no, I'll lie here,--put me to bed, oh, I faint,--my
+Chamber's possest with twenty thousand Evil Spirits.
+
+L. _Fan._ Possest! what sickly Fancy's this?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, the House is beset, surrounded and confounded with
+profane tinkling, with Popish Horn-Pipes, and Jesuitical Cymbals, more
+Antichristian and Abominable than Organs, or Anthems.
+
+_Nurse._ Yea verily, and surely it is the spawn of Cathedral Instruments
+plaid on by Babylonish Minstrels, only to disturb the Brethren.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, 'tis so, call up my Servants, and let them be first
+chastiz'd and then hang'd; accuse 'em for _French_ Papishes, that had a
+design to fire the City, or any thing:--oh, I shall die--lead me gently
+to this Bed.
+
+L. _Fan._ To hinder him will discover all:--stay, Sir.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, my Lady turn'd rebellious!--put me to Bed I say;--
+[Throws himself forward to the Bed.] --hah--what's here?--what are
+thou,--a Man,--hah, a Man, Treason! betray'd! my Bed's defil'd, my Lady
+polluted, and I am cornuted; oh thou vile Serpent of my Bosom!
+    [She stands with her Face towards the Stage in signs of fear.
+
+_Isab._ A Man, and in my virtuous Lady Mother's Chamber! how fortunate
+was I to light on this discovery!
+
+L. _Fan._ Well, Sir, since you have seen him, I beseech you for my sake,
+Dear, pardon him this one time.
+    [Coakesing him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Thou beg his Pardon! Oh, was ever heard such Impudence!
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed, my Love, he is to blame; but we that are judicious
+should bear with the Frailities of Youth.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh insupportable Audacity!--what canst thou say, false Woman?
+
+L. _Fan._ Truly not much in his Defence, my Dear.
+
+_Isab._ Oh cunning Devil!--
+
+L. _Fan._ But, Sir, to hide the weakness of your Daughter, I have a
+little strain'd my Modesty.--
+
+_Isab._ Heavens! what says she?--
+
+L. _Fan._ 'Tis _Isabella's_ Lover, Sir, whom I've conceal'd.
+
+_Lod._ A good hint to save both our Credits.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Mr. _Fainlove_ mean you?
+
+    [_Lodwick_ rises and comes a little more forward, _Isabella_ does
+    the like, till both meet at the feet of the Bed, and start,
+    _Lodwick_ looking simply.
+
+L. _Fan._ Ay, my dear, Mr. _Fainlove_.
+
+_Lod._ _Isabella_ here! must she know too what a fine inconstant Dog I
+am?--
+
+_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ and in my Mother's Chamber! may I believe my Eyes!
+
+Sir _Pat._ But how got he hither?--tell me that: oh Youth, Youth, to
+what degree of Wickedness art thou arriv'd?
+
+L. _Fan._ She appointed him to come this Night, Sir, and he going to her
+Chamber, by mistake came into mine, it being the next to her's.
+
+_Maun._ But, Lord, Sir, had you heard how my Lady school'd him, whilst I
+ran down to fetch a Light!
+
+_Lod._ Now does my Conscience tell me, I am a damn'd Villain.--
+    [Aside, looking pitifully on _Isabella_.
+
+L. _Fan._ But the poor Man presently perceiv'd his mistake, and beg'd my
+pardon in such feeling Terms--that I vow I had not the heart to deny it
+him.
+
+_Isab._ Oh Traytor! wou'd thou hadst been that Ravisher I took thee for,
+rather than such a Villain--false! and with my Mother too!
+
+L. _Fan._ And just then, Sir, you came to the Door, and lest you shou'd
+see him, intreated me to hide him from your Anger,--the Offence is not
+so heinous, Sir, considering he is so soon to marry her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Sir, and what have you to say in your Defence?--hah,
+how, Mr. _Knowell_,--worse and worse,--why, how came you hither, Sir?
+hah.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Not _Wittmore_! oh, I am ruin'd and betray'd.
+    [Falls almost in a swoon.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, _Isabella_ here too!
+
+_Isab._ Yes, Sir, to justify her Innocence.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah! Innocence! and justify! take her away; go out of my
+sight, thou Limb of Satan,--take her away, I say, I'll talk with you to
+morrow, Lady Finetricks--I will.--
+
+_Isab._ --And I'll know before I sleep, the mystery of all this, and who
+'twas this faithless Man sent in his room to deceive me in the Garden.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Lod._ A plague of all ill-luck--how the Devil came she hither? I must
+follow and reconcile her.
+    [Going out, Sir _Patient_ stays him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, we must not part so till I have known the truth of
+this Business, I take it.
+
+_Lod._ Truth, Sir! oh, all that your fair Lady has said, Sir; I must
+confess her Eyes have wounded me enough with Anger, you need not add
+more to my Shame.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Some little comfort yet, that he prov'd indeed to be
+_Isabella's_ Lover: Oh, that I should mistake so unluckily!
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, I thought it had been Mr. _Fainlove_.
+
+L. _Fan._ By all that's good, and so did I.
+
+_Lod._ I know you did, Madam, or you had not been so kind to me: Your
+Servant, dear Madam.--
+    [Going, Sir _Patient_ stays him.
+
+L. _Fan._ Pray, Sir, let him go; oh, how I abominate the sight of a Man
+that cou'd be so wicked as he has been!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ha,--good Lady, excellent Woman: well, Sir, for my Lady's
+sake I'll let you pass with this, but if I catch you here again, I shall
+spoil your Intrigues, Sir, marry, shall I, and so rest ye satisfied,
+Sir.--
+
+_Lod._ At this time, I am, Sir--Madam, a thousand Blessings on you for
+this Goodness.
+
+L. _Fan._ Ten thousand Curses upon thee,--go, boast the Ruin you have
+made.
+    [Aside to _Lod._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Come, no more Anger now, my Lady; the Gentleman's sorry you
+see, I'll marry my pert Huswife to morrow for this.--_Maundy_, see the
+Gentleman safe out:--ah, put me to Bed; ah, this Night's Work will kill
+me, ah, ah.
+
+    [Exeunt _Lodwick_ and _Maundy_.
+
+
+_The Scene draws over Sir _Patient_ and Lady: draws again and discovers_
+
+SCENE VIII. The Garden, _Wittmore_, _Fanny_, and _Isabella_.
+
+_Isab._ How, Mr. _Fainlove_, it cannot be.
+
+_Fan._ Indeed, Sister, 'tis the same, for all he talks so; and he told
+me his coming was but to try your Virtue only.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_ and _Maundy_ as passing over, but stand.
+
+_Isab._ That _Fainlove_! whom I am so soon to marry! and but this day
+courted me in another Dialect!
+
+_Wit._ That was my Policy, Madam, to pass upon your Father with. But I'm
+a Man that knows the value of the Fair, and saw Charms of Beauty and of
+Wit in you, that taught me to know the way to your Heart was to appear
+my self, which now I do. Why did you leave me so unkindly but now?
+
+_Lod._ Hah, what's this? whilst I was grafting Horns on another's Head,
+some kind Friend was doing that good Office for me.
+
+_Maun._ Sure 'tis _Wittmore_!--oh that Dissembler--this was his Plot
+upon my Lady, to gain time with _Isabella_.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ And being so near my Happiness, can you blame me, if I made a
+trial whether your Virtue were agreeable to your Beauty, great, and to
+be equally ador'd?
+
+_Lod._ Death, I've heard enough to forfeit all my Patience!--Draw, Sir,
+and make a trial of your Courage too.--
+
+_Wit._ Hah, what desperate Fool art thou?    [Draws.
+
+_Lod._ One that will see thee fairly damn'd, e'er yield his Interest up
+in _Isabella_--oh thou false Woman!
+    [They fight out, _Isabella_, _Fanny_, and _Maundy_ run off.
+
+
+SCENE IX. _Changes to the long Street, a Pageant of an Elephant coming
+from the farther end with Sir _Credulous_ on it, and several others
+playing on strange confused Instruments._
+
+Sir _Cred._ This sure is extraordinary, or the Devil's in't, and I'll
+ne'er trust Serenade more.
+    [Come forward, and all play again.
+  --Hold, hold, now for the Song, which because I wou'd have most
+deliciously and melodiously sung, I'll sing my self; look
+ye,--hum--hum.--
+
+Sir _Credulous_ should have sung.
+
+    _Thou Grief of my Heart, and thou Pearl of my Eyes,
+    D'on thy Flannel Petticoat quickly, and rise;
+    And from thy resplendent Window discover
+    A Face that wou'd mortify any young Lover:
+    For I, like great _Jove_ transformed, do wooe,
+  And am amorous Owl, to wit to wooe, to wit to wooe.
+
+    A Lover, Ads Zoz, is a sort of a Tool
+    That of all Things you best may compare to an Owl:
+    For in some dark Shades he delights still to sit,
+    And all the Night long he crys wo to wit.
+    Then rise, my bright _Cloris_, and d'on on slip shoe:
+  And hear thy amorous Owl chant, wit to wooe, wit to wooe._
+
+--Well, this won't do, for I perceive no Window open, nor Lady bright
+appear, to talk obligingly:--perhaps the Song does not please her: you
+Ballad-singers, have you no good Songs of another fashion?
+
+_1 Man._ Yes, Sir, Several, _Robin--Hark how the Waters fall, fall,
+fall!_
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, Man! Zoz, remove us farther off, for fear of wetting.
+
+_1 Man._ No, no, Sir, I only gave my Fellow a hint of an excellent
+Ballad that begins--_Ill-wedded Joys, how quickly do you fade!_
+    [Sings.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, ay, that, we'll have that,--_Ill-wedded Joys, how
+quickly do you fade_,-- [Sings.] That's excellent! Oh, now the Windows
+open, now, now shew your capering Tricks.      [Vaulting.
+    [They all play again.
+
+    Enter _Roger_ and a Company of Fellows as out of Sir _Patient's_
+    House, led on by _Abel_ a precise Clerk, all armed with odd
+    Weapons.
+
+_Abel._ Verily, verily, here be these Babes of Perdition, these Children
+of Iniquity.
+
+_Rog._ A pox of your Babes and Children, they are Men, and Sons of
+Whores, whom we must bang confoundedly, for not letting honest godly
+People rest quietly in their Beds at Midnight.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Who's there?
+
+_Rog._ There, with a Pox to you; cannot a Right-worshipful Knight, that
+has been sick these Twenty Years with taking Physick, sleep quietly in
+his own House for you; and must we be rais'd out of our Beds to quiet
+your Hell-pipes, in the Devil's name?
+
+_Abel._ Down with _Gog_ and _Magog_, there; there's the rotten Bell
+weather that leads the rest astray, and defiles the whole Flock.
+
+_Rog._ Hang your preaching, and let's come to him, we'll maul him.
+    [Beat Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, Quarter, Quarter, Murder, Help, Murder, Murder!
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Damn these Rascals, who e'er they were, that so unluckily
+redeem'd a Rival from my Fury,--Hah, they are here,--Egad, I'll have one
+touch more with 'em,--the Dogs are spoiling my design'd Serenade
+too--have amongst ye.-- [Fights and beats 'em off.] Sir _Credulous_, how
+is't?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Who's there? _Lodwick?_ Oh dear Lad, is't thou that hast
+redeem'd me from the inchanted Cudgels that demolish'd my triumphant
+Pageant, and confounded my Serenade? Zoz, I'm half kill'd, Man,--I have
+never a whole Bone about me sure.
+
+_Lod._ Come in with me--a plague upon the Rascal that escap'd me.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. Lady _Knowell's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_, followed by Sir _Credulous_.
+
+_Lucr._ Marry'd to morrow! and leave my Mother the possession of
+_Leander_! I'll die a thousand Deaths first.--How the Fool haunts me!
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, delicious Lady, you may say your Pleasure; but I will
+justify the Serenade to be as high a piece of Gallantry as was ever
+practised in our Age, though not comparable to your Charms and celestial
+Graces, which shou'd I praise as I ought, 'twou'd require more time than
+the Sun employs in his natural Motion between the Tropicks; that is to
+say, a whole Year, (for by the way, I am no _Copernican_) for, Dear
+Madam, you must know, my Rhetorick Master,--I say, my Rhetorick Master,
+who was--
+
+_Lucr._ As great a Coxcomb as your self;--pray leave me, I am
+serious--I must go seek out _Lodwick_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Leave ye! I thank you for that, i'faith, before I have spoke
+out my Speech; therefore I say, Divine Lady--because my Rhetorick Master
+commanded the frequent use of _Hypallages_, _Allegories_, and the
+richest Figures of that beauteous Art,--because my Rhetorick--
+
+_Lucr._ I must leave the Fool, follow if you dare, for I have no leisure
+to attend your Nonsense.
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_.
+
+L. _Kno._ What, alone, Sir _Credulous_? I left you with _Lucretia_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ _Lucretia!_ I'm sure she makes a very _Tarquinius Sextus_ of
+me, and all about this Serenade,--I protest and vow, incomparable Lady,
+I had begun the sweetest Speech to her--though I say't, such Flowers of
+Rhetorick--'twou'd have been the very Nosegay of Eloquence, so it wou'd;
+and like an ungrateful illiterate Woman as she is, she left me in the
+very middle on't, so snuffy I'll warrant.
+
+L. _Kno._ Be not discourag'd, Sir, I'll adapt her to a reconciliation:
+Lovers must sometimes expect these little _Belli fugaces_; the
+_Grecians_ therefore truly named Love _Glucupicros Eros_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, bright Lady, I am as little discourag'd as another, but
+I'm sorry I gave so extraordinary a Serenade to so little purpose.
+
+L. _Kno._ Name it no more, 'twas only a Gallantry mistaken; but I'll
+accelerate your Felicity, and to morrow shall conclude the great
+dispute, since there is such Volubility and Vicissitude in mundane
+Affairs.
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_, stays Sir _Credulous_ as he is going out the
+    other way.
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous_, whither away so fast?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, what a Question's there? dost not know I am to unty the
+Virgin Zone to morrow, that is, barter Maiden-heads with thy Sister,
+that is, to be married to her, Man, and I must to _Lincolns-Inn_ to my
+Counsel about it?
+
+_Lod._ My Sister just now told me of it; but, Sir, you must not stir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, what's the matter?
+
+_Lod._ Have you made your Will?
+
+Sir _Cred._ My Will! no, why my Will, Man?
+
+_Lod._ Then, for the good of your Friends and Posterity, stir not from
+this place.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Good Lord, _Lodwick_, thou art the strangest Man,--what do
+you mean to fright a body thus?
+
+_Lod._ You remember the Serenade last night?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Remember it? Zoz, I think I do, here be the marks on't
+sure.--
+    [Pulls off his Peruke, and shews his Head broke.
+
+_Lod._ Ads me, your Head's broke.
+
+Sir _Cred._ My Head broke! why, 'twas a hundred to one but my Neck had
+been broke.
+
+_Lod._ Faith, not unlikely,--you know the next House is Sir _Patient
+Fancy's_; _Isabella_ too, you know, is his Daughter.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, yes, she was by when I made my dumb Oration.
+
+_Lod._ The same,--this Lady has a Lover, a mad, furious, fighting,
+killing Hector, (as you know there are enough about this Town) this
+Monsieur supposing you to be a Rival, and that your Serenade was
+address'd to her--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Enough, I understand you, set those Rogues on to murder me.
+
+_Lod._ Wou'd 'twere no worse.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Worse! Zoz, Man, what the Devil can be worse?
+
+_Lod._ Why, he has vow'd to kill you himself wherever he meets you, and
+now waits below to that purpose.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Sha, sha, if that be all, I'll to him immediately, and make
+Affidavit I never had any such design. Madam _Isabella_! ha, ha, alas,
+poor man, I have some body else to think on.
+
+_Lod._ Affidavit! why, he'll not believe you, should you swear your
+Heart out: some body has possess'd him that you are a damn'd Fool, and a
+most egregious Coward, a Fellow that to save your Life will swear any
+thing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What cursed Luck's this!--why, how came he to know I liv'd
+here?
+
+_Lod._ I believe he might have it from _Leander_, who is his Friend.
+
+Sir _Cred._ _Leander!_ I must confess I never lik'd that _Leander_ since
+yesterday.
+
+_Lod._ He has deceiv'd us all, that's the truth on't; for I have lately
+found out too, that he's your Rival, and has a kind of a--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Smattering to my Mistress, hah, and therefore wou'd not be
+wanting to give me a lift out of this World; but I shall give her such a
+go-by--my Lady _Knowell_ understands the difference between three
+Thousand a Year, and--prithee what's his Estate?
+
+_Lod._ Shaw--not sufficient to pay Surgeons Bills.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Alas, poor Rat, how does he live then?
+
+_Lod._ Hang him, the Ladies keep him; 'tis a good handsome Fellow, and
+has a pretty Town-Wit.
+
+Sir _Cred._ He a Wit! what, I'll warrant he writes Lampoons, rails at
+Plays, curses all Poetry but his own, and mimicks the Players--ha.
+
+_Lod._ Some such common Notions he has that deceives the ignorant
+Rabble, amongst whom he passes for a very smart Fellow,--'life, he's
+here.
+
+    Enter _Leander_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, what shall I do, he will not affront me before Company?
+hah!
+
+_Lod._ Not in our House, Sir,--bear up and take no notice on't.
+    [_Lod._ whispers _Lean._
+
+Sir _Cred._ No notice, quoth he? why, my very Fears will betray me.
+
+_Lean._ Let me alone--_Lodwick_, I met just now with an _Italian_
+Merchant, who has made me such a Present!
+
+_Lod._ What is't prithee?
+
+_Lean._ A Sort of specifick Poison for all the Senses, especially for
+that of smelling; so that had I a Rival, and I should see him at any
+reasonable distance, I could direct a little of this Scent up to his
+Brain so subtlely, that it shall not fail of Execution in a day or two.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How--Poison!
+    [Shewing great Signs of Fear, and holding his Nose.
+
+_Lean._ Nay, shou'd I see him in the midst of a thousand People, I can
+so direct it, that it shall assault my Enemy's Nostrils only, without
+any effects on the rest of the Company.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh,--I'm a dead Man!
+
+_Lod._ Is't possible?
+
+_Lean._ Perhaps some little sneezing or so, no harm; but my Enemy's a
+dead Man, Sir, kill'd.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, this is the most damn'd _Italian_ Trick I ever heard
+of; why, this outdoes the famous Poisoner Madam _Brenvilliers_; well,
+here's no jesting, I perceive that, _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Fear nothing, I'll secure you.    [Aside to him.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+--_Wittmore!_ how is't, Friend! thou lookest cloudy.
+
+_Wit._ You'll hardly blame me, Gentlemen, when you shall know what a
+damn'd unfortunate Rascal I am.
+
+_Lod._ Prithee what's the matter?
+
+_Wit._ Why, I am to be marry'd, Gentlemen, marry'd to day.
+
+_Lod._ How, marry'd! nay, Gad, then thou'st reason; but to whom prithee?
+
+_Wit._ There's the Devil on't again, to a fine young fair, brisk Woman,
+that has all the Temptations Heaven can give her.
+
+_Lod._ What pity 'tis they shou'd be bestow'd to so wicked an end! Is
+this your Intrigue, that has been so long conceal'd from your Friends?
+
+_Lean._ We thought it had been some kind Amour, something of Love and
+Honour.
+
+_Lod._ Is she rich? if she be wondrous rich, we'll excuse thee.
+
+_Wit._ Her Fortune will be suitable to the Jointure I shall make her.
+
+_Lod._ Nay then 'tis like to prove a hopeful Match; what a Pox can
+provoke thee to this, dost love her?
+
+_Wit._ No, there's another Plague, I am cursedly in love elsewhere; and
+this was but a false Address, to hide that real one.
+
+_Lod._ How, love another? in what quality and manner?
+
+_Wit._ As a Man ought to love, with a good substantial Passion, without
+any design but that of right-down honest Injoyment.
+
+_Lod._ Ay, now we understand thee, this is something. Ah Friend, I had
+such an Adventure last Night.--You may talk of your Intrigues and
+substantial Pleasures, but if any of you can match mine,--Egad, I'll
+forswear Womankind.
+
+_Lean._ An Adventure! prithee where?
+
+Sir _Cred._ What, last Night, when you rescued me from the Bilbo-Blades!
+indeed ye look'd a little furiously.
+
+_Lod._ I had reason, I was just then come out of a Garden from fighting
+with a Man whom I found with my Mistress; and I had at least known who't
+had been, but for the coming of those Rascals that set on you, who
+parted us, whilst he made his escape in the Croud.
+
+_Wit._ Death! that was I, who for fear of being known got away: was't he
+then that I fought with, and whom I learnt lov'd _Isabella_?
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lod._ You must know, Gentlemen, I have a sort of a matrimonial Kindness
+for a very pretty Woman, she whom I tell you I disturb'd in the Garden,
+and last night she made me an Assignation in her Chamber: when I came to
+the Garden-door by which I was to have admittance, I found a kind of
+Necessary call'd a Baudy Waiting-Woman, whom I follow'd, and thought she
+wou'd have conducted me to the right Woman; but I was luckily and in the
+dark led into a Lady's Chamber, who took me for a Lover she expected:
+I found my happy mistake, and wou'd not undeceive her.
+
+_Wit._ This could be none but _Lucia_.    [Aside.
+  --Well, Sir, and what did you do there?
+
+_Lod._ Do! why, what dost think? all that a Man inspir'd by Love cou'd
+do, I followed all the dictates of Nature, Youth, and Vigor.
+
+_Wit._ Oh, hold, my Heart--or I shall kill the Traitor.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Follow'd all the dictates of Nature, Youth and Vigor!
+prithee what's that?
+
+_Lod._ I kiss'd a thousand times her balmy Lips, and greedily took in
+the nimble Sighs she breath'd into my Soul.
+
+_Wit._ Oh, I can scarce contain my self.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Pshaw, is that all, Man?
+
+  _Lod._ I clasp'd her lovely Body in my Arms,
+  And laid my Bosom to her panting Breast.
+  Trembling she seem'd all Love and soft Desire,
+  And I all Burnings in a youthful Fire.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Bless us, the Man's in a Rapture!
+
+_Wit._ Damnation on them both.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, to the point, Man: what didst do all this while?
+
+_Lean._ Faith, I fancy he did not sleep, Sir _Credulous_.
+
+_Lod._ No, Friend, she had too many Charms to keep me waking.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Had she so? I shou'd have beg'd her Charms pardon, I tell
+her that though.
+
+_Wit._ Curse on my Sloth, Oh, how shall I dissemble?    [Aside.
+
+_Lean._ Thy Adventure was pretty lucky--but, _Wittmore_, thou dost not
+relish it.
+
+_Wit._ My Mind's upon my Marriage, Sir; if I thought he lov'd
+_Isabella_, I wou'd marry her to be reveng'd on him, at least I'll vex
+his Soul, as he has tortur'd mine.--Well, Gentlemen, you'll dine with
+me,--and give me your opinion of my Wife.
+
+_Lod._ Where dost thou keep the Ceremony?
+
+_Wit._ At Sir _Patient Fancy's_, my Father-in-law.
+
+_Lod._ How! Sir _Patient Fancy_ to be your Father-in-law?
+
+_Lean._ My Uncle?
+
+_Wit._ He's fir'd,--'tis his Daughter, Sir, I am to marry.--
+
+_Lod._ _Isabella!_ _Leander_, can it be? can she consent to this? and
+can she love you?
+
+_Wit._ Why, Sir, what do you see in me, shou'd render me unfit to be
+belov'd?
+    [Angry.
+
+_Lod._ Marry'd to day! by Heaven, it must not be, Sir.
+    [Draws him aside.
+
+_Wit._ Why, Sir, I hope this is not the kind Lady who was so soft, so
+sweet and charming last night.
+
+_Lod._ Hold, Sir,--we yet are Friends.--
+
+_Wit._ And might have still been so, hadst thou not basely rob'd me of
+my Interest.
+
+_Lod._ Death, do you speak my Language?    [Ready to draw.
+
+_Wit._ No, take a secret from my angry Heart, which all its Friendship
+to thee cou'd not make me utter;--it was my Mistress you surpriz'd last
+night.
+
+_Lod._ Hah, my Lady _Fancy_ his Mistress? Curse on my prating Tongue.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What a Devil's all this, hard Words, Heart-burnings,
+Resentments, and all that?
+
+_Lean._ You are not quarrelling, I hope, my Friends?
+
+_Lod._ All this, Sir, we suspected, and smok'd your borrowing Money last
+night; and what I said was to gain the mighty secret that had been so
+long kept from your Friends:--but thou hast done a baseness--
+    [Lays his Hand on his Sword.
+
+_Lean._ Hold, what's the matter?
+
+_Wit._ Did you not rob me of the Victory then I've been so long a
+toiling for?
+
+_Lod._ If I had, 'twould not have made her guilty, nor me a Criminal;
+she taking me for one she lov'd, and I her for one that had no Interest
+in my Friend: and who the Devil wou'd have refus'd so fine a Woman? Nor
+had I but that I was prevented by her Husband.--But _Isabella_, Sir, you
+must resign.
+
+_Wit._ I will, provided that our Friendship's safe; I am this day to
+marry her, and if you can find a means to do't in my room, I shall
+resign my Interest to my Friend; for 'tis the lovely Mother I adore.
+
+_Lod._ And was it you I fought with in the Garden?
+
+_Wit._ Yes, and thereby hangs a tale of a mistake almost equal to thine,
+which I'll at leisure tell you.
+    [Talks to _Lod._ and _Lean._
+
+Sir _Cred._ I'm glad they're Friends; Zoz, here was like to have been a
+pretty Business; what damnable work this same Womankind makes in a
+Nation of Fools that are Lovers?
+
+_Wit._ Look ye, I am a damn'd dull Fellow at Invention, I'll therefore
+leave you to contrive matters by your selves, whilst I'll go try how
+kind Fortune will be to me this Morning, and see in what readiness my
+Bride is. What you do must be thought on suddenly; I'll wait on you
+anon, and let you know how matters go.--I'm as impatient to know the
+truth of this, as for an opportunity to enjoy _Lucia_.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Lod._ _Leander_, what shall I do?
+
+_Lean._ You were best consult your Mother and Sister; Women are best at
+Intrigues of this kind: But what becomes of me?
+
+_Lod._ Let me alone to dispatch this Fool, I long to have him out of the
+way, he begins to grow troublesome:--but now my Mother expects you.
+
+_Lean._ Prithee be careful of me.--    [Exit _Lean._
+
+Sir _Cred._ What was this long Whisper, something about me?
+
+_Lod._ Why, yes, faith, I was persuading him to speak to his Friend
+about this Business; but he swears there's no hopes of a Reconciliation:
+you are a dead Man, unless some cleanly conveyance of you be soon
+thought on.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, I'll keep within doors, and defy Malice and foul
+Weather.
+
+_Lod._ Oh, he means to get a Warrant, and search for stolen Goods,
+prohibited Commodities or Conventicles; there's a thousand Civil
+Pretences in this Town to commit Outrages--let me see.--
+    [They both pause a while.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, I have thought,--and of such a Business, that the
+Devil's in't if you don't say I am a man of Intrigue.
+
+_Lod._ What is't?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ha, ha, ha, I must have leave to laugh to think how neatly I
+shall defeat this Son of a Whore of a thunder thumping Hector.
+
+_Lod._ Be serious, Sir, this is no laughing matter; if I might advise,
+you should steal into the Country, for two or three days, till the
+Business be blown over.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Lord, thou art so hasty and conceited of thy own Invention,
+thou wilt not give a Man leave to think in thy company: why, these were
+my very thoughts; nay more, I have found a way to get off clever, though
+he watch me as narrowly as an enraged Serjeant upon an Escape.
+
+_Lod._ That indeed wou'd be a Master-piece.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, look ye, do you see that great Basket there?
+
+_Lod._ I do,--this you mean.--    [Pulls in a Basket.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Very well, put me into this Basket, and cord me down, send
+for a couple of Porters, hoist me away with a Direction, to an old Uncle
+of mine, one Sir _Anthony Bubleton_ at _Bubleton-Hall_ in _Essex_; and
+then whip slap-dash, as _Nokes_ says in the Play, I'm gone, and who's
+the wiser?
+
+_Lod._ I like it well.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, lose no time in applauding, I'll in, the Carrier goes
+this Morning; farewel, _Lodwick_.--
+    [Goes Into the Basket.
+  I'll be here again on _Thursday_.    [_Lod._ writes a Direction.
+
+    Enter Boy.
+
+_Lod._ By all means, Sir,--Who's there,--call a couple of Porters.
+    [Exit Boy.
+
+Sir _Cred._ One word more, the Carrier lies at the _Bell_ in
+_Friday-street_, pray take care they set me not on my Head.--
+    [Pops in again.
+
+    Enter Boy and two Porters.
+
+_Lod._ Come hither, cord up this Basket, and carry it where he shall
+direct.--_Leander_ will never think he's free from a Rival, till he have
+him in his possession--To Mr. _Leander Fancy's_ at the next door; say
+'tis things for him out of the Country.--Write a Direction to him on the
+Basket-lid.    [Aside to the Boy.
+    [Porters going to carry off the Basket on a long Pole between 'em.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_.
+
+L. _Kno._ What's this? whither goes this Basket?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ah Lord! they are come with the Warrant.
+    [Peeps out of the Basket.
+
+_Lod._ Only Books, Madam, offer'd me to buy, but they do not please me.
+
+L. _Kno._ Books! nay then set down the Basket, Fellows, and let me
+peruse 'em; who are their Authors, and what their Language?
+
+Sir _Cred._ A pox of all Learning, I say,--'tis my Mother-in-law.
+    [Porters going to set down the Basket.
+
+_Lod._ Hold, hold, Madam, they are only _English_ and some Law-_French_.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, faugh, how I hate that vile sort of Reading! up with 'em
+again, Fellows, and away.
+    [The Porters take up and go out.
+
+_Lod._ God-a-mercy, Law-_French_.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ Law-_French_! out upon't, I cou'd find in my heart to have the
+Porters bring it back, and have it burnt for a Heresy to Learning.
+
+_Lod._ Or thrown into the _Thames_, that it may float back to
+_Normandy_, to have the Language new modell'd.
+
+L. _Kno._ You say well; but what's all this _ad Iphicli bonis_, where's
+Sir _Credulous_ all this while? his Affairs expect him.
+
+_Lod._ So does _Leander_ your Ladyship within.
+
+L. _Kno._ _Leander!_ _Hymen, Hymenæ_, I'll wait on him, _Lodwick_; I am
+resolv'd you shall marry _Isabella_ too; I have a design in my head that
+cannot fail to give you the possession of her within this two or three
+hours.
+
+_Lod._ Such an Indulgence will make me the happiest of Men, and I have
+something to say to your Ladyship that will oblige you to hasten the
+design.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come in, and let me know it.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Chamber in Sir _Patient Fancy's_ House. A Table and
+Chairs._
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ in a Morning-dress, _Maundy_ with Pen, Ink and
+    Paper.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Wittmore_ in the Garden, sayst thou, with _Isabella_! Oh
+perjur'd Man! it was by his contrivance then I was betray'd last night.
+
+_Maun._ I thought so too at first, Madam, till going to conduct Mr.
+_Knowell_ through the Garden, he finding Mr. _Wittmore_ there with
+_Isabella_ drew on him, and they both fought out of the Garden: what
+mischief's done I know not.--But, Madam, I hope Mr. _Knowell_ was not
+uncivil to your Ladyship. I had no time to ask what pass'd between you.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, name it not: I gave him all I had reserv'd for _Wittmore_.
+I was so possess'd with the thoughts of that dear false one, I had no
+sense free to perceive the cheat:--but I will be reveng'd.--Come let me
+end my Letter, we are safe from interruption.
+
+_Maun._ Yes, Madam, Sir _Patient_ is not yet up, the Doctors have been
+with him, and tell him he is not so bad as we persuaded him.
+
+L. _Fan._ And was he soft and kind?--By all that's good, she loves him,
+and they contriv'd this meeting.--My Pen and Ink--I am impatient to
+unload my Soul of this great weight of Jealousy.--
+    [Sits down, and writes.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_, looking over her Shoulder a tip-toe.
+
+_Maun._ Heaven! here's Sir _Patient_, Madam.
+
+L. _Fan._ Hah,--and 'tis too late to hide the Paper; I was just going to
+subscribe my Name.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Good morrow, my Lady _Fancy_, your Ladyship is well employ'd,
+I see.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed I was, and pleasantly too: I am writing a Love-letter,
+Sir.--But, my Dear, what makes you so soon up?
+
+Sir _Pat._ A Love-letter!--let me see't.    [Goes to take it.
+
+L. _Fan._ I'll read it to you, Sir.
+
+_Maun._ What mean you, Madam?    [Aside.
+
+    Lady _Fancy_ reads.
+
+    It was but yesterday you swore you lov'd me, and I poor easy Fool
+    believ'd; but your last Night's Infidelity has undeceiv'd my Heart,
+    and render'd you the falsest Man that ever Woman sigh'd for. Tell
+    me, how durst you, when I had prepared all things for our Enjoyment,
+    be so great a Devil to deceive my languishing Expectations? and in
+    your room send one that has undone
+
+      Your--
+
+_Maun._ Sure she's mad to read this to him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hum,--I profess ingenuously--I think it is indeed a
+Love-letter. My Lady _Fancy_, what means all this? as I take it, here
+are Riddles and Mysteries in this Business.
+
+L. _Fan._ Which thus, Sir, I'll unfold.--
+    [Takes the Pen, and writes _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! undone--Your--_Isabella_, meaning my Daughter?
+
+L. _Fan._ Yes, my Dear, going this morning into her Chamber, she not
+being there, I took up a Letter that lay open on her Table, and out of
+curiosity read it; as near as I can remember 'twas to this purpose:
+I writ it out now, because I had a mind thou shou'dst see't; for I can
+hide nothing from thee.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A very good Lady, I profess! to whom is it directed?
+
+L. _Fan._ Why,--Sir--What shall I say, I cannot lay it now on
+_Lodwick_--
+    [Aside.
+  I believe she meant it to Mr. _Fainlove_, for whom else cou'd it be
+design'd? she being so soon to marry him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah,--Mr. _Fainlove_! so soon so fond and amorous!
+
+L. _Fan._ Alas, 'tis the excusable fault of all young Women, thou knowst
+I was just such another Fool to thee, so fond--and so in love.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ha,--thou wert indeed, my Lady _Fancy_, indeed thou
+wert.--But I will keep the Letter however, that this idle Baggage may
+know I understand her Tricks and Intrigues.
+    [Puts up the Letter.
+
+L. _Fan._ Nay then 'twill out: No, I beseech you, Sir, give me the
+Letter, I wou'd not for the World _Isabella_ shou'd know of my theft,
+'twou'd appear malicious in me:--Besides, Sir, it does not befit your
+Gravity to be concern'd in the little Quarrels of Lovers.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Lovers! Tell me not of Lovers, my Lady _Fancy_; with
+Reverence to your good Ladyship, I value not whether there be Love
+between 'em or not. Pious Wedlock is my Business,--nay, I will let him
+know his own too, that I will, with your Ladyship's permission.
+
+L. _Fan._ How unlucky I am!--Sir, as to his Chastisement, use your own
+discretion, in which you do abound most plentifully. But pray let not
+_Isabella_ hear of it; for as I wou'd preserve my Duty to thee, by
+communicating all things to thee, so I wou'd conserve my good Opinion
+with her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, what a Blessing I possess in so excellent a Wife! and in
+regard I am every day descending to my Grave.--ah--I will no longer hide
+from thee the Provision I have made for thee, in case I die.--
+
+L. _Fan._ This is the Musick that I long'd to hear.--Die!--Oh, that
+fatal Word will kill me--
+    [Weeps.
+  Name it no more, if you'd preserve my Life.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah--now cannot I refrain joining with her in affectionate
+Tears.--No, but do not weep for me, my excellent Lady, for I have made a
+pretty competent Estate for thee. Eight thousand Pounds, which I have
+conceal'd in my Study behind the Wainscot on the left hand as you come
+in.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, tell me not of transitory Wealth, for I'm resolv'd not to
+survive thee. Eight thousand Pound say you?--Oh, I cannot endure the
+thoughts on't.
+    [Weeps.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Eight thousand Pounds just, my dearest Lady.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, you'll make me desperate in naming it,--is it in Gold or
+Silver?
+
+Sir _Pat._ In Gold, my dearest, the most part, the rest in Silver.
+
+L. _Fan._ Good Heavens! why should you take such pleasure in afflicting
+me? [Weeps.] --Behind the Wainscot say you?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Behind the Wainscot, prithee be pacified,--thou makest me
+lose my greatest Virtue, Moderation, to see thee thus: alas, we're all
+born to die.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Again of dying! Uncharitable Man, why do you delight in
+tormenting me?--On the left hand, say you as you go in?
+
+Sir _Pat._ On the left hand, my Love: had ever Man such a Wife?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, my Spirits fail me--lead me, or I shall faint,--lead me to
+the Study, and shew me where 'tis,--for I am able to hear no more of it.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I will, if you will promise indeed and indeed, not to grieve
+too much.
+    [Going to lead her out.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+_Wit._ Heaven grant me some kind opportunity to speak with _Lucia_! hah,
+she's here,--and with her the fond Cuckold her Husband.--Death, he has
+spy'd me, there's no avoiding him.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, are you there, Sir?--_Maundy_, look to my Lady,--I take
+it, Sir, you have not dealt well with a Person of my Authority and
+Gravity.
+    [Gropes for the Letter in his pocket.
+
+_Wit._ So this can be nothing less than my being found out to be no
+_Yorkshire_ Esq; a Pox of my _Geneva_ Breeding; it must be so, what the
+Devil shall I say now?
+
+Sir _Pat._ And this disingenuous dealing does ill become the Person you
+have represented, I take it.
+
+_Wit._ Represented! ay, there 'tis, wou'd I were handsomely off o' this
+Business; neither _Lucia_ nor _Maundy_ have any intelligence in their
+demure looks that can instruct a Man.--Why, faith, Sir,--I must
+confess,--I am to blame--and that I have--a--
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, _Maundy_, he'll discover all, what shall we do?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Have what, Sir?
+
+_Wit._ From my violent Passion for your Daughter--
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, I'm all Confusion.--
+
+_Wit._ Egad, I am i'th wrong, I see by _Lucia's_ Looks.
+
+Sir _Pat._ That you have, Sir, you wou'd say, made a Sport and May-game
+of the Ingagement of your Word; I take it, Mr. _Fainlove_, 'tis not like
+the Stock you come from.
+
+_Wit._ Yes, I was like to have spoil'd all, 'sheart, what fine work I
+had made--but most certainly he has discover'd my Passion for his
+Wife.--Well, Impudence assist me--I made, Sir, a trifle of my Word, Sir!
+from whom have you this Intelligence?
+
+Sir _Pat._ From whom shou'd I, Sir, but from my Daughter _Isabella_?
+
+_Wit._ _Isabella!_ The malicious Baggage understood to whom my first
+Courtship was address'd last Night, and has betray'd me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And, Sir, to let you see I utter nothing without Precaution,
+pray read that Letter.
+
+_Wit._ Hah--a Letter! what can this mean,--'tis _Lucia's_ Hand, with
+_Isabella's_ Name to't.--Oh, the dear cunning Creature, to make her
+Husband the Messenger too.--How, I send one in my room!
+    [He reads.
+
+L. _Fan._ Yes, Sir, you think we do not know of the Appointment you made
+last Night; but having other Affairs in hand than to keep your Promise,
+you sent Mr. _Knowell_ in your room,--false Man.
+
+_Wit._ I send him, Madam! I wou'd have sooner died.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, as I take it, he cou'd not have known of your Designs
+and Rendezvous without your Informations.--Were not you to have met my
+Daughter here to night, Sir?
+
+_Wit._ Yes, Sir, and I hope 'tis no such great Crime, to desire a little
+Conversation with the fair Person one loves, and is so soon to marry,
+which I was hinder'd from doing by the greatest and most unlucky
+Misfortune that ever arriv'd: but for my sending him, Madam, credit me,
+nothing so much amazes me and afflicts me, as to know he was here.
+
+Sir _Pat._ He speaks well, ingenuously, he does.--Well, Sir, for your
+Father's sake, whose Memory I reverence, I will for once forgive you.
+But let's have no more Night-works, no more Gambols, I beseech you, good
+Mr. _Fainlove_.
+
+_Wit._ I humbly thank ye, Sir, and do beseech you to tell the dear
+Creature that writ this, that I love her more than Life or Fortune, and
+that I wou'd sooner have kill'd the Man that usurp'd my place last
+Night, than have assisted him.
+
+L. _Fan._ Were you not false, then?--Now hang me if I do not credit him.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Alas, good Lady! how she's concern'd for my Interest, she's
+even jealous for my Daughter.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ False! charge me not with unprofitable Sins; wou'd I refuse a
+Blessing, or blaspheme a Power that might undo me? wou'd I die in my
+full vigorous Health, or live in constant Pain? All this I cou'd, sooner
+than be untrue.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ingenuously, my Lady _Fancy_, he speaks discreetly, and to
+purpose.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed, my Dear, he does, and like an honest Gentleman: and I
+shou'd think my self very unreasonable not to believe him.--And, Sir,
+I'll undertake your Peace shall be made with your Mistress.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, I am the most fortunate Man in a Wife, that ever had
+the blessing of a good one.
+
+_Wit._ Madam, let me fall at your Feet, and thank you for this
+Bounty.--Make it your own case, and then consider what returns ought to
+be made to the most passionate and faithful of Lovers.
+    [Kneels.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I profess a wonderful good natur'd Youth, this; rise, Sir, my
+Lady _Fancy_ shall do you all the kind Offices she can, o' my word, she
+shall.
+
+L. _Fan._ I'm all Obedience, Sir, and doubtless shall obey you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ You must, indeed you must; and, Sir, I'll defer your
+Happiness no longer, this Day you shall be marry'd.
+
+_Wit._ This Day, Sir!--why, the Writings are not made.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No matter, Mr. _Fainlove_; her Portion shall be equivalent to
+the Jointure you shall make her, I take it, that's sufficient.
+
+_Wit._ A Jointure, quoth he! it must be in new _Eutopian_ Land
+then.--And must I depart thus, without a kind Word, a Look, or a Billet,
+to signify what I am to expect.
+    [Looking on her slily.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Come, my Lady _Fancy_, shall I wait on you down to Prayer!
+Sir, you will get your self in order for your Marriage, the great Affair
+of human Life; I must to my Morning's Devotion: Come, Madam.
+    [She endeavours to make Signs to _Wittmore_.
+
+L. _Fan._ Alas, Sir, the sad Discourse you lately made me, has so
+disorder'd me, and given me such a Pain in my Head, I am not able to
+endure the Psalm-singing.
+
+Sir _Pat._ This comes of your Weeping; but we'll omit that part of th'
+Exercise, and have no Psalm sung.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, by no means, Sir, 'twill scandalize the Brethren; for you
+know a Psalm is not sung so much out of Devotion, as 'tis to give notice
+of our Zeal and pious Intentions: 'tis a kind of Proclamation to the
+Neighbourhood, and cannot be omitted.--Oh, how my Head aches!
+
+_Wit._ He were a damn'd dull Lover, that cou'd not guess what she meant
+by this.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, my Lady _Fancy_, your Ladyship shall be obey'd,--come,
+Sir, we'll leave her to her Women.    [Exit Sir _Pat._
+    [As _Wittmore_ goes out, he bows and looks on her; she gives him
+    a Sign.
+
+_Wit._ That kind Look is a sufficient Invitation.    [Exit.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Maundy_, follow 'em down, and bring _Wittmore_ back again.--
+[Exit _Maun._] There's now a necessity of our contriving to avoid this
+Marriage handsomly,--and we shall at least make two Hours our own;
+I never wish'd well to long Prayers till this Minute.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+_Wit._ Oh my dear _Lucia_!
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh _Wittmore_! I long to tell thee what a fatal Mistake had
+like to have happened last Night.
+
+_Wit._ My Friend has told me all, and how he was prevented by the coming
+of your Husband from robbing me of those sacred Delights I languish for.
+Oh, let us not lose inestimable Time in dull talking; but haste to give
+each other the only Confirmation we can give, how little we are our own.
+
+L. _Fan._ I see _Lodwick's_ a Man of Honour, and deserves a Heart if I
+had one to give him.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Hall.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ and _Roger_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ _Roger_, is Prayer ready, _Roger_?
+
+_Rog._ Truly nay, Sir, for Mr. _Gogle_ has taken too much of the
+Creature this Morning, and is not in case, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How mean you, Sirrah, that Mr. _Gogle_ is overtaken with
+Drink?
+
+_Rog._ Nay, Sir, he hath over-eaten himself at Breakfast only.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Alas, and that's soon done, for he hath a sickly Stomach as
+well as I, poor Man. Where is _Bartholomew_ the Clerk? he must hold
+forth then to day.
+
+_Rog._ Verily he is also disabled: for going forth last Night by your
+Commandment to smite the Wicked, he received a blow over the
+_Pericranium_.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, how now, Sirrah, Latin! the Language of the Beast!
+hah--and what then, Sir?
+
+_Rog._ Which Blow, I doubt, Sir, hath spoil'd both his Praying and his
+Eating.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah! What a Family's here? no Prayer to day!
+
+    Enter _Nurse_ and _Fanny_.
+
+_Nurs._ Nay verily it shall all out, I will be no more the dark Lanthorn
+to the deeds of Darkness.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's the matter here?    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+_Nurs._ Sir, this young Sinner has long been privy to all the daily and
+nightly meetings between Mr. _Lodwick_ and _Isabella_; and just now I
+took her tying a Letter to a String in the Garden, which he drew up to
+his Window: and I have born it till my Conscience will bear it no
+longer.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, so young a Baud!--Tell me, Minion--private meeting! tell
+me truth, I charge ye, when? where? how? and how often? Oh, she's
+debauch'd!--her Reputation ruin'd, and she'll need a double Portion.
+Come, tell me truth, for this little Finger here has told me all.
+
+_Fan._ Oh Geminy, Sir, then that little Finger's the hougesest great
+Lyer as ever was.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Huzzy, huzzy--I will have thee whip'd most unmercifully:
+Nurse, fetch me the Rod.
+
+_Fan._ Oh, pardon me, Sir, this one time, and I'll tell all.
+    [Kneels.
+  --Sir--I have seen him in the Garden, but not very often.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Often! Oh, my Family's dishonoured. Tell me truly what he
+us'd to do there, or I will have thee whipt without cessation. Oh, I'm
+in a cold Sweat; there's my fine Maid, was he with her long?
+
+_Fan._ Long enough.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Long enough!--oh, 'tis so, long enough,--for what, hah? my
+dainty Miss, tell me, and didst thou leave 'em?
+
+_Fan._ They us'd to send me to gather Flowers to make Nosegays, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, Demonstration; 'tis evident if they were left alone that
+they were naught, I know't.--And where were they the while? in the close
+Arbour?--Ay, ay--I will have it cut down, it is the Pent-house of
+Iniquity, the very Coverlid of Sin.
+
+_Fan._ No, Sir, they sat on the Primrose Bank.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What, did they sit all the while, or stand--or--lie--or--oh,
+how was't?
+
+_Fan._ They only sat indeed, Sir Father.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And thou didst not hear a Word they said all the while?
+
+_Fan._ Yes, I did, Sir, and the Man talk'd a great deal of this, and of
+that, and of t'other, and all the while threw Jessamine in her Bosom.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well said, and did he nothing else?
+
+_Fan._ No, indeed, Sir Father, nothing.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But what did she say to the Man again?
+
+_Fan._ She said, let me see.--Ay, she said, Lord, you'll forget your
+self, and stay till somebody catch us.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, very fine,--then what said he?
+
+_Fan._ Then he said, Well if I must be gone, let me leave thee with this
+hearty Curse, A Pox take thee all over for making me love thee so
+confoundedly.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh horrible!
+
+_Fan._ --Oh, I cou'd live here for ever,--that was when he kist her--her
+Hand only. Are you not a damn'd Woman for making so fond a Puppy of me?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh unheard-of Wickedness!
+
+_Fan._ Wou'd the Devil had thee, and all thy Family, e'er I had seen thy
+cursed Face.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, I'll hear no more, I'll hear no more!--why, what a
+blasphemous Wretch is this?
+
+_Fan._ Pray, Sir Father, do not tell my Sister of this, she'll be
+horribly angry with me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No, no, get you gone.--Oh, I am Heart-sick--I'll up and
+consult with my Lady what's fit to be done in this Affair. Oh, never was
+the like heard of.--
+    [Goes out, _Fanny_ and _Nurse_ go the other way.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _The Lady _Fancy's_ Bed-Chamber; she's discover'd with
+_Wittmore_ in disorder. A Table, Sword, and Hat._
+
+_Maun._ [Entering.] O Madam, Sir _Patient's_ coming up.
+
+L. _Fan._ Coming up, say you!
+
+_Maun._ He's almost on the top of the Stairs, Madam.
+
+_Wit._ What shall I do?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, damn him, I know not; if he see thee here after my
+pretended Illness, he must needs discover why I feign'd.--I have no
+excuse ready,--this Chamber's unlucky, there's no avoiding him;
+here--step behind the Bed; perhaps he has only forgot his Psalm-Book and
+will not stay long.
+    [_Wittmore_ runs behind the Bed.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh, pardon this Interruption, my Lady _Fancy_--Oh, I am
+half killed, my Daughter, my Honour--my Daughter, my Reputation.
+
+L. _Fan._ Good Heavens, Sir, is she dead?
+
+Sir _Pat._ I wou'd she were, her Portion and her Honour would then be
+sav'd. But oh, I'm sick at Heart, _Maundy_, fetch me the Bottle of
+_Mirabilis_ in the Closet,--she's wanton, unchaste.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ with the Bottle.
+
+Oh, I cannot speak it; oh, the Bottle-- [Drinks.] she has lost her Fame,
+her Shame, her Name.--Oh, [Drinks.] that is not the right Bottle, that
+with the red Cork [Drinks.]
+
+    [Exit _Maundy_.
+
+and is grown a very t'other-end-of-the-Town Creature, a very Apple of
+_Sodom_, fair without and filthy within, what shall we do with her?
+she's lost, undone; hah!
+
+    Enter _Maundy_.
+
+let me see, [Drinks.] this is [Drinks.] not as I take it-- [Drinks.]
+--no, 'tis not the right,--she's naught, she's leud, [Drinks.] --oh, how
+you vex me-- [Drinks.] This is not the right Bottle yet,-- [Drinks.] No,
+no, here.
+    [Gives her the Bottle.
+
+_Maun._ You said that with the red Cork, Sir.    [Goes out.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I meant the blue;--I know not what I say.-- In fine, my Lady,
+let's marry her out of hand, for she is fall'n, fall'n to Perdition; she
+understands more Wickedness than had she been bred in a profane Nunnery,
+a Court,
+
+    Enter _Maundy_.
+
+or a Play-house, [Drinks.] --therefore let's marry her instantly, out of
+hand [Drinks.] Misfortune on Misfortune. [Drinks.] --But Patience is a
+wonderful Virtue, [Drinks.] --Ha--this is very comfortable,--very
+consoling--I profess if it were not for these Creatures, ravishing
+Comforts, sometimes, a Man were a very odd sort of an Animal [Drinks.]
+But ah--see how all things were ordain'd for the use and comfort of Man.
+    [Drinks.]
+
+L. _Fan._ I like this well: Ah, Sir, 'tis very true, therefore receive
+it plentifully and thankfully.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Drinks.] Ingenuously--it hath made me marvellous lightsome;
+I profess it hath a very notable Faculty,--very knavish--and as it were,
+waggish,--but hah, what have we there on the Table? a Sword and Hat?
+    [Sees _Wittmore's_ Sword and Hat on the Table, which he had
+    forgot.
+
+L. _Fan._ Curse on my Dulness.--Oh, these, Sir, they are Mr.
+_Fainlove's_--he being so soon to be marry'd and being straitned for
+time, sent these to _Maundy_ to be new trim'd with Ribbon, Sir--that's
+all. Take 'em away, you naughty Baggage, must I have Mens things seen in
+my Chamber?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, nay, be not angry, my little Rogue; I like the young
+Man's Frugality well. Go, go your ways, get you gone, and finefy your
+Knacks and Tranghams, and do your Business--go.
+    [Smiling on _Maundy_, gently beating her with his Hand: she goes
+    out, he bolts the Door after her, and sits down on the Bed's feet.
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens, what means he!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Come hither to me, my little Ape's Face,--Come, come I
+say--what, must I come fetch you?--Catch her, catch her--catch her,
+catch her, catch her.
+    [Running after her.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, Sir, I am so ill I can hardly stir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'll make ye well, come hither, ye Monky-face, did it, did
+it, did it? alas for it, a poor silly Fool's Face, dive it a blow, and
+I'll beat it.
+
+L. _Fan._ You neglect your Devotion, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No, no, no Prayer to day, my little Rascal,--no Prayer to
+day--poor _Gogle's_ sick.--Come hither, why, you refractory Baggage you,
+come or I shall touze you, ingenuously I shall; tom, tom, or I'll whip
+it.
+
+L. _Fan._ Have you forgot your Daughter, Sir, and your Disgrace?
+
+Sir _Pat._ A fiddle on my Daughter, she's a Chick of the old Cock I
+profess; I was just such another Wag when young.--But she shall be
+marry'd to morrow, a good Cloke for her Knavery; therefore come your
+ways, ye Wag, we'll take a nap together: good faith, my little Harlot,
+I mean thee no harm.
+
+L. _Fan._ No, o' my Conscience.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why then, why then, you little Mungrel?
+
+L. _Fan._ His precise Worship is as it were disguis'd, the outward Man
+is over-taken--pray, Sir, lie down, and I'll come to you presently.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Away, you Wag, will you? will you?--Catch her there, catch
+her.
+
+L. _Fan._ I will indeed,--Death, there's no getting from him,--pray lie
+down--and I'll cover thee close enough I'll warrant thee.-- [Aside.
+    [He lies down, she covers him.
+  Had ever Lovers such spiteful luck! hah--surely he sleeps, bless the
+mistaken Bottle.--Ay, he sleeps,--whilst, _Wittmore_--
+    [He coming out falls; pulls the Chair down, Sir _Patient_ flings
+    open the Curtain.
+
+_Wit._ Plague of my over-care, what shall I do?
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's that, what Noise is that? let me see, we are not safe;
+lock up the Doors, what's the matter? What Thunder-Clap was that?
+    [_Wittmore_ runs under the Bed; she runs to Sir _Patient_, and
+    holds him in his Bed.
+
+L. _Fan._ Pray, Sir, lie still, 'twas I was only going to sit down, and
+a sudden Giddiness took me in my Head, which made me fall, and with me
+the Chair; there is no danger near ye, Sir--I was just coming to sleep
+by you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Go, you're a flattering Huswife; go, catch her, catch her,
+catch her.
+    [Lies down, she covers him.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, how I tremble at the dismal apprehension of being
+discover'd! Had I secur'd my self of the eight thousand Pound, I wou'd
+not value _Wittmore's_ being seen. But now to be found out, wou'd call
+my Wit in question, for 'tis the Fortunate alone are wise.--
+    [_Wittmore_ peeps from under the Bed; she goes softly to the Door
+    to open it.
+
+_Wit._ Was ever Man so plagu'd?--hah--what's this?--confound my
+tell-tale Watch, the Larum goes, and there's no getting to't to silence
+it.--Damn'd Misfortune!
+    [Sir _Patient_ rises, and flings open the Curtains.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, what's that?
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens! what's the matter? we are destin'd to discovery.
+    [She runs to Sir _Patient_, and leaves the Door still fast.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's that I say, what's that? let me see, let me see, what
+ringing's that, Oh, let me see what 'tis.
+    [Strives to get up, she holds him down.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, now I see my Fate's inevitable! Alas, that ever I was born
+to see't.
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Wit._ Death, she'll tell him I am here: Nay, he must know't, a Pox of
+all Invention and Mechanicks, and he were damn'd that first contriv'd a
+Watch.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, dost weep?--why dost weep? I say, what Noise is that?
+what ringing? hah.--
+
+L. _Fan._ 'Tis that, 'tis that, my Dear, that makes me weep. Alas,
+I never hear this fatal Noise, but some dear Friend dies.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, dies! Oh, that must be I, ay, ay, Oh.
+
+L. _Fan._ I've heard it, Sir, this two Days, but wou'd not tell you of
+it.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah! heard it these two Days! Oh, what is't a
+Death-watch?--hah.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Ay, Sir, a Death-watch, a certain Larum Death-watch, a thing
+that has warn'd our Family this hundred Years, oh,--I'm the most undone
+Woman!
+
+_Wit._ A Blessing on her for a dear dissembling Jilt--Death and the
+Devil, will it never cease?
+
+Sir _Pat._ A Death-watch! ah, 'tis so, I've often heard of these
+things--methinks it sounds as if 'twere under the Bed.--
+    [Offers to look, she holds him.
+
+L. _Fan._ You think so, Sir, but that 'tis about the Bed is my Grief; it
+therefore threatens you: Oh wretched Woman!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, I'm too happy in a Wife to live long: Well, I will
+settle my House at _Hogsdowne_, with the Land about it, which is 500_l._
+a Year upon thee, live or die,--do not grieve.--
+    [Lays himself down.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, I never had more Cause; come try to sleep, your Fate may
+be diverted--whilst I'll to Prayers for your dear Health.-- [Covers him,
+draws the Curtains.] I have almost run out all my stock of Hypocrisy,
+and that hated Art now fails me.--Oh all ye Powers that favour distrest
+Lovers, assist us now, and I'll provide against your future Malice.
+    [She makes Signs to _Wittmore_, he peeps.
+
+_Wit._ I'm impatient of Freedom, yet so much Happiness as I but now
+injoy'd without this part of Suffering had made me too blest.--Death and
+Damnation! what curst luck have I?
+
+    [Makes Signs to her to open the Door: whilst he creeps softly from
+    under the Bed to the Table, by which going to raise himself, he
+    pulls down all the Dressing-things: at the same instant Sir
+    _Patient_ leaps from the Bed, and she returns from the Door, and
+    sits on _Wittmore's_ Back as he lies on his Hands and Knees, and
+    makes as if she swooned.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's the matter? what's the matter? has Satan broke his
+everlasting Chain, and got loose abroad to plague poor Mortals?
+hah--what's the matter?
+    [Runs to his Lady.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, help, I die--I faint--run down, and call for help.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Lady dying? oh, she's gone, she faints,--what ho, who
+waits?
+    [Cries and bauls.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, go down and bring me help, the Door is lock'd,--they
+cannot hear ye,--oh--I go--I die.--
+    [He opens the Door, and calls help, help.
+
+_Wit._ Damn him! there's no escaping without I kill the Dog.
+    [From under her, peeping.
+
+L. _Fan._ Lie still, or we are undone.--
+
+    Sir _Patient_ returns with _Maundy_.
+
+_Maun._ Hah, discover'd!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Help, help, my Lady dies.
+
+_Maun._ Oh, I perceive how'tis.--Alas, she's dead, quite gone; oh, rub
+her Temples, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, I'm undone then,-- [Weeps.] Oh my Dear, my virtuous Lady!
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, where's my Husband, my dearest Husband--Oh, bring him near
+me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'm here, my excellent Lady.--
+    [She takes him about the Neck, and raises her self up, gives
+    _Wittmore_ a little kick behind.
+
+_Wit._ Oh the dear lovely Hypocrite, was ever Man so near discovery?--
+    [Goes out.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, how hard she presses my Head to her Bosom!
+
+_Maun._ Ah, that grasping hard, Sir, is a very bad Sign.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How does my good, my dearest Lady _Fancy_?
+
+L. _Fan._ Something better now, give me more Air,--that dismal Larum
+Death-watch had almost kill'd me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah precious Creature, how she afflicts her self for
+me.--Come, let's walk into the Dining-room, 'tis more airy, from thence
+into my Study, and make thy self Mistress of that Fortune I have
+design'd thee, thou best of Women.
+
+    [Exeunt, leading her.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Room in Sir _Patient Fancy's_ House. A Table, and six
+Chairs._
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ reading a Letter, _Betty_ tricking her.
+
+_Isab._ How came you by this Letter?
+
+_Bet._ Miss _Fanny_ receiv'd it by a String from his Window, by which he
+took up that you writ to him this Morning.
+
+_Isab._ What means this nicety? forbear I say.--
+    [Puts _Betty_ from her.
+
+_Bet._ You cannot be too fine upon your Wedding-day.
+
+_Isab._ Thou art mistaken, leave me,--whatever he says here to satisfy
+my Jealousy, I am confirm'd that he was false: yet this assurance to
+free me from this intended Marriage, makes me resolve to pardon him,
+however guilty.--
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+How now! what means this Insolence? How dare you, having so lately made
+your guilty approaches, venture again into my presence?
+
+_Wit._ Why? Is there any danger, but what's so visible in those fair
+Eyes?
+
+_Isab._ And there may lie enough, Sir, when they're angry. By what
+Authority do you make this saucy Visit?
+
+_Wit._ That of a Husband, Madam; I come to congratulate the mighty Joy
+this Day will bring you.
+
+_Isab._ Thou darst not marry me, there will be danger in't.
+
+_Wit._ Why, sure you do not carry Death in your Embraces, I find no
+Terror in that lovely Shape, no Daggers in that pretty scornful Look;
+that Breath that utters so much Anger now, last night was sweet as
+new-blown Roses are,--and spoke such Words, so tender and so kind.
+
+_Isab._ And canst thou think they were address'd to thee?
+
+_Wit._ No, nor cou'd the Shade of Night hide the Confusion which
+disorder'd you, at the discovery that I was not he, the blessed he you
+look'd for.
+
+_Isab._ Leave me, thou hated Object of my Soul.
+
+_Wit._ This will not serve your turn, for I must marry you.
+
+_Isab._ Then thou art a Fool, and drawest thy Ruin on; why, I will hate
+thee,--hate thee most extremely.
+
+_Wit._ That will not anger me.
+
+_Isab._ Why, I will never let thee touch me, nor kiss my Hand, nor come
+into my sight.
+
+_Wit._ Are there no other Women kind, fair, and to be purchas'd? he
+cannot starve for Beauty in this Age, that has a stock to buy.
+
+_Isab._ Why, I will cuckold thee, look to't, I will most damnably.
+
+_Wit._ So wou'd you, had you lov'd me, in a year or two; therefore like
+a kind civil Husband, I've made provision for you, a Friend, and one I
+dare trust my Honour with,--'tis Mr. _Knowell_, Madam.
+
+_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ What Devil brought that Name to his knowledge?--Canst
+thou know him, and yet dare hope to marry me?
+
+_Wit._ We have agreed it, and on these conditions.
+
+_Isab._ Thou basely injurest him, he cannot do a Deed he ought to blush
+for: _Lodwick_ do this! Oh, do not credit it,--prithee be just and kind
+for thy own Honour's sake; be quickly so, the hasty minutes fly, and
+will anon make up the fatal Hour that will undo me.
+
+_Wit._ 'Tis true, within an hour you must submit to _Hymen_, there's no
+avoiding it.
+
+_Isab._ Nay, then be gone, my poor submissive Prayers, and all that dull
+Obedience Custom has made us Slaves to.--Do sacrifice me, lead me to the
+Altar, and see if all the holy mystick Words can conjure from me the
+consenting Syllable: No, I will not add one word to make the Charm
+complete, but stand as silent in the inchanting Circle, as if the
+Priests were raising Devils there.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Enough, enough, my charming _Isabella_, I am confirm'd.
+
+_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ what good Angel conducted thee hither?
+
+_Lod._ E'en honest _Charles Wittmore_ here, thy Friend and mine, no
+Bug-bear Lover he.
+
+_Isab._ _Wittmore!_ that Friend I've often heard thee name? Now some
+kind mischief on him, he has so frighted me, I scarce can bring my Sense
+to so much order, to thank him that he loves me not.
+
+_Lod._ Thou shalt defer that payment to more leisure; we're Men of
+business now. My Mother, knowing of a Consultation of Physicians which
+your Father has this day appointed to meet at his House, has bribed
+Monsieur _Turboone_ his _French_ Doctor in Pension, to admit of a Doctor
+or two of her recommending, who shall amuse him with discourse till we
+get ourselves married; and to make it the more ridiculous, I will
+release Sir _Credulous_ from the Basket, I saw it in the Hall as I came
+through, we shall have need of the Fool.
+    [Exit _Wittmore_.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_, pulling in the Basket.
+
+_Wit._ 'Twill do well.
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous_, how is't, Man?    [Opens the Basket.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What, am I not at the Carrier's yet?--Oh _Lodwick_, thy
+Hand, I'm almost poison'd--This Basket wants airing extremely, it smells
+like an old Lady's Wedding Gown of my acquaintance.--But what's the
+danger past, Man?
+
+_Lod._ No, but there's a necessity of your being for some time disguis'd
+to act a Physician.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How! a Physician! that I can easily do, for I understand
+Simples.
+
+_Lod._ That's not material, so you can but banter well, be very grave,
+and put on a starch'd Countenance.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Banter! what's that, Man?
+
+_Lod._ Why, Sir, talking very much, and meaning just nothing; be full of
+Words without any connection, sense or conclusion. Come in with me, and
+I'll instruct you farther.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Pshaw, is that all? say no more on't, I'll do't, let me
+alone for Bantering--But this same damn'd Rival--
+
+_Lod._ He's now watching for you without and means to souse upon you;
+but trust to me for your security; come away, I have your Habit ready.
+[Goes out.] --This day shall make thee mine, dear _Isabella_.--
+
+    [Exit _Lodwick_ and _Wittmore_.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_, _Leander_, and _Roger_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Marry _Lucretia_! is there no Woman in the City fit for you,
+but the Daughter of the most notorious fantastical Lady within the
+Walls?
+
+_Lean._ Yet that fantastical Lady you thought fit for a Wife for me,
+Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, Sir, Foppery with Money had been something; but a poor
+Fop, hang't, 'tis abominable.
+
+_Lean._ Pray hear me, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sirrah, Sirrah, you're a Jackanapes, ingenuously you are,
+Sir: marry _Lucretia_, quoth he?
+
+_Lean._ If it were so, Sir, where's her fault?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, Mr. Coxcomb, all over. Did I with so much care endeavour
+to marry thee to the Mother, only to give thee opportunity with
+_Lucretia_?
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_.
+
+_Lean._ This Anger shews your great Concern for me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ For my Name I am, but 'twere no matter if thou wert hang'd,
+and thou deservest it for thy leud cavaliering Opinion.--They say thou
+art a Papist too, or at least a Church-of-_England_ Man, and I profess
+there's not a Pin to chuse.--Marry _Lucretia_!
+
+L. _Kno._ Were I querimonious, I shou'd resent the Affront this
+_Balatroon_ has offer'd me.
+
+_Isab._ Dear Madam, for my sake do not anger him now.    [Aside to her.
+
+L. _Kno._ Upon my Honour, you are very free with my Daughter, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! she here! now for a Peal from her eternal Clapper; I had
+rather be confin'd to an Iron-mill.
+
+L. _Kno._ Sure _Lucretia_ merits a Husband of as much worth as your
+Nephew, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A better, Madam, for he's the leudest Hector in the Town; he
+has all the Vices of Youth, Whoring, Swearing, Drinking, Damning,
+Fighting,--and a thousand more, numberless and nameless.
+
+L. _Kno._ Time, Sir, may make him more abstemious.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, never, Madam! 'tis in's Nature, he was born with it, he's
+given over to Reprobation, 'tis bred i'th' bone,--he's lost.
+
+_Lean._ This is the first good Office that ever he did me.
+
+L. _Kno._ What think you, Sir, if in defiance of your Inurbanity, I take
+him with all these Faults my self?
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Madam!
+
+L. _Kno._ Without more Ambages, Sir, I have consider'd your former
+Desires, and have consented to marry him, notwithstanding your
+Exprobrations.
+
+Sir _Pat._ May I believe this, Madam? and has your Ladyship that
+Goodness?--and hast thou, my Boy, so much Wit? Why, this is something
+now.--Well, he was ever the best and sweetest-natur'd Youth.--Why, what
+a notable Wag's this? and is it true, my Boy, hah?
+
+_Lean._ Yes, Sir, I had told you so before, had you permitted me to
+speak.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Madam, he is only fit for your excellent Ladyship, he
+is the prettiest civillest Lad.--Well, go thy ways; I shall never see
+the like of thee; no--Ingenuously, the Boy's made for ever; two thousand
+Pounds a Year, besides Money, Plate and Jewels; made for ever.--Well,
+Madam, the satisfaction I take in this Alliance, has made me resolve to
+give him immediately my Writings of all my Land in _Berkshire_, five
+hundred Pounds a year, Madam: and I wou'd have you married this Morning
+with my Daughter, so one Dinner and one Rejoicing will serve both.
+
+L. _Kno._ That, Sir, we have already agreed upon.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, I'll fetch the Writings. Come, _Isabella_, I'll not
+trust you out of my sight to day.
+
+    [Ex. Sir _Pat._ and _Isab._
+
+_Lean._ Well then, Madam, you are resolv'd upon this business of
+Matrimony.
+
+L. _Kno._ Was it not concluded between us, Sir, this Morning? and at the
+near approach do you begin to fear?
+
+_Lean._ Nothing, Madam, since I'm convinc'd of your Goodness.
+
+L. _Kno._ You flatter, Sir, this is mere Adulation.
+
+_Lean._ No, I am that wild Extravagant my Uncle render'd me, and cannot
+live confin'd.
+
+L. _Kno._ To one Woman you mean? I shall not stand with you for a
+Mistress or two; I hate a dull morose unfashionable Blockhead to my
+Husband; nor shall I be the first example of a suffering Wife, Sir.
+Women were created poor obedient things.
+
+_Lean._ And can you be content to spare me five or six nights in a week?
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, you're too reasonable.
+
+_Lean._ And for the rest, if I get drunk, perhaps I'll give to you: yet
+in my drink I'm damn'd ill-natur'd too, and may neglect my Duty; perhaps
+shall be so wicked, to call you cunning, deceitful, jilting, base, and
+swear you have undone me, swear you have ravish'd from my faithful Heart
+all that cou'd make it bless'd or happy.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_ weeping.
+
+L. _Kno._ How now, _Lucretia_!
+
+_Lucr._ Oh Madam, give me leave to kneel before, and tell you, if you
+pursue the Cruelty I hear you're going to commit, I am the most lost,
+most wretched Maid that breathes; we two have plighted Faiths, and
+shou'd you marry him, 'twere so to sin as Heaven would never pardon.
+
+L. _Kno._ Rise, Fool.
+
+_Lucr._ Never till you have given me back _Leander_, or leave to live no
+more.--Pray kill me, Madam; and the same Flowers that deck your nuptial
+Bed,
+  Shall serve to strow my Herse, when I shall lie
+  A dead cold Witness of your Tyranny.
+
+L. _Kno._ Rise; I still design'd him yours.--I saw with pleasure, Sir,
+your reclination from my Addresses.--I have proved both your Passions,
+and 'twere unkind not to crown 'em with the due Præmium of each others
+Merits.
+    [Gives her to _Lean._
+
+_Lean._ Can Heaven and you agree to be so bountiful?
+
+L. _Kno._ Be not amaz'd at this turn, _Rotat omne fatum_.--But no
+more,--keep still that mask of Love we first put on, till you have
+gain'd the Writings: for I have no Joy beyond cheating that filthy Uncle
+of thine.--_Lucretia_, wipe your Eyes, and prepare for _Hymen_, the Hour
+draws near. _Thalessio_, _Thalessio_, as the _Romans_ cry'd.
+
+_Lucr._ May you still be admir'd as you deserve!
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ with Writings, and _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Madam _Lucretia_, and in Tears?
+
+L. _Kno._ A little disgusted, Sir, with her Father-in-law, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, is that all? hold up thy Head, Sweet-heart, thy turn's
+next.--Here, Madam, I surrender my Title, with these Writings, and with
+'em my Joy, my Life, my Darling, my _Leander_.--Now let's away, where's
+Mr. _Fainlove_?
+
+_Isab._ He's but stept into _Cheapside_, to fit the Ring, Sir, and will
+be here immediately.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I have Business anon about eleven of the Clock,
+a Consultation of Physicians, to confer about this Carcase of mine.
+
+_Lean._ Physicians, Sir, what to do?
+
+Sir _Pat._ To do! why, to take their advice, Sir, and to follow it.
+
+_Lean._ For what, I beseech you, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, Sir, for my Health.
+
+_Lean._ I believe you are not sick, Sir, unless they make you so.
+
+Sir _Pat._ They make me so!--Do you hear him, Madam--Am not I sick, Sir?
+not I, Sir _Patient Fancy_, sick?
+
+L. _Kno._ He'll destroy my Design.--How, Mr. _Fancy_, not Sir _Patient_
+sick? or must he be incinerated before you'll credit it?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, Madam, I want but dying to undeceive him, and yet I am
+not sick!
+
+_Lean._ Sir, I love your Life, and wou'd not have you die with Fancy and
+Conceit.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Fancy and Conceit! do but observe him, Madam,--what do you
+mean, Sir, by Fancy and Conceit?
+
+L. _Kno._ He'll ruin all;--why, Sir,--he means--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, let him alone, let him alone, (with your Ladyship's
+pardon)--Come, Sir,--Fancy and Conceit, I take it, was the Question in
+debate.--
+
+_Lean._ I cannot prove this to you, Sir, by force of Argument, but by
+Demonstration I will, if you will banish all your cozening Quacks, and
+take my wholesome Advice.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Do but hear him, Madam: not prove it!
+
+L. _Kno._ Sir, he means nothing.--Not sick! alas, Sir, you're very sick.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, your Ladyship is a Lady of profound Knowledge.--Why,
+have I not had the advice of all the Doctors in _England_, and have I
+not been in continual Physick this twenty Years:--and yet I am not sick!
+Ask my dear Lady, Sir, how sick I am, she can inform you.
+    [L. _Kno._ goes and talks to _Isab._
+
+_Lean._ She does her endeavour, Sir, to keep up the Humour.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Sir?
+
+_Lean._ She wishes you dead, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What said the Rascal? wishes me dead!
+
+_Lean._ Sir, she hates you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! hate me! what, my Lady hate me?
+
+_Lean._ She abuses your Love, plays tricks with ye, and cheats ye, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Was ever so profane a Wretch! What, you will not prove this
+neither?
+
+_Lean._ Yes, by demonstration too.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, thou saucy Varlet, Sirrah, Sirrah, thank my Lady here I
+do not cudgel thee.--Well, I will settle the rest of my Estate upon her
+to morrow, I will, Sir; and thank God you have what you have, Sir, make
+much on't.
+
+_Lean._ Pardon me, Sir, 'tis not my single Opinion, but the whole City
+takes notice on't: that I tell it you, Sir, is the Effect of my Duty,
+not Interest. Pray give me leave to prove this to you, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What, you are at your Demonstration again?--come--let's hear.
+
+_Lean._ Why, Sir, give her frequent opportunities,--and then surprize
+her;--or, by pretending to settle all upon her,--give her your Power,
+and see if she do not turn you out of Doors;--or--by feigning you are
+sick to death--or indeed by dying.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I thank you, Sir,--this indeed is Demonstration, I take it.
+    [Pulls off his Hat.
+
+_Lean._ I mean but feigning, Sir; and be a witness your self of her
+Sorrow, or Contempt.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Pauses.] Hah--hum,--why, ingenuously, this may be a very
+pretty Project.--Well, Sir, suppose I follow your advice?--nay,
+I profess I will do so, not to try her Faith, but to have the pleasure
+to hear her conjugal Lamentations, feel her Tears bedew my Face, and her
+sweet Mouth kissing my Cheeks a thousand times; verily a wonderful
+Comfort.--And then, Sir, what becomes of your Demonstration?--
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_ with the Ring.
+
+Oh--Mr. _Fainlove_, come, come, you're tardy, let's away to Church.
+
+    Enter _Roger_.
+
+_Rog._ Sir, here is Doctor _Turboon_, and those other Doctors your
+Worship expected.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Bartholomew_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ The Doctors already!--well, bring 'em up; come, Madam, we
+have waited for your Ladyship,--bring up the Doctors, _Roger_.
+    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Wittmore_, I have now brought that design to a happy
+Conclusion, for which I married this formal Ass; I'll tell thee more
+anon,--we are observ'd.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, _Lodwick's_ come!
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_, Monsieur _Turboon_, Fat Doctor, _Amsterdam_,
+    _Leyden_, Sir _Credulous_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Doctor _Turboon_, your Servant, I expected you not this two
+hours.
+
+_Turb._ Nor had ee com, Sir, bot for dese wordy Gentlemen, whos Affairs
+wode not permit dem to come at your hoar.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Are they English pray?
+
+_Turb._ Dis is, Sir,-- [Pointing to _Lod._] an admirable Physician, and
+a rare Astrologer.--Dis speaks good _English_, bot a _Collender_ born.
+    [Points to Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ What a pox, does the Fellow call me a Cullender?
+
+_Lod._ He means a _High-Dutch-man_ of the Town of _Collen_, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, I have heard of your Fame.--Doctor, pray entertain these
+Gentlemen till my return, I'll be with you presently.
+
+_Lod._ Sir, I hope you go not forth to day.    [Gazing on his Face.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Not far, Sir.
+
+_Lod._ There is a certain Star has rul'd this two days, Sir, of a very
+malignant Influence to Persons of your Complection and
+Constitution.--Let me see--within this two hours and six minutes, its
+Malice will be spent, till then it will be fatal.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hum, reign'd this two Days?--I profess and things have gone
+very cross with me this two Days,--a notable Man this.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, a very profound Astrologer, Sir, upon my Honour, I know
+him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But this is an Affair of that Importance, Sir,--
+
+_Lod._ If it be more than Health or Life, I beg your pardon, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, no Offence, Sir, I beseech you, I'll stay, Sir.
+
+L. _Kno._ How! Sir _Patient_ not see us married?
+
+Sir _Pat._ You shall excuse me, Madam.
+
+L. _Fan._ This was lucky; Oh Madam, wou'd you have my Dear venture out,
+when a malignant Star reigns! not for the World.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No, I'll not stir; had it been any Star but a malignant Star,
+I had waited on your Ladyship: but these malignant Stars are very
+pernicious Stars. Nephew, take my Lady _Knowell_, Mr. _Fainlove_ my
+Daughter; and _Bartholomew_ do you conduct my Lady, the Parson stays for
+you, and the Coaches are at the Door.
+
+    [Exeunt L. _Kno._ _Lean._ _Wit._ and _Isab._ L. _Fancy_ and
+    _Bartholomew_.
+
+    Enter _Boy_.
+
+_Boy._ Sir, my Lady has sent for you.    [Exit.
+
+_Lod._ Sir, I'll be with you presently; Sir _Credulous_, be sure you lug
+him by the Ears with any sort of Stuff till my return. I'll send you a
+Friend to keep you in countenance.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Please you to sit, Gentlemen?    [Exit _Lod._
+
+_Amst._ Please you, Sir.    [To Sir _Cred._ who bows and runs back.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh Lord, sweet Sir, I hope you do not take me--Nay,
+I beseech you, Noble Sir--Reverend Sir.
+    [Turning from one to t'other.
+
+_Leyd._ By no means, Sir, a Stranger.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I beseech you--_Scavantissimi Doctores_,--incomparable
+Sir,--and you--or you.
+
+_Fat_ D. In troth, Sir, these Compliments are needless, I am something
+corpulent, and love my ease.
+    [Sits.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Generous Sir, you say well; therefore _Conlicentia_, as the
+_Grecians_ have it.
+    [Sits.
+
+_Amst._ --Brother.--
+
+_Leyd._ Nay, good Brother,--Sir _Patient_--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ingenuously, not before you, Mr. Doctor.
+
+_Leyd._ Excuse me, Sir, an Alderman, and a Knight.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Both below the least of the learned Society.
+
+_Leyd._ Since you will have it so.
+    [All sit and cry hum,--and look gravely.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Hum--hum, most Worthy, and most Renowned--_Medicinæ
+Professores, qui hic assemblati estis, & vos altri Messiores_; I am now
+going to make a Motion for the publick Good of us all, but will do
+nothing without your Doctorships Approbation.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Judiciously concluded.
+
+Sir _Cred._ The question then is, _Reverentissimi Doctores_,
+whether--for mark me, I come to the matter in hand, hating long
+Circumstances of Words; there being no necessity, as our learned Brother
+_Rabelais_ observes in that most notorious Treatise of his call'd
+_Garagantua_; there is, says he, no necessity of going over the Hedge
+when the Path lies fair before ye: therefore, as I said before, I now
+say again, coming to my Question; for as that admirable _Welch_ Divine
+says, in that so famous Sermon of his, upon her Creat Cranfather _Hadam_
+and her Creat Cranmother _Heeve_ concerning the Happell,--and her will,
+warrant her, her will keep her to her Text still,--so I stick close to
+my question, which is, _Illustrissimi Doctores_, whether it be not
+necessary to the Affair in hand--to take--a Bottle; and if your
+Doctorships are of my opinion--hold up your Thumbs.
+    [All hold up their Thumbs.
+  --Look, Sir, you observe the Votes of the learned _Cabalists_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Which shall be put in Act forthwith--I like this Man well, he
+does nothing without mature Deliberation.
+
+    Enter _Brunswick_.
+
+_Brun._ By your leaves, Gentlemen--Sir _Credulous_--    [Whispers.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh--'tis _Lodwick's_ Friend, the Rascal's dress'd like
+_Vanderbergen_ in the _Strand_:--Sir _Patient_, pray know this glorious
+Doctor, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A Doctor, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Doctor, Sir! yes, and as eloquent a Doctor, Sir, as ever
+set Bill to Post: why, 'tis--the incomparable--_Brunswick_, _High-Dutch_
+Doctor.
+
+Sir _Pat._ You're welcome, Sir,--Pray sit; ah.--Well, Sir, you are come
+to visit a very crazy sickly Person, Sir.
+
+_Brun._ Pray let me feel your Pulse, Sir;--what think you, Gentlemen, is
+he not very far gone?--
+    [Feels his Pulse, they all feel.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ah, far, far.--Pray, Sir, have you not a certain wambling
+Pain in your Stomach, Sir, as it were, Sir, a--a pain, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, very great, Sir, especially in a Morning fasting.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I knew it by your stinking Breath, Sir--and are you not
+troubled with a Pain in your Head, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ In my Head, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ I mean a--kind of a--Pain,--a kind of a _Vertigo_, as the
+_Latins_ call it; and a _Whirligigoustiphon_, as the _Greeks_ have it,
+which signifies in _English_, Sir, a Dizzie-swimming kind--of a do ye
+see--a thing--that--a--you understand me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, intolerable, intolerable!--why, this is a rare Man!
+
+_Fat_ D. Your Reason, Sir, for that?    [To Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ My Reason, Sir? why, my Reason, Sir, is this, _Haly_ the
+_Moore_, and _Rabbi Isaac_, and some thousands more of learned
+_Dutchmen_, observe your dull Wall Eye and your
+Whir--_Whirligigoustiphon_, to be inseparable.
+
+_Brun._ A most learned Reason!
+
+_Fat_ D. Oh, Sir, inseparable.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And have you not a kind of a--something--do ye mark me, when
+you make Water, a kind of a stopping--and--a--do ye conceive me, I have
+forgot the _English_ Term, Sir, but in Latin 'tis a _Stronggullionibus_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, Sir, most extremely, 'tis that which makes me desperate,
+Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Your ugly Face is an infallible Sign; your _Dysurie_, as the
+_Arabicks_ call it, and your ill-favour'd Countenance, are constant
+Relatives.
+
+_All._ Constant, constant.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Pray how do you eat, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, Sir, there's my distraction. Alas, Sir, I have the
+weakest Stomach--I do not make above four Meals a-day, and then indeed I
+eat heartily--but alas, what's that to eating to live?--nothing, Sir,
+nothing.--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Poor Heart, I pity him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And between Meals, good Wine, Sweet-meats, Caudles,--Cordials
+and Mirabilises, to keep up my fainting Spirits.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Aldermanship: an the whole Bench were such
+notable Swingers, 'twould famish the City sooner than a Siege.
+
+_Amst._ Brothers, what do you think of this Man?
+
+_Leyd._ Think, Sir? I think his Case is desperate.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Shaw, Sir, we shall soon rectify the quiblets and quillities
+of his Blood, if he observes our Directions and Diet, which is to eat
+but once in four or five days.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Sir, eat but once in four or five days? such a Diet,
+Sir, would kill me; alas, Sir, kill me.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh no, Sir, no; for look ye, Sir, the Case is thus, do you
+mind me--so that the Business lying so obvious, do ye see, there is a
+certain Method, do ye mark me--in a--Now, Sir, when a Man goes about to
+alter the course of Nature,--the case is very plain, you may as well
+arrest the Chariot of the Sun, or alter the Eclipses of the Moon; for,
+Sir, this being of another Nature, the Nature of it is to be unnatural,
+you conceive me, Sir?--therefore we must crave your absence, Sir, for a
+few Minutes, till we have debated this great Affair.
+
+Sir _Pat._ With all my heart, Sir, since my Case is so desperate, a few
+hours were not too much.
+    [Ex. Sir _Pat._
+
+Sir _Cred._ Now, Sir, my service to you.    [Drinks.
+
+    Enter _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they
+are a sort of new-fashion'd Conventiclers:--I'll hear 'em preach.
+    [They drink round the while.
+
+_Amst._ Sir, my service to you, and to your good Lady, Sir.
+
+_Leyd._ Again to you, Sir, not forgetting your Daughters: they are fine
+Women, Sir, let Scandal do its worst.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Turb._ To our better trading, Sir.
+
+_Brun._ Faith, it goes but badly on, I had the weekly Bill, and 'twas a
+very thin Mortality; some of the better sort die indeed, that have good
+round Fees to give.
+
+_Turb._ Verily, I have not kill'd above my five or six this Week.
+
+_Brun._ How, Sir, kill'd?
+
+_Turb._ Kill'd, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the
+grand _Verole_; for 'tis not for a Man's Credit to let the Patient want
+an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill'd ye my five or six
+dozen a Week--but times are hard.
+
+_Brun._ I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of
+Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to
+sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation.
+    [Sir _Cred._ and _Fat_ seeming in Discourse.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir--
+[Drinks.] Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in all _Devonshire_.
+
+_Fat_ D. And I the finest Spaniel, Sir.
+    [Here they all talk together till you come to--_purpose, Sir_.
+
+_Turb._ Pray, what News is there stirring?
+
+_Brun._ Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whether
+_Lewis_ or _Philip_ have the better or the worst.
+
+_Turb._ Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.
+
+_Brun._ You are i'th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.
+
+_Leyd._ Well, Sir, _Stetin_ held out nobly, though the Gazettes are
+various.
+
+_Amst._ There's a world of Men kill'd they say; why, what a shame 'tis
+so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.
+
+_Leyd._ Hang 'em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my
+service to you, Sir, they'll serve to fill up Trenches.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses
+better than my self.
+
+_Fat_ D. Your pardon for that, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ For look ye, Sir, I'll tell you the Nature of Dogs and
+Horses.
+
+_Fat_ D. So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what's this to th' purpose,
+Sir?
+    [Here they leave off.
+
+Sir _Cred._ To th' purpose, Sir! good Mr. _Hedleburgh_, do you
+understand what's to th' purpose? you're a _Dutch_ Butter-ferkin,
+a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.
+
+_Fat_ D. You're an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.
+
+_Amst._ What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.
+
+Sir _Cred._ That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is't since
+you left Toping and Napping, for Quacking, good Brother Cater-tray?--but
+let that pass, for I'll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with
+no Man, and so I drink.--
+    [Goes to fill again.
+
+_Brun._ --But, what's all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay,--the Wine's all out,--and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as
+you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive
+necessary to be said for our Fees.
+
+_Fat_ D. I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he's a dead
+Man.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, a dead Man.
+
+_Fat_ D. Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor.
+    [To _Amst._
+
+_Amst._ Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I
+at the Board.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dying [Aside.]
+--Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years.
+    [They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other.
+
+_Amst._ I commenc'd at _Paris_ twenty years ago.
+
+_Leyd._ And I at _Leyden_, almost as long since.
+
+_Fat_ D. And I at _Barcelona_ thirty.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And I at _Padua_, Sir.
+
+_Fat_ D. You at _Padua?_
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, Sir, I at _Padua_; why, what a pox, do ye think I never
+was beyond Sea?
+
+_Brun._ However, Sir, you are the youngest Doctor, and must write.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I will not lose an inch of my Dignity.
+
+_Fat_ D. Nor I.
+
+_Amst._ Nor I.
+
+_Leyd._ Nor I.    [Put the Paper from each other.
+
+_Brun._ Death, what Rascals are these?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Give me the Pen--here's ado about your _Paduas_ and
+Punctilioes.
+    [Sets himself to write.
+
+_Amst._ Every morning a Dose of my Pills _Merda queorusticon_, or the
+Amicable Pill.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Fasting?
+
+_Leyd._ Every Hour sixscore drops of _Adminicula Vitæ_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Fasting too?    [Sir _Cred._ writes still.
+
+_Fat_ D. At Night twelve Cordial Pills, _Gallimofriticus_.
+
+_Turb._ Let Blood once a Week, a Glister once a day.
+
+_Brun._ Cry Mercy, Sir, you're a _French_ Man.--After his first Sleep,
+threescore restorative Pills, call'd _Cheatus Redivivus_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And lastly, fifteen Spoonfuls of my _Aqua Tetrachymagogon_,
+as often as 'tis necessary; little or no Breakfast, less Dinner, and go
+supperless to Bed.
+
+_Fat_ D. Hum, your _Aqua Tetrachymagogon_?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, Sir, my _Tetrachymagogon_; for look ye, do you see,
+Sir, I cur'd the Arch-Duke of _Strumbulo_ of a _Gondileero_, of which he
+dy'd, with this very _Aqua Tetrachymagogon_.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Gentlemen, am I not an intruder?
+
+_Fat_ D. Sir, we have duly consider'd the state of your Body; and are
+now about the Order and Method you are to observe.
+
+_Brun._ Ay, this Distemper will be the occasion of his Death.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Hold, Brothers, I do not say the occasion of his Death; but
+the occasional Cause of his Death.
+    [Sir _Pat._ reads the Bill.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, here's no time allow'd for eating, Gentlemen.
+
+_Amst._ Sir, we'll justify this Prescription to the whole College.
+
+_Leyd._ If he will not follow it, let him die.
+
+_All._ Ay, let him die.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_ and _Leander_.
+
+_Lod._ What, have you consulted without me, Gentlemen?
+    [_Lod._ reads the Bill.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, Sir, and find it absolutely necessary for my Health,
+Sir, I shou'd be starv'd: and yet you say I am not sick, Sir.
+    [To _Lean._
+
+_Lod._ Very well, very well.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No Breakfast, no Dinner, no Supper?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Little or none, but none's best.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But, Gentlemen, consider, no small thing?
+
+_All._ Nothing, nothing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Sir, you must write for your Fee.    [To _Lod._
+
+_Lod._ Now I think on't, Sir, you may eat    [Writes.
+  a roasted Pippin cold upon a Vine-leaf, at night.
+
+_Lean._ Do you see, Sir, what damn'd canting Rascals these Doctors are?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, if all Doctors were such, ingenuously, I shou'd soon
+be weary of Physick.
+
+_Lean._ Give 'em their Fees, Sir, and send 'em to the Devil for a
+Company of Cheats.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Truth is, there is no faith in 'em,--well, I thank you for
+your Care and Pains.
+    [Gives 'em Fees.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Sir, if you have any occasion for me, I live at the
+red-colour'd Lanthorn, with eleven Candles in't, in the _Strand_; where
+you may come in privately, and need not be ashamed, I having no Creature
+in my House but my self, and my whole Family.--
+
+  _Ick quam Van Neder Landt te spreken
+  End helpen Van Pocken end ander gebreken._
+
+That's a top of my Bill, sweet Sir.
+
+    [Exeunt Doctors.
+
+_Fan._ Lord, Sir Father, why do you give 'em Money?
+
+_Lean._ For talking Nonsense this Hour or two upon his Distemper.
+
+_Fan._ Oh lemini, Sir, they did not talk one word of you, but of Dogs
+and Horses, and of killing Folks, and of their Wives and Daughters; and
+when the Wine was all out, they said they wou'd say something for their
+Fees.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Say you so!--Knaves, Rogues, Cheats, Murderers! I'll be
+reveng'd on 'em all,--I'll ne'er be sick again,--or if I be, I'll die
+honestly of my self without the assistance of such Rascals,--go, get you
+gone.--
+    [To _Fan._ who goes out.
+
+_Lean._ A happy resolution! wou'd you wou'd be so kind to your self as
+to make a trial of your Lady too; and if she prove true, 'twill make
+some kind of amends for your so long being cozen'd this way.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'll about it, this very minute about it,--give me a Chair.--
+    [He sits.
+
+_Lean._ So, settle your self well, disorder your Hair,--throw away your
+Cane, Hat and Gloves,--stare, and rowl your Eyes, squeeze your Face into
+Convulsions,--clutch your Hands, make your Stomach heave, so, very
+well,--now let me alone for the rest--Oh, help, help, my Lady, my Aunt,
+for Heavens sake, help,--come all and see him die.
+    [Weeps.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_, Lady _Fancy_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, Lady
+    _Knowell_, _Roger_, and _Nurse_.
+
+_Wit._ _Leander_, what's the matter?
+
+_Lean._ See, Madam, see my Uncle in the Agonies of Death.
+
+L. _Fan._ My dearest Husband dying, Oh!    [Weeps.
+
+_Lean._ How hard he struggles with departing Life!
+
+_Isab._ Father, dear Father, must I in one day receive a Blessing with
+so great a Curse? Oh,--he's just going, Madam.--
+    [Weeps.
+
+L. _Fan._ Let me o'ertake him in the Shades below, why do you hold me,
+can I live without him? do I dissemble well?--
+    [Aside to _Wit._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Not live without me!--do you hear that, Sirrah?
+    [Aside to _Lean._
+
+_Lean._ Pray mark the end on't, Sir,--feign,--feign.--
+
+L. _Kno._ We left him well, how came he thus o'th' sudden?
+
+_Lean._ I fear 'tis an Apoplexy, Madam.
+
+L. _Fan._ Run, run for his Physician; but do not stir a foot.
+    [Aside to _Roger_.
+  Look up, and speak but one kind word to me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What crys are these that stop me on my way?
+
+L. _Fan._ They're mine,--your Lady's--oh, surely he'll recover.
+    [Aside.
+  Your most obedient Wife's.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Wife's, my Heir, my sole Executrix.
+
+L. _Fan._ Hah, is he in's Senses?    [Aside to _Wit._
+  Oh my dear Love, my Life, my Joy, my All,    [Crys.
+  Oh, let me go; I will not live without him.
+    [Seems to faint in _Wittmore's_ Arms. All run about her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Do ye hear that, Sirrah?
+
+_Lean._ Have yet a little Patience, die away,--very well--Oh, he's
+gone,--quite gone.
+    [L. _Fan._ swoons.
+
+L. _Kno._ Look to my Lady there,    [Swoons again.
+  --Sure she can but counterfeit.    [Aside.    [They all go about her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, my Lady dying!
+
+_Lean._ Sir, I beseech you wait the event. Death! the cunning Devil will
+dissemble too long and spoil all,--here--carry the dead Corps of my
+dearest Uncle to his Chamber. Nurse, to your Care I commit him now.
+
+    [Exeunt with Sir _Pat._ in a Chair.
+    [All follow but _Wittmore_; who going the other way, meets Sir
+    _Credulous_ and _Lodwick_, as before.
+
+_Wit._ _Lodwick!_ the strangest unexpected News, Sir _Patient's_ dead!
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, dead! we have play'd the Physicians to good purpose,
+i'faith, and kill'd the Man before we administer'd our Physick.
+
+_Wit._ Egad, I fear so indeed.
+
+_Lod._ Dead!
+
+_Wit._ As a Herring, and 'twill be dangerous to keep these habits
+longer.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Dangerous! Zoz, Man, we shall all be hang'd, why, our very
+Bill dispatch'd him, and our Hands are to't,--Oh, I'll confess all.--
+    [Offers to go.
+
+_Lod._ Death, Sir, I'll cut your Throat if you stir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Wou'd you have me hang'd for Company, Gentlemen? Oh, where
+shall I hide my self, or how come at my Clothes?
+
+_Lod._ We have no time for that; go get you into your Basket again, and
+lie snug, till I have convey'd you safe away,--or I'll abandon you.--
+    [Aside to him.
+  'Tis not necessary he shou'd be seen yet, he may spoil _Leander's_
+Plot.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, thank ye, dear _Lodwick_,--let me escape this bout, and
+if ever the Fool turn Physician again, may he be choak'd with his own
+_Tetrachymagogon_.
+
+_Wit._ Go, haste and undress you, whilst I'll to _Lucia_.
+
+    [Exeunt _Lod._ and Sir _Cred._
+
+    As _Wittmore_ is going out at one Door, enter Sir _Patient_ and
+    _Leander_ at the other Door.
+
+_Lean._ Hah, _Wittmore_ there! he must not see my Uncle yet.
+    [Puts Sir _Pat._ back.
+    [Exit _Wit._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, never detain me, I'll to my Lady, is this your
+Demonstration?--Was ever so virtuous a Lady--Well, I'll to her, and
+console her poor Heart; ah, the Joy 'twill bring her to see my
+Resurrection!--I long to surprize her.
+    [Going off cross the Stage.
+
+_Lean._ Hold, Sir, I think she's coming,--blest sight, and with her
+_Wittmore_!
+    [Puts Sir _Pat._ back to the Door.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Wittmore_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, what's this?
+
+L. _Fan._ Now, my dear _Wittmore_, claim thy Rites of Love without
+controul, without the contradiction of wretched Poverty or Jealousy: Now
+undisguised thou mayst approach my Bed, and reign o'er all my Pleasures
+and my Fortunes, of which this Minute I create thee Lord, And thus begin
+my Homage.--
+    [Kisses him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sure 'tis some Fiend! this cannot be my Lady.
+
+_Lean._ 'Tis something uncivil before your face, Sir, to do this.
+
+_Wit._ Thou wondrous kind, and wondrous beautiful; that Power that made
+thee with so many Charms, gave me a Soul fit only to adore 'em; nor wert
+thou destin'd to another's Arms, but to be render'd still more fit for
+mine.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, is not that _Fainlove_, _Isabella's_ Husband? Oh
+Villain! Villain! I will renounce my Sense and my Religion.
+    [Aside.
+
+  L. _Fan._ Another's Arms! Oh, call not those hated
+  Thoughts to my remembrance,
+  Lest it destroy that kindly Heat within me,
+  Which thou canst only raise and still maintain.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh Woman! Woman! damn'd dissembling Woman.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Fan._ Come, let me lead thee to that Mass of Gold he gave me to be
+despis'd;
+  And which I render thee, my lovely Conqueror,
+  As the first Tribute of my glorious Servitude.
+
+Draw in the Basket which I told you of, and is amongst the Rubbish in
+the Hall. [Exit _Wittmore_.] That which the Slave so many Years was
+toiling for, I in one moment barter for a Kiss, as Earnest of our future
+Joys.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Was ever so prodigal a Harlot? was this the Saint? was this
+the most tender Consort that ever Man had?
+
+_Lean._ No, in good faith, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_ pulling in the Basket.
+
+L. _Fan._ This is it, with a direction on't to thee, whither I design'd
+to send it.
+
+  _Wit._ Good morrow to the Day, and next the Gold;
+  Open the Shrine, that I may see my Saint--
+  Hail the World's Soul,--    [Opens the Basket, Sir _Cred._ starts up.
+
+L. _Fan._ O Heavens! what thing art thou?
+
+Sir _Cred._ O, Pardon, Pardon, sweet Lady, I confess I had a hand in't.
+
+L. _Fan._ In what, thou Slave?--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Killing the good believing Alderman;--but 'twas against my
+Will.
+
+L. _Fan._ Then I'm not so much oblig'd to thee,--but where's the Money,
+the 8000_l._ the Plate and Jewels, Sirrah?
+
+_Wit._ Death, the Dog has eat it.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Eat it! Oh Lord, eat 8000_l._ Wou'd I might never come out
+of this Basket alive, if ever I made such a Meal in my Life.
+
+_Wit._ Ye Dog, you have eat it; and I'll make ye swallow all the Doses
+you writ in your Bill, but I'll have it upward or downward.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, one of the Rogues my Doctors.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, dear Sir, hang me out of the way rather.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_.
+
+_Maun._ Madam, I have sent away the Basket to Mr. _Wittmore's_ Lodgings.
+
+L. _Fan._ You might have sav'd your self that Labour, I now having no
+more to do, but to bury the stinking Corps of my quandom Cuckold,
+dismiss his Daughters, and give thee quiet possession of all.
+    [To _Wit._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Fair Lady, you'll take me along with you?
+    [Snaps, pulls off his Hat, and comes up to her.
+
+L. _Fan._ My Husband!--I'm betray'd--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Husband! I do defy thee, Satan, thou greater Whore than she
+of _Babylon_; thou Shame, thou Abomination to thy Sex.
+
+L. _Fan._ Rail on, whilst I dispose my self to laugh at thee.
+
+Sir _Pat._ _Leander_, call all the House in to be a Witness of our
+Divorce.
+    [Exit _Lean._
+
+L. _Fan._ Do, and all the World, and let 'em know the Reason.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Methinks I find an Inclination to swear,--to curse my self
+and thee, that I cou'd no better discern thee; nay, I'm so chang'd from
+what I was, that I think I cou'd even approve of Monarchy and
+Church-Discipline, I'm so truly convinc'd I have been a Beast and an Ass
+all my Life.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, _Leander_,
+    _Lodwick_, _Fanny_, &c.
+
+L. _Kno._ Hah, Sir _Patient_ not dead?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ladies and Gentlemen, take notice that I am a Cuckold,
+a crop-ear'd snivelling Cuckold.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Cuckold! sweet Sir, shaw, that's a small matter in a Man
+of your Quality.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And I beg your pardon, Madam, for being angry that you call'd
+me so. [To L. _Kno._] And yours, dear _Isabella_, for desiring you to
+marry my good Friend there [Points to _Wit._] whose name I perceive I
+was mistaken in:--and yours, _Leander_, that I wou'd not take your
+Advice long since: and yours, fair Lady, for believing you
+honest,--'twas done like a credulous Coxcomb:--and yours, Sir, for
+taking any of your Tribe for wise, learned or honest.
+    [To Sir _Credulous_.
+
+_Wit._ Faith, Sir, I deceiv'd ye only to serve my Friend; and, Sir, your
+Daughter is married to Mr _Knowell_: your Wife had all my stock of Love
+before, Sir.
+    [_Lod._ and _Isab._ kneel.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, God-a-mercy--some comfort that,--God bless ye.--I shall
+love Disobedience while I live for't.
+
+_Lod._ I am glad on't, Sir, for then I hope you will forgive _Leander_,
+who has married my Sister, and not my Mother.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! has he served me so?--I'll make him my Heir for't, thou
+hast made a Man of me, my Boy, and, faith, we will be merry,--Fair Lady,
+you may depart in peace, fair Lady, restoring my Money, my Plate, my
+Jewels and my Writings, fair Lady.--
+
+L. _Fan._ You gave me no Money, Sir, prove it if you can; and for your
+Land, 'twas not settled with this Proviso, if she be honest?
+
+Sir _Pat._ 'Tis well thou dost confess I am a Cuckold, for I wou'd have
+it known, fair Lady.
+
+L. _Fan._ 'Twas to that end I married you, good Alderman.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'faith, I think thou didst, Sweet-heart, i'faith, I think
+thou didst.
+
+_Wit._ Right, Sir, we have long been Lovers, but want of Fortune made us
+contrive how to marry her to your good Worship. Many a wealthy Citizen,
+Sir, has contributed to the maintenance of a younger Brother's Mistress;
+and you are not the first Man in Office that has been a Cuckold, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Some comfort that too, the Brethren of the Chain cannot laugh
+at me.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A very pleasant old Fellow this: faith, I cou'd be very
+merry with him now, but that I am damnable sad.--Madam, I shall desire
+to lay the Saddle on the right Horse.
+    [To L. _Kno._
+
+L. _Kno._ What mean you, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Only, Madam, if I were as some Men are, I should not be as I
+am.
+
+L. _Kno._ It may be so, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I say no more, but matters are not carried so swimmingly,
+but I can dive into the meaning on't.
+    [Sir _Patient_ talks this while to _Lodwick_.
+
+L. _Kno._ I hate this hypothetical way of arguing, answer me
+categorically.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Hypothetical and Categorical! what does she mean now?
+[Aside.] --Madam, in plain _English_, I am made a _John-a-Nokes_ of,
+_Jack-hold-my-staff_, a _Merry Andrew_ Doctor, to give _Leander_ time to
+marry your Daughter; and 'twas therefore I was hoisted up in the
+Basket;--but as the play says, 'tis well 'tis no worse: I'd rather lose
+my Mistress than my Life.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But how came this Rascal _Turboon_ to admit you?
+
+_Lod._ For the Lucre of our Fees, Sir, which was his recompence.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I forgive it you, and will turn Spark, they live the merriest
+Lives--keep some City Mistress, go to Court, and hate all Conventicles.
+
+  _You see what a fine City-Wife can do
+  Of the true-breed; instruct her Husband too:
+  I wish all civil Cuckolds in the Nation
+  Would take example by my Reformation._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE,
+
+Spoken by Mrs. _Gwin_.
+
+
+  I here and there o'erheard a Coxcomb cry,    [Looking about.
+  Ah, Rot it--'tis a Woman's Comedy,
+  One, who because she lately chanc'd to please us,
+  With her damn'd Stuff, will never cease to teeze us.
+  What has poor Woman done, that she must be
+  Debar'd from Sense, and sacred Poetry?
+  Why in this Age has Heaven allow'd you more,
+  And Women less of Wit than heretofore?
+  We once were fam'd in story, and could write
+  Equal to Men; cou'd govern, nay, cou'd fight.
+  We still have passive Valour, and can show, }
+  Wou'd Custom give us leave, the active too, }
+  Since we no Provocations want from you.     }
+  For who but we cou'd your dull Fopperies bear,
+  Your saucy Love, and your brisk Nonsense hear;
+  Indure your worse than womanish Affectation,
+  Which renders you the Nusance of the Nation;
+  Scorn'd even by all the Misses of the Town,
+  A Jest to Vizard Mask, the _Pit-Buffoon_;
+  A Glass by which the admiring Country Fool
+  May learn to dress himself _en Ridicule:_
+  Both striving who shall most ingenious grow
+  In Leudness, Foppery, Nonsense, Noise and Show.
+  And yet to these fine things we must submit
+  Our Reason, Arms, our Laurels, and our Wit.
+  Because we do not laugh at you, when leud,
+  And scorn and cudgel ye when you are rude.
+  That we have nobler Souls than you, we prove,
+  By how much more we're sensible of Love;
+  Quickest in finding all the subtlest ways
+  To make your Joys, why not to make you Plays?
+  We best can find your Foibles, know our own,     }
+  And Jilts and Cuckolds now best please the Town; }
+  Your way of Writing's out of fashion grown.      }
+  Method, and Rule--you only understand;
+  Pursue that way of Fooling, and be damn'd.
+  Your learned Cant of Action, Time and Place,
+  Must all give way to the unlabour'd Farce.
+  To all the Men of Wit we will subscribe:
+  But for your half Wits, you unthinking Tribe,
+  We'll let you see, whate'er besides we do,
+  How artfully we copy some of you:
+  And if you're drawn to th' Life, pray tell me then,
+  Why Women should not write as well as Men.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: Sir Patient Fancy
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++To the Reader+
+
+  p. 7, l. 1 _To the Reader._ Only in 4to 1678.
+
++Dramatis Personæ+
+
+  p. 10 _Dramatis Personæ._ I have added '_Abel_ (_Bartholmew_), Clerk
+  to _Sir Patient Fancy_; _Brunswick_, a friend to _Lodwick Knowell_;
+  _Antic_, Waiting-woman to _Lucretia_; Nurse; Guests.' In former
+  editions the physicians are grouped together as 'Five Doctors', and
+  The Lady _Knowell_ is mistakenly termed 'Mother to _Lodwick_ and
+  _Isabella_', which I have corrected to 'and _Lucretia_'. I have noted
+  the confusion of 'Abel' and 'Bartholmew' in the introduction, pp. 5-6.
+
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 11, l. 2 I have added 'in Lady Knowell's House.'
+
+  p. 13, l. 14 _Foibles._ 4to 1678 'feables'.
+
+  p. 14, l. 17 _apamibominous ... podas._ 4to 1678 'apamibominus ...
+  Podis'.
+
+  p. 15, l. 3 _Mudd._ 1724 'mad'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ia+
+
+  p. 16, l. 12 _now, Curry, from._ 1724 omits 'Curry'.
+
+  p. 16, l. 25 _Branford._ 1724 here and _infra_ 'Brentford'.
+
+  p. 16, l. 30 _Cuffet's._ 1724 'Cusset's'.
+
+  p. 22, l. 22 _not._ Erroneously omitted by 4to 1678.
+
+  p. 23, l. 2 _a Dog._ 4to 1678 'the Dog.'
+
+  p. 23, l. 16 _with Page._ I have added the Page's exit.
+
+  p. 25, l. 20 _Ex. severally._ 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the First
+  Act.'
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 25, l. 22 _to Sir Patient Fancy's House._ I have added these words.
+
+
+  p. 33, l. 27 _Exit with L. Fan._ I have added the necessary 'with
+  L. Fan.' 4to 1678 reads 'Goes out.'
+
+  p. 35, l. 2 _Roger attending._ I have added this entrance of Roger
+  here.
+
+  p. 36, l. 21 _Enter Sir Patient._ 4to 1678 gives this entrance after
+  'mercy', l. 22.
+
+  p. 40, l. 25 _Exit Roger._ I have added this exit here, and at p. 43,
+  l. 2.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 44, l. 6 _Exeunt severally._ 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the Second
+  Act.'
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 44, l. 9 _to a room in Sir Patient Fancy's house._ I have supplied
+  this locale.
+
+  p. 45, l. 11 _and Maundy._ I have supplied Maundy's entrance here.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 47, l. 1 _a thousand Faults._ 1724 mistakenly reads 'a thousand
+  hidden Faults'.
+
+  p. 48, l. 34 _in spite to._ 1724 'in spite of' which makes nonsense
+  of the passage.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 49, l. 8 _Scene III._ I have numbered this and all the succeeding
+  scenes of Act III.
+
++ACT III: Scene vii+
+
+  p. 53, l. 32 _Within._ Not in any previous edition.
+
+  p. 54, l. 10 _Within._ All previous editions print this stage
+  direction as part of Sir Patient's speech.
+
+  p. 54, l. 19 _Discovery._ All previous editions here have 'Enter Sir
+  Patient', which is a very patent error. I have supplied 'Within' as
+  stage direction.
+
++ACT III: Scene viii+
+
+  p. 59, l. 6 _Isabella, Fanny._ I have supplied 'Fanny' to this stage
+  direction.
+
++ACT III: Scene ix+
+
+  p. 59, l. 19 _D'on._ 4to 1678 misprints 'D'on on Flannel'.
+
+  p. 60, l. 13 _Enter Roger._ I have supplied the names 'Roger' and
+  'Abel' to this stage direction.
+
+  p. 61, l. 13 _Exeunt._ 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the Third Act.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 71, l. 27 _are._ 4to 1678, not so well, 'were'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 72, l. 19 _A Chamber in Sir Patient Fancy's House._ I have
+  supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 77, l. 2 _come._ 4to 1678 'came'.
+
+  p. 77, l. 33 _but for my sending him, Madam, credit me._ 1724 omits
+  this sentence.
+
+  p. 79, l. 13 _sad._ 1724 'said'.
+
+  p. 79, l. 31 _Exit._ I have supplied this stage direction.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 81, l. 1 _Exit Roger._ I have supplied this.
+
+  p. 81, l. 11 _little._ 1724 misprints 'letter'.
+
+  p. 82, l. 30 _Fanny and Nurse go._ All previous editions have 'Fanny
+  goes'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 82, l. 31 _Scene IV._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 82, l. 33 _Entering._ I have supplied this necessary stage
+  direction.
+
+  p. 87, l. 15 _Hogsdowne._ 1724 'Hogsdon'.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 89, l. 3 _leading her._ Omitted in 1724. 4to 1678 here has 'The End
+  of the Fourth Act.'
+
+  p. 89, l. 5 _Scene I. A Room._ All previous editions have 'Scene I.
+  A Table and Six Chairs.'
+
+  p. 89, l. 28 _come._ 4to 1678 'came'.
+
+  p. 95, l. 20 _fatum._ 4to 1678 'facum.'
+
+  p. 96, l. 2 _and will._ 1724, very erroneously, 'and I will'.
+
+  p. 98, l. 13 _and Bartholomew._ I have added this entrance, unmarked
+  in former editions, as later in the scene (p. 99, l. 30) he is
+  addressed.
+
+  p. 98, l. 16 _Exit Roger._ I have supplied this.
+
+  p. 99, l. 35 _Exit._ I have added this stage direction.
+
+  p. 100, l. 4 _Exit Lod._ This is unmarked in previous editions.
+
+  p. 100, l. 25 _Medicinæ Professores._ 1724 'Medicina Presessores, qui
+  hic assemblati esti, & vos altra Mesioris'.
+
+  p. 101, l. 12 _Deliberation._ 4to 1678 here has '[Goes out.' which
+  must obviously be a mistake.
+
+  p. 102, l. 2 _Whirligigoustiphon._ 1724 'Whirligigousticon'.
+
+  p. 107, l. 36 _Exeunt Doctors._ All previous editions faultily have
+  'Exeunt.' after 'whole Family.--' I have added 'Doctors.'
+
+  p. 108, l. 27 _and Nurse._ I have added these words as she is
+  addressed later in the scene (p. 109, l. 31.)
+
+  p. 110, l. 24 _and Sir Cred._ I have added these words.
+
+  p. 111, l. 34 _Consort._ 1724 'Comfort'.
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++To the Reader+
+
+  p. 7 _to show their breeding (as Bays sayes)._ cf. _The Rehearsal_,
+  II, ii:--
+
+    _1 King._ You must begin, _Mon foy_.
+    _2 King._ Sweet, Sir, _Pardonnes moy_.
+    _Bayes._ Mark that: I makes 'em both speak _French_ to shew their
+      breeding.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 14 _Armida._ cf. Tasso's _La Gerusalemme Liberata_, canto xiv, &c.
+  Armida is called Corcereis owing to the beauty and wonder of her
+  enchanted garden. Corcyra was the abode of King Alcinous, of whose
+  court, parks and orchards a famous description is to be found in the
+  seventh _Odyssey_. Martial (xiii, 37), speaks of 'Corcyraei horti',
+  a proverbial phrase.
+
++ACT I: Scene ia+
+
+  p. 20 _Mum budget._ 'Mum budget', meaning 'hush', was originally the
+  name of a children's game which required silence, cf. _Merry Wives
+  of Windsor_, V, iv: 'I ... cried _mum_ and she cried _budget_.' cf.
+  also the term 'Whist'.
+
+  p. 22 _Beginning at Eight._ The idea of this little speech is, of
+  course, from Bonnecorse's _La Montre_, Mrs. Behn's translation of
+  which will be found with an introduction in Vol. VI, p. 1.
+
+  p. 22 _the Bergere._ cf. _The Feign'd Curtezans_ (Vol. II, p. 346):
+  'The hour of the Berjere'; and the note on that passage (p. 441).
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 32 _Ay and No Man._ cf. Prologue to _The False Count_ (Vol. III,
+  p. 100): 'By Yea and Nay'; and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 44 _Within a Mile of an Oak._ A proverbial saw. cf. D'Urfey's _Don
+  Quixote_ (1696), III, Act V, i, where Teresa cries: 'The Ass was lost
+  yesterday, and Master _Carasco_ tells us your Worship can tell within
+  a mile of an Oak where he is.'
+
+  p. 44 _Rustick Antick._ A quaint country dance.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 62 _Hypallages._ A figure of speech by which attributes are
+  transferred from their proper subjects to others.
+
+  p. 62 _Belli fugaces._ Ovid, _Amorum_, I, 9, has 'Militat omnis amans
+  et habet sua castra Cupido', and the idea is common. I have made no
+  attempt to correct the tags of Latinity in this play. Mrs. Behn
+  openly confessed she knew no Latin, and she was ill supplied here.
+  I do not conceive that the words are intentionally faulty and
+  grotesque. Lady Knowell is a pedant, but not ignorant.
+
+  p. 65 _Madame Brenvilliers._ Marie-Marguerite d'Aubray, Marquise de
+  Brinvilliers, was executed at Paris 16 July, 1676.
+
+  p. 66 _Bilbo-Blades!_ Or oftener 'bilbo-lords', = swash-bucklers,
+  cf. _The Pilgrim_ (folio, 1647), V, vi, where Juletta calls the old
+  angry Alphonso 'My Bilbo Master'.
+
+  p. 70 _whip slap-dash._ These nonsensical bywords, which were very
+  popular, are continually in the mouth of Sir Samuel Harty, a silly
+  coxcomb in Shadwell's _The Virtuoso_ (1676). Nokes, who was acting
+  Sir Credulous, had created Sir Samuel Harty.
+
+  p. 71 _The Bell in Friday-street._ The Bell was an inn of note in
+  Friday Street, Cheapside. cf. _Cal. State Papers_ (1603-10, p. 455):
+  'Sir Thomas Estcourt ... to Thomas Wilson. Is about to leave London
+  and proffers his services. If he has occasion to write to him he may
+  have weekly messengers ... at the Bell, Friday Street.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 79 _th' Exercise._ The puritanical term for private worship, cf.
+  1663 _Flagellum; or, O. Cromwell_ (1672), 21. 'The Family was called
+  together to prayers; at which Exercise ... they continued long.' cf.
+  _The Roundheads_ (Vol. I), Act II, i: 'his Prayers; from which
+  long-winded Exercise I have of late withdrawn my self.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 83 _Mirabilis._ Aqua mirabilis, a well-known invigorating cordial,
+  cf. Dryden's _Marriage à la Mode_ (1672), III, i: 'The country
+  gentlewoman ... who ... opens her dear bottle of Mirabilis beside, for
+  a gill glass of it at parting.'
+
+  p. 84 _Tranghams._ Nick-nacks, toys, trinkets, cf. Arbuthnot, _History
+  of John Ball_ (1712-3), Pt. II, c. vi: 'What's the meaning of all
+  these trangrams and gimcracks?'
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 92 _to souse._ cf. _Florio_ (ed. 1611): 'to leape or seaze greedily
+  upon, to souze downe as a hauke.'
+
+  p. 93 _this Balatroon._ A rogue. The word is very rare. cf. Cockeram
+  (1623): '_Ballatron_, a rascally base knave.'
+
+  p. 95 _Rotat omne fatum._ This would be an exceptionally rare use of
+  rotare = rotari, intransitive. But Mrs. Behn, as Dryden tells us in
+  his preface to the translation of Ovid's _Heroides_ (1680) 'by many
+  hands', insisted upon the fact that she knew no Latin.
+
+  p. 100 _Medicinæ Professores._ This is from the _Troisième Intermède_
+  of _Le Malade Imaginaire_ which commences:--
+
+    Savantissimi doctores,
+    Medicinæ professores,
+    Qui hic assemblati estis;
+    Et vos, altri messiores,
+    Sententiarum facultatis.
+
+  p. 101 _Vanderbergen._ A well-known empiric of the day.
+
+  p. 102 _Haly the Moore, and Rabbi Isaac._ Ali Bey (Bobrowski),
+  a Polish scholar, died at Constantinople 1675. He wrote, amongst
+  other treatises, _De Circumcisione_; _De Aegrotorum Visitatione_.
+  These were published at Oxford in 1691. Isaac Levita or Jean Isaac
+  Levi was a celebrated rabbi of the sixteenth century. A professor at
+  Cologne, he practised medicine and astrology.
+
+  p. 104 _Stetin._ Stettin, the capital of Pomerania, was one of the
+  chief towns of the Hanseatic league. Occupied by Sweden 1637-1713,
+  it was the centre of continual military operations.
+
+  p. 105 _A Dutch Butter-ferkin, a Kilderkin._ These terms are common
+  abuse as applied to a corpulent person. A firkin (Mid. Dut.,
+  vierdekijn) = a small cask for holding liquids or butter; originally
+  half-a-kilderkin. _Dictionary of the Canting Crew_ (1700) has 'Firkin
+  of foul Stuff; a ... Coarse, Corpulent Woman'. cf. Dryden's _Mac
+  Flecknoe_ (1682):--
+
+    A Tun of Man in thy large Bulk is writ,
+    But sure thou'rt but a Kilderkin of wit.
+
+  Shadwell was extremely gross in habit and of an unwieldy size.
+
+  p. 105 _Toping and Napping._ 'To top' and 'to nap' are slang terms
+  signifying to cheat, especially with dice. cf. R. Head, _Canting
+  Academy_ (1673), 'What chance of the dye is soonest thrown in topping,
+  shoring, palming, napping.' Both words occur very frequently, and are
+  amply explained in the Slang Dictionaries.
+
+  p. 105 _Cater-Tray._ Quatre-trois; a cast at dice.
+
+  p. 112 _Good morrow._ Wittmore quotes the opening lines of _Volpone_,
+  Act I, i:
+
+    Good morning to the day; and next my gold!
+    Open the shrine that I may see my saint.
+    Hail the world's soul and mine!
+
+  p. 115 _John-a-Nokes._ The fictitious name for the one party in a
+  legal action. The term came to have the same meaning as
+  'Jack-hold-my-staff' = any fool or nincompoop.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 116 _Vizard Mask._ The commonest Restoration synonym for a 'bona
+  roba', especially as plying the theatre.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _Sir Patient Fancy_
+
+p. 22 _the Bergere._ cf. _The Feign'd Curtezans_ (Vol. II, p. 346):
+'The hour of the Berjere'; and the note on that passage (p. 441).
+
+  _Feign'd Curtezans_ note:
+
+  _The hour of the Berjere._ L'heure du berger ou l'amant trouve
+  celle qu'il aime favorable à ses voeux. cf. La Fontaine, _Contes. La
+  Coupe Enchantée_. 'Il y fait bon, l'heure du berger sonne.' It is a
+  favourite expression of Mrs. Behn. cf. _Sir Patient Fancy_, Act I, i.
+  'From Ten to Twelve are the happy hours of the Bergere, those of
+  intire enjoyment.' Also the charming conclusion of _The Lover's
+  Watch_:--
+
+    Damon, my watch is just and new:
+    And all a Lover ought to do,
+    My Cupid faithfully will show.
+    And ev'ry hour he renders there
+    Except _l'heure du Bergère_.
+
+p. 32 _Ay and No Man._ cf. Prologue to _The False Count_ (Vol. III,
+p. 100): 'By Yea and Nay'; and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
+  _False Count_ note:
+
+  _By Yea and Nay._ 'Yea and Nay' was often derisively applied to
+  the Puritans, and hence to their lineal descendants the Whigs, in
+  allusion to the Scriptural injunction, _S. Matthew_ v, 33-7, which
+  they feigned exactly to follow. Timothy Thin-beard, a rascally
+  Puritan, in Heywood's _If you Know Not Me, You Know Nobody_, Part II
+  (4to, 1606), is continually asseverating 'By yea and nay', cf.
+  Fletcher's _Monsieur Thomas_, Act II, iii, where Thomas says:--
+
+    Do not ye see me alter'd? 'Yea and Nay,' gentlemen;
+    A much-converted man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: Sir Patient Fancy
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+Editor's Introduction
+
+  but yet everything she touched  [eveything]
+
+Sir Patient Fancy
+
+  And a Tyrannick Commonwealth prefer  [Tryannick]
+  Ton d' apamibominous prosiphe podas ochus Achilleus
+    [_in standard transliteration:_
+      Ton d' apameibomenos prosephê podas ôkus Achilleus
+    _Each element ("Ton ... prosephê" and "podas ôkus Achilleus")
+    is used several dozen times in the _Iliad_; the complete line
+    occurs at least ten times._]
+  a _Lancashire_ Bag-pipe  [_anomalous hyphen in original_]
+  _Wit._ Nor to Chuch?  [_spelling unchanged_]
+  & _Reparteeé bien_  [_spelling unchanged_]
+  and d'on on slip shoe:
+    [_text unchanged: compare Note on III.ix_]
+  _Wit._ At Sir _Patient Fancy's_, my Father-in-law.  [? for .]
+  for the use and comfort of Man  [. missing]
+  Sir _Pat._ How does my good, my dearest Lady _Fancy_?
+    [_speaker name not italicized_]
+  [Puts Sir _Pat._ back. / [Exit _Wit._
+    [_bracket before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text_]
+  Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Wittmore_.
+    [_"and" non-Italic (emphatic)_]
+  _Wit._ Go, haste and ... [Exeunt _Lod._ and Sir _Cred._
+    [Exeuut]
+
+Notes on Text
+
+  p. 10 _Dramatis Personæ._ ... in the introduction  [in the the]
+  p. 13, l. 14  [p. 13 l. 14]
+  p. 98, l. 16  [p. 98, l. 16.]
+
+Critical Notes
+
+  p. 65 _Madame Brenvilliers._  [_body text has "Madam"_]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE AMOROUS PRINCE.
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+Entrances and bracketed stage directions were printed in _italics_,
+with proper names in roman type. The overall _italic_ markup has been
+omitted for readability.]
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Frederick, 'the Amorous Prince,' a mercurial young gallant, son to the
+Duke of Florence, under a solemn promise of marriage debauches Cloris,
+sister to his friend and confidant, Curtius. The girl has always led a
+secluded country life, and this relationship is unknown to the Prince,
+who upon hearing the praises of Laura, beloved by Curtius, straightway
+resolves to win this lady also. Laura's brother Lorenzo, a wanton madcap
+favourite of Frederick's, gladly effects the required introduction, and
+when Curtius interrupts and forbids, Salvator, father to Laura and
+Lorenzo, promptly turns the quondam lover out of the house. Lorenzo
+himself is idly pursuing Clarina, wife to a certain Antonio, an abortive
+intrigue carried on to his own impoverishment, but the enrichment of
+Isabella, Clarina's woman, a wench who fleeces him unmercifully. Antonio
+being of a quaint and jealous humour would have his friend Alberto make
+fervent love to Clarina, in order that by her refusals and chill denials
+her spotless conjugal fidelity may be proved. However, Ismena, Clarina's
+sister, appears in a change of clothes as the wife, and manifold
+complications ensue, but eventually all is cleared and Ismena accepts
+Alberto, whom she has long loved; not before Isabella, having by a trick
+compelled Lorenzo to declare himself her husband, enforces the bargain.
+Cloris, meanwhile, disguised as a boy under the name of Philibert,
+attaches herself to Frederick, first succouring him when he is wounded
+in a duel by Curtius. Curtius to avenge his wrongs disguises himself,
+and as a pandar entices Frederick into a snare by promises of supplying
+the amorous Prince with lovely cyprians. Bravos, however, are in
+waiting, but these prove to be in the service of Antonio, who appears
+with Alberto and their friends, completely frustrating the plot, whilst
+Clarina, Ismena, and other ladies have acted the courtezans to deceive
+Curtius, and at the same time read the Prince a salutary lesson. He
+profits so much by this experience that he takes Cloris, whose sex is
+discovered, to be his bride, whilst Laura bestows her hand on the
+repentant and forgiven Curtius.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+Mrs. Behn has taken her episode of Antonio's persuading Alberto to woo
+Clarina from Robert Davenport's fine play, _The City Night-Cap_ (4to
+1661, but licensed 24 October, 1624) where Lorenzo induces Philippo to
+test Abstemia in the same way. Astrea, however, has considerably altered
+the conduct of the intrigue. Bullen (_The Works of Robert Davenport_,
+1890) conclusively and exhaustively demonstrates that Davenport made use
+of Greene's popular _Philomela; the Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale_ (1592,
+1615, and 1631), wherein Count Philippo employs Giovanni Lutesio to
+'make experience of his wife's [Philomela's] honesty', rather than was
+under any obligation to Cervantes' _Curioso Impertinente, Don Quixote_,
+Book IV, ch. vi-viii. Read, Dunlop, and Hazlitt all had express'd the
+same opinion. The Spanish tale turns upon the fact of Anselmo, the
+Curious Impertinent, enforcing his friend Lothario to tempt his wife
+Camilla. Such a theme, however, is common, and with variations is to be
+found in Italian novelle. Recent authorities are inclined to suggest
+that the plot of Beaumont and Fletcher's _The Coxcomb_ (1610), much of
+which runs on similar lines, is not founded on Cervantes. Southerne, in
+his comedy, _The Disappointment; or, The Mother in Fashion_ (1684) and
+'starch Johnny Crowne' in _The Married Beau_ (1694), both comedies of no
+little wit and merit, are patently indebted to _The Curious
+Impertinent_. Cervantes had also been used three quarters of a century
+before by Nat Field in his _Amends for Ladies_ (4to, 1618), where Sir
+John Loveall tries his wife in an exactly similar manner to Lorenzo,
+Count Philippo and Anselmo.
+
+The amours of the Florentine court are Mrs. Behn's own invention; but
+the device by which Curtius ensnares Frederick is not unlike Vendice and
+Hippolito's trapping of the lecherous old Duke in _The Revenger's
+Tragedy_ (4to, 1607), albeit the saturnine Tourneur gives the whole
+scene a far more terrible and tragic catastrophe.
+
+In January, 1537, Lorenzino de Medici having enticed Duke Alessandro of
+Florence to his house under pretext of an assignation with a certain
+Caterina Ginori, after a terrible struggle assassinated him with the aid
+of a notorious bravo. Several plays have been founded upon this history.
+Notable amongst them are Shirley's admirable tragedy, _The Traitor_
+(licensed May, 1631, 4to 1635) and in later days de Musset's
+_Lorenzaccio_ (1834).
+
+The Mask in Act V of _The Amorous Prince_ is in its purport most
+palpably akin to the Elizabethans.
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+_The Amorous Prince_ was produced by the Duke's Company in the spring of
+1671 at their Lincoln's Inn Fields theatre, whence they migrated in
+November of the same year to the magnificent new house in Dorset Garden.
+No performers' names are given to the comedy, which met with a very good
+reception. It seems to have kept the boards awhile, but there is no
+record of any particular revival.
+
+
+
+
+THE AMOROUS PRINCE.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  Well! you expect a _Prologue_ to the Play,
+  And you expect it too Petition-way;
+  With _Chapeau bas_ beseeching you t' excuse
+  A damn'd Intrigue of an unpractis'd Muse;
+  Tell you it's Fortune waits upon your Smiles,
+  And when you frown, Lord, how you kill the whiles!
+  Or else to rally up the Sins of th' Age,
+  And bring each Fop in Town upon the Stage;
+  And in one Prologue run more Vices o'er,
+  Than either Court or City knew before:
+  Ah! that's a Wonder which will please you too,
+  But my Commission's not to please you now.
+  First then for you grave _Dons_, who love no Play
+  But what is regular, Great _Johnson's_ way;
+  Who hate the _Monsieur_ with the Farce and Droll,
+  But are for things well said with Spirit and Soul;
+  'Tis you I mean, whose Judgments will admit
+  No Interludes of fooling with your Wit;
+  You're here defeated, and anon will cry,
+  'Sdeath! wou'd 'twere Treason to write Comedy.
+  So! there's a Party lost; now for the rest,
+  Who swear they'd rather hear a smutty Jest
+  Spoken by _Nokes_ or _Angel_, than a Scene
+  Of the admir'd and well penn'd _Cataline_;
+  Who love the comick Hat, the Jig and Dance,
+  Things that are fitted to their Ignorance:
+  You too are quite undone, for here's no Farce
+  Damn me! you'll cry, this Play will be mine A----
+  Not serious, nor yet comick, what is't then?
+  Th' imperfect issue of a lukewarm Brain:
+  'Twas born before its time, and such a Whelp;
+  As all the after-lickings could not help.
+  Bait it then as ye please, we'll not defend it,
+  But he that dis-approves it, let him mend it._
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
+
+
+MEN.
+
+  _Frederick_, Son to the Duke.
+  _Curtius_, his Friend.
+  _Lorenzo_, a rich extravagant Lord,
+    a kind of Favourite to _Frederick_.
+  _Salvator_, Father to _Lorenzo_ and _Laura_.
+  _Antonio_, a Nobleman of _Florence_.
+  _Alberto_, his dear Friend, a Nobleman also.
+  _Pietro_, Man to _Curtius_.
+  _Galliard_, Servant to the Prince.
+  _Guilliam_, Man to _Cloris_, a Country-fellow.
+  Valet to _Antonio_.
+
+
+WOMEN.
+
+  _Clarina_, Wife to _Antonio_.
+  _Ismena_, Sister to _Antonio_, in love with _Alberto_.
+  _Laura_, Sister to _Lorenzo_, in love with _Curtius_.
+  _Cloris_, Sister to _Curtius_, disguis'd like a Country Maid,
+    in love with _Frederick_.
+  _Isabella_, Woman to _Clarina_.
+  _Lucia_, Maid to _Cloris_.
+  Pages and Musick.
+
+
+  SCENE, The Court of _Florence_.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. The Chamber of _Cloris_.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_ drest in her Night Attire, with _Frederick_
+    dressing himself.
+
+  _Clo._ And will you leave me now to Fears,
+  Which Love it self can hardly satisfy?
+  But those, and that together sure will kill me,
+  If you stay long away.
+
+  _Fred._ My Dear, 'tis almost day, and we must part;
+  Should those rude Eyes 'mongst whom thou dwell'st perceive us,
+  'Twould prove unhappy both to thee and me.
+
+  _Clo._ And will you, Sir, be constant to your Vows?
+
+  _Fred._ Ah Cloris! do not question what I've sworn;
+  If thou would'st have it once again repeated,
+  I'll do't. By all that's good, I'll marry thee;
+  By that most Holy Altar, before which we kneel'd,
+  When first I saw the brightest Saint that e'er ador'd it;
+  I'll marry none but thee, my dearest _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ Sir, you have said enough to gain a credit
+  With any Maid, though she had been deceiv'd
+  By some such Flatteries as these before.
+  I never knew the pains of Fear till now;    [Sighs.
+  And you must needs forgive the Faults you make,
+  For had I still remain'd in Innocence,
+  I should have still believ'd you.
+
+  _Fred._ Why, dost thou not, my Love?
+
+  _Clo._ Some doubts I have, but when I look on you,
+  Though I must blush to do so, they all vanish;
+  But I provide against your absence, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ Make no provision, _Cloris_, but of Hope,
+  Prepare thy self against a Wedding day,
+  When thou shalt be a little Deity on Earth.
+
+  _Clo._ I know not what it is to dwell in Courts,
+  But sure it must be fine, since you are there;
+  Yet I could wish you were an humble Shepherd,
+  And knew no other Palace than this Cottage;
+  Where I would weave you Crowns, of Pinks and Daisies,
+  And you should be a Monarch every _May_.
+
+  _Fred._ And, _Cloris_, I could be content to sit
+  With thee, upon some shady River's Bank,
+  To hear thee sing, and tell a Tale of Love.
+  For these, alas! I could do any thing;
+  A Sheep-hook I could prize above a Sword;
+  An Army I would quit to lead a Flock,
+  And more esteem that Chaplet wreath'd by thee,
+  Than the victorious Bays:
+  All this I could, but, Dear, I have a Father,
+  Whom for thy sake, to make thee great and glorious,
+  I would not lose my Int'rest with.
+  But, _Cloris_, see, the unkind day approaches,
+  And we must kiss and part.
+
+  _Clo._ Unkind it is indeed, may it prove so
+  To all that wish its presence,
+  And pass as soon away,
+  That welcome Night may re-assume its place,
+  And bring you quickly back.
+
+  _Fred._ With great impatience I'll expect that Hour,
+  That shall conduct me in its Shades to thee;
+  Farewel.
+
+  _Clo._ Farewel, Sir, if you must be gone.    [Sighs.
+
+  _Fred._ One Kiss, and then indeed I will be gone.    [Kisses her.
+    A new blown Rose kist by the Morning Dew,
+  Has not more natural Sweetness.
+  Ah _Cloris_! can you doubt that Heart,
+  To whom such Blessings you impart?
+  Unjustly you suspect that Prize,
+  Won by such Touches and such Eyes.
+  My Fairest, turn that Face away,
+  Unless I could for ever stay;
+  Turn but a little while I go.
+
+  _Clo._ Sir, I must see the last of you.
+
+  _Fred._ I dare not disobey; adieu till Evening.    [Exit.
+
+    Enter _Lucia_.
+
+  _Clo._ How now, _Lucia_; is my Father up?
+
+  _Luc._ No, not a Mouse stirs yet; I have kept a true
+  Watch all this Night, for I was cruelly afraid
+  Lest we should have been surpriz'd--
+  Is the Prince gone? but why do I ask,
+  That may read it in your sad Looks?
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, he is gone, and with him too has taken--    [Sighs.
+
+_Luc._ What has he taken? I'll swear you frighten me.
+
+_Clo._ My heart, _Lucia_.
+
+_Luc._ Your Heart, I am glad 'tis no worse.
+
+_Clo._ Why, what dost think he should have taken?
+
+  _Luc._ A thing more hard to have been
+  Recovered again.
+
+  _Clo._ What thing, prithee?
+
+  _Luc._ Your Maiden-head.
+
+  _Clo._ What's that?
+
+  _Luc._ A thing young Gallants long extremely for,
+  And when they have it too, they say
+  They care not a Daisy for the Giver.
+
+  _Clo._ How comest thou so wise, _Lucia_?
+
+  _Luc._ Oh, the fine Gentleman that comes a-nights
+  With the Prince, told me so much, and bid me
+  Be sure never to part with it for fine Words;
+  For Men would lye as often as they swore;
+  And so bid me tell you too.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh _Lucia_!
+
+  _Luc._ Why do you sigh?
+
+  _Clo._ To think if Princes were like common Men,
+  How I should be undone,
+  Since I have given him all I had to give;
+  And who that looks on him can blame my Faith?
+
+  _Luc._ Indeed he surpasses _Damon_ far;
+  But I'ad forgot my self, you are the Prince's Wife;
+  He said you should be kneel'd to, and ador'd,
+  And never look'd on but on Holy-days:
+  That many Maids should wait upon your call,
+  And strow fine Flowers for you to tread upon.
+  Musick and Love should daily fill your Ears,
+  And all your other Senses should be ravish'd
+  With wonders of each kind great as your Beauty.
+
+  _Clo._ _Lucia_, methinks you have learnt to speak fine things.
+
+  _Luc._ I have a thousand more I've heard him say;
+  Oh, I could listen a whole Night to hear him talk:
+  But hark, I hear a Noise, the House is up,
+  And must not find us here.
+
+  _Clo._ Lock up this Box of Jewels for me.
+
+  _Luc._ Oh rare! what, did these come to night?
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, yes, away.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Grove.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_ and _Pietro_.
+
+  _Cur._ I wonder the Prince stays so long;
+  I do not like these Night-works;
+  Were I not confident of _Cloris's_ Virtue,
+  --Which shall no more be tempted.
+  I hear some coming, and hope 'tis he--
+  _Pietro_, are the Horses ready?    [Exit _Pietro_.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_.
+
+_Cur._ Sir, you are welcome from _Cloris's_ Arms.
+
+  _Fred._ With much ado, I am got loose from those fair
+  Fetters, but not from those of her Beauty;
+  By these she still inflames me,
+  In spite of all my humours of Inconstancy;
+  So soft and young, so fair and innocent,
+  So full of Air, and yet of Languishment;
+  So much of Nature in her Heart and Eyes,
+  So timorous and so kind without disguise:
+  Such untaught Sweets in every part do move,
+  As 'gainst my Reason does compel my Love;
+  Such artless smiles, look so unorder'd too,
+  Gains more than all the charms of Courts can do;
+  From Head to Foot, a spotless Statue seems,
+  As Art, not Nature, had compos'd her Limbs;
+  So white, and so unblemish'd, oh _Curtius_!
+  I'm ravisht beyond Sense when I but think on't;
+  How much more must my Surprize be,
+  When I behold these Wonders.
+
+  _Cur._ And have you seen her, Sir, in all this Beauty?
+  Oh Hell!    [Aside.
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_, I will not hide my Soul from thee;
+  I have seen all the marvels of that Maid.
+
+  _Cur._ My Soul, learn now the Art of being disguis'd;    [Aside.
+  --'Tis much, my Lord, that one
+  Bred in such simple Innocence,
+  Should learn so soon so much of Confidence:
+  Pray, Sir, what Arts and Cunning do you use?
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, time and importunity refuse no body.
+
+  _Cur._ Is that the way? had you no other Aids?
+  Made you no promise to her, Sir, of Marriage?
+
+  _Fred._ Oh, yes, in abundance, that's your only bait,
+  And though they cannot hope we will perform it,
+  Yet it secures their Honour and my Pleasure.
+
+  _Cur._ Then, Sir, you have enjoy'd her?
+
+  _Fred._ Oh, yes, and gather'd Sweets
+  Would make an Anchoret neglect his Vow,
+  And think he had mistook his way to future bliss,
+  Which only can be found in such Embraces;
+  'Twas hard to gain, but, _Curtius_, when once Victor,
+  Oh, how the joys of Conquest did enslave me!
+
+  _Cur._ But, Sir, methinks 'tis much that she should yield,
+  With only a bare promise that you'd marry her.
+
+  _Fred._ Yes, there was something more--but--
+
+  _Cur._ But, what, Sir, you are not married.
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, yes, I've made a Vow,
+  And that you know would go as far with any other Man.
+
+  _Cur._ But she it seems forgot you were the Prince?
+
+  _Fred._ No, she urg'd that too,
+  And left no Arguments unus'd
+  Might make me sensible of what I did;
+  But I was fixt, and overcame them all,
+  Repeating still my Vows and Passions for her,
+  Till in the presence of her Maid and Heaven
+  We solemnly contracted.
+
+  _Cur._ But, Sir, by your permission, was it well?
+
+  _Fred._ What wouldst thou have him do
+  That's all on fire, and dies for an Enjoyment?
+
+  _Cur._ But having gain'd it, do you love her still?
+
+  _Fred._ Yes, yes, extremely,
+  And would be constant to the Vows I've made,
+  Were I a Man, as thou art of thy self;
+  But with the aid of Counsels I must chuse,
+  And what my Soul adores I must refuse.
+
+  _Cur._ This Passion, Sir, Possession will destroy,
+  And you'l love less, the more you do enjoy.
+
+  _Fred._ That's all my hope of cure; I'll ply that game,
+  And slacken by degrees th' unworthy flame.
+
+  _Cur._ Methinks, my Lord, it had more generous been
+  To've check'd that flame when first it did begin,
+  E'er you the slighted Victory had won,
+  And a poor harmless Virgin quite undone:
+  And what is worse, you've made her love you too.
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, that's the greater mischief of the two;
+  I know to such nice virtuous Souls as thine,
+  My juster Inclination is a Crime:
+  But I love Pleasures which thou canst not prize,
+  Beyond dull gazing on thy Mistress Eyes,
+  The lovely Object which enslaves my Heart,
+  Must yet more certain Cures than Smiles impart:
+  --And you on _Laura_ have the same design.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Sir, when justify'd by Laws Divine.
+
+  _Fred._ Divine! a pleasant Warrant for your Sin,
+  Which being not made, we ne'er had guilty been.
+  But now we speak of _Laura_,
+  Prithee, when is't that I shall see that Beauty?
+
+  _Cur._ Never, I hope. [Aside.] I know not, Sir,
+  Her Father still is cruel, and denies me,
+  What she and I have long made suit in vain for:
+  But, Sir, your Interest might prevail with him,
+  When he shall know I'm one whom you esteem;
+  He will allow my flame, and my address,
+  He whom you favour cannot doubt Success.
+
+  _Fred._ This day I will begin to serve thee in it.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, 'twill be difficult to get access to her,
+  Her Father is an humorous old Man,
+  And has his fits of Pride and Kindness too.
+
+  _Fred._ Well, after Dinner I will try my Power,
+  And will not quit his Lodgings till I've won him.
+
+  _Cur._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ Come let us haste, the Day comes on apace.    [Ex. _Fred._
+
+  _Cur._ I'll wait upon you, Sir.
+  Oh _Cloris_, thou'rt undone, false amorous Girl;
+  Was it for this I bred thee in obscurity,
+  Without permitting thee to know what Courts meant,
+  Lest their too powerful Temptation
+  Might have betray'd thy Soul?
+  Not suffering thee to know thy Name or Parents,
+  Thinking an humble Life might have secur'd thy Virtue:
+  And yet I should not hate thee for this Sin,
+  Since thou art bred in so much Innocence,
+  Thou couldst not dream of Falsity in Men:
+  Oh, that it were permitted me to kill this Prince,
+  This false perfidious Prince;
+  And yet he knows not that he has abus'd me.
+  When did I know a Man of so much Virtue,
+  That would refuse so sweet and soft a Maid?
+  --No, he is just and good, only too much misled
+  By Youth and Flattery;
+  And one to whom my Soul is ty'd by Friendship;
+  --Yet what's a Friend, a name above a Sister?
+  Is not her Honour mine?
+  And shall not I revenge the loss of it?
+  It is but common Justice.
+  But first I'll try all gentle means I may,
+  And let him know that _Cloris_ is my Sister;
+  And if he then persevere in his Crime,
+  I'll lay my Interest and my Duty by,
+  And punish him, or with my Honour die.    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE III. The Apartment of _Antonio_.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ pulling in of _Isabella_.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, nay, _Isabella_, there's no avoiding me now,
+  You and I must come to a parley.
+  Pray what's the reason
+  You took no notice of me,
+  When I came with so civil an address too?
+
+  _Isab._ Can you ever think to thrive in an Amour,
+  When you take notice of your Mistress,
+  Or any that belongs to her, in publick,
+  And when she's a married Woman too?
+
+  _Lor._ Good _Isabella_, the loser may have leave to speak,
+  I am sure it has been a plaguy dear Amour to me.
+
+  _Isab._ Let me hear you name that again,
+  And you shall miss of my Assistance.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, do but hear me a little;
+  I vow 'tis the strangest thing in the World,
+  A Man must part from so much Money as I have done,
+  And be confin'd to Signs and Grimaces only,
+  To declare his Mind in:
+  If a Man has a Tongue, let him exercise it, I say,
+  As long as he pays for speaking.
+
+  _Isab._ Again with your paying for't? I see you are not
+  To be reclaim'd; farewel--
+
+  _Lor._ Stay, good _Isabella_, stay,
+  And thou shalt hear not one word of that more,
+  Though I am soundly urg'd to't.
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, yes, pray count them, do;
+  I know you long to be at it,
+  And I am sure you will find you are in Arrears to us.
+
+  _Lor._ Say you so, I am not of that opinion: but well,
+  --Let me see--here 'tis, here 'tis--
+  My Bill of Charge for courting _Clarina_.
+    [Draws out his Table Book, and reads.
+
+  _Isab._ And here's mine for the returns that have been
+  Made you; begin, begin.    [Pulls out her Book.
+
+  _Lor._ _Item_, two hundred Crowns to _Isabella_ for undertaking.
+
+  _Isab_. _Item_, I have promis'd _Lorenzo_ to serve him
+  In his Amour with all Fidelity.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, I own that Debt paid, if you keep
+  Your word--out with it then--    [He crosses that out.
+  _Item_, two thousand Crowns in a Bracelet for _Clarina_;
+  What say you to that now, _Isabella_?
+
+  _Isab._ _Item_, the day after they were presented,
+  She saluted you with a smile at the Chappel.
+
+  _Lor._ And dost thou think it was not dearly bought?
+
+  _Isab._ No Man in _Florence_ should have had it
+  A Souce cheaper.
+
+  _Lor._ Say you so, _Isabella_? out with it then.    [Crosses it out.
+  _Item_, one hundred more to thee for presenting them.
+
+  _Isab._ Which I did with six lyes in your Commendation,
+  Worth ten Pistoles a piece for the exactness of a Lye;
+  Write there indebted to me--
+
+  _Lor._ Nay then thou dost deserve it:
+  Rest due to _Isabella_.    [Writes.
+  _Item_, Innumerable Serenades, Night-walks, Affronts
+  And Fears; and lastly, to the Poets for Songs, and the like.
+
+  _Isab._ All which was recompensed in the excessive
+  Laughing on you that Day you praunc'd under our
+  Window on Horse-back, when you made such a
+  Deal of Capriol and Curvet.
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, where I ventur'd my Neck to shew my
+  Activity, and therefore may be well accompted
+  Amongst my Losses.
+
+  _Isab._ Then she receiv'd your Presents,
+  Suffer'd your Serenades, without sending her Foot-men
+  To break your Pate with the Fiddles.
+
+  _Lor._ Indeed that was one of the best Signs;
+  For I have been a great Sufferer in that kind
+  Upon the like occasions: but dost thou think
+  In Conscience that this should satisfy?
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, any reasonable Man in the World, for the
+  First Month at least; and yet you are still up
+  With your Expences, as if a Lady of her Quality
+  Were to be gain'd without them.
+  --Let me hear of your Expences more, and I'll--
+
+  _Lor._ Oh sweet _Isabella_! upon my Knees
+  I beg thou wilt take no fatal Resolution;
+  For I protest, as I am a Man of Honour,
+  And adore thy Sex, thou shalt only see,
+  Not hear of my Expences more;
+  And for a small testimony of it, here take this;
+  There's twenty Pistoles upon Reputation.    [Gives her Money.
+
+  _Isab._ Fy, fy, 'tis not brave, nor generous to name
+  The Sum, you should have slid it into my Coat,
+  Without saying what you had done.
+
+  _Lor._ What signifies that, mun, as long as 'tis current,
+  And you have it sure?
+
+  _Isab._ Well, leave the management of your Affairs to me--
+  What shall we do? here's _Alberto_.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+_Lor._ Well, who can help it? I cannot walk invisible.
+
+_Alb._ _Lorenzo_, what, making Love to _Isabella_?
+
+_Lor._ She'l serve, my Lord, for want of a better.
+
+_Isab._ That's but a coarse Complement.
+
+_Lor._ 'Twill serve to disguise a Truth however.    [Aside to her.
+    [Ex. _Isab._
+  Faith, I'll tell you, Sir, 'twas such another Damsel
+  As this, that sav'd me five hundred Pound once upon a time;
+  And I have lov'd the whole Tribe of Waiting-women
+  The better ever since.
+
+_Alb._ You have reason; how was it?
+
+  _Lor._ Why, look you, Sir,
+  I had made Love a long time to a Lady;
+  But she shall be nameless,
+  Since she was of a quality not to be gain'd under
+  The aforesaid Sum: well, I brought it,
+  Came pouder'd and perfum'd, and high in expectation.
+
+_Alb._ Well, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ And she had a very pretty Wench, who was to
+  Conduct me, and in the dark too;
+  And, on my Conscience, I e'en fell aboard of her,
+  And was as well accommodated for my five,
+  As five Hundred Pounds, and so return'd.
+
+  _Alb._ A great defeat to the Lady the while, a my word.
+
+  _Lor._ Ay, she smelt the Plot, and made a Vow to follow
+  The _Italian_ mode for the future;
+  And be serv'd in Affairs of that kind by none
+  But an old Woman.
+
+  _Alb._ 'Twas wittily resolv'd.
+
+  _Lor._ Are you for the Presence this Morning?
+
+  _Alb._ No, I have business here with _Antonio_.
+
+  _Lor._ Your Servant, my Lord.    [Exit.
+
+  _Alb._ I do not like this Fellow's being here,
+  The most notorious Pimp and Rascal in _Italy_;
+  'Tis a vile shame that such as he should live,
+  Who have the form and sense of Man about them,
+  And in their Action Beast;
+  And that he thrives by too.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_.
+
+  --_Isabella_, is _Antonio_ stirring?
+
+  _Isab._ He is, please your Lordship to walk in.
+
+  _Alb._ You may tell him I wait here:
+  For I would avoid all opportunity of seeing _Clarina_.    [Aside.
+
+_Isab._ My Lord, you need not stand upon Ceremonies.    [Exit _Alberto_.
+
+    Enter _Clarina_ and _Ismena_, dress'd like one another in every
+    thing, laughing and beholding one another.
+
+  --Dress'd already! now on my conscience
+  I know not which is which:
+  Pray God _Antonio_ be not mistaken at night,
+  For I'll be sworn I am by day-light.
+
+  _Ism._ Dost think I may pass thus for _Clarina_?
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, you are the same to a hair;
+  Wou'd I might never stir
+  If I can do any thing but wonder.
+
+  _Clar._ But hark, _Isabella_, if thou shou'dst have
+  Heard amiss, and that thy information should not be good,
+  Thou hast defeated us of a design,
+  Wherein we promise our selves no little pleasure.
+
+  _Ism._ Yes, I vow, all the Jest is lost if it be so.
+
+  _Isab._ I doubt 'twill be a true Jest on your side.    [Aside.
+  --I warrant you, Madam, my Intelligence is good;
+  And to assure you of what I have said,
+  I dare undertake you shall hear the same over again:
+  For just now _Alberto_ is come to visit my Lord,
+  Who I am sure will entertain him with no other stories,
+  But those of his Jealousy,
+  And to persuade him to court you.
+
+  _Clar._ 'Tis strange, since he set him that Task so long ago,
+  He would not begin before.
+
+  _Ism._ Nay, pray God he begin now;
+  Sister, he has hitherto took me for thee,
+  And sometimes his Eyes give me hope of a secret
+  Fire within, but 'twill not out;
+  And I am so impatient till he declares himself,
+  That if he do not do it soon,
+  I shall e'en tell him who I am;
+  For perhaps the Wife takes off the appetite,
+  Which would sharpen upon knowledge of the Virgin.
+
+  _Clar._ What then, you'll have all the sport to your self?
+  --But, _Ismena_, remember my little Revenge on _Antonio_
+  Must accompany your Love to _Alberto_.    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ But why this resemblance?
+  For, Madam, since he never saw you,
+  And takes _Ismena_ to be you;
+  Might you not still pass so, without this likeness?
+
+  _Clar._ Didst thou not say _Antonio_ left the Court
+  And City, on purpose to give _Alberto_ the more freedom
+  To Court me?--Whilst he was away, I needed but retire,
+  And _Ismena_ appear, and 'twould suffice;
+  But now he is return'd,
+  He may chance to see them together, _en passant_, or so,
+  And this dress will abuse him as well as _Alberto_;
+  For without that, this Plot of ours signifies little.
+
+  _Ism._ Ay, truly, for my part, I have no other design
+  Than doing my Sister a service.
+
+  _Isab._ The Plot is very likely to thrive I see,
+  Since you are so good at dissembling.
+
+  _Ism._ Fie, _Isabella_, what an ill opinion you have of me?
+  --But, Sister, 'tis much _Alberto_ being so intimate
+  With _Antonio_, should never see you all this whole
+  Six Months of your being married.
+
+  _Clar._ Had you been bred any where
+  But in a Monastery, you would have known
+  'Tis not the custom here for Men to expose their
+  Wives to the view of any.
+
+  _Isab._ I hear them coming, let's away,
+  And pray listen to the Truths I have already told you.
+    [They retire.
+
+
+SCENE IV. The Same.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_ and _Alberto_. _Clarina_ and _Ismena_ listen.
+
+  _Alb._ Once more, _Antonio_, welcome back to Court.
+
+  _Ant._ Oh my dear Friend, I long'd for thy Embraces;
+  --How goes the Game I left with thee to play?
+  What says my Wife, my beautiful _Clarina_?
+
+  _Alb._ _Clarina!_--
+
+  _Ant._ Yes, _Clarina_, have you not seen her yet?
+  I left the Court on purpose, for 'twas not handsome
+  For me to introduce you,
+  Lest she had look'd upon't as some design.
+
+  _Alb._ Seen her--yes--
+
+  _Ant._ And I conjur'd her too, to give you freedoms
+  Even equal to _Antonio_;
+  As far as I durst press with modesty,
+  And with pretence of Friendship;
+  And have you not attempted her?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes--but 'tis in vain.
+
+  _Ant._ Oh villanous Dissembler!    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ She's cruel, strangely cruel,
+  And I'm resolv'd to give the Courtship o'er.
+
+  _Ant._ Sure, Friend, thou hast not us'd thy wonted power.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, all that I know I'm master of, I us'd.
+
+  _Ant._ But didst thou urge it home? did she not see
+  Thy Words and Actions did not well agree?
+  Canst thou dissemble well? didst cry and melt,
+  As if the pain you but express'd, you felt?
+  Didst kneel, and swear, and urge thy Quality,
+  Heightning it too with some Disgrace on me?
+  And didst thou too assail her feeble side?
+  For the best bait to Woman is her Pride;
+  Which some mis-call her Guard:
+  Didst thou present her with the set of Jewels?
+  For Women naturally are more inclin'd
+  To Avarice, than Men: pray tell me, Friend.
+  --Vile Woman! did she take them--
+
+  _Alb._ I never ask'd her that.
+
+  _Clar._ Poor _Antonio_, how I pity him.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ No!
+
+  _Alb_. No, I've done enough to satisfy thy Jealousy.
+  Here, take your set of Jewels back again;    [Gives a Box.
+  Upon my Life _Clarina_ is all Chastity.
+
+  _Ant._ I were the happiest Man on Earth, were this but true;
+  But what are single Courtships?--give her these,
+  Which will assist thy Tongue to win her Heart;
+  And that once got, the other soon will follow;
+  There's far more Women won by Gold than Industry:
+  Try that, my dear _Alberto_,
+  And save thy Eyes the trouble of dissembling.
+
+  _Alb._ Content thee here, and do not tempt thy Fate,
+  I have regard unto thy Honour, Friend;
+  And should she yield, as Women are no Gods,
+  Where were thy future Joys?
+  What is't could make thee happy, or restore
+  That true Contentment which thou hadst before?
+  Alas! thou tempt'st me too, for I am frail,
+  And Love above my Friendship may prevail.
+
+  _Ant._ This will not do;
+  No, as thou art my Friend, and lov'st my Honour,
+  Pursue _Clarina_ further;
+  Rally afresh, and charge her with this Present,
+  Disturb her every night with Serenades;
+  Make Love-Songs to her, and then sing them too;
+  Thou hast a Voice enough alone to conquer.
+
+  _Alb._ Fool, _Antonio_!    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ Come, wilt thou undertake it once again?
+
+  _Alb._ I would not.
+
+  _Ant._ I am resolv'd to get this tryal made,
+  And if thou dost refuse thy Amity,
+  I'll try a Friend more willing, though less faithful;
+  With thee my Wife and Honour too are safe,
+  For should she yield, and I by that were lost,
+  'Twere yet some ease,
+  That none but thou wert witness to't.
+
+  _Alb._ Well, if it must be done, I'ad rather do't,
+  Than you should be expos'd to th' scorn of others.
+
+  _Ant._ Spoke like my noble Friend;
+  Come dine with her to day, for I must leave you,
+  And give you all the opportunity
+  A real Lover wishes with a Mistress.
+
+  _Ism._ So we have heard enough.
+
+    [Ex. _Clar._ and _Ism._
+
+  _Ant._ Oh, were _Clarina_ chaste, as on my Soul
+  I cannot doubt, more than that I believe
+  All Womankind may be seduc'd from Virtue;
+  I were the Man of all the World most bless'd
+  In such a Wife, and such a Friend as thou.
+
+  _Alb._ But what if I prevail, _Antonio_?
+
+  _Ant._ Then I'll renounce my faith in Womankind,
+  And place my satisfaction in thy Amity.
+  --But see, she comes, I'll leave you to your task.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
+
+  _Ism._ Antonio not yet gone--
+  This must secure me.    [Pulls down her Veil.
+
+  _Ant._ _Clarina_, why thus clouded?
+
+  _Isab._ I see he has most happily mistaken.
+
+  _Ism._ I was going, Sir, to visit _Laura_--
+
+  _Ant._ You must not go, I've business to the Duke,
+  And you must entertain my Friend till my return;
+  It is a freedom not usual here amongst Ladies,
+  But I will have it so;
+  Whom I esteem, I'll have you do so too.
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, I am all obedience.
+    [Exit _Antonio_, she pulls off her Veil; _Alberto_ salutes her
+    with seeming lowness.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, how my Soul's divided
+  Between my Adoration and my Amity!    [Aside.
+  Friendship, thou sacred band, hold fast thy Interest;
+  For yonder Beauty has a subtle power,
+  And can undo that knot, which other Arts
+  Could ne'er invent a way for.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_, and listens at the Door.
+
+  _Ant._ I'll see a little how he behaves himself.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ But she's _Antonio's_ Wife; my Friend _Antonio_.    [Aside.
+  A Youth that made an Interest in my Soul,
+  When I had Language scarce to express my sense of it.
+
+  _Ant._ Death! he speaks not to her.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ So grew we up to Man, and still more fixt;
+  And shall a gaudy Beauty,
+  A thing which t'other day I never saw,
+  Deprive my Heart of that kind Heat,
+  And place a new and unknown Fire within?    [Aside.
+  _Clarina_, 'tis unjust.
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, did you speak to me?
+
+  _Alb._ I have betray'd my self--    [Aside.
+  Madam, I was saying how unjust it was
+  _Antonio_ should leave me alone with a Lady,
+  Being certainly the worst to entertain them in the World.
+
+  _Ant._ His Face assures me he speaks of no Love to her now.
+
+  _Ism._ Alas, he speaks not to me.
+  Sure _Isabella_ was mistaken, who told me that he lov'd me.
+  --_Alberto_, if thou art oblig'd to me,    [Aside.
+  For what I have not yet observ'd in thee,
+  Oh, do not say my Heart was easily won,
+  But blame your Eyes, whose forces none can shun.
+
+  _Ant._ Not a word, what can he mean by this?
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, will you please to sit a while?
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, the inner Chamber is much better,
+  For there he may repose upon the Cushions
+  Till my Lord's return; I see he is not well--
+  --And you are both sick of one Disease.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ I thank you, here's more Air,
+  --And that I need, for I am all on fire,    [Aside.
+  And every Look adds fuel to my flame.
+  --I must avoid those Eyes, whose Light misguides me:
+  --Madam, I have some business calls me hence,
+  And cannot wait my Friend's return.
+
+  _Ism._ _Antonio_, Sir, will think 'tis my neglect
+  That drove you hence; pray stay a little longer.
+
+  _Alb._ You shall command me, if you can dispense
+  With so dull Company.
+
+  _Ism._ I can with any thing _Antonio_ loves.
+
+  _Alb_. Madam, it is a Virtue that becomes you;
+  For though your Husband should not merit this,
+  Your Goodness is not less to be admir'd;
+  But he's a Man so truly worth your Kindness,
+  That 'twere a Sin to doubt
+  Your Passion for him were not justly paid.
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, I believe you, and I hope he thinks
+  That my opinion of him equals yours;
+  'Tis plain he loves me not;    [Aside.
+  Perhaps his Virtue, thinking me _Clarina_,
+  May hide the real Passion of his Soul.
+  Oh Love, what dangerous Paths thou mak'st us tread!
+
+  _Ant._ Cold, cold as Devotion, oh inhuman Friendship!    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ What shall I do next? I must either be rude,
+  And say nothing, or speak of Love to her;
+  And then, my Friend, thou'rt lost should I prevail,
+  And I'm undone should she not hear my Tale,
+  Which for the World I would not have her hear;
+  And yet I fear my Eyes too much declare.
+
+  _Ism._ Since he's in so ill an Humour, let's leave him,
+  I'm satisfy'd now that thou'rt mistaken.
+    [Ex. _Ismena_ and _Isabella_ unseen.
+
+  _Alb._ But they shall gaze no more on hers,
+  Nor stray beyond the limits of a just Salute.
+  --I will my Honour to my Love prefer,
+  And my _Antonio_ shall out-rival her.
+    [Looks about, and misses them.
+  --Ah, am I left alone! how frail is Man!
+  That which last Moment I resolv'd upon,
+  I find my Heart already disapprove,
+  And grieve her loss; can this be ought but Love?
+  My Soul's dissatisfy'd now she is gone,
+  And yet but now I wish'd to be alone.
+  --Inform me, Love, who shares the better part,
+  Friendship, or thee, in my divided Heart.    [Offers to go.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_, and stays him.
+
+  _Ant._ Whither in such haste?
+  Thou look'st e'en as sad as a Lover repuls'd,
+  I fear that Fate's not thine.
+
+  _Alb._ Now for a lye to satisfy him.    [Aside.
+  Prithee discharge me of this toil of dissembling,
+  Of which I grow as weary as she's of hearing it.
+
+  _Ant._ Indeed!
+
+  _Alb._ Sure thou hast a design to make her hate me.
+
+  _Ant._ Do you think so in earnest, why, was she angry?
+
+  _Alb._ Oh! hadst thou seen her pretty blushing Scorn,
+  Which she would fain have hid,
+  Thou wouldst have pitied what I made her suffer.
+
+  _Ant._ Is't possible!
+  And didst present her with the Box of Jewels?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes.
+
+  _Ant._ And kneel, and cry and swear, and--
+
+  _Alb._ All, all.
+
+  _Ant._ I hardly gave thee time for so much Courtship,
+  --But you are sure she was displeased with it?
+
+  _Alb._ Extremely.
+
+  _Ant._ Enough, _Alberto_; adieu to thee and Friendship.
+
+  _Alb._ What mean you?
+
+  _Ant._ Ask your own Guilt, it will inform thee best.
+
+  _Alb._ Thou canst not think _Clarina_ has abus'd thee.
+
+  _Ant._ I do not think she has, nor have you try'd her;
+  In that you have not only disoblig'd me,
+  But now you would impose upon my Weakness
+  --Did I not see how unconcern'd you were,
+  And hardly paying her a due respect;
+  And when she even invited thee to speak,
+  Most rudely thou wert silent?
+
+  _Alb._ Be calm, _Antonio_, I confess my error,
+  And hate that Virtue taught me to deceive thee;
+  --Here, take my Hand,--
+  I'll serve you in good earnest.
+
+  _Ant._ And now I do believe thee,
+  Go--thou shalt lose no time, I must away,
+  My Soul's in torment, till I am confirm'd
+  Of my _Clarina's_ Virtue;
+  I do believe thou hast a generous Shame,
+  For what thou'st said and done to me thy Friend.
+  For could I doubt thy Love, oh, how ridiculous
+  This act of mine would seem!
+  But 'tis to thee, as to my Soul I come,
+  Disputing every petty Crime and Doubt.
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio_, if there need an Oath between us--
+
+  _Ant._ No, I credit thee; go in,
+  And prithee dress thy Eyes in all their Charms;
+  For this uncertainty disturbs me more,
+  Than if I knew _Clarina_ were a--Whore.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. The Apartment of _Frederick_.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_ with a Letter, and _Galliard_.
+
+  _Fred._ Not allow me to speak to her, say ye, 'tis strange;
+  Didst say it was the Prince that sent thee?
+
+  _Gal._ My Lord, I did, but he says, he cares not for
+  A thousand Princes.
+
+  _Fred._ I am resolv'd I will see this Woman;
+  --Harkye, go back again and say--    [Whispers.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ drunk.
+
+  _Lor._ Hah, the Prince--he must not see me
+  In this pickle; for I would not lose my Reputation
+  Of Wenching for this of Drinking;
+  And I am sure I cannot be excellent at both,
+  They are inconsistent.
+
+  _Gal._ I shall, my Lord.    [Exit.
+
+  _Lor._ Your Highness's humble Servant.
+
+  _Fred._ Ha, ha, what, _Lorenzo_ in debauch?
+
+  _Lor._ Now my Tongue will betray me:--
+  Faith, my Lord, I have took six, but am come briskly off;
+  By this hand, my Lord, I am Cock over five
+  Stout Rogues too, I can tell you, at this sport.
+
+  _Fred._ I did not think thou hadst had that Virtue.
+
+  _Lor._ I'll tell you, Sir, 'tis necessary those of my
+  Office and Quality should have more Virtues
+  Than one to recommend them;
+  But to tell you truth, for now I am most apt for that,
+  I was drunk in mere Malice to day.
+
+  _Fred._ Malice, against whom, prithee?
+
+  _Lor._ Why, why, Sir, the humorous old Fellow,
+  My Father,
+  He will not hear reason from me when I am sober.
+  My Lord, you know _Curtius_ is an honest Fellow,
+  And one of us too;
+  My Sister _Laura_ is a good pretty Wench,
+  He loves her, and she likes him;
+  And because this testy old Blade has done himself,
+  Do you think I can bring him to consider?
+  No, not for my Life, he won't consider, Sir;
+  And now am I got drunk to see how that will edify him.
+
+  _Fred._ How! is _Laura_, the Mistress of _Curtius_, your Sister?
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, marry is she, Sir, at least by the Mother's side;
+  And to tell you truth,
+  We are too good-natur'd to believe
+  _Salvator_ our Father.
+
+  _Fred._ Thy Sister, and Daughter to _Salvator_?
+
+  _Lor._ So said my Mother, but she was handsome;
+  And on my conscience liv'd e'en in such another
+  Debauch'd World as 'tis now, let them say
+  What they will of their primitive Virtue.
+
+  _Fred._ May not I see this Sister of thine, _Lorenzo_?
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, by _Venus_, shall you, Sir,
+  An she were my Mother.
+
+  _Fred._ But art sure thy Father will permit us?
+
+  _Lor._ My Father permit us!
+  He may do what he will when I am sober,
+  But being thus fortify'd with potent Wine,
+  He must yield obedience to my Will.
+  Why, my Lord, I'll tell you,
+  I'll make him ask me blessing when I am in this
+  Almighty Power.
+
+  _Fred._ And is thy Sister so very fine?
+
+  _Lor._ The Girl is well, and if she were not my Sister,
+  I would give you a more certain Proof of my
+  Opinion of her;
+  She has excellent good Hair, fine Teeth,
+  And good Hands, and the best natur'd Fool--
+  Come, come, Sir, I'll bring you to her,
+  And then I'll leave you;
+  For I have a small Affair of Love to dispatch.
+
+  _Fred._ This is a freedom that sutes not with the
+  Humour of an _Italian_.
+
+  _Lor._ No, faith, my Lord; I believe my Mother play'd
+  Foul play with some _Englishman_;
+  I am so willing to do you a good office to my Sister.
+  And if by her Humour you become of that opinion too,
+  I shall hope to render myself more acceptable
+  To you by that Franchise.
+
+    Enter _Galliard_, whispers.
+
+  _Fred._ Thou knowest my grateful Temper,
+  --No matter; here, carry this Letter to _Cloris_,
+  And make some excuse for my not coming this Evening.
+    [Gives him a Letter, and goes out with _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Gal._ So, poor Lass, 'tis a hundred to one if she be not
+  Lay'd by now, and _Laura_ must succeed her:
+  Well, even _Frederick_, I see, is but a Man,
+  But his Youth and Quality will excuse him;
+  And 'twill be call'd Gallantry in him,
+  When in one of us, 'tis Ill-nature and Inconstancy.    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. _Antonio's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
+
+  _Isab._ Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain to deny it;
+  Do you think I have liv'd to these years,
+  And cannot interpret cross Arms, imperfect Replies,
+  Your sudden Weepings, your often Sighing,
+  Your melancholy Walks, and making Verses too?
+  And yet I must not say that this is Love.
+
+  _Ism._ Art thou so notable a Judge of it?
+
+  _Isab._ I should be, or I am a very dull Scholar,
+  For I have lost the foolish Boy as many Darts,
+  As any Woman of my age in _Florence_.
+
+  _Ism._ Thou hast paid dear for thy knowledge then.
+
+  _Isab._ No, the hurt ones did, the other still made good, with very
+little
+  Pain on either side.
+
+  _Ism._ I must confess, I think it is not so hard to get
+  Wounds, as 'tis to get them cur'd again.
+
+  _Isab._ I am not of your opinion, nor ever saw that
+  Man who had not Faults to Cure,
+  As well as Charms to kill.
+
+  _Ism._ Since thou'rt so good a Judge of Men,
+  Prithee tell me how thou lik'st _Alberto_.
+
+  _Isab._ I knew 'twould come to this--    [Aside.
+  Why, well, Madam.
+
+  _Ism._ No more than so?
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, wondrous well, since I am sure he loves you,
+  And that indeed raises a Man's Value.
+
+  _Ism._ Thou art deceiv'd, I do not think he loves me.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, you cannot but see a thousand Marks on't.
+
+  _Ism._ Thou hast more Skill than I;
+  But prithee why does he not tell me so himself?
+
+  _Isab._ Oh Madam, whilst he takes you for _Clarina_,
+  'Twould shew his disrespect to tell his Love?
+  But when he knows _Ismena_ is the Object,
+  He'll tire you with the wish'd for story.
+
+  _Ism._ Ah, thou art a pleasing Flatterer.
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+_Page._ Madam, _Alberto_ is without.
+
+  _Ism._ Tell him I'm indispos'd, and cannot see him now.
+
+  _Isab._ Nay, good Madam, see him now by all means,
+  For I am sure my Lord _Antonio_ is absent on purpose.
+  --Bid him come in, Boy.    [Exit _Page_.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+  _Ism._ _Antonio_, Sir, is not return'd.
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, this Visit was not meant to him,
+  But by a Cause more pressing I am brought,
+  Such as my Passion, not My Friendship taught;
+  A Passion which my Sighs have only shewn,
+  And now beg leave my bashful Tongue may own.
+  The knowledge, Madam, will not much surprise,
+  Which you have gain'd already from mine Eyes;
+  My timorous Heart that way my Tongue would spare,
+  And tells you of the Flames you've kindled there:
+  'Tis long I've suffered under this Constraint,
+  Have always suffer'd, but ne'er made Complaint;
+  And now against my will I must reveal
+  What Love and my Respect would fain conceal.
+
+  _Ism._ What mean you, Sir? what have you seen in me,
+  That should encourage this temerity?
+
+  _Alb._ A world of Beauties, and a world of Charms,
+  And every Smile and Frown begets new harms;
+  In vain I strove my Passion to subdue,
+  Which still increas'd the more I look'd on you;
+  Nor will my Heart permit me to retire,
+  But makes my Eyes the convoys to my Fire,
+  And not one Glance you send is cast away.
+
+  _Ism._ Enough, my Lord, have you nought else to say?
+  The Plot's betray'd, and can no further go;    [Smiles.
+  The Stratagem's discover'd to the Foe;
+  I find _Antonio_ has more Love than Wit,
+  And I'll endeavour too to merit it.
+
+  _Alb._ What you have said, I do confess is true,
+  _Antonio_ beg'd I would make love to you;
+  But, Madam, whilst my heart was unconfin'd,
+  A thousand ways the Treachery I declin'd--
+  But now, _Clarina_, by my Life I swear,
+  It is my own concern that brings me here:
+  Had he been just to you, I had suppress'd
+  The Flames your Eyes have kindled in my Breast;
+  But his Suspicion rais'd my Passion more,
+  And his Injustice taught me to adore:
+  But 'tis a Passion which you may allow,
+  Since its effects shall never injure you.
+
+  _Ism._ You have oblig'd me, Sir, by your Confession,
+  And I shall own it too at such a rate,
+  As both becomes my Duty to _Antonio_,
+  And my Respect to you; but I must beg
+  You'll never name your Passion to me more,
+  That guilty Language, Sir, I must not hear:
+  --And yet your silence kills me.    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ Very well dissembled.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ I can obey you, Madam, though I cannot live,
+  Whilst you command me silence;
+  For 'tis a Flame that dares not look abroad
+  To seek for pity from another's Eyes.
+
+  _Ism._ How he moves me! if this were real now,
+  Or that he knew to whom he made this Courtship--    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, do not turn away as if displeas'd.
+
+  _Ism._ No more, you've discompos'd my thoughts;
+  Be gone, and never let me see thy Face again.
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, I go, and will no more offend you,
+  --But I will look my last--farewel.    [Offers to go.
+
+  _Isab._ Pray, Madam, call him back, he may be desperate.
+  --My Lord, return--
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_, tell me what you'd have me do.
+
+  _Alb._ Ah, Madam, do not put me to my choice,
+  For Lovers are unreasonable;
+  If I might name it, I would have you love me.
+
+  _Ism._ Love you, and what would be the end of that?
+
+  _Alb._ I cannot tell, but wish you were inclin'd
+  To make a tryal, Madam;
+  I have no thought or wish beyond that Blessing,
+  And that once gain'd, sure I should ask no more.
+
+  _Ism._ Were I inclin'd to this, have you consider'd
+  The fatal Consequences which attend
+  The breach of Vows and Friendship?
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, _Antonio_ first was false to you,
+  And not to punish that were such a Virtue
+  As he would never thank you for;
+  By all that's good, till he prov'd so to you,
+  He had my Soul in keeping;
+  But this act makes me resolve
+  To recompense his Folly.
+
+  _Ism._ You've found the easiest Passage to my Heart,
+  You've took it on the weakest side;
+  --But I must beg you will pretend no further.
+
+  _Alb._ Divine _Clarina_, let me pay my thanks
+  In this submissive Posture, and never rise,    [Kneels.
+  Till I can gain so much upon your Credit,
+  As to believe my Passion tends no farther
+  Than to adore you thus--and thus possess you.
+    [Kisses her hand, and bows.
+
+  _Ism._ Have not I dissembled finely, _Isabella_?    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, if you could make me believe 'tis so.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Rise, Sir, and leave me, that I may blush alone
+  For what I've parted with so easily;
+  Pray do not visit me again too soon,
+  --But use your own discretion, and be secret.
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, the blessed Secret here is lodg'd,
+  Which Time shall ne'er reveal to human Knowledge.    [Ex. _Alb._
+
+  _Ism._ I'm glad he's gone before _Antonio's_ return.
+
+    Enter _Laura_ weeping.
+
+  --What, _Laura_, all in Tears! the reason, pray.
+
+  _Lau._ Madam, the Prince, conducted by my Brother,
+  About an Hour since made me a Visit;
+  The Man of all the World I would have shun'd,
+  Knowing his amorous and inconstant Temper.
+  --At his approach he blusht and started back,
+  And I with great amazement did the like.
+  With fear I lost all power of going from him.
+  As he had done of making his Address;
+  He gaz'd and wonder'd, and I gaz'd on him,
+  And from his silence I became amaz'd.
+  --My Brother stood confounded at our Postures,
+  And only by the motion of his Head
+  (Which now he turn'd to me, then on the Prince)
+  We knew that he had Life.
+
+  _Ism._ Well, how recover'd ye?
+
+  _Lau._ The Prince then kneel'd, but could approach no nearer;
+  And then as if he'd taken me for some Deity,
+  He made a long disorder'd amorous Speech,
+  Which brought me back to Sense again:
+  But _Lorenzo_ told him that I was a Mortal,
+  And brought him nearer to me,
+  Where he began to make such Vows of Love--
+
+  _Ism._ What then?
+
+  _Lau._ Then I am ruin'd--
+  To all I said he found a contradiction,
+  And my denials did but more inflame him;
+  I told him of the Vows I'ad made to _Curtius_,
+  But he reply'd that _Curtius_ was a Subject.
+  But sure at last I'd won upon his Goodness,
+  Had not my Father enter'd,
+  To whom the Prince addrest himself;
+  And with his moving tale so won upon him,
+  Or rather by his Quality,
+  That he has gain'd his leave to visit me,
+  And quite forbids me e'er to speak to _Curtius_.
+
+  _Ism._ Alas the day, is this all?
+
+  _Lau._ All! can there be more to make me miserable?
+
+  _Ism._ I see no reason thou hast to complain:
+  Come, wipe your Eyes, and take a good Heart;
+  For I'll tell thee a Story of my own,
+  That will let thee see I have much more cause to weep;
+  And yet I have a thousand little Stratagems
+  In my Head, which give me as many hopes:
+  This unlucky restraint upon our Sex,
+  Makes us all cunning; and that shall assist thee now
+  With my help, I warrant thee;
+  Come in with me, and know the rest.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+  _Isab._ So, so, disguise it how you will,
+  I know you are a real Lover;
+  And that secret shall advance my Love-design.
+  Yes, Madam, now I will be serv'd by you,
+  Or you shall fail to find a Friend of me.    [Ex. _Isab._
+
+
+SCENE III. The Street.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ drunk, with a _Page_, and Musick, as in the dark.
+
+  _Lor._ Here's the Door, begin and play your best,
+  But let them be soft low Notes, do you hear?    [They play.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_.
+
+  _Ant._ Musick at my Lodgings! it is _Alberto_;
+  Oh, how I love him for't--if _Clarina_ stand his
+  Courtship, I am made;
+  I languish between Hope and Fear.
+
+  _Lor._ Stay, Friend, I hear somebody.    [Musick ceases.
+
+  _Pag._ 'Tis nobody, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_.
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis _Lorenzo_, and my Plot's ripe;       [Aside.
+    [_Lorenzo_ being retir'd the while a little further.
+
+  'Twill not sure be hard to get him, under pretence
+  Of seeing _Clarina_, into my Chamber,
+  And then I'll order him at my pleasure;
+  _Ismena_ is on my side, for I know all her Secrets,
+  And she must wink at mine therefore.    [She retires.
+
+  _Lor._ Thou art in the right, Boy,
+  I think indeed 'twas nothing.    [Plays again.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+  _Alb._ She yields, bad Woman!
+  Why so easily won?
+  By me too, who am thy Husband's Friend:
+  Oh dangerous Boldness! unconsidering Woman!
+  I lov'd thee, whilst I thought thou couldst not yield;
+  But now that Easiness has undone thy Interest in my Heart,
+  I'll back, and tell thee that it was to try thee.
+
+  _Lor._ No, no, 'twas my Fears, away with the Song,
+  I'll take it on your word that 'tis fit for my purpose.
+
+  _Fid._ I'll warrant you, my Lord.
+
+
+SONG.
+
+  _In vain I have labour'd the Victor to prove
+  Of a Heart that can ne'er give attendance to Love;
+          So hard to be done.
+          That nothing so young
+  Could e'er have resisted a Passion so long.
+
+  Yet nothing I left unattempted or said,
+  That might soften the Heart of this pitiless Maid;
+          But still she was shy,
+          And would blushing deny,
+  Whilst her willinger Eyes gave her Language the lye.
+
+  Since, _Phillis_, my Passion you vow to despise,
+  Withdraw the false Hopes from your flattering Eyes:
+          For whilst they inspire
+          A resistless vain Fire,
+  We shall grow to abhor, what we now do admire._    [Ex. _Musick_.
+
+  _Alb._ What's this, and at _Clarina's_ Lodgings too?
+  Sure 'tis _Antonio_, impatient of delay,
+  Gives her a Serenade for me.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_.
+
+  _Isab._ 'Tis the Fool himself--
+  My Lord, where are you?
+
+_Alb._ How! a Woman's Voice! 'tis dark, I'll advance.
+
+_Lor._ Thou Simpleton, I told thee there was somebody.
+
+_Pag._ Lord, Sir, 'tis only _Isabella_ that calls you.
+
+_Lor._ Away, Sirrah, I find by my fears 'tis no Woman.
+    [Goes out with the _Page_.
+
+_Isab._ Why don't you come? here's nobody.
+
+_Alb._ Here I am.
+
+_Isab._ Where?
+
+_Alb._ Here.    [Gives her his Hand.
+
+  _Isab._ My Lord, you may venture, _Clarina_ will be
+  Alone within this Hour, where you shall entertain
+  Her at your freedom: but you must stay awhile in my
+  Chamber till my Lord's a bed;
+  For none but I must know of the favour she designs you.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh Gods! what Language do I hear--
+  False and Perfidious Woman, I might have thought,
+  Since thou wert gain'd so easily by me,
+  Thou wouldst with equal haste yield to another.
+
+_Isab._ It is not _Lorenzo_, what shall I do?    [She steals in.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Page_.
+
+  _Lor._ A Pox of all damn'd cowardly fear!
+  Now did I think I had drunk Nature up to Resolution:
+  I have heard of those that could have dar'd in their Drink;
+  But I find, drunk or sober, 'tis all one in me.
+
+  _Alb._ The Traitor's here,
+  Whom I will kill whoe'er he be.
+
+  _Lor._ Boy, go see for _Isabella_.
+
+  _Pag._ I see a Man should not be a Coward and a Lover
+  At once--_Isabella_, _Isabella_, she's gone, Sir.    [Calls.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Villain, she's gone, and in her room
+  Is one that will chastise thy Boldness.
+
+  _Lor._ That's a proud word though, whoe'er thou be;
+  But how I shall avoid it, is past my Understanding.
+
+  _Alb._ Where art thou, Slave?
+    [_Alberto_ gropes for him, he avoids him.
+
+  _Pag._ Take heart, Sir, here's company which I will
+  Get to assist you--
+
+    Enter _Antonio_.
+
+  Sir, as you are a Gentleman, assist a stranger set upon by Thieves.
+    [They fight, _Antonio_ with _Alberto_, _Alberto_ falls, is
+    wounded. _Lor._ and _Page_ run away the while.
+
+  _Alb._ Whoe'er thou be'st that takes the Traitor's part,
+  Commend me to the wrong'd _Antonio_.
+
+  _Ant._ _Alberto_! dear _Alberto_, is it thee?
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio!_
+
+  _Ant._ I am asham'd to say I am _Antonio_;
+  Oh Gods, why would you suffer this mistake?
+
+  _Alb._ I am not wounded much,
+  My greatest pain is my concern for thee;
+  Friend, thou art wrong'd, falsely and basely wrong'd;
+  _Clarina_, whom you lov'd and fear'd,
+  Has now betray'd thy Honour with her own.
+
+  _Ant._ Without that sad addition to my Grief,
+  I should not long have born the weight of Life,
+  Having destroy'd thine by a dire mistake.
+
+  _Alb._ Thou art deceiv'd.
+
+  _Ant._ Alas, why was it not permitted me
+  To lose my Friend, or Wife? had one surviv'd,
+  I might have dy'd in silence for the other;
+  Oh my _Alberto_! oh _Clarina_ too!--    [Weeps.
+
+  _Alb._ Come, do not grieve for me, I shall be well,
+  I yet find strength enough to get away;
+  And then I'll let thee know my Fate and thine.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _Antonio's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Clarina_, _Ismena_, and _Isabella_ weeping.
+
+  _Isab._ For Heaven sake, Madam, pardon me.
+
+  _Clar._ Be dumb for ever, false and treacherous Woman,
+  Was there no way but this to mask your Cheat?
+  A Lye which has undone us all.
+
+  _Isab._ Alas, 'twas in the dark, how could I know him?
+  Pray forgive it me, and try my future Service.
+
+  _Clar._ I never will forgive thee, naughty Girl;
+  _Alberto_ now incens'd will tell _Antonio_ all.
+
+  _Isab._ What need you care, Madam?
+  You are secure enough.
+
+  _Clar._ Thou salv'st an Error with a greater still;
+  Dost thou not know _Antonio's_ Jealousy,
+  Which yet is moderate, rais'd to a higher pitch,
+  May ruin me, _Ismena_, and thy self?
+
+  _Ism._ Sister, there cannot be much harm in this;
+  'Tis an ill chance, 'tis true, for by it we have lost
+  The pleasure of an innocent Revenge
+  Upon _Antonio_; but if understood,
+  We have but miss'd that end.
+
+  _Clar._ Oh _Ismena!_
+  This Jealousy is an unapprehensive madness,
+  A non-sense which does still abandon Reason.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, early in the Morning
+  I'll to _Alberto's_ Lodgings, and tell him the mistake.
+
+  _Clar._ 'Twill be too late.
+
+  _Ism._ Sister, what think you if I go myself?
+
+  _Clar._ You should not be so daring;
+  Besides, I blush to think what strange opinion
+  He'll entertain of me the while.
+
+  _Ism._ Do not let that afflict you.
+  Fetch my Veil, and if _Antonio_ chance to ask for me,
+  Tell him I'm gone to _Laura_.    [Ex. _Isab._
+  Believe me, I will set all strait again.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ with the Veil.
+
+  _Clar._ Thou hast more Courage, Girl, than I.
+
+  _Ism._ What need is there of much of that,
+  To encounter a gay young Lover,
+  Where I am sure there cannot be much danger?
+
+  _Clar._ Well, take your chance, I wish you luck, Sir,
+  For I am e'en as much bent upon Revenge,
+  As thou art upon Marriage.
+
+  _Ism._ Come, my Veil, this and the Night
+  Will enough secure me.    [Puts on the Veil and goes out.
+
+    [Ex. _Clar._ and _Isab._
+
+
+SCENE V. A Chamber in _Alberto's_ House.
+
+    Discovers _Alberto_ and _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ Nay, thou shalt see't before thou dost revenge it;
+  In such a case, thy self should be the Witness,
+  She knows not what has past to night between us,
+  Nor should she, if thou couldst contain thy Rage;
+  And that, _Antonio_, you shall promise me:
+  To morrow place thy self behind the Arras,
+  And from thy Eyes thy own Misfortunes know.
+  --What will not disobliged Passion do?    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ I'll hide my Anger in a seeming calm,
+  And what I have to do consult the while,
+  And mask my Vengeance underneath a Smile.    [Ex. _Ant._
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+  _Pag._ My Lord, there is without a Lady
+  Desires to speak with you.
+
+  _Alb._ Who is't?
+
+  _Pag._ I know not, Sir, she's veiled.    [Exit _Page_.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ weeping.
+
+  _Alb._ Conduct her in.
+
+  _Ism._ Oh _Alberto_, _Isabella_ has undone us all!
+
+  _Alb._ She weeps, and looks as innocent!
+  --What mean you, false dissembling _Clarina_?
+  What, have you borrow'd from Deceit new Charms,
+  And think'st to fool me to a new belief?
+
+  _Ism._ How, Sir, can you too be unkind?
+  Nay then 'tis time to die; alas, there wanted but your credit
+  To this mistake, to make me truly miserable.
+
+  _Alb._ What Credit? What Mistake? oh, undeceive me,
+  For I have done thee Injuries past Forgiveness,
+  If thou be'st truly innocent.
+
+  _Ism._ If _Isabella_, under pretence of courting me
+  For _Lorenzo_, whom she designs to
+  Make a Husband,
+  Has given him freedoms will undo my Honour,
+  If not prevented soon.
+
+  _Alb._ May I credit this, and that it was not by thy
+  Command she did it?
+
+  _Ism._ Be witness, Heaven, my Innocence in this,
+  Which if you will believe, I'm safe again.
+
+  _Alb._ I do believe thee, but thou art not safe,
+  Here, take this Poyniard, and revenge thy Wrongs,
+  Wrongs which I dare not beg a Pardon for.    [He gives her a Dagger.
+
+  _Ism._ Why, Sir, what have you done? have you
+  Deceiv'd me, and do you not indeed love me?
+
+  _Alb._ Oh _Clarina!_ do not ask that Question,
+  Too much of that has made me ruin thee;
+  It made me jealous, drunk with Jealousy,
+  And then I did unravel all my Secrets.
+
+  _Ism._ What Secrets, Sir? you have then seen _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes.
+
+  _Ism._ Hah--Now, Wit, if e'er thou did'st possess
+  A Woman, assist her at her need.    [Aside.
+  --Well, Sir, rise and tell me all.
+
+  _Alb._ I will not rise till you have pardoned me,
+  Or punished my Misfortune.
+
+  _Ism._ Be what it will, I do forgive it thee.
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio_, Madam, knows my Happiness,
+  For in my Rage I told him that you lov'd me;
+  --What shall I do?
+
+  _Ism._ I cannot blame you though it were unkind.
+
+  _Alb._ This I could help, but I have promis'd him,
+  That he shall be a witness of this Truth;
+  What say you, Madam, do I not merit Death?
+  Oh speak, and let me know my doom whate'er it be.
+
+  _Ism._ Make good your Word.
+
+  _Alb._ What mean you?
+
+  _Ism._ What you have promised him, perform as you intended.
+
+  _Alb._ What then?
+
+  _Ism._ Then come as you design'd to visit me.
+
+  _Alb._ But let me know what 'tis you mean to do,
+  That I may act accordingly.
+
+  _Ism._ No. Answer me to every Question ask'd,
+  And I perhaps may set all strait again;
+  It is now late, and I must not be missing:
+  But if you love me, be no more jealous of me,
+  --Farewel.
+
+  _Alb._ Must I be ignorant then of your Design?
+
+  _Ism._ Yes, _Alberto_;
+  And you shall see what Love will make a Woman do.
+    [He leads her out.
+
+  _Alb._ Now am I caught again, inconstant Nature.
+  --Would she had less of Beauty or of Wit,
+  Or that _Antonio_ did but less deserve her;
+  Or that she were not married,
+  Or I'ad less Virtue, for 'tis that which awes me.
+  That tender sense of nothing,
+  And makes the other Reasons seem as Bugbears.
+  --I love _Clarina_ more than he can do.
+  And yet this Virtue doth oppose that Love,
+  Tells me there lurks a Treason there
+  Against _Antonio's_ and _Clarina's_ Virtue.
+  --'Tis but too true indeed, and I'm not safe,
+  Whilst I conceal the Criminal within:
+  I must reveal it, for whilst I hide the Traitor,
+  I seem to love the Treason too;
+  I will resign it then, since 'tis less blame
+  To perish by my Pain, than live with Shame.    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Room in _Salvator's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_ and _Laura_.
+
+  _Fred._ _Laura_, consider well my Quality,
+  And be not angry with your Father's Confidence,
+  Who left us here alone.
+
+  _Lau._ He will repent that Freedom when he knows
+  What use you've made on't, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ Fy, fy, _Laura_, a Lady bred at Court, and
+  Yet want complaisance enough to entertain
+  A Gallant in private! this coy Humour
+  Is not _à-la-mode_.--Be not so peevish with a Heart that dies for you.
+
+  _Lau._ Pray tell me, Sir, what is't in me that can
+  Encourage this?
+
+  _Fred._ That which is in all lovely Women, _Laura_;
+  A thousand Blushes play about your Cheeks,
+  Which shows the briskness of the Blood that warms them.
+  --If I but tell you how I do adore you,
+  You strait decline your Eyes;
+  Which does declare you understand my meaning,
+  And every Smile or Frown betrays your thoughts,
+  And yet you cry, you do not give me cause.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+  _Maid._ _Curtius_, Madam, waits without.
+
+  _Fred._ I do not like his haste,
+  --Tell him he cannot be admitted now.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, he is one that merits better treatment from you;
+  How can you injure thus the Man you love?
+
+  _Fred._ Oh Madam, ask your Eyes, those powerful Attracts.
+  And do not call their Forces so in question,
+  As to believe they kindle feeble Fires,
+  Such as a Friendship can surmount. No, _Laura_,
+  They've done far greater Miracles.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, 'tis in vain you tell me of their Power,
+  Unless they could have made a nobler Conquest
+  Than Hearts that yield to every petty Victor.
+  --Look on me well,
+  Can nothing here inform you of my Soul,
+  And how it scorns to treat on these Conditions?
+    [Looks on him, he gazes with a half Smile.
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, no, _Laura_.
+  I see nothing there but wondrous Beauty,
+  And a deal of needless Pride and Scorn,
+  And such as may be humbled.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, you mistake, that never can abate.
+  But yet I know your Power may do me injuries;
+  But I believe you're guilty of no Sin,
+  Save your Inconstancy, which is sufficient;
+  And, Sir, I beg I may not be the first    [Kneels and weeps.
+  May find new Crimes about you.
+
+  _Fred._ Rise, _Laura_, thou hast but too many Beauties,
+  Which pray be careful that you keep conceal'd.    [Offers to go.
+
+  _Lau._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._--But why should this interposing Virtue check me?
+  --Stay, _Laura_, tell me; must you marry _Curtius_?
+
+  _Lau._ Yes, Sir, I must.
+
+  _Fred._ _Laura_, you must not.
+
+  _Lau._ How, Sir!
+
+  _Fred._ I say you shall not marry him,
+  Unless you offer up a Victim,
+  That may appease the Anger you have rais'd in me.
+
+  _Lau._ I'll offer up a thousand Prayers and Tears.
+
+  _Fred._ That will not do.
+  Since thou'st deny'd my just Pretensions to thee,
+  No less than what I told you of shall satisfy me.
+
+  _Lau._ Oh, where is all your Honour and your Virtue?
+
+  _Fred_. Just where it was, there's no such real thing.
+  I know that thou wert made to be possest,
+  And he that does refuse it, loves thee least.
+  --There's danger in my Love, and your Delay,
+  And you are most secure whilst you obey.    [He pulls her gently.
+
+  _Lau._ Then this shall be my safety, hold off,    [She draws a Dagger.
+  Or I'll forget you are my Prince.    [He laughs.
+
+  _Fred._ Pretty _Virago_, how you raise my Love?
+  --I have a Dagger too; what will you do?    [Shows her a Dagger.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_.
+
+  _Cur._ How! the Prince! arm'd against _Laura_ too!    [Draws.
+
+  _Fred._ Traitor, dost draw upon thy Prince?
+
+  _Cur._ Your Pardon, Sir, I meant it on a Ravisher,
+  A foul misguided Villain,    [Bows.
+  One that scarce merits the brave name of Man;
+  One that betrays his Friend, forsakes his Wife,
+  And would commit a Rape upon my Mistress.
+
+  _Fred._ Her Presence is thy Safety, be gone and leave me.
+
+  _Cur._ By no means, Sir; the Villain may return,
+  To which fair _Laura_, should not be expos'd.
+
+  _Fred._ Slave, dar'st thou disobey?    [Offers to fight.
+
+  _Cur._ Hold, Sir, and do not make me guilty of a Sin,
+  Greater than that of yours.
+
+    Enter _Salvator_.
+
+  _Salv._ Gods pity me; here's fine doings!--Why, how
+  Came this roistring Youngster into my House? Sir,
+  Who sent for you, hah?
+
+  _Cur._ Love.
+
+  _Salv._ Love, with a Witness to whom? my Daughter?
+  --No, Sir, she's otherwise dispos'd of I can assure
+  You. Be gone and leave my House, and that quickly
+  Too; and thank me that I do not secure
+  Thee for a Traitor.
+
+  _Cur._ Will you not hear me speak?
+
+  _Salv._ Not a word, Sir, go, be gone; unless your
+  Highness will have him apprehended.    [To _Fred._
+
+  _Fred._ No, Sir, it shall not need--_Curtius_, look
+  To hear from me.--
+    [Comes up to him, and tells him so in a menacing Tone, and go out
+    severally.
+
+_Salv._ Go, Mrs. _Minks_, get you in.
+
+    [Ex. _Salv._ and _Lau._
+
+
+SCENE II. A Street.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_ passing in Anger over the Stage, meets
+    _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Lor._ O Sir, I'm glad I've found you; for
+  I have the rarest News for you.
+
+  _Fred._ What News?
+
+  _Lor._ Oh the Devil, he's angry;--Why, Sir, the prettiest young--
+
+  _Fred._ There's for your Intelligence.    [Strikes him, and goes out.
+
+  _Lor._ So, very well; how mortal is the favour of
+  Princes! these be turns of State now; what the
+  Devil ails he trow; sure he could not be
+  Offended with the News I have brought him;
+  If he be, he's strangely out of tune:
+  And sure he has too much Wit to grow virtuous at these
+  Years. No, no, he has had some repulse from a
+  Lady; and that's a wonder; for he has a Tongue and a
+  Purse that seldom fails: if Youth and Vigour would
+  Stretch as far, he were the wonder of the Age.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_.
+
+  _Cur._ _Lorenzo_, didst thou see the Prince?
+
+  _Lor._ Marry, did I, and feel him too.
+
+  _Cur._ Why, did he strike you?
+
+  _Lor._ I'm no true Subject if he did not; and that
+  Only for doing that Service which once was most acceptable
+  To him.--Prithee what's the matter with him, hah?
+
+  _Cur._ I know not, leave me.
+
+  _Lor._ Leave thee, what, art thou out of humour too?
+  Let me but know who 'tis has disoblig'd thee, and I'll--
+
+  _Cur._ What wilt thou?
+
+  _Lor._ Never see his Face more, if a Man.
+
+  _Cur._ And what if a Woman?
+
+  _Lor._ Then she's an idle peevish Slut, I'll warrant her.
+
+  _Cur._ Conclude it so, and leave me.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, now thou hast said the only thing that could
+  Keep me with thee, thou mayst be desperate; I'll
+  Tell you, _Curtius_, these female Mischiefs make Men
+  Take dangerous Resolutions sometimes.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+_Alb._ _Curtius_, I've something to deliver to your Ear.
+    [Whispers.
+
+_Cur._ Any thing from _Alberto_ is welcome.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, I will be hang'd if there be not some
+  Mischief in agitation; it cannot be wenching;
+  They look all too dull and sober for that;
+  And besides, then I should have been a party concern'd.
+
+  _Cur._ The place and time.
+
+  _Alb._ An hour hence i'th' Grove by the River-side.
+
+  _Cur._ Alone, thou say'st?
+
+  _Alb._ Alone, the Prince will have it so.
+
+  _Cur._ I will not fail a moment.    [Ex. _Alb._
+  --So this has eas'd my heart of half its Load.
+
+  _Lor._ I'll sneak away, for this is some fighting
+  Business, and I may perhaps be invited a Second,
+  A Compliment I care not for.    [Offers to go.
+
+  _Cur._ _Lorenzo_, a word with you.
+
+  _Lor._ 'Tis so, what shall I do now?    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ Stay.
+
+  _Lor._ I am a little in haste, my Lord.
+
+  _Cur._ I shall soon dispatch you.
+
+  _Lor._ I believe so, for I am half dead already
+  With Fear. [Aside.] --Sir, I have promis'd to make a visit
+  To a Lady, and--
+
+  _Cur._ What I've to say will not detain you long.
+
+  _Lor._ What a Dog was I, I went not
+  When he first desir'd me to go!
+  Oh Impertinency, thou art justly rewarded!
+
+  _Cur._ _Lorenzo_, may I believe you love me?
+
+  _Lor._ Now what shall I say, Ay or no?    [Aside.
+  The Devil take me if I know.
+
+  _Cur._ Will you do me a favour?
+
+  _Lor._ There 'tis again.    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ I know I may trust thee with a secret.
+
+  _Lor._ Truly, _Curtius_, I cannot tell.
+  In some cases I am not very retentive.
+
+  _Cur._ I am going about a business, that perhaps
+  May take up all the time I have to live,
+  And I may never see thy Sister more;
+  Will you oblige me in a Message to her?
+
+  _Lor._ You know you may command me;
+  --I'm glad 'tis no worse.    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ Come, go with me into my Cabinet,
+  And there I'll write to _Laura_;
+  And prithee if thou hear'st that I am dead,
+  Tell her I fell a Sacrifice to her,
+  And that's enough, she understands the rest.
+
+_Lor._ But harkye, _Curtius_, by your favour, this is but a Scurvy Tale
+to carry to your Mistress;
+  I hope you are not in earnest.
+
+_Cur._ Yes.
+
+_Lor._ Yes! why, what a foolish idle humour's this in you? I vow 'twill
+go near to break the poor Girl's Heart;--
+  Come, be advis'd, Man.
+
+  _Cur._ Perhaps I may consider on't for that reason.
+
+  _Lor._ There are few that go about such businesses,
+  But have one thing or other to consider in favour of Life;
+  I find that even in the most magnanimous:--
+  Prithee who is't with?
+
+  _Cur._ That's counsel: and pray let this too which I have
+  Told you be a Secret, for 'twill concern your Life.
+
+  _Lor._ Good _Curtius_, take it back again then;
+  For a hundred to one but my over-care of keeping it
+  Will betray it.
+
+  _Cur._ Thou lovest thy self better.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, that's a comfort yet.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Wood.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_ dressed like a Country-Boy, follow'd by _Guilliam_
+    a Clown; _Cloris_ comes reading a Letter.
+
+  _Clo._ [Reads.] Cloris, _beware of Men; for though I my self be one,_
+  _Yet I have the Frailties of my Sex, and can dissemble too;_
+  _Trust none of us, for if thou dost, thou art undone;_
+  _We make Vows to all alike we see,_
+  _And even the best of Men, the Prince,_
+  _Is not to be credited in an affair of Love._
+  --Oh _Curtius_, thy advice was very kind;
+  Had it arriv'd before I'ad been undone!
+  --Can _Frederick_ too be false!
+  A Prince, and be unjust to her that loves him too?
+  --Surely it is impossible--
+  Perhaps thou lov'st me too, and this may be
+    [Pointing to the Letter.
+  Some Plot of thine to try my Constancy:
+  --Howe'er it be, since he could fail last night
+  Of seeing me, I have at least a cause to justify
+  This shameful change; and sure in this Disguise,
+  I shall not soon be known, dost think I shall?    [Looks on herself.
+
+  _Guil._ Why, forsooth, what do you intend to pass for,
+  A Maid or a Boy?
+
+  _Clo._ Why, what I seem to be, will it not do?
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, yes, it may do, but I know not what;
+  I would Love would transmography me to a Maid now,
+  --We should be the prettiest Couple:
+  Don't you remember when you dress'd me up the last
+  Carnival, was I not the woundiest handsome Lass
+  A body could see in a Summer's day?
+  There was _Claud_ the Shepherd as freakish after me,
+  I'll warrant you, and simper'd and tript it like any thing.
+
+  _Clo._ Ay, but they say 'tis dangerous for young
+  Maids to live at Court.
+
+  _Guil._ Nay, then I should be loth to give temptation.
+  --Pray, forsooth, what's that you read so often there?
+
+  _Clo._ An advice to young Maids that are in love.
+
+  _Guil._ Ay, ay, that same Love is a very vengeance thing,
+  Wou'd I were in love too; I see it makes a body valiant;
+  One neither feels Hunger nor Cold that is possest with it.
+
+  _Clo._ Thou art i'th' right, it can do Miracles.
+
+  _Guil._ So it seems, for without a Miracle you and I could never
+  Have rambled about these Woods all night without either Bottle or
+Wallet:
+  I could e'en cry for hunger now.
+
+  _Clo._ What a dull Soul this Fellow hath?
+  Sure it can never feel the generous Pains
+  Of Love, as mine does now; oh, how I glory
+  To find my Heart above the common rate!
+  Were not my Prince inconstant,
+  I would not envy what the Blessed do above:
+  But he is false, good Heaven!--    [Weeps. _Guil._ howls.
+  --What dost thou feel, that thou shouldst weep with me?
+
+  _Guil._ Nothing but Hunger, sharp Hunger, forsooth.
+
+  _Clo._ Leave calling me forsooth, it will betray us.
+
+  _Guil._ What shall I call you then?
+
+  _Clo._ Call me, _Philibert_, or any thing;
+  And be familiar with me: put on thy Hat, lest any come and see us.
+
+  _Guil._ 'Tis a hard name, but I'll learn it by heart.
+  --Well, _Philibert_--What shall we do when we come to Court?
+    [Puts on his Hat.
+  Besides eating and drinking, which I shall do in abundance.
+
+  _Clo._ We must get each of us a Service:
+  --But thou art such a Clown.
+
+  _Guil._ Nay, say not so, honest _Philibert_: for look ye,
+  I am much the properer Fellow of the two.    [Walks.
+
+  _Clo._ Well, try thy fortune; but be sure you never discover
+  Me, whatever Questions may chance to be asked thee.
+
+  _Guil._ I warrant thee, honest Lad, I am true and trusty;
+  But I must be very familiar with you, you say.
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, before Company.
+
+  _Guil._ Pray let me begin and practise a little now,
+  An't please you, for fear I should not be saucy enough,
+  When we arrive at Court.
+
+  _Clo._ I'll warrant you you'll soon learn there.
+
+  _Guil._ Oh Lord, _Philibert!_ _Philibert!_ I see a Man a coming
+  Most deadly fine, let's run away.
+
+  _Clo._ Thus thou hast serv'd me all this night,
+  There's not a Bush we come at, but thou start'st thus.
+
+  _Guil._ 'Tis true you are a Lover, and may stay the danger on't;
+  But I'll make sure for one.
+
+  _Clo._ It is the Prince, oh Gods! what makes he here?
+  With Looks disorder'd too; this Place is fit for Death and sad
+  Despair; the melancholy Spring a sleepy murmur makes,
+  A proper Consort for departing Souls,
+  When mix'd with dying Groans, and the thick Boughs
+  Compose a dismal Roof;
+  Dark as the gloomy Shades of Death or Graves.
+  --He comes this way, I'll hide my self awhile.    [Goes behind a Bush.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_.
+
+  _Fred._ But yet not this, nor my despight to _Laura_,
+  Shall make me out of love with Life,
+  Whilst I have youthful Fires about my Heart:
+  --Yet I must fight with _Curtius_,
+  And so chastise the Pride of that fond Maid,
+  Whose saucy Virtue durst controul my Flame.
+  --And yet I love her not as I do _Cloris_;
+  But fain I would have overcome that Chastity,
+  Of which the foolish Beauty boasts so.
+
+  _Clo._ _Curtius_, I thank thee, now I do believe thee.
+  _Guilliam_, if thou seest any fighting anon,    [The Prince walks.
+  Be sure you run out and call some body.
+
+  _Guil._ You need not bid me run away, when I once
+  See them go to that.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, I am come as you commanded me.
+
+  _Fred._ When you consider what you've lately done,
+  You will not wonder why I sent for you;
+  And when I mean to fight, I do not use to parly:
+  Come draw.
+
+  _Cur._ Shew me my Enemy, and then if I am slow--
+
+  _Fred._ I am he, needst thou one more powerful?
+
+  _Cur._ You, Sir! what have I done to make you so?
+
+  _Fred._ If yet thou want'st a further proof of it,
+  Know I'll dispute my Claim to _Laura_.
+
+  _Cur._ That must not be with me, Sir;
+  God forbid that I should raise my Arm against my Prince.
+  --If _Laura_ have so little Faith and Virtue,
+  To render up that Right belongs to me,
+  With all my heart I yield her
+  To any but to you:
+  And, Sir, for your own sake you must not have her.
+
+  _Fred._ Your Reason?
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, you're already married.
+
+  _Fred._ Thou lyest, and seek'st excuses for thy Cowardice.
+
+  _Cur._ I wish you would recal that hasty Injury;
+  Yet this I'll bear from you, who know 'tis false.
+
+  _Fred._ Will nothing move thee?
+
+  _Cur._ You would believe so, Sir, if I should tell you,
+  That besides all this, I have a juster Cause.
+
+  _Fred._ Juster than that of _Laura_? call it up, then,
+  And let it save thee from a further shame.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, so I will, 'tis that of _Cloris_,
+  Who needs my aids much more;
+  Do you remember such a Virgin, Sir?
+  For so she was till she knew _Frederick_,
+  The sweetest Innocent that ever Nature made.
+
+  _Fred._ Not thy own Honour, nor thy Love to _Laura_,
+  Would make thee draw, and now at _Cloris'_ Name
+  Thou art incens'd, thy Eyes all red with Rage:
+  --Oh, thou hast rouz'd my Soul!
+  Nor would I justify my Wrongs to her,
+  Unless it were to satisfy my Jealousy,
+  Which thou hast rais'd in me by this concern.
+  --Draw, or I'll kill thee.
+
+  _Cur._ Stay, Sir, and hear me out.
+
+  _Fred._ I will not stay, now I reflect on all
+  Thy former kindness to her--
+
+  _Cur._ I will not fight, but I'll defend my self.    [They fight.
+
+  _Fred._ We are betray'd.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Sir, and you are wounded.
+    [_Guil._ runs bawling out, they are both wounded.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh Heaven defend the Prince!    [She peeps.
+
+  _Fred._ I hear some coming, go, be gone,
+  And save thy self by flight.
+    [_Frederick_ stands leaning on his Sword.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, give me leave to stay, my flight will look like Guilt.
+
+  _Fred._ By no means, _Curtius_, thou wilt be taken here,
+  And thou shalt never charge me with that Crime of betraying
+  Thee: when we meet next, we'll end it.
+
+  _Cur._ I must obey you then.    [Exit.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ Sir, has the Villain hurt you?    [She supports him.
+  --Pray Heaven my Sorrows do not betray me now;
+  For since he's false, I fain would die conceal'd.    [Aside.
+  --Shew me your Wound, and I will tie it up.
+  Alas, you bleed extremely.--
+
+  _Fred._ Kind Youth, thy Succours are in vain, though welcome;
+  For though I bleed, I am not wounded much.
+
+  _Clo._ No? why did you let him pass unpunish'd then,
+  Who would have hurt you more?
+
+    Enter _Guilliam_ with _Galliard_.
+
+  _Gal._ Where was't?
+
+  _Guil._ Look ye, Sir, there, don't you see them?
+
+  _Gal._ How does your Highness? This Fellow told me
+  Of a quarrel here, which made me haste.
+
+  _Fred._ Be silent, and carry me to my own apartment.
+
+  _Gal._ Alas, Sir, is it you that fought?
+
+  _Fred._ No more Questions.--
+  Kind Boy, pray leave me not till I have found
+  A way to recompense thy pretty care of me.
+
+  _Clo._ I will wait on you, Sir.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _Guil._
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ and his _Page_. Peeps first.
+
+  _Lor._ What's the matter here? the Prince is wounded too.
+  Oh, what a Dog was I to know of some such thing,
+  And not secure them all?
+    [_Lor._ stands gazing at _Guil._ _Guil._ stands tabering his Hat,
+    and scruing his Face.
+  --What's here? Ha, ha, ha, this is the pleasantest
+  Fellow that e'er I saw in my Life.
+  Prithee, Friend, what's thy Name?
+
+  _Guil._ My Name, an't shall like ye.
+  My Name, it is _Guilliam_.
+
+  _Lor._ From whence comest thou?
+
+  _Guil._ From a Village a great huge way off.
+
+  _Lor._ And what's thy business here, hah?
+
+  _Guil._ Truly, Sir, not to tell a Lye;
+  I come to get a Service here at Court.
+
+  _Lor._ A Service at Court! ha, ha, that's a pleasant
+  Humour, i'faith. Why, Fellow, what canst thou do?
+
+  _Guil._ Do, Sir! I can do any thing.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, what canst thou do? canst thou dress well?
+  --Set a Peruke to advantage, tie a Crevat,
+  And Cuffs? put on a Belt with dexterity, hah?
+  These be the Parts that must recommend you.
+
+  _Guil._ I know not what you mean,
+  But I am sure I can do them all.
+
+  _Lor._ Thou art confident it seems, and I can tell
+  You, Sirrah, that's a great step to Preferment;
+  --But well, go on then, canst ride the great Horse?
+
+  _Guil._ The biggest in all our Town
+  I have rid a thousand times.
+
+  _Lor._ That's well; canst fence?
+
+  _Guil._ Fence, Sir, what's that?
+
+  _Lor._ A Term we use for the Art and Skill of handling a Weapon.
+
+  _Guil._ I can thrash, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ What's that, Man?
+
+  _Guil._ Why, Sir, it is--it is--thrashing.
+
+  _Lor._ An Artist, I vow; canst play on any Musick?
+
+  _Guil._ Oh, most rogically, Sir, I have a Bagpipe that
+  Every Breath sets the whole Village a dancing.
+
+  _Lor._ Better still; and thou canst dance, I'll warrant?
+
+  _Guil._ Dance, he, he, he, I vow you've light on
+  My Master-piece, y'fegs.
+
+  _Lor_. And I'll try thee: Boy, go fetch some of the    [To the _Page_.
+  Musick hither which I keep in pay.    [Ex. _Page_.
+  --But hark you, Friend, though I love Dancing very well,
+  And that may recommend thee in a great degree;
+  Yet 'tis wholly necessary that you should be valiant too:
+  We Great ones ought to be serv'd by Men of Valour,
+  For we are very liable to be affronted by many here
+  To our Faces, which we would gladly have beaten behind
+  Our Backs.--But Pox on't, thou hast not the Huff
+  And Grimace of a Man of Prowess.
+
+  _Guil._ As for fighting, though I do not care for it,
+  Yet I can do't if any body angers me, or so.
+
+  _Lor._ But I must have you learn to do't when
+  Any body angers me too.
+
+  _Guil._ Sir, they told me I should have no need on't
+  Here; but I shall learn.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, you Fool, that's not a thing to be learn'd,
+  --That's a brave Inclination born with Man,
+  A brave undaunted something, a thing that,
+  That comes from, from, I know not what,
+  For I was born without it.
+
+    Enter _Page_ and Musick.
+
+  Oh, are you come? let's see, Sirrah, your Activity,
+  For I must tell you that's another step to Preferment.
+    [He dances a Jig _en Paisant_.
+  'Tis well perform'd; well, hadst thou but Wit,
+  Valour, _Bone Mine_, good Garb, a Peruke,
+  Conduct and Secrecy in Love-Affairs, and half
+  A dozen more good Qualities, thou wert
+  Fit for something; but I will try thee.
+  Boy, let him have better Clothes; as for his Documents,
+  I'll give him those my self.
+
+  _Guil._ Hah, I don't like that word, it sounds terribly.
+    [Aside.
+
+    [Ex. _Page_ and _Guil._ with Musick.
+
+  _Lor._ This Fellow may be of use to me; being
+  Doubtless very honest, because he is so very simple:
+  For to say truth, we Men of Parts are sometimes
+  Over-wise, witness my last night's retreat
+  From but a supposed Danger, and returning to fall
+  Into a real one. Well, I'll now to _Isabella_,
+  And know her final Resolution; if _Clarina_ will
+  Be kind, so; if not, there be those that will.
+  --And though I cannot any Conquest boast
+  For all the Time and Money I have lost,
+  At least of _Isabel_ I'll be reveng'd,
+  And have the flattering Baggage soundly swing'd;
+  And rather than she shall escape my Anger,
+  My self shall be the Hero that shall bang her.    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Antonio's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, turn your back to that side,
+  For there _Antonio_ is hid; he must not see your
+  Face: now raise your Voice, that he may hear what 'tis you say.
+
+  _Ism._ I'll warrant you, _Isabella_:
+  Was ever wretched Woman's Fate like mine,
+  Forc'd to obey the rigid Laws of Parents,
+  And marry with a Man I did not love?
+
+  _Ant._ Oh, there's my cause of Fear.    [_Ant._ peeps.
+
+  _Ism._ Though since I had him, thou know'st I have endeavour'd
+  To make his Will my Law,
+  Till by degrees and Custom, which makes things natural,
+  I found this Heart, which ne'er had been engag'd
+  To any other, grow more soft to him;
+  And still the more he lov'd, the more I was oblig'd,
+  And made returns still kinder; till I became
+  Not only to allow, but to repay his Tenderness.
+
+  _Isab._ She counterfeits rarely.    [Aside.
+  Madam, indeed I have observ'd this truth.
+
+  _Ism._ See who 'tis knocks.    [One knocks.
+
+  _Ant._ What will this come to?    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, 'tis _Alberto_.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_. Bows.
+
+  _Ism._ My Lord, you've often told me that you lov'd me,
+  Which I with Womens usual Pride believ'd;
+  And now, encourag'd by my hopeful Promises,
+  You look for some Returns: Sir, is it so?
+
+  _Alb._ What means she?
+  Pray Heaven I answer right.    [Aside.
+  --Madam, if I have err'd in that belief,
+  To know I do so, is sufficient punishment.
+  --Lovers, Madam, though they have no returns,
+  Like sinking Men, still catch at all they meet with;
+  And whilst they live, though in the midst of Storms,
+  Because they wish, they also hope for Calms.
+
+  _Ism._ And did you, Sir, consider who I was?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Madam, Wife unto my Friend _Antonio_,
+  The only Man that has an Interest here:
+  --But, Madam, that must still submit to Love.
+
+  _Ism._ Canst thou at once be true to him and me?
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, I know not that;
+  But since I must lose one,
+  My Friendship I can better lay aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Hast thou forgot how dear thou art to him?
+
+  _Alb._ No, I do believe I am, and that his Life
+  Were but a worthless trifle, if I needed it.
+  Yet, Madam, you are dearer to him still
+  Than his _Alberto_; and 'tis so with me:
+  --Him I esteem, but you I do adore;
+  And he whose Soul's insensible of Love,
+  Can never grateful to his Friendship prove.
+
+  _Ism._ By your example, Sir, I'll still retain
+  My Love for him; and what I had for you,
+  Which was but Friendship, I'll abandon too.
+
+  _Ant._ Happy _Antonio_.--    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Pray what have you _Antonio_ cannot own?
+  Has he not equal Beauty, if not exceeding thine?
+  Has he not equal Vigour, Wit, and Valour?
+  And all that even raises Men to Gods,
+  Wert not for poor Mortality?
+  --Vain Man, couldst thou believe
+  That I would quit my Duty to this Husband,
+  And sacrifice his Right to thee?
+  --Couldst thou believe me yesterday?
+  When from thy Importunity and Impudence,
+  To send thee from me,
+  I promised thee to love thee.
+  --Nay, rather, treacherous Man,
+  Couldst thou believe I did not hate thee then,
+  Who basely would betray thy Friend and me?
+
+  _Alb._ Sure this is earnest.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ Oh brave _Clarina_!    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Speak, Traitor to my Fame and Honour;
+  Was there no Woman, but _Antonio's_ Wife,
+  With whom thou couldst commit so foul a Crime?
+  And none but he to bring to publick Shame?
+  A Man who trusted thee, and lov'd thee too?
+  --Speak--and if yet thou hast a sense of Virtue,
+  Call to the Saints for pardon, or thou dy'st.
+    [She draws a Poniard, and runs at him; he steps back to avoid it.
+
+  _Alb._ Hold, _Clarina_!--I am amaz'd.
+
+  _Ism._ But stay.
+  Thou say'st my Beauty forc'd thee to this Wickedness,
+  And that's the cause you have abus'd _Antonio_.
+  --Nor is it all the Power I have with him,
+  Can make him credit what I tell him of thee;
+  And should I live, I still must be pursu'd by thee,
+  And unbeliev'd by him:
+  --_Alberto_, thou shalt ne'er be guilty more,
+  Whilst this--and this may meet.
+    [Offering to wound her self, is stay'd by _Alb._ and _Isab._ They
+    set _Ism._ in a Chair; _Alb._ kneels weeping.
+
+  _Alb._ Hold, my divine _Clarina_.--
+
+  _Ant._ Shall I discover my self, or steal away?    [Aside.
+  And all asham'd of Life after this Action,
+  Go where the Sun or Day may never find me?
+  Oh! what Virtue I've abus'd--
+  Curse on my little Faith;
+  And all the Curses Madness can invent,
+  Light on my groundless Jealousy.    [Ex. _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ _Clarina_, why so cruel to my Heart?
+  'Tis true, I love you, but with as chaste an Ardour,
+  As Souls departing pay the Deities,
+  When with incessant Sighs they haste away,
+  And leave Humanity behind. Oh! so did I
+  Abandon all the lesser Joys of Life,
+  For that of being permitted but t'adore ye.
+  Alas, if 'twere displeasing to you,
+  Why did your self encourage it?
+  I might have languish'd, as I did before,
+  And hid those Crimes which make you hate me now.
+  --Oh, I am lost? _Antonio_, thou'st undone me;    [He rises in Rage.
+  --Hear me, Ungrate; I swear by all that's good,
+  I'll wash away my Mischief with thy Blood.
+
+  _Isab._ _Antonio_ hears you not, Sir, for he's departed.
+
+  _Ism._ Is _Antonio_ gone?
+    [She looks pertly up, who before lay half dead.
+
+  _Alb._ How's this, has she but feign'd?
+
+  _Ism._ Know it was but feign'd; I hope this proof
+  Of what I've promis'd you, does not displease you.
+
+  _Alb._ Am I thus fortunate, thus strangely happy?
+
+  _Ism._ Time will confirm it to you--go, do not
+  Now thank me for't, but seek _Antonio_ out;
+  Perhaps he may have too great a Sense of the
+  Mischiefs his Jealousies had like to have caus'd:
+  But conjure him to take no notice of what's past to me;
+  This easy slight of mine secures our Fears,
+  And serves to make _Antonio_ confident,
+  Who now will unbelieve his Eyes and Ears;
+  And since before, when I was innocent,
+  He could suspect my Love and Duty too,
+  I'll try what my dissembling it will do.
+  --Go haste.--
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, I go, surpriz'd with Love and Wonder.    [Ex. _Alb._
+
+  _Ism._ You'll be more surpriz'd, when you know    [Aside.
+  That you are cheated too as well as _Antonio_.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Street.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_ disguis'd in a black Peruke and Beard, with
+    _Pietro_ disguised also.
+
+  _Cur._ Well, what hast thou learn'd?
+
+  _Piet._ News enough, Sir, but none good;
+  That the Prince's Wounds are small,
+  So that he intends to take the Air this Evening;
+  That he sollicits _Laura_ hard;
+  And, Sir, that you are proclaim'd Traitor.
+
+  _Cur._ So, what says the Messenger you sent to _Cloris_?
+
+  _Piet._ Sir, he brings sad tidings back.
+
+  _Cur._ What tidings? is she dead?
+  That would revive my Soul,
+  And fortify my easy Nature with some wicked Notions,
+  As deep as those this flattering Prince made use of,
+  When he betray'd my Sister, pretty _Cloris_:
+  --Come, speak it boldly, for nothing else
+  Will make me do her Justice.
+
+  _Piet._ No, Sir, she is not dead,
+  But fled, and none knows whither;
+  Only _Guilliam_ attends her.
+
+  _Cur._ Worse and worse; but what of _Laura_?
+
+  _Piet._ She, Sir, is kept a Prisoner by her Father,
+  And speaks with none but those that come from _Frederick_.
+
+  _Cur._ _Laura_ confin'd too! 'tis time to hasten then,
+  With my, till now, almost disarmed Revenge:
+  --Thus I may pass unknown the Streets of _Florence_,
+  And find an opportunity to reach this Prince's Heart,
+  --Oh, Vengeance! luxurious Vengeance!
+  Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my Love,
+  And make the mightier Conquest o'er my Heart.
+  --_Cloris_, I will revenge thy Tears and Sufferings;
+  And to secure the Doom of him that wrong'd thee,
+  I'll call on injur'd _Laura_ too.
+  --Here take these Pictures--and where thou see'st    [Gives him Boxes.
+  A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth,
+  To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them--
+  But stay, here comes the only Man
+  I could have wish'd for; he'll proclaim my Business
+  Better than a Picture or a Trumpet.    [They stand by.
+    [_Curtius_ takes back the Pictures.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Guilliam_ dressed in fineish Clothes, but
+    the same high-crown'd Hat.
+
+  _Lor._ Did, ha, ha, ha, did, ha, ha; did ever any
+  Mortal Man behold such a Figure as thou art now?
+  Well, I see 'tis a damnable thing not to
+  Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself
+  Can never make thee truly jantee now.
+  --Come, come, come forward; these Clothes become
+  Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com'st thou not?
+  --Why--ha, ha, I hope thou hast not
+  Hansel'd thy new Breeches,
+  Thou look'st so filthily on't.    [He advances, looking sourly.
+
+  _Guil._ No, Sir, I hope I have more manners than so;
+  But if I should, 'tis not my fault;
+  For the necessary Houses are hard
+  To be met withal here at Court.
+
+  _Lor._ Very well, Sirrah; you begin already to be
+  Witty with the Court: but I can tell you, it has as
+  Many necessary Places in't, as any Court in Christendom
+  --But what a Hat thou hast?
+
+  _Guil._ Why, Sir, though I say't, this is accounted of
+  In our Village; but I had another but now,
+  Which I blew off in a high Wind; and I never mist it,
+  Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young
+  Squire, they call a Lacquey; and, Fegs,
+  I had none at all: and because I would not lose
+  My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetch'd this;
+  And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable Brim.
+
+  _Lor._ A Fool's head of your own, has it not?
+  The Boys will hoot at us as we pass--hah,
+  Who be these, who be these--    [Goes towards _Cur._ and _Piet._
+
+  _Cur._ Here--this to _Don Alonso_--this to the
+  _English_ Count; and this you may shew to the
+  Young _German_ Prince--and this--
+  I will reserve for higher Prices.    [Gives _Piet._ Pictures.
+
+  _Piet._ Will you shew none to the Courtiers, Sir?
+
+  _Cur._ Away, you Fool, I deal in no such Trash.
+
+  _Lor._ How, Sir, how was that? pray how came we to
+  Gain your dis-favour?
+
+  _Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;
+
+  _Lor._ A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you,
+  And one of the best Rank too;
+  I have the Prince's ear, Sir.
+  --What have you there, hah?--Pictures? let me see--
+  What, are they to be bought?
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals,
+  Not to be bought but hired.
+
+  _Lor._ Say you so, Friend? the Price, the Price.
+
+  _Cur._ Five thousand Crowns a Month, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ The Price is somewhat saucy.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon,
+  Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities.
+
+  _Lor._ Upon my word, that's considerable;
+  Friend, pray where do they live?
+
+  _Cur._ In the _Piazzo_, near the Palace.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, put up your Ware, shew not a face of them
+  Till I return! for I will bring you
+  The best Chapman in all _Florence_,
+  Except the Duke himself.
+
+  _Cur._ You must be speedy then,
+  For I to morrow shall be going towards _Rome_.
+
+  _Lor._ A subtle Rascal this: thou think'st, I warrant,
+  To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals.
+  --But take my word, ne'er a Cardinal of them all
+  Comes near this Man, I mean, to bring you in
+  Matters of Beauty--so, this will infallibly make
+  My Peace again: [Aside.] Look ye, Friend
+  --Be ready, for 'tis the Prince, the noble generous _Frederick_,
+  That I design your Merchant.    [Goes out.
+
+  _Cur._ Your Servant, Sir,--that is _Guilliam_;
+  I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back.
+    [_Pietro_ fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face.
+  --Friend, what art thou?
+
+  _Guil._ What am I? why, what am I? dost thou not see
+  What I am? a Courtier, Friend.
+
+  _Cur._ But what's thy Name?
+
+  _Guil._ My Name, I have not yet considered.
+
+  _Cur._ What was thy Name?
+
+  _Guil._ What was my Name?
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one.
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one.
+
+  _Cur._ Dog, do'st eccho me? do'st thou repeat?
+  I say again, what is thy Name?    [Shakes him.
+
+  _Guil._ Oh horrible!--why, Sir, it was _Guilliam_
+  When I was a silly Swain.
+
+  _Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same;
+  Didst thou not know a Maid whose name was _Cloris_?
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, there was such a Maid,
+  But now she's none!
+
+  _Cur._ Was such a Maid, but now she's none!
+  --The Slave upbraids my Griefs.    [Aside.
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, Sir, so I said.
+
+  _Cur._ So you said!
+
+  _Guil._ Why, yes, Sir, what, do you repeat?
+
+  _Cur._ What mean you, Sirrah? have you a mind to
+  Have your Throat cut? tell me where she is.
+
+  _Guil._ I dare as well be hang'd.
+  Now must I devise a lye, or never look _Cloris_
+  In the Face more.    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ Here's Gold for thee; I will be secret too.
+
+  _Guil._ Oh, Sir, the poor Maid you speak of is dead.
+
+  _Cur._ Dead! where dy'd she? and how?
+
+  _Guil._ Now am I put to my wits; this 'tis to begin
+  In Sin, as our Curate said: I must go on:    [Aside.
+  --Why, Sir, she came into the Wood--and hard by a
+  River-side--she sigh'd, and she wept full sore;
+  And cry'd two or three times out upon _Curtius_,
+  --And--then--    [Howls.
+
+  _Cur._ Poor _Cloris_, thy Fate was too severe.
+
+  _Guil._ And then as I was saying, Sir,
+  She leapt into the River, and swam up the Stream.    [_Cur._ weeps.
+
+  _Piet._ And why up the Stream, Friend?
+
+  _Guil._ Because she was a Woman--and that's all.    [Ex. _Guil._
+
+  _Cur._ Farewel, and thank thee.
+  --Poor _Cloris_ dead, and banish'd too from _Laura_!
+  Was ever wretched Lover's Fate like mine!
+  --And he who injures me, has power to do so;
+  --But why, where lies this Power about this Man?
+  Is it his Charms of Beauty, or of Wit?
+  Or that great Name he has acquir'd in War?
+  Is it the Majesty, that holy something,
+  That guards the Person of this Demi-god?
+  This awes not me, there must be something more.
+  For ever, when I call upon my Wrongs,
+  Something within me pleads so kindly for him,
+  As would persuade me that he could not err.
+  --Ah, what is this? where lies this Power divine,
+  That can so easily make a Slave of mine?
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. _Frederick's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_, and _Cloris_ finely dress'd.
+
+  _Fred._ 'Tis much methinks, a Boy of so dejected,
+  Humble Birth, should have so much of Sense
+  And Soul about him.
+
+  _Clo._ I know not that; but if I have a thought
+  Above that humble Birth or Education,
+  It was inspir'd by Love.
+
+  _Fred._ Still you raise my Wonder greater;
+  --Thou a Lover?
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, my Lord, though I am young,
+  I've felt the power of Beauty;
+  And should you look upon the Object, Sir,
+  Your Wonders soon would cease;
+  Each Look does even animate Insensibles,
+  And strikes a reverend Awe upon the Soul:
+  Nothing is found so lovely.
+
+  _Fred._ Thou speak'st prettily, I think Love
+  Indeed has inspir'd thee.
+
+  _Clo._ These were the Flatteries, Sir, she us'd to me;
+  Of her it was I learn'd to speak, and sigh,
+  And look, as oft you say, I do on you.
+
+  _Fred._ Why then, it seems she made returns?
+
+  _Clo._ Ah! Sir, 'twas I that first was blest,
+  I first the happy Object was belov'd;
+  For, 'twas a Person, Sir, so much above me,--
+  It had been Sin to've rais'd my Eyes to her;
+  Or by a glance, or sigh, betray my Pain.
+  But Oh! when with a thousand soft Expressions,
+  She did encourage me to speak of Love!
+  --My God! how soon extravagant I grew,
+  And told so oft the story of my Passion,
+  That she grew weary of the repeated Tale,
+  And punish'd my presumption with a strange neglect.    [Weeps.
+
+  _Fred._ How, my good _Philibert_?
+
+  _Clo._ Would suffer me to see her Face no more.
+
+  _Fred._ That was pity; without a Fault?
+
+  _Clo._ Alas, Sir, I was guilty of no Crime,
+  But that of having told her how I lov'd her;
+  For all I had I sacrific'd to her;
+  --Poor worthless Treasures to any but a Lover;
+  And such you know accept the meanest things,
+  Which Love and a true Devotion do present.
+  When she was present, I found a thousand ways
+  To let her know how much I was her Slave;
+  And absent, still invented new ones,
+  And quite neglected all my little Business;
+  Counting the tedious Moments of the Day
+  By Sighs and Tears; thought it an Age to night,
+  Whose Darkness might secure our happy meeting:
+  But we shall meet no more on these kind Terms.    [Sighs.
+
+  _Fred._ Come, do not weep, sweet Youth, thou art too young,
+  To have thy blooming Cheeks blasted with sorrow;
+  Thou wilt out-grow this childish Inclination,
+  And shalt see Beauties here, whose every glance
+  Kindle new Fires, and quite expel the old.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh, never, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ When I was first in love, I thought so too,
+  But now with equal ardour
+  I doat upon each new and beauteous Object.
+
+  _Clo._ And quite forget the old?
+
+  _Fred._ Not so; but when I see them o'er again,
+  I find I love them as I did before.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh God forbid, I should be so inconstant!
+  No, Sir, though she be false, she has my Heart,
+  And I can die, but not redeem the Victim.
+
+  _Fred._ Away, you little Fool, you make me sad
+  By this resolve: but I'll instruct you better.
+
+  _Clo._ I would not make you sad for all the World.
+  Sir, I will sing, or dance, do any thing
+  That may divert you.
+
+  _Fred._ I thank thee, _Philibert_, and will accept
+  Thy Bounty; perhaps it may allay thy Griefs awhile too.
+
+  _Clo._ I'll call the Musick, Sir.    [She goes out.
+
+  _Fred._ This Boy has strange agreements in him.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_ with Musick.
+
+  _She bids them play, and dances a Jig._
+
+  This was wondrous kind, my pretty _Philibert_.
+
+    [Exeunt Musick.
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+  _Page_. _Lorenzo_, my Lord, begs admittance.
+
+  _Fred._ He may come in.    [Exit _Page_.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_.
+
+  --Well, _Lorenzo_, what's the News with thee?
+  --How goes the price of Beauty, hah?
+
+  _Lor._ My Lord, that question is _a propos_ to
+  What I have to say; this Paper will answer your
+  Question, Sir--    [Gives him a Paper, he reads.
+  --Hah, I vow to gad a lovely Youth;    [_Lor._ gazes on _Phil._
+  But what makes he here with _Frederick_?
+  This Stripling may chance to mar my market of Women now--
+  'Tis a fine Lad, how plump and white he is;    [Aside.
+  Would I could meet him somewhere i'th' dark,
+  I'd have a fling at him, and try whether I
+  Were right _Florentine_.
+
+  _Fred._ Well, Sir, where be these Beauties?
+
+  _Lor._ I'll conduct you to them.
+
+  _Fred._ What's the Fellow that brings them?
+
+  _Lor._ A _Grecian_, I think, or something.
+
+  _Fred._ Beauties from _Greece_, Man!
+
+  _Lor._ Why, let them be from the Devil,
+  So they be new and fine, what need we care?
+  --But you must go to night.
+
+  _Fred._ I am not in a very good condition
+  To make Visits of that kind.
+
+  _Lor._ However, see them, and if you like them,
+  You may oblige the Fellow to a longer stay,
+  For I know they are handsome.
+
+  _Fred._ That's the only thing thou art judge of;
+  --Well, go you and prepare them;
+  And _Philibert_, thou shalt along with me;
+  I'll have thy Judgment too.
+
+  _Clo._ Good Heaven, how false he is!    [Aside.
+
+  _Lor._ What time will your Highness come?
+
+  _Fred._ Two Hours hence.    [Ex. _Fred._
+
+  _Lor._ So then I shall have time to have a bout
+  With this jilting Huswife _Isabella_,
+  For my Fingers itch to be at her.    [Aside.    [Ex. _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Clo._ Not know me yet? cannot this Face inform him?
+  My Sighs, nor Eyes, my Accent, nor my Tale?
+  Had he one thought of me, he must have found me out.
+  --Yes, yes, 'tis certain I am miserable;
+  He's going now to see some fresher Beauties,
+  And I, he says, must be a witness of it;
+  This gives me Wounds, painful as those of Love:
+  Some Women now would find a thousand Plots
+  From so much Grief as I have, but I'm dull;
+  Yet I'll to _Laura_, and advise with her,
+  Where I will tell her such a heavy Tale,
+  As shall oblige her to a kind concern:
+  --This may do; I'll tell her of this Thought,
+  This is the first of Art I ever thought on;
+  And if this proves a fruitless Remedy,
+  The next, I need not study, how to die.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE IV. A Street.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_, meets _Guilliam_, who passes by him, and takes
+    no notice of him.
+
+_Lor._ How now, Manners a few?
+
+_Guil._ I cry you heartily, Sir, I did not see you.
+
+_Lor._ Well, Sirrah, the News.
+
+_Guil._ Sir, the Gentlewoman whom you sent me to says That she'll meet
+you here.
+
+_Lor._ That's well, thou mayst come to be a States-man In time, thou art
+a fellow of so quick dispatch: But hark ye, Sirrah, there are a few
+Lessons I must learn you, Concerning Offices of this nature; But another
+time for that: but--
+    [Whispers.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_, and _Antonio's Valet_.
+
+_Isab._ Here he is; and prithee, when thou seest him in My Chamber, go
+and tell my Lord, Under pretence of the care you have of the Honour of
+his House.
+
+_Val._ I warrant you, let me alone for a Tale, And a Lye at the end
+on't; which shall not over-much Incense him, nor yet make him neglect
+coming.
+    [Ex. _Val._
+
+_Lor._ Oh, are you there, Mistress? what have you now To say for your
+last Night's Roguery? Are not you a Baggage? confess.
+
+_Isab._ You have a mind to lose your opportunity again, As you did last
+Night, have ye not? Pray God your own Shadow scare you not, As it did
+then; and you will possibly believe No body meant you harm then, nor
+now.
+
+_Lor._ Art thou in earnest?
+
+_Isab._ Are you in earnest?
+
+_Lor._ Yes, that I am, and that _Clarina_ shall find, If I once come to
+her.
+
+_Isab._ Come, leave your frippery Jests, and come in.
+
+_Lor._ _Guilliam_, be sure you attend me here, And whoever you see, say
+nothing; the best on't is, Thou art not much known.
+    [_Isab._ and _Lor._ go in.
+
+_Guil._ Well, I see there is nothing but foutering In this Town; wou'd
+our _Lucia_ were here too for me, For all the Maids I meet with are so
+giglish And scornful, that a Man, as I am, Gets nothing but flouts and
+flings from them. Oh, for the little kind Lass that lives Under the
+Hill, of whom the Song was made; Which because I have nothing else to
+do, I will sing over now; hum, hum.
+
+
+  The Song for _Guilliam_.    [To some Tune like him.
+
+  _In a Cottage by the Mountain
+  Lives a very pretty Maid,
+  Who lay sleeping by a Fountain,
+  Underneath a Myrtle shade;
+  Her Petticoat of wanton Sarcenet,
+  The amorous Wind about did move,
+  And quite unveil'd,
+  And quite unveil'd the Throne of Love,
+  And quite unveil'd the Throne of Love._
+
+'Tis something cold, I'll go take a Niperkin of Wine,
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter _Isab._ and _Lor._ above, as frighted into the Balcony.
+
+  _Lor._ This was some trick of thine, I will be hang'd else.
+
+  _Isab._ Oh, I'll be sworn you wrong me;
+  Alas, I'm undone by't.    [_Ant._ at the Door knocks.
+
+  _Ant._ Open the Door, thou naughty Woman.
+
+  _Lor._ Oh, oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?
+
+  _Ant._ Open the Door, I say.
+
+  _Lor._ Oh, 'tis a damnable leap out at this Balcony.
+
+  _Isab._ And yet you are a dead Man, if you see him.
+
+  _Ant._ Impudence, will you open the Door?
+
+  _Isab._ I will, Sir, immediately.
+
+  _Lor._ Devise some way to let me down,
+  Or I will throw thee out; no Ladder of Ropes, no Device?
+  --If a Man would not forswear Whoring for the future
+  That is in my condition, I am no true Gentleman.
+
+  _Ant._ Open, or I will break the Door.
+
+  _Isab._ Hold the Door, and swear lustily that you
+  Are my Husband, and I will in the mean time
+  Provide for your safety,
+  Though I can think of none but the Sheets from the Bed.
+    [He holds the Door.
+
+  _Lor._ Any thing to save my Life;
+  --Sir, you may believe me upon my Honour,
+  I am lawful Husband to _Isabella_,
+  And have no designs upon your House or Honour.
+    [_Isab._ this while fastens the Sheets, which are to be suppos'd
+    from the Bed, to the Balcony.
+
+  _Ant._ Thou art some Villain.
+
+  _Lor._ No, Sir, I am an honest Man, and married lawfully.
+
+  _Ant._ Who art thou?
+
+  _Lor._ Hast thou done?
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, but you must venture hard.
+
+  _Isab._ 'Tis _Lorenzo_, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ A Pox on her, now am I asham'd to all eternity.
+
+  _Isab._ Sir, let me beg you'l take his Word and Oath to night,
+  And to morrow I will satisfy you.    [_Lor._ gets down by the Sheets.
+
+  _Ant._ Look you make this good,
+  Or you shall both dearly pay for't.
+
+  _Lor._ I am alive, yes, yes, all's whole and sound,
+  Which is a mercy, I can tell you;
+  This is whoring now: may I turn _Franciscan_,
+  If I could not find in my heart to do penance
+  In Camphire Posset, this Month, for this.
+  --Well, I must to this Merchant of Love,
+  And I would gladly be there before the Prince:
+  For since I have mist here,
+  I shall be amorous enough,
+  And then I'll provide for _Frederick_;
+  For 'tis but just, although he be my Master,
+  That I in these Ragousts should be his Taster.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE V. Antonio's House.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ with a Veil.
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_ is not come yet, sure he loves me;
+  But 'tis not Tears, and Knees, that can confirm me;
+  No, I must be convinc'd by better Argument.
+  --Deceit, if ever thou a Guide wert made
+  To amorous Hearts, assist a Love-sick Maid.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+  _Alb._ Your pleasure, Madam?
+  --Oh that she would be brief,
+  And send me quickly from her,
+  For her Eyes will overthrow my purpose.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_, do you love me?
+
+  _Alb._ No.
+
+  _Ism._ No! have you deceiv'd me then?
+
+  _Alb._ Neither, _Clarina_; when I told you so,
+  By Heaven, 'twas perfect Truth.
+
+  _Ism._ And what have I done since should
+  Merit your Dis-esteem?
+
+  _Alb._ Nothing but what has rais'd it.
+
+  _Ism._ To raise your Esteem, then it seems, is
+  To lessen your Love; or, as most Gallants are,
+  You're but pleas'd with what you have not;
+  And love a Mistress with great Passion, till you find
+  Your self belov'd again, and then you hate her.
+
+  _Alb._ You wrong my Soul extremely,
+  'Tis not of that ungrateful nature;
+  To love me is to me a greater Charm
+  Than that of Wit or Beauty.
+
+  _Ism._ I'm glad on't, Sir; then I have pleasant News for you,
+  I know a Lady, and a Virgin too,
+  That loves you with such Passion,
+  As has oblig'd me to become her Advocate.
+
+  _Alb._ I am very much oblig'd to her,
+  If there be any such.
+
+  _Ism._ Upon my Life, there is; I am in earnest,
+  The Lady is my Sister too.
+
+  _Alb._ How, _Clarina_, this from you?
+
+  _Ism._ Nay, I have promis'd her, that you shall love her too,
+  Since both her Birth and Beauty merits you.
+
+  _Alb._ Away, false Woman: I love your Sister!
+  No, I will hate ye both.
+
+  _Ism._ Why so Angry?
+  Alas, it is against my Will I do it.
+
+  _Alb._ Did you betray my Faith, when 'twas so easy
+  To give a credit to your tale of Love?
+  --Oh Woman, faithless Woman!
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_, with a world of shame I own
+  That I then lov'd you, and must do so still:
+  But since that Love must be accounted criminal,
+  And that a world of danger does attend it;
+  I am resolv'd, though I can never quit it,
+  To change it into kind Esteem for you;
+  And would ally you, Sir, as near to me,
+  As our unkind Stars will permit me.
+
+  _Alb._ I thank you, Madam: Oh, what a shame it is,
+  To be out-done in Virtue, as in Love!
+
+  _Ism._ Another favour I must beg of you,
+  That you will tell _Antonio_ what is past.
+
+  _Alb._ How mean you, Madam?
+
+  _Ism._ Why, that I love you, Sir,
+  And how I have deceiv'd him into confidence.
+
+  _Alb._ This is strange; you cannot mean it sure.
+
+  _Ism._ When I intend to be extremely good,
+  I would not have a secret Sin within,
+  Though old, and yet repented too: no, Sir,
+  Confession always goes with Penitence.
+
+  _Alb._ Do you repent you that you lov'd me then?
+
+  _Ism._ Not so; but that I did abuse _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ And can you think that this will cure his Jealousy?
+
+  _Ism._ Doubtless it will, when he knows how needless 'tis;
+  For when they're most secure, they're most betray'd:
+  Besides, I did but act the part he made;
+  And Ills he forces, sure he'll not upbraid.
+  Go seek out _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ You have o'ercome me, Madam, every way,
+  And this your last Command I can obey;
+  Your Sister too I'll see, and will esteem,
+  But you've my Heart, which I can ne'er redeem.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Laura's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Laura_ and _Cloris_ like a Boy, as before.
+
+  _Lau._ Forward, dear _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ And, Madam, 'twas upon a Holyday,
+  It chanc'd Prince _Frederick_ came into our Village,
+  On some reports were made him of my Beauty,
+  Attended only by the noble _Curtius_:
+  They found me in the Church at my Devotion,
+  Whom _Frederick_ soon distinguished from the rest;
+  He kneel'd down by me, and instead of Prayer,
+  He fell to praise--but 'twas my Beauty only;
+  --That I could tell you, of my strange surprize!
+  My Zeal was all disordered, and my Eyes
+  Fed on the false, not real Sacrifice.
+  --I wanted Art my Sentiments to hide,
+  Which from my Eyes and Blushes soon he spy'd.
+
+  _Lau._ And did you know him then?
+
+  _Clo._ Not till he left me:
+  --But, to be short, Madam, we parted there;
+  But e'er he went he whisper'd in my ear,
+  And sigh'd, Ah, _Cloris_! e'er you do depart,
+  Tell me, where 'tis you will dispose my Heart?
+  --Pray give me leave to visit it again,
+  Your Eyes that gave can only ease my Pain.
+  I, only blushing, gave him my consent;
+  He paid his Thanks in Sighs, and from me went.
+  That night, alas, I took but little rest; }
+  The new and strange Disorder in my Breast }
+  Can, Madam, only by your self be guest.   }
+
+  _Lau._ I'll not deny that I'm a Lover too,
+  And can imagine what was felt by you.
+
+  _Clo._ No sooner did the welcome Day appear,
+  But _Lucia_ brought me word the Prince was there;
+  His very Name disorder'd me much more,
+  Than did his Sight or Touch the day before;
+  So soon my rising Love grew up to power,
+  So soon he did become my Conqueror.
+  --How pale and trembling, when he did appear,
+  I grew, he too had marks of Love and Fear.
+  --But I'll omit the many visits paid,
+  Th' unvalued Presents, and the Oaths he made,
+  My kind Disputes on all his Letters writ,
+  How all my Doubts were answer'd by his Wit;
+  How oft he vow'd to marry me, whilst I
+  Durst not believe the pleasing Perjury:
+  --And only tell you, that one night he came,
+  Led by designs of an impatient Flame;
+  When all the House was silently asleep,
+  Except my self, who Love's sad Watch did keep;
+  Arm'd with his Ponyard, and his Breast all bare,
+  His Face all pale with restless Love and Fear;
+  So many wild and frantick things he said,
+  And so much Grief and Passion too betray'd,
+  So often vow'd he'd finish there his Life,
+  If I refus'd him to become his Wife;
+  That I half-dying, said it should be so;
+  Which though I fear'd, Oh, how I wish'd it too!
+  Both prostrate on the Ground i'th' face of Heaven,
+  His Vows to me, and mine to him were given:
+  --And then, oh, then, what did I not resign!
+  With the assurance that the Prince was mine.    [Weeps.
+
+  _Lau._ Poor _Cloris_, how I pity thee!
+  Since Fate has treated me with equal rigor;
+  --_Curtius_ is banish'd, _Frederick_ still pursues me,
+  And by a cruel Father I'm confin'd,
+  And cannot go to serve my self or thee.    [One knocks.
+
+  _Lor._ [Without.] Sister _Laura_, Sister.
+
+  _Lau._ It is my Brother, would he would be kind,
+  And set us free; he shall not see thee,
+  And I'll persuade him.
+    [As she puts _Cloris_ into her Closet, enter _Lorenzo_ with a
+    Letter.
+
+  _Lor._ Hah, locking her Closet! now, were I a right
+  _Italian_, should I grow jealous, and enrag'd at
+  I know not what: hah, Sister!
+  What are you doing here?
+  Open your Cabinet, and let me see't.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, 'tis in disorder, and not worth your seeing now.
+
+  _Lor._ 'Tis so, I care not for that, I'll see't.
+
+  _Lau._ Pray do not, Brother.
+
+  _Lor._ Your denial makes me the more inquisitive.
+
+  _Lau._ 'Tis but my saying, he came from the Prince,
+  And he dares not take it ill.    [Aside.
+  --Here, Sir,    [Gives him the Key.
+
+  _Lor._ And here's for you too; a Letter from _Curtius_,
+  And therefore I would not open it: I took it up
+  At the Post-house.    [She reads, and seems pleas'd.
+  Now if this should prove some surly Gallant of hers,
+  And give me a slash o'er the Face for peeping
+  I were but rightly serv'd;
+  And why the Devil should I expect my Sister should
+  Have more Virtue than my self?
+  She's the same flesh and blood: or why, because
+  She's the weaker Vessel,
+  Should all the unreasonable burden of the Honour
+  Of our House, as they call it,
+  Be laid on her Shoulders, whilst we may commit
+  A thousand Villanies? but 'tis so--
+  Here, open the Door;
+  I'll put her before me, however.
+    [She opens the Door, and brings out _Cloris_.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, 'tis _Philibert_ from the Prince.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, how now, Youngster, I see you intend
+  To thrive by your many Trades;
+  So soon, so soon, i'faith? but, Sirrah,
+  This is my Sister, and your Prince's Mistress;
+  Take notice of that.
+
+  _Clo._ I know not what you mean.
+
+  _Lor._ Sir, you cannot deceive me so;
+  And you were right serv'd, you would be made fit
+  For nothing but the great _Turk's Seraglio_.
+
+  _Clo._ You mistake my business, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Your Blushes give you the lye, Sirrah;
+  But for the Prince's sake, and another reason I have,
+  I will pardon you for once.
+
+  _Lau._ He has not done a fault, and needs it not.
+
+  _Lor._ Was he not alone with thee?
+  And is not that enough? Well, I see I am no _Italian_
+  In Punctillio's of honourable Revenge.
+  There is but one experiment left to prove my self so;
+  And if that fail, I'll e'en renounce my Country.
+  --Boy, harkye,--there is a certain kindness
+  You may do me, and get your pardon for being found here.
+
+  _Clo._ You shall command me any thing.
+
+  _Lor._ Prithee how long hast thou been set up for thy self, Hah?
+
+  _Clo._ As how, Sir?
+
+  _Lor._ Poh, thou understand'st me.
+
+  _Clo._ Indeed I do not, Sir; what is't you mean?
+
+  _Lor._ A smooth-fac'd Boy, and ask such a Question?
+  Fy, fy, this Ignorance was ill counterfeited
+  To me that understand the World.
+
+  _Clo._ Explain your self, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Lookye, ten or twenty Pistoles will do you
+  No hurt, will it?
+
+  _Clo._ Not any, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, so, 'tis well any thing will make thee
+  Apprehend.
+
+  _Clo._ I shall be glad to serve you, Sir, without that fee.
+
+  _Lor._ That's kindly said--
+  I see a Man must not be too easy of belief: had I been so,
+  This Boy would have been at, what d'ye mean, Sir?
+  And, Lord, I understand you not.
+  Well, _Philibert_, here's earnest to bind the Bargain;
+  I am now in haste; when I see thee next,
+  I'll tell thee more.    [_Lorenzo_ whispers to _Laura_.
+
+  _Clo._ This 'tis to be a Favourite now;
+  I warrant you I must do him some good office to the Prince,
+  Which I'll be sure to do.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, it must be done, for she has us'd me basely;
+  Oh, 'tis a Baggage.
+
+  _Lau._ Let me alone to revenge you on _Isabella_,
+  Get me but from this Imprisonment.
+
+  _Lor._ I will: whilst I hold the old Man in a dispute,
+  Do you two get away; but be sure thou pay'st her home.
+
+  _Lau._ I warrant you, Sir, this was happy;
+  Now shall I see _Curtius_.
+
+  _Lor._ _Philibert_, I advise you to have a care of
+  Wenching: 'twill spoil a good Face,
+  And mar your better market of the two.    [Ex. _Lor._
+
+  _Lau._ Come, let us haste, and by the way, I'll tell thee
+  Of a means that may make us all happy.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Grove.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_ melancholy.
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio_ said he would be here,
+  I'm impatient till he come--
+
+    Enter _Antonio_.
+
+  _Ant._ _Alberto_, I have such a Project for thee!
+
+  _Alb._ Hah--    [Gazes.
+
+  _Ant._ What ails thee, art thou well?
+
+  _Alb._ No.
+
+  _Ant._ Where art thou sick?
+
+  _Alb._ At Heart, _Antonio_, poison'd by thy Jealousy;
+  --Oh, thou hast ruin'd me, undone my Quiet,
+  And from a Man of reasonable Virtue,
+  Hast brought me to a wild distracted Lover.
+
+  _Ant._ Explain your self.
+
+  _Alb._ Thou'st taught me, Friend, to love _Clarina_;
+  Not, as I promis'd thee, to feign, but so,
+  That I, unless I do possess that Object,
+  I think must die; at best be miserable.
+
+  _Ant._ How, Sir, have I done this?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Antonio, thou hast done this.
+
+  _Ant._ My dear _Alberto_, said you that you lov'd her?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, _Antonio_, against my will I do;
+  As much against my will, as when I told her so;
+  Urg'd by thy needless Stratagem.
+
+  _Ant._ Name it no more, it was an idle Fault,
+  Which I do so repent me,
+  That if you find I should relapse again,
+  Kill me, and let me perish with my Weakness:
+  And were that true you tell me of your Passion,
+  Sure I should wish to die, to make you happy.
+
+  _Alb._ That's kindly said, and I submit to you,
+  And am content to be out-done in Amity.
+
+  _Ant._ Yes, I'll resign my Claims, and leave the World;
+  _Alberto_, 'tis unkind to think I would be happy
+  By ways must ruin you:
+  But sure you tell me this, but only to afflict me.
+
+  _Alb._ 'Tis truth, _Antonio_, I do love _Clarina;_
+  And, what is yet far worse for thy repose,
+  Believe my self so bless'd to be belov'd.
+
+  _Ant._ How, to be belov'd by her!
+  --Oh dire effects of Jealousy!
+
+  _Alb._ All that you saw to day was only feign'd,
+  To let you see, that even your Eyes and Ears
+  Might be impos'd upon.
+
+  _Ant._ Can it be possible!
+
+  _Alb._ And now she thinks she is enough reveng'd;
+  And lets you know, in her feign'd Scorn to me,
+  That all your Sleights and Cunnings are but vain:
+  She has deceiv'd them all, and by that Art,
+  Gives you a Confidence, and me a Heart.
+
+  _Ant._ I must confess, it is but just in her
+  To punish thus the Errors of my Fear;
+  I do forgive her, from my Soul I do.
+  --But, Sir, what satisfaction's this to you?
+
+  _Alb._ _Clarina_ happy, I'll from Court retire,
+  And by that Absence quench my Hopeless Fire:
+  War I will make my Mistress, who may be,
+  Perhaps, more kind than she has been to me;
+  Where though I cannot conquer, 'twill allow
+  That I may die; that's more than this will do.
+
+  _Ant._--Why did you, Sir, betray my Weakness to her?
+  Though 'twas but what I did deserve from you.
+
+  _Alb._ By all that's good, she knew the Plot before,
+  From _Isabella_, who it seems o'erheard us,
+  When you once press'd me to't:
+  And had we wanted Virtue, thoud'st been lost.
+
+  _Ant._ I own the Crime;
+  And first I beg thy Pardon,
+  And after that will get it from _Clarina_;
+  Which done, I'll wait upon thee to the Camp,
+  And suffer one year's Penance for this Sin,
+  Unless I could divert this Resolution,
+  By a Proposal _Clarina_ bid me make you.
+
+  _Alb._ What was it, Sir?
+
+  _Ant._ I have a Sister, Friend, a handsome Virgin,
+  Rich, witty, and I think she's virtuous too;
+  Return'd last Week from St. _Teresia's_ Monastery.
+
+  _Alb._ Sure any thing that is to thee ally'd,
+  Must find a more than bare Respect from me;
+  But certain 'tis I ne'er shall love again,
+  And have resolv'd never to marry any,
+  Where Interest, and not Love, must join our hands.
+
+  _Ant._ You cannot tell what Power there lies in Beauty;
+  Come, you shall see her, and if after that,
+  You find you cannot love her,
+  We'll both to _Candia_, where we both will prove
+  Rivals in Honour, as we're now in Love.
+  --But I'ad forgot to tell thee what I came for;
+  I must this Evening beg your Company,
+  Nay, and perhaps your Sword: come along with me,
+  And by the way I'll tell you the Adventure.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. The Lodgings of _Curtius_.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_ and _Pietro_, disguis'd as before.
+
+  _Cur._ I wonder we hear no news yet of the Prince,
+  I hope he'll come; _Pietro_, be the Bravoes ready,
+  And the Curtezans?
+
+  _Piet._ My Lord, they'll be here immediately, all well dress'd too.
+
+  _Cur._ They be those Bravoes that belong to me?
+
+  _Piet._ Yes, Sir, the same;
+  But _Antonio_ is their Patron.
+
+  _Cur._ They be stout and secret; 'tis well,
+  Is the Music and all things ready?
+  For I'll not be seen till my Part is to be play'd.
+  What Arms have they?
+
+  _Piet._ Pistols, Sir, would you have other?
+
+  _Cur._ No, I have not yet consider'd how to kill him,
+  Nor scarce resolv'd to do so any way.
+  What makes this strange Irresolution in me?
+  --Sure 'tis the force of sacred Amity,
+  Which but too strictly was observ'd by me.
+  --My Prince, and Friend, my Wife, and Sister too;
+  Shall not those last, the powerful first out-do?
+  My Honour, and my Love, are there ingag'd,
+  And here, by ties of Duty, I'm oblig'd:
+  I satisfy but these, if he must bleed;
+  But ruin the whole Dukedom in the Deed,
+  The hopeful Heir of all their noble Spoils,
+  And Joy and Recompence of all their Toils.
+  --Why, so was _Cloris_, _Laura_ too, to me,
+  Which both were ravish'd from me, Prince, by thee.    [Knocks within.
+
+  _Piet._ Sir, they be the Bravoes and Curtezans.    [_Pietro_ goes out.
+
+  _Cur._ 'Tis well, I need not talk with them,
+  They understand their work.
+
+  _Piet._ They do, my Lord, and shall be ready at your stamp;
+  They are all _Neapolitans_, you know, Sir.
+
+  _Cur._ Are they the better for that?
+
+  _Piet._ Much, Sir, a _Venetian_ will turn to your Enemy,
+  If he will give him but a Souse more than you have done;
+  And your _Millanoise_ are fit for nothing but to
+  Rob the Post or Carrier; a _Genovese_ too
+  Will sooner kill by Usury than Sword or Pistol;
+  A _Roman_ fit for nothing but a Spy.
+
+  _Cur._ Well, Sir, you are pleasant with my Countrymen.
+
+  _Piet._ I'll be so with my own too, Sir; and tell you,
+  That a _Maltan_, who pretends to so much Honour
+  And Gravity, are fit only to rob their Neighbours
+  With pretence of Piety,
+  --And a _Cicilian_ so taken up with Plots,
+  How to kill his Vice-Roy, that it keeps them
+  From being Rogues to a less degree.
+  But I have done, Sir, and beg your pardon.
+
+  _Cur._ Didst leave the Letter, I commanded thee,
+  For _Laura_?
+
+  _Piet._ I did, my Lord.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, here's the Prince just coming.
+
+  _Cor._ Pray, Sir, conduct him in,
+  I'm ready for him.
+
+    [Ex. _Cur._ and _Piet._
+
+    Enter the Prince, conducted by two Women in Masquerade, with
+    Lights, he endeavouring to take off their Masks.
+    [Ex. two Women.
+    [He walks about while this Song is singing.
+
+  _What is the recompence of War,
+    But soft and wanton Peace?
+  What the best Balsam to our Scars,
+    But that which _Venus_ gave to _Mars_,
+  When he was circled in a kind Embrace?_
+
+  _Behold a Prince, who never yet
+    Was vanquished in the Field;
+  Awhile his Glories must forget,
+    And lay his Laurels at the feet
+  Of some fair Female Power, to whom he'll yield._
+
+  _Fred._ What's this the Preparation?
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, so it should seem; but had you met
+  With so many defeats as I have done to night,
+  You would willingly excuse this Ceremony.
+
+    Musick for the Dance.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_ with _Ismena_, _Alberto_ with _Clarina_, _Laura_
+    and _Cloris_ with two Men more, and all dress'd in Masquerade,
+    with Vizards; they dance. The Prince sets down: the Dance being
+    done, they retire to one side; and _Alberto_ comes and presents
+    him _Clarina_, and bows and retires; who puts off her Mask, and
+    puts it on again, and retires.
+
+  _Fred._ She's wondrous fair;
+  Sure in his whole Cabal he cannot show a fairer--
+
+  _Lor._ She resembles _Clarina_; I wish your Highness
+  Would see further, and then perhaps this would
+  Fall to my lot, for I love her for likeness sake.
+    [_Antonio_ presents _Ismena_, and retires as the other.
+
+  _Fred._ This I confess out-does the others;
+  An Innocency dwells upon her Face,
+  That's strangely taking, is it not, _Lorenzo_?
+
+  _Lor._ To say truth, she is very fine indeed.
+    [They present _Laura_.
+
+  _Fred._ Hah! I am amaz'd; see, _Lorenzo_,
+  Dost thou not know that Face?
+
+  _Lor._ O' my Conscience and Soul, 'tis my own Sister _Laura_;
+  Why, how now, Mistress,
+  Do things go thus with you, i'faith?
+    [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him.
+
+  _Ant._ Sir, she understands you not.
+
+  _Lor._ Is it not _Laura_ then?
+
+  _Ant._ No, Sir, it is a Stranger.
+
+  _Fred._ Let her be what she will, I'll have her.
+    [_Fred._ seems to talk, when she answers in Grimaces.
+
+  _Lor._ There have been Examples in the World
+  Of the good Offices done by a Brother to a Sister;
+  But they are very rare here,
+  And therefore will surely be the more acceptable.
+  Well, Sir, have you fix'd, that I may chuse?
+
+  _Fred._ I have, and had he thousands more,    [_Lor._ goes to _Clar._
+  I would refuse them all for this fair Creature.
+
+    Enter _Pietro_.
+
+  _Piet._ Sir, all things are ready as you desire,
+  But my Master must first speak with you alone.
+
+  _Fred._ About the Price, I'll warrant you;
+  Let him come in:    [All go out but _Fred_, to him _Cur._
+  --Are you the Master of the Ceremony?
+
+  _Cur._ I am.
+
+  _Fred._ Be speedy then, and by my Impatiency
+  To be with that agreeable Stranger,
+  Guess at my Approbation of the Ladies, and which I chuse.
+
+  _Cur._ Your mighty Heat, Sir, will be soon allay'd.
+
+  _Fred._ Shall it?
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Sir, it shall, for you must die.
+
+  _Fred._ Sure thou art mad to tell me so, whoe'er thou be'st,
+  Whilst I have this about me.    [Draws.
+
+  _Cur._ That, Sir, you draw in vain; stand off--    [Offers a Pistol.
+
+  _Fred._ What new conceited Preparation's this?
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, when you know this Face, it will inform you.
+    [Pulls off his false Beard.
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_! I am betray'd, oh Villain!    [Offers to fight.
+
+  _Cur._ Ho, within there--
+    [He calls, and all the masked Men come out, and offer their
+    Pistols at _Frederick_.
+
+  _Fred._ Hold, I am the Prince of _Florence_.
+
+  _Cur._ These, Sir, are Rogues, and have no sense of ought,
+  But Mischief in their Souls;
+  Gold is their Prince and God,--go, be gone--    [They withdraw.
+  --See, Sir, I can command them.
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_, why dost thou deal thus treacherously with me?
+  Did I not offer thee to fight thee fairly?
+
+  _Cur._ 'Tis like the Injuries, Sir, that you have done me;
+  Pardon me if my Griefs make me too rude,
+  And in coarse terms lay all your Sins before you.
+  --First, Sir, you have debauch'd my lovely Sister,
+  The only one I had;
+  The Hope and Care of all our noble Family:
+  Thou, Prince, didst ravish all her Virtue from her,
+  And left her nothing but a desperate sense of Shame,
+  Which only serv'd to do her self that Justice,
+  Which I had executed, had she not prevented me.
+
+  _Fred._ In this, upon my Soul, you do me wrong.
+
+  _Cur._ Next, (Oh, how unlike a brave and generous Man!)
+  Without a Cause, you cast me from your Bosom;
+  Withdrew the Honour of your promis'd Friendship,
+  And made me partner in my Sister's Fate;
+  Only with this difference, that she
+  You left to act a Murder on her self;
+  And mine you would have been so kind to've done
+  With your own hand, but my respect prevented it.
+  --Next, Sir, you ravish'd _Laura_ from me,
+  And under a pretence of sacred Friendship,
+  You prov'd your self the worst of Enemies;
+  And that's a Crime you dare not say was Ignorance,
+  As you perhaps will plead your Sin to _Cloris_ was.
+
+  _Fred._ _Cloris_, why, what hast thou to do with _Cloris_?
+
+  _Cur._ She was my Sister, _Frederick_.
+
+  _Fred._ Thy Sister!
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, think of it well,
+  A Lady of as pure and noble Blood,
+  As that of the great Duke thy Father,
+  Till you, bad Man, infected it.
+  --Say, should I murder you for this base Action,
+  Would you not call it a true Sacrifice?
+  And would not Heaven and Earth forgive it too?
+
+  _Fred._ No, had I known that she had been thy Sister,
+  I had receiv'd her as a Gift from Heaven;
+  And so I would do still.
+
+  _Cur._ She must be sent indeed from Heaven,
+  If you receive her now.
+
+  _Fred._ Is _Cloris_ dead? Oh, how I was to blame!    [Weeps.
+  --Here thou mayst finish now the Life thou threaten'st.
+
+  _Cur._ Now, Sir, you know my Justice and my Power;
+  Yet since my Prince can shed a Tear for _Cloris_,
+  I can forgive him; here, Sir,--send me to _Cloris_,
+    [Kneels, and offers his Sword.
+  That Mercy possibly will redeem the rest
+  Of all the Wrongs you've done me;
+  And you shall find nothing but Sorrow here,
+  And a poor broken Heart that did adore you.
+
+  _Fred._ Rise, _Curtius_, and divide my Dukedom with me;
+  Do any thing that may preserve thy Life,
+  And gain my Pardon; alas, thy Honour's safe,
+  Since yet none knows that _Cloris_ was thy Sister,
+  Or if they do, I must proclaim this truth;
+  She dy'd thy Prince's Wife.
+
+  _Cur._ These Tidings would be welcome to my Sister,
+  And I the fitting'st Man to bear that News.
+
+    [Offers to stab himself; is held by _Frederick_, _Laura_, and
+    _Cloris_, who come in with _Isabella_, dress'd like _Philibert_,
+    and the rest.
+
+  _Lau._ Stay, _Curtius_, and take me with thee in the way.
+
+  _Cur._ _Laura_, my dearest _Laura_! how came you hither?
+
+  _Lau._ Commanded by your Letter; have you forgot it?
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_, look here, is this not _Cloris'_ Face?
+
+  _Cur._ The same; Oh my sweet Sister, is it thee?
+    [_Curtius_ goes to embrace her, she goes back.
+
+  _Fred._ Do not be shy, my Soul, it is thy Brother.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, a Brother who despis'd his Life,
+  When he believ'd yours lost or sham'd:
+  But now the Prince will take a care of it.
+
+  _Clo._ May I believe my Soul so truly bless'd?
+
+  _Fred._ Yes, _Cloris_, and thus low I beg thy pardon    [Kneels.
+  For all the Fears that I have made thee suffer.
+
+    Enter all the rest, first _Antonio_ and _Alberto_, without their
+    Vizors.
+
+  _Clo._ Rise, Sir, it is my Duty and my Glory.
+
+  _Alb._ Sir, we have Pardons too to beg of you.
+
+  _Fred._ _Antonio_ and _Alberto_, what, turn'd Bravoes?
+
+  _Cur._ I am amaz'd.
+
+  _Ant._ You'll cease your Wonder, Sir, when you shall know,
+  --Those Braves which formerly belong'd to you,
+  Are now maintain'd by me; which _Pietro_ hir'd
+  For this night's service; and from them we learnt
+  What was to be done, (though not on whom)
+  But that we guess'd, and thought it but our duty
+  To put this Cheat on _Curtius_;
+  Which had we seen had been resolv'd to kill you,
+  Had been by us prevented:
+  The Ladies too would needs be Curtezans
+  To serve your Highness.
+
+  _Fred._ I'm much oblig'd to them, as you.
+  --_Cloris_, a while I'll leave thee with thy Brother,
+  Till I have reconcil'd thee to my Father:
+  To marry me, is what he long has wish'd for,
+  And will, I know, receive this News with Joy.    [Exit Prince.
+
+  _Lor._ Here's fine doings; what am I like to come to if he
+  Turn honest now? This is the worst piece of Inconstancy
+  He ever was guilty of; to change ones Humour, or so,
+  Sometimes, is nothing: but to change Nature,
+  To turn good on a sudden, and never give a Man
+  Civil warning, is a Defeat not be endur'd;
+  I'll see the end on't though.    [Goes out.
+
+  _Alb._ Here, _Antonio_--imagine how I love thee,
+  Who make thee such a Present.
+    [Gives him _Clarina_, who is dressed just as _Ismena_ was, and
+    _Ismena_ in a Masquing Habit.
+
+  _Ant._ _Clarina_, can you pardon my Offence,
+  And bless me with that Love,
+  You have but justly taken from me?
+
+  _Clar._ You wrong me, Sir, I ne'er withdrew my Heart,
+  Though you, but too unkindly, did your Confidence.
+
+  _Ant._ Do not upbraid me; that I was so to blame,
+  Is shame enough: pray pardon, and forget it.
+
+  _Clar._ I do.
+
+  _Ant._ _Alberto_, to shew my Gratitude in what I may,
+  I beg you would receive _Ismena_ from me.
+
+  _Alb._ Who's this?
+
+  _Ant._ Ismena, whom I promis'd thee.
+
+  _Alb._ It is _Clarina_; do you mock my Pain?    [Shows _Ismena_.
+
+  _Ant._ By Heaven, not I; this is _Clarina_, Sir.
+
+  _Alb._ That thy Wife _Clarina!_
+  A Beauty which till now I never saw.
+
+  _Ant._ Sure thou art mad, didst thou not give her me but now,
+  And hast not entertain'd her all this night?
+
+  _Alb._ Her Habit and her Vizard did deceive me;
+  I took her for this lady,--Oh bless'd Mistake!
+
+  _Ism._ I see you're in the dark, but I'll unfold the Riddle,
+  --Sir, in the Passage from the Monastery,
+  Attended only by my Confessor,
+  A Gentleman, a Passenger, in the same Boat,
+  Address'd himself to me;
+  And made a many little Courtships to me:
+  I being veil'd, he knew not who receiv'd them,
+  Nor what Confusion they begot in me.
+  At the first sight, I grew to great esteems of him,
+  But when I heard him speak--
+  I'm not asham'd to say he was my Conqueror.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, Madam, was it you?
+  Who by your Conversation in that Voyage,
+  Gave me Disquiets,
+  Which nothing but your Eyes could reconcile again?
+
+  _Ism._ 'Twas I whom you deceiv'd with some such Language.
+  --After my coming home I grew more melancholy,
+  And by my silence did increase my Pain;
+  And soon _Clarina_ found I was a Lover,
+  Which I confess'd at last, and nam'd the Object.
+  She told me of your Friendship with _Antonio_,
+  And gave me hopes that I again should see you:
+  --But _Isabella_ over-heard the Plot,
+  Which, Sir, _Antonio_ did contrive with you,
+  To make a feigned Courtship to _Clarina_,
+  And told us all the story.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, how I'm ravish'd with my Happiness!
+
+  _Ism._ _Clarina_, Sir, at first was much inrag'd,
+  And vow'd she would revenge her on _Antonio_;
+  But I besought her to be pleas'd again,
+  And said I would contrive a Counter-Plot,
+  Should satisfy her Honour and Revenge.
+  Thus, Sir, I got a Garment like to hers;
+  And to be courted, though but in jest, by you,
+  I run all hazards of my Brother's Anger,
+  And your opinion of my Lightness too.
+
+  _Clar._ 'Twas a Temptation, Sir, I would not venture on,
+  Lest from the reasons of a just Revenge,
+  And so much Beauty as _Alberto_ own'd,
+  My Virtue should not well secure your Interest.
+
+  _Ant._ But why, _Ismena_, was that killing Plot,
+  When I was hid behind the Arras? for now I confess all.
+
+  _Ism._ To make _Alberto_ confident of my Love,
+  And try his Friendship to the utmost point.
+  --_Alberto_ too I found had some reserves,
+  Which I believ'd his Amity to you.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Madam, whilst I took you for his Wife,
+  I thought it crime enough but to adore you;
+  But now I may with honour own my Passion:
+  I will, _Ismena_, confidently assure you,
+  That I will die, unless you pity me.
+
+  _Ism._ She that durst tell you, Sir, how much she lov'd,
+  When you believ'd it was a Sin to do so,
+  Will now make good that Promise with _Antonio's_ leave.
+
+  _Ant._ With perfect Joy, _Ismena_, I resign thee,
+    [_Ant._ gives him _Ism._
+
+  _Alb._ By double Ties you now unite our Souls;
+  Though I can hardly credit what I see,
+  The Happiness so newly is arriv'd.    [To _Ant._
+
+    Enter _Prince_, _Lorenzo_, and _Guilliam_, who comes up scraping
+    to _Cloris_.
+
+  _Fred._ My Father is the kindest Man on Earth,
+  And _Cloris_ shall be welcome to his Bosom;
+  Who'll make him happy in my Reformation.
+  --Here, _Curtius_, take _Laura_, who, I find,
+  Had rather be my Sister than my Mistress:
+  The Duke commands it so.
+
+  _Cur._ Till you have pardon'd me my late Offences,
+  I must deny myself so great a Happiness.    [_Cur._ kneels.
+
+  _Fred._ Rise, you have it.
+
+    Enter _Salvator_.
+
+  _Sal._ Is here not a Runegado belongs to me?
+
+  _Lau._ No, Sir, my Faith's entire,
+  And _Curtius_ has the keeping of it.
+
+  _Sal._ Who made him Master of it, hau?
+
+  _Lau._ Heaven, my Inclinations and the Prince.
+
+  _Sal._ Three powerful Opposers;
+  Take her, since it must be so,
+  And mayst thou be happy with her.
+
+  _Fred._ _Alberto_, would this Court afforded
+  A Lady worthy thee.
+
+  _Alb._ Sir, I'm already sped, I humbly thank you.
+
+  _Lor._ Sped, quoth ye? Heaven defend
+  Me from such Fortune.
+
+  _Fred._ _Lorenzo_, I had forgot thee; thou shalt e'en marry too.
+
+  _Lor._ You may command me any thing but marrying.
+
+  _Isab._ What think you then of a smooth-fac'd Boy?
+
+  _Lor._ A Pox on him, sure he will not tell now, will he?
+
+  _Isab._ My Lord, I beg your leave to challenge _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Fred._ What, to a Duel, _Philibert_?
+
+  _Lor._ _Phil._ _Phil._ hold, do not ruin the Reputation
+  Of a Man that has acquir'd Fame amongst the female Sex;
+  I protest I did but jest.
+
+  _Isab._ But, Sir, I'm in earnest with you.
+
+  _Fred._ This is not _Philibert_.
+
+  _Isab._ No, Sir, but _Isabella_--that was _Philibert_.
+    [Pointing to _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, Sir, I was the happy Boy to be belov'd,
+  When _Cloris_ was forgotten.
+
+  _Fred._ Oh, how you raise my Love and Shame!
+  But why did _Isabella_ change her Habit?
+
+  _Clo._ Only to take my place, lest you should miss me,
+  Who being with _Laura_, at the Lodgings of _Clarina_,
+  And comparing the Words of her Letter
+  With what the Bravoes had confess'd to _Antonio_,
+  We found the Plot which was laid for you,
+  And join'd all to prevent it.
+
+  _Fred._ 'Twas sure the work of Heaven.
+
+  _Isab._ And now, Sir, I come to claim a Husband here.
+
+  _Fred._ Name him, and take him.
+
+  _Isab._ _Lorenzo_, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Of all Cheats, commend me to a Waiting-Gentlewoman;
+  I her Husband?
+
+  _Ant._ I am a Witness to that Truth.
+
+  _Fred._ 'Tis plain against you; come, you must be honest.
+
+  _Lor._ Will you compel me to't against my will?
+  Oh Tyranny, consider, I am a Man of Quality and Fortune.
+
+  _Isab._ As for my Qualities, you know I have sufficient,
+  And Fortune, thanks to your Bounty, considerable too.
+
+  _Fred._ No matter, he has enough for both.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, Sir, an you be against me,
+  'Tis time to reform in my own defence;
+  But 'tis a thing I never consider'd, or thought on.
+
+  _Fred._ Marry first, and consider afterwards.
+
+  _Lor._ That's the usual way, I confess;
+  Come, _Isabella_, since the Prince commands it,
+  I do not love thee, but yet I'll not forswear it;
+  Since a greater Miracle than that is wrought,
+  And that's my marrying thee;
+  Well, 'tis well thou art none of the most beautiful,
+  I should swear the Prince had some designs on thee else.
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, _Guilliam_, since thou hast been so faithful,
+  I dare assure thee _Lucia_ shall be thine.
+    [_Clo._ speaks aside to _Guil._ _Guil._ bows.
+
+  _Fred._ Come, my fair _Cloris_, and invest thy self
+  In all the Glories which I lately promis'd:
+  --And, Ladies, you'll attend her to the Court,
+  And share the Welcomes which the Duke provides her;
+  Where all the Sallies of my flattering Youth
+  Shall be no more remember'd, but as past.
+  Since 'tis a Race that must by Man be run,
+  I'm happy in my Youth it was begun;
+  It serves my future Manhood to improve,
+  Which shall be sacrific'd to War and Love.
+
+_Curtain Falls._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE,
+
+Spoken by _Cloris_.
+
+
+  Ladies, the Prince was kind at last,
+  But all the Danger is not past;
+  I cannot happy be till you approve
+  My hasty condescension to his Love.
+  'Twas want of Art, not Virtue, was my Crime;
+  And that's, I vow, the Author's Fault, not mine.
+  She might have made the Women pitiless,
+  But that had harder been to me than this:
+  She might have made our Lovers constant too,
+  A Work which Heaven it self can scarcely do;
+  But simple Nature never taught the way
+  To hide those Passions which she must obey.
+  E'en humble Cottages and Cells,
+  Where Innocence and Virtue dwells,
+  Than Courts no more secure can be
+  From Love and dangerous Flattery.
+  Love in rural Triumph reigns,
+  As much a God amongst the Swains,
+  As if the Sacrifices paid
+  Were wounded Hearts by Monarchs made:
+  And this might well excuse th' Offence,
+  If it be so to love a Prince.
+  But, Ladies, 'tis your Hands alone,
+  And not his Power, can raise me to a Throne;
+  Without that Aid I cannot reign,
+  But will return back to my Flocks again.
+
+    _Guilliam_ advances.
+
+  _Guil._ How, go from Court! nay, zay not zo.
+  Hear me but speak before you go:
+  Whoy zay the Leadies should refuse ye,
+  The Bleads I'm sure would better use ye--
+  So long as ye are kind and young,
+  I know they'll clap ye right or wrong.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: The Amorous Prince
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++Dramatis Personæ+
+
+  p. 123 _Dramatis Personæ._ I have added to the list '_Salvator_,
+  Father to _Lorenzo_ and _Laura_.' 'Ismena' is spelled 'Ismenia'
+  throughout by 1724.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 124, l. 10 _Should those._ 4to 1671 reads 'Dwell'st perceive us'
+  as a separate line. Throughout the play, except in lines as this
+  specially noted, I carefully follow the metrical division of 4to 1671.
+  1724 prints many speeches and whole scenes as prose which the quarto
+  gives as verse. It is noticeable that the edition of 1711 follows the
+  quarto.
+
+  p. 125, l. 17 _Bays._ 1724 'Bay'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 127, l. 31 _Exit Pietro._ 1724 'Exit.' which would tend to a
+  confusion here.
+
+  p. 131, l. 1 _Thinking._ 4to 1671 ends this line at 'Life' and makes
+  'Might ... Virtue' a second line.
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 133, l. 15 _accompted._ 1724 'accounted'.
+
+  p. 134, l. 34 _a my._ 1724 'on my'.
+
+  p. 137, l. 15 _They retire._ 4to 1671 'Exeunt.'
+
++ACT I: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 137, l. 16 _Scene IV. The Same._ All previous editions 'Scene IV.'
+
+
+  p. 140, l. 28 _fixt._ 1724 'fit'.
+
+  p. 141, l. 2 _me alone._ 1724 'me all alone'.
+
+  p. 141, l. 28 _Ism. I can._ 1724 wrongly gives this speech to
+  Isabella.
+
+  p. 144, l. 4 _if there need an Oath between us--_ 1724 'is there need
+  of Oaths between us?'
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 144, l. 15 _Gal. My Lord._ All previous editions give Galliard's
+  lines with speech-prefix 'Ser.'
+
+  p. 145, l. 30 _An._ 4to 1671 'And'.
+
+  p. 146, l. 30 _Exit._ I have supplied this stage direction.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 146, l. 31 _Antonio's House._ I have added the locale.
+
+  p. 147, l. 10 _hurt ones._ 4to 1671 'hurts one'. 1724 'hurt one'.
+
+  p. 147, l. 16 _Cure._ 1724 'spare'.
+
++ACT II: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 152, l. 18 _The Street._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 152, l. 32 _being retir'd._ 1724 'retires'.
+
+  p. 154, l. 34 _Pag._ All previous editions here give speech-prefix
+  'Boy'. The alteration from 'Page' to 'Boy' is quite unnecessary.
+
+  p. 155, l. 13 _Lor. and Page run._ All previous editions 'Lor. runs
+  away', but obviously the Page accompanies his master.
+
++ACT II: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 156, l. 1 _Antonio's House._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 157, l. 10 _Puts on the Veil._ 1724 merely reads 'Exeunt.'
+
++ACT II: Scene v+
+
+  p. 157, l. 12 _A Chamber._ I have supplied the locale.
+
+  p. 157, l. 29 _Exit Page._ I have added this stage direction.
+
+  p. 158, l. 17 _you will believe._ 1724 omits 'will'.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 160, l. 7 _A Room._ I have supplied the locale.
+
+  p. 161, l. 23 _you're._ 1671 'your'.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 163, l. 19 _A Street._ I have supplied this locale.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 171, l. 30 _Galliard._ 4to 1671 has 'with a Galliard', and to
+  Galliard's lines gives speech-prefix 'Serv.'
+
+  p. 172, l. 6 _and his Page._ I have marked the Page's entrance here.
+  It is not noted by previous editions.
+
+  p. 173, l. 16 _Ex. Page._ 4to 1671 'Ex. Boy.'
+
+  p. 174, l. 6 _Bone Mine._ 4to 1671 'Bon Meen'.
+
+  p. 174, l. 13 _with Musick._ I have added these words.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 176, l. 30 _did not hate._ 1724 omits 'not'.
+
+  p. 177, l. 22 _never._ 4to 1671 'ever'.
+
+  p. 177, l. 32 _Joys._ 4to 1671 'Joy'.
+
+  p. 178, l. 10 _Ism. Know it was._ Both 4to 1671, and 1724 read 'No,
+  it was', which does not give sense. There can be little doubt 'Know'
+  is the correct reading.
+
+  p. 178, l. 18 _slight._ 1724 'flight'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 178, l. 29 _A Street._ I have added this locale, which no previous
+  edition marks.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 183, l. 25 _Frederick's Chamber._ I have added this locale.
+
+  p. 184, l. 22 _oft._ 1724 'soft'.
+
+  p. 185, l. 35 _Exeunt Musick._ I have inserted this stage direction.
+
+  p. 186, l. 3 _Exit Page._ I have supplied this.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 187, l. 23 _A Street._ I have added this locale.
+
+  p. 188, l. 3 _Antonio's Valet._ 4to 1671 simply 'Vallet.' 1724
+  'Valet.' The servant is obviously Antonio's man.
+
+  p. 188, l. 27 _foutering._ 1724 'soutering'.
+
+  p. 189, l. 2 _To some Tune like him._ Only in 4to 1671.
+
+  p. 189, l. 9 _And quite unveil'd._ Only 4to 1671 gives this line.
+
++ACT IV: Scene v+
+
+  p. 190, l. 31 _Antonio's House._ I have supplied the locale.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 193, l. 10 _Laura's Chamber._ I have added the locale.
+
++ACT V: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 197, l. 30 _A Grove._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 199, l. 36 _Teresia's._ 4to 1671 '_Teretia's_'.
+
+  p. 200, l. 3 _certain 'tis._ 4to 1671 'it is certain'.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 200, l. 28 _What Arms._ 4to 1671 gives this line to Pietro.
+
+  p. 201, l. 21 _Millanoise._ 1724 'Milanese'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 22 _Genovese._ 1724 'Genoese'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 27 _a Maltan who pretends._ 1724 'the Maltese, who
+  pretend'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 30 _a Cicilian._ 1724 'the Sicilians'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 31 _his._ 1724 'their'. The alterations made by 1724 and
+  the confusion of plurals and singular in this passage, which I have
+  left untouched, are noticeable.
+
+  p. 202, l. 27 _sets._ 1724 '_sits_'.
+
+  p. 203, l. 5 _others._ 1724 'other'.
+
+  p. 203, l. 12 _O'._ 4to 1671 'A'.'
+
+  p. 204, l. 20 _their._ 4to 1671 '_the_'.
+
+  p. 206, l. 33 _Visors._ 1724 '_Vizards_'.
+
+  p. 207, l. 5 _Braves._ 1724 'Bravoes'.
+
+  p. 209, l. 19 _'Twas a Temptation._ 1724 quite erroneously gives this
+  speech to Cloris.
+
+  p. 212, l. 13 _Clo. speaks aside to Guil._ 1724 'Aside to Guil.'
+
+  p. 212, l. 24 _Curtain Falls._ Only in 4to 1671.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 213, l. 5 _E'en humble._ 4to 1671 omits 'E'en'.
+
+  p. 213, l. 22 _Leadies._ 1724 'Ladies'.
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 121 _Great Johnson's way._ cf. what Mrs. Behn says in her 'Epistle
+  to the Reader' prefacing _The Dutch Lover_ (Vol. I, p. 224), of the
+  Jonsonian enthusiast: 'a man the most severe of Johnson's Sect.'
+
+  p. 121 _Nokes and Angel._ The two celebrated low comedians. Angel
+  died in the spring of 1673. He was a great farceur, but gagged
+  unmercifully, to the no small annoyance of the poets.
+
+  p. 121 _Cataline._ Jonson's tragedy was revived with great splendour
+  at the King's House, Friday, 18 December, 1668, and remained a stock
+  play until the retirement of Hart (who excelled in Catiline) at the
+  Union in 1682. Michael Mohun was famous in Cethegus, and Mrs. Corey
+  in Sempronia. Pepys found the play itself rather dull as a whole
+  'though most fine in clothes, and a fine Scene of the Senate, and of
+  a fight, as ever I saw in my life.' A year before its actual
+  production his crony, Harry Harris, a member of the rival theatre
+  had 'talked of _Catiline_ which is to be suddenly acted at the King's
+  House; and there all agree that it cannot be well done at that house,
+  there not being good actors enough; and Burt acts Cicero, which they
+  all conclude he will not be able to do well. The King gives them £500
+  for robes, there being, as they say, to be sixteen scarlet robes.'
+  (11 December, 1667.) In the first quarto (1672), of Buckingham's _The
+  Rehearsal_, Bayes refers to _Catiline_ saying that his design in a
+  certain scene is '_Roman_ cloaths, guilded Truncheons, forc'd
+  conceipt, smooth Verse, and a Rant.' The words 'Roman cloaths' are
+  omitted in all subsequent editions.
+
+  p. 121 _the Comick Hat._ In 1670 there was produced at the Theatre
+  Royal, Dryden's _The Conquest of Granada_, Part I. The witty prologue
+  was 'spoken by Mrs. Ellen Gwyn' (who acted Almahide) 'in a
+  Broad-Brimm'd Hat, and Waist Belt'. It commences thus:--
+
+    This jest was first of t'other house's making,
+    And five times tried, has never fail'd of taking;
+    For 'twere a shame a poet should be kill'd
+    Under the shelter of so broad a shield.
+    This is the hat, whose very sight did win ye
+    To laugh and clap as tho' the devil were in ye.
+    As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you'll be
+    So dull, to laugh, once more, for love of me.
+
+  Two slightly different explanations are given of the jest. Theatrical
+  tradition has it that Dryden supplied Nell Gwynne, who was plump and
+  petite, with this hat of the circumference of a cart wheel, in
+  ridicule of a hat worn by Nokes of the Duke's company whilst playing
+  Ancient Pistol. It is again said that in May, 1670, whilst the Court
+  was at Dover to receive the Duchess of Orleans, the Duke's Company
+  played there Shadwell's _The Sullen Lovers_, and Caryl's _Sir Salomon;
+  or, The Cautious Coxcomb_, in which latter comedy Nokes acted Sir
+  Arthur Addle, a bawling fop. The dress of the French gallants
+  attending the Duchess was characterised by an excessively short laced
+  scarlet or blue coat, a very broad waist-belt and a wide-leaved hat.
+  Nokes appeared on the stage in a still shorter coat, a huger
+  waist-belt, and a hat of preposterous dimensions. The Duke of Monmouth
+  buckled his own sword to the actor's side, and, according to old
+  Downes, our comedian looked more like a dressed-up ape or a quiz on
+  the French than Sir Arthur Addle. The English Court was straightway
+  convulsed with laughter at this mimicry, which seems, to say the
+  least, in highly questionable taste. When Nell Gwynne appeared and
+  burlesqued the biter, Charles II, who was present at the first
+  performance of _The Conquest of Granada_, well nigh died of merriment,
+  and her verve in delivering Dryden's witty lines wholly completed her
+  conquest of the King. Nell Gwynne did not appear on the boards after
+  1670.
+
+  p. 121 _The Jig and Dance._ cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477:
+  _A Jigg_ (_The Town Fop_). The Jig is in this prologue clearly
+  distinct from a dance. Act IV, sc. iii (p. 185): 'Cloris dances a
+  Jig'-- (i.e. the simple dance).
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 133 _Capriol._ Capriole (French) signifies a leap made by a horse
+  without advancing.
+
++ACT I: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 140 _Clarina why thus clouded?_ Similar expressions in Davenant's
+  _The Siege of Rhodes_ (4to 1663), Part 1, the Second Entry:--
+
+    _Mustapha._ I bring the morning pictur'd in a cloud.
+
+  And in Sir William Barclay's _The Lost Lady_ (folio, 1639), Act II:--
+
+      Enter _Phillida_ veiled who talks to _Ergasto_ aside and then
+      goes out.
+    _Cleon._ From what part of the town comes this fair day
+    In a cloud that makes you look so cheerfully?
+
+  are burlesqued in _The Rehearsal_, III, v:--
+
+    _Vols._ Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud?
+    Thou bring'st the Morning pictur'd in a Cloud.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 164 _... is welcome._ Buckingham parodies this in _The Rehearsal_,
+  IV, iii:--
+
+    _Cordelia._ My lieges, news from _Volscius_ the prince.
+    _Usher._ His news is welcome, whatso'er it be.
+    _Smith._ How, sir, do you mean that? Whether it be good or bad?
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 172 _tabering._ Beating on; tapping; drumming. This rare word
+  occurs in _Nahum_, II, vii: 'Her maids shall lead her as with the
+  voice of doves tabering upon their breasts.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 180 _Hansel'd._ To handsel is to inaugurate with some ceremony of
+  an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin the New Year by presenting a new
+  comer with a gift.
+
+  p. 183 _She leapt into the River._ _The Rehearsal_, Act V, burlesques
+  this:-- '_The Argument of the Fifth Act_ ... _Cloris_ in despair,
+  drowns herself: and Prince _Pretty-man_, discontentedly, walks by the
+  River side.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 188 _foutering._ Fouter (Fr. foutre; Lat. futuere), _verbum
+  obscaenum_. cf. the noun in phrase 'to care not a fouter' (footra,
+  footre, foutre), _2 Henry IV_, V, iii. To 'fouter' is also used
+  (a vulgarism and a provincialism) in a much mitigated sense = to
+  meddle about aimlessly, to waste time and tongue doing nothing, as
+  of a busybody.
+
+  p. 189 _Niperkin._ This would seem to be a slang expression, as Grose
+  gives it meaning 'a small measure'. It was also used for the actual
+  stone jug. cf. D'Urfey, _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719):
+  'Quart-pot, Pint-pot, nipperkin.' _N.E.D._, quoting this passage,
+  explains as 'a small quantity of wine, ale, or spirits.'
+
+  p. 190 _Camphire Posset._ Camphor had a high reputation as an
+  antaphrodisiac. cf. Dryden, _The Spanish Friar_ (1681), Act I, where
+  Gomez says of his wife: 'I'll get a physician that shall prescribe
+  her an ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate
+  incontinency'; also Congreve, _The Way of the World_ (1700), IV, xii:
+  'You are all camphire and frankincense, all chastity and odour.'
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Amorous Prince_
+
+p. 121 _The Jig and Dance._ cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477:
+_A Jigg (The Town Fop)_.
+
+  _Town Fop_ note:
+
+  p. 43 _A Jigg._ There were, in Post-Restoration times, two
+  interpretations of the word Jig. Commonly speaking it was taken to
+  mean exactly what it would now, a simple dance. Nell Gwynne and Moll
+  Davis were noted for the dancing of Jigs. cf. Epilogue to Buckingham's
+  _The Chances_ (1682):--
+
+                 The Author dreads the strut and meen
+    Of new prais'd Poets, having often seen
+    Some of his Fellows, who have writ before,
+    When Nel has danc'd her Jig, steal to the Door,
+    Hear the Pit clap, and with conceit of that
+    Swell, and believe themselves the Lord knows what.
+
+  Thus at the end of Lacy's _The Old Troop_ (31 July, 1668), we have
+  'a dance of two hobby horses in armour, and a Jig.' Also shortly
+  before the epilogue in Shadwell's _The Sullen Lovers_ (1668) we read,
+  'Enter a Boy in the habit of Pugenello and traverses the stage, takes
+  his chair and sits down, then dances a Jig.'
+
+  But it must be remembered that beside the common meaning there was a
+  gloss upon the word derived from Elizabethan stage practice. In the
+  prologue to _The Fair Maid of the Inn_ (licensed 1626), good plays are
+  spoken of as often scurvily treated, whilst
+
+    A Jigge shall be clapt at, and every rhime
+    Prais'd and applauded by a clam'rous chyme.
+
+  The Pre-Restoration Jig was little other indeed than a ballad opera in
+  embryo lasting about twenty-five minutes and given as an after-piece.
+  It was a rhymed farce in which the dialogue was sung or chanted by the
+  characters to popular ballad tunes. But after the Restoration the Jig
+  assumed a new and more serious complexion, and came eventually to be
+  dovetailed with the play itself, instead of being given at the fag end
+  of the entertainment. Mr. W. J. Lawrence, the well-known theatrical
+  authority to whom I owe much valuable information contained in this
+  note, would (doubtless correctly) attribute the innovation to
+  Stapylton and Edward Howard, both of whom dealt pretty freely in these
+  Jigs. Stapylton has in Act V of _The Slighted Maid_ (1663) a 'Song in
+  Dialogue' between Aurora and Phoebus with a chorus of Cyclops, which
+  met with some terrible parody in _The Rehearsal_ (cf. the present
+  editor's edition of _The Rehearsal_, p. 145). Indeed all extrinsic
+  songs in dialogue, however serious the theme, were considered 'Jigs'.
+  A striking example would be the Song of the Spirits in Dryden's
+  _Tyrannic Love_, Act IV.
+
+  In Post-Restoration days a ballad sung in the streets by two persons
+  was frequently called a Jig, presumably because it was a 'song in
+  dialogue'. Numerous examples are to be found amongst the Roxburgh
+  Ballads.
+
+  The Jig introduced in _Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ would seem to have been
+  the simple dance although not improbably an epithalamium was also
+  sung.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: The Amorous Prince
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+  _Cur._ Never, I hope.  [. missing]
+  Enter _Curtius_. / _Cur._ How! the Prince!  [Enter _Curtuis_.]
+  _Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;  [; unchanged]
+  [Aside to her. / [Ex. _Isab._
+  [Aside. / [Ex. _Page_ and _Guil._ with Musick.
+    [_brackets before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text_]
+  They set _Ism._ in a Chair  [they]
+  _Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same  [Gulliam]
+  'Tis something cold, I'll go take a Niperkin of Wine, [, as shown]
+  _Lau._ Forward, dear _Cloris_.  [, for .]
+  [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him.
+    [_text unchanged: error for Head?_]
+  But my Master must first speak with you alone,  [, for .]
+
+Notes on Text
+
+  p. 180 ... an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin  [kind.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE WIDOW RANTER.
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Bacon, General of the English in Virginia, has fought with great success
+against the Indians and repeatedly beaten back their tribes, although
+the Supreme Council, by whom the Colony is governed, have refused him a
+commission, and, in spite of his victories, persist in treating him as a
+rebel and a traitor. This Council indeed is composed of a number of
+cowards and rogues, who through sheer malice and carping jealousy
+attribute Bacon's prowess to his known passion for Semernia, the Indian
+Queen, and who feign to think that he fights merely with the hope of
+slaying her husband, the King Cavernio. These rascals are none the less
+mightily afraid of the general's valour and spirit, so they determine to
+entice him from his camp under various specious pretexts, and then, once
+he is completely in their power, to have him executed or assassinated.
+With this object in view they send a friendly letter asking him to
+attend the Council, to accept a regular commission, and to raise new
+forces. On his way to the town Bacon is attacked by an ambush of
+soldiers, whom he beats off with the help of one of his lieutenants,
+Fearless, backed by Lieutenant Daring and a troop of his own men, who
+capture Whimsey and Whiff, two very prominent justices, instigators of
+the plot. He accordingly appears before the Council with a couple of
+prisoners. The populace, who are all for their hero, realizing the
+treachery, raise a riot, and throw the Councillors into a state of the
+utmost confusion and alarm. They spur themselves to action, however, and
+under the leadership of Colonel Wellman, Deputy Governor, proceed to
+take the field against Bacon, who is declared an open and lawless rebel.
+When he appears the soldiers, none the less, join themselves to their
+hero, and as at the same moment news is brought that the Indians have
+risen and are attacking the town, Bacon is induced to lead the troops
+against the foe; and in a pitched battle Cavernio is slain. That night
+whilst his army is revelling after their victory the Council and their
+party with infamous treachery suddenly attack the camp. There are
+further skirmishes with a remnant of the Indian fugitives, and in one of
+these frays Bacon accidentally wounds Semernia, who is flying disguised
+in man's attire. He recognizes her voice, and she sinks into his arms to
+die. As he is weeping over her body Fearless rushes in with drawn sword
+shouting that the day is all but lost. Bacon, his mistress dead, deeming
+that his men are overcome by the attack from the town and that he will
+himself be captured, takes poison which he carries concealed in the
+pommel of his sword, whilst Daring and his soldiers are heard shouting
+'Victory! Victory!' The hero, however, expires at the moment his men
+have conquered, but the Council speedily come to terms, naming with a
+commission Daring as General, whilst Colonel Wellman announces his
+intention of weeding this body of rogues and cowards against the arrival
+of the new Governor who is expected from England.
+
+Daring, upon his commission, is wedded to the Widow Ranter, first
+mistress and then wife of old Colonel Ranter, recently deceased,
+a wealthy, buxom virago who has followed her soldier during the fighting
+in man's attire and even allowed herself to be taken prisoner by a young
+gallant, Hazard, just landed from England, and who has occupied his time
+in an amour with a certain Mrs. Surelove. Hazard, upon his arrival,
+meets an old acquaintance, Friendly, who loves and is eventually united
+to Crisante, daughter to Colonel Downright; whilst Parson Dunce, the
+Governor's chaplain, is made to marry Mrs. Flirt, the keeper of a
+hostelry, a good dame with whom he has been a little too familiar on a
+promise of matrimony.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+The admirable comic scenes and characters of _The Widow Ranter_ are
+original invention, but Mrs. Behn has founded the serious and historical
+portion of her play upon a contemporary pamphlet, _Strange News from
+Virginia being a full and true account of the Life and Death of
+Nathaniel Bacon esq. London: printed for Wm. Harris, 1677_. With regard
+to the catastrophe and Bacon's love for the Indian Queen, Mrs. Behn has
+quite legitimately departed from the narrative, but otherwise she keeps
+fairly closely to her sources. There is also a _History of Bacon and
+Ingram's Rebellion in Virginia in 1675-76_, written at the time but
+first published in 1867.
+
+The _Dictionary of National Biography_ gives a very ample yet concise
+account of Bacon, with valuable references to original documents. He
+was the son of Sir Thomas Bacon of Friston Hall, Suffolk. Born in 1642,
+about 1673 he married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edward Duke, Bart.,
+and shortly afterwards in a spirit of roving adventure emigrated to
+Virginia. Here he was elected a member of the Council, and his estates
+being especially exposed to Indian raids the volunteer colonists chose
+him General. The Governor, however, delayed to send the necessary
+commission, and Bacon having in this interval attacked a band of Indian
+marauders was promptly declared a rebel. The Governor was thereupon
+forced to yield by a general revolt, and in a second expedition Bacon
+defeated the Indians with terrific slaughter. A little later when
+reinforcements had arrived the Governor again declared him an outlaw,
+but after a brief struggle was himself obliged to take refuge at sea,
+whilst Jamestown fell into the hands of the victorious General, who not
+being able to garrison the houses, burned it to the ground. In the midst
+of his success, whilst he was busied with new plans for the welfare and
+protection of the colonists, Bacon died suddenly, 1676. He left one
+daughter, Mary, who married Hugh Chamberlain, M.D., physician to Queen
+Anne. Mrs. Behn has drawn his character with remarkable accuracy. Even
+his enemies were obliged to allow he possessed extraordinary ability,
+and he won all by the grace and charm of his manner. Oldys, in a MS.
+note on Langbaine (Mrs. Behn), attributes to the colonist _A Historical
+Discourse of the Government of England_ (1647), but the date of
+publication sufficiently shows that the antiquary is palpably in error.
+
+Langbaine in his note on _The Widow Ranter_ abruptly and sweepingly
+remarks 'Plot from the known story of Cassius,' which the _Biographia
+Dramatica_ yet more erroneously expands as follows: 'The tragedy part
+of it, particularly the catastrophe of Bacon, is borrowed from the
+well-known story of Cassius, who, on the supposition of his friend
+Brutus being defeated, caused himself to be put to death by the hand of
+his freedman Dandarus.' C. Cassius Longinus was defeated at Philippi
+(B.C. 42), by Antony, and ignorant that the left wing commanded by
+Brutus had conquered Octavius, he straightway commanded his freedman
+Pindarus to put an end to his life. It is strange that both authorities
+should have made this mistake, the more so as Bacon expressly alludes to
+the fate of Hannibal, from whose history, and not that of Cassius, Mrs
+Behn doubtless borrowed the idea of her hero's suicide. Cassius is
+indeed alluded to but casually, and not by Bacon's self. Hannibal had
+fled to the court of Prusias, King of Bithynia, who, unable to resist
+the demands of the Romans, eventually sent troops to arrest his guest.
+The great Carthaginian, however, having provided himself with poison in
+case of such an event, swallowed the venomed drug to prevent himself
+falling into the hands of his enemies. Dullman, Timorous Cornet,
+Whimsey, Whiff, and the other Justices of the Peace who appear in this
+play are aptly described in _Oroonoko_, where Mrs. Behn speaks of the
+Governor's Council 'who (not to disgrace them, or burlesque the
+Government there) consisted of such notorious villains as Newgate ever
+transported; and, possibly, originally were such who understood neither
+the laws of God or man, and had no sort of principles to make them
+worthy of the name of men; but at the very council-table would
+contradict and fight with one another, and swear so bloodily, that it
+was terrible to hear and see them. (Some of them were afterwards hanged,
+when the Dutch took possession of the place, others sent off in
+chains.)'
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+When _The Widow Ranter; or, The History of Bacon in Virginia_ was
+produced at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1690--the year after Mrs.
+Behn's death--owing to the slipshod and slovenly way in which it was put
+on, or rather, 'murdered', to use the phrase of the dedication, it did
+not meet with the success so capital a piece fully deserved. Such ample
+and needless omissions were made that the intrigue soon became
+hopelessly fogged, many incidents seeming absolutely disjointed and
+superfluous. For not only were heavier scenes, including the apparition
+of Cavernio, cut, but the essential comic relief was woefully
+maltreated. The Court House opening of Act III was expunged in its
+entirety, whilst other episodes were so mangled and the speeches so
+pruned that they proved practically unintelligible. Again, the play was
+badly cast. Indifferent performers such as Barnes, Baker, Cudworth, were
+entrusted with rôles they were incapable of acting, whilst Daring, the
+dashing, gallant, and handsome young officer, who is loved by the Widow,
+was alloted to Sanford, of all men most supremely unfitted for the part.
+Indeed, it would seem that the casting was done on purpose perversely
+and malignly to damn the play. Samuel Sanford, who had joined Davenant's
+company within a year of their opening, had been forced by nature, being
+low of stature and crooked of person, rather than by choice, into a line
+denoted by such characters as Iago, Creon in Dryden and Lee's _Oedipus_,
+Malignii, Osmund the wizard in _King Arthur_. 'An excellent actor in
+disagreeable characters' Cibber terms him, and old Aston sums him up
+thus: 'Mr. _Sanford_, although not usually deem'd an Actor of the first
+Rank, yet the Characters allotted him were such, that none besides,
+then, or since, ever topp'd; for his Figure, which was diminutive and
+mean, (being Round-shoulder'd, Meagre-fac'd, Spindle-shank'd,
+Splay-footed, with a sour Countenance and long lean Arms) render'd him a
+proper Person to discharge _Jago_, _Foresight_ and _Ma'lignij_, in the
+_Villain_.--This Person acted strongly with his Face,--and (as King
+_Charles_ said) was the best _Villain_ in the World.' The performance of
+an actor with such a marked personality and unpleasantly peculiar
+talents as are thus enumerated, in the rôle of Daring must been
+grotesque and distasteful to a degree. In such an accumulation of
+unfortunate circumstances there could have been no other event than the
+failure of the play, which was so complete as effectually to bar any
+chance of subsequent revival. Indeed, there seems to have been only one
+feature of any merit: Betty Currer, the original Aquilina in _Venice
+Preserv'd_, acted the name part with the greatest spirit and abandon.
+
+
+
+
+To the much Honoured
+
+MADAM WELLDON.
+
+
+Madam
+
+Knowing Mrs. _Behn_ in her Life-time design'd to Dedicate some of her
+Works to you, you have a Naturall Title, and claim to this and I could
+not without being unjust to her Memory, but fix your Name to it, who
+have not only a Wit above that of most of your Sex; but a goodness and
+Affability Extreamly Charming, and Engaging beyond Measure, and perhaps
+there are few to be found like you, that are so Eminent for
+Hospitallity, and a Ready and Generous Assistance to the distress'd and
+Indigent, which are Quallities that carry much more of Divinity with
+them, than a Puritannicall outward Zeal for Virtue and Religion.
+
+Our Author, Madam, who was so true a Judge of Wit, was (no doubt of it)
+satisfyed in the Patroness she had pitcht upon: If ever she had occasion
+for a Wit and Sense like yours 'tis now, to Defend this (one of the last
+of her Works) from the Malice of her Enemies, and the ill Nature of the
+Critticks, who have had Ingratitude enough not to Consider the
+Obligations they had to her when Living; but to do those Gentlemen
+Justice, 'tis not (altogether) to be Imputed to their Critticism, that
+the Play had not that Success which it deserv'd, and was expected by her
+Friends; The main fault ought to lye on those who had the management of
+it. Had our Authour been alive she would have Committed it to the Flames
+rather than have suffer'd it to have been Acted with such Omissions as
+was made, and on which the Foundation of the Play Depended: For Example,
+they thought fit to leave out a Whole Scene of the _Virginian Court of
+Judicature_, which was a lively resemblance of that Country-Justice; and
+on which depended a great part of the Plot, and wherein were many
+unusuall and very Naturall Jests which would at least have made some
+sort of People laugh: In another Part of the Play is Omitted the
+appearance of the Ghost of the _Indian King_, kill'd by _Bacon_, and
+tho' the like may have been Represented in other Plays, yet I never
+heard or found but that the sight was very agreeable to an Audience, and
+very Awfull: besides the Apparition of the Ghost was necessary, for it
+was that which struck a Terror in the Queen, and frighten'd her from
+heark'ning to the Love of _Bacon_, believing it a horrid thing to
+receive the Caresses and Embraces of her Husbands Murderer: And Lastly,
+many of the Parts being false Cast, and given to those whose Tallants
+and Genius's suited not our Author's Intention: These, Madam, are some
+of the Reasons that this Play was unsuccessfull, and the best Play that
+ever was writ must prove so: if it have the Fate to be Murder'd like
+this.
+
+However, Madam, I can't but believe you will find an hours diversion in
+the reading, and will meet with not only Wit, but true Comedy, (tho'
+low) by reason many of the Characters are such only as our _Newgate_
+afforded, being Criminals Transported.
+
+This play, Madam, being left in my hands by the Author to Introduce to
+the Publick, I thought my self oblig'd to say thus much in its defence,
+and that it was also a Duty upon me to choose a Patroness proper for it,
+and the Author having pitcht upon your Name to do Honour to some of her
+Works, I thought your Protection, could be so usefull to none, as to
+this, whose owning it may Silence the Malice of its Enemies; Your Wit
+and Judgment being to be Submitted to in all Cases; Besides your Natural
+Tenderness and Compassion for the Unfortunate, gives you in a manner
+another Title to it: The Preference which is due to you upon so many
+Accounts is therefore the Reason of this present Address, for at the
+Worst, if this Play should be so Unfortunate as not to be thought worthy
+of your Acceptance; Yet it is certain, that its worth any Man's while to
+have the Honour of subscribing himself,
+
+  Madam,
+  Your Most Obedient Humble,
+  Servant,
+  G. J.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIDOW RANTER:
+
+Or, the History of Bacon in _Virginia_.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+By Mr. _Dryden_.
+
+
+  Heaven save ye, Gallants; and this hopeful Age,
+  Y' are welcome to the downfal of the Stage:
+  The Fools have laboured long in their Vocation;
+  And Vice (the Manufacture of the Nation)
+  O'er-stocks the Town so much, and thrives so well,
+  That Fops and Knaves grow Drugs, and will not sell.
+  In vain our Wares on Theaters are shown,
+  When each has a Plantation of his own.
+  His Cruse ne'er fails; for whatsoe'er he spends,
+  There's still God's plenty for himself and Friends.
+  Shou'd Men be rated by Poetick Rules,
+  Lord, what a Poll would there be rais'd from Fools!
+  Mean time poor Wit prohibited must lie,
+  As if 'twere made some _French_ Commodity.
+  Fools you will have, and rais'd at vast expence;
+  And yet as soon as seen, they give offence.
+  Time was, when none would cry that Oaf was me,
+  But now you strive about your Pedigree:
+  Bauble and Cap no sooner are thrown down,
+  But there's a Muss of more than half the Town.
+  Each one will challenge a Child's part at least,
+  A sign the Family is well increas'd.
+  Of Foreign Cattle there's no longer need,
+  When we're supply'd so fast with _English_ Breed,
+  Well! Flourish, Countrymen; drink, swear and roar,
+  Let every free-born Subject keep his Whore;
+  And wandring in the Wilderness about,
+  At end of Forty Years not wear her out.
+  But when you see these Pictures, let none dare
+  To own beyond a Limb or single share:
+  For where the Punk is common, he's a Sot,
+  Who needs will father what the Parish got.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  MEN.
+
+  _Indian King_ called _Cavernio_,                Mr. _Bowman_.
+  _Bacon_, General of the _English_,              Mr. _Williams_.
+  Colonel _Wellman_, Deputy Governor,             Mr. _Freeman_.
+  Col. _Downright_, a loyal honest Colonel,       Mr. _Harris_.
+  _Hazard_   } Two Friends known to one another   Mr. _Alexander_,
+  _Friendly_ }    many Years in _England_,        Mr. _Powell_.
+  _Daring_   }  Lieutenant Generals to _Bacon_    Mr. _Sandford_,
+  _Fearless_ }                                    Mr. _Cudworth_.
+  _Dullman_, a Captain,                           Mr. _Bright_.
+  _Timorous Cornet_, }                            Mr. _Underhill_,
+  _Whimsey_,         } Justices of the Peace,     Mr. _Trefuse_,
+  _Whiff_,           } and very great Cowards,    Mr. _Bowen_,
+  _Boozer_,          }                            Mr. _Barns_.
+  _Brag_, a Captain.
+  _Grubb_, One complain'd of by Capt. _Whiff_,
+    for calling his Wife Whore.
+  A Petitioner against _Brag_,                    Mr. _Blunt_.
+  Parson _Dunce_, formerly a Farrier, fled from
+    _England_, and Chaplain to the Governour,     Mr. _Baker_.
+  _Jeffery_, Coachman to _Widow Ranter_.
+  _Cavaro_, an _Indian_, Confidant to the
+    _Indian King_.
+  _Jack_, a Sea-Boy.
+
+  Clerk; Boy; An Officer; Messenger; Seaman; 2nd Seaman;
+    A Highlander.
+
+
+  WOMEN.
+
+  _Indian Queen_, call'd _Semernia_,
+    belov'd by _Bacon_,                           Mrs. _Bracegirdle_.
+  Madam _Surelove_, belov'd by _Hazard_,          Mrs. _Knight_.
+  Mrs. _Chrisante_, Daughter to Colonel
+    _Downright_,                                  Mrs. _Jordan_.
+  _Widow Ranter_, in love with _Daring_,          Mrs. _Currer_.
+  Mrs. _Flirt_, a Tapstress,                      Mrs. _Cory_.
+  Mrs. _Whimsey_.
+  Mrs. _Whiff_.
+  _Jenny_, Maid to _Widow Ranter_.
+  _Nell_, Maid at the Inn.
+  _Anaria_, Confidante to the _Indian Queen_.
+  Maid to Madam _Surelove_.
+
+  Priests, Indians, Bailiffs, Soldiers, Rabble, Negroes,
+    with other Attendants.
+
+
+  SCENE, _Virginia_: in _Bacon's_ Camp, _James-Town_ and the
+    surrounding Country.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Room with several Tables.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_ in a travelling Habit, and _Jack_, a Sea-Boy,
+    carrying his Portmantle.
+
+_Haz._ What Town's this, Boy?
+
+_Boy._ _James-Town_, Master.
+
+_Haz._ Take care my Trunk be brought ashore to night, and there's for
+your Pains.
+
+_Boy._ God bless you, Master.
+
+_Haz._ What do you call this House?
+
+_Boy._ Mrs. _Flirt's_, Master, the best House for Commendation in all
+_Virginia_.
+
+_Haz._ That's well, has she any handsome Ladies, Sirrah?
+
+_Boy._ Oh! she's woundy handsome her self, Master, and the kindest
+Gentlewoman--look, here she comes, Master.--
+
+    Enter _Flirt_ and _Nell_.
+
+God bless you, Mistress, I have brought you a young Gentleman here.
+
+_Flirt._ That's well, honest _Jack_.--Sir, you are most heartily
+welcome.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, your Servant.    [Salutes her.
+
+_Flirt._ Please you walk into a Chamber, Sir?
+
+_Haz._ By and by, Madam; but I'll repose here awhile for the coolness of
+the Air.
+
+_Flirt._ This is a Publick Room, Sir, but 'tis at your service.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, you oblige me.
+
+_Flirt._ A fine spoken Person. A Gentleman, I'll warrant him: come,
+_Jack_, I'll give thee a Cogue of Brandy for old acquaintance.
+
+    [Exeunt Landlady and Boy.
+    [_Hazard_ pulls out Pen, Ink and Paper, and goes to write.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Here, _Nell_, a Tankard of cool Drink, quickly.
+
+_Nell._ You shall have it, Sir.
+
+_Friend._ Hah! who's that Stranger? he seems to be a Gentleman.
+
+_Haz._ If I should give credit to mine Eyes, that should be _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Sir, you seem a Stranger; may I take the liberty to present my
+Service to you?
+    [Exit _Nell_.
+
+_Haz._ If I am not mistaken, Sir, you are the only Man in the World whom
+I would soonest pledge; you'll credit me, if three Year's absence has
+not made you forget _Hazard_.
+
+_Friend._ _Hazard_, my Friend! come to my Arms and Heart.
+
+_Haz._ This unexpected Happiness o'erjoys me. Who could have imagin'd to
+have found thee in _Virginia_? I thought thou hadst been in _Spain_ with
+thy Brother.
+
+_Friend._ I was so till ten Months since, when my Uncle Colonel
+_Friendly_ dying here, left me a considerable Plantation; and, faith,
+I find Diversions not altogether to be despis'd; the God of Love reigns
+here with as much power as in Courts or popular Cities. But prithee what
+Chance (fortunate to me) drove thee to this part of the new World.
+
+_Haz._ Why, faith, ill Company, and that common Vice of the Town,
+Gaming, soon run out my younger Brother's Fortune: for imagining, like
+some of the luckier Gamesters, to improve my Stock at the Groom
+Porter's, I ventur'd on, and lost all. My elder Brother, an errant Jew,
+had neither Friendship nor Honour enough to support me; but at last
+being mollified by Persuasions, and the hopes of being for ever rid of
+me, sent me hither with a small Cargo to seek my Fortune--
+
+_Friend._ And begin the World withal.
+
+_Haz._ I thought this a better Venture than to turn sharping Bully,
+Cully in Prentices and Country Squires, with my Pocket full of false
+Dice, your high and low Flats and Bars; or turn Broker to young Heirs;
+take up Goods to pay tenfold at the Death of their Fathers, and take
+Fees on both sides; or set up all night at the Groom-Porter's, begging
+his Honour to go a Guinea the better of the lay. No, _Friendly_, I had
+rather starve abroad, than live pity'd and despis'd at home.
+
+_Friend._ Thou art in the right, and art come just in the nick of time
+to make thy Fortune.--Wilt thou follow my Advice?
+
+_Haz._ Thou art too honest to command any thing that I shall refuse.
+
+_Friend._ You must know then, there is about a Mile from _James-Town_ a
+young Gentlewoman--no matter for her Birth, her Breeding's the best this
+World affords, she is married to one of the richest Merchants here; he
+is old and sick, and now gone into _England_ for the recovery of his
+Health, where he'll e'en give up the Ghost: he has writ her word he
+finds no Amendment, and resolves to stay another Year. The letter I
+accidentally took up, and have about me; 'tis easily counterfeited, and
+will be of great use to us.
+
+_Haz._ Now do I fancy I conceive thee.
+
+_Friend._ Well, hear me first, you shall get another Letter writ like
+this Character, which shall say, you are his Kinsman, that is come to
+traffick in this Country, and 'tis his will you should be received into
+his House as such.
+
+_Haz._ Well, and what will come of this?
+
+_Friend._ Why, thou art young and handsome, she young and desiring;
+'twere easy to make her love thee; and if the old Gentleman chance to
+die, you guess the rest, you are no Fool.
+
+_Haz._ Ay, but if he shou'd return--
+
+_Friend._ If--Why, if she love you, that other will be but a slender Bar
+to thy Happiness; for if thou canst not marry her, thou mayst lie with
+her: and, Gad, a younger Brother may pick out a pretty Livelihood here
+that way, as well as in _England_. Or if this fail, thou wilt find a
+perpetual Visiter, the Widow _Ranter_, a Woman bought from the ship by
+old Colonel _Ranter_; she served him half a Year, and then he marry'd
+her, and dying in a Year more, left her worth fifty thousand Pounds
+Sterling, besides Plate and Jewels: She's a great Gallant, but assuming
+the humour of the Country Gentry, her Extravagancy is very pleasant, she
+retains something of her primitive Quality still, but is good-natur'd
+and generous.
+
+_Haz._ I like all this well.
+
+_Friend._ But I have a further End in this matter; you must know there
+is in the same House a young Heiress, one Colonel _Downright's_
+Daughter, whom I love, I think not in vain: her Father indeed has an
+implacable Hatred to me, for which reason I can but seldom visit her,
+and in this Affair I have need of a Friend in that House.
+
+_Haz._ Me you're sure of.
+
+_Friend._ And thus you'll have an opportunity to manage both our Amours:
+Here you will find occasion to shew your Courage, as well as express
+your Love; for at this time the _Indians_, by our ill Management of
+Trade, whom we have armed against our selves, very frequently make War
+upon us with our own Weapons; though often coming by the worst, they are
+forced to make Peace with us again, but so, as upon every turn they fall
+to massacring us wherever we lie exposed to them.
+
+_Haz._ I heard the News of this in _England_, which hastens the new
+Governour's arrival here, who brings you fresh Supplies.
+
+_Friend._ Would he were landed, we hear he is a noble Gentleman.
+
+_Haz._ He has all the Qualities of a Gallant Man: besides, he is nobly
+born.
+
+_Friend._ This Country wants nothing but to be peopled with a well-born
+Race, to make it one of the best Colonies in the World; but for want of
+a Governour we are ruled by a Council, some of whom have been perhaps
+transported Criminals, who having acquired great Estates, are now become
+your Honour and Right Worshipful, and possess all Places of Authority;
+there are amongst them some honest Gentlemen, who now begin to take upon
+'em, and manage Affairs as they ought to be.
+
+_Haz._ _Bacon_ I think was one of the Council.
+
+_Friend._ Now you have named a Man indeed above the common Rank, by
+Nature generous, brave, resolv'd and daring; who studying the Lives of
+the _Romans_ and great Men, that have raised themselves to the most
+elevated Fortunes, fancies it easy for ambitious Men to aim at any pitch
+of Glory. I've heard him often say, Why cannot I conquer the Universe as
+well as _Alexander_? or like another _Romulus_, form a new _Rome_, and
+make my self ador'd?
+
+_Haz._ Why might he not? Great Souls are born in common Men sometimes,
+as well as Princes.
+
+_Friend._ This Thirst of Glory cherish'd by sullen Melancholy,
+I believe, was the first motive that made him in love with the young
+_Indian_ Queen, fancying no Hero ought to be without his Princess. And
+this was the reason why he so earnestly press'd for a Commission, to be
+made General against the _Indians_, which long was promis'd him; but
+they fearing his Ambition, still put him off, till the Grievances grew
+so high, that the whole Country flock'd to him, and beg'd he would
+redress them.--He took the opportunity, and led them forth to fight, and
+vanquishing brought the Enemy to fair Terms; but now instead of
+receiving him as a Conqueror, we treat him as a Traitor.
+
+_Haz._ Then it seems all the Crime this brave Fellow has committed, is
+serving his Country without Authority.
+
+_Friend._ 'Tis so, and however I admire the Man, I am resolv'd to be of
+the contrary Party, that I may make an Interest in our new Governor.
+Thus stand Affairs, so that after you have seen Madam _Surelove_, I'll
+present you to the Council for a Commission.
+
+_Haz._ But my Kinsman's Character--
+
+_Friend._ He was a _Leicestershire_ younger Brother, came over with a
+small Fortune, which his Industry has increas'd to a thousand Pounds a
+year; and he is now Colonel _John Surelove_, and one of the Council.
+
+_Haz._ Enough.
+
+_Friend._ About it then, Madam _Flirt_ to direct you.
+
+_Haz._ You are full of your Madams here.
+
+_Friend._ Oh! 'tis the greatest Affront imaginable to call a Woman
+Mistress, though but a retail Brandy-monger. Adieu.--One thing more, to
+morrow is our Country-Court, pray do not fail to be there, for the
+rarity of the Entertainment: but I shall see you anon at _Surelove's_,
+where I'll salute thee as my first meeting, and as an old Acquaintance
+in _England_--here's Company, farewel.
+    [Exit _Friend_.
+
+    Enter _Dullman_, _Timorous_ and _Boozer_. _Hazard_ sits
+    at a Table and writes.
+
+_Dull._ Here, _Nell_--Well, Lieutenant _Boozer_, what are you for?
+
+    Enter _Nell_.
+
+_Booz._ I am for cooling _Nants_, Major.
+
+_Dull._ Here, _Nell_, a Quart of _Nants_, and some Pipes and Smoke.
+
+_Tim._ And do ye hear, _Nell_, bid your Mistress come in to joke a
+little with us; for, adzoors, I was damnable drunk last Night, and I am
+better at the Petticoat than the Bottle to day.
+    [Exit _Nell_.
+
+_Dull._ Drunk last Night, and sick to Day! how comes that about, Mr.
+Justice? you use to bear your Brandy well enough.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, your shier Brandy I'll grant you; but I was drunk at Col.
+_Downright's_ with your high Burgundy Claret.
+
+_Dull._ A Pox of that paulter Liquor, your _English French_ Wine,
+I wonder how the Gentlemen do to drink it.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, so do I, 'tis for want of a little _Virginia_ Breeding: how
+much more like a Gentleman 'tis, to drink as we do, brave edifying Punch
+and Brandy.--But they say, the young Noblemen now, and Sparks in
+_England_, begin to reform, and take it for their Mornings draught, get
+drunk by Noon, and despise the lousy Juice of the Grape.
+
+    Enter Mrs. _Flirt_, and _Nell_, with drink, pipes, etc.
+
+_Dull._ Come, Landlady, come, you are so taken up with Parson _Dunce_,
+that your old Friends can't drink a Dram with you.--What, no smutty
+Catch now, no Gibe or Joke to make the Punch go down merrily, and
+advance Trading? Nay, they say, Gad forgive ye, you never miss going to
+Church when Mr. _Dunce_ preaches,--but here's to you.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Flirt._ Lords, your Honours are pleas'd to be merry-- but my service to
+your Honour.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Haz._ Honours! who the Devil have we here? some of the wise Council at
+least, I'd sooner take 'em for Hoggerds.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Flirt._ Say what you please of the Doctor, but I'll swear he's a fine
+Gentleman, he makes the prettiest Sonnets, nay, and sings 'em himself to
+the rarest Tunes.
+
+_Tim._ Nay, the Man will serve for both Soul and Body; for they say he
+was a Farrier in _England_, but breaking, turn'd Life-guard-man, and his
+Horse dying, he counterfeited a Deputation from the Bishop, and came
+over here a substantial Orthodox. But come, where stands the Cup? Here,
+my service to you, Major.
+
+_Flirt._ Your Honours are pleased,--but methinks Doctor _Dunce_ is a
+very edifying Person, and a Gentleman, and I pretend to know a
+Gentleman; for I my self am a Gentlewoman: my Father was a Baronet, but
+undone in the late Rebellion, and I am fain to keep an Ordinary now,
+Heaven help me.
+
+_Tim._ Good lack, why, see how Virtue may be bely'd. We heard your
+Father was a Taylor, but trusting for old _Oliver's_ Funeral broke, and
+so came hither to hide his Head.--But my service to you; what, you are
+never the worse?
+
+_Flirt._ Your Honour knows this is a scandalous place, for they say your
+Honour was but a broken Excise-Man, who spent the King's Money to buy
+your Wife fine Petticoats; and at last not worth a Groat, you came over
+a poor Servant, though now a Justice of the Peace, and of the Honourable
+Council.
+
+_Tim._ Adz zoors, if I knew who 'twas said so, I'd sue him for
+_Scandalum Magnatum_.
+
+_Dull._ Hang 'em, Scoundrels, hang 'em, they live upon Scandal, and we
+are Scandal-proof.--They say too, that I was a Tinker, and running the
+Country, robb'd a Gentleman's House there, was put into _Newgate_, got a
+Reprieve after Condemnation, and was transported hither; --and that you,
+_Boozer_, was a common Pick-pocket, and being often flogg'd at the
+Carts-tale, afterwards turn'd Evidence, and when the Times grew honest
+was fain to flie.
+
+_Booz._ Ay, ay, Major, if Scandal would have broke our Hearts, we had
+not arriv'd to the Honour of being Privy-Counsellors.--But come, Mrs.
+_Flirt_, what, never a Song to entertain us?
+
+_Flirt._ Yes, and a Singer too newly come ashore.
+
+_Tim._ Adz zoors, let's have it then.
+
+    Enter a Girl who sings, they bear the Bob.
+
+_Haz._ Here, Maid, a Tankard of your Drink.
+
+_Flirt._ Quickly, _Nell_, wait upon the Gentleman.
+
+_Dull._ Please you, Sir, to taste of our Liquor.--My service to you.
+I see you are a Stranger, and alone; please you to come to our Table?
+    [He rises and comes.
+
+_Flirt._ Come, Sir, pray sit down here; these are very honourable
+Persons, I assure you: This is Major _Dullman_, Major of his
+Excellency's own Regiment, when he arrives; this Mr. _Timorous_, Justice
+a Peace in _Corum_; this Captain _Boozer_, all of the honourable
+Council.
+
+_Haz._ With your leave, Gentlemen.    [Sits.
+
+_Tim._ My service to you, Sir.    [Drinks.
+  What, have you brought over any Cargo, Sir? I'll be your Customer.
+
+_Booz._ Ay, and cheat him too, I'll warrant him.    [Aside.
+
+_Haz._ I was not bred to Merchandizing, Sir, nor do intend to follow the
+drudgery of Trading.
+
+_Dull._ Men of Fortune seldom travel hither, Sir, to see Fashions.
+
+_Tim._ Why, Brother, it may be the Gentleman has a mind to be a Planter;
+will you hire your self to make a Crop of Tobacco this Year?
+
+_Haz._ I was not born to work, Sir.
+
+_Tim._ Not work, Sir! Zoors, your Betters have workt, Sir. I have workt
+my self, Sir, both set and stript Tobacco, for all I am of the
+honourable Council. Not work, quoth a!--I suppose, Sir, you wear your
+Fortune upon your Back, Sir?
+
+_Haz._ Is it your Custom here, Sir, to affront Strangers? I shall expect
+Satisfaction.
+    [Rises.
+
+_Tim._ Why, does any body here owe you any thing?
+
+_Dull._ No, unless he means to be paid for drinking with us,--ha, ha,
+ha.
+
+_Haz._ No, Sir, I have money to pay for what I drink: here's my Club, my
+Guinea,
+    [Flings down a Guinea.
+  I scorn to be oblig'd to such Scoundrels.
+
+_Booz._ Hum--call Men of Honour Scoundrels.    [Rise in huff.
+
+_Tim._ Let him alone, let him alone, Brother; how should he learn
+Manners? he never was in _Virginia_ before.
+
+_Dull._ He's some Covent-Garden Bully.
+
+_Tim._ Or some broken Citizen turned Factor.
+
+_Haz._ Sir, you lye, and you are a Rascal.
+    [Flings the Brandy in his Face.
+
+_Tim._ Adz zoors, he has spil'd all the Brandy.
+    [_Tim._ runs behind the Door, _Dull_, and _Booz._ strike _Hazard_.
+
+_Haz._ I understand no Cudgel-play, but wear a Sword to right myself.
+    [Draws, they run off.
+
+_Flirt._ Good Heavens! what, quarelling in my House?
+
+_Haz._ Do the Persons of Quality in this Country treat Strangers thus?
+
+_Flirt._ Alas, Sir, 'tis a familiar way they have, Sir.
+
+_Haz._ I'm glad I know it.--Pray, Madam, can you inform one how I may be
+furnish'd with a Horse and a Guide to Madam _Surelove's_?
+
+_Flirt._ A most accomplish'd Lady, and my very good Friend, you shall be
+immediately--
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. The Council-Table.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_, _Downright_, _Dunce_, _Whimsey_, _Whiff_, and
+    others.
+
+_Well._ Come, Mr. _Dunce_, though you are no Counsellor, yet your
+Counsel may be good in time of Necessity, as now.
+
+_Dun._ If I may give worthy Advice, I do not look upon our Danger to be
+so great from the _Indians_, as from young _Bacon_, whom the People have
+nick-nam'd _Fright-all_.
+
+_Whim._ Ay, ay, that same _Bacon_, I would he were well hang'd: I am
+afraid that under pretence of killing all the _Indians_ he means to
+murder us, lie with our Wives, and hang up our little Children, and make
+himself Lord and King.
+
+_Whiff._ Brother _Whimsey_, not so hot; with leave of the honourable
+Board, my Wife is of opinion, that _Bacon_ came seasonably to our Aid,
+and what he has done was for our Defence, the _Indians_ came down upon
+us, and ravish'd us all, Men, Women, and Children.
+
+_Well._ If these Grievances were not redrest, we had our Reasons for it;
+it was not that we were insensible, Captain _Whiff_, of what we suffer'd
+from the Insolence of the _Indians_; but all knew what we must expect
+from _Bacon_, if that by lawful Authority he had arrived to so great a
+Command as General; nor would we be hufft out of our Commissions.
+
+_Down._ 'Tis most certain that _Bacon_ did not demand a Commission out
+of a design of serving us, but to satisfy his Ambition and his Love; it
+being no secret that he passionately admires the _Indian_ Queen, and
+under the pretext of a War, intends to kill the King her Husband,
+establish himself in her Heart, and on all occasions make himself a more
+formidable Enemy than the Indians are.
+
+_Whim._ Nay, nay, I ever foresaw he would prove a Villain.
+
+_Whiff._ Nay, and he be thereabout, my _Nancy_ shall have no more to do
+with him.
+
+_Well._ But, Gentlemen, the People daily flock to him, so that his Army
+is too considerable for us to oppose by any thing but Policy.
+
+_Down._ We are sensible, Gentlemen, that our Fortunes, our Honours, and
+our Lives are at stake; and therefore you are call'd together to consult
+what's to be done in this Grand Affair, till our Governour and Forces
+arrive from _England_: the Truce he made with the _Indians_ will be out
+to morrow.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, and then he intends to have another bout with the
+_Indians_. Let's have patience, I say, till he has thrumb'd their
+Jackets, and then to work with your Politicks as soon as you please.
+
+_Down._ Colonel _Wellman_ has answer'd that point, good Captain _Whiff_;
+'tis the Event of this Battel we ought to dread; and if won or lost,
+will be equally fatal for us, either from the _Indians_ or from _Bacon_.
+
+_Dun._ With the Permission of the honourable Board, I think I have hit
+upon an Expedient that may prevent this Battel: your Honours shall write
+a Letter to _Bacon_, where you shall acknowledge his Services, invite
+him kindly home, and offer him a Commission for General--
+
+_Whiff._ Just my _Nancy's_ Counsel--Dr. _Dunce_ has spoken like a
+Cherubin, he shall have my Voice for General; what say you, Brother
+_Whimsey_?
+
+_Down._ I say he is a Noble Fellow, and fit for a General.
+
+_Dun._ But conceive me right, Gentlemen; as soon as he shall have
+render'd himself, seize him, and strike off his Head at the Fort.
+
+_Whiff._ Hum! his Head--Brother.
+
+_Whim._ Ay, ay, Dr. _Dunce_ speaks like a Cherubin.
+
+_Well._ Mr. _Dunce_, your Counsel in extremity, I confess, is not amiss;
+but I should be loth to deal dishonourably with any Man.
+
+_Down._ His Crimes deserve Death, his Life is forfeited by Law, but
+shall never be taken by my consent by Treachery: If by any Stratagem we
+could take him alive, and either send him for _England_ to receive there
+his Punishment, or keep him Prisoner here till the Governour arrive,
+I should agree to it; but I question his coming in upon our Invitation.
+
+_Dun._ Leave that to me.
+
+_Whim._ Come, I'll warrant him, the Rogue's as stout as _Hector_, he
+fears neither Heaven nor Hell.
+
+_Down._ He's too brave and bold to refuse our Summons, and I am for
+sending him for _England_, and leaving him to the King's Mercy.
+
+_Dun._ In that you'll find more difficulty, Sir; to take him off here
+will be more quick and sudden: for the People worship him.
+
+_Well._ I'll never yield to so ungenerous an Expedient. The seizing him
+I am content in the Extremity wherein we are to follow. What say you,
+Colonel _Downright_? shall we send him a Letter now, while this two days
+Truce lasts, between him and the _Indians_?
+
+_Down._ I approve it.
+
+_All._ And I, and I, and I.
+
+_Dun._ If your Honours please to make me the Messenger, I'll use some
+Arguments of my own to prevail with him.
+
+_Well._ You say well, Mr. _Dunce_, and we'll dispatch you presently.
+
+    [Ex. _Well._ _Down._ and all but _Whim._ _Whiff._ and _Dunce_.
+
+_Whiff._ Ah, Doctor, if you could but have persuaded Colonel _Wellman_
+and Colonel _Downright_ to have hanged him--
+
+_Whim._ Why, Brother _Whiff_, you were for making him a General but now.
+
+_Whiff._ The Counsels of wise States-men, Brother _Whimsey_, must change
+as Causes do, d'ye see.
+
+_Dun._ Your Honours are in the right; and whatever those two leading
+Counsellors say, they would be glad if _Bacon_ were dispatch'd: but the
+punctilio of Honour is such a thing.
+
+_Whim._ Honour, a Pox on't; what is that Honour that keeps such a bustle
+in the World, yet never did good as I heard of?
+
+_Dun._ Why, 'tis a foolish word only, taken up by great Men, but rarely
+practis'd.--But if you wou'd be great Men indeed--
+
+_Whiff._ If we wou'd, Doctor, name, name the way.
+
+_Dun._ Why, you command each of you a Company--when _Bacon_ comes from
+the Camp, as I am sure he will, (and full of this silly thing call'd
+Honour, will come unguarded too) lay some of your Men in Ambush along
+those Ditches by the _Sevana_, about a Mile from the Town; and as he
+comes by, seize him, and hang him up upon the next Tree.
+
+_Whiff._ Hum--hang him! a rare Plot.
+
+_Whim._ Hang him!--we'll do't, we'll do't, Sir, and I doubt not but to
+be made General for the Action--I'll take it all upon my self.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Dun._ If you resolve upon this, you must about instantly--Thus I shall
+at once serve my Country, and revenge my self on the Rascal for
+affronting my Dignity once at the Council-Table, by calling me Farrier.
+    [Ex. _Dr._
+
+_Whiff._ Do you know, Brother, what we are to do?
+
+_Whim._ To do! yes, to hang a General, Brother, that's all.
+
+_Whiff._ All! but is it lawful to hang any General?
+
+_Whim._ Lawful, yes, that 'tis lawful to hang any General that fights
+against Law.
+
+_Whiff._ But in what he has done, he has serv'd the King and our
+Country, and preserv'd our Lives and Fortunes.
+
+_Whim._ That's all one, Brother; if there be but a Quirk in the Law
+offended in this Case, though he fought like _Alexander_, and preserv'd
+the whole World from Perdition, yet if he did it against Law, 'tis
+lawful to hang him; why, what, Brother, is it fit that every impudent
+Fellow that pretends to a little Honour, Loyalty, and Courage, should
+serve his King and Country against the Law? no, no, Brother, these
+things are not to be suffer'd in a civil Government by Law
+establish'd,--wherefore let's about it.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. _Surelove's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Ranter_ and _Jeffery_ her Coachman.
+
+_Ran._ Here, _Jeffery_, ye drunken Dog, set your Coach and Horses up,
+I'll not go till the cool of the Evening, I love to ride in _Fresco_.
+
+    Enter a _Boy_.
+
+_Coach._ Yes, after hard drinking-- [Aside.] It shall be done, Madam.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Ran._ How now, Boy, is Madam _Surelove_ at home?
+
+_Boy._ Yes, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Go tell her I am here, Sirrah.
+
+_Boy._ Who are you pray forsooth?
+
+_Ran._ Why, you Son of a Baboon, don't you know me?
+
+_Boy._ No, Madam, I came over but in the last Ship.
+
+_Ran._ What, from _Newgate_ or _Bridewell_? from shoveing the Tumbler,
+Sirrah, lifting or filing the Cly?
+
+_Boy._ I don't understand this Country Language, forsooth, yet.
+
+_Ran._ You Rogue, 'tis what we transport from _England_ first--go, ye
+Dog, go tell your Lady the Widow _Ranter_ is come to dine with her--
+[Exit _Boy_.] I hope I shall not find that Rogue _Daring_ here sniveling
+after Mrs. _Chrisante_: If I do, by the Lord, I'll lay him thick. Pox on
+him, why shou'd I love the Dog, unless it be a Judgment upon me.
+
+    Enter _Surelove_ and _Chrisante_.
+
+--My dear Jewel, how do'st do?--as for you, Gentlewoman, you are my
+Rival, and I am in Rancour against you till you have renounc'd my
+_Daring_.
+
+_Chris._ All the Interest I have in him, Madam, I resign to you.
+
+_Ran._ Ay, but your House lying so near the Camp, gives me mortal
+Fears--but prithee how thrives thy Amour with honest _Friendly_?
+
+_Chris._ As well as an Amour can that is absolutely forbid by a Father
+on one side, and pursued by a good Resolution on the other.
+
+_Ran._ Hay Gad, I'll warrant for _Friendly's_ Resolution, what though
+his Fortune be not answerable to yours, we are bound to help one
+another.--Here, Boy, some Pipes and a Bowl of Punch; you know my Humour,
+Madam, I must smoak and drink in a Morning, or I am maukish all day.
+
+_Sure._ But will you drink Punch in a Morning?
+
+_Ran._ Punch! 'tis my Morning's Draught, my Table-drink, my Treat, my
+Regalio, my every thing; ah, my dear _Surelove_, if thou wou'd but
+refresh and cheer thy Heart with Punch in a Morning, thou wou'dst not
+look thus cloudy all the day.
+
+    Enter Pipes and a great Bowl, she falls to smoaking.
+
+_Sure._ I have reason, Madam, to be melancholy, I have receiv'd a Letter
+from my Husband, who gives me an account that he is worse in _England_
+than when he was here, so that I fear I shall see him no more, the
+Doctors can do no good on him.
+
+_Ran._ A very good hearing. I wonder what the Devil thou hast done with
+him so long? an old fusty weatherbeaten Skeleton, as dried as
+Stock-fish, and much of the Hue.--Come, come, here's to the next, may he
+be young, Heaven, I beseech thee.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Sure._ You have reason to praise an old Man, who dy'd and left you
+worth fifty thousand Pound.
+
+_Ran._ Ay, Gad--and what's better, Sweetheart, dy'd in good time too,
+and left me young enough to spend this fifty thousand Pound in better
+Company--rest his Soul for that too.
+
+_Chris._ I doubt 'twill be all laid out in _Bacon's_ mad Lieutenant
+General _Daring_.
+
+_Ran._ Faith, I think I could lend it the Rogue on good Security.
+
+_Chris._ What's that, to be bound Body for Body?
+
+_Ran._ Rather that he should love no body's Body besides my own; but my
+fortune is too good to trust the Rogue, my Money makes me an Infidel.
+
+_Chris._ You think they all love you for that.
+
+_Ran._ For that, ay, what else? if it were not for that, I might sit
+still and sigh, and cry out, a Miracle! a Miracle! at sight of a Man
+within my Doors.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+_Maid._ Madam, here's a young Gentleman without wou'd speak with you.
+
+_Sure._ With me? sure thou'rt mistaken; is it not _Friendly_?
+
+_Maid._ No, Madam, 'tis a Stranger.
+
+_Ran._ 'Tis not _Daring_, that Rogue, is it?
+
+_Maid._ No, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Is he handsome? does he look like a Gentleman?
+
+_Maid._ He's handsome, and seems a Gentleman.
+
+_Ran._ Bring him in then, I hate a Conversation without a
+Fellow,--hah,--a good handsome Lad indeed.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_ with a Letter.
+
+_Sure._ With me, Sir, would you speak?
+
+_Haz._ If you are Madam _Surelove_.
+
+_Sure._ So I am call'd.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, I am newly arriv'd from _England_, and from your Husband
+my Kinsman bring you this.--
+    [Gives a Letter.
+
+_Ran._ Please you to sit, Sir.
+
+_Haz._ She's extremely handsome.    [Aside--sits down.
+
+_Ran._ Come, Sir, will you smoke a Pipe?
+
+_Haz._ I never do, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Oh, fie upon't, you must learn then, we all smoke here, 'tis a
+part of good Breeding.--Well, well, what Cargo, what Goods have ye? any
+Points, Lace, rich Stuffs, Jewels; if you have, I'll be your Chafferer,
+I live hard by, any body will direct you to the Widow _Ranter's_.
+
+_Haz._ I have already heard of you, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ What, you are like all the young Fellows, the first thing they do
+when they come to a strange Place, is to enquire what Fortunes there
+are.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, I had no such Ambition.
+
+_Ran._ Gad, then you're a Fool, Sir; but come, my service to you; we
+rich Widows are the best Commodity this Country affords, I'll tell you
+that.
+    [This while _Sure._ reads the Letter.
+
+_Sure._ Sir, my Husband has recommended you here in a most particular
+manner, by which I do not only find the esteem he has for you, but the
+desire he has of gaining you mine, which on a double score I render you,
+first for his sake, next for those Merits that appear in your self.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, the endeavours of my Life shall be to express my Gratitude
+for this great Bounty.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+_Maid._ Madam, Mr. _Friendly's_ here.
+
+_Sure._ Bring him in.
+
+_Haz._ _Friendly!_--I had a dear Friend of that name, who I hear is in
+these Parts.--Pray Heaven it may be he.
+
+_Ran._ How now, _Charles_.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Madam, your Servant--Hah! should not I know you for my dear
+friend _Hazard_.
+    [Embracing him.
+
+_Haz._ Or you're to blame, my _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Prithee what calm brought thee ashore?
+
+_Haz._ Fortune _de la guerre_, but prithee ask me no Questions in so
+good Company, where a Minute lost from this Conversation is a Misfortune
+not to be retriev'd.
+
+_Friend._ Dost like her, Rogue--    [Softly aside.
+
+_Haz._ Like her! have I sight, or sense?--Why, I adore her.
+
+_Friend._ Mrs. _Chrisante_, I heard your Father would not be here to
+day, which made me snatch this opportunity of seeing you.
+
+_Ran._ Come, come, a Pox of this whining Love, it spoils good Company.
+
+_Friend._ You know, my dear Friend, these Opportunities come but seldom,
+and therefore I must make use of them.
+
+_Ran._ Come, come, I'll give you a better Opportunity at my House to
+morrow, we are to eat a Buffalo there, and I'll secure the old Gentleman
+from coming.
+
+_Friend._ Then I shall see _Chrisante_ once more before I go.
+
+_Chris._ Go--Heavens--whither, my _Friendly_?
+
+_Friend._ I have received a Commission to go against the _Indians_,
+_Bacon_ being sent for home.
+
+_Ran._ But will he come when sent for?
+
+_Friend._ If he refuse we are to endeavour to force him.
+
+_Chris._ I do not think he will be forc'd, not even by _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ And, faith, it goes against my Conscience to lift my Sword
+against him, for he is truly brave, and what he has done, a Service to
+the Country, had it but been by Authority.
+
+_Chris._ What pity 'tis there should be such false Maxims in the World,
+that noble Actions, however great, must be criminal for want of a Law to
+authorise 'em.
+
+_Friend._ Indeed 'tis pity that when Laws are faulty they should not be
+mended or abolish'd.
+
+_Ran._ Hark ye, _Charles_, by Heaven, if you kill my _Daring_ I'll
+pistol you.
+
+_Friend._ No, Widow, I'll spare him for your sake.
+    [They join with _Surelove_.
+
+_Haz._ Oh, she's all divine, and all the Breath she utters serves but to
+blow my Flame.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+_Maid._ Madam, Dinner's on the Table--
+
+_Sure._ Please you, Sir, to walk in--come, Mr. _Friendly_.
+    [She takes _Hazard_.
+
+_Ran._ Prithee, good Wench, bring in the Punch-Bowl.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Pavilion.
+
+    Discovers the _Indian King_ and _Queen_ sitting in State, with
+    Guards of _Indians_, Men and Women attending: To them _Bacon_
+    richly dress'd, attended by _Daring_, _Fearless_ and other
+    Officers; he bows to the _King_ and _Queen_, who rise to receive
+    him_.
+
+_King._ I am sorry, Sir, we meet upon these Terms, we who so often have
+embrac'd as Friends.
+
+_Bac._ How charming is the Queen! [Aside.] War, Sir, is not my Business
+nor my Pleasure: Nor was I bred in Arms, my Country's Good has forc'd me
+to assume a Soldier's Life; and 'tis with much regret that I employ the
+first Effects of it against my Friends: yet whilst I may--whilst this
+Cessation lasts, I beg we may exchange those Friendships, Sir, we have
+so often paid in happier Peace.
+
+_King._ For your part, Sir, you've been so noble, that I repent the
+fatal Difference that makes us meet in Arms. Yet though I'm young, I'm
+sensible of Injuries; and oft have heard my Grandsire say, That we were
+Monarchs once of all this spacious World, till you, an unknown People,
+landing here, distress'd and ruin'd by destructive Storms, abusing all
+our charitable Hospitality, usurp'd our Right, and made your Friends
+your Slaves.
+
+_Bac._ I will not justify the Ingratitude of my Forefathers, but finding
+here my Inheritance, I am resolv'd still to maintain it so, and by my
+Sword which first cut out my Portion, defend each Inch of Land, with my
+last drop of Blood.
+
+_Queen._ Even his Threats have Charms that please the Heart.
+    [Aside.
+
+_King._ Come, Sir, let this ungrateful Theme alone, which is better
+disputed in the Field.
+
+_Queen._ Is it impossible there might be wrought an understanding
+betwixt my Lord and you? 'Twas to that end I first desired this Truce,
+my self proposing to be Mediator, to which my Lord _Cavernio_ shall
+agree, could you but condescend--I know you are noble: And I have heard
+you say our tender Sex could never plead in vain.
+
+_Bac._ Alas! I dare not trust your pleading, Madam: a few soft Words
+from such a charming Mouth would make me lay the Conqueror at your Feet,
+as a Sacrifice for all the Ills he has done you.
+
+_Queen._ How strangely am I pleas'd to hear him talk.    [Aside.
+
+  _King._ _Semernia_, see, the Dancers do appear;
+  Sir, will you take your Seat?    [To _Bacon_.
+    [He leads the _Queen_ to a Seat, they sit and talk.
+
+_Bac._ Curse on his Sports that interrupted me, my very Soul was
+hovering at my Lip, ready to have discover'd all its Secrets. But oh!
+I dread to tell her of my pain, and when I wou'd an awful trembling
+seizes me, and she can only from my dying Eyes read all the Sentiments
+of my captive Heart.
+    [Sits down, the rest wait.
+
+    Enter _Indians_ that dance Anticks: after the Dance the _King_
+    seems in discourse with _Bacon_, the _Queen_ rises and comes
+    forth.
+
+_Queen._ The more I gaze upon this _English_ Stranger, the more
+Confusion struggles in my Soul: Oft I have heard of Love, and oft this
+Gallant Man (when Peace had made him pay his idle Visits) has told a
+thousand Tales of dying Maids; and ever when he spoke, my panting Heart,
+with a prophetick Fear in Sighs reply'd, I shall fall a Victim to his
+Eyes.
+
+    Enter an _Indian_.
+
+_Indian._ Sir, here's a Messenger from the _English_ Council desires
+admittance to the General.
+    [To the _King_.
+
+_Bac._ With your Permission he may advance.    [To the _King_.
+
+    Re-enter _Indian_ with _Dunce_. A Letter.
+
+_Dun._ All Health and Happiness attend your Honour, this from the
+honourable Council.
+    [Gives him a Letter.
+
+_King._ I'll leave you till you have dispatch'd the Messenger, and then
+expect your presence in the Royal Tent.
+
+    [Exeunt _King_, _Queen_, and _Indians_.
+
+_Bac._ Lieutenant, read the Letter.    [To _Daring_.
+
+    _Daring_ reads.
+
+    SIR, the necessity of what you have acted makes it pardonable, and
+    we could wish we had done the Country and our selves so much Justice
+    as to have given you that Commission you desired.--We now find it
+    reasonable to raise more Forces, to oppose these Insolences, which
+    possibly yours may be too weak to accomplish, to which end the
+    Council is ordered to meet this Evening, and desiring you will come
+    and take your place there, and be pleas'd to accept from us a
+    Commission to command in Chief in this War.--Therefore send those
+    Soldiers under your Command to their respective Houses, and haste,
+    Sir, to your affectionate Friends--
+
+_Fear._ Sir, I fear the Hearts and Pen did not agree when this was writ.
+
+_Dar._ A plague upon their shallow Politicks! Do they think to play the
+old Game twice with us?
+
+_Bac._ Away, you wrong the Council, who of themselves are honourable
+Gentlemen; but the base coward Fear of some of them, puts the rest on
+tricks that suit not with their Nature.
+
+_Dun._ Sir, 'tis for noble ends you are sent for, and for your safety
+I'll engage my Life.
+
+_Dar._ By Heaven, and so you shall;--and pay it too with all the rest of
+your wise-headed Council.
+
+_Bac._ Your Zeal is too officious now; I see no Treachery, and can fear
+no Danger.
+
+_Dun._ Treachery! now Heavens forbid, are we not Christians, Sir, all
+Friends and Countrymen? believe me, Sir, 'tis Honour calls you to
+increase your Fame, and he who would dissuade you is your Enemy.
+
+_Dar._ Go cant, Sir, to the Rabble--for us, we know you.
+
+_Bac._ You wrong me when you but suspect for me; let him that acts
+dishonourably fear. My innocence and my good Sword's my Guard.
+
+_Dar._ If you resolve to go, we will attend you.
+
+_Bac._ What, go like an invader! No, _Daring_, the Invitation's
+friendly, and as a Friend attended only by my menial Servants, I'll wait
+upon the Council, that they may see that when I could command it, I came
+an humble Suppliant for their Favour.--You may return, and tell 'em I'll
+attend.
+
+_Dun._ I kiss your Honour's Hands--    [Goes out.
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, will you trust the faithless Council, Sir, who have so
+long held you in hand with Promises, that Curse of States-men, that
+unlucky Vice that renders even Nobility despis'd?
+
+_Bac._ Perhaps the Council thought me too aspiring, and would not add
+Wings to my ambitious Flight.
+
+_Dar._ A pox of their considering Caps, and now they find that you can
+soar alone, they send for you to knip your spreading Wings. Now, by my
+Soul, you shall not go alone.
+
+_Bac._ Forbear, lest I suspect you for a Mutineer; I am resolv'd to go.
+
+_Fear._ What, and send your Army home; a pretty fetch.
+
+_Dar._ By Heaven, we'll not disband, not till we see how fairly you are
+dealt with: If you have a Commission to be General, here we are ready to
+receive new Orders: If not, we'll ring them such a thundring Peal shall
+beat the Town about their treacherous Ears.
+
+_Bac._ I do command you not to stir a Man, till you're inform'd how I am
+treated by 'em.--leave me, all.
+
+    [Exeunt Officers.
+    [While _Bacon_ reads the Letter again, to him the _Indian Queen_
+    with Women waiting.
+
+_Queen._ Now while my Lord's asleep in his Pavilion, I'll try my Power
+with the General for an Accommodation of a Peace: The very dreams of War
+fright my soft Slumbers that us'd to be employ'd in kinder Business.
+
+_Bac._ Ha!--the Queen--what Happiness is this presents it self which all
+my Industry could never gain?
+
+_Queen._ Sir--    [Approaching him.
+
+_Bac._ Prest with the great extremes of Joy and Fear, I trembling stand,
+unable to approach her.
+
+_Queen._ I hope you will not think it Fear in me, though timorous as a
+Dove by nature fram'd: Nor that my Lord, whose Youth's unskill'd in War,
+can either doubt his Courage, or his Forces, that makes me seek a
+Reconciliation on any honourable Terms of Peace.
+
+_Bac._ Ah Madam! if you knew how absolutely you command my Fate, I fear
+but little Honour would be left me, since whatsoe'er you ask me I should
+grant.
+
+_Queen._ Indeed I would not ask your Honour, Sir, that renders you too
+brave in my esteem. Nor can I think that you would part with that. No,
+not to save your Life.
+
+_Bac._ I would do more to serve your least commands than part with
+trivial Life.
+
+_Queen._ Bless me, Sir, how came I by such a Power?
+
+_Bac._ The Gods and Nature gave it you in your Creation, form'd with all
+the Charms that ever grac'd your Sex.
+
+_Queen._ Is't possible? am I so beautiful?
+
+_Bac._ As Heaven, or Angels there.
+
+_Queen._ Supposing this, how can my Beauty make you so obliging?
+
+_Bac._ Beauty has still a Power over great Souls, and from the moment I
+beheld your Eyes, my stubborn Heart melted to compliance, and from a
+nature rough and turbulent, grew soft and gentle as the God of Love.
+
+_Queen._ The God of Love! what is the God of Love?
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis a resistless Fire, that's kindled thus--at every
+    [Takes her by the Hand and gazes on her.
+  gaze we take from such fine Eyes, from such bashful Looks, and such
+soft Touches--it makes us sigh,--and pant as I do now, and stops the
+breath when e'er we speak of Pain.
+
+_Queen._ Alas for me if this should be Love!    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ It makes us tremble when we touch the fair one; and all the Blood
+runs shivering through the Veins, the Heart's surrounded with a feeble
+Languishment, the Eyes are dying, and the Cheeks are pale, the Tongue is
+faltring, and the Body fainting.
+
+_Queen._ Then I'm undone, and all I feel is Love.    [Aside.
+  If Love be catching, Sir, by Looks and Touches, let us at distance
+parley--or rather let me fly, for within view is too near--
+    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ Ah! she retires--displeas'd I fear with my presumptuous
+Love,--Oh, pardon, fairest Creature.
+    [Kneels.
+
+_Queen._ I'll talk no more, our Words exchange our Souls, and every Look
+fades all my blooming Honour, like Sun-beams on unguarded Roses--Take
+all our Kingdoms --make our People Slaves, and let me fall beneath your
+conquering Sword: but never let me hear you talk again, or gaze upon
+your Eyes.--
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Bac._ She loves! by Heaven, she loves! and has not Art enough to hide
+her Flame, though she have cruel Honour to suppress it. However, I'll
+pursue her to the Banquet.
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. The Widow _Ranter's_ Hall.
+
+    Enter _Surelove_ fan'd by two Negroes, followed by _Hazard_.
+
+_Sure._ This Madam _Ranter_ is so prodigious a Treater --oh! I hate a
+Room that smells of a great Dinner, and what's worse, a desert of Punch
+and Tobacco--what! are you taking leave so soon, Cousin?
+
+_Haz._ Yes, Madam, but 'tis not fit I should let you know with what
+regret I go,--but Business will be obey'd.
+
+_Sure._ Some Letters to dispatch to _English_ Ladies you have left
+behind--come, Cousin, confess.
+
+_Haz._ I own I much admire the _English_ Beauties but never yet have put
+their Fetters on.
+
+_Sure._ Never in love! oh, then you have pleasure to come.
+
+_Haz._ Rather a Pain when there's no Hope attends it.
+
+_Sure._ Oh, such Diseases quickly cure themselves.
+
+_Haz._ I do not wish to find it so; for even in Pain I find a Pleasure
+too.
+
+_Sure._ You are infected then, and come abroad for Cure.
+
+_Haz._ Rather to receive my Wounds, Madam.
+
+_Sure._ Already, Sir,--whoe'er she be, she made good haste to conquer,
+we have few here boast that Dexterity.
+
+_Haz._ What think you of _Chrisante_, Madam?
+
+_Sure._ I must confess your Love and your Despair are there plac'd
+right, of which I am not fond of being made a Confident, since I am
+assur'd she can love none but _Friendly_.
+    [Coldly.
+
+_Haz._ Let her love on as long as Life shall last, let _Friendly_ take
+her, and the Universe, so I had my next wish--
+    [Sighs.
+  Madam, it is yourself that I adore--I should not be so vain to tell
+you this, but that I know you have found the Secret out already from my
+Sighs.
+
+_Sure._ Forbear, Sir, and know me for your Kinsman's Wife, and no more.
+
+_Haz._ Be scornful as you please, rail at my Passion, and refuse to hear
+it; yet I'll love on, and hope in spite of you; my Flame shall be so
+constant and submissive, it shall compel your Heart to some return.
+
+_Sure._ You're very confident of your Power, I perceive; but if you
+chance to find yourself mistaken, say your Opinion and your Affectation
+were misapply'd, and not that I was cruel.
+    [Ex. _Surelove_.
+
+_Haz._ Whate'er denials dwell upon your Tongue, your Eyes assure me that
+your Heart is tender.
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter the Bagpiper, playing before a great Bowl of Punch, carry'd
+    between two Negroes, a Highlander dancing after it; the Widow
+    _Ranter_ led by _Timorous_; _Chrisante_ by _Dullman_; Mrs. _Flirt_
+    and _Friendly_, all dancing after it; they place it on the Table.
+
+_Dull._ This is like the noble Widow all over, i'faith.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, the Widow's Health in a full Ladle, Major.
+    [Drinks.
+ --But a Pox on't, what made that young Fellow here, that affronted us
+yesterday, Major?
+    [While they drink about.
+
+_Dull._ Some damned Sharper that would lay his Knife aboard your Widow,
+Cornet.
+
+_Tim._ Zoors, if I thought so, I'd arrest him for Salt and Battery, lay
+him in Prison for a swinging Fine, and take no Bail.
+
+_Dull._ Nay, had it not been before my Mistress here, Mrs. _Chrisante_,
+I had swinged him for his Yesterday's Affront;--ah, my sweet Mistress
+_Chrisante_--if you did but know what a power you have over me--
+
+_Chris._ Oh, you're a great Courtier, Major.
+
+_Dull._ Would I were any thing for your sake, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Thou art anything, but what thou shouldst be; prithee, Major,
+leave off being an old Buffoon, that is, a Lover turn'd ridiculous by
+Age, consider thy self a mere rouling Tun of _Nantz_,--a walking
+Chimney, ever smoaking with nasty Mundungus, and then thou hast a
+Countenance like an old worm-eaten Cheese.
+
+_Dull._ Well, Widow, you will joke, ha, ha, ha--
+
+_Tim._ Gad' Zoors, she's pure company, ha, ha--
+
+_Dull._ No matter for my Countenance,--Col. _Downright_ likes my Estate,
+and is resolved to have it a match.
+
+_Friend._ Dear Widow, take off your damned Major, for if he speak
+another word to _Chrisante_, I shall be put past all my patience, and
+fall foul upon him.
+
+_Ran._ S'life, not for the world--Major, I bar Love-making within my
+Territories, 'tis inconsistent with the Punch-Bowl, if you'l drink, do,
+if not, be gone.
+
+_Tim._ Nay, Gad's Zooks, if you enter me at the Punch-Bowl you enter me
+in Politicks--well, 'tis the best Drink in Christendom for a Statesman.
+    [They drink about, the Bagpipe playing.
+
+_Ran._ Come, now you shall see what my High-land Valet can do.
+    [A _Scots_ Dance.
+
+_Dull._ So--I see, let the World go which way it will, Widow, you are
+resolv'd for mirth,--but come--to the conversation of the Times.
+
+_Ran._ The Times! why, what a Devil ails the Times? I see nothing in the
+Times but a Company of Coxcombs that fear without a Cause.
+
+_Tim._ But if these Fears were laid, and _Bacon_ were hanged, I look
+upon _Virginia_ to be the happiest part of the World, gads zoors,--why,
+there's _England_--'tis nothing to't,--I was in _England_ about six
+Years ago, and was shewed the Court of Aldermen, some were nodding, some
+saying nothing, and others very little to purpose; but how could it be
+otherwise, for they had neither Bowl of Punch, Bottles of Wine or
+Tobacco before 'em, to put Life and Soul into 'em as we have here: then
+for the young Gentlemen--their farthest Travels is to _France_ or
+_Italy_, they never come hither.
+
+_Dull._ The more's the pity, by my troth.    [Drinks.
+
+_Tim._ Where they learn to swear Mor-blew, Mor-dee--
+
+_Friend._ And tell you how much bigger the _Louvre_ is than _Whitehall_;
+buy a suit a-la-mode, get a swinging Clap of some _French_ Marquise,
+spend all their Money, and return just as they went.
+
+_Dull._ For the old Fellows, their business is Usury, Extortion, and
+undermining young Heirs.
+
+_Tim._ Then for young Merchants, their Exchange is the Tavern, their
+Ware-house the Play-house, and their Bills of Exchange Billet-Douxs,
+where to sup with their Wenches at the other end of the Town,--now judge
+you what a condition poor _England_ is in: for my part I look upon it as
+a lost Nation, gads zoors.
+
+_Dull._ I have considered it, and have found a way to save all yet.
+
+_Tim._ As how, I pray?
+
+_Dull._ As thus: we have Men here of great Experience and Ability--now I
+would have as many sent into _England_, as would supply all Places and
+Offices, both Civil and Military, d'ye see; their young Gentry should
+all travel hither for breeding, and to learn the mysteries of State.
+
+_Friend._ As for the old covetous Fellows, I would have the Tradesmen
+get in their Debts, break and turn Troopers.
+
+_Tim._ And they'd be soon weary of Extortion, gad zoors.
+
+_Dull._ Then for the young Merchants, there should be a Law made, none
+should go beyond _Ludgate_.
+
+_Friend._ You have found out the only way to preserve that great
+Kingdom.
+    [Drinking all this while sometimes.
+
+_Tim._ Well, gad zoors, 'tis a fine thing to be a good Statesman.
+
+_Friend._ Ay, Cornet, which you had never been had you staid in Old
+_England_.
+
+_Dull._ Why, Sir, we were somebody in _England_.
+
+_Friend._ So I heard, Major.
+
+_Dull._ You heard, Sir! what have you heard? he's a Kidnapper that says
+he heard any thing of me--and so my service to you.--I'll sue you, Sir,
+for spoiling my Marriage here by your Scandals with Mrs. _Chrisante_:
+but that shan't do, Sir, I'll marry her for all that, and he's a Rascal
+that denies it.
+
+_Friend._ S'death, you lye, Sir--I do.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, Sir, lye to a Privy-Counsellor, a Major of Horse!
+Brother, this is an Affront to our Dignities: draw and I'll side with
+you.
+    [They both draw on _Friendly_, the Ladies run off.
+
+_Friend._ If I disdain to draw, 'tis not that I fear your base and
+cowardly Force, but for the respect I bear you as Magistrates, and so I
+leave you.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Tim._ An arrant Coward, gad zoors.
+
+_Dull._ A mere Paultroon, and I scorn to drink in his Company.
+
+    [Exeunt, putting up their Swords.
+
+
+SCENE III. A _Sevana_, or large Heath.
+
+    Enter _Whimsey_, _Whiff_, and _Boozer_, with some Soldiers arm'd.
+
+_Whim._ Stand--stand--and hear the word of Command--do ye see yon Cops,
+and that Ditch that runs along Major _Dullman's_ Plantation?
+
+_Booz._ We do.
+
+_Whim._ Place your Men there, and lie flat on your Bellies, and when
+_Bacon_ comes, (if alone) seize him, d'ye see.
+
+_Whiff._ Observe the Command now (if alone) for we are not for
+blood-shed.
+
+_Booz._ I'll warrant you for our parts.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _Whim._ and _Whiff_.
+
+_Whim._ Now we have ambusht our Men, let's light our Pipes, and sit down
+and take an encouraging dram of the Bottle.
+    [Pulls a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket--they sit.
+
+_Whiff._ Thou art a Knave, and hast emptied half the Bottle in thy
+Leathern Pockets; but come, here's young _Frightall's_ Health.
+
+_Whim._ What, wilt drink a Man's Health thou'rt going to hang?
+
+_Whiff._ 'Tis all one for that, we'll drink his Health first, and hang
+him afterwards, and thou shalt pledge me, d'ye see, and though 'twere
+under the Gallows.
+
+_Whim._ Thou'rt a Traitor for saying so, and I defy thee.
+
+_Whiff._ Nay, since we are come out like loving Brothers to hang the
+General, let's not fall out among our selves; and so here's to you,
+[Drinks.] though I have no great Maw to this Business.
+
+_Whim._ Prithee, Brother _Whiff_, do not be so villainous a Coward, for
+I hate a Coward.
+
+_Whiff._ Nay, 'tis not that--but, my _Whiff_, my _Nancy_ dreamt to night
+she saw me hanged.
+
+_Whim._ 'Twas a cowardly Dream, think no more on't; but as Dreams are
+expounded by contraries, thou shalt hang the General.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay--but he was my Friend, and I owe him at this time a hundred
+Pounds of Tobacco.
+
+_Whim._ Nay, then I am sure thou'dst hang him if he were thy Brother.
+
+_Whiff._ But hark--I think I hear the Neighing of Horses, where shall we
+hide our selves? for if we stay here, we shall be mawled damnably.
+
+    [Exeunt both behind a Bush, peeping.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_, _Fearless_, and 3 or 4 Footmen.
+
+_Bac._ Let the Groom lead the Horses o'er the _Sevana_; we'll walk it on
+Foot, 'tis not a quarter of a Mile to the Town; and here the Air is
+cool.
+
+_Fear._ The Breezes about this time of the Day begin to take wing, and
+fan refreshment to the Trees and Flowers.
+
+_Bac._ And at these Hours how fragrant are the Groves!
+
+_Fear._ The Country's well, were but the people so.
+
+_Bac._ But come, lets on--    [They pass to the Entrance.
+
+_Whim._ There, Boys--    [The Soldiers come forth and fall on _Bacon_.
+
+_Bac._ Hah! Ambush--
+
+    [Draws, _Fearless_ and Footmen draw, the Soldiers after a while
+    fighting, take _Bacon_ and _Fearless_, they having laid 3 or 4
+    dead.
+
+_Whiff._ So, so, he's taken; now we may venture out.
+
+_Whim._ But are you sure he's taken?
+
+_Whiff._ Sure! can't you believe your Eyes, come forth; I hate a
+Coward--Oh, Sir, have we caught your Mightiness.
+
+_Bac._ Are you the Authors of this valiant Act? None but such villainous
+Cowards durst have attempted it.
+
+_Whim._ Stop his railing Tongue.
+
+_Whiff._ No, no, let him rail, let him rail now his Hands are ty'd, ha,
+ha. Why, good General _Frightall_, what, was no body able d'ye think to
+tame the roaring Lyon?
+
+_Bac._ You'll be hanged for this.
+
+_Whim._ Come, come, away with him to the next Tree.
+
+_Bac._ What mean you, Villains?
+
+_Whiff._ Only to hang your Honour a little, that's all. We'll teach you,
+Sir, to serve your Country against Law.
+
+    As they go off, enter _Daring_ with Soldiers.
+
+_Dar._ Hah--my General betray'd!--this I suspected.
+
+    [His Men come in, they fall on, release _Bacon_ and _Fearless_,
+    and his Man, and get Swords. _Whimsey's_ Party put _Whim._ and
+    _Whiff_ before 'em striking 'em as they endeavour to run on this
+    side or that, and forcing 'em to bear up, they are taken after
+    some fighting.
+
+_Fear._ Did not the General tell you Rogues, you'd be all hang'd?
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, _Nancy_, _Nancy_, how prophetick are thy Dreams!
+
+_Bac._ Come, lets on--
+
+_Dar._ S'death, what mean you, Sir?
+
+_Bac._ As I designed--to present my self to the Council.
+
+_Dar._ By Heavens, we'll follow then to save you from their Treachery,
+'twas this that has befallen you that I feared, which made me at a
+distance follow you.
+
+_Bac._ Follow me still, but still at such a distance as your Aids may be
+assisting on all occasions.--_Fearless_, go back and bring your Regiment
+down; and _Daring_, let your Sergeant with his Party guard these
+Villains to the Council.
+
+    [Ex. _Bac._ _Dar._ and _Fearless_.
+
+_Whiff._ A Pox on your Worship's Plot.
+
+_Whim._ A Pox of your forwardness to come out of the Hedge.
+
+    [Ex. Officers, with _Whim._ and _Whiff_.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _The Council-Table_.
+
+    Enter Col. _Wellman_, Col. _Downright_, _Dullman_, _Timorous_, and
+    about seven or eight more seat themselves.
+
+_Well._ You heard Mr. _Dunce's_ opinion, Gentlemen, concerning _Bacon's_
+coming upon our Invitation. He believes he will come, but I rather
+think, though he be himself undaunted, yet the persuasions of his two
+Lieutenant-Generals, _Daring_ and _Fearless_, may prevent him--Colonel,
+have you order'd our Men to be in Arms?
+
+    Enter a _Soldier_.
+
+_Down._ I have, and they'l attend further order on the _Sevana_.
+
+_Sold._ May it please your Honours, _Bacon_ is on his way, he comes
+unattended by any but his Footmen, and Col. _Fearless_.
+
+_Down._ Who is this Fellow?
+
+_Well._ A Spy I sent to watch _Bacon's_ Motions.
+
+_Sold._ But there is a Company of Soldiers in Ambush on this side of the
+_Sevana_ to seize him as he passes by.
+
+_Well._ That's by no order of the Council.
+
+_Omnes._ No, no, no order.
+
+_Well._ Nay, 'twere a good design if true.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, wou'd I had thought on't for my Troop.
+
+_Down._ I am for no unfair dealing in any extremity.
+
+    Enter _Brag_ in haste.
+
+_Brag._ An't please your Honours, the saddest News--an Ambush being laid
+for _Bacon_, they rush'd out upon him on the _Sevana_, and after some
+fighting took him and _Fearless_--
+
+_Tim._ Is this your sad News--zoors, wou'd I had had a hand in't.
+
+_Brag._ When on a sudden, _Daring_ and his Party fell in upon us, turn'd
+the tide--kill'd our Men, and took Captain _Whimsey_, and Captain
+_Whiff_ Pris'ners; the rest run away, but _Bacon_ fought like fury.
+
+_Tim._ A bloody Fellow!
+
+_Down._ _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_? they deserve Death for acting without
+order.
+
+_Tim._ I'm of the Colonel's Opinion, they deserve to hang for't.
+
+_Dull._ Why, Brother, I thought you had wish'd that the Plot had been
+yours but now.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, but the Case is alter'd since that, good Brother.
+
+_Well._ Now he's exasperated past all hopes of a Reconciliation.
+
+_Dull._ You must make use of the Statesman's Refuge, wise Dissimulation.
+
+_Brag._ For all this, Sir, he will not believe but that you mean
+honourably, and no Persuasions could hinder him from coming, so he has
+dismiss'd all his Soldiers, and is entring the Town on foot.
+
+_Well._ What pity 'tis a brave Man should be guilty of an ill Action.
+
+_Brag._ But the noise of his danger has so won the Hearts of the Mobile,
+that they increase his Train as he goes, and follow him in the Town like
+a Victor.
+
+_Well._ Go wait his coming.    [Exit _Brag_.
+  He grows too popular and must be humbled.
+
+_Tim._ I was ever of your mind, Colonel.
+
+_Well._ Ay, right or wrong--but what's your Counsel now?
+
+_Tim._ E'en as it used to be, I leave it to wiser Heads.
+
+    Enter _Brag_.
+
+_Brag._ _Bacon_, Sir, is entring.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, wou'd I were safe in bed.
+
+_Dull._ Colonel, keep in your Heat, and treat calmly with him.
+
+_Well._ I rather wish you would all follow me, I'd meet him at the head
+of all his noisy Rabble, and seize him from the Rout.
+
+_Down._ What, Men of Authority dispute with Rake-hells! 'tis below us,
+Sir.
+
+_Tim._ To stake our Lives and Fortunes against their nothing.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_, after him the Rabble with Staves and Clubs,
+    bringing in _Whim._ and _Whiff_ bound.
+
+_Well._ What means this Insolence?--What, Mr. _Bacon_, do you come in
+Arms?
+
+_Bac._ I'd need, Sir, come in Arms, when Men that should be honourable
+can have so poor Designs to take my Life.
+
+_Well._ Thrust out his following Rabble.
+
+_1st Rab._ We'll not stir till we have the General safe back again.
+
+_Bac._ Let not your Loves be too officious--but retire--
+
+_1st Rab._ At your Command we vanish.--    [The Rabble retire.
+
+_Bac._ I hope you'll pardon me, if in my own defence I seized on these
+two Murderers.
+
+_Down._ You did well, Sir, 'twas by no order they acted--stand forth and
+hear your Sentence--in time of War we need no formal Tryals to hang
+Knaves that act without order.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, Mercy, Mercy, Colonel--'twas Parson _Dunce's_ Plot.
+
+_Down._ Issue out a Warrant to seize _Dunce_ immediately--you shall be
+carry'd to the Fort to pray.
+
+_Whim._ Oh, good your Honour, I never pray'd in all my Life.
+
+_Down._ From thence drawn upon a Sledge to the place of Execution--where
+you shall hang till you are dead--and then be cut down and--
+
+_Whim._ Oh, hold--hold--we shall never be able to endure half this.
+    [Kneeling.
+
+_Well._ I think the Offence needs not so great Punishment; their Crime,
+Sir, is but equal to your own, acting without Commission.
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis very well explained, Sir,--had I been murder'd by Commission
+then, the Deed had been approved, and now perhaps I am beholding to the
+Rabble for my Life.
+
+_Well._ A fine Pretence to hide a popular Fault, but for this once we
+pardon them and you.
+
+_Bac._ Pardon! for what? by Heaven, I scorn your Pardon, I've not
+offended Honour nor Religion.
+
+_Well._ You have offended both in taking Arms.
+
+_Bac._ Should I stand by and see my Country ruin'd, my King dishonour'd,
+and his Subjects murder'd, hear the sad Crys of Widows and of Orphans?
+you heard it loud, but gave no pitying care to't, and till the War and
+Massacre was brought to my own door, my Flocks and Herds surprized,
+I bore it all with Patience. Is it unlawful to defend my self against a
+Thief that breaks into my Doors?
+
+_Well._ And call you this defending of your self?
+
+_Bac._ I call it doing of my self that right, which upon just demand the
+Council did refuse me; if my Ambition, as you're pleased to call it,
+made me demand too much, I left my self to you.
+
+_Well._ Perhaps we thought it did.
+
+_Bac._ Sir, you affront my Birth--I am a Gentleman, and yet my Thoughts
+were humble--I would have fought under the meanest of your Parasites.
+
+_Tim._ There's a Bob for us, Brother.    [To _Dull._
+
+_Bac._ But still you put me off with Promises--and when compell'd to
+stir in my Defence I call'd none to my aid, and those that came, 'twas
+their own Wrongs that urg'd them.
+
+_Down._ 'Tis fear'd, Sir, under this Pretence, you aim at Government.
+
+_Bac._ I scorn to answer to so base an Accusation; the height of my
+Ambition is to be an honest Subject.
+
+_Well._ An honest Rebel, Sir--
+
+_Bac._ You know you wrong me, and 'tis basely urg'd--but this is
+trifling--here are my Commissions.
+    [Throws down Papers, _Down._ reads.
+
+_Down._ To be General of the Forces against the _Indians_, and blank
+Commissions for his Friends.
+
+_Well._ Tear them in pieces--are we to be imposed upon? Do ye come in
+hostile manner to compel us?
+
+_Down._ Be not too rough, Sir, let us argue with him.
+
+_Well._ I am resolv'd I will not.
+
+_Tim._ Then we are all dead Men, Gudzoors! he will not give us time to
+say our Prayers.
+
+_Well._ We every day expect fresh force from _England_, till then, we of
+our selves shall be sufficient to make defence against a sturdy Traitor.
+
+_Bac._ Traitor! S'death, Traitor--I defy ye, but that my Honour's yet
+above my Anger, I'd make you answer me that Traitor dearly.
+    [Rises.
+
+_Well._ Hah--am I threatned--Guards, secure the Rebel.
+    [Guards seize him.
+
+_Bac._ Is this your honourable Invitation? Go--triumph in your
+short-liv'd Victory, the next turn shall be mine.
+
+    [Exeunt Guards with _Bac._
+
+_A Noise of Fighting--Enter _Bacon_, _Wellman's_ Guards beat back by the
+Rabble, _Bacon_ snatches a Sword from one, and keeps back the Rabble,
+_Tim._ gets under the Table._
+
+_Down._ What means this Insolence?
+
+_Rab._ We'll have our General, and knock that Fellow's Brains out, and
+hang up Colonel _Wellman_.
+
+_All._ Ay, ay, hang up _Wellman_.
+    [The Rabble seize _Well._ and _Dull._ and the rest.
+
+_Dull._ Hold, hold, Gentlemen, I was always for the General.
+
+_Rab._ Let's barbicu this fat Rogue.
+
+_Bac._ Be gone, and know your distance to the Council.
+    [The Rabble let 'em go.
+
+_Well._ I'd rather perish by the meanest Hand, than owe my safety poorly
+thus to _Bacon_.
+    [In Rage.
+
+_Bac._ If you persist still in that mind I'll leave you, and conquering
+make you happy 'gainst your will.
+
+    [Ex. _Bacon_ and Rabble, hollowing a _Bacon_, a _Bacon_.
+
+_Well._ Oh villanous Cowards! who will trust his Honour with Sycophants
+so base? Let us to Arms--by Heaven, I will not give my Body rest, till
+I've chastised the boldness of this Rebel.
+
+    [Exeunt _Well._ _Down._ and the rest, all but _Dull._ _Tim._ peeps
+    from under the Table.
+
+_Tim._ What, is the roistering Hector gone, Brother?
+
+_Dull._ Ay, ay, and the Devil go with him.
+    [Looking sadly, _Tim._ comes out.
+
+_Tim._ Was there ever such a Bull of _Bashan_! Why, what if he should
+come down upon us and kill us all for Traitors.
+
+_Dull._ I rather think the Council will hang us all for
+Cowards--ah--oh--a Drum--a Drum--oh.
+    [He goes out.
+
+  _Tim._ This is the Misery of being great.
+  We're sacrific'd to every turn of State.    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. The Country Court, a great Table, with Papers, a _Clerk
+writing._
+
+    Enter a great many People of all sorts, then _Friendly_, after him
+    _Dullman_.
+
+_Friend._ How now, Major; what, they say _Bacon_ scar'd you all out of
+the Council yesterday; What say the People?
+
+_Dull._ Say? they curse us all, and drink young _Frightall's_ Health,
+and swear they'll fight through Fire and Brimstone for him.
+
+_Friend._ And to morrow will hollow him to the Gallows, if it were his
+chance to come there.
+
+_Dull._ 'Tis very likely: Why, I am forced to be guarded to the Court
+now, the Rabble swore they would _De-Wit_ me, but I shall hamper some of
+'em. Wou'd the Governour were here to bear the brunt on't, for they call
+us the evil Counsellors.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_, goes to _Friendly_.
+
+Here's the young Rogue that drew upon us too, we have Rods in Piss for
+him, i'faith.
+
+    Enter _Timorous_ with _Bailiffs_, whispers to _Dullman_, after
+    which to the _Bailiffs_.
+
+_Tim._ Gadzoors, that's he, do your Office.
+
+_Bail._ We arrest you, Sir, in the King's Name, at the suit of the
+honourable Justice _Timorous_.
+
+_Haz._ Justice _Timorous_! who the Devil's he?
+
+_Tim._ I am the man, Sir, d'ye see, for want of a better; you shall
+repent, Guds zoors, your putting of tricks upon Persons of my Rank and
+Quality.
+    [After he has spoke, he runs back as afraid of him.
+
+_Haz._ Your Rank and Quality!
+
+_Tim._ Ay, Sir, my Rank and Quality; first I am one of the honourable
+Council, next, a Justice of Peace in _Quorum_, Cornet of a Troop of
+Horse, d'ye see, and Church-warden.
+
+_Friend._ From whence proceeds this, Mr. Justice? you said nothing of
+this at Madam _Ranter's_ yesterday; you saw him there, then you were
+good Friends.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, however I have carried my Body swimmingly before my Mistress,
+d'ye see, I had Rancour in my Heart, Gads zoors.
+
+_Friend._ Why, this Gentleman's a Stranger, and but lately come ashore.
+
+_Haz._ At my first landing I was in company with this Fellow and two or
+three of his cruel Brethren, where I was affronted by them, some Words
+pass'd, and I drew--
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, Sir, you shall pay for't,--why--what, Sir, cannot a civil
+Magistrate affront a Man, but he must be drawn upon presently?
+
+_Friend._ Well, Sir, the Gentleman shall answer your Suit, and I hope
+you'll take my Bail for him.
+
+_Tim._ 'Tis enough--I know you to be a civil Person.
+
+    _Timorous_ and _Dullman_ take their Places on a long Bench placed
+    behind the Table, to them _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, they seat
+    themselves, then _Boozer_ and two or three more; who seat
+    themselves: Then enter two, bearing a Bowl of Punch and a great
+    Ladle or two in it; the rest of the Stage being fill'd with
+    People.
+
+_Whiff._ Brothers, it hath often been mov'd at the Bench, that a new
+Punch-Bowl shou'd be provided, and one of a larger Circumference; when
+the Bench sits late about weighty Affairs, oftentimes the Bowl is
+emptied before we end.
+
+_Whim._ A good Motion; Clerk, set it down.
+
+_Clerk._ Mr. Justice _Boozer_, the Council has order'd you a Writ of
+Ease, and dismiss your Worship from the Bench.
+
+_Booz._ Me from the Bench, for what?
+
+_Whim._ The Complaint is, Brother _Boozer_, for drinking too much Punch
+in the time of hearing Tryals.
+
+_Whiff._ And that you can neither write nor read, nor say the Lord's
+Prayer.
+
+_Tim._ That your Warrants are like a Brewer's Tally, a Notch on a Stick;
+if a special Warrant, then a couple. Gods zoors, when his Excellency
+comes he will have no such Justices.
+
+_Booz._ Why, Brother, though I can't read my self, I have had _Dalton's_
+Country-Justice read over to me two or three times, and understand the
+Law. This is your Malice, Brother _Whiff_, because my Wife does not come
+to your Warehouse to buy her Commodities,--but no matter, to show I have
+no Malice in my Heart, I drink your Health.--I care not this, I can turn
+Lawyer, and plead at the Board.
+    [Drinks, all pledge him, and hum.
+
+_Dull._ Mr. Clerk, come to the Tryals on the Dockett.
+    [_Clerk_ reads.
+
+_Cler._ The first is between his Worship Justice _Whiff_ and one
+_Grubb_.
+
+_Dull._ Ay, that _Grubb's_ a common Disturber, Brother, your Cause is a
+good Cause if well manag'd, here's to't.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Whiff._ I thank you, Brother _Dullman_--read my Petition.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Cler._ The Petition of Captain _Thomas Whiff_, sheweth, That whereas
+_Gilbert Grubb_ calls his Worship's Wife _Ann Whiff_ Whore, and said he
+would prove it; your Petitioner desires the Worshipful Bench to take it
+into Consideration, and your Petitioner shall ever pray, _&c._-- Here's
+two Witnesses have made Affidavit _viva voce_, an't like your Worships.
+
+_Dull._ Call _Grubb_.
+
+_Cler._ _Gilbert Grubb_, come into the Court.
+
+_Grub._ Here.
+
+_Whim._ Well, what can you say for your self, Mr. _Grubb_.
+
+_Grub._ Why, an't like your Worship, my Wife invited some Neighbours
+Wives to drink a Cagg of Syder; now your Worship's Wife, Madam _Whiff_,
+being there fuddled, would have thrust me out of doors, and bid me go to
+my old Whore Madam _Whimsey_, meaning your Worship's Wife.
+    [To _Whimsey_.
+
+_Whim._ Hah! My Wife called Whore, she's a Jade, and I'll arrest her
+Husband here--in an Action of Debts.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, she's no better than she should be, I'll warrant her.
+
+_Whiff._ Look ye, Brother _Whimsey_, be patient; you know the humour of
+my _Nancy_, when she's drunk; but when she's sober, she's a civil
+Person, and shall ask your pardon.
+
+_Whim._ Let this be done, and I am satisfied. And so here's to you.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Dull._ Go on to the Trial.
+
+_Grub._ I being very angry, said indeed, I would prove her a greater
+Whore than Madam _Whimsey_.
+
+_Cler._ An't like your Worships, he confesses the Words in open Court.
+
+_Grub._ Why, an't like your Worships, she has had two Bastards, I'll
+prove it.
+
+_Whiff._ Sirrah, Sirrah, that was when she was a Maid, not since I
+marry'd her; my marrying her made her honest.
+
+_Dull._ Let there be an order of Court to sue him for _Scandalum
+magnatum_.
+
+_Tim._ Mr. Clerk, let my Cause come next.
+
+_Cler._ The Defendant's ready, Sir.    [_Hazard_ comes to the Board.
+
+_Tim._ Brothers of the Bench, take notice, that this Hector here coming
+into Mrs. _Flirt's_ Ordinary, where I was with my Brother _Dullman_ and
+Lieutenant _Boozer_; we gave him good Counsel to fall to work: Now my
+Gentleman here was affronted at this, forsooth, and makes no more to do
+but calls us Scoundrels, and drew his Sword on us; and had I not
+defended my self by running away, he had murdered me, and assassinated
+my two Brothers.
+
+_Whiff._ What Witness have you, Brother?
+
+_Tim._ Here's Mrs. _Flirt_ and her Maid _Nell_,--besides, we may be
+Witness for one another, I hope, our Words may be taken.
+
+_Cler._ Mrs. _Flirt_ and _Nell_ are sworn.    [They stand forth.
+
+_Whim._ By the Oaths that you have taken, speak nothing but the truth.
+
+_Flirt._ An't please your Worships, your Honours came to my House, where
+you found this young Gentleman: and your Honours invited him to drink
+with your Honours; Where after some opprobrious Words given him, Justice
+_Dullman_, and Justice _Boozer_ struck him over the Head; and after that
+indeed the Gentleman drew.
+
+_Tim._ Mark that, Brother, he drew.
+
+_Haz._ If I did, it was _se defendendo_.
+
+_Tim._ Do you hear that, Brothers, he did it in defiance.
+
+_Haz._ Sir, you ought not to sit Judge and Accuser too.
+
+_Whiff._ The Gentleman's i'th' right, Brother, you cannot do't according
+to Law.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, what new tricks, new querks?
+
+_Haz._ Gentlemen, take notice, he swears in Court.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, what's that to you, Sir?
+
+_Haz._ This is the second time of his swearing.
+
+_Whim._ What, do you think we are deaf, Sir? Come, come, proceed.
+
+_Tim._ I desire he may be bound to his Good Behaviour, fin'd, and
+deliver up his Sword, what say you, Brother?
+    [Jogs _Dull._ who nods.
+
+_Whim._ He's asleep, drink to him and waken him,-- you have miss'd the
+Cause by sleeping, Brother.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Dull._ Justice may nod, but never sleeps, Brother-- you were
+at--Deliver his Sword--a good Motion, let it be done.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Haz._ No, Gentlemen, I wear a Sword to right my self.
+
+_Tim._ That's fine, i'faith, Gads zoors, I've worn a Sword this dozen
+Year, and never cou'd right my self.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, 'twou'd be a fine World if Men should wear Swords to right
+themselves; he that's bound to the Peace shall wear no Sword.
+
+_Whim._ I say, he that's bound to the Peace ought to wear no Peruke,
+they may change 'em for black or white, and then who can know them.
+
+_Haz._ I hope, Gentlemen, I may be allowed to speak for my self.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, what can you say for your self, did you not draw your
+Sword, Sirrah?
+
+_Haz._ I did.
+
+_Tim._ 'Tis sufficient, he confesses the Fact, and we'll hear no more.
+
+_Haz._ You will not hear the Provocation given.
+
+_Dull._ 'Tis enough, Sir, you drew--
+
+_Whim._ Ay, ay, 'tis enough, he drew--let him be fin'd.
+
+_Friend._ The Gentleman should be heard, he's Kinsman too to Colonel
+_John Surelove_.
+
+_Tim._ Hum--Colonel _Surelove's_ Kinsman.
+
+_Whiff._ Is he so? nay, then all the reason in the World he should be
+heard, Brothers.
+
+_Whim._ Come, come, Cornet, you shall be Friends with the Gentleman;
+this was some drunken bout, I'll warrant you.
+
+_Tim._ Ha, ha, ha, so it was, Gads zoors.
+
+_Whiff._ Come, drink to the Gentleman, and put it up.
+
+_Tim._ Sir, my service to you, I am heartily sorry for what's pass'd,
+but it was in my drink.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Whim._ You hear his Acknowledgments, Sir, and when he's sober he never
+quarrels. Come, Sir, sit down, my Service to you.
+
+_Haz._ I beg your excuse, Gentlemen--I have earnest business.
+
+_Dull._ Let us adjourn the Court, and prepare to meet the Regiments on
+the _Sevana_.
+    [All go but _Friend._ and _Hazard_.
+
+_Haz._ Is this the best Court of Judicature your Country affords?
+
+_Friend._ To give it its due, it is not. But how does thy Amour thrive?
+
+_Haz._ As well as I can wish in so short a time.
+
+_Friend._ I see she regards thee with kind Eyes, Sighs and Blushes.
+
+_Haz._ Yes, and tells me I am so like a Brother she had --to excuse her
+kind concern,--then blushes so prettily, that, Gad, I cou'd not forbear
+making a discovery of my Heart.
+
+_Friend._ Have a care of that, come upon her by slow degrees, for I know
+she is virtuous;--but come, let's to the _Sevana_, where I'll present
+you to the two Colonels, _Wellman_ and _Downright_, the Men that manage
+all till the arrival of the Governour.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. The _Sevana_ or Heath.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_, _Downright_, _Boozer_, and Officers.
+
+_Well._ Have you dispatch'd the Scouts, to watch the Motions of the
+Enemies? I know that _Bacon_ is violent and haughty, and will resent our
+vain Attempts upon him; therefore we must be speedy in prevention.
+
+_Down._ What Forces have you raised since our last order?
+
+_Booz._ Here's a List of 'em, they came but slowly in, till we promised
+every one a Bottle of Brandy.
+
+    Enter _Officer_ and _Dunce_.
+
+_Offi._ We have brought Mr. _Dunce_ here, as your Honour commanded us;
+after strict search we found him this Morning in bed with Madam _Flirt_.
+
+_Down._ No matter, he'll exclaim no less against the Vices of the Flesh
+the next Sunday.
+
+_Dun._ I hope, Sir, you will not credit the Malice of my Enemies.
+
+_Well._ No more, you are free, and what you counsell'd about the Ambush,
+was both prudent and seasonable, and perhaps I now wish it had taken
+effect.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_ and _Hazard_.
+
+_Friend._ I have brought an _English_ Gentleman to kiss your Hands, Sir,
+and offer you his Service, he is young and brave, and Kinsman to Colonel
+_Surelove_.
+
+_Well._ Sir, you are welcome; and to let you see you are so, we will
+give you your Kinsman's Command, Captain of a Troop of Horse-Guards, and
+which I'm sure will be continued to you when the Governour arrives.
+
+_Haz._ I shall endeavour to deserve the Honour, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_, all in Buff, Scarf, and
+    Feather.
+
+_Down._ So, Gentlemen, I see you're in a readiness.
+
+_Tim._ Readiness! What means he, I hope we are not to be drawn out to go
+against the Enemy, Major.
+
+_Dull._ If we are, they shall look a new Major for me.
+
+_Well._ We were debating, Gentlemen, what course were best to pursue
+against this powerful Rebel.
+
+_Friend._ Why, Sir, we have Forces enough, let's charge him instantly,
+Delays are dangerous.
+
+_Tim._ Why, what a damn'd fiery Fellow is this?
+
+_Down._ But if we drive him to extremities, we fear his siding with the
+_Indians_.
+
+_Dull._ Colonel _Downright_ has hit it; why should we endanger our Men
+against a desperate Termagant; If he love Wounds and Scars so well, let
+him exercise on our Enemies--but if he will needs fall upon us, 'tis
+then time enough for us to venture our Lives and Fortunes.
+
+_Tim._ How, we go to _Bacon_! under favour, I think 'tis his duty to
+come to us, an you go to that, Gads zoors.
+
+_Friend._ If he do, 'twill cost you dear, I doubt, Cornet.--I find by
+our List, Sir, we are four thousand Men.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, not enough for a Breakfast for that insatiate
+_Bacon_, and his two Lieutenant Generals, _Fearless_ and _Daring_.
+    [_Whiff_ sits on the Ground with a Bottle of Brandy.
+
+_Whim._ A Morsel, a Morsel.
+
+_Well._ I am for an attack, what say you, Gentlemen, to an
+attack?--What, silent all? What say you, Major?
+
+_Dull._ I say, Sir, I hope my Courage was never in dispute. But, Sir,
+I am going to marry Colonel _Downright's_ Daughter here--and should I be
+slain in this Battle 'twould break her Heart;--besides, Sir, I should
+lose her Fortune.
+    [Speaks big.
+
+_Well._ I'm sure here's a Captain will never flinch.    [To _Whim._
+
+_Whim._ Who, I, an't like your Honour?
+
+_Well._ Ay, you.
+
+_Whim._ Who, I? ha, ha, ha: Why, did your Honour think that I would
+fight?
+
+_Well._ Fight! yes; why else do you take Commissions?
+
+_Whim._ Commissions! Oh Lord, O Lord, take Commissions to fight! ha, ha,
+ha; that's a jest, if all that take Commissions should fight--
+
+_Well._ Why do you bear Arms then?
+
+_Whim._ Why, for the Pay; to be called Captain, noble Captain, to show,
+to cock and look big, and bluff as I do: to be bow'd to thus as we pass,
+to domineer and beat our Soldiers: Fight, quoth a, ha, ha, ha.
+
+_Friend._ But what makes you look so simply, Cornet?
+
+_Tim._ Why, a thing that I have quite forgot, all my Accounts for
+_England_ are to be made up, and I'm undone if they be neglected--else I
+wou'd not flinch for the stoutest he that wears a Sword--
+    [Looking big.
+
+_Down._ What say you, Captain _Whiff_?    [_Whiff_ almost drunk.
+
+_Whiff._ I am trying, Colonel, what Mettle I'm made on; I think I am
+valiant, I suppose I have Courage, but I confess 'tis a little of the
+D---- breed, but a little inspiration from the Bottle, and the leave of
+my _Nancy_, may do wonders.
+
+    Enter a _Seaman_ in haste.
+
+_Sea._ An't please your Honours, _Frightall's_ Officers have seiz'd all
+the Ships in the River, and rid now round the Shore, and had by this
+time secur'd the sandy Beach, and landed Men to fire the Town, but that
+they are high in drink aboard the Ship call'd the Good-Subject; the
+Master of her sent me to let your Honours know, that a few Men sent to
+his assistance will surprize them and retake the Ships.
+
+_Well._ Now, Gentlemen, here is a brave occasion for Emulation--why writ
+not the Master?
+
+_Dull._ Ay, had he writ, I had soon been amongst them, i'faith; but this
+is some Plot to betray us.
+
+_Sea._ Keep me here, and kill me if it be not true.
+
+_Down._ He says well--there's a Brigantine and a Shallop ready, I'll
+embark immediately.
+
+_Friend._ No, Sir, your Presence is here more necessary, let me have the
+Honour of this Expedition.
+
+_Haz._ I'll go your Volunteer, _Charles_.
+
+_Well._ Who else offers to go?
+
+_Whim._ A mere Trick to kidnap us, by _Bacon_,--if the Captain had writ.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, if he had writ--
+
+_Well._ I see you're all base Cowards, and here cashier ye from all
+Commands and Offices.
+
+_Whim._ Look ye, Colonel, you may do what you please, but you lose one
+of the best dress'd Officers in your whole Camp, Sir.
+
+_Tim._ And in me, such a Head-piece.
+
+_Whiff._ I'll say nothing, but let the State want me.
+
+_Dull._ For my part I am weary of weighty Affairs.
+    [In this while _Well._ _Down._ _Friend._ and _Haz._ talk.
+
+_Well._ Command what Men you please, but Expedition makes you half a
+Conqueror.
+
+    [Ex. _Friend._ and _Haz._
+
+    Enter another _Seaman_ with a Letter, gives it to _Downright_, he
+    and _Wellman_ read it.
+
+_Down._ Look ye now, Gentlemen, the Master has writ.
+
+_Dull._ Has he--he might have writ sooner, while I was in Command,--if
+he had--
+
+_Whim._ Ay, Major--if he had--but let them miss us.
+
+_Well._ Colonel, haste with your Men, and reinforce the Beach, while I
+follow with the Horse;--Mr. _Dunce_, pray let that Proclamation be read
+concerning _Bacon_, to the Soldiers.
+
+    [Ex. _Down._ and _Well._
+
+_Dun._ It shall be done, Sir. Gentlemen, how simply you look now.
+
+_The Scene opens and discovers a Body of Soldiers._
+
+_Tim._ Why, Mr. Parson, I have a scruple of Conscience upon me, I am
+considering whether it be lawful to kill, though it be in War; I have a
+great aversion to't, and hope it proceeds from Religion.
+
+_Whiff._ I remember the Fit took you just so when the _Dutch_ besieged
+us, for you cou'd not then be persuaded to strike a stroke.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, that was because they were Protestants as we are; but, Gads
+zoors, had they been _Dutch_ Papists I had maul'd them: but Conscience--
+
+_Whim._ I have been a Justice of Peace this six Years, and never had a
+Conscience in my Life.
+
+_Tim._ Nor I neither, but in this damn'd thing of fighting.
+
+_Dun._ Gentlemen, I am commanded to read the Declaration of the
+honourable Council to you.
+    [To the Soldiers.
+
+_All._ Hum, hum, hum--
+
+_Booz._ Silence--silence--    [_Dunce_ reads.
+
+_Dun._ By an order of Council, dated _May_ the 10th, 1670. To all
+Gentlemen Soldiers, Merchants, Planters, and whom else it may concern.
+Whereas _Bacon_, contrary to Law and Equity, has, to satisfy his own
+Ambition, taken up Arms with a pretence to fight the _Indians_, but
+indeed to molest and enslave the whole Colony, and to take away their
+Liberties and Properties; this is to declare, that whoever shall bring
+this Traitor dead or alive to the Council, shall have three hundred
+pounds Reward. And so God save the King.
+
+_All._ A Council, a Council! Hah--    [Hollow.
+
+    Enter a _Soldier_ hastily.
+
+_Sold._ Stand to your Arms, Gentlemen, stand to your Arms, _Bacon_ is
+marching this way.
+
+_Dun._ Hah--what Numbers has he?
+
+_Sold._ About a hundred Horse, in his march he has surpriz'd Colonel
+_Downright_, and taken him Prisoner.
+
+_All._ Let's fall on _Bacon_--let's fall on _Bacon_, hay.    [Hollow.
+
+_Booz._ We'll hear him speak first--and see what he can say for himself.
+
+_All._ Ay, ay, we'll hear _Bacon_ speak.    [_Dunce_ pleads with them.
+
+_Tim._ Well, Major, I have found a Stratagem shall make us Four the
+greatest Men in the Colony, we'll surrender our selves to _Bacon_, and
+say we disbanded on purpose.
+
+_Dull._ Good--
+
+_Whiff._ Why, I had no other design in the World in refusing to fight.
+
+_Whim._ Nor I, d'ye think I wou'd have excus'd it with the fear of
+disordering my Cravat-String else.
+
+_Dun._ Why, Gentlemen, he designs to fire _James_ Town, murder you all,
+and then lie with your Wives; and will you slip this opportunity of
+seizing him?
+
+_Booz._ Here's a termagant Rogue, Neighbours--we'll hang the Dog.
+
+_All._ Ay, ay, hang _Bacon_, hang _Bacon_.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ and _Fearless_, some Soldiers leading in _Downright_
+    bound; _Bacon_ stands and stares a while on the Regiments, who are
+    silent all.
+
+_Bac._ Well, Gentlemen, in order to your fine Declaration, you see I
+come to render my self.
+
+_Dun._ How came he to know of our Declaration?
+
+_Whiff._ Rogues, Rogues among our selves, that inform.
+
+_Bac._ What, are ye silent all,--not a Man to lift his Hand in Obedience
+to the Council, to murder this Traytor that has exposed his Life so
+often for you? Hah, what, not for three hundred Pound?--You see I've
+left my Troops behind, and come all wearied with the Toils of War, worn
+out by Summers heats, and Winters cold, march'd tedious Days and Nights
+through Bogs and Fens as dangerous as your Clamours, and as
+faithless,--what though 'twas to preserve you all in Safety, no matter,
+you shou'd obey the grateful Council, and kill this honest Man that has
+defended you.
+
+_All._ Hum, hum, hum.
+
+_Whiff._ The General speaks like a Gorgon.
+
+_Tim._ Like a Cherubin, Man.
+
+_Bac._ All silent yet--where's that mighty Courage, that cried so loud
+but now, A Council, a Council? where is your Resolution? cannot three
+hundred Pound excite your Valour to seize that Traitor _Bacon_ who has
+bled for you?
+
+_All._ A _Bacon_, a _Bacon_, a _Bacon_.    [Hollow.
+
+_Down._ Oh villainous Cowards!--Oh the faithless Multitude!
+
+_Bac._ What say you, Parson?--you have a forward Zeal.
+
+_Dun._ I wish my Coat, Sir, did not hinder me from acting as becomes my
+Zeal and Duty.
+
+_Whim._ A plaguy rugged Dog,--that Parson--
+
+_Bac._ _Fearless_, seize me that canting Knave from out the Herd, and
+next those honourable Officers.
+
+    [Points to _Dull._ _Whim._ _Whiff_, and _Tim._ _Fearless_ seizes
+    them, and gives them to the Soldiers, and takes the Proclamation
+    from _Dunce_, and shews _Bacon_; they read it.
+
+_Dull._ Seize us, Sir, you shall not need, we laid down our Commissions
+on purpose to come over to your Honour.
+
+_Whiff._ We ever lov'd and honour'd your Honour.
+
+_Tim._ So intirely, Sir--that I wish I were safe in _James_ Town for
+your sake, and your Honour were hang'd.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ This fine Piece is of your penning, Parson,--though it be
+countenanc'd by the Council's Names.--Oh Ingratitude! Burn, burn the
+treacherous Town, fire it immediately.--
+
+_Whim._ We'll obey you, Sir.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, ay, we'll make a Bonfire on't, and drink your Honour's
+health round about it.
+    [They offer to go.
+
+_Bac._ Yet hold, my Revenge shall be more merciful, I ordered that all
+the Women of Rank shall be seiz'd and brought to my Camp. I'll make
+their Husbands pay their Ransoms dearly; they'd rather have their Hearts
+bleed than their Purses.
+
+_Fear._ Dear General, let me have the seizing of Colonel _Downright's_
+Daughter; I would fain be plundering for a Trifle call'd a Maiden-head.
+
+_Bac._ On pain of Death treat them with all respect; assure them of the
+safety of their Honour. Now, all that will follow me, shall find a
+welcome, and those that will not, may depart in Peace.
+
+_All._ Hay, a General, a General, a General.
+    [Some Soldiers go off: Some go to the side of _Bacon_.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and Soldiers, with _Chrisante_, _Surelove_, Mrs.
+    _Whim._ and Mrs. _Whiff_, and several other Women.
+
+_Bac._ Successful _Daring_, welcome, what Prizes have ye?
+
+_Dar._ The fairest in the World, Sir; I'm not for common Plunder.
+
+_Down._ Hah, my Daughter and my Kinswoman!--
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis not with Women, Sir, nor honest men like you, that I intend
+to combat; not their own Parents shall be more indulgent, nor better
+Safe-guard to their Honours, Sir: But 'tis to save the expence of Blood
+I seize on their most valued Prizes.
+
+_Down._ But, Sir, I know your wild Lieutenant General has long lov'd my
+_Chrisante_, and perhaps, will take this time to force her to consent.
+
+_Dar._ I own I have a Passion for _Chrisante_, yet by my General's Life,
+or her fair self, what now I act is on the score of War, I scorn to
+force the Maid I do adore.
+
+_Bac._ Believe me, Ladies, you shall have honourable Treatment here.
+
+_Chris._ We do not doubt it, Sir, either from you or _Daring_; if he
+love me, that will secure my Honour; or if he do not, he's too brave to
+injure me.
+
+_Dar._ I thank you for your just opinion of me, Madam.
+
+_Chris._ But, Sir, 'tis for my Father I must plead; to see his reverend
+Hands in servile Chains; and then perhaps, if stubborn to your Will, his
+Head must fall a Victim to your Anger.
+
+_Down._ No, my good pious Girl, I cannot fear ignoble usage from the
+General; and if thy Beauty can preserve thy Fame, I shall not mourn in
+my Captivity.
+
+_Bac._ I'll ne'er deceive your kind opinion of me--Ladies, I hope you're
+all of that Opinion too.
+
+_Sure._ If seizing us, Sir, can advance your Honour, or be of any use
+considerable to you, I shall be proud of such a Slavery.
+
+Mrs. _Whim._ I hope, Sir, we shan't be ravish'd in your Camp.
+
+_Dar._ Fie, Mrs. _Whimsey_, do Soldiers use to ravish?
+
+Mrs. _Whiff._ Ravish! marry, I fear 'em not, I'd have 'em know, I scorn
+to be ravish'd by any Man.
+
+_Fear._ Ay, o' my Conscience, Mrs. _Whiff_, you are too good-natur'd.
+
+_Dar._ Madam, I hope you'll give me leave to name Love to you, and try
+by all submissive ways to win your Heart.
+
+_Chris._ Do your worst, Sir: I give you leave, if you assail me only
+with your Tongue.
+
+_Dar._ That's generous and brave, and I'll requite it.
+
+    Enter _Soldier_ in haste.
+
+_Sold._ The Truce being ended, Sir, the _Indians_ grow so insolent as to
+attack us even in our Camp, and have killed several of our Men.
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis time to check their Boldness; _Daring_, haste, draw up our
+Men in order to give 'em Battel, I rather had expected their submission.
+
+  _The Country now may see what they're to fear,
+  Since we that are in Arms are not secure._
+
+    [Exeunt, leading the Ladies.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Temple, with an _Indian_ God placed upon it, Priests and
+Priestesses attending: Enter _Indian King_ on one side attended by
+_Indian_ Men; the _Queen_ enters on the other with Women. All bow to the
+Idol, and divide on each side of the Stage. Then the Musick playing
+louder, the Priests and Priestesses dance about the Idol with ridiculous
+Postures, and crying (as for Incantations) thrice repeated, _Agah
+Yerkin, Agah Boah, Sulen Tawarapah, Sulen Tawarapah_._
+
+_After this soft Musick plays again: then they sing something fine:
+after which the Priests lead the _King_ to the Altar, and the
+Priestesses the _Queen_; they take off little Crowns from their Heads,
+and offer them at the Altar._
+
+_King._ Invoke the God of our Quiocto to declare what the Event shall be
+of this our last War against the _English_ General.
+
+    [Soft Musick ceases.
+
+    [The Musick changes to confused Tunes, to which the Priests and
+    Priestesses dance, antickly singing between, the same Incantation
+    as before; and then dance again, and so invoke again alternately:
+    Which Dance ended, a Voice behind the Altar cries, while soft
+    Musick plays,
+
+  The _English_ General shall be
+  A Captive to his Enemy;
+  And you from all your Toils be freed,
+  When by your Hand the Foe shall bleed:
+  And e'er the Sun's swift course be run,
+  This mighty Conquest shall be won.
+
+_King._ I thank the Gods for taking care of us; prepare new Sacrifice
+against the Evening, when I return a Conqueror, I will my self perform
+the Office of a Priest.
+
+_Queen._ Oh, Sir, I fear you'll fall a Victim first.
+
+_King._ What means _Semernia_? why are thy Looks so pale?
+
+_Queen._ Alas, the Oracles have double meanings, their Sense is
+doubtful, and their Words Enigmas: I fear, Sir, I cou'd make a truer
+Interpretation.
+
+_King._ How, _Semernia_! by all thy Love I charge thee, as you respect
+my Life, to let me know your Thoughts.
+
+_Queen._ Last Night I dream'd a Lyon fell with hunger, spite of your
+Guards, slew you, and bore you hence.
+
+_King._ This is thy Sex's fear, and no Interpretation of the Oracle.
+
+_Queen._ I cou'd convince you farther.
+
+_King._ Hast thou a Secret thou canst keep from me? thy Soul a Thought
+that I must be a Stranger to? This is not like the Justice of
+_Semernia_: Come unriddle me the Oracle.
+
+_Queen._ The _English_ General shall be a Captive to his Enemy; he is
+so, Sir, already, to my Beauty, he says he languishes for Love of me.
+
+_King._ Hah! the General my Rival--but go on--
+
+_Queen._ And you from all your War be freed: Oh, let me not explain that
+fatal Line, for fear it mean, you shall be freed by Death.
+
+_King._ What, when by my Hand the Foe shall bleed?--away--it cannot be--
+
+_Queen._ No doubt, my Lord, you'll bravely sell your Life, and deal some
+Wounds where you'll receive so many.
+
+_King._ 'Tis Love, _Semernia_, makes thee dream while waking:
+
+I'll trust the Gods, and am resolv'd for Battel.
+
+    Enter an _Indian_.
+
+_Ind._ Haste, haste, great Sir, to Arms; _Bacon_ with all his Forces is
+prepar'd, and both the Armies ready to engage.
+
+_King._ Haste to my General, bid him charge 'em instantly; I'll bring up
+the Supplies of stout _Teroomians_, those so well skill'd in the
+envenom'd Arrow.
+    [Ex. _Indian_.
+  --_Semernia_--Words but poorly do express the Griefs of parting
+Lovers--'tis with dying Eyes, and a Heart trembling--thus--
+    [Puts her Hand on his Heart.
+  they take a heavy leave;--one parting Kiss, and one Love pressing
+sigh, and then farewel:--but not a long farewel; I shall return
+victorious to thy Arms--commend me to the Gods, and still remember me.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Queen._ Alas! What pity 'tis I saw the General, before my Fate had
+given me to the King--But now--like those that change their Gods, my
+faithless Mind betwixt my two Opinions wavers; while to the Gods my
+Monarch I commend; my wandring Thoughts in pity of the General makes
+that Zeal cold, declin'd--ineffectual.--If for the General I implore the
+Deities, methinks my Prayers should not ascend the Skies, since Honour
+tells me 'tis an impious Zeal.
+
+  _Which way soever my Devotions move,
+  I am too wretched to be heard above._    [Goes in.
+
+    [All exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. _Shows a Field of Tents, seen at some distance through the
+Trees of a Wood, Drums, Trumpets and the noise of Battel, with
+hollowing. The _Indians_ are seen with Battel-Axes to retreat fighting
+from the _English_, and all go off; when they re-enter immediately
+beating back the _English_, the _Indian King_ at the head of his Men,
+with Bows and Arrows; _Daring_ being at the head of the _English_: They
+fight off; the Noise continues less loud as more at distance._
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ with his Sword drawn, meets _Fearless_ with his
+    Sword drawn.
+
+_Fear._ Haste, haste, Sir, to the Entrance of the Wood, _Daring's_
+engaged past hope of a Retreat, venturing too far, pursuing of the Foe;
+the King in Ambush, with his poison'd Archers, fell on, and now we are
+dangerously distrest.
+
+_Bac._ _Daring_ is brave, but he's withal too rash, come on and follow
+me to his Assistance--    [Go out.
+
+    [A hollowing within, the Fight renews; enter the _Indians_ beaten
+    back by _Bacon_, _Daring_ and _Fearless_; they fight off; the
+    noise of Fighting continues a while, this still behind the Wood.
+
+    Enter _Indians_ flying over the Stage, pursued by the _King_.
+
+_King._ Turn, turn, ye fugitive Slaves, and face the Enemy; Oh Villains,
+Cowards, deaf to all Command: by Heaven, I had my Rival in my view, and
+aim'd at nothing but my conquering him--now like a Coward I must fly
+with Cowards, or like a desperate Madman fall, thus singly, midst the
+numbers.
+    [Follows the _Indians_.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ inraged with his Sword drawn, _Fearless_ and
+    _Daring_ following him.
+
+_Bac._ --Where is the King, oh ye perfidious Slaves? how, have you hid
+him from my just Revenge?--search all the Brakes, the Furzes and the
+Trees, and let him not escape on pain of Death.
+
+_Dar._ We cannot do wonders, Sir.
+
+_Bac._ But you can run away.--
+
+_Dar._ Yes, when we see occasion--yet--shou'd any but my General tell me
+so--by Heaven, he should find I were no starter.
+
+_Bac._ Forgive me, I'm mad--the King's escaped, hid like a trembling
+Slave in some close Ditch, where he will sooner starve than fight it
+out.
+
+    Re-enter _Indians_ running over the Stage, pursued by the _King_,
+    who shoots them as they fly; some few follow him.
+
+_King._ All's lost--the Day is lost--and I'm betray'd;--Oh Slaves, that
+even Wounds can't animate.
+    [In Rage.
+
+_Bac._ The King!
+
+_King._ The General here! by all the Powers, betray'd by my own Men!
+
+_Bac._ Abandon'd as thou art, I scorn to take thee basely; you shall
+have Soldiers chance, Sir, for your Life, since Chance so luckily has
+brought us hither; without more Aids we will dispute the Day: This Spot
+of Earth bears both our Armies Fates; I'll give you back the Victory I
+have won, and thus begin a-new on equal Terms.
+
+_King._ That's nobly said!--the Powers have heard my Wish. You, Sir,
+first taught me how to use a Sword, which heretofore has served me with
+Success: But now--'tis for _Semernia_ that it draws, a Prize more valued
+than my Kingdom, Sir--
+
+_Bac._ Hah, _Semernia_!
+
+_King._ Your Blushes do betray your Passion for her.
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, have we fought for this, to expose the Victor to the
+conquer'd Foe?
+
+_Fear._ What, fight a single Man--our Prize already.
+
+_King._ Not so, young Man, while I command a Dart.
+
+_Bac._ Fight him! by Heaven, no reason shall dissuade me, and he that
+interrupts me is a Coward; whatever be my Fate, I do command ye to let
+the King pass freely to his Tents.
+
+_Dar._ The Devil's in the General.
+
+_Fear._ 'Sdeath, his Romantick Humour will undo us.
+    [They fight and pause.
+
+_King._ You fight as if you meant to outdo me this way, as you have done
+in Generosity.
+
+_Bac._ You're not behind-hand with me, Sir, in courtesy: Come, here's to
+set us even--
+    [Fight again.
+
+_King._ You bleed apace.
+
+_Bac._ You've only breath'd a Vein, and given me new Health and Vigour
+by it.
+    [They fight again, Wounds on both sides, the _King_ staggers;
+    _Bacon_ takes him in his Arms; the _King_ drops his Sword.
+  How do you, Sir?
+
+_King._ Like one--that's hovering between Heaven and Earth;
+I'm--mounting--somewhere--upwards--but giddy with my flight,--I know not
+where.
+
+  _Bac._ Command my Surgeons,--instantly--make haste;
+  Honour returns, and Love all bleeding's fled.    [Ex. _Fearless_.
+
+_King._ Oh, _Semernia_, how much more Truth had thy Divinity than the
+Predictions of the flattering Oracles! Commend me to her--I know
+you'll--visit--your fair Captive, Sir, and tell her--oh--but Death
+prevents the rest.
+    [Dies.
+
+    Enter _Fearless_.
+
+_Bac._ He's gone--and now, like _Cæsar_, I could weep over the Hero I my
+self destroyed.
+
+_Fear._ I'm glad for your repose I see him there--'twas a mad
+hot-brain'd Youth, and so he died.
+
+_Bac._ Come bear him on your Shoulders to my Tent, from whence with all
+the solemn State we can, we will convey him to his own Pavilion.
+
+    Enter a _Soldier_.
+
+_Sold._ Some of our Troops pursuing of the Enemy even to their Temples,
+which they made their Sanctuary, finding the Queen at her Devotion there
+with all her _Indian_ Ladies, I'd much ado to stop their violent Rage
+from setting fire to the holy Pile.
+
+_Bac._ Hang 'em immediately that durst attempt it, while I my self will
+fly to rescue her.
+    [Goes out, they bear off the _King's_ Body; Ex. all.
+
+    Enter _Whimsey_, pulling in _Whiff_, with a Halter about his Neck.
+
+_Whim._ Nay, I'm resolved to keep thee here till his Honour the General
+comes.--What, to call him Traitor, and run away after he had so
+generously given us our freedom, and listed us Cadees for the next
+Command that fell in his Army--I'm resolved to hang thee--
+
+_Whiff._ Wilt thou betray and peach thy Friend? thy Friend that kept
+thee Company all the while thou wert a Prisoner--drinking at my own
+charge--
+
+_Whim._ No matter for that, I scorn Ingratitude, and therefore will hang
+thee--but as for thy drinking with me--I scorn to be behind-hand with
+thee in Civility, and therefore here's to thee.
+    [Takes a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket, Drinks.
+
+_Whiff._ I can't drink.
+
+_Whim._ A certain sign thou wo't be hang'd.
+
+_Whiff._ You us'd to be o' my side when a Justice, let the Cause be how
+it wou'd.
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Whim._ Ay--when I was a Justice I never minded Honesty, but now I'll be
+true to my General, and hang thee to be a great Man.--
+
+_Whiff._ If I might but have a fair Trial for my Life--
+
+_Whim._ A fair Trial!--come, I'll be thy Judge--and if thou canst clear
+thy self by Law, I'll acquit thee: Sirrah, Sirrah, what canst thou say
+for thy self for calling his Honour Rebel?
+    [Sits on a Drum-head.
+
+_Whiff._ 'T was when I was drunk, an't like your Honour.
+
+_Whim._ That's no Plea; for if you kill a Man when you are sober, you
+must be hanged when you are drunk. Hast thou any thing else to say for
+thy self why Sentence may not pass upon thee?
+
+_Whiff._ I desire the Benefit of the Clergy.
+
+_Whim._ The Clergy! I never knew any body that ever did benefit by 'em;
+why, thou canst not read a word.
+
+_Whiff._ Transportation then--
+
+_Whim._ It shall be to _England_ then--but hold--who's this?
+    [_Dullman_ creeping from a Bush.
+
+_Dull._ So the Danger's over, I may venture out--Pox on't, I wou'd not
+be in this fear again, to be Lord Chief Justice of our Court. Why, how
+now, Cornet?--what, in dreadful Equipage? Your Battle-Ax bloody, with
+Bow and Arrows.
+
+    Enter _Timorous_ with Battle-Ax, Bow and Arrows, and Feathers on
+    his Head.
+
+_Tim._ I'm in the posture of the times, Major--I cou'd not be idle where
+so much Action was; I'm going to present my self to the General, with
+these Trophies of my Victory here--
+
+_Dull._ Victory--what Victory--did not I see thee creeping out of yonder
+Bush, where thou wert hid all the Fight--stumble on a dead _Indian_, and
+take away his Arms?
+
+_Tim._ Why, didst thou see me?
+
+_Dull._ See thee, ay--and what a fright thou wert in, till thou wert
+sure he was dead.
+
+_Tim._ Well, well, that's all one--Gads zoors, if every Man that passes
+for valiant in a Battel, were to give an account how he gained his
+Reputation, the World wou'd be but thinly stock'd with Heroes; I'll say
+he was a great War-Captain, and that I kill'd him hand to hand, and who
+can disprove me?
+
+_Dull._ Disprove thee--why, that pale Face of thine, that has so much of
+the Coward in't.
+
+_Tim._ Shaw, that's with loss of Blood--Hah, I am overheard I
+doubt--who's yonder-- [Sees _Whim._ and _Whiff_.] how, Brother _Whiff_
+in a Hempen Cravat-string?
+
+_Whim._ He call'd the General Traitor, and was running away, and I'm
+resolv'd to peach.
+
+_Dull._ Hum--and one Witness will stand good in Law, in case of
+Treason--
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, in case of Treason, he'll be hang'd if it be proved
+against him, were there ne'er a Witness at all; but he must be tried by
+a Council of War, Man--Come, come, let's disarm him--
+    [They take away his Arms, and pull a Bottle of Brandy out of his
+    Pocket.
+
+_Whiff._ What, I hope you will not take away my Brandy, Gentlemen, my
+last comfort.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, it's come in good time--we'll drink it off, here,
+Major--
+    [Drinks, _Whiff_ takes him aside.
+
+_Whiff._ Hark ye, Cornet--you are my good Friend, get this matter made
+up before it come to the General.
+
+_Tim._ But this is Treason, Neighbour.
+
+_Whiff._ If I hang--I'll declare upon the Ladder how you kill'd your
+War-Captain.
+
+_Tim._ Come, Brother _Whimsey_--we have been all Friends and loving
+Magistrates together, let's drink about, and think no more of this
+Business.
+
+_Dull._ Ay, ay, if every sober Man in the Nation should be called to
+account of the Treason he speaks in's Drink, the Lord have mercy upon us
+all.--Put it up--and let us, like loving Brothers, take an honest
+Resolution to run away together; for this same _Frightall_ minds nothing
+but Fighting.
+
+_Whim._ I'm content, provided we go all to the Council, and tell them
+(to make our Peace) we went in obedience to the Proclamation, to kill
+_Bacon_, but the Traitor was so strongly guarded we could not effect it:
+but mum--who's here?--
+
+    To them, enter _Ranter_ and _Jenny_, as Man and Footman.
+
+_Ran._ Hah, our four reverend Justices--I hope the Blockheads will not
+know me--Gentlemen, can you direct me to Lieutenant General _Daring's_
+Tents?
+
+_Whiff._ Hum, who the Devil's this?--that's he you see coming this way.
+'Sdeath, yonder's _Daring_--let's slip away before he advances.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _Ran._ and _Jen._
+
+_Jen._ I am scar'd with those dead Bodies we have pass'd over; for God's
+sake, Madam, let me know your design in coming.
+
+_Ran._ Why, now I tell thee--my damn'd mad Fellow _Daring_, who has my
+Heart and Soul, loves _Chrisante_, has stolen her, and carried her away
+to his Tents; she hates him, while I am dying for him.
+
+_Jem._ Dying, Madam! I never saw you melancholy.
+
+_Ran._ Pox on't, no; why should I sigh and whine, and make my self an
+Ass, and him conceited? no, instead of snivelling I am resolved--
+
+_Jen._ What, Madam?
+
+_Ran._ Gad, to beat the Rascal, and bring off _Chrisante_.
+
+_Jen._ Beat him, Madam! what, a Woman beat a Lieutenant-General?
+
+_Ran._ Hang 'em, they get a name in War from Command, not Courage; but
+how know I but I may fight? Gad, I have known a Fellow kick'd from one
+end of the Town to t'other, believing himself a Coward; at last forced
+to fight, found he could; got a Reputation, and bullied all he met with;
+and got a Name, and a great Commission.
+
+_Jen._ But if he should kill you, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ I'll take care to make it as comical a Duel as the best of 'em;
+as much in love as I am, I do not intend to die its Martyr.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and _Fearless_.
+
+_Fear._ Have you seen _Chrisante_ since the Fight?
+
+_Dar._ Yes, but she is still the same, as nice and coy as Fortune when
+she's courted by the wretched; yet she denies me so obligingly, she
+keeps my Love still in its humble Calm.
+
+_Ran._ Can you direct me, Sir, to one _Daring's_ Tent?    [Sullenly.
+
+_Dar._ One _Daring!_--he has another Epithet to his Name.
+
+_Ran._ What's that, Rascal, or Coward?
+
+_Dar._ Hah, which of thy Stars, young Man, has sent thee hither, to find
+that certain Fate they have decreed?
+
+_Ran._ I know not what my Stars have decreed, but I shall be glad if
+they have ordain'd me to fight with _Daring_:--by thy concern thou
+shou'dst be he?
+
+_Dar._ I am, prithee who art thou?
+
+_Ran._ Thy Rival, though newly arrived from _England_, and came to marry
+fair _Chrisante_, whom thou hast ravish'd, for whom I hear another Lady
+dies.
+
+_Dar._ Dies for me?
+
+_Ran._ Therefore resign her fairly--or fight me fairly--
+
+_Dar._ Come on, Sir--but hold--before I kill thee, prithee inform me who
+this dying Lady is?
+
+_Ran._ Sir, I owe ye no Courtesy, and therefore will do you none by
+telling you--come, Sir, for _Chrisante_--draw.
+    [They offer to fight, _Fearless_ steps in.
+
+_Fear._ Hold--what mad Frolick's this?--Sir, you fight for one you never
+saw [to _Ranter_.] and you for one that loves you not.
+    [To _Dar._
+
+_Dar._ Perhaps she'll love him as little.
+
+_Ran._ Gad, put it to the Trial, if you dare--if thou be'st generous,
+bring me to her, and whom she does neglect shall give the other place.
+
+_Dar._ That's fair, put up thy Sword--I'll bring thee to her instantly.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Tent.
+
+    Enter _Chrisante_ and _Surelove_.
+
+_Chris._ I'm not so much afflicted for my Confinement, as I am that I
+cannot hear of _Friendly_.
+
+_Sure._ Art not persecuted with _Daring_?
+
+_Chris._ Not at all; though he tells me daily of his Passion, I rally
+him, and give him neither Hope nor Despair,--he's here.
+
+    Enter _Daring_, _Fear._ _Rant._ and _Jenny_.
+
+_Dar._ Madam, the Complaisance I show in bringing you my Rival, will let
+you see how glad I am to oblige you every way.
+
+_Ran._ I hope the Danger I have exposed my self to for the Honour of
+kissing your Hand, Madam, will render me something acceptable--here are
+my Credentials--
+    [Gives her a Letter.
+
+    _Chrisante_ reads.
+
+    Dear Creature, I have taken this Habit to free you from an
+    impertinent Lover, and to secure the damn'd Rogue _Daring_ to my
+    self: receive me as sent by Colonel _Surelove_ from _England_ to
+    marry you--favour me--no more--
+
+    Yours, _Ranter_.
+
+--Hah, _Ranter_? [Aside.] --Sir, you have too good a Character from my
+Cousin Colonel Surelove, not to receive my Welcome.
+    [Gives _Surelove_ the Letter.
+
+_Ran._ Stand by, General--
+    [Pushes away _Daring_, looks big, and takes _Chrisante_ by the
+    Hand, and kisses it.
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, Sir, there's room enough--at first sight so kind! Oh
+Youth, Youth and Impudence, what Temptations are you to Villanous Woman?
+
+_Chris._ I confess, Sir, we Women do not love these rough fighting
+Fellows, they're always scaring us with one Broil or other.
+
+_Dar._ Much good may it do you with your tame Coxcomb.
+
+_Ran._ Well, Sir, then you yield the Prize?
+
+_Dar._ Ay, Gad, were she an Angel, that can prefer such a callow Fop as
+thou before a Man--take her and domineer.
+    [They all laugh.
+  --'Sdeath, am I grown ridiculous?
+
+_Fear._ Why hast thou not found the Jest? by Heaven, 'tis _Ranter_, 'tis
+she that loves you; carry on the humour.
+    [Aside.
+  Faith, Sir, if I were you, I wou'd devote my self to Madam _Ranter_.
+
+_Chris._ Ay, she's the fittest Wife for you, she'll fit your Humour.
+
+_Dar._ _Ranter_--Gad, I'd sooner marry a she-Bear, unless for a Penance
+for some horrid Sin; we should be eternally challenging one another to
+the Field, and ten to one she beats me there; or if I should escape
+there, she wou'd kill me with drinking.
+
+_Ran._ Here's a Rogue--does your Country abound with such Ladies?
+
+_Dar._ The Lord forbid, half a dozen wou'd ruin the Land, debauch all
+the Men, and scandalize all the Women.
+
+_Fear._ No matter, she's rich.
+
+_Dar._ Ay, that will make her insolent.
+
+_Fear._ Nay, she's generous too.
+
+_Dar._ Yes, when she's drunk, and then she'll lavish all.
+
+_Ran._ A pox on him, how he vexes me.
+
+_Dar._ Then such a Tongue--she'll rail and smoke till she choke again;
+then six Gallons of Punch hardly recovers her, and never but then is she
+good-natur'd.
+
+_Ran._ I must lay him on--
+
+_Dar._ There's not a Blockhead in the Country that has not--
+
+_Ran._ What--
+
+_Dar._ Been drunk with her.
+
+_Ran._ I thought you had meant something else, Sir.    [In huff.
+
+_Dar._ Nay--as for that--I suppose there is no great difficulty.
+
+_Ran._ 'Sdeath, Sir, you lye--and you are a Son of a Whore.
+    [Draws and fences with him, and he runs back round the Stage.
+
+_Dar._ Hold--hold, Virago--dear Widow, hold, and give me thy hand.
+
+_Ran._ Widow!
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, I knew thee by instinct, Widow, though I seemed not to
+do so, in Revenge for the Trick you put on me in telling me a Lady dy'd
+for me.
+
+_Ran._ Why, such an one there is, perhaps she may dwindle forty or fifty
+years--or so--but will never be her own Woman again, that's certain.
+
+_Sure._ This we are all ready to testify, we know her.
+
+_Chris._ Upon my Life, 'tis true.
+
+_Dar._ Widow, I have a shreud Suspicion, that you your self may be this
+dying Lady.
+
+_Ran._ Why so, Coxcomb?
+
+_Dar._ Because you took such Pains to put your self into my hands.
+
+_Ran._ Gad, if your Heart were but half so true as your Guess, we should
+conclude a Peace before _Bacon_ and the Council will--besides, this
+thing whines for _Friendly_, and there's no hopes.
+    [To _Chrisante_.
+
+_Dar._ Give me thy Hand, Widow, I am thine--and so entirely, I will
+never--be drunk out of thy Company:--_Dunce_ is in my Tent,--prithee
+let's in and bind the Bargain.
+
+_Ran._ Nay, faith, let's see the Wars at an end first.
+
+_Dar._ Nay, prithee take me in the humour, while thy Breeches are
+on--for I never lik'd thee half so well in Petticoats.
+
+_Ran._ Lead on, General, you give me good incouragement to wear them.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. The _Sevana_ in sight of the Camp; the Moon rises.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_, _Hazard_ and _Boozer_, and a Party of Men.
+
+_Friend._ We are now in sight of the Tents.
+
+_Booz._ Is not this a rash Attempt, Gentlemen, with so small Force to
+set upon _Bacon's_ whole Army?
+
+_Haz._ Oh, they are drunk with Victory and Wine; there will be nought
+but revelling to night.
+
+_Friend._ Would we could learn in what Quarter the Ladies are lodg'd,
+for we have no other business but to release them--But hark--who comes
+here?
+
+_Booz._ Some Scouts, I fear, from the Enemy.
+
+    Enter _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_, creeping as in the dark.
+
+_Friend._ Let's shelter ourselves behind yonder Trees--lest we be
+surpriz'd.
+
+_Tim._ Wou'd I were well at home-Gad zoors, if e'er you catch me a
+Cadeeing again, I'll be content to be set in the fore-front of the
+Battle for Hawks-Meat.
+
+_Whim._ Thou'rt afraid of every Bush.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, and good reason too: Gad zoors, there may be Rogues
+hid--prithee, Major, do thou advance.
+
+_Dull._ No, no, go on--no matter of Ceremony in these cases of running
+away.
+    [They advance.
+
+_Friend._ They approach directly to us, we cannot escape them--their
+numbers are not great--let us advance.
+    [They come up to them.
+
+_Tim._ Oh! I am annihilated.
+
+_Whiff._ Some of _Frightall's_ Scouts, we are lost Men.
+    [They push each other foremost.
+
+_Friend._ Who goes there?
+
+_Whim._ Oh, they'll give us no Quarter; 'twas long of you, Cornet, that
+we ran away from our Colours.
+
+_Tim._ Me--'twas the Major's Ambition here--to make himself a great Man
+with the Council again.
+
+_Dull._ Pox o' this Ambition, it has been the ruin of many a gallant
+Fellow.
+
+_Whiff._ If I get home again, the height of mine shall be to top
+Tobacco; would I'd some Brandy.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, would we had, 'tis the best Armour against
+Fear--hum--I hear no body now--prithee advance a little.
+
+_Whim._ What, before a Horse-Officer?
+
+_Friend._ Stand, on your Lives--
+
+_Tim._ Oh, 'tis impossible--I'm dead already.
+
+_Friend._ What are ye?--speak--or I'll shoot.
+
+_Whim._ Friends to thee,--who the Devil are we Friends to?
+
+_Tim._ E'en who please you, Gad zoors.
+
+_Friend._ Hah--Gad zoors--who's there, _Timorous_?
+
+_Tim._ Hum--I know no such Scoundrel--    [Gets behind.
+
+_Dull._ Hah--that's _Friendly's_ Voice.
+
+_Friend._ Right--thine's that of _Dullman_--who's with you?
+
+_Dull._ Only _Timorous_, _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, all valiantly running
+away from the Arch-Rebel that took us Prisoners.
+
+_Haz._ Can you inform us where the Ladies are lodg'd?
+
+_Dull._ In the hither Quarter, in _Daring's_ Tent; you'll know them by
+Lanthorns on every corner--there was never better time to surprize
+them--for this day _Daring's_ married, and there's nothing but Dancing
+and Drinking.
+
+_Haz._ Married! to whom?
+
+_Dull._ That I ne'er enquir'd.
+
+_Friend._ 'Tis to _Chrisante_, Friend--and the Reward of my Attempt is
+lost. Oh, I am mad, I'll fight away my Life, and my Despair shall yet do
+greater Wonders, than even my Love could animate me to. Let's part our
+Men, and beset his Tents on both sides.
+    [_Friendly_ goes out with a Party.
+
+_Haz._ Come, Gentlemen, let's on--
+
+_Whiff._ On, Sir,--we on, Sir?--
+
+_Haz._ Ay, you on, Sir--to redeem the Ladies.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, Sir, I am going home for Money to redeem my _Nancy_.
+
+_Whim._ So am I, Sir.
+
+_Tim._ I thank my Stars I am a Batchelor.--Why, what a Plague is a Wife?
+
+_Haz._ Will you march forward?
+
+_Dull._ We have atchiev'd Honour enough already, in having made our
+Campaign here--
+    [Looking big.
+
+_Haz._ 'Sdeath, but you shall go--put them in the front, and prick them
+on--if they offer to turn back, run them thro.
+
+_Tim._ Oh, horrid--    [The Soldiers prick them on with their Swords.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, _Nancy_, thy Dream will yet come to pass.
+
+_Haz._ Will you advance, Sir?    [Pricks _Whiff_.
+
+_Whiff._ Why, so we do, Sir; the Devil's in these fighting Fellows.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+    An Alarm at a distance.
+
+_Within._ To Arms, to Arms, the Enemy's upon us.
+
+    [A Noise of Fighting, after which enters _Friendly_ with his
+    Party, retreating and fighting from _Daring_ and some Soldiers,
+    _Ranter_ fighting like a Fury by his side, he putting her back in
+    vain; they fight out. Re-enter _Daring_ and _Friendly_ all bloody.
+    Several Soldiers enter with Flambeaux.
+
+_Dar._ Now, Sir--what Injury have I ever done you, that you should use
+this Treachery against me?
+
+_Friend._ To take advantage any way in War, was never counted
+Treachery--and had I murder'd thee, I had not paid thee half the Debt I
+owe thee.
+
+_Dar._ You bleed too much to hold too long a Parley-- come to my Tent,
+I'll take a charitable care of thee.
+
+_Friend._ I scorn thy Courtesy, who against all the Laws of Honour and
+of Justice, hast ravish'd innocent Ladies.
+
+_Dar._ Sir, your upbraiding of my Honour shall never make me forfeit it,
+or esteem you less--Is there a Lady here you have a Passion for?
+
+_Friend._ Yes, on a nobler score than thou darest own.
+
+_Dar._ To let you see how you're mistaken, Sir, whoe'er that Lady be
+whom you affect, I will resign, and give you both your Freedoms.
+
+_Friend._ Why, for this Courtesy, which shews thee brave, in the next
+fight I'll save thy Life to quit the Obligation.
+
+_Dar._ I thank you, Sir;--come to my Tent,--and when we've dress'd your
+Wounds, and yielded up the Ladies, I'll give you my Pass-port for your
+Safe-Conduct back, and tell your Friends i'th' Town, we'll visit them
+i'th' Morning.
+
+_Friend._ They'll meet you on your way, Sir--
+
+_Dar._ Come, my young Soldier, now thou'st won my Soul.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+    [An Alarm beats: Enter at another Passage _Boozer_ with all the
+    Ladies; they pass over the Stage, while _Hazard_ and _Downright_
+    beat back a Party of Soldiers. _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_,
+    prick'd on by their Party to fight, lay about them like Madmen.
+    _Bacon_, _Fearless_ and _Daring_ come in, rescue their Men, and
+    fight out the other Party, some falling dead. _Bacon_, _Fearless_
+    and _Daring_ return tired, with their Swords drawn. Enter
+    _Soldier_ running.
+
+_Sold._ Return, Sir, where your Sword will be more useful--a Party of
+_Indians_, taking advantage of the Night, have set fire on your Tents,
+and borne away the Queen.
+
+_Bac._ Hah, the Queen! By Heaven, this Victory shall cost them dear;
+come, let us fly to rescue her.
+
+    [All go out.
+
+
+SCENE II. Changes to _Wellman's_ Tent.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_, _Brag_, _Grubb_, and Officers.
+
+_Well._ I cannot sleep, my Impatience is so great to engage this haughty
+Enemy, before they have reposed their weary Limbs--Is not yon ruddy
+Light the Morning's dawn?
+
+_Brag._ 'Tis, and please your Honour.
+
+_Well._ Is there no News of _Friendly_ yet, and _Hazard_?
+
+_Brag._ Not yet--'tis thought they left the Camp to night, with some
+design against the Enemy.
+
+_Well._ What Men have they?
+
+_Brag._ Only _Boozer's_ Party, Sir.
+
+_Well._ I know they are brave, and mean to surprize me with some
+handsome Action.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ I ask a thousand Pardons, Sir, for quitting the Camp without
+your leave.
+
+_Well._ Your conduct and your Courage cannot err; I see thou'st been in
+action by thy Blood.
+
+_Friend._ Sir, I'm ashamed to own these slender Wounds, since without
+more my luck was to be taken, while _Hazard_ did alone effect the
+Business, the rescuing of the Ladies.
+
+_Well._ How got ye Liberty?
+
+_Friend._ By _Daring's_ Generosity, who sends ye word he'll visit you
+this Morning.
+
+_Well._ We are prepared to meet him.
+
+    Enter _Down._ _Hazard_, _Ladies_, _Whim._ _Whiff_, _Dullman_,
+    _Tim._ looking big. _Well._ embraces _Down._
+
+_Well._ My worthy Friend, how am I joyed to see you?
+
+_Down._ We owe our Liberties to these brave Youths, who can do Wonders
+when they fight for Ladies.
+
+_Tim._ With our assistance, Ladies.
+
+_Whim._ For my part I'll not take it as I have done; Gad, I find, when I
+am damnable angry, I can beat both Friend and Foe.
+
+_Whiff._ When I fight for my _Nancy_ here--adsfish, I'm a Dragon.
+
+Mrs. _Whiff._ Lord, you need not have been so hasty.
+
+_Friend._ Do not upbraid me with your Eyes, _Chrisante_; but let these
+Wounds assure you I endeavour'd to serve you, though _Hazard_ had the
+Honour on't.
+
+_Well._ But, Ladies, we'll not expose you in the Camp,--a Party of our
+Men shall see you safely conducted to Madam _Surelove's_; 'tis but a
+little Mile from our Camp.
+
+_Friend._ Let me have that honour, Sir.
+
+_Chris._ No, I conjure you let your Wounds be dress'd; obey me if you
+love me, and _Hazard_ shall conduct us home.
+
+_Well._ He had the Toil, 'tis fit he have the Recompence.
+
+_Whiff._ He the Toil, Sir! what, did we stand for Cyphers?
+
+_Whim._ The very appearance I made in the front of the Battel, aw'd the
+Enemy.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, let the Enemy say how I maul'd 'em--but Gads zoors,
+I scorn to brag.
+
+_Well._ Since you've regain'd your Honour so gloriously, I restore you
+to your Commands you lost by your seeming Cowardice.
+
+_Dull._ Valour is not always in humour, Sir.
+
+_Well._ Come, Gentlemen, since they've resolv'd to engage us, let's set
+our Men in order to receive 'em.
+
+    [Exeunt all but the four Justices.
+
+_Tim._ Our Commissions again--you must be bragging, and see what comes
+on't; I was modest ye see, and said nothing of my Prowess.
+
+_Whiff._ What a Devil does the Colonel think we are made of Iron,
+continually to be beat on the Anvil?
+
+_Whim._ Look, Gentlemen, here's two Evils--if we go we are dead Men; if
+we stay we are hang'd--and that will disorder my
+Cravat-string:--therefore the least Evil is to go--and set a good Face
+on the Matter, as I do--
+
+    [Goes out singing. All exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A thick Wood.
+
+    Enter _Queen_ dress'd like an _Indian_ Man, with a Bow in her
+    Hand, and Quiver at her Back; _Anaria_ her Confident disguis'd so
+    too; and about a dozen _Indians_ led by _Cavaro_.
+
+_Queen._ I tremble yet, dost think we're safe, _Cavaro_?
+
+_Cav._ Madam, these Woods are intricate and vast, and 'twill be
+difficult to find us out--or if they do, this Habit will secure you from
+the fear of being taken.
+
+_Queen._ Dost think if _Bacon_ find us, he will not know me? Alas, my
+Fears and Blushes will betray me.
+
+_Ana._ 'Tis certain, Madam, if we stay we perish; for all the Wood's
+surrounded by the Conqueror.
+
+_Queen._ Alas, 'tis better we should perish here, than stay to expect
+the Violence of his Passion, to which my Heart's too sensibly inclin'd.
+
+_Ana._ Why do you not obey its Dictates then? why do you fly the
+Conqueror?
+
+_Queen._ Not fly--not fly the Murderer of my Lord?
+
+_Ana._ What World, what Resolution can preserve you? and what he cannot
+gain by soft submission, Force will at last o'ercome.
+
+_Queen._ I wish there were in Nature one excuse, either by Force or
+Reason to compel me:--For Oh, _Anaria_--I adore this General;--take from
+my Soul a Truth--till now conceal'd--at twelve Years old--at the
+_Pauwomungian_ Court, I saw this Conqueror. I saw him young and gay as
+new-born Spring, glorious and charming as the Mid-day's Sun; I watch'd
+his Looks, and listned when he spoke, and thought him more than mortal.
+
+_Ana._ He has a graceful Form.
+
+_Queen._ At last a fatal Match concluded was between my Lord and me;
+I gave my Hand, but oh, how far my Heart was from consenting, the angry
+Gods are Witness.
+
+_Ana._ 'Twas pity.
+
+_Queen._ Twelve tedious Moons I pass'd in silent Languishment; Honour
+endeavouring to destroy my Love, but all in vain; for still my Pain
+return'd whenever I beheld my Conqueror; but now when I consider him as
+Murderer of my Lord-- [Fiercely.] I sigh and wish--some other fatal Hand
+had given him his Death.--But now there's a necessity, I must be brave
+and overcome my Heart; What if I do? ah, whither shall I fly? I have no
+_Amazonian_ Fire about me, all my Artillery is Sighs and Tears, the
+Earth my Bed, and Heaven my Canopy.    [Weeps.
+    [After Noise of Fighting.
+  Hah, we are surpriz'd; Oh, whither shall I fly? And yet methinks a
+certain trembling Joy, spite of my Soul, spite of my boasted Honour,
+runs shivering round my Heart.
+
+    Enter an _Indian_.
+
+_Ind._ Madam, your Out-guards are surpriz'd by _Bacon_, who hews down
+all before him, and demands the Queen with such a Voice, and Eyes so
+fierce and angry, he kills us with his Looks.
+
+_Cav._ Draw up your poison'd Arrows to the head, and aim them at his
+Heart, sure some will hit.
+
+_Queen._ Cruel _Cavaro_,--wou'd 'twere fit for me to contradict thy
+Justice.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ [Within.] The Queen, ye Slaves, give me the Queen, and live!
+
+    He enters furiously, beating back some _Indians_; _Cavaro's_ Party
+    going to shoot, the _Queen_ runs in.
+
+_Queen._ Hold, hold, I do command ye.
+    [_Bacon_ flies on 'em as they shoot and miss him, fights like a
+    Fury, and wounds the _Queen_ in the Disorder; beats them all out.
+  --hold thy commanding Hand, and do not kill me, who wou'd not hurt
+thee to regain my Kingdom--
+    [He snatches her in his Arms, she reels.
+
+_Bac._ Hah--a Woman's Voice,--what art thou? Oh my Fears!
+
+_Queen._ Thy Hand has been too cruel to a Heart--whose Crime was only
+tender Thoughts for thee.
+
+_Bac._ The Queen! What is't my sacrilegious Hand has done!
+
+_Queen._ The noblest Office of a gallant Friend, thou'st sav'd my
+Honour, and hast given me Death.
+
+_Bac._ Is't possible! ye unregarding Gods, is't possible?
+
+_Queen._ Now I may love you without Infamy, and please my dying Heart by
+gazing on you.
+
+_Bac._ Oh, I am lost--for ever lost--I find my Brain turn with the wild
+confusion.
+
+_Queen._ I faint--oh, lay me gently on the Earth.    [Lays her down.
+
+_Bac._ Who waits--    [Turns in Rage to his Men.
+  Make of the Trophies of the War a Pile, and set it all on fire, that I
+may leap into consuming Flames--while all my Tents are burning round
+about me.
+    [Wildly.
+  Oh thou dear Prize, for which alone I toil'd!
+    [Weeps, and lies down by her.
+
+    Enter _Fearless_ with his Sword drawn.
+
+_Fear._ Hah, on the Earth--how do you, Sir?
+
+_Bac._ What wou'dst thou?
+
+_Fear._ _Wellman_ with all the Forces he can gather, attacks us even in
+our very Camp; assist us, Sir, or all is lost.
+
+_Bac._ Why, prithee let him make the World his Prize, I have no business
+with the Trifle now; it contains nothing that's worth my care, since my
+fair Queen--is dead--and by my hand.
+
+_Queen._ So charming and obliging is thy Moan, that I cou'd wish for
+Life to recompense it; but oh, Death falls--all cold upon my Heart, like
+Mildews on the Blossoms.
+
+_Fear._ By Heaven, Sir, this Love will ruin all--rise, rise, and save us
+yet.
+
+_Bac._ Leave me, what e'er becomes of me--lose not thy share of
+Glory--prithee leave me.
+
+_Queen._ Alas, I fear thy Fate is drawing on, and I shall shortly meet
+thee in the Clouds; till then--farewel--even Death is pleasing to me,
+while thus--I find it in thy Arms--
+    [Dies.
+
+_Bac._ There ends my Race of Glory and of Life.
+    [An Alarm at distance--continues a while.
+
+_Bac._ Hah--Why should I idly whine away my Life, since there are nobler
+ways to meet with Death? Up, up, and face him then--Hark--there's the
+Soldier's Knell--and all the Joys of Life--with thee I bid farewel--
+    [Goes out. The _Indians_ bear off the Body of the _Queen_.
+
+    The Alarm continues: Enter _Downright_, _Wellman_, and others,
+    Swords drawn.
+
+_Well._ They fight like Men possest--I did not think to have found them
+so prepar'd.
+
+_Down._ They've good Intelligence--but where's the Rebel?
+
+_Well._ Sure he's not in the Fight; Oh, that it were my happy chance to
+meet him, that while our Men look on, we might dispatch the business of
+the War--Come, let's fall in again, now we have taken breath.
+    [They go out.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and _Fearless_ hastily, with their Swords drawn;
+    meet _Whim._ _Whiff_, with their Swords drawn, running away.
+
+_Dar._ How now, whither away?    [In anger.
+
+_Whim._ Hah, _Daring_ here--we are pursuing of the Enemy, Sir; stop us
+not in the pursuit of Glory.
+    [Offers to go.
+
+_Dar._ Stay!--I have not seen you in my Ranks to day.
+
+_Whiff._ Lord, does your Honour take us for Starters?
+
+_Fear._ Yes, Sirrah, and believe you are now rubbing off--confess, or
+I'll run you through.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, mercy, Sir, mercy, we'll confess.
+
+_Whim._ What will you confess? we were only going behind yon Hedge to
+untruss a point; that's all.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, your Honours will smell out the truth, if you keep us here
+long.
+
+_Dar._ Here, carry them Prisoners to my Tent.
+
+    [Ex. Soldiers with _Whim._ and _Whiff_.
+
+    Enter _Ranter_ without a Hat, and Sword drawn, _Daring_ angrily
+    goes the other way.
+
+_Ran._ A pox of all ill luck, how came I to lose _Daring_ in the fight?
+Ha--who's here? _Dullman_ and _Timorous_ dead--the Rogues are
+Counterfeits.--I'll see what Moveables they have about them, all's
+lawful Prize in War.
+    [Takes their Money, Watches and Rings; goes out.
+
+_Tim._ What, rob the dead?--why, what will this villanous World come to?
+    [Clashing of Swords, just as they were going to rise.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_ bringing in _Ranter_.
+
+_Haz._ Thou cou'dst expect no other Fate, young Man; thy Hands are yet
+too tender for a Sword.
+
+_Ran._ Thou look'st like a good-natur'd Fellow, use me civilly, and
+_Daring_ shall ransom me.
+
+_Haz._ Doubt not a generous Treatment.    [They go out.
+
+_Dull._ So the Coast is clear, I desire to move my Quarters to some
+place of more safety--
+    [They rise and go off.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_ and Soldiers hastily.
+
+_Well._ 'Twas this way _Bacon_ fled. Five hundred Pound for him who
+finds the Rebel.
+
+    [Go out.
+
+
+SCENE IV. Changes to another part of the Wood.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ and _Fearless_ with their Swords drawn, all bloody.
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis just, ye Gods! that when ye took the Prize for which I
+fought, Fortune and you should all abandon me.
+
+_Fear._ Oh, fly, Sir, to some place of safe retreat, for there's no
+mercy to be hop'd if taken. What will you do? I know we are pursu'd, by
+Heaven, I will not die a shameful Death.
+
+_Bac._ Oh, they'll have pity on thy Youth and Bravery, but I'm above
+their Pardon.
+    [A noise is heard.
+
+_Within._ This way--this way--hay halloo.
+
+_Fear._ Alas, Sir, we're undone--I'll see which way they take.
+    [Exit.
+
+  _Bac._ So near! Nay, then to my last shift.
+    [Undoes the Pomel of his Sword.
+  Come, my good Poison, like that of _Hannibal_; long I have born a
+noble Remedy for all the Ills of Life.
+    [Takes Poison.
+  I have too long surviv'd my Queen and Glory, those two bright Stars
+that influenc'd my Life are set to all Eternity.
+    [Lies down.
+
+    Enter _Fearless_, runs to _Bacon_, and looks on his Sword.
+
+_Fear._ --Hah--what have ye done?
+
+_Bac._ Secur'd my self from being a publick Spectacle upon the common
+Theatre of Death.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and Soldiers.
+
+_Dar._ Victory, Victory! they fly, they fly, where's the victorious
+General?
+
+_Fear._ Here,--taking his last Adieu.
+
+_Dar._ Dying! Then wither all the Laurels on my Brows, for I shall never
+triumph more in War; where are the Wounds?
+
+_Fear._ From his own Hand, by what he carried here, believing we had
+lost the Victory.
+
+_Bac._ And is the Enemy put to flight, my Hero?    [Grasps his Neck.
+
+_Dar._ All routed Horse and Foot; I plac'd an Ambush, and while they
+were pursuing you, my Men fell on behind, and won the day.
+
+_Bac._ Thou almost makest me wish to live again, if I cou'd live now
+fair _Semernia's_ dead.--But oh--the baneful Drug is just and kind, and
+hastens me away--Now while you are Victors, make a Peace--with the
+_English_ Council, and never let Ambition,--Love,--or Interest, make you
+forget, as I have done, your Duty and Allegiance--Farewel--a long
+Farewel--
+    [Dies embracing their Necks.
+
+_Dar._ So fell the _Roman Cassius_, by mistake--
+
+    Enter Soldiers with _Dunce_, _Tim._ and _Dullman_.
+
+_Sold._ An't please your Honour, we took these Men running away.
+
+_Dar._ Let 'em loose--the Wars are at an end, see where the General
+lies--that great-soul'd Man, no private Body e'er contain'd a nobler;
+and he that cou'd have conquered all _America_, finds only here his
+scanty length of Earth. Go, bear the Body to his own Pavilion--
+    [Soldiers go out with the Body.
+  though we are Conquerors we submit to treat, and yield upon Condition:
+You, Mr. _Dunce_, shall bear our Articles to the Council.
+
+_Dun._ With Joy I will obey you.
+
+_Tim._ Good General, let us be put in the Agreement.
+
+_Dar._ You shall be obliged--
+
+    [Ex. _Dar._ _Dun._ _Dull._ and _Tim._ as _Fear._ goes out a
+    Soldier meets him.
+
+_Sold._ What does your Honour intend to do with _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_,
+who are condemn'd by a Council of War?
+
+    Enter _Daring_, _Dullman_, _Tim._ _Fearless_, and Officers.
+
+_Dar._ You come too late, Gentlemen, to be put into the Articles; nor am
+I satisfy'd you're worthy of it.
+
+_Dull._ Why, did not you, Sir, see us lie dead in the Field?
+
+_Dar._ Yes, but I see no Wound about you.
+
+_Tim._ We were stun'd with being knock'd down; Gads zoors, a Man may be
+kill'd with the but-end of a Musquet, as soon as with the point of a
+Sword.
+
+    Enter _Dunce_.
+
+_Dun._ The Council, Sir, wishes you Health and Happiness, and sends you
+these sign'd by their Hands--
+    [Gives Papers.
+
+_Dar._ reads.
+
+    That you shall have a general Pardon for your self and Friends;
+    that you shall have all new Commissions, and _Daring_ to command as
+    General; that you shall have free leave to inter your dead General
+    in _James_ Town. And to ratify this, we will meet you at Madam
+    _Surelove's_ House, which stands between the Armies, attended only
+    by our Officers.
+
+The Council's noble, and I'll wait upon them.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE V. A Grove near Madam _Surelove's_.
+
+    Enter _Surelove_ weeping, _Well._ _Chrisante_, Mrs. _Flirt_,
+    _Ranter_ as before, _Down._ _Haz._ _Friend._ _Booz._ _Brag_.
+
+_Well._ How long, Madam, have you heard the News of Col. _Surelove's_
+Death?
+
+_Sure._ By a Vessel last Night arriv'd.
+
+_Well._ You shou'd not grieve when Men so old pay their debt to Nature;
+you are too fair not to have been reserved for some young Lover's Arms.
+
+_Haz._ I dare not speak,--but give me leave to hope.
+
+_Sure._ The way to oblige me to't, is never more to speak to me of Love
+till I shall think it fit--
+    [_Wellman_ speaks to _Down._
+
+_Well._ Come, you shan't grant it--'tis a hopeful Youth.
+
+_Down._ You are too much my Friend to be denied--_Chrisante_, do you
+love _Friendly_? nay, do not blush--till you have done a fault, your
+loving him is none--Here, take her, young Man, and with her all my
+Fortune--when I am dead, Sirrah--not a Groat before--unless to buy ye
+Baby-Clouts.
+
+_Friend._ He merits not this Treasure, Sir, can wish for more.
+
+    Enter _Daring_, _Fearless_, _Dunce_, Officers, and the rest, they
+    meet _Well._ and _Down._ who embrace 'em. _Dull._ and _Tim._
+    stand.
+
+_Dar._ Can you forgive us, Sir, our Disobedience?
+
+_Well._ Your offering Peace while yet you might command it, has made
+such kind impressions on us, that now you may command your Propositions;
+your Pardons are all seal'd and new Commissions.
+
+_Dar._ I'm not ambitious of that Honour, Sir, but in obedience will
+accept your Goodness; but, Sir, I hear I have a young Friend taken
+Prisoner by Captain _Hazard_, whom I intreat you will render me.
+
+_Haz._ Sir--here I resign him to you.    [Gives him _Ran._
+
+_Ran._ Faith, General, you left me but scurvily in Battle.
+
+_Dar._ That was to see how well you cou'd shift for your self; now I
+find you can bear the brunt of a Campaign, you are a fit Wife for a
+Soldier.
+
+_All._ A Woman--_Ranter_--
+
+_Haz._ Faith, Madam, I should have given you kinder Quarter, if I had
+known my happiness.
+
+_Flirt._ I have an humble Petition to you, Sir.
+
+_Sure._ In which we all join.
+
+_Flirt._ An't please you, Sir, Mr. _Dunce_ has long made Love to me, and
+on promise of Marriage has--
+    [Simpers.
+
+_Down._ What has he, Mistress? What has he, Mrs. _Flirt_?
+
+_Flirt._ Only been a little familiar with my Person, Sir--
+
+_Well._ Do you hear, Parson--you must marry Mrs. _Flirt_.
+
+_Dun._ How, Sir, a Man of my Coat, Sir, marry a Brandy-monger?
+
+_Well._ Of your Calling you mean, a Farrier and no Parson--
+    [Aside to him.
+  She'll leave her Trade, and spark it above all the Ladies at Church:
+No more--take her, and make her honest.
+
+    Enter _Whim._ and _Whiff_ stript.
+
+_Chris._ Bless me, what have we here?
+
+_Whim._ Why, an't like your Honours, we were taken by the Enemy--hah,
+_Daring_ here, and _Fearless_?
+
+_Fear._ How now, Gentlemen, were not you two condemn'd to be shot for
+running from your Colours.
+
+_Down._ From your Colours!
+
+_Fear._ Yes, Sir, they were both listed in my Regiment.
+
+_Down._ Then we must hang them for deserting us.
+
+_Whim._ So, out of the Frying Pan--you know where, Brother--
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, he that's born to be hang'd--you know the rest; a Pox of
+these Proverbs.
+
+_Well._ I know ye well--you're all rank Cowards; but once more we
+forgive ye; your Places in the Council shall be supplied by these
+Gentlemen of Sense and Honour. The Governor when he comes, shall find
+the Country in better hands than he expects to find it.
+
+_Whim._ A very fair Discharge.
+
+_Whiff._ I'm glad 'tis no worse, I'll home to my _Nancy_.
+
+_Dull._ Have we expos'd our Lives and Fortunes for this?
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, I never thriv'd since I was a Statesman, left
+Planting, and fell to promising and lying; I'll to my old Trade again,
+bask under the shade of my own Tobacco, and drink my Punch in Peace.
+
+  _Well._ _Come, my brave Youths, let all our Forces meet,
+  To make this Country happy, rich and great;
+  Let scanted _Europe_ see that we enjoy
+  Safer Repose, and larger Worlds, than they._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+  Gallants, you have so long been absent hence,
+  That you have almost cool'd your Diligence:
+  For while we study or revive a Play,
+  You like good Husbands in the Country stay,
+  There frugally wear out your Summer-Suit, }
+  And in Frize Jerkin after Beagles toot,   }
+  Or in Mountero Caps at Fel-fares shoot:   }
+  Nay, some are so obdurate in their Sin,
+  That they swear never to come up again;
+  But all their charge of Clothes and Treat retrench.
+  To Gloves and Stockings for some Country-Wench.
+  Even they who in the Summer had Mishaps,
+  Send up to Town for Physick, for their Claps.
+  The Ladies too, are as resolv'd as they,     }
+  And having Debts unknown to them, they stay, }
+  And with the gain of Cheese and Poultry pay. }
+  Even in their Visits, they from Banquets fall,
+  To entertain with Nuts and Bottle-Ale;
+  And in Discourse with secrecy report
+  Stale News that past a Twelve-month since at Court.
+  Those of them who are most refin'd and gay,
+  Now learn the Songs of the last Summer's Play:
+  While the young Daughter does in private mourn
+  Her Love's in Town, and hopes not to return.
+  These Country-Grievances too great appear;
+  But, cruel Ladies, we have greater here;
+  You come not sharp, as you were wont, to Plays;
+  But only on the first and second Days:
+  This made our Poet in his Visits look
+  What new strange Courses for your Time you took;
+  And to his great regret he found too soon,
+  _Basset_ and _Ombre_ spent the Afternoon:
+  So that we cannot hope to see you here
+  Before the little Net-work Purse be clear.
+  Suppose you should have luck:--
+  Yet sitting up so late as I am told,
+  You'll lose in Beauty what you win in Gold;
+  And what each Lady of another says,
+  Will make you new Lampoons, and us new Plays.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: The Widow Ranter
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+The Notes in the printed text give only page and line numbers.
+Act-and-scene designations shown between +marks+ have been added by
+the transcriber. Labels such as "Scene IIa" refer to points where the
+scene description changes without a new scene number.]
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 221, l. 1 _To the much Honoured._ This Dedicatory Epistle is only
+  found in the 4to 1690.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 223, l. 13 _Cruse._ Misprinted 'Cause' in 4to 1690 and in 1724.
+  _The True Widow_ (4to 1679), and the edition of 1720 (Shadwell's
+  collected works) give 'Cruse.' All editions of Dryden until Christie
+  misread 'Cause'.
+
+  p. 223, l. 16 _Poll._ 4to 1690 _Pole_. 1724 _Pool_. _The True Widow_
+  (4to 1679) and edition of 1720 both give 'Poll'.
+
++Dramatis Personæ+
+
+  p. 225 _Dramatis Personæ._ I have added to the list '_Cavaro_, an
+  _Indian_, Confidant to the _Indian King_. _Jack_, a Sea-Boy. An
+  Officer; Messenger; Seaman; 2nd Seaman; A Highlander. _Jenny_, Maid
+  to _Widow Ranter_. _Nell_, Maid at the Inn. _Anaria_, Confidante to
+  the _Indian Queen_. Maid to Madam _Surelove_. Bailiffs, Rabble,
+  Negroes. I have supplied the name _Jeffery_ to the Coachman from I,
+  iii (p. 239), and also designated Mrs. _Flirt_ 'a Tapstress'.
+  _Daring_, which name is indifferently spelt in the 4to 1690 _Dareing_
+  or _Daring_, I have given consistently throughout. For _Chrisante_
+  1724 sometimes has _Crisante_. To the Scene I have added
+  '_James-Town_, and the surrounding Country.'
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 226, l. 3 _Jack._ I have inserted this name from _infra_ l. 20.
+
+  p. 226, l. 17 _Enter Flirt and Nell._ I have supplied this necessary
+  entrance.
+
+  p. 227, l. 9 _Exit Nell._ I have inserted this exit. Nell's entrance
+  is marked later and she is certainly not on the stage during the
+  ensuing scene.
+
+  p. 227, l. 27 _I._ Omitted in 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 227, l. 30 _being._ 'was' 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 227, l. 35 _Cully in._ 'Cully' as a verb. 1724 'Cully to'. 'Cully'
+  as a substantive.
+
+  p. 228, l. 10 _any thing._ 4to 1690 'any thing any thing'.
+
+  p. 229, l. 1 _fail, thou._ 4to 1690 'fail, there thou'. This
+  insertion of 'there' interrupts the sense.
+
+  p. 229, l. 26 _wherever._ 1724 'whenever'.
+
+  p. 230, l. 1 _whom._ 4to 1690 '_which_'.
+
+  p. 230, l. 34 _stand._ 4to 1690 '_stands_'.
+
+  p. 231, l. 24 _Smoke._ 1724 'Tobacco'.
+
+  p. 231, l. 28 _Exit Nell._ I have supplied this stage direction.
+
+  p. 231, l. 34 _paulter._ 1724 'paultry'. _Vide_ critical note on this
+  passage.
+
+  p. 232, l. 8 _and Nell with drink, pipes, etc._ I have supplied these
+  words.
+
+  p. 232, l. 19 _take._ 4to 1690 'took'.
+
+  p. 232, l. 34 _an._ 4to 1690 'on'.
+
+  p. 233, l. 28 _the Bob._ 1724 'a Bob'.
+
+  p. 234, l. 28 _Guinea._ 4to 1690 'Guinia'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 235, l. 17 _The Council-Table._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 235, l. 22 _give._ My own emendation: previous editions 'be'.
+
+  p. 236, l. 12 _make._ 4to 1690 'have'.
+
+  p. 237, l. 6 _Down. I say._ 4to 1690 wrongly gives this speech to
+  Dunce.
+
+  p. 238, l. 25 _If we wou'd._ 1724 'If he wou'd'.
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 239, l. 25 _Jeffery._ I have supplied the name here from the
+  following line.
+
+  p. 239, l. 31 _Exit._ Not noted in former editions.
+
+  p. 240, l. 2 _of a Baboon._ 4to 1690 'of Baboone'.
+
+  p. 240, l. 5 _Tumbler._ 4to 1690 misprints 'Fumbler'.
+
+  p. 241, ll. 15, 18 _Pound._ 1724 'Pounds'.
+
+  p. 242, l. 32 _Sure. reads._ 4to 1690 and 1724 'she reads', which is
+  ambiguous.
+
+  p. 243, l. 16 _de la guerre._ 4to 1690 'de la gare'.
+
+  p. 244, l. 17 _They join with Surelove._ Only in 4to 1690.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 245, l. 21 _have Charms._ 1724 'have those Charms'.
+
+  p. 245, l. 28 _Mediator._ 1724 'Meditator'.
+
+  p. 245, l. 32 _would make me lay the Conqueror._ 1724 'would lay me
+  a Conqueror'.
+
+  p. 248, l. 12 _knip._ 1724 mis-spells this rare word 'nip'.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 252, l. 36 _A Scots Dance._ 1724 'A Scotch Dance.'
+
+  p. 253, l. 28 _Billet-Douxs._ 4to 1690 'Billet-Deaxs'.
+
+  p. 254, l. 12 _Drinking all this while sometimes._ Only in 4to 1690.
+
++ACT II: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 255, l. 16 _Pulls a Bottle._ 4to 1690 'Pulls out a Bottle'.
+
+  p. 255, l. 28 _Drinks._ Only in 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 256, l. 31 _durst._ 4to 1690 'darst'.
+
++ACT II: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 258, l. 26 _Enter Brag._ Both 4to 1690 and 1724 have 'Enter a
+  Messenger', and give l. 27 speech-prefix 'Mes.' Both, however, give
+  the next speech he speaks (l. 33) to Brag and have later 'Exit Brag.'
+
+  p. 259, l. 5 _Whimsey._ Both 4to 1690 and 1724 here and elsewhere cut
+  the name down to 'Whim.'
+
+  p. 259, l. 9 _wish'd that the Plot._ 4to 1690 'wish'd the Plot'.
+
+  p. 261, l. 17 _care._ 1724 'ear'.
+
+  p. 262, l. 25 _Wellman's Guards._ 4to 1690 'Wellman, his Guards'. But
+  Wellman has not left the stage. The comma printed by 1690 is probably
+  a mistake and we should read 'Wellman his Guards'.
+
+  p. 263, l. 24 _Exit._ 4to 1690 gives no direction. 1724 has 'Exeunt.'
+  But Timorous is left alone on the stage.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 264, l. 1 _hollow._ 4to 1690 'hallow'.
+
+  p. 266, l. 15 _That._ Omitted in 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 270, l. 8 _Exeunt._ 4to 1690 gives no stage direction here.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 272, l. 28 _'tis a tittle of the D-- breed._ [sic] 4to 1690. 1724
+  ''tis little of the D-- breed'.
+
+  p. 274, l. 1 _haste with._ 1724 'haste you with'.
+
++ACT III: Scene iia+
+
+  p. 275, l. 28 _stands and stares a while._ 1724 'stands a while and
+  stares'.
+
+  p. 277, l. 28 _shall be._ 4to 1690 'shall not be'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 279, l. 12 _Priests._ 4to 1690 'Priest.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 289. l. 10 _draw._ 4to 1690 'draws', but not as a stage direction.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 289, l. 21 _Scene III._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 290, l. 14 _Daring, looks._ 4to 1690 'Daring, and looks'.
+
+  p. 290, l. 31 _devote._ 1724 'divorce', a bad error.
+
+  p. 290, l. 33 _the fittest._ 1724 'a fit'.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 295, l. 9 _Exeunt._ 4to 1690 'Ex.' 1724 'Exit'.
+
+  p. 296, l. 8 _Exeunt._ I have supplied this necessary stage direction.
+
+  p. 296, l. 11 _beat._ 4to 1690 'beating'.
+
+  p. 296, l. 13 _fight, lay._ 4to 1690 'fight, so that they lay'.
+
+  p. 296, l. 22 _All go out._ Previous editions 'Goes out.'
+
++ACT V: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 296, l. 23 _Scene II._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 298, l. 26 _All Exeunt._ I have added this direction.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 298, l. 27 _Scene III._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 299, l. 12 _submission._ 1724 'Admission'.
+
+  p. 299, l. 17 _Pauwomungian._ 4to 1690 'Pauwmungian'.
+
+  p. 300, l. 2 _After Noise._ 1724 omits 'After'.
+
+  p. 303, l. 16 _They go out._ Previous editions 'Goes out.'
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 303, l. 23 _Scene IV. Changes to another part of the Wood._ All
+  previous editions 'Scene changes to a Wood.'
+
+  p. 304, l. 21 _are._ 4to 1690 'is'.
+
+  p. 305, l. 12 _go out._ 4to 1690 'goes out'.
+
+  p. 305, l. 21 _Whimsey._ In former editions abbreviated to 'Whim.'
+
+  p. 306, l. 9 _Exeunt._ Former editions 'Exit Dunce.'
+
++ACT V: Scene v+
+
+  p. 306, l. 10 _Scene V._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 306, l. 18 _Lover's._ 4to 1690 'Love's'.
+
+  p. 306, l. 20 _more._ 1724 omits.
+
+  p. 306, l. 32 _and the rest._ Previous editions 'and officers', but
+  plainly all the characters of the preceding scene assemble.
+
+  p. 307, l. 21 _What has he, Mistress?_ 4to 1690 omits.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 309, l. 1 _Epilogue._ It will be noted that with some trifling
+  alterations this is the Prologue to _Abdelazar_.
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 221 _Madam Welldon._ This Dedicatory Epistle only appears in 4to
+  1690. The lady doubtless belonged to a branch of the famous Weldons,
+  of Swanscombe, Kent, and is probably to be identified with Madam Lucy
+  Weldon, _née_ Necton, the wife of Colonel George Weldon.
+
+  p. 222 _G. J._ Almost certainly George Jenkins, of whom we have two
+  copies of complimentary verse prefixed to _La Montre, or The Lover's
+  Watch_. _vide_ Vol. VI, pp. 9-11.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 223 _Prologue._ This prologue was first spoken to Shadwell's
+  comedy, _The True Widow_, produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorset
+  Garden, 21 March, 1678, and it is printed with all copies of that
+  play. It was, no doubt, used on the present occasion by permission
+  of Dryden. It will be noticed that the Epilogue to _The Widow Ranter_
+  is the Prologue to _Abdelazar_.
+
+  p. 223 _Muss._ A scramble. cf. _Antony and Cleopatra_, iii, 13:--
+
+              ... of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
+    Like boys unto a muss, Kings would start forth,
+    And cry 'Your will?'
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 226 _a Cogue of Brandy._ 'Cogue' is a Kentish word. _Kent Glossary_
+  (1887), has 'cogue; a dram of brandy'; and Wright, _Eng. Dial. Dic._,
+  who gives 'cogue' as exclusively Kentish, assigns precisely the same
+  meaning. D'Urfey, however, _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719), vi,
+  p. 351, has 'a cogue of good ale'.
+
+  p. 227 _Groom Porter's._ The Groom Porter was an officer of the Royal
+  Household. This post was abolished in the reign of George III. From
+  the sixteenth century he regulated all matters connected with card
+  playing, gambling, and dicing within the precincts of the court. He
+  even furnished cards and dice, and settled disputes concerning the
+  game.
+
+  p. 227 _high and low Flats and Bars._ i.e. Doctored dice. cf.
+  _Chamber's Cycl. Supp._ (1753), 'Barr Dice, a species of false dice
+  so formed that they will not easily lie on certain sides.' This cant
+  term is found as early as 1545. cf. Ascham's _Toxophilus_. Flats are
+  also cards. --(Grose, and J. H. Vaux, _Flash Dic._)
+
+  p. 231 _shier._ Schire = clear; pure. A Gaelic word. cf. Herd,
+  _Scotch Songs_ (2nd ed. 1776), 11, _Gloss._--'We call clear liquor
+  shire'.
+
+  p. 231 _paulter._ Mean; worthless. This rare form is perhaps found
+  only here. The _N.E.D._ does not give it. But we have 'paltering'
+  and 'palterly'.
+
+  p. 232 _Hoggerds._ A rare word, being obsolete for Hogherd. cf. De
+  Parc's _Francion_, iv, 3 (tr. 1655): 'Our Regent (who had in him no
+  more humanity than a Hoggard).'
+
+  p. 233 _trusting for old Oliver's Funeral broke._ The obsequies of
+  Oliver Cromwell, originally fixed for 9 November, 1658, owing to the
+  extraordinary magnificence of the preparations were not performed
+  until 23 November. For many days his waxen effigy, dressed in robes
+  of state, was exhibited at Somerset House. The expenses totalled
+  £60,000, and it was a public scandal that a great part of this wanton
+  and wasteful extravagance remained unpaid, to the undoing of the
+  undertakers. On 25 August, 1659, in the _Kalendar of State Affairs
+  (Domestic)_, the following occurs: 'Report by the Committee appointed
+  by Parliament to examine what is due for mourning for the late General
+  Cromwell, that on perusal of the bills signed by Cromwell's servants,
+  and of the account of Abr. Barrington, his auditor, it appears that
+  £19,303 0_s._ 11_d._ is still due and unpaid for mourning. Also that
+  Nath. Waterhouse, servant to Rich. Cromwell, should be authorized to
+  see the persons in a list [missing] annexed for that mourning. Col.
+  Rich to make this report. Schedule of debts due to 11 mercers and
+  drapers for the funeral of the late General Cromwell. Total £19,303
+  0_s._ 11_d._'
+
+  p. 233 _they bear the Bob._ i.e. They join in the chorus or refrain.
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 240 _shoveing the Tumbler._ 'Thieves' cant for being whipped at the
+  cart's tail.' --(Grose). Tumbler, perhaps = tumbril.
+
+  p. 240 _lifting._ Filching. This slang term is very old and common.
+
+  p. 240 _filing the Cly._ 'Thieves' cant for picking a pocket.'
+  --(Grose). 'Cly,' a pocket.
+
+  p. 240 _Regalio._ An obsolete and, indeed, erroneous form of 'regalo',
+  an elegant repast; choice food or drink. The word is very common,
+  and the spelling, 'Regalio', is frequent in the second half of the
+  seventeenth century.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 246 _Anticks._ Quaint fantastic measures. A favourite word with
+  Mrs. Behn.
+
+  p. 248 _to knip._ To clip. (Dutch 'knippen', to cut, snip.) _N.E.D._
+  neglecting this passage, only gives the meaning as to bite or crop
+  (grass) of cattle. It appends two quotations having this sense--the
+  one from Dunbar's _Poems_ (1500-20), the second from Douglas,
+  _Aeneis_ (1513).
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 252 _Mundungus._ Shag, or rank tobacco. cf. Sir R. Howard, _The
+  Committee_ (folio, 1665), ii: 'A Pipe of the worst Mundungus.'
+  Shadwell, _The Humourists_ (1671), iii, speaks with contempt of
+  'bottle ale ... and a pipe of Mundungus.' Johnson in his _Dictionary_
+  (1755) has: 'Mundungus. Stinking tobacco. A cant word.'
+
++ACT II: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 261 _a Bob._ cf. Prologue, _The False Count_ (Vol. III, p. 100),
+  'dry bobs,' and note on that passage, pp. 479-80.
+
+  p. 263 _barbicu._ Better 'barbecu'. An Americanism meaning to broil
+  over live coals. Beverley, _Virginia_, III, xii (1705), thus explains
+  it: 'Broyling ... at some distance above the live coals [the Indians]
+  & we from them call Barbecuing.' cf. Pope, _Imitations of Horace_,
+  Sat. ii, 25, 26:--
+
+    _Oldfield_ with more than Harpy throat endued
+    Cries, 'Send me, Gods, a whole hog barbecued!'
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 264 _De-Wit._ 'To De-Wit' = to lynch. The word often occurs; it is
+  derived from the deaths of John and Cornelius De Wit, opponents of
+  William III (when stadt-holder). They were murdered by a mob in 1672.
+  cf. 'to godfrey' = to strangle, from the alleged murder of Sir Edmond
+  Bury Godfrey[1] in 1678. Crowne, _Sir Courtly Nice_ (1685), II, ii,
+  has: 'Don't throttle me, don't _Godfrey_ me.' The _N.E.D._ fails to
+  include 'to godfrey'.
+
+    [Footnote 1: It is now pretty certainly established that this
+    melancholist committed suicide.]
+
+  p. 265 _Dalton's Country-Justice._ A well-known work by the celebrated
+  lawyer Michael Dalton (1554-1620). It was long held in great repute
+  and regarded as supremely authoritative. On a page of advertisements
+  (Some Books printed this Year 1677. For _John Amery_, at the
+  _Peacock_, against St. _Dunstan's Church_ in _Fleet-street_) in the
+  _Rover I_ (4to 1677), occurs '_The Country Justice_, Containing the
+  practice of the Justices of the Peace, in and out of their Sessions,
+  with an Abridgment of all Statutes relating thereunto to this present
+  Year 1677. By _Michael Dalton_ Esq; _Fol._ price bound 12s.' cf. _The
+  Plain Dealer_ (4to 1676), III, i:
+
+    _Widow Blackacre._ Let's see Dalton, Hughs, Shepherd, Wingate.
+    _Bookseller's Boy._ We have no law books.
+
+  p. 266 _a Cagg._ Now corrupted to 'Keg', a small cask. cf. _Cotgrave_
+  (1611), 'Encacquer' to put in to a little barrell or cag. _N.E.D._
+  quotes this present passage.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 279 _Agah Yerkin._ The various dictionaries and vocabularies of
+  the Indian languages I have had resource to give none of these words.
+  There is, however, so great a confusion of Indian jargons and dialects
+  that they cannot be pronounced fictitious. Yet Mrs. Behn would hardly,
+  even if she had learned the language, have retained any exact
+  knowledge of such barbaric tongues, and one may almost certainly say
+  that these cries and incantations are her own composition. Amongst
+  other authorities I have consulted _The Voyage of Robert Dudley ...
+  to the West Indies_, 1594-5, edited by G. F. Warner for the Hakluyt
+  Society (1889). Dr. Brinton's _Arawack Language of Guiana_, an
+  exhaustive monograph, (Philadelphia, 1871.) M. M. Crevaux, Sagot,
+  L. Adam, _Grammaires et Vocabulaires roucouyenne, arrouague, piapoco,
+  et d'autres Langues de la Région des Guyanes_ (Paris, 1882). _Relation
+  des Missions ... dans les Isles et dans la terre ferme de l'Amerique
+  Meridionale ... avec une introduction à la langue des Gabilis
+  Sauvages_ (Paris, 1655), by Father Pierre Pelleprat, S.J.
+
+  p. 279 _Quiocto._ Mrs. Behn probably meant to spell this word
+  'Quiyoughcto', the sound being identical. There is in Virginia a
+  river which in the seventeenth century was called the 'Quiyough'.
+  The inhabitants of the banks of this river had mysterious or
+  supernatural properties ascribed to them. _In the Voyages &
+  Discoveries of Capt. John Smith_ (1606), we have: 'They thinke that
+  their Werowanees and Priests, which they also esteeme
+  Quiyoughcosughes, when they are dead, doe goe beyond the mountaines
+  towards the setting of the sun.' No doubt Mrs. Behn knew this
+  passage. I owe the above interesting note to the kindness of my
+  friend Mr. Gosse.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 284 _Cadees._ The original form of 'cadets' from the French
+  pronunciation. _N.E.D._ cites this passage as the earliest occurence
+  of the word.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 293 _Cadeeing._ The verb 'to cadee' is only found here and may be
+  a nonce phrase. _N.E.D._ does not include it.
+
+  p. 293 _to top Tobacco._ i.e. to cultivate our tobacco plantations.
+
+  p. 295 _Flambeaux._ Mrs. Behn (or, haply, George Jenkins, the first
+  editor of _The Widow Ranter_), here uses the ordinary form 'flambeaux'
+  as a plural. In _The Emperor of the Moon_ (Vol. III, p. 418), she
+  writes 'a Flambeaux'. In addition to the example from Herbert which I
+  give in my note (Vol. III, p. 475), I find a plural 'Flambeaux's' used
+  by Mrs. Manley. cf. _Secret Memoirs & Manners of Several Persons of
+  Quality of Both Sexes from the New Atalantis_ (1709, the Second
+  Edition), Vol. I, p. 88: 'She but thinks of an expensive Funeral,
+  white Flambeaux's, Chariots, Horses, Streamers, and a Train of
+  Mourners.'
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 302 _Starters._ i.e. cowards. cf. _The Double Marriage_ (Fletcher
+  and Massinger, folio 1647), II, i:--
+
+    _Master._ We'll spare her our main-top-sail;
+    She shall not look us long, we are no starters.
+    Down with the fore-sail too! we'll spoom before her.
+
+  cf. also _The Lucky Chance_, I, i: 'I am no Starter.' (Vol. III,
+  p. 193), and note on that passage, p. 485.
+
+  p. 302 _rubbing off._ Very common slang still in use for 'making off',
+  'clearing out', cf. Shadwell's _The Virtuoso_ (1676), Act V, sc. iii,
+  the Masquerade, where Sir Samuel Harty says: 'Who held my sword while
+  I danc'd? ... A curse on him! he's rubb'd off with it!'
+
+  p. 303 _Dullman and Timorous._ No entrance has been marked for these
+  two characters, and I have not ventured to insert one owing to the
+  fact that this fifth Act has been so cut (e.g. the omission of the
+  Indian King's ghost, as noted by Jenkins in the Dedication) and
+  mutilated that it would be perilous to make any insertion or
+  alteration here as the copy now stands. We may suppose these two
+  coward justices to have rushed on in one of the many mêlées.
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 304 _Hannibal._ Hannibal, when betrayed by Prusias, King of
+  Bithynia, at whose court he had taken refuge, poisoned himself
+  rather than fall into the hands of the Romans.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 309 _Epilogue._ This Epilogue is, it will be noted, almost
+  precisely the same as the Prologue to _Abdelazer_. In line 32 we have
+  'Basset' in place of the obsolescent game, 'Beasts' (damn'd Beasts).
+  Basset, which resembled Faro, was first played at Venice. cf. Evelyn's
+  _Diary_, 1645 (Ascension Week at Venice): 'We went to the Chetto de
+  San Felice, to see the noblemen and their ladies at basset, a game at
+  cards which is much used.' It became immensely popular in England.
+  Evelyn, in his famous description of 'the inexpressible luxury and
+  profaneness, gaming, and all dissoluteness' on the Sunday se'nnight
+  before the death of Charles II, specially noted that 'about twenty of
+  the great courtiers and other dissolute persons were at Basset round
+  a large table, a bank of at least 2000 in gold before them.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Widow Ranter_
+
+p. 261 _a Bob._ cf. Prologue, _The False Count_ (Vol. III, p. 100),
+'dry bobs,' and note on that passage, pp. 479-80.
+
+  _False Count_ text:
+
+                --who will desert me,
+  Because they find no dry bobs on your Party
+
+  _False Count_ note:
+
+  _dry bobs._ A bob was a sarcastic jest or jibe. cf. _Sir Giles
+  Goosecappe_ (1606), Act V, i. 'Marry him, sweet Lady, to answere his
+  bitter Bob,' and Buckingham's _The Rehearsal_ (1671), Act III, i,
+  where Bayes cries: 'There's a bob for the Court.' A dry bob (literally
+  = a blow or fillip that does not break the skin) is an intensely
+  bitter taunt, cf. _Cotgrave_ (1611), _Ruade seiche_, a drie bob, jeast
+  or nip. _Bailey_ (1731) has '_Dry Bob_. a Taunt or Scoff'.
+
+p. 302 _Starters._ .... cf. also _The Lucky Chance_, I, i: 'I am no
+Starter.' (Vol. III, p. 193), and note on that passage, p. 485.
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ note:
+
+  _Starter._ This slang word usually means a milksop, but here it
+  is equivalent to 'a butterfly', 'a weathercock'--a man of changeable
+  disposition. A rare use.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: The Widow Ranter
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+Editor's Introduction
+
+  and she sinks into his arms to die  [his ams]
+
+The Widow Ranter
+
+  [Points to _Dull._ _Whim._ _Whiff_, and _Tim._  [_Dull,_ _Whim,_]
+    [_correction based on ordinary punctuation of this text_]
+  thy Friend that kept thee Company all the while  [taht]
+  [Goes in. / [All exeunt.
+    [_bracket before "All exeunt" added for consistency in e-text_]
+
+Critical Notes
+
+  p. 261 _a Bob._  [p 261]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE YOUNGER BROTHER;
+
+OR, THE AMOROUS JILT.
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Mirtilla, the Amorous Jilt, who had once been attached to George
+Marteen, the Younger Brother, married for a convenience the clownish Sir
+Morgan Blunder. Prince Frederick, who had seen and fallen in love with
+her during a religious ceremony in a Ghent convent, follows her to
+England. They meet accidentally and she promises him a private
+interview. George Marteen had recommended a page to Mirtilla, and the
+lad is his sister Olivia in disguise. Mirtilla, although she falls in
+love with her 'smooth-chin'd boy', receives Prince Frederick, but the
+house wherein she lodges catches fire that night, and it is George
+Marteen who, in spite of the fact that he knows his friend the Prince is
+with her, procures a ladder and rescues the lady at some danger to
+himself. The Prince is able to escape by the same way, and he then
+carries Mirtilla to his own lodgings, where feigning to be ill with
+fatigue and terror she begs her lover to leave her to repose. This is
+done with the idea of entertaining her page, and on Frederick's approach
+she conceals Olivia, who thus creeps off unseen, beneath the train of
+her gown, whilst she herself retires with the amorous Prince. None the
+less, Mirtilla still pursues Olivia, and eventually Frederick discovers
+she is a wanton jilt, as he surprises her leading the page to her bed.
+He is, however, reconciled when Mirtilla discovering to her amaze that
+the lad is a woman reveals this fact to the Prince to confound him, but
+afterwards avowing her frailty, throws herself on Frederick's
+generosity. Olivia has been promised by her old father, Sir Rowland
+Marteen, to Welborn, whom she has never seen. On meeting Welborn she
+falls in love with him, without knowing who he is, and he, also, whilst
+ignorant of her name, is soon enamoured of her in turn. Prince Frederick
+lodges in the same house as Welborn and it is hither that after the fire
+she attends Mirtilla. Welborn, supposing her to be Mirtilla's page, out
+of kindness offers her half his bed, which for fear of arousing
+suspicion she is bound to accept. She slips away, however, before
+daybreak, leaving a letter for her companion, by which he learns that
+the page is none other than the lady whom he had seen in the Mall.
+Welborn and Olivia are eventually married. George Marteen's elder
+brother, Sir Merlin, a boon companion of Sir Morgan Blunder, is a
+rakehelly dog, who leads a wild town life to the great anger of old Sir
+Rowland. George, who whilst secretly leading a gay life under the name
+of Lejere, appears before his father as a demure and sober young
+prentice, is designed for Lady Youthly, an ancient, toothless crone,
+palsied and blind with extreme old age, whose grand-daughter, Teresia,
+is to be married to Sir Rowland himself. George, however, falls in love
+with Teresia, who is also pursued by Sir Merlin, and finally weds her in
+despite of his father, brother and the beldame. But Sir Rowland shortly
+relents and even forgives his eldest son, who has married Diana, the
+cast off mistress of a gambler, whilst Lady Youthly is left to the
+tender consolations of her chaplain.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+_The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt_ was written (in great part
+at least) by Mrs. Behn a good many years before her death, after which
+it was brought on the stage under the auspices of Gildon, in 1696; and
+in the Epistle Dedicatory he expressly says 'all the Alterations which
+I made were in the first Act, in removing that old bustle about _Whigg_
+and _Tory_ (which was the subject of most of the Second Scene) and
+placing the Character of a _Rake-hell_ in its room.' Mrs. Behn probably
+wrote the first Act sometime about the years 1681-3, when there was a
+continual 'rout with Whigging and with Torying', and afterwards
+completed the remainder at her leisure. In his notice of this comedy
+Langbaine's editor (Gildon), who finds Mirtilla 'genteel', says that
+Astrea took a portion of the plot 'from a true story of the brother of
+Col. Henry Martin, and a Lady that must be nameless. See the Novel
+call'd _Hatige_.' _Hattige: or, the Amours of the King of Tamaran.
+A Novel_, by Gabriel de Brémond, was translated in 1680. (12mo. For
+Simon the African: Amsterdam, [R. Bentley? London.]) A biting satire on
+Charles II and Lady Castlemaine, the tale is told with considerable
+spirit and attained great vogue. Another edition was issued in 1683, and
+under the title _The Beautiful Turk_ it is to be found in _A Select
+Collection of Novels_ (1720 and 1729), Vol. III. This novel had first
+appeared anonymously at Cologne in 1676--_Hattigé ou la Belle Turque,
+qui contient ses amours avec le roi Tamaran_--and Nodier in his
+_Mélanges d'une petite Bibliothèque_ describes a 'clef'. Hattigé is, of
+course, Lady Castlemaine; Tamaran, Charles II; and the handsome Rajeb
+with whom the lady deceives the monarch, Jack Churchill. It is a wanton
+little book, and at the time must have been irresistibly piquant. Beyond
+the likeness between the characters of Mirtilla and Hattigé the novel
+has, however, little in common with Mrs. Behn's play. Gildon's comment
+is, of course, founded upon the passage in _Oroonoko_ which says: 'We
+met on the river with Colonel Martin, a man of great gallantry, wit and
+goodness, and whom I have celebrated in a character of my new comedy by
+his own name in memory of so brave a man.'
+
+In D'Urfey's _The Royalist_, an excellent comedy produced at Dorset
+Garden, 1682 (4to, 1682), the author introduces a certain damsel
+Philippa, who, disguised as a page, follows the loyal Sir Charles
+Kinglove with whom she is enamoured. At the end of the second Act her
+boy's clothes involve her in the same predicament as befalls Olivia in
+Act IV of _The Younger Brother_. Although Genest prefers Mrs. Behn's
+treatment of the situation, it must, I think, be allowed that D'Urfey
+has managed the jest with far greater verve and spirit. Honest Tom
+D'Urfey is in fact one of the least read and most maligned of all our
+dramatists. He had the merriest comic gifts, and perhaps when the
+critics and literary historians deign to read his plays he will attain a
+higher position in our theatrical libraries.
+
+Some critics have suggested that D'Urfey, in his _The Intrigues at
+Versailles_, produced at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 1697, may have taken a
+hint from Mrs. Behn's Mirtilla, and Wycherley's Olivia (_The Plain
+Dealer_) for his 'Madame de Vandosme a right jilt in all humours',
+a rôle created by Mrs. Barry. There is indeed some resemblance between
+all these three characters, base heartless coquettes; and D'Urfey, in
+making his jilt prefer Sir Blunder Bosse, 'a dull sordid brute and
+mongrel, whose humour is to call everybody by clownish names', to all
+her other gallants, seems not to have forgotten Mirtilla's marriage with
+Sir Morgan Blunder. The very names call attention to the plagiarism.
+_The Intrigues at Versailles_ is none the less a clever and witty
+comedy, but a little overcrowded with incident and business.
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+As sufficiently explained by Gildon, under whose auspices this
+posthumous play was produced at Drury Lane in 1696, _The Younger
+Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt_ met with brutal treatment from the
+audience. There appears to have been a faction, particularly in evidence
+at its first performance and on the third day, who were steadfastly
+resolved to damn the comedy, and in spite of fine acting and every
+advantage it was hissed from the boards. Gildon attributes the failure
+to 'the tedious Scenes in Blank Verse betwixt Mirtilla and Prince
+Frederick' which he thinks demanded 'another more easy Dress,' but, in
+truth, it can only be attributed to the most verjuiced spite and
+personal malice. The plot, though somewhat complicated with perhaps a
+press of crowding incidents, is none the less highly interesting, and
+the characters are most of them excellently, all well, drawn and
+sustained. The fact that certain episodes had to be cut in
+representation in order to bring the comedy within a reasonable time
+limit, though it may have tended to obscure the connection of the
+intrigue, could not have insured in spite of its many real merits so
+absolute a doom for the much maltreated play, a sentence which seems to
+have wantonly precluded any revival.
+
+
+
+
+THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY
+
+TO
+
+Collonel Codrington.
+
+
+The unjust Sentence this Play met with before very partial Judges in the
+Acting, will, I'm pretty sure, be revers'd by the more unprejudiced
+Readers, and it's evident, Merit will exert itself so far, as to justify
+my Presumption in Dedicating it, notwithstanding its small success, to
+you, Sir, for whom I must always profess the highest Esteem and Value,
+sprung from that Nobleness of your Nature that takes a God-like Delight
+in redressing the Misfortunes of 'em, more than fly to you for their
+unhappiness; a generous Soul indeed, never gives a greater Proof of her
+Excellence, than in her Protection of the Unfortunate; for tho suffering
+Merit challenges a Regard from all, yet it meets with it from none but
+such as you, Sir, who are so Eminent for that Vertue, which more than
+all the rest, commands the Esteem and Veneration of the Thinking World,
+your Generosity I mean, Sir, which gives the most Perfect Touches of
+that likeness, man can have to his Almighty Original; for those are but
+scurvey awkard Copies of Him that want it. 'Tis, I may say, the very
+Essence of God, Who with our _Beings_, dispenses the grateful Knowledge
+of Himself in the Benefits He bestows.
+
+The narrow Virtues of the Old Philosophers, [which] were rather Vices,
+if winnow'd well, form'd to gratify their Proud, Lazy, Superiority, at
+the Expence of all the Publick Duties incumbent on mankind, whom they
+pretend to Purge from his Passions, to make him happy, by that means to
+amuse our Curiosity with Chymera's, whilst we lost our real Good, will
+still naturally flow from those Springs of Pleasure, Honour, Glory, and
+Noble Actions, the Passions given us by Heaven for our common Good. But
+their own Practice generally shew'd the Vanity of their Emperic Boasts,
+when they Buried all the Nobler Pleasures of the Mind in Avarice, and
+Pedantick Pride, as _Lucian_ has pleasantly made out in _Hermotimus_.
+
+Those Notional Excellencies that divert us from, or weaken a Publick
+Spirit, are always False and Hypocritical, that under a gaudy out-side
+conceals a rotten Carcass, full of Infectious Distempers that destroy
+the noblest end of our Being, _The doing good to one another_. Vanity
+has always been the Refuge of little Souls, that place their Value in a
+False Greatness, Hyppocrisie, and great Titles. What a seeming Holiness
+does for the Avaritious, Designing Saint; Titles do for the proud
+Avarice of the meer Man of Quality, cheaply Purchasing a Respect from
+the many; but 'tis the Generous man only that fixes himself in the
+Hearts of the most valuable part of mankind, when proper Merit only is
+esteem'd, and the Man, not his Equipage, and Accidental Appurtenances
+respected.
+
+The Application of this, I shall leave to all that know you, Sir, who
+are all sensible what Virtues you make your Darlings, and choice of
+Virtue shews the Nobleness of our Temper, as much as Choice of Friends,
+the degrees of our Understandings; and if that be true that most Men
+choose those Virtues which are nearest a-kin to their Darling Vices, I'm
+sure 'twill be a strong proof, that ev'n your Failings (for ev'ry Man
+has his share of them too) are more Beneficial to the world than the
+Vertues of a numerous part of Mankind. In Collonel _Codrington_ indeed,
+we find the true Spirit and Bravery of old _Rome_, that despises all
+dangers, that in the Race of Glory thou art the Noble Chace. Nor can the
+manly Roughness of your Martial Temper (Fierce to none but your
+Countries Foes) destroy that ingaging sweetness your agreeable
+Conversation abounds with, which heightened with so large a share of
+Wit, Learning, and Judgment, improves as well as delights; so that to
+have known you any way, must give us some advantage or other. This it
+was that encourag'd me to dedicate this Play, Sir, to you, of which I
+may venture to say more, and with more assurance, than if it had been my
+own.
+
+Mrs. BEHN was a Woman so Accomplish'd, and of so Established a Fame
+among the Men of Sense, that I cou'd not suppose a very severe treatment
+from the Town, which has been very indulgent to the Performances of
+others; especially when, besides the Reputation of the _Author_, the
+Play itself had an Intrinsic Merit; for we find it full of Humour, Wit,
+and Variety; the Conversation Gay and Genteel, the Love Soft and
+Pathetic, the incidents Natural, and Easy, and the Conduct of the Plot
+very Justifiable. So that I may reasonably impute its miscarriage to
+some Faction that was made against it, which indeed was very Evident on
+the First day, and more on the endeavours employed, to render the
+Profits of the Third, as small as could be.
+
+It suffer'd not, I'm sure, in the Action, nor in Mr. _Verbruggen's_
+reading of some of his Part, since he lost nothing of the Force of
+Elocution, nor Gracefulness of Action; nor indeed can I, with Justice to
+my self, impute it to any part that I ventur'd to add to the Original;
+for all the Alterations which I made were in the first Act, in removing
+that old bustle about _Whigg_ and _Tory_, (which was the Subject of most
+of the Second Scene) and placing the Character of a _Rake-hell_ in its
+room, which was so little, that it could not Influence a more Capricious
+Audience, to the Damning of the whole. There might indeed be some
+objections about the Plot, but not very Rational, I think; I'm sure, at
+least, 'tis the first Play, for some Years, could be quarrell'd at for
+having too much Plot. In the Edition however I have put in a great deal,
+which the length of the Play oblig'd me to cut out for the Action.
+
+Here, Sir, if the Play had been my own, I should have complain'd that
+the Town had its favourite Fools, as well as favourite Wits, and that
+Comedy or Farce from any other hand wou'd no more go down with them,
+than their favourites will with true Judges that read, not see 'em.
+I should have had indignation enough, perhaps, to've rail'd at the
+Criticks of all Degrees, and Denominations of Box and Pit, nay,
+Galleries too, and told 'em that they were so conceited of their own
+Wit, that they cou'd take no pleasure in hearing that of another, or
+that Wit in a Play seeming to affront the Parts of the Audience, they
+suffer'd their Resentment to destroy their Satisfaction. This, and a
+great many other Satyrical Reflections, which are natural for a
+Disappointed Poet to make, I shou'd then have vented; but being
+satisfy'd, that the Reputation of Mrs. BEHN is not affected by the
+malicious Endeavours of some of my Enemies, I now present it under your
+Patronage, Sir, to the more competent Judges; Proud of the Opportunity
+of Offering you an occasion of so agreeable a Province, as the
+Protection of the unfortunate, and letting the World know how much I am,
+Sir,
+
+  Your Humble Servant,
+
+    _CH. GILDON._
+
+
+
+
+THE YOUNGER BROTHER;
+
+or, The Amorous Jilt.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+By an unknown Hand.
+
+Spoke by Mr. _Powell_.
+
+
+  As Rivals of each other jealous prove,
+  And both strive which shall gain the Lady's Love,
+  So we for your Affections daily vie:
+  Not an Intriguer in the Gallery
+  (Who squeezes hand of _Phillis_ mask'd, that stood
+  Ogling for Sale, in Velvet Scarf and Hood)
+  Can with more Passion his dear Nymph pursue,
+  Than we to make Diversion fit for you.
+  Grant we may please, and we've our utmost Aim,
+  'Tis to your Favour only we lay claim.
+  In what can we oblige? Cou'd we present you
+  With Mistress young, and safe, it wou'd content you;
+  Then Husbands, weary'd out with Spouse alone,
+  And hen-peck'd Keepers that drudge on with one,
+  I fancy hither wou'd in Crouds resort,
+  As thick as Men for Offices to Court:
+  Who'd stay behind? the Beau above Threescore,
+  Wou'd hobble on, and gape for one bit more;
+  Men of all Stations, from the Nobles, down
+  To grave Sir _Roger_ in his Cap and Gown,
+  Wou'd hither come. But we some time must take,
+  E'er we a Project of such moment make;
+  Since that's laid by, for your Diversion then,
+  We do invite the Brothers of the Pen;
+  The Courtier, Lawyer, Soldier, Player too,
+  Wit n'er had more Encouragement than now;
+  Though free, or Aliens to our Stage, we take 'em,
+  Not kick 'em out, but native Subjects make 'em.
+  The Ladies too are always welcome here,
+  Let 'em in Writing or in Box appear.
+  To that fair Sex we are oblig'd to day,
+  Oh! then be kind to a poor Orphan-Play,
+  Whose Parent while she liv'd oblig'd you all;
+  You prais'd her living, and you mourn'd her Fall.
+  Who cou'd, like her, our softer Passions move,
+  The Life of Humour, and the Soul of Love?
+  Wit's eldest Sister; thro-out every Line,
+  You might perceive some Female Graces shine.
+  For poor _Astrea's_ Infant we implore,
+  Let it then live, though she is now no more.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.
+
+
+  MEN.
+
+  Prince _Frederick_,         Mr. _Verbruggen_.
+  Sir _Rowland Marteen_,      Mr. _Johnson_.
+  _George Marteen_,           Mr. _Powell_.
+  Mr. _Welborn_,              Mr. _Horden_.
+  Sir _Merlin Marteen_,       Mr. _Pinkethman_.
+  Sir _Morgan Blunder_,       Mr. _Bullock_.
+  Mr. _Twang_,                Mr. _Smeaton_.
+  _Britton_,                  Mr. _Kent_.
+  _Philip_.
+
+
+  WOMEN.
+
+  _Mirtilla_,                 Mrs. _Knight_.
+  _Olivia_,                   Mrs. _Verbruggen_.
+  _Teresia_,                  Mrs. _Temple_.
+  Lady _Blunder_,             Mrs. _Powell_.
+  Mrs. _Manage_,              Mrs. _Willis_.
+  Lady _Youthley_,            Mrs. _Harris_.
+  _Diana_.
+
+  Constable and Watch, Pages, Footmen, Masqueraders, Servants,
+    Rakehells, &c.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Chamber.
+
+    Enter _George Marteen_, in a rich Riding Habit, with his Valet
+    _Britton_.
+
+_Geo._ Were you with Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_?
+
+_Britt._ Yes, Sir; and she cries as much for her wanting room for you in
+her House, as she would have done some forty Years ago for a
+Disappointment of her Lover. But she assures me, the Lodging she has
+taken for you, is the best in all _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.
+
+_Geo._ And did you charge her to send _Mirtilla's_ Page to me?
+
+_Britt._ I did, Sir; and he'll be with you instantly.
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis well--Then shall I hear some News of my _Mirtilla_.
+    [Aside.
+  _Britton_, haste thee, and get my Equipage in order; a handsome Coach,
+rich Liveries, and more Footmen: for 'tis Appearance only passes in the
+World--And d'ye hear, take care none know me by any other Name than that
+of _Lejere_.
+
+_Britt._ I shall, Sir.    [Exit.
+
+_Geo._ I came not from _Paris_ into _England_, as my old Father thinks,
+to reform into a dull wretched Life in _Wales._ No, I'll rather trust my
+kind Mistress Fortune, that has still kept me like her Darling, than
+purchase a younger Brother's narrow Stipend, at the expence of my
+Pleasure and Happiness.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_ in a Page's Habit. She runs and embraces _George_.
+
+_Oliv._ My ever charming Brother!
+
+_Geo._ My best, my dear _Olivia_!
+
+_Oliv._ The same lovely Man still! Thy Gallantry and Beauty's all thy
+own; _Paris_ could add no Graces to thy Air; nor yet pervert it into
+Affectation.
+
+_Geo._ Spare me, and tell me how _Mirtilla_ fares.
+
+_Oliv._ I think, Brother, I writ you word to Paris, of a Marriage
+concluded betwixt me and _Welborn_?
+
+_Geo._ That Letter I receiv'd: but from the dear _Mirtilla_, not one
+soft word; not one tender Line has blest my Eyes, has eas'd my panting
+Heart this tedious three Months space; and thou with whom I left the
+weighty Charge of her dear Heart, to watch her lovely Eyes, to give me
+notice when my Rivals press'd, and when she waver'd in her Faith to me,
+even thou wert silent to me, cruel Sister.
+
+_Oliv._ Thou wilt be like a Lover presently, and tire the Hearer with a
+Book of Words, of heavy Sighs, dying Languishments, and all that huddle
+of Nonsense; and not tell me how you like my Marriage.
+
+_Geo._ _Welborn's_ my Friend, and worthy of thy Heart.
+
+_Oliv._ I never saw him yet; and to be sold unseen, and unsigh'd for, in
+the Flower of my Youth and Beauty, gives me a strange aversion to the
+Match.
+
+_Geo._ Oh! you'll like him when you see him--But my _Mirtilla_.--
+
+_Oliv._ Like him--no, no, I never shall--what, come a Stranger to my
+Husband's Bed? 'Tis Prostitution in the leudest manner, without the
+Satisfaction; the Pleasure of Variety, and the Bait of Profit, may make
+a lame excuse for Whores, who change their Cullies, and quit their
+nauseous Fools--No, no, my Brother, when Parents grow arbitrary, 'tis
+time we look into our Rights and Privileges; therefore, my dear
+_George_, if e'er thou hope for Happiness in Love, assist my
+Disobedience.
+
+_Geo._ In any worthy Choice be sure of me; but canst thou wish Happiness
+in Love, and not inform me something of _Mirtilla_?
+
+_Oliv._ I'll tell you better News--our hopeful elder Brother, Sir
+_Merlin_, is like to be disinherited; for he is, Heaven be thanked--
+
+_Geo._ Marry'd to some Town-Jilt, the common fate of Coxcombs.
+
+_Oliv._ Not so, my dear _George_, but sets up for a celebrated
+Rake-hell, as well as Gamester; he cou'd not have found out a more
+dextrous way to have made thee Heir to four Thousand Pounds a Year.
+
+_Geo._ What's that without _Mirtilla_?
+
+_Oliv._ Prithee no more of her--Love spoils a fine Gentleman: Gaming,
+Whoring and Fighting may qualify a Man for Conversation; but Love
+perverts all one's Thoughts, and makes us fit Company for none but one's
+self; for even a Mistress can scarce dispense with a fighting, whining
+Lover's Company long, though all he says flatters her Pride.
+
+_Geo._ Why dost thou trifle with me, when thou knowest the Violence of
+my Love?
+
+_Oliv._ I wish I could any way divert your Thoughts from her, I would
+not have your Joy depend on such a fickle Creature.
+
+_Geo._ _Mirtilla_ false! What, my _Mirtilla_ false!
+
+_Oliv._ Even your _Mirtilla's_ false, and married to another.
+
+_Geo._ Married! _Mirtilla_ married! 'Tis impossible.
+
+_Oliv._ Nay, married to that bawling, drinking Fool, Sir _Morgan
+Blunder_.
+
+_Geo._ Married, and married to Sir _Morgan Blunder_! a Sot, an ill-bred
+senseless Fool; almost too great a Fool to make a Country Justice?
+
+_Oliv._ No doubt, she had her Aims in't, he's a very convenient Husband,
+I'll assure you, and that suits her Temper: he has Estate and Folly
+enough, and she has Youth and Wantonness enough to match 'em.
+
+_Geo._ Her Choice gives me some Comfort, and some Hopes; for I'll pursue
+her, but for Revenge, not Love.
+
+_Oliv._ Forget her rather, for she's not worth Revenge, and that way
+'twill be none; prostitute in Soul as Body, she doats even on me in
+Breeches.
+
+_Geo._ On thee, her Page? doat on thee, a Youth! she knew thee not as
+Woman.
+
+_Oliv._ No, that Secret I have kept to do you Service.--At first she
+said she lov'd me for your sake, because you recommended me; and when I
+sung, or plaid upon my Flute, wou'd kiss my Cheek, and sigh, and often
+(when alone) wou'd send for me, and smile, and talk, and set my Hair in
+Curls, to make me saucy and familiar with her. One Day she said,
+_Endimion_, thy Name-sake was thus caress'd by _Cynthia_: A Goddess did
+not scorn the humble Swain, whom by her Love she equal'd to her Deity.
+She found that I had Sense to understand her, and paid her Advances back
+with equal Ardour.
+
+_Geo._ Oh, Curse! where learnt she all this Wickedness?    [Aside.
+
+_Oliv._ But she being oblig'd to go for _Flanders_, to see her Sister
+take the holy Habit, I feign'd a Sickness to be left behind, hoping that
+Absence might abate her Flame; yet she return'd more amorous, and
+fearing the Thefts of Love might wound her Honour, she thought a Husband
+would secure that Shame; and luckily my Aunt arriv'd from _Wales_, and
+brought Sir _Morgan_ with her, who lodging where we did, at Mrs.
+_Manage's_, my Aunt (that doats on Quality in either Sex) made up this
+hasty Match, unknown to me, though for my sake.
+
+_Geo._ What will not faithless Woman do, when she is raging?
+
+_Oliv._ And now having so well prepar'd the way, she grows impatient for
+an Opportunity; and thou art arriv'd, most happily to succour me.
+
+_Geo._ No, for some days keep this habit on, it may be useful to us; but
+I must see this faithless perjur'd Woman, which I must contrive with
+Mrs. _Manage_.
+
+_Oliv._ Yet pray resolve to see my Father first; for now's the critical
+time to make thy Fortune: he came to Town last night, and lodges here at
+Mrs. _Manage's_, with my Aunt _Blunder_.
+
+_Geo._ What, in the House with thee, and not know thee?
+
+_Oliv._ No more than a Priest Compassion; he thinks me at _Hackney_,
+making Wax Babies, where he intends to visit me within these three
+days,--But I forgot to tell you, our Brother, Sir _Merlin_, lodges in
+this House with you; and shou'd he know you--
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis impossible--I've not see him, or my Father, these five
+Years. Absence, my Growth, and this unexpected Equipage, will not be
+penetrated by his Capacity.
+
+_Oliv._ True, he'll never look for his Brother _George_, in the
+Gallantry and Person of Monsieur _Lejere_--My good Father expects you
+home, like the prodigal Son, all torn and tatter'd, and as penitent too.
+
+_Geo._ To plod on here, in a laborious Cheating, all my Youth and
+Vigour, in hopes of drunken Pleasures when I'm old; or else go with him
+into _Wales_, and there lead a thoughtless Life, hunt, and drink, and
+make love to none but Chamber-maids. No, my _Olivia_, I'll use the
+sprightly Runnings of my Life, and not hope distant Pleasures from its
+Dregs.
+
+_Oliv._ For that, use your Discretion; now equip your self to your
+present Business; the more simply you are clad and look, the better.
+I'll home and expect you.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Geo._ Do so, my good Sister; a little formal Hypocrisy may do, 'twill
+relish after Liberty; for a Pleasure is never so well tasted, as when
+it's season'd with some Opposition.
+
+    Enter _Britton_.
+
+_Britt._ Sir, I've News to tell you, will surprize you; Prince
+_Frederick_ is arriv'd.
+
+_Geo._ Is't possible? I left him going for _Flanders_.
+
+_Britt._ Passing by our Door, and seeing your Livery, he enquir'd for
+you; and finding you here, alighted just now. But see, Sir, he's here.
+
+    Enter Prince _Frederick_; they meet and embrace.
+
+_Geo._ My Life's Preserver, welcome to my Arms as Health to sick Men.
+
+_Prince._ And thou to mine as the kind Mistress to the longing Lover; my
+Soul's Delight, and Darling of the Fair.
+
+_Geo._ Ah Prince! you touch my bleeding Wound.
+
+_Prince._ Ha, _Lejere_! leave to unhappy Lovers those Sighs, those
+folded Arms, and down-cast Eyes.
+
+_Geo._ Then they are fit for me; my Mistress, Sir, that Treasure of my
+Life, for whom you've heard me sigh, is perjur'd, false, and married to
+another. Yet what is worse, I find my Prince, my Friend, here in my
+native Country, and am not able to pay him what his Greatness merits.
+
+_Prince._ You pain me when you compliment my Friendship.    [Embracing.
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps you will not think me worth this Honour, when you shall
+hear my Story.
+
+_Prince._ Thou canst say nothing I can value less.
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps too my way of Living has deceiv'd you, being still
+receiv'd by Princes, as Companions in all their Riots, Loves, and
+Divertisements; where ev'n you did me the Honour to esteem, and call me
+Friend.
+
+_Prince._ Whate'er thou art, I'm sure thy Mind's illustrious.
+
+_Geo._ My Family, I must confess, is honourable; but, Sir, my Father was
+the younger House, of which my unhappy self was destin'd to be last: I'm
+a _Cadet_, that Out-cast of my Family, and born to that curse of our old
+_English_ Custom. Whereas in other Countries, younger Brothers are
+train'd up to the Exercise of Arms, where Honour and Renown attend the
+Brave; we basely bind our youngest out to Slavery, to lazy Trades, idly
+confin'd to Shops or Merchants Books, debasing of the Spirit to the mean
+Cunning, how to cheat and chaffer.
+
+_Prince._ A Custom insupportable!--
+
+_Geo._ To this, to this low wretchedness of Life, your Servant, Sir--was
+destin'd by his Parents, and am yet this bound indentur'd Slave.
+
+_Prince._ Thou hast no cause to quarrel with thy Stars, since Virtue is
+most valu'd when opprest--Are all your Merchants Apprentices thus gay?
+
+_Geo._ Not all--but, Sir, I could not bow my Mind to this so necessary
+Drudgery; and yet however, I assum'd my native Temper, when out o'th'
+Trading City; in it, I forc'd my Nature to a dull slovenly Gravity,
+which well enough deceiv'd the busy Block-heads; my Clothes and Equipage
+I lodg'd at this End of the Town, where I still pass'd for something
+better than I was, whene'er I pleas'd to change the Trader for the
+Gentleman.
+
+_Prince._ And liv'd thus undiscover'd--
+
+_Geo._ With Ease, still lov'd and courted by the Great, ever play'd high
+with those durst venture most; and durst make Love where'er my Fancy
+lik'd: but sometimes running out my Master's Cash, (which was supply'd
+still by my Father) they sent me, to reform my expensive Life, a Factor,
+into _France_--still I essay'd to be a plodding Thriver, but found my
+Parts not form'd for dirty Business.
+
+_Prince._ There's not a Thought, an Action of thy Soul, that does not
+tend to something far more glorious.
+
+_Geo._ If yet you think me worthy of your Favour, command that Life you
+have so oft preserv'd.
+
+_Prince._ No more;--Thou hast increas'd my Value for thee.--Oh! take my
+Heart, and see how't has been us'd by a fair Charmer, since I saw thee
+last--That sullen day we parted, you for _England_, you may remember I
+design'd for _Flanders_.
+
+_Geo._ I do, with Melancholy, Sir, remember it.
+
+_Prince._ Arriv'd at _Ghent_, I went to see an _English_ Nun initiated,
+where I beheld the pretty Innocent, deliver'd up a Victim to foolish
+Chastity; but among the Relations, then attending the Sacrifice, was a
+fair Sister of the young Votress, but so surpassing all I'ad seen
+before, that I neglecting the dull holy Business, paid my Devotion to
+that kneeling Saint.
+
+_Geo._ That was the nearest way to Heaven, my Lord.
+
+_Prince._ Her Face, that had a thousand Charms of Youth, was heighten'd
+with an Air of Languishment; a lovely Sorrow dwelt upon her Eyes, that
+taught my new-born-Passion Awe and Reverence.
+
+_Geo._ This Description of her fires me.--    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Her dimpl'd Mouth, her Neck, her Hand, her Hair, a Majesty and
+Grace in every Motion, compleated my Undoing; I rav'd, I burnt,
+I languish'd with Desire, the holy Place cou'd scarce contain my
+Madness: with Pain, with Torture, I restrain'd my Passion when she
+retir'd, led sadly from the Altar. I, mixing with the Croud, enquir'd
+her Name and Country; her Servant told me, that she was of Quality, and
+liv'd in _England_, nay, in this very Town: this gave me Anguish not to
+be conceiv'd, till I resolv'd to follow her, which is the cause you find
+me here so soon. Thy Aid, thy Aid, _Lejere_, or I am lost.
+
+_Geo._ I wish to live no longer than to serve your Highness: if she be,
+Sir, a Maid of Quality, I shall soon find her out, and then you'll
+easily conquer. You've all the Youth, and Beauty, that can charm; and
+what gains most upon a Woman's Heart, you've a powerful Title, Sir,
+a sort of Philter, that ne'er fails to win. But you've not told me yet
+the Lady's Name.
+
+_Prince._ I had forgot that;--'Tis in these Tablets written:
+    [Gives him the Tablets.
+  I'm now in haste, going to receive some Bills: I lodge at _Welborn's_,
+who came over with me, being sent for to be marry'd.
+
+_Geo._ I know the House, 'tis in _Southampton-Square_: I'll wait upon
+your Highness--
+    [Exit _Prince_.
+  Let me see--Daughter to a deceas'd Lord; a Maid, and no Dowry, but
+Beauty; living in _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_.
+    [Opening the Tablets, reads.
+  --Ha!--her Name _Mirtilla_! _Mirtilla_!    [Pauses.
+  Prince, thou hast paid thyself for all the Favours done me.
+_Mirtilla!_
+    [Pauses.
+  Why, yes, _Mirtilla_! He takes but what she has given away already.--
+
+Oh! damn her, she has broke her Faith, her Vows, and is no longer
+mine--And thou'rt my Friend.
+    [Pauses again.
+
+_Mirtilla's_ but my Mistress, and has taken all the Repose of my poor
+Life away--Yes, let him take her, I'll resign her to him; and therefore
+shut my Eyes against her Charms: fix her Inconstancy about my Heart, and
+scorn whatever she can give me.
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Chamber.
+
+    Enter Sir _Morgan Blunder_ in a Night-Gown and Cap; to him
+    _Manage_ with a Caudle.
+
+_Man._ Your Lady Mother has sent you a Caudle, Sir.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Good Mrs. _Manage_, remember my kind Love to my Lady Mother,
+and tell her, I thank her for her Posset, but never eat in a Morning
+after hard drinking over night.
+
+_Man._ Ah, Sir, but now you're marry'd to a fine Lady, you ought to make
+much of your self.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Good Madam, as little of your Matrimony as of your Caudle;
+my Stomach is plaguy squeamish, and a hair of the old Dog's worth both
+of 'em. Oh! sick! sick!
+
+    Enter Sir _Merlin_, singing a Song in praise of a Rake-hell's
+    Life.
+
+  A SONG.
+
+  The _Town-Rake_; written by Mr. _Motteux_.
+
+  I.
+
+  _What Life can compare with the jolly Town-Rake's,
+  When in Youth his full Swing of all Pleasure he takes?
+  At Noon, he gets up, for a Whet, and to dine,
+  And wings the dull Hours with Mirth, Musick and Wine;
+  Then jogs to the _Play-house_, and chats with the Masks,
+  And thence to the _Rose_, where he takes his three Flasks.
+  There, great as a _Cæsar_, he revels, when drunk,
+  And scours all he meets, as he reels to his Punk;
+  Then finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes.
+  What Life can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake's?_
+
+  II.
+
+  _He, like the _Great Turk_, has his Favourite She;
+  But the Town's his _Seraglio_, and still he lives free.
+  Sometimes she's a Lady; but as he must range,
+  _Black-Betty_, or _Oyster-Doll_, serves for a Change.
+  As he varies his Sports, his whole Life is a Feast;
+  He thinks him that's soberest the most like a Beast.
+  At Houses of Pleasure breaks Windows and Doors;
+  Kicks Bullies and Cullies, then lies with their Whores.
+  Rare work for the Surgeon, and Midwife he makes.
+  What Life can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake's?_
+
+  III.
+
+  _Thus in _Covent-Garden_ he makes his Campaign,
+  And no Coffee-house haunts, but to settle his Brain.
+  He laughs at dry Morals, and never does think,
+  Unless 'tis to get the best Wenches and Drink.
+  He dwells in a Tavern, and lies ev'ry where,
+  And improving his hours, lives an Age in a Tear:
+  For as Life is uncertain, he loves to make haste;
+  And thus he lives longest, because he lives fast:
+  Then a Leap in the dark to the Devil he takes.
+  What Death can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake's?_
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, how now, Sir _Morgan_, I see you'll make a Husband of
+the right Town-Mode: What, married but four Days, and at your separate
+Apartment already?
+
+Sir _Morg._ A Plague of your what d'ye call ums.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Rakehells you would say, Cousin, an honourable Appellation
+for Men of Bravery.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, your Rakehells--I was never so muddled with Treason,
+Tierce Claret, Oaths and Dice, all the Days of my Life--Was I in case to
+do Family duty? S'life, you drank down all my Love, all my Prudence too;
+Gad forgive me for it.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, how the Devil cam'st thou to bear thy Liquor so ill? Ods
+my Life, you drunk like a _Frenchman_ new come to the University.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Pox, I can bear their drinking as well as any Man; but your
+_London_ way of Bousing and Politics does not agree with my
+Constitution. Look ye, Cousin, set quietly to't, and I'll stand my
+ground; but to have screaming Whores, noisy Bullies, rattling Dice,
+swearing and cursing Gamesters, Couz. turns the Head of a
+Country-Drinker, more than the Wine.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Oh! Use, Cousin, will make an able Man.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Use, Cousin! Use me no Uses; for if ever you catch me at
+your damn'd Clubs again, I'll give you my Mother for a Maid: Why, you
+talk downright Treason.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Treason, ay--
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ah Cousin, why, we talk'd enough to--hang us all.
+
+Sir _Mer._ My honest Country-Couz. when wilt thou understand the
+_Guelphs_, and the _Gibelins_, and learn to talk Treason o' this side
+the Law? bilk a Whore without remorse; break Windows, and not pay for
+'em; drink your Bottle without asking Questions; kill your Man without
+letting him draw; play away your Money without fear of your Spouse, and
+stop her Mouth by undermining her Nose?
+
+Sir _Morg._ Come, come, look you, Cousin, one word of Advice now I'm
+sober; what the Devil should provoke thee and me to put ourselves on our
+twelve Godfathers for a Frolick? We who have Estates. I shou'd be loth
+to leave the World with a scurvy Song, composed by the Poet _Sternhold_.
+
+    Enter at the Door Sir _Rowland_, hearkning.
+
+Or why, d'ye see, shou'd I expose my Noddle to the Billmen in Flannel,
+and lie in the _Roundhouse_, when I may go to bed in a whole skin with
+my Lady Wife?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Gad, Sir _Morgan_, thou hast sometimes pretty smart satirical
+Touches with thee; use but _Will's_ Coffee-house a little, and with thy
+Estate, and that Talent, thou mayst set up for a Wit.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Mercy upon me, Sir _Merlin_, thou art stark mad: What, I a
+Wit! I had rather be one of your Rakehells: for, look ye, a Man may
+swear and stare, or so; break Windows, and Drawers Heads, or so; unrig a
+needy Whore, and yet keep one's Estate: but should I turn Wit, 'twere
+impossible; for a Wit with an Estate is like a Prisoner among the
+Cannibals.
+
+Sir _Mer._ How so, good Sir _Morgan_?
+
+Sir _Morg._ Why, the needy Rogues only feed him with Praise, to fatten
+him for their Palates, and then devour him.
+
+Sir _Mer._ I applaud your choice, Cousin; for what Man of Bravery wou'd
+not prefer a Rake to a Wit? The one enjoys the Pleasures the other can
+only rail at; and that not out of Conscience, but Impotence: for alas!
+a Wit has no quarrel to Vice in Perfection, but what the Fox had to the
+Grapes; he can't play away his hundred Pound at sight; his Third Day
+won't afford it; and therefore he rails at Gamesters; Whores shun him,
+as much as Noblemen, and for the same cause, Money; those care not to
+sell their Carcases for a Sonnet, nor these to scatter their Guineas, to
+be told an old Tale of a Tub, they were so well acquainted with before.
+
+Sir _Morg._ What's that, Sir _Merlin_?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, their Praise;--for the Poet's Flattery seldom reaches
+the Patron's Vanity; and what's too strong season'd for the rest of the
+World, is too weak for their Palates.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Why, look ye, Cousin, you're a shreud Fellow: Whence learn'd
+you this Satire? for I'm sure 'tis none of thy own; for I shou'd as soon
+suspect thee guilty of good Nature, as Wit.
+
+Sir _Mer._ I scorn it; and therefore I confess I stole the Observation
+from a Poet; but the Devil pick his Bones for diverting me from the
+noble Theme of Rakehells.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Noble Theme, Sir _Merlin_! look ye, d'ye see: Don't mistake
+me, I think 'tis a very scurvy one; and I wou'd not have your Father
+know that you set up for such a Reprobate; for Sir _Rowland_ would
+certainly disinherit thee.
+
+Sir _Mer._ O, keep your musty Morals to your self, good Country Couz;
+they'll do you service to your _Welch_ Criminals, for stealing an Hen,
+or breaking up a Wenches Inclosure, or so, Sir _Morgan_; but for me,
+I despise 'em: I have not been admitted into the Family of the
+_Rakehellorums_ for this, Sir: Let my Father drink old _Adam_, read the
+_Pilgrim's Progress_, _The Country Justice's Calling_, or for a Regale,
+drink the dull Manufacture of Malt and Water; I defy him; he can't cut
+off the Entail of what is settled on me: and for the rest, I'l trust
+Dame _Fortune_; and pray to the Three Fatal Sisters to cut his rotten
+Thred in two, before he thinks of any such Wickedness.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_ in a great Rage.
+
+Sir _Row._ Will you so, Sir? Why, how now, Sirrah! get you out of my
+House, Rogue; get out of my Doors, Rascal.
+    [Beats him.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_.
+
+L. _Blun._ Upon my Honour now, Brother, what's the matter? Whence this
+ungenerous Disturbance?
+
+Sir _Row._ What's the matter! the disturbance! Why, Sister, this Rogue
+here--this unintelligible graceless Rascal here, will needs set up for a
+Rakehell, when there's scarce such a thing in the Nation, above an
+Ale-draper's Son; and chuses to be aukardly out of fashion, merely for
+the sake of Tricking and Poverty; and keeps company with the senseless,
+profane, lazy, idle, noisy, groveling Rascals, purely for the sake of
+spending his Estate like a notorious Blockhead: But I'll take care he
+shall not have what I can dispose of--You'll be a Rake-hell, will you?
+
+L. _Blun._ How, Cousin! Sure you'll not be such a filthy beastly thing,
+will you?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Lord, Aunt, I only go to the Club sometimes, to improve my
+self in the Art of Living, and the Accomplishments of a fine Gentleman.
+
+Sir _Row._ A fine Gentleman, Sot, a fine Coxcomb!    [Beats him.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Hold, hold, good Uncle; my Cousin has been only drawn in,
+a little or so, d'ye see, being Heir to a good Estate; and that's what
+his Club wants, to pay off old Tavern Scores, and buy Utensils for
+Whores in Fashion.
+
+Sir _Row._ My Estate sold to pay Tavern-Scores, and keep nasty Whores!
+
+L. _Blun._ Whores! ay, filthy Creatures; do they deal in Whores? Pray,
+Cousin, what's a Rake-hell?
+
+Sir _Row._ A Rake-hell is a Man that defies Law and good Manners, nay,
+and good Sense too; hates both Morality and Religion, and that not for
+any Reason (for he never thinks) but merely because he don't understand
+'em: He's the Whore's Protection and Punishment, the Baud's Tool, the
+Sharper's Bubble, the Vintner's Property, the Drawer's Terror, the
+Glasier's Benefactor; in short, a roaring, thoughtless, heedless,
+ridiculous, universal Coxcomb.
+
+Sir _Mer._ O Lord, Aunt, no more like him than an Attorney's like an
+honest Man. Why, a Rake-hell is--
+
+Sir _Row._ What, Sirrah! what, you Rebel?    [Strikes him.
+
+L. _Blun._ Nay, good Brother, permit my Nephew to tell us his Notion.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, Aunt, I say a Rake-hell is your only Man of Bravery; he
+slights all the Force of Fortune, and sticks at no Hazard--plays away
+his hundred Pounds at sight, pays a Lady's Bill at sight, drinks his
+Bottle without equivocation, and fights his Man without any Provocation.
+
+Sir _Row._ Nay then, Mr. Rogue, I'll be sworn thou art none: Come, Sir,
+will you fight, Sir? will you fight, Sir? Ha!
+    [Draws his Sword.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Fight, Sir! fight, Sir!
+
+Sir _Row._ Yes, fight, Sir: Come, spare your Prayers to the three Fatal
+Sisters, and cut my Thred thy self, thou graceless reprobate
+Rascal--Come, come on, you Man of Bravery.
+    [Runs at Sir _Merlin_, who retires before him: Sir _Morgan_ holds
+    Sir _Rowland_.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Oh, good Sir, hold: I recant, Sir, I recant.
+
+Sir _Row._ [Putting up.] Well, I'm satisfy'd thou'lt make no good
+Rake-hell in this Point, whatever you will in the others. And since
+Nature has made thee a Coward, Inclination a Coxcomb, I'll take care to
+make thee a Beggar; and so thou shalt be a Rake-hell but in Will, I'll
+disinherit thee, I will, Villain.
+
+L. _Blun._ What, disinherit your eldest Son, Brother?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, Aunt, his very Heir apparent? Aunt, to show you how the
+old Gentleman has misrepresented us, give me leave to present you a
+Dance I provided to entertain your Son with, in which is represented all
+the Beauties of our Lives.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh! by all means, Cousin, by all means.
+
+Sir _Mer._ What hoa! _Roger_, bring in the Dancers.
+
+_Here the Dance, representing Rake-hells, Constable, Watch, &c._
+
+    Enter _Philip_.
+
+_Phil._ Sir, who do's your Worship think is arriv'd?
+
+Sir _Row._ My Son _George_, I hope, come in the Nick.
+
+_Phil._ Even so, Sir, from _Paris_--    [Exit.
+
+Sir _Row._ The Prodigal return'd! then kill the fatted Calf.
+
+    Enter _George_ drest like a Prentice.
+
+--My own dear Boy, thou art welcome to my Arms, as e'er thy Mother was;
+for whose dear sake I pardon all thy Follies.
+    [_George_ Kneels.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, Sir, I had a Mother too, or I'm bely'd--    [Weeping.
+  Pox take him that he should come just in the nick, as the old Fellow
+says--
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Row._ Yes, you had a Mother, whom in my Youth I was compel'd to
+marry; and, Gad, I think, I got thee with as ill a Will; but _George_
+and my _Olivia_ in heat of Love, when my desire was new. But harkye, Boy
+_George_, you have cost me a damn'd deal of Money, Sirrah; but you shall
+marry, and redeem all, _George_.
+
+_Geo._ What you please, Sir; to study Virtue, Duty and Allegiance, shall
+be my future Business.
+
+Sir _Row._ Well said, _George_, here's a Boy now.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Virtue and Allegiance! Lord, Lord, how came so sneaking a
+fellow to spend five thousand Pounds of his Master's Cash?
+
+Sir _Row._ She's rich, _George_, but something homely.
+
+_Geo._ She'll not be proud then, Sir.
+
+Sir _Row._ Not much of her Beauty--she's of a good staid Age too, about
+some fourscore.
+
+_Geo._ Better still, Sir, I shall not fear Cuckoldom.
+
+Sir _Row._ For that I cannot answer; but she has two thousand a year.
+I mean to settle my Family, and then--marry my self, _George_.
+
+L. _Blun._ What, to this old Lady's Grand-daughter? Methinks she's more
+fit for your Son, Sir _Rowland_, and the old Lady for you.
+
+Sir _Row._ No, no, the young Rogues can help themselves with Mistresses;
+but 'tis well if an old Man can keep his Wife to himself--I've invited
+'em to Dinner to day, and see, they are come.
+
+    Enter Lady _Youthly_, led by her Chaplain [Mr. _Twang_], and
+    leaning on a Staff, and _Teresia_.
+
+L. _Youth._ Where's Sir _Rowland Marteen_? Oh, your Servant, Sir, I am
+come.
+    [Runs against _George_.
+
+_Twang._ Your Ladyship is mistaken, this is not Sir _Rowland_, but a
+handsome proper young Man.
+
+L. _Youth._ A young Man! I cry your mercy heartily--Young Man,
+I alighted in the Sun, and am almost blind.
+
+_Geo._ With wondrous old Age.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Youth._ Good lack, Sir _Rowland_, that I should mistake a young Man
+so!
+
+Sir _Row._ Ay, Madam, and such a young Man too.
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, I see him now.    [Puts on her Spectacles.
+
+_Geo._ S'death, what a Sepulcher is here to bury a Husband in? How came
+she to escape the Flood? for sure she was not born since.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Row._ This is the lusty Lad, my Son _George_, I told your Ladyship
+of.
+
+L. _Youth._ Cot so, cot so, is it so, Sir? I ask your Pardon, Sir. Mr.
+_Twang_, take a survey of him, and give me your Opinion of his Person
+and his Parts.
+
+_Twang._ Truly, Madam, the young Man is of a comely Personage and
+Lineaments.
+
+L. _Youth._ Of what, Sir?--Lord, I have such a Cold.    [Coughs.
+
+_Geo._ Which she got when the _Picts_ went naked.
+
+L. _Blun._ Madam, you have a Power over Sir _Rowland_; pray intreat him
+to take his Son, Sir _Merlin_, into Grace again.
+    [To _Teresia_.
+
+_Ter._ That, Sir, you must grant me; pray let me know the Quarrel.
+    [Sir _Rowland_ seems to tell.
+
+_Geo._ By Heaven, she's fair as the first ruddy Streaks of opening Day.
+    [Looking on _Teresia_.
+  Young as the budding Rose, soft as a _Cupid_, but never felt his Dart,
+she is so full of Life and Gaiety. Pray, Madam, who is that Lady?
+    [To Lady _Blun._
+
+L. _Blun._ The Grandchild of your Mistress, and your Mother that must
+be.
+
+_Geo._ Then I shall cuckold my Father, that's certain.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Row._ For your sake, Madam, once again I re-establish him in my
+family; but the first Fault cashiers him--Come, let's in--Here, my Lady
+_Youthly_, take _George_ by the hand; but have a care of the young
+Rogue, if he comes once to touch so brisk a Widow, he sets her Heart on
+fire.
+
+_Geo._ Which will burn like a snuff of a Candle; no body will be able to
+endure it.
+    [Aside.
+  --So Fortune, I see, provides for me:
+  On this hand Wealth, on that young Pleasures lie;
+  He ne'er wants these, who has that kind Supply.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+  _The End of the First Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. Sir _Rowland's_ Lodging.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_, _Teresia_, and Lady _Youthly_, &c.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, if I should be inclin'd to cast away my
+self on your Son _George_, what wou'd you settle?
+
+Sir _Row._ Settle! not a Souse, Madam; he carries the best younger
+Brother's Fortune in _Christendom_ about him.
+
+L. _Youth._ Why, the young Man's deserving, I confess. But he's your
+Son, Sir _Rowland_, and something ought to be settled upon the Heirs of
+our Bodies, lawfully begotten.
+
+Sir _Row._ All _Hercules_ his Labours were a Jig to his that shall beget
+'em.
+    [Aside.
+  If you like him upon these terms, to make him Master of your Fortune--
+
+L. _Youth._ For that, let him trust to me, and his own deservings.
+
+Sir _Row._ No trusting in these fickle Times, Madam--Why, I'll let the
+young sturdy Rogue out to hire; he'll make a pretty Livelihood at
+Journey-Work; and shall a Master-Workman, a Husband, deserve nothing?
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, these Husbands that know their own Strength, as they
+say, set so high a value on their conjugal Virtues. And if he be
+disloyal, again o't'other side he gives a Wife so ill an Example--for we
+are all liable to Temptations.
+
+Sir _Row._ Well said; if thou beest so, it must be the old Tempter
+himself.
+    [Aside.
+  Look ye, Madam, I'll propose a fair Swap; if you'll consent that I
+shall marry _Teresia_, I'll consent that you shall marry _George_.
+
+L. _Youth._ How, my Grand-daughter? Why, I design'd her for your eldest
+Son, Sir _Merlin_; and she has a good Fortune of five hundred a year
+that I cannot hinder her of; and is too young for you.
+
+Sir _Row._ So is _George_ for your Ladyship; and as for his Fortune,
+'tis more than likely I shall make him my eldest Son.
+
+L. _Youth._ Say you so, Sir, well, I'll consider, and take Advice of my
+Friends.
+
+Sir _Row._ Consider! alas, Madam, my House will be besieged by all the
+Widows in Town; I shall get more by shewing him, than the _Rhinoceros_.
+Gad, I'll sell the young Rogue by Inch of Candle, before he's debauch'd
+and spoil'd in this leud Town.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, suppose--
+
+Sir _Row._ Nothing under _Teresia_--Gad, I think some old Dog-Star
+reigns to Day, that so many old Hearts are burning in their Sockets--I'm
+in love with this young Tittymouse here, most damnably--Well, what say
+you, Widow? Speak now, or you know the Proverb.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, you are too hard for me.
+
+    [Ex. all but _Teresia_.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_, runs to her and embraces her.
+
+_Ter._ 'Tis as you said, _Olivia_, I am destin'd to your Father.
+
+_Oliv._ What, the Sentence is past then?
+
+_Ter._ Ay, but the Devil is in us, if we stay till Execution Day: Why,
+this is worse than being mew'd up at _Hackney-School_--my Fortune's my
+own, without my Grandmother, and with that Stock I'll set up for my
+self, and see what Traffick this wide World affords a young beginner.
+
+_Oliv._ That's well resolv'd; I am of the same mind, rather than marry
+Mr. _Welborn_, whom I never saw.--But prithee let's see what we have in
+Stock, besides ready Money--What Toys and Knick-nacks to invite.
+
+_Ter._ Faith, my Inventory is but small--Let me see--First, one pretty
+well made Machine, call'd a Body, of a very good Motion, fit for several
+uses--one pretty conceited Head-Piece, that will fit any body's
+Coxcomb,--when 'tis grave and dull, 'twill fit an Alderman; when
+politick and busy, a Statesman; turn it to Intrigue, 'twill fit a City
+Wife; and to Invention, it will set up an Evidence.
+
+_Oliv._ Very well!
+
+_Ter._ _Item_, One Tongue, that will prattle Love, if you put the Heart
+in time (for they are Commodities I resolve shall go together) I have
+Youth enough to please a Lover, and Wit enough to please my self.
+
+_Oliv._ Most excellent Trifles all! As for my out-side, I leave to the
+Discretion of the Chafferer; but I have a rare Device, call'd an
+Invention, that can do many Feats; a Courage that wou'd stock a Coward;
+and a pretty Implement, call'd a Heart, that will strike fire with any
+convenient force: I have eight thousand Pounds to let out on any able
+Security, but not a Groat unless I like the Man.
+
+_Ter._ Thus furnish'd, we shall ruin all the _Jews_, and undo the
+_India_ Houses--But where shall we show? where meet with the
+Love-Merchants?
+
+_Oliv._ What think you of the Gallery at the Play in Masks?
+
+_Ter._ Shu, a State-Trick, first taken up by Women of Quality, and now
+run into Ridicule, by all the little common Devils of the Town; and is
+only a Trap for a Termer, a small new rais'd Officer, or a City Cully,
+where they baul out their eighteen Pence in Baudy, and filthy Nonsense,
+to the disturbance of the whole House, and the King's Peace: the Men of
+Quality have forsaken it.
+
+_Oliv._ What think you of the _Mall_?
+
+_Ter._ As too publick to end an Intrigue; our Affairs require a Conquest
+as sudden as that of _Cæsar_, who came, saw and overcame.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Tis true, besides there's so many Cruisers, we shall never
+board a Prize. What think you of the Church?
+
+_Ter._ An hypocritical Shift; of all Masks I hate that of Religion; and
+it shou'd be the last place I'd wish to meet a Lover in, unless to marry
+him.
+
+_Oliv._ And, Faith, that's the last thing a Lover shou'd do, but we are
+compell'd to haste, 'tis our last Refuge; if we cou'd but see and like
+our Men, the business were soon dispatcht.--Let me see--Faith, e'en put
+on Breeches too, and thus disguis'd seek our Fortune--I am within these
+three days to be fetch'd from _Hackney School_, where my Father believes
+me still to be, and thou in that time to be marry'd to the old
+Gentleman; Faith, resolve--and let's in and dress thee--away, here's my
+Lady--
+
+    [They run out.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Mirtilla_ and Mrs. _Manage_.
+
+_Mir._ Ah, let me have that Song again.
+
+  A Song by Mr. _Gildon_.
+
+  I.
+
+  _No, _Delia_, no: What Man can range
+  From such Seraphic Pleasure?
+  'Tis want of Charms that make us change,
+  To grasp the Fury, Treasure.
+  What Man of Sense wou'd quit a certain Bliss,
+  For Hopes and empty Possibilities?_
+
+  II.
+
+  _Vain Fools! that sure Possessions spend,
+  In hopes of Chymic Treasure,
+  But for their fancy'd Riches find
+  Both want of Gold and Pleasure.
+  Rich in my Delia, I can wish no more;
+  The Wanderer, like the Chymist, must be poor._
+
+_Man._ Not see him, Madam--I protest he's handsomer, and handsomer,
+_Paris_ has given him such an Air:--Lord, he's all over Monsieur--Not
+see him, Madam--Why? I hope you do not, like the foolish sort of Wives,
+design a strict Obedience to your Husband.
+
+_Mir._ Away, a Husband!--when Absence, that sure Remedy of Love, had
+heal'd the bleeding Wound _Lejere_ had made, by Heaven, I thought I
+ne'er shou'd love again--but since _Endymion_ has inspir'd my Soul, and
+for that Youth I burn, I pine, I languish.
+
+    Enter _George_ richly drest, stands at a distance gazing on
+    _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Man._ See, Madam, there's an Object may put out that Flame, and may
+revive the old one.
+
+_Mir._ Shame and Confusion.--_Lejere._    [Turns and walks away.
+
+_Geo._ Yonder she is, that Mien and Shape I know, though the false Face
+be turn'd with shame away.
+    [Offers to advance, and stops.
+ --'Sdeath,--I tremble! yet came well fortify'd with Pride and Anger.
+I see thou'st in thy Eyes a little Modesty.
+    [Goes to her nearer.
+  That wou'd conceal the Treasons of thy Heart.
+
+_Mir._ Perhaps it is their Scorn that you mistake.
+
+_Geo._ It may be so; she that sets up for Jilting, shou'd go on; 'Twere
+mean to find remorse, so young, and soon: Oh, this gay Town has
+gloriously improv'd you amongst the rest; that taught you Perjury.
+
+_Mir._ Alas! when was it sworn?
+
+_Geo._ In the blest Age of Love, When every Power look'd down, and heard
+thy Vows.
+
+_Mir._ I was a Lover then; shou'd Heaven concern it self with Lovers
+Perjuries, 'twould find no leisure to preserve the Universe.
+
+_Geo._ And was the Woman so strong in thee, thou couldst not wait a
+little? Were you so raving mad for Fool and Husband, you must take up
+with the next ready Coxcomb. Death, and the Devil, a dull clumsey
+Boor!--What was it charm'd you? The beastly quantity of Man about him?
+
+_Mir._ Faith, a much better thing, five thousand Pounds a Year, his
+Coach and Six, it shews well in the _Park_.
+
+_Geo._ Did I want Coach, or Equipage, and Shew?
+
+_Mir._ But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to't; He does not play
+at the Groom-Porter's for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.
+
+_Geo._ If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation's
+Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for
+Heav'n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my
+industrious Love.
+
+_Mir._ I do confess--
+
+_Geo._ Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting
+on.--
+
+And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so
+many tender Hours, all lavish'd on a Brute, who never lusted 'bove my
+Lady's Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.
+
+_Mir._ Prithee reproach me on--    [Sighs.
+
+_Geo._ 'Sdeath, I cou'd rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by
+such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee--Where got'st thou this coarse
+Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she's sworn adorn'd me,
+since a dull, fat-fac'd, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as
+well.
+    [Offers to go.
+
+_Mir._ You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.--
+
+_Geo._ Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive--Art thou not
+marry'd? Tell me that, false Charmer.
+
+_Mir._ Yes.--    [Holding him.
+
+_Geo._ Curse on that word: wou'd thou hadst never learnt it--it gave thy
+Heart, and my Repose away.
+
+_Mir._ Dost think I marry'd with that dull design? Canst thou believe I
+gave my Heart away, because I gave my Hand?--Fond Ceremony
+that--A necessary trick, devis'd by wary Age, to traffick 'twixt a
+Portion and a Jointure; him whom I lov'd, is marry'd to my Soul.
+
+_Geo._ Art thou then mine? And wilt thou make Atonement, by such a
+charming way?--Come to my clasping Arms.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_ at the Door. Sees 'em, and offers to go out
+    again.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh, Heavens! How rude am I?--Cry Mercy, Madam, I protest I
+thought you'd been alone.
+
+_Geo._ 'Sdeath! my Aunt _Blunder_!    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Only this Gentleman, Madam--
+
+L. _Blun._ Sir, I beg your Pardon--and am really sorry--
+
+_Geo._ That you find me with your Daughter, Madam.
+
+L. _Blun._ I hope you take me to be better bred, Sir: Nor had I
+interrupted you, but for an Accident that has happen'd to Sir _Morgan_,
+coming out of the City in a beastly Hackney-Coach, he was turn'd over in
+_Cheap-side_, and striking the filthy Coach-man, the nasty Mob came out,
+and had almost kill'd him, but for a young Gentleman, a Stranger, that
+came to his Rescue, and whom he has brought to kiss your Ladyship's
+Hands--But I'll instruct him in his Duty, he shall wait till your
+Ladyship is more at leisure--alas! he's already on the Stairs.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Mir._ Let him wait there--_Lejere_, 'tis necessary you depart, sure of
+my Heart, you cannot fear the rest; the Night is hasting on; trust me
+but some few Hours, and then, _Lejere_, I'll pay you back with Interest.
+
+_Geo._ All Blessings light on thee. But will your Lady Mother make no
+Discovery of my being here?
+
+_Mir._ She'd sooner pimp for me, and believe it a part of good
+Breeding:--away, I hear 'em coming.
+    [She puts him out at a back-Door.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_ peeping.
+
+L. _Blun._ He's gone--Sir _Morgan_, you may approach.
+
+    Enter Sir _Morgan_, pulling in the _Prince_, Sir _Merlin_, and a
+    _Page_ to the _Prince_.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Nay, as Gat shall save me, Sir, you shall see my Lady, or
+so, d'ye see, and receive the Thanks of the House.
+
+_Prince._ As Gat shall save me, Sir, I am sorry for it--another time,
+Sir: I have earnest business. Now, I am sure nothing worth seeing can
+belong to this litter of Fools.
+
+L. _Blun._ My Daughter is a Person of Quality, I assure you, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ I doubt it not, Madam--If she be of the same Piece--Send me a
+fair Deliverance.
+    [Sir _Morgan_ leads him to _Mirtilla_, he starts.
+  --Ha! What bright Vision's that?
+
+_Mir._ Heav'n! 'Tis the lovely Prince I saw in _Flanders_.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Look how he stares--why, what the Devil ails he?
+
+Sir _Morg._ To her, Sir, or so, d'ye see, what a Pox, are you afraid of
+her?
+
+L. _Blun._ He's in Admiration of her Beauty, Child.
+
+_Prince._ By Heav'n, the very Woman I adore!    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Morg._ How d'ye, see, Sir, how do ye, ha, ha, ha?
+
+_Prince._ I cannot be mistaken; for Heav'n made nothing but young Angels
+like her!
+
+Sir _Morg._ Look ye, Page, is your Master in his right Wits?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sure he's in love, and Love's a devilish thing.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Sa, ho, ho, ho, where are you, Sir, where are you?
+
+_Prince._ In Heav'n!    [Puts him away.
+  Oh! do not rouse me from this charming Slumber, lest I shou'd wake,
+and find it but a Dream.
+
+Sir _Mer._ A plaguy dull Fellow this, that can sleep in so good Company
+as we are.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Dream--A Fiddle-stick; to her, Man, to her, and kiss her
+soundly, or so, d'ye see.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay; kiss her, Sir, kiss her--ha, ha, ha, he's very
+simple.
+
+_Prince._ Kiss her,--there's universal Ruin in her Lips.
+
+_Mir._ I never knew 'em guilty of such Mischiefs.
+
+Sir _Morg._ No, I'll be sworn, I have kist 'em twenty times, and they
+never did me harm.
+
+_Prince._ Thou kiss those Lips? impossible, and false; they ne'er were
+prest but by soft _Southern_ Winds.
+
+Sir _Morg._ _Southern_ Winds--ha, ha, lookye, d'ye see, Boy, thy
+Master's mad, or so, d'ye see--why, what a Pox, d'ye think I never kiss
+my Wife, or so, d'ye see.
+
+_Prince._ Thy Wife!--
+
+_Mir._ He will betray his Passion to these Fools: Alas, he's mad--and
+will undo my Hopes.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Thou mayst as well claim Kindred to the Gods; she's mine,
+a Kingdom shall not buy her from me.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Hay day, my Wife yours! look ye, as d'ye see, what, is it
+_Midsummer-moon_ with you, Sir, or so, d'ye see?
+
+_Mir._ In pity give him way, he's madder than a Storm.
+
+_Prince._ Thou know'st thou art, and thy dear Eyes confess
+it--a numerous Train attended our Nuptials, witness the Priest, witness
+the sacred Altar where we kneel'd--when the blest silent Ceremony was
+perform'd.
+
+_Mir._ Alas! he's mad, past all recovery mad.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Mad, say, poor Soul--Friend, how long has your Master been
+thus intoxicated?
+
+_Page._ He's mad indeed to make this Discovery.    [Aside.
+  Alas, Sir, he's thus as often as he sees a beautiful Lady, since he
+lost a Mistress, who dy'd in _Flanders_ to whom he was contracted.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Good lack--ay, ay, he's distracted, it seems.
+
+_Page._ See how he kneels to her! stand off, and do but mind him.
+
+_Mir._ Rise, Sir,--you'l ruin me--dissemble if you love--or you can
+ne'er be happy.
+    [In a low Voice, and raising him.
+
+_Prince._ My Transport is too high for a Disguise--give me some hope,
+promise me some Relief, or at your Feet I'll pierce a wounded Heart.
+
+_Mir._ Rise, and hope for all you wish: Alas, he faints--
+    [She takes him up, he falls upon her Bosom.
+
+_Page._ Hold him fast, Madam, between your Arms, and he'll recover
+presently. Stand all away.--
+
+_Prince._ Oh! tell me, wilt thou bless my Youth and Love? Oh! swear,
+lest thou shouldst break--for Women wou'd be Gods, but for Inconstancy.
+
+_Page._ See, he begins to come to himself again--keep off--
+
+_Mir._ You have a thousand Charms that may secure you--The Ceremony of
+my Nuptials is every Evening celebrated, the noise of which draws all
+the Town together; be here in Masquerade, and I'll contrive it so, that
+you shall speak with me this Night alone.
+
+_Prince._ So, now let my Soul take Air--
+
+L. _Blun._ What pity 'tis so fine a Gentleman shou'd be thus.
+
+_Mir._ You must be bringing home your Fops to me, and see what comes of
+it.
+    [As she passes out.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Fops! I thought him no more a Fop, than I do my own natural
+Cousin here.
+    [Ex. _Mir._ in Scorn.
+
+_Prince._ Where am I?    [The _Page_ has whispered him.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, here, Sir, here, at Sir _Morgan Blunder's_ Lodging in
+_Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.
+
+_Prince._ That's well, he has told me--Where have I been this long half
+hour, and more?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Nay, the Lord knows.
+
+_Prince._ I fancy'd I saw a lovely Woman.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Fancy'd--why, so you did, Man, my Lady _Mirtilla Blunder_.
+
+_Prince._ Methought I slept upon her snowy Bosom, and dreamt I was in
+Heaven, where I claim'd her.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Good lack aday--why, so you did, Sir, ha, ha, ha.
+
+_Prince._ And rav'd on Love; and talk'd abundance of Nonsense.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ha, ha, ha, by my Troth, and so you did, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ I ask your Pardon, Sir, 'tis an infirmity I have that ever
+takes me at the approach of a fine Woman, which made me so unwilling to
+see your Lady.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye, I ask your Pardon heartily, or so, d'ye see--and am
+sorry you are not in a Condition to visit her often.
+
+_Prince._ I shall be better when I am us'd to her; 'tis the first time
+only affects me.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Pray, Sir, be pleas'd to use your self to her, or so, d'ye
+see--she's a civil Person, and a Person of Quality before I marry'd her,
+d'ye see.
+
+L. _Blun._ My Son tells you Truth, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ Madam, I doubt it not, pray beg her Pardon, and do you give me
+yours.
+    [Bows and kisses her Hand and goes out.
+
+L. _Blun._ A most accomplish'd Person--
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. Another Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_ and _Teresia_, in Mens Clothes.
+
+_Oliv._ Well, the Ball does not begin these three Hours, and we'll
+divert our selves at my Aunt's Basset-Table, which you see is preparing;
+her natural Propensity to oblige both Sexes makes her keep a Bank on
+purpose to bring 'em together. There we shall see the old and the young,
+the ugly and the handsome, Fools that have Money, and Wits that have
+none; and if the Table affords nothing to please the Appetite, we'll
+abroad for Forage.
+
+    Enter Sir _Merlin_ pulling in _George_, follow'd by Sir _Morgan_,
+    Page and Footmen to _George_.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Nay, Sir, I am resolv'd you shall honour my Aunt's
+Basset-Table--
+
+_Geo._ My Aunt's Basset-Table? There may be Money stirring among these
+Fools, and Fortune may befriend me.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sir _Morgan_, pray know this worthy Gentleman, I have the
+honour to lodge in the House with him.
+    [They salute one another.
+  Sir, this is Sir _Morgan Blunder_, a Person of Quality in _Wales_,
+I assure you.
+
+_Geo._ I question it not, Sir, and am proud of the Honour of kissing
+your Hands.
+
+_Ter._ Yonder's a handsom Gentleman.
+
+_Oliv._ My Brother _George_, as I live, 'tis as I cou'd wish.
+    [Aside.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_.
+
+_Wel._ _Lejere!_
+
+_Geo._ _Welborn!_ Welcome from _Paris_, I heard of your arrival from
+Prince _Frederick_.
+
+_Wel._ Yes, I am come to my Destruction, Friend.
+
+_Geo._ Ay, thou'rt to be marry'd, I hear, to a _Welch_ Fortune.
+
+_Wel._ Though Matrimony be a sufficient Curse, yet that's not the
+worst--I am fall'n most damnably in love, since I arriv'd, with a young
+Creature I saw in the _Mall_ t'other Night; of Quality she was, I dare
+swear, by all that was about her; but such a Shape! a Face! a Wit!
+a Mind, as in a moment quite subdu'd my Heart: she had another Lady with
+her, whom (dogging her Coach) I found to be a Neighbour of mine, and
+Grand-Daughter to the Lady _Youthly_; but who my Conqueror was I never
+since could learn.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Slife, _Teresia_, yonder's the handsom Fellow that entertain'd
+us with so much Wit, on _Thursday_ last in the _Mall_.
+
+_Ter._ What, when you chang'd your Breeches for Petticoats at my
+Lodgings.
+
+_Oliv._ That Night, and ever since, I have felt a sort of a Tendre for
+him.
+
+_Ter._ As I do for his Friend--Pray Heav'n he be not marry'd! I fear he
+has laid an Imbargo on my Heart, before it puts out of the Port.
+
+_Geo._ Are you not for the Basset?
+
+_Wel._ No, I've business at the Ball to night; besides, my Lady
+_Blunder_ has a Quarrel to me for last Night's Debauch; I'll wait on you
+in the Morning.
+    [Exit _Welborn_.
+
+_Geo._ Well, you to your Business, and I to mine.
+    [Speaks as the rest go out.
+  Let the dull trading Fool by Business live,
+  Statesmen by Plots; the Courtier cringe to thrive;
+  The Fop of Noise and Wealth be cullied on,
+  And purchase no one Joy by being undone,
+  Whilst I by nobler careless ways advance,
+  Since Love and Fortune are acquir'd by Chance.
+
+    [Exeunt Omnes.
+
+_The End of the Second Act._
+
+
+A Song, sung by Sir _Rowland_ in the second Act.
+
+  To _TERESIA_.
+
+  _Though the Young prize _Cupid's_ Fire,
+  'Tis more valu'd by the Old;
+  The Sun's Warmth we now admire,
+  More than when the Season's cold._
+
+  _Dialogues in the Masque, at the beginning of the third Act._
+
+  _He._ Time and Place you see conspire,
+  With tender Wishes, fierce Desire;
+  See the willing Victim stands
+  To be offer'd by your Hands:
+  Ah! Let me on Love's Altars lying,
+  Clasp my Goddess whilst I'm dying.
+
+  _She._ Oh Lord! what hard words, and strange things d'ye say;
+  Your Eyes too seem closing, and just dying away:
+  Ah! pray what d'ye want? Explain but your mind,
+  Which did I but know, perhaps I'd be kind.
+
+  _He._ My pretty soft Maid, full of innocent Charms,
+  I languish to sigh out my Soul in thy Arms;
+  Oh! then, if I'm lov'd, deny not the Bliss,
+  But tell me I'm happy, with a ravishing Kiss.
+
+  _She._ Oh! Fy, Sir, I vow I cannot endure you;
+  Be civil, or else I'll cry out I assure you;
+  I will not be kiss'd so, nor tumbled, not I,
+  I'll tell all your tricks, that I will, if I die.
+
+  _He._ Nay, never dissemble, nor smother that Fire;
+  Your Blushes, and Eyes betray your Desire.
+  The Practis'd, not Innocent, dally with Bliss,
+  Then prithee be kind, and taste what it is.
+
+  _She._ Let me die now, you're grown a strange sort of a Man,
+  To force a young Maid, let her do what she can;
+  I fear now I blush to think what we're doing,
+  And is this the end of all you Men's wooing?
+
+  _He._ At this Pleasure all aim, both Godly and Sinners,
+  And none of 'em blush for't but poor young Beginners.
+  In Pleasure both Sexes, all Ages agree,
+  And those that take most, most happy will be.
+
+  _Chorus_. In Pleasure both Sexes, &c.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. A rich Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene
+    opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_,
+    _Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like
+    his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of
+    both Sexes.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I'm lost in Love! I've seen a Man,--or
+rather 'tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so
+dress'd! so shap'd! and danc'd with such an Air!
+
+_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where's this Wonder to be seen?
+
+_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and
+Movement of uncommon Fashion?
+
+_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I'm sure my dear Man is
+none of 'em.
+    [Sighs.
+
+_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir'd burns easily, and soft, but I am all
+impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in
+my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a
+way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.
+
+_Mir._ _Endimion_, where's Sir _Morgan_?
+
+_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.
+
+_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business
+for you e'er the Morning.
+
+_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.
+
+_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and
+watches for a tender Look.
+
+_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by
+what you've said already?
+
+_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis'd--and yet I blush to tell
+you I was pleas'd, and blest the dear necessity that forc'd me.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha! 'tis the Man I love--and courts _Mirtilla_, and she receives
+him with inviting Looks. 'Sdeath, she's a common Lover! already I'm
+arriv'd to Jealousy!
+
+    Enter _George_ in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast,
+    goes to _Mirtilla_, sees one courting her.
+
+_Geo._ What gilded thing is that?--I must disturb 'em--'Tis I,
+_Mirtilla_, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps,
+are taken up with different Thoughts--
+
+_Mir._ _Lejere!_ How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and
+gay have pow'r to warm--How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious
+Love declares for _Frederick_; 'tis great to enslave a Prince.
+    [Aside.
+  --_Lejere_--wait till I give the word--perhaps it may be late--go mix
+your self i'th' Crowd, you may be else suspected--
+    [Goes from him.
+
+_Ter._ I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape,
+and Mein.
+    [Looking round about _George_.
+  Let me see--What's this written on his Back?--To be lett ready
+furnish'd--
+    [Reading it.
+  A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who's within here?
+    [Claps him on the Back.
+
+_Geo._ Who's there?    [Exit _Olivia_.
+
+_Ter._ Love and Fortune.
+
+_Geo._ Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring'st
+'em?
+
+_Ter._ A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your
+Person and Parts--if thou be'st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me
+see thy Face; and if I'm not mistaken, 'tis ten to one, but we may go
+near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.
+
+_Geo._ And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as
+ever you met with--Look ye, am I the Man?
+
+_Ter._ Let me see--a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton
+Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor
+low, and extremely well fashion'd.
+    [Reads all this in her Tablets.
+  --Ay, ay, you are the Man--
+
+_Geo._ I am glad on't, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou
+art not the Woman--
+
+_Ter._ Heav'n! what Woman, Sir?
+
+_Geo._ Why, any Woman that's pretty, witty, young, and good-natur'd.
+
+_Ter._ I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.
+
+_Geo._ Faith, and that's kind; but every thing in its due time: I love
+to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there's as much Pleasure in the
+Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to't, and the first Stage is a
+handsom Face.
+
+_Ter._ Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.
+
+_Geo._ To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to
+engage him a long while.
+
+_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call'd little Freedoms, Kissing,
+Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where
+Whip and Spur laid by, all tir'd and dull, you lazily lie down and
+sleep.
+
+_Geo._ No, I'm a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True
+Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new
+Discoveries.
+
+_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?
+
+_Geo._ Yes, I once discover'd it in my Voyage round the World.
+
+_Ter._ Sure 'tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as 'tis
+approach'd.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_.
+
+_Geo._ Faith, let's set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we
+shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that
+will recompense our pains.--
+    [Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from
+    him.
+  Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I'll have you in my Eye.
+    [The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to
+    _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the
+thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless
+Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my
+Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.
+
+_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador'd! and at your Feet behold your Slave
+making eternal Vows?
+
+_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--
+
+_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a
+Deity?
+
+_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?
+
+_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Alas, the Foe's within that will betray me, Ambition, and our
+Sex's Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--
+
+_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.
+
+_Mir._ Anon I'll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither
+this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir.
+    [Pointing to _Manage_.
+
+_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call'd to
+Witness. By Heav'n, gay Sir, I'll watch you.
+
+_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry'd?
+
+_Geo._ Marry'd--that's a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design,
+keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.
+
+_Ter._ Nay, truth is, 'tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to
+make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter'd Bully of Seventy,
+unmarry'd, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy,
+out-of-humour'd Husband at Eight and Twenty.
+
+_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.
+
+_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.
+
+_Geo._ Good.
+
+_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.
+
+_Geo._ Very good.
+
+_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love.
+    [Pulls off her Mask.
+
+_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design'd for my Mother! now, what a
+Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou'd fain cuckold
+my Father.
+    [Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.
+
+_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.
+
+_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company,
+I'll take the Air a little, and return.
+    [Goes out with _Manage_.
+
+_Geo._ Is this design'd or real?--perhaps she is retir'd for me--Mrs.
+_Manage_.--
+    [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.
+
+_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?
+
+_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I'll wait on her for your
+admittance.
+    [Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn's_ Cloke, goes out, and
+    _Welborn_ enters into the Company dress'd like the _Prince_.
+
+_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but
+I'll trace the Mystery.
+
+Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here's nothing but gaping and
+peeping in one another's Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame 'em
+into Action.
+    [Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_
+    enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.
+
+_Wel._ Ha! what's this, Sir, a Challenge?
+
+_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be,    [Reads.
+  She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.
+
+_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I
+assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear
+Reason from her--
+
+_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty
+Bargains; not but I shou'd be glad to hear Reason from any of the
+Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?
+
+_Oliv._ Yes.
+
+_Wel._ Then I'll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and
+insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has
+recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that
+jilts her Husband, will her Lover.
+
+_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ What, she's parted from the Fool! then she's expensive, and for
+want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets
+with.
+
+_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she's raving on her Honour; then if
+she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng'd.
+
+_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.
+
+_Wel._ How!
+
+_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.
+
+_Wel._ Not so--but--
+
+_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--
+
+_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--
+
+    Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.
+
+  _Wise Coxcombs be damn'd, here's a health to the Man,
+  That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
+
+Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?
+
+Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv'd to shew our
+selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.
+
+L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look'st as
+magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her
+Prime, or so, de see.
+    [Sings.
+
+L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct
+you.
+
+Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father's an old Toast, de see; and I hope to
+see him hang'd.
+
+Sir _Row._ Here's a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang'd!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang'd, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why,
+what a Pox shou'd Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in
+Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little
+Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.
+
+Sir _Row._ A damn'd Rogue, I'll disinherit him immediately.
+
+L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?
+
+Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion
+to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.
+
+Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir,
+swallow me that Word, or I'll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you
+have drunk.
+
+Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you're a Blunderbuss.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you're the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so,
+I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou
+shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to
+hang thee, and that's fair and civil.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I'm drunk enough to ravish, I'll cuckold my
+old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.
+
+Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I'll kill the Dog, because I'll have the
+Law on my side--Come on, Sir.
+    [Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in
+    and parts 'em.
+
+_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!
+
+Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.
+
+_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty 'twas.    [Pulls off his Vizard.
+
+Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I'll go and cut off the Intail of my
+Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--
+
+    [Exeunt all but _George_.
+
+_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder
+that she sends not to me: my Love's impatient, and I cannot wait--while
+the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I'll
+softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there--
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers _Mirtilla_ and Prince
+_Frederick_._
+
+_Prince._ Oh! I am ravish'd with excess of Joy.
+
+_Mir._ Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.
+
+_Prince._ Never, my _Mirtilla_!
+
+The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers
+Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young
+Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes,
+soft as thy tender Touches; and e'er the Pantings of my Heart are laid,
+new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in
+Love's harmonious Order.
+    [Kisses and embraces her.
+
+    Enter _George_, softly.
+
+_Geo._ This House I know, and this should be her Bed-Chamber, because
+the best; and yet methought I heard another Voice--but I may be
+mistaken.
+
+_Prince._ I faint with Pleasure of each tender Clasp; I sigh, and
+languish, gazing on thy Eyes! and die upon thy Lips, with every Kiss.
+
+_Geo._ Surely I know that Voice! Torments, and Hell!--but 'tis
+impossible.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Oh! satisfy my Doubt, my trembling Doubt! Am I belov'd? Have I
+about me ought engaging to thee, Charmer of my Soul?
+
+_Geo._ It is the Prince.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Ah, Prince! Can you such needless Questions ask, after the
+Sacrifice which I have made?
+
+_Geo._ Hell take thee for that Falshood.    [Draws.
+
+_Mir._ Think not the mighty Present of your Jewels, enough to purchase
+Provinces, has bought one single Sigh, or Wish: No, my dear Prince, you
+owe 'em all to Love, and your own Charms.
+
+_Geo._ Oh, damn'd, dissembling Jilt!    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ No more, no more, my Soul's opprest with Joy: let me unload it
+in thy tender Arms, and sigh it out into thy ravishing Bosom.
+
+_Geo._ Death, and Damnation!--
+
+I shall forget his Quality and Virtue, forget he was my Friend, or sav'd
+this Life; and like a River, swell'd with angry Tides, o'erflow those
+Banks that made the Stream so gay.
+
+_Mir._ Who's there?--I heard a Voice--_Manage_?
+
+_Geo._ Yes.    [Softly.
+
+_Prince._ Approach, thou Confident of all my Joys; approach, and be
+rewarded--
+    [_Prince_ takes his Jewel from his Hat.
+
+_Geo._ Yes, for my excellent Bauding--By Heav'n, I dare not touch his
+princely Person.
+
+_Prince._ Where art thou? take this Jewel and retire.
+    [Gropes for his Hand, gives it him.
+
+_Geo._ E'en my Misfortunes have a sort of Luck; but I'll withdraw, for
+fear this Devil about me shou'd raise my too rash Hand against his Life.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Prince._ Come, my eternal Pleasure--each Moment of the happy Lover's
+Hour, is worth an Age of dull, and common Life.
+
+    [Exeunt into the Alcove, the Scene shuts.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Garden by Night still.
+
+    Enter _George_ with his Sword in his Hand, as before.
+
+_Geo._ Why do I vainly call for Vengeance down, and have it in my
+Hand?--By Heav'n, I'll back--Whither? To kill a Woman, a young perjur'd
+Woman!--Oh, ye false Fair Ones! shou'd we do you Justice, a universal
+Ruin wou'd ensue; not one wou'd live to stock the World anew. Who is't
+among ye All, ye Fair Deceivers, ye charming Mischiefs to the noble
+Race, can swear she's Innocent, without Damnation? No, no, go on--be
+false--be fickle still: You act but Nature--But, my faithless
+Friend--where I repose the secrets of my Soul--except this one--Alas! he
+knew not this:--Why do I blame him then?
+
+    Enter _Olivia_, dress'd as before.
+
+_Oliv._ Fire! Fire! Fire!
+
+_Geo._ _Olivia's_ Voice!--Ha! what art thou? Thy Voice shou'd be
+_Olivia's_, but thy Shape--and yet a Woman is all o'er Disguise.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_ in her Night-Gown.
+
+L. _Blun._ Fire! Fire! Fire! My Son, my dear Sir _Morgan._
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_, and Servants.
+
+Sir _Row._ A Pox on your Son, and mine to boot; they have set all the
+Sack-Butts a Flaming in the Cellar, thence the Mischief began.
+_Timothy_, _Roger_, _Jeffrey_, my Money-Trunks, ye Rogues! my
+money-Trunks!
+
+L. _Blun._ My Son, good _Roger_! my own Sir _Moggy_!
+
+Sir _Row._ The ten thousand Pounds, ye Rascal, in the Iron Trunk, that
+was to be paid Mr. _Welborn_ for _Olivia's_ Portion.
+    [Exit.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh my Son! my Son!--run to the Parson, _Sam_, and let him
+send the Church-Buckets. Oh, some help! some help!
+
+    Enter _Manage_.
+
+_Man._ Oh, Heavens! my Lady _Mirtilla's_ Chamber's all on Flame.
+
+    Enter _Britton_.
+
+_Geo._ Ha,--the Prince! I had forgot his Danger.
+
+_Man._ Ah! look up, and see how it burns.
+
+_Geo._ _Britton_, a Million for a Ladder!
+
+_Man._ Blessing on you, Sir, if you dare venture through the House;
+there lies one in the Fore-Garden.
+
+_Britt._ The Passage is on fire, Sir, you cannot go.
+
+_Geo._ Revenge is vanish'd, and Love takes its place: Soft Love, and
+mightier Friendship seizes all. I'll save him, though I perish in the
+Attempt.
+    [Runs out, _Britton_ after him.
+
+    Enter at another Door, Sir _Rowland_.
+
+L. _Blun._ A thousand Pound for him that saves Sir _Morgan_!
+
+Sir _Row._ And, do ye hear, let my Rogue lie; I'd rather he should be
+burnt, than hang'd on _Tyburn_ Road, for murdering his Father.--But
+where's Boy _George_?
+
+    Enter Men with Trunks.
+
+_Rog._ Safe, Sir, I hope; he was not in the House.
+
+Sir _Row._ So, so, away with these Trunks to my Lady _Youthly's_ in
+_Southampton_-Square, and tell her we must trouble her to night. Come,
+Sister, let's away.
+
+    [Ex. Lady _Blunder_, and Sir _Rowland_.
+
+    Prince _Frederick_ and _Mirtilla_, appear at the Window, the
+    Flame behind 'em.
+
+_Prince._ Help, help, and save _Mirtilla_! Ask any Price, my Life, my
+Fortune! All!
+
+_Mir._ Oh, Heav'ns, the Flame pursues us as we fly.
+
+_Prince._ No help! Oh Gods, I shall prevent the Flame, and perish by my
+Fears to see you die!
+
+_Mir._ Alas! Sir, you with ease may save your Life! This Window you may
+leap, but I want Courage.
+
+_Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I'll grasp thee, ev'n in
+Flames, and die with thee.
+
+_Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us.
+
+    Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window.
+
+_Prince._ Ha! some pitying God takes care of us. Haste, haste, my
+Charmer; Heav'n has sent us Aid.
+
+    [Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George's_ Arms; after
+    her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage's_ Arms, she
+    faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_.
+
+_Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign'd at thy
+glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my
+Love, the Treasure of my Soul?
+
+_Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers.
+
+_Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.--
+
+    Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_.
+
+Carry 'em to Mr. _Welborn's_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to
+me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man!
+
+_Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friendship,
+I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry'd to my Lodgings at _Welborn's_.
+
+_Geo._ You shall command me, Sir.
+
+    [Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_.
+
+_Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while.
+
+_Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.
+
+_Oliv._ Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him--Wou'd I cou'd
+see his Face by all this fatal Light.
+
+    Enter _Constable_ and Watch.
+
+_Const._ So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play'd rarely, and we have
+Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where
+there's Fire, there's Rogues--Hum, who have we here?--How now, Mr.--Hum,
+what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of
+Jewels.
+    [Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, creeping out of the Cellar
+    Window.
+  Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sirrah! you're a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at
+the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues!
+that have stood for Knights of the Shire, and made the Mobile drunk,
+Sirrah!
+
+_Const._ We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Worships.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, here's a Crown for you; carry us to the next
+Tavern, and we'll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat
+in a Storm.
+
+_Oliv._ Sir, I find you have Interest with these arbitrary Tyrants of
+the Parish; pray will you bail me, and this Gentleman?
+
+Sir _Mer._ What, _Endimion_! my Lady _Mirtilla's_ Page? He lent me Money
+to Night at the Basset-Table; I'll be bound Hand and Foot for him, Mr.
+Constable, and, gad, we'll all to the Tavern, and drink up the Sun,
+Boys.
+
+_Oliv._ Yonder Gentleman too has receiv'd some hurt by the Fire, and
+must go home, Sir; but you must restore him the Box, Mr. Constable.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, lookye, de see, return the Gentleman all; they're
+Gentlemen, and our intimate Friends, d'ye see.
+
+    [Exeunt _Prince_, and _Olivia_.
+
+    Enter a _Servant_.
+
+_Const._ Stand: Who goes there?
+
+Sir _Morg._ _Philip_--Lookye, d'ye see, he shall along with us to the
+Tavern.
+
+_Serv._ Sir _Morgan_, I came to seek you: your Lady Mother sent me back
+on purpose; she has spoil'd her Beauty with crying for you.
+
+Sir _Morg._ And wash'd off all her Paint?--Or so, de see! Gad sa' me,
+_Philip_, this is ill Luck. Come, let us go drink down Sorrow.
+
+_Serv._ Being sent of such an Errand, as your Safety, Sir, I dare not
+stay and drink now, before I've satisfy'd your Mother.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Not drink! I charge you in the King's Name, Mr. Constable,
+bring him along.
+    [The _Constable_ and Watch seize him.
+
+Sings.
+
+  _Wise Coxcombs be damn'd, here's a Health to the Man,
+  That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _The _Prince's_ Lodgings_.
+
+  Enter Page with Lights, sets 'em on the Table.    [Ex.
+
+    Enter _Mirtilla_, led by Mrs. _Manage_.
+
+_Mir._ Ha! where am I, _Manage_?
+
+_Man._ Heav'n be thanked, Madam, at the Prince's Lodgings.
+
+_Mir._ What happy Star conducted us, and sav'd us from the Fury of the
+Flames?
+
+_Man._ Those whose Influence are always gracious to your Ladyship.
+
+_Mir._ But where's the Prince? where's my illustrious Lover?
+
+_Man._ Waiting the Return of the Chair, Madam.
+
+_Mir._ But my _Endimion_?--Is _Endimion_ safe?
+
+_Man._ Madam, he is: I saw him in the Garden.
+
+_Mir._ Then perish all the rest--Go send to search him out, and let him
+instantly be brought to me--Hah--_Lejere_.
+
+    Enter _George_.
+
+_Geo._ Baud, stand aside--and do your Office yonder--
+    [Puts away _Manage_.
+  Why are you frighted, Madam, because I'm not the Lover you expected?
+
+_Mir._ What Lover! be witness, Heaven--
+
+_Geo._ That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling
+tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there,
+swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.
+
+_Mir._ Why all this mighty Rage?--Because I disappointed you to night?
+
+_Geo._ No, by Heaven, I dully cou'd have waited for the Hour; have
+hop'd, and wish'd, and languish'd out an Age. But, oh _Mirtilla_! Oh
+thou perjur'd Fair!--But vanish all the Softness of my Soul, I will be
+satirical.
+
+  _A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex,_
+  _Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites._
+
+_Mir._ And can you think my Flight is criminal? because I sav'd this
+worthless Life--for you--
+
+_Geo._ What Innocence adorns her Tongue, and Eyes! while Hell and Furies
+give her Heart its motion. You know not where you are?
+
+_Mir._ Perhaps I do not.
+
+_Geo._ Swear, for thou'rt damn'd already, and by what black Degrees I
+will unfold: When first I saw this gay, this glorious Mischief, though
+nobly born, 'twas hid in mean Obscurity; the shining Viper lay half dead
+with Poverty, I took it up, and laid it next my Heart, fed it, and
+call'd its faded Beauties back.
+
+_Mir._ Confess'd; And what of this?
+
+_Geo._ Confirm'd you mine, by all the Obligations Profuseness cou'd
+invent, or Love inspire.
+
+_Mir._ And yet at your Return you found me marry'd to another.
+
+_Geo._ Death and Hell! that was not yet the worst: You flatter'd me with
+some Pretence of Penitence; but on the Night, the dear destructive
+Night, you rais'd my Hopes to all distracting Love cou'd wish--that very
+Night--Oh, let me rave and die, and never think that Disappointment
+o'er!
+
+_Mir._ What, you saw me courted at the Ball, perhaps.
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps I saw it in your Chamber too. Breathless and panting,
+with new-acted Joys, the happy Lover lay--Oh _Mirtilla_!
+
+_Mir._ Nay, if he knows it, I'll deny't no more.    [Aside.
+
+_Geo._ There is no Honesty in all thy Kind.
+
+_Mir._ Or if there be, those that deal in't are weary of their Trade.
+But where's the mighty Crime?
+
+_Geo._ No, I expect thou shouldst out-face my Eyes, out-swear my
+Hearing, and out-lye my Senses.--The Prince! the Prince! thou faithless
+dear destruction.
+
+_Mir._ The Prince! good Heaven! Is all this Heat for him?
+
+_Geo._ Thou own'st the Conquest then?
+
+_Mir._ With as much Vanity as thou wouldst do, if thou hadst won his
+Sword: Hast thou took care wisely to teach me all the Arts of Life, and
+dost thou now upbraid my Industry? Look round the World, and thou shalt
+see, _Lejere_, Ambition still supplies the place of Love. The worn-out
+Lady, that can serve your Interest, you swear has Beauties that
+out-charms Fifteen; and for the Vanity of Quality, you feign and
+languish, lye, protest, and flatter--All Things in Nature cheat, or else
+are cheated.
+
+_Geo._ Well said; take off thy Veil, and shew the Jilt.
+
+_Mir._ You never knew a Woman thrive so well by real Love, as by
+Dissimulation: This has a thousand Arts and Tricks to conquer; appears
+in any Shape, in any Humour; can laugh or weep, be coy or play, by
+turns, as suits the Lover best, while simple Love has only one Road of
+Sighs and Softness; these to _Lejere_ are due: But all my Charms, and
+Arts of gay dissembling, are for the credulous Prince.--Ha--he's
+here!--and with him the dear Youth that has enslav'd me, who triumphs
+o'er the rest.
+    [Aside.
+
+    Enter Prince _Frederick_, _Olivia_ following, sees _Mirtilla_, and
+    withdraws.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha! _Mirtilla_, and my Brother here? Oh, how I long to see that
+Stranger's Face.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, thou Charmer of Life's dull and tedious Hours, how
+fares thy Heart? Dwells any Pantings there, but those that Love, and his
+dear Joys create?
+
+_Mir._ Or if there do, you shou'd excuse it now.
+
+_Geo._ How many Devils reign in beauteous Woman!
+
+_Prince._ My dear _Lejere_, congratulate my Joys; take all my Friendship
+thou--but thou my Soul. Come, come, my Friend, let us retire together;
+I'll give thee leave to gaze upon my Heaven, and feed on all the Sweets
+that Friendship may: But all the rest of the vast Store is mine.
+
+_Man._ Madam, _Endimion_ is already here.    [Aside to her.
+
+_Mir._ Thou hast reviv'd me--Let him wait my Call.
+    [Exit _Prince_ with _Mirtilla_, _George_ goes out, and peeps at
+    the Door. _Olivia_ comes forward.
+
+_Oliv._ Spite, Spite, and dire Revenge seize my fond Soul!--Oh, that I
+were a Man, a loose leud Man; how easily wou'd I rob him of her Heart,
+and leave him but the shadow of Enjoyment!
+
+    Re-enter _George_.
+
+_Geo._ Now, my dear Sister, if thou ever lov'dst me, revenge thy Brother
+on this perjur'd Woman, and snatch her from this gallant Rival's Arms.
+She loves thee--Dissemble thou to love again; meet her Advances with an
+equal Ardour, and when thou hast wound her up to dalliance, I'll bring
+the Prince a witness of her Shame.
+
+_Oliv._ But what if he shou'd kill me--
+
+_Geo._ I'll take care of that.
+
+_Oliv._ Then e'er the morning dawns, you shall behold it: She languishes
+to see me, and I wait on purpose for her Commands.
+
+_Geo._ As I cou'd wish: Be sure to act the Lover well.    [Exit.
+
+_Oliv._ As well as I can act it.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_, habited as last.
+
+That all Mankind are damn'd, I'm positive; at least all Lovers are.
+
+_Wel._ What have we here? the Spark that rally'd me about a Woman at the
+Ball to night? Who is it, Sir, you curse so heartily.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha, how beautiful he is--how many Charms dwell in that lovely
+Face--
+    [Aside.
+  'Tis you I curse.
+
+_Wel._ Gad, I thank you for that, you were kinder to night, when you
+told me of a fine Woman that was in love with me.
+
+_Oliv._ Why, what have you to do with Woman-kind?
+
+_Wel._ A pretty civil Question; has the Lady that sent you a mind to be
+inform'd.
+
+_Oliv._ Or if she had, you're not at leisure now, you are taken up, Sir,
+with another Beauty. Did not you swear, never to speak to Woman-kind,
+till I had brought her, I told you, sigh'd for you?
+
+_Wel._ Right, and I have kept my word religiously.
+
+_Oliv._ The Devil you have, witness the Joy _Mirtilla_ gave your Soul:
+Even now you were all Transport, all Extasy of Love; by Heaven, you had
+forgot you brought me in, and past triumphant in _Mirtilla's_ Arms, Love
+in your Heart, and Pleasure in your Eyes.
+
+_Wel._ Ay, sure he mistakes me for the amorous Prince, and thus,
+perhaps, has mistook me all the Night: I must not undeceive him.
+    [Aside.
+  Whate'er you saw, I have a Heart unwounded, a Heart that never soundly
+loved, a little scratch it got the other day by a young Beauty in the
+_Mall_, her Name I know not, but I wish'd to know it, and dogg'd her
+Coach, I sigh'd a little after her, but since ne'er saw the lovely
+Vision.
+
+_Oliv._ Sure this was I.    [Aside.
+  What Livery had she, Sir?
+
+_Wel._ That I took notice of, 'twas Green and Gold--Since that, I trifle
+now and then with Love, to chase away this Image, and that's all.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha, now I view him well, 'tis the same handsome Fellow that
+entertain'd us in the _Mall_ last Thursday.
+
+_Wel._ Come, Sir, 'tis late, please you to take a Bed with me to Night,
+where we'll beget a better Understanding.
+
+_Oliv._ A better than you imagine--'Sdeath, to bed with him, I tremble
+at the thought--Sir, I do not love a Bedfellow.
+
+_Wel._ Sir, I have lent my Lodgings to a Stranger of Quality, or I wou'd
+offer you a single Bed--but for once you may dispense with a Bedfellow.
+
+_Oliv._ I will not put you to that trouble, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ Do you design to make me your Friend, and use me with Ceremony?
+Who waits there?
+
+    Enter Footman.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Slife, what shall I do? I cou'd even consent, to prevent his
+going to _Mirtilla_--besides, I have no home to go to--
+
+_Wel._ Come, no more Scruples--here--a Night-Gown and a Cap for the
+Gentleman.
+
+_Oliv._ What shall I do?--I have a little urgent Business, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ If there be absolute necessity, I'll see you to your Lodgings.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, by no means, Sir. 'Sdeath, whither can I go?
+
+_Wel._ Why do you pause? Deal freely with me, Sir, I hope you do not
+take me for a Lover of my own Sex-- Come, come to bed.
+
+_Oliv._ Go you, Sir, I'll sit and read by you till Day.
+
+_Wel._ 'Sdeath, Sir, d'ye think my bed's infectious?
+
+_Oliv._ I shall betray my Sex in my denial, and that at last I can but
+do if Necessity compel me to't.
+    [Aside.
+  Go on, Sir, you have shamed me.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+    Enter _Prince_ and _George_.
+
+_Prince._ And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the
+Conquest, but the Joys are lasting.
+
+_Geo._ I am glad on't, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ Why dost wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love's gay Sunshine
+dances in my Eyes? If thou'rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her solemn
+Vows breath'd in the height of Love, disarm me of thy hopes, if
+Friendship wou'd permit thee.
+
+_Geo._ I do not think it, Sir--
+
+_Prince._ Not think it, not think that she has sworn!
+
+_Geo._ Yes, doubtless, Sir--she's prodigal of Vows, and I dare swear, by
+all she's sworn by, she'll break 'em all: She has less Faith than all
+the fickle Sex, uncertain and more wanton than the Winds, that spare no
+Births of Nature in their wild course, from the tall Cedar to the
+Flowers beneath, but ruffle, ravish, and ruin all.
+
+_Prince._ I speak of my _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Geo._ Why, so do I--of yours, of mine, or any Man's _Mirtilla._
+
+_Prince._ Away, she that with force of Love can sigh and weep--
+
+_Geo._ This very she, has all the while dissembled! Such Love she deals
+to every gaudy Coxcomb, how will she practice then upon a Hero?
+
+_Prince._ Away, it cannot be.
+
+_Geo._ By all your Friendship to me, Sir, 'tis truth.
+
+_Prince._ Racks and Tortures!--let her have made of me a mere Example,
+by whom the cozen'd World might have grown wise: No matter, then I had
+been pleas'd, though cullyed--Why hast thou ruined my Repose with Truths
+that carry more Damnation than a Lye? But Oh--thou art my Friend, and I
+forgive thee.
+
+_Geo._ Sir, I have done, and humbly ask your Pardon.    [Offers to go.
+
+_Prince._ Stay, stay, _Lejere_,--if she be false, thou'rt all the World
+has left me; and I believe--but canst thou prove this to me?
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps I may before the Morning's dawn.
+
+_Prince._ Ha, prove it here--here, in this very House!
+
+_Geo._ Ay, here, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ What, in my Lodgings will she receive her Spark--by Heaven,
+were he the darling Son of a Monarch, an Empire's Hope, and Joy of all
+the Fair, he shou'd not live to rifle me of Peace.--Come, shew me this
+destin'd Victim to my Rage.
+
+_Geo._ No, my Revenge is only comical--If you wou'd see how Woman can
+dissemble, come on, and follow me.
+
+_Prince._ What, disturb her Rest! Didst thou not see her fainting with
+the Fatigues this Night had given her, and begg'd me I would leave her
+to Repose?
+
+_Geo._ Yes, and wonder'd at her Art; and when you begg'd to watch by her
+Bed-side, with what dear Promises she put you off; while every word fell
+feebly from her Tongue, as if't had been her last, so very sick she
+was--till you were gone--Hark--a Door opens--I will obscure the Lights.
+    [Puts away the Lights.
+
+    Enter _Olivia._ They retire a little.
+
+_Oliv._ Was ever Maid so near to being undone? Oh Heavens! in bed with
+the dear Man I love, ready to be betray'd by every Sigh.
+    [_George_ peeps.
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis _Olivia_.
+
+    Enter _Manage_ groping.
+
+_Man._ I left him here--what, by dark? _Endimion_, young, handsome Sir,
+where are you?
+    [Calls _Olivia_.
+
+_Geo._ Do you hear that, Sir?
+
+_Man._ Oh, are you here?--    [Runs against _Olivia_.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Slife, 'tis _Manage_--how shall I escape?--    [Aside.
+
+_Man._ Come, Sir, my Lady _Mirtilla_ has dismiss'd her troublesome
+Lovers, for your more agreeable Company.
+
+_Geo._ D'ye hear that, Sir?
+
+_Man._ Come softly on, Sir, and follow me.
+
+_Oliv._ I'm all Obedience--
+
+She cannot ravish me, and that's a Comfort.    [Aside, going out.
+
+_Prince._ Oh, _Lejere_--can this be possible? Can there be such a Woman?
+
+_Geo._ Follow him, Sir, and see--
+
+_Prince._ See what!--be witness of her Infamy? Hell! Hell, and all the
+Fires of Lust possess her! when she's so old and leud, all Mankind shun
+her.--I'll be a Coward in my own dire Revenge, and use no manly
+Mercy.--But oh, I faint, I faint with Rage and Love, which like two
+meeting Tides, swell into Storms.--Bear me a minute to my Couch within.
+
+_Geo._ What have I done! now I repent my Rashness.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. Draws off, discovers _Mirtilla_ at her Toylet, dress'd.
+
+    Enter _Manage_, leading _Olivia_ in as _Endymion_, who falls at
+    _Mirtilla's_ Feet, whilst she's there, sings a Song; she takes him
+    up.
+
+_Mir._ Rise,--When Lovers are alone they pardon Ceremony.--I sent for
+you to end the Night with me; say--how shall we employ it?
+
+_Oliv._ I'll sigh, and gaze upon your lovely Face.
+
+_Mir._ Nothing but sigh, and gaze; we shall grow dull.
+
+_Oliv._ I'll tell you Tales of Love, and sing you Songs.
+
+_Mir._ Thy Voice, 'tis true, can charm a thousand ways; but Lovers time
+their Joys, these for the Day, those for the lovely Night. And when they
+would be silently in love, have Musick of soft Sighs and gentler
+Whispers.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, Love inspires all this--What shall I do?    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Nay, think not because I sent for you alone, while Night and
+Silence favour Lovers Stealths, to take advantage of my yielding Heart.
+
+_Oliv._ I wou'd to Heaven she were in earnest now.
+
+    A Noise. Enter _Manage_.
+
+_Man._ Oh, hide your Favourite, Madam--do you hear.
+
+_Mir._ A jealous Lover only, comes in such a Storm--Dear, to my Heart,
+whose Safety is my Life. Submit to be conceal'd--but where--Oh Heavens,
+he comes--'Tis for you I fear--
+    [They search for a place.
+
+_Man._ He comes--
+
+_Mir._ Here, let my Train secure you--Till now I never found the right
+Use of long Trains and Farthingals.
+    [She kneels, _Man._ puts her Train over _Olivia_.
+
+    Enter _Prince_ and _George_, at the Door.
+
+_Geo._ 'Sdeath, you have made these Pauses and Alarms to give her time
+to jilt you.
+
+_Prince._ Pray Heaven she do--I'd not be undeceiv'd for all the Sun
+surveys.
+    [Enters.
+
+_Mir._ My Lord the Prince! now you are kind indeed.
+    [Goes and embraces him.
+  --hah! what means this Unconcern?
+
+_Prince._ I thought I'ad left you sick, extremely sick.
+
+_Mir._ And are you griev'd to find my Health return?
+
+_Prince._ No, wondrous glad of it. You're mighty gay, _Mirtilla_, much
+in Glory.
+
+_Mir._ Can he, who lays his Fortune at my Feet, think me too glorious
+for his Arms and Eyes?
+
+_Geo._ Fifty to one the Gipsy jilts him yet.    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Pray Heaven she lyes but handsomly--    [Aside.
+  --for mine, _Mirtilla_! Ha--ha--
+
+_Mir._ Am I not yours? You cannot doubt my Vows.
+
+_Geo._ She'll do't, and make me love her anew for her rare dexterity at
+dissembling.
+
+_Prince._ I left you wearied, going to your Bed, but find you at your
+Toylet gayly dress'd, as if some Conquest you design'd e'er morning.
+
+_Mir._ _Manage_, Sir, from the Fire, secur'd these Trifles, and I was
+trying several Dresses on; that this slight Beauty that you say has
+charm'd you, might, when you saw it next, complete the Conquest.
+
+_Geo._ And that thou wilt, if Flattery can do't.
+
+_Prince._ Now, were she guilty, as I'm sure she's not, this Softness
+would undo me, and appease me.
+
+_Mir._ You seem as if you doubted what I say.
+    [This while, _Olivia_ gets off unseen.
+  By all the Powers--
+
+_Prince._ Hold, I scorn to need an Oath to fix my Faith; Oh! thou art
+all divine, and canst not err.
+    [Embraces her.
+  Curs'd be the Tongue that dares profane thy Virtue, and curs'd the
+listning Fool that dares believe it.
+
+_Geo._ What a poor, wretched, baffled thing is Man, by feebler Woman
+aw'd and made a Coxcomb!
+
+_Mir._ Durst any one traduce my Virtue, Sir, and is it possible that you
+could hear it?--Then perish all the Beauties you have flatter'd.
+    [Tears her Head-things.
+
+_Prince._ Come to my Arms, thou Charmer of my Soul! and if one spark of
+Jealousy remain, one of those precious Tears shall quench the Crime--Oh,
+come, and let me lead thee to thy Bed, and breathe new Vows into thy
+panting Bosom.
+    [Leads her off, she looks back on _George_ and smiles.
+
+_Geo._ Now all the Plagues of injur'd Lovers wreck thee; 'Sdeath, where
+has she hid _Olivia_? or how am I deceiv'd?--'Tis Day, and with it new
+Invention rise to damn this Woman to the sin of Shame; break all the
+Chains that hold the princely Youth, and sink her with her fancy'd Power
+and Vanity.
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE III. Changes to Lady _Youthly's_.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_ half dress'd, Lady _Blunder_ in an Undress,
+    Lady _Youthly_ in her morning-dress, _Teresia_ and Mr. _Twang_.
+
+Sir _Row._ Morrow, my Lady _Youthly_, and thank you for my Night's
+Lodging--You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.
+
+L. _Youth._ Truly, Sir _Rowland_, that I intend.
+
+Sir _Row._ But where's the Bride-groom, Madam?
+
+    Enter _Roger_.
+
+How now, _Roger_, what, no news yet of _George_?
+
+_Rog._ Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.
+
+Sir _Row._ Rubbish--What--what, is _George_ become the Rubbish of the
+World then?
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Twang._ Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir.
+
+L. _Blun._ But are you sure, _Roger_, my Jewel, my Sir _Moggy_ escap'd?
+
+_Rog._ The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.
+
+L. _Youth._ How, Mr. _Twang_, the young Gentleman burnt--Oh--
+    [Falls in a Chair.
+
+_Ter._ Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News.--Good Sir
+_Rowland_, comfort her, and dry your Eyes.
+
+Sir _Row._ Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so--
+    [Feigns Chearfulness, and speaks to Lady _Youthly_.
+
+L. _Youth._ How! the House fell on him--Oh!
+
+Sir _Row._ Ah, Madam, that's all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like
+an Elephant--'twill bear a Castle, Madam.
+
+L. _Youth._ Alas, good Man: What a Mercy 'tis, Mr. _Twang_, to have a
+Back like an Elephant!
+
+L. _Blun._ Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion--
+
+Sir _Row._ Ay--but--but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast.
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Twang._ Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady--Consider Man's a Flower--
+
+Sir _Row._ Ay, but _George_ was such a Flower! He was, Mr. _Twang_, he
+was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he
+wou'd have made! And what a swinging Sheriff--
+    [Cries.
+
+_Ter._ What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?
+
+Sir _Row._ Well, if he be gone--Peace be with him: and, 'Ifaks,
+Sweet-heart, we'll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters--but--but I
+shall ne'er beget another _George_.
+    [Cries.
+
+_Ter._ This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.
+
+Sir _Row._ Alas! Mrs. _Teresia_, my Instrument is untun'd, and good for
+nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.
+
+_Cry within._ Murder, Murder, Murder!
+
+    Enter Footman. Sir _Merlin_ with his Sword drawn, and Sir
+    _Morgan_.
+
+Sir _Row._ What's here, my Rogue?
+
+_Twang._ What's the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this
+hostile manner?
+
+Sir _Morg._ What, Mr. _Twang_, de see!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay--stand by Divinity--and know, that we, the Pillars of
+the Nation, are come, de see--to ravish.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh, my dear Sir Morgan.    [Embraces him.
+
+Sir _Morg._ I do not intend to ravish, like a _Jew_, in my own Tribe--
+
+L. _Youth._ What say they, Mr. _Twang_, ravish? Oh, save my Honour--lead
+me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come
+upon their Peril.
+    [_Twang_ leads her out. Sir _Morgan_ goes to _Ter._
+
+Sir _Mer._ Old Fellow, do'st hear? Sir _Pandarus_ of _Troy_, deliver me
+my _Cressida_, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off _Vi
+& Armis_.
+
+L. _Blun._ Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ha--Old Queen _Gwiniver_, without her Ruff on?
+
+    [Sir _Merlin_ takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out:
+    Sir _Rowland_ draws upon him. As they are going to fight, _George_
+    enters.
+
+_Geo._ Is there a Man in Nature's Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand
+against his Father?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Father me no Fathers; I fight for _Teresia_, my lawfully
+begotten Spouse.
+
+_Geo._ That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign
+your Sword here at his reverend Feet.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah--
+
+_Geo._ There, drag away this Brute.    [Disarms him. To the Footman.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. _Teresia_ along with you.
+
+_Ter._ Sure this is my fine Fellow--and yet the very same that's to be
+married to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman.
+    [_George_ speaks this while with his Father, who embraces him.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Burnt, say you, Mrs. _Teresia_, de see--my Lady _Mirtilla_
+burnt! Nay, then, 'tis time to go to sleep, get sober, and marry again.
+    [Goes out.
+
+Sir _Row._ Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv'st my whole Estate, and
+thou shalt have it, Boy--This day thou shalt marry the Widow, and I her
+Grand-child. I'll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Geo._ How, marry to day--Old Gentleman, you must be cozen'd; and,
+Faith, that goes against my Conscience--Ha, the Fair, the Young
+_Teresia_ there--When a man's bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never
+wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou'd be in my way
+now--Fair Creature, are you resolv'd to be my Mother-in-law?
+
+_Ter._ As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir--And see--the News of
+your being come, has rais'd my Grandmother.
+
+    Enter _Lettice_, my Lady's maid, and Lady _Youthly_.
+
+_Geo._ A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.
+
+_Ter._ I cou'd have spar'd her now too; but see she advances as swift as
+Time.
+
+_Geo._ And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you--
+
+L. _Youth._ Where--where's this Young Welcome Gentleman--Oh, are you
+here, Sir--
+    [She sees him not, but runs upon him.
+  _Lettice_, take _Teresia_, and get you to your Chamber, she has her
+Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we'll make but one
+work of both.
+
+_Ter._ Ay, 'twill save Charges, Madam--
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou'd be private.
+
+_Geo._ Heark ye--leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I'll
+follow you to your Chamber.
+
+_Ter._ Leave you! No, hang me if I do, till I have told you a piece of
+my mind, for I find there's no dallying.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, Sir, I have finish'd the Great Work.
+
+_Geo._ I wish you had--_Teresia_, once you made me hope you did not hate
+me.
+
+L. _Youth._ What says he, _Teresia_?
+
+_Ter._ He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.
+
+L. _Youth._ No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not
+felt before.
+
+_Geo._ Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear--You have too much Wit,
+_Teresia_, to have been only pleas'd with the Embroider'd Coat, and
+Gawdy Plume, when still the man's the same.
+
+L. _Youth._ What says he, Embroider'd Coat and Plume?
+
+_Ter._ He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne'er the worse, for being
+without those Fopperies.
+
+L. _Youth._ Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband;
+those Fellows that dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind
+their Wives.
+
+_Geo._ Are you so dull, _Teresia_, not to see, this Habit was put on,
+only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?
+
+L. _Youth._ Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young
+Man--Well, well, I'll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make
+you happy, Mr. _Twang_ shall join us, Sir.
+
+_Geo._ A blessed hearing--You see, Charming Maid, how very short a space
+there is between this and the hast'ning hour; stand not on Virgin
+Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.
+
+_Ter._ I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need
+Considering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that
+was the first moment I saw you at the _Basset-Table_.
+
+_Geo._ Ha! at the Basset-Table!
+
+_Ter._ Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money--but no more--your
+Time and Place.
+
+L. _Youth._ What are you prating to him there?
+
+_Ter._ He doubts your Love, Madam, and I'm confirming it.
+
+L. _Youth._ Alas, good Gentleman!--anon I'll convince him--for in the
+Ev'ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.
+
+_Geo._ Ah, Madam, I cou'd wish 'twere not so long defer'd, for sure I
+love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here
+prepar'd an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion
+is sincere.
+
+L. _Youth._ Good-lack-a-day, indeed you're so obliging: But pray let us
+have the Dance.
+    [Dance.
+
+L. _Youth._ Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don't droop, don't
+droop; come, hold up your Head--you may be allow'd one kiss beforehand.
+
+_Geo._ [Kisses her.] Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there!
+    [Aside.
+
+L. _Youth._ Come, come, _Teresia_, come with me.
+
+_Geo._ [to _Teresia_.] I'll send a Chair to your Back-gate anon, that
+shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint.
+Get ready instantly.
+
+_Ter._ And if I fail, may I be eternally damn'd to the Embraces of old
+Age.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _George_.
+
+_Geo._ _Mirtilla_, thus thy Scorn I will out-brave, And let my Father
+the kind Cheat forgive;
+  _If I with dexterous charitable care_
+  _Ease him of Burdens he wants strength to bear._    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Welborn's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_ dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.
+
+_Wel._ Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?
+
+_Foot._ I know not, Sir, he 'rose before day--What Letter's this, Sir?
+It lay upon your Toylet.
+    [Gives _Welborn_ a Letter.
+
+_Wel._ _To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know_--
+    [Reads.
+  Hum--a Woman's Hand--    [Opens it.
+
+  _The Lady you saw last _Thursday_ in the _Mall_, you had in Bed with
+you last Night. _Adieu_._
+
+Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or
+Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!
+
+    Enter _George_, fine.
+
+--_Lejere_, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou
+know'st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the _Mall_:
+And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.
+
+_Geo._ Is this your ill Luck, Sir?
+
+_Wel._ 'Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me
+asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she
+writ this Billet, and left it on my Table.
+    [Gives it _George_, he reads it.
+
+_Geo._ By all that's good, _Olivia_!--And were you very honest, Sir?
+
+_Wel._ To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.
+
+_Geo._ What will you say now, _Charles_, if I bring this Woman to you
+again?
+
+_Wel._ Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.
+
+_Geo._ For all her Frolick, _Charles_, she's very honest, a Fortune, and
+of Quality--and were't not for _Olivia_, thou shouldst marry her.
+
+_Wel._ _Olivia_ I ne'er saw, and now 'twill be too late.
+
+_Geo._ Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.
+
+_Wel._ You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her?--By all that's
+good, I will resign her to thee.
+
+_Geo._ You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.
+
+_Wel._ _Olivia_ thy Sister!--
+
+_Geo._ Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to
+marry her; for her Honour's mine.
+
+_Wel._ Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.
+
+_Geo._ Then thou shall have her--Haste, and get a Licence--no
+more--trust my Friendship--Go.
+    [Exit _Welborn_.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_.
+
+_Olivia_, where did you lie last Night?--Nay do not blush, for you may
+yet be virtuous.
+
+_Oliv._ Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur'd, nor breaking
+Morn ungaz'd at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.
+
+_Geo._ I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World
+talk shamefully.
+
+_Oliv._ Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.
+
+_Geo._ No more--here's _Manage_--Contrive an Assignation with
+_Mirtilla_; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done,
+I'll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, _Manage_, is the Prince
+stirring?
+
+_Man._ He's in his Dressing-Room, Sir.--This from my Lady, Sir.
+    [Slides the Letter into _Olivia's_ Hand as she passes out.
+
+_Geo._ What have you there, Olivia?    [Takes the Billet.
+
+_Oliv._ An Assignation from your perjur'd Mistress, Sir.
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis well--you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the
+height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I'll bring her Lover in the
+height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.
+
+_Oliv._ And then the lovely Man stands fair for me.    [Aside.
+
+_Geo._ Go write an Answer back--and wait her hour.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+SCENE II. _The Dressing-Room. Discovers the _Prince_ at his Toylet,
+dressing. Musick and a Song._
+
+    Enter _George_, waits till the Song is ended. The _Prince_ sees
+    him, comes to him with Joy, and falls about his Neck.
+
+
+  SONG, by Mr. _Gildon_.
+
+  I.
+
+  _Ah _Charmion!_ shroud those killing Eyes,
+  That dart th' extremes of Pleasure,
+  Else _Celidon_, though favour'd, dies
+  As well as him that you despise,
+  Though with this diff'rent measure:
+  While lingring Pains drag on his Fate,        }
+  Dispatch is all th' Advantage of my State;    }
+  For ah! you hill with Love, as well as Hate._ }
+
+  II.
+
+  _Abate thy Luxury of Charms,
+  And only Part discover;
+  Your Tongue, as well as Eyes, has Arms
+  To give a Thousand fatal Harms
+  To the poor listening Lover:
+  Thy Beams, like Glorys veil'd shou'd be,
+  And like the Front of Heav'n, unseen, pass by;
+  For to behold 'em, in full force, we die._
+
+_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, O! I faint, I die with thy Beauty's Luxury! by
+Heaven, I'm all Rapture, Love, and Joy: Such a dear Night,
+_Lejere_!--Poets may fancy pressing Goddesses, on downy Beds of
+Clouds--But oh, _Lejere_!--Those Gods were never half so blest as I!
+
+_Geo._ What pity 'twere to wake you from this Dream.
+
+_Prince._ It is not in the power of Time nor Age: For even then
+_Mirtilla_ will have Charms! Oh, how she speaks! how well she'll grace a
+Story!
+
+_Geo._ How gay her Wit! how movingly she writes!
+
+_Prince._ I do believe she does.    [A little seriously.
+
+_Geo._ Would it displease you, should you see a Billet from her?
+
+_Prince._ That's as it were directed.    [Gravely.
+
+_Geo._ You would not credit what you saw last Night.
+
+_Prince._ Nor wou'd have lost that Night for all the Treasure the vast
+Ocean hides.
+
+_Geo._ I wou'd not have a Man, so good and great, be made a Woman's
+Property--There, Sir.
+    [Gives him the Billet.
+
+_Prince._ I'll not believe it her's; there are a thousand ways to ruin
+Innocence; if she be false--she's damn'd. Confirm me, and of course I
+shall despise her. You cure me, when you shew her worth my Scorn.
+
+_Geo._ Will you be rul'd then, and believe it Friendship in me?
+
+_Prince._ I will.
+
+_Geo._ Give her, by Absence, but an Opportunity; feign some Excuse to
+leave the Town to day.
+
+_Prince._ See where she comes--
+
+    Enter _Mirtilla_.
+
+Adorn'd with all the beauteous Wonders of her Sex. The Gods of Love are
+playing in her Eyes, and give us Wounds from ev'ry graceful Motion. Ah,
+my _Mirtilla_! how shall I support the Absence of a many coming Hours,
+that languish, being from thee but a Moment?
+
+_Mir._ I hope, my Lord, Fate is not so unkind, to let me live without
+you many Hours.
+
+_Prince._ Can all this be dissembl'd?    [Aside to _George_.
+
+_Geo._ How much more have I heard? yet all was false.
+
+_Prince._ I must this Day--this tedious live-long Day, be absent from
+thy Sight--but shall be back i'th' Evening: I'll leave _Lejere_ to wait
+on your Commands.
+
+_Mir._ _Lejere_ shall ever, Sir, be dear to me--But I'll retire, and
+sigh till your Return--that World affords no Pleasure where you are not.
+
+_Prince._ Do you hear that, Sir?    [Aside to _George_.
+  Till Night, thou dearest Blessing of my Life--Adieu.
+    [_Mirtilla_ going out, pulls _Lejere_ by the Sleeve.
+
+_Mir._ Thou little, mischievous informing Thing, how vainly hast thou
+lavish'd out Invention!
+    [Smiling.    [Exit.
+
+_Prince._ By Heaven, methinks 'twere Sin but to suspect her.
+
+_Geo._ Think so; I'll trouble your Repose no more: I've done my Duty,
+and I wou'd not see you made a--
+
+_Prince._ Property--Ha--A loath'd convenient Tool--A Woman's
+Implement--'Sdeath! she that off--Loose to the nasty Love of every Fool,
+that will be flatter'd, cozen'd, jilted, cuckolded--No more--I will,
+unseen, convey my self into the Closet in my Dressing-Room; 'tis near
+her Bed--and if I find her wanton--
+
+_Geo._ If you find her--the Youth is waiting now that shall convince
+you.
+
+_Prince._ Where?--Oh, set the happy Slave but in my View, and--
+
+_Geo._ No, faith, Sir, be convinc'd before you strike, for fear she jilt
+you out of Sense and Reason--
+
+_Prince._ Come to my Closet, from thence we may observe all that passes
+in her Chamber; from whence I'll break upon the perjur'd Fair, like
+Thunder from a Cloud, and more destructive.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Chamber. Draws and discovers _Mirtilla_ and _Manage_.
+
+_Mir._ Is the Prince gone?
+
+_Man._ Yes, Madam.
+
+_Mir._ Then bring _Endimion_ to me.
+
+_Man._ Madam, I wish you'd think no more of him; for I foresee, that
+this Amour must ruin you. Remember you have left a Husband for the
+Prince.
+
+_Mir._ A Husband! my Drudge, to toil for me, and save me the Expence of
+careful Thoughts: My Cloke, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my
+Train--no more--but _Endimion_ waits.
+    [Exit _Manage_.
+  --There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to
+this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self
+to do him Justice--A new desire of humouring my wish, sways all my
+Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for
+a Promise? since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well
+excuse our needful Perjury.
+
+    Enter _Manage_, and _Olivia_, she runs and embraces him.
+
+--Let the young bashful Maid, unskill'd in Love, deny the pressing
+Swain.
+
+Let wither'd Age, who fondly dreams of Virtue, lose the dear
+Opportunities of Life.
+
+The coming Hours present themselves to us; and are too nice, not to be
+snatch'd when offer'd.
+
+_Oliv._ So hasty! this disarms me of Excuse.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Why are thy Eyes bent down? Why dost thou pause?
+
+_Oliv._ So hot!--I must prepare to shew my Sex's Evidence, if nothing
+else will do.
+    [Unbuttons her Coat.
+
+_Mir._ What, not a Word!
+
+Advance, thou bashful Youth--Love in thy Eyes, and Coward in thy Heart!
+The one all Fire, the other too much Ice.
+
+    _Prince_ and _George_ looking out.
+
+_Prince._ Yet stay me, my _Lejere_, from my hasty Vengeance.
+
+_Oliv._ Ah, Madam, how are you mistaken! 'Tis not Coldness in me--but--
+
+_Mir._ What, Bashfulness!
+  Oh, Love will lend thee Courage;
+  This Trembling is the soft Effects of it.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, how vilely she's mistaken!
+
+_Mir._ Come to my Bed, and press the Roses down; and lend more sweetness
+to 'em than they bring.
+    [She leading him to her Bed, the _Prince_ enters, with _Lejere_,
+    holding his Sword in Hand; he takes hold of _Olivia_.
+
+_Prince._ Love--thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a
+Slave to faithless Beauty.
+    [The _Prince_ holding _Olivia_ by the Bosom of her Coat, her
+    Breast appears to _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Mir._ Ha! what do I see?--Two Female rising Breasts. By Heav'n,
+a Woman.--Oh fortunate Mischance!
+    [This while _George_ is arguing with the _Prince_ not to hurt
+    _Olivia_.
+
+_Prince._ No, I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.
+
+_Mir._ Oh, Sir, 'twere Sin to hurt the lovely Youth.
+
+_Prince._ No, Madam, since I have taken back my Heart, I can present you
+with another Lover.
+    [Gives _Olivia_ to her.
+
+_Mir._ Ha! another Lover!--What means my Prince?
+
+_Prince._ Eternally to leave you to your Frailty.
+
+_Mir._ Can you so easily cancel all your Vows? Then kill me at your
+Feet, I do implore it.
+    [Kneels and weeps.
+
+_Prince._ Away, I do forgive thee, wretched Woman.--But yet be
+gone--lest Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your
+young Darling.
+
+_Mir._ Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?
+
+_Oliv._ Maid!--What means she? Sure she cannot know me.
+
+_Prince._ Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast persuaded my Eyes and
+Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.
+
+_Mir._ Try 'em once more, and then repent, and die.
+    [Opens _Olivia's_ Bosom, shews her Breasts.
+
+_Prince._ Ha--By Heav'n, a Woman!
+
+_Mir._ You that wou'd smile at my suppos'd undoing, present yourself no
+more before my Eyes.
+  'Twas to perplex you that I feign'd this Passion.
+  I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief,    [To _George_.
+  And poison all my Happiness with the Prince.--
+
+And since I am thought so criminal, I'll take an everlasting leave of
+you.
+    [To the _Prince_.
+  When I am dead, may she you honour next repay your Tenderness as I
+have done--But may she never meet my wretched Fate.
+    [She snatches _Olivia's_ Sword out.
+
+_Prince._ Hold, thou most valu'd Treasure of the World, or turn the
+pointed Weapon to my Heart.
+
+_Mir._ No, I'm false, unworthy of your Love.
+
+_Geo._ Yes, by Heaven. But thou hast jilted him so handsomly, thou'st
+vanquish'd all my Rage.
+
+_Mir._ Yes, I am false; false to this Gallant Man,--    [To _George_.
+  false to my Husband, to my Sex's Fame; for you more charming, I alas
+am perjur'd.
+
+_Prince._ _Lejere_, have I then injur'd thee?
+
+_Geo._ This is the fatal Beauty, Sir, for whom so often you have seen me
+languish.
+
+_Prince._ Ah! wouldst thou see me on a Precipice, and not prevent my
+Danger?
+
+_Geo._ To mightier Friendship I cou'd all surrender, and silently have
+born her Perjuries; but those to you, awaken'd all my Rage: but she has
+out-trick'd me, and I beg her Pardon--And to secure her yours, have
+lov'd anew, and beg Protection in your Lodgings, Sir, for a young Maid
+whom I design to marry.
+
+_Prince._ Command my Life, my Fortune, and my Sword, for the unwilling
+Injury I have done thee--And is this the charming, perjur'd Fair,
+_Mirtilla_?
+
+_Geo._ It is, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ Since it is possible that you cou'd cease to love this Gallant
+Man, whom I have heard with so much tender Passion tell your Loves, what
+sacred Vows had past, and what Endearments, how can I hope from thee a
+lasting Faith?--Yet on the Oaths that thou hast sworn to me--by all thy
+Hopes of Pardon for thy Perjuries, to ease my panting Heart--once speak
+the Truth--Didst thou not take this Woman for a Man?
+
+_Mir._ I did--and were she so, I wou'd with Pride own all the Vows I've
+broke.
+
+_Prince._ Why, this is fair--and though I buy this Knowledge at the vast
+Price of all my Repose; yet I must own, 'tis a better Bargain than
+chaff'ring of a Heart for feign'd Embraces--Thou hast undone me--yet
+must have my Friendship; and 'twill be still some Ease in this Extreme,
+to see thee yet repent, and love _Lejere_.
+
+_Mir._ No, Sir, this Beauty must be first declining, to make me take up
+with a former Lover.
+
+_Geo._ No, Sir, I have dispos'd my Heart another way; and the first
+knowledge of her Falshood cur'd me: Her Marriage I forgave--that thing
+of Form--but never could her Fondness to this Youth.
+
+_Prince._ Who's this Lady, Sir, whose Pardon I must beg?
+
+_Geo._ My Sister, Sir, who I disguis'd on purpose to be a Guard to this
+suspected Fair One.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_.
+
+_Wel._ Ha, she's there!
+
+Now every Feature points me out my Conqueress.--Nay, start not--I have
+found Thee, thou malicious Charmer, to bring me so near to Bliss, and
+not afford me one kind hint.
+
+_Oliv._ And are not you a very dull Fellow, that lov'd and long'd, and
+had the Maid so near you, and yet needed a Hint?
+
+_Wel._ Nay, if you conceal'd your precious Talent, how shou'd it profit
+any body?
+
+_Oliv._ Conceal'd it!--No, Faith, I made a very fair Tender; but you
+refus'd it, as not being current Coin.
+
+_Wel._ But if you most feloniously, and unlawfully deface our
+Sovereign's Image, so as it may be as soon taken for the Grand
+Signior's, I may suspect the Metal too.
+
+_Oliv._ What say you if I tender it before these lawful Witnesses?
+
+_Wel._ I'll take it for good Payment--I _Charles Welborn_--
+
+_Oliv._ Ha, _Welborn_!    [Aside.
+
+_Wel._ Take thee--whom?--Gad, if the Parson of the Parish knew your Name
+no better than I--'twill be but a blind Bargain.
+
+_Geo._ _Olivia Marteen_--
+
+_Wel._ My destin'd Wife!
+
+_Geo._ The very same: Have you the Parson ready?
+
+_Wel._ He waits in my Chamber.
+
+_Oliv._ Madam, I beg you'll lend me something more becoming my Sex.
+
+_Mir._ _Manage_ will furnish you from my Wardrobe.
+    [Exit _Olivia_ with _Manage_.
+
+    Enter _Teresia_.
+
+_Geo._ And see my good Genius appears too.
+
+_Ter._ See, Sir, I am resolv'd to be welcome to your Arms; look, here
+are the Writings of the Estate my Grandfather left me, and here's three
+thousand Pound my Grandmother has settled on me, upon her Marriage with
+you.
+    [Gives him the Writings.
+
+_Geo._ And here's my Father's Estate settled on me--Come, let's put them
+together--and go in, and let the Parson do as much for us.
+    [Puts 'em in her Case.
+
+_Ter._ But have you very well considered this Matter?
+
+_Geo._ Teresia, we'll do like most Couples, marry first, and consider
+afterwards--
+    [Leads her in.
+
+    Enter a Footman.
+
+_Foot._ Sir, here's Sir _Merlin_, with a Lady mask'd, wou'd speak with
+you.
+
+_Wel._ Carry 'em into the Dining-Room, I'll wait on 'em anon.
+
+    [Exeunt _Omnes_.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _My Lady _Youthly's_; Discovers her, and _Lettice_ dressing
+her._
+
+L. _Youth._ Hold the Glass higher, _Lettice_; is not this Tour too
+brown?--Methinks it does not give a youthful Aire to my Face.
+
+_Lett._ That's not in Nature.
+
+L. _Youth._ Like Nature! Ay, but Nature's self wants Art, nor does this
+Fontange suit with my Complexion--put on a little more red, _Lettice_,
+on my Cheeks, and Lips.
+    [She does so.
+
+_Lett._ Ay, for they are but a little too much upon the
+_Coventry_-Blue--This Tour must come more forward, Madam, to hide the
+Wrinkles at the corners of your Eyes--
+    [Pulls it.
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, _Lettice_, but there are others, that neither Tours, nor
+Paint, nor Patches will hide, I fear--yet altogether, _Lettice_--
+    [Puts on her Spectacles, and looks in the Glass.
+
+    Enter _Sir Rowland_.
+
+Sir _Row._ What, no Bride yet, nor Bridegroom?
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, what can be the meaning of this?
+
+Sir _Row._ But _Teresia_, Madam, where can she be gadding?
+
+L. _Youth._ Why, _Lettice_ tells me, she went to buy some Trifles to
+adorn her this Night--Her Governante is with her, and my Steward.
+
+    Enter Mr. _Twang_.
+
+_Twang._ Alas, what pity 'tis; the Supper is quite spoil'd, and no
+Bridegroom come!
+
+_A Noise of hallowing without, and Musick._
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_.
+
+L. _Blun._ Bless us! Here's a whole Regiment of Liveries, Coaches, and
+Flambeaux at the Door! the Fops of the Town have heard of a Wedding, and
+are come in Masquerade.
+
+    Enter Musick playing; after them, Prince _Frederick_, leading
+    _Mirtilla_, _George_ leading _Teresia_; Sir _Merlin_, _Diana_;
+    Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_; Pages, and Footmen, all in Masquerade.
+    Sir _Morgan_ comes in, all in Mourning; _Welborn_, and _Olivia_.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Hearing of a high Wedding, Sir, we made bold (as the saying
+is) to give you Joy. Sir, are not you the Bridegroom?
+
+_Ter._ Where's your Bride, Sir? Ha! ha! ha!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay, where's your Bride?
+
+Sir _Row._ What's that to you, _Sir_ Coxcomb?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Hum--how the devil came he to know me now?--Is this reverend
+Gentlewoman your Lady, Sir?
+
+Sir _Row._ Ounds, they come to mock us!--Hark ye, hark ye, Tawdrums, if
+you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks and
+be gone, d'ye hear.--We are not at leisure for Fooling.
+
+_Geo._ Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon    [_George_ kneels.
+  this one Disobedience of my Life, and all the rest I'll dedicate to
+please and humour you. Sir, I am marry'd.
+    [Pulls off his Mask.
+
+Sir _Row._ What the Devil's that to me, Sir?
+
+_Geo._ Do not you know me, Sir?
+
+Sir _Row._ No, Sir, nor don't care to know any such flaunting Coxcombs.
+
+_Geo._ Look on me, Sir.
+    [Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.
+
+Sir _Row._ Hum, hum, hum--
+
+_Ter._ It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav'd your Life
+from Insolence.
+
+Sir _Row._ Hum--_Teresia_!
+
+L. _Youth._ How, _Teresia_! what, robb'd me of my intended Husband? Oh,
+undone! undone!
+    [Falls into a Chair.
+
+Sir _Row._ And hast thou, after all, served me such a Rogue's Trick,
+thou ungracious Varlet? What, cuckold thine own Father!
+
+_Geo._ Oh, do not frown, I cannot bear your Anger! Here will I hang for
+ever till you Pardon me.
+    [Clasps his Knees.
+
+Sir _Row._ Look--look--now cannot I be angry with the good-natur'd young
+Rogue.
+    [Weeps.
+  Well, _George_--But hark ye, Sirrah, this is a damn'd Trick of yours.
+
+_Geo._ Sir, I found my Youth was fitter for her than your Age, and
+you'll be as fond of a Grand-Child of my begetting as you would of a Son
+of another Man's perhaps.
+
+Sir _Row._ Thou'rt in the Right on't.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ha! Is Monsieur _Lejere_ then my Brother _George_?
+
+_Geo._ Sir, Here's another Couple wants your Pardon; my Brother
+_Merlin_, and my Lady _Diana_.
+
+L. _Blun._ _Diana_! What, Sir _Harry Modish's_ Mistress?
+
+_Dia._ Yes, he pawn'd me at the _Basset-Table_; and, in Revenge,
+I resolv'd to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.
+
+Sir _Row._ The Fool had more Wit than I thought he had; for which I'll
+give him a Thousand Pound a Year.
+
+_Geo._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
+
+_Mir._ Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?
+
+Sir _Morg._ Alas, Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but
+rest her Soul, she's burnt.
+    [Weeps.
+  And I shall never see any thing again like her.
+
+_Mir._ No! What think you of this Face, Sir?
+
+Sir _Morg._ As Gad shall sa' me, as like as if the same.
+
+L. _Blun._ In troth, and so she is.
+
+_Prince._ 'Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv'd her
+from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.
+
+Sir _Morg._ That's a hard Case, Sir, that a Man must lose his Wife,
+because another has more Right to her than himself; Is that Law, Sir?
+
+_Prince._ Lover's Law, Sir.
+
+L. _Blun._ Ay, ay, Son, 'tis the Fashion to marry one Week, and separate
+the next. I'll set you a President for it my self.
+    [In this time _Welborn_ kneels with _Olivia_; _Sir Rowland_ takes
+    'em up, and kisses 'em.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Nay, if it be the Fashion, I'll e'en into the Country, and
+be merry with my Tenants, and Hawk, and Hunt, and Horse-match.
+
+_Prince._ But now, Sir, I'll resign my Right to you, and content myself
+with the Honour to have preserv'd her from the Fire.
+    [_Prince_ delivers _Mirtilla_ to Sir _Morgan_, who receives her.
+
+Sir _Morg._ As gad shall sa' me, Sir, you're a civil Person; and now I
+find you can endure a Woman, Sir, I'll give you leave to visit her.
+
+Sir _Row._ Well, since we're all agreed, and that the Fiddles are here,
+adsnigs, we'll have a Dance, Sweet-heart, though thou hast out-witted
+me.
+    [Takes _Teresia_, _George_ takes Lady _Youthly_, &c. After the
+    Dance, Lady _Youthly_ weeps.
+
+_Geo._ What, weeping yet? Here, Mr. _Twang_, take the Lady to your Care;
+in these Cases, there's nothing like the Consolation of your young
+Chaplain.
+
+  The Widow, with young Jointure, and old Face,
+  Affected Mein, and Amorous Grimace,
+  Uses to fall to th' younger Brother's share;      }
+  But I by Fortune, and Industrious Care,           }
+  Have got one that's Rich, Witty, Young, and Fair. }
+
+
+    _FINIS._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+  Spoken by Mr. _Horden_.
+
+
+  We've grown Impatient to be out of pain,
+  And fain wou'd know our fortune, loss, or gain:
+  The Merchants phrase mayn't be Improper now,
+  If ye our City Character allow.
+  But some Spruse Criticks, I hear, swears 'tis strange,
+  To take a powder'd Beau off from the Exchange;
+  A place more fam'd for Band, and dress precise,
+  For greasy Cuckholds, Stockjobbers, and lies,
+  Than for a Spark o' th' town, but now a days
+  The Cit sets up in box, puffs, perfumes, plays,
+  And tho' he passes for a Man of Trade,
+  Is the chief squeaker at the Masquerade,
+  Let him his Sister, or his wife beware,
+  'Tis not for nothing Courtiers go so far;
+  Thus for a while he holds, till Cash is found
+  To be a Dr. many a woful Pound,
+  Then off he moves, and in another year,
+  Turns true Alsatian, or Solicitor.
+  For we (except o' th' stage) shall seldom find
+  To a poor broken Beau, a Lady kind,
+  Whilst pow'rful _Guinea_ last, he's wondrous pretty,
+  And much the finest Gentlemen o' th' City,
+  But when fob's empty, he's an odious Creature.
+  Fough, how he stinks! h'as not one taking feature,
+  Then such an Awkard mein, and vulgar sence,
+  I vow, I wonder at his Impudence!
+  'Tis well _Lejere_ appear'd, _George_ owes the prize
+  To the Gay Monsieur, Footmen and Disguise,
+  Charms which few English Women can withstand,
+  What can't a Man of Quality command?
+  As to the faults, or Merits of the Play }
+  We leave ye to be judges of, yet say,   }
+  Ye ought in justice to be kind to day.  }
+  For to our Cost alas, we soon shall find, }
+  Perhaps not half the money ye design'd,   }
+  Consider, Sirs, it goes to be refin'd.    }
+  And since in all Exchanges 'tis a notion,
+  For what ye take to be in due proportion,
+  So may we justly hope no wrong is done ye
+  If ye have _par of Wit for par of Money_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: The Younger Brother
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 316, l. 1 _The Epistle Dedicatory._ This only appears in 4to 1696.
+  It is there followed by _An Account of the Life of the Incomparable
+  Mrs. BEHN_, an entirely worthless composition of some three pages,
+  afterwards vastly expanded into _Memoirs_ 'by one of the Fair Sex'.
+
+  p. 316, l. 21 _The narrow Virtues ... [which] were._ 4to 1696 omits
+  'which' but it is necessary that this or some similar word be inserted
+  to make the paragraph sufficiently grammatical.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 319, l. 9 _an Intriguer._ 4to 1696 'the intrigues'.
+
+  p. 319, l. 17 _Mistress young._ 4to 1696 erroneously gives 'young' as
+  a proper name 'Mistress Young'.
+
++Dramatis Personæ+
+
+  p. 321 _Dramatis Personæ._ I have added 'Philip; Diana; Pages,
+  Footmen, Masqueraders, Servants, Rakehells, &c.' 4to 1696 spells
+  Britton 'Brittone'; Mr. Pinketham 'Mr. Pinkerman.' Powell is
+  indifferently spelt 'Powell' or 'Powel'.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 327, l. 2 _he._ 4to 1696 omits.
+
+  p. 327, l. 7 _Prince._ Here and in ll. 11 and 19 all former editions
+  give speech-prefix 'Fred', but afterwards uniformly 'Prince'
+  throughout the play.
+
+  p. 329, l. 31 _a._ 4to 1696 omits.
+
+  p. 329, l. 34 _Tablets_: 4to 1696 gives 'Tablets write:' which is
+  obviously a misprint for 'Tablets written:' or, perhaps, 'Tablets
+  writ'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 330, l. 23 _Caudle._ Here, and in the following line, 4to 1696
+  misprints 'Candle'.
+
+  p. 332, l. 22 _set._ 1724 'sit'.
+
+  p. 337, l. 7 _Sir Mer._ 4to 1696 misprints 'Sir Mark.'
+
+  p. 337, l. 19 _George Kneels._ I have inserted 'George'.
+
+  p. 337, l. 20 _Ay, Sir._ 4to 1696 marks this line 'Aside.' An obvious
+  error.
+
+  p. 338, l. 10 _Sir Rowland._ 4to 1696 'Sir Merlin'.
+
+  p. 338, l. 16 _Chaplain [Mr. Twang], and leaning._ 4to 1696 'her
+  Chaplain, and leaning'. I have inserted Twang's name and given in
+  l. 19 speech-prefix 'Twang' which all former editions mark 'Chap.',
+  altering, however, to 'Twang' later in this scene at 'Truly, Madam'.
+
+  p. 339, l. 20 _cuckold._ 4to 1696 'Cuckhold'.
+
+  p. 339, l. 34 _The End of the First Act._ Only in 4to 1696.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 340, l. 2 _Sir Rowland's Lodging._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 340, l. 29 _Lookye._ 4to 1696 has '(Alone.) Lookye'--an obvious
+  error. '(Alone.)' is probably a misprint for '(Aloud.)' which is of
+  itself quite unnecessary.
+
+  p. 341, l. 13 _Hearts._ 4to 1696 'Heats'.
+
+  p. 342, l. 3 _'twill._ 4to 1696 'will'.
+
+  p. 342, l. 19 _India._ 4to 1696 'Indian'.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 343, l. 13 _A Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 346, l. 17 _Hackney-Coach._ 4to 1696 'Hackney'.
+
+  p. 346, l. 31 _pimp._ 4to 1696 misprints 'Pump'.
+
+  p. 348, l. 8 _they._ 4to 1696 omits.
+
+  p. 349, l. 29 _Sir Morgan Blunder's._ 4to 1696 'Sir M. Blun.'
+
++ACT II: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 350, l. 24 _Another Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 351, l. 10 _another._ 4to 1696 adds to this stage direction 'Sir
+  Mer. together.'
+
+  p. 352, l. 7 _a Tendre._ 1724 omits 'a'.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 353, l. 11 _too._ 4to 1696 'to'.
+
+  p. 354, l. 2 _A rich Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 358, l. 4 _Expectations._ 1724 'Expectation'.
+
+  p. 358, l. 34 _Olivia enters._ 4to 1696 reads 'Enter Olivia with a
+  letter. Olivia gives Welborn the letter.'
+
+  p. 359, l. 33 _Enter Sir Morgan._ Before the couplet 4to 1696
+  repeats 'Sir Morg. and Sir Merl. singing.'
+
+  p. 360, l. 10 _de._ 1724 here and elsewhere 'd'ye'.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 362, l. 18 _you._ 4to 1696 'thou'.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 363, l. 17 _Whither?_ 4to 1696 'Whether?'
+
+  p. 367, l. 26 _Exeunt._ I have added this stage direction.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 370, l. 30 _Exit Prince with Mirtilla._ Former editions 'and
+  Mirtilla'.
+
+  p. 371, l. 14 _Exit._ 4to 1696 'Exit George.'
+
+  p. 373, l. 15 _Exeunt._ 4to 1696 'Exit both.'
+
+  p. 373, l. 23 _of thy hopes._ 4to 1696 omits 'of'.
+
+  p. 373, l. 32 _ruffle, ravish, and ruin._ 4to 1696 'Ruffles, Ravishes,
+  and Ruines'.
+
+  p. 374, l. 8 _Racks._ 4to 1696 'Wrecks'.
+
+  p. 374, l. 35 _feebly._ 1724 'freely'. A patent error.
+
+  p. 375, l. 4 _near to being._ 1724 'near being'.
+
+  p. 375, l. 33 _Exeunt._ Not in 4to 1696.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 376, l. 1 _Scene II._ I have numbered this scene, and the
+  following (p. 378, l. 16.) Scene III.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 379, l. 33 _Sir Merlin with his Sword._ 4to 1696 'Sir Merlin his
+  Sword'.
+
+  p. 380, l. 19 _she cries out._ 1724 omits 'out'.
+
+  p. 381, l. 17 _My Lady's maid._ I have inserted these words.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 383, l. 27 _Welborn's Chamber._ I have marked this locale.
+
+  p. 385, l. 13 _him._ 1724 'them'.
+
++ACT V: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 386, l. 18 _has._ 4to 1696 'had'.
+
+  p. 386, l. 24 _Mirtilla._ All previous editions here have 'Lydia',
+  which makes no sense. It is probable that the original name of
+  Mirtilla was Lydia, and Mrs. Behn, or Gildon, neglected to alter it
+  in this passage.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 388, l. 28 _Scene III._ All previous editions have 'Scene
+  discovers Mirtilla and Manage.'
+
+  p. 388, l. 35 _you have left._ 1724 'you left'.
+
+  p. 393, l. 17 _Exit Olivia with Manage._ I have added Manage's name
+  here.
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 394, l. 1 _Scene IV._ I have numbered this scene.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 398, l. 26 _Fough, how he stinks!_ 4to 1696 'Fough, he how he
+  stinks?'
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 316 _Collonel Codrington._ Christopher Codrington (1668-1710) was
+  born at Barbadoes, and thence sent to England to be educated. In 1685
+  he passed as a gentleman commoner to Christ Church, Oxford. Five years
+  later he was elected as a probationer fellow to All Souls. Here he
+  speedily became known for the catholicity and thoroughness of his
+  studies, and 'soon acquir'd the deserv'd character of an accomplished,
+  well-bred gentleman, and an universal scholar'. He was already an
+  enthusiastic bibliophile. In 1694 he followed William III to Flanders,
+  and having fought with great gallantry at Hay and Namur in 1695,
+  received various military distinctions. In the same year he attended
+  the King to Oxford, and pronounced the university oration on this
+  royal visit. There are dedications to him by Creech, Dennis, and
+  others, but it has been pertinently remarked that 'his fame is rather
+  to be inferred' hence 'than from actually existent performances on his
+  part', albeit we have copies of complimentary verses (e.g. prefixed to
+  Garth's _Dispensary_) from his pen. In 1697 he succeeded his father as
+  commander-in-chief of the Leeward Isles. He does not seem to have been
+  popular, and resigned in 1703, retiring to a life of seclusion and
+  study on his Barbadoes estate. He died 7 April, 1710, and his body was
+  brought back to England to be buried in All Souls' chapel. To this
+  college he left £10,000, and £6,000 worth of books, a legacy which
+  built, furnished and endowed the magnificent Codrington library there.
+
+  p. 317 _Mr. Verbruggen's reading some of his part._ One may remember
+  the incident recorded by Pepys (2 February, 1669), how, after Kynaston
+  had been assaulted by Sedley's bravos, and was too ill to appear, the
+  young actor's rôle was 'done by Beeston, who is fain to read it out of
+  a book all the while and thereby spoils the part, and almost the play,
+  it being one of the best parts in it.... But it was pleasant to see
+  Beeston come in with others, supposing it to be dark, and yet he is
+  forced to read his part by the light of the candles: and this I
+  observing to a gentleman that sat by me, he was mightily pleased
+  therewith, and spread it up and down.'
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 319 _grave Sir Roger._ 'Sir Roger' was a common nickname for any
+  clergyman from the well-known comic character 'Sir Roger, Curate to
+  the Lady', in Beaumont and Fletcher's popular _The Scornful Lady_.
+  This excellent play, a rare favourite with Restoration audiences, kept
+  the boards until the death of Mrs. Oldfield in 1730. After the great
+  actress' demise it would seem that none of her successors ventured
+  to attempt the title-rôle, hence the piece soon fell out of the
+  repertory. In 1783, however, an alteration, made by Cooke the
+  barrister for Mrs. Abington, was produced with great success at
+  Covent Garden. In this meagre adaptation the Curate disappears. Shanks
+  originally acted this part, but Lacy was the acknowledged 'Sir Roger'
+  in Restoration days.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 326 _making Wax Babies._ Playing at dolls.
+
+  p. 330 _Southampton Square._ The original name of Bloomsbury Square,
+  so called from the Earl of Southampton's town residence, afterwards
+  Bedford House. Southampton Square was at this period, and for long
+  afterwards, the headquarters of fashion in the metropolis: _vide_
+  further, Vol. III, _The Town Fop_, p. 22, 'Southampton House,' and
+  note on that passage (p. 476).
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 331 _Mr. Motteux._ Peter Anthony Motteux was a French Hugenot who
+  came to England upon the restoration of the Edict of Nantes (1685).
+  He soon mixed with the gayest society, and became well known as a
+  prolific writer of songs, prologues, epilogues, masques, and the
+  lighter dramatic fare. Much of this work is not lacking in wit and
+  volatile smartness, but it is all far too ephemeral to have any
+  permanent value as literature. He edited _The Gentleman's Journal_,
+  but is perhaps best remembered for his translation of _Don Quixote_,
+  and his concluding Urquhart's version of Rabelais.
+
+  p. 331 _the Rose._ This celebrated house stood in Russell Street,
+  Covent Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable
+  references to it. The greater portion of the 'Rose' was demolished
+  in 1776, when a new front was being built to the theatre.
+
+  p. 331 _scours._ i.e. violently assaults. 'To scour' was to rampage
+  the streets, breaking windows, fighting with passers-by, beating the
+  watch, &c. Shadwell has an excellent comedy, _The Scowrers_ (1691),
+  which, giving a vivid picture of the times, show these drunken and
+  blackguardly gentry in a very unamiable light. Several plays treat
+  of their exploits. Vanbrugh's _The Provoked Wife_ (1696), Act III,
+  ii, and IV, ii and iv, is perhaps the locus classical for mohocking.
+
+  p. 333 _the Poet Sternhold._ Thomas Sternhold (_ob._ 1549), was the
+  author with John Hopkins (_ob._ 1570), of a metrical version of the
+  Psalms, which became a bye-word for doggerel. Sir Morgan is, of
+  course, alluding to some pious rhymes groaned on the way to the
+  triple tree. cf. Shadwell, _The Miser_ (1672), I, i, 'She would be
+  more welcome to thee than a reprieve would, if thou wert just now
+  trolling out Hopkins and Sternhold upon a ladder.'
+
+  p. 333 _Billmen in Flannel._ Bills were the common weapon of the
+  watch. cf. _The Coxcomb_ (folio 1647), Act I, where Ricardo says
+  to the constable of the watch, 'Give me the bill, for I'll be the
+  sergeant.' Doctor Johnson tells us that the Lichfield watchmen carried
+  bills as late as 1778.
+
+  p. 333 _Wills' Coffee-house._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky
+  Chance_, p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  p. 334 _his Third Day._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky Chance_,
+  p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  p. 334 _old Adam._ _vide_ Vol. I, _The Rover_, Part II, p. 133, and
+  note on that passage (p. 446).
+
+  p. 334 _The Country Justice's Calling._ _vide supra_, _The Widow
+  Ranter_, p. 265. _Dalton's Country Justice_, and note on that passage.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 341 _by Inch of Candle._ An auction where bids are taken so long
+  as an inch of candle burns, the last bid before the flame expires
+  obtaining the lot.
+
+  p. 342 _a Termer._ Originally a frequenter of the law courts, and as
+  many came up from the country to London during term time on legal
+  business, it occasionally (as here) signified an unsophisticated
+  stranger. In Dryden's _Sir Martin Mar-All_ (1667), I, Mrs. Millicent,
+  newly arrived from Canterbury, replies to Lady Dupe's greeting,
+  'I came up, Madam, as we country-gentlewomen use at an Easter term, to
+  the destruction of tarts and cheese cakes, to see a new play, buy a
+  new gown, take a turn in the Park, and so down again to sleep with my
+  forefathers.' In Mountford's farce, _Dr. Faustus_ (4to 1697, but
+  produced at the Theatre Royal November-December, 1685, or very early
+  in 1686), we have Scaramouch asking what practice the Doctor has, and
+  Harlequin replies: 'Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores
+  against the Term for Country Lawyers and Attorneys Clerks; and against
+  _Christmas_, _Easter_, and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices.'
+  cf. Southerne's _Oroonoko_ (1696), I, i, when Charlot Welldon says to
+  her sister Lucia, 'Nay, the young Inns-of-Court beaus, of but one
+  Term's standing in the fashion, who knew nobody but as they were shown
+  'em by the orange-women, had nicknames for us.' More often a Termer
+  meant 'A person, whether male or female, who resorted to London in
+  term time only, for the sake of tricks to be practised, or intrigues
+  to be carried on at that period.' --(Nares.)
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 347 _Sa._ i.e. Save us! Sir Morgan has a frequent exclamation 'God
+  sa me!' God save me! The abbreviation is early and frequent.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 356 _the Country of True Love._ Mrs. Behn, an omnivorous reader
+  of romances, was thinking of the celebrated _Carte de Tendre_
+  (Loveland), to be found in Mlle. de Scudéri's _Clélie_ (1654, Vol. I,
+  p. 399), and reproduced in the English folio edition of 1678. This
+  fantastic map, which is said to have been suggested by Chapelain,
+  aroused unbounded ridicule. In scene iv of Molière's _Les Précieuses
+  Ridicules_ (1659), Cathos cries, 'Je m'en vais gager qu'ils n'ont
+  jamais vu la carte de Tendre, et que Billets-Doux, Petits-Soins,
+  Billets-Galante, et Jolis-Vers sont des terres inconnues pour eux.'
+  This imaginary land is divided by the River of Inclination: on the
+  one side are the towns of Respect, Generosity, A Great Heart, and the
+  like; on the other Constant Friendship, Assiduity, Submission, &c.
+  Across the Dangerous Sea another continent is marked, 'Countreys
+  undiscovered.' _Terra Incognita._
+
+  The extravagant penchant for romances of the Scudéri _Parthenissa_
+  school was amply satirized by Steele in his clever comedy _The Tender
+  Husband_ (1705), and as late as 1752 by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox in _The
+  Female Quixote_, an amusing novel.
+
+  p. 360 _old Queen Bess in the Westminster-Cupboard._ The waxen
+  effigies which yet remain at Westminster are preserved in the wainscot
+  presses over the Islip Chapel. Queen Elizabeth, in her tattered velvet
+  robes, is still one of the most famous. They were formerly far more
+  numerous. A waxen figure of the deceased, dressed in the habit worn
+  whilst living, was, in the case of any royal or notable personage,
+  very frequently carried as part of the torchlight funeral procession
+  and, after the obsequies, left over the grave to serve as a kind of
+  temporary monument.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 366 _drink up the Sun._ i.e. carouse till dawn.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 379 _a Back like an Elephant--'twill bear a Castle._ Dr. Aldis
+  Wright, in his notes on _Twelfth Night_, draws attention to the fact
+  that the celebrated 'Elephant and Castle,' at Newington, in the south
+  suburbs of London, can be traced back to the middle of the seventeenth
+  century.
+
+  p. 380 _Old Queen Gwiniver._ For 'Queen Gwiniver' applied as a term of
+  abuse to an old woman cf. Dekker's _Satiromastix, or, The Untrussing
+  of the Humorous Poet_ (4to 1602), III, i, where Tucca rallying
+  Mistress Miniver cries: 'Now, now, mother Bunch, how dost thou? what,
+  dost frowne, Queen Gwyniver, dost wrinckle?' The reference is, of
+  course, to Arthur's queen.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 390 _Ha! what do I see?_ cf. The incident in _The Plain Dealer_,
+  IV, ii, of which there are obvious reminiscences here. Olivia, making
+  love to Fidelia, who is dressed as a boy, is surprised by Vernish.
+  Olivia runs out, and he discovering the supposed lad to be a woman
+  proceeds to turn the tables on his spouse.
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 394 _this Tour._ cf. 'your false Towers', _The False Count_, I, ii
+  (Vol. III, p. 116), and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
+  p. 394 _Fontange._ A 'fontange' was a bow of ribbons, so called from
+  the celebrated Madame de Fontanges. Her hair coming down during a
+  hunting-party at Vincennes, she tied it up hastily with one of her
+  garters. Louis XIV, whose mistress she was, so admired the result that
+  he begged her to continue to wear her hair in the same way. This set
+  the fashion, which soon spread into England and long remained popular.
+  cf. Shadwell's _Bury Fair_ (1689), II, ii: '_Milliner._ What d'ye
+  lack, Ladies? fine Mazarine hoods, fontanges, girdles, sable tippets?'
+
+  p. 394 _Coventry-Blue._ A kind of blue thread manufactured at Coventry
+  and formerly much used for embroidery, &c. cf. Greene's _James IV_
+  (1592), IV, iii, where Slipper ordering a doublet cries: 'Edge me the
+  sleeves with Coventry blue.' Ben Jonson, _Gipsies Metamorph._ (1621),
+  speaks of 'A skein of Coventry blue'.
+
+  p. 395 _Tawdrums._ Fal-lals. cf. Marston's _Dutch Courtezan_ (4to
+  1605), v, 'no matter for lace and tawdrums'.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Younger Brother_
+
+p. 330 _Southampton Square._ .... _vide_ further, Vol. III, _The Town
+Fop_, p. 22, 'Southampton House,' and note on that passage (p. 476).
+
+  _Town Fop_ text:
+
+  meet me to morrow Morning about five, with your Sword in your Hand,
+  behind _Southampton_ House
+
+  _Town Fop_ note:
+
+  _Southampton House._ Southampton House, Bloomsbury, occupied the whole
+  of the north side of the present Bloomsbury Square. It had 'a curious
+  garden behind, which lieth open to the fields,'--_Strype_. A great
+  rendezvous for duellists, cf. Epilogue to Mountfort's _Greenwich Park_
+  (Drury Lane, 1691) spoken by Mrs. Mountfort:--
+
+    If you're displeased with what you've seen to-night
+    Behind Southampton House we'll do you right;
+    Who is't dares draw 'gainst me and Mrs. Knight?
+
+p. 333 _Wills' Coffee-house._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky
+Chance_, p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ text:
+
+  a Wit of the Town, a Friend of mine at Wills Coffee House
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ note:
+
+  _Wills Coffee House._ This famous coffee-house was No. 1 Bow Street,
+  Covent Garden, on the west side corner of Russell Street. It derived
+  its name from Will Unwin who kept it. The wits' room was upstairs on
+  the first floor. Some of its reputation was due to the fact that it
+  was a favourite resort of Dryden.
+
+p. 334 _his Third Day._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky Chance_,
+p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ text:
+
+  I will be kinder to my Brothers of the Pen, than they have been to a
+  defenceless Woman; for I am not content to write for a Third day only.
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ note:
+
+  _write for a Third day only._ The whole profits of the third day's
+  performance went to the author of the play; and upon these occasions
+  his friends and patrons would naturally rally to support him. There
+  are numberless allusions to this custom, especially in Prefaces,
+  Prologues and Epilogues.
+
+p. 334 _old Adam._ _vide_ Vol. I, _The Rover_, Part II, p. 133, and
+note on that passage (p. 446).
+
+  _Rover II_ text:
+
+  For your parts, who are the poor dependent, brown Bread and old
+  Adam's Ale is only current amongst ye
+
+  _Rover II_ note:
+
+  _old Adam's Ale._ A very ancient colloquialism for water. In
+  Scotland 'Adam's wine' and frequently merely 'Adam'. Prynne in his
+  _Sovereign Power of Parliament_ (1648), speaks of prisoners
+  'allowed only a poor pittance of Adam's ale.' cf. Peter Pindar (John
+  Wolcot), _The Lousiad_, Canto ii, ll. 453-4:--
+
+    Old Adam's beverage flows with pride
+    From wide-mouthed pitchers in a plenteous tide.]
+
+p. 394 _this Tour._ cf. 'your false Towers', _The False Count_, I, ii
+(Vol. III, p. 116), and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
+  _False Count_ text:
+
+  you must be a Lady, and have your Petticoats lac'd four Stories high;
+  wear your false Towers, and cool your self with your _Spanish_ Fan
+
+  _False Count_ note:
+
+  _Towers._ The tower at this time was a curled frontlet of false
+  hair. cf. Crowne's _The Country Wit_ (1675), Act II, ii, where Lady
+  Faddle cries to her maid, 'run to my milliner's for my gloves and
+  essences ... run for my new towre.' Shadwell, _The Virtuoso_ (1676),
+  Act III, mentions 'Tires for the head, locks, tours, frouzes, and so
+  forth'. _The Debauchee_ (1677), Act II, i: Mrs. Saleware speaks of
+  buying 'fine clothes, and tours, and Points and knots.' _The Younger
+  Brother_ (1696), Act V, the last scene, old Lady Youthly anxiously
+  asks her maid, 'is not this Tour too brown?' During the reign of
+  Mary II and particularly in the time of Anne a Tower meant almost
+  exclusively the high starched head-dress in vogue at that period.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: The Younger Brother
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+Dedication
+
+  for tho suffering Merit  [_elsewhere tho' with apostrophe_]
+
+The Younger Brother
+
+  a fighting, whining Lover's Company  [fighing]
+  Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_  [_"and" non-Italic (emphatic)_]
+  _Geo._ [to _Teresia_.]  [_italics/roman reversed in stage direction_]
+  [Smiling.    [Exit.
+    [_bracket before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text_]
+
+Notes on the Text
+
+  p. 338, l. 10  [p. 331]
+
+Critical Notes
+
+  is perhaps the locus classical for mohocking
+    [_text unchanged: usual term is "locus classicus"_]
+  Wills' Coffee-house  [_body text has Will's_]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Printed by_ A. H. BULLEN, _at the Shakespeare Head Press,
+Stratford-upon-Avon._
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Aphra Behn, by Aphra Behn
+
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@@ -0,0 +1,20106 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Aphra Behn, by Aphra Behn
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: The Works of Aphra Behn
+       Volume IV.
+
+Author: Aphra Behn
+
+Editor: Montague Summers
+
+Release Date: November 15, 2008 [EBook #27273]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF APHRA BEHN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Louise Hope, Wendy Bertsch and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+This e-text comes in two forms: Latin-1 and ASCII-7. Use the one that
+works best on your text reader. In the Latin-1 version, French words
+like "etude" have accents and "ae" is a single letter. If you see any
+garbage in this paragraph and can't get it to display properly, use the
+ASCII-7 or rock-bottom version. All necessary text will still be there;
+it just won't be as pretty.
+
+In the printed book, all notes were grouped at the end of the volume
+as "Notes on the Text" and "Notes: Critical and Explanatory". For this
+e-text, notes have been placed after their respective plays. The Notes
+as printed give only page and line numbers; act-and-scene designations
+shown between +marks+ were added by the transcriber. Labels such as
+"Scene IIa" refer to points where the scene description changes without
+a new scene number.
+
+The critical notes include a few cross-references to other volumes of
+the Complete Works. Where appropriate, these texts are quoted after each
+play's Notes, before the Errata. The "N.E.D." of the Notes is now
+generally known as the OED.
+
+Except in the Errata lists, all brackets are in the original.
+
+Typographic note: In the printed book, all references to plays give the
+Act in lower-case Roman numerals and the Scene in small capital Roman
+numerals; the two look identical except for the dots over the i's. For
+this plain-text version, the conventional "IV.iv" sequence was used
+instead.]
+
+
+
+
+                   THE WORKS
+
+                       of
+
+                   APHRA BEHN
+
+
+                   Edited by
+                MONTAGUE SUMMERS
+
+                    VOL. IV
+
+  Sir Patient Fancy
+  The Amorous Prince--The Widow Ranter
+  The Younger Brother
+
+
+       [Illustration: (Publisher's Device)]
+
+           LONDON: WILLIAM HEINEMANN
+        STRATFORD-ON-AVON: A. H. BULLEN
+                     MCMXV
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+                                                        Page
+
+  Sir Patient Fancy                                        1
+  The Amorous Prince                                     117
+  The Widow Ranter                                       215
+  The Younger Brother; Or, The Amorous Jilt              311
+  Notes                                                  401
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATIENT FANCY.
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+Entrances and bracketed stage directions were printed in _italics_,
+with proper names in roman type. The overall _italic_ markup has been
+omitted for readability.]
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Sir Patient Fancy, a hypochondriacal old alderman, has taken a second
+wife, Lucia, a young and beautiful woman who, although feigning great
+affection and the strictest conjugal fidelity, intrigues with a gallant,
+Charles Wittmore, the only obstacle to their having long since married
+being mutual poverty. However, the jealousy and uxoriousness of the
+doting husband give the lovers few opportunities; on one occasion,
+indeed, as Lady Fancy is entertaining Wittmore in the garden they are
+surprised by Sir Patient, and she is obliged to pass her visitor off
+under the name of Fainlove as a suitor to her step-daughter, Isabella,
+in which role he is accepted by Sir Patient. But Isabella has betrothed
+herself to Lodwick, a son of the pedantic Lady Knowell: whilst Lucretia
+Knowell loves Leander, the alderman's nephew, in spite of the fact that
+she is promised by her mother to Sir Credulous Easy, a bumpkinly knight
+from Devonshire. Lodwick, who is a close friend of Leander, has been
+previously known to Sir Credulous, and resolving to trick and befool the
+coxcomb warmly welcomes him on his arrival in town. He persuades him, in
+fine, to give a ridiculous serenade, or, rather, a hideous hubbub, of
+noisy instruments under his mistress' window. A little before this Lady
+Knowell with a party of friends has visited Sir Patient, who is her next
+neighbour, and the loud laughter, talking, singing and foppery so enrage
+the precise old valetudinarian that he resolves to leave London
+immediately for his country house, a circumstance which would be fatal
+to his wife's amours. Wittmore and she, however, persuade him that he is
+very ill, and on being shown his face in a looking-glass that magnifies
+instead of in his ordinary mirror, he imagines that he is suddenly
+swollen and puffed with disease, and so is led lamenting to bed, leaving
+the coast clear for the nonce. Isabella, however, has made an
+assignation with Lodwick at the same time that her stepmother eagerly
+awaits her own gallant, and in the dark young Knowell is by mistake
+escorted to Lucia's chamber, whilst Wittmore encountering Isabella, and
+thinking her Lady Fancy, proceeds to act so amorously that the error is
+soon discovered and the girl flies from his ardour. In her hurry,
+however, she rushes blundering into Lucia's bedchamber, where she finds
+Knowell. It is just at this moment that Sir Credulous Easy's deafening
+fanfare re-echoes in the street, and Sir Patient, awakened and
+half-stunned by the pandemonium, is led grouty and bawling into his
+wife's room, where he discovers Knowell, whom Lucia has all this time
+taken for Wittmore; but her obvious confusion and dismay thereon are
+such that Sir Patient does not suspect the real happenings, which she
+glozes over with a tale concerning Isabella. Meantime the serenaders are
+dispersed and routed by a band of the alderman's servants and clerks.
+Sir Credulous courting Lucretia, who loathes him, meets Knowell bringing
+a tale of a jealous rival able to poison at a distance by means of some
+strangely subtle venom, upon which the Devonshire knight conceals
+himself in a basket, hoping to be conveyed away to his old uncle in
+Essex, whereas he is merely transported next door. Sir Patient, who
+surprises his lady writing a love-letter, which she turns off by
+appending Isabella's name thereto, is so overwhelmed with her seeming
+affection and care for his family that he presents her with eight
+thousand pounds in gold and silver, and resolves to marry his daughter
+to Fainlove (Wittmore) without any further delay. But whilst he is gone
+down to prayers and Lucia is entertaining her lover, the old nurse
+informs him that his little daughter Fanny has long been privy to an
+intrigue between Knowell and Isabella, whereupon, in great perturbation,
+he rushes upstairs again to consult with his wife, who hurries Wittmore
+under the bed. Sir Patient, however, warmed with cordials which he
+quaffs to revive his drooping spirits, does not offer to quit the
+chamber, but lies down on the bed, and the gallant is only enabled to
+slip out unobserved after several accidents each of which nearly betrays
+his presence. Upon the marriage morning Isabella in a private interview
+rejects her pseudo-suitor with scorn and contumely, whereat Knowell, who
+has of intent been listening, reveals to her that it is his friend
+Wittmore and no real lover who is seemingly courting her, and with his
+help, whilst Sir Patient is occupied with a consultation of doctors
+(amongst whom Sir Credulous appears disguised as a learned member of the
+faculty), Isabella and Knowell are securely married. Lady Knowell, who
+has feigned a liking for Leander, generously gives him to Lucretia, Sir
+Patient's attention being still engrossed by the physicians who assemble
+in great force. Soon after, at Leander's instigation, in order to test
+his wife, Sir Patient feigns to be dead of a sudden apoplexy, and for a
+few moments, whilst others are present, Lucia laments him with many
+plaints and tears, but immediately changes when she is left alone with
+Wittmore. The lovers' plans, however, are overheard by the husband, who
+promptly confronts his wife with her duplicity. Amazed and confounded
+indeed, he forgives Leander and his daughter for marrying contrary to
+his former wishes; and when Lucia coolly announces her intention to play
+the hypocrite and puritan no more, but simply to enjoy herself with the
+moneys he has settled on her without let or proviso, he humorously
+declares he will for his part also drop the prig and canter, and turn
+town gallant and spark.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+In spite of Mrs. Behn's placid assertion in her address 'To the Reader'
+that she has only taken 'but a very bare hint' from a foreign source,
+_Le Malade Imaginaire_, the critics who cried out that _Sir Patient
+Fancy_ 'was made out of at least four French plays' are patently right.
+Sir Patient is, of course, Argan throughout and in detail; moreover, in
+the scene where the old alderman feigns death, there is very copious and
+obvious borrowing from Act III of _Le Malade Imaginaire_. Some of the
+doctors' lingo also comes from the third and final interlude of
+Moliere's comedy, whilst the idea of the medical consultation is
+pilfered from _L'Amour Medecin_, Act II, ii. Sir Credulous Easy is
+Monsieur de Porceaugnac, but his first entrance is taken wholesale from
+Brome's _The Damoiselle; or, The New Ordinary_ (8vo, 1653), Act II, i,
+where Amphilus and Trebasco discourse exactly as do Curry and his
+master. The pedantic Lady Knowell is a mixture of Philaminte and Belise
+from _Les Femmes Savantes_. The circumstance in Act IV, ii, when Lucia,
+to deceive her husband, appends Isabella's name to the love-letter she
+has herself just written, had already been used by Wycherley at the
+commencement of Act V of that masterpiece of comedy, _The Country Wife_
+(4to, 1675, produced in 1672), where Mrs. Pinchwife, by writing 'your
+slighted Alithea' as the subscription of a letter, completely befools
+her churlish spouse.
+
+Moliere's comedies, which were so largely conveyed in _Sir Patient
+Fancy_, have been a gold mine for many of our dramatists. From _Le
+Malade Imaginaire_ Miller took his _Mother-in-Law; or, The Doctor the
+Disease_, produced at the Haymarket, 12 February, 1734, and Isaac
+Bickerstaffe, _Dr. Last in his Chariot_, produced at the same theatre 25
+August, 1769. In this farce Bickerstaffe further introduces the famous
+consultation scene from _L'Amour Medecin_, a play which had been made
+use of by Lacy, _The Dumb Lady; or, The Farrier made a Physician_
+(1672); by Owen Swiney, _The Quacks; or, Love's the Physician_, produced
+at Drury Lane, 18 March, 1705; by Miller, _Art and Nature_, produced at
+the same theatre 16 February, 1738; and in an anonymous one act piece,
+which is little more than a bare translation under the title _Love is
+the Doctor_, performed once only at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 4 April, 1734.
+
+_Monsieur de Pourceaugnac_ supplied Ravenscroft with material no less
+than three times. In _Mamamouchi; or, The Citizen turn'd Gentleman_,
+acted early in 1672, we have Sir Simon Softhead, who is Pourceaugnac in
+detail; in _The Careless Lovers_, produced at the Duke's House in 1673,
+and again in _The Canterbury Guests; or, A Bargain Broken_, played at
+the Theatre Royal in 1694, we have _in extenso_ Act II, Scenes viii, ix,
+x, of the French comedy. Crowne's Sir Mannerley Shallow (_The Country
+Wit_, 1675) comes from the same source. _Squire Trelooby_, produced at
+Lincoln's Inn Fields, 20 March, 1704, and revived as _The Cornish
+Squire_ at Drury Lane, 3 January, 1734, is ascribed to Vanbrugh,
+Congreve, and Walsh; but this, as well as a farce produced at Dublin in
+1720 by Charles Shadwell and entitled _The Plotting Lovers; or, The
+Dismal Squire_, cannot claim to be anything but translations. Miller's
+_Mother-in-Law_, again, includes much of _Monsieur de Pourceaugnac_; and
+Thomas Sheridan's _Captain O'Blunder; or, The Brave Irishman_, produced
+at Goodman's Fields, 31 January, 1746, is a poor adaptation. Mrs.
+Parsons abbreviated Moliere to _The Intrigues of a Morning_, played at
+Covent Garden, 18 April, 1792, a jejune effort. _Les Femmes Savantes_
+was rather racily transformed by Thomas Wright into _The Female
+Virtuosoes_, and produced at Drury Lane in 1693. It was revived as _No
+Fools like Wits_ at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 10 January, 1721, to
+anticipate Cibber's _The Refusal; or, The Ladies' Philosophy_, which had
+a run of six nights. Miller, in his _The Man of Taste_, once more had
+resource to Moliere. His play was produced at Drury Lane, 6 March, 1735.
+It has no value.
+
+Of all these borrowers Mrs. Behn is infinitely the best. _Sir Patient
+Fancy_ is, indeed, an excellent comedy, and had she used more leisure
+might have been improved to become quite first rate. Perhaps she
+plagiarized so largely owing to the haste with which her play was
+written and staged, but yet everything she touched has been invested
+with an irresistible humour. A glaring example of her hurry remains in
+the fact that the 'precise clerk' of Sir Patient has a double
+nomenclature. In Act III he appears as Abel; in Act IV, iii, he is
+referred to as Bartholomew, and under this last name has an exit marked
+in Act V. This character is only on the stage twice and is given but
+some three or four lines to speak. Obviously, when writing her fourth
+act, Aphra forgot she had already christened him.
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+_Sir Patient Fancy_ was produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorset Garden,
+in January, 1678, with an exceptionally strong cast which included both
+Betterton and his wife. It met with the great success it fully deserved.
+The critics, indeed, were not slow to detect Mrs. Behn's plagiarisms,
+but the only real opposition was negligible disapproval of a modest
+clique, who a few years later vainly tried to damn _The Lucky Chance_.
+After the death of the two famous comedians Antony Leigh and James Nokes
+in December, 1692, _Sir Patient Fancy_, owing to the inability of
+succeeding actors to sustain the two roles, Sir Patient and Sir
+Credulous, which had been created by this gifted pair, completely
+dropped out of the repertory of the theatre. It was not singular in its
+fate, for Cibber expressly tells us that D'Urfey's excellent comedy _The
+Fond Husband_, and Crowne's satirical _City Politics_, 'lived only by
+the extraordinary performance of Nokes and Leigh.'
+
+
+
+
+TO THE READER.
+
+
+I Printed this Play with all the impatient haste one ought to do, who
+would be vindicated from the most unjust and silly aspersion, Woman
+could invent to cast on Woman; and which only my being a Woman has
+procured me; _That it was Baudy_, the least and most Excusable fault in
+the Men writers, to whose Plays they all crowd, as if they came to no
+other end than to hear what they condemn in this: _but from a Woman it
+was unnaturall_: but how so Cruell an unkindness came into their
+imaginations I can by no means guess; unless by those whose Lovers by
+long absence, or those whom Age or Ugliness have rendered a little
+distant from those things they would fain imagin here--But if such as
+these durst profane their Chast ears with hearing it over again, or
+taking it into their serious Consideration in their Cabinets; they would
+find nothing that the most innocent Virgins can have cause to blush at:
+but confess with me that no Play either Ancient or Modern has less of
+that Bug-bear Bawdry in it. Others to show their breeding (as _Bays_
+sayes) cryed it was made out of at least four _French_ Plays, when I had
+but a very bare hint from one, the _Malad Imagenere_, which was given me
+translated by a Gentleman infinitely to advantage; but how much of the
+_French_ is in this, I leave to those who do indeed understand it and
+have seen it at the Court. The play had no other Misfortune but that of
+coming out for a Womans: had it been owned by a Man, though the most
+Dull Unthinking Rascally Scribler in Town, it had been a most admirable
+Play. Nor does it's loss of Fame with the Ladies do it much hurt, though
+they ought to have had good Nature and justice enough to have attributed
+all its faults to the Authours unhappiness, who is forced to write for
+Bread and not ashamed to owne it, and consequently ought to write to
+please (if she can) an Age which has given severall proofs it was by
+this way of writing to be obliged, though it is a way too cheap for men
+of wit to pursue who write for Glory, and a way which even I despise as
+much below me.
+
+
+
+
+SIR PATIENT FANCY.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+Spoken by Mr. _Betterton_.
+
+
+  We write not now, as th' antient Poets writ,
+  For your Applause of Nature, Sense and Wit;
+  But, like good Tradesmen, what's in fashion vent,
+  And cozen you, to give ye all content.
+  True Comedy, writ even in _Dryden's_ Style,
+  Will hardly raise your Humours to a Smile.
+  Long did his Sovereign Muse the Scepter sway,
+  And long with Joy you did true Homage pay:
+  But now, like happy States, luxurious grown,
+  The Monarch Wit unjustly you dethrone,
+  And a Tyrannick Commonwealth prefer,
+  Where each small Wit starts up and claims his share;
+  And all those Laurels are in pieces torn,
+  Which did e'er while one sacred Head adorn.
+  Nay, even the Women now pretend to reign;
+  Defend us from a Poet _Joan_ again!
+  That Congregation's in a hopeful way
+  To Heaven, where the Lay-Sisters teach and pray.
+  Oh the great Blessing of a little Wit!
+  I've seen an elevated Poet sit,
+  And hear the Audience laugh and clap, yet say,
+  Gad after all, 'tis a damn'd silly Play:
+  He unconcern'd, cries only--Is it so?
+  No matter, these unwitty things will do,
+  When your fine fustian useless Eloquence
+  Serves but to chime asleep a drousy Audience.
+  Who at the vast expence of Wit would treat,
+  That might so cheaply please the Appetite?
+  Such homely Fare you're like to find to night:
+  Our Author
+  Knows better how to juggle than to write:
+  Alas! a Poet's good for nothing now,
+  Unless he have the knack of conjuring too;
+  For 'tis beyond all natural Sense to guess
+  How their strange Miracles are brought to pass.
+  Your Presto Jack be gone, and come again,
+  With all the Hocus Art of Legerdemain;
+  Your dancing Tester, Nut-meg, and your Cups,
+  Out-does your Heroes and your amorous Fops.
+  And if this chance to please you, by that rule,
+  He that writes Wit is much the greater Fool.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  MEN.
+
+  Sir _Patient Fancy_, an old rich Alderman,
+    and one that fancies himself always sick,   Mr. _Anthony Leigh_.
+  _Leander Fancy_, his Nephew,
+    in love with _Lucretia_,                    Mr. _Crosby_.
+  _Wittmore_, Gallant to the Lady _Fancy_,
+    a wild young Fellow of a small Fortune,     Mr. _Betterton_.
+  _Lodwick Knowell_, Son to the Lady
+    _Knowell_, in love with _Isabella_,         Mr. _Smith_.
+  Sir _Credulous Easy_, a foolish _Devonshire_
+    Knight, design'd to marry _Lucretia_,       Mr. _Nokes_.
+  _Curry_, his Groom,                           Mr. _Richards_.
+  _Roger_, Footman to the Lady _Fancy_.
+  _Abel (Bartholomew)_,
+    Clerk to Sir _Patient Fancy_.
+  _Brunswick_, a friend to _Lodwick Knowell_.
+  Monsieur _Turboon_, a French Doctor.
+  A Fat Doctor.
+  An Amsterdam Doctor.
+  A Leyden Doctor.
+  Page to the Lady _Knowell_.
+
+    Guests, Six Servants to Sir _Patient_, Ballad-Singers
+    and Serenaders.
+
+
+  WOMEN.
+
+  The Lady _Fancy_, Young Wife
+    to Sir _Patient_,                           Mrs. _Currer_.
+  The Lady _Knowell_, an affected learned
+    Woman, Mother to _Lodwick_ and _Lucretia_,  Mrs. _Gwin_.
+  _Lucretia_, Daughter to the L. _Knowell_,     Mrs. _Price_.
+  _Isabella_, Daughter to Sir _Patient Fancy_,  Mrs. _Betterton_.
+  _Fanny_, a Child of seven Years old,
+    Daughter to Sir _Patient Fancy_.
+  _Maundy_, the Lady _Fancy's_ Woman,           Mrs. _Gibbs_.
+  _Betty_, Waiting-woman to _Isabella_.
+  _Antic_, Waiting-woman to _Lucretia_.
+  Nurse.
+
+
+  SCENE _London_, in two Houses.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Room in Lady _Knowell's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_ with _Isabella_.
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis much I owe to Fortune, my dear _Lucretia_, for being so
+kind to make us Neighbours, where with Ease we may continually exchange
+our Souls and Thoughts without the attendance of a Coach, and those
+other little Formalities that make a Business of a Visit; it looks so
+like a Journey, I hate it.
+
+_Lucr._ Attendance is that Curse to Greatness that confines the Soul,
+and spoils good Humour; we are free whilst thus alone, and can laugh at
+the abominable Fopperies of this Town.
+
+_Isab._ And lament the numberless Impertinences wherewith they
+continually plague all young Women of Quality.
+
+_Lucr._ Yet these are the precious things our grave Parents still chuse
+out to make us happy with, and all for a filthy Jointure, the undeniable
+argument for our Slavery to Fools.
+
+_Isab._ Custom is unkind to our Sex, not to allow us free Choice; but we
+above all Creatures must be forced to endure the formal Recommendations
+of a Parent, and the more insupportable Addresses of an odious Fop;
+whilst the Obedient Daughter stands--thus--with her Hands pinn'd before
+her, a set Look, few Words, and a Mein that cries--Come marry me: out
+upon't.
+
+_Lucr._ I perceive then, whatever your Father designs, you are resolv'd
+to love your own way.
+
+_Isab._ Thou mayst lay thy Maidenhead upon't, and be sure of the
+Misfortune to win.
+
+_Lucr._ My Brother _Lodwick's_ like to be a happy Man then.
+
+_Isab._ Faith, my dear _Lodwick_ or no body in my heart, and I hope thou
+art as well resolv'd for my Cousin _Leander_.
+
+_Lucr._ Here's my Hand upon't, I am; yet there's something sticks upon
+my stomach, which you must know.
+
+_Isab._ Spare the Relation, for I have observ'd of late your Mother to
+have order'd her Eyes with some softness, her Mouth endeavouring to
+sweeten it self into Smiles and Dimples, as if she meant to recal
+Fifteen again, and gave it all to _Leander_, for at him she throws her
+Darts.
+
+_Lucr._ Is't possible thou should'st have perceived it already?
+
+_Isab._ Long since.
+
+_Lucr._ And now I begin to love him, 'twould vex me to see my Mother
+marry him--well, I shall never call him Father.
+
+_Isab._ He'll take care to give himself a better Title.
+
+_Lucr._ This _Devonshire_ Knight too, who is recommended to my Mother as
+a fit Husband for me, I shall be so tormented with--My Brother swears
+he's the pertest, most unsufferable Fool he ever saw; when he was at my
+Uncle's last Summer, he made all his Diversion.
+
+_Isab._ Prithee let him make ours now, for of all Fops your Country Fop
+is the most tolerable Animal; those of the Town are the most unmanagable
+Beasts in Nature.
+
+_Lucr._ And are the most noisy, keeping Fops.
+
+_Isab._ Keeping begins to be as ridiculous as Matrimony, and is a
+greater Imposition upon the Liberty of Man; the Insolence and Expence of
+their Mistresses has almost tir'd out all but the Old and Doting part of
+Mankind: The rest begin to know their value, and set a price upon a good
+Shape, a tolerable Face and Mein:--and some there are who have made
+excellent Bargains for themselves that way, and will flatter ye and jilt
+ye an Antiquated Lady as artfully as the most experienc'd Miss of 'em
+all.
+
+_Lucr._ Lord, Lord! what will this World come to?--but this Mother of
+mine--_Isabella_.
+    [Sighs.
+
+_Isab._ Is discreet and virtuous enough, a little too affected, as being
+the most learned of her Sex.
+
+_Lucr._ Methinks to be read in the Arts, as they call 'em, is the
+peculiar Province of the other Sex.
+
+_Isab._ Indeed the Men would have us think so, and boast their Learning
+and Languages; but if they can find any of our Sex fuller of Words, and
+to so little purpose as some of their Gownmen, I'll be content to change
+my Petticoats for Pantaloons, and go to a Grammar-school.
+
+_Lucr._ Oh, they're the greatest Babelards in Nature.
+
+_Isab._ They call us easy and fond, and charge us with all weakness; but
+look into their Actions of Love, State or War, their roughest business,
+and you shall find 'em sway'd by some who have the luck to find their
+Foibles; witness my Father, a Man reasonable enough, till drawn away by
+doting Love and Religion: what a Monster my young Mother makes of him!
+flatter'd him first into Matrimony, and now into what sort of Fool or
+Beast she pleases to make him.
+
+_Lucr._ I wonder she does not turn him to Christianity; methinks a
+Conventicle should ill agree with her Humour.
+
+_Isab._ Oh, she finds it the only way to secure her from his Suspicion,
+which if she do not e'er long give him cause for, I am mistaken in her
+Humour.--
+
+    Enter L. _Knowell_ and _Leander_.
+
+But see your Mother and my Cousin _Leander_, who seems, poor man, under
+some great Consternation, for he looks as gravely as a Lay-Elder
+conducting his Spouse from a Sermon.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, fy upon't. See, Mr. _Fancy_, where your Cousin and my
+_Lucretia_ are idling: _Dii boni_, what an insupportable loss of time's
+this?
+
+_Lean._ Which might be better imploy'd, if I might instruct 'em, Madam.
+
+L. _Kno._ Ay, Mr. _Fancy_, in Consultation with the Antients.--Oh the
+delight of Books! when I was of their age, I always imploy'd my looser
+Hours in reading--if serious, 'twas _Tacitus_, _Seneca_, _Plutarch's
+Morals_, or some such useful Author; if in an Humour gay, I was for
+Poetry, _Virgil_, _Homer_ or _Tasso_. Oh that Love between _Renaldo_ and
+_Armida_, Mr. _Fancy_! Ah the Caresses that fair _Corcereis_ gave, and
+received from the young Warrior, ah how soft, delicate and tender! Upon
+my Honour I cannot read them in the Excellence of their Original
+Language, without I know not what Emotions.
+
+_Lean._ Methinks 'tis very well in our Mother Tongue, Madam.
+
+L. _Kno._ O, Faugh, Mr. _Fancy_, what have you said, Mother Tongue! Can
+any thing that's great or moving be express'd in filthy _English_?--I'll
+give you an Energetical proof, Mr. _Fancy_; observe but divine _Homer_
+in the _Grecian_ Language--_Ton d' apamibominous prosiphe podas ochus
+Achilleus!_ Ah how it sounds! which English't dwindles into the most
+grating stuff:--Then the swift-foot _Achilles_ made reply: oh, faugh.
+
+_Lucr._ So now my Mother's in her right Sphere.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, Mr. _Fancy_, we'll pursue our first design of retiring
+into my Cabinet, and reading a leaf or two in _Martial_; I am a little
+dull, and wou'd fain laugh.
+
+_Lean._ Methinks, Madam, Discourse were much better with these young
+Ladies. Dear Lucretia, find some way to release me.
+    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, how I hate the impertinence of Women, who for the
+generality have no other knowledge than that of dressing; I am uneasy
+with the unthinking Creatures.
+
+_Lucr._ Indeed 'tis much better to be entertaining a young Lover alone;
+but I'll prevent her, if possible.
+    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ No, I am for the substantial pleasure of an Author.
+_Philosophemur!_ is my Motto,--I'm strangely fond of you, Mr. _Fancy_,
+for being a Scholar.
+
+_Lean._ Who, Madam, I a Scholar? the greatest Dunce in Nature--Malicious
+Creatures, will you leave me to her mercy?
+    [To them aside.
+
+_Lucr._ Prithee assist him in his misery, for I am Mudd, and can do
+nothing towards it.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Isab._ Who, my Cousin _Leander_ a Scholar, Madam?
+
+_Lucr._ Sure he's too much a Gentleman to be a Scholar.
+
+_Isab._ I vow, Madam, he spells worse than a Country Farrier when he
+prescribes a Drench.
+
+_Lean._ Then, Madam, I write the leudest hand.
+
+_Isab._ Worse than a Politician or a States-man.
+
+_Lucr._ He cannot read it himself when he has done.
+
+_Lean._ Not a word on't, Madam.
+
+_L. Kno._ This agreement to abuse him, I understand--    [Aside.
+  --Well, then, Mr. _Fancy_, let's to my Cabinet--your hand.
+
+_Lean._ Now shall I be teas'd unmercifully,--I'll wait on you, Madam.
+    [Exit Lady.
+  --Find some means to redeem me, or I shall be mad.
+    [Exit _Lean._
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Hah, my dear Isabella here, and without a Spy! what a blessed
+opportunity must I be forc'd to lose, for there is just now arriv'd my
+Sister's Lover, whom I am oblig'd to receive: but if you have a mind to
+laugh a little--
+
+_Isab._ Laugh! why, are you turn'd Buffoon, Tumbler, or Presbyterian
+Preacher?
+
+_Lod._ No, but there's a Creature below more ridiculous than either of
+these.
+
+_Lucr._ For love's sake, what sort of Beast is that?
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous Easy_, your new Lover just come to town Bag and
+Baggage, and I was going to acquaint my Mother with it.
+
+_Isab._ You'll find her well employ'd with my Cousin _Leander_.
+
+_Lucr._ A happy opportunity to free him: but what shall I do now,
+Brother?
+
+_Lod._ Oh, let me alone to ruin him with my Mother: get you gone,
+I think I hear him coming, and this Apartment is appointed for him.
+
+_Lucr._ Prithee haste then, and free _Leander_, we'll into the Garden.
+
+    [Exeunt _Luc._ and _Isab._
+
+    A Chair and a Table. Enter Sir_ Credulous _in a riding habit.
+    _Curry_ his Groom carrying a Portmantle._
+
+_Lod._ Yes--'tis the Right Worshipful, I'll to my Mother with the News.
+    [Ex. _Lod._
+
+Sir _Cred._ Come undo my Portmantle, and equip me, that I may look like
+some body before I see the Ladies--_Curry_, thou shalt e'en remove now,
+_Curry_, from Groom to Footman; for I'll ne'er keep Horse more, no, nor
+Mare neither, since my poor _Gillian's_ departed this Life.
+
+_Cur._ 'Ds diggers, Sir, you have griev'd enough for your Mare in all
+Conscience; think of your Mistress now, Sir, and think of her no more.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Not think of her! I shall think of her whilst I live, poor
+Fool, that I shall, though I had forty Mistresses.
+
+_Cur._ Nay, to say truth, Sir, 'twas a good-natur'd civil beast, and so
+she remain'd to her last gasp, for she cou'd never have left this World
+in a better time, as the saying is, so near her Journey's End.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A civil Beast! Why, was it civilly done of her, thinkest
+thou, to die at _Branford_, when had she liv'd till to morrow, she had
+been converted into Money and have been in my Pocket? for now I am to
+marry and live in Town, I'll sell off all my Pads; poor Fool, I think
+she e'en died for grief I wou'd have sold her.
+
+_Cur._ 'Twas unlucky to refuse Parson _Cuffet's_ Wife's Money for her,
+Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, and to refuse her another kindness too, that shall be
+nameless which she offer'd me, and which wou'd have given me good luck
+in Horse-flesh too; Zoz, I was a modest fool, that's truth on't.
+
+_Cur._ Well, well, Sir, her time was come you must think, and we are all
+Mortal as the saying is.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, 'twas the lovingst Tit:--but Grass and Hay, she's
+gone--where be her Shoes, _Curry_?
+
+_Cur._ Here, Sir, her Skin went for good Ale at _Branford_.
+    [Gives him the Shoes.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ah, how often has she carry'd me upon these Shoes to Mother
+_Jumbles_; thou remember'st her handsome Daughter, and what pure Ale she
+brew'd; between one and t'other my Rent came short home there; but let
+that pass too, and hang sorrow, as thou sayst, I have something else to
+think on.
+    [Takes his things out, lays them upon the Table.
+  And, _Curry_, as soon as I am drest, go you away to St. _Clement's
+Church-yard_, to _Jackson_ the Cobler there.
+
+_Cur._ What, your Dog-tutor, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, and see how my Whelp proves, I put to him last
+Parliament.
+
+_Cur._ Yes, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Leander_, and starts back seeing Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ And ask him what Gamesters come to the Ponds now adays, and
+what good Dogs.
+
+_Cur._ Yes, Sir.
+
+_Lean._ This is the Beast _Lodwick_ spoke of; how could I laugh were he
+design'd for any but _Lucretia!_
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And dost hear, ask him if he have not sold his own Dog
+_Diver_ with the white Ear; if I can purchase him, and my own Dog prove
+right, I'll be Duke of Ducking-Pond, ads zoz.
+    [Sir _Cred._ dresses himself.
+  Well, I think I shall be fine anon, he.
+
+_Cur._ But zo, zo, Sir, as the saying is, this Suit's a little out of
+fashion, 'twas made that very year I came to your Worship, which is five
+Winters, and as many Summers.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What then Mun, I never wear it, but when I go to be drunk,
+and give my Voice for a Knight o'th' Shire, and here at _London_ in Term
+time, and that but eight times in Eight Visits to Eight several Ladies
+to whom I was recommended.
+
+_Cur._ I wonder that amongst eight you got not one, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Eight! Zoz, I had Eight score, Mun; but the Devil was in
+'em, they were all so forward, that before I cou'd seal and deliver,
+whip, quoth _Jethro_, they were either all married to some body else,
+or run quite away; so that I am resolv'd if this same _Lucretia_ proves
+not right, I'll e'en forswear this Town and all their false Wares,
+amongst which, zoz, I believe they vent as many false Wives as any
+_Metropolitan_ in Christendom, I'll say that for't, and a Fiddle for't,
+i'faith:--come give me my Watch out,--so, my Diamond Rings too: so,
+I think I shall appear pretty well all together, _Curry_, hah?
+
+_Lean._ Like some thing monstrously ridiculous, I'll be sworn.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Cur._ Here's your Purse of broad Gold, Sir, that your Grandmother gave
+you to go a wooing withal, I mean to shew, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, for she charg'd me never to part with it;--so, now for
+the Ladies.
+    [Shakes his Ribbons.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ _Leander_, what mak'st thou here, like a Holy-day Fool gazing at
+a Monster?
+
+_Lean._ Yes; And one I hope I have no great reason to fear.
+
+_Lod._ I am of thy opinion; away, my Mother's coming; take this
+opportunity with my Sister, she's i'th' Garden, and let me alone with
+this Fool, for an Entertainment that shall shew him all at once: away--
+    [Exit _Lean._
+    [_Lod._ goes in to Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ _Lodwick_, my dear Friend! and little Spark of
+Ingenuity--Zoz, Man, I'm but just come to Town.
+    [Embrace.
+
+_Lod._ 'Tis a joyful hearing, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Not so joyful neither, Sir, when you shall know poor
+_Gillian's_ dead, my little grey Mare; thou knew'st her, mun: Zoz, 'thas
+made me as melancholy as the Drone of a _Lancashire_ Bag-pipe. But let
+that pass; and now we talk of my Mare, Zoz, I long to see this Sister of
+thine.
+
+_Lod._ She'll be with you presently, Sir _Credulous_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ But hark ye, Zoz, I have been so often fob'd off in these
+matters, that between you and I, _Lodwick_, if I thought I shou'd not
+have her, Zoz, I'd ne'er lose precious time about her.
+
+_Lod._ Right, Sir; and to say truth, these Women have so much
+Contradiction in 'em, that 'tis ten to one but a Man fails in the Art of
+pleasing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, there's it:--therefore prithee, dear _Lodwick_, tell me
+a few of thy Sister's Humors, and if I fail,--then hang me, Ladies, at
+your Door, as the Song says.
+
+_Lod._ Why, faith, she has many odd Humors hard enough to hit.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, let 'em be as hard as _Hercules_ his Labors in the Vale
+of _Basse_, I'll not be frighted from attempting her.
+
+_Lod._ Why, she's one of those fantastick Creatures that must be courted
+her own way.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, let's hear her way.
+
+_Lod._ She must be surpriz'd with strange Extravagancies wholly out of
+the Road and Method of common Courtship.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Shaw, is that all? Zoz, I'm the best in Christendom at your
+out-of-the-way bus'nesses.--Now do I find the Reason of all my ill
+Success; for I us'd one and the same method to all I courted, whatever
+their Humors were; hark ye, prithee give me a hint or two, and let me
+alone to manage Matters.
+
+_Lod._ I have just now thought of a way that cannot but take--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, out with it, Man.
+
+_Lod._ Why, what if you should represent a dumb Ambassador from the
+Blind God of Love.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, a dumb Ambassador? Zoz, Man, how shall I deliver my
+Embassy then, and tell her how much I love her?--besides, I had a pure
+Speech or two ready by heart, and that will be quite lost.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lod._ Fy, fy! how dull you are! why, you shall do it by Signs, and I'll
+be your Interpreter.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, faith, this will be pure; I understand you now, Zoz,
+I am old excellent at Signs;--I vow this will be rare.
+
+_Lod._ It will not fail to do your business, if well manag'd--but stay,
+here's my Sister, on your life not a syllable.
+
+    Enter _Lean._ _Lucr._ and _Isab._
+
+Sir _Cred._ I'll be rackt first, Mum budget,--prithee present me, I long
+to be at it, sure.
+    [He falls back, making Faces and Grimaces.
+
+_Lod._ Sister, I here present you with a worthy Knight, struck dumb with
+Admiration of your Beauty; but that's all one, he is employ'd Envoy
+Extraordinary from the blind God of Love: and since, like his young
+Master, he must be defective in one of his Senses, he chose rather to be
+dumb than blind.
+
+_Lucr._ I hope the small Deity is in good Health, Sir?
+
+_Isab._ And his Mistress _Psyche_, Sir?
+    [He smiles and bows, and makes Signs.
+
+_Lod._ He says that _Psyche_ has been sick of late, but somewhat
+recovered, and has sent you for a Token a pair of Jet Bracelets, and a
+Cambrick Handkerchief of her own spinning, with a Sentence wrought in't,
+_Heart in hand, at thy command._
+    [Looking every word upon Sir _Credulous_ as he makes signs.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, _Lodwick_, what do you mean? I'm the Son of an
+_Egyptian_ if I understand thee.
+    [Pulls him, he signs to him to hold his peace.
+
+_Lod._ Come, Sir, the Tokens, produce, produce--
+    [He falls back making damnable signs.
+  How! Faith, I'm sorry for that with all my heart,--he says, being
+somewhat put to't on his Journey, he was forced to pawn the Bracelets
+for half a Crown, and the Handkerchief he gave his Landlady on the Road
+for a Kindness received,--this 'tis when People will be fooling--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, the Devil's in this _Lodwick_, for mistaking my Signs
+thus: hang me if ever I thought of Bracelets or a Handkerchief, or ever
+received a Civility from any Woman Breathing,--is he bewitcht trow?
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lean._ _Lodwick_, you are mistaken in the Knight's meaning all this
+while. Look on him, Sir,--do not you guess from that Look, and wrying of
+his Mouth, that you mistook the Bracelets for Diamond Rings, which he
+humbly begs, Madam, you would grace with your fair Hand?
+
+_Lod._ Ah, now I perceive it plain.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Compliment. Why, this is worse than
+t'other.--What shall I do in this case?--should I speak and undeceive
+them, they would swear 'twere to save my Jems: and to part with
+'em--Zoz, how simply should I look!--but hang't, when I have married
+her, they are my own again.
+    [Gives the Rings, and falls back into Grimaces. _Leander_ whispers
+    to _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Enough--Then, Sister, she has sent you a Purse of her own
+knitting full of Broad Gold.
+
+Sir. _Cred._ Broad Gold! why, what a Pox does the Man conjure?
+
+_Lod._ Which, Sister, faith, you must accept of, you see by that Grimace
+how much 'twill grieve him else.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A pretty civil way this to rob a Man.--Why, _Lodwick_,--why,
+what a Pox, will they have no mercy?--Zoz, I'll see how far they'll
+drive the Jest.
+    [Gives the Gold and bows, and scrapes and screws.
+
+_Lod._ Say you so, Sir? well I'll see what may be done.--Sister, behold
+him, and take pity on him; he has but one more humble request to make
+you, 'tis to receive a Gold Watch which he designs you from himself.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, how long has this Fellow been a Conjurer? for he does
+deal with the Devil, that's certain,--_Lodwick_--
+    [Pulls him.
+
+_Lod._ Ay do, speak and spoil all, do.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Speak and spoil all, quoth he! and the Duce take me if I am
+not provok'd to't; why, how the Devil should he light slap-dash, as they
+say, upon every thing thus? Well, Zoz, I'm resolv'd to give it her, and
+shame her if she have any Conscience in her.
+    [Gives his Watch with pitiful Grimaces.
+
+_Lod._ Now, Sister, you must know there's a Mystery in this Watch, 'tis
+a kind of Hieroglyphick that will instruct you how a Married Woman of
+your Quality ought to live.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, my Watch Mysteries and Hieroglyphicks! the Devil take
+me, if I knew of any such Virtues it had.
+    [They are all looking on the Watch.
+
+_Lod._ Beginning at Eight, from which down to Twelve you ought to imploy
+in dressing, till Two at Dinner, till Five in Visits, till Seven at the
+Play, till Nine i'th' Park, Ten at Supper with your Lover, if your
+Husband be not at home, or keep his distance, which he's too well bred
+not to do; then from Ten to Twelve are the happy Hours the Bergere,
+those of intire Enjoyment.--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Say you so? hang me if I shall not go near to think I may
+chance to be a Cuckold by the shift.
+
+_Isab._ Well, Sir, what must she do from Twelve till Eight again?
+
+_Lod._ Oh! those are the dull Conjugal Hours for sleeping with her own
+Husband, and dreaming of Joys her absent Lover alone can give her.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, an she be for Sleeping, Zoz, I am as good at that as
+she can be for her Heart; or Snoring either.
+
+_Lod._ But I have done; Sir _Credulous_ has a dumb Oration to make you
+by way of farther Explanation.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A dumb Oration! now do I know no more how to speak a dumb
+Speech than a Dog.
+
+_Luc._ Oh, I love that sort of Eloquence extremely.
+
+_Lod._ I told you this would take her.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, I know your silent Speeches are incomparable, and I
+have such a Speech in my Head.
+
+_Lod._ Your Postures, your Postures, begin, Sir.
+    [He puts himself into a ready Posture as if he would speak, but
+    only makes Faces.
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+_Pag._ Sir, my Lady desires to speak with you.    [To _Lean._
+
+_Lean._ I'll wait on her,--a Devil on't.--
+
+_Pag._ I have command to bring you, Sir, instantly.
+
+_Lean._ This is ill luck, Madam, I cannot see the Farce out; I'll wait
+on you as soon as my good Fortune will permit me.
+    [Exit with _Page_.
+
+_Luc._ He's going to my Mother, dear _Isabella_, let's go and hinder
+their Discourse: Farewel, Sir Ambassador, pray remember us to _Psyche_,
+not forgetting the little blind Archer, ha, ha, ha.--
+
+    [Ex. _Lucr._ and _Isab._ laughing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ So, I have undone all, they are both gone, flown I protest;
+why, what a Devil ail'd em? Now have I been dumb all this while to no
+purpose, you too never told her my meaning right; as I hope to breathe,
+had any but yourself done this, I should have sworn by _Helicon_ and all
+the rest of the Devils, you had had a design to have abus'd me, and
+cheated me of all my Moveables too.
+
+_Lod._ What a hopeful Project was here defeated by my mistake! but
+courage, Sir _Credulous_, I'll put you in a way shall fetch all about
+again.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Say you so? ah, dear _Lodwick_, let me hear it.
+
+_Lod._ Why, you shall this Night give your Mistress a Serenade.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How! a Serenade!
+
+_Lod._ Yes, but it must be perform'd after an Extravagant manner, none
+of your dull amorous Night-walking Noises so familiar in this Town;
+_Lucretia_ loves nothing but what's great and extravagant, and passes
+the reach of vulgar practice.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What think you of a silent Serenade? Zoz, say but the word
+and it shall be done, Man, let me alone for Frolicks, i'faith.
+
+_Lod._ A silent one! no, that's to wear a good humour to the Stumps;
+I wou'd have this want for no Noise; the extremes of these two Addresses
+will set off one another.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Say you so? what think you then of the Bagpipe, Tongs, and
+Gridiron, Cat-calls, and loud-sounding Cymbals?
+
+_Lod._ Naught, naught, and of known use; you might as well treat her
+with Viols and Flute-doux, which were enough to disoblige her for ever.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, what think you then of the King of _Bantam's_ own
+Musick.
+
+_Lod._ How! the King of _Bantam's_ Musick?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, the King of _Bantam's_: a Friend of mine had a
+Present sent him from thence, a most unheard of curiosity I'll assure
+you.
+
+_Lod._ That, that by all means, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, I'll go borrow 'em presently.
+
+_Lod._ You must provide your self of a Song.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Song! hang't, 'tis but rummaging the Play-Books, stealing
+thence is lawful Prize--Well, Sir, your Servant.
+    [Exit.
+
+    Enter _Leander_.
+
+_Lod._ I hope 'twill be ridiculous enough, and then the Devil's in't if
+it do not do his Business with my Mother, for she hates all impertinent
+Noises but what she makes herself. She's now going to make a Visit to
+your Uncle, purposely to give me an opportunity to _Isabella_.
+
+_Lean._ And I'm ingag'd to wait on her thither, she designs to carry the
+Fiddles too; he's mad enough already, but such a Visit will fit him for
+Bedlam.
+
+_Lod._ No matter, for you have all a leud Hand with him; between his
+continual imaginary Sickness, and perpetual Physic, a Man might take
+more Pleasure in an Hospital. What the Devil did he marry a young Wife
+for? and they say a handsome Creature too.
+
+_Lean._ To keep up his Title of Cuckold I think, for she has Beauty
+enough for Temptation, and no doubt makes the right use on't: wou'd I
+cou'd know it, that I might prevent her cheating my Uncle longer to my
+undoing.
+
+_Lod._ She'll be cunning enough for that, if she have Wit: but now thou
+talk'st of Intrigues, when didst see _Wittmore_? that Rogue has some
+lucky Haunt which we must find out.--But my Mother expects your
+attendance; I'll go seek my Sister, and make all the Interest there I
+can for you, whilst you pay me in the same Coin to _Isabella_. _Adieu._
+
+_Lean._ Trust my Friendship.--
+
+    [Ex. severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Garden to Sir _Patient Fancy's_ House.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_, _Wittmore_, and _Maundy_.
+
+_Wit._ Enough, my charming Mistress, you've set my Soul at Peace, and
+chas'd away those Fears and Doubts my Jealousy created there.
+
+_Maun._ Mr. _Wittmore's_ satisfy'd of your Constancy, Madam; though had
+I been your Ladyship, I should have given him a more substantial Proof,
+which you might yet do, if you wou'd make handsome use of your time.
+
+_Wit._ _Maundy_ advises well; my dearest, let's withdraw to yonder
+Covert Arbour, whose kind Shades will secure us a Happiness that Gods
+might envy.
+    [Offers to lead her out.
+
+L. _Fan._ I dare not for the world, Sir _Patient_ is now asleep, and
+'tis to those few Minutes we are oblig'd for this Enjoyment, which
+shou'd Love make us transgress, and he shou'd wake and surprize us, we
+are undone for ever: no, let us employ this little time we have in
+consulting how we may be often happy, and securely so: Oh, how I
+languish for the dear opportunity!
+
+_Wit._ And cou'd you guess what Torments I have suffer'd in these few
+fatal Months that have divided us, thou wou'dst pity me.
+
+L. _Fan._ --But to our Business; for though I am yet unsuspected by my
+Husband, I am eternally plagu'd with his Company; he's so fond of me, he
+scarce gives me time to write to thee, he waits on me from room to room,
+hands me in the Garden, shoulders me in the Balcony, nay, does the
+office of my Women, dresses and undresses me, and does so smirk at his
+handywork: In fine, dear _Wittmore_, I am impatient till I can have less
+of his Company, and more of thine.
+
+_Wit._ Does he never go out of Town?
+
+L. _Fan._ Never without me.
+
+_Wit._ Nor to Chuch?
+
+L. _Fan._ To a Meeting-house you mean, and then too carries me, and is
+as vainly proud of me as of his rebellious Opinion, for his Religion
+means nothing but that, and Contradiction; which I seem to like too,
+since 'tis the best Cloke I can put on to cheat him with.
+
+_Wit._ Right, my fair Hypocrite.
+
+L. _Fan._ But, dear _Wittmore_, there's nothing so comical as to hear me
+cant, and even cheat those Knaves, the Preachers themselves, that delude
+the ignorant Rabble.
+
+_Wit._ What Miracles cannot your Eyes and Tongue perform!
+
+L. _Fan._ Judge what a fine Life I lead the while, to be set up with an
+old formal doting sick Husband, and a Herd of snivelling grinning
+Hypocrites, that call themselves the teaching Saints; who under pretence
+of securing me to the number of their Flock, do so sneer upon me, pat my
+Breasts, and cry fie, fie upon this fashion of tempting Nakedness.
+    [Through the Nose.
+
+_Wit._ Dear Creature, how cou'd we laugh at thy new way of living, had
+we but some Minutes allow'd us to enjoy that Pleasure alone.
+
+L. _Fan._ Think, dear _Wittmore_, think, _Maundy_ and I have thought
+over all our Devices to no purpose.
+
+_Wit._ Pox on't, I'm the dullest dog at plotting, thinking, in the
+world; I should have made a damnable ill Town Poet: Has he quite left
+off going to the Change?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, he's grown cautiously rich, and will venture none of his
+substantial Stock in transitory Traffick.
+
+_Wit._ Has he no mutinous Cabal, nor Coffee-houses, where he goes
+religiously to consult the Welfare of the Nation?
+
+L. _Fan._ His imagin'd Sickness has made this their Rendesvouz.
+
+_Wit._ When he goes to his blind Devotion, cannot you pretend to be
+sick? that may give us at least two or three opportunities to begin
+with.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh! then I should be plagu'd with continual Physick and
+Extempore Prayer till I were sick indeed.
+
+_Wit._ Damn the humorous Coxcomb and all his Family, what shall we do?
+
+L. _Fan._ Not all, for he has a Daughter that has good Humour, Wit, and
+Beauty enough to save her,--stay--that has jogg'd a Thought, as the
+Learned say, which must jog on, till the motion have produc'd something
+worth my thinking.--
+
+    Enter _Roger_ running.
+
+_Maun._ Ad's me, here's danger near, our Scout comes in such haste.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Roger_, what's the matter?
+
+_Rog._ My Master, Madam, is risen from sleep, and is come in to the
+Garden.--See, Madam, he's here.
+
+L. _Fan._ What an unlucky Accident was this?
+
+_Wit._ What shall I do, 'tis too late to obscure my self?
+
+L. _Fan._ He sees you already, through the Trees,--here--keep your
+distance, your Hat under your Arm; so, be very ceremonious, whilst I
+settle a demure Countenance.--
+
+_Maun._ Well, there never came good of Lovers that were given to too
+much talking; had you been silently kind all this while, you had been
+willing to have parted by this time.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ in a Night-Gown, reading a Bill.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hum,--Twelve Purges for this present _January_--as I take it,
+good Mr. Doctor, I took but Ten in all _December._--By this Rule I am
+sicker this Month, than I was the last.--And, good Master Apothecary,
+methinks your Prizes are somewhat too high: at this rate no body wou'd
+be sick.--Here, _Roger_, see it paid however,--Ha, hum. [Sees 'em, and
+starts back.] What's here, my Lady Wife entertaining a leud Fellow of
+the Town? a flaunting Cap and Feather Blade.
+
+L. _Fan._ Sir _Patient_ cannot now be spoken with. But, Sir, that which
+I was going just now to say to you, was, that it would be very
+convenient in my opinion to make your Addresses to _Isabella_,--'twill
+give us opportunities. [Aside.] We Ladies love no Imposition; this is
+Counsel my Husband perhaps will not like, but I would have all Women
+chuse their Man, as I have done,--my dear _Wittmore_.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I profess ingenuously an excellent good Lady this of mine,
+though I do not like her Counsel to the young Man, who I perceive would
+be a Suitor to my Daughter _Isabella_.
+
+_Wit._ Madam, should I follow my inclinations, I should pay my Vows no
+where but there,--but I am inform'd Sir _Patient_ is a Man so positively
+resolv'd.--
+
+L. _Fan._ That you should love his Wife.    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ And I'll comply with that Resolve of his, and neither love nor
+marry _Isabella_, without his Permission; and I doubt not but I shall by
+my Respects to him gain his Consent,--to cuckold him.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I profess ingenuously, a very discreet young Man.
+
+_Wit._ But, Madam, when may I promise my self the satisfaction of coming
+again? For I'm impatient for the Sight and Enjoyment of the fair Person
+I love.
+
+L. _Fan._ Sir, you may come at night, and something I will do by that
+time shall certainly give you that access you wish for.
+
+_Wit._ May I depend upon that Happiness?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, doubt not my power over Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Lady _Fancy_, you promise largely.
+
+L. _Fan._ Sir _Patient_ here!
+
+_Wit._ A Devil on him, wou'd I were well off: now must I dissemble,
+profess, and lye most confoundedly.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Your Servant, Sir, your Servant.--My Lady _Fancy_, your
+Ladyship, is well entertain'd I see; have a care you make me not
+jealous, my Lady _Fancy_.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed I have given you cause, Sir _Patient_, for I have been
+entertaining a Lover, and one you must admit of too.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Say you so, my Lady _Fancy_?--Well, Sir, I am a Man of
+Reason, and if you shew me good causes why, can bid you welcome, for I
+do nothing without Reason and Precaution.
+
+_Wit._ Sir, I have--
+
+Sir _Pat._ I know what you wou'd say, Sir; few Words denoteth a Wise
+Head,--you wou'd say that you have an Ambition to be my Son-in-Law.
+
+_Wit._ You guess most right, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, I'll warrant I'll read a Man as well as the best,
+I have studied it.
+
+_Wit._ Now, Invention, help me or never.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Your Name, I pray?
+    [Putting off his Hat gravely at every Word.
+
+_Wit._ _Fainlove_, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Good Mr. _Fainlove_, your Country?
+
+_Wit._ _Yorkshire_, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What, not Mr. _Fainlove's_ Son of _Yorkshire_, who was
+knighted in the good days of the late Lord Protector?
+    [Off his Hat.
+
+_Wit._ The same, Sir.--I am in, but how to come off again the Devil take
+me if I know.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ He was a Man of admirable parts, believe me, a notable Head
+piece, a publick-spirited Person, and a good Commonwealths-man, that he
+was, on my word.--Your Estate, Sir, I pray?
+    [Hat off.
+
+_Wit._ I have not impair'd it, Sir, and I presume you know its
+value:--For I am a Dog if I do.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ O' my Word, 'tis then considerable, Sir; for he left but one
+Son, and fourteen hundred Pounds _per Annum_, as I take it: which Son,
+I hear, is lately come from _Geneva_, whither he was sent for virtuous
+Education. I am glad of your Arrival, Sir.--Your Religion, I pray?
+
+_Wit._ You cannot doubt my Principles, Sir, since educated at _Geneva_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Your Father was a discreet Man: ah, Mr. _Fainlove_, he and I
+have seen better days, and wish we cou'd have foreseen these that are
+arriv'd.
+
+_Wit._ That he might have turn'd honest in time, he means, before he had
+purchas'd Bishops Lands.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, you have no Place, Office, Dependance or Attendance at
+Court, I hope?
+
+_Wit._ None, Sir,--Wou'd I had--so you were hang'd.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Fan._ Nay, Sir, you may believe, I knew his Capacities and Abilities
+before I would encourage his Addresses.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Lady _Fancy_, you are a discreet Lady;--Well, I'll marry
+her out of hand, to prevent Mr. _Lodwick's_ hopes: for though the young
+man may deserve well, that Mother of his I'll have nothing to do with,
+since she refused to marry my Nephew.
+    [Aside.
+
+    Enter _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ Sir Father, here's my Lady _Knowell_, and her Family come to see
+you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! her whole Family! I am come to keep open House; very
+fine, her whole Family! she's Plague enough to mortify any good
+Christian,--Tell her, my Lady and I am gone forth; tell her any thing to
+keep her away.
+
+_Fan._ Shou'd I tell a lye, Sir Father, and to a Lady of her Quality?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Her Quality and she are a Couple of Impertinent things, which
+are very troublesome, and not to be indur'd I take it.
+
+_Fan._ Sir, we shou'd bear with things we do not love sometimes, 'tis a
+sort of Trial, Sir, a kind of Mortification fit for a good Christian.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, what a notable talking Baggage is this! How came you by
+this Doctrine?
+
+_Fan._ I remember, Sir, you preach'd it once to my Sister, when the old
+Alderman was the Text, whom you exhorted her to marry, but the wicked
+Creature made ill use on't.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Go your way for a prating Huswife, go, and call your Sister
+hither. [Exit _Fanny_.] --Well, I'm resolv'd to leave this Town, nay,
+and the World too, rather than be tormented thus.
+
+L. _Fan._ What's the matter, Dear, thou dost so fret thy self?
+
+Sir _Pat._ The matter! my House, my House is besieged with Impertinence;
+the intolerable Lady, Madam _Romance_, that walking Library of profane
+Books is come to visit me.
+
+L. _Fan._ My Lady _Knowell_?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, that Lady of eternal Noise and hard Words.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed 'tis with pain I am oblig'd to be civil to her, but I
+consider her Quality, her Husband was too an Alderman, your Friend, and
+a great Ay and No Man i' th' City, and a painful Promoter of the good
+Cause.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But she's a Fop, my Lady _Fancy_, and ever was so, an idle
+conceited she Fop; and has Vanity and Tongue enough to debauch any
+Nation under civil Government: but, Patience, thou art a Virtue, and
+Affliction will come.--Ah, I'm very sick, alas, I have not long to dwell
+amongst the Wicked, Oh, oh.--_Roger_, is the Doctor come?
+
+    Enter _Roger_.
+
+_Rog._ No, Sir, but he has sent you a small draught of a Pint, which you
+are to take, and move upon't.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah,--Well, I'll in and take it;--Ah--Sir, I crave your
+Patience for a moment, for I design you shall see my Daughter, I'll not
+make long work on't, Sir: alas, I would dispose of her before I die:
+Ah,--I'll bring her to you, Sir, Ah, Ah.--
+    [Goes out with _Roger_.
+
+L. _Fan._ He's always thus when visited, to save Charges,--But how, dear
+_Wittmore_, cam'st thou to think of a Name and Country so readily?
+
+_Wit._ Egad, I was at the height of my Invention, and the Alderman
+civilly and kindly assisted me with the rest; but how to undeceive him--
+
+L. _Fan._ Take no care for that, in the mean time you'll be shreudly
+hurt to have the way laid open to our Enjoyment, and that by my
+Husband's procurement too: But take heed, dear _Wittmore_, whilst you
+only design to feign a Courtship, you do it not in good earnest.
+
+_Wit._ Unkind Creature!
+
+L. _Fan._ I would not have you endanger her Heart neither: for thou hast
+Charms will do't.--Prithee do not put on thy best Looks, nor speak thy
+softest Language; for if thou dost, thou canst not fail to undo her.
+
+_Wit._ Well, my pretty Flatterer, to free her Heart and thy Suspicions,
+I'll make such aukward Love as shall persuade her, however she chance to
+like my Person, to think most leudly of my Parts.--But 'tis fit I take
+my leave, for if _Lodwick_ or _Leander_ see me here, all will be ruin'd;
+death, I had forgot that.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Leander's_ seldom at home, and you must time your Visits: but
+see Sir _Patient's_ return'd, and with him your new Mistress.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ and _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Here's my Daughter _Isabella_, Mr. _Fainlove_: she'll serve
+for a Wife, Sir, as times go; but I hope you are none of
+those.--Sweet-heart, this Gentleman I have design'd you, he's rich and
+young, and I am old and sickly, and just going out of the World, and
+would gladly see thee in safe Hands.
+
+_Maun._ He has been just going this twenty Years.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Therefore I command you to receive the tenders of his
+Affection.
+
+    Enter _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ Sir Father, my Lady _Knowell's_ in the Garden.
+
+L. _Fan._ My Dear, we must go meet her in decency.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A hard case, a Man cannot be sick in quiet.
+    [Exit with L. _Fan._
+
+_Isab._ A Husband, and that not _Lodwick_! Heaven forbid.    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ Now Foppery assist to make me very ridiculous,--Death, she's very
+pretty and inviting; what an insensible Dog shall I be counted to refuse
+the Enjoyment of so fair, so new a Creature, and who is like to be
+thrown into my Arms too whether I will or not?--but Conscience and my
+Vows to the fair Mother: No, I will be honest.--Madam,--as Gad shall
+save me, I'm the Son of a Whore, if you are not the most Belle Person I
+ever saw, and if I be not damnably in love with you; but a pox take all
+tedious Courtship, I have a free-born and generous Spirit; and as I hate
+being confin'd to dull Cringing, Whining, Flattering, and the Devil and
+all of Foppery, so when I give an Heart, I'm an Infidel, Madam, if I do
+not love to do't frankly and quickly, that thereby I may oblige the
+beautiful Receiver of my Vows, Protestations, Passions, and Inclination.
+
+_Isab._ You're wonderful ingaging, Sir, and I were an Ingrate not to
+facilitate a return for the Honour you are pleas'd to do me.
+
+_Wit._ Upon my Reputation, Madam, you're a civil well-bred Person, you
+have all the Agreemony of your Sex, _la belle Taille_, _la bonne Mine_,
+& _Reparteee bien_, and are _tout oure toore_, as I'm a Gentleman, _fort
+agreeable_.--If this do not please your Lady, and nauseate her, the
+Devil's in 'em both for unreasonable Women.--
+    [To _Maun._
+
+_Fan._ Gemini, Sister, does the Gentleman conjurer?
+
+_Isab._ I know not, but I'm sure I never saw a more affected Fop.
+
+_Maun._ O, a damnable impertinent Fop! 'tis pity, for he's a proper
+Gentleman.
+
+_Wit._ Well, if I do hold out, Egad, I shall be the bravest young Fellow
+in Christendom: But, Madam, I must kiss your Hand at present, I have
+some Visits to make, Devoirs to pay, necessities of Gallantry only, no
+Love Engagements, by _Jove_, Madam; it is sufficient I have given my
+Parole to your Father, to do him the honour of my Alliance; and an
+unnecessary Jealousy will but disoblige, Madam, your Slave.--Death,
+these Rogues see me, and I'm undone.--
+    [Exit.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_, Lady _Knowell_, Sir _Credulous_ and
+    _Lucretia_, with other Women and Men, _Roger_ attending.
+
+L. _Kno._ _Isabella_, your Servant, Madam: being sensible of the
+insociable and solitary Life you lead, I have brought my whole Family to
+wait on your Ladyship, and this my Son _in Futuro_, to kiss your Hands,
+I beseech your Ladyship to know him for your humble Servant: my Son and
+your Nephew, Madam, are coming with the Musick too, we mean to pass the
+whole Day with your Ladyship:--and see they are here.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_ pulling in _Wittmore_, _Leander_ with them.
+
+_Lod._ Nay, since we have met thee so luckily, you must back with us.
+
+_Wit._ You must excuse me, Gentlemen.
+
+_Lod._ We'll shew you two or three fine Women.
+
+_Wit._ Death, these Rogues will ruin me--but I have Business, Gentlemen,
+that--
+
+_Lean._ That must not hinder you from doing Deeds of Charity: we are all
+come to teeze my Uncle, and you must assist at so good a Work;--come,
+gad, thou shall make love to my Aunt.--I wou'd he wou'd effectually.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lod._ Now I think on't, what the Devil dost thou make here?
+
+_Wit._ Here!--oh, Sir--a--I have a design upon the Alderman.
+
+_Lod._ Upon his handsome Wife thou meanest; ah, Rogue!
+
+_Wit._ Faith, no,--a--'tis to--borrow Mony of him; and as I take it,
+Gentlemen, you are not fit Persons for a Man of Credit to be seen with,
+I pass for a graver Man.
+
+_Lod._ Well, Sir, take your Course--but, egad, he'll sooner lend thee
+his Wife than his Money.
+    [Exit _Wittmore_, they come in.
+
+_Lean._ Aunt, I have taken the boldness to bring a Gentleman of my
+Acquaintance to kiss your Ladyship's Hands.
+
+_Lod._ Thy Aunt!--death, she's very handsome.--Madam, your most humble
+Servant.
+    [Kisses the L. _Fan._
+
+_Lean._ Prithee imploy this Fool, that I may have an opportunity to
+entertain thy Sister.
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous_, what, not a Word? not a Compliment? Hah,--be
+brisk, Man, be gay and witty, talk to the Ladies.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Talk to 'em! why, what shall I say to 'em?
+
+_Lod._ Any thing, so it be to little purpose.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, Sir, let me alone for that matter--but who are they,
+prithee?
+
+_Lod._ Why, that's my Lady _Fancy_, and that's her Daughter-in-Law,
+salute 'em, Man.--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Fair Lady,--I do protest and vow, you are the most beautiful
+of all Mothers-in-Law, and the World cannot produce your equal.
+
+_Lod._ The Rogue has but one method for all Addresses.    [They laugh.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, absurd! this, Sir, is the beautiful Mother-in-Law.
+    [To L. _Fan._
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Most noble Lady, I cry your mercy. Then, Madam, as the Sun
+amongst the Stars, or rather as the Moon not in conjunction with the
+Sun, but in her opposition, when one rises the other sets, or as the
+Vulgar call it, Full Moon--I say, as the Moon is the most beautiful of
+all the sparkling Lights, even so are you the most accomplish'd Lady
+under the Moon--and, Madam, I am extremely sensible of your Charms and
+celestial Graces.
+    [To _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, this is abominable and insupportable.
+
+_Lucr._ I find, Sir, you can talk to purpose when you begin once.
+
+Sir _Cred._ You are pleased to say so, noble Lady: but I must needs say,
+I am not the worst bred Gentleman for a Country Gentleman that ever you
+saw; for you must know, incomparable Lady, that I was at the University
+three Years, and there I learnt my Logick and Rhetorick, whereby I
+became excellent at Repartee, sweet Lady. As for my Estate, my Father
+died since I came of Age, and left me a small younger Brother's Portion,
+dear Lady.
+
+_Lucr._ A younger Brother's, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ha, ha, I know what you would infer from that now: but you
+must know, delicious Lady, that I am all the Children my Father had.
+
+_Lucr._ Witty, I protest.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, Madam, when I set on't I can be witty.
+
+_Lean._ Cruel _Lucretia_, leave 'em, and let us snatch this opportunity
+to talk of our own Affairs.
+
+Sir _Cred._ For you must know, bright Lady, though I was pleas'd to
+railly my self, I have a pretty competent Estate of about 3000_l._ a
+Year, and am to marry Madam _Lucretia_.
+
+L. _Fan._ You are a happy Man, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Not so happy neither, inestimable Lady, for I lost the
+finest Mare yesterday,--but let that pass: were you never in
+_Devonshire_, Madam?
+
+L. _Fan._ Never, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ In troth, and that's pity, sweet Lady; for if you lov'd
+Hawking, Drinking, and Whoring,--oh, Lord, I mean Hunting; i'faith,
+there be good Fellows would keep you Company, Madam.
+
+Sir _Pat._ This is a Plot upon me, a mere Plot.--My Lady _Fancy_, be
+tender of my Reputation, Foppery's catching, and I had as lieve be a
+Cuckold as Husband to a vain Woman.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, and that may be as you say, noble Sir. Lady, pray what
+Gentleman's this?--Noble Sir, I am your most humble Servant.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, cry your mercy, Sir.    [Walks away.
+
+Sir _Cred._ No Offence, dear Sir, I protest: 'slife, I believe 'tis the
+Master of the House, he look'd with such Authority;--why, who cares, let
+him look as big as the four Winds, East, West, North and South, I care
+not this,--therefore I beg your Pardon, noble Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Pray spare your Hat and Legs, Sir, till you come to Court,
+they are thrown away i'th' City.
+
+Sir _Cred._ O Lord! dear Sir, 'tis all one for that, I value not a Leg
+nor an Arm amongst Friends, I am a _Devonshire_ Knight, Sir, all the
+World knows, a kind of Country Gentleman, as they say, and am come to
+Town, to marry my Lady _Knowell's_ Daughter.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'm glad on't, Sir.    [Walks away, he follows.
+
+Sir _Cred._ She's a deserving Lady, Sir, if I have any Judgment; and I
+think I understand a Lady, Sir, in the Right Honourable way of
+Matrimony.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Sir, that is to say, you have been married before, Sir;
+and what's all this to me, good Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Married before! incomparable, Sir! not so neither, for
+there's difference in Men, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Right, Sir, for some are Wits, and some are Fools.
+
+Sir _Cred._ As I hope to breathe, 'twas a saying of my Grandmother's,
+who us'd to tell me, Sir, that bought Wit was best. I have brought Money
+to Town for a small purchase of that kind; for, Sir, I wou'd fain set up
+for a Country Wit.--Pray, Sir, where live the Poets, for I wou'd fain be
+acquainted with some of them.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, I do not know, nor do I care for Wits and Poets. Oh,
+this will kill me quite; I'll out of Town immediately.
+
+Sir _Cred._ But, Sir, I mean your fine railing Bully Wits, that have
+Vinegar, Gall and Arsenick in 'em, as well as Salt and Flame, and Fire,
+and the Devil and all.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, defend me! and what is all this to me, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, Sir, they are the very Soul of Entertainment; and, Sir,
+it is the prettiest sport to hear 'em rail and haul at one another--Zoz,
+wou'd I were a Poet.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I wish you were, since you are so fond of being rail'd
+at.--If I were able to beat him, I would be much angry,--but Patience is
+a Virtue, and I will into the Country.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ 'Tis all one case to me, dear Sir,--but I should have the
+pleasure of railing again, _cum privilegio_; I love fighting with those
+pointless Weapons.--Zoz, Sir, you know if we Men of Quality fall out--
+(for you are a Knight I take it) why, there comes a Challenge upon it,
+and ten to one some body or other is run through the Gills; why, a Pox
+on't, I say, this is very damnable, give me Poet's Licence.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Take him off in pity.    [To _Leander_.
+
+_Lod._ Indeed Railing is a Coin only current among the Poets, Sir
+_Credulous_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh blest Deliverance!--what a profane Wretch is here, and
+what a leud World we live in--Oh _London_, _London_, how thou aboundest
+in Iniquity! thy young Men are debauch'd, thy Virgins defloured, and thy
+Matrons all turn'd Bauds! My Lady _Fancy_, this is not Company for you,
+I take it, let us fly from this vexation of Spirit, on the never-failing
+Wings of Discretion.--
+    [Going to lead Lady _Fancy_ off,--the Lady _Knowell_ speaking to
+    _Isabella_ all this while.
+
+L. _Kno._ How! marry thee to such a Fop, say'st thou? Oh egregious!--as
+thou lovest _Lodwick_, let him not know his Name, it will be dangerous,
+let me alone to evade it.
+
+_Isab._ I know his fiery Temper too well to trust him with the secret.
+
+L. _Kno._ Hark ye, Sir, and do you intend to do this horrible thing?--
+
+Sir _Pat._ What thing, my Lady _Knowell_?
+
+L. _Kno._ Why, to marry your Daughter, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, Madam.
+
+L. _Kno._ To a beastly Town Fool? _Monstrum horrendum!_
+
+Sir _Pat._ To any Fool, except a Fool of your Race, of your
+Generation.--
+
+L. _Kno._ How! a Fool of my Race, my Generation! I know thou meanest my
+Son, thou contumelious Knight, who, let me tell thee, shall marry thy
+Daughter _invito te_, that is, (to inform thy obtuse Understanding) in
+spite of thee; yes, shall marry her, though she inherits nothing but thy
+dull Enthusiasms, which had she been legitimate she had been possest
+with.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh abominable! you had best say she is none of my Daughter,
+and that I was a Cuckold.--
+
+L. _Kno._ If I should, Sir, it would not amount to _Scandalum Magnatum_:
+I'll tell thee more, thy whole Pedigree,--and yet for all this,
+_Lodwick_ shall marry your Daughter, and yet I'll have none of your
+Nephew.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Shall he so, my Lady _Knowell_? I shall go near to out-trick
+your Ladyship, for all your politick Learning. 'Tis past the Canonical
+Hour, as they call it, or I wou'd marry my Daughter instantly; I profess
+we ne'er had good days since these Canonical Fopperies came up again,
+mere Popish Tricks to give our Children time for Disobedience,--the next
+Justice wou'd ha' serv'd turn, and have done the Business at any Hour:
+but Patience is a Virtue--_Roger_, go after Mr. _Fainlove_, and tell him
+I wou'd speak with him instantly.
+    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, come, Ladies, we lose fleeting time, upon my Honour, we
+do; for, Madam, as I said, I have brought the Fiddles, and design to
+sacrifice the intire Evening to your Ladyship's Diversion.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Incomparable Lady, that was well thought on; Zoz, I long to
+be jigging.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Fiddles, good Lord! why, what am I come to?--Madam, I take
+it, Sir _Patient Fancy's_ Lady is not a proper Person to make one at
+immodest Revellings, and profane Masqueradings.
+
+L. _Fan._ Why; ah, 'tis very true, Sir, but we ought not to offend a
+Brother that is weak, and consequently, a Sister.
+
+Sir _Pat._ An excellent Lady this, but she may be corrupted, ah, she may
+fall; I will therefore without delay, carry her from this wicked Town.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, come, Gentlemen, let's in; Mr. _Fancy_, you must be my
+Man;--Sir _Credulous_, come, and you, sweet Sir, come, Ladies,--_Nunc
+est saltandum_, &c.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. Changes to a Chamber.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ as before, Lady _Fancy_, _Wittmore_, _Maundy_,
+    and _Roger_ with things.
+
+Sir _Pat._ _Maundy_, fetch my Clothes, I'll dress me and out of Town
+instantly,--persuade me not.
+    [To _Wit._
+  _Roger_, is the Coach ready, _Roger_?
+
+_Rog._ Yes, Sir, with four Horses.
+
+L. _Fan._ Out of Town! Oh, I'm undone then, there will be no hopes of
+ever seeing _Wittmore_. [Aside.] --_Maundy_, oh, help me to contrive my
+stay, or I'm a dead Woman.--Sir, sure you cannot go and leave your
+Affairs in Town.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Affairs! what Affairs?
+
+L. _Fan._ Why, your Daughter's Marriage, Sir:--and--Sir,--not, Sir, but
+that I desire of all things in the World the Blessing of being alone
+with you, far from the Noise and leud Disorders of this filthy Town.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Most excellent Woman! ah, thou art too good for sinful Man,
+and I will therefore remove thee from the Temptations of it.--_Maundy_,
+my Clothes--Mr. _Fainlove_, I will leave _Isabella_ with my Lady
+_Fidget_, my Sister, who shall to morrow see you married, to prevent
+farther Inconveniences.
+
+L. _Fan._ What shall I do?
+
+_Maun._ Madam, I have a Design, which considering his Spleen, must this
+time do our Business,--'tis--
+    [Whispers.
+
+L. _Fan._ I like it well, about it instantly, hah--
+    [Ex. _Maundy_.
+   Alas, Sir, what ails your Face? good Heaven,--look, _Roger_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Face! why, what ails my Face? hah!
+
+L. _Fan._ See, Mr. _Fainlove_, oh, look on my Dear, is he not strangely
+alter'd?
+
+_Wit._ Most wonderfully.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Alter'd, hah--why, where, why, how alter'd?--hah, alter'd say
+you?
+
+_Wit._ Lord, how wildly he stares!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, stare wildly!
+
+_Rog._ Are you not very sick, Sir?
+
+L. _Fan._ Sick! oh, Heavens forbid!--How does my dearest Love?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Methinks I feel myself not well o'th' sudden--ah--a kind of
+shivering seizes all my Limbs,--and am I so much chang'd?
+
+_Wit._ All over, Sir, as big again as you were.
+
+L. _Fan._ Your Face is frightfully blown up, and your dear Eyes just
+starting from your Head; oh, I shall sound with the apprehension on't.
+    [Falls into _Wittmore's_ Arms.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Head and Eyes so big, say you: oh, I'm wondrous sick o'th'
+sudden,--all over say you--oh, oh--Ay, I perceive it now, my Senses fail
+me too.
+
+L. _Fan._ How, Sir, your Senses fail you?
+
+_Wit._ That's a very bad sign, believe me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, ay, for I can neither feel nor see this mighty growth you
+speak of.
+    [Falls into a Chair, with great signs of Disorder.
+
+_Wit._ Alas, I'm sorry for that, Sir.
+
+_Rog._ Sure, 'tis impossible, I'll run and fetch a Glass, Sir.
+    [Offers to go.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, stay, I wou'd not for the world he should see what a
+Monster he is,--and is like to be before to morrow.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Rog._ I'll fit him with a Glass,--I'll warrant ye, it shall advance our
+Design.
+    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ with the Clothes, she starts.
+
+_Maun._ Good Heaven, what ails you, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh--oh--'tis so.
+
+_Maun._ Lord, how he's swoln! see how his Stomach struts.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, 'tis true, though I perceive it not.
+
+_Maun._ Not perceive it, Sir! put on your Clothes and be convinc'd,--try
+'em, Sir.
+    [She pulls off his Gown, and puts on his Doublet and Coat, which
+    come not near by a handful or more.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, it needs not,--mercy upon me!--    [Falls back.
+  I'm lost, I'm gone! Oh Man, what art thou but a Flower? I am poison'd,
+this talking Lady's Breath's infectious; methought I felt the Contagion
+steal into my Heart; send for my Physicians, and if I die I'll swear
+she's my Murderer: oh, see, see, how my trembling increases, oh, hold my
+Limbs, I die.--
+
+    Enter _Roger_ with a magnifying Glass, shews him the Glass; he
+    looks in it.
+
+_Rog._ I'll warrant I'll shew his Face as big as a Bushel.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh,--I'm a dead Man, have me to Bed, I die away, undress
+me instantly, send for my Physicians, I'm poison'd, my Bowels burn,
+I have within an _AEtna_, my Brains run round, Nature within me reels.
+    [They carry him out in a Chair.
+
+_Wit._ And all the drunken Universe does run on Wheels, ha, ha, ha.
+
+Ah, my dear Creature, how finely thou hast brought him to his Journy's
+end!
+
+L. _Fan._ There was no other way but this to have secur'd my Happiness
+with thee; there needs no more than that you come anon to the Garden
+Back-gate, where you shall find admittance;--Sir _Patient_ is like to
+lie alone to night.
+
+_Wit._ Till then 'twill be a thousand Ages.
+
+  L. _Fan._ At Games of Love Husbands to cheat is fair,
+  'Tis the Gallant we play with on the square.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I.
+
+_Scene draws off to a room in Sir _Patient Fancy's_ house, and discovers
+Lady _Knowell_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, _Lodwick_, _Leander_,
+_Wittmore_, Sir _Credulous_, other Men and Women, as going to dance._
+
+L. _Kno._ Come, one Dance more, and then I think we shall have
+sufficiently teaz'd the Alderman, and 'twill be time to part.--Sir
+_Credulous_, where's your Mistress?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Within a Mile of an Oak, dear Madam, I'll warrant
+you.--Well, I protest and vow, sweet Lady, you dance most nobly,--Why,
+you dance--like--like a--like a hasty Pudding, before _Jove_.
+    [They dance some Antick, or Rustick Antick. _Lodwick_ speaking to
+    _Isabella_.
+
+  SONG made by a Gentleman.
+
+      _Sitting by yonder River side,
+    _Parthenia_ thus to _Cloe_ cry'd,
+    Whilst from the fair Nymph's Eyes apace
+  Another Stream o'er-flow'd her beauteous Face;
+    Ah happy Nymph, said she, that can
+    So little value that false Creature, Man._
+
+  _Oft the perfidious things will cry,
+    Alas they burn, they bleed, they die;
+    But if they're absent half a Day,
+  Nay, let 'em be but one poor Hour away,
+    No more they die, no more complain,
+    But like unconstant Wretches live again._
+
+_Lod._ Well, have you consider'd of that Business yet, _Isabella_?
+
+_Isab._ What business?
+
+_Lod._ Of giving me admittance to night.
+
+_Isab._ And may I trust your honesty?
+
+_Lod._ Oh, doubt me not, my mother's resolv'd it shall be a match
+between you and I, and that very consideration will secure thee:
+besides, who would first sully the Linen they mean to put on?
+
+_Isab._ Away, here's my Mother.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Maundy_.
+
+L. _Fan._ Madam, I beg your pardon for my absence, the effects of my
+Obedience, not Will; but Sir _Patient_ is taken very ill o'th' sudden,
+and I must humbly intreat your Ladyship to retire, for Rest is only
+essential to his Recovery.
+
+L. _Kno._ Congruously spoken, upon my Honour. Oh, the impudence of this
+Fellow your Ladyship's Husband, to espouse so fair a Person only to make
+a Nurse of!
+
+L. _Fan._ Alas, Madam!--
+
+L. _Kno._ A Slave, a very Houshold Drudge.--Oh, faugh, come never
+grieve;--for, Madam, his Disease is nothing but Imagination,
+a Melancholy which arises from the Liver, Spleen, and Membrane call'd
+_Mesenterium_; the _Arabians_ name the Distemper _Myrathial_, and we
+here in _England_, _Hypochondriacal Melancholy_; I cou'd prescribe a
+most potent Remedy, but that I am loth to stir the Envy of the College.
+
+L. _Fan._ Really, Madam, I believe--
+
+L. _Kno._ But as you say, Madam, we'll leave him to his Repose; pray do
+not grieve too much.
+
+_Lod._ Death! wou'd I had the consoling her, 'tis a charming Woman!
+
+L. _Kno._ Mr. _Fancy_, your Hand; Madam, your most faithful
+Servant.--_Lucretia_, come, _Lucretia_.--Your Servant, Ladies and
+Gentleman.
+
+L. _Fan._ A Devil on her, wou'd the Nimbleness of her Ladyship's Tongue
+were in her Heels, she wou'd make more haste away: oh, I long for the
+blest minute.
+
+_Lod._ _Isabella_, shall I find admittance anon?
+
+_Isab._ On fair Conditions.
+
+_Lod._ Trust my Generosity.--Madam, your Slave.    [Ex.
+    [To L. _Fan._ gazing on her, goes out.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Madam, I wou'd say something of your Charms and celestial
+Graces, but that all Praises are as far below you, as the Moon in her
+Opposition is below the Sun;--and so, luscious Lady, I am yours: Now for
+my Serenade--
+
+    [Ex. all but L. _Fan._ and _Maundy_.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Maundy_, have you commanded all the Servants to bed?
+
+_Maun._ Yes, Madam, not a Mouse shall stir, and I have made ready the
+Chamber next the Garden for your Ladyship.
+
+L. _Fan._ Then there needs no more but that you wait for _Wittmore's_
+coming to the Garden-Gate, and take care no Lights be in the House for
+fear of Eyes.
+
+_Maun._ Madam, I understand Lovers are best by dark, and shall be
+diligent: the Doctor has secur'd Sir _Patient_ by a sleeping Pill, and
+you are only to expect your approaching Happiness.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. Lady _Knowell's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_ and _Leander_.
+
+L. _Kno._ _Leander_, raise your Soul above that little trifle
+_Lucretia_;--cannot you guess what better Fate attends you? fy, how dull
+you are! must I instruct you in plain right-down Terms? and tell you,
+that I propose you Master of my Fortune.--Now possibly you understand
+me.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_, and peeps.
+
+  _Lean._ I wish I did not, Madam,
+  Unless I'd Virtue to deserve the Bounty;
+  I have a thousand Faults Dissimulation hides,
+  Inconstant, wild, debauch'd as Youth can make me.
+
+_Lucr._ All that will not do your Business.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ Yet you wou'd have my Daughter take you with all these Faults;
+they're Virtues there, but to the name of Mother, they all turn
+retrograde: I can endure a Man
+  As wild and as inconstant as she can;
+  I have a Fortune too that can support that Humour,
+  That of _Lucretia_ does depend on me,
+  And when I please is nothing;
+  I'm far from Age or Wrinkles, can be courted
+  By Men, as gay and youthful as a new Summer's Morn,
+  Beauteous as the first Blossoms of the Spring,
+  Before the common Sun has kiss'd their Sweets away,
+  If with salacious Appetites I lov'd.
+
+_Lean._ Faith, Madam, I cou'd wish--
+
+L. _Kno._ That I were but Fifteen: but
+  If there be inequality in Years,
+  There is so too in Fortunes, that might add
+  A Lustre to my Eyes, Charms to my Person,
+  And make me fair as _Venus_, young as _Hebe_.
+
+_Lean._ Madam, you have enough to engage any unconquer'd Heart; but
+'twas, I thought, with your allowance I dispos'd of mine, and 'tis a
+Heart that knows not how to change.
+
+L. _Kno._ Then 'tis a foolish unambitious Heart, unworthy of the
+Elevation it has not glorious Pride enough to aim at:--Farewel,
+Sir,--when you are wiser, you may find admittance.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Lean._ Stay, Madam--
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_.
+
+_Lucr._ For what? to hear your Penitence! Forgive me, Madam, I will be a
+Villain, forget my Vows of Love, made to _Lucretia_.
+  And sacrifice both her, and those to Interest.
+  Oh, how I hate this whining and dissembling!
+
+_Lean._ Do, triumph o'er a wretched Man, _Lucretia_.
+
+_Lucr._ How! wretched in loving me so entirely, or that you cannot marry
+my Mother, and be Master of her mighty Fortune? 'Tis a Temptation indeed
+so between Love and Interest, hang me if ever I saw so simple a Look as
+you put on when my Mother made love to you.
+
+_Lean._ You may easily guess the Confusion of a Man in my Circumstances,
+to be languishing for the lov'd Daughter, and pursu'd by the hated
+Mother, whom if I refuse will ruin all my hopes of thee.
+
+_Lucr._ Refuse her! I hope you have more Wit.
+
+_Lean._ _Lucretia_, cou'd she make a Monarch of me, I cou'd not marry
+her.
+
+_Lucr._ And you wou'd be so wise to tell her so?
+
+_Lean._ I wou'd no more abuse her, than I cou'd love her.
+
+_Lucr._ Yet that last must be done.
+
+_Lean._ How!
+
+_Lucr._ Dost believe me so wicked to think I mean in earnest? No, tell
+her a fine Story of Love and Liking, gaze on her, kiss her Hands, and
+sigh, commend her Face and Shape, swear she's the Miracle of the Age for
+Wit, cry up her Learning, vow you were an Ass not to be sensible of her
+Perfections all this while; what a Coxcomb, to doat upon the Daughter
+when such Charms were so visible in the Mother? Faith, she'll believe
+all this.
+
+_Lean._ It may be so, but what will all this serve for?
+
+_Lucr._ To give us time and opportunity to deceive her, or I'm mistaken.
+
+_Lean._ I cannot teach my Tongue so much Deceit.
+
+_Lucr._ You may be a Fool, and cry, Indeed forsooth I cannot love, for
+alas I have lost my Heart, and am unworthy of your proffer'd
+Blessings--do, and see her marry me in spite to this Fop _Easy_, this
+Knight of Nonsense: no, no, dissemble me handsomely and like a
+Gentleman, and then expect your good Fortune.
+
+    Enter _Antick_.
+
+_Ant._ Madam, your Mother's coming.
+
+_Lucr._ Away then, she must not see us together, she thinks you gone.
+
+_Lean._ But must I carry off no Comfort with me?
+
+_Lucr._ Will you expose me to the incens'd Jealousy of a Parent? go, or
+I shall hate ye.
+    [Thrusts him out.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Garden.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ by dark: Opens the Garden-Door.
+
+_Maun._ Now am I return'd to my old Trade again, fetch and carry my
+Lady's Lovers; I was afraid when she had been married, these Night-works
+wou'd have ended; but to say truth, there's a Conscience to be used in
+all things, and there's no reason she should languish with an old Man
+when a Young Man may be had.--The Door opens, he's come.--
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+I see you're a punctual Lover, Sir, pray follow me as softly as you can.
+
+_Lod._ This is some one whom I perceive _Isabella_ has made the
+Confident to our Amours.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _Draws off, and discovers L. _Fancy_ in her Night-gown, in a
+Chamber as by the dark._
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, the agreeable Confusion of a Lover high with expectation
+of the approaching Bliss! What Tremblings between Joy and Fear possess
+me? All my whole Soul is taken up with _Wittmore_; I've no Ideas, no
+Thoughts but of _Wittmore_, and sure my Tongue can speak no other
+Language, but his Name.--Who's there?
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ leading _Lodwick_.
+
+_Maun._ Madam, 'tis I, and your expected Lover here--I put him into your
+hands, and will wait your Commands in the next Chamber.
+    [Exit _Maun._
+
+_Lod._ Where are you, my dearest Creature?
+
+L. _Fan._ Here--give me your Hand, I'll lead you to those Joys we both
+so long have sigh'd for.
+
+_Lod._ Hah! to Joys; sure she doth but dally with me.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Fan._ Why come you not on, my dear?
+
+_Lod._ And yet, why this Admission, and i' th' dark too, if she design'd
+me none but virtuous Favours?--What damn'd Temptation's this?
+
+L. _Fan._ Are you bewitch'd? what is't that frights you?
+
+_Lod._ I'm fix'd: Death, was ever such a Lover?
+  Just ready for the highest Joys of Love,
+  And like a bashful Girl restrain'd by Fear
+  Of an insuing Infamy--I hate to cuckold my own Expectations.
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens! what can you mean?
+
+_Lod._ Death, what's this?--sure 'tis not Virtue in me,--Pray Heaven it
+be not Impotence!--Where got I this damn'd Honesty, which I never found
+my self master of till now!--why shou'd it seize me when I had least
+need on't?
+
+L. _Fan._ What ails you? are you mad?--we are safe, and free as Winds
+let loose to ruffle all the Groves; what is't delays you then? Soft.
+
+_Lod._ Pox o' this thought of Wife, the very Name destroys my appetite.
+  Oh, with what Vigour I could deal my Love
+  To some fair leud unknown,
+  To whom I'd never made a serious Vow!
+
+L. _Fan._ Tell me the Mystery of this sudden Coldness: have I kept my
+Husband in Town for this? Nay, persuaded him to be very sick to serve
+our purpose, and am I thus rewarded--ungrateful Man!
+
+_Lod._ Hah,--'tis not _Isabella's_ Voice,--your Husband, say you?
+    [Takes hold greedily of her Hand.
+
+L. _Fan._ Is safe, from any fear of interrupting us.
+  Come--these Delays do ill consist with Love
+  And our Desires; at least if they are equal.
+
+  _Lod._ Death, 'tis the charming Mother!
+  What lucky Star directed me to night?
+  O my fair Dissembler, let us haste
+  To pay the mighty Tributes due to Love.
+
+L. _Fan._ Follow me then with careful Silence,--for _Isabella's_ Chamber
+joins to this, and she may hear us.
+
+  _Lod_. Not Flowers grow, nor smooth Streams glide away,
+  Not absent Lovers sigh, nor breaks the Day,
+  More silently than I'll those Joys receive,
+  Which Love and Darkness do conspire to give.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE V. Changes again to a Garden.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ and _Fanny_ in their Night-gowns.
+
+_Isab._ Well, I have no mind to let this dear mad Devil _Lodwick_ in to
+night.
+
+_Fan._ Why, Sister, this is not the first Venture you have made of this
+kind, at this Hour, and in this Place; these Arbours were they
+tell-tales, cou'd discover many pretty stories of your Loves, and do you
+think they'll be less faithful now? pray trust them once again. Oh, I do
+so love to hear Mr. _Lodwick_ protest, and vow, and swear, and
+dissemble, and when you don't believe him, rail at you,--avads, 'tis the
+prettiest Man--
+
+_Isab._ I have a strange apprehension of being surpriz'd to night.
+
+_Fan._ I'll warrant you, I'll sit on yon Bank of Pinks, and when I hear
+a Noise I'll come and tell you; so _Lodwick_ may slip out at the back
+Gate, and we may be walking up and down as if we meant no harm.
+
+_Isab._ You'll grow very expert in the Arts of Love, _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ When I am big enough I shall do my Endeavour, for I have heard
+you say, Women were born to no other end than to love: And 'tis fit I
+should learn to live and die in my calling.--Come, open the Gate, or
+you'll repent it, we shall have my Father marry you within a day or two
+to that ugly Man that speaks hard Words,--avads, I can't abide him.
+
+_Isab._ What Noise is that?
+
+_Fan._ Why, 'tis Mr. _Lodwick_ at the Garden-Door;--let him in whilst
+I'll to my flowry Bank, and stand Centinel.--
+    [Runs off. _Isabella_ opens the Gate.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+_Wit._ Who's there?
+
+_Isab._ Speak low, who shou'd it be but the kind Fool her self, who can
+deny you nothing but what you dare not take?
+
+  _Wit._ Not take! what's that? hast thou reserves in store?
+  --Oh, come and let me lead thee to thy Bed,
+  Or seat thee on some Bank of softer Flowers,
+  Where I may rifle all thy unknown Store.
+
+_Isab._ How! surely you're not in earnest?--Do you love me?
+
+  _Wit._ Love thee! by thy dear self, all that my Soul adores,
+  I'm all impatient Flame! all over Love!
+  --You do not use to doubt, but since you do,
+  Come, and I'll satisfy thy obliging Fears,
+  And give thee Proofs how much my Soul is thine,
+  I'll breathe it all anew into thy Bosom.--
+  Oh, thou art fit for the transporting Play,
+  All loose and wanton, like the Queen of Love
+  When she descends to meet the Youth in Shades.
+
+_Isab._ And are you, Sir, in earnest? can it be?
+
+  _Wit._ That question was severe, what means my Love?
+  What pretty Art is this to blow my Flame?
+  Are you not mine? did we not meet t'enjoy?
+  I came not with more vigorous eager Haste,
+  When our first Sacrifice to Love we paid,
+  Than to perform that Ceremony now.
+  Come do not let the Sacred Fire burn out,
+  Which only was prepar'd for Love's rich Altar,
+  And this is the divine, dark, silent Minute--
+    [Goes to lead her off.
+
+  _Isab._ Hold, Ravisher, and know this saucy Passion
+  Has render'd back your Interest. Now I hate ye,
+  And my Obedience to my Father's Will
+  Shall marry me to _Fainlove_, and I'll despise ye.
+    [Flings from him.
+
+_Wit._ Hah! _Isabella!_ Death, I have made sweet work,--stay, gentle
+Maid,--she'll ruin all if she go:--stay--she knew me, and cunningly drew
+me to this Discovery; I'll after her and undeceive her.
+    [Runs after her.
+
+
+_A confused Noise of the Serenade, the_
+
+SCENE VI draws off to Lady _Fancy's_ Anti-chamber.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ groping as in the dark.
+
+_Isab._ Pray Heaven I get undiscover'd to my Chamber, where I'll make
+Vows against this perjured Man; hah, sure he follows still; no
+Wood-Nymph ever fled before a Satyr, with half that trembling haste I
+flew from _Lodwick_.--Oh, he has lost his Virtue, and undone me.
+    [Goes out groping, and the noise of Serenade again.
+
+
+SCENE VII. _Changes to Lady _Fancy's_ Bed-chamber, discovers her as
+before; _Lodwick_ as just risen in Disorder from the Bed, buttoning
+himself, and setting himself in order; and Noise at the Door of
+unlatching it._
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ groping, Sir _Patient_ without.
+
+L. _Fan._ It is this Door that open'd, and which I thought I had
+secur'd.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Within.] Oh, insupportable, abominable, and not to be
+indur'd!
+
+_Isab._ Hah, my Father! I'm discover'd and pursu'd,--grant me to find
+the Bed.
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens! 'twas my Husband's Voice, sure we're betray'd. It
+must be so, for what Devil but that of Jealousy cou'd raise him at this
+late hour?
+
+_Isab._ Hah, where am I, and who is't that speaks--    [To her self.
+
+_Lod._ So, he must know that I have made a Cuckold of him.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Within.] Call up my Men, the Coachman, Groom, and Butler,
+the Footmen, Cook, and Gardiner; bid 'em all rise and arm, with long
+Staff, Spade and Pitchfork, and sally out upon the Wicked.
+
+_Lod._ S'heart! what a Death shall I die:--is there no place of safety
+hereabouts--for there is no resisting these unmerciful Weapons.
+
+_Isab._ A Man's Voice!
+
+L. _Fan._ I know of none, nor how to prevent your Discovery.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Within.] Oh, oh, lead me forward, I'll lie here on the
+Garden-side, out of the hearing of this Hellish Noise.
+
+L. _Fan._ Hah, Noise!--what means he?
+
+_Lod._ Nay, I know not, is there no escaping?--
+
+_Isab._ Who can they be that talk thus? sure I have mistook my Chamber.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, he's coming in--I'm ruin'd; what shall we do? here--get
+into the Bed--and cover your self with the Clothes--quickly--oh, my
+Confusion will betray me.
+    [_Lodwick_ gets into the Bed, _Isabella_ hides behind the Curtain
+    very near to him.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_, led by _Nurse_ and _Maundy_, with Lights.
+
+_Maun._ Pray go back, Sir, my poor Lady will be frighted out of her Wits
+at this danger you put your self into, the Noise shall be still'd.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, what's the matter with my Love? what, do you mean to
+murder him? oh, lead him instantly back to his Bed.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh, no, I'll lie here,--put me to bed, oh, I faint,--my
+Chamber's possest with twenty thousand Evil Spirits.
+
+L. _Fan._ Possest! what sickly Fancy's this?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, the House is beset, surrounded and confounded with
+profane tinkling, with Popish Horn-Pipes, and Jesuitical Cymbals, more
+Antichristian and Abominable than Organs, or Anthems.
+
+_Nurse._ Yea verily, and surely it is the spawn of Cathedral Instruments
+plaid on by Babylonish Minstrels, only to disturb the Brethren.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, 'tis so, call up my Servants, and let them be first
+chastiz'd and then hang'd; accuse 'em for _French_ Papishes, that had a
+design to fire the City, or any thing:--oh, I shall die--lead me gently
+to this Bed.
+
+L. _Fan._ To hinder him will discover all:--stay, Sir.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, my Lady turn'd rebellious!--put me to Bed I say;--
+[Throws himself forward to the Bed.] --hah--what's here?--what are
+thou,--a Man,--hah, a Man, Treason! betray'd! my Bed's defil'd, my Lady
+polluted, and I am cornuted; oh thou vile Serpent of my Bosom!
+    [She stands with her Face towards the Stage in signs of fear.
+
+_Isab._ A Man, and in my virtuous Lady Mother's Chamber! how fortunate
+was I to light on this discovery!
+
+L. _Fan._ Well, Sir, since you have seen him, I beseech you for my sake,
+Dear, pardon him this one time.
+    [Coakesing him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Thou beg his Pardon! Oh, was ever heard such Impudence!
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed, my Love, he is to blame; but we that are judicious
+should bear with the Frailities of Youth.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh insupportable Audacity!--what canst thou say, false Woman?
+
+L. _Fan._ Truly not much in his Defence, my Dear.
+
+_Isab._ Oh cunning Devil!--
+
+L. _Fan._ But, Sir, to hide the weakness of your Daughter, I have a
+little strain'd my Modesty.--
+
+_Isab._ Heavens! what says she?--
+
+L. _Fan._ 'Tis _Isabella's_ Lover, Sir, whom I've conceal'd.
+
+_Lod._ A good hint to save both our Credits.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Mr. _Fainlove_ mean you?
+
+    [_Lodwick_ rises and comes a little more forward, _Isabella_ does
+    the like, till both meet at the feet of the Bed, and start,
+    _Lodwick_ looking simply.
+
+L. _Fan._ Ay, my dear, Mr. _Fainlove_.
+
+_Lod._ _Isabella_ here! must she know too what a fine inconstant Dog I
+am?--
+
+_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ and in my Mother's Chamber! may I believe my Eyes!
+
+Sir _Pat._ But how got he hither?--tell me that: oh Youth, Youth, to
+what degree of Wickedness art thou arriv'd?
+
+L. _Fan._ She appointed him to come this Night, Sir, and he going to her
+Chamber, by mistake came into mine, it being the next to her's.
+
+_Maun._ But, Lord, Sir, had you heard how my Lady school'd him, whilst I
+ran down to fetch a Light!
+
+_Lod._ Now does my Conscience tell me, I am a damn'd Villain.--
+    [Aside, looking pitifully on _Isabella_.
+
+L. _Fan._ But the poor Man presently perceiv'd his mistake, and beg'd my
+pardon in such feeling Terms--that I vow I had not the heart to deny it
+him.
+
+_Isab._ Oh Traytor! wou'd thou hadst been that Ravisher I took thee for,
+rather than such a Villain--false! and with my Mother too!
+
+L. _Fan._ And just then, Sir, you came to the Door, and lest you shou'd
+see him, intreated me to hide him from your Anger,--the Offence is not
+so heinous, Sir, considering he is so soon to marry her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Sir, and what have you to say in your Defence?--hah,
+how, Mr. _Knowell_,--worse and worse,--why, how came you hither, Sir?
+hah.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Not _Wittmore_! oh, I am ruin'd and betray'd.
+    [Falls almost in a swoon.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, _Isabella_ here too!
+
+_Isab._ Yes, Sir, to justify her Innocence.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah! Innocence! and justify! take her away; go out of my
+sight, thou Limb of Satan,--take her away, I say, I'll talk with you to
+morrow, Lady Finetricks--I will.--
+
+_Isab._ --And I'll know before I sleep, the mystery of all this, and who
+'twas this faithless Man sent in his room to deceive me in the Garden.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Lod._ A plague of all ill-luck--how the Devil came she hither? I must
+follow and reconcile her.
+    [Going out, Sir _Patient_ stays him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, we must not part so till I have known the truth of
+this Business, I take it.
+
+_Lod._ Truth, Sir! oh, all that your fair Lady has said, Sir; I must
+confess her Eyes have wounded me enough with Anger, you need not add
+more to my Shame.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Some little comfort yet, that he prov'd indeed to be
+_Isabella's_ Lover: Oh, that I should mistake so unluckily!
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, I thought it had been Mr. _Fainlove_.
+
+L. _Fan._ By all that's good, and so did I.
+
+_Lod._ I know you did, Madam, or you had not been so kind to me: Your
+Servant, dear Madam.--
+    [Going, Sir _Patient_ stays him.
+
+L. _Fan._ Pray, Sir, let him go; oh, how I abominate the sight of a Man
+that cou'd be so wicked as he has been!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ha,--good Lady, excellent Woman: well, Sir, for my Lady's
+sake I'll let you pass with this, but if I catch you here again, I shall
+spoil your Intrigues, Sir, marry, shall I, and so rest ye satisfied,
+Sir.--
+
+_Lod._ At this time, I am, Sir--Madam, a thousand Blessings on you for
+this Goodness.
+
+L. _Fan._ Ten thousand Curses upon thee,--go, boast the Ruin you have
+made.
+    [Aside to _Lod._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Come, no more Anger now, my Lady; the Gentleman's sorry you
+see, I'll marry my pert Huswife to morrow for this.--_Maundy_, see the
+Gentleman safe out:--ah, put me to Bed; ah, this Night's Work will kill
+me, ah, ah.
+
+    [Exeunt _Lodwick_ and _Maundy_.
+
+
+_The Scene draws over Sir _Patient_ and Lady: draws again and discovers_
+
+SCENE VIII. The Garden, _Wittmore_, _Fanny_, and _Isabella_.
+
+_Isab._ How, Mr. _Fainlove_, it cannot be.
+
+_Fan._ Indeed, Sister, 'tis the same, for all he talks so; and he told
+me his coming was but to try your Virtue only.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_ and _Maundy_ as passing over, but stand.
+
+_Isab._ That _Fainlove_! whom I am so soon to marry! and but this day
+courted me in another Dialect!
+
+_Wit._ That was my Policy, Madam, to pass upon your Father with. But I'm
+a Man that knows the value of the Fair, and saw Charms of Beauty and of
+Wit in you, that taught me to know the way to your Heart was to appear
+my self, which now I do. Why did you leave me so unkindly but now?
+
+_Lod._ Hah, what's this? whilst I was grafting Horns on another's Head,
+some kind Friend was doing that good Office for me.
+
+_Maun._ Sure 'tis _Wittmore_!--oh that Dissembler--this was his Plot
+upon my Lady, to gain time with _Isabella_.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ And being so near my Happiness, can you blame me, if I made a
+trial whether your Virtue were agreeable to your Beauty, great, and to
+be equally ador'd?
+
+_Lod._ Death, I've heard enough to forfeit all my Patience!--Draw, Sir,
+and make a trial of your Courage too.--
+
+_Wit._ Hah, what desperate Fool art thou?    [Draws.
+
+_Lod._ One that will see thee fairly damn'd, e'er yield his Interest up
+in _Isabella_--oh thou false Woman!
+    [They fight out, _Isabella_, _Fanny_, and _Maundy_ run off.
+
+
+SCENE IX. _Changes to the long Street, a Pageant of an Elephant coming
+from the farther end with Sir _Credulous_ on it, and several others
+playing on strange confused Instruments._
+
+Sir _Cred._ This sure is extraordinary, or the Devil's in't, and I'll
+ne'er trust Serenade more.
+    [Come forward, and all play again.
+  --Hold, hold, now for the Song, which because I wou'd have most
+deliciously and melodiously sung, I'll sing my self; look
+ye,--hum--hum.--
+
+Sir _Credulous_ should have sung.
+
+    _Thou Grief of my Heart, and thou Pearl of my Eyes,
+    D'on thy Flannel Petticoat quickly, and rise;
+    And from thy resplendent Window discover
+    A Face that wou'd mortify any young Lover:
+    For I, like great _Jove_ transformed, do wooe,
+  And am amorous Owl, to wit to wooe, to wit to wooe.
+
+    A Lover, Ads Zoz, is a sort of a Tool
+    That of all Things you best may compare to an Owl:
+    For in some dark Shades he delights still to sit,
+    And all the Night long he crys wo to wit.
+    Then rise, my bright _Cloris_, and d'on on slip shoe:
+  And hear thy amorous Owl chant, wit to wooe, wit to wooe._
+
+--Well, this won't do, for I perceive no Window open, nor Lady bright
+appear, to talk obligingly:--perhaps the Song does not please her: you
+Ballad-singers, have you no good Songs of another fashion?
+
+_1 Man._ Yes, Sir, Several, _Robin--Hark how the Waters fall, fall,
+fall!_
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, Man! Zoz, remove us farther off, for fear of wetting.
+
+_1 Man._ No, no, Sir, I only gave my Fellow a hint of an excellent
+Ballad that begins--_Ill-wedded Joys, how quickly do you fade!_
+    [Sings.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, ay, that, we'll have that,--_Ill-wedded Joys, how
+quickly do you fade_,-- [Sings.] That's excellent! Oh, now the Windows
+open, now, now shew your capering Tricks.      [Vaulting.
+    [They all play again.
+
+    Enter _Roger_ and a Company of Fellows as out of Sir _Patient's_
+    House, led on by _Abel_ a precise Clerk, all armed with odd
+    Weapons.
+
+_Abel._ Verily, verily, here be these Babes of Perdition, these Children
+of Iniquity.
+
+_Rog._ A pox of your Babes and Children, they are Men, and Sons of
+Whores, whom we must bang confoundedly, for not letting honest godly
+People rest quietly in their Beds at Midnight.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Who's there?
+
+_Rog._ There, with a Pox to you; cannot a Right-worshipful Knight, that
+has been sick these Twenty Years with taking Physick, sleep quietly in
+his own House for you; and must we be rais'd out of our Beds to quiet
+your Hell-pipes, in the Devil's name?
+
+_Abel._ Down with _Gog_ and _Magog_, there; there's the rotten Bell
+weather that leads the rest astray, and defiles the whole Flock.
+
+_Rog._ Hang your preaching, and let's come to him, we'll maul him.
+    [Beat Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, Quarter, Quarter, Murder, Help, Murder, Murder!
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Damn these Rascals, who e'er they were, that so unluckily
+redeem'd a Rival from my Fury,--Hah, they are here,--Egad, I'll have one
+touch more with 'em,--the Dogs are spoiling my design'd Serenade
+too--have amongst ye.-- [Fights and beats 'em off.] Sir _Credulous_, how
+is't?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Who's there? _Lodwick?_ Oh dear Lad, is't thou that hast
+redeem'd me from the inchanted Cudgels that demolish'd my triumphant
+Pageant, and confounded my Serenade? Zoz, I'm half kill'd, Man,--I have
+never a whole Bone about me sure.
+
+_Lod._ Come in with me--a plague upon the Rascal that escap'd me.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. Lady _Knowell's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_, followed by Sir _Credulous_.
+
+_Lucr._ Marry'd to morrow! and leave my Mother the possession of
+_Leander_! I'll die a thousand Deaths first.--How the Fool haunts me!
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, delicious Lady, you may say your Pleasure; but I will
+justify the Serenade to be as high a piece of Gallantry as was ever
+practised in our Age, though not comparable to your Charms and celestial
+Graces, which shou'd I praise as I ought, 'twou'd require more time than
+the Sun employs in his natural Motion between the Tropicks; that is to
+say, a whole Year, (for by the way, I am no _Copernican_) for, Dear
+Madam, you must know, my Rhetorick Master,--I say, my Rhetorick Master,
+who was--
+
+_Lucr._ As great a Coxcomb as your self;--pray leave me, I am
+serious--I must go seek out _Lodwick_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Leave ye! I thank you for that, i'faith, before I have spoke
+out my Speech; therefore I say, Divine Lady--because my Rhetorick Master
+commanded the frequent use of _Hypallages_, _Allegories_, and the
+richest Figures of that beauteous Art,--because my Rhetorick--
+
+_Lucr._ I must leave the Fool, follow if you dare, for I have no leisure
+to attend your Nonsense.
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_.
+
+L. _Kno._ What, alone, Sir _Credulous_? I left you with _Lucretia_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ _Lucretia!_ I'm sure she makes a very _Tarquinius Sextus_ of
+me, and all about this Serenade,--I protest and vow, incomparable Lady,
+I had begun the sweetest Speech to her--though I say't, such Flowers of
+Rhetorick--'twou'd have been the very Nosegay of Eloquence, so it wou'd;
+and like an ungrateful illiterate Woman as she is, she left me in the
+very middle on't, so snuffy I'll warrant.
+
+L. _Kno._ Be not discourag'd, Sir, I'll adapt her to a reconciliation:
+Lovers must sometimes expect these little _Belli fugaces_; the
+_Grecians_ therefore truly named Love _Glucupicros Eros_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, bright Lady, I am as little discourag'd as another, but
+I'm sorry I gave so extraordinary a Serenade to so little purpose.
+
+L. _Kno._ Name it no more, 'twas only a Gallantry mistaken; but I'll
+accelerate your Felicity, and to morrow shall conclude the great
+dispute, since there is such Volubility and Vicissitude in mundane
+Affairs.
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_, stays Sir _Credulous_ as he is going out the
+    other way.
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous_, whither away so fast?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Zoz, what a Question's there? dost not know I am to unty the
+Virgin Zone to morrow, that is, barter Maiden-heads with thy Sister,
+that is, to be married to her, Man, and I must to _Lincolns-Inn_ to my
+Counsel about it?
+
+_Lod._ My Sister just now told me of it; but, Sir, you must not stir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, what's the matter?
+
+_Lod._ Have you made your Will?
+
+Sir _Cred._ My Will! no, why my Will, Man?
+
+_Lod._ Then, for the good of your Friends and Posterity, stir not from
+this place.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Good Lord, _Lodwick_, thou art the strangest Man,--what do
+you mean to fright a body thus?
+
+_Lod._ You remember the Serenade last night?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Remember it? Zoz, I think I do, here be the marks on't
+sure.--
+    [Pulls off his Peruke, and shews his Head broke.
+
+_Lod._ Ads me, your Head's broke.
+
+Sir _Cred._ My Head broke! why, 'twas a hundred to one but my Neck had
+been broke.
+
+_Lod._ Faith, not unlikely,--you know the next House is Sir _Patient
+Fancy's_; _Isabella_ too, you know, is his Daughter.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, yes, she was by when I made my dumb Oration.
+
+_Lod._ The same,--this Lady has a Lover, a mad, furious, fighting,
+killing Hector, (as you know there are enough about this Town) this
+Monsieur supposing you to be a Rival, and that your Serenade was
+address'd to her--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Enough, I understand you, set those Rogues on to murder me.
+
+_Lod._ Wou'd 'twere no worse.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Worse! Zoz, Man, what the Devil can be worse?
+
+_Lod._ Why, he has vow'd to kill you himself wherever he meets you, and
+now waits below to that purpose.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Sha, sha, if that be all, I'll to him immediately, and make
+Affidavit I never had any such design. Madam _Isabella_! ha, ha, alas,
+poor man, I have some body else to think on.
+
+_Lod._ Affidavit! why, he'll not believe you, should you swear your
+Heart out: some body has possess'd him that you are a damn'd Fool, and a
+most egregious Coward, a Fellow that to save your Life will swear any
+thing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What cursed Luck's this!--why, how came he to know I liv'd
+here?
+
+_Lod._ I believe he might have it from _Leander_, who is his Friend.
+
+Sir _Cred._ _Leander!_ I must confess I never lik'd that _Leander_ since
+yesterday.
+
+_Lod._ He has deceiv'd us all, that's the truth on't; for I have lately
+found out too, that he's your Rival, and has a kind of a--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Smattering to my Mistress, hah, and therefore wou'd not be
+wanting to give me a lift out of this World; but I shall give her such a
+go-by--my Lady _Knowell_ understands the difference between three
+Thousand a Year, and--prithee what's his Estate?
+
+_Lod._ Shaw--not sufficient to pay Surgeons Bills.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Alas, poor Rat, how does he live then?
+
+_Lod._ Hang him, the Ladies keep him; 'tis a good handsome Fellow, and
+has a pretty Town-Wit.
+
+Sir _Cred._ He a Wit! what, I'll warrant he writes Lampoons, rails at
+Plays, curses all Poetry but his own, and mimicks the Players--ha.
+
+_Lod._ Some such common Notions he has that deceives the ignorant
+Rabble, amongst whom he passes for a very smart Fellow,--'life, he's
+here.
+
+    Enter _Leander_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, what shall I do, he will not affront me before Company?
+hah!
+
+_Lod._ Not in our House, Sir,--bear up and take no notice on't.
+    [_Lod._ whispers _Lean._
+
+Sir _Cred._ No notice, quoth he? why, my very Fears will betray me.
+
+_Lean._ Let me alone--_Lodwick_, I met just now with an _Italian_
+Merchant, who has made me such a Present!
+
+_Lod._ What is't prithee?
+
+_Lean._ A Sort of specifick Poison for all the Senses, especially for
+that of smelling; so that had I a Rival, and I should see him at any
+reasonable distance, I could direct a little of this Scent up to his
+Brain so subtlely, that it shall not fail of Execution in a day or two.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How--Poison!
+    [Shewing great Signs of Fear, and holding his Nose.
+
+_Lean._ Nay, shou'd I see him in the midst of a thousand People, I can
+so direct it, that it shall assault my Enemy's Nostrils only, without
+any effects on the rest of the Company.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh,--I'm a dead Man!
+
+_Lod._ Is't possible?
+
+_Lean._ Perhaps some little sneezing or so, no harm; but my Enemy's a
+dead Man, Sir, kill'd.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, this is the most damn'd _Italian_ Trick I ever heard
+of; why, this outdoes the famous Poisoner Madam _Brenvilliers_; well,
+here's no jesting, I perceive that, _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Fear nothing, I'll secure you.    [Aside to him.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+--_Wittmore!_ how is't, Friend! thou lookest cloudy.
+
+_Wit._ You'll hardly blame me, Gentlemen, when you shall know what a
+damn'd unfortunate Rascal I am.
+
+_Lod._ Prithee what's the matter?
+
+_Wit._ Why, I am to be marry'd, Gentlemen, marry'd to day.
+
+_Lod._ How, marry'd! nay, Gad, then thou'st reason; but to whom prithee?
+
+_Wit._ There's the Devil on't again, to a fine young fair, brisk Woman,
+that has all the Temptations Heaven can give her.
+
+_Lod._ What pity 'tis they shou'd be bestow'd to so wicked an end! Is
+this your Intrigue, that has been so long conceal'd from your Friends?
+
+_Lean._ We thought it had been some kind Amour, something of Love and
+Honour.
+
+_Lod._ Is she rich? if she be wondrous rich, we'll excuse thee.
+
+_Wit._ Her Fortune will be suitable to the Jointure I shall make her.
+
+_Lod._ Nay then 'tis like to prove a hopeful Match; what a Pox can
+provoke thee to this, dost love her?
+
+_Wit._ No, there's another Plague, I am cursedly in love elsewhere; and
+this was but a false Address, to hide that real one.
+
+_Lod._ How, love another? in what quality and manner?
+
+_Wit._ As a Man ought to love, with a good substantial Passion, without
+any design but that of right-down honest Injoyment.
+
+_Lod._ Ay, now we understand thee, this is something. Ah Friend, I had
+such an Adventure last Night.--You may talk of your Intrigues and
+substantial Pleasures, but if any of you can match mine,--Egad, I'll
+forswear Womankind.
+
+_Lean._ An Adventure! prithee where?
+
+Sir _Cred._ What, last Night, when you rescued me from the Bilbo-Blades!
+indeed ye look'd a little furiously.
+
+_Lod._ I had reason, I was just then come out of a Garden from fighting
+with a Man whom I found with my Mistress; and I had at least known who't
+had been, but for the coming of those Rascals that set on you, who
+parted us, whilst he made his escape in the Croud.
+
+_Wit._ Death! that was I, who for fear of being known got away: was't he
+then that I fought with, and whom I learnt lov'd _Isabella_?
+    [Aside.
+
+_Lod._ You must know, Gentlemen, I have a sort of a matrimonial Kindness
+for a very pretty Woman, she whom I tell you I disturb'd in the Garden,
+and last night she made me an Assignation in her Chamber: when I came to
+the Garden-door by which I was to have admittance, I found a kind of
+Necessary call'd a Baudy Waiting-Woman, whom I follow'd, and thought she
+wou'd have conducted me to the right Woman; but I was luckily and in the
+dark led into a Lady's Chamber, who took me for a Lover she expected:
+I found my happy mistake, and wou'd not undeceive her.
+
+_Wit._ This could be none but _Lucia_.    [Aside.
+  --Well, Sir, and what did you do there?
+
+_Lod._ Do! why, what dost think? all that a Man inspir'd by Love cou'd
+do, I followed all the dictates of Nature, Youth, and Vigor.
+
+_Wit._ Oh, hold, my Heart--or I shall kill the Traitor.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Follow'd all the dictates of Nature, Youth and Vigor!
+prithee what's that?
+
+_Lod._ I kiss'd a thousand times her balmy Lips, and greedily took in
+the nimble Sighs she breath'd into my Soul.
+
+_Wit._ Oh, I can scarce contain my self.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Pshaw, is that all, Man?
+
+  _Lod._ I clasp'd her lovely Body in my Arms,
+  And laid my Bosom to her panting Breast.
+  Trembling she seem'd all Love and soft Desire,
+  And I all Burnings in a youthful Fire.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Bless us, the Man's in a Rapture!
+
+_Wit._ Damnation on them both.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, to the point, Man: what didst do all this while?
+
+_Lean._ Faith, I fancy he did not sleep, Sir _Credulous_.
+
+_Lod._ No, Friend, she had too many Charms to keep me waking.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Had she so? I shou'd have beg'd her Charms pardon, I tell
+her that though.
+
+_Wit._ Curse on my Sloth, Oh, how shall I dissemble?    [Aside.
+
+_Lean._ Thy Adventure was pretty lucky--but, _Wittmore_, thou dost not
+relish it.
+
+_Wit._ My Mind's upon my Marriage, Sir; if I thought he lov'd
+_Isabella_, I wou'd marry her to be reveng'd on him, at least I'll vex
+his Soul, as he has tortur'd mine.--Well, Gentlemen, you'll dine with
+me,--and give me your opinion of my Wife.
+
+_Lod._ Where dost thou keep the Ceremony?
+
+_Wit._ At Sir _Patient Fancy's_, my Father-in-law.
+
+_Lod._ How! Sir _Patient Fancy_ to be your Father-in-law?
+
+_Lean._ My Uncle?
+
+_Wit._ He's fir'd,--'tis his Daughter, Sir, I am to marry.--
+
+_Lod._ _Isabella!_ _Leander_, can it be? can she consent to this? and
+can she love you?
+
+_Wit._ Why, Sir, what do you see in me, shou'd render me unfit to be
+belov'd?
+    [Angry.
+
+_Lod._ Marry'd to day! by Heaven, it must not be, Sir.
+    [Draws him aside.
+
+_Wit._ Why, Sir, I hope this is not the kind Lady who was so soft, so
+sweet and charming last night.
+
+_Lod._ Hold, Sir,--we yet are Friends.--
+
+_Wit._ And might have still been so, hadst thou not basely rob'd me of
+my Interest.
+
+_Lod._ Death, do you speak my Language?    [Ready to draw.
+
+_Wit._ No, take a secret from my angry Heart, which all its Friendship
+to thee cou'd not make me utter;--it was my Mistress you surpriz'd last
+night.
+
+_Lod._ Hah, my Lady _Fancy_ his Mistress? Curse on my prating Tongue.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What a Devil's all this, hard Words, Heart-burnings,
+Resentments, and all that?
+
+_Lean._ You are not quarrelling, I hope, my Friends?
+
+_Lod._ All this, Sir, we suspected, and smok'd your borrowing Money last
+night; and what I said was to gain the mighty secret that had been so
+long kept from your Friends:--but thou hast done a baseness--
+    [Lays his Hand on his Sword.
+
+_Lean._ Hold, what's the matter?
+
+_Wit._ Did you not rob me of the Victory then I've been so long a
+toiling for?
+
+_Lod._ If I had, 'twould not have made her guilty, nor me a Criminal;
+she taking me for one she lov'd, and I her for one that had no Interest
+in my Friend: and who the Devil wou'd have refus'd so fine a Woman? Nor
+had I but that I was prevented by her Husband.--But _Isabella_, Sir, you
+must resign.
+
+_Wit._ I will, provided that our Friendship's safe; I am this day to
+marry her, and if you can find a means to do't in my room, I shall
+resign my Interest to my Friend; for 'tis the lovely Mother I adore.
+
+_Lod._ And was it you I fought with in the Garden?
+
+_Wit._ Yes, and thereby hangs a tale of a mistake almost equal to thine,
+which I'll at leisure tell you.
+    [Talks to _Lod._ and _Lean._
+
+Sir _Cred._ I'm glad they're Friends; Zoz, here was like to have been a
+pretty Business; what damnable work this same Womankind makes in a
+Nation of Fools that are Lovers?
+
+_Wit._ Look ye, I am a damn'd dull Fellow at Invention, I'll therefore
+leave you to contrive matters by your selves, whilst I'll go try how
+kind Fortune will be to me this Morning, and see in what readiness my
+Bride is. What you do must be thought on suddenly; I'll wait on you
+anon, and let you know how matters go.--I'm as impatient to know the
+truth of this, as for an opportunity to enjoy _Lucia_.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Lod._ _Leander_, what shall I do?
+
+_Lean._ You were best consult your Mother and Sister; Women are best at
+Intrigues of this kind: But what becomes of me?
+
+_Lod._ Let me alone to dispatch this Fool, I long to have him out of the
+way, he begins to grow troublesome:--but now my Mother expects you.
+
+_Lean._ Prithee be careful of me.--    [Exit _Lean._
+
+Sir _Cred._ What was this long Whisper, something about me?
+
+_Lod._ Why, yes, faith, I was persuading him to speak to his Friend
+about this Business; but he swears there's no hopes of a Reconciliation:
+you are a dead Man, unless some cleanly conveyance of you be soon
+thought on.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, I'll keep within doors, and defy Malice and foul
+Weather.
+
+_Lod._ Oh, he means to get a Warrant, and search for stolen Goods,
+prohibited Commodities or Conventicles; there's a thousand Civil
+Pretences in this Town to commit Outrages--let me see.--
+    [They both pause a while.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Well, I have thought,--and of such a Business, that the
+Devil's in't if you don't say I am a man of Intrigue.
+
+_Lod._ What is't?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ha, ha, ha, I must have leave to laugh to think how neatly I
+shall defeat this Son of a Whore of a thunder thumping Hector.
+
+_Lod._ Be serious, Sir, this is no laughing matter; if I might advise,
+you should steal into the Country, for two or three days, till the
+Business be blown over.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Lord, thou art so hasty and conceited of thy own Invention,
+thou wilt not give a Man leave to think in thy company: why, these were
+my very thoughts; nay more, I have found a way to get off clever, though
+he watch me as narrowly as an enraged Serjeant upon an Escape.
+
+_Lod._ That indeed wou'd be a Master-piece.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Why, look ye, do you see that great Basket there?
+
+_Lod._ I do,--this you mean.--    [Pulls in a Basket.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Very well, put me into this Basket, and cord me down, send
+for a couple of Porters, hoist me away with a Direction, to an old Uncle
+of mine, one Sir _Anthony Bubleton_ at _Bubleton-Hall_ in _Essex_; and
+then whip slap-dash, as _Nokes_ says in the Play, I'm gone, and who's
+the wiser?
+
+_Lod._ I like it well.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, lose no time in applauding, I'll in, the Carrier goes
+this Morning; farewel, _Lodwick_.--
+    [Goes Into the Basket.
+  I'll be here again on _Thursday_.    [_Lod._ writes a Direction.
+
+    Enter Boy.
+
+_Lod._ By all means, Sir,--Who's there,--call a couple of Porters.
+    [Exit Boy.
+
+Sir _Cred._ One word more, the Carrier lies at the _Bell_ in
+_Friday-street_, pray take care they set me not on my Head.--
+    [Pops in again.
+
+    Enter Boy and two Porters.
+
+_Lod._ Come hither, cord up this Basket, and carry it where he shall
+direct.--_Leander_ will never think he's free from a Rival, till he have
+him in his possession--To Mr. _Leander Fancy's_ at the next door; say
+'tis things for him out of the Country.--Write a Direction to him on the
+Basket-lid.    [Aside to the Boy.
+    [Porters going to carry off the Basket on a long Pole between 'em.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_.
+
+L. _Kno._ What's this? whither goes this Basket?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ah Lord! they are come with the Warrant.
+    [Peeps out of the Basket.
+
+_Lod._ Only Books, Madam, offer'd me to buy, but they do not please me.
+
+L. _Kno._ Books! nay then set down the Basket, Fellows, and let me
+peruse 'em; who are their Authors, and what their Language?
+
+Sir _Cred._ A pox of all Learning, I say,--'tis my Mother-in-law.
+    [Porters going to set down the Basket.
+
+_Lod._ Hold, hold, Madam, they are only _English_ and some Law-_French_.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, faugh, how I hate that vile sort of Reading! up with 'em
+again, Fellows, and away.
+    [The Porters take up and go out.
+
+_Lod._ God-a-mercy, Law-_French_.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Kno._ Law-_French_! out upon't, I cou'd find in my heart to have the
+Porters bring it back, and have it burnt for a Heresy to Learning.
+
+_Lod._ Or thrown into the _Thames_, that it may float back to
+_Normandy_, to have the Language new modell'd.
+
+L. _Kno._ You say well; but what's all this _ad Iphicli bonis_, where's
+Sir _Credulous_ all this while? his Affairs expect him.
+
+_Lod._ So does _Leander_ your Ladyship within.
+
+L. _Kno._ _Leander!_ _Hymen, Hymenae_, I'll wait on him, _Lodwick_; I am
+resolv'd you shall marry _Isabella_ too; I have a design in my head that
+cannot fail to give you the possession of her within this two or three
+hours.
+
+_Lod._ Such an Indulgence will make me the happiest of Men, and I have
+something to say to your Ladyship that will oblige you to hasten the
+design.
+
+L. _Kno._ Come in, and let me know it.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Chamber in Sir _Patient Fancy's_ House. A Table and
+Chairs._
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ in a Morning-dress, _Maundy_ with Pen, Ink and
+    Paper.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Wittmore_ in the Garden, sayst thou, with _Isabella_! Oh
+perjur'd Man! it was by his contrivance then I was betray'd last night.
+
+_Maun._ I thought so too at first, Madam, till going to conduct Mr.
+_Knowell_ through the Garden, he finding Mr. _Wittmore_ there with
+_Isabella_ drew on him, and they both fought out of the Garden: what
+mischief's done I know not.--But, Madam, I hope Mr. _Knowell_ was not
+uncivil to your Ladyship. I had no time to ask what pass'd between you.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, name it not: I gave him all I had reserv'd for _Wittmore_.
+I was so possess'd with the thoughts of that dear false one, I had no
+sense free to perceive the cheat:--but I will be reveng'd.--Come let me
+end my Letter, we are safe from interruption.
+
+_Maun._ Yes, Madam, Sir _Patient_ is not yet up, the Doctors have been
+with him, and tell him he is not so bad as we persuaded him.
+
+L. _Fan._ And was he soft and kind?--By all that's good, she loves him,
+and they contriv'd this meeting.--My Pen and Ink--I am impatient to
+unload my Soul of this great weight of Jealousy.--
+    [Sits down, and writes.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_, looking over her Shoulder a tip-toe.
+
+_Maun._ Heaven! here's Sir _Patient_, Madam.
+
+L. _Fan._ Hah,--and 'tis too late to hide the Paper; I was just going to
+subscribe my Name.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Good morrow, my Lady _Fancy_, your Ladyship is well employ'd,
+I see.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed I was, and pleasantly too: I am writing a Love-letter,
+Sir.--But, my Dear, what makes you so soon up?
+
+Sir _Pat._ A Love-letter!--let me see't.    [Goes to take it.
+
+L. _Fan._ I'll read it to you, Sir.
+
+_Maun._ What mean you, Madam?    [Aside.
+
+    Lady _Fancy_ reads.
+
+    It was but yesterday you swore you lov'd me, and I poor easy Fool
+    believ'd; but your last Night's Infidelity has undeceiv'd my Heart,
+    and render'd you the falsest Man that ever Woman sigh'd for. Tell
+    me, how durst you, when I had prepared all things for our Enjoyment,
+    be so great a Devil to deceive my languishing Expectations? and in
+    your room send one that has undone
+
+      Your--
+
+_Maun._ Sure she's mad to read this to him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hum,--I profess ingenuously--I think it is indeed a
+Love-letter. My Lady _Fancy_, what means all this? as I take it, here
+are Riddles and Mysteries in this Business.
+
+L. _Fan._ Which thus, Sir, I'll unfold.--
+    [Takes the Pen, and writes _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! undone--Your--_Isabella_, meaning my Daughter?
+
+L. _Fan._ Yes, my Dear, going this morning into her Chamber, she not
+being there, I took up a Letter that lay open on her Table, and out of
+curiosity read it; as near as I can remember 'twas to this purpose:
+I writ it out now, because I had a mind thou shou'dst see't; for I can
+hide nothing from thee.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A very good Lady, I profess! to whom is it directed?
+
+L. _Fan._ Why,--Sir--What shall I say, I cannot lay it now on
+_Lodwick_--
+    [Aside.
+  I believe she meant it to Mr. _Fainlove_, for whom else cou'd it be
+design'd? she being so soon to marry him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah,--Mr. _Fainlove_! so soon so fond and amorous!
+
+L. _Fan._ Alas, 'tis the excusable fault of all young Women, thou knowst
+I was just such another Fool to thee, so fond--and so in love.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ha,--thou wert indeed, my Lady _Fancy_, indeed thou
+wert.--But I will keep the Letter however, that this idle Baggage may
+know I understand her Tricks and Intrigues.
+    [Puts up the Letter.
+
+L. _Fan._ Nay then 'twill out: No, I beseech you, Sir, give me the
+Letter, I wou'd not for the World _Isabella_ shou'd know of my theft,
+'twou'd appear malicious in me:--Besides, Sir, it does not befit your
+Gravity to be concern'd in the little Quarrels of Lovers.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Lovers! Tell me not of Lovers, my Lady _Fancy_; with
+Reverence to your good Ladyship, I value not whether there be Love
+between 'em or not. Pious Wedlock is my Business,--nay, I will let him
+know his own too, that I will, with your Ladyship's permission.
+
+L. _Fan._ How unlucky I am!--Sir, as to his Chastisement, use your own
+discretion, in which you do abound most plentifully. But pray let not
+_Isabella_ hear of it; for as I wou'd preserve my Duty to thee, by
+communicating all things to thee, so I wou'd conserve my good Opinion
+with her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, what a Blessing I possess in so excellent a Wife! and in
+regard I am every day descending to my Grave.--ah--I will no longer hide
+from thee the Provision I have made for thee, in case I die.--
+
+L. _Fan._ This is the Musick that I long'd to hear.--Die!--Oh, that
+fatal Word will kill me--
+    [Weeps.
+  Name it no more, if you'd preserve my Life.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah--now cannot I refrain joining with her in affectionate
+Tears.--No, but do not weep for me, my excellent Lady, for I have made a
+pretty competent Estate for thee. Eight thousand Pounds, which I have
+conceal'd in my Study behind the Wainscot on the left hand as you come
+in.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, tell me not of transitory Wealth, for I'm resolv'd not to
+survive thee. Eight thousand Pound say you?--Oh, I cannot endure the
+thoughts on't.
+    [Weeps.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Eight thousand Pounds just, my dearest Lady.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, you'll make me desperate in naming it,--is it in Gold or
+Silver?
+
+Sir _Pat._ In Gold, my dearest, the most part, the rest in Silver.
+
+L. _Fan._ Good Heavens! why should you take such pleasure in afflicting
+me? [Weeps.] --Behind the Wainscot say you?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Behind the Wainscot, prithee be pacified,--thou makest me
+lose my greatest Virtue, Moderation, to see thee thus: alas, we're all
+born to die.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Again of dying! Uncharitable Man, why do you delight in
+tormenting me?--On the left hand, say you as you go in?
+
+Sir _Pat._ On the left hand, my Love: had ever Man such a Wife?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, my Spirits fail me--lead me, or I shall faint,--lead me to
+the Study, and shew me where 'tis,--for I am able to hear no more of it.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I will, if you will promise indeed and indeed, not to grieve
+too much.
+    [Going to lead her out.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+_Wit._ Heaven grant me some kind opportunity to speak with _Lucia_! hah,
+she's here,--and with her the fond Cuckold her Husband.--Death, he has
+spy'd me, there's no avoiding him.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, are you there, Sir?--_Maundy_, look to my Lady,--I take
+it, Sir, you have not dealt well with a Person of my Authority and
+Gravity.
+    [Gropes for the Letter in his pocket.
+
+_Wit._ So this can be nothing less than my being found out to be no
+_Yorkshire_ Esq; a Pox of my _Geneva_ Breeding; it must be so, what the
+Devil shall I say now?
+
+Sir _Pat._ And this disingenuous dealing does ill become the Person you
+have represented, I take it.
+
+_Wit._ Represented! ay, there 'tis, wou'd I were handsomely off o' this
+Business; neither _Lucia_ nor _Maundy_ have any intelligence in their
+demure looks that can instruct a Man.--Why, faith, Sir,--I must
+confess,--I am to blame--and that I have--a--
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, _Maundy_, he'll discover all, what shall we do?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Have what, Sir?
+
+_Wit._ From my violent Passion for your Daughter--
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, I'm all Confusion.--
+
+_Wit._ Egad, I am i'th wrong, I see by _Lucia's_ Looks.
+
+Sir _Pat._ That you have, Sir, you wou'd say, made a Sport and May-game
+of the Ingagement of your Word; I take it, Mr. _Fainlove_, 'tis not like
+the Stock you come from.
+
+_Wit._ Yes, I was like to have spoil'd all, 'sheart, what fine work I
+had made--but most certainly he has discover'd my Passion for his
+Wife.--Well, Impudence assist me--I made, Sir, a trifle of my Word, Sir!
+from whom have you this Intelligence?
+
+Sir _Pat._ From whom shou'd I, Sir, but from my Daughter _Isabella_?
+
+_Wit._ _Isabella!_ The malicious Baggage understood to whom my first
+Courtship was address'd last Night, and has betray'd me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And, Sir, to let you see I utter nothing without Precaution,
+pray read that Letter.
+
+_Wit._ Hah--a Letter! what can this mean,--'tis _Lucia's_ Hand, with
+_Isabella's_ Name to't.--Oh, the dear cunning Creature, to make her
+Husband the Messenger too.--How, I send one in my room!
+    [He reads.
+
+L. _Fan._ Yes, Sir, you think we do not know of the Appointment you made
+last Night; but having other Affairs in hand than to keep your Promise,
+you sent Mr. _Knowell_ in your room,--false Man.
+
+_Wit._ I send him, Madam! I wou'd have sooner died.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, as I take it, he cou'd not have known of your Designs
+and Rendezvous without your Informations.--Were not you to have met my
+Daughter here to night, Sir?
+
+_Wit._ Yes, Sir, and I hope 'tis no such great Crime, to desire a little
+Conversation with the fair Person one loves, and is so soon to marry,
+which I was hinder'd from doing by the greatest and most unlucky
+Misfortune that ever arriv'd: but for my sending him, Madam, credit me,
+nothing so much amazes me and afflicts me, as to know he was here.
+
+Sir _Pat._ He speaks well, ingenuously, he does.--Well, Sir, for your
+Father's sake, whose Memory I reverence, I will for once forgive you.
+But let's have no more Night-works, no more Gambols, I beseech you, good
+Mr. _Fainlove_.
+
+_Wit._ I humbly thank ye, Sir, and do beseech you to tell the dear
+Creature that writ this, that I love her more than Life or Fortune, and
+that I wou'd sooner have kill'd the Man that usurp'd my place last
+Night, than have assisted him.
+
+L. _Fan._ Were you not false, then?--Now hang me if I do not credit him.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Alas, good Lady! how she's concern'd for my Interest, she's
+even jealous for my Daughter.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Wit._ False! charge me not with unprofitable Sins; wou'd I refuse a
+Blessing, or blaspheme a Power that might undo me? wou'd I die in my
+full vigorous Health, or live in constant Pain? All this I cou'd, sooner
+than be untrue.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ingenuously, my Lady _Fancy_, he speaks discreetly, and to
+purpose.
+
+L. _Fan._ Indeed, my Dear, he does, and like an honest Gentleman: and I
+shou'd think my self very unreasonable not to believe him.--And, Sir,
+I'll undertake your Peace shall be made with your Mistress.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, I am the most fortunate Man in a Wife, that ever had
+the blessing of a good one.
+
+_Wit._ Madam, let me fall at your Feet, and thank you for this
+Bounty.--Make it your own case, and then consider what returns ought to
+be made to the most passionate and faithful of Lovers.
+    [Kneels.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I profess a wonderful good natur'd Youth, this; rise, Sir, my
+Lady _Fancy_ shall do you all the kind Offices she can, o' my word, she
+shall.
+
+L. _Fan._ I'm all Obedience, Sir, and doubtless shall obey you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ You must, indeed you must; and, Sir, I'll defer your
+Happiness no longer, this Day you shall be marry'd.
+
+_Wit._ This Day, Sir!--why, the Writings are not made.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No matter, Mr. _Fainlove_; her Portion shall be equivalent to
+the Jointure you shall make her, I take it, that's sufficient.
+
+_Wit._ A Jointure, quoth he! it must be in new _Eutopian_ Land
+then.--And must I depart thus, without a kind Word, a Look, or a Billet,
+to signify what I am to expect.
+    [Looking on her slily.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Come, my Lady _Fancy_, shall I wait on you down to Prayer!
+Sir, you will get your self in order for your Marriage, the great Affair
+of human Life; I must to my Morning's Devotion: Come, Madam.
+    [She endeavours to make Signs to _Wittmore_.
+
+L. _Fan._ Alas, Sir, the sad Discourse you lately made me, has so
+disorder'd me, and given me such a Pain in my Head, I am not able to
+endure the Psalm-singing.
+
+Sir _Pat._ This comes of your Weeping; but we'll omit that part of th'
+Exercise, and have no Psalm sung.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, by no means, Sir, 'twill scandalize the Brethren; for you
+know a Psalm is not sung so much out of Devotion, as 'tis to give notice
+of our Zeal and pious Intentions: 'tis a kind of Proclamation to the
+Neighbourhood, and cannot be omitted.--Oh, how my Head aches!
+
+_Wit._ He were a damn'd dull Lover, that cou'd not guess what she meant
+by this.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, my Lady _Fancy_, your Ladyship shall be obey'd,--come,
+Sir, we'll leave her to her Women.    [Exit Sir _Pat._
+    [As _Wittmore_ goes out, he bows and looks on her; she gives him
+    a Sign.
+
+_Wit._ That kind Look is a sufficient Invitation.    [Exit.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Maundy_, follow 'em down, and bring _Wittmore_ back again.--
+[Exit _Maun._] There's now a necessity of our contriving to avoid this
+Marriage handsomly,--and we shall at least make two Hours our own;
+I never wish'd well to long Prayers till this Minute.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+_Wit._ Oh my dear _Lucia_!
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh _Wittmore_! I long to tell thee what a fatal Mistake had
+like to have happened last Night.
+
+_Wit._ My Friend has told me all, and how he was prevented by the coming
+of your Husband from robbing me of those sacred Delights I languish for.
+Oh, let us not lose inestimable Time in dull talking; but haste to give
+each other the only Confirmation we can give, how little we are our own.
+
+L. _Fan._ I see _Lodwick's_ a Man of Honour, and deserves a Heart if I
+had one to give him.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Hall.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ and _Roger_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ _Roger_, is Prayer ready, _Roger_?
+
+_Rog._ Truly nay, Sir, for Mr. _Gogle_ has taken too much of the
+Creature this Morning, and is not in case, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How mean you, Sirrah, that Mr. _Gogle_ is overtaken with
+Drink?
+
+_Rog._ Nay, Sir, he hath over-eaten himself at Breakfast only.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Alas, and that's soon done, for he hath a sickly Stomach as
+well as I, poor Man. Where is _Bartholomew_ the Clerk? he must hold
+forth then to day.
+
+_Rog._ Verily he is also disabled: for going forth last Night by your
+Commandment to smite the Wicked, he received a blow over the
+_Pericranium_.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, how now, Sirrah, Latin! the Language of the Beast!
+hah--and what then, Sir?
+
+_Rog._ Which Blow, I doubt, Sir, hath spoil'd both his Praying and his
+Eating.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah! What a Family's here? no Prayer to day!
+
+    Enter _Nurse_ and _Fanny_.
+
+_Nurs._ Nay verily it shall all out, I will be no more the dark Lanthorn
+to the deeds of Darkness.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's the matter here?    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+_Nurs._ Sir, this young Sinner has long been privy to all the daily and
+nightly meetings between Mr. _Lodwick_ and _Isabella_; and just now I
+took her tying a Letter to a String in the Garden, which he drew up to
+his Window: and I have born it till my Conscience will bear it no
+longer.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, so young a Baud!--Tell me, Minion--private meeting! tell
+me truth, I charge ye, when? where? how? and how often? Oh, she's
+debauch'd!--her Reputation ruin'd, and she'll need a double Portion.
+Come, tell me truth, for this little Finger here has told me all.
+
+_Fan._ Oh Geminy, Sir, then that little Finger's the hougesest great
+Lyer as ever was.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Huzzy, huzzy--I will have thee whip'd most unmercifully:
+Nurse, fetch me the Rod.
+
+_Fan._ Oh, pardon me, Sir, this one time, and I'll tell all.
+    [Kneels.
+  --Sir--I have seen him in the Garden, but not very often.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Often! Oh, my Family's dishonoured. Tell me truly what he
+us'd to do there, or I will have thee whipt without cessation. Oh, I'm
+in a cold Sweat; there's my fine Maid, was he with her long?
+
+_Fan._ Long enough.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Long enough!--oh, 'tis so, long enough,--for what, hah? my
+dainty Miss, tell me, and didst thou leave 'em?
+
+_Fan._ They us'd to send me to gather Flowers to make Nosegays, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, Demonstration; 'tis evident if they were left alone that
+they were naught, I know't.--And where were they the while? in the close
+Arbour?--Ay, ay--I will have it cut down, it is the Pent-house of
+Iniquity, the very Coverlid of Sin.
+
+_Fan._ No, Sir, they sat on the Primrose Bank.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What, did they sit all the while, or stand--or--lie--or--oh,
+how was't?
+
+_Fan._ They only sat indeed, Sir Father.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And thou didst not hear a Word they said all the while?
+
+_Fan._ Yes, I did, Sir, and the Man talk'd a great deal of this, and of
+that, and of t'other, and all the while threw Jessamine in her Bosom.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well said, and did he nothing else?
+
+_Fan._ No, indeed, Sir Father, nothing.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But what did she say to the Man again?
+
+_Fan._ She said, let me see.--Ay, she said, Lord, you'll forget your
+self, and stay till somebody catch us.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, very fine,--then what said he?
+
+_Fan._ Then he said, Well if I must be gone, let me leave thee with this
+hearty Curse, A Pox take thee all over for making me love thee so
+confoundedly.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh horrible!
+
+_Fan._ --Oh, I cou'd live here for ever,--that was when he kist her--her
+Hand only. Are you not a damn'd Woman for making so fond a Puppy of me?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh unheard-of Wickedness!
+
+_Fan._ Wou'd the Devil had thee, and all thy Family, e'er I had seen thy
+cursed Face.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, I'll hear no more, I'll hear no more!--why, what a
+blasphemous Wretch is this?
+
+_Fan._ Pray, Sir Father, do not tell my Sister of this, she'll be
+horribly angry with me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No, no, get you gone.--Oh, I am Heart-sick--I'll up and
+consult with my Lady what's fit to be done in this Affair. Oh, never was
+the like heard of.--
+    [Goes out, _Fanny_ and _Nurse_ go the other way.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _The Lady _Fancy's_ Bed-Chamber; she's discover'd with
+_Wittmore_ in disorder. A Table, Sword, and Hat._
+
+_Maun._ [Entering.] O Madam, Sir _Patient's_ coming up.
+
+L. _Fan._ Coming up, say you!
+
+_Maun._ He's almost on the top of the Stairs, Madam.
+
+_Wit._ What shall I do?
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, damn him, I know not; if he see thee here after my
+pretended Illness, he must needs discover why I feign'd.--I have no
+excuse ready,--this Chamber's unlucky, there's no avoiding him;
+here--step behind the Bed; perhaps he has only forgot his Psalm-Book and
+will not stay long.
+    [_Wittmore_ runs behind the Bed.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, oh, pardon this Interruption, my Lady _Fancy_--Oh, I am
+half killed, my Daughter, my Honour--my Daughter, my Reputation.
+
+L. _Fan._ Good Heavens, Sir, is she dead?
+
+Sir _Pat._ I wou'd she were, her Portion and her Honour would then be
+sav'd. But oh, I'm sick at Heart, _Maundy_, fetch me the Bottle of
+_Mirabilis_ in the Closet,--she's wanton, unchaste.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_ with the Bottle.
+
+Oh, I cannot speak it; oh, the Bottle-- [Drinks.] she has lost her Fame,
+her Shame, her Name.--Oh, [Drinks.] that is not the right Bottle, that
+with the red Cork [Drinks.]
+
+    [Exit _Maundy_.
+
+and is grown a very t'other-end-of-the-Town Creature, a very Apple of
+_Sodom_, fair without and filthy within, what shall we do with her?
+she's lost, undone; hah!
+
+    Enter _Maundy_.
+
+let me see, [Drinks.] this is [Drinks.] not as I take it-- [Drinks.]
+--no, 'tis not the right,--she's naught, she's leud, [Drinks.] --oh, how
+you vex me-- [Drinks.] This is not the right Bottle yet,-- [Drinks.] No,
+no, here.
+    [Gives her the Bottle.
+
+_Maun._ You said that with the red Cork, Sir.    [Goes out.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I meant the blue;--I know not what I say.-- In fine, my Lady,
+let's marry her out of hand, for she is fall'n, fall'n to Perdition; she
+understands more Wickedness than had she been bred in a profane Nunnery,
+a Court,
+
+    Enter _Maundy_.
+
+or a Play-house, [Drinks.] --therefore let's marry her instantly, out of
+hand [Drinks.] Misfortune on Misfortune. [Drinks.] --But Patience is a
+wonderful Virtue, [Drinks.] --Ha--this is very comfortable,--very
+consoling--I profess if it were not for these Creatures, ravishing
+Comforts, sometimes, a Man were a very odd sort of an Animal [Drinks.]
+But ah--see how all things were ordain'd for the use and comfort of Man.
+    [Drinks.]
+
+L. _Fan._ I like this well: Ah, Sir, 'tis very true, therefore receive
+it plentifully and thankfully.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Drinks.] Ingenuously--it hath made me marvellous lightsome;
+I profess it hath a very notable Faculty,--very knavish--and as it were,
+waggish,--but hah, what have we there on the Table? a Sword and Hat?
+    [Sees _Wittmore's_ Sword and Hat on the Table, which he had
+    forgot.
+
+L. _Fan._ Curse on my Dulness.--Oh, these, Sir, they are Mr.
+_Fainlove's_--he being so soon to be marry'd and being straitned for
+time, sent these to _Maundy_ to be new trim'd with Ribbon, Sir--that's
+all. Take 'em away, you naughty Baggage, must I have Mens things seen in
+my Chamber?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, nay, be not angry, my little Rogue; I like the young
+Man's Frugality well. Go, go your ways, get you gone, and finefy your
+Knacks and Tranghams, and do your Business--go.
+    [Smiling on _Maundy_, gently beating her with his Hand: she goes
+    out, he bolts the Door after her, and sits down on the Bed's feet.
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens, what means he!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Come hither to me, my little Ape's Face,--Come, come I
+say--what, must I come fetch you?--Catch her, catch her--catch her,
+catch her, catch her.
+    [Running after her.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, Sir, I am so ill I can hardly stir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'll make ye well, come hither, ye Monky-face, did it, did
+it, did it? alas for it, a poor silly Fool's Face, dive it a blow, and
+I'll beat it.
+
+L. _Fan._ You neglect your Devotion, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No, no, no Prayer to day, my little Rascal,--no Prayer to
+day--poor _Gogle's_ sick.--Come hither, why, you refractory Baggage you,
+come or I shall touze you, ingenuously I shall; tom, tom, or I'll whip
+it.
+
+L. _Fan._ Have you forgot your Daughter, Sir, and your Disgrace?
+
+Sir _Pat._ A fiddle on my Daughter, she's a Chick of the old Cock I
+profess; I was just such another Wag when young.--But she shall be
+marry'd to morrow, a good Cloke for her Knavery; therefore come your
+ways, ye Wag, we'll take a nap together: good faith, my little Harlot,
+I mean thee no harm.
+
+L. _Fan._ No, o' my Conscience.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why then, why then, you little Mungrel?
+
+L. _Fan._ His precise Worship is as it were disguis'd, the outward Man
+is over-taken--pray, Sir, lie down, and I'll come to you presently.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Away, you Wag, will you? will you?--Catch her there, catch
+her.
+
+L. _Fan._ I will indeed,--Death, there's no getting from him,--pray lie
+down--and I'll cover thee close enough I'll warrant thee.-- [Aside.
+    [He lies down, she covers him.
+  Had ever Lovers such spiteful luck! hah--surely he sleeps, bless the
+mistaken Bottle.--Ay, he sleeps,--whilst, _Wittmore_--
+    [He coming out falls; pulls the Chair down, Sir _Patient_ flings
+    open the Curtain.
+
+_Wit._ Plague of my over-care, what shall I do?
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's that, what Noise is that? let me see, we are not safe;
+lock up the Doors, what's the matter? What Thunder-Clap was that?
+    [_Wittmore_ runs under the Bed; she runs to Sir _Patient_, and
+    holds him in his Bed.
+
+L. _Fan._ Pray, Sir, lie still, 'twas I was only going to sit down, and
+a sudden Giddiness took me in my Head, which made me fall, and with me
+the Chair; there is no danger near ye, Sir--I was just coming to sleep
+by you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Go, you're a flattering Huswife; go, catch her, catch her,
+catch her.
+    [Lies down, she covers him.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, how I tremble at the dismal apprehension of being
+discover'd! Had I secur'd my self of the eight thousand Pound, I wou'd
+not value _Wittmore's_ being seen. But now to be found out, wou'd call
+my Wit in question, for 'tis the Fortunate alone are wise.--
+    [_Wittmore_ peeps from under the Bed; she goes softly to the Door
+    to open it.
+
+_Wit._ Was ever Man so plagu'd?--hah--what's this?--confound my
+tell-tale Watch, the Larum goes, and there's no getting to't to silence
+it.--Damn'd Misfortune!
+    [Sir _Patient_ rises, and flings open the Curtains.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, what's that?
+
+L. _Fan._ Heavens! what's the matter? we are destin'd to discovery.
+    [She runs to Sir _Patient_, and leaves the Door still fast.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's that I say, what's that? let me see, let me see, what
+ringing's that, Oh, let me see what 'tis.
+    [Strives to get up, she holds him down.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, now I see my Fate's inevitable! Alas, that ever I was born
+to see't.
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Wit._ Death, she'll tell him I am here: Nay, he must know't, a Pox of
+all Invention and Mechanicks, and he were damn'd that first contriv'd a
+Watch.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, dost weep?--why dost weep? I say, what Noise is that?
+what ringing? hah.--
+
+L. _Fan._ 'Tis that, 'tis that, my Dear, that makes me weep. Alas,
+I never hear this fatal Noise, but some dear Friend dies.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, dies! Oh, that must be I, ay, ay, Oh.
+
+L. _Fan._ I've heard it, Sir, this two Days, but wou'd not tell you of
+it.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah! heard it these two Days! Oh, what is't a
+Death-watch?--hah.--
+
+L. _Fan._ Ay, Sir, a Death-watch, a certain Larum Death-watch, a thing
+that has warn'd our Family this hundred Years, oh,--I'm the most undone
+Woman!
+
+_Wit._ A Blessing on her for a dear dissembling Jilt--Death and the
+Devil, will it never cease?
+
+Sir _Pat._ A Death-watch! ah, 'tis so, I've often heard of these
+things--methinks it sounds as if 'twere under the Bed.--
+    [Offers to look, she holds him.
+
+L. _Fan._ You think so, Sir, but that 'tis about the Bed is my Grief; it
+therefore threatens you: Oh wretched Woman!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, I'm too happy in a Wife to live long: Well, I will
+settle my House at _Hogsdowne_, with the Land about it, which is 500_l._
+a Year upon thee, live or die,--do not grieve.--
+    [Lays himself down.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, I never had more Cause; come try to sleep, your Fate may
+be diverted--whilst I'll to Prayers for your dear Health.-- [Covers him,
+draws the Curtains.] I have almost run out all my stock of Hypocrisy,
+and that hated Art now fails me.--Oh all ye Powers that favour distrest
+Lovers, assist us now, and I'll provide against your future Malice.
+    [She makes Signs to _Wittmore_, he peeps.
+
+_Wit._ I'm impatient of Freedom, yet so much Happiness as I but now
+injoy'd without this part of Suffering had made me too blest.--Death and
+Damnation! what curst luck have I?
+
+    [Makes Signs to her to open the Door: whilst he creeps softly from
+    under the Bed to the Table, by which going to raise himself, he
+    pulls down all the Dressing-things: at the same instant Sir
+    _Patient_ leaps from the Bed, and she returns from the Door, and
+    sits on _Wittmore's_ Back as he lies on his Hands and Knees, and
+    makes as if she swooned.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What's the matter? what's the matter? has Satan broke his
+everlasting Chain, and got loose abroad to plague poor Mortals?
+hah--what's the matter?
+    [Runs to his Lady.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, help, I die--I faint--run down, and call for help.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Lady dying? oh, she's gone, she faints,--what ho, who
+waits?
+    [Cries and bauls.
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, go down and bring me help, the Door is lock'd,--they
+cannot hear ye,--oh--I go--I die.--
+    [He opens the Door, and calls help, help.
+
+_Wit._ Damn him! there's no escaping without I kill the Dog.
+    [From under her, peeping.
+
+L. _Fan._ Lie still, or we are undone.--
+
+    Sir _Patient_ returns with _Maundy_.
+
+_Maun._ Hah, discover'd!
+
+Sir _Pat._ Help, help, my Lady dies.
+
+_Maun._ Oh, I perceive how'tis.--Alas, she's dead, quite gone; oh, rub
+her Temples, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, I'm undone then,-- [Weeps.] Oh my Dear, my virtuous Lady!
+
+L. _Fan._ Oh, where's my Husband, my dearest Husband--Oh, bring him near
+me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'm here, my excellent Lady.--
+    [She takes him about the Neck, and raises her self up, gives
+    _Wittmore_ a little kick behind.
+
+_Wit._ Oh the dear lovely Hypocrite, was ever Man so near discovery?--
+    [Goes out.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, how hard she presses my Head to her Bosom!
+
+_Maun._ Ah, that grasping hard, Sir, is a very bad Sign.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How does my good, my dearest Lady _Fancy_?
+
+L. _Fan._ Something better now, give me more Air,--that dismal Larum
+Death-watch had almost kill'd me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah precious Creature, how she afflicts her self for
+me.--Come, let's walk into the Dining-room, 'tis more airy, from thence
+into my Study, and make thy self Mistress of that Fortune I have
+design'd thee, thou best of Women.
+
+    [Exeunt, leading her.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Room in Sir _Patient Fancy's_ House. A Table, and six
+Chairs._
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ reading a Letter, _Betty_ tricking her.
+
+_Isab._ How came you by this Letter?
+
+_Bet._ Miss _Fanny_ receiv'd it by a String from his Window, by which he
+took up that you writ to him this Morning.
+
+_Isab._ What means this nicety? forbear I say.--
+    [Puts _Betty_ from her.
+
+_Bet._ You cannot be too fine upon your Wedding-day.
+
+_Isab._ Thou art mistaken, leave me,--whatever he says here to satisfy
+my Jealousy, I am confirm'd that he was false: yet this assurance to
+free me from this intended Marriage, makes me resolve to pardon him,
+however guilty.--
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_.
+
+How now! what means this Insolence? How dare you, having so lately made
+your guilty approaches, venture again into my presence?
+
+_Wit._ Why? Is there any danger, but what's so visible in those fair
+Eyes?
+
+_Isab._ And there may lie enough, Sir, when they're angry. By what
+Authority do you make this saucy Visit?
+
+_Wit._ That of a Husband, Madam; I come to congratulate the mighty Joy
+this Day will bring you.
+
+_Isab._ Thou darst not marry me, there will be danger in't.
+
+_Wit._ Why, sure you do not carry Death in your Embraces, I find no
+Terror in that lovely Shape, no Daggers in that pretty scornful Look;
+that Breath that utters so much Anger now, last night was sweet as
+new-blown Roses are,--and spoke such Words, so tender and so kind.
+
+_Isab._ And canst thou think they were address'd to thee?
+
+_Wit._ No, nor cou'd the Shade of Night hide the Confusion which
+disorder'd you, at the discovery that I was not he, the blessed he you
+look'd for.
+
+_Isab._ Leave me, thou hated Object of my Soul.
+
+_Wit._ This will not serve your turn, for I must marry you.
+
+_Isab._ Then thou art a Fool, and drawest thy Ruin on; why, I will hate
+thee,--hate thee most extremely.
+
+_Wit._ That will not anger me.
+
+_Isab._ Why, I will never let thee touch me, nor kiss my Hand, nor come
+into my sight.
+
+_Wit._ Are there no other Women kind, fair, and to be purchas'd? he
+cannot starve for Beauty in this Age, that has a stock to buy.
+
+_Isab._ Why, I will cuckold thee, look to't, I will most damnably.
+
+_Wit._ So wou'd you, had you lov'd me, in a year or two; therefore like
+a kind civil Husband, I've made provision for you, a Friend, and one I
+dare trust my Honour with,--'tis Mr. _Knowell_, Madam.
+
+_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ What Devil brought that Name to his knowledge?--Canst
+thou know him, and yet dare hope to marry me?
+
+_Wit._ We have agreed it, and on these conditions.
+
+_Isab._ Thou basely injurest him, he cannot do a Deed he ought to blush
+for: _Lodwick_ do this! Oh, do not credit it,--prithee be just and kind
+for thy own Honour's sake; be quickly so, the hasty minutes fly, and
+will anon make up the fatal Hour that will undo me.
+
+_Wit._ 'Tis true, within an hour you must submit to _Hymen_, there's no
+avoiding it.
+
+_Isab._ Nay, then be gone, my poor submissive Prayers, and all that dull
+Obedience Custom has made us Slaves to.--Do sacrifice me, lead me to the
+Altar, and see if all the holy mystick Words can conjure from me the
+consenting Syllable: No, I will not add one word to make the Charm
+complete, but stand as silent in the inchanting Circle, as if the
+Priests were raising Devils there.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_.
+
+_Lod._ Enough, enough, my charming _Isabella_, I am confirm'd.
+
+_Isab._ _Lodwick!_ what good Angel conducted thee hither?
+
+_Lod._ E'en honest _Charles Wittmore_ here, thy Friend and mine, no
+Bug-bear Lover he.
+
+_Isab._ _Wittmore!_ that Friend I've often heard thee name? Now some
+kind mischief on him, he has so frighted me, I scarce can bring my Sense
+to so much order, to thank him that he loves me not.
+
+_Lod._ Thou shalt defer that payment to more leisure; we're Men of
+business now. My Mother, knowing of a Consultation of Physicians which
+your Father has this day appointed to meet at his House, has bribed
+Monsieur _Turboone_ his _French_ Doctor in Pension, to admit of a Doctor
+or two of her recommending, who shall amuse him with discourse till we
+get ourselves married; and to make it the more ridiculous, I will
+release Sir _Credulous_ from the Basket, I saw it in the Hall as I came
+through, we shall have need of the Fool.
+    [Exit _Wittmore_.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_, pulling in the Basket.
+
+_Wit._ 'Twill do well.
+
+_Lod._ Sir _Credulous_, how is't, Man?    [Opens the Basket.
+
+Sir _Cred._ What, am I not at the Carrier's yet?--Oh _Lodwick_, thy
+Hand, I'm almost poison'd--This Basket wants airing extremely, it smells
+like an old Lady's Wedding Gown of my acquaintance.--But what's the
+danger past, Man?
+
+_Lod._ No, but there's a necessity of your being for some time disguis'd
+to act a Physician.
+
+Sir _Cred._ How! a Physician! that I can easily do, for I understand
+Simples.
+
+_Lod._ That's not material, so you can but banter well, be very grave,
+and put on a starch'd Countenance.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Banter! what's that, Man?
+
+_Lod._ Why, Sir, talking very much, and meaning just nothing; be full of
+Words without any connection, sense or conclusion. Come in with me, and
+I'll instruct you farther.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Pshaw, is that all? say no more on't, I'll do't, let me
+alone for Bantering--But this same damn'd Rival--
+
+_Lod._ He's now watching for you without and means to souse upon you;
+but trust to me for your security; come away, I have your Habit ready.
+[Goes out.] --This day shall make thee mine, dear _Isabella_.--
+
+    [Exit _Lodwick_ and _Wittmore_.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_, _Leander_, and _Roger_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Marry _Lucretia_! is there no Woman in the City fit for you,
+but the Daughter of the most notorious fantastical Lady within the
+Walls?
+
+_Lean._ Yet that fantastical Lady you thought fit for a Wife for me,
+Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, Sir, Foppery with Money had been something; but a poor
+Fop, hang't, 'tis abominable.
+
+_Lean._ Pray hear me, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sirrah, Sirrah, you're a Jackanapes, ingenuously you are,
+Sir: marry _Lucretia_, quoth he?
+
+_Lean._ If it were so, Sir, where's her fault?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, Mr. Coxcomb, all over. Did I with so much care endeavour
+to marry thee to the Mother, only to give thee opportunity with
+_Lucretia_?
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_.
+
+_Lean._ This Anger shews your great Concern for me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ For my Name I am, but 'twere no matter if thou wert hang'd,
+and thou deservest it for thy leud cavaliering Opinion.--They say thou
+art a Papist too, or at least a Church-of-_England_ Man, and I profess
+there's not a Pin to chuse.--Marry _Lucretia_!
+
+L. _Kno._ Were I querimonious, I shou'd resent the Affront this
+_Balatroon_ has offer'd me.
+
+_Isab._ Dear Madam, for my sake do not anger him now.    [Aside to her.
+
+L. _Kno._ Upon my Honour, you are very free with my Daughter, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! she here! now for a Peal from her eternal Clapper; I had
+rather be confin'd to an Iron-mill.
+
+L. _Kno._ Sure _Lucretia_ merits a Husband of as much worth as your
+Nephew, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A better, Madam, for he's the leudest Hector in the Town; he
+has all the Vices of Youth, Whoring, Swearing, Drinking, Damning,
+Fighting,--and a thousand more, numberless and nameless.
+
+L. _Kno._ Time, Sir, may make him more abstemious.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, never, Madam! 'tis in's Nature, he was born with it, he's
+given over to Reprobation, 'tis bred i'th' bone,--he's lost.
+
+_Lean._ This is the first good Office that ever he did me.
+
+L. _Kno._ What think you, Sir, if in defiance of your Inurbanity, I take
+him with all these Faults my self?
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Madam!
+
+L. _Kno._ Without more Ambages, Sir, I have consider'd your former
+Desires, and have consented to marry him, notwithstanding your
+Exprobrations.
+
+Sir _Pat._ May I believe this, Madam? and has your Ladyship that
+Goodness?--and hast thou, my Boy, so much Wit? Why, this is something
+now.--Well, he was ever the best and sweetest-natur'd Youth.--Why, what
+a notable Wag's this? and is it true, my Boy, hah?
+
+_Lean._ Yes, Sir, I had told you so before, had you permitted me to
+speak.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Madam, he is only fit for your excellent Ladyship, he
+is the prettiest civillest Lad.--Well, go thy ways; I shall never see
+the like of thee; no--Ingenuously, the Boy's made for ever; two thousand
+Pounds a Year, besides Money, Plate and Jewels; made for ever.--Well,
+Madam, the satisfaction I take in this Alliance, has made me resolve to
+give him immediately my Writings of all my Land in _Berkshire_, five
+hundred Pounds a year, Madam: and I wou'd have you married this Morning
+with my Daughter, so one Dinner and one Rejoicing will serve both.
+
+L. _Kno._ That, Sir, we have already agreed upon.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, I'll fetch the Writings. Come, _Isabella_, I'll not
+trust you out of my sight to day.
+
+    [Ex. Sir _Pat._ and _Isab._
+
+_Lean._ Well then, Madam, you are resolv'd upon this business of
+Matrimony.
+
+L. _Kno._ Was it not concluded between us, Sir, this Morning? and at the
+near approach do you begin to fear?
+
+_Lean._ Nothing, Madam, since I'm convinc'd of your Goodness.
+
+L. _Kno._ You flatter, Sir, this is mere Adulation.
+
+_Lean._ No, I am that wild Extravagant my Uncle render'd me, and cannot
+live confin'd.
+
+L. _Kno._ To one Woman you mean? I shall not stand with you for a
+Mistress or two; I hate a dull morose unfashionable Blockhead to my
+Husband; nor shall I be the first example of a suffering Wife, Sir.
+Women were created poor obedient things.
+
+_Lean._ And can you be content to spare me five or six nights in a week?
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, you're too reasonable.
+
+_Lean._ And for the rest, if I get drunk, perhaps I'll give to you: yet
+in my drink I'm damn'd ill-natur'd too, and may neglect my Duty; perhaps
+shall be so wicked, to call you cunning, deceitful, jilting, base, and
+swear you have undone me, swear you have ravish'd from my faithful Heart
+all that cou'd make it bless'd or happy.
+
+    Enter _Lucretia_ weeping.
+
+L. _Kno._ How now, _Lucretia_!
+
+_Lucr._ Oh Madam, give me leave to kneel before, and tell you, if you
+pursue the Cruelty I hear you're going to commit, I am the most lost,
+most wretched Maid that breathes; we two have plighted Faiths, and
+shou'd you marry him, 'twere so to sin as Heaven would never pardon.
+
+L. _Kno._ Rise, Fool.
+
+_Lucr._ Never till you have given me back _Leander_, or leave to live no
+more.--Pray kill me, Madam; and the same Flowers that deck your nuptial
+Bed,
+  Shall serve to strow my Herse, when I shall lie
+  A dead cold Witness of your Tyranny.
+
+L. _Kno._ Rise; I still design'd him yours.--I saw with pleasure, Sir,
+your reclination from my Addresses.--I have proved both your Passions,
+and 'twere unkind not to crown 'em with the due Praemium of each others
+Merits.
+    [Gives her to _Lean._
+
+_Lean._ Can Heaven and you agree to be so bountiful?
+
+L. _Kno._ Be not amaz'd at this turn, _Rotat omne fatum_.--But no
+more,--keep still that mask of Love we first put on, till you have
+gain'd the Writings: for I have no Joy beyond cheating that filthy Uncle
+of thine.--_Lucretia_, wipe your Eyes, and prepare for _Hymen_, the Hour
+draws near. _Thalessio_, _Thalessio_, as the _Romans_ cry'd.
+
+_Lucr._ May you still be admir'd as you deserve!
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_ with Writings, and _Isabella_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Madam _Lucretia_, and in Tears?
+
+L. _Kno._ A little disgusted, Sir, with her Father-in-law, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, is that all? hold up thy Head, Sweet-heart, thy turn's
+next.--Here, Madam, I surrender my Title, with these Writings, and with
+'em my Joy, my Life, my Darling, my _Leander_.--Now let's away, where's
+Mr. _Fainlove_?
+
+_Isab._ He's but stept into _Cheapside_, to fit the Ring, Sir, and will
+be here immediately.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I have Business anon about eleven of the Clock,
+a Consultation of Physicians, to confer about this Carcase of mine.
+
+_Lean._ Physicians, Sir, what to do?
+
+Sir _Pat._ To do! why, to take their advice, Sir, and to follow it.
+
+_Lean._ For what, I beseech you, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, Sir, for my Health.
+
+_Lean._ I believe you are not sick, Sir, unless they make you so.
+
+Sir _Pat._ They make me so!--Do you hear him, Madam--Am not I sick, Sir?
+not I, Sir _Patient Fancy_, sick?
+
+L. _Kno._ He'll destroy my Design.--How, Mr. _Fancy_, not Sir _Patient_
+sick? or must he be incinerated before you'll credit it?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, Madam, I want but dying to undeceive him, and yet I am
+not sick!
+
+_Lean._ Sir, I love your Life, and wou'd not have you die with Fancy and
+Conceit.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Fancy and Conceit! do but observe him, Madam,--what do you
+mean, Sir, by Fancy and Conceit?
+
+L. _Kno._ He'll ruin all;--why, Sir,--he means--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, let him alone, let him alone, (with your Ladyship's
+pardon)--Come, Sir,--Fancy and Conceit, I take it, was the Question in
+debate.--
+
+_Lean._ I cannot prove this to you, Sir, by force of Argument, but by
+Demonstration I will, if you will banish all your cozening Quacks, and
+take my wholesome Advice.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Do but hear him, Madam: not prove it!
+
+L. _Kno._ Sir, he means nothing.--Not sick! alas, Sir, you're very sick.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, your Ladyship is a Lady of profound Knowledge.--Why,
+have I not had the advice of all the Doctors in _England_, and have I
+not been in continual Physick this twenty Years:--and yet I am not sick!
+Ask my dear Lady, Sir, how sick I am, she can inform you.
+    [L. _Kno._ goes and talks to _Isab._
+
+_Lean._ She does her endeavour, Sir, to keep up the Humour.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Sir?
+
+_Lean._ She wishes you dead, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What said the Rascal? wishes me dead!
+
+_Lean._ Sir, she hates you.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! hate me! what, my Lady hate me?
+
+_Lean._ She abuses your Love, plays tricks with ye, and cheats ye, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Was ever so profane a Wretch! What, you will not prove this
+neither?
+
+_Lean._ Yes, by demonstration too.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, thou saucy Varlet, Sirrah, Sirrah, thank my Lady here I
+do not cudgel thee.--Well, I will settle the rest of my Estate upon her
+to morrow, I will, Sir; and thank God you have what you have, Sir, make
+much on't.
+
+_Lean._ Pardon me, Sir, 'tis not my single Opinion, but the whole City
+takes notice on't: that I tell it you, Sir, is the Effect of my Duty,
+not Interest. Pray give me leave to prove this to you, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What, you are at your Demonstration again?--come--let's hear.
+
+_Lean._ Why, Sir, give her frequent opportunities,--and then surprize
+her;--or, by pretending to settle all upon her,--give her your Power,
+and see if she do not turn you out of Doors;--or--by feigning you are
+sick to death--or indeed by dying.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I thank you, Sir,--this indeed is Demonstration, I take it.
+    [Pulls off his Hat.
+
+_Lean._ I mean but feigning, Sir; and be a witness your self of her
+Sorrow, or Contempt.
+
+Sir _Pat._ [Pauses.] Hah--hum,--why, ingenuously, this may be a very
+pretty Project.--Well, Sir, suppose I follow your advice?--nay,
+I profess I will do so, not to try her Faith, but to have the pleasure
+to hear her conjugal Lamentations, feel her Tears bedew my Face, and her
+sweet Mouth kissing my Cheeks a thousand times; verily a wonderful
+Comfort.--And then, Sir, what becomes of your Demonstration?--
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_ with the Ring.
+
+Oh--Mr. _Fainlove_, come, come, you're tardy, let's away to Church.
+
+    Enter _Roger_.
+
+_Rog._ Sir, here is Doctor _Turboon_, and those other Doctors your
+Worship expected.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Bartholomew_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ The Doctors already!--well, bring 'em up; come, Madam, we
+have waited for your Ladyship,--bring up the Doctors, _Roger_.
+    [Exit _Roger_.
+
+L. _Fan._ _Wittmore_, I have now brought that design to a happy
+Conclusion, for which I married this formal Ass; I'll tell thee more
+anon,--we are observ'd.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, _Lodwick's_ come!
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_, Monsieur _Turboon_, Fat Doctor, _Amsterdam_,
+    _Leyden_, Sir _Credulous_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Doctor _Turboon_, your Servant, I expected you not this two
+hours.
+
+_Turb._ Nor had ee com, Sir, bot for dese wordy Gentlemen, whos Affairs
+wode not permit dem to come at your hoar.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Are they English pray?
+
+_Turb._ Dis is, Sir,-- [Pointing to _Lod._] an admirable Physician, and
+a rare Astrologer.--Dis speaks good _English_, bot a _Collender_ born.
+    [Points to Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ What a pox, does the Fellow call me a Cullender?
+
+_Lod._ He means a _High-Dutch-man_ of the Town of _Collen_, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sir, I have heard of your Fame.--Doctor, pray entertain these
+Gentlemen till my return, I'll be with you presently.
+
+_Lod._ Sir, I hope you go not forth to day.    [Gazing on his Face.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Not far, Sir.
+
+_Lod._ There is a certain Star has rul'd this two days, Sir, of a very
+malignant Influence to Persons of your Complection and
+Constitution.--Let me see--within this two hours and six minutes, its
+Malice will be spent, till then it will be fatal.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hum, reign'd this two Days?--I profess and things have gone
+very cross with me this two Days,--a notable Man this.
+
+L. _Kno._ Oh, a very profound Astrologer, Sir, upon my Honour, I know
+him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But this is an Affair of that Importance, Sir,--
+
+_Lod._ If it be more than Health or Life, I beg your pardon, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, no Offence, Sir, I beseech you, I'll stay, Sir.
+
+L. _Kno._ How! Sir _Patient_ not see us married?
+
+Sir _Pat._ You shall excuse me, Madam.
+
+L. _Fan._ This was lucky; Oh Madam, wou'd you have my Dear venture out,
+when a malignant Star reigns! not for the World.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No, I'll not stir; had it been any Star but a malignant Star,
+I had waited on your Ladyship: but these malignant Stars are very
+pernicious Stars. Nephew, take my Lady _Knowell_, Mr. _Fainlove_ my
+Daughter; and _Bartholomew_ do you conduct my Lady, the Parson stays for
+you, and the Coaches are at the Door.
+
+    [Exeunt L. _Kno._ _Lean._ _Wit._ and _Isab._ L. _Fancy_ and
+    _Bartholomew_.
+
+    Enter _Boy_.
+
+_Boy._ Sir, my Lady has sent for you.    [Exit.
+
+_Lod._ Sir, I'll be with you presently; Sir _Credulous_, be sure you lug
+him by the Ears with any sort of Stuff till my return. I'll send you a
+Friend to keep you in countenance.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Please you to sit, Gentlemen?    [Exit _Lod._
+
+_Amst._ Please you, Sir.    [To Sir _Cred._ who bows and runs back.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh Lord, sweet Sir, I hope you do not take me--Nay,
+I beseech you, Noble Sir--Reverend Sir.
+    [Turning from one to t'other.
+
+_Leyd._ By no means, Sir, a Stranger.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I beseech you--_Scavantissimi Doctores_,--incomparable
+Sir,--and you--or you.
+
+_Fat_ D. In troth, Sir, these Compliments are needless, I am something
+corpulent, and love my ease.
+    [Sits.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Generous Sir, you say well; therefore _Conlicentia_, as the
+_Grecians_ have it.
+    [Sits.
+
+_Amst._ --Brother.--
+
+_Leyd._ Nay, good Brother,--Sir _Patient_--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ingenuously, not before you, Mr. Doctor.
+
+_Leyd._ Excuse me, Sir, an Alderman, and a Knight.--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Both below the least of the learned Society.
+
+_Leyd._ Since you will have it so.
+    [All sit and cry hum,--and look gravely.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Hum--hum, most Worthy, and most Renowned--_Medicinae
+Professores, qui hic assemblati estis, & vos altri Messiores_; I am now
+going to make a Motion for the publick Good of us all, but will do
+nothing without your Doctorships Approbation.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Judiciously concluded.
+
+Sir _Cred._ The question then is, _Reverentissimi Doctores_,
+whether--for mark me, I come to the matter in hand, hating long
+Circumstances of Words; there being no necessity, as our learned Brother
+_Rabelais_ observes in that most notorious Treatise of his call'd
+_Garagantua_; there is, says he, no necessity of going over the Hedge
+when the Path lies fair before ye: therefore, as I said before, I now
+say again, coming to my Question; for as that admirable _Welch_ Divine
+says, in that so famous Sermon of his, upon her Creat Cranfather _Hadam_
+and her Creat Cranmother _Heeve_ concerning the Happell,--and her will,
+warrant her, her will keep her to her Text still,--so I stick close to
+my question, which is, _Illustrissimi Doctores_, whether it be not
+necessary to the Affair in hand--to take--a Bottle; and if your
+Doctorships are of my opinion--hold up your Thumbs.
+    [All hold up their Thumbs.
+  --Look, Sir, you observe the Votes of the learned _Cabalists_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Which shall be put in Act forthwith--I like this Man well, he
+does nothing without mature Deliberation.
+
+    Enter _Brunswick_.
+
+_Brun._ By your leaves, Gentlemen--Sir _Credulous_--    [Whispers.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh--'tis _Lodwick's_ Friend, the Rascal's dress'd like
+_Vanderbergen_ in the _Strand_:--Sir _Patient_, pray know this glorious
+Doctor, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ A Doctor, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Doctor, Sir! yes, and as eloquent a Doctor, Sir, as ever
+set Bill to Post: why, 'tis--the incomparable--_Brunswick_, _High-Dutch_
+Doctor.
+
+Sir _Pat._ You're welcome, Sir,--Pray sit; ah.--Well, Sir, you are come
+to visit a very crazy sickly Person, Sir.
+
+_Brun._ Pray let me feel your Pulse, Sir;--what think you, Gentlemen, is
+he not very far gone?--
+    [Feels his Pulse, they all feel.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ah, far, far.--Pray, Sir, have you not a certain wambling
+Pain in your Stomach, Sir, as it were, Sir, a--a pain, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, very great, Sir, especially in a Morning fasting.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I knew it by your stinking Breath, Sir--and are you not
+troubled with a Pain in your Head, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ In my Head, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ I mean a--kind of a--Pain,--a kind of a _Vertigo_, as the
+_Latins_ call it; and a _Whirligigoustiphon_, as the _Greeks_ have it,
+which signifies in _English_, Sir, a Dizzie-swimming kind--of a do ye
+see--a thing--that--a--you understand me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, intolerable, intolerable!--why, this is a rare Man!
+
+_Fat_ D. Your Reason, Sir, for that?    [To Sir _Cred._
+
+Sir _Cred._ My Reason, Sir? why, my Reason, Sir, is this, _Haly_ the
+_Moore_, and _Rabbi Isaac_, and some thousands more of learned
+_Dutchmen_, observe your dull Wall Eye and your
+Whir--_Whirligigoustiphon_, to be inseparable.
+
+_Brun._ A most learned Reason!
+
+_Fat_ D. Oh, Sir, inseparable.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And have you not a kind of a--something--do ye mark me, when
+you make Water, a kind of a stopping--and--a--do ye conceive me, I have
+forgot the _English_ Term, Sir, but in Latin 'tis a _Stronggullionibus_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh, Sir, most extremely, 'tis that which makes me desperate,
+Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Your ugly Face is an infallible Sign; your _Dysurie_, as the
+_Arabicks_ call it, and your ill-favour'd Countenance, are constant
+Relatives.
+
+_All._ Constant, constant.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Pray how do you eat, Sir?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ah, Sir, there's my distraction. Alas, Sir, I have the
+weakest Stomach--I do not make above four Meals a-day, and then indeed I
+eat heartily--but alas, what's that to eating to live?--nothing, Sir,
+nothing.--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Poor Heart, I pity him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And between Meals, good Wine, Sweet-meats, Caudles,--Cordials
+and Mirabilises, to keep up my fainting Spirits.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Pox of his Aldermanship: an the whole Bench were such
+notable Swingers, 'twould famish the City sooner than a Siege.
+
+_Amst._ Brothers, what do you think of this Man?
+
+_Leyd._ Think, Sir? I think his Case is desperate.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Shaw, Sir, we shall soon rectify the quiblets and quillities
+of his Blood, if he observes our Directions and Diet, which is to eat
+but once in four or five days.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How, Sir, eat but once in four or five days? such a Diet,
+Sir, would kill me; alas, Sir, kill me.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh no, Sir, no; for look ye, Sir, the Case is thus, do you
+mind me--so that the Business lying so obvious, do ye see, there is a
+certain Method, do ye mark me--in a--Now, Sir, when a Man goes about to
+alter the course of Nature,--the case is very plain, you may as well
+arrest the Chariot of the Sun, or alter the Eclipses of the Moon; for,
+Sir, this being of another Nature, the Nature of it is to be unnatural,
+you conceive me, Sir?--therefore we must crave your absence, Sir, for a
+few Minutes, till we have debated this great Affair.
+
+Sir _Pat._ With all my heart, Sir, since my Case is so desperate, a few
+hours were not too much.
+    [Ex. Sir _Pat._
+
+Sir _Cred._ Now, Sir, my service to you.    [Drinks.
+
+    Enter _Fanny_.
+
+_Fan._ Oh living heart! what do all these Men do in our House? sure they
+are a sort of new-fashion'd Conventiclers:--I'll hear 'em preach.
+    [They drink round the while.
+
+_Amst._ Sir, my service to you, and to your good Lady, Sir.
+
+_Leyd._ Again to you, Sir, not forgetting your Daughters: they are fine
+Women, Sir, let Scandal do its worst.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Turb._ To our better trading, Sir.
+
+_Brun._ Faith, it goes but badly on, I had the weekly Bill, and 'twas a
+very thin Mortality; some of the better sort die indeed, that have good
+round Fees to give.
+
+_Turb._ Verily, I have not kill'd above my five or six this Week.
+
+_Brun._ How, Sir, kill'd?
+
+_Turb._ Kill'd, Sir! ever whilst you live, especially those who have the
+grand _Verole_; for 'tis not for a Man's Credit to let the Patient want
+an Eye or a Nose, or some other thing. I have kill'd ye my five or six
+dozen a Week--but times are hard.
+
+_Brun._ I grant ye, Sir, your Poor for Experiment and Improvement of
+Knowledge: and to say truth, there ought to be such Scavengers as we to
+sweep away the Rubbish of the Nation.
+    [Sir _Cred._ and _Fat_ seeming in Discourse.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Nay, an you talk of a Beast, my service to you, Sir--
+[Drinks.] Ay, I lost the finest Beast of a Mare in all _Devonshire_.
+
+_Fat_ D. And I the finest Spaniel, Sir.
+    [Here they all talk together till you come to--_purpose, Sir_.
+
+_Turb._ Pray, what News is there stirring?
+
+_Brun._ Faith, Sir, I am one of those Fools that never regard whether
+_Lewis_ or _Philip_ have the better or the worst.
+
+_Turb._ Peace is a great Blessing, Sir, a very great Blessing.
+
+_Brun._ You are i'th right, Sir, and so my service to you, Sir.
+
+_Leyd._ Well, Sir, _Stetin_ held out nobly, though the Gazettes are
+various.
+
+_Amst._ There's a world of Men kill'd they say; why, what a shame 'tis
+so many thousands should die without the help of a Physician.
+
+_Leyd._ Hang 'em, they were poor Rogues, and not worth our killing; my
+service to you, Sir, they'll serve to fill up Trenches.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Spaniel, Sir! no Man breathing understands Dogs and Horses
+better than my self.
+
+_Fat_ D. Your pardon for that, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ For look ye, Sir, I'll tell you the Nature of Dogs and
+Horses.
+
+_Fat_ D. So can my Groom and Dog-keeper; but what's this to th' purpose,
+Sir?
+    [Here they leave off.
+
+Sir _Cred._ To th' purpose, Sir! good Mr. _Hedleburgh_, do you
+understand what's to th' purpose? you're a _Dutch_ Butter-ferkin,
+a Kilderkin, a Double Jug.
+
+_Fat_ D. You're an ignorant Blockhead, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ You lye, Sir, and there I was with you again.
+
+_Amst._ What, quarrelling, Men of your Gravity and Profession.
+
+Sir _Cred._ That is to say, Fools and Knaves: pray, how long is't since
+you left Toping and Napping, for Quacking, good Brother Cater-tray?--but
+let that pass, for I'll have my Humour, and therefore will quarrel with
+no Man, and so I drink.--
+    [Goes to fill again.
+
+_Brun._ --But, what's all this to the Patient, Gentlemen?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay,--the Wine's all out,--and Quarrels apart, Gentlemen, as
+you say, what do you think of our Patient? for something I conceive
+necessary to be said for our Fees.
+
+_Fat_ D. I think that unless he follows our Prescriptions he's a dead
+Man.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Ay, Sir, a dead Man.
+
+_Fat_ D. Please you to write, Sir, you seem the youngest Doctor.
+    [To _Amst._
+
+_Amst._ Your Pardon, Sir, I conceive there maybe younger Doctors than I
+at the Board.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A fine Punctilio this, when a Man lies a dying [Aside.]
+--Sir, you shall excuse me, I have been a Doctor this 7 Years.
+    [They shove the Pen and Paper from one to the other.
+
+_Amst._ I commenc'd at _Paris_ twenty years ago.
+
+_Leyd._ And I at _Leyden_, almost as long since.
+
+_Fat_ D. And I at _Barcelona_ thirty.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And I at _Padua_, Sir.
+
+_Fat_ D. You at _Padua?_
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, Sir, I at _Padua_; why, what a pox, do ye think I never
+was beyond Sea?
+
+_Brun._ However, Sir, you are the youngest Doctor, and must write.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I will not lose an inch of my Dignity.
+
+_Fat_ D. Nor I.
+
+_Amst._ Nor I.
+
+_Leyd._ Nor I.    [Put the Paper from each other.
+
+_Brun._ Death, what Rascals are these?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Give me the Pen--here's ado about your _Paduas_ and
+Punctilioes.
+    [Sets himself to write.
+
+_Amst._ Every morning a Dose of my Pills _Merda queorusticon_, or the
+Amicable Pill.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Fasting?
+
+_Leyd._ Every Hour sixscore drops of _Adminicula Vitae_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Fasting too?    [Sir _Cred._ writes still.
+
+_Fat_ D. At Night twelve Cordial Pills, _Gallimofriticus_.
+
+_Turb._ Let Blood once a Week, a Glister once a day.
+
+_Brun._ Cry Mercy, Sir, you're a _French_ Man.--After his first Sleep,
+threescore restorative Pills, call'd _Cheatus Redivivus_.
+
+Sir _Cred._ And lastly, fifteen Spoonfuls of my _Aqua Tetrachymagogon_,
+as often as 'tis necessary; little or no Breakfast, less Dinner, and go
+supperless to Bed.
+
+_Fat_ D. Hum, your _Aqua Tetrachymagogon_?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Yes, Sir, my _Tetrachymagogon_; for look ye, do you see,
+Sir, I cur'd the Arch-Duke of _Strumbulo_ of a _Gondileero_, of which he
+dy'd, with this very _Aqua Tetrachymagogon_.
+
+    Enter Sir _Patient_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Well, Gentlemen, am I not an intruder?
+
+_Fat_ D. Sir, we have duly consider'd the state of your Body; and are
+now about the Order and Method you are to observe.
+
+_Brun._ Ay, this Distemper will be the occasion of his Death.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Hold, Brothers, I do not say the occasion of his Death; but
+the occasional Cause of his Death.
+    [Sir _Pat._ reads the Bill.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, here's no time allow'd for eating, Gentlemen.
+
+_Amst._ Sir, we'll justify this Prescription to the whole College.
+
+_Leyd._ If he will not follow it, let him die.
+
+_All._ Ay, let him die.
+
+    Enter _Lodwick_ and _Leander_.
+
+_Lod._ What, have you consulted without me, Gentlemen?
+    [_Lod._ reads the Bill.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Yes, Sir, and find it absolutely necessary for my Health,
+Sir, I shou'd be starv'd: and yet you say I am not sick, Sir.
+    [To _Lean._
+
+_Lod._ Very well, very well.
+
+Sir _Pat._ No Breakfast, no Dinner, no Supper?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Little or none, but none's best.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But, Gentlemen, consider, no small thing?
+
+_All._ Nothing, nothing.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Sir, you must write for your Fee.    [To _Lod._
+
+_Lod._ Now I think on't, Sir, you may eat    [Writes.
+  a roasted Pippin cold upon a Vine-leaf, at night.
+
+_Lean._ Do you see, Sir, what damn'd canting Rascals these Doctors are?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ay, ay, if all Doctors were such, ingenuously, I shou'd soon
+be weary of Physick.
+
+_Lean._ Give 'em their Fees, Sir, and send 'em to the Devil for a
+Company of Cheats.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Truth is, there is no faith in 'em,--well, I thank you for
+your Care and Pains.
+    [Gives 'em Fees.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Sir, if you have any occasion for me, I live at the
+red-colour'd Lanthorn, with eleven Candles in't, in the _Strand_; where
+you may come in privately, and need not be ashamed, I having no Creature
+in my House but my self, and my whole Family.--
+
+  _Ick quam Van Neder Landt te spreken
+  End helpen Van Pocken end ander gebreken._
+
+That's a top of my Bill, sweet Sir.
+
+    [Exeunt Doctors.
+
+_Fan._ Lord, Sir Father, why do you give 'em Money?
+
+_Lean._ For talking Nonsense this Hour or two upon his Distemper.
+
+_Fan._ Oh lemini, Sir, they did not talk one word of you, but of Dogs
+and Horses, and of killing Folks, and of their Wives and Daughters; and
+when the Wine was all out, they said they wou'd say something for their
+Fees.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Say you so!--Knaves, Rogues, Cheats, Murderers! I'll be
+reveng'd on 'em all,--I'll ne'er be sick again,--or if I be, I'll die
+honestly of my self without the assistance of such Rascals,--go, get you
+gone.--
+    [To _Fan._ who goes out.
+
+_Lean._ A happy resolution! wou'd you wou'd be so kind to your self as
+to make a trial of your Lady too; and if she prove true, 'twill make
+some kind of amends for your so long being cozen'd this way.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'll about it, this very minute about it,--give me a Chair.--
+    [He sits.
+
+_Lean._ So, settle your self well, disorder your Hair,--throw away your
+Cane, Hat and Gloves,--stare, and rowl your Eyes, squeeze your Face into
+Convulsions,--clutch your Hands, make your Stomach heave, so, very
+well,--now let me alone for the rest--Oh, help, help, my Lady, my Aunt,
+for Heavens sake, help,--come all and see him die.
+    [Weeps.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_, Lady _Fancy_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, Lady
+    _Knowell_, _Roger_, and _Nurse_.
+
+_Wit._ _Leander_, what's the matter?
+
+_Lean._ See, Madam, see my Uncle in the Agonies of Death.
+
+L. _Fan._ My dearest Husband dying, Oh!    [Weeps.
+
+_Lean._ How hard he struggles with departing Life!
+
+_Isab._ Father, dear Father, must I in one day receive a Blessing with
+so great a Curse? Oh,--he's just going, Madam.--
+    [Weeps.
+
+L. _Fan._ Let me o'ertake him in the Shades below, why do you hold me,
+can I live without him? do I dissemble well?--
+    [Aside to _Wit._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Not live without me!--do you hear that, Sirrah?
+    [Aside to _Lean._
+
+_Lean._ Pray mark the end on't, Sir,--feign,--feign.--
+
+L. _Kno._ We left him well, how came he thus o'th' sudden?
+
+_Lean._ I fear 'tis an Apoplexy, Madam.
+
+L. _Fan._ Run, run for his Physician; but do not stir a foot.
+    [Aside to _Roger_.
+  Look up, and speak but one kind word to me.
+
+Sir _Pat._ What crys are these that stop me on my way?
+
+L. _Fan._ They're mine,--your Lady's--oh, surely he'll recover.
+    [Aside.
+  Your most obedient Wife's.
+
+Sir _Pat._ My Wife's, my Heir, my sole Executrix.
+
+L. _Fan._ Hah, is he in's Senses?    [Aside to _Wit._
+  Oh my dear Love, my Life, my Joy, my All,    [Crys.
+  Oh, let me go; I will not live without him.
+    [Seems to faint in _Wittmore's_ Arms. All run about her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Do ye hear that, Sirrah?
+
+_Lean._ Have yet a little Patience, die away,--very well--Oh, he's
+gone,--quite gone.
+    [L. _Fan._ swoons.
+
+L. _Kno._ Look to my Lady there,    [Swoons again.
+  --Sure she can but counterfeit.    [Aside.    [They all go about her.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, my Lady dying!
+
+_Lean._ Sir, I beseech you wait the event. Death! the cunning Devil will
+dissemble too long and spoil all,--here--carry the dead Corps of my
+dearest Uncle to his Chamber. Nurse, to your Care I commit him now.
+
+    [Exeunt with Sir _Pat._ in a Chair.
+    [All follow but _Wittmore_; who going the other way, meets Sir
+    _Credulous_ and _Lodwick_, as before.
+
+_Wit._ _Lodwick!_ the strangest unexpected News, Sir _Patient's_ dead!
+
+Sir _Cred._ How, dead! we have play'd the Physicians to good purpose,
+i'faith, and kill'd the Man before we administer'd our Physick.
+
+_Wit._ Egad, I fear so indeed.
+
+_Lod._ Dead!
+
+_Wit._ As a Herring, and 'twill be dangerous to keep these habits
+longer.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Dangerous! Zoz, Man, we shall all be hang'd, why, our very
+Bill dispatch'd him, and our Hands are to't,--Oh, I'll confess all.--
+    [Offers to go.
+
+_Lod._ Death, Sir, I'll cut your Throat if you stir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Wou'd you have me hang'd for Company, Gentlemen? Oh, where
+shall I hide my self, or how come at my Clothes?
+
+_Lod._ We have no time for that; go get you into your Basket again, and
+lie snug, till I have convey'd you safe away,--or I'll abandon you.--
+    [Aside to him.
+  'Tis not necessary he shou'd be seen yet, he may spoil _Leander's_
+Plot.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, thank ye, dear _Lodwick_,--let me escape this bout, and
+if ever the Fool turn Physician again, may he be choak'd with his own
+_Tetrachymagogon_.
+
+_Wit._ Go, haste and undress you, whilst I'll to _Lucia_.
+
+    [Exeunt _Lod._ and Sir _Cred._
+
+    As _Wittmore_ is going out at one Door, enter Sir _Patient_ and
+    _Leander_ at the other Door.
+
+_Lean._ Hah, _Wittmore_ there! he must not see my Uncle yet.
+    [Puts Sir _Pat._ back.
+    [Exit _Wit._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Nay, Sir, never detain me, I'll to my Lady, is this your
+Demonstration?--Was ever so virtuous a Lady--Well, I'll to her, and
+console her poor Heart; ah, the Joy 'twill bring her to see my
+Resurrection!--I long to surprize her.
+    [Going off cross the Stage.
+
+_Lean._ Hold, Sir, I think she's coming,--blest sight, and with her
+_Wittmore_!
+    [Puts Sir _Pat._ back to the Door.
+
+    Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Wittmore_.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, what's this?
+
+L. _Fan._ Now, my dear _Wittmore_, claim thy Rites of Love without
+controul, without the contradiction of wretched Poverty or Jealousy: Now
+undisguised thou mayst approach my Bed, and reign o'er all my Pleasures
+and my Fortunes, of which this Minute I create thee Lord, And thus begin
+my Homage.--
+    [Kisses him.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Sure 'tis some Fiend! this cannot be my Lady.
+
+_Lean._ 'Tis something uncivil before your face, Sir, to do this.
+
+_Wit._ Thou wondrous kind, and wondrous beautiful; that Power that made
+thee with so many Charms, gave me a Soul fit only to adore 'em; nor wert
+thou destin'd to another's Arms, but to be render'd still more fit for
+mine.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, is not that _Fainlove_, _Isabella's_ Husband? Oh
+Villain! Villain! I will renounce my Sense and my Religion.
+    [Aside.
+
+  L. _Fan._ Another's Arms! Oh, call not those hated
+  Thoughts to my remembrance,
+  Lest it destroy that kindly Heat within me,
+  Which thou canst only raise and still maintain.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Oh Woman! Woman! damn'd dissembling Woman.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Fan._ Come, let me lead thee to that Mass of Gold he gave me to be
+despis'd;
+  And which I render thee, my lovely Conqueror,
+  As the first Tribute of my glorious Servitude.
+
+Draw in the Basket which I told you of, and is amongst the Rubbish in
+the Hall. [Exit _Wittmore_.] That which the Slave so many Years was
+toiling for, I in one moment barter for a Kiss, as Earnest of our future
+Joys.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Was ever so prodigal a Harlot? was this the Saint? was this
+the most tender Consort that ever Man had?
+
+_Lean._ No, in good faith, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Wittmore_ pulling in the Basket.
+
+L. _Fan._ This is it, with a direction on't to thee, whither I design'd
+to send it.
+
+  _Wit._ Good morrow to the Day, and next the Gold;
+  Open the Shrine, that I may see my Saint--
+  Hail the World's Soul,--    [Opens the Basket, Sir _Cred._ starts up.
+
+L. _Fan._ O Heavens! what thing art thou?
+
+Sir _Cred._ O, Pardon, Pardon, sweet Lady, I confess I had a hand in't.
+
+L. _Fan._ In what, thou Slave?--
+
+Sir _Cred._ Killing the good believing Alderman;--but 'twas against my
+Will.
+
+L. _Fan._ Then I'm not so much oblig'd to thee,--but where's the Money,
+the 8000_l._ the Plate and Jewels, Sirrah?
+
+_Wit._ Death, the Dog has eat it.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Eat it! Oh Lord, eat 8000_l._ Wou'd I might never come out
+of this Basket alive, if ever I made such a Meal in my Life.
+
+_Wit._ Ye Dog, you have eat it; and I'll make ye swallow all the Doses
+you writ in your Bill, but I'll have it upward or downward.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Hah, one of the Rogues my Doctors.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Oh, dear Sir, hang me out of the way rather.
+
+    Enter _Maundy_.
+
+_Maun._ Madam, I have sent away the Basket to Mr. _Wittmore's_ Lodgings.
+
+L. _Fan._ You might have sav'd your self that Labour, I now having no
+more to do, but to bury the stinking Corps of my quandom Cuckold,
+dismiss his Daughters, and give thee quiet possession of all.
+    [To _Wit._
+
+Sir _Pat._ Fair Lady, you'll take me along with you?
+    [Snaps, pulls off his Hat, and comes up to her.
+
+L. _Fan._ My Husband!--I'm betray'd--
+
+Sir _Pat._ Husband! I do defy thee, Satan, thou greater Whore than she
+of _Babylon_; thou Shame, thou Abomination to thy Sex.
+
+L. _Fan._ Rail on, whilst I dispose my self to laugh at thee.
+
+Sir _Pat._ _Leander_, call all the House in to be a Witness of our
+Divorce.
+    [Exit _Lean._
+
+L. _Fan._ Do, and all the World, and let 'em know the Reason.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Methinks I find an Inclination to swear,--to curse my self
+and thee, that I cou'd no better discern thee; nay, I'm so chang'd from
+what I was, that I think I cou'd even approve of Monarchy and
+Church-Discipline, I'm so truly convinc'd I have been a Beast and an Ass
+all my Life.
+
+    Enter Lady _Knowell_, _Isabella_, _Lucretia_, _Leander_,
+    _Lodwick_, _Fanny_, &c.
+
+L. _Kno._ Hah, Sir _Patient_ not dead?
+
+Sir _Pat._ Ladies and Gentlemen, take notice that I am a Cuckold,
+a crop-ear'd snivelling Cuckold.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A Cuckold! sweet Sir, shaw, that's a small matter in a Man
+of your Quality.
+
+Sir _Pat._ And I beg your pardon, Madam, for being angry that you call'd
+me so. [To L. _Kno._] And yours, dear _Isabella_, for desiring you to
+marry my good Friend there [Points to _Wit._] whose name I perceive I
+was mistaken in:--and yours, _Leander_, that I wou'd not take your
+Advice long since: and yours, fair Lady, for believing you
+honest,--'twas done like a credulous Coxcomb:--and yours, Sir, for
+taking any of your Tribe for wise, learned or honest.
+    [To Sir _Credulous_.
+
+_Wit._ Faith, Sir, I deceiv'd ye only to serve my Friend; and, Sir, your
+Daughter is married to Mr _Knowell_: your Wife had all my stock of Love
+before, Sir.
+    [_Lod._ and _Isab._ kneel.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Why, God-a-mercy--some comfort that,--God bless ye.--I shall
+love Disobedience while I live for't.
+
+_Lod._ I am glad on't, Sir, for then I hope you will forgive _Leander_,
+who has married my Sister, and not my Mother.
+
+Sir _Pat._ How! has he served me so?--I'll make him my Heir for't, thou
+hast made a Man of me, my Boy, and, faith, we will be merry,--Fair Lady,
+you may depart in peace, fair Lady, restoring my Money, my Plate, my
+Jewels and my Writings, fair Lady.--
+
+L. _Fan._ You gave me no Money, Sir, prove it if you can; and for your
+Land, 'twas not settled with this Proviso, if she be honest?
+
+Sir _Pat._ 'Tis well thou dost confess I am a Cuckold, for I wou'd have
+it known, fair Lady.
+
+L. _Fan._ 'Twas to that end I married you, good Alderman.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I'faith, I think thou didst, Sweet-heart, i'faith, I think
+thou didst.
+
+_Wit._ Right, Sir, we have long been Lovers, but want of Fortune made us
+contrive how to marry her to your good Worship. Many a wealthy Citizen,
+Sir, has contributed to the maintenance of a younger Brother's Mistress;
+and you are not the first Man in Office that has been a Cuckold, Sir.
+
+Sir _Pat._ Some comfort that too, the Brethren of the Chain cannot laugh
+at me.
+
+Sir _Cred._ A very pleasant old Fellow this: faith, I cou'd be very
+merry with him now, but that I am damnable sad.--Madam, I shall desire
+to lay the Saddle on the right Horse.
+    [To L. _Kno._
+
+L. _Kno._ What mean you, Sir?
+
+Sir _Cred._ Only, Madam, if I were as some Men are, I should not be as I
+am.
+
+L. _Kno._ It may be so, Sir.
+
+Sir _Cred._ I say no more, but matters are not carried so swimmingly,
+but I can dive into the meaning on't.
+    [Sir _Patient_ talks this while to _Lodwick_.
+
+L. _Kno._ I hate this hypothetical way of arguing, answer me
+categorically.
+
+Sir _Cred._ Hypothetical and Categorical! what does she mean now?
+[Aside.] --Madam, in plain _English_, I am made a _John-a-Nokes_ of,
+_Jack-hold-my-staff_, a _Merry Andrew_ Doctor, to give _Leander_ time to
+marry your Daughter; and 'twas therefore I was hoisted up in the
+Basket;--but as the play says, 'tis well 'tis no worse: I'd rather lose
+my Mistress than my Life.
+
+Sir _Pat._ But how came this Rascal _Turboon_ to admit you?
+
+_Lod._ For the Lucre of our Fees, Sir, which was his recompence.
+
+Sir _Pat._ I forgive it you, and will turn Spark, they live the merriest
+Lives--keep some City Mistress, go to Court, and hate all Conventicles.
+
+  _You see what a fine City-Wife can do
+  Of the true-breed; instruct her Husband too:
+  I wish all civil Cuckolds in the Nation
+  Would take example by my Reformation._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE,
+
+Spoken by Mrs. _Gwin_.
+
+
+  I here and there o'erheard a Coxcomb cry,    [Looking about.
+  Ah, Rot it--'tis a Woman's Comedy,
+  One, who because she lately chanc'd to please us,
+  With her damn'd Stuff, will never cease to teeze us.
+  What has poor Woman done, that she must be
+  Debar'd from Sense, and sacred Poetry?
+  Why in this Age has Heaven allow'd you more,
+  And Women less of Wit than heretofore?
+  We once were fam'd in story, and could write
+  Equal to Men; cou'd govern, nay, cou'd fight.
+  We still have passive Valour, and can show, }
+  Wou'd Custom give us leave, the active too, }
+  Since we no Provocations want from you.     }
+  For who but we cou'd your dull Fopperies bear,
+  Your saucy Love, and your brisk Nonsense hear;
+  Indure your worse than womanish Affectation,
+  Which renders you the Nusance of the Nation;
+  Scorn'd even by all the Misses of the Town,
+  A Jest to Vizard Mask, the _Pit-Buffoon_;
+  A Glass by which the admiring Country Fool
+  May learn to dress himself _en Ridicule:_
+  Both striving who shall most ingenious grow
+  In Leudness, Foppery, Nonsense, Noise and Show.
+  And yet to these fine things we must submit
+  Our Reason, Arms, our Laurels, and our Wit.
+  Because we do not laugh at you, when leud,
+  And scorn and cudgel ye when you are rude.
+  That we have nobler Souls than you, we prove,
+  By how much more we're sensible of Love;
+  Quickest in finding all the subtlest ways
+  To make your Joys, why not to make you Plays?
+  We best can find your Foibles, know our own,     }
+  And Jilts and Cuckolds now best please the Town; }
+  Your way of Writing's out of fashion grown.      }
+  Method, and Rule--you only understand;
+  Pursue that way of Fooling, and be damn'd.
+  Your learned Cant of Action, Time and Place,
+  Must all give way to the unlabour'd Farce.
+  To all the Men of Wit we will subscribe:
+  But for your half Wits, you unthinking Tribe,
+  We'll let you see, whate'er besides we do,
+  How artfully we copy some of you:
+  And if you're drawn to th' Life, pray tell me then,
+  Why Women should not write as well as Men.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: Sir Patient Fancy
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++To the Reader+
+
+  p. 7, l. 1 _To the Reader._ Only in 4to 1678.
+
++Dramatis Personae+
+
+  p. 10 _Dramatis Personae._ I have added '_Abel_ (_Bartholmew_), Clerk
+  to _Sir Patient Fancy_; _Brunswick_, a friend to _Lodwick Knowell_;
+  _Antic_, Waiting-woman to _Lucretia_; Nurse; Guests.' In former
+  editions the physicians are grouped together as 'Five Doctors', and
+  The Lady _Knowell_ is mistakenly termed 'Mother to _Lodwick_ and
+  _Isabella_', which I have corrected to 'and _Lucretia_'. I have noted
+  the confusion of 'Abel' and 'Bartholmew' in the introduction, pp. 5-6.
+
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 11, l. 2 I have added 'in Lady Knowell's House.'
+
+  p. 13, l. 14 _Foibles._ 4to 1678 'feables'.
+
+  p. 14, l. 17 _apamibominous ... podas._ 4to 1678 'apamibominus ...
+  Podis'.
+
+  p. 15, l. 3 _Mudd._ 1724 'mad'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ia+
+
+  p. 16, l. 12 _now, Curry, from._ 1724 omits 'Curry'.
+
+  p. 16, l. 25 _Branford._ 1724 here and _infra_ 'Brentford'.
+
+  p. 16, l. 30 _Cuffet's._ 1724 'Cusset's'.
+
+  p. 22, l. 22 _not._ Erroneously omitted by 4to 1678.
+
+  p. 23, l. 2 _a Dog._ 4to 1678 'the Dog.'
+
+  p. 23, l. 16 _with Page._ I have added the Page's exit.
+
+  p. 25, l. 20 _Ex. severally._ 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the First
+  Act.'
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 25, l. 22 _to Sir Patient Fancy's House._ I have added these words.
+
+
+  p. 33, l. 27 _Exit with L. Fan._ I have added the necessary 'with
+  L. Fan.' 4to 1678 reads 'Goes out.'
+
+  p. 35, l. 2 _Roger attending._ I have added this entrance of Roger
+  here.
+
+  p. 36, l. 21 _Enter Sir Patient._ 4to 1678 gives this entrance after
+  'mercy', l. 22.
+
+  p. 40, l. 25 _Exit Roger._ I have added this exit here, and at p. 43,
+  l. 2.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 44, l. 6 _Exeunt severally._ 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the Second
+  Act.'
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 44, l. 9 _to a room in Sir Patient Fancy's house._ I have supplied
+  this locale.
+
+  p. 45, l. 11 _and Maundy._ I have supplied Maundy's entrance here.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 47, l. 1 _a thousand Faults._ 1724 mistakenly reads 'a thousand
+  hidden Faults'.
+
+  p. 48, l. 34 _in spite to._ 1724 'in spite of' which makes nonsense
+  of the passage.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 49, l. 8 _Scene III._ I have numbered this and all the succeeding
+  scenes of Act III.
+
++ACT III: Scene vii+
+
+  p. 53, l. 32 _Within._ Not in any previous edition.
+
+  p. 54, l. 10 _Within._ All previous editions print this stage
+  direction as part of Sir Patient's speech.
+
+  p. 54, l. 19 _Discovery._ All previous editions here have 'Enter Sir
+  Patient', which is a very patent error. I have supplied 'Within' as
+  stage direction.
+
++ACT III: Scene viii+
+
+  p. 59, l. 6 _Isabella, Fanny._ I have supplied 'Fanny' to this stage
+  direction.
+
++ACT III: Scene ix+
+
+  p. 59, l. 19 _D'on._ 4to 1678 misprints 'D'on on Flannel'.
+
+  p. 60, l. 13 _Enter Roger._ I have supplied the names 'Roger' and
+  'Abel' to this stage direction.
+
+  p. 61, l. 13 _Exeunt._ 4to 1678 adds 'The End of the Third Act.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 71, l. 27 _are._ 4to 1678, not so well, 'were'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 72, l. 19 _A Chamber in Sir Patient Fancy's House._ I have
+  supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 77, l. 2 _come._ 4to 1678 'came'.
+
+  p. 77, l. 33 _but for my sending him, Madam, credit me._ 1724 omits
+  this sentence.
+
+  p. 79, l. 13 _sad._ 1724 'said'.
+
+  p. 79, l. 31 _Exit._ I have supplied this stage direction.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 81, l. 1 _Exit Roger._ I have supplied this.
+
+  p. 81, l. 11 _little._ 1724 misprints 'letter'.
+
+  p. 82, l. 30 _Fanny and Nurse go._ All previous editions have 'Fanny
+  goes'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 82, l. 31 _Scene IV._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 82, l. 33 _Entering._ I have supplied this necessary stage
+  direction.
+
+  p. 87, l. 15 _Hogsdowne._ 1724 'Hogsdon'.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 89, l. 3 _leading her._ Omitted in 1724. 4to 1678 here has 'The End
+  of the Fourth Act.'
+
+  p. 89, l. 5 _Scene I. A Room._ All previous editions have 'Scene I.
+  A Table and Six Chairs.'
+
+  p. 89, l. 28 _come._ 4to 1678 'came'.
+
+  p. 95, l. 20 _fatum._ 4to 1678 'facum.'
+
+  p. 96, l. 2 _and will._ 1724, very erroneously, 'and I will'.
+
+  p. 98, l. 13 _and Bartholomew._ I have added this entrance, unmarked
+  in former editions, as later in the scene (p. 99, l. 30) he is
+  addressed.
+
+  p. 98, l. 16 _Exit Roger._ I have supplied this.
+
+  p. 99, l. 35 _Exit._ I have added this stage direction.
+
+  p. 100, l. 4 _Exit Lod._ This is unmarked in previous editions.
+
+  p. 100, l. 25 _Medicinae Professores._ 1724 'Medicina Presessores, qui
+  hic assemblati esti, & vos altra Mesioris'.
+
+  p. 101, l. 12 _Deliberation._ 4to 1678 here has '[Goes out.' which
+  must obviously be a mistake.
+
+  p. 102, l. 2 _Whirligigoustiphon._ 1724 'Whirligigousticon'.
+
+  p. 107, l. 36 _Exeunt Doctors._ All previous editions faultily have
+  'Exeunt.' after 'whole Family.--' I have added 'Doctors.'
+
+  p. 108, l. 27 _and Nurse._ I have added these words as she is
+  addressed later in the scene (p. 109, l. 31.)
+
+  p. 110, l. 24 _and Sir Cred._ I have added these words.
+
+  p. 111, l. 34 _Consort._ 1724 'Comfort'.
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++To the Reader+
+
+  p. 7 _to show their breeding (as Bays sayes)._ cf. _The Rehearsal_,
+  II, ii:--
+
+    _1 King._ You must begin, _Mon foy_.
+    _2 King._ Sweet, Sir, _Pardonnes moy_.
+    _Bayes._ Mark that: I makes 'em both speak _French_ to shew their
+      breeding.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 14 _Armida._ cf. Tasso's _La Gerusalemme Liberata_, canto xiv, &c.
+  Armida is called Corcereis owing to the beauty and wonder of her
+  enchanted garden. Corcyra was the abode of King Alcinous, of whose
+  court, parks and orchards a famous description is to be found in the
+  seventh _Odyssey_. Martial (xiii, 37), speaks of 'Corcyraei horti',
+  a proverbial phrase.
+
++ACT I: Scene ia+
+
+  p. 20 _Mum budget._ 'Mum budget', meaning 'hush', was originally the
+  name of a children's game which required silence, cf. _Merry Wives
+  of Windsor_, V, iv: 'I ... cried _mum_ and she cried _budget_.' cf.
+  also the term 'Whist'.
+
+  p. 22 _Beginning at Eight._ The idea of this little speech is, of
+  course, from Bonnecorse's _La Montre_, Mrs. Behn's translation of
+  which will be found with an introduction in Vol. VI, p. 1.
+
+  p. 22 _the Bergere._ cf. _The Feign'd Curtezans_ (Vol. II, p. 346):
+  'The hour of the Berjere'; and the note on that passage (p. 441).
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 32 _Ay and No Man._ cf. Prologue to _The False Count_ (Vol. III,
+  p. 100): 'By Yea and Nay'; and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 44 _Within a Mile of an Oak._ A proverbial saw. cf. D'Urfey's _Don
+  Quixote_ (1696), III, Act V, i, where Teresa cries: 'The Ass was lost
+  yesterday, and Master _Carasco_ tells us your Worship can tell within
+  a mile of an Oak where he is.'
+
+  p. 44 _Rustick Antick._ A quaint country dance.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 62 _Hypallages._ A figure of speech by which attributes are
+  transferred from their proper subjects to others.
+
+  p. 62 _Belli fugaces._ Ovid, _Amorum_, I, 9, has 'Militat omnis amans
+  et habet sua castra Cupido', and the idea is common. I have made no
+  attempt to correct the tags of Latinity in this play. Mrs. Behn
+  openly confessed she knew no Latin, and she was ill supplied here.
+  I do not conceive that the words are intentionally faulty and
+  grotesque. Lady Knowell is a pedant, but not ignorant.
+
+  p. 65 _Madame Brenvilliers._ Marie-Marguerite d'Aubray, Marquise de
+  Brinvilliers, was executed at Paris 16 July, 1676.
+
+  p. 66 _Bilbo-Blades!_ Or oftener 'bilbo-lords', = swash-bucklers,
+  cf. _The Pilgrim_ (folio, 1647), V, vi, where Juletta calls the old
+  angry Alphonso 'My Bilbo Master'.
+
+  p. 70 _whip slap-dash._ These nonsensical bywords, which were very
+  popular, are continually in the mouth of Sir Samuel Harty, a silly
+  coxcomb in Shadwell's _The Virtuoso_ (1676). Nokes, who was acting
+  Sir Credulous, had created Sir Samuel Harty.
+
+  p. 71 _The Bell in Friday-street._ The Bell was an inn of note in
+  Friday Street, Cheapside. cf. _Cal. State Papers_ (1603-10, p. 455):
+  'Sir Thomas Estcourt ... to Thomas Wilson. Is about to leave London
+  and proffers his services. If he has occasion to write to him he may
+  have weekly messengers ... at the Bell, Friday Street.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 79 _th' Exercise._ The puritanical term for private worship, cf.
+  1663 _Flagellum; or, O. Cromwell_ (1672), 21. 'The Family was called
+  together to prayers; at which Exercise ... they continued long.' cf.
+  _The Roundheads_ (Vol. I), Act II, i: 'his Prayers; from which
+  long-winded Exercise I have of late withdrawn my self.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 83 _Mirabilis._ Aqua mirabilis, a well-known invigorating cordial,
+  cf. Dryden's _Marriage a la Mode_ (1672), III, i: 'The country
+  gentlewoman ... who ... opens her dear bottle of Mirabilis beside, for
+  a gill glass of it at parting.'
+
+  p. 84 _Tranghams._ Nick-nacks, toys, trinkets, cf. Arbuthnot, _History
+  of John Ball_ (1712-3), Pt. II, c. vi: 'What's the meaning of all
+  these trangrams and gimcracks?'
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 92 _to souse._ cf. _Florio_ (ed. 1611): 'to leape or seaze greedily
+  upon, to souze downe as a hauke.'
+
+  p. 93 _this Balatroon._ A rogue. The word is very rare. cf. Cockeram
+  (1623): '_Ballatron_, a rascally base knave.'
+
+  p. 95 _Rotat omne fatum._ This would be an exceptionally rare use of
+  rotare = rotari, intransitive. But Mrs. Behn, as Dryden tells us in
+  his preface to the translation of Ovid's _Heroides_ (1680) 'by many
+  hands', insisted upon the fact that she knew no Latin.
+
+  p. 100 _Medicinae Professores._ This is from the _Troisieme Intermede_
+  of _Le Malade Imaginaire_ which commences:--
+
+    Savantissimi doctores,
+    Medicinae professores,
+    Qui hic assemblati estis;
+    Et vos, altri messiores,
+    Sententiarum facultatis.
+
+  p. 101 _Vanderbergen._ A well-known empiric of the day.
+
+  p. 102 _Haly the Moore, and Rabbi Isaac._ Ali Bey (Bobrowski),
+  a Polish scholar, died at Constantinople 1675. He wrote, amongst
+  other treatises, _De Circumcisione_; _De Aegrotorum Visitatione_.
+  These were published at Oxford in 1691. Isaac Levita or Jean Isaac
+  Levi was a celebrated rabbi of the sixteenth century. A professor at
+  Cologne, he practised medicine and astrology.
+
+  p. 104 _Stetin._ Stettin, the capital of Pomerania, was one of the
+  chief towns of the Hanseatic league. Occupied by Sweden 1637-1713,
+  it was the centre of continual military operations.
+
+  p. 105 _A Dutch Butter-ferkin, a Kilderkin._ These terms are common
+  abuse as applied to a corpulent person. A firkin (Mid. Dut.,
+  vierdekijn) = a small cask for holding liquids or butter; originally
+  half-a-kilderkin. _Dictionary of the Canting Crew_ (1700) has 'Firkin
+  of foul Stuff; a ... Coarse, Corpulent Woman'. cf. Dryden's _Mac
+  Flecknoe_ (1682):--
+
+    A Tun of Man in thy large Bulk is writ,
+    But sure thou'rt but a Kilderkin of wit.
+
+  Shadwell was extremely gross in habit and of an unwieldy size.
+
+  p. 105 _Toping and Napping._ 'To top' and 'to nap' are slang terms
+  signifying to cheat, especially with dice. cf. R. Head, _Canting
+  Academy_ (1673), 'What chance of the dye is soonest thrown in topping,
+  shoring, palming, napping.' Both words occur very frequently, and are
+  amply explained in the Slang Dictionaries.
+
+  p. 105 _Cater-Tray._ Quatre-trois; a cast at dice.
+
+  p. 112 _Good morrow._ Wittmore quotes the opening lines of _Volpone_,
+  Act I, i:
+
+    Good morning to the day; and next my gold!
+    Open the shrine that I may see my saint.
+    Hail the world's soul and mine!
+
+  p. 115 _John-a-Nokes._ The fictitious name for the one party in a
+  legal action. The term came to have the same meaning as
+  'Jack-hold-my-staff' = any fool or nincompoop.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 116 _Vizard Mask._ The commonest Restoration synonym for a 'bona
+  roba', especially as plying the theatre.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _Sir Patient Fancy_
+
+p. 22 _the Bergere._ cf. _The Feign'd Curtezans_ (Vol. II, p. 346):
+'The hour of the Berjere'; and the note on that passage (p. 441).
+
+  _Feign'd Curtezans_ note:
+
+  _The hour of the Berjere._ L'heure du berger ou l'amant trouve
+  celle qu'il aime favorable a ses voeux. cf. La Fontaine, _Contes. La
+  Coupe Enchantee_. 'Il y fait bon, l'heure du berger sonne.' It is a
+  favourite expression of Mrs. Behn. cf. _Sir Patient Fancy_, Act I, i.
+  'From Ten to Twelve are the happy hours of the Bergere, those of
+  intire enjoyment.' Also the charming conclusion of _The Lover's
+  Watch_:--
+
+    Damon, my watch is just and new:
+    And all a Lover ought to do,
+    My Cupid faithfully will show.
+    And ev'ry hour he renders there
+    Except _l'heure du Bergere_.
+
+p. 32 _Ay and No Man._ cf. Prologue to _The False Count_ (Vol. III,
+p. 100): 'By Yea and Nay'; and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
+  _False Count_ note:
+
+  _By Yea and Nay._ 'Yea and Nay' was often derisively applied to
+  the Puritans, and hence to their lineal descendants the Whigs, in
+  allusion to the Scriptural injunction, _S. Matthew_ v, 33-7, which
+  they feigned exactly to follow. Timothy Thin-beard, a rascally
+  Puritan, in Heywood's _If you Know Not Me, You Know Nobody_, Part II
+  (4to, 1606), is continually asseverating 'By yea and nay', cf.
+  Fletcher's _Monsieur Thomas_, Act II, iii, where Thomas says:--
+
+    Do not ye see me alter'd? 'Yea and Nay,' gentlemen;
+    A much-converted man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: Sir Patient Fancy
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+Editor's Introduction
+
+  but yet everything she touched  [eveything]
+
+Sir Patient Fancy
+
+  And a Tyrannick Commonwealth prefer  [Tryannick]
+  Ton d' apamibominous prosiphe podas ochus Achilleus
+    [_in standard transliteration:_
+      Ton d' apameibomenos prosephe podas okus Achilleus
+    _Each element ("Ton ... prosephe" and "podas okus Achilleus")
+    is used several dozen times in the _Iliad_; the complete line
+    occurs at least ten times._]
+  a _Lancashire_ Bag-pipe  [_anomalous hyphen in original_]
+  _Wit._ Nor to Chuch?  [_spelling unchanged_]
+  & _Reparteee bien_  [_spelling unchanged_]
+  and d'on on slip shoe:
+    [_text unchanged: compare Note on III.ix_]
+  _Wit._ At Sir _Patient Fancy's_, my Father-in-law.  [? for .]
+  for the use and comfort of Man  [. missing]
+  Sir _Pat._ How does my good, my dearest Lady _Fancy_?
+    [_speaker name not italicized_]
+  [Puts Sir _Pat._ back. / [Exit _Wit._
+    [_bracket before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text_]
+  Enter Lady _Fancy_ and _Wittmore_.
+    [_"and" non-Italic (emphatic)_]
+  _Wit._ Go, haste and ... [Exeunt _Lod._ and Sir _Cred._
+    [Exeuut]
+
+Notes on Text
+
+  p. 10 _Dramatis Personae._ ... in the introduction  [in the the]
+  p. 13, l. 14  [p. 13 l. 14]
+  p. 98, l. 16  [p. 98, l. 16.]
+
+Critical Notes
+
+  p. 65 _Madame Brenvilliers._  [_body text has "Madam"_]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE AMOROUS PRINCE.
+
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+Entrances and bracketed stage directions were printed in _italics_,
+with proper names in roman type. The overall _italic_ markup has been
+omitted for readability.]
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Frederick, 'the Amorous Prince,' a mercurial young gallant, son to the
+Duke of Florence, under a solemn promise of marriage debauches Cloris,
+sister to his friend and confidant, Curtius. The girl has always led a
+secluded country life, and this relationship is unknown to the Prince,
+who upon hearing the praises of Laura, beloved by Curtius, straightway
+resolves to win this lady also. Laura's brother Lorenzo, a wanton madcap
+favourite of Frederick's, gladly effects the required introduction, and
+when Curtius interrupts and forbids, Salvator, father to Laura and
+Lorenzo, promptly turns the quondam lover out of the house. Lorenzo
+himself is idly pursuing Clarina, wife to a certain Antonio, an abortive
+intrigue carried on to his own impoverishment, but the enrichment of
+Isabella, Clarina's woman, a wench who fleeces him unmercifully. Antonio
+being of a quaint and jealous humour would have his friend Alberto make
+fervent love to Clarina, in order that by her refusals and chill denials
+her spotless conjugal fidelity may be proved. However, Ismena, Clarina's
+sister, appears in a change of clothes as the wife, and manifold
+complications ensue, but eventually all is cleared and Ismena accepts
+Alberto, whom she has long loved; not before Isabella, having by a trick
+compelled Lorenzo to declare himself her husband, enforces the bargain.
+Cloris, meanwhile, disguised as a boy under the name of Philibert,
+attaches herself to Frederick, first succouring him when he is wounded
+in a duel by Curtius. Curtius to avenge his wrongs disguises himself,
+and as a pandar entices Frederick into a snare by promises of supplying
+the amorous Prince with lovely cyprians. Bravos, however, are in
+waiting, but these prove to be in the service of Antonio, who appears
+with Alberto and their friends, completely frustrating the plot, whilst
+Clarina, Ismena, and other ladies have acted the courtezans to deceive
+Curtius, and at the same time read the Prince a salutary lesson. He
+profits so much by this experience that he takes Cloris, whose sex is
+discovered, to be his bride, whilst Laura bestows her hand on the
+repentant and forgiven Curtius.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+Mrs. Behn has taken her episode of Antonio's persuading Alberto to woo
+Clarina from Robert Davenport's fine play, _The City Night-Cap_ (4to
+1661, but licensed 24 October, 1624) where Lorenzo induces Philippo to
+test Abstemia in the same way. Astrea, however, has considerably altered
+the conduct of the intrigue. Bullen (_The Works of Robert Davenport_,
+1890) conclusively and exhaustively demonstrates that Davenport made use
+of Greene's popular _Philomela; the Lady Fitzwater's Nightingale_ (1592,
+1615, and 1631), wherein Count Philippo employs Giovanni Lutesio to
+'make experience of his wife's [Philomela's] honesty', rather than was
+under any obligation to Cervantes' _Curioso Impertinente, Don Quixote_,
+Book IV, ch. vi-viii. Read, Dunlop, and Hazlitt all had express'd the
+same opinion. The Spanish tale turns upon the fact of Anselmo, the
+Curious Impertinent, enforcing his friend Lothario to tempt his wife
+Camilla. Such a theme, however, is common, and with variations is to be
+found in Italian novelle. Recent authorities are inclined to suggest
+that the plot of Beaumont and Fletcher's _The Coxcomb_ (1610), much of
+which runs on similar lines, is not founded on Cervantes. Southerne, in
+his comedy, _The Disappointment; or, The Mother in Fashion_ (1684) and
+'starch Johnny Crowne' in _The Married Beau_ (1694), both comedies of no
+little wit and merit, are patently indebted to _The Curious
+Impertinent_. Cervantes had also been used three quarters of a century
+before by Nat Field in his _Amends for Ladies_ (4to, 1618), where Sir
+John Loveall tries his wife in an exactly similar manner to Lorenzo,
+Count Philippo and Anselmo.
+
+The amours of the Florentine court are Mrs. Behn's own invention; but
+the device by which Curtius ensnares Frederick is not unlike Vendice and
+Hippolito's trapping of the lecherous old Duke in _The Revenger's
+Tragedy_ (4to, 1607), albeit the saturnine Tourneur gives the whole
+scene a far more terrible and tragic catastrophe.
+
+In January, 1537, Lorenzino de Medici having enticed Duke Alessandro of
+Florence to his house under pretext of an assignation with a certain
+Caterina Ginori, after a terrible struggle assassinated him with the aid
+of a notorious bravo. Several plays have been founded upon this history.
+Notable amongst them are Shirley's admirable tragedy, _The Traitor_
+(licensed May, 1631, 4to 1635) and in later days de Musset's
+_Lorenzaccio_ (1834).
+
+The Mask in Act V of _The Amorous Prince_ is in its purport most
+palpably akin to the Elizabethans.
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+_The Amorous Prince_ was produced by the Duke's Company in the spring of
+1671 at their Lincoln's Inn Fields theatre, whence they migrated in
+November of the same year to the magnificent new house in Dorset Garden.
+No performers' names are given to the comedy, which met with a very good
+reception. It seems to have kept the boards awhile, but there is no
+record of any particular revival.
+
+
+
+
+THE AMOROUS PRINCE.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE.
+
+
+  Well! you expect a _Prologue_ to the Play,
+  And you expect it too Petition-way;
+  With _Chapeau bas_ beseeching you t' excuse
+  A damn'd Intrigue of an unpractis'd Muse;
+  Tell you it's Fortune waits upon your Smiles,
+  And when you frown, Lord, how you kill the whiles!
+  Or else to rally up the Sins of th' Age,
+  And bring each Fop in Town upon the Stage;
+  And in one Prologue run more Vices o'er,
+  Than either Court or City knew before:
+  Ah! that's a Wonder which will please you too,
+  But my Commission's not to please you now.
+  First then for you grave _Dons_, who love no Play
+  But what is regular, Great _Johnson's_ way;
+  Who hate the _Monsieur_ with the Farce and Droll,
+  But are for things well said with Spirit and Soul;
+  'Tis you I mean, whose Judgments will admit
+  No Interludes of fooling with your Wit;
+  You're here defeated, and anon will cry,
+  'Sdeath! wou'd 'twere Treason to write Comedy.
+  So! there's a Party lost; now for the rest,
+  Who swear they'd rather hear a smutty Jest
+  Spoken by _Nokes_ or _Angel_, than a Scene
+  Of the admir'd and well penn'd _Cataline_;
+  Who love the comick Hat, the Jig and Dance,
+  Things that are fitted to their Ignorance:
+  You too are quite undone, for here's no Farce
+  Damn me! you'll cry, this Play will be mine A----
+  Not serious, nor yet comick, what is't then?
+  Th' imperfect issue of a lukewarm Brain:
+  'Twas born before its time, and such a Whelp;
+  As all the after-lickings could not help.
+  Bait it then as ye please, we'll not defend it,
+  But he that dis-approves it, let him mend it._
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE
+
+
+MEN.
+
+  _Frederick_, Son to the Duke.
+  _Curtius_, his Friend.
+  _Lorenzo_, a rich extravagant Lord,
+    a kind of Favourite to _Frederick_.
+  _Salvator_, Father to _Lorenzo_ and _Laura_.
+  _Antonio_, a Nobleman of _Florence_.
+  _Alberto_, his dear Friend, a Nobleman also.
+  _Pietro_, Man to _Curtius_.
+  _Galliard_, Servant to the Prince.
+  _Guilliam_, Man to _Cloris_, a Country-fellow.
+  Valet to _Antonio_.
+
+
+WOMEN.
+
+  _Clarina_, Wife to _Antonio_.
+  _Ismena_, Sister to _Antonio_, in love with _Alberto_.
+  _Laura_, Sister to _Lorenzo_, in love with _Curtius_.
+  _Cloris_, Sister to _Curtius_, disguis'd like a Country Maid,
+    in love with _Frederick_.
+  _Isabella_, Woman to _Clarina_.
+  _Lucia_, Maid to _Cloris_.
+  Pages and Musick.
+
+
+  SCENE, The Court of _Florence_.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. The Chamber of _Cloris_.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_ drest in her Night Attire, with _Frederick_
+    dressing himself.
+
+  _Clo._ And will you leave me now to Fears,
+  Which Love it self can hardly satisfy?
+  But those, and that together sure will kill me,
+  If you stay long away.
+
+  _Fred._ My Dear, 'tis almost day, and we must part;
+  Should those rude Eyes 'mongst whom thou dwell'st perceive us,
+  'Twould prove unhappy both to thee and me.
+
+  _Clo._ And will you, Sir, be constant to your Vows?
+
+  _Fred._ Ah Cloris! do not question what I've sworn;
+  If thou would'st have it once again repeated,
+  I'll do't. By all that's good, I'll marry thee;
+  By that most Holy Altar, before which we kneel'd,
+  When first I saw the brightest Saint that e'er ador'd it;
+  I'll marry none but thee, my dearest _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ Sir, you have said enough to gain a credit
+  With any Maid, though she had been deceiv'd
+  By some such Flatteries as these before.
+  I never knew the pains of Fear till now;    [Sighs.
+  And you must needs forgive the Faults you make,
+  For had I still remain'd in Innocence,
+  I should have still believ'd you.
+
+  _Fred._ Why, dost thou not, my Love?
+
+  _Clo._ Some doubts I have, but when I look on you,
+  Though I must blush to do so, they all vanish;
+  But I provide against your absence, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ Make no provision, _Cloris_, but of Hope,
+  Prepare thy self against a Wedding day,
+  When thou shalt be a little Deity on Earth.
+
+  _Clo._ I know not what it is to dwell in Courts,
+  But sure it must be fine, since you are there;
+  Yet I could wish you were an humble Shepherd,
+  And knew no other Palace than this Cottage;
+  Where I would weave you Crowns, of Pinks and Daisies,
+  And you should be a Monarch every _May_.
+
+  _Fred._ And, _Cloris_, I could be content to sit
+  With thee, upon some shady River's Bank,
+  To hear thee sing, and tell a Tale of Love.
+  For these, alas! I could do any thing;
+  A Sheep-hook I could prize above a Sword;
+  An Army I would quit to lead a Flock,
+  And more esteem that Chaplet wreath'd by thee,
+  Than the victorious Bays:
+  All this I could, but, Dear, I have a Father,
+  Whom for thy sake, to make thee great and glorious,
+  I would not lose my Int'rest with.
+  But, _Cloris_, see, the unkind day approaches,
+  And we must kiss and part.
+
+  _Clo._ Unkind it is indeed, may it prove so
+  To all that wish its presence,
+  And pass as soon away,
+  That welcome Night may re-assume its place,
+  And bring you quickly back.
+
+  _Fred._ With great impatience I'll expect that Hour,
+  That shall conduct me in its Shades to thee;
+  Farewel.
+
+  _Clo._ Farewel, Sir, if you must be gone.    [Sighs.
+
+  _Fred._ One Kiss, and then indeed I will be gone.    [Kisses her.
+    A new blown Rose kist by the Morning Dew,
+  Has not more natural Sweetness.
+  Ah _Cloris_! can you doubt that Heart,
+  To whom such Blessings you impart?
+  Unjustly you suspect that Prize,
+  Won by such Touches and such Eyes.
+  My Fairest, turn that Face away,
+  Unless I could for ever stay;
+  Turn but a little while I go.
+
+  _Clo._ Sir, I must see the last of you.
+
+  _Fred._ I dare not disobey; adieu till Evening.    [Exit.
+
+    Enter _Lucia_.
+
+  _Clo._ How now, _Lucia_; is my Father up?
+
+  _Luc._ No, not a Mouse stirs yet; I have kept a true
+  Watch all this Night, for I was cruelly afraid
+  Lest we should have been surpriz'd--
+  Is the Prince gone? but why do I ask,
+  That may read it in your sad Looks?
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, he is gone, and with him too has taken--    [Sighs.
+
+_Luc._ What has he taken? I'll swear you frighten me.
+
+_Clo._ My heart, _Lucia_.
+
+_Luc._ Your Heart, I am glad 'tis no worse.
+
+_Clo._ Why, what dost think he should have taken?
+
+  _Luc._ A thing more hard to have been
+  Recovered again.
+
+  _Clo._ What thing, prithee?
+
+  _Luc._ Your Maiden-head.
+
+  _Clo._ What's that?
+
+  _Luc._ A thing young Gallants long extremely for,
+  And when they have it too, they say
+  They care not a Daisy for the Giver.
+
+  _Clo._ How comest thou so wise, _Lucia_?
+
+  _Luc._ Oh, the fine Gentleman that comes a-nights
+  With the Prince, told me so much, and bid me
+  Be sure never to part with it for fine Words;
+  For Men would lye as often as they swore;
+  And so bid me tell you too.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh _Lucia_!
+
+  _Luc._ Why do you sigh?
+
+  _Clo._ To think if Princes were like common Men,
+  How I should be undone,
+  Since I have given him all I had to give;
+  And who that looks on him can blame my Faith?
+
+  _Luc._ Indeed he surpasses _Damon_ far;
+  But I'ad forgot my self, you are the Prince's Wife;
+  He said you should be kneel'd to, and ador'd,
+  And never look'd on but on Holy-days:
+  That many Maids should wait upon your call,
+  And strow fine Flowers for you to tread upon.
+  Musick and Love should daily fill your Ears,
+  And all your other Senses should be ravish'd
+  With wonders of each kind great as your Beauty.
+
+  _Clo._ _Lucia_, methinks you have learnt to speak fine things.
+
+  _Luc._ I have a thousand more I've heard him say;
+  Oh, I could listen a whole Night to hear him talk:
+  But hark, I hear a Noise, the House is up,
+  And must not find us here.
+
+  _Clo._ Lock up this Box of Jewels for me.
+
+  _Luc._ Oh rare! what, did these come to night?
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, yes, away.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Grove.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_ and _Pietro_.
+
+  _Cur._ I wonder the Prince stays so long;
+  I do not like these Night-works;
+  Were I not confident of _Cloris's_ Virtue,
+  --Which shall no more be tempted.
+  I hear some coming, and hope 'tis he--
+  _Pietro_, are the Horses ready?    [Exit _Pietro_.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_.
+
+_Cur._ Sir, you are welcome from _Cloris's_ Arms.
+
+  _Fred._ With much ado, I am got loose from those fair
+  Fetters, but not from those of her Beauty;
+  By these she still inflames me,
+  In spite of all my humours of Inconstancy;
+  So soft and young, so fair and innocent,
+  So full of Air, and yet of Languishment;
+  So much of Nature in her Heart and Eyes,
+  So timorous and so kind without disguise:
+  Such untaught Sweets in every part do move,
+  As 'gainst my Reason does compel my Love;
+  Such artless smiles, look so unorder'd too,
+  Gains more than all the charms of Courts can do;
+  From Head to Foot, a spotless Statue seems,
+  As Art, not Nature, had compos'd her Limbs;
+  So white, and so unblemish'd, oh _Curtius_!
+  I'm ravisht beyond Sense when I but think on't;
+  How much more must my Surprize be,
+  When I behold these Wonders.
+
+  _Cur._ And have you seen her, Sir, in all this Beauty?
+  Oh Hell!    [Aside.
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_, I will not hide my Soul from thee;
+  I have seen all the marvels of that Maid.
+
+  _Cur._ My Soul, learn now the Art of being disguis'd;    [Aside.
+  --'Tis much, my Lord, that one
+  Bred in such simple Innocence,
+  Should learn so soon so much of Confidence:
+  Pray, Sir, what Arts and Cunning do you use?
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, time and importunity refuse no body.
+
+  _Cur._ Is that the way? had you no other Aids?
+  Made you no promise to her, Sir, of Marriage?
+
+  _Fred._ Oh, yes, in abundance, that's your only bait,
+  And though they cannot hope we will perform it,
+  Yet it secures their Honour and my Pleasure.
+
+  _Cur._ Then, Sir, you have enjoy'd her?
+
+  _Fred._ Oh, yes, and gather'd Sweets
+  Would make an Anchoret neglect his Vow,
+  And think he had mistook his way to future bliss,
+  Which only can be found in such Embraces;
+  'Twas hard to gain, but, _Curtius_, when once Victor,
+  Oh, how the joys of Conquest did enslave me!
+
+  _Cur._ But, Sir, methinks 'tis much that she should yield,
+  With only a bare promise that you'd marry her.
+
+  _Fred._ Yes, there was something more--but--
+
+  _Cur._ But, what, Sir, you are not married.
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, yes, I've made a Vow,
+  And that you know would go as far with any other Man.
+
+  _Cur._ But she it seems forgot you were the Prince?
+
+  _Fred._ No, she urg'd that too,
+  And left no Arguments unus'd
+  Might make me sensible of what I did;
+  But I was fixt, and overcame them all,
+  Repeating still my Vows and Passions for her,
+  Till in the presence of her Maid and Heaven
+  We solemnly contracted.
+
+  _Cur._ But, Sir, by your permission, was it well?
+
+  _Fred._ What wouldst thou have him do
+  That's all on fire, and dies for an Enjoyment?
+
+  _Cur._ But having gain'd it, do you love her still?
+
+  _Fred._ Yes, yes, extremely,
+  And would be constant to the Vows I've made,
+  Were I a Man, as thou art of thy self;
+  But with the aid of Counsels I must chuse,
+  And what my Soul adores I must refuse.
+
+  _Cur._ This Passion, Sir, Possession will destroy,
+  And you'l love less, the more you do enjoy.
+
+  _Fred._ That's all my hope of cure; I'll ply that game,
+  And slacken by degrees th' unworthy flame.
+
+  _Cur._ Methinks, my Lord, it had more generous been
+  To've check'd that flame when first it did begin,
+  E'er you the slighted Victory had won,
+  And a poor harmless Virgin quite undone:
+  And what is worse, you've made her love you too.
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, that's the greater mischief of the two;
+  I know to such nice virtuous Souls as thine,
+  My juster Inclination is a Crime:
+  But I love Pleasures which thou canst not prize,
+  Beyond dull gazing on thy Mistress Eyes,
+  The lovely Object which enslaves my Heart,
+  Must yet more certain Cures than Smiles impart:
+  --And you on _Laura_ have the same design.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Sir, when justify'd by Laws Divine.
+
+  _Fred._ Divine! a pleasant Warrant for your Sin,
+  Which being not made, we ne'er had guilty been.
+  But now we speak of _Laura_,
+  Prithee, when is't that I shall see that Beauty?
+
+  _Cur._ Never, I hope. [Aside.] I know not, Sir,
+  Her Father still is cruel, and denies me,
+  What she and I have long made suit in vain for:
+  But, Sir, your Interest might prevail with him,
+  When he shall know I'm one whom you esteem;
+  He will allow my flame, and my address,
+  He whom you favour cannot doubt Success.
+
+  _Fred._ This day I will begin to serve thee in it.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, 'twill be difficult to get access to her,
+  Her Father is an humorous old Man,
+  And has his fits of Pride and Kindness too.
+
+  _Fred._ Well, after Dinner I will try my Power,
+  And will not quit his Lodgings till I've won him.
+
+  _Cur._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ Come let us haste, the Day comes on apace.    [Ex. _Fred._
+
+  _Cur._ I'll wait upon you, Sir.
+  Oh _Cloris_, thou'rt undone, false amorous Girl;
+  Was it for this I bred thee in obscurity,
+  Without permitting thee to know what Courts meant,
+  Lest their too powerful Temptation
+  Might have betray'd thy Soul?
+  Not suffering thee to know thy Name or Parents,
+  Thinking an humble Life might have secur'd thy Virtue:
+  And yet I should not hate thee for this Sin,
+  Since thou art bred in so much Innocence,
+  Thou couldst not dream of Falsity in Men:
+  Oh, that it were permitted me to kill this Prince,
+  This false perfidious Prince;
+  And yet he knows not that he has abus'd me.
+  When did I know a Man of so much Virtue,
+  That would refuse so sweet and soft a Maid?
+  --No, he is just and good, only too much misled
+  By Youth and Flattery;
+  And one to whom my Soul is ty'd by Friendship;
+  --Yet what's a Friend, a name above a Sister?
+  Is not her Honour mine?
+  And shall not I revenge the loss of it?
+  It is but common Justice.
+  But first I'll try all gentle means I may,
+  And let him know that _Cloris_ is my Sister;
+  And if he then persevere in his Crime,
+  I'll lay my Interest and my Duty by,
+  And punish him, or with my Honour die.    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE III. The Apartment of _Antonio_.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ pulling in of _Isabella_.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, nay, _Isabella_, there's no avoiding me now,
+  You and I must come to a parley.
+  Pray what's the reason
+  You took no notice of me,
+  When I came with so civil an address too?
+
+  _Isab._ Can you ever think to thrive in an Amour,
+  When you take notice of your Mistress,
+  Or any that belongs to her, in publick,
+  And when she's a married Woman too?
+
+  _Lor._ Good _Isabella_, the loser may have leave to speak,
+  I am sure it has been a plaguy dear Amour to me.
+
+  _Isab._ Let me hear you name that again,
+  And you shall miss of my Assistance.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, do but hear me a little;
+  I vow 'tis the strangest thing in the World,
+  A Man must part from so much Money as I have done,
+  And be confin'd to Signs and Grimaces only,
+  To declare his Mind in:
+  If a Man has a Tongue, let him exercise it, I say,
+  As long as he pays for speaking.
+
+  _Isab._ Again with your paying for't? I see you are not
+  To be reclaim'd; farewel--
+
+  _Lor._ Stay, good _Isabella_, stay,
+  And thou shalt hear not one word of that more,
+  Though I am soundly urg'd to't.
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, yes, pray count them, do;
+  I know you long to be at it,
+  And I am sure you will find you are in Arrears to us.
+
+  _Lor._ Say you so, I am not of that opinion: but well,
+  --Let me see--here 'tis, here 'tis--
+  My Bill of Charge for courting _Clarina_.
+    [Draws out his Table Book, and reads.
+
+  _Isab._ And here's mine for the returns that have been
+  Made you; begin, begin.    [Pulls out her Book.
+
+  _Lor._ _Item_, two hundred Crowns to _Isabella_ for undertaking.
+
+  _Isab_. _Item_, I have promis'd _Lorenzo_ to serve him
+  In his Amour with all Fidelity.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, I own that Debt paid, if you keep
+  Your word--out with it then--    [He crosses that out.
+  _Item_, two thousand Crowns in a Bracelet for _Clarina_;
+  What say you to that now, _Isabella_?
+
+  _Isab._ _Item_, the day after they were presented,
+  She saluted you with a smile at the Chappel.
+
+  _Lor._ And dost thou think it was not dearly bought?
+
+  _Isab._ No Man in _Florence_ should have had it
+  A Souce cheaper.
+
+  _Lor._ Say you so, _Isabella_? out with it then.    [Crosses it out.
+  _Item_, one hundred more to thee for presenting them.
+
+  _Isab._ Which I did with six lyes in your Commendation,
+  Worth ten Pistoles a piece for the exactness of a Lye;
+  Write there indebted to me--
+
+  _Lor._ Nay then thou dost deserve it:
+  Rest due to _Isabella_.    [Writes.
+  _Item_, Innumerable Serenades, Night-walks, Affronts
+  And Fears; and lastly, to the Poets for Songs, and the like.
+
+  _Isab._ All which was recompensed in the excessive
+  Laughing on you that Day you praunc'd under our
+  Window on Horse-back, when you made such a
+  Deal of Capriol and Curvet.
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, where I ventur'd my Neck to shew my
+  Activity, and therefore may be well accompted
+  Amongst my Losses.
+
+  _Isab._ Then she receiv'd your Presents,
+  Suffer'd your Serenades, without sending her Foot-men
+  To break your Pate with the Fiddles.
+
+  _Lor._ Indeed that was one of the best Signs;
+  For I have been a great Sufferer in that kind
+  Upon the like occasions: but dost thou think
+  In Conscience that this should satisfy?
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, any reasonable Man in the World, for the
+  First Month at least; and yet you are still up
+  With your Expences, as if a Lady of her Quality
+  Were to be gain'd without them.
+  --Let me hear of your Expences more, and I'll--
+
+  _Lor._ Oh sweet _Isabella_! upon my Knees
+  I beg thou wilt take no fatal Resolution;
+  For I protest, as I am a Man of Honour,
+  And adore thy Sex, thou shalt only see,
+  Not hear of my Expences more;
+  And for a small testimony of it, here take this;
+  There's twenty Pistoles upon Reputation.    [Gives her Money.
+
+  _Isab._ Fy, fy, 'tis not brave, nor generous to name
+  The Sum, you should have slid it into my Coat,
+  Without saying what you had done.
+
+  _Lor._ What signifies that, mun, as long as 'tis current,
+  And you have it sure?
+
+  _Isab._ Well, leave the management of your Affairs to me--
+  What shall we do? here's _Alberto_.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+_Lor._ Well, who can help it? I cannot walk invisible.
+
+_Alb._ _Lorenzo_, what, making Love to _Isabella_?
+
+_Lor._ She'l serve, my Lord, for want of a better.
+
+_Isab._ That's but a coarse Complement.
+
+_Lor._ 'Twill serve to disguise a Truth however.    [Aside to her.
+    [Ex. _Isab._
+  Faith, I'll tell you, Sir, 'twas such another Damsel
+  As this, that sav'd me five hundred Pound once upon a time;
+  And I have lov'd the whole Tribe of Waiting-women
+  The better ever since.
+
+_Alb._ You have reason; how was it?
+
+  _Lor._ Why, look you, Sir,
+  I had made Love a long time to a Lady;
+  But she shall be nameless,
+  Since she was of a quality not to be gain'd under
+  The aforesaid Sum: well, I brought it,
+  Came pouder'd and perfum'd, and high in expectation.
+
+_Alb._ Well, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ And she had a very pretty Wench, who was to
+  Conduct me, and in the dark too;
+  And, on my Conscience, I e'en fell aboard of her,
+  And was as well accommodated for my five,
+  As five Hundred Pounds, and so return'd.
+
+  _Alb._ A great defeat to the Lady the while, a my word.
+
+  _Lor._ Ay, she smelt the Plot, and made a Vow to follow
+  The _Italian_ mode for the future;
+  And be serv'd in Affairs of that kind by none
+  But an old Woman.
+
+  _Alb._ 'Twas wittily resolv'd.
+
+  _Lor._ Are you for the Presence this Morning?
+
+  _Alb._ No, I have business here with _Antonio_.
+
+  _Lor._ Your Servant, my Lord.    [Exit.
+
+  _Alb._ I do not like this Fellow's being here,
+  The most notorious Pimp and Rascal in _Italy_;
+  'Tis a vile shame that such as he should live,
+  Who have the form and sense of Man about them,
+  And in their Action Beast;
+  And that he thrives by too.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_.
+
+  --_Isabella_, is _Antonio_ stirring?
+
+  _Isab._ He is, please your Lordship to walk in.
+
+  _Alb._ You may tell him I wait here:
+  For I would avoid all opportunity of seeing _Clarina_.    [Aside.
+
+_Isab._ My Lord, you need not stand upon Ceremonies.    [Exit _Alberto_.
+
+    Enter _Clarina_ and _Ismena_, dress'd like one another in every
+    thing, laughing and beholding one another.
+
+  --Dress'd already! now on my conscience
+  I know not which is which:
+  Pray God _Antonio_ be not mistaken at night,
+  For I'll be sworn I am by day-light.
+
+  _Ism._ Dost think I may pass thus for _Clarina_?
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, you are the same to a hair;
+  Wou'd I might never stir
+  If I can do any thing but wonder.
+
+  _Clar._ But hark, _Isabella_, if thou shou'dst have
+  Heard amiss, and that thy information should not be good,
+  Thou hast defeated us of a design,
+  Wherein we promise our selves no little pleasure.
+
+  _Ism._ Yes, I vow, all the Jest is lost if it be so.
+
+  _Isab._ I doubt 'twill be a true Jest on your side.    [Aside.
+  --I warrant you, Madam, my Intelligence is good;
+  And to assure you of what I have said,
+  I dare undertake you shall hear the same over again:
+  For just now _Alberto_ is come to visit my Lord,
+  Who I am sure will entertain him with no other stories,
+  But those of his Jealousy,
+  And to persuade him to court you.
+
+  _Clar._ 'Tis strange, since he set him that Task so long ago,
+  He would not begin before.
+
+  _Ism._ Nay, pray God he begin now;
+  Sister, he has hitherto took me for thee,
+  And sometimes his Eyes give me hope of a secret
+  Fire within, but 'twill not out;
+  And I am so impatient till he declares himself,
+  That if he do not do it soon,
+  I shall e'en tell him who I am;
+  For perhaps the Wife takes off the appetite,
+  Which would sharpen upon knowledge of the Virgin.
+
+  _Clar._ What then, you'll have all the sport to your self?
+  --But, _Ismena_, remember my little Revenge on _Antonio_
+  Must accompany your Love to _Alberto_.    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ But why this resemblance?
+  For, Madam, since he never saw you,
+  And takes _Ismena_ to be you;
+  Might you not still pass so, without this likeness?
+
+  _Clar._ Didst thou not say _Antonio_ left the Court
+  And City, on purpose to give _Alberto_ the more freedom
+  To Court me?--Whilst he was away, I needed but retire,
+  And _Ismena_ appear, and 'twould suffice;
+  But now he is return'd,
+  He may chance to see them together, _en passant_, or so,
+  And this dress will abuse him as well as _Alberto_;
+  For without that, this Plot of ours signifies little.
+
+  _Ism._ Ay, truly, for my part, I have no other design
+  Than doing my Sister a service.
+
+  _Isab._ The Plot is very likely to thrive I see,
+  Since you are so good at dissembling.
+
+  _Ism._ Fie, _Isabella_, what an ill opinion you have of me?
+  --But, Sister, 'tis much _Alberto_ being so intimate
+  With _Antonio_, should never see you all this whole
+  Six Months of your being married.
+
+  _Clar._ Had you been bred any where
+  But in a Monastery, you would have known
+  'Tis not the custom here for Men to expose their
+  Wives to the view of any.
+
+  _Isab._ I hear them coming, let's away,
+  And pray listen to the Truths I have already told you.
+    [They retire.
+
+
+SCENE IV. The Same.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_ and _Alberto_. _Clarina_ and _Ismena_ listen.
+
+  _Alb._ Once more, _Antonio_, welcome back to Court.
+
+  _Ant._ Oh my dear Friend, I long'd for thy Embraces;
+  --How goes the Game I left with thee to play?
+  What says my Wife, my beautiful _Clarina_?
+
+  _Alb._ _Clarina!_--
+
+  _Ant._ Yes, _Clarina_, have you not seen her yet?
+  I left the Court on purpose, for 'twas not handsome
+  For me to introduce you,
+  Lest she had look'd upon't as some design.
+
+  _Alb._ Seen her--yes--
+
+  _Ant._ And I conjur'd her too, to give you freedoms
+  Even equal to _Antonio_;
+  As far as I durst press with modesty,
+  And with pretence of Friendship;
+  And have you not attempted her?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes--but 'tis in vain.
+
+  _Ant._ Oh villanous Dissembler!    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ She's cruel, strangely cruel,
+  And I'm resolv'd to give the Courtship o'er.
+
+  _Ant._ Sure, Friend, thou hast not us'd thy wonted power.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, all that I know I'm master of, I us'd.
+
+  _Ant._ But didst thou urge it home? did she not see
+  Thy Words and Actions did not well agree?
+  Canst thou dissemble well? didst cry and melt,
+  As if the pain you but express'd, you felt?
+  Didst kneel, and swear, and urge thy Quality,
+  Heightning it too with some Disgrace on me?
+  And didst thou too assail her feeble side?
+  For the best bait to Woman is her Pride;
+  Which some mis-call her Guard:
+  Didst thou present her with the set of Jewels?
+  For Women naturally are more inclin'd
+  To Avarice, than Men: pray tell me, Friend.
+  --Vile Woman! did she take them--
+
+  _Alb._ I never ask'd her that.
+
+  _Clar._ Poor _Antonio_, how I pity him.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ No!
+
+  _Alb_. No, I've done enough to satisfy thy Jealousy.
+  Here, take your set of Jewels back again;    [Gives a Box.
+  Upon my Life _Clarina_ is all Chastity.
+
+  _Ant._ I were the happiest Man on Earth, were this but true;
+  But what are single Courtships?--give her these,
+  Which will assist thy Tongue to win her Heart;
+  And that once got, the other soon will follow;
+  There's far more Women won by Gold than Industry:
+  Try that, my dear _Alberto_,
+  And save thy Eyes the trouble of dissembling.
+
+  _Alb._ Content thee here, and do not tempt thy Fate,
+  I have regard unto thy Honour, Friend;
+  And should she yield, as Women are no Gods,
+  Where were thy future Joys?
+  What is't could make thee happy, or restore
+  That true Contentment which thou hadst before?
+  Alas! thou tempt'st me too, for I am frail,
+  And Love above my Friendship may prevail.
+
+  _Ant._ This will not do;
+  No, as thou art my Friend, and lov'st my Honour,
+  Pursue _Clarina_ further;
+  Rally afresh, and charge her with this Present,
+  Disturb her every night with Serenades;
+  Make Love-Songs to her, and then sing them too;
+  Thou hast a Voice enough alone to conquer.
+
+  _Alb._ Fool, _Antonio_!    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ Come, wilt thou undertake it once again?
+
+  _Alb._ I would not.
+
+  _Ant._ I am resolv'd to get this tryal made,
+  And if thou dost refuse thy Amity,
+  I'll try a Friend more willing, though less faithful;
+  With thee my Wife and Honour too are safe,
+  For should she yield, and I by that were lost,
+  'Twere yet some ease,
+  That none but thou wert witness to't.
+
+  _Alb._ Well, if it must be done, I'ad rather do't,
+  Than you should be expos'd to th' scorn of others.
+
+  _Ant._ Spoke like my noble Friend;
+  Come dine with her to day, for I must leave you,
+  And give you all the opportunity
+  A real Lover wishes with a Mistress.
+
+  _Ism._ So we have heard enough.
+
+    [Ex. _Clar._ and _Ism._
+
+  _Ant._ Oh, were _Clarina_ chaste, as on my Soul
+  I cannot doubt, more than that I believe
+  All Womankind may be seduc'd from Virtue;
+  I were the Man of all the World most bless'd
+  In such a Wife, and such a Friend as thou.
+
+  _Alb._ But what if I prevail, _Antonio_?
+
+  _Ant._ Then I'll renounce my faith in Womankind,
+  And place my satisfaction in thy Amity.
+  --But see, she comes, I'll leave you to your task.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
+
+  _Ism._ Antonio not yet gone--
+  This must secure me.    [Pulls down her Veil.
+
+  _Ant._ _Clarina_, why thus clouded?
+
+  _Isab._ I see he has most happily mistaken.
+
+  _Ism._ I was going, Sir, to visit _Laura_--
+
+  _Ant._ You must not go, I've business to the Duke,
+  And you must entertain my Friend till my return;
+  It is a freedom not usual here amongst Ladies,
+  But I will have it so;
+  Whom I esteem, I'll have you do so too.
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, I am all obedience.
+    [Exit _Antonio_, she pulls off her Veil; _Alberto_ salutes her
+    with seeming lowness.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, how my Soul's divided
+  Between my Adoration and my Amity!    [Aside.
+  Friendship, thou sacred band, hold fast thy Interest;
+  For yonder Beauty has a subtle power,
+  And can undo that knot, which other Arts
+  Could ne'er invent a way for.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_, and listens at the Door.
+
+  _Ant._ I'll see a little how he behaves himself.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ But she's _Antonio's_ Wife; my Friend _Antonio_.    [Aside.
+  A Youth that made an Interest in my Soul,
+  When I had Language scarce to express my sense of it.
+
+  _Ant._ Death! he speaks not to her.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ So grew we up to Man, and still more fixt;
+  And shall a gaudy Beauty,
+  A thing which t'other day I never saw,
+  Deprive my Heart of that kind Heat,
+  And place a new and unknown Fire within?    [Aside.
+  _Clarina_, 'tis unjust.
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, did you speak to me?
+
+  _Alb._ I have betray'd my self--    [Aside.
+  Madam, I was saying how unjust it was
+  _Antonio_ should leave me alone with a Lady,
+  Being certainly the worst to entertain them in the World.
+
+  _Ant._ His Face assures me he speaks of no Love to her now.
+
+  _Ism._ Alas, he speaks not to me.
+  Sure _Isabella_ was mistaken, who told me that he lov'd me.
+  --_Alberto_, if thou art oblig'd to me,    [Aside.
+  For what I have not yet observ'd in thee,
+  Oh, do not say my Heart was easily won,
+  But blame your Eyes, whose forces none can shun.
+
+  _Ant._ Not a word, what can he mean by this?
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, will you please to sit a while?
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, the inner Chamber is much better,
+  For there he may repose upon the Cushions
+  Till my Lord's return; I see he is not well--
+  --And you are both sick of one Disease.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ I thank you, here's more Air,
+  --And that I need, for I am all on fire,    [Aside.
+  And every Look adds fuel to my flame.
+  --I must avoid those Eyes, whose Light misguides me:
+  --Madam, I have some business calls me hence,
+  And cannot wait my Friend's return.
+
+  _Ism._ _Antonio_, Sir, will think 'tis my neglect
+  That drove you hence; pray stay a little longer.
+
+  _Alb._ You shall command me, if you can dispense
+  With so dull Company.
+
+  _Ism._ I can with any thing _Antonio_ loves.
+
+  _Alb_. Madam, it is a Virtue that becomes you;
+  For though your Husband should not merit this,
+  Your Goodness is not less to be admir'd;
+  But he's a Man so truly worth your Kindness,
+  That 'twere a Sin to doubt
+  Your Passion for him were not justly paid.
+
+  _Ism._ Sir, I believe you, and I hope he thinks
+  That my opinion of him equals yours;
+  'Tis plain he loves me not;    [Aside.
+  Perhaps his Virtue, thinking me _Clarina_,
+  May hide the real Passion of his Soul.
+  Oh Love, what dangerous Paths thou mak'st us tread!
+
+  _Ant._ Cold, cold as Devotion, oh inhuman Friendship!    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ What shall I do next? I must either be rude,
+  And say nothing, or speak of Love to her;
+  And then, my Friend, thou'rt lost should I prevail,
+  And I'm undone should she not hear my Tale,
+  Which for the World I would not have her hear;
+  And yet I fear my Eyes too much declare.
+
+  _Ism._ Since he's in so ill an Humour, let's leave him,
+  I'm satisfy'd now that thou'rt mistaken.
+    [Ex. _Ismena_ and _Isabella_ unseen.
+
+  _Alb._ But they shall gaze no more on hers,
+  Nor stray beyond the limits of a just Salute.
+  --I will my Honour to my Love prefer,
+  And my _Antonio_ shall out-rival her.
+    [Looks about, and misses them.
+  --Ah, am I left alone! how frail is Man!
+  That which last Moment I resolv'd upon,
+  I find my Heart already disapprove,
+  And grieve her loss; can this be ought but Love?
+  My Soul's dissatisfy'd now she is gone,
+  And yet but now I wish'd to be alone.
+  --Inform me, Love, who shares the better part,
+  Friendship, or thee, in my divided Heart.    [Offers to go.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_, and stays him.
+
+  _Ant._ Whither in such haste?
+  Thou look'st e'en as sad as a Lover repuls'd,
+  I fear that Fate's not thine.
+
+  _Alb._ Now for a lye to satisfy him.    [Aside.
+  Prithee discharge me of this toil of dissembling,
+  Of which I grow as weary as she's of hearing it.
+
+  _Ant._ Indeed!
+
+  _Alb._ Sure thou hast a design to make her hate me.
+
+  _Ant._ Do you think so in earnest, why, was she angry?
+
+  _Alb._ Oh! hadst thou seen her pretty blushing Scorn,
+  Which she would fain have hid,
+  Thou wouldst have pitied what I made her suffer.
+
+  _Ant._ Is't possible!
+  And didst present her with the Box of Jewels?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes.
+
+  _Ant._ And kneel, and cry and swear, and--
+
+  _Alb._ All, all.
+
+  _Ant._ I hardly gave thee time for so much Courtship,
+  --But you are sure she was displeased with it?
+
+  _Alb._ Extremely.
+
+  _Ant._ Enough, _Alberto_; adieu to thee and Friendship.
+
+  _Alb._ What mean you?
+
+  _Ant._ Ask your own Guilt, it will inform thee best.
+
+  _Alb._ Thou canst not think _Clarina_ has abus'd thee.
+
+  _Ant._ I do not think she has, nor have you try'd her;
+  In that you have not only disoblig'd me,
+  But now you would impose upon my Weakness
+  --Did I not see how unconcern'd you were,
+  And hardly paying her a due respect;
+  And when she even invited thee to speak,
+  Most rudely thou wert silent?
+
+  _Alb._ Be calm, _Antonio_, I confess my error,
+  And hate that Virtue taught me to deceive thee;
+  --Here, take my Hand,--
+  I'll serve you in good earnest.
+
+  _Ant._ And now I do believe thee,
+  Go--thou shalt lose no time, I must away,
+  My Soul's in torment, till I am confirm'd
+  Of my _Clarina's_ Virtue;
+  I do believe thou hast a generous Shame,
+  For what thou'st said and done to me thy Friend.
+  For could I doubt thy Love, oh, how ridiculous
+  This act of mine would seem!
+  But 'tis to thee, as to my Soul I come,
+  Disputing every petty Crime and Doubt.
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio_, if there need an Oath between us--
+
+  _Ant._ No, I credit thee; go in,
+  And prithee dress thy Eyes in all their Charms;
+  For this uncertainty disturbs me more,
+  Than if I knew _Clarina_ were a--Whore.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. The Apartment of _Frederick_.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_ with a Letter, and _Galliard_.
+
+  _Fred._ Not allow me to speak to her, say ye, 'tis strange;
+  Didst say it was the Prince that sent thee?
+
+  _Gal._ My Lord, I did, but he says, he cares not for
+  A thousand Princes.
+
+  _Fred._ I am resolv'd I will see this Woman;
+  --Harkye, go back again and say--    [Whispers.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ drunk.
+
+  _Lor._ Hah, the Prince--he must not see me
+  In this pickle; for I would not lose my Reputation
+  Of Wenching for this of Drinking;
+  And I am sure I cannot be excellent at both,
+  They are inconsistent.
+
+  _Gal._ I shall, my Lord.    [Exit.
+
+  _Lor._ Your Highness's humble Servant.
+
+  _Fred._ Ha, ha, what, _Lorenzo_ in debauch?
+
+  _Lor._ Now my Tongue will betray me:--
+  Faith, my Lord, I have took six, but am come briskly off;
+  By this hand, my Lord, I am Cock over five
+  Stout Rogues too, I can tell you, at this sport.
+
+  _Fred._ I did not think thou hadst had that Virtue.
+
+  _Lor._ I'll tell you, Sir, 'tis necessary those of my
+  Office and Quality should have more Virtues
+  Than one to recommend them;
+  But to tell you truth, for now I am most apt for that,
+  I was drunk in mere Malice to day.
+
+  _Fred._ Malice, against whom, prithee?
+
+  _Lor._ Why, why, Sir, the humorous old Fellow,
+  My Father,
+  He will not hear reason from me when I am sober.
+  My Lord, you know _Curtius_ is an honest Fellow,
+  And one of us too;
+  My Sister _Laura_ is a good pretty Wench,
+  He loves her, and she likes him;
+  And because this testy old Blade has done himself,
+  Do you think I can bring him to consider?
+  No, not for my Life, he won't consider, Sir;
+  And now am I got drunk to see how that will edify him.
+
+  _Fred._ How! is _Laura_, the Mistress of _Curtius_, your Sister?
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, marry is she, Sir, at least by the Mother's side;
+  And to tell you truth,
+  We are too good-natur'd to believe
+  _Salvator_ our Father.
+
+  _Fred._ Thy Sister, and Daughter to _Salvator_?
+
+  _Lor._ So said my Mother, but she was handsome;
+  And on my conscience liv'd e'en in such another
+  Debauch'd World as 'tis now, let them say
+  What they will of their primitive Virtue.
+
+  _Fred._ May not I see this Sister of thine, _Lorenzo_?
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, by _Venus_, shall you, Sir,
+  An she were my Mother.
+
+  _Fred._ But art sure thy Father will permit us?
+
+  _Lor._ My Father permit us!
+  He may do what he will when I am sober,
+  But being thus fortify'd with potent Wine,
+  He must yield obedience to my Will.
+  Why, my Lord, I'll tell you,
+  I'll make him ask me blessing when I am in this
+  Almighty Power.
+
+  _Fred._ And is thy Sister so very fine?
+
+  _Lor._ The Girl is well, and if she were not my Sister,
+  I would give you a more certain Proof of my
+  Opinion of her;
+  She has excellent good Hair, fine Teeth,
+  And good Hands, and the best natur'd Fool--
+  Come, come, Sir, I'll bring you to her,
+  And then I'll leave you;
+  For I have a small Affair of Love to dispatch.
+
+  _Fred._ This is a freedom that sutes not with the
+  Humour of an _Italian_.
+
+  _Lor._ No, faith, my Lord; I believe my Mother play'd
+  Foul play with some _Englishman_;
+  I am so willing to do you a good office to my Sister.
+  And if by her Humour you become of that opinion too,
+  I shall hope to render myself more acceptable
+  To you by that Franchise.
+
+    Enter _Galliard_, whispers.
+
+  _Fred._ Thou knowest my grateful Temper,
+  --No matter; here, carry this Letter to _Cloris_,
+  And make some excuse for my not coming this Evening.
+    [Gives him a Letter, and goes out with _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Gal._ So, poor Lass, 'tis a hundred to one if she be not
+  Lay'd by now, and _Laura_ must succeed her:
+  Well, even _Frederick_, I see, is but a Man,
+  But his Youth and Quality will excuse him;
+  And 'twill be call'd Gallantry in him,
+  When in one of us, 'tis Ill-nature and Inconstancy.    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. _Antonio's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
+
+  _Isab._ Nay, Madam, 'tis in vain to deny it;
+  Do you think I have liv'd to these years,
+  And cannot interpret cross Arms, imperfect Replies,
+  Your sudden Weepings, your often Sighing,
+  Your melancholy Walks, and making Verses too?
+  And yet I must not say that this is Love.
+
+  _Ism._ Art thou so notable a Judge of it?
+
+  _Isab._ I should be, or I am a very dull Scholar,
+  For I have lost the foolish Boy as many Darts,
+  As any Woman of my age in _Florence_.
+
+  _Ism._ Thou hast paid dear for thy knowledge then.
+
+  _Isab._ No, the hurt ones did, the other still made good, with very
+little
+  Pain on either side.
+
+  _Ism._ I must confess, I think it is not so hard to get
+  Wounds, as 'tis to get them cur'd again.
+
+  _Isab._ I am not of your opinion, nor ever saw that
+  Man who had not Faults to Cure,
+  As well as Charms to kill.
+
+  _Ism._ Since thou'rt so good a Judge of Men,
+  Prithee tell me how thou lik'st _Alberto_.
+
+  _Isab._ I knew 'twould come to this--    [Aside.
+  Why, well, Madam.
+
+  _Ism._ No more than so?
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, wondrous well, since I am sure he loves you,
+  And that indeed raises a Man's Value.
+
+  _Ism._ Thou art deceiv'd, I do not think he loves me.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, you cannot but see a thousand Marks on't.
+
+  _Ism._ Thou hast more Skill than I;
+  But prithee why does he not tell me so himself?
+
+  _Isab._ Oh Madam, whilst he takes you for _Clarina_,
+  'Twould shew his disrespect to tell his Love?
+  But when he knows _Ismena_ is the Object,
+  He'll tire you with the wish'd for story.
+
+  _Ism._ Ah, thou art a pleasing Flatterer.
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+_Page._ Madam, _Alberto_ is without.
+
+  _Ism._ Tell him I'm indispos'd, and cannot see him now.
+
+  _Isab._ Nay, good Madam, see him now by all means,
+  For I am sure my Lord _Antonio_ is absent on purpose.
+  --Bid him come in, Boy.    [Exit _Page_.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+  _Ism._ _Antonio_, Sir, is not return'd.
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, this Visit was not meant to him,
+  But by a Cause more pressing I am brought,
+  Such as my Passion, not My Friendship taught;
+  A Passion which my Sighs have only shewn,
+  And now beg leave my bashful Tongue may own.
+  The knowledge, Madam, will not much surprise,
+  Which you have gain'd already from mine Eyes;
+  My timorous Heart that way my Tongue would spare,
+  And tells you of the Flames you've kindled there:
+  'Tis long I've suffered under this Constraint,
+  Have always suffer'd, but ne'er made Complaint;
+  And now against my will I must reveal
+  What Love and my Respect would fain conceal.
+
+  _Ism._ What mean you, Sir? what have you seen in me,
+  That should encourage this temerity?
+
+  _Alb._ A world of Beauties, and a world of Charms,
+  And every Smile and Frown begets new harms;
+  In vain I strove my Passion to subdue,
+  Which still increas'd the more I look'd on you;
+  Nor will my Heart permit me to retire,
+  But makes my Eyes the convoys to my Fire,
+  And not one Glance you send is cast away.
+
+  _Ism._ Enough, my Lord, have you nought else to say?
+  The Plot's betray'd, and can no further go;    [Smiles.
+  The Stratagem's discover'd to the Foe;
+  I find _Antonio_ has more Love than Wit,
+  And I'll endeavour too to merit it.
+
+  _Alb._ What you have said, I do confess is true,
+  _Antonio_ beg'd I would make love to you;
+  But, Madam, whilst my heart was unconfin'd,
+  A thousand ways the Treachery I declin'd--
+  But now, _Clarina_, by my Life I swear,
+  It is my own concern that brings me here:
+  Had he been just to you, I had suppress'd
+  The Flames your Eyes have kindled in my Breast;
+  But his Suspicion rais'd my Passion more,
+  And his Injustice taught me to adore:
+  But 'tis a Passion which you may allow,
+  Since its effects shall never injure you.
+
+  _Ism._ You have oblig'd me, Sir, by your Confession,
+  And I shall own it too at such a rate,
+  As both becomes my Duty to _Antonio_,
+  And my Respect to you; but I must beg
+  You'll never name your Passion to me more,
+  That guilty Language, Sir, I must not hear:
+  --And yet your silence kills me.    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ Very well dissembled.    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ I can obey you, Madam, though I cannot live,
+  Whilst you command me silence;
+  For 'tis a Flame that dares not look abroad
+  To seek for pity from another's Eyes.
+
+  _Ism._ How he moves me! if this were real now,
+  Or that he knew to whom he made this Courtship--    [Aside.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, do not turn away as if displeas'd.
+
+  _Ism._ No more, you've discompos'd my thoughts;
+  Be gone, and never let me see thy Face again.
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, I go, and will no more offend you,
+  --But I will look my last--farewel.    [Offers to go.
+
+  _Isab._ Pray, Madam, call him back, he may be desperate.
+  --My Lord, return--
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_, tell me what you'd have me do.
+
+  _Alb._ Ah, Madam, do not put me to my choice,
+  For Lovers are unreasonable;
+  If I might name it, I would have you love me.
+
+  _Ism._ Love you, and what would be the end of that?
+
+  _Alb._ I cannot tell, but wish you were inclin'd
+  To make a tryal, Madam;
+  I have no thought or wish beyond that Blessing,
+  And that once gain'd, sure I should ask no more.
+
+  _Ism._ Were I inclin'd to this, have you consider'd
+  The fatal Consequences which attend
+  The breach of Vows and Friendship?
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, _Antonio_ first was false to you,
+  And not to punish that were such a Virtue
+  As he would never thank you for;
+  By all that's good, till he prov'd so to you,
+  He had my Soul in keeping;
+  But this act makes me resolve
+  To recompense his Folly.
+
+  _Ism._ You've found the easiest Passage to my Heart,
+  You've took it on the weakest side;
+  --But I must beg you will pretend no further.
+
+  _Alb._ Divine _Clarina_, let me pay my thanks
+  In this submissive Posture, and never rise,    [Kneels.
+  Till I can gain so much upon your Credit,
+  As to believe my Passion tends no farther
+  Than to adore you thus--and thus possess you.
+    [Kisses her hand, and bows.
+
+  _Ism._ Have not I dissembled finely, _Isabella_?    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, if you could make me believe 'tis so.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Rise, Sir, and leave me, that I may blush alone
+  For what I've parted with so easily;
+  Pray do not visit me again too soon,
+  --But use your own discretion, and be secret.
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, the blessed Secret here is lodg'd,
+  Which Time shall ne'er reveal to human Knowledge.    [Ex. _Alb._
+
+  _Ism._ I'm glad he's gone before _Antonio's_ return.
+
+    Enter _Laura_ weeping.
+
+  --What, _Laura_, all in Tears! the reason, pray.
+
+  _Lau._ Madam, the Prince, conducted by my Brother,
+  About an Hour since made me a Visit;
+  The Man of all the World I would have shun'd,
+  Knowing his amorous and inconstant Temper.
+  --At his approach he blusht and started back,
+  And I with great amazement did the like.
+  With fear I lost all power of going from him.
+  As he had done of making his Address;
+  He gaz'd and wonder'd, and I gaz'd on him,
+  And from his silence I became amaz'd.
+  --My Brother stood confounded at our Postures,
+  And only by the motion of his Head
+  (Which now he turn'd to me, then on the Prince)
+  We knew that he had Life.
+
+  _Ism._ Well, how recover'd ye?
+
+  _Lau._ The Prince then kneel'd, but could approach no nearer;
+  And then as if he'd taken me for some Deity,
+  He made a long disorder'd amorous Speech,
+  Which brought me back to Sense again:
+  But _Lorenzo_ told him that I was a Mortal,
+  And brought him nearer to me,
+  Where he began to make such Vows of Love--
+
+  _Ism._ What then?
+
+  _Lau._ Then I am ruin'd--
+  To all I said he found a contradiction,
+  And my denials did but more inflame him;
+  I told him of the Vows I'ad made to _Curtius_,
+  But he reply'd that _Curtius_ was a Subject.
+  But sure at last I'd won upon his Goodness,
+  Had not my Father enter'd,
+  To whom the Prince addrest himself;
+  And with his moving tale so won upon him,
+  Or rather by his Quality,
+  That he has gain'd his leave to visit me,
+  And quite forbids me e'er to speak to _Curtius_.
+
+  _Ism._ Alas the day, is this all?
+
+  _Lau._ All! can there be more to make me miserable?
+
+  _Ism._ I see no reason thou hast to complain:
+  Come, wipe your Eyes, and take a good Heart;
+  For I'll tell thee a Story of my own,
+  That will let thee see I have much more cause to weep;
+  And yet I have a thousand little Stratagems
+  In my Head, which give me as many hopes:
+  This unlucky restraint upon our Sex,
+  Makes us all cunning; and that shall assist thee now
+  With my help, I warrant thee;
+  Come in with me, and know the rest.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+  _Isab._ So, so, disguise it how you will,
+  I know you are a real Lover;
+  And that secret shall advance my Love-design.
+  Yes, Madam, now I will be serv'd by you,
+  Or you shall fail to find a Friend of me.    [Ex. _Isab._
+
+
+SCENE III. The Street.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ drunk, with a _Page_, and Musick, as in the dark.
+
+  _Lor._ Here's the Door, begin and play your best,
+  But let them be soft low Notes, do you hear?    [They play.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_.
+
+  _Ant._ Musick at my Lodgings! it is _Alberto_;
+  Oh, how I love him for't--if _Clarina_ stand his
+  Courtship, I am made;
+  I languish between Hope and Fear.
+
+  _Lor._ Stay, Friend, I hear somebody.    [Musick ceases.
+
+  _Pag._ 'Tis nobody, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_.
+
+_Isab._ 'Tis _Lorenzo_, and my Plot's ripe;       [Aside.
+    [_Lorenzo_ being retir'd the while a little further.
+
+  'Twill not sure be hard to get him, under pretence
+  Of seeing _Clarina_, into my Chamber,
+  And then I'll order him at my pleasure;
+  _Ismena_ is on my side, for I know all her Secrets,
+  And she must wink at mine therefore.    [She retires.
+
+  _Lor._ Thou art in the right, Boy,
+  I think indeed 'twas nothing.    [Plays again.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+  _Alb._ She yields, bad Woman!
+  Why so easily won?
+  By me too, who am thy Husband's Friend:
+  Oh dangerous Boldness! unconsidering Woman!
+  I lov'd thee, whilst I thought thou couldst not yield;
+  But now that Easiness has undone thy Interest in my Heart,
+  I'll back, and tell thee that it was to try thee.
+
+  _Lor._ No, no, 'twas my Fears, away with the Song,
+  I'll take it on your word that 'tis fit for my purpose.
+
+  _Fid._ I'll warrant you, my Lord.
+
+
+SONG.
+
+  _In vain I have labour'd the Victor to prove
+  Of a Heart that can ne'er give attendance to Love;
+          So hard to be done.
+          That nothing so young
+  Could e'er have resisted a Passion so long.
+
+  Yet nothing I left unattempted or said,
+  That might soften the Heart of this pitiless Maid;
+          But still she was shy,
+          And would blushing deny,
+  Whilst her willinger Eyes gave her Language the lye.
+
+  Since, _Phillis_, my Passion you vow to despise,
+  Withdraw the false Hopes from your flattering Eyes:
+          For whilst they inspire
+          A resistless vain Fire,
+  We shall grow to abhor, what we now do admire._    [Ex. _Musick_.
+
+  _Alb._ What's this, and at _Clarina's_ Lodgings too?
+  Sure 'tis _Antonio_, impatient of delay,
+  Gives her a Serenade for me.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_.
+
+  _Isab._ 'Tis the Fool himself--
+  My Lord, where are you?
+
+_Alb._ How! a Woman's Voice! 'tis dark, I'll advance.
+
+_Lor._ Thou Simpleton, I told thee there was somebody.
+
+_Pag._ Lord, Sir, 'tis only _Isabella_ that calls you.
+
+_Lor._ Away, Sirrah, I find by my fears 'tis no Woman.
+    [Goes out with the _Page_.
+
+_Isab._ Why don't you come? here's nobody.
+
+_Alb._ Here I am.
+
+_Isab._ Where?
+
+_Alb._ Here.    [Gives her his Hand.
+
+  _Isab._ My Lord, you may venture, _Clarina_ will be
+  Alone within this Hour, where you shall entertain
+  Her at your freedom: but you must stay awhile in my
+  Chamber till my Lord's a bed;
+  For none but I must know of the favour she designs you.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh Gods! what Language do I hear--
+  False and Perfidious Woman, I might have thought,
+  Since thou wert gain'd so easily by me,
+  Thou wouldst with equal haste yield to another.
+
+_Isab._ It is not _Lorenzo_, what shall I do?    [She steals in.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Page_.
+
+  _Lor._ A Pox of all damn'd cowardly fear!
+  Now did I think I had drunk Nature up to Resolution:
+  I have heard of those that could have dar'd in their Drink;
+  But I find, drunk or sober, 'tis all one in me.
+
+  _Alb._ The Traitor's here,
+  Whom I will kill whoe'er he be.
+
+  _Lor._ Boy, go see for _Isabella_.
+
+  _Pag._ I see a Man should not be a Coward and a Lover
+  At once--_Isabella_, _Isabella_, she's gone, Sir.    [Calls.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Villain, she's gone, and in her room
+  Is one that will chastise thy Boldness.
+
+  _Lor._ That's a proud word though, whoe'er thou be;
+  But how I shall avoid it, is past my Understanding.
+
+  _Alb._ Where art thou, Slave?
+    [_Alberto_ gropes for him, he avoids him.
+
+  _Pag._ Take heart, Sir, here's company which I will
+  Get to assist you--
+
+    Enter _Antonio_.
+
+  Sir, as you are a Gentleman, assist a stranger set upon by Thieves.
+    [They fight, _Antonio_ with _Alberto_, _Alberto_ falls, is
+    wounded. _Lor._ and _Page_ run away the while.
+
+  _Alb._ Whoe'er thou be'st that takes the Traitor's part,
+  Commend me to the wrong'd _Antonio_.
+
+  _Ant._ _Alberto_! dear _Alberto_, is it thee?
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio!_
+
+  _Ant._ I am asham'd to say I am _Antonio_;
+  Oh Gods, why would you suffer this mistake?
+
+  _Alb._ I am not wounded much,
+  My greatest pain is my concern for thee;
+  Friend, thou art wrong'd, falsely and basely wrong'd;
+  _Clarina_, whom you lov'd and fear'd,
+  Has now betray'd thy Honour with her own.
+
+  _Ant._ Without that sad addition to my Grief,
+  I should not long have born the weight of Life,
+  Having destroy'd thine by a dire mistake.
+
+  _Alb._ Thou art deceiv'd.
+
+  _Ant._ Alas, why was it not permitted me
+  To lose my Friend, or Wife? had one surviv'd,
+  I might have dy'd in silence for the other;
+  Oh my _Alberto_! oh _Clarina_ too!--    [Weeps.
+
+  _Alb._ Come, do not grieve for me, I shall be well,
+  I yet find strength enough to get away;
+  And then I'll let thee know my Fate and thine.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _Antonio's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Clarina_, _Ismena_, and _Isabella_ weeping.
+
+  _Isab._ For Heaven sake, Madam, pardon me.
+
+  _Clar._ Be dumb for ever, false and treacherous Woman,
+  Was there no way but this to mask your Cheat?
+  A Lye which has undone us all.
+
+  _Isab._ Alas, 'twas in the dark, how could I know him?
+  Pray forgive it me, and try my future Service.
+
+  _Clar._ I never will forgive thee, naughty Girl;
+  _Alberto_ now incens'd will tell _Antonio_ all.
+
+  _Isab._ What need you care, Madam?
+  You are secure enough.
+
+  _Clar._ Thou salv'st an Error with a greater still;
+  Dost thou not know _Antonio's_ Jealousy,
+  Which yet is moderate, rais'd to a higher pitch,
+  May ruin me, _Ismena_, and thy self?
+
+  _Ism._ Sister, there cannot be much harm in this;
+  'Tis an ill chance, 'tis true, for by it we have lost
+  The pleasure of an innocent Revenge
+  Upon _Antonio_; but if understood,
+  We have but miss'd that end.
+
+  _Clar._ Oh _Ismena!_
+  This Jealousy is an unapprehensive madness,
+  A non-sense which does still abandon Reason.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, early in the Morning
+  I'll to _Alberto's_ Lodgings, and tell him the mistake.
+
+  _Clar._ 'Twill be too late.
+
+  _Ism._ Sister, what think you if I go myself?
+
+  _Clar._ You should not be so daring;
+  Besides, I blush to think what strange opinion
+  He'll entertain of me the while.
+
+  _Ism._ Do not let that afflict you.
+  Fetch my Veil, and if _Antonio_ chance to ask for me,
+  Tell him I'm gone to _Laura_.    [Ex. _Isab._
+  Believe me, I will set all strait again.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_ with the Veil.
+
+  _Clar._ Thou hast more Courage, Girl, than I.
+
+  _Ism._ What need is there of much of that,
+  To encounter a gay young Lover,
+  Where I am sure there cannot be much danger?
+
+  _Clar._ Well, take your chance, I wish you luck, Sir,
+  For I am e'en as much bent upon Revenge,
+  As thou art upon Marriage.
+
+  _Ism._ Come, my Veil, this and the Night
+  Will enough secure me.    [Puts on the Veil and goes out.
+
+    [Ex. _Clar._ and _Isab._
+
+
+SCENE V. A Chamber in _Alberto's_ House.
+
+    Discovers _Alberto_ and _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ Nay, thou shalt see't before thou dost revenge it;
+  In such a case, thy self should be the Witness,
+  She knows not what has past to night between us,
+  Nor should she, if thou couldst contain thy Rage;
+  And that, _Antonio_, you shall promise me:
+  To morrow place thy self behind the Arras,
+  And from thy Eyes thy own Misfortunes know.
+  --What will not disobliged Passion do?    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ I'll hide my Anger in a seeming calm,
+  And what I have to do consult the while,
+  And mask my Vengeance underneath a Smile.    [Ex. _Ant._
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+  _Pag._ My Lord, there is without a Lady
+  Desires to speak with you.
+
+  _Alb._ Who is't?
+
+  _Pag._ I know not, Sir, she's veiled.    [Exit _Page_.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ weeping.
+
+  _Alb._ Conduct her in.
+
+  _Ism._ Oh _Alberto_, _Isabella_ has undone us all!
+
+  _Alb._ She weeps, and looks as innocent!
+  --What mean you, false dissembling _Clarina_?
+  What, have you borrow'd from Deceit new Charms,
+  And think'st to fool me to a new belief?
+
+  _Ism._ How, Sir, can you too be unkind?
+  Nay then 'tis time to die; alas, there wanted but your credit
+  To this mistake, to make me truly miserable.
+
+  _Alb._ What Credit? What Mistake? oh, undeceive me,
+  For I have done thee Injuries past Forgiveness,
+  If thou be'st truly innocent.
+
+  _Ism._ If _Isabella_, under pretence of courting me
+  For _Lorenzo_, whom she designs to
+  Make a Husband,
+  Has given him freedoms will undo my Honour,
+  If not prevented soon.
+
+  _Alb._ May I credit this, and that it was not by thy
+  Command she did it?
+
+  _Ism._ Be witness, Heaven, my Innocence in this,
+  Which if you will believe, I'm safe again.
+
+  _Alb._ I do believe thee, but thou art not safe,
+  Here, take this Poyniard, and revenge thy Wrongs,
+  Wrongs which I dare not beg a Pardon for.    [He gives her a Dagger.
+
+  _Ism._ Why, Sir, what have you done? have you
+  Deceiv'd me, and do you not indeed love me?
+
+  _Alb._ Oh _Clarina!_ do not ask that Question,
+  Too much of that has made me ruin thee;
+  It made me jealous, drunk with Jealousy,
+  And then I did unravel all my Secrets.
+
+  _Ism._ What Secrets, Sir? you have then seen _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes.
+
+  _Ism._ Hah--Now, Wit, if e'er thou did'st possess
+  A Woman, assist her at her need.    [Aside.
+  --Well, Sir, rise and tell me all.
+
+  _Alb._ I will not rise till you have pardoned me,
+  Or punished my Misfortune.
+
+  _Ism._ Be what it will, I do forgive it thee.
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio_, Madam, knows my Happiness,
+  For in my Rage I told him that you lov'd me;
+  --What shall I do?
+
+  _Ism._ I cannot blame you though it were unkind.
+
+  _Alb._ This I could help, but I have promis'd him,
+  That he shall be a witness of this Truth;
+  What say you, Madam, do I not merit Death?
+  Oh speak, and let me know my doom whate'er it be.
+
+  _Ism._ Make good your Word.
+
+  _Alb._ What mean you?
+
+  _Ism._ What you have promised him, perform as you intended.
+
+  _Alb._ What then?
+
+  _Ism._ Then come as you design'd to visit me.
+
+  _Alb._ But let me know what 'tis you mean to do,
+  That I may act accordingly.
+
+  _Ism._ No. Answer me to every Question ask'd,
+  And I perhaps may set all strait again;
+  It is now late, and I must not be missing:
+  But if you love me, be no more jealous of me,
+  --Farewel.
+
+  _Alb._ Must I be ignorant then of your Design?
+
+  _Ism._ Yes, _Alberto_;
+  And you shall see what Love will make a Woman do.
+    [He leads her out.
+
+  _Alb._ Now am I caught again, inconstant Nature.
+  --Would she had less of Beauty or of Wit,
+  Or that _Antonio_ did but less deserve her;
+  Or that she were not married,
+  Or I'ad less Virtue, for 'tis that which awes me.
+  That tender sense of nothing,
+  And makes the other Reasons seem as Bugbears.
+  --I love _Clarina_ more than he can do.
+  And yet this Virtue doth oppose that Love,
+  Tells me there lurks a Treason there
+  Against _Antonio's_ and _Clarina's_ Virtue.
+  --'Tis but too true indeed, and I'm not safe,
+  Whilst I conceal the Criminal within:
+  I must reveal it, for whilst I hide the Traitor,
+  I seem to love the Treason too;
+  I will resign it then, since 'tis less blame
+  To perish by my Pain, than live with Shame.    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Room in _Salvator's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_ and _Laura_.
+
+  _Fred._ _Laura_, consider well my Quality,
+  And be not angry with your Father's Confidence,
+  Who left us here alone.
+
+  _Lau._ He will repent that Freedom when he knows
+  What use you've made on't, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ Fy, fy, _Laura_, a Lady bred at Court, and
+  Yet want complaisance enough to entertain
+  A Gallant in private! this coy Humour
+  Is not _a-la-mode_.--Be not so peevish with a Heart that dies for you.
+
+  _Lau._ Pray tell me, Sir, what is't in me that can
+  Encourage this?
+
+  _Fred._ That which is in all lovely Women, _Laura_;
+  A thousand Blushes play about your Cheeks,
+  Which shows the briskness of the Blood that warms them.
+  --If I but tell you how I do adore you,
+  You strait decline your Eyes;
+  Which does declare you understand my meaning,
+  And every Smile or Frown betrays your thoughts,
+  And yet you cry, you do not give me cause.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+  _Maid._ _Curtius_, Madam, waits without.
+
+  _Fred._ I do not like his haste,
+  --Tell him he cannot be admitted now.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, he is one that merits better treatment from you;
+  How can you injure thus the Man you love?
+
+  _Fred._ Oh Madam, ask your Eyes, those powerful Attracts.
+  And do not call their Forces so in question,
+  As to believe they kindle feeble Fires,
+  Such as a Friendship can surmount. No, _Laura_,
+  They've done far greater Miracles.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, 'tis in vain you tell me of their Power,
+  Unless they could have made a nobler Conquest
+  Than Hearts that yield to every petty Victor.
+  --Look on me well,
+  Can nothing here inform you of my Soul,
+  And how it scorns to treat on these Conditions?
+    [Looks on him, he gazes with a half Smile.
+
+  _Fred._ Faith, no, _Laura_.
+  I see nothing there but wondrous Beauty,
+  And a deal of needless Pride and Scorn,
+  And such as may be humbled.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, you mistake, that never can abate.
+  But yet I know your Power may do me injuries;
+  But I believe you're guilty of no Sin,
+  Save your Inconstancy, which is sufficient;
+  And, Sir, I beg I may not be the first    [Kneels and weeps.
+  May find new Crimes about you.
+
+  _Fred._ Rise, _Laura_, thou hast but too many Beauties,
+  Which pray be careful that you keep conceal'd.    [Offers to go.
+
+  _Lau._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._--But why should this interposing Virtue check me?
+  --Stay, _Laura_, tell me; must you marry _Curtius_?
+
+  _Lau._ Yes, Sir, I must.
+
+  _Fred._ _Laura_, you must not.
+
+  _Lau._ How, Sir!
+
+  _Fred._ I say you shall not marry him,
+  Unless you offer up a Victim,
+  That may appease the Anger you have rais'd in me.
+
+  _Lau._ I'll offer up a thousand Prayers and Tears.
+
+  _Fred._ That will not do.
+  Since thou'st deny'd my just Pretensions to thee,
+  No less than what I told you of shall satisfy me.
+
+  _Lau._ Oh, where is all your Honour and your Virtue?
+
+  _Fred_. Just where it was, there's no such real thing.
+  I know that thou wert made to be possest,
+  And he that does refuse it, loves thee least.
+  --There's danger in my Love, and your Delay,
+  And you are most secure whilst you obey.    [He pulls her gently.
+
+  _Lau._ Then this shall be my safety, hold off,    [She draws a Dagger.
+  Or I'll forget you are my Prince.    [He laughs.
+
+  _Fred._ Pretty _Virago_, how you raise my Love?
+  --I have a Dagger too; what will you do?    [Shows her a Dagger.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_.
+
+  _Cur._ How! the Prince! arm'd against _Laura_ too!    [Draws.
+
+  _Fred._ Traitor, dost draw upon thy Prince?
+
+  _Cur._ Your Pardon, Sir, I meant it on a Ravisher,
+  A foul misguided Villain,    [Bows.
+  One that scarce merits the brave name of Man;
+  One that betrays his Friend, forsakes his Wife,
+  And would commit a Rape upon my Mistress.
+
+  _Fred._ Her Presence is thy Safety, be gone and leave me.
+
+  _Cur._ By no means, Sir; the Villain may return,
+  To which fair _Laura_, should not be expos'd.
+
+  _Fred._ Slave, dar'st thou disobey?    [Offers to fight.
+
+  _Cur._ Hold, Sir, and do not make me guilty of a Sin,
+  Greater than that of yours.
+
+    Enter _Salvator_.
+
+  _Salv._ Gods pity me; here's fine doings!--Why, how
+  Came this roistring Youngster into my House? Sir,
+  Who sent for you, hah?
+
+  _Cur._ Love.
+
+  _Salv._ Love, with a Witness to whom? my Daughter?
+  --No, Sir, she's otherwise dispos'd of I can assure
+  You. Be gone and leave my House, and that quickly
+  Too; and thank me that I do not secure
+  Thee for a Traitor.
+
+  _Cur._ Will you not hear me speak?
+
+  _Salv._ Not a word, Sir, go, be gone; unless your
+  Highness will have him apprehended.    [To _Fred._
+
+  _Fred._ No, Sir, it shall not need--_Curtius_, look
+  To hear from me.--
+    [Comes up to him, and tells him so in a menacing Tone, and go out
+    severally.
+
+_Salv._ Go, Mrs. _Minks_, get you in.
+
+    [Ex. _Salv._ and _Lau._
+
+
+SCENE II. A Street.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_ passing in Anger over the Stage, meets
+    _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Lor._ O Sir, I'm glad I've found you; for
+  I have the rarest News for you.
+
+  _Fred._ What News?
+
+  _Lor._ Oh the Devil, he's angry;--Why, Sir, the prettiest young--
+
+  _Fred._ There's for your Intelligence.    [Strikes him, and goes out.
+
+  _Lor._ So, very well; how mortal is the favour of
+  Princes! these be turns of State now; what the
+  Devil ails he trow; sure he could not be
+  Offended with the News I have brought him;
+  If he be, he's strangely out of tune:
+  And sure he has too much Wit to grow virtuous at these
+  Years. No, no, he has had some repulse from a
+  Lady; and that's a wonder; for he has a Tongue and a
+  Purse that seldom fails: if Youth and Vigour would
+  Stretch as far, he were the wonder of the Age.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_.
+
+  _Cur._ _Lorenzo_, didst thou see the Prince?
+
+  _Lor._ Marry, did I, and feel him too.
+
+  _Cur._ Why, did he strike you?
+
+  _Lor._ I'm no true Subject if he did not; and that
+  Only for doing that Service which once was most acceptable
+  To him.--Prithee what's the matter with him, hah?
+
+  _Cur._ I know not, leave me.
+
+  _Lor._ Leave thee, what, art thou out of humour too?
+  Let me but know who 'tis has disoblig'd thee, and I'll--
+
+  _Cur._ What wilt thou?
+
+  _Lor._ Never see his Face more, if a Man.
+
+  _Cur._ And what if a Woman?
+
+  _Lor._ Then she's an idle peevish Slut, I'll warrant her.
+
+  _Cur._ Conclude it so, and leave me.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, now thou hast said the only thing that could
+  Keep me with thee, thou mayst be desperate; I'll
+  Tell you, _Curtius_, these female Mischiefs make Men
+  Take dangerous Resolutions sometimes.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+_Alb._ _Curtius_, I've something to deliver to your Ear.
+    [Whispers.
+
+_Cur._ Any thing from _Alberto_ is welcome.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, I will be hang'd if there be not some
+  Mischief in agitation; it cannot be wenching;
+  They look all too dull and sober for that;
+  And besides, then I should have been a party concern'd.
+
+  _Cur._ The place and time.
+
+  _Alb._ An hour hence i'th' Grove by the River-side.
+
+  _Cur._ Alone, thou say'st?
+
+  _Alb._ Alone, the Prince will have it so.
+
+  _Cur._ I will not fail a moment.    [Ex. _Alb._
+  --So this has eas'd my heart of half its Load.
+
+  _Lor._ I'll sneak away, for this is some fighting
+  Business, and I may perhaps be invited a Second,
+  A Compliment I care not for.    [Offers to go.
+
+  _Cur._ _Lorenzo_, a word with you.
+
+  _Lor._ 'Tis so, what shall I do now?    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ Stay.
+
+  _Lor._ I am a little in haste, my Lord.
+
+  _Cur._ I shall soon dispatch you.
+
+  _Lor._ I believe so, for I am half dead already
+  With Fear. [Aside.] --Sir, I have promis'd to make a visit
+  To a Lady, and--
+
+  _Cur._ What I've to say will not detain you long.
+
+  _Lor._ What a Dog was I, I went not
+  When he first desir'd me to go!
+  Oh Impertinency, thou art justly rewarded!
+
+  _Cur._ _Lorenzo_, may I believe you love me?
+
+  _Lor._ Now what shall I say, Ay or no?    [Aside.
+  The Devil take me if I know.
+
+  _Cur._ Will you do me a favour?
+
+  _Lor._ There 'tis again.    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ I know I may trust thee with a secret.
+
+  _Lor._ Truly, _Curtius_, I cannot tell.
+  In some cases I am not very retentive.
+
+  _Cur._ I am going about a business, that perhaps
+  May take up all the time I have to live,
+  And I may never see thy Sister more;
+  Will you oblige me in a Message to her?
+
+  _Lor._ You know you may command me;
+  --I'm glad 'tis no worse.    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ Come, go with me into my Cabinet,
+  And there I'll write to _Laura_;
+  And prithee if thou hear'st that I am dead,
+  Tell her I fell a Sacrifice to her,
+  And that's enough, she understands the rest.
+
+_Lor._ But harkye, _Curtius_, by your favour, this is but a Scurvy Tale
+to carry to your Mistress;
+  I hope you are not in earnest.
+
+_Cur._ Yes.
+
+_Lor._ Yes! why, what a foolish idle humour's this in you? I vow 'twill
+go near to break the poor Girl's Heart;--
+  Come, be advis'd, Man.
+
+  _Cur._ Perhaps I may consider on't for that reason.
+
+  _Lor._ There are few that go about such businesses,
+  But have one thing or other to consider in favour of Life;
+  I find that even in the most magnanimous:--
+  Prithee who is't with?
+
+  _Cur._ That's counsel: and pray let this too which I have
+  Told you be a Secret, for 'twill concern your Life.
+
+  _Lor._ Good _Curtius_, take it back again then;
+  For a hundred to one but my over-care of keeping it
+  Will betray it.
+
+  _Cur._ Thou lovest thy self better.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, that's a comfort yet.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Wood.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_ dressed like a Country-Boy, follow'd by _Guilliam_
+    a Clown; _Cloris_ comes reading a Letter.
+
+  _Clo._ [Reads.] Cloris, _beware of Men; for though I my self be one,_
+  _Yet I have the Frailties of my Sex, and can dissemble too;_
+  _Trust none of us, for if thou dost, thou art undone;_
+  _We make Vows to all alike we see,_
+  _And even the best of Men, the Prince,_
+  _Is not to be credited in an affair of Love._
+  --Oh _Curtius_, thy advice was very kind;
+  Had it arriv'd before I'ad been undone!
+  --Can _Frederick_ too be false!
+  A Prince, and be unjust to her that loves him too?
+  --Surely it is impossible--
+  Perhaps thou lov'st me too, and this may be
+    [Pointing to the Letter.
+  Some Plot of thine to try my Constancy:
+  --Howe'er it be, since he could fail last night
+  Of seeing me, I have at least a cause to justify
+  This shameful change; and sure in this Disguise,
+  I shall not soon be known, dost think I shall?    [Looks on herself.
+
+  _Guil._ Why, forsooth, what do you intend to pass for,
+  A Maid or a Boy?
+
+  _Clo._ Why, what I seem to be, will it not do?
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, yes, it may do, but I know not what;
+  I would Love would transmography me to a Maid now,
+  --We should be the prettiest Couple:
+  Don't you remember when you dress'd me up the last
+  Carnival, was I not the woundiest handsome Lass
+  A body could see in a Summer's day?
+  There was _Claud_ the Shepherd as freakish after me,
+  I'll warrant you, and simper'd and tript it like any thing.
+
+  _Clo._ Ay, but they say 'tis dangerous for young
+  Maids to live at Court.
+
+  _Guil._ Nay, then I should be loth to give temptation.
+  --Pray, forsooth, what's that you read so often there?
+
+  _Clo._ An advice to young Maids that are in love.
+
+  _Guil._ Ay, ay, that same Love is a very vengeance thing,
+  Wou'd I were in love too; I see it makes a body valiant;
+  One neither feels Hunger nor Cold that is possest with it.
+
+  _Clo._ Thou art i'th' right, it can do Miracles.
+
+  _Guil._ So it seems, for without a Miracle you and I could never
+  Have rambled about these Woods all night without either Bottle or
+Wallet:
+  I could e'en cry for hunger now.
+
+  _Clo._ What a dull Soul this Fellow hath?
+  Sure it can never feel the generous Pains
+  Of Love, as mine does now; oh, how I glory
+  To find my Heart above the common rate!
+  Were not my Prince inconstant,
+  I would not envy what the Blessed do above:
+  But he is false, good Heaven!--    [Weeps. _Guil._ howls.
+  --What dost thou feel, that thou shouldst weep with me?
+
+  _Guil._ Nothing but Hunger, sharp Hunger, forsooth.
+
+  _Clo._ Leave calling me forsooth, it will betray us.
+
+  _Guil._ What shall I call you then?
+
+  _Clo._ Call me, _Philibert_, or any thing;
+  And be familiar with me: put on thy Hat, lest any come and see us.
+
+  _Guil._ 'Tis a hard name, but I'll learn it by heart.
+  --Well, _Philibert_--What shall we do when we come to Court?
+    [Puts on his Hat.
+  Besides eating and drinking, which I shall do in abundance.
+
+  _Clo._ We must get each of us a Service:
+  --But thou art such a Clown.
+
+  _Guil._ Nay, say not so, honest _Philibert_: for look ye,
+  I am much the properer Fellow of the two.    [Walks.
+
+  _Clo._ Well, try thy fortune; but be sure you never discover
+  Me, whatever Questions may chance to be asked thee.
+
+  _Guil._ I warrant thee, honest Lad, I am true and trusty;
+  But I must be very familiar with you, you say.
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, before Company.
+
+  _Guil._ Pray let me begin and practise a little now,
+  An't please you, for fear I should not be saucy enough,
+  When we arrive at Court.
+
+  _Clo._ I'll warrant you you'll soon learn there.
+
+  _Guil._ Oh Lord, _Philibert!_ _Philibert!_ I see a Man a coming
+  Most deadly fine, let's run away.
+
+  _Clo._ Thus thou hast serv'd me all this night,
+  There's not a Bush we come at, but thou start'st thus.
+
+  _Guil._ 'Tis true you are a Lover, and may stay the danger on't;
+  But I'll make sure for one.
+
+  _Clo._ It is the Prince, oh Gods! what makes he here?
+  With Looks disorder'd too; this Place is fit for Death and sad
+  Despair; the melancholy Spring a sleepy murmur makes,
+  A proper Consort for departing Souls,
+  When mix'd with dying Groans, and the thick Boughs
+  Compose a dismal Roof;
+  Dark as the gloomy Shades of Death or Graves.
+  --He comes this way, I'll hide my self awhile.    [Goes behind a Bush.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_.
+
+  _Fred._ But yet not this, nor my despight to _Laura_,
+  Shall make me out of love with Life,
+  Whilst I have youthful Fires about my Heart:
+  --Yet I must fight with _Curtius_,
+  And so chastise the Pride of that fond Maid,
+  Whose saucy Virtue durst controul my Flame.
+  --And yet I love her not as I do _Cloris_;
+  But fain I would have overcome that Chastity,
+  Of which the foolish Beauty boasts so.
+
+  _Clo._ _Curtius_, I thank thee, now I do believe thee.
+  _Guilliam_, if thou seest any fighting anon,    [The Prince walks.
+  Be sure you run out and call some body.
+
+  _Guil._ You need not bid me run away, when I once
+  See them go to that.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, I am come as you commanded me.
+
+  _Fred._ When you consider what you've lately done,
+  You will not wonder why I sent for you;
+  And when I mean to fight, I do not use to parly:
+  Come draw.
+
+  _Cur._ Shew me my Enemy, and then if I am slow--
+
+  _Fred._ I am he, needst thou one more powerful?
+
+  _Cur._ You, Sir! what have I done to make you so?
+
+  _Fred._ If yet thou want'st a further proof of it,
+  Know I'll dispute my Claim to _Laura_.
+
+  _Cur._ That must not be with me, Sir;
+  God forbid that I should raise my Arm against my Prince.
+  --If _Laura_ have so little Faith and Virtue,
+  To render up that Right belongs to me,
+  With all my heart I yield her
+  To any but to you:
+  And, Sir, for your own sake you must not have her.
+
+  _Fred._ Your Reason?
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, you're already married.
+
+  _Fred._ Thou lyest, and seek'st excuses for thy Cowardice.
+
+  _Cur._ I wish you would recal that hasty Injury;
+  Yet this I'll bear from you, who know 'tis false.
+
+  _Fred._ Will nothing move thee?
+
+  _Cur._ You would believe so, Sir, if I should tell you,
+  That besides all this, I have a juster Cause.
+
+  _Fred._ Juster than that of _Laura_? call it up, then,
+  And let it save thee from a further shame.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, so I will, 'tis that of _Cloris_,
+  Who needs my aids much more;
+  Do you remember such a Virgin, Sir?
+  For so she was till she knew _Frederick_,
+  The sweetest Innocent that ever Nature made.
+
+  _Fred._ Not thy own Honour, nor thy Love to _Laura_,
+  Would make thee draw, and now at _Cloris'_ Name
+  Thou art incens'd, thy Eyes all red with Rage:
+  --Oh, thou hast rouz'd my Soul!
+  Nor would I justify my Wrongs to her,
+  Unless it were to satisfy my Jealousy,
+  Which thou hast rais'd in me by this concern.
+  --Draw, or I'll kill thee.
+
+  _Cur._ Stay, Sir, and hear me out.
+
+  _Fred._ I will not stay, now I reflect on all
+  Thy former kindness to her--
+
+  _Cur._ I will not fight, but I'll defend my self.    [They fight.
+
+  _Fred._ We are betray'd.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Sir, and you are wounded.
+    [_Guil._ runs bawling out, they are both wounded.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh Heaven defend the Prince!    [She peeps.
+
+  _Fred._ I hear some coming, go, be gone,
+  And save thy self by flight.
+    [_Frederick_ stands leaning on his Sword.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, give me leave to stay, my flight will look like Guilt.
+
+  _Fred._ By no means, _Curtius_, thou wilt be taken here,
+  And thou shalt never charge me with that Crime of betraying
+  Thee: when we meet next, we'll end it.
+
+  _Cur._ I must obey you then.    [Exit.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ Sir, has the Villain hurt you?    [She supports him.
+  --Pray Heaven my Sorrows do not betray me now;
+  For since he's false, I fain would die conceal'd.    [Aside.
+  --Shew me your Wound, and I will tie it up.
+  Alas, you bleed extremely.--
+
+  _Fred._ Kind Youth, thy Succours are in vain, though welcome;
+  For though I bleed, I am not wounded much.
+
+  _Clo._ No? why did you let him pass unpunish'd then,
+  Who would have hurt you more?
+
+    Enter _Guilliam_ with _Galliard_.
+
+  _Gal._ Where was't?
+
+  _Guil._ Look ye, Sir, there, don't you see them?
+
+  _Gal._ How does your Highness? This Fellow told me
+  Of a quarrel here, which made me haste.
+
+  _Fred._ Be silent, and carry me to my own apartment.
+
+  _Gal._ Alas, Sir, is it you that fought?
+
+  _Fred._ No more Questions.--
+  Kind Boy, pray leave me not till I have found
+  A way to recompense thy pretty care of me.
+
+  _Clo._ I will wait on you, Sir.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _Guil._
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ and his _Page_. Peeps first.
+
+  _Lor._ What's the matter here? the Prince is wounded too.
+  Oh, what a Dog was I to know of some such thing,
+  And not secure them all?
+    [_Lor._ stands gazing at _Guil._ _Guil._ stands tabering his Hat,
+    and scruing his Face.
+  --What's here? Ha, ha, ha, this is the pleasantest
+  Fellow that e'er I saw in my Life.
+  Prithee, Friend, what's thy Name?
+
+  _Guil._ My Name, an't shall like ye.
+  My Name, it is _Guilliam_.
+
+  _Lor._ From whence comest thou?
+
+  _Guil._ From a Village a great huge way off.
+
+  _Lor._ And what's thy business here, hah?
+
+  _Guil._ Truly, Sir, not to tell a Lye;
+  I come to get a Service here at Court.
+
+  _Lor._ A Service at Court! ha, ha, that's a pleasant
+  Humour, i'faith. Why, Fellow, what canst thou do?
+
+  _Guil._ Do, Sir! I can do any thing.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, what canst thou do? canst thou dress well?
+  --Set a Peruke to advantage, tie a Crevat,
+  And Cuffs? put on a Belt with dexterity, hah?
+  These be the Parts that must recommend you.
+
+  _Guil._ I know not what you mean,
+  But I am sure I can do them all.
+
+  _Lor._ Thou art confident it seems, and I can tell
+  You, Sirrah, that's a great step to Preferment;
+  --But well, go on then, canst ride the great Horse?
+
+  _Guil._ The biggest in all our Town
+  I have rid a thousand times.
+
+  _Lor._ That's well; canst fence?
+
+  _Guil._ Fence, Sir, what's that?
+
+  _Lor._ A Term we use for the Art and Skill of handling a Weapon.
+
+  _Guil._ I can thrash, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ What's that, Man?
+
+  _Guil._ Why, Sir, it is--it is--thrashing.
+
+  _Lor._ An Artist, I vow; canst play on any Musick?
+
+  _Guil._ Oh, most rogically, Sir, I have a Bagpipe that
+  Every Breath sets the whole Village a dancing.
+
+  _Lor._ Better still; and thou canst dance, I'll warrant?
+
+  _Guil._ Dance, he, he, he, I vow you've light on
+  My Master-piece, y'fegs.
+
+  _Lor_. And I'll try thee: Boy, go fetch some of the    [To the _Page_.
+  Musick hither which I keep in pay.    [Ex. _Page_.
+  --But hark you, Friend, though I love Dancing very well,
+  And that may recommend thee in a great degree;
+  Yet 'tis wholly necessary that you should be valiant too:
+  We Great ones ought to be serv'd by Men of Valour,
+  For we are very liable to be affronted by many here
+  To our Faces, which we would gladly have beaten behind
+  Our Backs.--But Pox on't, thou hast not the Huff
+  And Grimace of a Man of Prowess.
+
+  _Guil._ As for fighting, though I do not care for it,
+  Yet I can do't if any body angers me, or so.
+
+  _Lor._ But I must have you learn to do't when
+  Any body angers me too.
+
+  _Guil._ Sir, they told me I should have no need on't
+  Here; but I shall learn.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, you Fool, that's not a thing to be learn'd,
+  --That's a brave Inclination born with Man,
+  A brave undaunted something, a thing that,
+  That comes from, from, I know not what,
+  For I was born without it.
+
+    Enter _Page_ and Musick.
+
+  Oh, are you come? let's see, Sirrah, your Activity,
+  For I must tell you that's another step to Preferment.
+    [He dances a Jig _en Paisant_.
+  'Tis well perform'd; well, hadst thou but Wit,
+  Valour, _Bone Mine_, good Garb, a Peruke,
+  Conduct and Secrecy in Love-Affairs, and half
+  A dozen more good Qualities, thou wert
+  Fit for something; but I will try thee.
+  Boy, let him have better Clothes; as for his Documents,
+  I'll give him those my self.
+
+  _Guil._ Hah, I don't like that word, it sounds terribly.
+    [Aside.
+
+    [Ex. _Page_ and _Guil._ with Musick.
+
+  _Lor._ This Fellow may be of use to me; being
+  Doubtless very honest, because he is so very simple:
+  For to say truth, we Men of Parts are sometimes
+  Over-wise, witness my last night's retreat
+  From but a supposed Danger, and returning to fall
+  Into a real one. Well, I'll now to _Isabella_,
+  And know her final Resolution; if _Clarina_ will
+  Be kind, so; if not, there be those that will.
+  --And though I cannot any Conquest boast
+  For all the Time and Money I have lost,
+  At least of _Isabel_ I'll be reveng'd,
+  And have the flattering Baggage soundly swing'd;
+  And rather than she shall escape my Anger,
+  My self shall be the Hero that shall bang her.    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Antonio's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ and _Isabella_.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, turn your back to that side,
+  For there _Antonio_ is hid; he must not see your
+  Face: now raise your Voice, that he may hear what 'tis you say.
+
+  _Ism._ I'll warrant you, _Isabella_:
+  Was ever wretched Woman's Fate like mine,
+  Forc'd to obey the rigid Laws of Parents,
+  And marry with a Man I did not love?
+
+  _Ant._ Oh, there's my cause of Fear.    [_Ant._ peeps.
+
+  _Ism._ Though since I had him, thou know'st I have endeavour'd
+  To make his Will my Law,
+  Till by degrees and Custom, which makes things natural,
+  I found this Heart, which ne'er had been engag'd
+  To any other, grow more soft to him;
+  And still the more he lov'd, the more I was oblig'd,
+  And made returns still kinder; till I became
+  Not only to allow, but to repay his Tenderness.
+
+  _Isab._ She counterfeits rarely.    [Aside.
+  Madam, indeed I have observ'd this truth.
+
+  _Ism._ See who 'tis knocks.    [One knocks.
+
+  _Ant._ What will this come to?    [Aside.
+
+  _Isab._ Madam, 'tis _Alberto_.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_. Bows.
+
+  _Ism._ My Lord, you've often told me that you lov'd me,
+  Which I with Womens usual Pride believ'd;
+  And now, encourag'd by my hopeful Promises,
+  You look for some Returns: Sir, is it so?
+
+  _Alb._ What means she?
+  Pray Heaven I answer right.    [Aside.
+  --Madam, if I have err'd in that belief,
+  To know I do so, is sufficient punishment.
+  --Lovers, Madam, though they have no returns,
+  Like sinking Men, still catch at all they meet with;
+  And whilst they live, though in the midst of Storms,
+  Because they wish, they also hope for Calms.
+
+  _Ism._ And did you, Sir, consider who I was?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Madam, Wife unto my Friend _Antonio_,
+  The only Man that has an Interest here:
+  --But, Madam, that must still submit to Love.
+
+  _Ism._ Canst thou at once be true to him and me?
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, I know not that;
+  But since I must lose one,
+  My Friendship I can better lay aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Hast thou forgot how dear thou art to him?
+
+  _Alb._ No, I do believe I am, and that his Life
+  Were but a worthless trifle, if I needed it.
+  Yet, Madam, you are dearer to him still
+  Than his _Alberto_; and 'tis so with me:
+  --Him I esteem, but you I do adore;
+  And he whose Soul's insensible of Love,
+  Can never grateful to his Friendship prove.
+
+  _Ism._ By your example, Sir, I'll still retain
+  My Love for him; and what I had for you,
+  Which was but Friendship, I'll abandon too.
+
+  _Ant._ Happy _Antonio_.--    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Pray what have you _Antonio_ cannot own?
+  Has he not equal Beauty, if not exceeding thine?
+  Has he not equal Vigour, Wit, and Valour?
+  And all that even raises Men to Gods,
+  Wert not for poor Mortality?
+  --Vain Man, couldst thou believe
+  That I would quit my Duty to this Husband,
+  And sacrifice his Right to thee?
+  --Couldst thou believe me yesterday?
+  When from thy Importunity and Impudence,
+  To send thee from me,
+  I promised thee to love thee.
+  --Nay, rather, treacherous Man,
+  Couldst thou believe I did not hate thee then,
+  Who basely would betray thy Friend and me?
+
+  _Alb._ Sure this is earnest.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ant._ Oh brave _Clarina_!    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ Speak, Traitor to my Fame and Honour;
+  Was there no Woman, but _Antonio's_ Wife,
+  With whom thou couldst commit so foul a Crime?
+  And none but he to bring to publick Shame?
+  A Man who trusted thee, and lov'd thee too?
+  --Speak--and if yet thou hast a sense of Virtue,
+  Call to the Saints for pardon, or thou dy'st.
+    [She draws a Poniard, and runs at him; he steps back to avoid it.
+
+  _Alb._ Hold, _Clarina_!--I am amaz'd.
+
+  _Ism._ But stay.
+  Thou say'st my Beauty forc'd thee to this Wickedness,
+  And that's the cause you have abus'd _Antonio_.
+  --Nor is it all the Power I have with him,
+  Can make him credit what I tell him of thee;
+  And should I live, I still must be pursu'd by thee,
+  And unbeliev'd by him:
+  --_Alberto_, thou shalt ne'er be guilty more,
+  Whilst this--and this may meet.
+    [Offering to wound her self, is stay'd by _Alb._ and _Isab._ They
+    set _Ism._ in a Chair; _Alb._ kneels weeping.
+
+  _Alb._ Hold, my divine _Clarina_.--
+
+  _Ant._ Shall I discover my self, or steal away?    [Aside.
+  And all asham'd of Life after this Action,
+  Go where the Sun or Day may never find me?
+  Oh! what Virtue I've abus'd--
+  Curse on my little Faith;
+  And all the Curses Madness can invent,
+  Light on my groundless Jealousy.    [Ex. _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ _Clarina_, why so cruel to my Heart?
+  'Tis true, I love you, but with as chaste an Ardour,
+  As Souls departing pay the Deities,
+  When with incessant Sighs they haste away,
+  And leave Humanity behind. Oh! so did I
+  Abandon all the lesser Joys of Life,
+  For that of being permitted but t'adore ye.
+  Alas, if 'twere displeasing to you,
+  Why did your self encourage it?
+  I might have languish'd, as I did before,
+  And hid those Crimes which make you hate me now.
+  --Oh, I am lost? _Antonio_, thou'st undone me;    [He rises in Rage.
+  --Hear me, Ungrate; I swear by all that's good,
+  I'll wash away my Mischief with thy Blood.
+
+  _Isab._ _Antonio_ hears you not, Sir, for he's departed.
+
+  _Ism._ Is _Antonio_ gone?
+    [She looks pertly up, who before lay half dead.
+
+  _Alb._ How's this, has she but feign'd?
+
+  _Ism._ Know it was but feign'd; I hope this proof
+  Of what I've promis'd you, does not displease you.
+
+  _Alb._ Am I thus fortunate, thus strangely happy?
+
+  _Ism._ Time will confirm it to you--go, do not
+  Now thank me for't, but seek _Antonio_ out;
+  Perhaps he may have too great a Sense of the
+  Mischiefs his Jealousies had like to have caus'd:
+  But conjure him to take no notice of what's past to me;
+  This easy slight of mine secures our Fears,
+  And serves to make _Antonio_ confident,
+  Who now will unbelieve his Eyes and Ears;
+  And since before, when I was innocent,
+  He could suspect my Love and Duty too,
+  I'll try what my dissembling it will do.
+  --Go haste.--
+
+  _Alb._ Madam, I go, surpriz'd with Love and Wonder.    [Ex. _Alb._
+
+  _Ism._ You'll be more surpriz'd, when you know    [Aside.
+  That you are cheated too as well as _Antonio_.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Street.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_ disguis'd in a black Peruke and Beard, with
+    _Pietro_ disguised also.
+
+  _Cur._ Well, what hast thou learn'd?
+
+  _Piet._ News enough, Sir, but none good;
+  That the Prince's Wounds are small,
+  So that he intends to take the Air this Evening;
+  That he sollicits _Laura_ hard;
+  And, Sir, that you are proclaim'd Traitor.
+
+  _Cur._ So, what says the Messenger you sent to _Cloris_?
+
+  _Piet._ Sir, he brings sad tidings back.
+
+  _Cur._ What tidings? is she dead?
+  That would revive my Soul,
+  And fortify my easy Nature with some wicked Notions,
+  As deep as those this flattering Prince made use of,
+  When he betray'd my Sister, pretty _Cloris_:
+  --Come, speak it boldly, for nothing else
+  Will make me do her Justice.
+
+  _Piet._ No, Sir, she is not dead,
+  But fled, and none knows whither;
+  Only _Guilliam_ attends her.
+
+  _Cur._ Worse and worse; but what of _Laura_?
+
+  _Piet._ She, Sir, is kept a Prisoner by her Father,
+  And speaks with none but those that come from _Frederick_.
+
+  _Cur._ _Laura_ confin'd too! 'tis time to hasten then,
+  With my, till now, almost disarmed Revenge:
+  --Thus I may pass unknown the Streets of _Florence_,
+  And find an opportunity to reach this Prince's Heart,
+  --Oh, Vengeance! luxurious Vengeance!
+  Thy Pleasures turn a Rival to my Love,
+  And make the mightier Conquest o'er my Heart.
+  --_Cloris_, I will revenge thy Tears and Sufferings;
+  And to secure the Doom of him that wrong'd thee,
+  I'll call on injur'd _Laura_ too.
+  --Here take these Pictures--and where thou see'st    [Gives him Boxes.
+  A knot of Gallants, open one or two, as if by stealth,
+  To gaze upon the Beauties, and then straight close them--
+  But stay, here comes the only Man
+  I could have wish'd for; he'll proclaim my Business
+  Better than a Picture or a Trumpet.    [They stand by.
+    [_Curtius_ takes back the Pictures.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_ and _Guilliam_ dressed in fineish Clothes, but
+    the same high-crown'd Hat.
+
+  _Lor._ Did, ha, ha, ha, did, ha, ha; did ever any
+  Mortal Man behold such a Figure as thou art now?
+  Well, I see 'tis a damnable thing not to
+  Be born a Gentleman; the Devil himself
+  Can never make thee truly jantee now.
+  --Come, come, come forward; these Clothes become
+  Thee, as a Saddle does a Sow; why com'st thou not?
+  --Why--ha, ha, I hope thou hast not
+  Hansel'd thy new Breeches,
+  Thou look'st so filthily on't.    [He advances, looking sourly.
+
+  _Guil._ No, Sir, I hope I have more manners than so;
+  But if I should, 'tis not my fault;
+  For the necessary Houses are hard
+  To be met withal here at Court.
+
+  _Lor._ Very well, Sirrah; you begin already to be
+  Witty with the Court: but I can tell you, it has as
+  Many necessary Places in't, as any Court in Christendom
+  --But what a Hat thou hast?
+
+  _Guil._ Why, Sir, though I say't, this is accounted of
+  In our Village; but I had another but now,
+  Which I blew off in a high Wind; and I never mist it,
+  Till I had an occasion to pluck it off to a young
+  Squire, they call a Lacquey; and, Fegs,
+  I had none at all: and because I would not lose
+  My Leg for want of a Hat, I fetch'd this;
+  And I can tell you, Sir, it has a fashionable Brim.
+
+  _Lor._ A Fool's head of your own, has it not?
+  The Boys will hoot at us as we pass--hah,
+  Who be these, who be these--    [Goes towards _Cur._ and _Piet._
+
+  _Cur._ Here--this to _Don Alonso_--this to the
+  _English_ Count; and this you may shew to the
+  Young _German_ Prince--and this--
+  I will reserve for higher Prices.    [Gives _Piet._ Pictures.
+
+  _Piet._ Will you shew none to the Courtiers, Sir?
+
+  _Cur._ Away, you Fool, I deal in no such Trash.
+
+  _Lor._ How, Sir, how was that? pray how came we to
+  Gain your dis-favour?
+
+  _Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;
+
+  _Lor._ A Courtier, Sir, I can assure you,
+  And one of the best Rank too;
+  I have the Prince's ear, Sir.
+  --What have you there, hah?--Pictures? let me see--
+  What, are they to be bought?
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, they are Copies of most fair Originals,
+  Not to be bought but hired.
+
+  _Lor._ Say you so, Friend? the Price, the Price.
+
+  _Cur._ Five thousand Crowns a Month, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ The Price is somewhat saucy.
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, they be curious Pieces, were never blown upon,
+  Have never been in Courts, nor hardly Cities.
+
+  _Lor._ Upon my word, that's considerable;
+  Friend, pray where do they live?
+
+  _Cur._ In the _Piazzo_, near the Palace.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, put up your Ware, shew not a face of them
+  Till I return! for I will bring you
+  The best Chapman in all _Florence_,
+  Except the Duke himself.
+
+  _Cur._ You must be speedy then,
+  For I to morrow shall be going towards _Rome_.
+
+  _Lor._ A subtle Rascal this: thou think'st, I warrant,
+  To make a better Market amongst the Cardinals.
+  --But take my word, ne'er a Cardinal of them all
+  Comes near this Man, I mean, to bring you in
+  Matters of Beauty--so, this will infallibly make
+  My Peace again: [Aside.] Look ye, Friend
+  --Be ready, for 'tis the Prince, the noble generous _Frederick_,
+  That I design your Merchant.    [Goes out.
+
+  _Cur._ Your Servant, Sir,--that is _Guilliam_;
+  I cannot be mistaken in him, go call him back.
+    [_Pietro_ fetches him back, who puts on a surly Face.
+  --Friend, what art thou?
+
+  _Guil._ What am I? why, what am I? dost thou not see
+  What I am? a Courtier, Friend.
+
+  _Cur._ But what's thy Name?
+
+  _Guil._ My Name, I have not yet considered.
+
+  _Cur._ What was thy Name?
+
+  _Guil._ What was my Name?
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one.
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, Friend, thou hadst one.
+
+  _Cur._ Dog, do'st eccho me? do'st thou repeat?
+  I say again, what is thy Name?    [Shakes him.
+
+  _Guil._ Oh horrible!--why, Sir, it was _Guilliam_
+  When I was a silly Swain.
+
+  _Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same;
+  Didst thou not know a Maid whose name was _Cloris_?
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, there was such a Maid,
+  But now she's none!
+
+  _Cur._ Was such a Maid, but now she's none!
+  --The Slave upbraids my Griefs.    [Aside.
+
+  _Guil._ Yes, Sir, so I said.
+
+  _Cur._ So you said!
+
+  _Guil._ Why, yes, Sir, what, do you repeat?
+
+  _Cur._ What mean you, Sirrah? have you a mind to
+  Have your Throat cut? tell me where she is.
+
+  _Guil._ I dare as well be hang'd.
+  Now must I devise a lye, or never look _Cloris_
+  In the Face more.    [Aside.
+
+  _Cur._ Here's Gold for thee; I will be secret too.
+
+  _Guil._ Oh, Sir, the poor Maid you speak of is dead.
+
+  _Cur._ Dead! where dy'd she? and how?
+
+  _Guil._ Now am I put to my wits; this 'tis to begin
+  In Sin, as our Curate said: I must go on:    [Aside.
+  --Why, Sir, she came into the Wood--and hard by a
+  River-side--she sigh'd, and she wept full sore;
+  And cry'd two or three times out upon _Curtius_,
+  --And--then--    [Howls.
+
+  _Cur._ Poor _Cloris_, thy Fate was too severe.
+
+  _Guil._ And then as I was saying, Sir,
+  She leapt into the River, and swam up the Stream.    [_Cur._ weeps.
+
+  _Piet._ And why up the Stream, Friend?
+
+  _Guil._ Because she was a Woman--and that's all.    [Ex. _Guil._
+
+  _Cur._ Farewel, and thank thee.
+  --Poor _Cloris_ dead, and banish'd too from _Laura_!
+  Was ever wretched Lover's Fate like mine!
+  --And he who injures me, has power to do so;
+  --But why, where lies this Power about this Man?
+  Is it his Charms of Beauty, or of Wit?
+  Or that great Name he has acquir'd in War?
+  Is it the Majesty, that holy something,
+  That guards the Person of this Demi-god?
+  This awes not me, there must be something more.
+  For ever, when I call upon my Wrongs,
+  Something within me pleads so kindly for him,
+  As would persuade me that he could not err.
+  --Ah, what is this? where lies this Power divine,
+  That can so easily make a Slave of mine?
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. _Frederick's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Frederick_, and _Cloris_ finely dress'd.
+
+  _Fred._ 'Tis much methinks, a Boy of so dejected,
+  Humble Birth, should have so much of Sense
+  And Soul about him.
+
+  _Clo._ I know not that; but if I have a thought
+  Above that humble Birth or Education,
+  It was inspir'd by Love.
+
+  _Fred._ Still you raise my Wonder greater;
+  --Thou a Lover?
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, my Lord, though I am young,
+  I've felt the power of Beauty;
+  And should you look upon the Object, Sir,
+  Your Wonders soon would cease;
+  Each Look does even animate Insensibles,
+  And strikes a reverend Awe upon the Soul:
+  Nothing is found so lovely.
+
+  _Fred._ Thou speak'st prettily, I think Love
+  Indeed has inspir'd thee.
+
+  _Clo._ These were the Flatteries, Sir, she us'd to me;
+  Of her it was I learn'd to speak, and sigh,
+  And look, as oft you say, I do on you.
+
+  _Fred._ Why then, it seems she made returns?
+
+  _Clo._ Ah! Sir, 'twas I that first was blest,
+  I first the happy Object was belov'd;
+  For, 'twas a Person, Sir, so much above me,--
+  It had been Sin to've rais'd my Eyes to her;
+  Or by a glance, or sigh, betray my Pain.
+  But Oh! when with a thousand soft Expressions,
+  She did encourage me to speak of Love!
+  --My God! how soon extravagant I grew,
+  And told so oft the story of my Passion,
+  That she grew weary of the repeated Tale,
+  And punish'd my presumption with a strange neglect.    [Weeps.
+
+  _Fred._ How, my good _Philibert_?
+
+  _Clo._ Would suffer me to see her Face no more.
+
+  _Fred._ That was pity; without a Fault?
+
+  _Clo._ Alas, Sir, I was guilty of no Crime,
+  But that of having told her how I lov'd her;
+  For all I had I sacrific'd to her;
+  --Poor worthless Treasures to any but a Lover;
+  And such you know accept the meanest things,
+  Which Love and a true Devotion do present.
+  When she was present, I found a thousand ways
+  To let her know how much I was her Slave;
+  And absent, still invented new ones,
+  And quite neglected all my little Business;
+  Counting the tedious Moments of the Day
+  By Sighs and Tears; thought it an Age to night,
+  Whose Darkness might secure our happy meeting:
+  But we shall meet no more on these kind Terms.    [Sighs.
+
+  _Fred._ Come, do not weep, sweet Youth, thou art too young,
+  To have thy blooming Cheeks blasted with sorrow;
+  Thou wilt out-grow this childish Inclination,
+  And shalt see Beauties here, whose every glance
+  Kindle new Fires, and quite expel the old.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh, never, Sir.
+
+  _Fred._ When I was first in love, I thought so too,
+  But now with equal ardour
+  I doat upon each new and beauteous Object.
+
+  _Clo._ And quite forget the old?
+
+  _Fred._ Not so; but when I see them o'er again,
+  I find I love them as I did before.
+
+  _Clo._ Oh God forbid, I should be so inconstant!
+  No, Sir, though she be false, she has my Heart,
+  And I can die, but not redeem the Victim.
+
+  _Fred._ Away, you little Fool, you make me sad
+  By this resolve: but I'll instruct you better.
+
+  _Clo._ I would not make you sad for all the World.
+  Sir, I will sing, or dance, do any thing
+  That may divert you.
+
+  _Fred._ I thank thee, _Philibert_, and will accept
+  Thy Bounty; perhaps it may allay thy Griefs awhile too.
+
+  _Clo._ I'll call the Musick, Sir.    [She goes out.
+
+  _Fred._ This Boy has strange agreements in him.
+
+    Enter _Cloris_ with Musick.
+
+  _She bids them play, and dances a Jig._
+
+  This was wondrous kind, my pretty _Philibert_.
+
+    [Exeunt Musick.
+
+    Enter _Page_.
+
+  _Page_. _Lorenzo_, my Lord, begs admittance.
+
+  _Fred._ He may come in.    [Exit _Page_.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_.
+
+  --Well, _Lorenzo_, what's the News with thee?
+  --How goes the price of Beauty, hah?
+
+  _Lor._ My Lord, that question is _a propos_ to
+  What I have to say; this Paper will answer your
+  Question, Sir--    [Gives him a Paper, he reads.
+  --Hah, I vow to gad a lovely Youth;    [_Lor._ gazes on _Phil._
+  But what makes he here with _Frederick_?
+  This Stripling may chance to mar my market of Women now--
+  'Tis a fine Lad, how plump and white he is;    [Aside.
+  Would I could meet him somewhere i'th' dark,
+  I'd have a fling at him, and try whether I
+  Were right _Florentine_.
+
+  _Fred._ Well, Sir, where be these Beauties?
+
+  _Lor._ I'll conduct you to them.
+
+  _Fred._ What's the Fellow that brings them?
+
+  _Lor._ A _Grecian_, I think, or something.
+
+  _Fred._ Beauties from _Greece_, Man!
+
+  _Lor._ Why, let them be from the Devil,
+  So they be new and fine, what need we care?
+  --But you must go to night.
+
+  _Fred._ I am not in a very good condition
+  To make Visits of that kind.
+
+  _Lor._ However, see them, and if you like them,
+  You may oblige the Fellow to a longer stay,
+  For I know they are handsome.
+
+  _Fred._ That's the only thing thou art judge of;
+  --Well, go you and prepare them;
+  And _Philibert_, thou shalt along with me;
+  I'll have thy Judgment too.
+
+  _Clo._ Good Heaven, how false he is!    [Aside.
+
+  _Lor._ What time will your Highness come?
+
+  _Fred._ Two Hours hence.    [Ex. _Fred._
+
+  _Lor._ So then I shall have time to have a bout
+  With this jilting Huswife _Isabella_,
+  For my Fingers itch to be at her.    [Aside.    [Ex. _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Clo._ Not know me yet? cannot this Face inform him?
+  My Sighs, nor Eyes, my Accent, nor my Tale?
+  Had he one thought of me, he must have found me out.
+  --Yes, yes, 'tis certain I am miserable;
+  He's going now to see some fresher Beauties,
+  And I, he says, must be a witness of it;
+  This gives me Wounds, painful as those of Love:
+  Some Women now would find a thousand Plots
+  From so much Grief as I have, but I'm dull;
+  Yet I'll to _Laura_, and advise with her,
+  Where I will tell her such a heavy Tale,
+  As shall oblige her to a kind concern:
+  --This may do; I'll tell her of this Thought,
+  This is the first of Art I ever thought on;
+  And if this proves a fruitless Remedy,
+  The next, I need not study, how to die.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE IV. A Street.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_, meets _Guilliam_, who passes by him, and takes
+    no notice of him.
+
+_Lor._ How now, Manners a few?
+
+_Guil._ I cry you heartily, Sir, I did not see you.
+
+_Lor._ Well, Sirrah, the News.
+
+_Guil._ Sir, the Gentlewoman whom you sent me to says That she'll meet
+you here.
+
+_Lor._ That's well, thou mayst come to be a States-man In time, thou art
+a fellow of so quick dispatch: But hark ye, Sirrah, there are a few
+Lessons I must learn you, Concerning Offices of this nature; But another
+time for that: but--
+    [Whispers.
+
+    Enter _Isabella_, and _Antonio's Valet_.
+
+_Isab._ Here he is; and prithee, when thou seest him in My Chamber, go
+and tell my Lord, Under pretence of the care you have of the Honour of
+his House.
+
+_Val._ I warrant you, let me alone for a Tale, And a Lye at the end
+on't; which shall not over-much Incense him, nor yet make him neglect
+coming.
+    [Ex. _Val._
+
+_Lor._ Oh, are you there, Mistress? what have you now To say for your
+last Night's Roguery? Are not you a Baggage? confess.
+
+_Isab._ You have a mind to lose your opportunity again, As you did last
+Night, have ye not? Pray God your own Shadow scare you not, As it did
+then; and you will possibly believe No body meant you harm then, nor
+now.
+
+_Lor._ Art thou in earnest?
+
+_Isab._ Are you in earnest?
+
+_Lor._ Yes, that I am, and that _Clarina_ shall find, If I once come to
+her.
+
+_Isab._ Come, leave your frippery Jests, and come in.
+
+_Lor._ _Guilliam_, be sure you attend me here, And whoever you see, say
+nothing; the best on't is, Thou art not much known.
+    [_Isab._ and _Lor._ go in.
+
+_Guil._ Well, I see there is nothing but foutering In this Town; wou'd
+our _Lucia_ were here too for me, For all the Maids I meet with are so
+giglish And scornful, that a Man, as I am, Gets nothing but flouts and
+flings from them. Oh, for the little kind Lass that lives Under the
+Hill, of whom the Song was made; Which because I have nothing else to
+do, I will sing over now; hum, hum.
+
+
+  The Song for _Guilliam_.    [To some Tune like him.
+
+  _In a Cottage by the Mountain
+  Lives a very pretty Maid,
+  Who lay sleeping by a Fountain,
+  Underneath a Myrtle shade;
+  Her Petticoat of wanton Sarcenet,
+  The amorous Wind about did move,
+  And quite unveil'd,
+  And quite unveil'd the Throne of Love,
+  And quite unveil'd the Throne of Love._
+
+'Tis something cold, I'll go take a Niperkin of Wine,
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter _Isab._ and _Lor._ above, as frighted into the Balcony.
+
+  _Lor._ This was some trick of thine, I will be hang'd else.
+
+  _Isab._ Oh, I'll be sworn you wrong me;
+  Alas, I'm undone by't.    [_Ant._ at the Door knocks.
+
+  _Ant._ Open the Door, thou naughty Woman.
+
+  _Lor._ Oh, oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?
+
+  _Ant._ Open the Door, I say.
+
+  _Lor._ Oh, 'tis a damnable leap out at this Balcony.
+
+  _Isab._ And yet you are a dead Man, if you see him.
+
+  _Ant._ Impudence, will you open the Door?
+
+  _Isab._ I will, Sir, immediately.
+
+  _Lor._ Devise some way to let me down,
+  Or I will throw thee out; no Ladder of Ropes, no Device?
+  --If a Man would not forswear Whoring for the future
+  That is in my condition, I am no true Gentleman.
+
+  _Ant._ Open, or I will break the Door.
+
+  _Isab._ Hold the Door, and swear lustily that you
+  Are my Husband, and I will in the mean time
+  Provide for your safety,
+  Though I can think of none but the Sheets from the Bed.
+    [He holds the Door.
+
+  _Lor._ Any thing to save my Life;
+  --Sir, you may believe me upon my Honour,
+  I am lawful Husband to _Isabella_,
+  And have no designs upon your House or Honour.
+    [_Isab._ this while fastens the Sheets, which are to be suppos'd
+    from the Bed, to the Balcony.
+
+  _Ant._ Thou art some Villain.
+
+  _Lor._ No, Sir, I am an honest Man, and married lawfully.
+
+  _Ant._ Who art thou?
+
+  _Lor._ Hast thou done?
+
+  _Isab._ Yes, but you must venture hard.
+
+  _Isab._ 'Tis _Lorenzo_, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ A Pox on her, now am I asham'd to all eternity.
+
+  _Isab._ Sir, let me beg you'l take his Word and Oath to night,
+  And to morrow I will satisfy you.    [_Lor._ gets down by the Sheets.
+
+  _Ant._ Look you make this good,
+  Or you shall both dearly pay for't.
+
+  _Lor._ I am alive, yes, yes, all's whole and sound,
+  Which is a mercy, I can tell you;
+  This is whoring now: may I turn _Franciscan_,
+  If I could not find in my heart to do penance
+  In Camphire Posset, this Month, for this.
+  --Well, I must to this Merchant of Love,
+  And I would gladly be there before the Prince:
+  For since I have mist here,
+  I shall be amorous enough,
+  And then I'll provide for _Frederick_;
+  For 'tis but just, although he be my Master,
+  That I in these Ragousts should be his Taster.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE V. Antonio's House.
+
+    Enter _Ismena_ with a Veil.
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_ is not come yet, sure he loves me;
+  But 'tis not Tears, and Knees, that can confirm me;
+  No, I must be convinc'd by better Argument.
+  --Deceit, if ever thou a Guide wert made
+  To amorous Hearts, assist a Love-sick Maid.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_.
+
+  _Alb._ Your pleasure, Madam?
+  --Oh that she would be brief,
+  And send me quickly from her,
+  For her Eyes will overthrow my purpose.    [Aside.
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_, do you love me?
+
+  _Alb._ No.
+
+  _Ism._ No! have you deceiv'd me then?
+
+  _Alb._ Neither, _Clarina_; when I told you so,
+  By Heaven, 'twas perfect Truth.
+
+  _Ism._ And what have I done since should
+  Merit your Dis-esteem?
+
+  _Alb._ Nothing but what has rais'd it.
+
+  _Ism._ To raise your Esteem, then it seems, is
+  To lessen your Love; or, as most Gallants are,
+  You're but pleas'd with what you have not;
+  And love a Mistress with great Passion, till you find
+  Your self belov'd again, and then you hate her.
+
+  _Alb._ You wrong my Soul extremely,
+  'Tis not of that ungrateful nature;
+  To love me is to me a greater Charm
+  Than that of Wit or Beauty.
+
+  _Ism._ I'm glad on't, Sir; then I have pleasant News for you,
+  I know a Lady, and a Virgin too,
+  That loves you with such Passion,
+  As has oblig'd me to become her Advocate.
+
+  _Alb._ I am very much oblig'd to her,
+  If there be any such.
+
+  _Ism._ Upon my Life, there is; I am in earnest,
+  The Lady is my Sister too.
+
+  _Alb._ How, _Clarina_, this from you?
+
+  _Ism._ Nay, I have promis'd her, that you shall love her too,
+  Since both her Birth and Beauty merits you.
+
+  _Alb._ Away, false Woman: I love your Sister!
+  No, I will hate ye both.
+
+  _Ism._ Why so Angry?
+  Alas, it is against my Will I do it.
+
+  _Alb._ Did you betray my Faith, when 'twas so easy
+  To give a credit to your tale of Love?
+  --Oh Woman, faithless Woman!
+
+  _Ism._ _Alberto_, with a world of shame I own
+  That I then lov'd you, and must do so still:
+  But since that Love must be accounted criminal,
+  And that a world of danger does attend it;
+  I am resolv'd, though I can never quit it,
+  To change it into kind Esteem for you;
+  And would ally you, Sir, as near to me,
+  As our unkind Stars will permit me.
+
+  _Alb._ I thank you, Madam: Oh, what a shame it is,
+  To be out-done in Virtue, as in Love!
+
+  _Ism._ Another favour I must beg of you,
+  That you will tell _Antonio_ what is past.
+
+  _Alb._ How mean you, Madam?
+
+  _Ism._ Why, that I love you, Sir,
+  And how I have deceiv'd him into confidence.
+
+  _Alb._ This is strange; you cannot mean it sure.
+
+  _Ism._ When I intend to be extremely good,
+  I would not have a secret Sin within,
+  Though old, and yet repented too: no, Sir,
+  Confession always goes with Penitence.
+
+  _Alb._ Do you repent you that you lov'd me then?
+
+  _Ism._ Not so; but that I did abuse _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ And can you think that this will cure his Jealousy?
+
+  _Ism._ Doubtless it will, when he knows how needless 'tis;
+  For when they're most secure, they're most betray'd:
+  Besides, I did but act the part he made;
+  And Ills he forces, sure he'll not upbraid.
+  Go seek out _Antonio_.
+
+  _Alb._ You have o'ercome me, Madam, every way,
+  And this your last Command I can obey;
+  Your Sister too I'll see, and will esteem,
+  But you've my Heart, which I can ne'er redeem.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Laura's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Laura_ and _Cloris_ like a Boy, as before.
+
+  _Lau._ Forward, dear _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ And, Madam, 'twas upon a Holyday,
+  It chanc'd Prince _Frederick_ came into our Village,
+  On some reports were made him of my Beauty,
+  Attended only by the noble _Curtius_:
+  They found me in the Church at my Devotion,
+  Whom _Frederick_ soon distinguished from the rest;
+  He kneel'd down by me, and instead of Prayer,
+  He fell to praise--but 'twas my Beauty only;
+  --That I could tell you, of my strange surprize!
+  My Zeal was all disordered, and my Eyes
+  Fed on the false, not real Sacrifice.
+  --I wanted Art my Sentiments to hide,
+  Which from my Eyes and Blushes soon he spy'd.
+
+  _Lau._ And did you know him then?
+
+  _Clo._ Not till he left me:
+  --But, to be short, Madam, we parted there;
+  But e'er he went he whisper'd in my ear,
+  And sigh'd, Ah, _Cloris_! e'er you do depart,
+  Tell me, where 'tis you will dispose my Heart?
+  --Pray give me leave to visit it again,
+  Your Eyes that gave can only ease my Pain.
+  I, only blushing, gave him my consent;
+  He paid his Thanks in Sighs, and from me went.
+  That night, alas, I took but little rest; }
+  The new and strange Disorder in my Breast }
+  Can, Madam, only by your self be guest.   }
+
+  _Lau._ I'll not deny that I'm a Lover too,
+  And can imagine what was felt by you.
+
+  _Clo._ No sooner did the welcome Day appear,
+  But _Lucia_ brought me word the Prince was there;
+  His very Name disorder'd me much more,
+  Than did his Sight or Touch the day before;
+  So soon my rising Love grew up to power,
+  So soon he did become my Conqueror.
+  --How pale and trembling, when he did appear,
+  I grew, he too had marks of Love and Fear.
+  --But I'll omit the many visits paid,
+  Th' unvalued Presents, and the Oaths he made,
+  My kind Disputes on all his Letters writ,
+  How all my Doubts were answer'd by his Wit;
+  How oft he vow'd to marry me, whilst I
+  Durst not believe the pleasing Perjury:
+  --And only tell you, that one night he came,
+  Led by designs of an impatient Flame;
+  When all the House was silently asleep,
+  Except my self, who Love's sad Watch did keep;
+  Arm'd with his Ponyard, and his Breast all bare,
+  His Face all pale with restless Love and Fear;
+  So many wild and frantick things he said,
+  And so much Grief and Passion too betray'd,
+  So often vow'd he'd finish there his Life,
+  If I refus'd him to become his Wife;
+  That I half-dying, said it should be so;
+  Which though I fear'd, Oh, how I wish'd it too!
+  Both prostrate on the Ground i'th' face of Heaven,
+  His Vows to me, and mine to him were given:
+  --And then, oh, then, what did I not resign!
+  With the assurance that the Prince was mine.    [Weeps.
+
+  _Lau._ Poor _Cloris_, how I pity thee!
+  Since Fate has treated me with equal rigor;
+  --_Curtius_ is banish'd, _Frederick_ still pursues me,
+  And by a cruel Father I'm confin'd,
+  And cannot go to serve my self or thee.    [One knocks.
+
+  _Lor._ [Without.] Sister _Laura_, Sister.
+
+  _Lau._ It is my Brother, would he would be kind,
+  And set us free; he shall not see thee,
+  And I'll persuade him.
+    [As she puts _Cloris_ into her Closet, enter _Lorenzo_ with a
+    Letter.
+
+  _Lor._ Hah, locking her Closet! now, were I a right
+  _Italian_, should I grow jealous, and enrag'd at
+  I know not what: hah, Sister!
+  What are you doing here?
+  Open your Cabinet, and let me see't.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, 'tis in disorder, and not worth your seeing now.
+
+  _Lor._ 'Tis so, I care not for that, I'll see't.
+
+  _Lau._ Pray do not, Brother.
+
+  _Lor._ Your denial makes me the more inquisitive.
+
+  _Lau._ 'Tis but my saying, he came from the Prince,
+  And he dares not take it ill.    [Aside.
+  --Here, Sir,    [Gives him the Key.
+
+  _Lor._ And here's for you too; a Letter from _Curtius_,
+  And therefore I would not open it: I took it up
+  At the Post-house.    [She reads, and seems pleas'd.
+  Now if this should prove some surly Gallant of hers,
+  And give me a slash o'er the Face for peeping
+  I were but rightly serv'd;
+  And why the Devil should I expect my Sister should
+  Have more Virtue than my self?
+  She's the same flesh and blood: or why, because
+  She's the weaker Vessel,
+  Should all the unreasonable burden of the Honour
+  Of our House, as they call it,
+  Be laid on her Shoulders, whilst we may commit
+  A thousand Villanies? but 'tis so--
+  Here, open the Door;
+  I'll put her before me, however.
+    [She opens the Door, and brings out _Cloris_.
+
+  _Lau._ Sir, 'tis _Philibert_ from the Prince.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, how now, Youngster, I see you intend
+  To thrive by your many Trades;
+  So soon, so soon, i'faith? but, Sirrah,
+  This is my Sister, and your Prince's Mistress;
+  Take notice of that.
+
+  _Clo._ I know not what you mean.
+
+  _Lor._ Sir, you cannot deceive me so;
+  And you were right serv'd, you would be made fit
+  For nothing but the great _Turk's Seraglio_.
+
+  _Clo._ You mistake my business, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Your Blushes give you the lye, Sirrah;
+  But for the Prince's sake, and another reason I have,
+  I will pardon you for once.
+
+  _Lau._ He has not done a fault, and needs it not.
+
+  _Lor._ Was he not alone with thee?
+  And is not that enough? Well, I see I am no _Italian_
+  In Punctillio's of honourable Revenge.
+  There is but one experiment left to prove my self so;
+  And if that fail, I'll e'en renounce my Country.
+  --Boy, harkye,--there is a certain kindness
+  You may do me, and get your pardon for being found here.
+
+  _Clo._ You shall command me any thing.
+
+  _Lor._ Prithee how long hast thou been set up for thy self, Hah?
+
+  _Clo._ As how, Sir?
+
+  _Lor._ Poh, thou understand'st me.
+
+  _Clo._ Indeed I do not, Sir; what is't you mean?
+
+  _Lor._ A smooth-fac'd Boy, and ask such a Question?
+  Fy, fy, this Ignorance was ill counterfeited
+  To me that understand the World.
+
+  _Clo._ Explain your self, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Lookye, ten or twenty Pistoles will do you
+  No hurt, will it?
+
+  _Clo._ Not any, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Why, so, 'tis well any thing will make thee
+  Apprehend.
+
+  _Clo._ I shall be glad to serve you, Sir, without that fee.
+
+  _Lor._ That's kindly said--
+  I see a Man must not be too easy of belief: had I been so,
+  This Boy would have been at, what d'ye mean, Sir?
+  And, Lord, I understand you not.
+  Well, _Philibert_, here's earnest to bind the Bargain;
+  I am now in haste; when I see thee next,
+  I'll tell thee more.    [_Lorenzo_ whispers to _Laura_.
+
+  _Clo._ This 'tis to be a Favourite now;
+  I warrant you I must do him some good office to the Prince,
+  Which I'll be sure to do.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, it must be done, for she has us'd me basely;
+  Oh, 'tis a Baggage.
+
+  _Lau._ Let me alone to revenge you on _Isabella_,
+  Get me but from this Imprisonment.
+
+  _Lor._ I will: whilst I hold the old Man in a dispute,
+  Do you two get away; but be sure thou pay'st her home.
+
+  _Lau._ I warrant you, Sir, this was happy;
+  Now shall I see _Curtius_.
+
+  _Lor._ _Philibert_, I advise you to have a care of
+  Wenching: 'twill spoil a good Face,
+  And mar your better market of the two.    [Ex. _Lor._
+
+  _Lau._ Come, let us haste, and by the way, I'll tell thee
+  Of a means that may make us all happy.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Grove.
+
+    Enter _Alberto_ melancholy.
+
+  _Alb._ _Antonio_ said he would be here,
+  I'm impatient till he come--
+
+    Enter _Antonio_.
+
+  _Ant._ _Alberto_, I have such a Project for thee!
+
+  _Alb._ Hah--    [Gazes.
+
+  _Ant._ What ails thee, art thou well?
+
+  _Alb._ No.
+
+  _Ant._ Where art thou sick?
+
+  _Alb._ At Heart, _Antonio_, poison'd by thy Jealousy;
+  --Oh, thou hast ruin'd me, undone my Quiet,
+  And from a Man of reasonable Virtue,
+  Hast brought me to a wild distracted Lover.
+
+  _Ant._ Explain your self.
+
+  _Alb._ Thou'st taught me, Friend, to love _Clarina_;
+  Not, as I promis'd thee, to feign, but so,
+  That I, unless I do possess that Object,
+  I think must die; at best be miserable.
+
+  _Ant._ How, Sir, have I done this?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Antonio, thou hast done this.
+
+  _Ant._ My dear _Alberto_, said you that you lov'd her?
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, _Antonio_, against my will I do;
+  As much against my will, as when I told her so;
+  Urg'd by thy needless Stratagem.
+
+  _Ant._ Name it no more, it was an idle Fault,
+  Which I do so repent me,
+  That if you find I should relapse again,
+  Kill me, and let me perish with my Weakness:
+  And were that true you tell me of your Passion,
+  Sure I should wish to die, to make you happy.
+
+  _Alb._ That's kindly said, and I submit to you,
+  And am content to be out-done in Amity.
+
+  _Ant._ Yes, I'll resign my Claims, and leave the World;
+  _Alberto_, 'tis unkind to think I would be happy
+  By ways must ruin you:
+  But sure you tell me this, but only to afflict me.
+
+  _Alb._ 'Tis truth, _Antonio_, I do love _Clarina;_
+  And, what is yet far worse for thy repose,
+  Believe my self so bless'd to be belov'd.
+
+  _Ant._ How, to be belov'd by her!
+  --Oh dire effects of Jealousy!
+
+  _Alb._ All that you saw to day was only feign'd,
+  To let you see, that even your Eyes and Ears
+  Might be impos'd upon.
+
+  _Ant._ Can it be possible!
+
+  _Alb._ And now she thinks she is enough reveng'd;
+  And lets you know, in her feign'd Scorn to me,
+  That all your Sleights and Cunnings are but vain:
+  She has deceiv'd them all, and by that Art,
+  Gives you a Confidence, and me a Heart.
+
+  _Ant._ I must confess, it is but just in her
+  To punish thus the Errors of my Fear;
+  I do forgive her, from my Soul I do.
+  --But, Sir, what satisfaction's this to you?
+
+  _Alb._ _Clarina_ happy, I'll from Court retire,
+  And by that Absence quench my Hopeless Fire:
+  War I will make my Mistress, who may be,
+  Perhaps, more kind than she has been to me;
+  Where though I cannot conquer, 'twill allow
+  That I may die; that's more than this will do.
+
+  _Ant._--Why did you, Sir, betray my Weakness to her?
+  Though 'twas but what I did deserve from you.
+
+  _Alb._ By all that's good, she knew the Plot before,
+  From _Isabella_, who it seems o'erheard us,
+  When you once press'd me to't:
+  And had we wanted Virtue, thoud'st been lost.
+
+  _Ant._ I own the Crime;
+  And first I beg thy Pardon,
+  And after that will get it from _Clarina_;
+  Which done, I'll wait upon thee to the Camp,
+  And suffer one year's Penance for this Sin,
+  Unless I could divert this Resolution,
+  By a Proposal _Clarina_ bid me make you.
+
+  _Alb._ What was it, Sir?
+
+  _Ant._ I have a Sister, Friend, a handsome Virgin,
+  Rich, witty, and I think she's virtuous too;
+  Return'd last Week from St. _Teresia's_ Monastery.
+
+  _Alb._ Sure any thing that is to thee ally'd,
+  Must find a more than bare Respect from me;
+  But certain 'tis I ne'er shall love again,
+  And have resolv'd never to marry any,
+  Where Interest, and not Love, must join our hands.
+
+  _Ant._ You cannot tell what Power there lies in Beauty;
+  Come, you shall see her, and if after that,
+  You find you cannot love her,
+  We'll both to _Candia_, where we both will prove
+  Rivals in Honour, as we're now in Love.
+  --But I'ad forgot to tell thee what I came for;
+  I must this Evening beg your Company,
+  Nay, and perhaps your Sword: come along with me,
+  And by the way I'll tell you the Adventure.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. The Lodgings of _Curtius_.
+
+    Enter _Curtius_ and _Pietro_, disguis'd as before.
+
+  _Cur._ I wonder we hear no news yet of the Prince,
+  I hope he'll come; _Pietro_, be the Bravoes ready,
+  And the Curtezans?
+
+  _Piet._ My Lord, they'll be here immediately, all well dress'd too.
+
+  _Cur._ They be those Bravoes that belong to me?
+
+  _Piet._ Yes, Sir, the same;
+  But _Antonio_ is their Patron.
+
+  _Cur._ They be stout and secret; 'tis well,
+  Is the Music and all things ready?
+  For I'll not be seen till my Part is to be play'd.
+  What Arms have they?
+
+  _Piet._ Pistols, Sir, would you have other?
+
+  _Cur._ No, I have not yet consider'd how to kill him,
+  Nor scarce resolv'd to do so any way.
+  What makes this strange Irresolution in me?
+  --Sure 'tis the force of sacred Amity,
+  Which but too strictly was observ'd by me.
+  --My Prince, and Friend, my Wife, and Sister too;
+  Shall not those last, the powerful first out-do?
+  My Honour, and my Love, are there ingag'd,
+  And here, by ties of Duty, I'm oblig'd:
+  I satisfy but these, if he must bleed;
+  But ruin the whole Dukedom in the Deed,
+  The hopeful Heir of all their noble Spoils,
+  And Joy and Recompence of all their Toils.
+  --Why, so was _Cloris_, _Laura_ too, to me,
+  Which both were ravish'd from me, Prince, by thee.    [Knocks within.
+
+  _Piet._ Sir, they be the Bravoes and Curtezans.    [_Pietro_ goes out.
+
+  _Cur._ 'Tis well, I need not talk with them,
+  They understand their work.
+
+  _Piet._ They do, my Lord, and shall be ready at your stamp;
+  They are all _Neapolitans_, you know, Sir.
+
+  _Cur._ Are they the better for that?
+
+  _Piet._ Much, Sir, a _Venetian_ will turn to your Enemy,
+  If he will give him but a Souse more than you have done;
+  And your _Millanoise_ are fit for nothing but to
+  Rob the Post or Carrier; a _Genovese_ too
+  Will sooner kill by Usury than Sword or Pistol;
+  A _Roman_ fit for nothing but a Spy.
+
+  _Cur._ Well, Sir, you are pleasant with my Countrymen.
+
+  _Piet._ I'll be so with my own too, Sir; and tell you,
+  That a _Maltan_, who pretends to so much Honour
+  And Gravity, are fit only to rob their Neighbours
+  With pretence of Piety,
+  --And a _Cicilian_ so taken up with Plots,
+  How to kill his Vice-Roy, that it keeps them
+  From being Rogues to a less degree.
+  But I have done, Sir, and beg your pardon.
+
+  _Cur._ Didst leave the Letter, I commanded thee,
+  For _Laura_?
+
+  _Piet._ I did, my Lord.
+
+    Enter _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Lor._ Well, here's the Prince just coming.
+
+  _Cor._ Pray, Sir, conduct him in,
+  I'm ready for him.
+
+    [Ex. _Cur._ and _Piet._
+
+    Enter the Prince, conducted by two Women in Masquerade, with
+    Lights, he endeavouring to take off their Masks.
+    [Ex. two Women.
+    [He walks about while this Song is singing.
+
+  _What is the recompence of War,
+    But soft and wanton Peace?
+  What the best Balsam to our Scars,
+    But that which _Venus_ gave to _Mars_,
+  When he was circled in a kind Embrace?_
+
+  _Behold a Prince, who never yet
+    Was vanquished in the Field;
+  Awhile his Glories must forget,
+    And lay his Laurels at the feet
+  Of some fair Female Power, to whom he'll yield._
+
+  _Fred._ What's this the Preparation?
+
+  _Lor._ Yes, so it should seem; but had you met
+  With so many defeats as I have done to night,
+  You would willingly excuse this Ceremony.
+
+    Musick for the Dance.
+
+    Enter _Antonio_ with _Ismena_, _Alberto_ with _Clarina_, _Laura_
+    and _Cloris_ with two Men more, and all dress'd in Masquerade,
+    with Vizards; they dance. The Prince sets down: the Dance being
+    done, they retire to one side; and _Alberto_ comes and presents
+    him _Clarina_, and bows and retires; who puts off her Mask, and
+    puts it on again, and retires.
+
+  _Fred._ She's wondrous fair;
+  Sure in his whole Cabal he cannot show a fairer--
+
+  _Lor._ She resembles _Clarina_; I wish your Highness
+  Would see further, and then perhaps this would
+  Fall to my lot, for I love her for likeness sake.
+    [_Antonio_ presents _Ismena_, and retires as the other.
+
+  _Fred._ This I confess out-does the others;
+  An Innocency dwells upon her Face,
+  That's strangely taking, is it not, _Lorenzo_?
+
+  _Lor._ To say truth, she is very fine indeed.
+    [They present _Laura_.
+
+  _Fred._ Hah! I am amaz'd; see, _Lorenzo_,
+  Dost thou not know that Face?
+
+  _Lor._ O' my Conscience and Soul, 'tis my own Sister _Laura_;
+  Why, how now, Mistress,
+  Do things go thus with you, i'faith?
+    [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him.
+
+  _Ant._ Sir, she understands you not.
+
+  _Lor._ Is it not _Laura_ then?
+
+  _Ant._ No, Sir, it is a Stranger.
+
+  _Fred._ Let her be what she will, I'll have her.
+    [_Fred._ seems to talk, when she answers in Grimaces.
+
+  _Lor._ There have been Examples in the World
+  Of the good Offices done by a Brother to a Sister;
+  But they are very rare here,
+  And therefore will surely be the more acceptable.
+  Well, Sir, have you fix'd, that I may chuse?
+
+  _Fred._ I have, and had he thousands more,    [_Lor._ goes to _Clar._
+  I would refuse them all for this fair Creature.
+
+    Enter _Pietro_.
+
+  _Piet._ Sir, all things are ready as you desire,
+  But my Master must first speak with you alone.
+
+  _Fred._ About the Price, I'll warrant you;
+  Let him come in:    [All go out but _Fred_, to him _Cur._
+  --Are you the Master of the Ceremony?
+
+  _Cur._ I am.
+
+  _Fred._ Be speedy then, and by my Impatiency
+  To be with that agreeable Stranger,
+  Guess at my Approbation of the Ladies, and which I chuse.
+
+  _Cur._ Your mighty Heat, Sir, will be soon allay'd.
+
+  _Fred._ Shall it?
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, Sir, it shall, for you must die.
+
+  _Fred._ Sure thou art mad to tell me so, whoe'er thou be'st,
+  Whilst I have this about me.    [Draws.
+
+  _Cur._ That, Sir, you draw in vain; stand off--    [Offers a Pistol.
+
+  _Fred._ What new conceited Preparation's this?
+
+  _Cur._ Sir, when you know this Face, it will inform you.
+    [Pulls off his false Beard.
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_! I am betray'd, oh Villain!    [Offers to fight.
+
+  _Cur._ Ho, within there--
+    [He calls, and all the masked Men come out, and offer their
+    Pistols at _Frederick_.
+
+  _Fred._ Hold, I am the Prince of _Florence_.
+
+  _Cur._ These, Sir, are Rogues, and have no sense of ought,
+  But Mischief in their Souls;
+  Gold is their Prince and God,--go, be gone--    [They withdraw.
+  --See, Sir, I can command them.
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_, why dost thou deal thus treacherously with me?
+  Did I not offer thee to fight thee fairly?
+
+  _Cur._ 'Tis like the Injuries, Sir, that you have done me;
+  Pardon me if my Griefs make me too rude,
+  And in coarse terms lay all your Sins before you.
+  --First, Sir, you have debauch'd my lovely Sister,
+  The only one I had;
+  The Hope and Care of all our noble Family:
+  Thou, Prince, didst ravish all her Virtue from her,
+  And left her nothing but a desperate sense of Shame,
+  Which only serv'd to do her self that Justice,
+  Which I had executed, had she not prevented me.
+
+  _Fred._ In this, upon my Soul, you do me wrong.
+
+  _Cur._ Next, (Oh, how unlike a brave and generous Man!)
+  Without a Cause, you cast me from your Bosom;
+  Withdrew the Honour of your promis'd Friendship,
+  And made me partner in my Sister's Fate;
+  Only with this difference, that she
+  You left to act a Murder on her self;
+  And mine you would have been so kind to've done
+  With your own hand, but my respect prevented it.
+  --Next, Sir, you ravish'd _Laura_ from me,
+  And under a pretence of sacred Friendship,
+  You prov'd your self the worst of Enemies;
+  And that's a Crime you dare not say was Ignorance,
+  As you perhaps will plead your Sin to _Cloris_ was.
+
+  _Fred._ _Cloris_, why, what hast thou to do with _Cloris_?
+
+  _Cur._ She was my Sister, _Frederick_.
+
+  _Fred._ Thy Sister!
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, think of it well,
+  A Lady of as pure and noble Blood,
+  As that of the great Duke thy Father,
+  Till you, bad Man, infected it.
+  --Say, should I murder you for this base Action,
+  Would you not call it a true Sacrifice?
+  And would not Heaven and Earth forgive it too?
+
+  _Fred._ No, had I known that she had been thy Sister,
+  I had receiv'd her as a Gift from Heaven;
+  And so I would do still.
+
+  _Cur._ She must be sent indeed from Heaven,
+  If you receive her now.
+
+  _Fred._ Is _Cloris_ dead? Oh, how I was to blame!    [Weeps.
+  --Here thou mayst finish now the Life thou threaten'st.
+
+  _Cur._ Now, Sir, you know my Justice and my Power;
+  Yet since my Prince can shed a Tear for _Cloris_,
+  I can forgive him; here, Sir,--send me to _Cloris_,
+    [Kneels, and offers his Sword.
+  That Mercy possibly will redeem the rest
+  Of all the Wrongs you've done me;
+  And you shall find nothing but Sorrow here,
+  And a poor broken Heart that did adore you.
+
+  _Fred._ Rise, _Curtius_, and divide my Dukedom with me;
+  Do any thing that may preserve thy Life,
+  And gain my Pardon; alas, thy Honour's safe,
+  Since yet none knows that _Cloris_ was thy Sister,
+  Or if they do, I must proclaim this truth;
+  She dy'd thy Prince's Wife.
+
+  _Cur._ These Tidings would be welcome to my Sister,
+  And I the fitting'st Man to bear that News.
+
+    [Offers to stab himself; is held by _Frederick_, _Laura_, and
+    _Cloris_, who come in with _Isabella_, dress'd like _Philibert_,
+    and the rest.
+
+  _Lau._ Stay, _Curtius_, and take me with thee in the way.
+
+  _Cur._ _Laura_, my dearest _Laura_! how came you hither?
+
+  _Lau._ Commanded by your Letter; have you forgot it?
+
+  _Fred._ _Curtius_, look here, is this not _Cloris'_ Face?
+
+  _Cur._ The same; Oh my sweet Sister, is it thee?
+    [_Curtius_ goes to embrace her, she goes back.
+
+  _Fred._ Do not be shy, my Soul, it is thy Brother.
+
+  _Cur._ Yes, a Brother who despis'd his Life,
+  When he believ'd yours lost or sham'd:
+  But now the Prince will take a care of it.
+
+  _Clo._ May I believe my Soul so truly bless'd?
+
+  _Fred._ Yes, _Cloris_, and thus low I beg thy pardon    [Kneels.
+  For all the Fears that I have made thee suffer.
+
+    Enter all the rest, first _Antonio_ and _Alberto_, without their
+    Vizors.
+
+  _Clo._ Rise, Sir, it is my Duty and my Glory.
+
+  _Alb._ Sir, we have Pardons too to beg of you.
+
+  _Fred._ _Antonio_ and _Alberto_, what, turn'd Bravoes?
+
+  _Cur._ I am amaz'd.
+
+  _Ant._ You'll cease your Wonder, Sir, when you shall know,
+  --Those Braves which formerly belong'd to you,
+  Are now maintain'd by me; which _Pietro_ hir'd
+  For this night's service; and from them we learnt
+  What was to be done, (though not on whom)
+  But that we guess'd, and thought it but our duty
+  To put this Cheat on _Curtius_;
+  Which had we seen had been resolv'd to kill you,
+  Had been by us prevented:
+  The Ladies too would needs be Curtezans
+  To serve your Highness.
+
+  _Fred._ I'm much oblig'd to them, as you.
+  --_Cloris_, a while I'll leave thee with thy Brother,
+  Till I have reconcil'd thee to my Father:
+  To marry me, is what he long has wish'd for,
+  And will, I know, receive this News with Joy.    [Exit Prince.
+
+  _Lor._ Here's fine doings; what am I like to come to if he
+  Turn honest now? This is the worst piece of Inconstancy
+  He ever was guilty of; to change ones Humour, or so,
+  Sometimes, is nothing: but to change Nature,
+  To turn good on a sudden, and never give a Man
+  Civil warning, is a Defeat not be endur'd;
+  I'll see the end on't though.    [Goes out.
+
+  _Alb._ Here, _Antonio_--imagine how I love thee,
+  Who make thee such a Present.
+    [Gives him _Clarina_, who is dressed just as _Ismena_ was, and
+    _Ismena_ in a Masquing Habit.
+
+  _Ant._ _Clarina_, can you pardon my Offence,
+  And bless me with that Love,
+  You have but justly taken from me?
+
+  _Clar._ You wrong me, Sir, I ne'er withdrew my Heart,
+  Though you, but too unkindly, did your Confidence.
+
+  _Ant._ Do not upbraid me; that I was so to blame,
+  Is shame enough: pray pardon, and forget it.
+
+  _Clar._ I do.
+
+  _Ant._ _Alberto_, to shew my Gratitude in what I may,
+  I beg you would receive _Ismena_ from me.
+
+  _Alb._ Who's this?
+
+  _Ant._ Ismena, whom I promis'd thee.
+
+  _Alb._ It is _Clarina_; do you mock my Pain?    [Shows _Ismena_.
+
+  _Ant._ By Heaven, not I; this is _Clarina_, Sir.
+
+  _Alb._ That thy Wife _Clarina!_
+  A Beauty which till now I never saw.
+
+  _Ant._ Sure thou art mad, didst thou not give her me but now,
+  And hast not entertain'd her all this night?
+
+  _Alb._ Her Habit and her Vizard did deceive me;
+  I took her for this lady,--Oh bless'd Mistake!
+
+  _Ism._ I see you're in the dark, but I'll unfold the Riddle,
+  --Sir, in the Passage from the Monastery,
+  Attended only by my Confessor,
+  A Gentleman, a Passenger, in the same Boat,
+  Address'd himself to me;
+  And made a many little Courtships to me:
+  I being veil'd, he knew not who receiv'd them,
+  Nor what Confusion they begot in me.
+  At the first sight, I grew to great esteems of him,
+  But when I heard him speak--
+  I'm not asham'd to say he was my Conqueror.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, Madam, was it you?
+  Who by your Conversation in that Voyage,
+  Gave me Disquiets,
+  Which nothing but your Eyes could reconcile again?
+
+  _Ism._ 'Twas I whom you deceiv'd with some such Language.
+  --After my coming home I grew more melancholy,
+  And by my silence did increase my Pain;
+  And soon _Clarina_ found I was a Lover,
+  Which I confess'd at last, and nam'd the Object.
+  She told me of your Friendship with _Antonio_,
+  And gave me hopes that I again should see you:
+  --But _Isabella_ over-heard the Plot,
+  Which, Sir, _Antonio_ did contrive with you,
+  To make a feigned Courtship to _Clarina_,
+  And told us all the story.
+
+  _Alb._ Oh, how I'm ravish'd with my Happiness!
+
+  _Ism._ _Clarina_, Sir, at first was much inrag'd,
+  And vow'd she would revenge her on _Antonio_;
+  But I besought her to be pleas'd again,
+  And said I would contrive a Counter-Plot,
+  Should satisfy her Honour and Revenge.
+  Thus, Sir, I got a Garment like to hers;
+  And to be courted, though but in jest, by you,
+  I run all hazards of my Brother's Anger,
+  And your opinion of my Lightness too.
+
+  _Clar._ 'Twas a Temptation, Sir, I would not venture on,
+  Lest from the reasons of a just Revenge,
+  And so much Beauty as _Alberto_ own'd,
+  My Virtue should not well secure your Interest.
+
+  _Ant._ But why, _Ismena_, was that killing Plot,
+  When I was hid behind the Arras? for now I confess all.
+
+  _Ism._ To make _Alberto_ confident of my Love,
+  And try his Friendship to the utmost point.
+  --_Alberto_ too I found had some reserves,
+  Which I believ'd his Amity to you.
+
+  _Alb._ Yes, Madam, whilst I took you for his Wife,
+  I thought it crime enough but to adore you;
+  But now I may with honour own my Passion:
+  I will, _Ismena_, confidently assure you,
+  That I will die, unless you pity me.
+
+  _Ism._ She that durst tell you, Sir, how much she lov'd,
+  When you believ'd it was a Sin to do so,
+  Will now make good that Promise with _Antonio's_ leave.
+
+  _Ant._ With perfect Joy, _Ismena_, I resign thee,
+    [_Ant._ gives him _Ism._
+
+  _Alb._ By double Ties you now unite our Souls;
+  Though I can hardly credit what I see,
+  The Happiness so newly is arriv'd.    [To _Ant._
+
+    Enter _Prince_, _Lorenzo_, and _Guilliam_, who comes up scraping
+    to _Cloris_.
+
+  _Fred._ My Father is the kindest Man on Earth,
+  And _Cloris_ shall be welcome to his Bosom;
+  Who'll make him happy in my Reformation.
+  --Here, _Curtius_, take _Laura_, who, I find,
+  Had rather be my Sister than my Mistress:
+  The Duke commands it so.
+
+  _Cur._ Till you have pardon'd me my late Offences,
+  I must deny myself so great a Happiness.    [_Cur._ kneels.
+
+  _Fred._ Rise, you have it.
+
+    Enter _Salvator_.
+
+  _Sal._ Is here not a Runegado belongs to me?
+
+  _Lau._ No, Sir, my Faith's entire,
+  And _Curtius_ has the keeping of it.
+
+  _Sal._ Who made him Master of it, hau?
+
+  _Lau._ Heaven, my Inclinations and the Prince.
+
+  _Sal._ Three powerful Opposers;
+  Take her, since it must be so,
+  And mayst thou be happy with her.
+
+  _Fred._ _Alberto_, would this Court afforded
+  A Lady worthy thee.
+
+  _Alb._ Sir, I'm already sped, I humbly thank you.
+
+  _Lor._ Sped, quoth ye? Heaven defend
+  Me from such Fortune.
+
+  _Fred._ _Lorenzo_, I had forgot thee; thou shalt e'en marry too.
+
+  _Lor._ You may command me any thing but marrying.
+
+  _Isab._ What think you then of a smooth-fac'd Boy?
+
+  _Lor._ A Pox on him, sure he will not tell now, will he?
+
+  _Isab._ My Lord, I beg your leave to challenge _Lorenzo_.
+
+  _Fred._ What, to a Duel, _Philibert_?
+
+  _Lor._ _Phil._ _Phil._ hold, do not ruin the Reputation
+  Of a Man that has acquir'd Fame amongst the female Sex;
+  I protest I did but jest.
+
+  _Isab._ But, Sir, I'm in earnest with you.
+
+  _Fred._ This is not _Philibert_.
+
+  _Isab._ No, Sir, but _Isabella_--that was _Philibert_.
+    [Pointing to _Cloris_.
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, Sir, I was the happy Boy to be belov'd,
+  When _Cloris_ was forgotten.
+
+  _Fred._ Oh, how you raise my Love and Shame!
+  But why did _Isabella_ change her Habit?
+
+  _Clo._ Only to take my place, lest you should miss me,
+  Who being with _Laura_, at the Lodgings of _Clarina_,
+  And comparing the Words of her Letter
+  With what the Bravoes had confess'd to _Antonio_,
+  We found the Plot which was laid for you,
+  And join'd all to prevent it.
+
+  _Fred._ 'Twas sure the work of Heaven.
+
+  _Isab._ And now, Sir, I come to claim a Husband here.
+
+  _Fred._ Name him, and take him.
+
+  _Isab._ _Lorenzo_, Sir.
+
+  _Lor._ Of all Cheats, commend me to a Waiting-Gentlewoman;
+  I her Husband?
+
+  _Ant._ I am a Witness to that Truth.
+
+  _Fred._ 'Tis plain against you; come, you must be honest.
+
+  _Lor._ Will you compel me to't against my will?
+  Oh Tyranny, consider, I am a Man of Quality and Fortune.
+
+  _Isab._ As for my Qualities, you know I have sufficient,
+  And Fortune, thanks to your Bounty, considerable too.
+
+  _Fred._ No matter, he has enough for both.
+
+  _Lor._ Nay, Sir, an you be against me,
+  'Tis time to reform in my own defence;
+  But 'tis a thing I never consider'd, or thought on.
+
+  _Fred._ Marry first, and consider afterwards.
+
+  _Lor._ That's the usual way, I confess;
+  Come, _Isabella_, since the Prince commands it,
+  I do not love thee, but yet I'll not forswear it;
+  Since a greater Miracle than that is wrought,
+  And that's my marrying thee;
+  Well, 'tis well thou art none of the most beautiful,
+  I should swear the Prince had some designs on thee else.
+
+  _Clo._ Yes, _Guilliam_, since thou hast been so faithful,
+  I dare assure thee _Lucia_ shall be thine.
+    [_Clo._ speaks aside to _Guil._ _Guil._ bows.
+
+  _Fred._ Come, my fair _Cloris_, and invest thy self
+  In all the Glories which I lately promis'd:
+  --And, Ladies, you'll attend her to the Court,
+  And share the Welcomes which the Duke provides her;
+  Where all the Sallies of my flattering Youth
+  Shall be no more remember'd, but as past.
+  Since 'tis a Race that must by Man be run,
+  I'm happy in my Youth it was begun;
+  It serves my future Manhood to improve,
+  Which shall be sacrific'd to War and Love.
+
+_Curtain Falls._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE,
+
+Spoken by _Cloris_.
+
+
+  Ladies, the Prince was kind at last,
+  But all the Danger is not past;
+  I cannot happy be till you approve
+  My hasty condescension to his Love.
+  'Twas want of Art, not Virtue, was my Crime;
+  And that's, I vow, the Author's Fault, not mine.
+  She might have made the Women pitiless,
+  But that had harder been to me than this:
+  She might have made our Lovers constant too,
+  A Work which Heaven it self can scarcely do;
+  But simple Nature never taught the way
+  To hide those Passions which she must obey.
+  E'en humble Cottages and Cells,
+  Where Innocence and Virtue dwells,
+  Than Courts no more secure can be
+  From Love and dangerous Flattery.
+  Love in rural Triumph reigns,
+  As much a God amongst the Swains,
+  As if the Sacrifices paid
+  Were wounded Hearts by Monarchs made:
+  And this might well excuse th' Offence,
+  If it be so to love a Prince.
+  But, Ladies, 'tis your Hands alone,
+  And not his Power, can raise me to a Throne;
+  Without that Aid I cannot reign,
+  But will return back to my Flocks again.
+
+    _Guilliam_ advances.
+
+  _Guil._ How, go from Court! nay, zay not zo.
+  Hear me but speak before you go:
+  Whoy zay the Leadies should refuse ye,
+  The Bleads I'm sure would better use ye--
+  So long as ye are kind and young,
+  I know they'll clap ye right or wrong.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: The Amorous Prince
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++Dramatis Personae+
+
+  p. 123 _Dramatis Personae._ I have added to the list '_Salvator_,
+  Father to _Lorenzo_ and _Laura_.' 'Ismena' is spelled 'Ismenia'
+  throughout by 1724.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 124, l. 10 _Should those._ 4to 1671 reads 'Dwell'st perceive us'
+  as a separate line. Throughout the play, except in lines as this
+  specially noted, I carefully follow the metrical division of 4to 1671.
+  1724 prints many speeches and whole scenes as prose which the quarto
+  gives as verse. It is noticeable that the edition of 1711 follows the
+  quarto.
+
+  p. 125, l. 17 _Bays._ 1724 'Bay'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 127, l. 31 _Exit Pietro._ 1724 'Exit.' which would tend to a
+  confusion here.
+
+  p. 131, l. 1 _Thinking._ 4to 1671 ends this line at 'Life' and makes
+  'Might ... Virtue' a second line.
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 133, l. 15 _accompted._ 1724 'accounted'.
+
+  p. 134, l. 34 _a my._ 1724 'on my'.
+
+  p. 137, l. 15 _They retire._ 4to 1671 'Exeunt.'
+
++ACT I: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 137, l. 16 _Scene IV. The Same._ All previous editions 'Scene IV.'
+
+
+  p. 140, l. 28 _fixt._ 1724 'fit'.
+
+  p. 141, l. 2 _me alone._ 1724 'me all alone'.
+
+  p. 141, l. 28 _Ism. I can._ 1724 wrongly gives this speech to
+  Isabella.
+
+  p. 144, l. 4 _if there need an Oath between us--_ 1724 'is there need
+  of Oaths between us?'
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 144, l. 15 _Gal. My Lord._ All previous editions give Galliard's
+  lines with speech-prefix 'Ser.'
+
+  p. 145, l. 30 _An._ 4to 1671 'And'.
+
+  p. 146, l. 30 _Exit._ I have supplied this stage direction.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 146, l. 31 _Antonio's House._ I have added the locale.
+
+  p. 147, l. 10 _hurt ones._ 4to 1671 'hurts one'. 1724 'hurt one'.
+
+  p. 147, l. 16 _Cure._ 1724 'spare'.
+
++ACT II: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 152, l. 18 _The Street._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 152, l. 32 _being retir'd._ 1724 'retires'.
+
+  p. 154, l. 34 _Pag._ All previous editions here give speech-prefix
+  'Boy'. The alteration from 'Page' to 'Boy' is quite unnecessary.
+
+  p. 155, l. 13 _Lor. and Page run._ All previous editions 'Lor. runs
+  away', but obviously the Page accompanies his master.
+
++ACT II: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 156, l. 1 _Antonio's House._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 157, l. 10 _Puts on the Veil._ 1724 merely reads 'Exeunt.'
+
++ACT II: Scene v+
+
+  p. 157, l. 12 _A Chamber._ I have supplied the locale.
+
+  p. 157, l. 29 _Exit Page._ I have added this stage direction.
+
+  p. 158, l. 17 _you will believe._ 1724 omits 'will'.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 160, l. 7 _A Room._ I have supplied the locale.
+
+  p. 161, l. 23 _you're._ 1671 'your'.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 163, l. 19 _A Street._ I have supplied this locale.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 171, l. 30 _Galliard._ 4to 1671 has 'with a Galliard', and to
+  Galliard's lines gives speech-prefix 'Serv.'
+
+  p. 172, l. 6 _and his Page._ I have marked the Page's entrance here.
+  It is not noted by previous editions.
+
+  p. 173, l. 16 _Ex. Page._ 4to 1671 'Ex. Boy.'
+
+  p. 174, l. 6 _Bone Mine._ 4to 1671 'Bon Meen'.
+
+  p. 174, l. 13 _with Musick._ I have added these words.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 176, l. 30 _did not hate._ 1724 omits 'not'.
+
+  p. 177, l. 22 _never._ 4to 1671 'ever'.
+
+  p. 177, l. 32 _Joys._ 4to 1671 'Joy'.
+
+  p. 178, l. 10 _Ism. Know it was._ Both 4to 1671, and 1724 read 'No,
+  it was', which does not give sense. There can be little doubt 'Know'
+  is the correct reading.
+
+  p. 178, l. 18 _slight._ 1724 'flight'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 178, l. 29 _A Street._ I have added this locale, which no previous
+  edition marks.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 183, l. 25 _Frederick's Chamber._ I have added this locale.
+
+  p. 184, l. 22 _oft._ 1724 'soft'.
+
+  p. 185, l. 35 _Exeunt Musick._ I have inserted this stage direction.
+
+  p. 186, l. 3 _Exit Page._ I have supplied this.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 187, l. 23 _A Street._ I have added this locale.
+
+  p. 188, l. 3 _Antonio's Valet._ 4to 1671 simply 'Vallet.' 1724
+  'Valet.' The servant is obviously Antonio's man.
+
+  p. 188, l. 27 _foutering._ 1724 'soutering'.
+
+  p. 189, l. 2 _To some Tune like him._ Only in 4to 1671.
+
+  p. 189, l. 9 _And quite unveil'd._ Only 4to 1671 gives this line.
+
++ACT IV: Scene v+
+
+  p. 190, l. 31 _Antonio's House._ I have supplied the locale.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 193, l. 10 _Laura's Chamber._ I have added the locale.
+
++ACT V: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 197, l. 30 _A Grove._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 199, l. 36 _Teresia's._ 4to 1671 '_Teretia's_'.
+
+  p. 200, l. 3 _certain 'tis._ 4to 1671 'it is certain'.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 200, l. 28 _What Arms._ 4to 1671 gives this line to Pietro.
+
+  p. 201, l. 21 _Millanoise._ 1724 'Milanese'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 22 _Genovese._ 1724 'Genoese'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 27 _a Maltan who pretends._ 1724 'the Maltese, who
+  pretend'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 30 _a Cicilian._ 1724 'the Sicilians'.
+
+  p. 201, l. 31 _his._ 1724 'their'. The alterations made by 1724 and
+  the confusion of plurals and singular in this passage, which I have
+  left untouched, are noticeable.
+
+  p. 202, l. 27 _sets._ 1724 '_sits_'.
+
+  p. 203, l. 5 _others._ 1724 'other'.
+
+  p. 203, l. 12 _O'._ 4to 1671 'A'.'
+
+  p. 204, l. 20 _their._ 4to 1671 '_the_'.
+
+  p. 206, l. 33 _Visors._ 1724 '_Vizards_'.
+
+  p. 207, l. 5 _Braves._ 1724 'Bravoes'.
+
+  p. 209, l. 19 _'Twas a Temptation._ 1724 quite erroneously gives this
+  speech to Cloris.
+
+  p. 212, l. 13 _Clo. speaks aside to Guil._ 1724 'Aside to Guil.'
+
+  p. 212, l. 24 _Curtain Falls._ Only in 4to 1671.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 213, l. 5 _E'en humble._ 4to 1671 omits 'E'en'.
+
+  p. 213, l. 22 _Leadies._ 1724 'Ladies'.
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 121 _Great Johnson's way._ cf. what Mrs. Behn says in her 'Epistle
+  to the Reader' prefacing _The Dutch Lover_ (Vol. I, p. 224), of the
+  Jonsonian enthusiast: 'a man the most severe of Johnson's Sect.'
+
+  p. 121 _Nokes and Angel._ The two celebrated low comedians. Angel
+  died in the spring of 1673. He was a great farceur, but gagged
+  unmercifully, to the no small annoyance of the poets.
+
+  p. 121 _Cataline._ Jonson's tragedy was revived with great splendour
+  at the King's House, Friday, 18 December, 1668, and remained a stock
+  play until the retirement of Hart (who excelled in Catiline) at the
+  Union in 1682. Michael Mohun was famous in Cethegus, and Mrs. Corey
+  in Sempronia. Pepys found the play itself rather dull as a whole
+  'though most fine in clothes, and a fine Scene of the Senate, and of
+  a fight, as ever I saw in my life.' A year before its actual
+  production his crony, Harry Harris, a member of the rival theatre
+  had 'talked of _Catiline_ which is to be suddenly acted at the King's
+  House; and there all agree that it cannot be well done at that house,
+  there not being good actors enough; and Burt acts Cicero, which they
+  all conclude he will not be able to do well. The King gives them L500
+  for robes, there being, as they say, to be sixteen scarlet robes.'
+  (11 December, 1667.) In the first quarto (1672), of Buckingham's _The
+  Rehearsal_, Bayes refers to _Catiline_ saying that his design in a
+  certain scene is '_Roman_ cloaths, guilded Truncheons, forc'd
+  conceipt, smooth Verse, and a Rant.' The words 'Roman cloaths' are
+  omitted in all subsequent editions.
+
+  p. 121 _the Comick Hat._ In 1670 there was produced at the Theatre
+  Royal, Dryden's _The Conquest of Granada_, Part I. The witty prologue
+  was 'spoken by Mrs. Ellen Gwyn' (who acted Almahide) 'in a
+  Broad-Brimm'd Hat, and Waist Belt'. It commences thus:--
+
+    This jest was first of t'other house's making,
+    And five times tried, has never fail'd of taking;
+    For 'twere a shame a poet should be kill'd
+    Under the shelter of so broad a shield.
+    This is the hat, whose very sight did win ye
+    To laugh and clap as tho' the devil were in ye.
+    As then, for Nokes, so now I hope you'll be
+    So dull, to laugh, once more, for love of me.
+
+  Two slightly different explanations are given of the jest. Theatrical
+  tradition has it that Dryden supplied Nell Gwynne, who was plump and
+  petite, with this hat of the circumference of a cart wheel, in
+  ridicule of a hat worn by Nokes of the Duke's company whilst playing
+  Ancient Pistol. It is again said that in May, 1670, whilst the Court
+  was at Dover to receive the Duchess of Orleans, the Duke's Company
+  played there Shadwell's _The Sullen Lovers_, and Caryl's _Sir Salomon;
+  or, The Cautious Coxcomb_, in which latter comedy Nokes acted Sir
+  Arthur Addle, a bawling fop. The dress of the French gallants
+  attending the Duchess was characterised by an excessively short laced
+  scarlet or blue coat, a very broad waist-belt and a wide-leaved hat.
+  Nokes appeared on the stage in a still shorter coat, a huger
+  waist-belt, and a hat of preposterous dimensions. The Duke of Monmouth
+  buckled his own sword to the actor's side, and, according to old
+  Downes, our comedian looked more like a dressed-up ape or a quiz on
+  the French than Sir Arthur Addle. The English Court was straightway
+  convulsed with laughter at this mimicry, which seems, to say the
+  least, in highly questionable taste. When Nell Gwynne appeared and
+  burlesqued the biter, Charles II, who was present at the first
+  performance of _The Conquest of Granada_, well nigh died of merriment,
+  and her verve in delivering Dryden's witty lines wholly completed her
+  conquest of the King. Nell Gwynne did not appear on the boards after
+  1670.
+
+  p. 121 _The Jig and Dance._ cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477:
+  _A Jigg_ (_The Town Fop_). The Jig is in this prologue clearly
+  distinct from a dance. Act IV, sc. iii (p. 185): 'Cloris dances a
+  Jig'-- (i.e. the simple dance).
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 133 _Capriol._ Capriole (French) signifies a leap made by a horse
+  without advancing.
+
++ACT I: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 140 _Clarina why thus clouded?_ Similar expressions in Davenant's
+  _The Siege of Rhodes_ (4to 1663), Part 1, the Second Entry:--
+
+    _Mustapha._ I bring the morning pictur'd in a cloud.
+
+  And in Sir William Barclay's _The Lost Lady_ (folio, 1639), Act II:--
+
+      Enter _Phillida_ veiled who talks to _Ergasto_ aside and then
+      goes out.
+    _Cleon._ From what part of the town comes this fair day
+    In a cloud that makes you look so cheerfully?
+
+  are burlesqued in _The Rehearsal_, III, v:--
+
+    _Vols._ Can vulgar vestments high-born beauty shroud?
+    Thou bring'st the Morning pictur'd in a Cloud.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 164 _... is welcome._ Buckingham parodies this in _The Rehearsal_,
+  IV, iii:--
+
+    _Cordelia._ My lieges, news from _Volscius_ the prince.
+    _Usher._ His news is welcome, whatso'er it be.
+    _Smith._ How, sir, do you mean that? Whether it be good or bad?
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 172 _tabering._ Beating on; tapping; drumming. This rare word
+  occurs in _Nahum_, II, vii: 'Her maids shall lead her as with the
+  voice of doves tabering upon their breasts.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 180 _Hansel'd._ To handsel is to inaugurate with some ceremony of
+  an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin the New Year by presenting a new
+  comer with a gift.
+
+  p. 183 _She leapt into the River._ _The Rehearsal_, Act V, burlesques
+  this:-- '_The Argument of the Fifth Act_ ... _Cloris_ in despair,
+  drowns herself: and Prince _Pretty-man_, discontentedly, walks by the
+  River side.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 188 _foutering._ Fouter (Fr. foutre; Lat. futuere), _verbum
+  obscaenum_. cf. the noun in phrase 'to care not a fouter' (footra,
+  footre, foutre), _2 Henry IV_, V, iii. To 'fouter' is also used
+  (a vulgarism and a provincialism) in a much mitigated sense = to
+  meddle about aimlessly, to waste time and tongue doing nothing, as
+  of a busybody.
+
+  p. 189 _Niperkin._ This would seem to be a slang expression, as Grose
+  gives it meaning 'a small measure'. It was also used for the actual
+  stone jug. cf. D'Urfey, _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719):
+  'Quart-pot, Pint-pot, nipperkin.' _N.E.D._, quoting this passage,
+  explains as 'a small quantity of wine, ale, or spirits.'
+
+  p. 190 _Camphire Posset._ Camphor had a high reputation as an
+  antaphrodisiac. cf. Dryden, _The Spanish Friar_ (1681), Act I, where
+  Gomez says of his wife: 'I'll get a physician that shall prescribe
+  her an ounce of camphire every morning, for her breakfast, to abate
+  incontinency'; also Congreve, _The Way of the World_ (1700), IV, xii:
+  'You are all camphire and frankincense, all chastity and odour.'
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Amorous Prince_
+
+p. 121 _The Jig and Dance._ cf. note (on p. 43), Vol. III, p. 477:
+_A Jigg (The Town Fop)_.
+
+  _Town Fop_ note:
+
+  p. 43 _A Jigg._ There were, in Post-Restoration times, two
+  interpretations of the word Jig. Commonly speaking it was taken to
+  mean exactly what it would now, a simple dance. Nell Gwynne and Moll
+  Davis were noted for the dancing of Jigs. cf. Epilogue to Buckingham's
+  _The Chances_ (1682):--
+
+                 The Author dreads the strut and meen
+    Of new prais'd Poets, having often seen
+    Some of his Fellows, who have writ before,
+    When Nel has danc'd her Jig, steal to the Door,
+    Hear the Pit clap, and with conceit of that
+    Swell, and believe themselves the Lord knows what.
+
+  Thus at the end of Lacy's _The Old Troop_ (31 July, 1668), we have
+  'a dance of two hobby horses in armour, and a Jig.' Also shortly
+  before the epilogue in Shadwell's _The Sullen Lovers_ (1668) we read,
+  'Enter a Boy in the habit of Pugenello and traverses the stage, takes
+  his chair and sits down, then dances a Jig.'
+
+  But it must be remembered that beside the common meaning there was a
+  gloss upon the word derived from Elizabethan stage practice. In the
+  prologue to _The Fair Maid of the Inn_ (licensed 1626), good plays are
+  spoken of as often scurvily treated, whilst
+
+    A Jigge shall be clapt at, and every rhime
+    Prais'd and applauded by a clam'rous chyme.
+
+  The Pre-Restoration Jig was little other indeed than a ballad opera in
+  embryo lasting about twenty-five minutes and given as an after-piece.
+  It was a rhymed farce in which the dialogue was sung or chanted by the
+  characters to popular ballad tunes. But after the Restoration the Jig
+  assumed a new and more serious complexion, and came eventually to be
+  dovetailed with the play itself, instead of being given at the fag end
+  of the entertainment. Mr. W. J. Lawrence, the well-known theatrical
+  authority to whom I owe much valuable information contained in this
+  note, would (doubtless correctly) attribute the innovation to
+  Stapylton and Edward Howard, both of whom dealt pretty freely in these
+  Jigs. Stapylton has in Act V of _The Slighted Maid_ (1663) a 'Song in
+  Dialogue' between Aurora and Phoebus with a chorus of Cyclops, which
+  met with some terrible parody in _The Rehearsal_ (cf. the present
+  editor's edition of _The Rehearsal_, p. 145). Indeed all extrinsic
+  songs in dialogue, however serious the theme, were considered 'Jigs'.
+  A striking example would be the Song of the Spirits in Dryden's
+  _Tyrannic Love_, Act IV.
+
+  In Post-Restoration days a ballad sung in the streets by two persons
+  was frequently called a Jig, presumably because it was a 'song in
+  dialogue'. Numerous examples are to be found amongst the Roxburgh
+  Ballads.
+
+  The Jig introduced in _Sir Timothy Tawdrey_ would seem to have been
+  the simple dance although not improbably an epithalamium was also
+  sung.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: The Amorous Prince
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+  _Cur._ Never, I hope.  [. missing]
+  Enter _Curtius_. / _Cur._ How! the Prince!  [Enter _Curtuis_.]
+  _Cur._ I cry you mercy, Sir, pray what are you;  [; unchanged]
+  [Aside to her. / [Ex. _Isab._
+  [Aside. / [Ex. _Page_ and _Guil._ with Musick.
+    [_brackets before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text_]
+  They set _Ism._ in a Chair  [they]
+  _Cur._ _Guilliam_--the same  [Gulliam]
+  'Tis something cold, I'll go take a Niperkin of Wine, [, as shown]
+  _Lau._ Forward, dear _Cloris_.  [, for .]
+  [She shakes her Hand, as not understanding him.
+    [_text unchanged: error for Head?_]
+  But my Master must first speak with you alone,  [, for .]
+
+Notes on Text
+
+  p. 180 ... an auspicious kind, e.g. to begin  [kind.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE WIDOW RANTER.
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Bacon, General of the English in Virginia, has fought with great success
+against the Indians and repeatedly beaten back their tribes, although
+the Supreme Council, by whom the Colony is governed, have refused him a
+commission, and, in spite of his victories, persist in treating him as a
+rebel and a traitor. This Council indeed is composed of a number of
+cowards and rogues, who through sheer malice and carping jealousy
+attribute Bacon's prowess to his known passion for Semernia, the Indian
+Queen, and who feign to think that he fights merely with the hope of
+slaying her husband, the King Cavernio. These rascals are none the less
+mightily afraid of the general's valour and spirit, so they determine to
+entice him from his camp under various specious pretexts, and then, once
+he is completely in their power, to have him executed or assassinated.
+With this object in view they send a friendly letter asking him to
+attend the Council, to accept a regular commission, and to raise new
+forces. On his way to the town Bacon is attacked by an ambush of
+soldiers, whom he beats off with the help of one of his lieutenants,
+Fearless, backed by Lieutenant Daring and a troop of his own men, who
+capture Whimsey and Whiff, two very prominent justices, instigators of
+the plot. He accordingly appears before the Council with a couple of
+prisoners. The populace, who are all for their hero, realizing the
+treachery, raise a riot, and throw the Councillors into a state of the
+utmost confusion and alarm. They spur themselves to action, however, and
+under the leadership of Colonel Wellman, Deputy Governor, proceed to
+take the field against Bacon, who is declared an open and lawless rebel.
+When he appears the soldiers, none the less, join themselves to their
+hero, and as at the same moment news is brought that the Indians have
+risen and are attacking the town, Bacon is induced to lead the troops
+against the foe; and in a pitched battle Cavernio is slain. That night
+whilst his army is revelling after their victory the Council and their
+party with infamous treachery suddenly attack the camp. There are
+further skirmishes with a remnant of the Indian fugitives, and in one of
+these frays Bacon accidentally wounds Semernia, who is flying disguised
+in man's attire. He recognizes her voice, and she sinks into his arms to
+die. As he is weeping over her body Fearless rushes in with drawn sword
+shouting that the day is all but lost. Bacon, his mistress dead, deeming
+that his men are overcome by the attack from the town and that he will
+himself be captured, takes poison which he carries concealed in the
+pommel of his sword, whilst Daring and his soldiers are heard shouting
+'Victory! Victory!' The hero, however, expires at the moment his men
+have conquered, but the Council speedily come to terms, naming with a
+commission Daring as General, whilst Colonel Wellman announces his
+intention of weeding this body of rogues and cowards against the arrival
+of the new Governor who is expected from England.
+
+Daring, upon his commission, is wedded to the Widow Ranter, first
+mistress and then wife of old Colonel Ranter, recently deceased,
+a wealthy, buxom virago who has followed her soldier during the fighting
+in man's attire and even allowed herself to be taken prisoner by a young
+gallant, Hazard, just landed from England, and who has occupied his time
+in an amour with a certain Mrs. Surelove. Hazard, upon his arrival,
+meets an old acquaintance, Friendly, who loves and is eventually united
+to Crisante, daughter to Colonel Downright; whilst Parson Dunce, the
+Governor's chaplain, is made to marry Mrs. Flirt, the keeper of a
+hostelry, a good dame with whom he has been a little too familiar on a
+promise of matrimony.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+The admirable comic scenes and characters of _The Widow Ranter_ are
+original invention, but Mrs. Behn has founded the serious and historical
+portion of her play upon a contemporary pamphlet, _Strange News from
+Virginia being a full and true account of the Life and Death of
+Nathaniel Bacon esq. London: printed for Wm. Harris, 1677_. With regard
+to the catastrophe and Bacon's love for the Indian Queen, Mrs. Behn has
+quite legitimately departed from the narrative, but otherwise she keeps
+fairly closely to her sources. There is also a _History of Bacon and
+Ingram's Rebellion in Virginia in 1675-76_, written at the time but
+first published in 1867.
+
+The _Dictionary of National Biography_ gives a very ample yet concise
+account of Bacon, with valuable references to original documents. He
+was the son of Sir Thomas Bacon of Friston Hall, Suffolk. Born in 1642,
+about 1673 he married Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Edward Duke, Bart.,
+and shortly afterwards in a spirit of roving adventure emigrated to
+Virginia. Here he was elected a member of the Council, and his estates
+being especially exposed to Indian raids the volunteer colonists chose
+him General. The Governor, however, delayed to send the necessary
+commission, and Bacon having in this interval attacked a band of Indian
+marauders was promptly declared a rebel. The Governor was thereupon
+forced to yield by a general revolt, and in a second expedition Bacon
+defeated the Indians with terrific slaughter. A little later when
+reinforcements had arrived the Governor again declared him an outlaw,
+but after a brief struggle was himself obliged to take refuge at sea,
+whilst Jamestown fell into the hands of the victorious General, who not
+being able to garrison the houses, burned it to the ground. In the midst
+of his success, whilst he was busied with new plans for the welfare and
+protection of the colonists, Bacon died suddenly, 1676. He left one
+daughter, Mary, who married Hugh Chamberlain, M.D., physician to Queen
+Anne. Mrs. Behn has drawn his character with remarkable accuracy. Even
+his enemies were obliged to allow he possessed extraordinary ability,
+and he won all by the grace and charm of his manner. Oldys, in a MS.
+note on Langbaine (Mrs. Behn), attributes to the colonist _A Historical
+Discourse of the Government of England_ (1647), but the date of
+publication sufficiently shows that the antiquary is palpably in error.
+
+Langbaine in his note on _The Widow Ranter_ abruptly and sweepingly
+remarks 'Plot from the known story of Cassius,' which the _Biographia
+Dramatica_ yet more erroneously expands as follows: 'The tragedy part
+of it, particularly the catastrophe of Bacon, is borrowed from the
+well-known story of Cassius, who, on the supposition of his friend
+Brutus being defeated, caused himself to be put to death by the hand of
+his freedman Dandarus.' C. Cassius Longinus was defeated at Philippi
+(B.C. 42), by Antony, and ignorant that the left wing commanded by
+Brutus had conquered Octavius, he straightway commanded his freedman
+Pindarus to put an end to his life. It is strange that both authorities
+should have made this mistake, the more so as Bacon expressly alludes to
+the fate of Hannibal, from whose history, and not that of Cassius, Mrs
+Behn doubtless borrowed the idea of her hero's suicide. Cassius is
+indeed alluded to but casually, and not by Bacon's self. Hannibal had
+fled to the court of Prusias, King of Bithynia, who, unable to resist
+the demands of the Romans, eventually sent troops to arrest his guest.
+The great Carthaginian, however, having provided himself with poison in
+case of such an event, swallowed the venomed drug to prevent himself
+falling into the hands of his enemies. Dullman, Timorous Cornet,
+Whimsey, Whiff, and the other Justices of the Peace who appear in this
+play are aptly described in _Oroonoko_, where Mrs. Behn speaks of the
+Governor's Council 'who (not to disgrace them, or burlesque the
+Government there) consisted of such notorious villains as Newgate ever
+transported; and, possibly, originally were such who understood neither
+the laws of God or man, and had no sort of principles to make them
+worthy of the name of men; but at the very council-table would
+contradict and fight with one another, and swear so bloodily, that it
+was terrible to hear and see them. (Some of them were afterwards hanged,
+when the Dutch took possession of the place, others sent off in
+chains.)'
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+When _The Widow Ranter; or, The History of Bacon in Virginia_ was
+produced at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, in 1690--the year after Mrs.
+Behn's death--owing to the slipshod and slovenly way in which it was put
+on, or rather, 'murdered', to use the phrase of the dedication, it did
+not meet with the success so capital a piece fully deserved. Such ample
+and needless omissions were made that the intrigue soon became
+hopelessly fogged, many incidents seeming absolutely disjointed and
+superfluous. For not only were heavier scenes, including the apparition
+of Cavernio, cut, but the essential comic relief was woefully
+maltreated. The Court House opening of Act III was expunged in its
+entirety, whilst other episodes were so mangled and the speeches so
+pruned that they proved practically unintelligible. Again, the play was
+badly cast. Indifferent performers such as Barnes, Baker, Cudworth, were
+entrusted with roles they were incapable of acting, whilst Daring, the
+dashing, gallant, and handsome young officer, who is loved by the Widow,
+was alloted to Sanford, of all men most supremely unfitted for the part.
+Indeed, it would seem that the casting was done on purpose perversely
+and malignly to damn the play. Samuel Sanford, who had joined Davenant's
+company within a year of their opening, had been forced by nature, being
+low of stature and crooked of person, rather than by choice, into a line
+denoted by such characters as Iago, Creon in Dryden and Lee's _Oedipus_,
+Malignii, Osmund the wizard in _King Arthur_. 'An excellent actor in
+disagreeable characters' Cibber terms him, and old Aston sums him up
+thus: 'Mr. _Sanford_, although not usually deem'd an Actor of the first
+Rank, yet the Characters allotted him were such, that none besides,
+then, or since, ever topp'd; for his Figure, which was diminutive and
+mean, (being Round-shoulder'd, Meagre-fac'd, Spindle-shank'd,
+Splay-footed, with a sour Countenance and long lean Arms) render'd him a
+proper Person to discharge _Jago_, _Foresight_ and _Ma'lignij_, in the
+_Villain_.--This Person acted strongly with his Face,--and (as King
+_Charles_ said) was the best _Villain_ in the World.' The performance of
+an actor with such a marked personality and unpleasantly peculiar
+talents as are thus enumerated, in the role of Daring must been
+grotesque and distasteful to a degree. In such an accumulation of
+unfortunate circumstances there could have been no other event than the
+failure of the play, which was so complete as effectually to bar any
+chance of subsequent revival. Indeed, there seems to have been only one
+feature of any merit: Betty Currer, the original Aquilina in _Venice
+Preserv'd_, acted the name part with the greatest spirit and abandon.
+
+
+
+
+To the much Honoured
+
+MADAM WELLDON.
+
+
+Madam
+
+Knowing Mrs. _Behn_ in her Life-time design'd to Dedicate some of her
+Works to you, you have a Naturall Title, and claim to this and I could
+not without being unjust to her Memory, but fix your Name to it, who
+have not only a Wit above that of most of your Sex; but a goodness and
+Affability Extreamly Charming, and Engaging beyond Measure, and perhaps
+there are few to be found like you, that are so Eminent for
+Hospitallity, and a Ready and Generous Assistance to the distress'd and
+Indigent, which are Quallities that carry much more of Divinity with
+them, than a Puritannicall outward Zeal for Virtue and Religion.
+
+Our Author, Madam, who was so true a Judge of Wit, was (no doubt of it)
+satisfyed in the Patroness she had pitcht upon: If ever she had occasion
+for a Wit and Sense like yours 'tis now, to Defend this (one of the last
+of her Works) from the Malice of her Enemies, and the ill Nature of the
+Critticks, who have had Ingratitude enough not to Consider the
+Obligations they had to her when Living; but to do those Gentlemen
+Justice, 'tis not (altogether) to be Imputed to their Critticism, that
+the Play had not that Success which it deserv'd, and was expected by her
+Friends; The main fault ought to lye on those who had the management of
+it. Had our Authour been alive she would have Committed it to the Flames
+rather than have suffer'd it to have been Acted with such Omissions as
+was made, and on which the Foundation of the Play Depended: For Example,
+they thought fit to leave out a Whole Scene of the _Virginian Court of
+Judicature_, which was a lively resemblance of that Country-Justice; and
+on which depended a great part of the Plot, and wherein were many
+unusuall and very Naturall Jests which would at least have made some
+sort of People laugh: In another Part of the Play is Omitted the
+appearance of the Ghost of the _Indian King_, kill'd by _Bacon_, and
+tho' the like may have been Represented in other Plays, yet I never
+heard or found but that the sight was very agreeable to an Audience, and
+very Awfull: besides the Apparition of the Ghost was necessary, for it
+was that which struck a Terror in the Queen, and frighten'd her from
+heark'ning to the Love of _Bacon_, believing it a horrid thing to
+receive the Caresses and Embraces of her Husbands Murderer: And Lastly,
+many of the Parts being false Cast, and given to those whose Tallants
+and Genius's suited not our Author's Intention: These, Madam, are some
+of the Reasons that this Play was unsuccessfull, and the best Play that
+ever was writ must prove so: if it have the Fate to be Murder'd like
+this.
+
+However, Madam, I can't but believe you will find an hours diversion in
+the reading, and will meet with not only Wit, but true Comedy, (tho'
+low) by reason many of the Characters are such only as our _Newgate_
+afforded, being Criminals Transported.
+
+This play, Madam, being left in my hands by the Author to Introduce to
+the Publick, I thought my self oblig'd to say thus much in its defence,
+and that it was also a Duty upon me to choose a Patroness proper for it,
+and the Author having pitcht upon your Name to do Honour to some of her
+Works, I thought your Protection, could be so usefull to none, as to
+this, whose owning it may Silence the Malice of its Enemies; Your Wit
+and Judgment being to be Submitted to in all Cases; Besides your Natural
+Tenderness and Compassion for the Unfortunate, gives you in a manner
+another Title to it: The Preference which is due to you upon so many
+Accounts is therefore the Reason of this present Address, for at the
+Worst, if this Play should be so Unfortunate as not to be thought worthy
+of your Acceptance; Yet it is certain, that its worth any Man's while to
+have the Honour of subscribing himself,
+
+  Madam,
+  Your Most Obedient Humble,
+  Servant,
+  G. J.
+
+
+
+
+THE WIDOW RANTER:
+
+Or, the History of Bacon in _Virginia_.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+By Mr. _Dryden_.
+
+
+  Heaven save ye, Gallants; and this hopeful Age,
+  Y' are welcome to the downfal of the Stage:
+  The Fools have laboured long in their Vocation;
+  And Vice (the Manufacture of the Nation)
+  O'er-stocks the Town so much, and thrives so well,
+  That Fops and Knaves grow Drugs, and will not sell.
+  In vain our Wares on Theaters are shown,
+  When each has a Plantation of his own.
+  His Cruse ne'er fails; for whatsoe'er he spends,
+  There's still God's plenty for himself and Friends.
+  Shou'd Men be rated by Poetick Rules,
+  Lord, what a Poll would there be rais'd from Fools!
+  Mean time poor Wit prohibited must lie,
+  As if 'twere made some _French_ Commodity.
+  Fools you will have, and rais'd at vast expence;
+  And yet as soon as seen, they give offence.
+  Time was, when none would cry that Oaf was me,
+  But now you strive about your Pedigree:
+  Bauble and Cap no sooner are thrown down,
+  But there's a Muss of more than half the Town.
+  Each one will challenge a Child's part at least,
+  A sign the Family is well increas'd.
+  Of Foreign Cattle there's no longer need,
+  When we're supply'd so fast with _English_ Breed,
+  Well! Flourish, Countrymen; drink, swear and roar,
+  Let every free-born Subject keep his Whore;
+  And wandring in the Wilderness about,
+  At end of Forty Years not wear her out.
+  But when you see these Pictures, let none dare
+  To own beyond a Limb or single share:
+  For where the Punk is common, he's a Sot,
+  Who needs will father what the Parish got.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  MEN.
+
+  _Indian King_ called _Cavernio_,                Mr. _Bowman_.
+  _Bacon_, General of the _English_,              Mr. _Williams_.
+  Colonel _Wellman_, Deputy Governor,             Mr. _Freeman_.
+  Col. _Downright_, a loyal honest Colonel,       Mr. _Harris_.
+  _Hazard_   } Two Friends known to one another   Mr. _Alexander_,
+  _Friendly_ }    many Years in _England_,        Mr. _Powell_.
+  _Daring_   }  Lieutenant Generals to _Bacon_    Mr. _Sandford_,
+  _Fearless_ }                                    Mr. _Cudworth_.
+  _Dullman_, a Captain,                           Mr. _Bright_.
+  _Timorous Cornet_, }                            Mr. _Underhill_,
+  _Whimsey_,         } Justices of the Peace,     Mr. _Trefuse_,
+  _Whiff_,           } and very great Cowards,    Mr. _Bowen_,
+  _Boozer_,          }                            Mr. _Barns_.
+  _Brag_, a Captain.
+  _Grubb_, One complain'd of by Capt. _Whiff_,
+    for calling his Wife Whore.
+  A Petitioner against _Brag_,                    Mr. _Blunt_.
+  Parson _Dunce_, formerly a Farrier, fled from
+    _England_, and Chaplain to the Governour,     Mr. _Baker_.
+  _Jeffery_, Coachman to _Widow Ranter_.
+  _Cavaro_, an _Indian_, Confidant to the
+    _Indian King_.
+  _Jack_, a Sea-Boy.
+
+  Clerk; Boy; An Officer; Messenger; Seaman; 2nd Seaman;
+    A Highlander.
+
+
+  WOMEN.
+
+  _Indian Queen_, call'd _Semernia_,
+    belov'd by _Bacon_,                           Mrs. _Bracegirdle_.
+  Madam _Surelove_, belov'd by _Hazard_,          Mrs. _Knight_.
+  Mrs. _Chrisante_, Daughter to Colonel
+    _Downright_,                                  Mrs. _Jordan_.
+  _Widow Ranter_, in love with _Daring_,          Mrs. _Currer_.
+  Mrs. _Flirt_, a Tapstress,                      Mrs. _Cory_.
+  Mrs. _Whimsey_.
+  Mrs. _Whiff_.
+  _Jenny_, Maid to _Widow Ranter_.
+  _Nell_, Maid at the Inn.
+  _Anaria_, Confidante to the _Indian Queen_.
+  Maid to Madam _Surelove_.
+
+  Priests, Indians, Bailiffs, Soldiers, Rabble, Negroes,
+    with other Attendants.
+
+
+  SCENE, _Virginia_: in _Bacon's_ Camp, _James-Town_ and the
+    surrounding Country.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Room with several Tables.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_ in a travelling Habit, and _Jack_, a Sea-Boy,
+    carrying his Portmantle.
+
+_Haz._ What Town's this, Boy?
+
+_Boy._ _James-Town_, Master.
+
+_Haz._ Take care my Trunk be brought ashore to night, and there's for
+your Pains.
+
+_Boy._ God bless you, Master.
+
+_Haz._ What do you call this House?
+
+_Boy._ Mrs. _Flirt's_, Master, the best House for Commendation in all
+_Virginia_.
+
+_Haz._ That's well, has she any handsome Ladies, Sirrah?
+
+_Boy._ Oh! she's woundy handsome her self, Master, and the kindest
+Gentlewoman--look, here she comes, Master.--
+
+    Enter _Flirt_ and _Nell_.
+
+God bless you, Mistress, I have brought you a young Gentleman here.
+
+_Flirt._ That's well, honest _Jack_.--Sir, you are most heartily
+welcome.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, your Servant.    [Salutes her.
+
+_Flirt._ Please you walk into a Chamber, Sir?
+
+_Haz._ By and by, Madam; but I'll repose here awhile for the coolness of
+the Air.
+
+_Flirt._ This is a Publick Room, Sir, but 'tis at your service.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, you oblige me.
+
+_Flirt._ A fine spoken Person. A Gentleman, I'll warrant him: come,
+_Jack_, I'll give thee a Cogue of Brandy for old acquaintance.
+
+    [Exeunt Landlady and Boy.
+    [_Hazard_ pulls out Pen, Ink and Paper, and goes to write.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Here, _Nell_, a Tankard of cool Drink, quickly.
+
+_Nell._ You shall have it, Sir.
+
+_Friend._ Hah! who's that Stranger? he seems to be a Gentleman.
+
+_Haz._ If I should give credit to mine Eyes, that should be _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Sir, you seem a Stranger; may I take the liberty to present my
+Service to you?
+    [Exit _Nell_.
+
+_Haz._ If I am not mistaken, Sir, you are the only Man in the World whom
+I would soonest pledge; you'll credit me, if three Year's absence has
+not made you forget _Hazard_.
+
+_Friend._ _Hazard_, my Friend! come to my Arms and Heart.
+
+_Haz._ This unexpected Happiness o'erjoys me. Who could have imagin'd to
+have found thee in _Virginia_? I thought thou hadst been in _Spain_ with
+thy Brother.
+
+_Friend._ I was so till ten Months since, when my Uncle Colonel
+_Friendly_ dying here, left me a considerable Plantation; and, faith,
+I find Diversions not altogether to be despis'd; the God of Love reigns
+here with as much power as in Courts or popular Cities. But prithee what
+Chance (fortunate to me) drove thee to this part of the new World.
+
+_Haz._ Why, faith, ill Company, and that common Vice of the Town,
+Gaming, soon run out my younger Brother's Fortune: for imagining, like
+some of the luckier Gamesters, to improve my Stock at the Groom
+Porter's, I ventur'd on, and lost all. My elder Brother, an errant Jew,
+had neither Friendship nor Honour enough to support me; but at last
+being mollified by Persuasions, and the hopes of being for ever rid of
+me, sent me hither with a small Cargo to seek my Fortune--
+
+_Friend._ And begin the World withal.
+
+_Haz._ I thought this a better Venture than to turn sharping Bully,
+Cully in Prentices and Country Squires, with my Pocket full of false
+Dice, your high and low Flats and Bars; or turn Broker to young Heirs;
+take up Goods to pay tenfold at the Death of their Fathers, and take
+Fees on both sides; or set up all night at the Groom-Porter's, begging
+his Honour to go a Guinea the better of the lay. No, _Friendly_, I had
+rather starve abroad, than live pity'd and despis'd at home.
+
+_Friend._ Thou art in the right, and art come just in the nick of time
+to make thy Fortune.--Wilt thou follow my Advice?
+
+_Haz._ Thou art too honest to command any thing that I shall refuse.
+
+_Friend._ You must know then, there is about a Mile from _James-Town_ a
+young Gentlewoman--no matter for her Birth, her Breeding's the best this
+World affords, she is married to one of the richest Merchants here; he
+is old and sick, and now gone into _England_ for the recovery of his
+Health, where he'll e'en give up the Ghost: he has writ her word he
+finds no Amendment, and resolves to stay another Year. The letter I
+accidentally took up, and have about me; 'tis easily counterfeited, and
+will be of great use to us.
+
+_Haz._ Now do I fancy I conceive thee.
+
+_Friend._ Well, hear me first, you shall get another Letter writ like
+this Character, which shall say, you are his Kinsman, that is come to
+traffick in this Country, and 'tis his will you should be received into
+his House as such.
+
+_Haz._ Well, and what will come of this?
+
+_Friend._ Why, thou art young and handsome, she young and desiring;
+'twere easy to make her love thee; and if the old Gentleman chance to
+die, you guess the rest, you are no Fool.
+
+_Haz._ Ay, but if he shou'd return--
+
+_Friend._ If--Why, if she love you, that other will be but a slender Bar
+to thy Happiness; for if thou canst not marry her, thou mayst lie with
+her: and, Gad, a younger Brother may pick out a pretty Livelihood here
+that way, as well as in _England_. Or if this fail, thou wilt find a
+perpetual Visiter, the Widow _Ranter_, a Woman bought from the ship by
+old Colonel _Ranter_; she served him half a Year, and then he marry'd
+her, and dying in a Year more, left her worth fifty thousand Pounds
+Sterling, besides Plate and Jewels: She's a great Gallant, but assuming
+the humour of the Country Gentry, her Extravagancy is very pleasant, she
+retains something of her primitive Quality still, but is good-natur'd
+and generous.
+
+_Haz._ I like all this well.
+
+_Friend._ But I have a further End in this matter; you must know there
+is in the same House a young Heiress, one Colonel _Downright's_
+Daughter, whom I love, I think not in vain: her Father indeed has an
+implacable Hatred to me, for which reason I can but seldom visit her,
+and in this Affair I have need of a Friend in that House.
+
+_Haz._ Me you're sure of.
+
+_Friend._ And thus you'll have an opportunity to manage both our Amours:
+Here you will find occasion to shew your Courage, as well as express
+your Love; for at this time the _Indians_, by our ill Management of
+Trade, whom we have armed against our selves, very frequently make War
+upon us with our own Weapons; though often coming by the worst, they are
+forced to make Peace with us again, but so, as upon every turn they fall
+to massacring us wherever we lie exposed to them.
+
+_Haz._ I heard the News of this in _England_, which hastens the new
+Governour's arrival here, who brings you fresh Supplies.
+
+_Friend._ Would he were landed, we hear he is a noble Gentleman.
+
+_Haz._ He has all the Qualities of a Gallant Man: besides, he is nobly
+born.
+
+_Friend._ This Country wants nothing but to be peopled with a well-born
+Race, to make it one of the best Colonies in the World; but for want of
+a Governour we are ruled by a Council, some of whom have been perhaps
+transported Criminals, who having acquired great Estates, are now become
+your Honour and Right Worshipful, and possess all Places of Authority;
+there are amongst them some honest Gentlemen, who now begin to take upon
+'em, and manage Affairs as they ought to be.
+
+_Haz._ _Bacon_ I think was one of the Council.
+
+_Friend._ Now you have named a Man indeed above the common Rank, by
+Nature generous, brave, resolv'd and daring; who studying the Lives of
+the _Romans_ and great Men, that have raised themselves to the most
+elevated Fortunes, fancies it easy for ambitious Men to aim at any pitch
+of Glory. I've heard him often say, Why cannot I conquer the Universe as
+well as _Alexander_? or like another _Romulus_, form a new _Rome_, and
+make my self ador'd?
+
+_Haz._ Why might he not? Great Souls are born in common Men sometimes,
+as well as Princes.
+
+_Friend._ This Thirst of Glory cherish'd by sullen Melancholy,
+I believe, was the first motive that made him in love with the young
+_Indian_ Queen, fancying no Hero ought to be without his Princess. And
+this was the reason why he so earnestly press'd for a Commission, to be
+made General against the _Indians_, which long was promis'd him; but
+they fearing his Ambition, still put him off, till the Grievances grew
+so high, that the whole Country flock'd to him, and beg'd he would
+redress them.--He took the opportunity, and led them forth to fight, and
+vanquishing brought the Enemy to fair Terms; but now instead of
+receiving him as a Conqueror, we treat him as a Traitor.
+
+_Haz._ Then it seems all the Crime this brave Fellow has committed, is
+serving his Country without Authority.
+
+_Friend._ 'Tis so, and however I admire the Man, I am resolv'd to be of
+the contrary Party, that I may make an Interest in our new Governor.
+Thus stand Affairs, so that after you have seen Madam _Surelove_, I'll
+present you to the Council for a Commission.
+
+_Haz._ But my Kinsman's Character--
+
+_Friend._ He was a _Leicestershire_ younger Brother, came over with a
+small Fortune, which his Industry has increas'd to a thousand Pounds a
+year; and he is now Colonel _John Surelove_, and one of the Council.
+
+_Haz._ Enough.
+
+_Friend._ About it then, Madam _Flirt_ to direct you.
+
+_Haz._ You are full of your Madams here.
+
+_Friend._ Oh! 'tis the greatest Affront imaginable to call a Woman
+Mistress, though but a retail Brandy-monger. Adieu.--One thing more, to
+morrow is our Country-Court, pray do not fail to be there, for the
+rarity of the Entertainment: but I shall see you anon at _Surelove's_,
+where I'll salute thee as my first meeting, and as an old Acquaintance
+in _England_--here's Company, farewel.
+    [Exit _Friend_.
+
+    Enter _Dullman_, _Timorous_ and _Boozer_. _Hazard_ sits
+    at a Table and writes.
+
+_Dull._ Here, _Nell_--Well, Lieutenant _Boozer_, what are you for?
+
+    Enter _Nell_.
+
+_Booz._ I am for cooling _Nants_, Major.
+
+_Dull._ Here, _Nell_, a Quart of _Nants_, and some Pipes and Smoke.
+
+_Tim._ And do ye hear, _Nell_, bid your Mistress come in to joke a
+little with us; for, adzoors, I was damnable drunk last Night, and I am
+better at the Petticoat than the Bottle to day.
+    [Exit _Nell_.
+
+_Dull._ Drunk last Night, and sick to Day! how comes that about, Mr.
+Justice? you use to bear your Brandy well enough.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, your shier Brandy I'll grant you; but I was drunk at Col.
+_Downright's_ with your high Burgundy Claret.
+
+_Dull._ A Pox of that paulter Liquor, your _English French_ Wine,
+I wonder how the Gentlemen do to drink it.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, so do I, 'tis for want of a little _Virginia_ Breeding: how
+much more like a Gentleman 'tis, to drink as we do, brave edifying Punch
+and Brandy.--But they say, the young Noblemen now, and Sparks in
+_England_, begin to reform, and take it for their Mornings draught, get
+drunk by Noon, and despise the lousy Juice of the Grape.
+
+    Enter Mrs. _Flirt_, and _Nell_, with drink, pipes, etc.
+
+_Dull._ Come, Landlady, come, you are so taken up with Parson _Dunce_,
+that your old Friends can't drink a Dram with you.--What, no smutty
+Catch now, no Gibe or Joke to make the Punch go down merrily, and
+advance Trading? Nay, they say, Gad forgive ye, you never miss going to
+Church when Mr. _Dunce_ preaches,--but here's to you.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Flirt._ Lords, your Honours are pleas'd to be merry-- but my service to
+your Honour.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Haz._ Honours! who the Devil have we here? some of the wise Council at
+least, I'd sooner take 'em for Hoggerds.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Flirt._ Say what you please of the Doctor, but I'll swear he's a fine
+Gentleman, he makes the prettiest Sonnets, nay, and sings 'em himself to
+the rarest Tunes.
+
+_Tim._ Nay, the Man will serve for both Soul and Body; for they say he
+was a Farrier in _England_, but breaking, turn'd Life-guard-man, and his
+Horse dying, he counterfeited a Deputation from the Bishop, and came
+over here a substantial Orthodox. But come, where stands the Cup? Here,
+my service to you, Major.
+
+_Flirt._ Your Honours are pleased,--but methinks Doctor _Dunce_ is a
+very edifying Person, and a Gentleman, and I pretend to know a
+Gentleman; for I my self am a Gentlewoman: my Father was a Baronet, but
+undone in the late Rebellion, and I am fain to keep an Ordinary now,
+Heaven help me.
+
+_Tim._ Good lack, why, see how Virtue may be bely'd. We heard your
+Father was a Taylor, but trusting for old _Oliver's_ Funeral broke, and
+so came hither to hide his Head.--But my service to you; what, you are
+never the worse?
+
+_Flirt._ Your Honour knows this is a scandalous place, for they say your
+Honour was but a broken Excise-Man, who spent the King's Money to buy
+your Wife fine Petticoats; and at last not worth a Groat, you came over
+a poor Servant, though now a Justice of the Peace, and of the Honourable
+Council.
+
+_Tim._ Adz zoors, if I knew who 'twas said so, I'd sue him for
+_Scandalum Magnatum_.
+
+_Dull._ Hang 'em, Scoundrels, hang 'em, they live upon Scandal, and we
+are Scandal-proof.--They say too, that I was a Tinker, and running the
+Country, robb'd a Gentleman's House there, was put into _Newgate_, got a
+Reprieve after Condemnation, and was transported hither; --and that you,
+_Boozer_, was a common Pick-pocket, and being often flogg'd at the
+Carts-tale, afterwards turn'd Evidence, and when the Times grew honest
+was fain to flie.
+
+_Booz._ Ay, ay, Major, if Scandal would have broke our Hearts, we had
+not arriv'd to the Honour of being Privy-Counsellors.--But come, Mrs.
+_Flirt_, what, never a Song to entertain us?
+
+_Flirt._ Yes, and a Singer too newly come ashore.
+
+_Tim._ Adz zoors, let's have it then.
+
+    Enter a Girl who sings, they bear the Bob.
+
+_Haz._ Here, Maid, a Tankard of your Drink.
+
+_Flirt._ Quickly, _Nell_, wait upon the Gentleman.
+
+_Dull._ Please you, Sir, to taste of our Liquor.--My service to you.
+I see you are a Stranger, and alone; please you to come to our Table?
+    [He rises and comes.
+
+_Flirt._ Come, Sir, pray sit down here; these are very honourable
+Persons, I assure you: This is Major _Dullman_, Major of his
+Excellency's own Regiment, when he arrives; this Mr. _Timorous_, Justice
+a Peace in _Corum_; this Captain _Boozer_, all of the honourable
+Council.
+
+_Haz._ With your leave, Gentlemen.    [Sits.
+
+_Tim._ My service to you, Sir.    [Drinks.
+  What, have you brought over any Cargo, Sir? I'll be your Customer.
+
+_Booz._ Ay, and cheat him too, I'll warrant him.    [Aside.
+
+_Haz._ I was not bred to Merchandizing, Sir, nor do intend to follow the
+drudgery of Trading.
+
+_Dull._ Men of Fortune seldom travel hither, Sir, to see Fashions.
+
+_Tim._ Why, Brother, it may be the Gentleman has a mind to be a Planter;
+will you hire your self to make a Crop of Tobacco this Year?
+
+_Haz._ I was not born to work, Sir.
+
+_Tim._ Not work, Sir! Zoors, your Betters have workt, Sir. I have workt
+my self, Sir, both set and stript Tobacco, for all I am of the
+honourable Council. Not work, quoth a!--I suppose, Sir, you wear your
+Fortune upon your Back, Sir?
+
+_Haz._ Is it your Custom here, Sir, to affront Strangers? I shall expect
+Satisfaction.
+    [Rises.
+
+_Tim._ Why, does any body here owe you any thing?
+
+_Dull._ No, unless he means to be paid for drinking with us,--ha, ha,
+ha.
+
+_Haz._ No, Sir, I have money to pay for what I drink: here's my Club, my
+Guinea,
+    [Flings down a Guinea.
+  I scorn to be oblig'd to such Scoundrels.
+
+_Booz._ Hum--call Men of Honour Scoundrels.    [Rise in huff.
+
+_Tim._ Let him alone, let him alone, Brother; how should he learn
+Manners? he never was in _Virginia_ before.
+
+_Dull._ He's some Covent-Garden Bully.
+
+_Tim._ Or some broken Citizen turned Factor.
+
+_Haz._ Sir, you lye, and you are a Rascal.
+    [Flings the Brandy in his Face.
+
+_Tim._ Adz zoors, he has spil'd all the Brandy.
+    [_Tim._ runs behind the Door, _Dull_, and _Booz._ strike _Hazard_.
+
+_Haz._ I understand no Cudgel-play, but wear a Sword to right myself.
+    [Draws, they run off.
+
+_Flirt._ Good Heavens! what, quarelling in my House?
+
+_Haz._ Do the Persons of Quality in this Country treat Strangers thus?
+
+_Flirt._ Alas, Sir, 'tis a familiar way they have, Sir.
+
+_Haz._ I'm glad I know it.--Pray, Madam, can you inform one how I may be
+furnish'd with a Horse and a Guide to Madam _Surelove's_?
+
+_Flirt._ A most accomplish'd Lady, and my very good Friend, you shall be
+immediately--
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. The Council-Table.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_, _Downright_, _Dunce_, _Whimsey_, _Whiff_, and
+    others.
+
+_Well._ Come, Mr. _Dunce_, though you are no Counsellor, yet your
+Counsel may be good in time of Necessity, as now.
+
+_Dun._ If I may give worthy Advice, I do not look upon our Danger to be
+so great from the _Indians_, as from young _Bacon_, whom the People have
+nick-nam'd _Fright-all_.
+
+_Whim._ Ay, ay, that same _Bacon_, I would he were well hang'd: I am
+afraid that under pretence of killing all the _Indians_ he means to
+murder us, lie with our Wives, and hang up our little Children, and make
+himself Lord and King.
+
+_Whiff._ Brother _Whimsey_, not so hot; with leave of the honourable
+Board, my Wife is of opinion, that _Bacon_ came seasonably to our Aid,
+and what he has done was for our Defence, the _Indians_ came down upon
+us, and ravish'd us all, Men, Women, and Children.
+
+_Well._ If these Grievances were not redrest, we had our Reasons for it;
+it was not that we were insensible, Captain _Whiff_, of what we suffer'd
+from the Insolence of the _Indians_; but all knew what we must expect
+from _Bacon_, if that by lawful Authority he had arrived to so great a
+Command as General; nor would we be hufft out of our Commissions.
+
+_Down._ 'Tis most certain that _Bacon_ did not demand a Commission out
+of a design of serving us, but to satisfy his Ambition and his Love; it
+being no secret that he passionately admires the _Indian_ Queen, and
+under the pretext of a War, intends to kill the King her Husband,
+establish himself in her Heart, and on all occasions make himself a more
+formidable Enemy than the Indians are.
+
+_Whim._ Nay, nay, I ever foresaw he would prove a Villain.
+
+_Whiff._ Nay, and he be thereabout, my _Nancy_ shall have no more to do
+with him.
+
+_Well._ But, Gentlemen, the People daily flock to him, so that his Army
+is too considerable for us to oppose by any thing but Policy.
+
+_Down._ We are sensible, Gentlemen, that our Fortunes, our Honours, and
+our Lives are at stake; and therefore you are call'd together to consult
+what's to be done in this Grand Affair, till our Governour and Forces
+arrive from _England_: the Truce he made with the _Indians_ will be out
+to morrow.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, and then he intends to have another bout with the
+_Indians_. Let's have patience, I say, till he has thrumb'd their
+Jackets, and then to work with your Politicks as soon as you please.
+
+_Down._ Colonel _Wellman_ has answer'd that point, good Captain _Whiff_;
+'tis the Event of this Battel we ought to dread; and if won or lost,
+will be equally fatal for us, either from the _Indians_ or from _Bacon_.
+
+_Dun._ With the Permission of the honourable Board, I think I have hit
+upon an Expedient that may prevent this Battel: your Honours shall write
+a Letter to _Bacon_, where you shall acknowledge his Services, invite
+him kindly home, and offer him a Commission for General--
+
+_Whiff._ Just my _Nancy's_ Counsel--Dr. _Dunce_ has spoken like a
+Cherubin, he shall have my Voice for General; what say you, Brother
+_Whimsey_?
+
+_Down._ I say he is a Noble Fellow, and fit for a General.
+
+_Dun._ But conceive me right, Gentlemen; as soon as he shall have
+render'd himself, seize him, and strike off his Head at the Fort.
+
+_Whiff._ Hum! his Head--Brother.
+
+_Whim._ Ay, ay, Dr. _Dunce_ speaks like a Cherubin.
+
+_Well._ Mr. _Dunce_, your Counsel in extremity, I confess, is not amiss;
+but I should be loth to deal dishonourably with any Man.
+
+_Down._ His Crimes deserve Death, his Life is forfeited by Law, but
+shall never be taken by my consent by Treachery: If by any Stratagem we
+could take him alive, and either send him for _England_ to receive there
+his Punishment, or keep him Prisoner here till the Governour arrive,
+I should agree to it; but I question his coming in upon our Invitation.
+
+_Dun._ Leave that to me.
+
+_Whim._ Come, I'll warrant him, the Rogue's as stout as _Hector_, he
+fears neither Heaven nor Hell.
+
+_Down._ He's too brave and bold to refuse our Summons, and I am for
+sending him for _England_, and leaving him to the King's Mercy.
+
+_Dun._ In that you'll find more difficulty, Sir; to take him off here
+will be more quick and sudden: for the People worship him.
+
+_Well._ I'll never yield to so ungenerous an Expedient. The seizing him
+I am content in the Extremity wherein we are to follow. What say you,
+Colonel _Downright_? shall we send him a Letter now, while this two days
+Truce lasts, between him and the _Indians_?
+
+_Down._ I approve it.
+
+_All._ And I, and I, and I.
+
+_Dun._ If your Honours please to make me the Messenger, I'll use some
+Arguments of my own to prevail with him.
+
+_Well._ You say well, Mr. _Dunce_, and we'll dispatch you presently.
+
+    [Ex. _Well._ _Down._ and all but _Whim._ _Whiff._ and _Dunce_.
+
+_Whiff._ Ah, Doctor, if you could but have persuaded Colonel _Wellman_
+and Colonel _Downright_ to have hanged him--
+
+_Whim._ Why, Brother _Whiff_, you were for making him a General but now.
+
+_Whiff._ The Counsels of wise States-men, Brother _Whimsey_, must change
+as Causes do, d'ye see.
+
+_Dun._ Your Honours are in the right; and whatever those two leading
+Counsellors say, they would be glad if _Bacon_ were dispatch'd: but the
+punctilio of Honour is such a thing.
+
+_Whim._ Honour, a Pox on't; what is that Honour that keeps such a bustle
+in the World, yet never did good as I heard of?
+
+_Dun._ Why, 'tis a foolish word only, taken up by great Men, but rarely
+practis'd.--But if you wou'd be great Men indeed--
+
+_Whiff._ If we wou'd, Doctor, name, name the way.
+
+_Dun._ Why, you command each of you a Company--when _Bacon_ comes from
+the Camp, as I am sure he will, (and full of this silly thing call'd
+Honour, will come unguarded too) lay some of your Men in Ambush along
+those Ditches by the _Sevana_, about a Mile from the Town; and as he
+comes by, seize him, and hang him up upon the next Tree.
+
+_Whiff._ Hum--hang him! a rare Plot.
+
+_Whim._ Hang him!--we'll do't, we'll do't, Sir, and I doubt not but to
+be made General for the Action--I'll take it all upon my self.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Dun._ If you resolve upon this, you must about instantly--Thus I shall
+at once serve my Country, and revenge my self on the Rascal for
+affronting my Dignity once at the Council-Table, by calling me Farrier.
+    [Ex. _Dr._
+
+_Whiff._ Do you know, Brother, what we are to do?
+
+_Whim._ To do! yes, to hang a General, Brother, that's all.
+
+_Whiff._ All! but is it lawful to hang any General?
+
+_Whim._ Lawful, yes, that 'tis lawful to hang any General that fights
+against Law.
+
+_Whiff._ But in what he has done, he has serv'd the King and our
+Country, and preserv'd our Lives and Fortunes.
+
+_Whim._ That's all one, Brother; if there be but a Quirk in the Law
+offended in this Case, though he fought like _Alexander_, and preserv'd
+the whole World from Perdition, yet if he did it against Law, 'tis
+lawful to hang him; why, what, Brother, is it fit that every impudent
+Fellow that pretends to a little Honour, Loyalty, and Courage, should
+serve his King and Country against the Law? no, no, Brother, these
+things are not to be suffer'd in a civil Government by Law
+establish'd,--wherefore let's about it.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. _Surelove's_ House.
+
+    Enter _Ranter_ and _Jeffery_ her Coachman.
+
+_Ran._ Here, _Jeffery_, ye drunken Dog, set your Coach and Horses up,
+I'll not go till the cool of the Evening, I love to ride in _Fresco_.
+
+    Enter a _Boy_.
+
+_Coach._ Yes, after hard drinking-- [Aside.] It shall be done, Madam.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Ran._ How now, Boy, is Madam _Surelove_ at home?
+
+_Boy._ Yes, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Go tell her I am here, Sirrah.
+
+_Boy._ Who are you pray forsooth?
+
+_Ran._ Why, you Son of a Baboon, don't you know me?
+
+_Boy._ No, Madam, I came over but in the last Ship.
+
+_Ran._ What, from _Newgate_ or _Bridewell_? from shoveing the Tumbler,
+Sirrah, lifting or filing the Cly?
+
+_Boy._ I don't understand this Country Language, forsooth, yet.
+
+_Ran._ You Rogue, 'tis what we transport from _England_ first--go, ye
+Dog, go tell your Lady the Widow _Ranter_ is come to dine with her--
+[Exit _Boy_.] I hope I shall not find that Rogue _Daring_ here sniveling
+after Mrs. _Chrisante_: If I do, by the Lord, I'll lay him thick. Pox on
+him, why shou'd I love the Dog, unless it be a Judgment upon me.
+
+    Enter _Surelove_ and _Chrisante_.
+
+--My dear Jewel, how do'st do?--as for you, Gentlewoman, you are my
+Rival, and I am in Rancour against you till you have renounc'd my
+_Daring_.
+
+_Chris._ All the Interest I have in him, Madam, I resign to you.
+
+_Ran._ Ay, but your House lying so near the Camp, gives me mortal
+Fears--but prithee how thrives thy Amour with honest _Friendly_?
+
+_Chris._ As well as an Amour can that is absolutely forbid by a Father
+on one side, and pursued by a good Resolution on the other.
+
+_Ran._ Hay Gad, I'll warrant for _Friendly's_ Resolution, what though
+his Fortune be not answerable to yours, we are bound to help one
+another.--Here, Boy, some Pipes and a Bowl of Punch; you know my Humour,
+Madam, I must smoak and drink in a Morning, or I am maukish all day.
+
+_Sure._ But will you drink Punch in a Morning?
+
+_Ran._ Punch! 'tis my Morning's Draught, my Table-drink, my Treat, my
+Regalio, my every thing; ah, my dear _Surelove_, if thou wou'd but
+refresh and cheer thy Heart with Punch in a Morning, thou wou'dst not
+look thus cloudy all the day.
+
+    Enter Pipes and a great Bowl, she falls to smoaking.
+
+_Sure._ I have reason, Madam, to be melancholy, I have receiv'd a Letter
+from my Husband, who gives me an account that he is worse in _England_
+than when he was here, so that I fear I shall see him no more, the
+Doctors can do no good on him.
+
+_Ran._ A very good hearing. I wonder what the Devil thou hast done with
+him so long? an old fusty weatherbeaten Skeleton, as dried as
+Stock-fish, and much of the Hue.--Come, come, here's to the next, may he
+be young, Heaven, I beseech thee.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Sure._ You have reason to praise an old Man, who dy'd and left you
+worth fifty thousand Pound.
+
+_Ran._ Ay, Gad--and what's better, Sweetheart, dy'd in good time too,
+and left me young enough to spend this fifty thousand Pound in better
+Company--rest his Soul for that too.
+
+_Chris._ I doubt 'twill be all laid out in _Bacon's_ mad Lieutenant
+General _Daring_.
+
+_Ran._ Faith, I think I could lend it the Rogue on good Security.
+
+_Chris._ What's that, to be bound Body for Body?
+
+_Ran._ Rather that he should love no body's Body besides my own; but my
+fortune is too good to trust the Rogue, my Money makes me an Infidel.
+
+_Chris._ You think they all love you for that.
+
+_Ran._ For that, ay, what else? if it were not for that, I might sit
+still and sigh, and cry out, a Miracle! a Miracle! at sight of a Man
+within my Doors.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+_Maid._ Madam, here's a young Gentleman without wou'd speak with you.
+
+_Sure._ With me? sure thou'rt mistaken; is it not _Friendly_?
+
+_Maid._ No, Madam, 'tis a Stranger.
+
+_Ran._ 'Tis not _Daring_, that Rogue, is it?
+
+_Maid._ No, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Is he handsome? does he look like a Gentleman?
+
+_Maid._ He's handsome, and seems a Gentleman.
+
+_Ran._ Bring him in then, I hate a Conversation without a
+Fellow,--hah,--a good handsome Lad indeed.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_ with a Letter.
+
+_Sure._ With me, Sir, would you speak?
+
+_Haz._ If you are Madam _Surelove_.
+
+_Sure._ So I am call'd.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, I am newly arriv'd from _England_, and from your Husband
+my Kinsman bring you this.--
+    [Gives a Letter.
+
+_Ran._ Please you to sit, Sir.
+
+_Haz._ She's extremely handsome.    [Aside--sits down.
+
+_Ran._ Come, Sir, will you smoke a Pipe?
+
+_Haz._ I never do, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Oh, fie upon't, you must learn then, we all smoke here, 'tis a
+part of good Breeding.--Well, well, what Cargo, what Goods have ye? any
+Points, Lace, rich Stuffs, Jewels; if you have, I'll be your Chafferer,
+I live hard by, any body will direct you to the Widow _Ranter's_.
+
+_Haz._ I have already heard of you, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ What, you are like all the young Fellows, the first thing they do
+when they come to a strange Place, is to enquire what Fortunes there
+are.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, I had no such Ambition.
+
+_Ran._ Gad, then you're a Fool, Sir; but come, my service to you; we
+rich Widows are the best Commodity this Country affords, I'll tell you
+that.
+    [This while _Sure._ reads the Letter.
+
+_Sure._ Sir, my Husband has recommended you here in a most particular
+manner, by which I do not only find the esteem he has for you, but the
+desire he has of gaining you mine, which on a double score I render you,
+first for his sake, next for those Merits that appear in your self.
+
+_Haz._ Madam, the endeavours of my Life shall be to express my Gratitude
+for this great Bounty.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+_Maid._ Madam, Mr. _Friendly's_ here.
+
+_Sure._ Bring him in.
+
+_Haz._ _Friendly!_--I had a dear Friend of that name, who I hear is in
+these Parts.--Pray Heaven it may be he.
+
+_Ran._ How now, _Charles_.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Madam, your Servant--Hah! should not I know you for my dear
+friend _Hazard_.
+    [Embracing him.
+
+_Haz._ Or you're to blame, my _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ Prithee what calm brought thee ashore?
+
+_Haz._ Fortune _de la guerre_, but prithee ask me no Questions in so
+good Company, where a Minute lost from this Conversation is a Misfortune
+not to be retriev'd.
+
+_Friend._ Dost like her, Rogue--    [Softly aside.
+
+_Haz._ Like her! have I sight, or sense?--Why, I adore her.
+
+_Friend._ Mrs. _Chrisante_, I heard your Father would not be here to
+day, which made me snatch this opportunity of seeing you.
+
+_Ran._ Come, come, a Pox of this whining Love, it spoils good Company.
+
+_Friend._ You know, my dear Friend, these Opportunities come but seldom,
+and therefore I must make use of them.
+
+_Ran._ Come, come, I'll give you a better Opportunity at my House to
+morrow, we are to eat a Buffalo there, and I'll secure the old Gentleman
+from coming.
+
+_Friend._ Then I shall see _Chrisante_ once more before I go.
+
+_Chris._ Go--Heavens--whither, my _Friendly_?
+
+_Friend._ I have received a Commission to go against the _Indians_,
+_Bacon_ being sent for home.
+
+_Ran._ But will he come when sent for?
+
+_Friend._ If he refuse we are to endeavour to force him.
+
+_Chris._ I do not think he will be forc'd, not even by _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ And, faith, it goes against my Conscience to lift my Sword
+against him, for he is truly brave, and what he has done, a Service to
+the Country, had it but been by Authority.
+
+_Chris._ What pity 'tis there should be such false Maxims in the World,
+that noble Actions, however great, must be criminal for want of a Law to
+authorise 'em.
+
+_Friend._ Indeed 'tis pity that when Laws are faulty they should not be
+mended or abolish'd.
+
+_Ran._ Hark ye, _Charles_, by Heaven, if you kill my _Daring_ I'll
+pistol you.
+
+_Friend._ No, Widow, I'll spare him for your sake.
+    [They join with _Surelove_.
+
+_Haz._ Oh, she's all divine, and all the Breath she utters serves but to
+blow my Flame.
+
+    Enter _Maid_.
+
+_Maid._ Madam, Dinner's on the Table--
+
+_Sure._ Please you, Sir, to walk in--come, Mr. _Friendly_.
+    [She takes _Hazard_.
+
+_Ran._ Prithee, good Wench, bring in the Punch-Bowl.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Pavilion.
+
+    Discovers the _Indian King_ and _Queen_ sitting in State, with
+    Guards of _Indians_, Men and Women attending: To them _Bacon_
+    richly dress'd, attended by _Daring_, _Fearless_ and other
+    Officers; he bows to the _King_ and _Queen_, who rise to receive
+    him_.
+
+_King._ I am sorry, Sir, we meet upon these Terms, we who so often have
+embrac'd as Friends.
+
+_Bac._ How charming is the Queen! [Aside.] War, Sir, is not my Business
+nor my Pleasure: Nor was I bred in Arms, my Country's Good has forc'd me
+to assume a Soldier's Life; and 'tis with much regret that I employ the
+first Effects of it against my Friends: yet whilst I may--whilst this
+Cessation lasts, I beg we may exchange those Friendships, Sir, we have
+so often paid in happier Peace.
+
+_King._ For your part, Sir, you've been so noble, that I repent the
+fatal Difference that makes us meet in Arms. Yet though I'm young, I'm
+sensible of Injuries; and oft have heard my Grandsire say, That we were
+Monarchs once of all this spacious World, till you, an unknown People,
+landing here, distress'd and ruin'd by destructive Storms, abusing all
+our charitable Hospitality, usurp'd our Right, and made your Friends
+your Slaves.
+
+_Bac._ I will not justify the Ingratitude of my Forefathers, but finding
+here my Inheritance, I am resolv'd still to maintain it so, and by my
+Sword which first cut out my Portion, defend each Inch of Land, with my
+last drop of Blood.
+
+_Queen._ Even his Threats have Charms that please the Heart.
+    [Aside.
+
+_King._ Come, Sir, let this ungrateful Theme alone, which is better
+disputed in the Field.
+
+_Queen._ Is it impossible there might be wrought an understanding
+betwixt my Lord and you? 'Twas to that end I first desired this Truce,
+my self proposing to be Mediator, to which my Lord _Cavernio_ shall
+agree, could you but condescend--I know you are noble: And I have heard
+you say our tender Sex could never plead in vain.
+
+_Bac._ Alas! I dare not trust your pleading, Madam: a few soft Words
+from such a charming Mouth would make me lay the Conqueror at your Feet,
+as a Sacrifice for all the Ills he has done you.
+
+_Queen._ How strangely am I pleas'd to hear him talk.    [Aside.
+
+  _King._ _Semernia_, see, the Dancers do appear;
+  Sir, will you take your Seat?    [To _Bacon_.
+    [He leads the _Queen_ to a Seat, they sit and talk.
+
+_Bac._ Curse on his Sports that interrupted me, my very Soul was
+hovering at my Lip, ready to have discover'd all its Secrets. But oh!
+I dread to tell her of my pain, and when I wou'd an awful trembling
+seizes me, and she can only from my dying Eyes read all the Sentiments
+of my captive Heart.
+    [Sits down, the rest wait.
+
+    Enter _Indians_ that dance Anticks: after the Dance the _King_
+    seems in discourse with _Bacon_, the _Queen_ rises and comes
+    forth.
+
+_Queen._ The more I gaze upon this _English_ Stranger, the more
+Confusion struggles in my Soul: Oft I have heard of Love, and oft this
+Gallant Man (when Peace had made him pay his idle Visits) has told a
+thousand Tales of dying Maids; and ever when he spoke, my panting Heart,
+with a prophetick Fear in Sighs reply'd, I shall fall a Victim to his
+Eyes.
+
+    Enter an _Indian_.
+
+_Indian._ Sir, here's a Messenger from the _English_ Council desires
+admittance to the General.
+    [To the _King_.
+
+_Bac._ With your Permission he may advance.    [To the _King_.
+
+    Re-enter _Indian_ with _Dunce_. A Letter.
+
+_Dun._ All Health and Happiness attend your Honour, this from the
+honourable Council.
+    [Gives him a Letter.
+
+_King._ I'll leave you till you have dispatch'd the Messenger, and then
+expect your presence in the Royal Tent.
+
+    [Exeunt _King_, _Queen_, and _Indians_.
+
+_Bac._ Lieutenant, read the Letter.    [To _Daring_.
+
+    _Daring_ reads.
+
+    SIR, the necessity of what you have acted makes it pardonable, and
+    we could wish we had done the Country and our selves so much Justice
+    as to have given you that Commission you desired.--We now find it
+    reasonable to raise more Forces, to oppose these Insolences, which
+    possibly yours may be too weak to accomplish, to which end the
+    Council is ordered to meet this Evening, and desiring you will come
+    and take your place there, and be pleas'd to accept from us a
+    Commission to command in Chief in this War.--Therefore send those
+    Soldiers under your Command to their respective Houses, and haste,
+    Sir, to your affectionate Friends--
+
+_Fear._ Sir, I fear the Hearts and Pen did not agree when this was writ.
+
+_Dar._ A plague upon their shallow Politicks! Do they think to play the
+old Game twice with us?
+
+_Bac._ Away, you wrong the Council, who of themselves are honourable
+Gentlemen; but the base coward Fear of some of them, puts the rest on
+tricks that suit not with their Nature.
+
+_Dun._ Sir, 'tis for noble ends you are sent for, and for your safety
+I'll engage my Life.
+
+_Dar._ By Heaven, and so you shall;--and pay it too with all the rest of
+your wise-headed Council.
+
+_Bac._ Your Zeal is too officious now; I see no Treachery, and can fear
+no Danger.
+
+_Dun._ Treachery! now Heavens forbid, are we not Christians, Sir, all
+Friends and Countrymen? believe me, Sir, 'tis Honour calls you to
+increase your Fame, and he who would dissuade you is your Enemy.
+
+_Dar._ Go cant, Sir, to the Rabble--for us, we know you.
+
+_Bac._ You wrong me when you but suspect for me; let him that acts
+dishonourably fear. My innocence and my good Sword's my Guard.
+
+_Dar._ If you resolve to go, we will attend you.
+
+_Bac._ What, go like an invader! No, _Daring_, the Invitation's
+friendly, and as a Friend attended only by my menial Servants, I'll wait
+upon the Council, that they may see that when I could command it, I came
+an humble Suppliant for their Favour.--You may return, and tell 'em I'll
+attend.
+
+_Dun._ I kiss your Honour's Hands--    [Goes out.
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, will you trust the faithless Council, Sir, who have so
+long held you in hand with Promises, that Curse of States-men, that
+unlucky Vice that renders even Nobility despis'd?
+
+_Bac._ Perhaps the Council thought me too aspiring, and would not add
+Wings to my ambitious Flight.
+
+_Dar._ A pox of their considering Caps, and now they find that you can
+soar alone, they send for you to knip your spreading Wings. Now, by my
+Soul, you shall not go alone.
+
+_Bac._ Forbear, lest I suspect you for a Mutineer; I am resolv'd to go.
+
+_Fear._ What, and send your Army home; a pretty fetch.
+
+_Dar._ By Heaven, we'll not disband, not till we see how fairly you are
+dealt with: If you have a Commission to be General, here we are ready to
+receive new Orders: If not, we'll ring them such a thundring Peal shall
+beat the Town about their treacherous Ears.
+
+_Bac._ I do command you not to stir a Man, till you're inform'd how I am
+treated by 'em.--leave me, all.
+
+    [Exeunt Officers.
+    [While _Bacon_ reads the Letter again, to him the _Indian Queen_
+    with Women waiting.
+
+_Queen._ Now while my Lord's asleep in his Pavilion, I'll try my Power
+with the General for an Accommodation of a Peace: The very dreams of War
+fright my soft Slumbers that us'd to be employ'd in kinder Business.
+
+_Bac._ Ha!--the Queen--what Happiness is this presents it self which all
+my Industry could never gain?
+
+_Queen._ Sir--    [Approaching him.
+
+_Bac._ Prest with the great extremes of Joy and Fear, I trembling stand,
+unable to approach her.
+
+_Queen._ I hope you will not think it Fear in me, though timorous as a
+Dove by nature fram'd: Nor that my Lord, whose Youth's unskill'd in War,
+can either doubt his Courage, or his Forces, that makes me seek a
+Reconciliation on any honourable Terms of Peace.
+
+_Bac._ Ah Madam! if you knew how absolutely you command my Fate, I fear
+but little Honour would be left me, since whatsoe'er you ask me I should
+grant.
+
+_Queen._ Indeed I would not ask your Honour, Sir, that renders you too
+brave in my esteem. Nor can I think that you would part with that. No,
+not to save your Life.
+
+_Bac._ I would do more to serve your least commands than part with
+trivial Life.
+
+_Queen._ Bless me, Sir, how came I by such a Power?
+
+_Bac._ The Gods and Nature gave it you in your Creation, form'd with all
+the Charms that ever grac'd your Sex.
+
+_Queen._ Is't possible? am I so beautiful?
+
+_Bac._ As Heaven, or Angels there.
+
+_Queen._ Supposing this, how can my Beauty make you so obliging?
+
+_Bac._ Beauty has still a Power over great Souls, and from the moment I
+beheld your Eyes, my stubborn Heart melted to compliance, and from a
+nature rough and turbulent, grew soft and gentle as the God of Love.
+
+_Queen._ The God of Love! what is the God of Love?
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis a resistless Fire, that's kindled thus--at every
+    [Takes her by the Hand and gazes on her.
+  gaze we take from such fine Eyes, from such bashful Looks, and such
+soft Touches--it makes us sigh,--and pant as I do now, and stops the
+breath when e'er we speak of Pain.
+
+_Queen._ Alas for me if this should be Love!    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ It makes us tremble when we touch the fair one; and all the Blood
+runs shivering through the Veins, the Heart's surrounded with a feeble
+Languishment, the Eyes are dying, and the Cheeks are pale, the Tongue is
+faltring, and the Body fainting.
+
+_Queen._ Then I'm undone, and all I feel is Love.    [Aside.
+  If Love be catching, Sir, by Looks and Touches, let us at distance
+parley--or rather let me fly, for within view is too near--
+    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ Ah! she retires--displeas'd I fear with my presumptuous
+Love,--Oh, pardon, fairest Creature.
+    [Kneels.
+
+_Queen._ I'll talk no more, our Words exchange our Souls, and every Look
+fades all my blooming Honour, like Sun-beams on unguarded Roses--Take
+all our Kingdoms --make our People Slaves, and let me fall beneath your
+conquering Sword: but never let me hear you talk again, or gaze upon
+your Eyes.--
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Bac._ She loves! by Heaven, she loves! and has not Art enough to hide
+her Flame, though she have cruel Honour to suppress it. However, I'll
+pursue her to the Banquet.
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. The Widow _Ranter's_ Hall.
+
+    Enter _Surelove_ fan'd by two Negroes, followed by _Hazard_.
+
+_Sure._ This Madam _Ranter_ is so prodigious a Treater --oh! I hate a
+Room that smells of a great Dinner, and what's worse, a desert of Punch
+and Tobacco--what! are you taking leave so soon, Cousin?
+
+_Haz._ Yes, Madam, but 'tis not fit I should let you know with what
+regret I go,--but Business will be obey'd.
+
+_Sure._ Some Letters to dispatch to _English_ Ladies you have left
+behind--come, Cousin, confess.
+
+_Haz._ I own I much admire the _English_ Beauties but never yet have put
+their Fetters on.
+
+_Sure._ Never in love! oh, then you have pleasure to come.
+
+_Haz._ Rather a Pain when there's no Hope attends it.
+
+_Sure._ Oh, such Diseases quickly cure themselves.
+
+_Haz._ I do not wish to find it so; for even in Pain I find a Pleasure
+too.
+
+_Sure._ You are infected then, and come abroad for Cure.
+
+_Haz._ Rather to receive my Wounds, Madam.
+
+_Sure._ Already, Sir,--whoe'er she be, she made good haste to conquer,
+we have few here boast that Dexterity.
+
+_Haz._ What think you of _Chrisante_, Madam?
+
+_Sure._ I must confess your Love and your Despair are there plac'd
+right, of which I am not fond of being made a Confident, since I am
+assur'd she can love none but _Friendly_.
+    [Coldly.
+
+_Haz._ Let her love on as long as Life shall last, let _Friendly_ take
+her, and the Universe, so I had my next wish--
+    [Sighs.
+  Madam, it is yourself that I adore--I should not be so vain to tell
+you this, but that I know you have found the Secret out already from my
+Sighs.
+
+_Sure._ Forbear, Sir, and know me for your Kinsman's Wife, and no more.
+
+_Haz._ Be scornful as you please, rail at my Passion, and refuse to hear
+it; yet I'll love on, and hope in spite of you; my Flame shall be so
+constant and submissive, it shall compel your Heart to some return.
+
+_Sure._ You're very confident of your Power, I perceive; but if you
+chance to find yourself mistaken, say your Opinion and your Affectation
+were misapply'd, and not that I was cruel.
+    [Ex. _Surelove_.
+
+_Haz._ Whate'er denials dwell upon your Tongue, your Eyes assure me that
+your Heart is tender.
+    [Goes out.
+
+    Enter the Bagpiper, playing before a great Bowl of Punch, carry'd
+    between two Negroes, a Highlander dancing after it; the Widow
+    _Ranter_ led by _Timorous_; _Chrisante_ by _Dullman_; Mrs. _Flirt_
+    and _Friendly_, all dancing after it; they place it on the Table.
+
+_Dull._ This is like the noble Widow all over, i'faith.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, the Widow's Health in a full Ladle, Major.
+    [Drinks.
+ --But a Pox on't, what made that young Fellow here, that affronted us
+yesterday, Major?
+    [While they drink about.
+
+_Dull._ Some damned Sharper that would lay his Knife aboard your Widow,
+Cornet.
+
+_Tim._ Zoors, if I thought so, I'd arrest him for Salt and Battery, lay
+him in Prison for a swinging Fine, and take no Bail.
+
+_Dull._ Nay, had it not been before my Mistress here, Mrs. _Chrisante_,
+I had swinged him for his Yesterday's Affront;--ah, my sweet Mistress
+_Chrisante_--if you did but know what a power you have over me--
+
+_Chris._ Oh, you're a great Courtier, Major.
+
+_Dull._ Would I were any thing for your sake, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ Thou art anything, but what thou shouldst be; prithee, Major,
+leave off being an old Buffoon, that is, a Lover turn'd ridiculous by
+Age, consider thy self a mere rouling Tun of _Nantz_,--a walking
+Chimney, ever smoaking with nasty Mundungus, and then thou hast a
+Countenance like an old worm-eaten Cheese.
+
+_Dull._ Well, Widow, you will joke, ha, ha, ha--
+
+_Tim._ Gad' Zoors, she's pure company, ha, ha--
+
+_Dull._ No matter for my Countenance,--Col. _Downright_ likes my Estate,
+and is resolved to have it a match.
+
+_Friend._ Dear Widow, take off your damned Major, for if he speak
+another word to _Chrisante_, I shall be put past all my patience, and
+fall foul upon him.
+
+_Ran._ S'life, not for the world--Major, I bar Love-making within my
+Territories, 'tis inconsistent with the Punch-Bowl, if you'l drink, do,
+if not, be gone.
+
+_Tim._ Nay, Gad's Zooks, if you enter me at the Punch-Bowl you enter me
+in Politicks--well, 'tis the best Drink in Christendom for a Statesman.
+    [They drink about, the Bagpipe playing.
+
+_Ran._ Come, now you shall see what my High-land Valet can do.
+    [A _Scots_ Dance.
+
+_Dull._ So--I see, let the World go which way it will, Widow, you are
+resolv'd for mirth,--but come--to the conversation of the Times.
+
+_Ran._ The Times! why, what a Devil ails the Times? I see nothing in the
+Times but a Company of Coxcombs that fear without a Cause.
+
+_Tim._ But if these Fears were laid, and _Bacon_ were hanged, I look
+upon _Virginia_ to be the happiest part of the World, gads zoors,--why,
+there's _England_--'tis nothing to't,--I was in _England_ about six
+Years ago, and was shewed the Court of Aldermen, some were nodding, some
+saying nothing, and others very little to purpose; but how could it be
+otherwise, for they had neither Bowl of Punch, Bottles of Wine or
+Tobacco before 'em, to put Life and Soul into 'em as we have here: then
+for the young Gentlemen--their farthest Travels is to _France_ or
+_Italy_, they never come hither.
+
+_Dull._ The more's the pity, by my troth.    [Drinks.
+
+_Tim._ Where they learn to swear Mor-blew, Mor-dee--
+
+_Friend._ And tell you how much bigger the _Louvre_ is than _Whitehall_;
+buy a suit a-la-mode, get a swinging Clap of some _French_ Marquise,
+spend all their Money, and return just as they went.
+
+_Dull._ For the old Fellows, their business is Usury, Extortion, and
+undermining young Heirs.
+
+_Tim._ Then for young Merchants, their Exchange is the Tavern, their
+Ware-house the Play-house, and their Bills of Exchange Billet-Douxs,
+where to sup with their Wenches at the other end of the Town,--now judge
+you what a condition poor _England_ is in: for my part I look upon it as
+a lost Nation, gads zoors.
+
+_Dull._ I have considered it, and have found a way to save all yet.
+
+_Tim._ As how, I pray?
+
+_Dull._ As thus: we have Men here of great Experience and Ability--now I
+would have as many sent into _England_, as would supply all Places and
+Offices, both Civil and Military, d'ye see; their young Gentry should
+all travel hither for breeding, and to learn the mysteries of State.
+
+_Friend._ As for the old covetous Fellows, I would have the Tradesmen
+get in their Debts, break and turn Troopers.
+
+_Tim._ And they'd be soon weary of Extortion, gad zoors.
+
+_Dull._ Then for the young Merchants, there should be a Law made, none
+should go beyond _Ludgate_.
+
+_Friend._ You have found out the only way to preserve that great
+Kingdom.
+    [Drinking all this while sometimes.
+
+_Tim._ Well, gad zoors, 'tis a fine thing to be a good Statesman.
+
+_Friend._ Ay, Cornet, which you had never been had you staid in Old
+_England_.
+
+_Dull._ Why, Sir, we were somebody in _England_.
+
+_Friend._ So I heard, Major.
+
+_Dull._ You heard, Sir! what have you heard? he's a Kidnapper that says
+he heard any thing of me--and so my service to you.--I'll sue you, Sir,
+for spoiling my Marriage here by your Scandals with Mrs. _Chrisante_:
+but that shan't do, Sir, I'll marry her for all that, and he's a Rascal
+that denies it.
+
+_Friend._ S'death, you lye, Sir--I do.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, Sir, lye to a Privy-Counsellor, a Major of Horse!
+Brother, this is an Affront to our Dignities: draw and I'll side with
+you.
+    [They both draw on _Friendly_, the Ladies run off.
+
+_Friend._ If I disdain to draw, 'tis not that I fear your base and
+cowardly Force, but for the respect I bear you as Magistrates, and so I
+leave you.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Tim._ An arrant Coward, gad zoors.
+
+_Dull._ A mere Paultroon, and I scorn to drink in his Company.
+
+    [Exeunt, putting up their Swords.
+
+
+SCENE III. A _Sevana_, or large Heath.
+
+    Enter _Whimsey_, _Whiff_, and _Boozer_, with some Soldiers arm'd.
+
+_Whim._ Stand--stand--and hear the word of Command--do ye see yon Cops,
+and that Ditch that runs along Major _Dullman's_ Plantation?
+
+_Booz._ We do.
+
+_Whim._ Place your Men there, and lie flat on your Bellies, and when
+_Bacon_ comes, (if alone) seize him, d'ye see.
+
+_Whiff._ Observe the Command now (if alone) for we are not for
+blood-shed.
+
+_Booz._ I'll warrant you for our parts.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _Whim._ and _Whiff_.
+
+_Whim._ Now we have ambusht our Men, let's light our Pipes, and sit down
+and take an encouraging dram of the Bottle.
+    [Pulls a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket--they sit.
+
+_Whiff._ Thou art a Knave, and hast emptied half the Bottle in thy
+Leathern Pockets; but come, here's young _Frightall's_ Health.
+
+_Whim._ What, wilt drink a Man's Health thou'rt going to hang?
+
+_Whiff._ 'Tis all one for that, we'll drink his Health first, and hang
+him afterwards, and thou shalt pledge me, d'ye see, and though 'twere
+under the Gallows.
+
+_Whim._ Thou'rt a Traitor for saying so, and I defy thee.
+
+_Whiff._ Nay, since we are come out like loving Brothers to hang the
+General, let's not fall out among our selves; and so here's to you,
+[Drinks.] though I have no great Maw to this Business.
+
+_Whim._ Prithee, Brother _Whiff_, do not be so villainous a Coward, for
+I hate a Coward.
+
+_Whiff._ Nay, 'tis not that--but, my _Whiff_, my _Nancy_ dreamt to night
+she saw me hanged.
+
+_Whim._ 'Twas a cowardly Dream, think no more on't; but as Dreams are
+expounded by contraries, thou shalt hang the General.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay--but he was my Friend, and I owe him at this time a hundred
+Pounds of Tobacco.
+
+_Whim._ Nay, then I am sure thou'dst hang him if he were thy Brother.
+
+_Whiff._ But hark--I think I hear the Neighing of Horses, where shall we
+hide our selves? for if we stay here, we shall be mawled damnably.
+
+    [Exeunt both behind a Bush, peeping.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_, _Fearless_, and 3 or 4 Footmen.
+
+_Bac._ Let the Groom lead the Horses o'er the _Sevana_; we'll walk it on
+Foot, 'tis not a quarter of a Mile to the Town; and here the Air is
+cool.
+
+_Fear._ The Breezes about this time of the Day begin to take wing, and
+fan refreshment to the Trees and Flowers.
+
+_Bac._ And at these Hours how fragrant are the Groves!
+
+_Fear._ The Country's well, were but the people so.
+
+_Bac._ But come, lets on--    [They pass to the Entrance.
+
+_Whim._ There, Boys--    [The Soldiers come forth and fall on _Bacon_.
+
+_Bac._ Hah! Ambush--
+
+    [Draws, _Fearless_ and Footmen draw, the Soldiers after a while
+    fighting, take _Bacon_ and _Fearless_, they having laid 3 or 4
+    dead.
+
+_Whiff._ So, so, he's taken; now we may venture out.
+
+_Whim._ But are you sure he's taken?
+
+_Whiff._ Sure! can't you believe your Eyes, come forth; I hate a
+Coward--Oh, Sir, have we caught your Mightiness.
+
+_Bac._ Are you the Authors of this valiant Act? None but such villainous
+Cowards durst have attempted it.
+
+_Whim._ Stop his railing Tongue.
+
+_Whiff._ No, no, let him rail, let him rail now his Hands are ty'd, ha,
+ha. Why, good General _Frightall_, what, was no body able d'ye think to
+tame the roaring Lyon?
+
+_Bac._ You'll be hanged for this.
+
+_Whim._ Come, come, away with him to the next Tree.
+
+_Bac._ What mean you, Villains?
+
+_Whiff._ Only to hang your Honour a little, that's all. We'll teach you,
+Sir, to serve your Country against Law.
+
+    As they go off, enter _Daring_ with Soldiers.
+
+_Dar._ Hah--my General betray'd!--this I suspected.
+
+    [His Men come in, they fall on, release _Bacon_ and _Fearless_,
+    and his Man, and get Swords. _Whimsey's_ Party put _Whim._ and
+    _Whiff_ before 'em striking 'em as they endeavour to run on this
+    side or that, and forcing 'em to bear up, they are taken after
+    some fighting.
+
+_Fear._ Did not the General tell you Rogues, you'd be all hang'd?
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, _Nancy_, _Nancy_, how prophetick are thy Dreams!
+
+_Bac._ Come, lets on--
+
+_Dar._ S'death, what mean you, Sir?
+
+_Bac._ As I designed--to present my self to the Council.
+
+_Dar._ By Heavens, we'll follow then to save you from their Treachery,
+'twas this that has befallen you that I feared, which made me at a
+distance follow you.
+
+_Bac._ Follow me still, but still at such a distance as your Aids may be
+assisting on all occasions.--_Fearless_, go back and bring your Regiment
+down; and _Daring_, let your Sergeant with his Party guard these
+Villains to the Council.
+
+    [Ex. _Bac._ _Dar._ and _Fearless_.
+
+_Whiff._ A Pox on your Worship's Plot.
+
+_Whim._ A Pox of your forwardness to come out of the Hedge.
+
+    [Ex. Officers, with _Whim._ and _Whiff_.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _The Council-Table_.
+
+    Enter Col. _Wellman_, Col. _Downright_, _Dullman_, _Timorous_, and
+    about seven or eight more seat themselves.
+
+_Well._ You heard Mr. _Dunce's_ opinion, Gentlemen, concerning _Bacon's_
+coming upon our Invitation. He believes he will come, but I rather
+think, though he be himself undaunted, yet the persuasions of his two
+Lieutenant-Generals, _Daring_ and _Fearless_, may prevent him--Colonel,
+have you order'd our Men to be in Arms?
+
+    Enter a _Soldier_.
+
+_Down._ I have, and they'l attend further order on the _Sevana_.
+
+_Sold._ May it please your Honours, _Bacon_ is on his way, he comes
+unattended by any but his Footmen, and Col. _Fearless_.
+
+_Down._ Who is this Fellow?
+
+_Well._ A Spy I sent to watch _Bacon's_ Motions.
+
+_Sold._ But there is a Company of Soldiers in Ambush on this side of the
+_Sevana_ to seize him as he passes by.
+
+_Well._ That's by no order of the Council.
+
+_Omnes._ No, no, no order.
+
+_Well._ Nay, 'twere a good design if true.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, wou'd I had thought on't for my Troop.
+
+_Down._ I am for no unfair dealing in any extremity.
+
+    Enter _Brag_ in haste.
+
+_Brag._ An't please your Honours, the saddest News--an Ambush being laid
+for _Bacon_, they rush'd out upon him on the _Sevana_, and after some
+fighting took him and _Fearless_--
+
+_Tim._ Is this your sad News--zoors, wou'd I had had a hand in't.
+
+_Brag._ When on a sudden, _Daring_ and his Party fell in upon us, turn'd
+the tide--kill'd our Men, and took Captain _Whimsey_, and Captain
+_Whiff_ Pris'ners; the rest run away, but _Bacon_ fought like fury.
+
+_Tim._ A bloody Fellow!
+
+_Down._ _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_? they deserve Death for acting without
+order.
+
+_Tim._ I'm of the Colonel's Opinion, they deserve to hang for't.
+
+_Dull._ Why, Brother, I thought you had wish'd that the Plot had been
+yours but now.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, but the Case is alter'd since that, good Brother.
+
+_Well._ Now he's exasperated past all hopes of a Reconciliation.
+
+_Dull._ You must make use of the Statesman's Refuge, wise Dissimulation.
+
+_Brag._ For all this, Sir, he will not believe but that you mean
+honourably, and no Persuasions could hinder him from coming, so he has
+dismiss'd all his Soldiers, and is entring the Town on foot.
+
+_Well._ What pity 'tis a brave Man should be guilty of an ill Action.
+
+_Brag._ But the noise of his danger has so won the Hearts of the Mobile,
+that they increase his Train as he goes, and follow him in the Town like
+a Victor.
+
+_Well._ Go wait his coming.    [Exit _Brag_.
+  He grows too popular and must be humbled.
+
+_Tim._ I was ever of your mind, Colonel.
+
+_Well._ Ay, right or wrong--but what's your Counsel now?
+
+_Tim._ E'en as it used to be, I leave it to wiser Heads.
+
+    Enter _Brag_.
+
+_Brag._ _Bacon_, Sir, is entring.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, wou'd I were safe in bed.
+
+_Dull._ Colonel, keep in your Heat, and treat calmly with him.
+
+_Well._ I rather wish you would all follow me, I'd meet him at the head
+of all his noisy Rabble, and seize him from the Rout.
+
+_Down._ What, Men of Authority dispute with Rake-hells! 'tis below us,
+Sir.
+
+_Tim._ To stake our Lives and Fortunes against their nothing.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_, after him the Rabble with Staves and Clubs,
+    bringing in _Whim._ and _Whiff_ bound.
+
+_Well._ What means this Insolence?--What, Mr. _Bacon_, do you come in
+Arms?
+
+_Bac._ I'd need, Sir, come in Arms, when Men that should be honourable
+can have so poor Designs to take my Life.
+
+_Well._ Thrust out his following Rabble.
+
+_1st Rab._ We'll not stir till we have the General safe back again.
+
+_Bac._ Let not your Loves be too officious--but retire--
+
+_1st Rab._ At your Command we vanish.--    [The Rabble retire.
+
+_Bac._ I hope you'll pardon me, if in my own defence I seized on these
+two Murderers.
+
+_Down._ You did well, Sir, 'twas by no order they acted--stand forth and
+hear your Sentence--in time of War we need no formal Tryals to hang
+Knaves that act without order.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, Mercy, Mercy, Colonel--'twas Parson _Dunce's_ Plot.
+
+_Down._ Issue out a Warrant to seize _Dunce_ immediately--you shall be
+carry'd to the Fort to pray.
+
+_Whim._ Oh, good your Honour, I never pray'd in all my Life.
+
+_Down._ From thence drawn upon a Sledge to the place of Execution--where
+you shall hang till you are dead--and then be cut down and--
+
+_Whim._ Oh, hold--hold--we shall never be able to endure half this.
+    [Kneeling.
+
+_Well._ I think the Offence needs not so great Punishment; their Crime,
+Sir, is but equal to your own, acting without Commission.
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis very well explained, Sir,--had I been murder'd by Commission
+then, the Deed had been approved, and now perhaps I am beholding to the
+Rabble for my Life.
+
+_Well._ A fine Pretence to hide a popular Fault, but for this once we
+pardon them and you.
+
+_Bac._ Pardon! for what? by Heaven, I scorn your Pardon, I've not
+offended Honour nor Religion.
+
+_Well._ You have offended both in taking Arms.
+
+_Bac._ Should I stand by and see my Country ruin'd, my King dishonour'd,
+and his Subjects murder'd, hear the sad Crys of Widows and of Orphans?
+you heard it loud, but gave no pitying care to't, and till the War and
+Massacre was brought to my own door, my Flocks and Herds surprized,
+I bore it all with Patience. Is it unlawful to defend my self against a
+Thief that breaks into my Doors?
+
+_Well._ And call you this defending of your self?
+
+_Bac._ I call it doing of my self that right, which upon just demand the
+Council did refuse me; if my Ambition, as you're pleased to call it,
+made me demand too much, I left my self to you.
+
+_Well._ Perhaps we thought it did.
+
+_Bac._ Sir, you affront my Birth--I am a Gentleman, and yet my Thoughts
+were humble--I would have fought under the meanest of your Parasites.
+
+_Tim._ There's a Bob for us, Brother.    [To _Dull._
+
+_Bac._ But still you put me off with Promises--and when compell'd to
+stir in my Defence I call'd none to my aid, and those that came, 'twas
+their own Wrongs that urg'd them.
+
+_Down._ 'Tis fear'd, Sir, under this Pretence, you aim at Government.
+
+_Bac._ I scorn to answer to so base an Accusation; the height of my
+Ambition is to be an honest Subject.
+
+_Well._ An honest Rebel, Sir--
+
+_Bac._ You know you wrong me, and 'tis basely urg'd--but this is
+trifling--here are my Commissions.
+    [Throws down Papers, _Down._ reads.
+
+_Down._ To be General of the Forces against the _Indians_, and blank
+Commissions for his Friends.
+
+_Well._ Tear them in pieces--are we to be imposed upon? Do ye come in
+hostile manner to compel us?
+
+_Down._ Be not too rough, Sir, let us argue with him.
+
+_Well._ I am resolv'd I will not.
+
+_Tim._ Then we are all dead Men, Gudzoors! he will not give us time to
+say our Prayers.
+
+_Well._ We every day expect fresh force from _England_, till then, we of
+our selves shall be sufficient to make defence against a sturdy Traitor.
+
+_Bac._ Traitor! S'death, Traitor--I defy ye, but that my Honour's yet
+above my Anger, I'd make you answer me that Traitor dearly.
+    [Rises.
+
+_Well._ Hah--am I threatned--Guards, secure the Rebel.
+    [Guards seize him.
+
+_Bac._ Is this your honourable Invitation? Go--triumph in your
+short-liv'd Victory, the next turn shall be mine.
+
+    [Exeunt Guards with _Bac._
+
+_A Noise of Fighting--Enter _Bacon_, _Wellman's_ Guards beat back by the
+Rabble, _Bacon_ snatches a Sword from one, and keeps back the Rabble,
+_Tim._ gets under the Table._
+
+_Down._ What means this Insolence?
+
+_Rab._ We'll have our General, and knock that Fellow's Brains out, and
+hang up Colonel _Wellman_.
+
+_All._ Ay, ay, hang up _Wellman_.
+    [The Rabble seize _Well._ and _Dull._ and the rest.
+
+_Dull._ Hold, hold, Gentlemen, I was always for the General.
+
+_Rab._ Let's barbicu this fat Rogue.
+
+_Bac._ Be gone, and know your distance to the Council.
+    [The Rabble let 'em go.
+
+_Well._ I'd rather perish by the meanest Hand, than owe my safety poorly
+thus to _Bacon_.
+    [In Rage.
+
+_Bac._ If you persist still in that mind I'll leave you, and conquering
+make you happy 'gainst your will.
+
+    [Ex. _Bacon_ and Rabble, hollowing a _Bacon_, a _Bacon_.
+
+_Well._ Oh villanous Cowards! who will trust his Honour with Sycophants
+so base? Let us to Arms--by Heaven, I will not give my Body rest, till
+I've chastised the boldness of this Rebel.
+
+    [Exeunt _Well._ _Down._ and the rest, all but _Dull._ _Tim._ peeps
+    from under the Table.
+
+_Tim._ What, is the roistering Hector gone, Brother?
+
+_Dull._ Ay, ay, and the Devil go with him.
+    [Looking sadly, _Tim._ comes out.
+
+_Tim._ Was there ever such a Bull of _Bashan_! Why, what if he should
+come down upon us and kill us all for Traitors.
+
+_Dull._ I rather think the Council will hang us all for
+Cowards--ah--oh--a Drum--a Drum--oh.
+    [He goes out.
+
+  _Tim._ This is the Misery of being great.
+  We're sacrific'd to every turn of State.    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. The Country Court, a great Table, with Papers, a _Clerk
+writing._
+
+    Enter a great many People of all sorts, then _Friendly_, after him
+    _Dullman_.
+
+_Friend._ How now, Major; what, they say _Bacon_ scar'd you all out of
+the Council yesterday; What say the People?
+
+_Dull._ Say? they curse us all, and drink young _Frightall's_ Health,
+and swear they'll fight through Fire and Brimstone for him.
+
+_Friend._ And to morrow will hollow him to the Gallows, if it were his
+chance to come there.
+
+_Dull._ 'Tis very likely: Why, I am forced to be guarded to the Court
+now, the Rabble swore they would _De-Wit_ me, but I shall hamper some of
+'em. Wou'd the Governour were here to bear the brunt on't, for they call
+us the evil Counsellors.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_, goes to _Friendly_.
+
+Here's the young Rogue that drew upon us too, we have Rods in Piss for
+him, i'faith.
+
+    Enter _Timorous_ with _Bailiffs_, whispers to _Dullman_, after
+    which to the _Bailiffs_.
+
+_Tim._ Gadzoors, that's he, do your Office.
+
+_Bail._ We arrest you, Sir, in the King's Name, at the suit of the
+honourable Justice _Timorous_.
+
+_Haz._ Justice _Timorous_! who the Devil's he?
+
+_Tim._ I am the man, Sir, d'ye see, for want of a better; you shall
+repent, Guds zoors, your putting of tricks upon Persons of my Rank and
+Quality.
+    [After he has spoke, he runs back as afraid of him.
+
+_Haz._ Your Rank and Quality!
+
+_Tim._ Ay, Sir, my Rank and Quality; first I am one of the honourable
+Council, next, a Justice of Peace in _Quorum_, Cornet of a Troop of
+Horse, d'ye see, and Church-warden.
+
+_Friend._ From whence proceeds this, Mr. Justice? you said nothing of
+this at Madam _Ranter's_ yesterday; you saw him there, then you were
+good Friends.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, however I have carried my Body swimmingly before my Mistress,
+d'ye see, I had Rancour in my Heart, Gads zoors.
+
+_Friend._ Why, this Gentleman's a Stranger, and but lately come ashore.
+
+_Haz._ At my first landing I was in company with this Fellow and two or
+three of his cruel Brethren, where I was affronted by them, some Words
+pass'd, and I drew--
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, Sir, you shall pay for't,--why--what, Sir, cannot a civil
+Magistrate affront a Man, but he must be drawn upon presently?
+
+_Friend._ Well, Sir, the Gentleman shall answer your Suit, and I hope
+you'll take my Bail for him.
+
+_Tim._ 'Tis enough--I know you to be a civil Person.
+
+    _Timorous_ and _Dullman_ take their Places on a long Bench placed
+    behind the Table, to them _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, they seat
+    themselves, then _Boozer_ and two or three more; who seat
+    themselves: Then enter two, bearing a Bowl of Punch and a great
+    Ladle or two in it; the rest of the Stage being fill'd with
+    People.
+
+_Whiff._ Brothers, it hath often been mov'd at the Bench, that a new
+Punch-Bowl shou'd be provided, and one of a larger Circumference; when
+the Bench sits late about weighty Affairs, oftentimes the Bowl is
+emptied before we end.
+
+_Whim._ A good Motion; Clerk, set it down.
+
+_Clerk._ Mr. Justice _Boozer_, the Council has order'd you a Writ of
+Ease, and dismiss your Worship from the Bench.
+
+_Booz._ Me from the Bench, for what?
+
+_Whim._ The Complaint is, Brother _Boozer_, for drinking too much Punch
+in the time of hearing Tryals.
+
+_Whiff._ And that you can neither write nor read, nor say the Lord's
+Prayer.
+
+_Tim._ That your Warrants are like a Brewer's Tally, a Notch on a Stick;
+if a special Warrant, then a couple. Gods zoors, when his Excellency
+comes he will have no such Justices.
+
+_Booz._ Why, Brother, though I can't read my self, I have had _Dalton's_
+Country-Justice read over to me two or three times, and understand the
+Law. This is your Malice, Brother _Whiff_, because my Wife does not come
+to your Warehouse to buy her Commodities,--but no matter, to show I have
+no Malice in my Heart, I drink your Health.--I care not this, I can turn
+Lawyer, and plead at the Board.
+    [Drinks, all pledge him, and hum.
+
+_Dull._ Mr. Clerk, come to the Tryals on the Dockett.
+    [_Clerk_ reads.
+
+_Cler._ The first is between his Worship Justice _Whiff_ and one
+_Grubb_.
+
+_Dull._ Ay, that _Grubb's_ a common Disturber, Brother, your Cause is a
+good Cause if well manag'd, here's to't.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Whiff._ I thank you, Brother _Dullman_--read my Petition.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Cler._ The Petition of Captain _Thomas Whiff_, sheweth, That whereas
+_Gilbert Grubb_ calls his Worship's Wife _Ann Whiff_ Whore, and said he
+would prove it; your Petitioner desires the Worshipful Bench to take it
+into Consideration, and your Petitioner shall ever pray, _&c._-- Here's
+two Witnesses have made Affidavit _viva voce_, an't like your Worships.
+
+_Dull._ Call _Grubb_.
+
+_Cler._ _Gilbert Grubb_, come into the Court.
+
+_Grub._ Here.
+
+_Whim._ Well, what can you say for your self, Mr. _Grubb_.
+
+_Grub._ Why, an't like your Worship, my Wife invited some Neighbours
+Wives to drink a Cagg of Syder; now your Worship's Wife, Madam _Whiff_,
+being there fuddled, would have thrust me out of doors, and bid me go to
+my old Whore Madam _Whimsey_, meaning your Worship's Wife.
+    [To _Whimsey_.
+
+_Whim._ Hah! My Wife called Whore, she's a Jade, and I'll arrest her
+Husband here--in an Action of Debts.
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, she's no better than she should be, I'll warrant her.
+
+_Whiff._ Look ye, Brother _Whimsey_, be patient; you know the humour of
+my _Nancy_, when she's drunk; but when she's sober, she's a civil
+Person, and shall ask your pardon.
+
+_Whim._ Let this be done, and I am satisfied. And so here's to you.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Dull._ Go on to the Trial.
+
+_Grub._ I being very angry, said indeed, I would prove her a greater
+Whore than Madam _Whimsey_.
+
+_Cler._ An't like your Worships, he confesses the Words in open Court.
+
+_Grub._ Why, an't like your Worships, she has had two Bastards, I'll
+prove it.
+
+_Whiff._ Sirrah, Sirrah, that was when she was a Maid, not since I
+marry'd her; my marrying her made her honest.
+
+_Dull._ Let there be an order of Court to sue him for _Scandalum
+magnatum_.
+
+_Tim._ Mr. Clerk, let my Cause come next.
+
+_Cler._ The Defendant's ready, Sir.    [_Hazard_ comes to the Board.
+
+_Tim._ Brothers of the Bench, take notice, that this Hector here coming
+into Mrs. _Flirt's_ Ordinary, where I was with my Brother _Dullman_ and
+Lieutenant _Boozer_; we gave him good Counsel to fall to work: Now my
+Gentleman here was affronted at this, forsooth, and makes no more to do
+but calls us Scoundrels, and drew his Sword on us; and had I not
+defended my self by running away, he had murdered me, and assassinated
+my two Brothers.
+
+_Whiff._ What Witness have you, Brother?
+
+_Tim._ Here's Mrs. _Flirt_ and her Maid _Nell_,--besides, we may be
+Witness for one another, I hope, our Words may be taken.
+
+_Cler._ Mrs. _Flirt_ and _Nell_ are sworn.    [They stand forth.
+
+_Whim._ By the Oaths that you have taken, speak nothing but the truth.
+
+_Flirt._ An't please your Worships, your Honours came to my House, where
+you found this young Gentleman: and your Honours invited him to drink
+with your Honours; Where after some opprobrious Words given him, Justice
+_Dullman_, and Justice _Boozer_ struck him over the Head; and after that
+indeed the Gentleman drew.
+
+_Tim._ Mark that, Brother, he drew.
+
+_Haz._ If I did, it was _se defendendo_.
+
+_Tim._ Do you hear that, Brothers, he did it in defiance.
+
+_Haz._ Sir, you ought not to sit Judge and Accuser too.
+
+_Whiff._ The Gentleman's i'th' right, Brother, you cannot do't according
+to Law.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, what new tricks, new querks?
+
+_Haz._ Gentlemen, take notice, he swears in Court.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, what's that to you, Sir?
+
+_Haz._ This is the second time of his swearing.
+
+_Whim._ What, do you think we are deaf, Sir? Come, come, proceed.
+
+_Tim._ I desire he may be bound to his Good Behaviour, fin'd, and
+deliver up his Sword, what say you, Brother?
+    [Jogs _Dull._ who nods.
+
+_Whim._ He's asleep, drink to him and waken him,-- you have miss'd the
+Cause by sleeping, Brother.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Dull._ Justice may nod, but never sleeps, Brother-- you were
+at--Deliver his Sword--a good Motion, let it be done.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Haz._ No, Gentlemen, I wear a Sword to right my self.
+
+_Tim._ That's fine, i'faith, Gads zoors, I've worn a Sword this dozen
+Year, and never cou'd right my self.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, 'twou'd be a fine World if Men should wear Swords to right
+themselves; he that's bound to the Peace shall wear no Sword.
+
+_Whim._ I say, he that's bound to the Peace ought to wear no Peruke,
+they may change 'em for black or white, and then who can know them.
+
+_Haz._ I hope, Gentlemen, I may be allowed to speak for my self.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, what can you say for your self, did you not draw your
+Sword, Sirrah?
+
+_Haz._ I did.
+
+_Tim._ 'Tis sufficient, he confesses the Fact, and we'll hear no more.
+
+_Haz._ You will not hear the Provocation given.
+
+_Dull._ 'Tis enough, Sir, you drew--
+
+_Whim._ Ay, ay, 'tis enough, he drew--let him be fin'd.
+
+_Friend._ The Gentleman should be heard, he's Kinsman too to Colonel
+_John Surelove_.
+
+_Tim._ Hum--Colonel _Surelove's_ Kinsman.
+
+_Whiff._ Is he so? nay, then all the reason in the World he should be
+heard, Brothers.
+
+_Whim._ Come, come, Cornet, you shall be Friends with the Gentleman;
+this was some drunken bout, I'll warrant you.
+
+_Tim._ Ha, ha, ha, so it was, Gads zoors.
+
+_Whiff._ Come, drink to the Gentleman, and put it up.
+
+_Tim._ Sir, my service to you, I am heartily sorry for what's pass'd,
+but it was in my drink.
+    [Drinks.
+
+_Whim._ You hear his Acknowledgments, Sir, and when he's sober he never
+quarrels. Come, Sir, sit down, my Service to you.
+
+_Haz._ I beg your excuse, Gentlemen--I have earnest business.
+
+_Dull._ Let us adjourn the Court, and prepare to meet the Regiments on
+the _Sevana_.
+    [All go but _Friend._ and _Hazard_.
+
+_Haz._ Is this the best Court of Judicature your Country affords?
+
+_Friend._ To give it its due, it is not. But how does thy Amour thrive?
+
+_Haz._ As well as I can wish in so short a time.
+
+_Friend._ I see she regards thee with kind Eyes, Sighs and Blushes.
+
+_Haz._ Yes, and tells me I am so like a Brother she had --to excuse her
+kind concern,--then blushes so prettily, that, Gad, I cou'd not forbear
+making a discovery of my Heart.
+
+_Friend._ Have a care of that, come upon her by slow degrees, for I know
+she is virtuous;--but come, let's to the _Sevana_, where I'll present
+you to the two Colonels, _Wellman_ and _Downright_, the Men that manage
+all till the arrival of the Governour.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. The _Sevana_ or Heath.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_, _Downright_, _Boozer_, and Officers.
+
+_Well._ Have you dispatch'd the Scouts, to watch the Motions of the
+Enemies? I know that _Bacon_ is violent and haughty, and will resent our
+vain Attempts upon him; therefore we must be speedy in prevention.
+
+_Down._ What Forces have you raised since our last order?
+
+_Booz._ Here's a List of 'em, they came but slowly in, till we promised
+every one a Bottle of Brandy.
+
+    Enter _Officer_ and _Dunce_.
+
+_Offi._ We have brought Mr. _Dunce_ here, as your Honour commanded us;
+after strict search we found him this Morning in bed with Madam _Flirt_.
+
+_Down._ No matter, he'll exclaim no less against the Vices of the Flesh
+the next Sunday.
+
+_Dun._ I hope, Sir, you will not credit the Malice of my Enemies.
+
+_Well._ No more, you are free, and what you counsell'd about the Ambush,
+was both prudent and seasonable, and perhaps I now wish it had taken
+effect.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_ and _Hazard_.
+
+_Friend._ I have brought an _English_ Gentleman to kiss your Hands, Sir,
+and offer you his Service, he is young and brave, and Kinsman to Colonel
+_Surelove_.
+
+_Well._ Sir, you are welcome; and to let you see you are so, we will
+give you your Kinsman's Command, Captain of a Troop of Horse-Guards, and
+which I'm sure will be continued to you when the Governour arrives.
+
+_Haz._ I shall endeavour to deserve the Honour, Sir.
+
+    Enter _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_, all in Buff, Scarf, and
+    Feather.
+
+_Down._ So, Gentlemen, I see you're in a readiness.
+
+_Tim._ Readiness! What means he, I hope we are not to be drawn out to go
+against the Enemy, Major.
+
+_Dull._ If we are, they shall look a new Major for me.
+
+_Well._ We were debating, Gentlemen, what course were best to pursue
+against this powerful Rebel.
+
+_Friend._ Why, Sir, we have Forces enough, let's charge him instantly,
+Delays are dangerous.
+
+_Tim._ Why, what a damn'd fiery Fellow is this?
+
+_Down._ But if we drive him to extremities, we fear his siding with the
+_Indians_.
+
+_Dull._ Colonel _Downright_ has hit it; why should we endanger our Men
+against a desperate Termagant; If he love Wounds and Scars so well, let
+him exercise on our Enemies--but if he will needs fall upon us, 'tis
+then time enough for us to venture our Lives and Fortunes.
+
+_Tim._ How, we go to _Bacon_! under favour, I think 'tis his duty to
+come to us, an you go to that, Gads zoors.
+
+_Friend._ If he do, 'twill cost you dear, I doubt, Cornet.--I find by
+our List, Sir, we are four thousand Men.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, not enough for a Breakfast for that insatiate
+_Bacon_, and his two Lieutenant Generals, _Fearless_ and _Daring_.
+    [_Whiff_ sits on the Ground with a Bottle of Brandy.
+
+_Whim._ A Morsel, a Morsel.
+
+_Well._ I am for an attack, what say you, Gentlemen, to an
+attack?--What, silent all? What say you, Major?
+
+_Dull._ I say, Sir, I hope my Courage was never in dispute. But, Sir,
+I am going to marry Colonel _Downright's_ Daughter here--and should I be
+slain in this Battle 'twould break her Heart;--besides, Sir, I should
+lose her Fortune.
+    [Speaks big.
+
+_Well._ I'm sure here's a Captain will never flinch.    [To _Whim._
+
+_Whim._ Who, I, an't like your Honour?
+
+_Well._ Ay, you.
+
+_Whim._ Who, I? ha, ha, ha: Why, did your Honour think that I would
+fight?
+
+_Well._ Fight! yes; why else do you take Commissions?
+
+_Whim._ Commissions! Oh Lord, O Lord, take Commissions to fight! ha, ha,
+ha; that's a jest, if all that take Commissions should fight--
+
+_Well._ Why do you bear Arms then?
+
+_Whim._ Why, for the Pay; to be called Captain, noble Captain, to show,
+to cock and look big, and bluff as I do: to be bow'd to thus as we pass,
+to domineer and beat our Soldiers: Fight, quoth a, ha, ha, ha.
+
+_Friend._ But what makes you look so simply, Cornet?
+
+_Tim._ Why, a thing that I have quite forgot, all my Accounts for
+_England_ are to be made up, and I'm undone if they be neglected--else I
+wou'd not flinch for the stoutest he that wears a Sword--
+    [Looking big.
+
+_Down._ What say you, Captain _Whiff_?    [_Whiff_ almost drunk.
+
+_Whiff._ I am trying, Colonel, what Mettle I'm made on; I think I am
+valiant, I suppose I have Courage, but I confess 'tis a little of the
+D---- breed, but a little inspiration from the Bottle, and the leave of
+my _Nancy_, may do wonders.
+
+    Enter a _Seaman_ in haste.
+
+_Sea._ An't please your Honours, _Frightall's_ Officers have seiz'd all
+the Ships in the River, and rid now round the Shore, and had by this
+time secur'd the sandy Beach, and landed Men to fire the Town, but that
+they are high in drink aboard the Ship call'd the Good-Subject; the
+Master of her sent me to let your Honours know, that a few Men sent to
+his assistance will surprize them and retake the Ships.
+
+_Well._ Now, Gentlemen, here is a brave occasion for Emulation--why writ
+not the Master?
+
+_Dull._ Ay, had he writ, I had soon been amongst them, i'faith; but this
+is some Plot to betray us.
+
+_Sea._ Keep me here, and kill me if it be not true.
+
+_Down._ He says well--there's a Brigantine and a Shallop ready, I'll
+embark immediately.
+
+_Friend._ No, Sir, your Presence is here more necessary, let me have the
+Honour of this Expedition.
+
+_Haz._ I'll go your Volunteer, _Charles_.
+
+_Well._ Who else offers to go?
+
+_Whim._ A mere Trick to kidnap us, by _Bacon_,--if the Captain had writ.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, if he had writ--
+
+_Well._ I see you're all base Cowards, and here cashier ye from all
+Commands and Offices.
+
+_Whim._ Look ye, Colonel, you may do what you please, but you lose one
+of the best dress'd Officers in your whole Camp, Sir.
+
+_Tim._ And in me, such a Head-piece.
+
+_Whiff._ I'll say nothing, but let the State want me.
+
+_Dull._ For my part I am weary of weighty Affairs.
+    [In this while _Well._ _Down._ _Friend._ and _Haz._ talk.
+
+_Well._ Command what Men you please, but Expedition makes you half a
+Conqueror.
+
+    [Ex. _Friend._ and _Haz._
+
+    Enter another _Seaman_ with a Letter, gives it to _Downright_, he
+    and _Wellman_ read it.
+
+_Down._ Look ye now, Gentlemen, the Master has writ.
+
+_Dull._ Has he--he might have writ sooner, while I was in Command,--if
+he had--
+
+_Whim._ Ay, Major--if he had--but let them miss us.
+
+_Well._ Colonel, haste with your Men, and reinforce the Beach, while I
+follow with the Horse;--Mr. _Dunce_, pray let that Proclamation be read
+concerning _Bacon_, to the Soldiers.
+
+    [Ex. _Down._ and _Well._
+
+_Dun._ It shall be done, Sir. Gentlemen, how simply you look now.
+
+_The Scene opens and discovers a Body of Soldiers._
+
+_Tim._ Why, Mr. Parson, I have a scruple of Conscience upon me, I am
+considering whether it be lawful to kill, though it be in War; I have a
+great aversion to't, and hope it proceeds from Religion.
+
+_Whiff._ I remember the Fit took you just so when the _Dutch_ besieged
+us, for you cou'd not then be persuaded to strike a stroke.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, that was because they were Protestants as we are; but, Gads
+zoors, had they been _Dutch_ Papists I had maul'd them: but Conscience--
+
+_Whim._ I have been a Justice of Peace this six Years, and never had a
+Conscience in my Life.
+
+_Tim._ Nor I neither, but in this damn'd thing of fighting.
+
+_Dun._ Gentlemen, I am commanded to read the Declaration of the
+honourable Council to you.
+    [To the Soldiers.
+
+_All._ Hum, hum, hum--
+
+_Booz._ Silence--silence--    [_Dunce_ reads.
+
+_Dun._ By an order of Council, dated _May_ the 10th, 1670. To all
+Gentlemen Soldiers, Merchants, Planters, and whom else it may concern.
+Whereas _Bacon_, contrary to Law and Equity, has, to satisfy his own
+Ambition, taken up Arms with a pretence to fight the _Indians_, but
+indeed to molest and enslave the whole Colony, and to take away their
+Liberties and Properties; this is to declare, that whoever shall bring
+this Traitor dead or alive to the Council, shall have three hundred
+pounds Reward. And so God save the King.
+
+_All._ A Council, a Council! Hah--    [Hollow.
+
+    Enter a _Soldier_ hastily.
+
+_Sold._ Stand to your Arms, Gentlemen, stand to your Arms, _Bacon_ is
+marching this way.
+
+_Dun._ Hah--what Numbers has he?
+
+_Sold._ About a hundred Horse, in his march he has surpriz'd Colonel
+_Downright_, and taken him Prisoner.
+
+_All._ Let's fall on _Bacon_--let's fall on _Bacon_, hay.    [Hollow.
+
+_Booz._ We'll hear him speak first--and see what he can say for himself.
+
+_All._ Ay, ay, we'll hear _Bacon_ speak.    [_Dunce_ pleads with them.
+
+_Tim._ Well, Major, I have found a Stratagem shall make us Four the
+greatest Men in the Colony, we'll surrender our selves to _Bacon_, and
+say we disbanded on purpose.
+
+_Dull._ Good--
+
+_Whiff._ Why, I had no other design in the World in refusing to fight.
+
+_Whim._ Nor I, d'ye think I wou'd have excus'd it with the fear of
+disordering my Cravat-String else.
+
+_Dun._ Why, Gentlemen, he designs to fire _James_ Town, murder you all,
+and then lie with your Wives; and will you slip this opportunity of
+seizing him?
+
+_Booz._ Here's a termagant Rogue, Neighbours--we'll hang the Dog.
+
+_All._ Ay, ay, hang _Bacon_, hang _Bacon_.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ and _Fearless_, some Soldiers leading in _Downright_
+    bound; _Bacon_ stands and stares a while on the Regiments, who are
+    silent all.
+
+_Bac._ Well, Gentlemen, in order to your fine Declaration, you see I
+come to render my self.
+
+_Dun._ How came he to know of our Declaration?
+
+_Whiff._ Rogues, Rogues among our selves, that inform.
+
+_Bac._ What, are ye silent all,--not a Man to lift his Hand in Obedience
+to the Council, to murder this Traytor that has exposed his Life so
+often for you? Hah, what, not for three hundred Pound?--You see I've
+left my Troops behind, and come all wearied with the Toils of War, worn
+out by Summers heats, and Winters cold, march'd tedious Days and Nights
+through Bogs and Fens as dangerous as your Clamours, and as
+faithless,--what though 'twas to preserve you all in Safety, no matter,
+you shou'd obey the grateful Council, and kill this honest Man that has
+defended you.
+
+_All._ Hum, hum, hum.
+
+_Whiff._ The General speaks like a Gorgon.
+
+_Tim._ Like a Cherubin, Man.
+
+_Bac._ All silent yet--where's that mighty Courage, that cried so loud
+but now, A Council, a Council? where is your Resolution? cannot three
+hundred Pound excite your Valour to seize that Traitor _Bacon_ who has
+bled for you?
+
+_All._ A _Bacon_, a _Bacon_, a _Bacon_.    [Hollow.
+
+_Down._ Oh villainous Cowards!--Oh the faithless Multitude!
+
+_Bac._ What say you, Parson?--you have a forward Zeal.
+
+_Dun._ I wish my Coat, Sir, did not hinder me from acting as becomes my
+Zeal and Duty.
+
+_Whim._ A plaguy rugged Dog,--that Parson--
+
+_Bac._ _Fearless_, seize me that canting Knave from out the Herd, and
+next those honourable Officers.
+
+    [Points to _Dull._ _Whim._ _Whiff_, and _Tim._ _Fearless_ seizes
+    them, and gives them to the Soldiers, and takes the Proclamation
+    from _Dunce_, and shews _Bacon_; they read it.
+
+_Dull._ Seize us, Sir, you shall not need, we laid down our Commissions
+on purpose to come over to your Honour.
+
+_Whiff._ We ever lov'd and honour'd your Honour.
+
+_Tim._ So intirely, Sir--that I wish I were safe in _James_ Town for
+your sake, and your Honour were hang'd.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ This fine Piece is of your penning, Parson,--though it be
+countenanc'd by the Council's Names.--Oh Ingratitude! Burn, burn the
+treacherous Town, fire it immediately.--
+
+_Whim._ We'll obey you, Sir.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, ay, we'll make a Bonfire on't, and drink your Honour's
+health round about it.
+    [They offer to go.
+
+_Bac._ Yet hold, my Revenge shall be more merciful, I ordered that all
+the Women of Rank shall be seiz'd and brought to my Camp. I'll make
+their Husbands pay their Ransoms dearly; they'd rather have their Hearts
+bleed than their Purses.
+
+_Fear._ Dear General, let me have the seizing of Colonel _Downright's_
+Daughter; I would fain be plundering for a Trifle call'd a Maiden-head.
+
+_Bac._ On pain of Death treat them with all respect; assure them of the
+safety of their Honour. Now, all that will follow me, shall find a
+welcome, and those that will not, may depart in Peace.
+
+_All._ Hay, a General, a General, a General.
+    [Some Soldiers go off: Some go to the side of _Bacon_.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and Soldiers, with _Chrisante_, _Surelove_, Mrs.
+    _Whim._ and Mrs. _Whiff_, and several other Women.
+
+_Bac._ Successful _Daring_, welcome, what Prizes have ye?
+
+_Dar._ The fairest in the World, Sir; I'm not for common Plunder.
+
+_Down._ Hah, my Daughter and my Kinswoman!--
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis not with Women, Sir, nor honest men like you, that I intend
+to combat; not their own Parents shall be more indulgent, nor better
+Safe-guard to their Honours, Sir: But 'tis to save the expence of Blood
+I seize on their most valued Prizes.
+
+_Down._ But, Sir, I know your wild Lieutenant General has long lov'd my
+_Chrisante_, and perhaps, will take this time to force her to consent.
+
+_Dar._ I own I have a Passion for _Chrisante_, yet by my General's Life,
+or her fair self, what now I act is on the score of War, I scorn to
+force the Maid I do adore.
+
+_Bac._ Believe me, Ladies, you shall have honourable Treatment here.
+
+_Chris._ We do not doubt it, Sir, either from you or _Daring_; if he
+love me, that will secure my Honour; or if he do not, he's too brave to
+injure me.
+
+_Dar._ I thank you for your just opinion of me, Madam.
+
+_Chris._ But, Sir, 'tis for my Father I must plead; to see his reverend
+Hands in servile Chains; and then perhaps, if stubborn to your Will, his
+Head must fall a Victim to your Anger.
+
+_Down._ No, my good pious Girl, I cannot fear ignoble usage from the
+General; and if thy Beauty can preserve thy Fame, I shall not mourn in
+my Captivity.
+
+_Bac._ I'll ne'er deceive your kind opinion of me--Ladies, I hope you're
+all of that Opinion too.
+
+_Sure._ If seizing us, Sir, can advance your Honour, or be of any use
+considerable to you, I shall be proud of such a Slavery.
+
+Mrs. _Whim._ I hope, Sir, we shan't be ravish'd in your Camp.
+
+_Dar._ Fie, Mrs. _Whimsey_, do Soldiers use to ravish?
+
+Mrs. _Whiff._ Ravish! marry, I fear 'em not, I'd have 'em know, I scorn
+to be ravish'd by any Man.
+
+_Fear._ Ay, o' my Conscience, Mrs. _Whiff_, you are too good-natur'd.
+
+_Dar._ Madam, I hope you'll give me leave to name Love to you, and try
+by all submissive ways to win your Heart.
+
+_Chris._ Do your worst, Sir: I give you leave, if you assail me only
+with your Tongue.
+
+_Dar._ That's generous and brave, and I'll requite it.
+
+    Enter _Soldier_ in haste.
+
+_Sold._ The Truce being ended, Sir, the _Indians_ grow so insolent as to
+attack us even in our Camp, and have killed several of our Men.
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis time to check their Boldness; _Daring_, haste, draw up our
+Men in order to give 'em Battel, I rather had expected their submission.
+
+  _The Country now may see what they're to fear,
+  Since we that are in Arms are not secure._
+
+    [Exeunt, leading the Ladies.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _A Temple, with an _Indian_ God placed upon it, Priests and
+Priestesses attending: Enter _Indian King_ on one side attended by
+_Indian_ Men; the _Queen_ enters on the other with Women. All bow to the
+Idol, and divide on each side of the Stage. Then the Musick playing
+louder, the Priests and Priestesses dance about the Idol with ridiculous
+Postures, and crying (as for Incantations) thrice repeated, _Agah
+Yerkin, Agah Boah, Sulen Tawarapah, Sulen Tawarapah_._
+
+_After this soft Musick plays again: then they sing something fine:
+after which the Priests lead the _King_ to the Altar, and the
+Priestesses the _Queen_; they take off little Crowns from their Heads,
+and offer them at the Altar._
+
+_King._ Invoke the God of our Quiocto to declare what the Event shall be
+of this our last War against the _English_ General.
+
+    [Soft Musick ceases.
+
+    [The Musick changes to confused Tunes, to which the Priests and
+    Priestesses dance, antickly singing between, the same Incantation
+    as before; and then dance again, and so invoke again alternately:
+    Which Dance ended, a Voice behind the Altar cries, while soft
+    Musick plays,
+
+  The _English_ General shall be
+  A Captive to his Enemy;
+  And you from all your Toils be freed,
+  When by your Hand the Foe shall bleed:
+  And e'er the Sun's swift course be run,
+  This mighty Conquest shall be won.
+
+_King._ I thank the Gods for taking care of us; prepare new Sacrifice
+against the Evening, when I return a Conqueror, I will my self perform
+the Office of a Priest.
+
+_Queen._ Oh, Sir, I fear you'll fall a Victim first.
+
+_King._ What means _Semernia_? why are thy Looks so pale?
+
+_Queen._ Alas, the Oracles have double meanings, their Sense is
+doubtful, and their Words Enigmas: I fear, Sir, I cou'd make a truer
+Interpretation.
+
+_King._ How, _Semernia_! by all thy Love I charge thee, as you respect
+my Life, to let me know your Thoughts.
+
+_Queen._ Last Night I dream'd a Lyon fell with hunger, spite of your
+Guards, slew you, and bore you hence.
+
+_King._ This is thy Sex's fear, and no Interpretation of the Oracle.
+
+_Queen._ I cou'd convince you farther.
+
+_King._ Hast thou a Secret thou canst keep from me? thy Soul a Thought
+that I must be a Stranger to? This is not like the Justice of
+_Semernia_: Come unriddle me the Oracle.
+
+_Queen._ The _English_ General shall be a Captive to his Enemy; he is
+so, Sir, already, to my Beauty, he says he languishes for Love of me.
+
+_King._ Hah! the General my Rival--but go on--
+
+_Queen._ And you from all your War be freed: Oh, let me not explain that
+fatal Line, for fear it mean, you shall be freed by Death.
+
+_King._ What, when by my Hand the Foe shall bleed?--away--it cannot be--
+
+_Queen._ No doubt, my Lord, you'll bravely sell your Life, and deal some
+Wounds where you'll receive so many.
+
+_King._ 'Tis Love, _Semernia_, makes thee dream while waking:
+
+I'll trust the Gods, and am resolv'd for Battel.
+
+    Enter an _Indian_.
+
+_Ind._ Haste, haste, great Sir, to Arms; _Bacon_ with all his Forces is
+prepar'd, and both the Armies ready to engage.
+
+_King._ Haste to my General, bid him charge 'em instantly; I'll bring up
+the Supplies of stout _Teroomians_, those so well skill'd in the
+envenom'd Arrow.
+    [Ex. _Indian_.
+  --_Semernia_--Words but poorly do express the Griefs of parting
+Lovers--'tis with dying Eyes, and a Heart trembling--thus--
+    [Puts her Hand on his Heart.
+  they take a heavy leave;--one parting Kiss, and one Love pressing
+sigh, and then farewel:--but not a long farewel; I shall return
+victorious to thy Arms--commend me to the Gods, and still remember me.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Queen._ Alas! What pity 'tis I saw the General, before my Fate had
+given me to the King--But now--like those that change their Gods, my
+faithless Mind betwixt my two Opinions wavers; while to the Gods my
+Monarch I commend; my wandring Thoughts in pity of the General makes
+that Zeal cold, declin'd--ineffectual.--If for the General I implore the
+Deities, methinks my Prayers should not ascend the Skies, since Honour
+tells me 'tis an impious Zeal.
+
+  _Which way soever my Devotions move,
+  I am too wretched to be heard above._    [Goes in.
+
+    [All exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. _Shows a Field of Tents, seen at some distance through the
+Trees of a Wood, Drums, Trumpets and the noise of Battel, with
+hollowing. The _Indians_ are seen with Battel-Axes to retreat fighting
+from the _English_, and all go off; when they re-enter immediately
+beating back the _English_, the _Indian King_ at the head of his Men,
+with Bows and Arrows; _Daring_ being at the head of the _English_: They
+fight off; the Noise continues less loud as more at distance._
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ with his Sword drawn, meets _Fearless_ with his
+    Sword drawn.
+
+_Fear._ Haste, haste, Sir, to the Entrance of the Wood, _Daring's_
+engaged past hope of a Retreat, venturing too far, pursuing of the Foe;
+the King in Ambush, with his poison'd Archers, fell on, and now we are
+dangerously distrest.
+
+_Bac._ _Daring_ is brave, but he's withal too rash, come on and follow
+me to his Assistance--    [Go out.
+
+    [A hollowing within, the Fight renews; enter the _Indians_ beaten
+    back by _Bacon_, _Daring_ and _Fearless_; they fight off; the
+    noise of Fighting continues a while, this still behind the Wood.
+
+    Enter _Indians_ flying over the Stage, pursued by the _King_.
+
+_King._ Turn, turn, ye fugitive Slaves, and face the Enemy; Oh Villains,
+Cowards, deaf to all Command: by Heaven, I had my Rival in my view, and
+aim'd at nothing but my conquering him--now like a Coward I must fly
+with Cowards, or like a desperate Madman fall, thus singly, midst the
+numbers.
+    [Follows the _Indians_.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ inraged with his Sword drawn, _Fearless_ and
+    _Daring_ following him.
+
+_Bac._ --Where is the King, oh ye perfidious Slaves? how, have you hid
+him from my just Revenge?--search all the Brakes, the Furzes and the
+Trees, and let him not escape on pain of Death.
+
+_Dar._ We cannot do wonders, Sir.
+
+_Bac._ But you can run away.--
+
+_Dar._ Yes, when we see occasion--yet--shou'd any but my General tell me
+so--by Heaven, he should find I were no starter.
+
+_Bac._ Forgive me, I'm mad--the King's escaped, hid like a trembling
+Slave in some close Ditch, where he will sooner starve than fight it
+out.
+
+    Re-enter _Indians_ running over the Stage, pursued by the _King_,
+    who shoots them as they fly; some few follow him.
+
+_King._ All's lost--the Day is lost--and I'm betray'd;--Oh Slaves, that
+even Wounds can't animate.
+    [In Rage.
+
+_Bac._ The King!
+
+_King._ The General here! by all the Powers, betray'd by my own Men!
+
+_Bac._ Abandon'd as thou art, I scorn to take thee basely; you shall
+have Soldiers chance, Sir, for your Life, since Chance so luckily has
+brought us hither; without more Aids we will dispute the Day: This Spot
+of Earth bears both our Armies Fates; I'll give you back the Victory I
+have won, and thus begin a-new on equal Terms.
+
+_King._ That's nobly said!--the Powers have heard my Wish. You, Sir,
+first taught me how to use a Sword, which heretofore has served me with
+Success: But now--'tis for _Semernia_ that it draws, a Prize more valued
+than my Kingdom, Sir--
+
+_Bac._ Hah, _Semernia_!
+
+_King._ Your Blushes do betray your Passion for her.
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, have we fought for this, to expose the Victor to the
+conquer'd Foe?
+
+_Fear._ What, fight a single Man--our Prize already.
+
+_King._ Not so, young Man, while I command a Dart.
+
+_Bac._ Fight him! by Heaven, no reason shall dissuade me, and he that
+interrupts me is a Coward; whatever be my Fate, I do command ye to let
+the King pass freely to his Tents.
+
+_Dar._ The Devil's in the General.
+
+_Fear._ 'Sdeath, his Romantick Humour will undo us.
+    [They fight and pause.
+
+_King._ You fight as if you meant to outdo me this way, as you have done
+in Generosity.
+
+_Bac._ You're not behind-hand with me, Sir, in courtesy: Come, here's to
+set us even--
+    [Fight again.
+
+_King._ You bleed apace.
+
+_Bac._ You've only breath'd a Vein, and given me new Health and Vigour
+by it.
+    [They fight again, Wounds on both sides, the _King_ staggers;
+    _Bacon_ takes him in his Arms; the _King_ drops his Sword.
+  How do you, Sir?
+
+_King._ Like one--that's hovering between Heaven and Earth;
+I'm--mounting--somewhere--upwards--but giddy with my flight,--I know not
+where.
+
+  _Bac._ Command my Surgeons,--instantly--make haste;
+  Honour returns, and Love all bleeding's fled.    [Ex. _Fearless_.
+
+_King._ Oh, _Semernia_, how much more Truth had thy Divinity than the
+Predictions of the flattering Oracles! Commend me to her--I know
+you'll--visit--your fair Captive, Sir, and tell her--oh--but Death
+prevents the rest.
+    [Dies.
+
+    Enter _Fearless_.
+
+_Bac._ He's gone--and now, like _Caesar_, I could weep over the Hero I my
+self destroyed.
+
+_Fear._ I'm glad for your repose I see him there--'twas a mad
+hot-brain'd Youth, and so he died.
+
+_Bac._ Come bear him on your Shoulders to my Tent, from whence with all
+the solemn State we can, we will convey him to his own Pavilion.
+
+    Enter a _Soldier_.
+
+_Sold._ Some of our Troops pursuing of the Enemy even to their Temples,
+which they made their Sanctuary, finding the Queen at her Devotion there
+with all her _Indian_ Ladies, I'd much ado to stop their violent Rage
+from setting fire to the holy Pile.
+
+_Bac._ Hang 'em immediately that durst attempt it, while I my self will
+fly to rescue her.
+    [Goes out, they bear off the _King's_ Body; Ex. all.
+
+    Enter _Whimsey_, pulling in _Whiff_, with a Halter about his Neck.
+
+_Whim._ Nay, I'm resolved to keep thee here till his Honour the General
+comes.--What, to call him Traitor, and run away after he had so
+generously given us our freedom, and listed us Cadees for the next
+Command that fell in his Army--I'm resolved to hang thee--
+
+_Whiff._ Wilt thou betray and peach thy Friend? thy Friend that kept
+thee Company all the while thou wert a Prisoner--drinking at my own
+charge--
+
+_Whim._ No matter for that, I scorn Ingratitude, and therefore will hang
+thee--but as for thy drinking with me--I scorn to be behind-hand with
+thee in Civility, and therefore here's to thee.
+    [Takes a Bottle of Brandy out of his Pocket, Drinks.
+
+_Whiff._ I can't drink.
+
+_Whim._ A certain sign thou wo't be hang'd.
+
+_Whiff._ You us'd to be o' my side when a Justice, let the Cause be how
+it wou'd.
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Whim._ Ay--when I was a Justice I never minded Honesty, but now I'll be
+true to my General, and hang thee to be a great Man.--
+
+_Whiff._ If I might but have a fair Trial for my Life--
+
+_Whim._ A fair Trial!--come, I'll be thy Judge--and if thou canst clear
+thy self by Law, I'll acquit thee: Sirrah, Sirrah, what canst thou say
+for thy self for calling his Honour Rebel?
+    [Sits on a Drum-head.
+
+_Whiff._ 'T was when I was drunk, an't like your Honour.
+
+_Whim._ That's no Plea; for if you kill a Man when you are sober, you
+must be hanged when you are drunk. Hast thou any thing else to say for
+thy self why Sentence may not pass upon thee?
+
+_Whiff._ I desire the Benefit of the Clergy.
+
+_Whim._ The Clergy! I never knew any body that ever did benefit by 'em;
+why, thou canst not read a word.
+
+_Whiff._ Transportation then--
+
+_Whim._ It shall be to _England_ then--but hold--who's this?
+    [_Dullman_ creeping from a Bush.
+
+_Dull._ So the Danger's over, I may venture out--Pox on't, I wou'd not
+be in this fear again, to be Lord Chief Justice of our Court. Why, how
+now, Cornet?--what, in dreadful Equipage? Your Battle-Ax bloody, with
+Bow and Arrows.
+
+    Enter _Timorous_ with Battle-Ax, Bow and Arrows, and Feathers on
+    his Head.
+
+_Tim._ I'm in the posture of the times, Major--I cou'd not be idle where
+so much Action was; I'm going to present my self to the General, with
+these Trophies of my Victory here--
+
+_Dull._ Victory--what Victory--did not I see thee creeping out of yonder
+Bush, where thou wert hid all the Fight--stumble on a dead _Indian_, and
+take away his Arms?
+
+_Tim._ Why, didst thou see me?
+
+_Dull._ See thee, ay--and what a fright thou wert in, till thou wert
+sure he was dead.
+
+_Tim._ Well, well, that's all one--Gads zoors, if every Man that passes
+for valiant in a Battel, were to give an account how he gained his
+Reputation, the World wou'd be but thinly stock'd with Heroes; I'll say
+he was a great War-Captain, and that I kill'd him hand to hand, and who
+can disprove me?
+
+_Dull._ Disprove thee--why, that pale Face of thine, that has so much of
+the Coward in't.
+
+_Tim._ Shaw, that's with loss of Blood--Hah, I am overheard I
+doubt--who's yonder-- [Sees _Whim._ and _Whiff_.] how, Brother _Whiff_
+in a Hempen Cravat-string?
+
+_Whim._ He call'd the General Traitor, and was running away, and I'm
+resolv'd to peach.
+
+_Dull._ Hum--and one Witness will stand good in Law, in case of
+Treason--
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, in case of Treason, he'll be hang'd if it be proved
+against him, were there ne'er a Witness at all; but he must be tried by
+a Council of War, Man--Come, come, let's disarm him--
+    [They take away his Arms, and pull a Bottle of Brandy out of his
+    Pocket.
+
+_Whiff._ What, I hope you will not take away my Brandy, Gentlemen, my
+last comfort.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, it's come in good time--we'll drink it off, here,
+Major--
+    [Drinks, _Whiff_ takes him aside.
+
+_Whiff._ Hark ye, Cornet--you are my good Friend, get this matter made
+up before it come to the General.
+
+_Tim._ But this is Treason, Neighbour.
+
+_Whiff._ If I hang--I'll declare upon the Ladder how you kill'd your
+War-Captain.
+
+_Tim._ Come, Brother _Whimsey_--we have been all Friends and loving
+Magistrates together, let's drink about, and think no more of this
+Business.
+
+_Dull._ Ay, ay, if every sober Man in the Nation should be called to
+account of the Treason he speaks in's Drink, the Lord have mercy upon us
+all.--Put it up--and let us, like loving Brothers, take an honest
+Resolution to run away together; for this same _Frightall_ minds nothing
+but Fighting.
+
+_Whim._ I'm content, provided we go all to the Council, and tell them
+(to make our Peace) we went in obedience to the Proclamation, to kill
+_Bacon_, but the Traitor was so strongly guarded we could not effect it:
+but mum--who's here?--
+
+    To them, enter _Ranter_ and _Jenny_, as Man and Footman.
+
+_Ran._ Hah, our four reverend Justices--I hope the Blockheads will not
+know me--Gentlemen, can you direct me to Lieutenant General _Daring's_
+Tents?
+
+_Whiff._ Hum, who the Devil's this?--that's he you see coming this way.
+'Sdeath, yonder's _Daring_--let's slip away before he advances.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _Ran._ and _Jen._
+
+_Jen._ I am scar'd with those dead Bodies we have pass'd over; for God's
+sake, Madam, let me know your design in coming.
+
+_Ran._ Why, now I tell thee--my damn'd mad Fellow _Daring_, who has my
+Heart and Soul, loves _Chrisante_, has stolen her, and carried her away
+to his Tents; she hates him, while I am dying for him.
+
+_Jem._ Dying, Madam! I never saw you melancholy.
+
+_Ran._ Pox on't, no; why should I sigh and whine, and make my self an
+Ass, and him conceited? no, instead of snivelling I am resolved--
+
+_Jen._ What, Madam?
+
+_Ran._ Gad, to beat the Rascal, and bring off _Chrisante_.
+
+_Jen._ Beat him, Madam! what, a Woman beat a Lieutenant-General?
+
+_Ran._ Hang 'em, they get a name in War from Command, not Courage; but
+how know I but I may fight? Gad, I have known a Fellow kick'd from one
+end of the Town to t'other, believing himself a Coward; at last forced
+to fight, found he could; got a Reputation, and bullied all he met with;
+and got a Name, and a great Commission.
+
+_Jen._ But if he should kill you, Madam.
+
+_Ran._ I'll take care to make it as comical a Duel as the best of 'em;
+as much in love as I am, I do not intend to die its Martyr.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and _Fearless_.
+
+_Fear._ Have you seen _Chrisante_ since the Fight?
+
+_Dar._ Yes, but she is still the same, as nice and coy as Fortune when
+she's courted by the wretched; yet she denies me so obligingly, she
+keeps my Love still in its humble Calm.
+
+_Ran._ Can you direct me, Sir, to one _Daring's_ Tent?    [Sullenly.
+
+_Dar._ One _Daring!_--he has another Epithet to his Name.
+
+_Ran._ What's that, Rascal, or Coward?
+
+_Dar._ Hah, which of thy Stars, young Man, has sent thee hither, to find
+that certain Fate they have decreed?
+
+_Ran._ I know not what my Stars have decreed, but I shall be glad if
+they have ordain'd me to fight with _Daring_:--by thy concern thou
+shou'dst be he?
+
+_Dar._ I am, prithee who art thou?
+
+_Ran._ Thy Rival, though newly arrived from _England_, and came to marry
+fair _Chrisante_, whom thou hast ravish'd, for whom I hear another Lady
+dies.
+
+_Dar._ Dies for me?
+
+_Ran._ Therefore resign her fairly--or fight me fairly--
+
+_Dar._ Come on, Sir--but hold--before I kill thee, prithee inform me who
+this dying Lady is?
+
+_Ran._ Sir, I owe ye no Courtesy, and therefore will do you none by
+telling you--come, Sir, for _Chrisante_--draw.
+    [They offer to fight, _Fearless_ steps in.
+
+_Fear._ Hold--what mad Frolick's this?--Sir, you fight for one you never
+saw [to _Ranter_.] and you for one that loves you not.
+    [To _Dar._
+
+_Dar._ Perhaps she'll love him as little.
+
+_Ran._ Gad, put it to the Trial, if you dare--if thou be'st generous,
+bring me to her, and whom she does neglect shall give the other place.
+
+_Dar._ That's fair, put up thy Sword--I'll bring thee to her instantly.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Tent.
+
+    Enter _Chrisante_ and _Surelove_.
+
+_Chris._ I'm not so much afflicted for my Confinement, as I am that I
+cannot hear of _Friendly_.
+
+_Sure._ Art not persecuted with _Daring_?
+
+_Chris._ Not at all; though he tells me daily of his Passion, I rally
+him, and give him neither Hope nor Despair,--he's here.
+
+    Enter _Daring_, _Fear._ _Rant._ and _Jenny_.
+
+_Dar._ Madam, the Complaisance I show in bringing you my Rival, will let
+you see how glad I am to oblige you every way.
+
+_Ran._ I hope the Danger I have exposed my self to for the Honour of
+kissing your Hand, Madam, will render me something acceptable--here are
+my Credentials--
+    [Gives her a Letter.
+
+    _Chrisante_ reads.
+
+    Dear Creature, I have taken this Habit to free you from an
+    impertinent Lover, and to secure the damn'd Rogue _Daring_ to my
+    self: receive me as sent by Colonel _Surelove_ from _England_ to
+    marry you--favour me--no more--
+
+    Yours, _Ranter_.
+
+--Hah, _Ranter_? [Aside.] --Sir, you have too good a Character from my
+Cousin Colonel Surelove, not to receive my Welcome.
+    [Gives _Surelove_ the Letter.
+
+_Ran._ Stand by, General--
+    [Pushes away _Daring_, looks big, and takes _Chrisante_ by the
+    Hand, and kisses it.
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, Sir, there's room enough--at first sight so kind! Oh
+Youth, Youth and Impudence, what Temptations are you to Villanous Woman?
+
+_Chris._ I confess, Sir, we Women do not love these rough fighting
+Fellows, they're always scaring us with one Broil or other.
+
+_Dar._ Much good may it do you with your tame Coxcomb.
+
+_Ran._ Well, Sir, then you yield the Prize?
+
+_Dar._ Ay, Gad, were she an Angel, that can prefer such a callow Fop as
+thou before a Man--take her and domineer.
+    [They all laugh.
+  --'Sdeath, am I grown ridiculous?
+
+_Fear._ Why hast thou not found the Jest? by Heaven, 'tis _Ranter_, 'tis
+she that loves you; carry on the humour.
+    [Aside.
+  Faith, Sir, if I were you, I wou'd devote my self to Madam _Ranter_.
+
+_Chris._ Ay, she's the fittest Wife for you, she'll fit your Humour.
+
+_Dar._ _Ranter_--Gad, I'd sooner marry a she-Bear, unless for a Penance
+for some horrid Sin; we should be eternally challenging one another to
+the Field, and ten to one she beats me there; or if I should escape
+there, she wou'd kill me with drinking.
+
+_Ran._ Here's a Rogue--does your Country abound with such Ladies?
+
+_Dar._ The Lord forbid, half a dozen wou'd ruin the Land, debauch all
+the Men, and scandalize all the Women.
+
+_Fear._ No matter, she's rich.
+
+_Dar._ Ay, that will make her insolent.
+
+_Fear._ Nay, she's generous too.
+
+_Dar._ Yes, when she's drunk, and then she'll lavish all.
+
+_Ran._ A pox on him, how he vexes me.
+
+_Dar._ Then such a Tongue--she'll rail and smoke till she choke again;
+then six Gallons of Punch hardly recovers her, and never but then is she
+good-natur'd.
+
+_Ran._ I must lay him on--
+
+_Dar._ There's not a Blockhead in the Country that has not--
+
+_Ran._ What--
+
+_Dar._ Been drunk with her.
+
+_Ran._ I thought you had meant something else, Sir.    [In huff.
+
+_Dar._ Nay--as for that--I suppose there is no great difficulty.
+
+_Ran._ 'Sdeath, Sir, you lye--and you are a Son of a Whore.
+    [Draws and fences with him, and he runs back round the Stage.
+
+_Dar._ Hold--hold, Virago--dear Widow, hold, and give me thy hand.
+
+_Ran._ Widow!
+
+_Dar._ 'Sdeath, I knew thee by instinct, Widow, though I seemed not to
+do so, in Revenge for the Trick you put on me in telling me a Lady dy'd
+for me.
+
+_Ran._ Why, such an one there is, perhaps she may dwindle forty or fifty
+years--or so--but will never be her own Woman again, that's certain.
+
+_Sure._ This we are all ready to testify, we know her.
+
+_Chris._ Upon my Life, 'tis true.
+
+_Dar._ Widow, I have a shreud Suspicion, that you your self may be this
+dying Lady.
+
+_Ran._ Why so, Coxcomb?
+
+_Dar._ Because you took such Pains to put your self into my hands.
+
+_Ran._ Gad, if your Heart were but half so true as your Guess, we should
+conclude a Peace before _Bacon_ and the Council will--besides, this
+thing whines for _Friendly_, and there's no hopes.
+    [To _Chrisante_.
+
+_Dar._ Give me thy Hand, Widow, I am thine--and so entirely, I will
+never--be drunk out of thy Company:--_Dunce_ is in my Tent,--prithee
+let's in and bind the Bargain.
+
+_Ran._ Nay, faith, let's see the Wars at an end first.
+
+_Dar._ Nay, prithee take me in the humour, while thy Breeches are
+on--for I never lik'd thee half so well in Petticoats.
+
+_Ran._ Lead on, General, you give me good incouragement to wear them.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. The _Sevana_ in sight of the Camp; the Moon rises.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_, _Hazard_ and _Boozer_, and a Party of Men.
+
+_Friend._ We are now in sight of the Tents.
+
+_Booz._ Is not this a rash Attempt, Gentlemen, with so small Force to
+set upon _Bacon's_ whole Army?
+
+_Haz._ Oh, they are drunk with Victory and Wine; there will be nought
+but revelling to night.
+
+_Friend._ Would we could learn in what Quarter the Ladies are lodg'd,
+for we have no other business but to release them--But hark--who comes
+here?
+
+_Booz._ Some Scouts, I fear, from the Enemy.
+
+    Enter _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_, creeping as in the dark.
+
+_Friend._ Let's shelter ourselves behind yonder Trees--lest we be
+surpriz'd.
+
+_Tim._ Wou'd I were well at home-Gad zoors, if e'er you catch me a
+Cadeeing again, I'll be content to be set in the fore-front of the
+Battle for Hawks-Meat.
+
+_Whim._ Thou'rt afraid of every Bush.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, and good reason too: Gad zoors, there may be Rogues
+hid--prithee, Major, do thou advance.
+
+_Dull._ No, no, go on--no matter of Ceremony in these cases of running
+away.
+    [They advance.
+
+_Friend._ They approach directly to us, we cannot escape them--their
+numbers are not great--let us advance.
+    [They come up to them.
+
+_Tim._ Oh! I am annihilated.
+
+_Whiff._ Some of _Frightall's_ Scouts, we are lost Men.
+    [They push each other foremost.
+
+_Friend._ Who goes there?
+
+_Whim._ Oh, they'll give us no Quarter; 'twas long of you, Cornet, that
+we ran away from our Colours.
+
+_Tim._ Me--'twas the Major's Ambition here--to make himself a great Man
+with the Council again.
+
+_Dull._ Pox o' this Ambition, it has been the ruin of many a gallant
+Fellow.
+
+_Whiff._ If I get home again, the height of mine shall be to top
+Tobacco; would I'd some Brandy.
+
+_Tim._ Gads zoors, would we had, 'tis the best Armour against
+Fear--hum--I hear no body now--prithee advance a little.
+
+_Whim._ What, before a Horse-Officer?
+
+_Friend._ Stand, on your Lives--
+
+_Tim._ Oh, 'tis impossible--I'm dead already.
+
+_Friend._ What are ye?--speak--or I'll shoot.
+
+_Whim._ Friends to thee,--who the Devil are we Friends to?
+
+_Tim._ E'en who please you, Gad zoors.
+
+_Friend._ Hah--Gad zoors--who's there, _Timorous_?
+
+_Tim._ Hum--I know no such Scoundrel--    [Gets behind.
+
+_Dull._ Hah--that's _Friendly's_ Voice.
+
+_Friend._ Right--thine's that of _Dullman_--who's with you?
+
+_Dull._ Only _Timorous_, _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_, all valiantly running
+away from the Arch-Rebel that took us Prisoners.
+
+_Haz._ Can you inform us where the Ladies are lodg'd?
+
+_Dull._ In the hither Quarter, in _Daring's_ Tent; you'll know them by
+Lanthorns on every corner--there was never better time to surprize
+them--for this day _Daring's_ married, and there's nothing but Dancing
+and Drinking.
+
+_Haz._ Married! to whom?
+
+_Dull._ That I ne'er enquir'd.
+
+_Friend._ 'Tis to _Chrisante_, Friend--and the Reward of my Attempt is
+lost. Oh, I am mad, I'll fight away my Life, and my Despair shall yet do
+greater Wonders, than even my Love could animate me to. Let's part our
+Men, and beset his Tents on both sides.
+    [_Friendly_ goes out with a Party.
+
+_Haz._ Come, Gentlemen, let's on--
+
+_Whiff._ On, Sir,--we on, Sir?--
+
+_Haz._ Ay, you on, Sir--to redeem the Ladies.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, Sir, I am going home for Money to redeem my _Nancy_.
+
+_Whim._ So am I, Sir.
+
+_Tim._ I thank my Stars I am a Batchelor.--Why, what a Plague is a Wife?
+
+_Haz._ Will you march forward?
+
+_Dull._ We have atchiev'd Honour enough already, in having made our
+Campaign here--
+    [Looking big.
+
+_Haz._ 'Sdeath, but you shall go--put them in the front, and prick them
+on--if they offer to turn back, run them thro.
+
+_Tim._ Oh, horrid--    [The Soldiers prick them on with their Swords.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, _Nancy_, thy Dream will yet come to pass.
+
+_Haz._ Will you advance, Sir?    [Pricks _Whiff_.
+
+_Whiff._ Why, so we do, Sir; the Devil's in these fighting Fellows.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+    An Alarm at a distance.
+
+_Within._ To Arms, to Arms, the Enemy's upon us.
+
+    [A Noise of Fighting, after which enters _Friendly_ with his
+    Party, retreating and fighting from _Daring_ and some Soldiers,
+    _Ranter_ fighting like a Fury by his side, he putting her back in
+    vain; they fight out. Re-enter _Daring_ and _Friendly_ all bloody.
+    Several Soldiers enter with Flambeaux.
+
+_Dar._ Now, Sir--what Injury have I ever done you, that you should use
+this Treachery against me?
+
+_Friend._ To take advantage any way in War, was never counted
+Treachery--and had I murder'd thee, I had not paid thee half the Debt I
+owe thee.
+
+_Dar._ You bleed too much to hold too long a Parley-- come to my Tent,
+I'll take a charitable care of thee.
+
+_Friend._ I scorn thy Courtesy, who against all the Laws of Honour and
+of Justice, hast ravish'd innocent Ladies.
+
+_Dar._ Sir, your upbraiding of my Honour shall never make me forfeit it,
+or esteem you less--Is there a Lady here you have a Passion for?
+
+_Friend._ Yes, on a nobler score than thou darest own.
+
+_Dar._ To let you see how you're mistaken, Sir, whoe'er that Lady be
+whom you affect, I will resign, and give you both your Freedoms.
+
+_Friend._ Why, for this Courtesy, which shews thee brave, in the next
+fight I'll save thy Life to quit the Obligation.
+
+_Dar._ I thank you, Sir;--come to my Tent,--and when we've dress'd your
+Wounds, and yielded up the Ladies, I'll give you my Pass-port for your
+Safe-Conduct back, and tell your Friends i'th' Town, we'll visit them
+i'th' Morning.
+
+_Friend._ They'll meet you on your way, Sir--
+
+_Dar._ Come, my young Soldier, now thou'st won my Soul.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+    [An Alarm beats: Enter at another Passage _Boozer_ with all the
+    Ladies; they pass over the Stage, while _Hazard_ and _Downright_
+    beat back a Party of Soldiers. _Dull._ _Tim._ _Whim._ and _Whiff_,
+    prick'd on by their Party to fight, lay about them like Madmen.
+    _Bacon_, _Fearless_ and _Daring_ come in, rescue their Men, and
+    fight out the other Party, some falling dead. _Bacon_, _Fearless_
+    and _Daring_ return tired, with their Swords drawn. Enter
+    _Soldier_ running.
+
+_Sold._ Return, Sir, where your Sword will be more useful--a Party of
+_Indians_, taking advantage of the Night, have set fire on your Tents,
+and borne away the Queen.
+
+_Bac._ Hah, the Queen! By Heaven, this Victory shall cost them dear;
+come, let us fly to rescue her.
+
+    [All go out.
+
+
+SCENE II. Changes to _Wellman's_ Tent.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_, _Brag_, _Grubb_, and Officers.
+
+_Well._ I cannot sleep, my Impatience is so great to engage this haughty
+Enemy, before they have reposed their weary Limbs--Is not yon ruddy
+Light the Morning's dawn?
+
+_Brag._ 'Tis, and please your Honour.
+
+_Well._ Is there no News of _Friendly_ yet, and _Hazard_?
+
+_Brag._ Not yet--'tis thought they left the Camp to night, with some
+design against the Enemy.
+
+_Well._ What Men have they?
+
+_Brag._ Only _Boozer's_ Party, Sir.
+
+_Well._ I know they are brave, and mean to surprize me with some
+handsome Action.
+
+    Enter _Friendly_.
+
+_Friend._ I ask a thousand Pardons, Sir, for quitting the Camp without
+your leave.
+
+_Well._ Your conduct and your Courage cannot err; I see thou'st been in
+action by thy Blood.
+
+_Friend._ Sir, I'm ashamed to own these slender Wounds, since without
+more my luck was to be taken, while _Hazard_ did alone effect the
+Business, the rescuing of the Ladies.
+
+_Well._ How got ye Liberty?
+
+_Friend._ By _Daring's_ Generosity, who sends ye word he'll visit you
+this Morning.
+
+_Well._ We are prepared to meet him.
+
+    Enter _Down._ _Hazard_, _Ladies_, _Whim._ _Whiff_, _Dullman_,
+    _Tim._ looking big. _Well._ embraces _Down._
+
+_Well._ My worthy Friend, how am I joyed to see you?
+
+_Down._ We owe our Liberties to these brave Youths, who can do Wonders
+when they fight for Ladies.
+
+_Tim._ With our assistance, Ladies.
+
+_Whim._ For my part I'll not take it as I have done; Gad, I find, when I
+am damnable angry, I can beat both Friend and Foe.
+
+_Whiff._ When I fight for my _Nancy_ here--adsfish, I'm a Dragon.
+
+Mrs. _Whiff._ Lord, you need not have been so hasty.
+
+_Friend._ Do not upbraid me with your Eyes, _Chrisante_; but let these
+Wounds assure you I endeavour'd to serve you, though _Hazard_ had the
+Honour on't.
+
+_Well._ But, Ladies, we'll not expose you in the Camp,--a Party of our
+Men shall see you safely conducted to Madam _Surelove's_; 'tis but a
+little Mile from our Camp.
+
+_Friend._ Let me have that honour, Sir.
+
+_Chris._ No, I conjure you let your Wounds be dress'd; obey me if you
+love me, and _Hazard_ shall conduct us home.
+
+_Well._ He had the Toil, 'tis fit he have the Recompence.
+
+_Whiff._ He the Toil, Sir! what, did we stand for Cyphers?
+
+_Whim._ The very appearance I made in the front of the Battel, aw'd the
+Enemy.
+
+_Tim._ Ay, ay, let the Enemy say how I maul'd 'em--but Gads zoors,
+I scorn to brag.
+
+_Well._ Since you've regain'd your Honour so gloriously, I restore you
+to your Commands you lost by your seeming Cowardice.
+
+_Dull._ Valour is not always in humour, Sir.
+
+_Well._ Come, Gentlemen, since they've resolv'd to engage us, let's set
+our Men in order to receive 'em.
+
+    [Exeunt all but the four Justices.
+
+_Tim._ Our Commissions again--you must be bragging, and see what comes
+on't; I was modest ye see, and said nothing of my Prowess.
+
+_Whiff._ What a Devil does the Colonel think we are made of Iron,
+continually to be beat on the Anvil?
+
+_Whim._ Look, Gentlemen, here's two Evils--if we go we are dead Men; if
+we stay we are hang'd--and that will disorder my
+Cravat-string:--therefore the least Evil is to go--and set a good Face
+on the Matter, as I do--
+
+    [Goes out singing. All exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A thick Wood.
+
+    Enter _Queen_ dress'd like an _Indian_ Man, with a Bow in her
+    Hand, and Quiver at her Back; _Anaria_ her Confident disguis'd so
+    too; and about a dozen _Indians_ led by _Cavaro_.
+
+_Queen._ I tremble yet, dost think we're safe, _Cavaro_?
+
+_Cav._ Madam, these Woods are intricate and vast, and 'twill be
+difficult to find us out--or if they do, this Habit will secure you from
+the fear of being taken.
+
+_Queen._ Dost think if _Bacon_ find us, he will not know me? Alas, my
+Fears and Blushes will betray me.
+
+_Ana._ 'Tis certain, Madam, if we stay we perish; for all the Wood's
+surrounded by the Conqueror.
+
+_Queen._ Alas, 'tis better we should perish here, than stay to expect
+the Violence of his Passion, to which my Heart's too sensibly inclin'd.
+
+_Ana._ Why do you not obey its Dictates then? why do you fly the
+Conqueror?
+
+_Queen._ Not fly--not fly the Murderer of my Lord?
+
+_Ana._ What World, what Resolution can preserve you? and what he cannot
+gain by soft submission, Force will at last o'ercome.
+
+_Queen._ I wish there were in Nature one excuse, either by Force or
+Reason to compel me:--For Oh, _Anaria_--I adore this General;--take from
+my Soul a Truth--till now conceal'd--at twelve Years old--at the
+_Pauwomungian_ Court, I saw this Conqueror. I saw him young and gay as
+new-born Spring, glorious and charming as the Mid-day's Sun; I watch'd
+his Looks, and listned when he spoke, and thought him more than mortal.
+
+_Ana._ He has a graceful Form.
+
+_Queen._ At last a fatal Match concluded was between my Lord and me;
+I gave my Hand, but oh, how far my Heart was from consenting, the angry
+Gods are Witness.
+
+_Ana._ 'Twas pity.
+
+_Queen._ Twelve tedious Moons I pass'd in silent Languishment; Honour
+endeavouring to destroy my Love, but all in vain; for still my Pain
+return'd whenever I beheld my Conqueror; but now when I consider him as
+Murderer of my Lord-- [Fiercely.] I sigh and wish--some other fatal Hand
+had given him his Death.--But now there's a necessity, I must be brave
+and overcome my Heart; What if I do? ah, whither shall I fly? I have no
+_Amazonian_ Fire about me, all my Artillery is Sighs and Tears, the
+Earth my Bed, and Heaven my Canopy.    [Weeps.
+    [After Noise of Fighting.
+  Hah, we are surpriz'd; Oh, whither shall I fly? And yet methinks a
+certain trembling Joy, spite of my Soul, spite of my boasted Honour,
+runs shivering round my Heart.
+
+    Enter an _Indian_.
+
+_Ind._ Madam, your Out-guards are surpriz'd by _Bacon_, who hews down
+all before him, and demands the Queen with such a Voice, and Eyes so
+fierce and angry, he kills us with his Looks.
+
+_Cav._ Draw up your poison'd Arrows to the head, and aim them at his
+Heart, sure some will hit.
+
+_Queen._ Cruel _Cavaro_,--wou'd 'twere fit for me to contradict thy
+Justice.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Bac._ [Within.] The Queen, ye Slaves, give me the Queen, and live!
+
+    He enters furiously, beating back some _Indians_; _Cavaro's_ Party
+    going to shoot, the _Queen_ runs in.
+
+_Queen._ Hold, hold, I do command ye.
+    [_Bacon_ flies on 'em as they shoot and miss him, fights like a
+    Fury, and wounds the _Queen_ in the Disorder; beats them all out.
+  --hold thy commanding Hand, and do not kill me, who wou'd not hurt
+thee to regain my Kingdom--
+    [He snatches her in his Arms, she reels.
+
+_Bac._ Hah--a Woman's Voice,--what art thou? Oh my Fears!
+
+_Queen._ Thy Hand has been too cruel to a Heart--whose Crime was only
+tender Thoughts for thee.
+
+_Bac._ The Queen! What is't my sacrilegious Hand has done!
+
+_Queen._ The noblest Office of a gallant Friend, thou'st sav'd my
+Honour, and hast given me Death.
+
+_Bac._ Is't possible! ye unregarding Gods, is't possible?
+
+_Queen._ Now I may love you without Infamy, and please my dying Heart by
+gazing on you.
+
+_Bac._ Oh, I am lost--for ever lost--I find my Brain turn with the wild
+confusion.
+
+_Queen._ I faint--oh, lay me gently on the Earth.    [Lays her down.
+
+_Bac._ Who waits--    [Turns in Rage to his Men.
+  Make of the Trophies of the War a Pile, and set it all on fire, that I
+may leap into consuming Flames--while all my Tents are burning round
+about me.
+    [Wildly.
+  Oh thou dear Prize, for which alone I toil'd!
+    [Weeps, and lies down by her.
+
+    Enter _Fearless_ with his Sword drawn.
+
+_Fear._ Hah, on the Earth--how do you, Sir?
+
+_Bac._ What wou'dst thou?
+
+_Fear._ _Wellman_ with all the Forces he can gather, attacks us even in
+our very Camp; assist us, Sir, or all is lost.
+
+_Bac._ Why, prithee let him make the World his Prize, I have no business
+with the Trifle now; it contains nothing that's worth my care, since my
+fair Queen--is dead--and by my hand.
+
+_Queen._ So charming and obliging is thy Moan, that I cou'd wish for
+Life to recompense it; but oh, Death falls--all cold upon my Heart, like
+Mildews on the Blossoms.
+
+_Fear._ By Heaven, Sir, this Love will ruin all--rise, rise, and save us
+yet.
+
+_Bac._ Leave me, what e'er becomes of me--lose not thy share of
+Glory--prithee leave me.
+
+_Queen._ Alas, I fear thy Fate is drawing on, and I shall shortly meet
+thee in the Clouds; till then--farewel--even Death is pleasing to me,
+while thus--I find it in thy Arms--
+    [Dies.
+
+_Bac._ There ends my Race of Glory and of Life.
+    [An Alarm at distance--continues a while.
+
+_Bac._ Hah--Why should I idly whine away my Life, since there are nobler
+ways to meet with Death? Up, up, and face him then--Hark--there's the
+Soldier's Knell--and all the Joys of Life--with thee I bid farewel--
+    [Goes out. The _Indians_ bear off the Body of the _Queen_.
+
+    The Alarm continues: Enter _Downright_, _Wellman_, and others,
+    Swords drawn.
+
+_Well._ They fight like Men possest--I did not think to have found them
+so prepar'd.
+
+_Down._ They've good Intelligence--but where's the Rebel?
+
+_Well._ Sure he's not in the Fight; Oh, that it were my happy chance to
+meet him, that while our Men look on, we might dispatch the business of
+the War--Come, let's fall in again, now we have taken breath.
+    [They go out.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and _Fearless_ hastily, with their Swords drawn;
+    meet _Whim._ _Whiff_, with their Swords drawn, running away.
+
+_Dar._ How now, whither away?    [In anger.
+
+_Whim._ Hah, _Daring_ here--we are pursuing of the Enemy, Sir; stop us
+not in the pursuit of Glory.
+    [Offers to go.
+
+_Dar._ Stay!--I have not seen you in my Ranks to day.
+
+_Whiff._ Lord, does your Honour take us for Starters?
+
+_Fear._ Yes, Sirrah, and believe you are now rubbing off--confess, or
+I'll run you through.
+
+_Whiff._ Oh, mercy, Sir, mercy, we'll confess.
+
+_Whim._ What will you confess? we were only going behind yon Hedge to
+untruss a point; that's all.
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, your Honours will smell out the truth, if you keep us here
+long.
+
+_Dar._ Here, carry them Prisoners to my Tent.
+
+    [Ex. Soldiers with _Whim._ and _Whiff_.
+
+    Enter _Ranter_ without a Hat, and Sword drawn, _Daring_ angrily
+    goes the other way.
+
+_Ran._ A pox of all ill luck, how came I to lose _Daring_ in the fight?
+Ha--who's here? _Dullman_ and _Timorous_ dead--the Rogues are
+Counterfeits.--I'll see what Moveables they have about them, all's
+lawful Prize in War.
+    [Takes their Money, Watches and Rings; goes out.
+
+_Tim._ What, rob the dead?--why, what will this villanous World come to?
+    [Clashing of Swords, just as they were going to rise.
+
+    Enter _Hazard_ bringing in _Ranter_.
+
+_Haz._ Thou cou'dst expect no other Fate, young Man; thy Hands are yet
+too tender for a Sword.
+
+_Ran._ Thou look'st like a good-natur'd Fellow, use me civilly, and
+_Daring_ shall ransom me.
+
+_Haz._ Doubt not a generous Treatment.    [They go out.
+
+_Dull._ So the Coast is clear, I desire to move my Quarters to some
+place of more safety--
+    [They rise and go off.
+
+    Enter _Wellman_ and Soldiers hastily.
+
+_Well._ 'Twas this way _Bacon_ fled. Five hundred Pound for him who
+finds the Rebel.
+
+    [Go out.
+
+
+SCENE IV. Changes to another part of the Wood.
+
+    Enter _Bacon_ and _Fearless_ with their Swords drawn, all bloody.
+
+_Bac._ 'Tis just, ye Gods! that when ye took the Prize for which I
+fought, Fortune and you should all abandon me.
+
+_Fear._ Oh, fly, Sir, to some place of safe retreat, for there's no
+mercy to be hop'd if taken. What will you do? I know we are pursu'd, by
+Heaven, I will not die a shameful Death.
+
+_Bac._ Oh, they'll have pity on thy Youth and Bravery, but I'm above
+their Pardon.
+    [A noise is heard.
+
+_Within._ This way--this way--hay halloo.
+
+_Fear._ Alas, Sir, we're undone--I'll see which way they take.
+    [Exit.
+
+  _Bac._ So near! Nay, then to my last shift.
+    [Undoes the Pomel of his Sword.
+  Come, my good Poison, like that of _Hannibal_; long I have born a
+noble Remedy for all the Ills of Life.
+    [Takes Poison.
+  I have too long surviv'd my Queen and Glory, those two bright Stars
+that influenc'd my Life are set to all Eternity.
+    [Lies down.
+
+    Enter _Fearless_, runs to _Bacon_, and looks on his Sword.
+
+_Fear._ --Hah--what have ye done?
+
+_Bac._ Secur'd my self from being a publick Spectacle upon the common
+Theatre of Death.
+
+    Enter _Daring_ and Soldiers.
+
+_Dar._ Victory, Victory! they fly, they fly, where's the victorious
+General?
+
+_Fear._ Here,--taking his last Adieu.
+
+_Dar._ Dying! Then wither all the Laurels on my Brows, for I shall never
+triumph more in War; where are the Wounds?
+
+_Fear._ From his own Hand, by what he carried here, believing we had
+lost the Victory.
+
+_Bac._ And is the Enemy put to flight, my Hero?    [Grasps his Neck.
+
+_Dar._ All routed Horse and Foot; I plac'd an Ambush, and while they
+were pursuing you, my Men fell on behind, and won the day.
+
+_Bac._ Thou almost makest me wish to live again, if I cou'd live now
+fair _Semernia's_ dead.--But oh--the baneful Drug is just and kind, and
+hastens me away--Now while you are Victors, make a Peace--with the
+_English_ Council, and never let Ambition,--Love,--or Interest, make you
+forget, as I have done, your Duty and Allegiance--Farewel--a long
+Farewel--
+    [Dies embracing their Necks.
+
+_Dar._ So fell the _Roman Cassius_, by mistake--
+
+    Enter Soldiers with _Dunce_, _Tim._ and _Dullman_.
+
+_Sold._ An't please your Honour, we took these Men running away.
+
+_Dar._ Let 'em loose--the Wars are at an end, see where the General
+lies--that great-soul'd Man, no private Body e'er contain'd a nobler;
+and he that cou'd have conquered all _America_, finds only here his
+scanty length of Earth. Go, bear the Body to his own Pavilion--
+    [Soldiers go out with the Body.
+  though we are Conquerors we submit to treat, and yield upon Condition:
+You, Mr. _Dunce_, shall bear our Articles to the Council.
+
+_Dun._ With Joy I will obey you.
+
+_Tim._ Good General, let us be put in the Agreement.
+
+_Dar._ You shall be obliged--
+
+    [Ex. _Dar._ _Dun._ _Dull._ and _Tim._ as _Fear._ goes out a
+    Soldier meets him.
+
+_Sold._ What does your Honour intend to do with _Whimsey_ and _Whiff_,
+who are condemn'd by a Council of War?
+
+    Enter _Daring_, _Dullman_, _Tim._ _Fearless_, and Officers.
+
+_Dar._ You come too late, Gentlemen, to be put into the Articles; nor am
+I satisfy'd you're worthy of it.
+
+_Dull._ Why, did not you, Sir, see us lie dead in the Field?
+
+_Dar._ Yes, but I see no Wound about you.
+
+_Tim._ We were stun'd with being knock'd down; Gads zoors, a Man may be
+kill'd with the but-end of a Musquet, as soon as with the point of a
+Sword.
+
+    Enter _Dunce_.
+
+_Dun._ The Council, Sir, wishes you Health and Happiness, and sends you
+these sign'd by their Hands--
+    [Gives Papers.
+
+_Dar._ reads.
+
+    That you shall have a general Pardon for your self and Friends;
+    that you shall have all new Commissions, and _Daring_ to command as
+    General; that you shall have free leave to inter your dead General
+    in _James_ Town. And to ratify this, we will meet you at Madam
+    _Surelove's_ House, which stands between the Armies, attended only
+    by our Officers.
+
+The Council's noble, and I'll wait upon them.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE V. A Grove near Madam _Surelove's_.
+
+    Enter _Surelove_ weeping, _Well._ _Chrisante_, Mrs. _Flirt_,
+    _Ranter_ as before, _Down._ _Haz._ _Friend._ _Booz._ _Brag_.
+
+_Well._ How long, Madam, have you heard the News of Col. _Surelove's_
+Death?
+
+_Sure._ By a Vessel last Night arriv'd.
+
+_Well._ You shou'd not grieve when Men so old pay their debt to Nature;
+you are too fair not to have been reserved for some young Lover's Arms.
+
+_Haz._ I dare not speak,--but give me leave to hope.
+
+_Sure._ The way to oblige me to't, is never more to speak to me of Love
+till I shall think it fit--
+    [_Wellman_ speaks to _Down._
+
+_Well._ Come, you shan't grant it--'tis a hopeful Youth.
+
+_Down._ You are too much my Friend to be denied--_Chrisante_, do you
+love _Friendly_? nay, do not blush--till you have done a fault, your
+loving him is none--Here, take her, young Man, and with her all my
+Fortune--when I am dead, Sirrah--not a Groat before--unless to buy ye
+Baby-Clouts.
+
+_Friend._ He merits not this Treasure, Sir, can wish for more.
+
+    Enter _Daring_, _Fearless_, _Dunce_, Officers, and the rest, they
+    meet _Well._ and _Down._ who embrace 'em. _Dull._ and _Tim._
+    stand.
+
+_Dar._ Can you forgive us, Sir, our Disobedience?
+
+_Well._ Your offering Peace while yet you might command it, has made
+such kind impressions on us, that now you may command your Propositions;
+your Pardons are all seal'd and new Commissions.
+
+_Dar._ I'm not ambitious of that Honour, Sir, but in obedience will
+accept your Goodness; but, Sir, I hear I have a young Friend taken
+Prisoner by Captain _Hazard_, whom I intreat you will render me.
+
+_Haz._ Sir--here I resign him to you.    [Gives him _Ran._
+
+_Ran._ Faith, General, you left me but scurvily in Battle.
+
+_Dar._ That was to see how well you cou'd shift for your self; now I
+find you can bear the brunt of a Campaign, you are a fit Wife for a
+Soldier.
+
+_All._ A Woman--_Ranter_--
+
+_Haz._ Faith, Madam, I should have given you kinder Quarter, if I had
+known my happiness.
+
+_Flirt._ I have an humble Petition to you, Sir.
+
+_Sure._ In which we all join.
+
+_Flirt._ An't please you, Sir, Mr. _Dunce_ has long made Love to me, and
+on promise of Marriage has--
+    [Simpers.
+
+_Down._ What has he, Mistress? What has he, Mrs. _Flirt_?
+
+_Flirt._ Only been a little familiar with my Person, Sir--
+
+_Well._ Do you hear, Parson--you must marry Mrs. _Flirt_.
+
+_Dun._ How, Sir, a Man of my Coat, Sir, marry a Brandy-monger?
+
+_Well._ Of your Calling you mean, a Farrier and no Parson--
+    [Aside to him.
+  She'll leave her Trade, and spark it above all the Ladies at Church:
+No more--take her, and make her honest.
+
+    Enter _Whim._ and _Whiff_ stript.
+
+_Chris._ Bless me, what have we here?
+
+_Whim._ Why, an't like your Honours, we were taken by the Enemy--hah,
+_Daring_ here, and _Fearless_?
+
+_Fear._ How now, Gentlemen, were not you two condemn'd to be shot for
+running from your Colours.
+
+_Down._ From your Colours!
+
+_Fear._ Yes, Sir, they were both listed in my Regiment.
+
+_Down._ Then we must hang them for deserting us.
+
+_Whim._ So, out of the Frying Pan--you know where, Brother--
+
+_Whiff._ Ay, he that's born to be hang'd--you know the rest; a Pox of
+these Proverbs.
+
+_Well._ I know ye well--you're all rank Cowards; but once more we
+forgive ye; your Places in the Council shall be supplied by these
+Gentlemen of Sense and Honour. The Governor when he comes, shall find
+the Country in better hands than he expects to find it.
+
+_Whim._ A very fair Discharge.
+
+_Whiff._ I'm glad 'tis no worse, I'll home to my _Nancy_.
+
+_Dull._ Have we expos'd our Lives and Fortunes for this?
+
+_Tim._ Gad zoors, I never thriv'd since I was a Statesman, left
+Planting, and fell to promising and lying; I'll to my old Trade again,
+bask under the shade of my own Tobacco, and drink my Punch in Peace.
+
+  _Well._ _Come, my brave Youths, let all our Forces meet,
+  To make this Country happy, rich and great;
+  Let scanted _Europe_ see that we enjoy
+  Safer Repose, and larger Worlds, than they._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+
+  Gallants, you have so long been absent hence,
+  That you have almost cool'd your Diligence:
+  For while we study or revive a Play,
+  You like good Husbands in the Country stay,
+  There frugally wear out your Summer-Suit, }
+  And in Frize Jerkin after Beagles toot,   }
+  Or in Mountero Caps at Fel-fares shoot:   }
+  Nay, some are so obdurate in their Sin,
+  That they swear never to come up again;
+  But all their charge of Clothes and Treat retrench.
+  To Gloves and Stockings for some Country-Wench.
+  Even they who in the Summer had Mishaps,
+  Send up to Town for Physick, for their Claps.
+  The Ladies too, are as resolv'd as they,     }
+  And having Debts unknown to them, they stay, }
+  And with the gain of Cheese and Poultry pay. }
+  Even in their Visits, they from Banquets fall,
+  To entertain with Nuts and Bottle-Ale;
+  And in Discourse with secrecy report
+  Stale News that past a Twelve-month since at Court.
+  Those of them who are most refin'd and gay,
+  Now learn the Songs of the last Summer's Play:
+  While the young Daughter does in private mourn
+  Her Love's in Town, and hopes not to return.
+  These Country-Grievances too great appear;
+  But, cruel Ladies, we have greater here;
+  You come not sharp, as you were wont, to Plays;
+  But only on the first and second Days:
+  This made our Poet in his Visits look
+  What new strange Courses for your Time you took;
+  And to his great regret he found too soon,
+  _Basset_ and _Ombre_ spent the Afternoon:
+  So that we cannot hope to see you here
+  Before the little Net-work Purse be clear.
+  Suppose you should have luck:--
+  Yet sitting up so late as I am told,
+  You'll lose in Beauty what you win in Gold;
+  And what each Lady of another says,
+  Will make you new Lampoons, and us new Plays.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: The Widow Ranter
+
+[Transcriber's Note:
+
+The Notes in the printed text give only page and line numbers.
+Act-and-scene designations shown between +marks+ have been added by
+the transcriber. Labels such as "Scene IIa" refer to points where the
+scene description changes without a new scene number.]
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 221, l. 1 _To the much Honoured._ This Dedicatory Epistle is only
+  found in the 4to 1690.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 223, l. 13 _Cruse._ Misprinted 'Cause' in 4to 1690 and in 1724.
+  _The True Widow_ (4to 1679), and the edition of 1720 (Shadwell's
+  collected works) give 'Cruse.' All editions of Dryden until Christie
+  misread 'Cause'.
+
+  p. 223, l. 16 _Poll._ 4to 1690 _Pole_. 1724 _Pool_. _The True Widow_
+  (4to 1679) and edition of 1720 both give 'Poll'.
+
++Dramatis Personae+
+
+  p. 225 _Dramatis Personae._ I have added to the list '_Cavaro_, an
+  _Indian_, Confidant to the _Indian King_. _Jack_, a Sea-Boy. An
+  Officer; Messenger; Seaman; 2nd Seaman; A Highlander. _Jenny_, Maid
+  to _Widow Ranter_. _Nell_, Maid at the Inn. _Anaria_, Confidante to
+  the _Indian Queen_. Maid to Madam _Surelove_. Bailiffs, Rabble,
+  Negroes. I have supplied the name _Jeffery_ to the Coachman from I,
+  iii (p. 239), and also designated Mrs. _Flirt_ 'a Tapstress'.
+  _Daring_, which name is indifferently spelt in the 4to 1690 _Dareing_
+  or _Daring_, I have given consistently throughout. For _Chrisante_
+  1724 sometimes has _Crisante_. To the Scene I have added
+  '_James-Town_, and the surrounding Country.'
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 226, l. 3 _Jack._ I have inserted this name from _infra_ l. 20.
+
+  p. 226, l. 17 _Enter Flirt and Nell._ I have supplied this necessary
+  entrance.
+
+  p. 227, l. 9 _Exit Nell._ I have inserted this exit. Nell's entrance
+  is marked later and she is certainly not on the stage during the
+  ensuing scene.
+
+  p. 227, l. 27 _I._ Omitted in 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 227, l. 30 _being._ 'was' 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 227, l. 35 _Cully in._ 'Cully' as a verb. 1724 'Cully to'. 'Cully'
+  as a substantive.
+
+  p. 228, l. 10 _any thing._ 4to 1690 'any thing any thing'.
+
+  p. 229, l. 1 _fail, thou._ 4to 1690 'fail, there thou'. This
+  insertion of 'there' interrupts the sense.
+
+  p. 229, l. 26 _wherever._ 1724 'whenever'.
+
+  p. 230, l. 1 _whom._ 4to 1690 '_which_'.
+
+  p. 230, l. 34 _stand._ 4to 1690 '_stands_'.
+
+  p. 231, l. 24 _Smoke._ 1724 'Tobacco'.
+
+  p. 231, l. 28 _Exit Nell._ I have supplied this stage direction.
+
+  p. 231, l. 34 _paulter._ 1724 'paultry'. _Vide_ critical note on this
+  passage.
+
+  p. 232, l. 8 _and Nell with drink, pipes, etc._ I have supplied these
+  words.
+
+  p. 232, l. 19 _take._ 4to 1690 'took'.
+
+  p. 232, l. 34 _an._ 4to 1690 'on'.
+
+  p. 233, l. 28 _the Bob._ 1724 'a Bob'.
+
+  p. 234, l. 28 _Guinea._ 4to 1690 'Guinia'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 235, l. 17 _The Council-Table._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 235, l. 22 _give._ My own emendation: previous editions 'be'.
+
+  p. 236, l. 12 _make._ 4to 1690 'have'.
+
+  p. 237, l. 6 _Down. I say._ 4to 1690 wrongly gives this speech to
+  Dunce.
+
+  p. 238, l. 25 _If we wou'd._ 1724 'If he wou'd'.
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 239, l. 25 _Jeffery._ I have supplied the name here from the
+  following line.
+
+  p. 239, l. 31 _Exit._ Not noted in former editions.
+
+  p. 240, l. 2 _of a Baboon._ 4to 1690 'of Baboone'.
+
+  p. 240, l. 5 _Tumbler._ 4to 1690 misprints 'Fumbler'.
+
+  p. 241, ll. 15, 18 _Pound._ 1724 'Pounds'.
+
+  p. 242, l. 32 _Sure. reads._ 4to 1690 and 1724 'she reads', which is
+  ambiguous.
+
+  p. 243, l. 16 _de la guerre._ 4to 1690 'de la gare'.
+
+  p. 244, l. 17 _They join with Surelove._ Only in 4to 1690.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 245, l. 21 _have Charms._ 1724 'have those Charms'.
+
+  p. 245, l. 28 _Mediator._ 1724 'Meditator'.
+
+  p. 245, l. 32 _would make me lay the Conqueror._ 1724 'would lay me
+  a Conqueror'.
+
+  p. 248, l. 12 _knip._ 1724 mis-spells this rare word 'nip'.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 252, l. 36 _A Scots Dance._ 1724 'A Scotch Dance.'
+
+  p. 253, l. 28 _Billet-Douxs._ 4to 1690 'Billet-Deaxs'.
+
+  p. 254, l. 12 _Drinking all this while sometimes._ Only in 4to 1690.
+
++ACT II: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 255, l. 16 _Pulls a Bottle._ 4to 1690 'Pulls out a Bottle'.
+
+  p. 255, l. 28 _Drinks._ Only in 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 256, l. 31 _durst._ 4to 1690 'darst'.
+
++ACT II: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 258, l. 26 _Enter Brag._ Both 4to 1690 and 1724 have 'Enter a
+  Messenger', and give l. 27 speech-prefix 'Mes.' Both, however, give
+  the next speech he speaks (l. 33) to Brag and have later 'Exit Brag.'
+
+  p. 259, l. 5 _Whimsey._ Both 4to 1690 and 1724 here and elsewhere cut
+  the name down to 'Whim.'
+
+  p. 259, l. 9 _wish'd that the Plot._ 4to 1690 'wish'd the Plot'.
+
+  p. 261, l. 17 _care._ 1724 'ear'.
+
+  p. 262, l. 25 _Wellman's Guards._ 4to 1690 'Wellman, his Guards'. But
+  Wellman has not left the stage. The comma printed by 1690 is probably
+  a mistake and we should read 'Wellman his Guards'.
+
+  p. 263, l. 24 _Exit._ 4to 1690 gives no direction. 1724 has 'Exeunt.'
+  But Timorous is left alone on the stage.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 264, l. 1 _hollow._ 4to 1690 'hallow'.
+
+  p. 266, l. 15 _That._ Omitted in 4to 1690.
+
+  p. 270, l. 8 _Exeunt._ 4to 1690 gives no stage direction here.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 272, l. 28 _'tis a tittle of the D-- breed._ [sic] 4to 1690. 1724
+  ''tis little of the D-- breed'.
+
+  p. 274, l. 1 _haste with._ 1724 'haste you with'.
+
++ACT III: Scene iia+
+
+  p. 275, l. 28 _stands and stares a while._ 1724 'stands a while and
+  stares'.
+
+  p. 277, l. 28 _shall be._ 4to 1690 'shall not be'.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 279, l. 12 _Priests._ 4to 1690 'Priest.'
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 289. l. 10 _draw._ 4to 1690 'draws', but not as a stage direction.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 289, l. 21 _Scene III._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 290, l. 14 _Daring, looks._ 4to 1690 'Daring, and looks'.
+
+  p. 290, l. 31 _devote._ 1724 'divorce', a bad error.
+
+  p. 290, l. 33 _the fittest._ 1724 'a fit'.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 295, l. 9 _Exeunt._ 4to 1690 'Ex.' 1724 'Exit'.
+
+  p. 296, l. 8 _Exeunt._ I have supplied this necessary stage direction.
+
+  p. 296, l. 11 _beat._ 4to 1690 'beating'.
+
+  p. 296, l. 13 _fight, lay._ 4to 1690 'fight, so that they lay'.
+
+  p. 296, l. 22 _All go out._ Previous editions 'Goes out.'
+
++ACT V: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 296, l. 23 _Scene II._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 298, l. 26 _All Exeunt._ I have added this direction.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 298, l. 27 _Scene III._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 299, l. 12 _submission._ 1724 'Admission'.
+
+  p. 299, l. 17 _Pauwomungian._ 4to 1690 'Pauwmungian'.
+
+  p. 300, l. 2 _After Noise._ 1724 omits 'After'.
+
+  p. 303, l. 16 _They go out._ Previous editions 'Goes out.'
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 303, l. 23 _Scene IV. Changes to another part of the Wood._ All
+  previous editions 'Scene changes to a Wood.'
+
+  p. 304, l. 21 _are._ 4to 1690 'is'.
+
+  p. 305, l. 12 _go out._ 4to 1690 'goes out'.
+
+  p. 305, l. 21 _Whimsey._ In former editions abbreviated to 'Whim.'
+
+  p. 306, l. 9 _Exeunt._ Former editions 'Exit Dunce.'
+
++ACT V: Scene v+
+
+  p. 306, l. 10 _Scene V._ I have numbered this scene.
+
+  p. 306, l. 18 _Lover's._ 4to 1690 'Love's'.
+
+  p. 306, l. 20 _more._ 1724 omits.
+
+  p. 306, l. 32 _and the rest._ Previous editions 'and officers', but
+  plainly all the characters of the preceding scene assemble.
+
+  p. 307, l. 21 _What has he, Mistress?_ 4to 1690 omits.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 309, l. 1 _Epilogue._ It will be noted that with some trifling
+  alterations this is the Prologue to _Abdelazar_.
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 221 _Madam Welldon._ This Dedicatory Epistle only appears in 4to
+  1690. The lady doubtless belonged to a branch of the famous Weldons,
+  of Swanscombe, Kent, and is probably to be identified with Madam Lucy
+  Weldon, _nee_ Necton, the wife of Colonel George Weldon.
+
+  p. 222 _G. J._ Almost certainly George Jenkins, of whom we have two
+  copies of complimentary verse prefixed to _La Montre, or The Lover's
+  Watch_. _vide_ Vol. VI, pp. 9-11.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 223 _Prologue._ This prologue was first spoken to Shadwell's
+  comedy, _The True Widow_, produced at the Duke's Theatre, Dorset
+  Garden, 21 March, 1678, and it is printed with all copies of that
+  play. It was, no doubt, used on the present occasion by permission
+  of Dryden. It will be noticed that the Epilogue to _The Widow Ranter_
+  is the Prologue to _Abdelazar_.
+
+  p. 223 _Muss._ A scramble. cf. _Antony and Cleopatra_, iii, 13:--
+
+              ... of late, when I cried 'Ho!'
+    Like boys unto a muss, Kings would start forth,
+    And cry 'Your will?'
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 226 _a Cogue of Brandy._ 'Cogue' is a Kentish word. _Kent Glossary_
+  (1887), has 'cogue; a dram of brandy'; and Wright, _Eng. Dial. Dic._,
+  who gives 'cogue' as exclusively Kentish, assigns precisely the same
+  meaning. D'Urfey, however, _Pills to Purge Melancholy_ (1719), vi,
+  p. 351, has 'a cogue of good ale'.
+
+  p. 227 _Groom Porter's._ The Groom Porter was an officer of the Royal
+  Household. This post was abolished in the reign of George III. From
+  the sixteenth century he regulated all matters connected with card
+  playing, gambling, and dicing within the precincts of the court. He
+  even furnished cards and dice, and settled disputes concerning the
+  game.
+
+  p. 227 _high and low Flats and Bars._ i.e. Doctored dice. cf.
+  _Chamber's Cycl. Supp._ (1753), 'Barr Dice, a species of false dice
+  so formed that they will not easily lie on certain sides.' This cant
+  term is found as early as 1545. cf. Ascham's _Toxophilus_. Flats are
+  also cards. --(Grose, and J. H. Vaux, _Flash Dic._)
+
+  p. 231 _shier._ Schire = clear; pure. A Gaelic word. cf. Herd,
+  _Scotch Songs_ (2nd ed. 1776), 11, _Gloss._--'We call clear liquor
+  shire'.
+
+  p. 231 _paulter._ Mean; worthless. This rare form is perhaps found
+  only here. The _N.E.D._ does not give it. But we have 'paltering'
+  and 'palterly'.
+
+  p. 232 _Hoggerds._ A rare word, being obsolete for Hogherd. cf. De
+  Parc's _Francion_, iv, 3 (tr. 1655): 'Our Regent (who had in him no
+  more humanity than a Hoggard).'
+
+  p. 233 _trusting for old Oliver's Funeral broke._ The obsequies of
+  Oliver Cromwell, originally fixed for 9 November, 1658, owing to the
+  extraordinary magnificence of the preparations were not performed
+  until 23 November. For many days his waxen effigy, dressed in robes
+  of state, was exhibited at Somerset House. The expenses totalled
+  L60,000, and it was a public scandal that a great part of this wanton
+  and wasteful extravagance remained unpaid, to the undoing of the
+  undertakers. On 25 August, 1659, in the _Kalendar of State Affairs
+  (Domestic)_, the following occurs: 'Report by the Committee appointed
+  by Parliament to examine what is due for mourning for the late General
+  Cromwell, that on perusal of the bills signed by Cromwell's servants,
+  and of the account of Abr. Barrington, his auditor, it appears that
+  L19,303 0_s._ 11_d._ is still due and unpaid for mourning. Also that
+  Nath. Waterhouse, servant to Rich. Cromwell, should be authorized to
+  see the persons in a list [missing] annexed for that mourning. Col.
+  Rich to make this report. Schedule of debts due to 11 mercers and
+  drapers for the funeral of the late General Cromwell. Total L19,303
+  0_s._ 11_d._'
+
+  p. 233 _they bear the Bob._ i.e. They join in the chorus or refrain.
+
++ACT I: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 240 _shoveing the Tumbler._ 'Thieves' cant for being whipped at the
+  cart's tail.' --(Grose). Tumbler, perhaps = tumbril.
+
+  p. 240 _lifting._ Filching. This slang term is very old and common.
+
+  p. 240 _filing the Cly._ 'Thieves' cant for picking a pocket.'
+  --(Grose). 'Cly,' a pocket.
+
+  p. 240 _Regalio._ An obsolete and, indeed, erroneous form of 'regalo',
+  an elegant repast; choice food or drink. The word is very common,
+  and the spelling, 'Regalio', is frequent in the second half of the
+  seventeenth century.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 246 _Anticks._ Quaint fantastic measures. A favourite word with
+  Mrs. Behn.
+
+  p. 248 _to knip._ To clip. (Dutch 'knippen', to cut, snip.) _N.E.D._
+  neglecting this passage, only gives the meaning as to bite or crop
+  (grass) of cattle. It appends two quotations having this sense--the
+  one from Dunbar's _Poems_ (1500-20), the second from Douglas,
+  _Aeneis_ (1513).
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 252 _Mundungus._ Shag, or rank tobacco. cf. Sir R. Howard, _The
+  Committee_ (folio, 1665), ii: 'A Pipe of the worst Mundungus.'
+  Shadwell, _The Humourists_ (1671), iii, speaks with contempt of
+  'bottle ale ... and a pipe of Mundungus.' Johnson in his _Dictionary_
+  (1755) has: 'Mundungus. Stinking tobacco. A cant word.'
+
++ACT II: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 261 _a Bob._ cf. Prologue, _The False Count_ (Vol. III, p. 100),
+  'dry bobs,' and note on that passage, pp. 479-80.
+
+  p. 263 _barbicu._ Better 'barbecu'. An Americanism meaning to broil
+  over live coals. Beverley, _Virginia_, III, xii (1705), thus explains
+  it: 'Broyling ... at some distance above the live coals [the Indians]
+  & we from them call Barbecuing.' cf. Pope, _Imitations of Horace_,
+  Sat. ii, 25, 26:--
+
+    _Oldfield_ with more than Harpy throat endued
+    Cries, 'Send me, Gods, a whole hog barbecued!'
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 264 _De-Wit._ 'To De-Wit' = to lynch. The word often occurs; it is
+  derived from the deaths of John and Cornelius De Wit, opponents of
+  William III (when stadt-holder). They were murdered by a mob in 1672.
+  cf. 'to godfrey' = to strangle, from the alleged murder of Sir Edmond
+  Bury Godfrey[1] in 1678. Crowne, _Sir Courtly Nice_ (1685), II, ii,
+  has: 'Don't throttle me, don't _Godfrey_ me.' The _N.E.D._ fails to
+  include 'to godfrey'.
+
+    [Footnote 1: It is now pretty certainly established that this
+    melancholist committed suicide.]
+
+  p. 265 _Dalton's Country-Justice._ A well-known work by the celebrated
+  lawyer Michael Dalton (1554-1620). It was long held in great repute
+  and regarded as supremely authoritative. On a page of advertisements
+  (Some Books printed this Year 1677. For _John Amery_, at the
+  _Peacock_, against St. _Dunstan's Church_ in _Fleet-street_) in the
+  _Rover I_ (4to 1677), occurs '_The Country Justice_, Containing the
+  practice of the Justices of the Peace, in and out of their Sessions,
+  with an Abridgment of all Statutes relating thereunto to this present
+  Year 1677. By _Michael Dalton_ Esq; _Fol._ price bound 12s.' cf. _The
+  Plain Dealer_ (4to 1676), III, i:
+
+    _Widow Blackacre._ Let's see Dalton, Hughs, Shepherd, Wingate.
+    _Bookseller's Boy._ We have no law books.
+
+  p. 266 _a Cagg._ Now corrupted to 'Keg', a small cask. cf. _Cotgrave_
+  (1611), 'Encacquer' to put in to a little barrell or cag. _N.E.D._
+  quotes this present passage.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 279 _Agah Yerkin._ The various dictionaries and vocabularies of
+  the Indian languages I have had resource to give none of these words.
+  There is, however, so great a confusion of Indian jargons and dialects
+  that they cannot be pronounced fictitious. Yet Mrs. Behn would hardly,
+  even if she had learned the language, have retained any exact
+  knowledge of such barbaric tongues, and one may almost certainly say
+  that these cries and incantations are her own composition. Amongst
+  other authorities I have consulted _The Voyage of Robert Dudley ...
+  to the West Indies_, 1594-5, edited by G. F. Warner for the Hakluyt
+  Society (1889). Dr. Brinton's _Arawack Language of Guiana_, an
+  exhaustive monograph, (Philadelphia, 1871.) M. M. Crevaux, Sagot,
+  L. Adam, _Grammaires et Vocabulaires roucouyenne, arrouague, piapoco,
+  et d'autres Langues de la Region des Guyanes_ (Paris, 1882). _Relation
+  des Missions ... dans les Isles et dans la terre ferme de l'Amerique
+  Meridionale ... avec une introduction a la langue des Gabilis
+  Sauvages_ (Paris, 1655), by Father Pierre Pelleprat, S.J.
+
+  p. 279 _Quiocto._ Mrs. Behn probably meant to spell this word
+  'Quiyoughcto', the sound being identical. There is in Virginia a
+  river which in the seventeenth century was called the 'Quiyough'.
+  The inhabitants of the banks of this river had mysterious or
+  supernatural properties ascribed to them. _In the Voyages &
+  Discoveries of Capt. John Smith_ (1606), we have: 'They thinke that
+  their Werowanees and Priests, which they also esteeme
+  Quiyoughcosughes, when they are dead, doe goe beyond the mountaines
+  towards the setting of the sun.' No doubt Mrs. Behn knew this
+  passage. I owe the above interesting note to the kindness of my
+  friend Mr. Gosse.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 284 _Cadees._ The original form of 'cadets' from the French
+  pronunciation. _N.E.D._ cites this passage as the earliest occurence
+  of the word.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 293 _Cadeeing._ The verb 'to cadee' is only found here and may be
+  a nonce phrase. _N.E.D._ does not include it.
+
+  p. 293 _to top Tobacco._ i.e. to cultivate our tobacco plantations.
+
+  p. 295 _Flambeaux._ Mrs. Behn (or, haply, George Jenkins, the first
+  editor of _The Widow Ranter_), here uses the ordinary form 'flambeaux'
+  as a plural. In _The Emperor of the Moon_ (Vol. III, p. 418), she
+  writes 'a Flambeaux'. In addition to the example from Herbert which I
+  give in my note (Vol. III, p. 475), I find a plural 'Flambeaux's' used
+  by Mrs. Manley. cf. _Secret Memoirs & Manners of Several Persons of
+  Quality of Both Sexes from the New Atalantis_ (1709, the Second
+  Edition), Vol. I, p. 88: 'She but thinks of an expensive Funeral,
+  white Flambeaux's, Chariots, Horses, Streamers, and a Train of
+  Mourners.'
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 302 _Starters._ i.e. cowards. cf. _The Double Marriage_ (Fletcher
+  and Massinger, folio 1647), II, i:--
+
+    _Master._ We'll spare her our main-top-sail;
+    She shall not look us long, we are no starters.
+    Down with the fore-sail too! we'll spoom before her.
+
+  cf. also _The Lucky Chance_, I, i: 'I am no Starter.' (Vol. III,
+  p. 193), and note on that passage, p. 485.
+
+  p. 302 _rubbing off._ Very common slang still in use for 'making off',
+  'clearing out', cf. Shadwell's _The Virtuoso_ (1676), Act V, sc. iii,
+  the Masquerade, where Sir Samuel Harty says: 'Who held my sword while
+  I danc'd? ... A curse on him! he's rubb'd off with it!'
+
+  p. 303 _Dullman and Timorous._ No entrance has been marked for these
+  two characters, and I have not ventured to insert one owing to the
+  fact that this fifth Act has been so cut (e.g. the omission of the
+  Indian King's ghost, as noted by Jenkins in the Dedication) and
+  mutilated that it would be perilous to make any insertion or
+  alteration here as the copy now stands. We may suppose these two
+  coward justices to have rushed on in one of the many melees.
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 304 _Hannibal._ Hannibal, when betrayed by Prusias, King of
+  Bithynia, at whose court he had taken refuge, poisoned himself
+  rather than fall into the hands of the Romans.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 309 _Epilogue._ This Epilogue is, it will be noted, almost
+  precisely the same as the Prologue to _Abdelazer_. In line 32 we have
+  'Basset' in place of the obsolescent game, 'Beasts' (damn'd Beasts).
+  Basset, which resembled Faro, was first played at Venice. cf. Evelyn's
+  _Diary_, 1645 (Ascension Week at Venice): 'We went to the Chetto de
+  San Felice, to see the noblemen and their ladies at basset, a game at
+  cards which is much used.' It became immensely popular in England.
+  Evelyn, in his famous description of 'the inexpressible luxury and
+  profaneness, gaming, and all dissoluteness' on the Sunday se'nnight
+  before the death of Charles II, specially noted that 'about twenty of
+  the great courtiers and other dissolute persons were at Basset round
+  a large table, a bank of at least 2000 in gold before them.'
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Widow Ranter_
+
+p. 261 _a Bob._ cf. Prologue, _The False Count_ (Vol. III, p. 100),
+'dry bobs,' and note on that passage, pp. 479-80.
+
+  _False Count_ text:
+
+                --who will desert me,
+  Because they find no dry bobs on your Party
+
+  _False Count_ note:
+
+  _dry bobs._ A bob was a sarcastic jest or jibe. cf. _Sir Giles
+  Goosecappe_ (1606), Act V, i. 'Marry him, sweet Lady, to answere his
+  bitter Bob,' and Buckingham's _The Rehearsal_ (1671), Act III, i,
+  where Bayes cries: 'There's a bob for the Court.' A dry bob (literally
+  = a blow or fillip that does not break the skin) is an intensely
+  bitter taunt, cf. _Cotgrave_ (1611), _Ruade seiche_, a drie bob, jeast
+  or nip. _Bailey_ (1731) has '_Dry Bob_. a Taunt or Scoff'.
+
+p. 302 _Starters._ .... cf. also _The Lucky Chance_, I, i: 'I am no
+Starter.' (Vol. III, p. 193), and note on that passage, p. 485.
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ note:
+
+  _Starter._ This slang word usually means a milksop, but here it
+  is equivalent to 'a butterfly', 'a weathercock'--a man of changeable
+  disposition. A rare use.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: The Widow Ranter
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+Editor's Introduction
+
+  and she sinks into his arms to die  [his ams]
+
+The Widow Ranter
+
+  [Points to _Dull._ _Whim._ _Whiff_, and _Tim._  [_Dull,_ _Whim,_]
+    [_correction based on ordinary punctuation of this text_]
+  thy Friend that kept thee Company all the while  [taht]
+  [Goes in. / [All exeunt.
+    [_bracket before "All exeunt" added for consistency in e-text_]
+
+Critical Notes
+
+  p. 261 _a Bob._  [p 261]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+THE YOUNGER BROTHER;
+
+OR, THE AMOROUS JILT.
+
+
+
+
+ARGUMENT.
+
+
+Mirtilla, the Amorous Jilt, who had once been attached to George
+Marteen, the Younger Brother, married for a convenience the clownish Sir
+Morgan Blunder. Prince Frederick, who had seen and fallen in love with
+her during a religious ceremony in a Ghent convent, follows her to
+England. They meet accidentally and she promises him a private
+interview. George Marteen had recommended a page to Mirtilla, and the
+lad is his sister Olivia in disguise. Mirtilla, although she falls in
+love with her 'smooth-chin'd boy', receives Prince Frederick, but the
+house wherein she lodges catches fire that night, and it is George
+Marteen who, in spite of the fact that he knows his friend the Prince is
+with her, procures a ladder and rescues the lady at some danger to
+himself. The Prince is able to escape by the same way, and he then
+carries Mirtilla to his own lodgings, where feigning to be ill with
+fatigue and terror she begs her lover to leave her to repose. This is
+done with the idea of entertaining her page, and on Frederick's approach
+she conceals Olivia, who thus creeps off unseen, beneath the train of
+her gown, whilst she herself retires with the amorous Prince. None the
+less, Mirtilla still pursues Olivia, and eventually Frederick discovers
+she is a wanton jilt, as he surprises her leading the page to her bed.
+He is, however, reconciled when Mirtilla discovering to her amaze that
+the lad is a woman reveals this fact to the Prince to confound him, but
+afterwards avowing her frailty, throws herself on Frederick's
+generosity. Olivia has been promised by her old father, Sir Rowland
+Marteen, to Welborn, whom she has never seen. On meeting Welborn she
+falls in love with him, without knowing who he is, and he, also, whilst
+ignorant of her name, is soon enamoured of her in turn. Prince Frederick
+lodges in the same house as Welborn and it is hither that after the fire
+she attends Mirtilla. Welborn, supposing her to be Mirtilla's page, out
+of kindness offers her half his bed, which for fear of arousing
+suspicion she is bound to accept. She slips away, however, before
+daybreak, leaving a letter for her companion, by which he learns that
+the page is none other than the lady whom he had seen in the Mall.
+Welborn and Olivia are eventually married. George Marteen's elder
+brother, Sir Merlin, a boon companion of Sir Morgan Blunder, is a
+rakehelly dog, who leads a wild town life to the great anger of old Sir
+Rowland. George, who whilst secretly leading a gay life under the name
+of Lejere, appears before his father as a demure and sober young
+prentice, is designed for Lady Youthly, an ancient, toothless crone,
+palsied and blind with extreme old age, whose grand-daughter, Teresia,
+is to be married to Sir Rowland himself. George, however, falls in love
+with Teresia, who is also pursued by Sir Merlin, and finally weds her in
+despite of his father, brother and the beldame. But Sir Rowland shortly
+relents and even forgives his eldest son, who has married Diana, the
+cast off mistress of a gambler, whilst Lady Youthly is left to the
+tender consolations of her chaplain.
+
+
+
+
+SOURCE.
+
+
+_The Younger Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt_ was written (in great part
+at least) by Mrs. Behn a good many years before her death, after which
+it was brought on the stage under the auspices of Gildon, in 1696; and
+in the Epistle Dedicatory he expressly says 'all the Alterations which
+I made were in the first Act, in removing that old bustle about _Whigg_
+and _Tory_ (which was the subject of most of the Second Scene) and
+placing the Character of a _Rake-hell_ in its room.' Mrs. Behn probably
+wrote the first Act sometime about the years 1681-3, when there was a
+continual 'rout with Whigging and with Torying', and afterwards
+completed the remainder at her leisure. In his notice of this comedy
+Langbaine's editor (Gildon), who finds Mirtilla 'genteel', says that
+Astrea took a portion of the plot 'from a true story of the brother of
+Col. Henry Martin, and a Lady that must be nameless. See the Novel
+call'd _Hatige_.' _Hattige: or, the Amours of the King of Tamaran.
+A Novel_, by Gabriel de Bremond, was translated in 1680. (12mo. For
+Simon the African: Amsterdam, [R. Bentley? London.]) A biting satire on
+Charles II and Lady Castlemaine, the tale is told with considerable
+spirit and attained great vogue. Another edition was issued in 1683, and
+under the title _The Beautiful Turk_ it is to be found in _A Select
+Collection of Novels_ (1720 and 1729), Vol. III. This novel had first
+appeared anonymously at Cologne in 1676--_Hattige ou la Belle Turque,
+qui contient ses amours avec le roi Tamaran_--and Nodier in his
+_Melanges d'une petite Bibliotheque_ describes a 'clef'. Hattige is, of
+course, Lady Castlemaine; Tamaran, Charles II; and the handsome Rajeb
+with whom the lady deceives the monarch, Jack Churchill. It is a wanton
+little book, and at the time must have been irresistibly piquant. Beyond
+the likeness between the characters of Mirtilla and Hattige the novel
+has, however, little in common with Mrs. Behn's play. Gildon's comment
+is, of course, founded upon the passage in _Oroonoko_ which says: 'We
+met on the river with Colonel Martin, a man of great gallantry, wit and
+goodness, and whom I have celebrated in a character of my new comedy by
+his own name in memory of so brave a man.'
+
+In D'Urfey's _The Royalist_, an excellent comedy produced at Dorset
+Garden, 1682 (4to, 1682), the author introduces a certain damsel
+Philippa, who, disguised as a page, follows the loyal Sir Charles
+Kinglove with whom she is enamoured. At the end of the second Act her
+boy's clothes involve her in the same predicament as befalls Olivia in
+Act IV of _The Younger Brother_. Although Genest prefers Mrs. Behn's
+treatment of the situation, it must, I think, be allowed that D'Urfey
+has managed the jest with far greater verve and spirit. Honest Tom
+D'Urfey is in fact one of the least read and most maligned of all our
+dramatists. He had the merriest comic gifts, and perhaps when the
+critics and literary historians deign to read his plays he will attain a
+higher position in our theatrical libraries.
+
+Some critics have suggested that D'Urfey, in his _The Intrigues at
+Versailles_, produced at Lincoln's Inn Fields, 1697, may have taken a
+hint from Mrs. Behn's Mirtilla, and Wycherley's Olivia (_The Plain
+Dealer_) for his 'Madame de Vandosme a right jilt in all humours',
+a role created by Mrs. Barry. There is indeed some resemblance between
+all these three characters, base heartless coquettes; and D'Urfey, in
+making his jilt prefer Sir Blunder Bosse, 'a dull sordid brute and
+mongrel, whose humour is to call everybody by clownish names', to all
+her other gallants, seems not to have forgotten Mirtilla's marriage with
+Sir Morgan Blunder. The very names call attention to the plagiarism.
+_The Intrigues at Versailles_ is none the less a clever and witty
+comedy, but a little overcrowded with incident and business.
+
+
+
+
+THEATRICAL HISTORY.
+
+
+As sufficiently explained by Gildon, under whose auspices this
+posthumous play was produced at Drury Lane in 1696, _The Younger
+Brother; or, The Amorous Jilt_ met with brutal treatment from the
+audience. There appears to have been a faction, particularly in evidence
+at its first performance and on the third day, who were steadfastly
+resolved to damn the comedy, and in spite of fine acting and every
+advantage it was hissed from the boards. Gildon attributes the failure
+to 'the tedious Scenes in Blank Verse betwixt Mirtilla and Prince
+Frederick' which he thinks demanded 'another more easy Dress,' but, in
+truth, it can only be attributed to the most verjuiced spite and
+personal malice. The plot, though somewhat complicated with perhaps a
+press of crowding incidents, is none the less highly interesting, and
+the characters are most of them excellently, all well, drawn and
+sustained. The fact that certain episodes had to be cut in
+representation in order to bring the comedy within a reasonable time
+limit, though it may have tended to obscure the connection of the
+intrigue, could not have insured in spite of its many real merits so
+absolute a doom for the much maltreated play, a sentence which seems to
+have wantonly precluded any revival.
+
+
+
+
+THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY
+
+TO
+
+Collonel Codrington.
+
+
+The unjust Sentence this Play met with before very partial Judges in the
+Acting, will, I'm pretty sure, be revers'd by the more unprejudiced
+Readers, and it's evident, Merit will exert itself so far, as to justify
+my Presumption in Dedicating it, notwithstanding its small success, to
+you, Sir, for whom I must always profess the highest Esteem and Value,
+sprung from that Nobleness of your Nature that takes a God-like Delight
+in redressing the Misfortunes of 'em, more than fly to you for their
+unhappiness; a generous Soul indeed, never gives a greater Proof of her
+Excellence, than in her Protection of the Unfortunate; for tho suffering
+Merit challenges a Regard from all, yet it meets with it from none but
+such as you, Sir, who are so Eminent for that Vertue, which more than
+all the rest, commands the Esteem and Veneration of the Thinking World,
+your Generosity I mean, Sir, which gives the most Perfect Touches of
+that likeness, man can have to his Almighty Original; for those are but
+scurvey awkard Copies of Him that want it. 'Tis, I may say, the very
+Essence of God, Who with our _Beings_, dispenses the grateful Knowledge
+of Himself in the Benefits He bestows.
+
+The narrow Virtues of the Old Philosophers, [which] were rather Vices,
+if winnow'd well, form'd to gratify their Proud, Lazy, Superiority, at
+the Expence of all the Publick Duties incumbent on mankind, whom they
+pretend to Purge from his Passions, to make him happy, by that means to
+amuse our Curiosity with Chymera's, whilst we lost our real Good, will
+still naturally flow from those Springs of Pleasure, Honour, Glory, and
+Noble Actions, the Passions given us by Heaven for our common Good. But
+their own Practice generally shew'd the Vanity of their Emperic Boasts,
+when they Buried all the Nobler Pleasures of the Mind in Avarice, and
+Pedantick Pride, as _Lucian_ has pleasantly made out in _Hermotimus_.
+
+Those Notional Excellencies that divert us from, or weaken a Publick
+Spirit, are always False and Hypocritical, that under a gaudy out-side
+conceals a rotten Carcass, full of Infectious Distempers that destroy
+the noblest end of our Being, _The doing good to one another_. Vanity
+has always been the Refuge of little Souls, that place their Value in a
+False Greatness, Hyppocrisie, and great Titles. What a seeming Holiness
+does for the Avaritious, Designing Saint; Titles do for the proud
+Avarice of the meer Man of Quality, cheaply Purchasing a Respect from
+the many; but 'tis the Generous man only that fixes himself in the
+Hearts of the most valuable part of mankind, when proper Merit only is
+esteem'd, and the Man, not his Equipage, and Accidental Appurtenances
+respected.
+
+The Application of this, I shall leave to all that know you, Sir, who
+are all sensible what Virtues you make your Darlings, and choice of
+Virtue shews the Nobleness of our Temper, as much as Choice of Friends,
+the degrees of our Understandings; and if that be true that most Men
+choose those Virtues which are nearest a-kin to their Darling Vices, I'm
+sure 'twill be a strong proof, that ev'n your Failings (for ev'ry Man
+has his share of them too) are more Beneficial to the world than the
+Vertues of a numerous part of Mankind. In Collonel _Codrington_ indeed,
+we find the true Spirit and Bravery of old _Rome_, that despises all
+dangers, that in the Race of Glory thou art the Noble Chace. Nor can the
+manly Roughness of your Martial Temper (Fierce to none but your
+Countries Foes) destroy that ingaging sweetness your agreeable
+Conversation abounds with, which heightened with so large a share of
+Wit, Learning, and Judgment, improves as well as delights; so that to
+have known you any way, must give us some advantage or other. This it
+was that encourag'd me to dedicate this Play, Sir, to you, of which I
+may venture to say more, and with more assurance, than if it had been my
+own.
+
+Mrs. BEHN was a Woman so Accomplish'd, and of so Established a Fame
+among the Men of Sense, that I cou'd not suppose a very severe treatment
+from the Town, which has been very indulgent to the Performances of
+others; especially when, besides the Reputation of the _Author_, the
+Play itself had an Intrinsic Merit; for we find it full of Humour, Wit,
+and Variety; the Conversation Gay and Genteel, the Love Soft and
+Pathetic, the incidents Natural, and Easy, and the Conduct of the Plot
+very Justifiable. So that I may reasonably impute its miscarriage to
+some Faction that was made against it, which indeed was very Evident on
+the First day, and more on the endeavours employed, to render the
+Profits of the Third, as small as could be.
+
+It suffer'd not, I'm sure, in the Action, nor in Mr. _Verbruggen's_
+reading of some of his Part, since he lost nothing of the Force of
+Elocution, nor Gracefulness of Action; nor indeed can I, with Justice to
+my self, impute it to any part that I ventur'd to add to the Original;
+for all the Alterations which I made were in the first Act, in removing
+that old bustle about _Whigg_ and _Tory_, (which was the Subject of most
+of the Second Scene) and placing the Character of a _Rake-hell_ in its
+room, which was so little, that it could not Influence a more Capricious
+Audience, to the Damning of the whole. There might indeed be some
+objections about the Plot, but not very Rational, I think; I'm sure, at
+least, 'tis the first Play, for some Years, could be quarrell'd at for
+having too much Plot. In the Edition however I have put in a great deal,
+which the length of the Play oblig'd me to cut out for the Action.
+
+Here, Sir, if the Play had been my own, I should have complain'd that
+the Town had its favourite Fools, as well as favourite Wits, and that
+Comedy or Farce from any other hand wou'd no more go down with them,
+than their favourites will with true Judges that read, not see 'em.
+I should have had indignation enough, perhaps, to've rail'd at the
+Criticks of all Degrees, and Denominations of Box and Pit, nay,
+Galleries too, and told 'em that they were so conceited of their own
+Wit, that they cou'd take no pleasure in hearing that of another, or
+that Wit in a Play seeming to affront the Parts of the Audience, they
+suffer'd their Resentment to destroy their Satisfaction. This, and a
+great many other Satyrical Reflections, which are natural for a
+Disappointed Poet to make, I shou'd then have vented; but being
+satisfy'd, that the Reputation of Mrs. BEHN is not affected by the
+malicious Endeavours of some of my Enemies, I now present it under your
+Patronage, Sir, to the more competent Judges; Proud of the Opportunity
+of Offering you an occasion of so agreeable a Province, as the
+Protection of the unfortunate, and letting the World know how much I am,
+Sir,
+
+  Your Humble Servant,
+
+    _CH. GILDON._
+
+
+
+
+THE YOUNGER BROTHER;
+
+or, The Amorous Jilt.
+
+
+
+
+PROLOGUE,
+
+By an unknown Hand.
+
+Spoke by Mr. _Powell_.
+
+
+  As Rivals of each other jealous prove,
+  And both strive which shall gain the Lady's Love,
+  So we for your Affections daily vie:
+  Not an Intriguer in the Gallery
+  (Who squeezes hand of _Phillis_ mask'd, that stood
+  Ogling for Sale, in Velvet Scarf and Hood)
+  Can with more Passion his dear Nymph pursue,
+  Than we to make Diversion fit for you.
+  Grant we may please, and we've our utmost Aim,
+  'Tis to your Favour only we lay claim.
+  In what can we oblige? Cou'd we present you
+  With Mistress young, and safe, it wou'd content you;
+  Then Husbands, weary'd out with Spouse alone,
+  And hen-peck'd Keepers that drudge on with one,
+  I fancy hither wou'd in Crouds resort,
+  As thick as Men for Offices to Court:
+  Who'd stay behind? the Beau above Threescore,
+  Wou'd hobble on, and gape for one bit more;
+  Men of all Stations, from the Nobles, down
+  To grave Sir _Roger_ in his Cap and Gown,
+  Wou'd hither come. But we some time must take,
+  E'er we a Project of such moment make;
+  Since that's laid by, for your Diversion then,
+  We do invite the Brothers of the Pen;
+  The Courtier, Lawyer, Soldier, Player too,
+  Wit n'er had more Encouragement than now;
+  Though free, or Aliens to our Stage, we take 'em,
+  Not kick 'em out, but native Subjects make 'em.
+  The Ladies too are always welcome here,
+  Let 'em in Writing or in Box appear.
+  To that fair Sex we are oblig'd to day,
+  Oh! then be kind to a poor Orphan-Play,
+  Whose Parent while she liv'd oblig'd you all;
+  You prais'd her living, and you mourn'd her Fall.
+  Who cou'd, like her, our softer Passions move,
+  The Life of Humour, and the Soul of Love?
+  Wit's eldest Sister; thro-out every Line,
+  You might perceive some Female Graces shine.
+  For poor _Astrea's_ Infant we implore,
+  Let it then live, though she is now no more.
+
+
+
+
+DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
+
+
+  MEN.
+
+  Prince _Frederick_,         Mr. _Verbruggen_.
+  Sir _Rowland Marteen_,      Mr. _Johnson_.
+  _George Marteen_,           Mr. _Powell_.
+  Mr. _Welborn_,              Mr. _Horden_.
+  Sir _Merlin Marteen_,       Mr. _Pinkethman_.
+  Sir _Morgan Blunder_,       Mr. _Bullock_.
+  Mr. _Twang_,                Mr. _Smeaton_.
+  _Britton_,                  Mr. _Kent_.
+  _Philip_.
+
+
+  WOMEN.
+
+  _Mirtilla_,                 Mrs. _Knight_.
+  _Olivia_,                   Mrs. _Verbruggen_.
+  _Teresia_,                  Mrs. _Temple_.
+  Lady _Blunder_,             Mrs. _Powell_.
+  Mrs. _Manage_,              Mrs. _Willis_.
+  Lady _Youthley_,            Mrs. _Harris_.
+  _Diana_.
+
+  Constable and Watch, Pages, Footmen, Masqueraders, Servants,
+    Rakehells, &c.
+
+
+
+
+ACT I.
+
+
+SCENE I. A Chamber.
+
+    Enter _George Marteen_, in a rich Riding Habit, with his Valet
+    _Britton_.
+
+_Geo._ Were you with Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_?
+
+_Britt._ Yes, Sir; and she cries as much for her wanting room for you in
+her House, as she would have done some forty Years ago for a
+Disappointment of her Lover. But she assures me, the Lodging she has
+taken for you, is the best in all _Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.
+
+_Geo._ And did you charge her to send _Mirtilla's_ Page to me?
+
+_Britt._ I did, Sir; and he'll be with you instantly.
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis well--Then shall I hear some News of my _Mirtilla_.
+    [Aside.
+  _Britton_, haste thee, and get my Equipage in order; a handsome Coach,
+rich Liveries, and more Footmen: for 'tis Appearance only passes in the
+World--And d'ye hear, take care none know me by any other Name than that
+of _Lejere_.
+
+_Britt._ I shall, Sir.    [Exit.
+
+_Geo._ I came not from _Paris_ into _England_, as my old Father thinks,
+to reform into a dull wretched Life in _Wales._ No, I'll rather trust my
+kind Mistress Fortune, that has still kept me like her Darling, than
+purchase a younger Brother's narrow Stipend, at the expence of my
+Pleasure and Happiness.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_ in a Page's Habit. She runs and embraces _George_.
+
+_Oliv._ My ever charming Brother!
+
+_Geo._ My best, my dear _Olivia_!
+
+_Oliv._ The same lovely Man still! Thy Gallantry and Beauty's all thy
+own; _Paris_ could add no Graces to thy Air; nor yet pervert it into
+Affectation.
+
+_Geo._ Spare me, and tell me how _Mirtilla_ fares.
+
+_Oliv._ I think, Brother, I writ you word to Paris, of a Marriage
+concluded betwixt me and _Welborn_?
+
+_Geo._ That Letter I receiv'd: but from the dear _Mirtilla_, not one
+soft word; not one tender Line has blest my Eyes, has eas'd my panting
+Heart this tedious three Months space; and thou with whom I left the
+weighty Charge of her dear Heart, to watch her lovely Eyes, to give me
+notice when my Rivals press'd, and when she waver'd in her Faith to me,
+even thou wert silent to me, cruel Sister.
+
+_Oliv._ Thou wilt be like a Lover presently, and tire the Hearer with a
+Book of Words, of heavy Sighs, dying Languishments, and all that huddle
+of Nonsense; and not tell me how you like my Marriage.
+
+_Geo._ _Welborn's_ my Friend, and worthy of thy Heart.
+
+_Oliv._ I never saw him yet; and to be sold unseen, and unsigh'd for, in
+the Flower of my Youth and Beauty, gives me a strange aversion to the
+Match.
+
+_Geo._ Oh! you'll like him when you see him--But my _Mirtilla_.--
+
+_Oliv._ Like him--no, no, I never shall--what, come a Stranger to my
+Husband's Bed? 'Tis Prostitution in the leudest manner, without the
+Satisfaction; the Pleasure of Variety, and the Bait of Profit, may make
+a lame excuse for Whores, who change their Cullies, and quit their
+nauseous Fools--No, no, my Brother, when Parents grow arbitrary, 'tis
+time we look into our Rights and Privileges; therefore, my dear
+_George_, if e'er thou hope for Happiness in Love, assist my
+Disobedience.
+
+_Geo._ In any worthy Choice be sure of me; but canst thou wish Happiness
+in Love, and not inform me something of _Mirtilla_?
+
+_Oliv._ I'll tell you better News--our hopeful elder Brother, Sir
+_Merlin_, is like to be disinherited; for he is, Heaven be thanked--
+
+_Geo._ Marry'd to some Town-Jilt, the common fate of Coxcombs.
+
+_Oliv._ Not so, my dear _George_, but sets up for a celebrated
+Rake-hell, as well as Gamester; he cou'd not have found out a more
+dextrous way to have made thee Heir to four Thousand Pounds a Year.
+
+_Geo._ What's that without _Mirtilla_?
+
+_Oliv._ Prithee no more of her--Love spoils a fine Gentleman: Gaming,
+Whoring and Fighting may qualify a Man for Conversation; but Love
+perverts all one's Thoughts, and makes us fit Company for none but one's
+self; for even a Mistress can scarce dispense with a fighting, whining
+Lover's Company long, though all he says flatters her Pride.
+
+_Geo._ Why dost thou trifle with me, when thou knowest the Violence of
+my Love?
+
+_Oliv._ I wish I could any way divert your Thoughts from her, I would
+not have your Joy depend on such a fickle Creature.
+
+_Geo._ _Mirtilla_ false! What, my _Mirtilla_ false!
+
+_Oliv._ Even your _Mirtilla's_ false, and married to another.
+
+_Geo._ Married! _Mirtilla_ married! 'Tis impossible.
+
+_Oliv._ Nay, married to that bawling, drinking Fool, Sir _Morgan
+Blunder_.
+
+_Geo._ Married, and married to Sir _Morgan Blunder_! a Sot, an ill-bred
+senseless Fool; almost too great a Fool to make a Country Justice?
+
+_Oliv._ No doubt, she had her Aims in't, he's a very convenient Husband,
+I'll assure you, and that suits her Temper: he has Estate and Folly
+enough, and she has Youth and Wantonness enough to match 'em.
+
+_Geo._ Her Choice gives me some Comfort, and some Hopes; for I'll pursue
+her, but for Revenge, not Love.
+
+_Oliv._ Forget her rather, for she's not worth Revenge, and that way
+'twill be none; prostitute in Soul as Body, she doats even on me in
+Breeches.
+
+_Geo._ On thee, her Page? doat on thee, a Youth! she knew thee not as
+Woman.
+
+_Oliv._ No, that Secret I have kept to do you Service.--At first she
+said she lov'd me for your sake, because you recommended me; and when I
+sung, or plaid upon my Flute, wou'd kiss my Cheek, and sigh, and often
+(when alone) wou'd send for me, and smile, and talk, and set my Hair in
+Curls, to make me saucy and familiar with her. One Day she said,
+_Endimion_, thy Name-sake was thus caress'd by _Cynthia_: A Goddess did
+not scorn the humble Swain, whom by her Love she equal'd to her Deity.
+She found that I had Sense to understand her, and paid her Advances back
+with equal Ardour.
+
+_Geo._ Oh, Curse! where learnt she all this Wickedness?    [Aside.
+
+_Oliv._ But she being oblig'd to go for _Flanders_, to see her Sister
+take the holy Habit, I feign'd a Sickness to be left behind, hoping that
+Absence might abate her Flame; yet she return'd more amorous, and
+fearing the Thefts of Love might wound her Honour, she thought a Husband
+would secure that Shame; and luckily my Aunt arriv'd from _Wales_, and
+brought Sir _Morgan_ with her, who lodging where we did, at Mrs.
+_Manage's_, my Aunt (that doats on Quality in either Sex) made up this
+hasty Match, unknown to me, though for my sake.
+
+_Geo._ What will not faithless Woman do, when she is raging?
+
+_Oliv._ And now having so well prepar'd the way, she grows impatient for
+an Opportunity; and thou art arriv'd, most happily to succour me.
+
+_Geo._ No, for some days keep this habit on, it may be useful to us; but
+I must see this faithless perjur'd Woman, which I must contrive with
+Mrs. _Manage_.
+
+_Oliv._ Yet pray resolve to see my Father first; for now's the critical
+time to make thy Fortune: he came to Town last night, and lodges here at
+Mrs. _Manage's_, with my Aunt _Blunder_.
+
+_Geo._ What, in the House with thee, and not know thee?
+
+_Oliv._ No more than a Priest Compassion; he thinks me at _Hackney_,
+making Wax Babies, where he intends to visit me within these three
+days,--But I forgot to tell you, our Brother, Sir _Merlin_, lodges in
+this House with you; and shou'd he know you--
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis impossible--I've not see him, or my Father, these five
+Years. Absence, my Growth, and this unexpected Equipage, will not be
+penetrated by his Capacity.
+
+_Oliv._ True, he'll never look for his Brother _George_, in the
+Gallantry and Person of Monsieur _Lejere_--My good Father expects you
+home, like the prodigal Son, all torn and tatter'd, and as penitent too.
+
+_Geo._ To plod on here, in a laborious Cheating, all my Youth and
+Vigour, in hopes of drunken Pleasures when I'm old; or else go with him
+into _Wales_, and there lead a thoughtless Life, hunt, and drink, and
+make love to none but Chamber-maids. No, my _Olivia_, I'll use the
+sprightly Runnings of my Life, and not hope distant Pleasures from its
+Dregs.
+
+_Oliv._ For that, use your Discretion; now equip your self to your
+present Business; the more simply you are clad and look, the better.
+I'll home and expect you.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Geo._ Do so, my good Sister; a little formal Hypocrisy may do, 'twill
+relish after Liberty; for a Pleasure is never so well tasted, as when
+it's season'd with some Opposition.
+
+    Enter _Britton_.
+
+_Britt._ Sir, I've News to tell you, will surprize you; Prince
+_Frederick_ is arriv'd.
+
+_Geo._ Is't possible? I left him going for _Flanders_.
+
+_Britt._ Passing by our Door, and seeing your Livery, he enquir'd for
+you; and finding you here, alighted just now. But see, Sir, he's here.
+
+    Enter Prince _Frederick_; they meet and embrace.
+
+_Geo._ My Life's Preserver, welcome to my Arms as Health to sick Men.
+
+_Prince._ And thou to mine as the kind Mistress to the longing Lover; my
+Soul's Delight, and Darling of the Fair.
+
+_Geo._ Ah Prince! you touch my bleeding Wound.
+
+_Prince._ Ha, _Lejere_! leave to unhappy Lovers those Sighs, those
+folded Arms, and down-cast Eyes.
+
+_Geo._ Then they are fit for me; my Mistress, Sir, that Treasure of my
+Life, for whom you've heard me sigh, is perjur'd, false, and married to
+another. Yet what is worse, I find my Prince, my Friend, here in my
+native Country, and am not able to pay him what his Greatness merits.
+
+_Prince._ You pain me when you compliment my Friendship.    [Embracing.
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps you will not think me worth this Honour, when you shall
+hear my Story.
+
+_Prince._ Thou canst say nothing I can value less.
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps too my way of Living has deceiv'd you, being still
+receiv'd by Princes, as Companions in all their Riots, Loves, and
+Divertisements; where ev'n you did me the Honour to esteem, and call me
+Friend.
+
+_Prince._ Whate'er thou art, I'm sure thy Mind's illustrious.
+
+_Geo._ My Family, I must confess, is honourable; but, Sir, my Father was
+the younger House, of which my unhappy self was destin'd to be last: I'm
+a _Cadet_, that Out-cast of my Family, and born to that curse of our old
+_English_ Custom. Whereas in other Countries, younger Brothers are
+train'd up to the Exercise of Arms, where Honour and Renown attend the
+Brave; we basely bind our youngest out to Slavery, to lazy Trades, idly
+confin'd to Shops or Merchants Books, debasing of the Spirit to the mean
+Cunning, how to cheat and chaffer.
+
+_Prince._ A Custom insupportable!--
+
+_Geo._ To this, to this low wretchedness of Life, your Servant, Sir--was
+destin'd by his Parents, and am yet this bound indentur'd Slave.
+
+_Prince._ Thou hast no cause to quarrel with thy Stars, since Virtue is
+most valu'd when opprest--Are all your Merchants Apprentices thus gay?
+
+_Geo._ Not all--but, Sir, I could not bow my Mind to this so necessary
+Drudgery; and yet however, I assum'd my native Temper, when out o'th'
+Trading City; in it, I forc'd my Nature to a dull slovenly Gravity,
+which well enough deceiv'd the busy Block-heads; my Clothes and Equipage
+I lodg'd at this End of the Town, where I still pass'd for something
+better than I was, whene'er I pleas'd to change the Trader for the
+Gentleman.
+
+_Prince._ And liv'd thus undiscover'd--
+
+_Geo._ With Ease, still lov'd and courted by the Great, ever play'd high
+with those durst venture most; and durst make Love where'er my Fancy
+lik'd: but sometimes running out my Master's Cash, (which was supply'd
+still by my Father) they sent me, to reform my expensive Life, a Factor,
+into _France_--still I essay'd to be a plodding Thriver, but found my
+Parts not form'd for dirty Business.
+
+_Prince._ There's not a Thought, an Action of thy Soul, that does not
+tend to something far more glorious.
+
+_Geo._ If yet you think me worthy of your Favour, command that Life you
+have so oft preserv'd.
+
+_Prince._ No more;--Thou hast increas'd my Value for thee.--Oh! take my
+Heart, and see how't has been us'd by a fair Charmer, since I saw thee
+last--That sullen day we parted, you for _England_, you may remember I
+design'd for _Flanders_.
+
+_Geo._ I do, with Melancholy, Sir, remember it.
+
+_Prince._ Arriv'd at _Ghent_, I went to see an _English_ Nun initiated,
+where I beheld the pretty Innocent, deliver'd up a Victim to foolish
+Chastity; but among the Relations, then attending the Sacrifice, was a
+fair Sister of the young Votress, but so surpassing all I'ad seen
+before, that I neglecting the dull holy Business, paid my Devotion to
+that kneeling Saint.
+
+_Geo._ That was the nearest way to Heaven, my Lord.
+
+_Prince._ Her Face, that had a thousand Charms of Youth, was heighten'd
+with an Air of Languishment; a lovely Sorrow dwelt upon her Eyes, that
+taught my new-born-Passion Awe and Reverence.
+
+_Geo._ This Description of her fires me.--    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Her dimpl'd Mouth, her Neck, her Hand, her Hair, a Majesty and
+Grace in every Motion, compleated my Undoing; I rav'd, I burnt,
+I languish'd with Desire, the holy Place cou'd scarce contain my
+Madness: with Pain, with Torture, I restrain'd my Passion when she
+retir'd, led sadly from the Altar. I, mixing with the Croud, enquir'd
+her Name and Country; her Servant told me, that she was of Quality, and
+liv'd in _England_, nay, in this very Town: this gave me Anguish not to
+be conceiv'd, till I resolv'd to follow her, which is the cause you find
+me here so soon. Thy Aid, thy Aid, _Lejere_, or I am lost.
+
+_Geo._ I wish to live no longer than to serve your Highness: if she be,
+Sir, a Maid of Quality, I shall soon find her out, and then you'll
+easily conquer. You've all the Youth, and Beauty, that can charm; and
+what gains most upon a Woman's Heart, you've a powerful Title, Sir,
+a sort of Philter, that ne'er fails to win. But you've not told me yet
+the Lady's Name.
+
+_Prince._ I had forgot that;--'Tis in these Tablets written:
+    [Gives him the Tablets.
+  I'm now in haste, going to receive some Bills: I lodge at _Welborn's_,
+who came over with me, being sent for to be marry'd.
+
+_Geo._ I know the House, 'tis in _Southampton-Square_: I'll wait upon
+your Highness--
+    [Exit _Prince_.
+  Let me see--Daughter to a deceas'd Lord; a Maid, and no Dowry, but
+Beauty; living in _Lincoln's-Inn-Fields_.
+    [Opening the Tablets, reads.
+  --Ha!--her Name _Mirtilla_! _Mirtilla_!    [Pauses.
+  Prince, thou hast paid thyself for all the Favours done me.
+_Mirtilla!_
+    [Pauses.
+  Why, yes, _Mirtilla_! He takes but what she has given away already.--
+
+Oh! damn her, she has broke her Faith, her Vows, and is no longer
+mine--And thou'rt my Friend.
+    [Pauses again.
+
+_Mirtilla's_ but my Mistress, and has taken all the Repose of my poor
+Life away--Yes, let him take her, I'll resign her to him; and therefore
+shut my Eyes against her Charms: fix her Inconstancy about my Heart, and
+scorn whatever she can give me.
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Chamber.
+
+    Enter Sir _Morgan Blunder_ in a Night-Gown and Cap; to him
+    _Manage_ with a Caudle.
+
+_Man._ Your Lady Mother has sent you a Caudle, Sir.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Good Mrs. _Manage_, remember my kind Love to my Lady Mother,
+and tell her, I thank her for her Posset, but never eat in a Morning
+after hard drinking over night.
+
+_Man._ Ah, Sir, but now you're marry'd to a fine Lady, you ought to make
+much of your self.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Good Madam, as little of your Matrimony as of your Caudle;
+my Stomach is plaguy squeamish, and a hair of the old Dog's worth both
+of 'em. Oh! sick! sick!
+
+    Enter Sir _Merlin_, singing a Song in praise of a Rake-hell's
+    Life.
+
+  A SONG.
+
+  The _Town-Rake_; written by Mr. _Motteux_.
+
+  I.
+
+  _What Life can compare with the jolly Town-Rake's,
+  When in Youth his full Swing of all Pleasure he takes?
+  At Noon, he gets up, for a Whet, and to dine,
+  And wings the dull Hours with Mirth, Musick and Wine;
+  Then jogs to the _Play-house_, and chats with the Masks,
+  And thence to the _Rose_, where he takes his three Flasks.
+  There, great as a _Caesar_, he revels, when drunk,
+  And scours all he meets, as he reels to his Punk;
+  Then finds the dear Girl in his Arms when he wakes.
+  What Life can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake's?_
+
+  II.
+
+  _He, like the _Great Turk_, has his Favourite She;
+  But the Town's his _Seraglio_, and still he lives free.
+  Sometimes she's a Lady; but as he must range,
+  _Black-Betty_, or _Oyster-Doll_, serves for a Change.
+  As he varies his Sports, his whole Life is a Feast;
+  He thinks him that's soberest the most like a Beast.
+  At Houses of Pleasure breaks Windows and Doors;
+  Kicks Bullies and Cullies, then lies with their Whores.
+  Rare work for the Surgeon, and Midwife he makes.
+  What Life can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake's?_
+
+  III.
+
+  _Thus in _Covent-Garden_ he makes his Campaign,
+  And no Coffee-house haunts, but to settle his Brain.
+  He laughs at dry Morals, and never does think,
+  Unless 'tis to get the best Wenches and Drink.
+  He dwells in a Tavern, and lies ev'ry where,
+  And improving his hours, lives an Age in a Tear:
+  For as Life is uncertain, he loves to make haste;
+  And thus he lives longest, because he lives fast:
+  Then a Leap in the dark to the Devil he takes.
+  What Death can compare with the Jolly Town-Rake's?_
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, how now, Sir _Morgan_, I see you'll make a Husband of
+the right Town-Mode: What, married but four Days, and at your separate
+Apartment already?
+
+Sir _Morg._ A Plague of your what d'ye call ums.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Rakehells you would say, Cousin, an honourable Appellation
+for Men of Bravery.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, your Rakehells--I was never so muddled with Treason,
+Tierce Claret, Oaths and Dice, all the Days of my Life--Was I in case to
+do Family duty? S'life, you drank down all my Love, all my Prudence too;
+Gad forgive me for it.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, how the Devil cam'st thou to bear thy Liquor so ill? Ods
+my Life, you drunk like a _Frenchman_ new come to the University.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Pox, I can bear their drinking as well as any Man; but your
+_London_ way of Bousing and Politics does not agree with my
+Constitution. Look ye, Cousin, set quietly to't, and I'll stand my
+ground; but to have screaming Whores, noisy Bullies, rattling Dice,
+swearing and cursing Gamesters, Couz. turns the Head of a
+Country-Drinker, more than the Wine.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Oh! Use, Cousin, will make an able Man.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Use, Cousin! Use me no Uses; for if ever you catch me at
+your damn'd Clubs again, I'll give you my Mother for a Maid: Why, you
+talk downright Treason.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Treason, ay--
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ah Cousin, why, we talk'd enough to--hang us all.
+
+Sir _Mer._ My honest Country-Couz. when wilt thou understand the
+_Guelphs_, and the _Gibelins_, and learn to talk Treason o' this side
+the Law? bilk a Whore without remorse; break Windows, and not pay for
+'em; drink your Bottle without asking Questions; kill your Man without
+letting him draw; play away your Money without fear of your Spouse, and
+stop her Mouth by undermining her Nose?
+
+Sir _Morg._ Come, come, look you, Cousin, one word of Advice now I'm
+sober; what the Devil should provoke thee and me to put ourselves on our
+twelve Godfathers for a Frolick? We who have Estates. I shou'd be loth
+to leave the World with a scurvy Song, composed by the Poet _Sternhold_.
+
+    Enter at the Door Sir _Rowland_, hearkning.
+
+Or why, d'ye see, shou'd I expose my Noddle to the Billmen in Flannel,
+and lie in the _Roundhouse_, when I may go to bed in a whole skin with
+my Lady Wife?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Gad, Sir _Morgan_, thou hast sometimes pretty smart satirical
+Touches with thee; use but _Will's_ Coffee-house a little, and with thy
+Estate, and that Talent, thou mayst set up for a Wit.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Mercy upon me, Sir _Merlin_, thou art stark mad: What, I a
+Wit! I had rather be one of your Rakehells: for, look ye, a Man may
+swear and stare, or so; break Windows, and Drawers Heads, or so; unrig a
+needy Whore, and yet keep one's Estate: but should I turn Wit, 'twere
+impossible; for a Wit with an Estate is like a Prisoner among the
+Cannibals.
+
+Sir _Mer._ How so, good Sir _Morgan_?
+
+Sir _Morg._ Why, the needy Rogues only feed him with Praise, to fatten
+him for their Palates, and then devour him.
+
+Sir _Mer._ I applaud your choice, Cousin; for what Man of Bravery wou'd
+not prefer a Rake to a Wit? The one enjoys the Pleasures the other can
+only rail at; and that not out of Conscience, but Impotence: for alas!
+a Wit has no quarrel to Vice in Perfection, but what the Fox had to the
+Grapes; he can't play away his hundred Pound at sight; his Third Day
+won't afford it; and therefore he rails at Gamesters; Whores shun him,
+as much as Noblemen, and for the same cause, Money; those care not to
+sell their Carcases for a Sonnet, nor these to scatter their Guineas, to
+be told an old Tale of a Tub, they were so well acquainted with before.
+
+Sir _Morg._ What's that, Sir _Merlin_?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, their Praise;--for the Poet's Flattery seldom reaches
+the Patron's Vanity; and what's too strong season'd for the rest of the
+World, is too weak for their Palates.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Why, look ye, Cousin, you're a shreud Fellow: Whence learn'd
+you this Satire? for I'm sure 'tis none of thy own; for I shou'd as soon
+suspect thee guilty of good Nature, as Wit.
+
+Sir _Mer._ I scorn it; and therefore I confess I stole the Observation
+from a Poet; but the Devil pick his Bones for diverting me from the
+noble Theme of Rakehells.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Noble Theme, Sir _Merlin_! look ye, d'ye see: Don't mistake
+me, I think 'tis a very scurvy one; and I wou'd not have your Father
+know that you set up for such a Reprobate; for Sir _Rowland_ would
+certainly disinherit thee.
+
+Sir _Mer._ O, keep your musty Morals to your self, good Country Couz;
+they'll do you service to your _Welch_ Criminals, for stealing an Hen,
+or breaking up a Wenches Inclosure, or so, Sir _Morgan_; but for me,
+I despise 'em: I have not been admitted into the Family of the
+_Rakehellorums_ for this, Sir: Let my Father drink old _Adam_, read the
+_Pilgrim's Progress_, _The Country Justice's Calling_, or for a Regale,
+drink the dull Manufacture of Malt and Water; I defy him; he can't cut
+off the Entail of what is settled on me: and for the rest, I'l trust
+Dame _Fortune_; and pray to the Three Fatal Sisters to cut his rotten
+Thred in two, before he thinks of any such Wickedness.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_ in a great Rage.
+
+Sir _Row._ Will you so, Sir? Why, how now, Sirrah! get you out of my
+House, Rogue; get out of my Doors, Rascal.
+    [Beats him.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_.
+
+L. _Blun._ Upon my Honour now, Brother, what's the matter? Whence this
+ungenerous Disturbance?
+
+Sir _Row._ What's the matter! the disturbance! Why, Sister, this Rogue
+here--this unintelligible graceless Rascal here, will needs set up for a
+Rakehell, when there's scarce such a thing in the Nation, above an
+Ale-draper's Son; and chuses to be aukardly out of fashion, merely for
+the sake of Tricking and Poverty; and keeps company with the senseless,
+profane, lazy, idle, noisy, groveling Rascals, purely for the sake of
+spending his Estate like a notorious Blockhead: But I'll take care he
+shall not have what I can dispose of--You'll be a Rake-hell, will you?
+
+L. _Blun._ How, Cousin! Sure you'll not be such a filthy beastly thing,
+will you?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Lord, Aunt, I only go to the Club sometimes, to improve my
+self in the Art of Living, and the Accomplishments of a fine Gentleman.
+
+Sir _Row._ A fine Gentleman, Sot, a fine Coxcomb!    [Beats him.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Hold, hold, good Uncle; my Cousin has been only drawn in,
+a little or so, d'ye see, being Heir to a good Estate; and that's what
+his Club wants, to pay off old Tavern Scores, and buy Utensils for
+Whores in Fashion.
+
+Sir _Row._ My Estate sold to pay Tavern-Scores, and keep nasty Whores!
+
+L. _Blun._ Whores! ay, filthy Creatures; do they deal in Whores? Pray,
+Cousin, what's a Rake-hell?
+
+Sir _Row._ A Rake-hell is a Man that defies Law and good Manners, nay,
+and good Sense too; hates both Morality and Religion, and that not for
+any Reason (for he never thinks) but merely because he don't understand
+'em: He's the Whore's Protection and Punishment, the Baud's Tool, the
+Sharper's Bubble, the Vintner's Property, the Drawer's Terror, the
+Glasier's Benefactor; in short, a roaring, thoughtless, heedless,
+ridiculous, universal Coxcomb.
+
+Sir _Mer._ O Lord, Aunt, no more like him than an Attorney's like an
+honest Man. Why, a Rake-hell is--
+
+Sir _Row._ What, Sirrah! what, you Rebel?    [Strikes him.
+
+L. _Blun._ Nay, good Brother, permit my Nephew to tell us his Notion.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, Aunt, I say a Rake-hell is your only Man of Bravery; he
+slights all the Force of Fortune, and sticks at no Hazard--plays away
+his hundred Pounds at sight, pays a Lady's Bill at sight, drinks his
+Bottle without equivocation, and fights his Man without any Provocation.
+
+Sir _Row._ Nay then, Mr. Rogue, I'll be sworn thou art none: Come, Sir,
+will you fight, Sir? will you fight, Sir? Ha!
+    [Draws his Sword.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Fight, Sir! fight, Sir!
+
+Sir _Row._ Yes, fight, Sir: Come, spare your Prayers to the three Fatal
+Sisters, and cut my Thred thy self, thou graceless reprobate
+Rascal--Come, come on, you Man of Bravery.
+    [Runs at Sir _Merlin_, who retires before him: Sir _Morgan_ holds
+    Sir _Rowland_.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Oh, good Sir, hold: I recant, Sir, I recant.
+
+Sir _Row._ [Putting up.] Well, I'm satisfy'd thou'lt make no good
+Rake-hell in this Point, whatever you will in the others. And since
+Nature has made thee a Coward, Inclination a Coxcomb, I'll take care to
+make thee a Beggar; and so thou shalt be a Rake-hell but in Will, I'll
+disinherit thee, I will, Villain.
+
+L. _Blun._ What, disinherit your eldest Son, Brother?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, Aunt, his very Heir apparent? Aunt, to show you how the
+old Gentleman has misrepresented us, give me leave to present you a
+Dance I provided to entertain your Son with, in which is represented all
+the Beauties of our Lives.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh! by all means, Cousin, by all means.
+
+Sir _Mer._ What hoa! _Roger_, bring in the Dancers.
+
+_Here the Dance, representing Rake-hells, Constable, Watch, &c._
+
+    Enter _Philip_.
+
+_Phil._ Sir, who do's your Worship think is arriv'd?
+
+Sir _Row._ My Son _George_, I hope, come in the Nick.
+
+_Phil._ Even so, Sir, from _Paris_--    [Exit.
+
+Sir _Row._ The Prodigal return'd! then kill the fatted Calf.
+
+    Enter _George_ drest like a Prentice.
+
+--My own dear Boy, thou art welcome to my Arms, as e'er thy Mother was;
+for whose dear sake I pardon all thy Follies.
+    [_George_ Kneels.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, Sir, I had a Mother too, or I'm bely'd--    [Weeping.
+  Pox take him that he should come just in the nick, as the old Fellow
+says--
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Row._ Yes, you had a Mother, whom in my Youth I was compel'd to
+marry; and, Gad, I think, I got thee with as ill a Will; but _George_
+and my _Olivia_ in heat of Love, when my desire was new. But harkye, Boy
+_George_, you have cost me a damn'd deal of Money, Sirrah; but you shall
+marry, and redeem all, _George_.
+
+_Geo._ What you please, Sir; to study Virtue, Duty and Allegiance, shall
+be my future Business.
+
+Sir _Row._ Well said, _George_, here's a Boy now.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Virtue and Allegiance! Lord, Lord, how came so sneaking a
+fellow to spend five thousand Pounds of his Master's Cash?
+
+Sir _Row._ She's rich, _George_, but something homely.
+
+_Geo._ She'll not be proud then, Sir.
+
+Sir _Row._ Not much of her Beauty--she's of a good staid Age too, about
+some fourscore.
+
+_Geo._ Better still, Sir, I shall not fear Cuckoldom.
+
+Sir _Row._ For that I cannot answer; but she has two thousand a year.
+I mean to settle my Family, and then--marry my self, _George_.
+
+L. _Blun._ What, to this old Lady's Grand-daughter? Methinks she's more
+fit for your Son, Sir _Rowland_, and the old Lady for you.
+
+Sir _Row._ No, no, the young Rogues can help themselves with Mistresses;
+but 'tis well if an old Man can keep his Wife to himself--I've invited
+'em to Dinner to day, and see, they are come.
+
+    Enter Lady _Youthly_, led by her Chaplain [Mr. _Twang_], and
+    leaning on a Staff, and _Teresia_.
+
+L. _Youth._ Where's Sir _Rowland Marteen_? Oh, your Servant, Sir, I am
+come.
+    [Runs against _George_.
+
+_Twang._ Your Ladyship is mistaken, this is not Sir _Rowland_, but a
+handsome proper young Man.
+
+L. _Youth._ A young Man! I cry your mercy heartily--Young Man,
+I alighted in the Sun, and am almost blind.
+
+_Geo._ With wondrous old Age.    [Aside.
+
+L. _Youth._ Good lack, Sir _Rowland_, that I should mistake a young Man
+so!
+
+Sir _Row._ Ay, Madam, and such a young Man too.
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, I see him now.    [Puts on her Spectacles.
+
+_Geo._ S'death, what a Sepulcher is here to bury a Husband in? How came
+she to escape the Flood? for sure she was not born since.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Row._ This is the lusty Lad, my Son _George_, I told your Ladyship
+of.
+
+L. _Youth._ Cot so, cot so, is it so, Sir? I ask your Pardon, Sir. Mr.
+_Twang_, take a survey of him, and give me your Opinion of his Person
+and his Parts.
+
+_Twang._ Truly, Madam, the young Man is of a comely Personage and
+Lineaments.
+
+L. _Youth._ Of what, Sir?--Lord, I have such a Cold.    [Coughs.
+
+_Geo._ Which she got when the _Picts_ went naked.
+
+L. _Blun._ Madam, you have a Power over Sir _Rowland_; pray intreat him
+to take his Son, Sir _Merlin_, into Grace again.
+    [To _Teresia_.
+
+_Ter._ That, Sir, you must grant me; pray let me know the Quarrel.
+    [Sir _Rowland_ seems to tell.
+
+_Geo._ By Heaven, she's fair as the first ruddy Streaks of opening Day.
+    [Looking on _Teresia_.
+  Young as the budding Rose, soft as a _Cupid_, but never felt his Dart,
+she is so full of Life and Gaiety. Pray, Madam, who is that Lady?
+    [To Lady _Blun._
+
+L. _Blun._ The Grandchild of your Mistress, and your Mother that must
+be.
+
+_Geo._ Then I shall cuckold my Father, that's certain.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Row._ For your sake, Madam, once again I re-establish him in my
+family; but the first Fault cashiers him--Come, let's in--Here, my Lady
+_Youthly_, take _George_ by the hand; but have a care of the young
+Rogue, if he comes once to touch so brisk a Widow, he sets her Heart on
+fire.
+
+_Geo._ Which will burn like a snuff of a Candle; no body will be able to
+endure it.
+    [Aside.
+  --So Fortune, I see, provides for me:
+  On this hand Wealth, on that young Pleasures lie;
+  He ne'er wants these, who has that kind Supply.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+  _The End of the First Act._
+
+
+
+
+ACT II.
+
+
+SCENE I. Sir _Rowland's_ Lodging.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_, _Teresia_, and Lady _Youthly_, &c.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, if I should be inclin'd to cast away my
+self on your Son _George_, what wou'd you settle?
+
+Sir _Row._ Settle! not a Souse, Madam; he carries the best younger
+Brother's Fortune in _Christendom_ about him.
+
+L. _Youth._ Why, the young Man's deserving, I confess. But he's your
+Son, Sir _Rowland_, and something ought to be settled upon the Heirs of
+our Bodies, lawfully begotten.
+
+Sir _Row._ All _Hercules_ his Labours were a Jig to his that shall beget
+'em.
+    [Aside.
+  If you like him upon these terms, to make him Master of your Fortune--
+
+L. _Youth._ For that, let him trust to me, and his own deservings.
+
+Sir _Row._ No trusting in these fickle Times, Madam--Why, I'll let the
+young sturdy Rogue out to hire; he'll make a pretty Livelihood at
+Journey-Work; and shall a Master-Workman, a Husband, deserve nothing?
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, these Husbands that know their own Strength, as they
+say, set so high a value on their conjugal Virtues. And if he be
+disloyal, again o't'other side he gives a Wife so ill an Example--for we
+are all liable to Temptations.
+
+Sir _Row._ Well said; if thou beest so, it must be the old Tempter
+himself.
+    [Aside.
+  Look ye, Madam, I'll propose a fair Swap; if you'll consent that I
+shall marry _Teresia_, I'll consent that you shall marry _George_.
+
+L. _Youth._ How, my Grand-daughter? Why, I design'd her for your eldest
+Son, Sir _Merlin_; and she has a good Fortune of five hundred a year
+that I cannot hinder her of; and is too young for you.
+
+Sir _Row._ So is _George_ for your Ladyship; and as for his Fortune,
+'tis more than likely I shall make him my eldest Son.
+
+L. _Youth._ Say you so, Sir, well, I'll consider, and take Advice of my
+Friends.
+
+Sir _Row._ Consider! alas, Madam, my House will be besieged by all the
+Widows in Town; I shall get more by shewing him, than the _Rhinoceros_.
+Gad, I'll sell the young Rogue by Inch of Candle, before he's debauch'd
+and spoil'd in this leud Town.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, suppose--
+
+Sir _Row._ Nothing under _Teresia_--Gad, I think some old Dog-Star
+reigns to Day, that so many old Hearts are burning in their Sockets--I'm
+in love with this young Tittymouse here, most damnably--Well, what say
+you, Widow? Speak now, or you know the Proverb.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, Sir _Rowland_, you are too hard for me.
+
+    [Ex. all but _Teresia_.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_, runs to her and embraces her.
+
+_Ter._ 'Tis as you said, _Olivia_, I am destin'd to your Father.
+
+_Oliv._ What, the Sentence is past then?
+
+_Ter._ Ay, but the Devil is in us, if we stay till Execution Day: Why,
+this is worse than being mew'd up at _Hackney-School_--my Fortune's my
+own, without my Grandmother, and with that Stock I'll set up for my
+self, and see what Traffick this wide World affords a young beginner.
+
+_Oliv._ That's well resolv'd; I am of the same mind, rather than marry
+Mr. _Welborn_, whom I never saw.--But prithee let's see what we have in
+Stock, besides ready Money--What Toys and Knick-nacks to invite.
+
+_Ter._ Faith, my Inventory is but small--Let me see--First, one pretty
+well made Machine, call'd a Body, of a very good Motion, fit for several
+uses--one pretty conceited Head-Piece, that will fit any body's
+Coxcomb,--when 'tis grave and dull, 'twill fit an Alderman; when
+politick and busy, a Statesman; turn it to Intrigue, 'twill fit a City
+Wife; and to Invention, it will set up an Evidence.
+
+_Oliv._ Very well!
+
+_Ter._ _Item_, One Tongue, that will prattle Love, if you put the Heart
+in time (for they are Commodities I resolve shall go together) I have
+Youth enough to please a Lover, and Wit enough to please my self.
+
+_Oliv._ Most excellent Trifles all! As for my out-side, I leave to the
+Discretion of the Chafferer; but I have a rare Device, call'd an
+Invention, that can do many Feats; a Courage that wou'd stock a Coward;
+and a pretty Implement, call'd a Heart, that will strike fire with any
+convenient force: I have eight thousand Pounds to let out on any able
+Security, but not a Groat unless I like the Man.
+
+_Ter._ Thus furnish'd, we shall ruin all the _Jews_, and undo the
+_India_ Houses--But where shall we show? where meet with the
+Love-Merchants?
+
+_Oliv._ What think you of the Gallery at the Play in Masks?
+
+_Ter._ Shu, a State-Trick, first taken up by Women of Quality, and now
+run into Ridicule, by all the little common Devils of the Town; and is
+only a Trap for a Termer, a small new rais'd Officer, or a City Cully,
+where they baul out their eighteen Pence in Baudy, and filthy Nonsense,
+to the disturbance of the whole House, and the King's Peace: the Men of
+Quality have forsaken it.
+
+_Oliv._ What think you of the _Mall_?
+
+_Ter._ As too publick to end an Intrigue; our Affairs require a Conquest
+as sudden as that of _Caesar_, who came, saw and overcame.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Tis true, besides there's so many Cruisers, we shall never
+board a Prize. What think you of the Church?
+
+_Ter._ An hypocritical Shift; of all Masks I hate that of Religion; and
+it shou'd be the last place I'd wish to meet a Lover in, unless to marry
+him.
+
+_Oliv._ And, Faith, that's the last thing a Lover shou'd do, but we are
+compell'd to haste, 'tis our last Refuge; if we cou'd but see and like
+our Men, the business were soon dispatcht.--Let me see--Faith, e'en put
+on Breeches too, and thus disguis'd seek our Fortune--I am within these
+three days to be fetch'd from _Hackney School_, where my Father believes
+me still to be, and thou in that time to be marry'd to the old
+Gentleman; Faith, resolve--and let's in and dress thee--away, here's my
+Lady--
+
+    [They run out.
+
+
+SCENE II. A Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Mirtilla_ and Mrs. _Manage_.
+
+_Mir._ Ah, let me have that Song again.
+
+  A Song by Mr. _Gildon_.
+
+  I.
+
+  _No, _Delia_, no: What Man can range
+  From such Seraphic Pleasure?
+  'Tis want of Charms that make us change,
+  To grasp the Fury, Treasure.
+  What Man of Sense wou'd quit a certain Bliss,
+  For Hopes and empty Possibilities?_
+
+  II.
+
+  _Vain Fools! that sure Possessions spend,
+  In hopes of Chymic Treasure,
+  But for their fancy'd Riches find
+  Both want of Gold and Pleasure.
+  Rich in my Delia, I can wish no more;
+  The Wanderer, like the Chymist, must be poor._
+
+_Man._ Not see him, Madam--I protest he's handsomer, and handsomer,
+_Paris_ has given him such an Air:--Lord, he's all over Monsieur--Not
+see him, Madam--Why? I hope you do not, like the foolish sort of Wives,
+design a strict Obedience to your Husband.
+
+_Mir._ Away, a Husband!--when Absence, that sure Remedy of Love, had
+heal'd the bleeding Wound _Lejere_ had made, by Heaven, I thought I
+ne'er shou'd love again--but since _Endymion_ has inspir'd my Soul, and
+for that Youth I burn, I pine, I languish.
+
+    Enter _George_ richly drest, stands at a distance gazing on
+    _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Man._ See, Madam, there's an Object may put out that Flame, and may
+revive the old one.
+
+_Mir._ Shame and Confusion.--_Lejere._    [Turns and walks away.
+
+_Geo._ Yonder she is, that Mien and Shape I know, though the false Face
+be turn'd with shame away.
+    [Offers to advance, and stops.
+ --'Sdeath,--I tremble! yet came well fortify'd with Pride and Anger.
+I see thou'st in thy Eyes a little Modesty.
+    [Goes to her nearer.
+  That wou'd conceal the Treasons of thy Heart.
+
+_Mir._ Perhaps it is their Scorn that you mistake.
+
+_Geo._ It may be so; she that sets up for Jilting, shou'd go on; 'Twere
+mean to find remorse, so young, and soon: Oh, this gay Town has
+gloriously improv'd you amongst the rest; that taught you Perjury.
+
+_Mir._ Alas! when was it sworn?
+
+_Geo._ In the blest Age of Love, When every Power look'd down, and heard
+thy Vows.
+
+_Mir._ I was a Lover then; shou'd Heaven concern it self with Lovers
+Perjuries, 'twould find no leisure to preserve the Universe.
+
+_Geo._ And was the Woman so strong in thee, thou couldst not wait a
+little? Were you so raving mad for Fool and Husband, you must take up
+with the next ready Coxcomb. Death, and the Devil, a dull clumsey
+Boor!--What was it charm'd you? The beastly quantity of Man about him?
+
+_Mir._ Faith, a much better thing, five thousand Pounds a Year, his
+Coach and Six, it shews well in the _Park_.
+
+_Geo._ Did I want Coach, or Equipage, and Shew?
+
+_Mir._ But still there wanted Fool, and Fortune to't; He does not play
+at the Groom-Porter's for it; nor do the Drudgery of some worn-out Lady.
+
+_Geo._ If I did this, thou hadst the spoils of all my Nation's
+Conquests, while all the whole World was wondering whence it came; for
+Heav'n had left thee nothing but thy Beauty, that dear Reward of my
+industrious Love.
+
+_Mir._ I do confess--
+
+_Geo._ Till time had made me certain of a Fortune, which now was hasting
+on.--
+
+And is that store of Love and wondrous Joys I had been hoarding up so
+many tender Hours, all lavish'd on a Brute, who never lusted 'bove my
+Lady's Woman? for Love he understands no more than Sense.
+
+_Mir._ Prithee reproach me on--    [Sighs.
+
+_Geo._ 'Sdeath, I cou'd rave! Is this soft tender Bosom to be prest by
+such a Load of Fool? Damnation on thee--Where got'st thou this coarse
+Appetite? Take back the Powers, those Charms she's sworn adorn'd me,
+since a dull, fat-fac'd, noisy, taudry Blockhead, can serve her turn as
+well.
+    [Offers to go.
+
+_Mir._ You shall not go away with that Opinion of me.--
+
+_Geo._ Oh, that false Tongue can now no more deceive--Art thou not
+marry'd? Tell me that, false Charmer.
+
+_Mir._ Yes.--    [Holding him.
+
+_Geo._ Curse on that word: wou'd thou hadst never learnt it--it gave thy
+Heart, and my Repose away.
+
+_Mir._ Dost think I marry'd with that dull design? Canst thou believe I
+gave my Heart away, because I gave my Hand?--Fond Ceremony
+that--A necessary trick, devis'd by wary Age, to traffick 'twixt a
+Portion and a Jointure; him whom I lov'd, is marry'd to my Soul.
+
+_Geo._ Art thou then mine? And wilt thou make Atonement, by such a
+charming way?--Come to my clasping Arms.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_ at the Door. Sees 'em, and offers to go out
+    again.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh, Heavens! How rude am I?--Cry Mercy, Madam, I protest I
+thought you'd been alone.
+
+_Geo._ 'Sdeath! my Aunt _Blunder_!    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Only this Gentleman, Madam--
+
+L. _Blun._ Sir, I beg your Pardon--and am really sorry--
+
+_Geo._ That you find me with your Daughter, Madam.
+
+L. _Blun._ I hope you take me to be better bred, Sir: Nor had I
+interrupted you, but for an Accident that has happen'd to Sir _Morgan_,
+coming out of the City in a beastly Hackney-Coach, he was turn'd over in
+_Cheap-side_, and striking the filthy Coach-man, the nasty Mob came out,
+and had almost kill'd him, but for a young Gentleman, a Stranger, that
+came to his Rescue, and whom he has brought to kiss your Ladyship's
+Hands--But I'll instruct him in his Duty, he shall wait till your
+Ladyship is more at leisure--alas! he's already on the Stairs.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Mir._ Let him wait there--_Lejere_, 'tis necessary you depart, sure of
+my Heart, you cannot fear the rest; the Night is hasting on; trust me
+but some few Hours, and then, _Lejere_, I'll pay you back with Interest.
+
+_Geo._ All Blessings light on thee. But will your Lady Mother make no
+Discovery of my being here?
+
+_Mir._ She'd sooner pimp for me, and believe it a part of good
+Breeding:--away, I hear 'em coming.
+    [She puts him out at a back-Door.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_ peeping.
+
+L. _Blun._ He's gone--Sir _Morgan_, you may approach.
+
+    Enter Sir _Morgan_, pulling in the _Prince_, Sir _Merlin_, and a
+    _Page_ to the _Prince_.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Nay, as Gat shall save me, Sir, you shall see my Lady, or
+so, d'ye see, and receive the Thanks of the House.
+
+_Prince._ As Gat shall save me, Sir, I am sorry for it--another time,
+Sir: I have earnest business. Now, I am sure nothing worth seeing can
+belong to this litter of Fools.
+
+L. _Blun._ My Daughter is a Person of Quality, I assure you, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ I doubt it not, Madam--If she be of the same Piece--Send me a
+fair Deliverance.
+    [Sir _Morgan_ leads him to _Mirtilla_, he starts.
+  --Ha! What bright Vision's that?
+
+_Mir._ Heav'n! 'Tis the lovely Prince I saw in _Flanders_.    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Look how he stares--why, what the Devil ails he?
+
+Sir _Morg._ To her, Sir, or so, d'ye see, what a Pox, are you afraid of
+her?
+
+L. _Blun._ He's in Admiration of her Beauty, Child.
+
+_Prince._ By Heav'n, the very Woman I adore!    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Morg._ How d'ye, see, Sir, how do ye, ha, ha, ha?
+
+_Prince._ I cannot be mistaken; for Heav'n made nothing but young Angels
+like her!
+
+Sir _Morg._ Look ye, Page, is your Master in his right Wits?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sure he's in love, and Love's a devilish thing.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Sa, ho, ho, ho, where are you, Sir, where are you?
+
+_Prince._ In Heav'n!    [Puts him away.
+  Oh! do not rouse me from this charming Slumber, lest I shou'd wake,
+and find it but a Dream.
+
+Sir _Mer._ A plaguy dull Fellow this, that can sleep in so good Company
+as we are.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Dream--A Fiddle-stick; to her, Man, to her, and kiss her
+soundly, or so, d'ye see.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay; kiss her, Sir, kiss her--ha, ha, ha, he's very
+simple.
+
+_Prince._ Kiss her,--there's universal Ruin in her Lips.
+
+_Mir._ I never knew 'em guilty of such Mischiefs.
+
+Sir _Morg._ No, I'll be sworn, I have kist 'em twenty times, and they
+never did me harm.
+
+_Prince._ Thou kiss those Lips? impossible, and false; they ne'er were
+prest but by soft _Southern_ Winds.
+
+Sir _Morg._ _Southern_ Winds--ha, ha, lookye, d'ye see, Boy, thy
+Master's mad, or so, d'ye see--why, what a Pox, d'ye think I never kiss
+my Wife, or so, d'ye see.
+
+_Prince._ Thy Wife!--
+
+_Mir._ He will betray his Passion to these Fools: Alas, he's mad--and
+will undo my Hopes.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Thou mayst as well claim Kindred to the Gods; she's mine,
+a Kingdom shall not buy her from me.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Hay day, my Wife yours! look ye, as d'ye see, what, is it
+_Midsummer-moon_ with you, Sir, or so, d'ye see?
+
+_Mir._ In pity give him way, he's madder than a Storm.
+
+_Prince._ Thou know'st thou art, and thy dear Eyes confess
+it--a numerous Train attended our Nuptials, witness the Priest, witness
+the sacred Altar where we kneel'd--when the blest silent Ceremony was
+perform'd.
+
+_Mir._ Alas! he's mad, past all recovery mad.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Mad, say, poor Soul--Friend, how long has your Master been
+thus intoxicated?
+
+_Page._ He's mad indeed to make this Discovery.    [Aside.
+  Alas, Sir, he's thus as often as he sees a beautiful Lady, since he
+lost a Mistress, who dy'd in _Flanders_ to whom he was contracted.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Good lack--ay, ay, he's distracted, it seems.
+
+_Page._ See how he kneels to her! stand off, and do but mind him.
+
+_Mir._ Rise, Sir,--you'l ruin me--dissemble if you love--or you can
+ne'er be happy.
+    [In a low Voice, and raising him.
+
+_Prince._ My Transport is too high for a Disguise--give me some hope,
+promise me some Relief, or at your Feet I'll pierce a wounded Heart.
+
+_Mir._ Rise, and hope for all you wish: Alas, he faints--
+    [She takes him up, he falls upon her Bosom.
+
+_Page._ Hold him fast, Madam, between your Arms, and he'll recover
+presently. Stand all away.--
+
+_Prince._ Oh! tell me, wilt thou bless my Youth and Love? Oh! swear,
+lest thou shouldst break--for Women wou'd be Gods, but for Inconstancy.
+
+_Page._ See, he begins to come to himself again--keep off--
+
+_Mir._ You have a thousand Charms that may secure you--The Ceremony of
+my Nuptials is every Evening celebrated, the noise of which draws all
+the Town together; be here in Masquerade, and I'll contrive it so, that
+you shall speak with me this Night alone.
+
+_Prince._ So, now let my Soul take Air--
+
+L. _Blun._ What pity 'tis so fine a Gentleman shou'd be thus.
+
+_Mir._ You must be bringing home your Fops to me, and see what comes of
+it.
+    [As she passes out.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Fops! I thought him no more a Fop, than I do my own natural
+Cousin here.
+    [Ex. _Mir._ in Scorn.
+
+_Prince._ Where am I?    [The _Page_ has whispered him.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Why, here, Sir, here, at Sir _Morgan Blunder's_ Lodging in
+_Lincolns-Inn-Fields_.
+
+_Prince._ That's well, he has told me--Where have I been this long half
+hour, and more?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Nay, the Lord knows.
+
+_Prince._ I fancy'd I saw a lovely Woman.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Fancy'd--why, so you did, Man, my Lady _Mirtilla Blunder_.
+
+_Prince._ Methought I slept upon her snowy Bosom, and dreamt I was in
+Heaven, where I claim'd her.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Good lack aday--why, so you did, Sir, ha, ha, ha.
+
+_Prince._ And rav'd on Love; and talk'd abundance of Nonsense.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ha, ha, ha, by my Troth, and so you did, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ I ask your Pardon, Sir, 'tis an infirmity I have that ever
+takes me at the approach of a fine Woman, which made me so unwilling to
+see your Lady.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye, I ask your Pardon heartily, or so, d'ye see--and am
+sorry you are not in a Condition to visit her often.
+
+_Prince._ I shall be better when I am us'd to her; 'tis the first time
+only affects me.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Pray, Sir, be pleas'd to use your self to her, or so, d'ye
+see--she's a civil Person, and a Person of Quality before I marry'd her,
+d'ye see.
+
+L. _Blun._ My Son tells you Truth, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ Madam, I doubt it not, pray beg her Pardon, and do you give me
+yours.
+    [Bows and kisses her Hand and goes out.
+
+L. _Blun._ A most accomplish'd Person--
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. Another Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_ and _Teresia_, in Mens Clothes.
+
+_Oliv._ Well, the Ball does not begin these three Hours, and we'll
+divert our selves at my Aunt's Basset-Table, which you see is preparing;
+her natural Propensity to oblige both Sexes makes her keep a Bank on
+purpose to bring 'em together. There we shall see the old and the young,
+the ugly and the handsome, Fools that have Money, and Wits that have
+none; and if the Table affords nothing to please the Appetite, we'll
+abroad for Forage.
+
+    Enter Sir _Merlin_ pulling in _George_, follow'd by Sir _Morgan_,
+    Page and Footmen to _George_.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Nay, Sir, I am resolv'd you shall honour my Aunt's
+Basset-Table--
+
+_Geo._ My Aunt's Basset-Table? There may be Money stirring among these
+Fools, and Fortune may befriend me.
+    [Aside.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sir _Morgan_, pray know this worthy Gentleman, I have the
+honour to lodge in the House with him.
+    [They salute one another.
+  Sir, this is Sir _Morgan Blunder_, a Person of Quality in _Wales_,
+I assure you.
+
+_Geo._ I question it not, Sir, and am proud of the Honour of kissing
+your Hands.
+
+_Ter._ Yonder's a handsom Gentleman.
+
+_Oliv._ My Brother _George_, as I live, 'tis as I cou'd wish.
+    [Aside.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_.
+
+_Wel._ _Lejere!_
+
+_Geo._ _Welborn!_ Welcome from _Paris_, I heard of your arrival from
+Prince _Frederick_.
+
+_Wel._ Yes, I am come to my Destruction, Friend.
+
+_Geo._ Ay, thou'rt to be marry'd, I hear, to a _Welch_ Fortune.
+
+_Wel._ Though Matrimony be a sufficient Curse, yet that's not the
+worst--I am fall'n most damnably in love, since I arriv'd, with a young
+Creature I saw in the _Mall_ t'other Night; of Quality she was, I dare
+swear, by all that was about her; but such a Shape! a Face! a Wit!
+a Mind, as in a moment quite subdu'd my Heart: she had another Lady with
+her, whom (dogging her Coach) I found to be a Neighbour of mine, and
+Grand-Daughter to the Lady _Youthly_; but who my Conqueror was I never
+since could learn.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Slife, _Teresia_, yonder's the handsom Fellow that entertain'd
+us with so much Wit, on _Thursday_ last in the _Mall_.
+
+_Ter._ What, when you chang'd your Breeches for Petticoats at my
+Lodgings.
+
+_Oliv._ That Night, and ever since, I have felt a sort of a Tendre for
+him.
+
+_Ter._ As I do for his Friend--Pray Heav'n he be not marry'd! I fear he
+has laid an Imbargo on my Heart, before it puts out of the Port.
+
+_Geo._ Are you not for the Basset?
+
+_Wel._ No, I've business at the Ball to night; besides, my Lady
+_Blunder_ has a Quarrel to me for last Night's Debauch; I'll wait on you
+in the Morning.
+    [Exit _Welborn_.
+
+_Geo._ Well, you to your Business, and I to mine.
+    [Speaks as the rest go out.
+  Let the dull trading Fool by Business live,
+  Statesmen by Plots; the Courtier cringe to thrive;
+  The Fop of Noise and Wealth be cullied on,
+  And purchase no one Joy by being undone,
+  Whilst I by nobler careless ways advance,
+  Since Love and Fortune are acquir'd by Chance.
+
+    [Exeunt Omnes.
+
+_The End of the Second Act._
+
+
+A Song, sung by Sir _Rowland_ in the second Act.
+
+  To _TERESIA_.
+
+  _Though the Young prize _Cupid's_ Fire,
+  'Tis more valu'd by the Old;
+  The Sun's Warmth we now admire,
+  More than when the Season's cold._
+
+  _Dialogues in the Masque, at the beginning of the third Act._
+
+  _He._ Time and Place you see conspire,
+  With tender Wishes, fierce Desire;
+  See the willing Victim stands
+  To be offer'd by your Hands:
+  Ah! Let me on Love's Altars lying,
+  Clasp my Goddess whilst I'm dying.
+
+  _She._ Oh Lord! what hard words, and strange things d'ye say;
+  Your Eyes too seem closing, and just dying away:
+  Ah! pray what d'ye want? Explain but your mind,
+  Which did I but know, perhaps I'd be kind.
+
+  _He._ My pretty soft Maid, full of innocent Charms,
+  I languish to sigh out my Soul in thy Arms;
+  Oh! then, if I'm lov'd, deny not the Bliss,
+  But tell me I'm happy, with a ravishing Kiss.
+
+  _She._ Oh! Fy, Sir, I vow I cannot endure you;
+  Be civil, or else I'll cry out I assure you;
+  I will not be kiss'd so, nor tumbled, not I,
+  I'll tell all your tricks, that I will, if I die.
+
+  _He._ Nay, never dissemble, nor smother that Fire;
+  Your Blushes, and Eyes betray your Desire.
+  The Practis'd, not Innocent, dally with Bliss,
+  Then prithee be kind, and taste what it is.
+
+  _She._ Let me die now, you're grown a strange sort of a Man,
+  To force a young Maid, let her do what she can;
+  I fear now I blush to think what we're doing,
+  And is this the end of all you Men's wooing?
+
+  _He._ At this Pleasure all aim, both Godly and Sinners,
+  And none of 'em blush for't but poor young Beginners.
+  In Pleasure both Sexes, all Ages agree,
+  And those that take most, most happy will be.
+
+  _Chorus_. In Pleasure both Sexes, &c.
+
+
+
+
+ACT III.
+
+
+SCENE I. A rich Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_ as a Man, _Teresia_ in Masquerade; the Scene
+    opens, and discovers Lady _Youthly_, Lady _Blunder_, _Mirtilla_,
+    _Manage_, Prince _Frederick_ in a rich Habi, _Welborn_ in one like
+    his, with a Cloke over him, stands aside, and several others of
+    both Sexes.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, my dear _Teresia_, I'm lost in Love! I've seen a Man,--or
+rather 'tis an Angel! so gay, so soft, so charming, and so witty; so
+dress'd! so shap'd! and danc'd with such an Air!
+
+_Ter._ Hey day! Prithee where's this Wonder to be seen?
+
+_Oliv._ Why dost thou ask? Hast thou not seen a Man of Dress, and
+Movement of uncommon Fashion?
+
+_Ter._ A great many, very odd, and fantastick, I'm sure my dear Man is
+none of 'em.
+    [Sighs.
+
+_Oliv._ Thy Heart when fir'd burns easily, and soft, but I am all
+impatient, Darts, and Flames, and all the effects of Love are panting in
+my Heart, yet never saw his Face: but see, he comes, and I must find a
+way to let him know the mischiefs he has done.
+
+_Mir._ _Endimion_, where's Sir _Morgan_?
+
+_Oliv._ At his usual Diversion, Madam, drinking.
+
+_Mir._ Do you wait near me to Night, I may perhaps have kinder Business
+for you e'er the Morning.
+
+_Oliv._ You heap too many Blessings on me, Madam.
+
+_Prince._ Oh, turn thy lovely Eyes upon thy Slave, that waits and
+watches for a tender Look.
+
+_Mir._ Oh, Sir, why do you press a yielding Heart too much, undone by
+what you've said already?
+
+_Oliv._ Those soft Addresses must be those of Love.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ My Honour was in danger when I promis'd--and yet I blush to tell
+you I was pleas'd, and blest the dear necessity that forc'd me.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha! 'tis the Man I love--and courts _Mirtilla_, and she receives
+him with inviting Looks. 'Sdeath, she's a common Lover! already I'm
+arriv'd to Jealousy!
+
+    Enter _George_ in Masquerade, with a Paper on his Back and Breast,
+    goes to _Mirtilla_, sees one courting her.
+
+_Geo._ What gilded thing is that?--I must disturb 'em--'Tis I,
+_Mirtilla_, languishing for the appointed Happiness, while you, perhaps,
+are taken up with different Thoughts--
+
+_Mir._ _Lejere!_ How very feeble do old Lovers charm! Only the new and
+gay have pow'r to warm--How shall I put him off? For now my ambitious
+Love declares for _Frederick_; 'tis great to enslave a Prince.
+    [Aside.
+  --_Lejere_--wait till I give the word--perhaps it may be late--go mix
+your self i'th' Crowd, you may be else suspected--
+    [Goes from him.
+
+_Ter._ I have a shreud guess that this should be my Man by his Shape,
+and Mein.
+    [Looking round about _George_.
+  Let me see--What's this written on his Back?--To be lett ready
+furnish'd--
+    [Reading it.
+  A very good hearing: So ho, ho, ho, who's within here?
+    [Claps him on the Back.
+
+_Geo._ Who's there?    [Exit _Olivia_.
+
+_Ter._ Love and Fortune.
+
+_Geo._ Two very good Friends of mine, prithee who art thou that bring'st
+'em?
+
+_Ter._ A wandring Nymph, that has had a swinging Character of your
+Person and Parts--if thou be'st the Man, prithee, dear Stranger, let me
+see thy Face; and if I'm not mistaken, 'tis ten to one, but we may go
+near to strike up some odd Bargain or other.
+
+_Geo._ And I am as likely a Fellow for some odd Bargain or other, as
+ever you met with--Look ye, am I the Man?
+
+_Ter._ Let me see--a very handsome Face, inclining to round; fine wanton
+Eyes, with a plaguy Roguish Lear; plump, round, red Lips; not tall, nor
+low, and extremely well fashion'd.
+    [Reads all this in her Tablets.
+  --Ay, ay, you are the Man--
+
+_Geo._ I am glad on't, and prithee, dear Creature, let me see if thou
+art not the Woman--
+
+_Ter._ Heav'n! what Woman, Sir?
+
+_Geo._ Why, any Woman that's pretty, witty, young, and good-natur'd.
+
+_Ter._ I had rather shew anything almost than my Face.
+
+_Geo._ Faith, and that's kind; but every thing in its due time: I love
+to arrive at Happiness by degrees, there's as much Pleasure in the
+Journey of Love, as in the Arrival to't, and the first Stage is a
+handsom Face.
+
+_Ter._ Where you bait a while, take a short Survey, and away.
+
+_Geo._ To Wit, and good Humour; where a Man finds Pleasure enough to
+engage him a long while.
+
+_Ter._ Then to all the small Villages, call'd little Freedoms, Kissing,
+Playing, Fooling, Sighing, Dying--and so on to the last Stage, where
+Whip and Spur laid by, all tir'd and dull, you lazily lie down and
+sleep.
+
+_Geo._ No, I'm a more vigorous Lover: And since in the Country of True
+Love there remains a _Terra Incognita_, I shall always be making new
+Discoveries.
+
+_Ter._ True Love! is there such a thing in the whole Map of Nature?
+
+_Geo._ Yes, I once discover'd it in my Voyage round the World.
+
+_Ter._ Sure 'tis some enchanted Place, and vanishes as soon as 'tis
+approach'd.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_.
+
+_Geo._ Faith, let's set out for it, and try; if we lose our Labour, we
+shall, like Searchers for the Philosophers Stone, find something that
+will recompense our pains.--
+    [Lady _Youthly_ sees her, and sends her Woman to take her from
+    him.
+  Ha, gone--I must not part so with you--I'll have you in my Eye.
+    [The _Spanish_ Dance: Whilst they dance, the _Prince_ talks to
+    _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Mir._ This Night gives you an Assignation--I tremble at the
+thought--Ah, why will you pursue me thus to Ruin? Why with resistless
+Charms invade my Heart, that cannot stand their Force--alone--without my
+Woman?--the Enterprize with you would be too dangerous.
+
+_Prince._ Dangerous to be ador'd! and at your Feet behold your Slave
+making eternal Vows?
+
+_Mir._ If I were sure that you would pass no further--
+
+_Prince._ Let the fond God of Love be my Security--will you not trust a
+Deity?
+
+_Mir._ Whom should she trust, that dares not trust her self?
+
+_Geo._ That is some Lover, whom I must observe.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Alas, the Foe's within that will betray me, Ambition, and our
+Sex's Vanity--Sir, you must prevail--
+
+_Prince._ And in return, for ever take my Soul.
+
+_Mir._ Anon I'll feign an Illness, and retire to my Apartment, whither
+this faithful Friend shall bring you, Sir.
+    [Pointing to _Manage_.
+
+_Geo._ Hum!--that looks like some Love Bargain, and _Manage_ call'd to
+Witness. By Heav'n, gay Sir, I'll watch you.
+
+_Ter._ But hark ye, my Fellow-Adventurer, are you not marry'd?
+
+_Geo._ Marry'd--that's a Bug-word--prithee if thou hast any such Design,
+keep on thy Mask, lest I be tempted to Wickedness.
+
+_Ter._ Nay, truth is, 'tis a thousand pities to spoil a handsom man, to
+make a dull Husband of: I have known an old batter'd Bully of Seventy,
+unmarry'd, more agreeable for a Gallant, than any scurvy,
+out-of-humour'd Husband at Eight and Twenty.
+
+_Geo._ Gad, a thousand times.
+
+_Ter._ Know, I have Five Hundred Pounds a Year.
+
+_Geo._ Good.
+
+_Ter._ And the Devil and all of Expectations from an old Woman.
+
+_Geo._ Very good.
+
+_Ter._ And this Youth, and little Beauty to lay out in love.
+    [Pulls off her Mask.
+
+_Geo._ _Teresia!_ the lovely Maid design'd for my Mother! now, what a
+Dog am I? that gives me the greater Gust to her, and wou'd fain cuckold
+my Father.
+    [Talks to her aside. _Mirtilla_ seems to faint.
+
+_Man._ My Lady faints--help, help.
+
+_Mir._ Only the Heat oppresses me--but let it not disturb the Company,
+I'll take the Air a little, and return.
+    [Goes out with _Manage_.
+
+_Geo._ Is this design'd or real?--perhaps she is retir'd for me--Mrs.
+_Manage_.--
+    [_Manage_ re-enters, he pulls her by the Sleeve.
+
+_Man._ Hah! Monsieur _Lejere_! what shall I feign to put him off withal.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Geo._ Why dost thou start? How does my dear _Mirtilla_?
+
+_Man._ Reposing, Sir, awhile, but anon I'll wait on her for your
+admittance.
+    [Prince _Frederick_ puts on _Welborn's_ Cloke, goes out, and
+    _Welborn_ enters into the Company dress'd like the _Prince_.
+
+_Geo._ Ha, she spoke in passing by that gay thing--What means it, but
+I'll trace the Mystery.
+
+Sir _Row._ The young People are lazy, and here's nothing but gaping and
+peeping in one another's Vizards; come, Madam, let you and I shame 'em
+into Action.
+    [Sir _Rowland_ and Lady _Youthly_ dance. After the Dance, _Olivia_
+    enters with a Letter, and gives it to _Welborn_.
+
+_Wel._ Ha! what's this, Sir, a Challenge?
+
+_Oliv._ A soft one, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ A Billet--whoever the Lady be,    [Reads.
+  She merits something for but believing I am worth her Mirth.
+
+_Oliv._ I know not, Sir, how great a Jest you may make of it; but I
+assure you the Lady is in earnest, and if you be at leisure to hear
+Reason from her--
+
+_Wel._ Fair and softly, my dear Love-Messenger, I am for no hasty
+Bargains; not but I shou'd be glad to hear Reason from any of the
+Sex--But I have been so damnably jilted--Is she of Quality?
+
+_Oliv._ Yes.
+
+_Wel._ Then I'll not hear any thing from her: they are troublesome, and
+insolent; and if she have a Husband, to hide her Intrigues she has
+recourse to all the little Arts and Cunnings of her Sex; and she that
+jilts her Husband, will her Lover.
+
+_Oliv._ She is not troubled with a Husband, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ What, she's parted from the Fool! then she's expensive, and for
+want of Alimony, jilts all the believing Block-heads that she meets
+with.
+
+_Oliv._ But this is a Maid, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ Worse still! At every turn she's raving on her Honour; then if
+she have a Kinsman, or a Brother, I must be challeng'd.
+
+_Oliv._ Sir, you mistake, my Lady is for Matrimony.
+
+_Wel._ How!
+
+_Oliv._ You have not forsworn it, I hope.
+
+_Wel._ Not so--but--
+
+_Oliv._ If a Lady, young and handsom, and Ten Thousand Pounds--
+
+_Wel._ Nay, I am not positive--
+
+    Enter Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, drunk, singing.
+
+  _Wise Coxcombs be damn'd, here's a health to the Man,
+  That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
+
+Sir _Morg._ Where is my Lady _Mirtilla_, Rogues?
+
+Sir _Mer._ And my Mistress, Rascals? For we are resolv'd to shew our
+selves in Triumph to our Wives and Mistresses.
+
+L. _Youth._ Your Mistress, Sir _Merlin_? mistake not your Mark.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ha! Art thou there, old Cathedral? Why, thou look'st as
+magnificiently as old Queen _Bess_ in the _Westminster_-Cupboard.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye as de see, when _Adam_ wore a Beard, she was in her
+Prime, or so, de see.
+    [Sings.
+
+L. _Youth._ Sir, you are a saucy _Jack_, and your Father shall correct
+you.
+
+Sir _Mer._ My Father! my Father's an old Toast, de see; and I hope to
+see him hang'd.
+
+Sir _Row._ Here's a Heathen-Christian! see his Father hang'd!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, hang'd, and all the old Fathers in _Christendom_. Why,
+what a Pox shou'd Fathers trouble the World for? when I come to reign in
+Parliament, I will enact it Felony, for any Father to have so little
+Grace to live, that has a Son at Years of Discretion.
+
+Sir _Row._ A damn'd Rogue, I'll disinherit him immediately.
+
+L. _Blun._ Is it so great a Crime, Brother, for a Gentleman to be drunk?
+
+Sir _Mer._ You lye like a Son of a Whore--I have been drinking Confusion
+to all the Fathers and Husbands in _England_.
+
+Sir _Morg._ How, Sir, Confusion to Husbands! Look ye, de see, Sir,
+swallow me that Word, or I'll make you deposit all the conjugal Wine you
+have drunk.
+
+Sir _Mer._ I deposit all your Wine! Sirrah, you're a Blunderbuss.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Sirrah, you are a diminutive Bully.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you're the Whore of _Babylon_, and I defy you.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, I scorn to draw upon a drunken Man, or so,
+I being sober; but I boldly challenge you into the Cellar, where thou
+shalt drink till thou renounce thy Character, or talk Treason enough to
+hang thee, and that's fair and civil.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Agreed; and when I'm drunk enough to ravish, I'll cuckold my
+old Dad, and fight him for his Mistress.
+
+Sir _Row._ I have no Patience; I'll kill the Dog, because I'll have the
+Law on my side--Come on, Sir.
+    [Draws, the Ladies run out. Sir _Merlin_ draws. _George_ runs in
+    and parts 'em.
+
+_Geo._ Villain! Rascal! What, draw upon thy Father!
+
+Sir _Row._ Pray, Sir, who are you? that I may thank you for my Life.
+
+_Geo._ One, Sir, whose Duty 'twas.    [Pulls off his Vizard.
+
+Sir _Row._ What, my dear _George_!--I'll go and cut off the Intail of my
+Estate presently, and thou shalt have it all, Boy, thou shalt--
+
+    [Exeunt all but _George_.
+
+_Geo._ Fortune is still my Friend: Had but Mirtilla been so! I wonder
+that she sends not to me: my Love's impatient, and I cannot wait--while
+the dull Sot is boozing with his Brother-Fools in the Cellar, I'll
+softly to the Chamber of my Love--Perhaps she waits me there--
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE II. _A Chamber, and Alcove, discovers _Mirtilla_ and Prince
+_Frederick_._
+
+_Prince._ Oh! I am ravish'd with excess of Joy.
+
+_Mir._ Enough, my charming Prince! Oh, you have said enough.
+
+_Prince._ Never, my _Mirtilla_!
+
+The Sun that views the World, nor the bright Moon, that favours Lovers
+Stealths, shall ever see that Hour. Vast, as thy Beauties, are my young
+Desires; and every new Possession kindles new Flames, soft as thy Eyes,
+soft as thy tender Touches; and e'er the Pantings of my Heart are laid,
+new Transports, from new Wishes, dance about it, and still remain in
+Love's harmonious Order.
+    [Kisses and embraces her.
+
+    Enter _George_, softly.
+
+_Geo._ This House I know, and this should be her Bed-Chamber, because
+the best; and yet methought I heard another Voice--but I may be
+mistaken.
+
+_Prince._ I faint with Pleasure of each tender Clasp; I sigh, and
+languish, gazing on thy Eyes! and die upon thy Lips, with every Kiss.
+
+_Geo._ Surely I know that Voice! Torments, and Hell!--but 'tis
+impossible.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Oh! satisfy my Doubt, my trembling Doubt! Am I belov'd? Have I
+about me ought engaging to thee, Charmer of my Soul?
+
+_Geo._ It is the Prince.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Ah, Prince! Can you such needless Questions ask, after the
+Sacrifice which I have made?
+
+_Geo._ Hell take thee for that Falshood.    [Draws.
+
+_Mir._ Think not the mighty Present of your Jewels, enough to purchase
+Provinces, has bought one single Sigh, or Wish: No, my dear Prince, you
+owe 'em all to Love, and your own Charms.
+
+_Geo._ Oh, damn'd, dissembling Jilt!    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ No more, no more, my Soul's opprest with Joy: let me unload it
+in thy tender Arms, and sigh it out into thy ravishing Bosom.
+
+_Geo._ Death, and Damnation!--
+
+I shall forget his Quality and Virtue, forget he was my Friend, or sav'd
+this Life; and like a River, swell'd with angry Tides, o'erflow those
+Banks that made the Stream so gay.
+
+_Mir._ Who's there?--I heard a Voice--_Manage_?
+
+_Geo._ Yes.    [Softly.
+
+_Prince._ Approach, thou Confident of all my Joys; approach, and be
+rewarded--
+    [_Prince_ takes his Jewel from his Hat.
+
+_Geo._ Yes, for my excellent Bauding--By Heav'n, I dare not touch his
+princely Person.
+
+_Prince._ Where art thou? take this Jewel and retire.
+    [Gropes for his Hand, gives it him.
+
+_Geo._ E'en my Misfortunes have a sort of Luck; but I'll withdraw, for
+fear this Devil about me shou'd raise my too rash Hand against his Life.
+    [Exit.
+
+_Prince._ Come, my eternal Pleasure--each Moment of the happy Lover's
+Hour, is worth an Age of dull, and common Life.
+
+    [Exeunt into the Alcove, the Scene shuts.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Garden by Night still.
+
+    Enter _George_ with his Sword in his Hand, as before.
+
+_Geo._ Why do I vainly call for Vengeance down, and have it in my
+Hand?--By Heav'n, I'll back--Whither? To kill a Woman, a young perjur'd
+Woman!--Oh, ye false Fair Ones! shou'd we do you Justice, a universal
+Ruin wou'd ensue; not one wou'd live to stock the World anew. Who is't
+among ye All, ye Fair Deceivers, ye charming Mischiefs to the noble
+Race, can swear she's Innocent, without Damnation? No, no, go on--be
+false--be fickle still: You act but Nature--But, my faithless
+Friend--where I repose the secrets of my Soul--except this one--Alas! he
+knew not this:--Why do I blame him then?
+
+    Enter _Olivia_, dress'd as before.
+
+_Oliv._ Fire! Fire! Fire!
+
+_Geo._ _Olivia's_ Voice!--Ha! what art thou? Thy Voice shou'd be
+_Olivia's_, but thy Shape--and yet a Woman is all o'er Disguise.
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_ in her Night-Gown.
+
+L. _Blun._ Fire! Fire! Fire! My Son, my dear Sir _Morgan._
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_, and Servants.
+
+Sir _Row._ A Pox on your Son, and mine to boot; they have set all the
+Sack-Butts a Flaming in the Cellar, thence the Mischief began.
+_Timothy_, _Roger_, _Jeffrey_, my Money-Trunks, ye Rogues! my
+money-Trunks!
+
+L. _Blun._ My Son, good _Roger_! my own Sir _Moggy_!
+
+Sir _Row._ The ten thousand Pounds, ye Rascal, in the Iron Trunk, that
+was to be paid Mr. _Welborn_ for _Olivia's_ Portion.
+    [Exit.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh my Son! my Son!--run to the Parson, _Sam_, and let him
+send the Church-Buckets. Oh, some help! some help!
+
+    Enter _Manage_.
+
+_Man._ Oh, Heavens! my Lady _Mirtilla's_ Chamber's all on Flame.
+
+    Enter _Britton_.
+
+_Geo._ Ha,--the Prince! I had forgot his Danger.
+
+_Man._ Ah! look up, and see how it burns.
+
+_Geo._ _Britton_, a Million for a Ladder!
+
+_Man._ Blessing on you, Sir, if you dare venture through the House;
+there lies one in the Fore-Garden.
+
+_Britt._ The Passage is on fire, Sir, you cannot go.
+
+_Geo._ Revenge is vanish'd, and Love takes its place: Soft Love, and
+mightier Friendship seizes all. I'll save him, though I perish in the
+Attempt.
+    [Runs out, _Britton_ after him.
+
+    Enter at another Door, Sir _Rowland_.
+
+L. _Blun._ A thousand Pound for him that saves Sir _Morgan_!
+
+Sir _Row._ And, do ye hear, let my Rogue lie; I'd rather he should be
+burnt, than hang'd on _Tyburn_ Road, for murdering his Father.--But
+where's Boy _George_?
+
+    Enter Men with Trunks.
+
+_Rog._ Safe, Sir, I hope; he was not in the House.
+
+Sir _Row._ So, so, away with these Trunks to my Lady _Youthly's_ in
+_Southampton_-Square, and tell her we must trouble her to night. Come,
+Sister, let's away.
+
+    [Ex. Lady _Blunder_, and Sir _Rowland_.
+
+    Prince _Frederick_ and _Mirtilla_, appear at the Window, the
+    Flame behind 'em.
+
+_Prince._ Help, help, and save _Mirtilla_! Ask any Price, my Life, my
+Fortune! All!
+
+_Mir._ Oh, Heav'ns, the Flame pursues us as we fly.
+
+_Prince._ No help! Oh Gods, I shall prevent the Flame, and perish by my
+Fears to see you die!
+
+_Mir._ Alas! Sir, you with ease may save your Life! This Window you may
+leap, but I want Courage.
+
+_Prince._ No, my _Mirtilla_, if it be thy Fate, I'll grasp thee, ev'n in
+Flames, and die with thee.
+
+_Mir._ We die! we die! the Flame takes hold of us.
+
+    Enter _George_ with a Ladder, and puts it to the Window.
+
+_Prince._ Ha! some pitying God takes care of us. Haste, haste, my
+Charmer; Heav'n has sent us Aid.
+
+    [Puts her on the Ladder, she descends into _George's_ Arms; after
+    her, the _Prince_. _George_ puts her into _Manage's_ Arms, she
+    faints; he runs up to receive the _Prince_.
+
+_Prince._ _Lejere!_ dear Man of Luck--Some happy Star reign'd at thy
+glorious Birth; every thing is prosperous thou espousest.--How fares my
+Love, the Treasure of my Soul?
+
+_Man._ Only fainting with the Fright, but she recovers.
+
+_Prince._ My Chair there, quickly, that waits for me.--
+
+    Enter Chair; he puts her, and _Manage_ into it.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_.
+
+Carry 'em to Mr. _Welborn's_, to my Lodgings there, and then return to
+me; for I am wondrous faint, and cannot walk.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha! by my Life, my Man!
+
+_Prince._ But if I might impose so much, _Lejere_, upon thy Friendship,
+I beg thou wouldst see her safely carry'd to my Lodgings at _Welborn's_.
+
+_Geo._ You shall command me, Sir.
+
+    [Exeunt Chair, _George_ and _Britton_.
+
+_Oliv._ You seem not well, Sir, pray repose upon my Arm a while.
+
+_Prince._ I thank you, Sir, indeed I am not well.
+
+_Oliv._ Methinks I find a Pleasure but in touching him--Wou'd I cou'd
+see his Face by all this fatal Light.
+
+    Enter _Constable_ and Watch.
+
+_Const._ So, so, the Fire abates, the Engines play'd rarely, and we have
+Ten Guineas here, Neighbours, to watch about the House; for where
+there's Fire, there's Rogues--Hum, who have we here?--How now, Mr.--Hum,
+what have you got under your Arm there, ha? Take away this Box of
+Jewels.
+    [Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_, creeping out of the Cellar
+    Window.
+  Ha, who have we here creeping out of the Cellar-Window? more Rogues!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sirrah! you're a Baud, Sirrah! and for a Tester will wink at
+the Vices of the Nation, Sirrah! Call men of the best Quality Rogues!
+that have stood for Knights of the Shire, and made the Mobile drunk,
+Sirrah!
+
+_Const._ We cry you Mercy, Sir, we did not know your Worships.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Lookye, de see, here's a Crown for you; carry us to the next
+Tavern, and we'll make thee, and all thy Mirmidons, as drunk as a Boat
+in a Storm.
+
+_Oliv._ Sir, I find you have Interest with these arbitrary Tyrants of
+the Parish; pray will you bail me, and this Gentleman?
+
+Sir _Mer._ What, _Endimion_! my Lady _Mirtilla's_ Page? He lent me Money
+to Night at the Basset-Table; I'll be bound Hand and Foot for him, Mr.
+Constable, and, gad, we'll all to the Tavern, and drink up the Sun,
+Boys.
+
+_Oliv._ Yonder Gentleman too has receiv'd some hurt by the Fire, and
+must go home, Sir; but you must restore him the Box, Mr. Constable.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Ay, ay, lookye, de see, return the Gentleman all; they're
+Gentlemen, and our intimate Friends, d'ye see.
+
+    [Exeunt _Prince_, and _Olivia_.
+
+    Enter a _Servant_.
+
+_Const._ Stand: Who goes there?
+
+Sir _Morg._ _Philip_--Lookye, d'ye see, he shall along with us to the
+Tavern.
+
+_Serv._ Sir _Morgan_, I came to seek you: your Lady Mother sent me back
+on purpose; she has spoil'd her Beauty with crying for you.
+
+Sir _Morg._ And wash'd off all her Paint?--Or so, de see! Gad sa' me,
+_Philip_, this is ill Luck. Come, let us go drink down Sorrow.
+
+_Serv._ Being sent of such an Errand, as your Safety, Sir, I dare not
+stay and drink now, before I've satisfy'd your Mother.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Not drink! I charge you in the King's Name, Mr. Constable,
+bring him along.
+    [The _Constable_ and Watch seize him.
+
+Sings.
+
+  _Wise Coxcombs be damn'd, here's a Health to the Man,
+  That since Life is but short, lives as long as he can._
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+
+
+ACT IV.
+
+
+SCENE I. _The _Prince's_ Lodgings_.
+
+  Enter Page with Lights, sets 'em on the Table.    [Ex.
+
+    Enter _Mirtilla_, led by Mrs. _Manage_.
+
+_Mir._ Ha! where am I, _Manage_?
+
+_Man._ Heav'n be thanked, Madam, at the Prince's Lodgings.
+
+_Mir._ What happy Star conducted us, and sav'd us from the Fury of the
+Flames?
+
+_Man._ Those whose Influence are always gracious to your Ladyship.
+
+_Mir._ But where's the Prince? where's my illustrious Lover?
+
+_Man._ Waiting the Return of the Chair, Madam.
+
+_Mir._ But my _Endimion_?--Is _Endimion_ safe?
+
+_Man._ Madam, he is: I saw him in the Garden.
+
+_Mir._ Then perish all the rest--Go send to search him out, and let him
+instantly be brought to me--Hah--_Lejere_.
+
+    Enter _George_.
+
+_Geo._ Baud, stand aside--and do your Office yonder--
+    [Puts away _Manage_.
+  Why are you frighted, Madam, because I'm not the Lover you expected?
+
+_Mir._ What Lover! be witness, Heaven--
+
+_Geo._ That thou art false, false as the insatiate Seas, that smiling
+tempt the vain Adventurer, whom flattering, far from any saving there,
+swell their false Waves to a destructive Storm.
+
+_Mir._ Why all this mighty Rage?--Because I disappointed you to night?
+
+_Geo._ No, by Heaven, I dully cou'd have waited for the Hour; have
+hop'd, and wish'd, and languish'd out an Age. But, oh _Mirtilla_! Oh
+thou perjur'd Fair!--But vanish all the Softness of my Soul, I will be
+satirical.
+
+  _A Plague, a Torment, to your fickle Sex,_
+  _Those smiling, sighing, weeping Hypocrites._
+
+_Mir._ And can you think my Flight is criminal? because I sav'd this
+worthless Life--for you--
+
+_Geo._ What Innocence adorns her Tongue, and Eyes! while Hell and Furies
+give her Heart its motion. You know not where you are?
+
+_Mir._ Perhaps I do not.
+
+_Geo._ Swear, for thou'rt damn'd already, and by what black Degrees I
+will unfold: When first I saw this gay, this glorious Mischief, though
+nobly born, 'twas hid in mean Obscurity; the shining Viper lay half dead
+with Poverty, I took it up, and laid it next my Heart, fed it, and
+call'd its faded Beauties back.
+
+_Mir._ Confess'd; And what of this?
+
+_Geo._ Confirm'd you mine, by all the Obligations Profuseness cou'd
+invent, or Love inspire.
+
+_Mir._ And yet at your Return you found me marry'd to another.
+
+_Geo._ Death and Hell! that was not yet the worst: You flatter'd me with
+some Pretence of Penitence; but on the Night, the dear destructive
+Night, you rais'd my Hopes to all distracting Love cou'd wish--that very
+Night--Oh, let me rave and die, and never think that Disappointment
+o'er!
+
+_Mir._ What, you saw me courted at the Ball, perhaps.
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps I saw it in your Chamber too. Breathless and panting,
+with new-acted Joys, the happy Lover lay--Oh _Mirtilla_!
+
+_Mir._ Nay, if he knows it, I'll deny't no more.    [Aside.
+
+_Geo._ There is no Honesty in all thy Kind.
+
+_Mir._ Or if there be, those that deal in't are weary of their Trade.
+But where's the mighty Crime?
+
+_Geo._ No, I expect thou shouldst out-face my Eyes, out-swear my
+Hearing, and out-lye my Senses.--The Prince! the Prince! thou faithless
+dear destruction.
+
+_Mir._ The Prince! good Heaven! Is all this Heat for him?
+
+_Geo._ Thou own'st the Conquest then?
+
+_Mir._ With as much Vanity as thou wouldst do, if thou hadst won his
+Sword: Hast thou took care wisely to teach me all the Arts of Life, and
+dost thou now upbraid my Industry? Look round the World, and thou shalt
+see, _Lejere_, Ambition still supplies the place of Love. The worn-out
+Lady, that can serve your Interest, you swear has Beauties that
+out-charms Fifteen; and for the Vanity of Quality, you feign and
+languish, lye, protest, and flatter--All Things in Nature cheat, or else
+are cheated.
+
+_Geo._ Well said; take off thy Veil, and shew the Jilt.
+
+_Mir._ You never knew a Woman thrive so well by real Love, as by
+Dissimulation: This has a thousand Arts and Tricks to conquer; appears
+in any Shape, in any Humour; can laugh or weep, be coy or play, by
+turns, as suits the Lover best, while simple Love has only one Road of
+Sighs and Softness; these to _Lejere_ are due: But all my Charms, and
+Arts of gay dissembling, are for the credulous Prince.--Ha--he's
+here!--and with him the dear Youth that has enslav'd me, who triumphs
+o'er the rest.
+    [Aside.
+
+    Enter Prince _Frederick_, _Olivia_ following, sees _Mirtilla_, and
+    withdraws.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha! _Mirtilla_, and my Brother here? Oh, how I long to see that
+Stranger's Face.
+    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, thou Charmer of Life's dull and tedious Hours, how
+fares thy Heart? Dwells any Pantings there, but those that Love, and his
+dear Joys create?
+
+_Mir._ Or if there do, you shou'd excuse it now.
+
+_Geo._ How many Devils reign in beauteous Woman!
+
+_Prince._ My dear _Lejere_, congratulate my Joys; take all my Friendship
+thou--but thou my Soul. Come, come, my Friend, let us retire together;
+I'll give thee leave to gaze upon my Heaven, and feed on all the Sweets
+that Friendship may: But all the rest of the vast Store is mine.
+
+_Man._ Madam, _Endimion_ is already here.    [Aside to her.
+
+_Mir._ Thou hast reviv'd me--Let him wait my Call.
+    [Exit _Prince_ with _Mirtilla_, _George_ goes out, and peeps at
+    the Door. _Olivia_ comes forward.
+
+_Oliv._ Spite, Spite, and dire Revenge seize my fond Soul!--Oh, that I
+were a Man, a loose leud Man; how easily wou'd I rob him of her Heart,
+and leave him but the shadow of Enjoyment!
+
+    Re-enter _George_.
+
+_Geo._ Now, my dear Sister, if thou ever lov'dst me, revenge thy Brother
+on this perjur'd Woman, and snatch her from this gallant Rival's Arms.
+She loves thee--Dissemble thou to love again; meet her Advances with an
+equal Ardour, and when thou hast wound her up to dalliance, I'll bring
+the Prince a witness of her Shame.
+
+_Oliv._ But what if he shou'd kill me--
+
+_Geo._ I'll take care of that.
+
+_Oliv._ Then e'er the morning dawns, you shall behold it: She languishes
+to see me, and I wait on purpose for her Commands.
+
+_Geo._ As I cou'd wish: Be sure to act the Lover well.    [Exit.
+
+_Oliv._ As well as I can act it.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_, habited as last.
+
+That all Mankind are damn'd, I'm positive; at least all Lovers are.
+
+_Wel._ What have we here? the Spark that rally'd me about a Woman at the
+Ball to night? Who is it, Sir, you curse so heartily.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha, how beautiful he is--how many Charms dwell in that lovely
+Face--
+    [Aside.
+  'Tis you I curse.
+
+_Wel._ Gad, I thank you for that, you were kinder to night, when you
+told me of a fine Woman that was in love with me.
+
+_Oliv._ Why, what have you to do with Woman-kind?
+
+_Wel._ A pretty civil Question; has the Lady that sent you a mind to be
+inform'd.
+
+_Oliv._ Or if she had, you're not at leisure now, you are taken up, Sir,
+with another Beauty. Did not you swear, never to speak to Woman-kind,
+till I had brought her, I told you, sigh'd for you?
+
+_Wel._ Right, and I have kept my word religiously.
+
+_Oliv._ The Devil you have, witness the Joy _Mirtilla_ gave your Soul:
+Even now you were all Transport, all Extasy of Love; by Heaven, you had
+forgot you brought me in, and past triumphant in _Mirtilla's_ Arms, Love
+in your Heart, and Pleasure in your Eyes.
+
+_Wel._ Ay, sure he mistakes me for the amorous Prince, and thus,
+perhaps, has mistook me all the Night: I must not undeceive him.
+    [Aside.
+  Whate'er you saw, I have a Heart unwounded, a Heart that never soundly
+loved, a little scratch it got the other day by a young Beauty in the
+_Mall_, her Name I know not, but I wish'd to know it, and dogg'd her
+Coach, I sigh'd a little after her, but since ne'er saw the lovely
+Vision.
+
+_Oliv._ Sure this was I.    [Aside.
+  What Livery had she, Sir?
+
+_Wel._ That I took notice of, 'twas Green and Gold--Since that, I trifle
+now and then with Love, to chase away this Image, and that's all.
+
+_Oliv._ Ha, now I view him well, 'tis the same handsome Fellow that
+entertain'd us in the _Mall_ last Thursday.
+
+_Wel._ Come, Sir, 'tis late, please you to take a Bed with me to Night,
+where we'll beget a better Understanding.
+
+_Oliv._ A better than you imagine--'Sdeath, to bed with him, I tremble
+at the thought--Sir, I do not love a Bedfellow.
+
+_Wel._ Sir, I have lent my Lodgings to a Stranger of Quality, or I wou'd
+offer you a single Bed--but for once you may dispense with a Bedfellow.
+
+_Oliv._ I will not put you to that trouble, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ Do you design to make me your Friend, and use me with Ceremony?
+Who waits there?
+
+    Enter Footman.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Slife, what shall I do? I cou'd even consent, to prevent his
+going to _Mirtilla_--besides, I have no home to go to--
+
+_Wel._ Come, no more Scruples--here--a Night-Gown and a Cap for the
+Gentleman.
+
+_Oliv._ What shall I do?--I have a little urgent Business, Sir.
+
+_Wel._ If there be absolute necessity, I'll see you to your Lodgings.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, by no means, Sir. 'Sdeath, whither can I go?
+
+_Wel._ Why do you pause? Deal freely with me, Sir, I hope you do not
+take me for a Lover of my own Sex-- Come, come to bed.
+
+_Oliv._ Go you, Sir, I'll sit and read by you till Day.
+
+_Wel._ 'Sdeath, Sir, d'ye think my bed's infectious?
+
+_Oliv._ I shall betray my Sex in my denial, and that at last I can but
+do if Necessity compel me to't.
+    [Aside.
+  Go on, Sir, you have shamed me.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+    Enter _Prince_ and _George_.
+
+_Prince._ And thus thou hast my whole Adventure out, short was the
+Conquest, but the Joys are lasting.
+
+_Geo._ I am glad on't, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ Why dost wear a Cloud upon thy brows, when Love's gay Sunshine
+dances in my Eyes? If thou'rt her Lover too, I pity thee; her solemn
+Vows breath'd in the height of Love, disarm me of thy hopes, if
+Friendship wou'd permit thee.
+
+_Geo._ I do not think it, Sir--
+
+_Prince._ Not think it, not think that she has sworn!
+
+_Geo._ Yes, doubtless, Sir--she's prodigal of Vows, and I dare swear, by
+all she's sworn by, she'll break 'em all: She has less Faith than all
+the fickle Sex, uncertain and more wanton than the Winds, that spare no
+Births of Nature in their wild course, from the tall Cedar to the
+Flowers beneath, but ruffle, ravish, and ruin all.
+
+_Prince._ I speak of my _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Geo._ Why, so do I--of yours, of mine, or any Man's _Mirtilla._
+
+_Prince._ Away, she that with force of Love can sigh and weep--
+
+_Geo._ This very she, has all the while dissembled! Such Love she deals
+to every gaudy Coxcomb, how will she practice then upon a Hero?
+
+_Prince._ Away, it cannot be.
+
+_Geo._ By all your Friendship to me, Sir, 'tis truth.
+
+_Prince._ Racks and Tortures!--let her have made of me a mere Example,
+by whom the cozen'd World might have grown wise: No matter, then I had
+been pleas'd, though cullyed--Why hast thou ruined my Repose with Truths
+that carry more Damnation than a Lye? But Oh--thou art my Friend, and I
+forgive thee.
+
+_Geo._ Sir, I have done, and humbly ask your Pardon.    [Offers to go.
+
+_Prince._ Stay, stay, _Lejere_,--if she be false, thou'rt all the World
+has left me; and I believe--but canst thou prove this to me?
+
+_Geo._ Perhaps I may before the Morning's dawn.
+
+_Prince._ Ha, prove it here--here, in this very House!
+
+_Geo._ Ay, here, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ What, in my Lodgings will she receive her Spark--by Heaven,
+were he the darling Son of a Monarch, an Empire's Hope, and Joy of all
+the Fair, he shou'd not live to rifle me of Peace.--Come, shew me this
+destin'd Victim to my Rage.
+
+_Geo._ No, my Revenge is only comical--If you wou'd see how Woman can
+dissemble, come on, and follow me.
+
+_Prince._ What, disturb her Rest! Didst thou not see her fainting with
+the Fatigues this Night had given her, and begg'd me I would leave her
+to Repose?
+
+_Geo._ Yes, and wonder'd at her Art; and when you begg'd to watch by her
+Bed-side, with what dear Promises she put you off; while every word fell
+feebly from her Tongue, as if't had been her last, so very sick she
+was--till you were gone--Hark--a Door opens--I will obscure the Lights.
+    [Puts away the Lights.
+
+    Enter _Olivia._ They retire a little.
+
+_Oliv._ Was ever Maid so near to being undone? Oh Heavens! in bed with
+the dear Man I love, ready to be betray'd by every Sigh.
+    [_George_ peeps.
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis _Olivia_.
+
+    Enter _Manage_ groping.
+
+_Man._ I left him here--what, by dark? _Endimion_, young, handsome Sir,
+where are you?
+    [Calls _Olivia_.
+
+_Geo._ Do you hear that, Sir?
+
+_Man._ Oh, are you here?--    [Runs against _Olivia_.
+
+_Oliv._ 'Slife, 'tis _Manage_--how shall I escape?--    [Aside.
+
+_Man._ Come, Sir, my Lady _Mirtilla_ has dismiss'd her troublesome
+Lovers, for your more agreeable Company.
+
+_Geo._ D'ye hear that, Sir?
+
+_Man._ Come softly on, Sir, and follow me.
+
+_Oliv._ I'm all Obedience--
+
+She cannot ravish me, and that's a Comfort.    [Aside, going out.
+
+_Prince._ Oh, _Lejere_--can this be possible? Can there be such a Woman?
+
+_Geo._ Follow him, Sir, and see--
+
+_Prince._ See what!--be witness of her Infamy? Hell! Hell, and all the
+Fires of Lust possess her! when she's so old and leud, all Mankind shun
+her.--I'll be a Coward in my own dire Revenge, and use no manly
+Mercy.--But oh, I faint, I faint with Rage and Love, which like two
+meeting Tides, swell into Storms.--Bear me a minute to my Couch within.
+
+_Geo._ What have I done! now I repent my Rashness.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE II. Draws off, discovers _Mirtilla_ at her Toylet, dress'd.
+
+    Enter _Manage_, leading _Olivia_ in as _Endymion_, who falls at
+    _Mirtilla's_ Feet, whilst she's there, sings a Song; she takes him
+    up.
+
+_Mir._ Rise,--When Lovers are alone they pardon Ceremony.--I sent for
+you to end the Night with me; say--how shall we employ it?
+
+_Oliv._ I'll sigh, and gaze upon your lovely Face.
+
+_Mir._ Nothing but sigh, and gaze; we shall grow dull.
+
+_Oliv._ I'll tell you Tales of Love, and sing you Songs.
+
+_Mir._ Thy Voice, 'tis true, can charm a thousand ways; but Lovers time
+their Joys, these for the Day, those for the lovely Night. And when they
+would be silently in love, have Musick of soft Sighs and gentler
+Whispers.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, Love inspires all this--What shall I do?    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Nay, think not because I sent for you alone, while Night and
+Silence favour Lovers Stealths, to take advantage of my yielding Heart.
+
+_Oliv._ I wou'd to Heaven she were in earnest now.
+
+    A Noise. Enter _Manage_.
+
+_Man._ Oh, hide your Favourite, Madam--do you hear.
+
+_Mir._ A jealous Lover only, comes in such a Storm--Dear, to my Heart,
+whose Safety is my Life. Submit to be conceal'd--but where--Oh Heavens,
+he comes--'Tis for you I fear--
+    [They search for a place.
+
+_Man._ He comes--
+
+_Mir._ Here, let my Train secure you--Till now I never found the right
+Use of long Trains and Farthingals.
+    [She kneels, _Man._ puts her Train over _Olivia_.
+
+    Enter _Prince_ and _George_, at the Door.
+
+_Geo._ 'Sdeath, you have made these Pauses and Alarms to give her time
+to jilt you.
+
+_Prince._ Pray Heaven she do--I'd not be undeceiv'd for all the Sun
+surveys.
+    [Enters.
+
+_Mir._ My Lord the Prince! now you are kind indeed.
+    [Goes and embraces him.
+  --hah! what means this Unconcern?
+
+_Prince._ I thought I'ad left you sick, extremely sick.
+
+_Mir._ And are you griev'd to find my Health return?
+
+_Prince._ No, wondrous glad of it. You're mighty gay, _Mirtilla_, much
+in Glory.
+
+_Mir._ Can he, who lays his Fortune at my Feet, think me too glorious
+for his Arms and Eyes?
+
+_Geo._ Fifty to one the Gipsy jilts him yet.    [Aside.
+
+_Prince._ Pray Heaven she lyes but handsomly--    [Aside.
+  --for mine, _Mirtilla_! Ha--ha--
+
+_Mir._ Am I not yours? You cannot doubt my Vows.
+
+_Geo._ She'll do't, and make me love her anew for her rare dexterity at
+dissembling.
+
+_Prince._ I left you wearied, going to your Bed, but find you at your
+Toylet gayly dress'd, as if some Conquest you design'd e'er morning.
+
+_Mir._ _Manage_, Sir, from the Fire, secur'd these Trifles, and I was
+trying several Dresses on; that this slight Beauty that you say has
+charm'd you, might, when you saw it next, complete the Conquest.
+
+_Geo._ And that thou wilt, if Flattery can do't.
+
+_Prince._ Now, were she guilty, as I'm sure she's not, this Softness
+would undo me, and appease me.
+
+_Mir._ You seem as if you doubted what I say.
+    [This while, _Olivia_ gets off unseen.
+  By all the Powers--
+
+_Prince._ Hold, I scorn to need an Oath to fix my Faith; Oh! thou art
+all divine, and canst not err.
+    [Embraces her.
+  Curs'd be the Tongue that dares profane thy Virtue, and curs'd the
+listning Fool that dares believe it.
+
+_Geo._ What a poor, wretched, baffled thing is Man, by feebler Woman
+aw'd and made a Coxcomb!
+
+_Mir._ Durst any one traduce my Virtue, Sir, and is it possible that you
+could hear it?--Then perish all the Beauties you have flatter'd.
+    [Tears her Head-things.
+
+_Prince._ Come to my Arms, thou Charmer of my Soul! and if one spark of
+Jealousy remain, one of those precious Tears shall quench the Crime--Oh,
+come, and let me lead thee to thy Bed, and breathe new Vows into thy
+panting Bosom.
+    [Leads her off, she looks back on _George_ and smiles.
+
+_Geo._ Now all the Plagues of injur'd Lovers wreck thee; 'Sdeath, where
+has she hid _Olivia_? or how am I deceiv'd?--'Tis Day, and with it new
+Invention rise to damn this Woman to the sin of Shame; break all the
+Chains that hold the princely Youth, and sink her with her fancy'd Power
+and Vanity.
+    [Exit.
+
+
+SCENE III. Changes to Lady _Youthly's_.
+
+    Enter Sir _Rowland_ half dress'd, Lady _Blunder_ in an Undress,
+    Lady _Youthly_ in her morning-dress, _Teresia_ and Mr. _Twang_.
+
+Sir _Row._ Morrow, my Lady _Youthly_, and thank you for my Night's
+Lodging--You are as early up as if it had been your Wedding-day.
+
+L. _Youth._ Truly, Sir _Rowland_, that I intend.
+
+Sir _Row._ But where's the Bride-groom, Madam?
+
+    Enter _Roger_.
+
+How now, _Roger_, what, no news yet of _George_?
+
+_Rog._ Alas! none, Sir, none, till the Rubbish be removed.
+
+Sir _Row._ Rubbish--What--what, is _George_ become the Rubbish of the
+World then?
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Twang._ Why, Man is but Dust, as a Man may say, Sir.
+
+L. _Blun._ But are you sure, _Roger_, my Jewel, my Sir _Moggy_ escap'd?
+
+_Rog._ The Watch drew him out of the Cellar-window, Madam.
+
+L. _Youth._ How, Mr. _Twang_, the young Gentleman burnt--Oh--
+    [Falls in a Chair.
+
+_Ter._ Alas! my Grandmother faints with your ill News.--Good Sir
+_Rowland_, comfort her, and dry your Eyes.
+
+Sir _Row._ Burnt, Madam! No, no, only the House fell on him, or so--
+    [Feigns Chearfulness, and speaks to Lady _Youthly_.
+
+L. _Youth._ How! the House fell on him--Oh!
+
+Sir _Row._ Ah, Madam, that's all; why, the young Rogue has a Back like
+an Elephant--'twill bear a Castle, Madam.
+
+L. _Youth._ Alas, good Man: What a Mercy 'tis, Mr. _Twang_, to have a
+Back like an Elephant!
+
+L. _Blun._ Of what wonderful Use it is upon occasion--
+
+Sir _Row._ Ay--but--but I shall never see him more, Back nor Breast.
+    [Weeps.
+
+_Twang._ Good Sir, discomfort not my Lady--Consider Man's a Flower--
+
+Sir _Row._ Ay, but _George_ was such a Flower! He was, Mr. _Twang_, he
+was the very Pink of Prentices. Ah! what a rare rampant Lord Mayor he
+wou'd have made! And what a swinging Sheriff--
+    [Cries.
+
+_Ter._ What, cry, so near your Wedding-day, Sir Rowland?
+
+Sir _Row._ Well, if he be gone--Peace be with him: and, 'Ifaks,
+Sweet-heart, we'll marry, and beget new Sons and Daughters--but--but I
+shall ne'er beget another _George_.
+    [Cries.
+
+_Ter._ This is but a Scurvy Tune for your hymenical Song, Sir.
+
+Sir _Row._ Alas! Mrs. _Teresia_, my Instrument is untun'd, and good for
+nothing now but to be hung upon the Willows.
+
+_Cry within._ Murder, Murder, Murder!
+
+    Enter Footman. Sir _Merlin_ with his Sword drawn, and Sir
+    _Morgan_.
+
+Sir _Row._ What's here, my Rogue?
+
+_Twang._ What's the matter, Gentlemen, that ye enter the House in this
+hostile manner?
+
+Sir _Morg._ What, Mr. _Twang_, de see!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay--stand by Divinity--and know, that we, the Pillars of
+the Nation, are come, de see--to ravish.
+
+L. _Blun._ Oh, my dear Sir Morgan.    [Embraces him.
+
+Sir _Morg._ I do not intend to ravish, like a _Jew_, in my own Tribe--
+
+L. _Youth._ What say they, Mr. _Twang_, ravish? Oh, save my Honour--lead
+me to my Bed-Chamber, where, if they dare venture to come, they come
+upon their Peril.
+    [_Twang_ leads her out. Sir _Morgan_ goes to _Ter._
+
+Sir _Mer._ Old Fellow, do'st hear? Sir _Pandarus_ of _Troy_, deliver me
+my _Cressida_, de see, peacefully, or I am resolved to bear her off _Vi
+& Armis_.
+
+L. _Blun._ Sweet Nephew, retire, we are just upon making your Peace.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ha--Old Queen _Gwiniver_, without her Ruff on?
+
+    [Sir _Merlin_ takes hold of her to bear her off; she cries out:
+    Sir _Rowland_ draws upon him. As they are going to fight, _George_
+    enters.
+
+_Geo._ Is there a Man in Nature's Race so vile, dares lift a guilty Hand
+against his Father?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Father me no Fathers; I fight for _Teresia_, my lawfully
+begotten Spouse.
+
+_Geo._ That I once called you Brother, saves your Life; therefore resign
+your Sword here at his reverend Feet.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Sirrah, you lye, Sirrah--
+
+_Geo._ There, drag away this Brute.    [Disarms him. To the Footman.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Rogues, Dogs, bring Mrs. _Teresia_ along with you.
+
+_Ter._ Sure this is my fine Fellow--and yet the very same that's to be
+married to my Grandmother; nor can that City Habit hide the Gentleman.
+    [_George_ speaks this while with his Father, who embraces him.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Burnt, say you, Mrs. _Teresia_, de see--my Lady _Mirtilla_
+burnt! Nay, then, 'tis time to go to sleep, get sober, and marry again.
+    [Goes out.
+
+Sir _Row._ Enough, my Boy, enough; thou deserv'st my whole Estate, and
+thou shalt have it, Boy--This day thou shalt marry the Widow, and I her
+Grand-child. I'll to my Lawyers, and settle all upon thee instantly.
+    [Goes out.
+
+_Geo._ How, marry to day--Old Gentleman, you must be cozen'd; and,
+Faith, that goes against my Conscience--Ha, the Fair, the Young
+_Teresia_ there--When a man's bent upon Wickedness, the Devil never
+wants an Opportunity to present him with, that she shou'd be in my way
+now--Fair Creature, are you resolv'd to be my Mother-in-law?
+
+_Ter._ As sure as you to be my Grandfather, Sir--And see--the News of
+your being come, has rais'd my Grandmother.
+
+    Enter _Lettice_, my Lady's maid, and Lady _Youthly_.
+
+_Geo._ A Pox upon her, her Ghost had been less frightful.
+
+_Ter._ I cou'd have spar'd her now too; but see she advances as swift as
+Time.
+
+_Geo._ And as old: What shall I do? I dye to speak with you--
+
+L. _Youth._ Where--where's this Young Welcome Gentleman--Oh, are you
+here, Sir--
+    [She sees him not, but runs upon him.
+  _Lettice_, take _Teresia_, and get you to your Chamber, she has her
+Trinkets to get ready against the Wedding anon, for we'll make but one
+work of both.
+
+_Ter._ Ay, 'twill save Charges, Madam--
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, ay, get you gone, Lovers sometimes wou'd be private.
+
+_Geo._ Heark ye--leave me not to her mercy, by Love, if you do, I'll
+follow you to your Chamber.
+
+_Ter._ Leave you! No, hang me if I do, till I have told you a piece of
+my mind, for I find there's no dallying.
+
+L. _Youth._ Well, Sir, I have finish'd the Great Work.
+
+_Geo._ I wish you had--_Teresia_, once you made me hope you did not hate
+me.
+
+L. _Youth._ What says he, _Teresia_?
+
+_Ter._ He says, he hopes you do not hate him, Madam.
+
+L. _Youth._ No, by my Troth, Sir; I feel something for you, I have not
+felt before.
+
+_Geo._ Not these Threescore Years, I dare swear--You have too much Wit,
+_Teresia_, to have been only pleas'd with the Embroider'd Coat, and
+Gawdy Plume, when still the man's the same.
+
+L. _Youth._ What says he, Embroider'd Coat and Plume?
+
+_Ter._ He hopes your Ladyship likes him ne'er the worse, for being
+without those Fopperies.
+
+L. _Youth._ Marry do I not, I love not this over-finery in a Husband;
+those Fellows that dress, think so well of themselves, they never mind
+their Wives.
+
+_Geo._ Are you so dull, _Teresia_, not to see, this Habit was put on,
+only to get an Opportunity to tell you my Passion?
+
+L. _Youth._ Tell me of his Passion! was it so, alas, good Young
+Man--Well, well, I'll defer your Joys no longer, this Night shall make
+you happy, Mr. _Twang_ shall join us, Sir.
+
+_Geo._ A blessed hearing--You see, Charming Maid, how very short a space
+there is between this and the hast'ning hour; stand not on Virgin
+Niceties, but answer me, our time admits of no Consideration.
+
+_Ter._ I have not been this Four and Twenty hours a Lover, to need
+Considering; as soon as you had my Heart, you had my Consent, and that
+was the first moment I saw you at the _Basset-Table_.
+
+_Geo._ Ha! at the Basset-Table!
+
+_Ter._ Yes, I was the frank Youth that lent you Money--but no more--your
+Time and Place.
+
+L. _Youth._ What are you prating to him there?
+
+_Ter._ He doubts your Love, Madam, and I'm confirming it.
+
+L. _Youth._ Alas, good Gentleman!--anon I'll convince him--for in the
+Ev'ning, Sir, the Priest shall make us one.
+
+_Geo._ Ah, Madam, I cou'd wish 'twere not so long defer'd, for sure I
+love you like a sighing Swain, and as a Proof of it, I have here
+prepar'd an Emblem of my Love in a Dance of Country Lovers, when Passion
+is sincere.
+
+L. _Youth._ Good-lack-a-day, indeed you're so obliging: But pray let us
+have the Dance.
+    [Dance.
+
+L. _Youth._ Very pretty indeed. Come, good Gentleman, don't droop, don't
+droop; come, hold up your Head--you may be allow'd one kiss beforehand.
+
+_Geo._ [Kisses her.] Oh, what a pestilential Blast was there!
+    [Aside.
+
+L. _Youth._ Come, come, _Teresia_, come with me.
+
+_Geo._ [to _Teresia_.] I'll send a Chair to your Back-gate anon, that
+shall wait you on the Field-side, and bring you whither I shall appoint.
+Get ready instantly.
+
+_Ter._ And if I fail, may I be eternally damn'd to the Embraces of old
+Age.
+
+    [Exeunt all but _George_.
+
+_Geo._ _Mirtilla_, thus thy Scorn I will out-brave, And let my Father
+the kind Cheat forgive;
+  _If I with dexterous charitable care_
+  _Ease him of Burdens he wants strength to bear._    [Exit.
+
+
+
+
+ACT V.
+
+
+SCENE I. _Welborn's_ Chamber.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_ dressing himself; to him a Footman with a Letter.
+
+_Wel._ Prithee what became of the Spark that lay with me last Night?
+
+_Foot._ I know not, Sir, he 'rose before day--What Letter's this, Sir?
+It lay upon your Toylet.
+    [Gives _Welborn_ a Letter.
+
+_Wel._ _To the dear Man whose Name I would be glad to know_--
+    [Reads.
+  Hum--a Woman's Hand--    [Opens it.
+
+  _The Lady you saw last _Thursday_ in the _Mall_, you had in Bed with
+you last Night. _Adieu_._
+
+Oh! dull Divinity of Love! that by no Instinct, no sympathizing Pains or
+Pleasure, could instruct my Sense, how near I was to Happiness!
+
+    Enter _George_, fine.
+
+--_Lejere_, behold me here the most unlucky Fellow breathing. Thou
+know'st I told thee how I was in love with a young Woman in the _Mall_:
+And this very Night I had this very Woman in my Arms.
+
+_Geo._ Is this your ill Luck, Sir?
+
+_Wel._ 'Sdeath, all the while I took her for a Man: But finding me
+asleep, she softly rose; and, by a Light yet burning in my Chamber, she
+writ this Billet, and left it on my Table.
+    [Gives it _George_, he reads it.
+
+_Geo._ By all that's good, _Olivia_!--And were you very honest, Sir?
+
+_Wel._ To my eternal Shame, as chaste as Ice.
+
+_Geo._ What will you say now, _Charles_, if I bring this Woman to you
+again?
+
+_Wel._ Canst thou? Oh, let me kiss thy Lips away.
+
+_Geo._ For all her Frolick, _Charles_, she's very honest, a Fortune, and
+of Quality--and were't not for _Olivia_, thou shouldst marry her.
+
+_Wel._ _Olivia_ I ne'er saw, and now 'twill be too late.
+
+_Geo._ Nay then, Sir, I must fight in her Defence.
+
+_Wel._ You fight in her defence! Why, dost thou love her?--By all that's
+good, I will resign her to thee.
+
+_Geo._ You shall not, Sir; and know she is my Sister.
+
+_Wel._ _Olivia_ thy Sister!--
+
+_Geo._ Ask no more Questions, but defend your self, if you refuse to
+marry her; for her Honour's mine.
+
+_Wel._ Were she an Angel, I must love this Woman.
+
+_Geo._ Then thou shall have her--Haste, and get a Licence--no
+more--trust my Friendship--Go.
+    [Exit _Welborn_.
+
+    Enter _Olivia_.
+
+_Olivia_, where did you lie last Night?--Nay do not blush, for you may
+yet be virtuous.
+
+_Oliv._ Virtuous! Not the young Roses in the bud secur'd, nor breaking
+Morn ungaz'd at by the Sun, nor falling Snow has more of Purity.
+
+_Geo._ I do believe you; but your dangerous Frolicks will make the World
+talk shamefully.
+
+_Oliv._ Let him talk on, I will not humour Fools.
+
+_Geo._ No more--here's _Manage_--Contrive an Assignation with
+_Mirtilla_; but do not hide again where none may find you. This done,
+I'll tell you more, and make you happy. How now, _Manage_, is the Prince
+stirring?
+
+_Man._ He's in his Dressing-Room, Sir.--This from my Lady, Sir.
+    [Slides the Letter into _Olivia's_ Hand as she passes out.
+
+_Geo._ What have you there, Olivia?    [Takes the Billet.
+
+_Oliv._ An Assignation from your perjur'd Mistress, Sir.
+
+_Geo._ 'Tis well--you must obey the Summons; and wind her up to all the
+height of Love; then let her loose to Shame. I'll bring her Lover in the
+height of Dalliance, who, when he sees her Perfidy, will hate her.
+
+_Oliv._ And then the lovely Man stands fair for me.    [Aside.
+
+_Geo._ Go write an Answer back--and wait her hour.
+
+    [Exeunt severally.
+
+
+SCENE II. _The Dressing-Room. Discovers the _Prince_ at his Toylet,
+dressing. Musick and a Song._
+
+    Enter _George_, waits till the Song is ended. The _Prince_ sees
+    him, comes to him with Joy, and falls about his Neck.
+
+
+  SONG, by Mr. _Gildon_.
+
+  I.
+
+  _Ah _Charmion!_ shroud those killing Eyes,
+  That dart th' extremes of Pleasure,
+  Else _Celidon_, though favour'd, dies
+  As well as him that you despise,
+  Though with this diff'rent measure:
+  While lingring Pains drag on his Fate,        }
+  Dispatch is all th' Advantage of my State;    }
+  For ah! you hill with Love, as well as Hate._ }
+
+  II.
+
+  _Abate thy Luxury of Charms,
+  And only Part discover;
+  Your Tongue, as well as Eyes, has Arms
+  To give a Thousand fatal Harms
+  To the poor listening Lover:
+  Thy Beams, like Glorys veil'd shou'd be,
+  And like the Front of Heav'n, unseen, pass by;
+  For to behold 'em, in full force, we die._
+
+_Prince._ _Mirtilla_, O! I faint, I die with thy Beauty's Luxury! by
+Heaven, I'm all Rapture, Love, and Joy: Such a dear Night,
+_Lejere_!--Poets may fancy pressing Goddesses, on downy Beds of
+Clouds--But oh, _Lejere_!--Those Gods were never half so blest as I!
+
+_Geo._ What pity 'twere to wake you from this Dream.
+
+_Prince._ It is not in the power of Time nor Age: For even then
+_Mirtilla_ will have Charms! Oh, how she speaks! how well she'll grace a
+Story!
+
+_Geo._ How gay her Wit! how movingly she writes!
+
+_Prince._ I do believe she does.    [A little seriously.
+
+_Geo._ Would it displease you, should you see a Billet from her?
+
+_Prince._ That's as it were directed.    [Gravely.
+
+_Geo._ You would not credit what you saw last Night.
+
+_Prince._ Nor wou'd have lost that Night for all the Treasure the vast
+Ocean hides.
+
+_Geo._ I wou'd not have a Man, so good and great, be made a Woman's
+Property--There, Sir.
+    [Gives him the Billet.
+
+_Prince._ I'll not believe it her's; there are a thousand ways to ruin
+Innocence; if she be false--she's damn'd. Confirm me, and of course I
+shall despise her. You cure me, when you shew her worth my Scorn.
+
+_Geo._ Will you be rul'd then, and believe it Friendship in me?
+
+_Prince._ I will.
+
+_Geo._ Give her, by Absence, but an Opportunity; feign some Excuse to
+leave the Town to day.
+
+_Prince._ See where she comes--
+
+    Enter _Mirtilla_.
+
+Adorn'd with all the beauteous Wonders of her Sex. The Gods of Love are
+playing in her Eyes, and give us Wounds from ev'ry graceful Motion. Ah,
+my _Mirtilla_! how shall I support the Absence of a many coming Hours,
+that languish, being from thee but a Moment?
+
+_Mir._ I hope, my Lord, Fate is not so unkind, to let me live without
+you many Hours.
+
+_Prince._ Can all this be dissembl'd?    [Aside to _George_.
+
+_Geo._ How much more have I heard? yet all was false.
+
+_Prince._ I must this Day--this tedious live-long Day, be absent from
+thy Sight--but shall be back i'th' Evening: I'll leave _Lejere_ to wait
+on your Commands.
+
+_Mir._ _Lejere_ shall ever, Sir, be dear to me--But I'll retire, and
+sigh till your Return--that World affords no Pleasure where you are not.
+
+_Prince._ Do you hear that, Sir?    [Aside to _George_.
+  Till Night, thou dearest Blessing of my Life--Adieu.
+    [_Mirtilla_ going out, pulls _Lejere_ by the Sleeve.
+
+_Mir._ Thou little, mischievous informing Thing, how vainly hast thou
+lavish'd out Invention!
+    [Smiling.    [Exit.
+
+_Prince._ By Heaven, methinks 'twere Sin but to suspect her.
+
+_Geo._ Think so; I'll trouble your Repose no more: I've done my Duty,
+and I wou'd not see you made a--
+
+_Prince._ Property--Ha--A loath'd convenient Tool--A Woman's
+Implement--'Sdeath! she that off--Loose to the nasty Love of every Fool,
+that will be flatter'd, cozen'd, jilted, cuckolded--No more--I will,
+unseen, convey my self into the Closet in my Dressing-Room; 'tis near
+her Bed--and if I find her wanton--
+
+_Geo._ If you find her--the Youth is waiting now that shall convince
+you.
+
+_Prince._ Where?--Oh, set the happy Slave but in my View, and--
+
+_Geo._ No, faith, Sir, be convinc'd before you strike, for fear she jilt
+you out of Sense and Reason--
+
+_Prince._ Come to my Closet, from thence we may observe all that passes
+in her Chamber; from whence I'll break upon the perjur'd Fair, like
+Thunder from a Cloud, and more destructive.
+
+    [Exeunt.
+
+
+SCENE III. A Chamber. Draws and discovers _Mirtilla_ and _Manage_.
+
+_Mir._ Is the Prince gone?
+
+_Man._ Yes, Madam.
+
+_Mir._ Then bring _Endimion_ to me.
+
+_Man._ Madam, I wish you'd think no more of him; for I foresee, that
+this Amour must ruin you. Remember you have left a Husband for the
+Prince.
+
+_Mir._ A Husband! my Drudge, to toil for me, and save me the Expence of
+careful Thoughts: My Cloke, my Led-Horse, for Necessity to fill my
+Train--no more--but _Endimion_ waits.
+    [Exit _Manage_.
+  --There is a native Generosity in me, that checks my Inconstancy to
+this great Man; yet I have so much Woman in my Soul, cannot pain my self
+to do him Justice--A new desire of humouring my wish, sways all my
+Interest, and controuls all my Honour. Why should I lose a Pleasure for
+a Promise? since Time, that gives our Youth so short a Date, may well
+excuse our needful Perjury.
+
+    Enter _Manage_, and _Olivia_, she runs and embraces him.
+
+--Let the young bashful Maid, unskill'd in Love, deny the pressing
+Swain.
+
+Let wither'd Age, who fondly dreams of Virtue, lose the dear
+Opportunities of Life.
+
+The coming Hours present themselves to us; and are too nice, not to be
+snatch'd when offer'd.
+
+_Oliv._ So hasty! this disarms me of Excuse.    [Aside.
+
+_Mir._ Why are thy Eyes bent down? Why dost thou pause?
+
+_Oliv._ So hot!--I must prepare to shew my Sex's Evidence, if nothing
+else will do.
+    [Unbuttons her Coat.
+
+_Mir._ What, not a Word!
+
+Advance, thou bashful Youth--Love in thy Eyes, and Coward in thy Heart!
+The one all Fire, the other too much Ice.
+
+    _Prince_ and _George_ looking out.
+
+_Prince._ Yet stay me, my _Lejere_, from my hasty Vengeance.
+
+_Oliv._ Ah, Madam, how are you mistaken! 'Tis not Coldness in me--but--
+
+_Mir._ What, Bashfulness!
+  Oh, Love will lend thee Courage;
+  This Trembling is the soft Effects of it.
+
+_Oliv._ Oh, how vilely she's mistaken!
+
+_Mir._ Come to my Bed, and press the Roses down; and lend more sweetness
+to 'em than they bring.
+    [She leading him to her Bed, the _Prince_ enters, with _Lejere_,
+    holding his Sword in Hand; he takes hold of _Olivia_.
+
+_Prince._ Love--thus I fling thy gaudy Fetters off, and am no more a
+Slave to faithless Beauty.
+    [The _Prince_ holding _Olivia_ by the Bosom of her Coat, her
+    Breast appears to _Mirtilla_.
+
+_Mir._ Ha! what do I see?--Two Female rising Breasts. By Heav'n,
+a Woman.--Oh fortunate Mischance!
+    [This while _George_ is arguing with the _Prince_ not to hurt
+    _Olivia_.
+
+_Prince._ No, I will not hurt thee, cease thy trembling.
+
+_Mir._ Oh, Sir, 'twere Sin to hurt the lovely Youth.
+
+_Prince._ No, Madam, since I have taken back my Heart, I can present you
+with another Lover.
+    [Gives _Olivia_ to her.
+
+_Mir._ Ha! another Lover!--What means my Prince?
+
+_Prince._ Eternally to leave you to your Frailty.
+
+_Mir._ Can you so easily cancel all your Vows? Then kill me at your
+Feet, I do implore it.
+    [Kneels and weeps.
+
+_Prince._ Away, I do forgive thee, wretched Woman.--But yet be
+gone--lest Love and Rage return, and I should kill you yet with your
+young Darling.
+
+_Mir._ Whom mean you, Sir, this lovely Maid?
+
+_Oliv._ Maid!--What means she? Sure she cannot know me.
+
+_Prince._ Talk on, false Woman! till thou hast persuaded my Eyes and
+Ears out of their native Faculties, I scorn to credit other Evidences.
+
+_Mir._ Try 'em once more, and then repent, and die.
+    [Opens _Olivia's_ Bosom, shews her Breasts.
+
+_Prince._ Ha--By Heav'n, a Woman!
+
+_Mir._ You that wou'd smile at my suppos'd undoing, present yourself no
+more before my Eyes.
+  'Twas to perplex you that I feign'd this Passion.
+  I saw you had your Spies to watch for Mischief,    [To _George_.
+  And poison all my Happiness with the Prince.--
+
+And since I am thought so criminal, I'll take an everlasting leave of
+you.
+    [To the _Prince_.
+  When I am dead, may she you honour next repay your Tenderness as I
+have done--But may she never meet my wretched Fate.
+    [She snatches _Olivia's_ Sword out.
+
+_Prince._ Hold, thou most valu'd Treasure of the World, or turn the
+pointed Weapon to my Heart.
+
+_Mir._ No, I'm false, unworthy of your Love.
+
+_Geo._ Yes, by Heaven. But thou hast jilted him so handsomly, thou'st
+vanquish'd all my Rage.
+
+_Mir._ Yes, I am false; false to this Gallant Man,--    [To _George_.
+  false to my Husband, to my Sex's Fame; for you more charming, I alas
+am perjur'd.
+
+_Prince._ _Lejere_, have I then injur'd thee?
+
+_Geo._ This is the fatal Beauty, Sir, for whom so often you have seen me
+languish.
+
+_Prince._ Ah! wouldst thou see me on a Precipice, and not prevent my
+Danger?
+
+_Geo._ To mightier Friendship I cou'd all surrender, and silently have
+born her Perjuries; but those to you, awaken'd all my Rage: but she has
+out-trick'd me, and I beg her Pardon--And to secure her yours, have
+lov'd anew, and beg Protection in your Lodgings, Sir, for a young Maid
+whom I design to marry.
+
+_Prince._ Command my Life, my Fortune, and my Sword, for the unwilling
+Injury I have done thee--And is this the charming, perjur'd Fair,
+_Mirtilla_?
+
+_Geo._ It is, Sir.
+
+_Prince._ Since it is possible that you cou'd cease to love this Gallant
+Man, whom I have heard with so much tender Passion tell your Loves, what
+sacred Vows had past, and what Endearments, how can I hope from thee a
+lasting Faith?--Yet on the Oaths that thou hast sworn to me--by all thy
+Hopes of Pardon for thy Perjuries, to ease my panting Heart--once speak
+the Truth--Didst thou not take this Woman for a Man?
+
+_Mir._ I did--and were she so, I wou'd with Pride own all the Vows I've
+broke.
+
+_Prince._ Why, this is fair--and though I buy this Knowledge at the vast
+Price of all my Repose; yet I must own, 'tis a better Bargain than
+chaff'ring of a Heart for feign'd Embraces--Thou hast undone me--yet
+must have my Friendship; and 'twill be still some Ease in this Extreme,
+to see thee yet repent, and love _Lejere_.
+
+_Mir._ No, Sir, this Beauty must be first declining, to make me take up
+with a former Lover.
+
+_Geo._ No, Sir, I have dispos'd my Heart another way; and the first
+knowledge of her Falshood cur'd me: Her Marriage I forgave--that thing
+of Form--but never could her Fondness to this Youth.
+
+_Prince._ Who's this Lady, Sir, whose Pardon I must beg?
+
+_Geo._ My Sister, Sir, who I disguis'd on purpose to be a Guard to this
+suspected Fair One.
+
+    Enter _Welborn_.
+
+_Wel._ Ha, she's there!
+
+Now every Feature points me out my Conqueress.--Nay, start not--I have
+found Thee, thou malicious Charmer, to bring me so near to Bliss, and
+not afford me one kind hint.
+
+_Oliv._ And are not you a very dull Fellow, that lov'd and long'd, and
+had the Maid so near you, and yet needed a Hint?
+
+_Wel._ Nay, if you conceal'd your precious Talent, how shou'd it profit
+any body?
+
+_Oliv._ Conceal'd it!--No, Faith, I made a very fair Tender; but you
+refus'd it, as not being current Coin.
+
+_Wel._ But if you most feloniously, and unlawfully deface our
+Sovereign's Image, so as it may be as soon taken for the Grand
+Signior's, I may suspect the Metal too.
+
+_Oliv._ What say you if I tender it before these lawful Witnesses?
+
+_Wel._ I'll take it for good Payment--I _Charles Welborn_--
+
+_Oliv._ Ha, _Welborn_!    [Aside.
+
+_Wel._ Take thee--whom?--Gad, if the Parson of the Parish knew your Name
+no better than I--'twill be but a blind Bargain.
+
+_Geo._ _Olivia Marteen_--
+
+_Wel._ My destin'd Wife!
+
+_Geo._ The very same: Have you the Parson ready?
+
+_Wel._ He waits in my Chamber.
+
+_Oliv._ Madam, I beg you'll lend me something more becoming my Sex.
+
+_Mir._ _Manage_ will furnish you from my Wardrobe.
+    [Exit _Olivia_ with _Manage_.
+
+    Enter _Teresia_.
+
+_Geo._ And see my good Genius appears too.
+
+_Ter._ See, Sir, I am resolv'd to be welcome to your Arms; look, here
+are the Writings of the Estate my Grandfather left me, and here's three
+thousand Pound my Grandmother has settled on me, upon her Marriage with
+you.
+    [Gives him the Writings.
+
+_Geo._ And here's my Father's Estate settled on me--Come, let's put them
+together--and go in, and let the Parson do as much for us.
+    [Puts 'em in her Case.
+
+_Ter._ But have you very well considered this Matter?
+
+_Geo._ Teresia, we'll do like most Couples, marry first, and consider
+afterwards--
+    [Leads her in.
+
+    Enter a Footman.
+
+_Foot._ Sir, here's Sir _Merlin_, with a Lady mask'd, wou'd speak with
+you.
+
+_Wel._ Carry 'em into the Dining-Room, I'll wait on 'em anon.
+
+    [Exeunt _Omnes_.
+
+
+SCENE IV. _My Lady _Youthly's_; Discovers her, and _Lettice_ dressing
+her._
+
+L. _Youth._ Hold the Glass higher, _Lettice_; is not this Tour too
+brown?--Methinks it does not give a youthful Aire to my Face.
+
+_Lett._ That's not in Nature.
+
+L. _Youth._ Like Nature! Ay, but Nature's self wants Art, nor does this
+Fontange suit with my Complexion--put on a little more red, _Lettice_,
+on my Cheeks, and Lips.
+    [She does so.
+
+_Lett._ Ay, for they are but a little too much upon the
+_Coventry_-Blue--This Tour must come more forward, Madam, to hide the
+Wrinkles at the corners of your Eyes--
+    [Pulls it.
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, _Lettice_, but there are others, that neither Tours, nor
+Paint, nor Patches will hide, I fear--yet altogether, _Lettice_--
+    [Puts on her Spectacles, and looks in the Glass.
+
+    Enter _Sir Rowland_.
+
+Sir _Row._ What, no Bride yet, nor Bridegroom?
+
+L. _Youth._ Ay, what can be the meaning of this?
+
+Sir _Row._ But _Teresia_, Madam, where can she be gadding?
+
+L. _Youth._ Why, _Lettice_ tells me, she went to buy some Trifles to
+adorn her this Night--Her Governante is with her, and my Steward.
+
+    Enter Mr. _Twang_.
+
+_Twang._ Alas, what pity 'tis; the Supper is quite spoil'd, and no
+Bridegroom come!
+
+_A Noise of hallowing without, and Musick._
+
+    Enter Lady _Blunder_.
+
+L. _Blun._ Bless us! Here's a whole Regiment of Liveries, Coaches, and
+Flambeaux at the Door! the Fops of the Town have heard of a Wedding, and
+are come in Masquerade.
+
+    Enter Musick playing; after them, Prince _Frederick_, leading
+    _Mirtilla_, _George_ leading _Teresia_; Sir _Merlin_, _Diana_;
+    Mrs. _Manage_, _Britton_; Pages, and Footmen, all in Masquerade.
+    Sir _Morgan_ comes in, all in Mourning; _Welborn_, and _Olivia_.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Hearing of a high Wedding, Sir, we made bold (as the saying
+is) to give you Joy. Sir, are not you the Bridegroom?
+
+_Ter._ Where's your Bride, Sir? Ha! ha! ha!
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ay, ay, where's your Bride?
+
+Sir _Row._ What's that to you, _Sir_ Coxcomb?
+
+Sir _Mer._ Hum--how the devil came he to know me now?--Is this reverend
+Gentlewoman your Lady, Sir?
+
+Sir _Row._ Ounds, they come to mock us!--Hark ye, hark ye, Tawdrums, if
+you are Men, shew your Faces; if Apes, play over your Monkey-Tricks and
+be gone, d'ye hear.--We are not at leisure for Fooling.
+
+_Geo._ Be but at leisure, Sir, to pardon    [_George_ kneels.
+  this one Disobedience of my Life, and all the rest I'll dedicate to
+please and humour you. Sir, I am marry'd.
+    [Pulls off his Mask.
+
+Sir _Row._ What the Devil's that to me, Sir?
+
+_Geo._ Do not you know me, Sir?
+
+Sir _Row._ No, Sir, nor don't care to know any such flaunting Coxcombs.
+
+_Geo._ Look on me, Sir.
+    [Looks on him, knows him, goes away, and returns.
+
+Sir _Row._ Hum, hum, hum--
+
+_Ter._ It is your Son, Sir, your darling Son, who has sav'd your Life
+from Insolence.
+
+Sir _Row._ Hum--_Teresia_!
+
+L. _Youth._ How, _Teresia_! what, robb'd me of my intended Husband? Oh,
+undone! undone!
+    [Falls into a Chair.
+
+Sir _Row._ And hast thou, after all, served me such a Rogue's Trick,
+thou ungracious Varlet? What, cuckold thine own Father!
+
+_Geo._ Oh, do not frown, I cannot bear your Anger! Here will I hang for
+ever till you Pardon me.
+    [Clasps his Knees.
+
+Sir _Row._ Look--look--now cannot I be angry with the good-natur'd young
+Rogue.
+    [Weeps.
+  Well, _George_--But hark ye, Sirrah, this is a damn'd Trick of yours.
+
+_Geo._ Sir, I found my Youth was fitter for her than your Age, and
+you'll be as fond of a Grand-Child of my begetting as you would of a Son
+of another Man's perhaps.
+
+Sir _Row._ Thou'rt in the Right on't.
+
+Sir _Mer._ Ha! Is Monsieur _Lejere_ then my Brother _George_?
+
+_Geo._ Sir, Here's another Couple wants your Pardon; my Brother
+_Merlin_, and my Lady _Diana_.
+
+L. _Blun._ _Diana_! What, Sir _Harry Modish's_ Mistress?
+
+_Dia._ Yes, he pawn'd me at the _Basset-Table_; and, in Revenge,
+I resolv'd to marry the next Man of Fortune I met with.
+
+Sir _Row._ The Fool had more Wit than I thought he had; for which I'll
+give him a Thousand Pound a Year.
+
+_Geo._ I humbly thank you, Sir.
+
+_Mir._ Pray, Melancholy Sir, who are you in Mourning for?
+
+Sir _Morg._ Alas, Madam, for a Person of Quality that was my Wife; but
+rest her Soul, she's burnt.
+    [Weeps.
+  And I shall never see any thing again like her.
+
+_Mir._ No! What think you of this Face, Sir?
+
+Sir _Morg._ As Gad shall sa' me, as like as if the same.
+
+L. _Blun._ In troth, and so she is.
+
+_Prince._ 'Tis true, she was once your Wife; but I have preserv'd her
+from the Flames, and I have most Right to her.
+
+Sir _Morg._ That's a hard Case, Sir, that a Man must lose his Wife,
+because another has more Right to her than himself; Is that Law, Sir?
+
+_Prince._ Lover's Law, Sir.
+
+L. _Blun._ Ay, ay, Son, 'tis the Fashion to marry one Week, and separate
+the next. I'll set you a President for it my self.
+    [In this time _Welborn_ kneels with _Olivia_; _Sir Rowland_ takes
+    'em up, and kisses 'em.
+
+Sir _Morg._ Nay, if it be the Fashion, I'll e'en into the Country, and
+be merry with my Tenants, and Hawk, and Hunt, and Horse-match.
+
+_Prince._ But now, Sir, I'll resign my Right to you, and content myself
+with the Honour to have preserv'd her from the Fire.
+    [_Prince_ delivers _Mirtilla_ to Sir _Morgan_, who receives her.
+
+Sir _Morg._ As gad shall sa' me, Sir, you're a civil Person; and now I
+find you can endure a Woman, Sir, I'll give you leave to visit her.
+
+Sir _Row._ Well, since we're all agreed, and that the Fiddles are here,
+adsnigs, we'll have a Dance, Sweet-heart, though thou hast out-witted
+me.
+    [Takes _Teresia_, _George_ takes Lady _Youthly_, &c. After the
+    Dance, Lady _Youthly_ weeps.
+
+_Geo._ What, weeping yet? Here, Mr. _Twang_, take the Lady to your Care;
+in these Cases, there's nothing like the Consolation of your young
+Chaplain.
+
+  The Widow, with young Jointure, and old Face,
+  Affected Mein, and Amorous Grimace,
+  Uses to fall to th' younger Brother's share;      }
+  But I by Fortune, and Industrious Care,           }
+  Have got one that's Rich, Witty, Young, and Fair. }
+
+
+    _FINIS._
+
+
+
+
+EPILOGUE.
+
+  Spoken by Mr. _Horden_.
+
+
+  We've grown Impatient to be out of pain,
+  And fain wou'd know our fortune, loss, or gain:
+  The Merchants phrase mayn't be Improper now,
+  If ye our City Character allow.
+  But some Spruse Criticks, I hear, swears 'tis strange,
+  To take a powder'd Beau off from the Exchange;
+  A place more fam'd for Band, and dress precise,
+  For greasy Cuckholds, Stockjobbers, and lies,
+  Than for a Spark o' th' town, but now a days
+  The Cit sets up in box, puffs, perfumes, plays,
+  And tho' he passes for a Man of Trade,
+  Is the chief squeaker at the Masquerade,
+  Let him his Sister, or his wife beware,
+  'Tis not for nothing Courtiers go so far;
+  Thus for a while he holds, till Cash is found
+  To be a Dr. many a woful Pound,
+  Then off he moves, and in another year,
+  Turns true Alsatian, or Solicitor.
+  For we (except o' th' stage) shall seldom find
+  To a poor broken Beau, a Lady kind,
+  Whilst pow'rful _Guinea_ last, he's wondrous pretty,
+  And much the finest Gentlemen o' th' City,
+  But when fob's empty, he's an odious Creature.
+  Fough, how he stinks! h'as not one taking feature,
+  Then such an Awkard mein, and vulgar sence,
+  I vow, I wonder at his Impudence!
+  'Tis well _Lejere_ appear'd, _George_ owes the prize
+  To the Gay Monsieur, Footmen and Disguise,
+  Charms which few English Women can withstand,
+  What can't a Man of Quality command?
+  As to the faults, or Merits of the Play }
+  We leave ye to be judges of, yet say,   }
+  Ye ought in justice to be kind to day.  }
+  For to our Cost alas, we soon shall find, }
+  Perhaps not half the money ye design'd,   }
+  Consider, Sirs, it goes to be refin'd.    }
+  And since in all Exchanges 'tis a notion,
+  For what ye take to be in due proportion,
+  So may we justly hope no wrong is done ye
+  If ye have _par of Wit for par of Money_.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+NOTES: The Younger Brother
+
+
+NOTES ON THE TEXT.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 316, l. 1 _The Epistle Dedicatory._ This only appears in 4to 1696.
+  It is there followed by _An Account of the Life of the Incomparable
+  Mrs. BEHN_, an entirely worthless composition of some three pages,
+  afterwards vastly expanded into _Memoirs_ 'by one of the Fair Sex'.
+
+  p. 316, l. 21 _The narrow Virtues ... [which] were._ 4to 1696 omits
+  'which' but it is necessary that this or some similar word be inserted
+  to make the paragraph sufficiently grammatical.
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 319, l. 9 _an Intriguer._ 4to 1696 'the intrigues'.
+
+  p. 319, l. 17 _Mistress young._ 4to 1696 erroneously gives 'young' as
+  a proper name 'Mistress Young'.
+
++Dramatis Personae+
+
+  p. 321 _Dramatis Personae._ I have added 'Philip; Diana; Pages,
+  Footmen, Masqueraders, Servants, Rakehells, &c.' 4to 1696 spells
+  Britton 'Brittone'; Mr. Pinketham 'Mr. Pinkerman.' Powell is
+  indifferently spelt 'Powell' or 'Powel'.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 327, l. 2 _he._ 4to 1696 omits.
+
+  p. 327, l. 7 _Prince._ Here and in ll. 11 and 19 all former editions
+  give speech-prefix 'Fred', but afterwards uniformly 'Prince'
+  throughout the play.
+
+  p. 329, l. 31 _a._ 4to 1696 omits.
+
+  p. 329, l. 34 _Tablets_: 4to 1696 gives 'Tablets write:' which is
+  obviously a misprint for 'Tablets written:' or, perhaps, 'Tablets
+  writ'.
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 330, l. 23 _Caudle._ Here, and in the following line, 4to 1696
+  misprints 'Candle'.
+
+  p. 332, l. 22 _set._ 1724 'sit'.
+
+  p. 337, l. 7 _Sir Mer._ 4to 1696 misprints 'Sir Mark.'
+
+  p. 337, l. 19 _George Kneels._ I have inserted 'George'.
+
+  p. 337, l. 20 _Ay, Sir._ 4to 1696 marks this line 'Aside.' An obvious
+  error.
+
+  p. 338, l. 10 _Sir Rowland._ 4to 1696 'Sir Merlin'.
+
+  p. 338, l. 16 _Chaplain [Mr. Twang], and leaning._ 4to 1696 'her
+  Chaplain, and leaning'. I have inserted Twang's name and given in
+  l. 19 speech-prefix 'Twang' which all former editions mark 'Chap.',
+  altering, however, to 'Twang' later in this scene at 'Truly, Madam'.
+
+  p. 339, l. 20 _cuckold._ 4to 1696 'Cuckhold'.
+
+  p. 339, l. 34 _The End of the First Act._ Only in 4to 1696.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 340, l. 2 _Sir Rowland's Lodging._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 340, l. 29 _Lookye._ 4to 1696 has '(Alone.) Lookye'--an obvious
+  error. '(Alone.)' is probably a misprint for '(Aloud.)' which is of
+  itself quite unnecessary.
+
+  p. 341, l. 13 _Hearts._ 4to 1696 'Heats'.
+
+  p. 342, l. 3 _'twill._ 4to 1696 'will'.
+
+  p. 342, l. 19 _India._ 4to 1696 'Indian'.
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 343, l. 13 _A Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 346, l. 17 _Hackney-Coach._ 4to 1696 'Hackney'.
+
+  p. 346, l. 31 _pimp._ 4to 1696 misprints 'Pump'.
+
+  p. 348, l. 8 _they._ 4to 1696 omits.
+
+  p. 349, l. 29 _Sir Morgan Blunder's._ 4to 1696 'Sir M. Blun.'
+
++ACT II: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 350, l. 24 _Another Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 351, l. 10 _another._ 4to 1696 adds to this stage direction 'Sir
+  Mer. together.'
+
+  p. 352, l. 7 _a Tendre._ 1724 omits 'a'.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 353, l. 11 _too._ 4to 1696 'to'.
+
+  p. 354, l. 2 _A rich Chamber._ I have supplied this locale.
+
+  p. 358, l. 4 _Expectations._ 1724 'Expectation'.
+
+  p. 358, l. 34 _Olivia enters._ 4to 1696 reads 'Enter Olivia with a
+  letter. Olivia gives Welborn the letter.'
+
+  p. 359, l. 33 _Enter Sir Morgan._ Before the couplet 4to 1696
+  repeats 'Sir Morg. and Sir Merl. singing.'
+
+  p. 360, l. 10 _de._ 1724 here and elsewhere 'd'ye'.
+
++ACT III: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 362, l. 18 _you._ 4to 1696 'thou'.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 363, l. 17 _Whither?_ 4to 1696 'Whether?'
+
+  p. 367, l. 26 _Exeunt._ I have added this stage direction.
+
++ACT IV: Scene i+
+
+  p. 370, l. 30 _Exit Prince with Mirtilla._ Former editions 'and
+  Mirtilla'.
+
+  p. 371, l. 14 _Exit._ 4to 1696 'Exit George.'
+
+  p. 373, l. 15 _Exeunt._ 4to 1696 'Exit both.'
+
+  p. 373, l. 23 _of thy hopes._ 4to 1696 omits 'of'.
+
+  p. 373, l. 32 _ruffle, ravish, and ruin._ 4to 1696 'Ruffles, Ravishes,
+  and Ruines'.
+
+  p. 374, l. 8 _Racks._ 4to 1696 'Wrecks'.
+
+  p. 374, l. 35 _feebly._ 1724 'freely'. A patent error.
+
+  p. 375, l. 4 _near to being._ 1724 'near being'.
+
+  p. 375, l. 33 _Exeunt._ Not in 4to 1696.
+
++ACT IV: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 376, l. 1 _Scene II._ I have numbered this scene, and the
+  following (p. 378, l. 16.) Scene III.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 379, l. 33 _Sir Merlin with his Sword._ 4to 1696 'Sir Merlin his
+  Sword'.
+
+  p. 380, l. 19 _she cries out._ 1724 omits 'out'.
+
+  p. 381, l. 17 _My Lady's maid._ I have inserted these words.
+
++ACT V: Scene i+
+
+  p. 383, l. 27 _Welborn's Chamber._ I have marked this locale.
+
+  p. 385, l. 13 _him._ 1724 'them'.
+
++ACT V: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 386, l. 18 _has._ 4to 1696 'had'.
+
+  p. 386, l. 24 _Mirtilla._ All previous editions here have 'Lydia',
+  which makes no sense. It is probable that the original name of
+  Mirtilla was Lydia, and Mrs. Behn, or Gildon, neglected to alter it
+  in this passage.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 388, l. 28 _Scene III._ All previous editions have 'Scene
+  discovers Mirtilla and Manage.'
+
+  p. 388, l. 35 _you have left._ 1724 'you left'.
+
+  p. 393, l. 17 _Exit Olivia with Manage._ I have added Manage's name
+  here.
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 394, l. 1 _Scene IV._ I have numbered this scene.
+
++Epilogue+
+
+  p. 398, l. 26 _Fough, how he stinks!_ 4to 1696 'Fough, he how he
+  stinks?'
+
+
+NOTES: CRITICAL AND EXPLANATORY.
+
++Dedication+
+
+  p. 316 _Collonel Codrington._ Christopher Codrington (1668-1710) was
+  born at Barbadoes, and thence sent to England to be educated. In 1685
+  he passed as a gentleman commoner to Christ Church, Oxford. Five years
+  later he was elected as a probationer fellow to All Souls. Here he
+  speedily became known for the catholicity and thoroughness of his
+  studies, and 'soon acquir'd the deserv'd character of an accomplished,
+  well-bred gentleman, and an universal scholar'. He was already an
+  enthusiastic bibliophile. In 1694 he followed William III to Flanders,
+  and having fought with great gallantry at Hay and Namur in 1695,
+  received various military distinctions. In the same year he attended
+  the King to Oxford, and pronounced the university oration on this
+  royal visit. There are dedications to him by Creech, Dennis, and
+  others, but it has been pertinently remarked that 'his fame is rather
+  to be inferred' hence 'than from actually existent performances on his
+  part', albeit we have copies of complimentary verses (e.g. prefixed to
+  Garth's _Dispensary_) from his pen. In 1697 he succeeded his father as
+  commander-in-chief of the Leeward Isles. He does not seem to have been
+  popular, and resigned in 1703, retiring to a life of seclusion and
+  study on his Barbadoes estate. He died 7 April, 1710, and his body was
+  brought back to England to be buried in All Souls' chapel. To this
+  college he left L10,000, and L6,000 worth of books, a legacy which
+  built, furnished and endowed the magnificent Codrington library there.
+
+  p. 317 _Mr. Verbruggen's reading some of his part._ One may remember
+  the incident recorded by Pepys (2 February, 1669), how, after Kynaston
+  had been assaulted by Sedley's bravos, and was too ill to appear, the
+  young actor's role was 'done by Beeston, who is fain to read it out of
+  a book all the while and thereby spoils the part, and almost the play,
+  it being one of the best parts in it.... But it was pleasant to see
+  Beeston come in with others, supposing it to be dark, and yet he is
+  forced to read his part by the light of the candles: and this I
+  observing to a gentleman that sat by me, he was mightily pleased
+  therewith, and spread it up and down.'
+
++Prologue+
+
+  p. 319 _grave Sir Roger._ 'Sir Roger' was a common nickname for any
+  clergyman from the well-known comic character 'Sir Roger, Curate to
+  the Lady', in Beaumont and Fletcher's popular _The Scornful Lady_.
+  This excellent play, a rare favourite with Restoration audiences, kept
+  the boards until the death of Mrs. Oldfield in 1730. After the great
+  actress' demise it would seem that none of her successors ventured
+  to attempt the title-role, hence the piece soon fell out of the
+  repertory. In 1783, however, an alteration, made by Cooke the
+  barrister for Mrs. Abington, was produced with great success at
+  Covent Garden. In this meagre adaptation the Curate disappears. Shanks
+  originally acted this part, but Lacy was the acknowledged 'Sir Roger'
+  in Restoration days.
+
++ACT I: Scene i+
+
+  p. 326 _making Wax Babies._ Playing at dolls.
+
+  p. 330 _Southampton Square._ The original name of Bloomsbury Square,
+  so called from the Earl of Southampton's town residence, afterwards
+  Bedford House. Southampton Square was at this period, and for long
+  afterwards, the headquarters of fashion in the metropolis: _vide_
+  further, Vol. III, _The Town Fop_, p. 22, 'Southampton House,' and
+  note on that passage (p. 476).
+
++ACT I: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 331 _Mr. Motteux._ Peter Anthony Motteux was a French Hugenot who
+  came to England upon the restoration of the Edict of Nantes (1685).
+  He soon mixed with the gayest society, and became well known as a
+  prolific writer of songs, prologues, epilogues, masques, and the
+  lighter dramatic fare. Much of this work is not lacking in wit and
+  volatile smartness, but it is all far too ephemeral to have any
+  permanent value as literature. He edited _The Gentleman's Journal_,
+  but is perhaps best remembered for his translation of _Don Quixote_,
+  and his concluding Urquhart's version of Rabelais.
+
+  p. 331 _the Rose._ This celebrated house stood in Russell Street,
+  Covent Garden, and adjoined Drury Lane. There are innumerable
+  references to it. The greater portion of the 'Rose' was demolished
+  in 1776, when a new front was being built to the theatre.
+
+  p. 331 _scours._ i.e. violently assaults. 'To scour' was to rampage
+  the streets, breaking windows, fighting with passers-by, beating the
+  watch, &c. Shadwell has an excellent comedy, _The Scowrers_ (1691),
+  which, giving a vivid picture of the times, show these drunken and
+  blackguardly gentry in a very unamiable light. Several plays treat
+  of their exploits. Vanbrugh's _The Provoked Wife_ (1696), Act III,
+  ii, and IV, ii and iv, is perhaps the locus classical for mohocking.
+
+  p. 333 _the Poet Sternhold._ Thomas Sternhold (_ob._ 1549), was the
+  author with John Hopkins (_ob._ 1570), of a metrical version of the
+  Psalms, which became a bye-word for doggerel. Sir Morgan is, of
+  course, alluding to some pious rhymes groaned on the way to the
+  triple tree. cf. Shadwell, _The Miser_ (1672), I, i, 'She would be
+  more welcome to thee than a reprieve would, if thou wert just now
+  trolling out Hopkins and Sternhold upon a ladder.'
+
+  p. 333 _Billmen in Flannel._ Bills were the common weapon of the
+  watch. cf. _The Coxcomb_ (folio 1647), Act I, where Ricardo says
+  to the constable of the watch, 'Give me the bill, for I'll be the
+  sergeant.' Doctor Johnson tells us that the Lichfield watchmen carried
+  bills as late as 1778.
+
+  p. 333 _Wills' Coffee-house._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky
+  Chance_, p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  p. 334 _his Third Day._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky Chance_,
+  p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  p. 334 _old Adam._ _vide_ Vol. I, _The Rover_, Part II, p. 133, and
+  note on that passage (p. 446).
+
+  p. 334 _The Country Justice's Calling._ _vide supra_, _The Widow
+  Ranter_, p. 265. _Dalton's Country Justice_, and note on that passage.
+
++ACT II: Scene i+
+
+  p. 341 _by Inch of Candle._ An auction where bids are taken so long
+  as an inch of candle burns, the last bid before the flame expires
+  obtaining the lot.
+
+  p. 342 _a Termer._ Originally a frequenter of the law courts, and as
+  many came up from the country to London during term time on legal
+  business, it occasionally (as here) signified an unsophisticated
+  stranger. In Dryden's _Sir Martin Mar-All_ (1667), I, Mrs. Millicent,
+  newly arrived from Canterbury, replies to Lady Dupe's greeting,
+  'I came up, Madam, as we country-gentlewomen use at an Easter term, to
+  the destruction of tarts and cheese cakes, to see a new play, buy a
+  new gown, take a turn in the Park, and so down again to sleep with my
+  forefathers.' In Mountford's farce, _Dr. Faustus_ (4to 1697, but
+  produced at the Theatre Royal November-December, 1685, or very early
+  in 1686), we have Scaramouch asking what practice the Doctor has, and
+  Harlequin replies: 'Why his Business is to patch up rotten Whores
+  against the Term for Country Lawyers and Attorneys Clerks; and against
+  _Christmas_, _Easter_, and _Whitsun_ Holidays, for City Apprentices.'
+  cf. Southerne's _Oroonoko_ (1696), I, i, when Charlot Welldon says to
+  her sister Lucia, 'Nay, the young Inns-of-Court beaus, of but one
+  Term's standing in the fashion, who knew nobody but as they were shown
+  'em by the orange-women, had nicknames for us.' More often a Termer
+  meant 'A person, whether male or female, who resorted to London in
+  term time only, for the sake of tricks to be practised, or intrigues
+  to be carried on at that period.' --(Nares.)
+
++ACT II: Scene ii+
+
+  p. 347 _Sa._ i.e. Save us! Sir Morgan has a frequent exclamation 'God
+  sa me!' God save me! The abbreviation is early and frequent.
+
++ACT III: Scene i+
+
+  p. 356 _the Country of True Love._ Mrs. Behn, an omnivorous reader
+  of romances, was thinking of the celebrated _Carte de Tendre_
+  (Loveland), to be found in Mlle. de Scuderi's _Clelie_ (1654, Vol. I,
+  p. 399), and reproduced in the English folio edition of 1678. This
+  fantastic map, which is said to have been suggested by Chapelain,
+  aroused unbounded ridicule. In scene iv of Moliere's _Les Precieuses
+  Ridicules_ (1659), Cathos cries, 'Je m'en vais gager qu'ils n'ont
+  jamais vu la carte de Tendre, et que Billets-Doux, Petits-Soins,
+  Billets-Galante, et Jolis-Vers sont des terres inconnues pour eux.'
+  This imaginary land is divided by the River of Inclination: on the
+  one side are the towns of Respect, Generosity, A Great Heart, and the
+  like; on the other Constant Friendship, Assiduity, Submission, &c.
+  Across the Dangerous Sea another continent is marked, 'Countreys
+  undiscovered.' _Terra Incognita._
+
+  The extravagant penchant for romances of the Scuderi _Parthenissa_
+  school was amply satirized by Steele in his clever comedy _The Tender
+  Husband_ (1705), and as late as 1752 by Mrs. Charlotte Lennox in _The
+  Female Quixote_, an amusing novel.
+
+  p. 360 _old Queen Bess in the Westminster-Cupboard._ The waxen
+  effigies which yet remain at Westminster are preserved in the wainscot
+  presses over the Islip Chapel. Queen Elizabeth, in her tattered velvet
+  robes, is still one of the most famous. They were formerly far more
+  numerous. A waxen figure of the deceased, dressed in the habit worn
+  whilst living, was, in the case of any royal or notable personage,
+  very frequently carried as part of the torchlight funeral procession
+  and, after the obsequies, left over the grave to serve as a kind of
+  temporary monument.
+
++ACT III: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 366 _drink up the Sun._ i.e. carouse till dawn.
+
++ACT IV: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 379 _a Back like an Elephant--'twill bear a Castle._ Dr. Aldis
+  Wright, in his notes on _Twelfth Night_, draws attention to the fact
+  that the celebrated 'Elephant and Castle,' at Newington, in the south
+  suburbs of London, can be traced back to the middle of the seventeenth
+  century.
+
+  p. 380 _Old Queen Gwiniver._ For 'Queen Gwiniver' applied as a term of
+  abuse to an old woman cf. Dekker's _Satiromastix, or, The Untrussing
+  of the Humorous Poet_ (4to 1602), III, i, where Tucca rallying
+  Mistress Miniver cries: 'Now, now, mother Bunch, how dost thou? what,
+  dost frowne, Queen Gwyniver, dost wrinckle?' The reference is, of
+  course, to Arthur's queen.
+
++ACT V: Scene iii+
+
+  p. 390 _Ha! what do I see?_ cf. The incident in _The Plain Dealer_,
+  IV, ii, of which there are obvious reminiscences here. Olivia, making
+  love to Fidelia, who is dressed as a boy, is surprised by Vernish.
+  Olivia runs out, and he discovering the supposed lad to be a woman
+  proceeds to turn the tables on his spouse.
+
++ACT V: Scene iv+
+
+  p. 394 _this Tour._ cf. 'your false Towers', _The False Count_, I, ii
+  (Vol. III, p. 116), and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
+  p. 394 _Fontange._ A 'fontange' was a bow of ribbons, so called from
+  the celebrated Madame de Fontanges. Her hair coming down during a
+  hunting-party at Vincennes, she tied it up hastily with one of her
+  garters. Louis XIV, whose mistress she was, so admired the result that
+  he begged her to continue to wear her hair in the same way. This set
+  the fashion, which soon spread into England and long remained popular.
+  cf. Shadwell's _Bury Fair_ (1689), II, ii: '_Milliner._ What d'ye
+  lack, Ladies? fine Mazarine hoods, fontanges, girdles, sable tippets?'
+
+  p. 394 _Coventry-Blue._ A kind of blue thread manufactured at Coventry
+  and formerly much used for embroidery, &c. cf. Greene's _James IV_
+  (1592), IV, iii, where Slipper ordering a doublet cries: 'Edge me the
+  sleeves with Coventry blue.' Ben Jonson, _Gipsies Metamorph._ (1621),
+  speaks of 'A skein of Coventry blue'.
+
+  p. 395 _Tawdrums._ Fal-lals. cf. Marston's _Dutch Courtezan_ (4to
+  1605), v, 'no matter for lace and tawdrums'.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Cross-References from Critical Notes: _The Younger Brother_
+
+p. 330 _Southampton Square._ .... _vide_ further, Vol. III, _The Town
+Fop_, p. 22, 'Southampton House,' and note on that passage (p. 476).
+
+  _Town Fop_ text:
+
+  meet me to morrow Morning about five, with your Sword in your Hand,
+  behind _Southampton_ House
+
+  _Town Fop_ note:
+
+  _Southampton House._ Southampton House, Bloomsbury, occupied the whole
+  of the north side of the present Bloomsbury Square. It had 'a curious
+  garden behind, which lieth open to the fields,'--_Strype_. A great
+  rendezvous for duellists, cf. Epilogue to Mountfort's _Greenwich Park_
+  (Drury Lane, 1691) spoken by Mrs. Mountfort:--
+
+    If you're displeased with what you've seen to-night
+    Behind Southampton House we'll do you right;
+    Who is't dares draw 'gainst me and Mrs. Knight?
+
+p. 333 _Wills' Coffee-house._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky
+Chance_, p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ text:
+
+  a Wit of the Town, a Friend of mine at Wills Coffee House
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ note:
+
+  _Wills Coffee House._ This famous coffee-house was No. 1 Bow Street,
+  Covent Garden, on the west side corner of Russell Street. It derived
+  its name from Will Unwin who kept it. The wits' room was upstairs on
+  the first floor. Some of its reputation was due to the fact that it
+  was a favourite resort of Dryden.
+
+p. 334 _his Third Day._ _vide_ Vol. III, Preface, _The Lucky Chance_,
+p. 187, and note on that passage (p. 484).
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ text:
+
+  I will be kinder to my Brothers of the Pen, than they have been to a
+  defenceless Woman; for I am not content to write for a Third day only.
+
+  _Lucky Chance_ note:
+
+  _write for a Third day only._ The whole profits of the third day's
+  performance went to the author of the play; and upon these occasions
+  his friends and patrons would naturally rally to support him. There
+  are numberless allusions to this custom, especially in Prefaces,
+  Prologues and Epilogues.
+
+p. 334 _old Adam._ _vide_ Vol. I, _The Rover_, Part II, p. 133, and
+note on that passage (p. 446).
+
+  _Rover II_ text:
+
+  For your parts, who are the poor dependent, brown Bread and old
+  Adam's Ale is only current amongst ye
+
+  _Rover II_ note:
+
+  _old Adam's Ale._ A very ancient colloquialism for water. In
+  Scotland 'Adam's wine' and frequently merely 'Adam'. Prynne in his
+  _Sovereign Power of Parliament_ (1648), speaks of prisoners
+  'allowed only a poor pittance of Adam's ale.' cf. Peter Pindar (John
+  Wolcot), _The Lousiad_, Canto ii, ll. 453-4:--
+
+    Old Adam's beverage flows with pride
+    From wide-mouthed pitchers in a plenteous tide.]
+
+p. 394 _this Tour._ cf. 'your false Towers', _The False Count_, I, ii
+(Vol. III, p. 116), and note on that passage (p. 480).
+
+  _False Count_ text:
+
+  you must be a Lady, and have your Petticoats lac'd four Stories high;
+  wear your false Towers, and cool your self with your _Spanish_ Fan
+
+  _False Count_ note:
+
+  _Towers._ The tower at this time was a curled frontlet of false
+  hair. cf. Crowne's _The Country Wit_ (1675), Act II, ii, where Lady
+  Faddle cries to her maid, 'run to my milliner's for my gloves and
+  essences ... run for my new towre.' Shadwell, _The Virtuoso_ (1676),
+  Act III, mentions 'Tires for the head, locks, tours, frouzes, and so
+  forth'. _The Debauchee_ (1677), Act II, i: Mrs. Saleware speaks of
+  buying 'fine clothes, and tours, and Points and knots.' _The Younger
+  Brother_ (1696), Act V, the last scene, old Lady Youthly anxiously
+  asks her maid, 'is not this Tour too brown?' During the reign of
+  Mary II and particularly in the time of Anne a Tower meant almost
+  exclusively the high starched head-dress in vogue at that period.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+
+Errors and Irregularities: The Younger Brother
+
+In the Notes, alternation between .' and '. at paragraph-end is as
+printed. The abbreviation "cf." is always lower-case.
+
+Dedication
+
+  for tho suffering Merit  [_elsewhere tho' with apostrophe_]
+
+The Younger Brother
+
+  a fighting, whining Lover's Company  [fighing]
+  Sir _Morgan_, and Sir _Merlin_  [_"and" non-Italic (emphatic)_]
+  _Geo._ [to _Teresia_.]  [_italics/roman reversed in stage direction_]
+  [Smiling.    [Exit.
+    [_bracket before "Exit" added for consistency in e-text_]
+
+Notes on the Text
+
+  p. 338, l. 10  [p. 331]
+
+Critical Notes
+
+  is perhaps the locus classical for mohocking
+    [_text unchanged: usual term is "locus classicus"_]
+  Wills' Coffee-house  [_body text has Will's_]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+           *       *       *       *
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+_Printed by_ A. H. BULLEN, _at the Shakespeare Head Press,
+Stratford-upon-Avon._
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Aphra Behn, by Aphra Behn
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