summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/51114-h/51114-h.htm
blob: cc1dee91b6c194d8afbef05f3bdec87c165f9e0d (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
9289
9290
9291
9292
9293
9294
9295
9296
9297
9298
9299
9300
9301
9302
9303
9304
9305
9306
9307
9308
9309
9310
9311
9312
9313
9314
9315
9316
9317
9318
9319
9320
9321
9322
9323
9324
9325
9326
9327
9328
9329
9330
9331
9332
9333
9334
9335
9336
9337
9338
9339
9340
9341
9342
9343
9344
9345
9346
9347
9348
9349
9350
9351
9352
9353
9354
9355
9356
9357
9358
9359
9360
9361
9362
9363
9364
9365
9366
9367
9368
9369
9370
9371
9372
9373
9374
9375
9376
9377
9378
9379
9380
9381
9382
9383
9384
9385
9386
9387
9388
9389
9390
9391
9392
9393
9394
9395
9396
9397
9398
9399
9400
9401
9402
9403
9404
9405
9406
9407
9408
9409
9410
9411
9412
9413
9414
9415
9416
9417
9418
9419
9420
9421
9422
9423
9424
9425
9426
9427
9428
9429
9430
9431
9432
9433
9434
9435
9436
9437
9438
9439
9440
9441
9442
9443
9444
9445
9446
9447
9448
9449
9450
9451
9452
9453
9454
9455
9456
9457
9458
9459
9460
9461
9462
9463
9464
9465
9466
9467
9468
9469
9470
9471
9472
9473
9474
9475
9476
9477
9478
9479
9480
9481
9482
9483
9484
9485
9486
9487
9488
9489
9490
9491
9492
9493
9494
9495
9496
9497
9498
9499
9500
9501
9502
9503
9504
9505
9506
9507
9508
9509
9510
9511
9512
9513
9514
9515
9516
9517
9518
9519
9520
9521
9522
9523
9524
9525
9526
9527
9528
9529
9530
9531
9532
9533
9534
9535
9536
9537
9538
9539
9540
9541
9542
9543
9544
9545
9546
9547
9548
9549
9550
9551
9552
9553
9554
9555
9556
9557
9558
9559
9560
9561
9562
9563
9564
9565
9566
9567
9568
9569
9570
9571
9572
9573
9574
9575
9576
9577
9578
9579
9580
9581
9582
9583
9584
9585
9586
9587
9588
9589
9590
9591
9592
9593
9594
9595
9596
9597
9598
9599
9600
9601
9602
9603
9604
9605
9606
9607
9608
9609
9610
9611
9612
9613
9614
9615
9616
9617
9618
9619
9620
9621
9622
9623
9624
9625
9626
9627
9628
9629
9630
9631
9632
9633
9634
9635
9636
9637
9638
9639
9640
9641
9642
9643
9644
9645
9646
9647
9648
9649
9650
9651
9652
9653
9654
9655
9656
9657
9658
9659
9660
9661
9662
9663
9664
9665
9666
9667
9668
9669
9670
9671
9672
9673
9674
9675
9676
9677
9678
9679
9680
9681
9682
9683
9684
9685
9686
9687
9688
9689
9690
9691
9692
9693
9694
9695
9696
9697
9698
9699
9700
9701
9702
9703
9704
9705
9706
9707
9708
9709
9710
9711
9712
9713
9714
9715
9716
9717
9718
9719
9720
9721
9722
9723
9724
9725
9726
9727
9728
9729
9730
9731
9732
9733
9734
9735
9736
9737
9738
9739
9740
9741
9742
9743
9744
9745
9746
9747
9748
9749
9750
9751
9752
9753
9754
9755
9756
9757
9758
9759
9760
9761
9762
9763
9764
9765
9766
9767
9768
9769
9770
9771
9772
9773
9774
9775
9776
9777
9778
9779
9780
9781
9782
9783
9784
9785
9786
9787
9788
9789
9790
9791
9792
9793
9794
9795
9796
9797
9798
9799
9800
9801
9802
9803
9804
9805
9806
9807
9808
9809
9810
9811
9812
9813
9814
9815
9816
9817
9818
9819
9820
9821
9822
9823
9824
9825
9826
9827
9828
9829
9830
9831
9832
9833
9834
9835
9836
9837
9838
9839
9840
9841
9842
9843
9844
9845
9846
9847
9848
9849
9850
9851
9852
9853
9854
9855
9856
9857
9858
9859
9860
9861
9862
9863
9864
9865
9866
9867
9868
9869
9870
9871
9872
9873
9874
9875
9876
9877
9878
9879
9880
9881
9882
9883
9884
9885
9886
9887
9888
9889
9890
9891
9892
9893
9894
9895
9896
9897
9898
9899
9900
9901
9902
9903
9904
9905
9906
9907
9908
9909
9910
9911
9912
9913
9914
9915
9916
9917
9918
9919
9920
9921
9922
9923
9924
9925
9926
9927
9928
9929
9930
9931
9932
9933
9934
9935
9936
9937
9938
9939
9940
9941
9942
9943
9944
9945
9946
9947
9948
9949
9950
9951
9952
9953
9954
9955
9956
9957
9958
9959
9960
9961
9962
9963
9964
9965
9966
9967
9968
9969
9970
9971
9972
9973
9974
9975
9976
9977
9978
9979
9980
9981
9982
9983
9984
9985
9986
9987
9988
9989
9990
9991
9992
9993
9994
9995
9996
9997
9998
9999
10000
10001
10002
10003
10004
10005
10006
10007
10008
10009
10010
10011
10012
10013
10014
10015
10016
10017
10018
10019
10020
10021
10022
10023
10024
10025
10026
10027
10028
10029
10030
10031
10032
10033
10034
10035
10036
10037
10038
10039
10040
10041
10042
10043
10044
10045
10046
10047
10048
10049
10050
10051
10052
10053
10054
10055
10056
10057
10058
10059
10060
10061
10062
10063
10064
10065
10066
10067
10068
10069
10070
10071
10072
10073
10074
10075
10076
10077
10078
10079
10080
10081
10082
10083
10084
10085
10086
10087
10088
10089
10090
10091
10092
10093
10094
10095
10096
10097
10098
10099
10100
10101
10102
10103
10104
10105
10106
10107
10108
10109
10110
10111
10112
10113
10114
10115
10116
10117
10118
10119
10120
10121
10122
10123
10124
10125
10126
10127
10128
10129
10130
10131
10132
10133
10134
10135
10136
10137
10138
10139
10140
10141
10142
10143
10144
10145
10146
10147
10148
10149
10150
10151
10152
10153
10154
10155
10156
10157
10158
10159
10160
10161
10162
10163
10164
10165
10166
10167
10168
10169
10170
10171
10172
10173
10174
10175
10176
10177
10178
10179
10180
10181
10182
10183
10184
10185
10186
10187
10188
10189
10190
10191
10192
10193
10194
10195
10196
10197
10198
10199
10200
10201
10202
10203
10204
10205
10206
10207
10208
10209
10210
10211
10212
10213
10214
10215
10216
10217
10218
10219
10220
10221
10222
10223
10224
10225
10226
10227
10228
10229
10230
10231
10232
10233
10234
10235
10236
10237
10238
10239
10240
10241
10242
10243
10244
10245
10246
10247
10248
10249
10250
10251
10252
10253
10254
10255
10256
10257
10258
10259
10260
10261
10262
10263
10264
10265
10266
10267
10268
10269
10270
10271
10272
10273
10274
10275
10276
10277
10278
10279
10280
10281
10282
10283
10284
10285
10286
10287
10288
10289
10290
10291
10292
10293
10294
10295
10296
10297
10298
10299
10300
10301
10302
10303
10304
10305
10306
10307
10308
10309
10310
10311
10312
10313
10314
10315
10316
10317
10318
10319
10320
10321
10322
10323
10324
10325
10326
10327
10328
10329
10330
10331
10332
10333
10334
10335
10336
10337
10338
10339
10340
10341
10342
10343
10344
10345
10346
10347
10348
10349
10350
10351
10352
10353
10354
10355
10356
10357
10358
10359
10360
10361
10362
10363
10364
10365
10366
10367
10368
10369
10370
10371
10372
10373
10374
10375
10376
10377
10378
10379
10380
10381
10382
10383
10384
10385
10386
10387
10388
10389
10390
10391
10392
10393
10394
10395
10396
10397
10398
10399
10400
10401
10402
10403
10404
10405
10406
10407
10408
10409
10410
10411
10412
10413
10414
10415
10416
10417
10418
10419
10420
10421
10422
10423
10424
10425
10426
10427
10428
10429
10430
10431
10432
10433
10434
10435
10436
10437
10438
10439
10440
10441
10442
10443
10444
10445
10446
10447
10448
10449
10450
10451
10452
10453
10454
10455
10456
10457
10458
10459
10460
10461
10462
10463
10464
10465
10466
10467
10468
10469
10470
10471
10472
10473
10474
10475
10476
10477
10478
10479
10480
10481
10482
10483
10484
10485
10486
10487
10488
10489
10490
10491
10492
10493
10494
10495
10496
10497
10498
10499
10500
10501
10502
10503
10504
10505
10506
10507
10508
10509
10510
10511
10512
10513
10514
10515
10516
10517
10518
10519
10520
10521
10522
10523
10524
10525
10526
10527
10528
10529
10530
10531
10532
10533
10534
10535
10536
10537
10538
10539
10540
10541
10542
10543
10544
10545
10546
10547
10548
10549
10550
10551
10552
10553
10554
10555
10556
10557
10558
10559
10560
10561
10562
10563
10564
10565
10566
10567
10568
10569
10570
10571
10572
10573
10574
10575
10576
10577
10578
10579
10580
10581
10582
10583
10584
10585
10586
10587
10588
10589
10590
10591
10592
10593
10594
10595
10596
10597
10598
10599
10600
10601
10602
10603
10604
10605
10606
10607
10608
10609
10610
10611
10612
10613
10614
10615
10616
10617
10618
10619
10620
10621
10622
10623
10624
10625
10626
10627
10628
10629
10630
10631
10632
10633
10634
10635
10636
10637
10638
10639
10640
10641
10642
10643
10644
10645
10646
10647
10648
10649
10650
10651
10652
10653
10654
10655
10656
10657
10658
10659
10660
10661
10662
10663
10664
10665
10666
10667
10668
10669
10670
10671
10672
10673
10674
10675
10676
10677
10678
10679
10680
10681
10682
10683
10684
10685
10686
10687
10688
10689
10690
10691
10692
10693
10694
10695
10696
10697
10698
10699
10700
10701
10702
10703
10704
10705
10706
10707
10708
10709
10710
10711
10712
10713
10714
10715
10716
10717
10718
10719
10720
10721
10722
10723
10724
10725
10726
10727
10728
10729
10730
10731
10732
10733
10734
10735
10736
10737
10738
10739
10740
10741
10742
10743
10744
10745
10746
10747
10748
10749
10750
10751
10752
10753
10754
10755
10756
10757
10758
10759
10760
10761
10762
10763
10764
10765
10766
10767
10768
10769
10770
10771
10772
10773
10774
10775
10776
10777
10778
10779
10780
10781
10782
10783
10784
10785
10786
10787
10788
10789
10790
10791
10792
10793
10794
10795
10796
10797
10798
10799
10800
10801
10802
10803
10804
10805
10806
10807
10808
10809
10810
10811
10812
10813
10814
10815
10816
10817
10818
10819
10820
10821
10822
10823
10824
10825
10826
10827
10828
10829
10830
10831
10832
10833
10834
10835
10836
10837
10838
10839
10840
10841
10842
10843
10844
10845
10846
10847
10848
10849
10850
10851
10852
10853
10854
10855
10856
10857
10858
10859
10860
10861
10862
10863
10864
10865
10866
10867
10868
10869
10870
10871
10872
10873
10874
10875
10876
10877
10878
10879
10880
10881
10882
10883
10884
10885
10886
10887
10888
10889
10890
10891
10892
10893
10894
10895
10896
10897
10898
10899
10900
10901
10902
10903
10904
10905
10906
10907
10908
10909
10910
10911
10912
10913
10914
10915
10916
10917
10918
10919
10920
10921
10922
10923
10924
10925
10926
10927
10928
10929
10930
10931
10932
10933
10934
10935
10936
10937
10938
10939
10940
10941
10942
10943
10944
10945
10946
10947
10948
10949
10950
10951
10952
10953
10954
10955
10956
10957
10958
10959
10960
10961
10962
10963
10964
10965
10966
10967
10968
10969
10970
10971
10972
10973
10974
10975
10976
10977
10978
10979
10980
10981
10982
10983
10984
10985
10986
10987
10988
10989
10990
10991
10992
10993
10994
10995
10996
10997
10998
10999
11000
11001
11002
11003
11004
11005
11006
11007
11008
11009
11010
11011
11012
11013
11014
11015
11016
11017
11018
11019
11020
11021
11022
11023
11024
11025
11026
11027
11028
11029
11030
11031
11032
11033
11034
11035
11036
11037
11038
11039
11040
11041
11042
11043
11044
11045
11046
11047
11048
11049
11050
11051
11052
11053
11054
11055
11056
11057
11058
11059
11060
11061
11062
11063
11064
11065
11066
11067
11068
11069
11070
11071
11072
11073
11074
11075
11076
11077
11078
11079
11080
11081
11082
11083
11084
11085
11086
11087
11088
11089
11090
11091
11092
11093
11094
11095
11096
11097
11098
11099
11100
11101
11102
11103
11104
11105
11106
11107
11108
11109
11110
11111
11112
11113
11114
11115
11116
11117
11118
11119
11120
11121
11122
11123
11124
11125
11126
11127
11128
11129
11130
11131
11132
11133
11134
11135
11136
11137
11138
11139
11140
11141
11142
11143
11144
11145
11146
11147
11148
11149
11150
11151
11152
11153
11154
11155
11156
11157
11158
11159
11160
11161
11162
11163
11164
11165
11166
11167
11168
11169
11170
11171
11172
11173
11174
11175
11176
11177
11178
11179
11180
11181
11182
11183
11184
11185
11186
11187
11188
11189
11190
11191
11192
11193
11194
11195
11196
11197
11198
11199
11200
11201
11202
11203
11204
11205
11206
11207
11208
11209
11210
11211
11212
11213
11214
11215
11216
11217
11218
11219
11220
11221
11222
11223
11224
11225
11226
11227
11228
11229
11230
11231
11232
11233
11234
11235
11236
11237
11238
11239
11240
11241
11242
11243
11244
11245
11246
11247
11248
11249
11250
11251
11252
11253
11254
11255
11256
11257
11258
11259
11260
11261
11262
11263
11264
11265
11266
11267
11268
11269
11270
11271
11272
11273
11274
11275
11276
11277
11278
11279
11280
11281
11282
11283
11284
11285
11286
11287
11288
11289
11290
11291
11292
11293
11294
11295
11296
11297
11298
11299
11300
11301
11302
11303
11304
11305
11306
11307
11308
11309
11310
11311
11312
11313
11314
11315
11316
11317
11318
11319
11320
11321
11322
11323
11324
11325
11326
11327
11328
11329
11330
11331
11332
11333
11334
11335
11336
11337
11338
11339
11340
11341
11342
11343
11344
11345
11346
11347
11348
11349
11350
11351
11352
11353
11354
11355
11356
11357
11358
11359
11360
11361
11362
11363
11364
11365
11366
11367
11368
11369
11370
11371
11372
11373
11374
11375
11376
11377
11378
11379
11380
11381
11382
11383
11384
11385
11386
11387
11388
11389
11390
11391
11392
11393
11394
11395
11396
11397
11398
11399
11400
11401
11402
11403
11404
11405
11406
11407
11408
11409
11410
11411
11412
11413
11414
11415
11416
11417
11418
11419
11420
11421
11422
11423
11424
11425
11426
11427
11428
11429
11430
11431
11432
11433
11434
11435
11436
11437
11438
11439
11440
11441
11442
11443
11444
11445
11446
11447
11448
11449
11450
11451
11452
11453
11454
11455
11456
11457
11458
11459
11460
11461
11462
11463
11464
11465
11466
11467
11468
11469
11470
11471
11472
11473
11474
11475
11476
11477
11478
11479
11480
11481
11482
11483
11484
11485
11486
11487
11488
11489
11490
11491
11492
11493
11494
11495
11496
11497
11498
11499
11500
11501
11502
11503
11504
11505
11506
11507
11508
11509
11510
11511
11512
11513
11514
11515
11516
11517
11518
11519
11520
11521
11522
11523
11524
11525
11526
11527
11528
11529
11530
11531
11532
11533
11534
11535
11536
11537
11538
11539
11540
11541
11542
11543
11544
11545
11546
11547
11548
11549
11550
11551
11552
11553
11554
11555
11556
11557
11558
11559
11560
11561
11562
11563
11564
11565
11566
11567
11568
11569
11570
11571
11572
11573
11574
11575
11576
11577
11578
11579
11580
11581
11582
11583
11584
11585
11586
11587
11588
11589
11590
11591
11592
11593
11594
11595
11596
11597
11598
11599
11600
11601
11602
11603
11604
11605
11606
11607
11608
11609
11610
11611
11612
11613
11614
11615
11616
11617
11618
11619
11620
11621
11622
11623
11624
11625
11626
11627
11628
11629
11630
11631
11632
11633
11634
11635
11636
11637
11638
11639
11640
11641
11642
11643
11644
11645
11646
11647
11648
11649
11650
11651
11652
11653
11654
11655
11656
11657
11658
11659
11660
11661
11662
11663
11664
11665
11666
11667
11668
11669
11670
11671
11672
11673
11674
11675
11676
11677
11678
11679
11680
11681
11682
11683
11684
11685
11686
11687
11688
11689
11690
11691
11692
11693
11694
11695
11696
11697
11698
11699
11700
11701
11702
11703
11704
11705
11706
11707
11708
11709
11710
11711
11712
11713
11714
11715
11716
11717
11718
11719
11720
11721
11722
11723
11724
11725
11726
11727
11728
11729
11730
11731
11732
11733
11734
11735
11736
11737
11738
11739
11740
11741
11742
11743
11744
11745
11746
11747
11748
11749
11750
11751
11752
11753
11754
11755
11756
11757
11758
11759
11760
11761
11762
11763
11764
11765
11766
11767
11768
11769
11770
11771
11772
11773
11774
11775
11776
11777
11778
11779
11780
11781
11782
11783
11784
11785
11786
11787
11788
11789
11790
11791
11792
11793
11794
11795
11796
11797
11798
11799
11800
11801
11802
11803
11804
11805
11806
11807
11808
11809
11810
11811
11812
11813
11814
11815
11816
11817
11818
11819
11820
11821
11822
11823
11824
11825
11826
11827
11828
11829
11830
11831
11832
11833
11834
11835
11836
11837
11838
11839
11840
11841
11842
11843
11844
11845
11846
11847
11848
11849
11850
11851
11852
11853
11854
11855
11856
11857
11858
11859
11860
11861
11862
11863
11864
11865
11866
11867
11868
11869
11870
11871
11872
11873
11874
11875
11876
11877
11878
11879
11880
11881
11882
11883
11884
11885
11886
11887
11888
11889
11890
11891
11892
11893
11894
11895
11896
11897
11898
11899
11900
11901
11902
11903
11904
11905
11906
11907
11908
11909
11910
11911
11912
11913
11914
11915
11916
11917
11918
11919
11920
11921
11922
11923
11924
11925
11926
11927
11928
11929
11930
11931
11932
11933
11934
11935
11936
11937
11938
11939
11940
11941
11942
11943
11944
11945
11946
11947
11948
11949
11950
11951
11952
11953
11954
11955
11956
11957
11958
11959
11960
11961
11962
11963
11964
11965
11966
11967
11968
11969
11970
11971
11972
11973
11974
11975
11976
11977
11978
11979
11980
11981
11982
11983
11984
11985
11986
11987
11988
11989
11990
11991
11992
11993
11994
11995
11996
11997
11998
11999
12000
12001
12002
12003
12004
12005
12006
12007
12008
12009
12010
12011
12012
12013
12014
12015
12016
12017
12018
12019
12020
12021
12022
12023
12024
12025
12026
12027
12028
12029
12030
12031
12032
12033
12034
12035
12036
12037
12038
12039
12040
12041
12042
12043
12044
12045
12046
12047
12048
12049
12050
12051
12052
12053
12054
12055
12056
12057
12058
12059
12060
12061
12062
12063
12064
12065
12066
12067
12068
12069
12070
12071
12072
12073
12074
12075
12076
12077
12078
12079
12080
12081
12082
12083
12084
12085
12086
12087
12088
12089
12090
12091
12092
12093
12094
12095
12096
12097
12098
12099
12100
12101
12102
12103
12104
12105
12106
12107
12108
12109
12110
12111
12112
12113
12114
12115
12116
12117
12118
12119
12120
12121
12122
12123
12124
12125
12126
12127
12128
12129
12130
12131
12132
12133
12134
12135
12136
12137
12138
12139
12140
12141
12142
12143
12144
12145
12146
12147
12148
12149
12150
12151
12152
12153
12154
12155
12156
12157
12158
12159
12160
12161
12162
12163
12164
12165
12166
12167
12168
12169
12170
12171
12172
12173
12174
12175
12176
12177
12178
12179
12180
12181
12182
12183
12184
12185
12186
12187
12188
12189
12190
12191
12192
12193
12194
12195
12196
12197
12198
12199
12200
12201
12202
12203
12204
12205
12206
12207
12208
12209
12210
12211
12212
12213
12214
12215
12216
12217
12218
12219
12220
12221
12222
12223
12224
12225
12226
12227
12228
12229
12230
12231
12232
12233
12234
12235
12236
12237
12238
12239
12240
12241
12242
12243
12244
12245
12246
12247
12248
12249
12250
12251
12252
12253
12254
12255
12256
12257
12258
12259
12260
12261
12262
12263
12264
12265
12266
12267
12268
12269
12270
12271
12272
12273
12274
12275
12276
12277
12278
12279
12280
12281
12282
12283
12284
12285
12286
12287
12288
12289
12290
12291
12292
12293
12294
12295
12296
12297
12298
12299
12300
12301
12302
12303
12304
12305
12306
12307
12308
12309
12310
12311
12312
12313
12314
12315
12316
12317
12318
12319
12320
12321
12322
12323
12324
12325
12326
12327
12328
12329
12330
12331
12332
12333
12334
12335
12336
12337
12338
12339
12340
12341
12342
12343
12344
12345
12346
12347
12348
12349
12350
12351
12352
12353
12354
12355
12356
12357
12358
12359
12360
12361
12362
12363
12364
12365
12366
12367
12368
12369
12370
12371
12372
12373
12374
12375
12376
12377
12378
12379
12380
12381
12382
12383
12384
12385
12386
12387
12388
12389
12390
12391
12392
12393
12394
12395
12396
12397
12398
12399
12400
12401
12402
12403
12404
12405
12406
12407
12408
12409
12410
12411
12412
12413
12414
12415
12416
12417
12418
12419
12420
12421
12422
12423
12424
12425
12426
12427
12428
12429
12430
12431
12432
12433
12434
12435
12436
12437
12438
12439
12440
12441
12442
12443
12444
12445
12446
12447
12448
12449
12450
12451
12452
12453
12454
12455
12456
12457
12458
12459
12460
12461
12462
12463
12464
12465
12466
12467
12468
12469
12470
12471
12472
12473
12474
12475
12476
12477
12478
12479
12480
12481
12482
12483
12484
12485
12486
12487
12488
12489
12490
12491
12492
12493
12494
12495
12496
12497
12498
12499
12500
12501
12502
12503
12504
12505
12506
12507
12508
12509
12510
12511
12512
12513
12514
12515
12516
12517
12518
12519
12520
12521
12522
12523
12524
12525
12526
12527
12528
12529
12530
12531
12532
12533
12534
12535
12536
12537
12538
12539
12540
12541
12542
12543
12544
12545
12546
12547
12548
12549
12550
12551
12552
12553
12554
12555
12556
12557
12558
12559
12560
12561
12562
12563
12564
12565
12566
12567
12568
12569
12570
12571
12572
12573
12574
12575
12576
12577
12578
12579
12580
12581
12582
12583
12584
12585
12586
12587
12588
12589
12590
12591
12592
12593
12594
12595
12596
12597
12598
12599
12600
12601
12602
12603
12604
12605
12606
12607
12608
12609
12610
12611
12612
12613
12614
12615
12616
12617
12618
12619
12620
12621
12622
12623
12624
12625
12626
12627
12628
12629
12630
12631
12632
12633
12634
12635
12636
12637
12638
12639
12640
12641
12642
12643
12644
12645
12646
12647
12648
12649
12650
12651
12652
12653
12654
12655
12656
12657
12658
12659
12660
12661
12662
12663
12664
12665
12666
12667
12668
12669
12670
12671
12672
12673
12674
12675
12676
12677
12678
12679
12680
12681
12682
12683
12684
12685
12686
12687
12688
12689
12690
12691
12692
12693
12694
12695
12696
12697
12698
12699
12700
12701
12702
12703
12704
12705
12706
12707
12708
12709
12710
12711
12712
12713
12714
12715
12716
12717
12718
12719
12720
12721
12722
12723
12724
12725
12726
12727
12728
12729
12730
12731
12732
12733
12734
12735
12736
12737
12738
12739
12740
12741
12742
12743
12744
12745
12746
12747
12748
12749
12750
12751
12752
12753
12754
12755
12756
12757
12758
12759
12760
12761
12762
12763
12764
12765
12766
12767
12768
12769
12770
12771
12772
12773
12774
12775
12776
12777
12778
12779
12780
12781
12782
12783
12784
12785
12786
12787
12788
12789
12790
12791
12792
12793
12794
12795
12796
12797
12798
12799
12800
12801
12802
12803
12804
12805
12806
12807
12808
12809
12810
12811
12812
12813
12814
12815
12816
12817
12818
12819
12820
12821
12822
12823
12824
12825
12826
12827
12828
12829
12830
12831
12832
12833
12834
12835
12836
12837
12838
12839
12840
12841
12842
12843
12844
12845
12846
12847
12848
12849
12850
12851
12852
12853
12854
12855
12856
12857
12858
12859
12860
12861
12862
12863
12864
12865
12866
12867
12868
12869
12870
12871
12872
12873
12874
12875
12876
12877
12878
12879
12880
12881
12882
12883
12884
12885
12886
12887
12888
12889
12890
12891
12892
12893
12894
12895
12896
12897
12898
12899
12900
12901
12902
12903
12904
12905
12906
12907
12908
12909
12910
12911
12912
12913
12914
12915
12916
12917
12918
12919
12920
12921
12922
12923
12924
12925
12926
12927
12928
12929
12930
12931
12932
12933
12934
12935
12936
12937
12938
12939
12940
12941
12942
12943
12944
12945
12946
12947
12948
12949
12950
12951
12952
12953
12954
12955
12956
12957
12958
12959
12960
12961
12962
12963
12964
12965
12966
12967
12968
12969
12970
12971
12972
12973
12974
12975
12976
12977
12978
12979
12980
12981
12982
12983
12984
12985
12986
12987
12988
12989
12990
12991
12992
12993
12994
12995
12996
12997
12998
12999
13000
13001
13002
13003
13004
13005
13006
13007
13008
13009
13010
13011
13012
13013
13014
13015
13016
13017
13018
13019
13020
13021
13022
13023
13024
13025
13026
13027
13028
13029
13030
13031
13032
13033
13034
13035
13036
13037
13038
13039
13040
13041
13042
13043
13044
13045
13046
13047
13048
13049
13050
13051
13052
13053
13054
13055
13056
13057
13058
13059
13060
13061
13062
13063
13064
13065
13066
13067
13068
13069
13070
13071
13072
13073
13074
13075
13076
13077
13078
13079
13080
13081
13082
13083
13084
13085
13086
13087
13088
13089
13090
13091
13092
13093
13094
13095
13096
13097
13098
13099
13100
13101
13102
13103
13104
13105
13106
13107
13108
13109
13110
13111
13112
13113
13114
13115
13116
13117
13118
13119
13120
13121
13122
13123
13124
13125
13126
13127
13128
13129
13130
13131
13132
13133
13134
13135
13136
13137
13138
13139
13140
13141
13142
13143
13144
13145
13146
13147
13148
13149
13150
13151
13152
13153
13154
13155
13156
13157
13158
13159
13160
13161
13162
13163
13164
13165
13166
13167
13168
13169
13170
13171
13172
13173
13174
13175
13176
13177
13178
13179
13180
13181
13182
13183
13184
13185
13186
13187
13188
13189
13190
13191
13192
13193
13194
13195
13196
13197
13198
13199
13200
13201
13202
13203
13204
13205
13206
13207
13208
13209
13210
13211
13212
13213
13214
13215
13216
13217
13218
13219
13220
13221
13222
13223
13224
13225
13226
13227
13228
13229
13230
13231
13232
13233
13234
13235
13236
13237
13238
13239
13240
13241
13242
13243
13244
13245
13246
13247
13248
13249
13250
13251
13252
13253
13254
13255
13256
13257
13258
13259
13260
13261
13262
13263
13264
13265
13266
13267
13268
13269
13270
13271
13272
13273
13274
13275
13276
13277
13278
13279
13280
13281
13282
13283
13284
13285
13286
13287
13288
13289
13290
13291
13292
13293
13294
13295
13296
13297
13298
13299
13300
13301
13302
13303
13304
13305
13306
13307
13308
13309
13310
13311
13312
13313
13314
13315
13316
13317
13318
13319
13320
13321
13322
13323
13324
13325
13326
13327
13328
13329
13330
13331
13332
13333
13334
13335
13336
13337
13338
13339
13340
13341
13342
13343
13344
13345
13346
13347
13348
13349
13350
13351
13352
13353
13354
13355
13356
13357
13358
13359
13360
13361
13362
13363
13364
13365
13366
13367
13368
13369
13370
13371
13372
13373
13374
13375
13376
13377
13378
13379
13380
13381
13382
13383
13384
13385
13386
13387
13388
13389
13390
13391
13392
13393
13394
13395
13396
13397
13398
13399
13400
13401
13402
13403
13404
13405
13406
13407
13408
13409
13410
13411
13412
13413
13414
13415
13416
13417
13418
13419
13420
13421
13422
13423
13424
13425
13426
13427
13428
13429
13430
13431
13432
13433
13434
13435
13436
13437
13438
13439
13440
13441
13442
13443
13444
13445
13446
13447
13448
13449
13450
13451
13452
13453
13454
13455
13456
13457
13458
13459
13460
13461
13462
13463
13464
13465
13466
13467
13468
13469
13470
13471
13472
13473
13474
13475
13476
13477
13478
13479
13480
13481
13482
13483
13484
13485
13486
13487
13488
13489
13490
13491
13492
13493
13494
13495
13496
13497
13498
13499
13500
13501
13502
13503
13504
13505
13506
13507
13508
13509
13510
13511
13512
13513
13514
13515
13516
13517
13518
13519
13520
13521
13522
13523
13524
13525
13526
13527
13528
13529
13530
13531
13532
13533
13534
13535
13536
13537
13538
13539
13540
13541
13542
13543
13544
13545
13546
13547
13548
13549
13550
13551
13552
13553
13554
13555
13556
13557
13558
13559
13560
13561
13562
13563
13564
13565
13566
13567
13568
13569
13570
13571
13572
13573
13574
13575
13576
13577
13578
13579
13580
13581
13582
13583
13584
13585
13586
13587
13588
13589
13590
13591
13592
13593
13594
13595
13596
13597
13598
13599
13600
13601
13602
13603
13604
13605
13606
13607
13608
13609
13610
13611
13612
13613
13614
13615
13616
13617
13618
13619
13620
13621
13622
13623
13624
13625
13626
13627
13628
13629
13630
13631
13632
13633
13634
13635
13636
13637
13638
13639
13640
13641
13642
13643
13644
13645
13646
13647
13648
13649
13650
13651
13652
13653
13654
13655
13656
13657
13658
13659
13660
13661
13662
13663
13664
13665
13666
13667
13668
13669
13670
13671
13672
13673
13674
13675
13676
13677
13678
13679
13680
13681
13682
13683
13684
13685
13686
13687
13688
13689
13690
13691
13692
13693
13694
13695
13696
13697
13698
13699
13700
13701
13702
13703
13704
13705
13706
13707
13708
13709
13710
13711
13712
13713
13714
13715
13716
13717
13718
13719
13720
13721
13722
13723
13724
13725
13726
13727
13728
13729
13730
13731
13732
13733
13734
13735
13736
13737
13738
13739
13740
13741
13742
13743
13744
13745
13746
13747
13748
13749
13750
13751
13752
13753
13754
13755
13756
13757
13758
13759
13760
13761
13762
13763
13764
13765
13766
13767
13768
13769
13770
13771
13772
13773
13774
13775
13776
13777
13778
13779
13780
13781
13782
13783
13784
13785
13786
13787
13788
13789
13790
13791
13792
13793
13794
13795
13796
13797
13798
13799
13800
13801
13802
13803
13804
13805
13806
13807
13808
13809
13810
13811
13812
13813
13814
13815
13816
13817
13818
13819
13820
13821
13822
13823
13824
13825
13826
13827
13828
13829
13830
13831
13832
13833
13834
13835
13836
13837
13838
13839
13840
13841
13842
13843
13844
13845
13846
13847
13848
13849
13850
13851
13852
13853
13854
13855
13856
13857
13858
13859
13860
13861
13862
13863
13864
13865
13866
13867
13868
13869
13870
13871
13872
13873
13874
13875
13876
13877
13878
13879
13880
13881
13882
13883
13884
13885
13886
13887
13888
13889
13890
13891
13892
13893
13894
13895
13896
13897
13898
13899
13900
13901
13902
13903
13904
13905
13906
13907
13908
13909
13910
13911
13912
13913
13914
13915
13916
13917
13918
13919
13920
13921
13922
13923
13924
13925
13926
13927
13928
13929
13930
13931
13932
13933
13934
13935
13936
13937
13938
13939
13940
13941
13942
13943
13944
13945
13946
13947
13948
13949
13950
13951
13952
13953
13954
13955
13956
13957
13958
13959
13960
13961
13962
13963
13964
13965
13966
13967
13968
13969
13970
13971
13972
13973
13974
13975
13976
13977
13978
13979
13980
13981
13982
13983
13984
13985
13986
13987
13988
13989
13990
13991
13992
13993
13994
13995
13996
13997
13998
13999
14000
14001
14002
14003
14004
14005
14006
14007
14008
14009
14010
14011
14012
14013
14014
14015
14016
14017
14018
14019
14020
14021
14022
14023
14024
14025
14026
14027
14028
14029
14030
14031
14032
14033
14034
14035
14036
14037
14038
14039
14040
14041
14042
14043
14044
14045
14046
14047
14048
14049
14050
14051
14052
14053
14054
14055
14056
14057
14058
14059
14060
14061
14062
14063
14064
14065
14066
14067
14068
14069
14070
14071
14072
14073
14074
14075
14076
14077
14078
14079
14080
14081
14082
14083
14084
14085
14086
14087
14088
14089
14090
14091
14092
14093
14094
14095
14096
14097
14098
14099
14100
14101
14102
14103
14104
14105
14106
14107
14108
14109
14110
14111
14112
14113
14114
14115
14116
14117
14118
14119
14120
14121
14122
14123
14124
14125
14126
14127
14128
14129
14130
14131
14132
14133
14134
14135
14136
14137
14138
14139
14140
14141
14142
14143
14144
14145
14146
14147
14148
14149
14150
14151
14152
14153
14154
14155
14156
14157
14158
14159
14160
14161
14162
14163
14164
14165
14166
14167
14168
14169
14170
14171
14172
14173
14174
14175
14176
14177
14178
14179
14180
14181
14182
14183
14184
14185
14186
14187
14188
14189
14190
14191
14192
14193
14194
14195
14196
14197
14198
14199
14200
14201
14202
14203
14204
14205
14206
14207
14208
14209
14210
14211
14212
14213
14214
14215
14216
14217
14218
14219
14220
14221
14222
14223
14224
14225
14226
14227
14228
14229
14230
14231
14232
14233
14234
14235
14236
14237
14238
14239
14240
14241
14242
14243
14244
14245
14246
14247
14248
14249
14250
14251
14252
14253
14254
14255
14256
14257
14258
14259
14260
14261
14262
14263
14264
14265
14266
14267
14268
14269
14270
14271
14272
14273
14274
14275
14276
14277
14278
14279
14280
14281
14282
14283
14284
14285
14286
14287
14288
14289
14290
14291
14292
14293
14294
14295
14296
14297
14298
14299
14300
14301
14302
14303
14304
14305
14306
14307
14308
14309
14310
14311
14312
14313
14314
14315
14316
14317
14318
14319
14320
14321
14322
14323
14324
14325
14326
14327
14328
14329
14330
14331
14332
14333
14334
14335
14336
14337
14338
14339
14340
14341
14342
14343
14344
14345
14346
14347
14348
14349
14350
14351
14352
14353
14354
14355
14356
14357
14358
14359
14360
14361
14362
14363
14364
14365
14366
14367
14368
14369
14370
14371
14372
14373
14374
14375
14376
14377
14378
14379
14380
14381
14382
14383
14384
14385
14386
14387
14388
14389
14390
14391
14392
14393
14394
14395
14396
14397
14398
14399
14400
14401
14402
14403
14404
14405
14406
14407
14408
14409
14410
14411
14412
14413
14414
14415
14416
14417
14418
14419
14420
14421
14422
14423
14424
14425
14426
14427
14428
14429
14430
14431
14432
14433
14434
14435
14436
14437
14438
14439
14440
14441
14442
14443
14444
14445
14446
14447
14448
14449
14450
14451
14452
14453
14454
14455
14456
14457
14458
14459
14460
14461
14462
14463
14464
14465
14466
14467
14468
14469
14470
14471
14472
14473
14474
14475
14476
14477
14478
14479
14480
14481
14482
14483
14484
14485
14486
14487
14488
14489
14490
14491
14492
14493
14494
14495
14496
14497
14498
14499
14500
14501
14502
14503
14504
14505
14506
14507
14508
14509
14510
14511
14512
14513
14514
14515
14516
14517
14518
14519
14520
14521
14522
14523
14524
14525
14526
14527
14528
14529
14530
14531
14532
14533
14534
14535
14536
14537
14538
14539
14540
14541
14542
14543
14544
14545
14546
14547
14548
14549
14550
14551
14552
14553
14554
14555
14556
14557
14558
14559
14560
14561
14562
14563
14564
14565
14566
14567
14568
14569
14570
14571
14572
14573
14574
14575
14576
14577
14578
14579
14580
14581
14582
14583
14584
14585
14586
14587
14588
14589
14590
14591
14592
14593
14594
14595
14596
14597
14598
14599
14600
14601
14602
14603
14604
14605
14606
14607
14608
14609
14610
14611
14612
14613
14614
14615
14616
14617
14618
14619
14620
14621
14622
14623
14624
14625
14626
14627
14628
14629
14630
14631
14632
14633
14634
14635
14636
14637
14638
14639
14640
14641
14642
14643
14644
14645
14646
14647
14648
14649
14650
14651
14652
14653
14654
14655
14656
14657
14658
14659
14660
14661
14662
14663
14664
14665
14666
14667
14668
14669
14670
14671
14672
14673
14674
14675
14676
14677
14678
14679
14680
14681
14682
14683
14684
14685
14686
14687
14688
14689
14690
14691
14692
14693
14694
14695
14696
14697
14698
14699
14700
14701
14702
14703
14704
14705
14706
14707
14708
14709
14710
14711
14712
14713
14714
14715
14716
14717
14718
14719
14720
14721
14722
14723
14724
14725
14726
14727
14728
14729
14730
14731
14732
14733
14734
14735
14736
14737
14738
14739
14740
14741
14742
14743
14744
14745
14746
14747
14748
14749
14750
14751
14752
14753
14754
14755
14756
14757
14758
14759
14760
14761
14762
14763
14764
14765
14766
14767
14768
14769
14770
14771
14772
14773
14774
14775
14776
14777
14778
14779
14780
14781
14782
14783
14784
14785
14786
14787
14788
14789
14790
14791
14792
14793
14794
14795
14796
14797
14798
14799
14800
14801
14802
14803
14804
14805
14806
14807
14808
14809
14810
14811
14812
14813
14814
14815
14816
14817
14818
14819
14820
14821
14822
14823
14824
14825
14826
14827
14828
14829
14830
14831
14832
14833
14834
14835
14836
14837
14838
14839
14840
14841
14842
14843
14844
14845
14846
14847
14848
14849
14850
14851
14852
14853
14854
14855
14856
14857
14858
14859
14860
14861
14862
14863
14864
14865
14866
14867
14868
14869
14870
14871
14872
14873
14874
14875
14876
14877
14878
14879
14880
14881
14882
14883
14884
14885
14886
14887
14888
14889
14890
14891
14892
14893
14894
14895
14896
14897
14898
14899
14900
14901
14902
14903
14904
14905
14906
14907
14908
14909
14910
14911
14912
14913
14914
14915
14916
14917
14918
14919
14920
14921
14922
14923
14924
14925
14926
14927
14928
14929
14930
14931
14932
14933
14934
14935
14936
14937
14938
14939
14940
14941
14942
14943
14944
14945
14946
14947
14948
14949
14950
14951
14952
14953
14954
14955
14956
14957
14958
14959
14960
14961
14962
14963
14964
14965
14966
14967
14968
14969
14970
14971
14972
14973
14974
14975
14976
14977
14978
14979
14980
14981
14982
14983
14984
14985
14986
14987
14988
14989
14990
14991
14992
14993
14994
14995
14996
14997
14998
14999
15000
15001
15002
15003
15004
15005
15006
15007
15008
15009
15010
15011
15012
15013
15014
15015
15016
15017
15018
15019
15020
15021
15022
15023
15024
15025
15026
15027
15028
15029
15030
15031
15032
15033
15034
15035
15036
15037
15038
15039
15040
15041
15042
15043
15044
15045
15046
15047
15048
15049
15050
15051
15052
15053
15054
15055
15056
15057
15058
15059
15060
15061
15062
15063
15064
15065
15066
15067
15068
15069
15070
15071
15072
15073
15074
15075
15076
15077
15078
15079
15080
15081
15082
15083
15084
15085
15086
15087
15088
15089
15090
15091
15092
15093
15094
15095
15096
15097
15098
15099
15100
15101
15102
15103
15104
15105
15106
15107
15108
15109
15110
15111
15112
15113
15114
15115
15116
15117
15118
15119
15120
15121
15122
15123
15124
15125
15126
15127
15128
15129
15130
15131
15132
15133
15134
15135
15136
15137
15138
15139
15140
15141
15142
15143
15144
15145
15146
15147
15148
15149
15150
15151
15152
15153
15154
15155
15156
15157
15158
15159
15160
15161
15162
15163
15164
15165
15166
15167
15168
15169
15170
15171
15172
15173
15174
15175
15176
15177
15178
15179
15180
15181
15182
15183
15184
15185
15186
15187
15188
15189
15190
15191
15192
15193
15194
15195
15196
15197
15198
15199
15200
15201
15202
15203
15204
15205
15206
15207
15208
15209
15210
15211
15212
15213
15214
15215
15216
15217
15218
15219
15220
15221
15222
15223
15224
15225
15226
15227
15228
15229
15230
15231
15232
15233
15234
15235
15236
15237
15238
15239
15240
15241
15242
15243
15244
15245
15246
15247
15248
15249
15250
15251
15252
15253
15254
15255
15256
15257
15258
15259
15260
15261
15262
15263
15264
15265
15266
15267
15268
15269
15270
15271
15272
15273
15274
15275
15276
15277
15278
15279
15280
15281
15282
15283
15284
15285
15286
15287
15288
15289
15290
15291
15292
15293
15294
15295
15296
15297
15298
15299
15300
15301
15302
15303
15304
15305
15306
15307
15308
15309
15310
15311
15312
15313
15314
15315
15316
15317
15318
15319
15320
15321
15322
15323
15324
15325
15326
15327
15328
15329
15330
15331
15332
15333
15334
15335
15336
15337
15338
15339
15340
15341
15342
15343
15344
15345
15346
15347
15348
15349
15350
15351
15352
15353
15354
15355
15356
15357
15358
15359
15360
15361
15362
15363
15364
15365
15366
15367
15368
15369
15370
15371
15372
15373
15374
15375
15376
15377
15378
15379
15380
15381
15382
15383
15384
15385
15386
15387
15388
15389
15390
15391
15392
15393
15394
15395
15396
15397
15398
15399
15400
15401
15402
15403
15404
15405
15406
15407
15408
15409
15410
15411
15412
15413
15414
15415
15416
15417
15418
15419
15420
15421
15422
15423
15424
15425
15426
15427
15428
15429
15430
15431
15432
15433
15434
15435
15436
15437
15438
15439
15440
15441
15442
15443
15444
15445
15446
15447
15448
15449
15450
15451
15452
15453
15454
15455
15456
15457
15458
15459
15460
15461
15462
15463
15464
15465
15466
15467
15468
15469
15470
15471
15472
15473
15474
15475
15476
15477
15478
15479
15480
15481
15482
15483
15484
15485
15486
15487
15488
15489
15490
15491
15492
15493
15494
15495
15496
15497
15498
15499
15500
15501
15502
15503
15504
15505
15506
15507
15508
15509
15510
15511
15512
15513
15514
15515
15516
15517
15518
15519
15520
15521
15522
15523
15524
15525
15526
15527
15528
15529
15530
15531
15532
15533
15534
15535
15536
15537
15538
15539
15540
15541
15542
15543
15544
15545
15546
15547
15548
15549
15550
15551
15552
15553
15554
15555
15556
15557
15558
15559
15560
15561
15562
15563
15564
15565
15566
15567
15568
15569
15570
15571
15572
15573
15574
15575
15576
15577
15578
15579
15580
15581
15582
15583
15584
15585
15586
15587
15588
15589
15590
15591
15592
15593
15594
15595
15596
15597
15598
15599
15600
15601
15602
15603
15604
15605
15606
15607
15608
15609
15610
15611
15612
15613
15614
15615
15616
15617
15618
15619
15620
15621
15622
15623
15624
15625
15626
15627
15628
15629
15630
15631
15632
15633
15634
15635
15636
15637
15638
15639
15640
15641
15642
15643
15644
15645
15646
15647
15648
15649
15650
15651
15652
15653
15654
15655
15656
15657
15658
15659
15660
15661
15662
15663
15664
15665
15666
15667
15668
15669
15670
15671
15672
15673
15674
15675
15676
15677
15678
15679
15680
15681
15682
15683
15684
15685
15686
15687
15688
15689
15690
15691
15692
15693
15694
15695
15696
15697
15698
15699
15700
15701
15702
15703
15704
15705
15706
15707
15708
15709
15710
15711
15712
15713
15714
15715
15716
15717
15718
15719
15720
15721
15722
15723
15724
15725
15726
15727
15728
15729
15730
15731
15732
15733
15734
15735
15736
15737
15738
15739
15740
15741
15742
15743
15744
15745
15746
15747
15748
15749
15750
15751
15752
15753
15754
15755
15756
15757
15758
15759
15760
15761
15762
15763
15764
15765
15766
15767
15768
15769
15770
15771
15772
15773
15774
15775
15776
15777
15778
15779
15780
15781
15782
15783
15784
15785
15786
15787
15788
15789
15790
15791
15792
15793
15794
15795
15796
15797
15798
15799
15800
15801
15802
15803
15804
15805
15806
15807
15808
15809
15810
15811
15812
15813
15814
15815
15816
15817
15818
15819
15820
15821
15822
15823
15824
15825
15826
15827
15828
15829
15830
15831
15832
15833
15834
15835
15836
15837
15838
15839
15840
15841
15842
15843
15844
15845
15846
15847
15848
15849
15850
15851
15852
15853
15854
15855
15856
15857
15858
15859
15860
15861
15862
15863
15864
15865
15866
15867
15868
15869
15870
15871
15872
15873
15874
15875
15876
15877
15878
15879
15880
15881
15882
15883
15884
15885
15886
15887
15888
15889
15890
15891
15892
15893
15894
15895
15896
15897
15898
15899
15900
15901
15902
15903
15904
15905
15906
15907
15908
15909
15910
15911
15912
15913
15914
15915
15916
15917
15918
15919
15920
15921
15922
15923
15924
15925
15926
15927
15928
15929
15930
15931
15932
15933
15934
15935
15936
15937
15938
15939
15940
15941
15942
15943
15944
15945
15946
15947
15948
15949
15950
15951
15952
15953
15954
15955
15956
15957
15958
15959
15960
15961
15962
15963
15964
15965
15966
15967
15968
15969
15970
15971
15972
15973
15974
15975
15976
15977
15978
15979
15980
15981
15982
15983
15984
15985
15986
15987
15988
15989
15990
15991
15992
15993
15994
15995
15996
15997
15998
15999
16000
16001
16002
16003
16004
16005
16006
16007
16008
16009
16010
16011
16012
16013
16014
16015
16016
16017
16018
16019
16020
16021
16022
16023
16024
16025
16026
16027
16028
16029
16030
16031
16032
16033
16034
16035
16036
16037
16038
16039
16040
16041
16042
16043
16044
16045
16046
16047
16048
16049
16050
16051
16052
16053
16054
16055
16056
16057
16058
16059
16060
16061
16062
16063
16064
16065
16066
16067
16068
16069
16070
16071
16072
16073
16074
16075
16076
16077
16078
16079
16080
16081
16082
16083
16084
16085
16086
16087
16088
16089
16090
16091
16092
16093
16094
16095
16096
16097
16098
16099
16100
16101
16102
16103
16104
16105
16106
16107
16108
16109
16110
16111
16112
16113
16114
16115
16116
16117
16118
16119
16120
16121
16122
16123
16124
16125
16126
16127
16128
16129
16130
16131
16132
16133
16134
16135
16136
16137
16138
16139
16140
16141
16142
16143
16144
16145
16146
16147
16148
16149
16150
16151
16152
16153
16154
16155
16156
16157
16158
16159
16160
16161
16162
16163
16164
16165
16166
16167
16168
16169
16170
16171
16172
16173
16174
16175
16176
16177
16178
16179
16180
16181
16182
16183
16184
16185
16186
16187
16188
16189
16190
16191
16192
16193
16194
16195
16196
16197
16198
16199
16200
16201
16202
16203
16204
16205
16206
16207
16208
16209
16210
16211
16212
16213
16214
16215
16216
16217
16218
16219
16220
16221
16222
16223
16224
16225
16226
16227
16228
16229
16230
16231
16232
16233
16234
16235
16236
16237
16238
16239
16240
16241
16242
16243
16244
16245
16246
16247
16248
16249
16250
16251
16252
16253
16254
16255
16256
16257
16258
16259
16260
16261
16262
16263
16264
16265
16266
16267
16268
16269
16270
16271
16272
16273
16274
16275
16276
16277
16278
16279
16280
16281
16282
16283
16284
16285
16286
16287
16288
16289
16290
16291
16292
16293
16294
16295
16296
16297
16298
16299
16300
16301
16302
16303
16304
16305
16306
16307
16308
16309
16310
16311
16312
16313
16314
16315
16316
16317
16318
16319
16320
16321
16322
16323
16324
16325
16326
16327
16328
16329
16330
16331
16332
16333
16334
16335
16336
16337
16338
16339
16340
16341
16342
16343
16344
16345
16346
16347
16348
16349
16350
16351
16352
16353
16354
16355
16356
16357
16358
16359
16360
16361
16362
16363
16364
16365
16366
16367
16368
16369
16370
16371
16372
16373
16374
16375
16376
16377
16378
16379
16380
16381
16382
16383
16384
16385
16386
16387
16388
16389
16390
16391
16392
16393
16394
16395
16396
16397
16398
16399
16400
16401
16402
16403
16404
16405
16406
16407
16408
16409
16410
16411
16412
16413
16414
16415
16416
16417
16418
16419
16420
16421
16422
16423
16424
16425
16426
16427
16428
16429
16430
16431
16432
16433
16434
16435
16436
16437
16438
16439
16440
16441
16442
16443
16444
16445
16446
16447
16448
16449
16450
16451
16452
16453
16454
16455
16456
16457
16458
16459
16460
16461
16462
16463
16464
16465
16466
16467
16468
16469
16470
16471
16472
16473
16474
16475
16476
16477
16478
16479
16480
16481
16482
16483
16484
16485
16486
16487
16488
16489
16490
16491
16492
16493
16494
16495
16496
16497
16498
16499
16500
16501
16502
16503
16504
16505
16506
16507
16508
16509
16510
16511
16512
16513
16514
16515
16516
16517
16518
16519
16520
16521
16522
16523
16524
16525
16526
16527
16528
16529
16530
16531
16532
16533
16534
16535
16536
16537
16538
16539
16540
16541
16542
16543
16544
16545
16546
16547
16548
16549
16550
16551
16552
16553
16554
16555
16556
16557
16558
16559
16560
16561
16562
16563
16564
16565
16566
16567
16568
16569
16570
16571
16572
16573
16574
16575
16576
16577
16578
16579
16580
16581
16582
16583
16584
16585
16586
16587
16588
16589
16590
16591
16592
16593
16594
16595
16596
16597
16598
16599
16600
16601
16602
16603
16604
16605
16606
16607
16608
16609
16610
16611
16612
16613
16614
16615
16616
16617
16618
16619
16620
16621
16622
16623
16624
16625
16626
16627
16628
16629
16630
16631
16632
16633
16634
16635
16636
16637
16638
16639
16640
16641
16642
16643
16644
16645
16646
16647
16648
16649
16650
16651
16652
16653
16654
16655
16656
16657
16658
16659
16660
16661
16662
16663
16664
16665
16666
16667
16668
16669
16670
16671
16672
16673
16674
16675
16676
16677
16678
16679
16680
16681
16682
16683
16684
16685
16686
16687
16688
16689
16690
16691
16692
16693
16694
16695
16696
16697
16698
16699
16700
16701
16702
16703
16704
16705
16706
16707
16708
16709
16710
16711
16712
16713
16714
16715
16716
16717
16718
16719
16720
16721
16722
16723
16724
16725
16726
16727
16728
16729
16730
16731
16732
16733
16734
16735
16736
16737
16738
16739
16740
16741
16742
16743
16744
16745
16746
16747
16748
16749
16750
16751
16752
16753
16754
16755
16756
16757
16758
16759
16760
16761
16762
16763
16764
16765
16766
16767
16768
16769
16770
16771
16772
16773
16774
16775
16776
16777
16778
16779
16780
16781
16782
16783
16784
16785
16786
16787
16788
16789
16790
16791
16792
16793
16794
16795
16796
16797
16798
16799
16800
16801
16802
16803
16804
16805
16806
16807
16808
16809
16810
16811
16812
16813
16814
16815
16816
16817
16818
16819
16820
16821
16822
16823
16824
16825
16826
16827
16828
16829
16830
16831
16832
16833
16834
16835
16836
16837
16838
16839
16840
16841
16842
16843
16844
16845
16846
16847
16848
16849
16850
16851
16852
16853
16854
16855
16856
16857
16858
16859
16860
16861
16862
16863
16864
16865
16866
16867
16868
16869
16870
16871
16872
16873
16874
16875
16876
16877
16878
16879
16880
16881
16882
16883
16884
16885
16886
16887
16888
16889
16890
16891
16892
16893
16894
16895
16896
16897
16898
16899
16900
16901
16902
16903
16904
16905
16906
16907
16908
16909
16910
16911
16912
16913
16914
16915
16916
16917
16918
16919
16920
16921
16922
16923
16924
16925
16926
16927
16928
16929
16930
16931
16932
16933
16934
16935
16936
16937
16938
16939
16940
16941
16942
16943
16944
16945
16946
16947
16948
16949
16950
16951
16952
16953
16954
16955
16956
16957
16958
16959
16960
16961
16962
16963
16964
16965
16966
16967
16968
16969
16970
16971
16972
16973
16974
16975
16976
16977
16978
16979
16980
16981
16982
16983
16984
16985
16986
16987
16988
16989
16990
16991
16992
16993
16994
16995
16996
16997
16998
16999
17000
17001
17002
17003
17004
17005
17006
17007
17008
17009
17010
17011
17012
17013
17014
17015
17016
17017
17018
17019
17020
17021
17022
17023
17024
17025
17026
17027
17028
17029
17030
17031
17032
17033
17034
17035
17036
17037
17038
17039
17040
17041
17042
17043
17044
17045
17046
17047
17048
17049
17050
17051
17052
17053
17054
17055
17056
17057
17058
17059
17060
17061
17062
17063
17064
17065
17066
17067
17068
17069
17070
17071
17072
17073
17074
17075
17076
17077
17078
17079
17080
17081
17082
17083
17084
17085
17086
17087
17088
17089
17090
17091
17092
17093
17094
17095
17096
17097
17098
17099
17100
17101
17102
17103
17104
17105
17106
17107
17108
17109
17110
17111
17112
17113
17114
17115
17116
17117
17118
17119
17120
17121
17122
17123
17124
17125
17126
17127
17128
17129
17130
17131
17132
17133
17134
17135
17136
17137
17138
17139
17140
17141
17142
17143
17144
17145
17146
17147
17148
17149
17150
17151
17152
17153
17154
17155
17156
17157
17158
17159
17160
17161
17162
17163
17164
17165
17166
17167
17168
17169
17170
17171
17172
17173
17174
17175
17176
17177
17178
17179
17180
17181
17182
17183
17184
17185
17186
17187
17188
17189
17190
17191
17192
17193
17194
17195
17196
17197
17198
17199
17200
17201
17202
17203
17204
17205
17206
17207
17208
17209
17210
17211
17212
17213
17214
17215
17216
17217
17218
17219
17220
17221
17222
17223
17224
17225
17226
17227
17228
17229
17230
17231
17232
17233
17234
17235
17236
17237
17238
17239
17240
17241
17242
17243
17244
17245
17246
17247
17248
17249
17250
17251
17252
17253
17254
17255
17256
17257
17258
17259
17260
17261
17262
17263
17264
17265
17266
17267
17268
17269
17270
17271
17272
17273
17274
17275
17276
17277
17278
17279
17280
17281
17282
17283
17284
17285
17286
17287
17288
17289
17290
17291
17292
17293
17294
17295
17296
17297
17298
17299
17300
17301
17302
17303
17304
17305
17306
17307
17308
17309
17310
17311
17312
17313
17314
17315
17316
17317
17318
17319
17320
17321
17322
17323
17324
17325
17326
17327
17328
17329
17330
17331
17332
17333
17334
17335
17336
17337
17338
17339
17340
17341
17342
17343
17344
17345
17346
17347
17348
17349
17350
17351
17352
17353
17354
17355
17356
17357
17358
17359
17360
17361
17362
17363
17364
17365
17366
17367
17368
17369
17370
17371
17372
17373
17374
17375
17376
17377
17378
17379
17380
17381
17382
17383
17384
17385
17386
17387
17388
17389
17390
17391
17392
17393
17394
17395
17396
17397
17398
17399
17400
17401
17402
17403
17404
17405
17406
17407
17408
17409
17410
17411
17412
17413
17414
17415
17416
17417
17418
17419
17420
17421
17422
17423
17424
17425
17426
17427
17428
17429
17430
17431
17432
17433
17434
17435
17436
17437
17438
17439
17440
17441
17442
17443
17444
17445
17446
17447
17448
17449
17450
17451
17452
17453
17454
17455
17456
17457
17458
17459
17460
17461
17462
17463
17464
17465
17466
17467
17468
17469
17470
17471
17472
17473
17474
17475
17476
17477
17478
17479
17480
17481
17482
17483
17484
17485
17486
17487
17488
17489
17490
17491
17492
17493
17494
17495
17496
17497
17498
17499
17500
17501
17502
17503
17504
17505
17506
17507
17508
17509
17510
17511
17512
17513
17514
17515
17516
17517
17518
17519
17520
17521
17522
17523
17524
17525
17526
17527
17528
17529
17530
17531
17532
17533
17534
17535
17536
17537
17538
17539
17540
17541
17542
17543
17544
17545
17546
17547
17548
17549
17550
17551
17552
17553
17554
17555
17556
17557
17558
17559
17560
17561
17562
17563
17564
17565
17566
17567
17568
17569
17570
17571
17572
17573
17574
17575
17576
17577
17578
17579
17580
17581
17582
17583
17584
17585
17586
17587
17588
17589
17590
17591
17592
17593
17594
17595
17596
17597
17598
17599
17600
17601
17602
17603
17604
17605
17606
17607
17608
17609
17610
17611
17612
17613
17614
17615
17616
17617
17618
17619
17620
17621
17622
17623
17624
17625
17626
17627
17628
17629
17630
17631
17632
17633
17634
17635
17636
17637
17638
17639
17640
17641
17642
17643
17644
17645
17646
17647
17648
17649
17650
17651
17652
17653
17654
17655
17656
17657
17658
17659
17660
17661
17662
17663
17664
17665
17666
17667
17668
17669
17670
17671
17672
17673
17674
17675
17676
17677
17678
17679
17680
17681
17682
17683
17684
17685
17686
17687
17688
17689
17690
17691
17692
17693
17694
17695
17696
17697
17698
17699
17700
17701
17702
17703
17704
17705
17706
17707
17708
17709
17710
17711
17712
17713
17714
17715
17716
17717
17718
17719
17720
17721
17722
17723
17724
17725
17726
17727
17728
17729
17730
17731
17732
17733
17734
17735
17736
17737
17738
17739
17740
17741
17742
17743
17744
17745
17746
17747
17748
17749
17750
17751
17752
17753
17754
17755
17756
17757
17758
17759
17760
17761
17762
17763
17764
17765
17766
17767
17768
17769
17770
17771
17772
17773
17774
17775
17776
17777
17778
17779
17780
17781
17782
17783
17784
17785
17786
17787
17788
17789
17790
17791
17792
17793
17794
17795
17796
17797
17798
17799
17800
17801
17802
17803
17804
17805
17806
17807
17808
17809
17810
17811
17812
17813
17814
17815
17816
17817
17818
17819
17820
17821
17822
17823
17824
17825
17826
17827
17828
17829
17830
17831
17832
17833
17834
17835
17836
17837
17838
17839
17840
17841
17842
17843
17844
17845
17846
17847
17848
17849
17850
17851
17852
17853
17854
17855
17856
17857
17858
17859
17860
17861
17862
17863
17864
17865
17866
17867
17868
17869
17870
17871
17872
17873
17874
17875
17876
17877
17878
17879
17880
17881
17882
17883
17884
17885
17886
17887
17888
17889
17890
17891
17892
17893
17894
17895
17896
17897
17898
17899
17900
17901
17902
17903
17904
17905
17906
17907
17908
17909
17910
17911
17912
17913
17914
17915
17916
17917
17918
17919
17920
17921
17922
17923
17924
17925
17926
17927
17928
17929
17930
17931
17932
17933
17934
17935
17936
17937
17938
17939
17940
17941
17942
17943
17944
17945
17946
17947
17948
17949
17950
17951
17952
17953
17954
17955
17956
17957
17958
17959
17960
17961
17962
17963
17964
17965
17966
17967
17968
17969
17970
17971
17972
17973
17974
17975
17976
17977
17978
17979
17980
17981
17982
17983
17984
17985
17986
17987
17988
17989
17990
17991
17992
17993
17994
17995
17996
17997
17998
17999
18000
18001
18002
18003
18004
18005
18006
18007
18008
18009
18010
18011
18012
18013
18014
18015
18016
18017
18018
18019
18020
18021
18022
18023
18024
18025
18026
18027
18028
18029
18030
18031
18032
18033
18034
18035
18036
18037
18038
18039
18040
18041
18042
18043
18044
18045
18046
18047
18048
18049
18050
18051
18052
18053
18054
18055
18056
18057
18058
18059
18060
18061
18062
18063
18064
18065
18066
18067
18068
18069
18070
18071
18072
18073
18074
18075
18076
18077
18078
18079
18080
18081
18082
18083
18084
18085
18086
18087
18088
18089
18090
18091
18092
18093
18094
18095
18096
18097
18098
18099
18100
18101
18102
18103
18104
18105
18106
18107
18108
18109
18110
18111
18112
18113
18114
18115
18116
18117
18118
18119
18120
18121
18122
18123
18124
18125
18126
18127
18128
18129
18130
18131
18132
18133
18134
18135
18136
18137
18138
18139
18140
18141
18142
18143
18144
18145
18146
18147
18148
18149
18150
18151
18152
18153
18154
18155
18156
18157
18158
18159
18160
18161
18162
18163
18164
18165
18166
18167
18168
18169
18170
18171
18172
18173
18174
18175
18176
18177
18178
18179
18180
18181
18182
18183
18184
18185
18186
18187
18188
18189
18190
18191
18192
18193
18194
18195
18196
18197
18198
18199
18200
18201
18202
18203
18204
18205
18206
18207
18208
18209
18210
18211
18212
18213
18214
18215
18216
18217
18218
18219
18220
18221
18222
18223
18224
18225
18226
18227
18228
18229
18230
18231
18232
18233
18234
18235
18236
18237
18238
18239
18240
18241
18242
18243
18244
18245
18246
18247
18248
18249
18250
18251
18252
18253
18254
18255
18256
18257
18258
18259
18260
18261
18262
18263
18264
18265
18266
18267
18268
18269
18270
18271
18272
18273
18274
18275
18276
18277
18278
18279
18280
18281
18282
18283
18284
18285
18286
18287
18288
18289
18290
18291
18292
18293
18294
18295
18296
18297
18298
18299
18300
18301
18302
18303
18304
18305
18306
18307
18308
18309
18310
18311
18312
18313
18314
18315
18316
18317
18318
18319
18320
18321
18322
18323
18324
18325
18326
18327
18328
18329
18330
18331
18332
18333
18334
18335
18336
18337
18338
18339
18340
18341
18342
18343
18344
18345
18346
18347
18348
18349
18350
18351
18352
18353
18354
18355
18356
18357
18358
18359
18360
18361
18362
18363
18364
18365
18366
18367
18368
18369
18370
18371
18372
18373
18374
18375
18376
18377
18378
18379
18380
18381
18382
18383
18384
18385
18386
18387
18388
18389
18390
18391
18392
18393
18394
18395
18396
18397
18398
18399
18400
18401
18402
18403
18404
18405
18406
18407
18408
18409
18410
18411
18412
18413
18414
18415
18416
18417
18418
18419
18420
18421
18422
18423
18424
18425
18426
18427
18428
18429
18430
18431
18432
18433
18434
18435
18436
18437
18438
18439
18440
18441
18442
18443
18444
18445
18446
18447
18448
18449
18450
18451
18452
18453
18454
18455
18456
18457
18458
18459
18460
18461
18462
18463
18464
18465
18466
18467
18468
18469
18470
18471
18472
18473
18474
18475
18476
18477
18478
18479
18480
18481
18482
18483
18484
18485
18486
18487
18488
18489
18490
18491
18492
18493
18494
18495
18496
18497
18498
18499
18500
18501
18502
18503
18504
18505
18506
18507
18508
18509
18510
18511
18512
18513
18514
18515
18516
18517
18518
18519
18520
18521
18522
18523
18524
18525
18526
18527
18528
18529
18530
18531
18532
18533
18534
18535
18536
18537
18538
18539
18540
18541
18542
18543
18544
18545
18546
18547
18548
18549
18550
18551
18552
18553
18554
18555
18556
18557
18558
18559
18560
18561
18562
18563
18564
18565
18566
18567
18568
18569
18570
18571
18572
18573
18574
18575
18576
18577
18578
18579
18580
18581
18582
18583
18584
18585
18586
18587
18588
18589
18590
18591
18592
18593
18594
18595
18596
18597
18598
18599
18600
18601
18602
18603
18604
18605
18606
18607
18608
18609
18610
18611
18612
18613
18614
18615
18616
18617
18618
18619
18620
18621
18622
18623
18624
18625
18626
18627
18628
18629
18630
18631
18632
18633
18634
18635
18636
18637
18638
18639
18640
18641
18642
18643
18644
18645
18646
18647
18648
18649
18650
18651
18652
18653
18654
18655
18656
18657
18658
18659
18660
18661
18662
18663
18664
18665
18666
18667
18668
18669
18670
18671
18672
18673
18674
18675
18676
18677
18678
18679
18680
18681
18682
18683
18684
18685
18686
18687
18688
18689
18690
18691
18692
18693
18694
18695
18696
18697
18698
18699
18700
18701
18702
18703
18704
18705
18706
18707
18708
18709
18710
18711
18712
18713
18714
18715
18716
18717
18718
18719
18720
18721
18722
18723
18724
18725
18726
18727
18728
18729
18730
18731
18732
18733
18734
18735
18736
18737
18738
18739
18740
18741
18742
18743
18744
18745
18746
18747
18748
18749
18750
18751
18752
18753
18754
18755
18756
18757
18758
18759
18760
18761
18762
18763
18764
18765
18766
18767
18768
18769
18770
18771
18772
18773
18774
18775
18776
18777
18778
18779
18780
18781
18782
18783
18784
18785
18786
18787
18788
18789
18790
18791
18792
18793
18794
18795
18796
18797
18798
18799
18800
18801
18802
18803
18804
18805
18806
18807
18808
18809
18810
18811
18812
18813
18814
18815
18816
18817
18818
18819
18820
18821
18822
18823
18824
18825
18826
18827
18828
18829
18830
18831
18832
18833
18834
18835
18836
18837
18838
18839
18840
18841
18842
18843
18844
18845
18846
18847
18848
18849
18850
18851
18852
18853
18854
18855
18856
18857
18858
18859
18860
18861
18862
18863
18864
18865
18866
18867
18868
18869
18870
18871
18872
18873
18874
18875
18876
18877
18878
18879
18880
18881
18882
18883
18884
18885
18886
18887
18888
18889
18890
18891
18892
18893
18894
18895
18896
18897
18898
18899
18900
18901
18902
18903
18904
18905
18906
18907
18908
18909
18910
18911
18912
18913
18914
18915
18916
18917
18918
18919
18920
18921
18922
18923
18924
18925
18926
18927
18928
18929
18930
18931
18932
18933
18934
18935
18936
18937
18938
18939
18940
18941
18942
18943
18944
18945
18946
18947
18948
18949
18950
18951
18952
18953
18954
18955
18956
18957
18958
18959
18960
18961
18962
18963
18964
18965
18966
18967
18968
18969
18970
18971
18972
18973
18974
18975
18976
18977
18978
18979
18980
18981
18982
18983
18984
18985
18986
18987
18988
18989
18990
18991
18992
18993
18994
18995
18996
18997
18998
18999
19000
19001
19002
19003
19004
19005
19006
19007
19008
19009
19010
19011
19012
19013
19014
19015
19016
19017
19018
19019
19020
19021
19022
19023
19024
19025
19026
19027
19028
19029
19030
19031
19032
19033
19034
19035
19036
19037
19038
19039
19040
19041
19042
19043
19044
19045
19046
19047
19048
19049
19050
19051
19052
19053
19054
19055
19056
19057
19058
19059
19060
19061
19062
19063
19064
19065
19066
19067
19068
19069
19070
19071
19072
19073
19074
19075
19076
19077
19078
19079
19080
19081
19082
19083
19084
19085
19086
19087
19088
19089
19090
19091
19092
19093
19094
19095
19096
19097
19098
19099
19100
19101
19102
19103
19104
19105
19106
19107
19108
19109
19110
19111
19112
19113
19114
19115
19116
19117
19118
19119
19120
19121
19122
19123
19124
19125
19126
19127
19128
19129
19130
19131
19132
19133
19134
19135
19136
19137
19138
19139
19140
19141
19142
19143
19144
19145
19146
19147
19148
19149
19150
19151
19152
19153
19154
19155
19156
19157
19158
19159
19160
19161
19162
19163
19164
19165
19166
19167
19168
19169
19170
19171
19172
19173
19174
19175
19176
19177
19178
19179
19180
19181
19182
19183
19184
19185
19186
19187
19188
19189
19190
19191
19192
19193
19194
19195
19196
19197
19198
19199
19200
19201
19202
19203
19204
19205
19206
19207
19208
19209
19210
19211
19212
19213
19214
19215
19216
19217
19218
19219
19220
19221
19222
19223
19224
19225
19226
19227
19228
19229
19230
19231
19232
19233
19234
19235
19236
19237
19238
19239
19240
19241
19242
19243
19244
19245
19246
19247
19248
19249
19250
19251
19252
19253
19254
19255
19256
19257
19258
19259
19260
19261
19262
19263
19264
19265
19266
19267
19268
19269
19270
19271
19272
19273
19274
19275
19276
19277
19278
19279
19280
19281
19282
19283
19284
19285
19286
19287
19288
19289
19290
19291
19292
19293
19294
19295
19296
19297
19298
19299
19300
19301
19302
19303
19304
19305
19306
19307
19308
19309
19310
19311
19312
19313
19314
19315
19316
19317
19318
19319
19320
19321
19322
19323
19324
19325
19326
19327
19328
19329
19330
19331
19332
19333
19334
19335
19336
19337
19338
19339
19340
19341
19342
19343
19344
19345
19346
19347
19348
19349
19350
19351
19352
19353
19354
19355
19356
19357
19358
19359
19360
19361
19362
19363
19364
19365
19366
19367
19368
19369
19370
19371
19372
19373
19374
19375
19376
19377
19378
19379
19380
19381
19382
19383
19384
19385
19386
19387
19388
19389
19390
19391
19392
19393
19394
19395
19396
19397
19398
19399
19400
19401
19402
19403
19404
19405
19406
19407
19408
19409
19410
19411
19412
19413
19414
19415
19416
19417
19418
19419
19420
19421
19422
19423
19424
19425
19426
19427
19428
19429
19430
19431
19432
19433
19434
19435
19436
19437
19438
19439
19440
19441
19442
19443
19444
19445
19446
19447
19448
19449
19450
19451
19452
19453
19454
19455
19456
19457
19458
19459
19460
19461
19462
19463
19464
19465
19466
19467
19468
19469
19470
19471
19472
19473
19474
19475
19476
19477
19478
19479
19480
19481
19482
19483
19484
19485
19486
19487
19488
19489
19490
19491
19492
19493
19494
19495
19496
19497
19498
19499
19500
19501
19502
19503
19504
19505
19506
19507
19508
19509
19510
19511
19512
19513
19514
19515
19516
19517
19518
19519
19520
19521
19522
19523
19524
19525
19526
19527
19528
19529
19530
19531
19532
19533
19534
19535
19536
19537
19538
19539
19540
19541
19542
19543
19544
19545
19546
19547
19548
19549
19550
19551
19552
19553
19554
19555
19556
19557
19558
19559
19560
19561
19562
19563
19564
19565
19566
19567
19568
19569
19570
19571
19572
19573
19574
19575
19576
19577
19578
19579
19580
19581
19582
19583
19584
19585
19586
19587
19588
19589
19590
19591
19592
19593
19594
19595
19596
19597
19598
19599
19600
19601
19602
19603
19604
19605
19606
19607
19608
19609
19610
19611
19612
19613
19614
19615
19616
19617
19618
19619
19620
19621
19622
19623
19624
19625
19626
19627
19628
19629
19630
19631
19632
19633
19634
19635
19636
19637
19638
19639
19640
19641
19642
19643
19644
19645
19646
19647
19648
19649
19650
19651
19652
19653
19654
19655
19656
19657
19658
19659
19660
19661
19662
19663
19664
19665
19666
19667
19668
19669
19670
19671
19672
19673
19674
19675
19676
19677
19678
19679
19680
19681
19682
19683

<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
    "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
  <head>
    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" />
    <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
    <title>
      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Plays Vol. 2, by Sir John Vanbrugh.
    </title>
    <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
    <style type="text/css">

body {
    margin-left: 10%;
    margin-right: 10%;
}

    h1,h2,h3,h4 {
    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
    clear: both;
}

p {
    margin-top: .51em;
    text-align: justify;
    margin-bottom: .49em;
}

.p6       {margin-top: 6em;}

/* Easy Epub/HRs */

hr {
    width: 33%;
    margin-top: 2em;
    margin-bottom: 2em;
    margin-left: 33.5%;
    margin-right: 33.5%;
    clear: both;
}

hr.tb   {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;}
hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;}

ul { list-style-type: none; display: inline-block;}
li.ifrst { margin-top: 1em; }
li.indx { margin-top: .5em; }
li      {text-align: left;}

/* Case Study: Tables */

table {
    margin-left: auto;
    margin-right: auto;
    text-align: left;
    display: inline-block;
}

    .tdr      {text-align: right;}
    .tdc      {text-align: center;}

th {text-align: center;}

.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
    visibility: hidden;
    position: absolute;
    left: 92%;
    font-size: smaller;
    text-align: right;
} /* page numbers */

.hangindent {
    text-indent: -5%;
    margin-left: 10%;
    margin-right: 10%;
}

.bl       {border-left: solid thin;}

.br       {border-right: solid thin;}

.center   {text-align: center;}

.left   {text-align: left;}

.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;
           font-style: normal;}

.antiqua  {font-style: normal;}

.gesperrt
{
    letter-spacing: 0.2em;
    margin-right: -0.2em;
    font-style: normal;
}

/* Images */
.figcenter   {
    margin: auto;
    text-align: center;
}

/* Poetry and Case Study: Poetry */
.poem {
    margin-left:10%;
    margin-right:10%;
    text-align: left;
    display: inline-block;
}
@media handheld
{
  .poetry
  {
    display: block;
    margin-left: 1.5em;
  }
}

.poem br {display: none;}

.poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;}

.linenum {
    position: absolute;
    top: auto;
    right: 4%;
} /* poetry number */

/* Transcriber's notes */
#transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
    color: black;
     font-size: smaller;
     padding: 0.5em;
     margin-bottom: 5em;
     font-family: Georgia, Times, "Times New Roman", serif}

/* Easy Epub/Headings */

.ph2 { text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; }
.ph2 { font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; }

.small   {font-size: small;}
.xlarge  {font-size: x-large;}

/* Case Study: Title Pages */

div#titlepage {
  text-align: center;
  page-break-before: always;
  page-break-after: always;
}
div#titlepage p {
  text-align: center;
  text-indent: 0em;
  font-weight: bold;
  line-height: 1.5;
  margin-top: 3em;
}

div.chapter {page-break-before: always;}

div#halftitle
{
  text-align: center;
  page-break-before: always;
  page-break-after: always;
}
@media screen
{
  #halftitle
  {
    margin: 6em 0;
  }
}
@media print, handheld
{
  #halftitle
  {
    page-break-before: always;
    page-break-after: always;
    margin: 0;
    padding-top: 6em;
  }
}

/* Easy Epub/Cover */

.covercaption {font-weight: bold; font-size: small;}
@media handheld {
  .covercaption { display: none; }
}

div.tnotes {background-color: #eeeeee; border: 1px solid black; padding: 1em;}
.covernote {visibility: hidden; display: none;}
@media handheld {
  .covernote {visibility: visible; display: block;}
}
    .poem span.i0     {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
    .poem span.i1     {display: block; margin-left: 0.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
    .poem span.i2     {display: block; margin-left: 1em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
    .poem span.i22     {display: block; margin-left: 11em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
    .poem span.i3     {display: block; margin-left: 1.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
    .poem span.i4     {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
    .poem span.i5     {display: block; margin-left: 2.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}

/* Drama */
.directcenter, directcenter p  {
    text-align: center;
    margin-left: 25%;
    margin-right: 25%;
}

.directright, directright p  {
    text-align: right;
    margin-left: 50%;
    margin-right: 0%;
}

/* Easy Epub/Dropcaps Without illustration */

.drop-capw {
  text-indent: 0em;
}
.drop-capw:first-letter
{
  float: left;
  margin: 0.15em 0.1em 0em 0em;
  font-size: 250%;
  line-height:0.85em;
}
@media handheld
{
  .drop-capw:first-letter
  {
    float: none;
    margin: 0;
    font-size: 100%;
  }
}

.fauxcap  /* Used without block element */
{
  font-size: 250%;
  vertical-align: -40%;
}
@media handheld
{
  .fauxcap
  {
    float: none;
    margin: 0;
    font-size: 100%;
  }
}

    </style>
  </head>
<body>
<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51114 ***</div>

<div class="tnotes covernote">
  <p>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p>
<div id="titlepage">
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h1>PLAYS,</h1>


<p>WRITTEN BY</p>

<p class="xlarge">Sir <span class="smcap">John Vanbrugh</span>.</p>

<p><span class="smcap">Volume</span> <em>the</em> <span class="smcap">Second</span>.</p>

<p>CONTAINING
</p>


<ul><li><a href="#PROLOGUE">The <span class="smcap">Confederacy</span>.</a></li>

<li><a href="#THE">The <span class="smcap">Mistake</span>.</a></li>

<li><a href="#THE3">The <span class="smcap">Country House</span>.</a></li>

<li><a href="#A">A <span class="smcap">Journey</span> to <span class="smcap">London</span>.</a></li>

<li><a href="#THE5">The <span class="smcap">Provok'd Husband</span>.</a></li>
</ul>

<p>LONDON:</p>

<p class="small">Printed for <span class="smcap">J. Rivington</span>, <span class="smcap">T. Longman</span>, <span class="smcap">T.
Lowndes</span>, <span class="smcap">T. Caslon</span>, <span class="smcap">C. Corbett</span>, <span class="smcap">S. Bladon</span>,
<span class="smcap">W. Nicoll</span>, <span class="smcap">T. Evans</span>, and <span class="smcap">M. Waller</span>.<br />
MDCCLXXVI.</p>
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a><br /><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h2><a name="PROLOGUE" id="PROLOGUE">PROLOGUE,</a></h2>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by a Shabby Poet.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">Y</span>e</span> Gods! what crime had my poor father done,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That you should make a poet of his son?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Or is't for some great services of his,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Y'are pleas'd to compliment his boy&mdash;&mdash;with this?</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[Shewing his crown of laurel.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>The honour, I must needs confess is great,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If, with his crown, you'd tell him where to eat:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tis well&mdash;&mdash;But I have more complaints&mdash;look here!</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[Shewing his ragged coat.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Hark ye; d'ye think this suit good winter wear?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In a cold morning; whu&mdash;&mdash;at a Lord's gate,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>How you have let the porter let me wait!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You'll say, perhaps, you knew I'd get no harm,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You'd given me fire enough to keep me warm.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Ah&mdash;&mdash;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A world of blessings to that fire we owe;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Without it I'd ne'er made this princely show.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I have a brother too, now in my sight,</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[Looking behind the scenes.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>A busy man amongst us here to-night:</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your fire has made him play a thousand pranks,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For which, no doubt you've had his daily thanks:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He's thank'd you, fi fi, for all his decent plays,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where he so nick'd it, when he writ for praise.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Next for his meddling with some folks in black,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And bringing&mdash;&mdash;Souse&mdash;&mdash;a priest upon his back;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For building houses here t'oblige the peers,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And fetching all their house about his ears;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For a new play, he'as now thought fit to write,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To sooth the town&mdash;&mdash;which they&mdash;&mdash;will damn to-night.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>These benefits are such, no man can doubt</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But he'll go on, and set your fancy out,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Till for reward of all his noble deeds,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>At last, like other sprightly folks, he speeds:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Has this great recompence fix'd on his brow</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>As fam'd Parnassus; has your leave to bow</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And walk about the streets&mdash;equip'd&mdash;&mdash;as I am now.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae" id="Dramatis_Personae">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="3">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Gripe</em>,</td>
    <td rowspan="2" class="bl br tdc">Two rich money-scriveners.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Leigh.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Money-trap</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Dogget.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Dick</em>, a gamester, son to Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Booth.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Brass</em>, his companion, passes for his <em>Valet de Chambre.</em></td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Pack.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Clip</em>, a Goldsmith.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Mimes.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Jessamin</em>, foot boy to <em>Clarissa</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="3">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Clarissa</em>, wife to <em>Gripe</em>, an expensive luxurious woman, a great admirer of quality.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Barry.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Araminta</em>, wife to <em>Money-trap</em>, very intimate with <em>Clarissa</em>, of the same humour.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Porter.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Corinna</em>, daughter to <em>Gripe</em> by a former wife, a good fortune, young, and kept very close by her father.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Bradshaw.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2"><em>Flippanta</em>, <em>Clarissa</em>'s maid.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Bracegirdle.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, a seller of all sorts of private affairs to the ladies.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Willis.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2">Mrs. <em>Cloggit</em> her neighbour.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Baker.</em></td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />
CONFEDERACY.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>Covent-garden</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span> and Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Cloggit</span>, meeting.</em>
</p>

<p class="directcenter"><span class="smcap">Amlet.</span>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Good</span>-morrow, neighbour; good-morrow, neighbour
<em>Cloggit</em>! How does all at your house this
morning?</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> Think you kindly, <em>Mrs.</em> Amlet, thank you
kindly; how do you do, I pray?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> At the old rate, neighbour, poor and honest;
these are hard times, good lack.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> If they are hard with you, what are they with
us? You have a good trade going, all the great folks in
town help off with your merchandize.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Yes, they do help us off with 'em indeed; they
buy all.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> And pay&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> For some.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> Well, 'tis a thousand pities, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, they
are not as ready at one, as they are at t'other: For, not
to wrong 'em, they give very good rates.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> O for that, let us do them justice, neighbour; they
never make two words upon the price, all they haggle
about is the day of payment.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> There's all the dispute, as you say.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> But that's a wicked one: For my part, neighbour,
I'm just tir'd off my legs with trotting after 'em;
beside, it eats out all our profit. Would you believe it,
Mrs. <em>Cloggit</em>, I have worn out four pair of pattens, with
following my old Lady <em>Youthful</em>, for one set of false teeth,
and but three pots of paint.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> Look you there now.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> If they would but once let me get enough by
'em, to keep a coach to carry me a dunning after 'em,
there would be some conscience in it.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> Ay, that were something. But now you talk of
conscience, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, how do you speed among your
city customers?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> My city customers! Now by my truth, neighbour,
between the city and the court (with reverence
be it spoken) there's not a &mdash;&mdash; to choose. My ladies
in the city in times past, were as full of gold as they
were of religion, and as punctual in their payments
as they were of their prayers; but since they have set
their minds upon quality, adieu one, adieu t'other, their
money and their conscience are gone, heaven knows
where. There is not a goldsmith's wife to be found in
town, but's as hard-hearted as an ancient judge, and as
poor as a towering dutchess.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> But what the murrain have they to do with
quality, why don't their husbands make e'm mind their
shops?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Their husbands! their husbands, say'st thou,
woman? alack, alack, they mind their husbands, neighbour,
no more than they do a sermon.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> Good lack-a-day, that women born of sober
parents, should be prone to follow ill examples! But
now we talk of quality, when did you hear of your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
son <em>Richard</em>, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>? My daughter <em>Flip.</em> says
she met him t'other day in a lac'd coat, with three fine
ladies, his footman at his heels, and as gay as a bridegroom.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Is it possible? Ah the rogue! well, neighbour,
all's well that ends well; but <em>Dick</em> will be hang'd.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> That were pity.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Pity indeed; for he's a hopeful young man to
look on; but he leads a life&mdash;&mdash;Well&mdash;&mdash;where
he has it, heav'n knows; but they say, he pays his
club with the best of 'em. I have seen him but once
these three months, neighbour, and then the varlet
wanted money; but I bid him march, and march he did
to some purpose; for in less than an hour, back comes
my gentleman into the house, walks to and fro in the
room, with his wig over his shoulder, his hat on one
side, whistling a minuet, and tossing a purse of gold
from one hand to t'other, with no more respect (heaven
bless us!) than if it had been an orange. Sirrah, says
I, where have you got that? He answers me never a
word, but sets his arms a kimbo, cocks his saucy hat in
my face, turns about upon his ungracious heel, as much
as to say kiss&mdash;and I've never set my eye on him since.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> Look you there now; to see what the youth of
this age are come to!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> See what they will come to, neighbour. Heaven
shield, I say; but <em>Dick</em>'s upon the gallop. Well,
I must bid you good-morrow; I'm going where I doubt
I shall meet but a sorry welcome.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> To get in some old debt, I'll warrant you?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Neither better or worse.</p>

<p><em>Clog.</em> From a lady of quality?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> No, she's but a scrivener's wife; but she lives
as well, and pays as ill, as the stateliest countess of
'em all.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt several ways.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Well, surely thro' the world's wide extent,
there never appeared so impudent a fellow as my schoolfellow
<em>Dick</em>, pass himself upon the town for a gen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>tleman,
drop into all the best company with an easy
air, as if his natural element were in the sphere of
quality; when the rogue had a kettle-drum to his
father, who was hang'd for robbing a church, and has
a pedlar to his mother, who carries her shop under her
arm. But here he comes.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, <em>Brass</em>, what news? Hast thou given my
letter to <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'm but just come; I han't knock'd at the door
yet. But I have a damn'd piece of news for you.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> As how?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> We must quit this country.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> We'll be hang'd first.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> So you will if you stay.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Why, what's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> There's a storm a coming.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> From whence?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> From the worst point in the compass, the
law.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> The law! Why what have I to do with the
law?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Nothing; and therefore it has something to
do with you.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Explain.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You know you cheated a young fellow at
picquet t'other day, of the money he had to raise his
company.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, what then?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why he's sorry he lost it.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Who doubts that?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ay, but that's not all, he's such a fool to think
of complaining on't.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Then I must be so wise as to stop his mouth.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> How?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Give him a little back; if that won't do, strangle
him.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You are very quick in your methods.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Men must be so that will dispatch business.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Hark you, Colonel, your father dy'd in's bed?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> He might have done if he had not been a
fool.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, he robbed a church.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Ay, but he forgot to make sure of the sexton.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Are not you a great rogue?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Or I should wear worse clothes.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Hark you, I would advise you to change your
life.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> And turn ballad-singer.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Not so neither.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> What then?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, if you can get this young wench, reform,
and live honest.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> That's the way to be starv'd.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> No, she has money enough to buy you a good
place, and pay me into the bargain for helping her to
so good a match. You have but this throw left to save
you, for you are not ignorant, youngster, that your
morals begin to be pretty well known about town;
have a care your noble birth and your honourable relations
are not discovered too: there needs but that to
have you toss'd in a blanket, for the entertainment of
the first company of ladies you intrude into: and then like
a dutiful son, you may dangle about with your mother,
and sell paint: she's old and weak, and wants somebody
to carry her goods after her. How like a dog will
you look, with a pair of plod shoes, your hair crop'd up
to your ears, and a band-box under your arm?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Why faith, <em>Brass</em>, I think thou art in the right
on't; I must fix my affairs quickly, or Madam <em>Fortune</em>
will be playing some of her bitch-tricks with me:
therefore I'll tell thee what we'll do; we'll pursue this
old rogue's daughter heartily; we'll cheat his family to
purpose, and they shall atone for the rest of mankind.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Have at her then, I'll about your business
presently.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> One kiss&mdash;&mdash;and success attend thee.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A great rogue&mdash;&mdash;Well, I say nothing. But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
when I have got the thing into a good posture, he shall
sign and seal, or I'll have him tumbled out of the house
like a cheese. Now for <em>Flippanta.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He knocks.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Who's that? <em>Brass!</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> <em>Flippanta!</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What want you, rogue's-face?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Is your mistress dress'd?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What, already? Is the fellow drunk?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, with respect to her looking-glass, it's
almost two.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What then, fool?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why then it's time for the mistress of the house
to come down, and look after her family.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Pr'ythee don't be an owl. Those that go to bed
at night may rise in the morning; we that go to bed in
the morning rise in the afternoon.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> When does she make her visits then?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> By candle-light; it helps off a muddy complexion;
we women hate inquisitive sun-shine: but do
you know that my Lady is going to turn good housewife?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> What, is she going to die?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Die!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, that's the only way to save money for
her family.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No; but she has thought of a project to save
chair-hire.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> As how?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why all the company she us'd to keep abroad
she now intends shall meet at her own house. Your
master has advis'd her to set up a basset-table.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Nay, if he advis'd her to it, it's right; but has
she acquainted her husband with it yet?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What to do? When the company meet he'll
see them.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Nay, that's true, as you say, he'll know it soon
enough.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, I must be gone; have you any business
with my Lady?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yes; as ambassador from <em>Araminta</em>, I have a
letter for her.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Give it me.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Hold&mdash;&mdash;and as first minister of state to the
Colonel, I have an affair to communicate to thee.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What is't? quick.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why&mdash;&mdash;he's in love.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> With what?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A woman&mdash;&mdash;and her money together.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Who is she?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> <em>Corinna</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What wou'd he be at?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> At her&mdash;&mdash;if she's at leisure.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Which way?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Honourably&mdash;&mdash;he has ordered me to demand
her of thee in marriage.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Of me?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, when a man of quality has a mind to a
city-fortune, would'st have him apply to her father and
mother?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> No, so I think: men of our end of the town
are better bred than to use ceremony. With a long
perriwig we strike the lady, with a you-know-what
we soften the maid; and when the parson has done his
job, we open the affair to the family. Will you slip this
letter into her prayer-book, my little queen? It's
a very passionate one&mdash;&mdash;It's seal'd with a heart and a
dagger; you may see by that what he intends to do
with himself.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Are there any verses in it? If not, I won't
touch it.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Not one word in prose, it's dated in rhyme.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She takes it.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, but have you brought nothing else?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Gad forgive me; I'm the forgetfullest dog&mdash;&mdash;I
have a letter for you too&mdash;&mdash;here&mdash;&mdash;'tis in a purse,
but it's in prose, you won't touch it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, hang it, it is not good to be too dainty.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> How useful a virtue is humility! Well, child,
we shall have an answer to-morrow, shan't we?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I can't promise you that; for our young gentlewoman
is not so often in my way as she would be.
Her father (who is a citizen from the foot to the
forehead of him) lets her seldom converse with her
mother-in-law and me, for fear she should learn the airs
of a woman of quality. But I'll take the first occasion:
see, there's my lady, go in and deliver your letter to
her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>a Parlour</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>, follow'd by <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span> and <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No messages this morning from any body, <em>Flippanta</em>?
Lard how dull that is! O, there's <em>Brass</em>! I did
not see thee, <em>Brass</em>. What news dost thou bring?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Only a letter from <em>Araminta</em>, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Give it me&mdash;&mdash;open it for me, <em>Flippanta</em>, I
am so lazy to-day.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sitting down.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> [<em>To Flip.</em>] Be sure now you deliver my master's
as carefully as I do this.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Don't trouble thyself, I'm no novice.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> [to <em>Brass.</em>] 'Tis well, there needs no answer,
since she'll be here so soon.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Your ladyship has no farther commands then?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Not at this time, honest <em>Brass</em>. <em>Flippanta</em>!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My husband's in love.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> In love?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> With <em>Araminta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Impossible!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> This letter from her, is to give me an account
of it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Methinks you are not very much alarm'd.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No; thou know'st I'm not much tortur'd with
jealousy.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, you are much in the right on't, Madam,
for jealousy's a city passion, 'tis a thing unknown
amongst people of quality.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Fy! A woman must indeed be of a mechanick
mould, who is either troubled or pleas'd with any thing
her husband can do to her. Pr'ythee mention him no
more; 'tis the dullest theme.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> 'Tis splenetick indeed. But when once you
open your basset table, I hope that will put him out of
your head.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Alas, <em>Flippanta</em>, I begin to grow weary even of
the thoughts of that too.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> How so?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why, I have thought on't a day and a night
already, and four and twenty hours, thou know'st, is
enough to make one weary of any thing.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Now by my conscience, you have more woman
in you than all your sex together: you never know what
you would have.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Thou mistakest the thing quite. I always know
what I lack, but I am never pleas'd with what I have.
The want of a thing is perplexing enough, but the
possession of it is intolerable.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, I don't know what you are made of, but
other women would think themselves blest in your case;
handsome, witty, lov'd by every body, and of so
happy a composure, to care a fig for nobody. You
have no one passion, but that of your pleasures, and you
have in me a servant devoted to all your desires, let
them be as extravagant as they will: yet all this is
nothing; you can still be out of humour.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Alas, I have but too much cause.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, what have you to complain of?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Alas, I have more subjects for spleen than one:
is it not a most horrible thing that I should be but a
scrivener's wife?&mdash;Come,&mdash;&mdash;don't flatter me, don't
you think nature design'd me for something <em>plus elevé</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, that's certain; but on the other side,
methinks, you ought to be in some measure content,
since you live like a woman of quality, tho' you are
none.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O fy! the very quintessence of it is wanting.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why, I dare abuse nobody: I'm afraid to
affront people, tho' I don't like their faces; or to ruin
their reputations, tho' they pique me to it, by taking
ever so much pains to preserve 'em: I dare not raise a
lye of a man, tho' he neglects to make love to me;
nor report a woman to be a fool, tho' she's handsomer
than I am. In short, I dare not so much as bid my footman
kick the people out of doors, tho' they come to ask
me for what I owe them.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> All this is very hard indeed.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>, the perquisites of quality are of
an unspeakable value.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> They are of some use, I must confess; but we
must not expect to have every thing. You have wit and
beauty, and a fool to your husband: come come,
madam, that's a good portion for one.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Alas, what signifies beauty and wit, when one
dares neither jilt the men nor abuse the women? 'Tis
a sad thing, <em>Flippanta</em>, when wit's confin'd, 'tis worse
than the rising of the lights; I have been sometimes
almost choak'd with scandal, and durst not cough it up
for want of being a countess.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Poor lady!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O! Liberty is a fine thing, <em>Flippanta</em>; it's a
great help in conversation to have leave to say what one
will. I have seen a woman of quality, who has
not had one grain of wit, entertain a whole company
the most agreeably in the world, only with her malice.
But 'tis in vain to repine, I can't mend my condition,
till my husband dies: so I'll say no more on't, but
think of making the most of the state I am in.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That's your best way, madam; and in order to
it, pray consider how you'll get some ready money to
set your basset-table a going; for that's necessary.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Thou say'st true; but what trick I shall play
my husband to get some, I don't know: for my pretence
of losing my diamond necklace has put the man
into such a passion, I'm afraid he won't hear reason.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No matter; he begins to think 'tis lost in earnest:
so I fancy you may venture to sell it, and raise
money that way.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That can't be, for he has left odious notes with
all the goldsmiths in town.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, we must pawn it then.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I'm quite tir'd with dealing with those pawnbrokers.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I'm afraid you'll continue the trade a great
while, for all that.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jessamin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jess.</em> Madam, there's the woman below that sells
paint and patches, iron boddice, false teeth, and all
sorts of things to the ladies; I can't think of her name.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> 'Tis Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, she wants money.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Well, I han't enough for myself, it's an unreasonable
thing she should think I have any for her.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> She's a troublesome jade.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> So are all people that come a dunning.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What will you do with her?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I have just now thought on't. She's very rich,
that woman is, <em>Flippanta</em>, I'll borrow some money of her.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Borrow! sure you jest, madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No, I'm in earnest; I give thee commission to
do it for me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Me!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why dost thou stare, and look so ungainly?
Don't I speak to be understood?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, I understand you well enough; but Mrs.
<em>Amlet</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But Mrs. <em>Amlet</em> must lend me some money,
where shall I have any to pay her else?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That's true; I never thought of that truly.
But here she is.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> How d'you do? How d'you do, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?
I han't seen you these thousand years, and yet I believe
I'm down in your books.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> O, Madam, I don't come for that, alack.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Good-morrow, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Good-morrow, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> How much am I indebted to you, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Nay, if your ladyship desires to see your bill, I
believe I may have it about me.&mdash;There, Madam, if it
ben't too much fatigue to you to look it over.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Let me see it, for I hate to be in debt, where
I am obliged to pay. [<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;<em>Reads.</em>] Imprimis, <em>For
bolstering out the Countess of <span class="antiqua">Crump's</span> left hip</em>&mdash;&mdash;O
fy, this does not belong to me.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> I beg your Ladyship's pardon. I mistook indeed;
'tis a countess's bill I have writ out to little purpose.
I furnish'd her two years ago with three pair of
hips, and am not paid for them yet: but some are
better customers than some. There's your Ladyship's
bill, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <em>For the idea of a new invented commode.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Ay,
this may be mine, but 'tis of a preposterous length.
Do you think I can waste time to read every article, Mrs.
<em>Amlet</em>? I'd as lief read a sermon.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Alack-a-day, there's no need of fatiguing yourself
at that rate; cast an eye only, if your honour
pleases, upon the sum total.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Total; fifty-six pounds&mdash;and odd things.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> But six and fifty pounds!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Nay, another body would have made it twice as
much; but there's a blessing goes along with a moderate
profit.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <em>Flippanta</em>, go to my cashier, let him give you
six and fifty pounds. Make haste: don't you hear me?
Six and fifty pounds. Is it so difficult to be comprehended?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No, Madam, I, I comprehend six and fifty
pounds, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But go and fetch it then.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What she means, I don't know; [<em>Aside.</em>] but
I shall, I suppose, before I bring her the money.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em> Flip.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> [<em>Setting her hair in a pocket glass.</em>] The
trade you follow gives you a great deal of trouble,
Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Alack-a-day, a world of pain, Madam, and yet
there's small profit, as your honour sees by your bill.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Poor woman! sometimes you have great losses,
Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> I have two thousand pounds owing me, of
which I shall never get ten shillings.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Poor woman! You have a great charge of children,
Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Only one wicked rogue, Madam, who I think,
will break my heart.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Poor woman!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> He'll be hang'd, Madam&mdash;&mdash;that will be the
end of him. Where he gets it, heav'n knows; but
he's always shaking his heels with the ladies, and his
elbows with the lords. He's as fine as a prince, and as
grim as the best of them; but the ungracious rogue tells
all that comes near that his mother is dead, and I am
but his nurse.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Poor woman!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Alas, Madam, he's like the rest of the world;
every body's for appearing to be more than they are,
and that ruins all.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Well, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, you'll excuse me, I have a
little business, <em>Flippanta</em> will bring you your money presently.
Adieu, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> I return your honour many thanks [<em>Sola.</em>] Ah,
there's my good lady, not so much as read her bill;
if the rest were like her, I should soon have money
enough to go as fine as <em>Dick</em> himself.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Sure <em>Flippanta</em> must have given my letter by
this time; [<em>Aside.</em>] I long to know how it has been received.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> <em>Misericorde!</em> what do I see!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Fiends and hags&mdash;the witch my mother!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Nay, 'tis he! ah, my poor <em>Dick</em>, what art thou
doing here?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> What a misfortune&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Good lard! how bravely deck'd art thou. But
it's all one, I am thy mother still: and tho' thou art a
wicked child, nature will speak, I love thee still, ah,
<em>Dick</em>, my poor <em>Dick</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Embracing him.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Blood and thunder! will you ruin me?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Breaking from her.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Ah the blasphemous rogue, how he swears!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> You destroy all my hopes.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Will your mother's kiss destroy you, varlet?
Thou art an ungracious bird; kneel down, and ask my
blessing, sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Death and furies!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Ah, he's a proper young man, see what a shape
he has: ah, poor child.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Running to embrace him, he still avoiding her.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Oons, keep off, the woman's mad. If any
body comes, my fortune's lost.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What fortune, ah? speak, graceless. Ah <em>Dick</em>,
thou'lt be hang'd, <em>Dick</em>.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Good, dear mother, now don't call me <em>Dick</em>
here.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Not call thee <em>Dick</em>! Is not that thy name?
What shall I call thee? Mr. <em>Amlet</em>? ha! Art not thou
a presumptuous rascal? Hark you, sirrah, I hear of
your tricks; you disown me for your mother, and say
I'm but your nurse. Is not this true?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> No, I love you; I respect you; [<em>Taking her
hand.</em>] I am all duty. But if you discover me here,
you ruin the fairest prospect that man ever had.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What prospect? ha! come, this is a lie
now.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> No, my honour'd parent, what I say is true,
I'm about a great fortune, I'll bring you home a daughter-in-law,
in a coach and six horses, if you'll but be
quiet; I can't tell you more now.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Is it possible!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> It's true, by <em>Jupiter</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> My dear lad&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> For Heaven's sake&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> But tell me, <em>Dick</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I'll follow you home in a moment, and tell you
all.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What a shape is there&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Pray mother go.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> I must receive some money here first, which shall
go for thy wedding-dinner.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Here's somebody coming; s'death, she'll betray
me.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He makes signs to his Mother.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Good-morrow, dear <em>Flippanta</em>; how do all the
ladies within?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> At your service, Colonel; as far at least as my
interest goes.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Colonel!&mdash;Law you now, how <em>Dick</em>'s respected!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Waiting for thee, <em>Flippanta</em>, I was making acquaintance
with this old gentlewoman here.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> The pretty lad, he's as impudent as a Page.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Who is this good woman, <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A gin of all trades; an old daggling cheat, that
hobbles about from house to house to bubble the ladies
of their money. I have a small business of your's in my
pocket, Colonel.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> An answer to my letter?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So quick indeed! No, it's your letter itself.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Hast thou not given it then yet?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I han't had an opportunity; but 'twon't be long
first. Won't you go in and see my Lady?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Yes, I'll go make her a short visit. But dear
<em>Flippanta</em>, don't forget: my life and fortune are in your
hands.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ne'er fear, I'll take care of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> How he traps 'em; let <em>Dick</em> alone.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Your servant, good Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To his Mother.</em></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Your Honour's most devoted.&mdash;A pretty, civil,
well-bred gentleman this, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>. Pray whom
may he be?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A man of great note; Colonel <em>Shapely</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Is it possible! I have heard much of him indeed,
but never saw him before: one may see quality in every
limb of him: he's a fine man truly.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I think you are in love with him, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Alas, those days are done with me; but if I
were as fair as I was once, and had as much money as
some folks, Colonel <em>Shapely</em> should not catch cold for
want of a bed-fellow. I love your men of rank, they
have something in their air does so distinguish 'em from
the rascality.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> People of Quality are fine things indeed, Mrs.
<em>Amlet</em>, if they had but a little more money; but for
want of that, they are forced to do things their great
souls are asham'd of. For example&mdash;here's my Lady&mdash;she
owes you but six and fifty pounds&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Well!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And she has it not by her to pay you.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> How can that be?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I don't know; her cash-keeper's out of humour,
he says he has no money.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What a presumptuous piece of vermin is a cash-keeper!
Tell his Lady he has no money?&mdash;Now, Mrs.
<em>Flippanta</em>, you may see his bags are full by his being so
saucy.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> If they are, there's no help for't; he'll do
what he pleases, till he comes to make up his yearly
accounts.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> But Madam plays sometimes, so when she has
good fortune, she may pay me out of her winnings.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> O ne'er think of that, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>: if she had
won a thousand pounds, she'd rather die in a gaol, than
pay off a farthing with it; play money, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>,
amongst people of quality, is a sacred thing, and not
to be profan'd. 'Tis consecrated to their pleasures,
'twould be sacrilege to pay their debts with it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Why what shall we do then? For I han't one
penny to buy bread.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em>&mdash;&mdash;I'll tell you&mdash;&mdash;it just now comes in my
head: I know my Lady has a little occasion for money
at this time; so&mdash;&mdash;if you lend her&mdash;&mdash;a hundred
pounds&mdash;&mdash;do you see, then she may pay you your six and
fifty out of it.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Sure, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>, you think to make a fool
of me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No, the Devil fetch me if I do&mdash;&mdash;You shall
have a diamond necklace in pawn.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> O ho, a pawn! That's another case. And when
must she have this money?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> In a quarter of an hour.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Say no more. Bring the necklace to my house,
it shall be ready for you.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I'll be with you in a moment.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Adieu, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Adieu, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Flippanta <span class="antiqua">sola</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>So&mdash;&mdash;this ready money will make us all happy. This
spring will set our basset going, and that's a wheel
will turn twenty others. My Lady's young and handsome;
she'll have a dozen intrigues upon her hands, before
she has been twice at her prayers. So much the better;
the more the grist, the richer the miller. Sure never
wench got into so hopeful a place: Here's a fortune
to be sold, a mistress to be debauched, and a master to
be ruin'd. If I don't feather my nest, and get a good
husband, I deserve to die both a maid and a beggar.</p>

<p class="directright">[Exeunt.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_II" id="ACT_II"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Mr.</em> Gripe's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span> and <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>hat</span> in the name of dulness is the matter
with you, Colonel? you are as studious
as a crack'd chymist.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> My head, Madam, is full of your husband.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The worst furniture for a head in the universe.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I am thinking of his passion for your friend <em>Araminta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Passion!&mdash;--Dear Colonel, give it a less violent name.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, Sir, what want you?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> The affair I told you of goes ill. [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>,
aside.</em>] There's an action out.</p>

<p><em>Dick</em>. The Devil there is!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What news brings <em>Brass</em>?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Before Gad I cannot tell, Madam; the dog will
never speak out. My Lord what-d'ye-call him waits, for
me at my lodging: Is not that it?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yes, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Madam, I ask your pardon.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Your servant, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Dick</span> and <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jessamin!</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She sits down.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jessamin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jes.</em> Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Where's <em>Corinna</em>? Call her to me, if her father
han't lock'd her up: I want her company.</p>

<p><em>Jes.</em> Madam, her guitar-master is with her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Psha! she's taken up with her impertinent
Guitar-Man. <em>Flippanta</em> stays an age with that old fool,
Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>. And <em>Araminta</em>, before she can come
abroad, is so long a placing her coquet-patch, that I
must be a year without company. How insupportable
is a moment's uneasiness to a woman of spirit and
pleasure!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O, art thou come at last? Pr'ythee, <em>Flippanta</em>,
learn to move a little quicker, thou know'st how impatient
I am.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, when you expect money: If you had sent
me to buy a Prayer-Book, you'd have thought I had
flown.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Well, hast thou brought me any, after all?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, I have brought some. There [<em>Giving her
a purse.</em>] the old hag has struck off her bill, the rest is
in that purse.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> 'Tis well; but take care, <em>Flippanta</em>, my husband
don't suspect any thing of this; 'twould vex him,
and I don't love to make him uneasy: So I would spare
him these little sort of troubles, by keeping 'em from
his knowledge.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> See the tenderness she has for him, and yet
he's always complaining of you.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> 'Tis the nature of 'em, <em>Flippanta</em>; a husband
is a growling animal.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> How exactly you define 'em!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O! I know 'em, <em>Flippanta</em>: though I confess
my poor wretch diverts me sometimes with his ill-humours.
I wish he wou'd quarrel with me to-day a little,
to pass away the time, for I find myself in a violent
spleen.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, if you please to drop yourself in his way,
six to four but he scolds one rubbers with you.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ay, but thou know'st he's as uncertain as the
wind; and if instead of quarrelling with me, he should
chance to be fond, he'd make me as sick as a dog.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> If he's kind, you must provoke him; if he kisses
you, spit in his face.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Alas, when men are in the kissing fit, (like
lap-dogs) they take that for a favour.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, then, I don't know what you'll do with him.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I'll e'en do nothing at all with him&mdash;&mdash;Flippanta.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Yawning.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My hood and scarf, and a coach to the door.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, whither are you going?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I can't tell yet, but I would go spend some
money, since I have it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, you want nothing that I know of.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> How aukward an objection now is that, as if
a woman of education bought things because she wanted
'em. Quality always distinguishes itself; and therefore,
as the mechanick people buy things, because they have
occasion for 'em, you see women of rank always buy
things because they have not occasion for 'em. Now,
there, <em>Flippanta</em>, you see the difference between a
woman that has breeding, and one that has none.
O ho, here's <em>Araminta</em> come at last.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Araminta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Lard, what a tedious while you have let me
expect you! I was afraid you were not well; how d'ye
do to-day?</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> As well as a woman can do, that has not slept
all night.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Methinks, Madam, you are pretty well-awake,
however.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> O, 'tis not a little thing will make a woman
of my vigour look drowsy.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But, pr'ythee, what was't disturb'd you?</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Not your husband, don't trouble yourself;
at least, I am not in love with him yet.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Well remember'd, I had quite forgot that
matter. I wish you much joy, you have made a noble
conquest indeed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> But now I have subdu'd the country, pray is
it worth my keeping? You know the ground, you have
try'd it.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> A barren soil, heaven can tell.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Yet if it were well cultivated, it would produce
something to my knowledge. Do you know 'tis in
my power to ruin this poor thing of yours? His whole
Estate is at my Service.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Cods-fish, strike him, Madam, and let my Lady
go your halves. There's no sin in plundering a
husband, so his wife has share of the booty.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Whenever she gives me her orders, I shall be
very ready to obey 'em.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why, as odd a thing as such a project may
seem, <em>Araminta</em>, I believe I shall have a little serious
discourse with you about it. But, pr'ythee, tell me how
you have pass'd the night? For I am sure your mind
has been roving upon some pretty thing or other.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Why, I have been studying all the ways my
brain could produce to plague my husband.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No wonder indeed you look so fresh this
morning, after the satisfaction of such pleasing ideas
all night.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Why, can a woman do less than study mischief,
when she has tumbled and toss'd herself into a
burning-fever, for want of sleep, and sees a fellow
lie snoring by her, stock-still, in a fine breathing
sweat?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Now see the difference of women's tempers:
If my dear would make but one nap of his whole life,
and only waken to make his will, I shou'd be the happiest
wife in the universe. But we'll discourse more of
these matters as we go, for I must make a <em>tour</em> among
the Shops.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> I have a coach waits at the door, we'll talk of
'em as we rattle along.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The best place in nature, for you know a
hackney-coach is a natural enemy to a husband.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Clar.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Aram.</span></em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Flippanta <span class="antiqua">sola</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>What a pretty little pair of amiable persons are there
gone to hold a council of war together! Poor birds!
What would they do with their time, if the plaguing
their husbands did not help 'em to employment! Well,
if idleness be the root of all evil, then matrimony's
good for something, for it sets many a poor woman
to work. But here comes Miss. I hope I shall help her
into the Holy State too ere long. And when she's once
there, if she don't play her part as well as the best of
'em, I'm mistaken. Han't I lost the letter I'm to
give her?&mdash;&mdash;No, here 'tis; so, now we shall see how
pure nature will work with her, for art she knows
none yet.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> What does my mother-in-law want with me,
<em>Flippanta</em>? They tell me, she was asking for me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> She's just gone out, so I suppose 'twas no great
business.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Then I'll go into my chamber again.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, hold a little if you please. I have some
business with you myself, of more concern than what
she had to say to you.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Make haste then, for you know my father won't
let me keep you company; he says, you'll spoil me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I spoil you! He's an unworthy man to give
you such ill impressions of a woman of my honour.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Nay, never take it to heart, <em>Flippanta</em>, for I
don't believe a word he says. But he does so plague
me with his continual scolding, I'm almost weary of my
life.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, what is't he finds fault with?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Nay, I don't know, for I never mind him;
when he has babbled for two hours together, methinks
I have heard a mill going, that's all. It does not at
all change my opinion, <em>Flippanta</em>, it only makes my
head ache.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, if you can bear it so, you are not to be
pity'd so much as I thought.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Not pity'd! Why is it not a miserable thing,
such a young creature as I am should be kept in perpetual
solitude, with no other company but a parcel of
old fumbling masters to teach me geography, arithmetic,
philosophy, and a thousand useless things. Fine entertainment,
indeed, for a young maid at sixteen! methinks
one's time might be better employ'd.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Those things will improve your wit.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Fiddle-faddle; han't I wit enough already?
My mother-in-law has learn'd none of this trumpery,
and is not she as happy as the day is long?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Then you envy her, I find?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> And well I may. Does she not do what she has
a mind to, in spite of her husband's teeth?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Look you there now [<em>Aside.</em>] if she has not already
conceived that, as the supreme blessing of life.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I'll tell you what, <em>Flippanta</em>, if my mother-in-law
would but stand by me a little, and encourage
me, and let me keep her company, I'd rebel against
my father to-morrow, and throw all my books in the
fire. Why, he can't touch a groat of my portion; do
you know that, <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So&mdash;&mdash;I shall spoil her. [<em>Aside.</em>] Pray heaven
the girl don't debauch me.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Look you: In short, he may think what he
pleases, he may think himself wise: but thoughts are
free, and I may think in my turn. I'm but a girl, 'tis
true, and a fool too, if you believe him; but let him
know, a foolish girl may make a wise man's heart ache;
so he had as good be quiet&mdash;Now it's out&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Very well, I love to see a young woman have
spirit, it's a sign she'll come to something.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>, if you wou'd but encourage me,
you'll find me quite another thing. I'm a devilish girl
in the bottom; I wish you'd but let me make one
amongst you.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That never can be, 'till you are marry'd. Come,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
examine your Strength a little. Do you think, you
durst venture upon a husband?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> A husband! Why a&mdash;if you wou'd but encourage
me. Come, <em>Flippanta</em>, be a true friend now.
I'll give you advice, when I have got a little more experience.
Do you in your very conscience and soul
think I am old enough to be marry'd?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Old enough! Why you are sixteen, are you
not?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Sixteen! I am sixteen, two months, and odd
days, woman. I keep an exact account.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> The duce you are!</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Why do you then truly and sincerely think I am
old enough?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I do, upon my faith, child.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Why then, to deal as fairly with you, <em>Flippanta</em>,
as you do with me, I have thought so any time
these three years.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Now I find you have more wit than ever I
thought you had; and to shew you what an opinion I
have of your discretion, I'll shew you a thing I thought
to have thrown in the fire.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> What is it, for <em>Jupiter</em>'s sake?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Something will make your heart chuck within
you.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> My dear <em>Flippanta</em>!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What do you think it is?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I don't know, nor I don't care, but I'm mad to
have it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> It's a four corner'd thing.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> What, like a cardinal's cap?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No, 'tis worth a whole conclave of 'em. How
do you like it?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Shewing the letter.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> O Lard, a letter!&mdash;--Is there ever a token
in it?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, and a precious one too. There's a handsome
young gentleman's heart.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> A handsome young gentleman's heart! [<em>Aside.</em>]
Nay, then 'tis time to look grave.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> There.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I shan't touch it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What's the matter now?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I shan't receive it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Sure you jest.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> You'll find I don't. I understand myself better,
than to take letters, when I don't know who they are
from.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I am afraid I commended your wit too soon.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> 'Tis all one, I shan't touch it, unless I know
who it comes from.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hey-day, open it, and you'll see.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Indeed I shall not.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well&mdash;&mdash;then I must return it where I had it.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> That won't serve your turn, madam. My father
must have an account of this.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Sure you are not in earnest?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> You'll find I am.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So, here's fine work. This 'tis to deal with
girls before they come to know the distinction of sexes.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Confess who you had it from, and perhaps, for
this once, I mayn't tell my father.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why then, since it must out, 'twas the Colonel:
But why are you so scrupulous, madam?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Because if it had come from any body else&mdash;&mdash;I
would not have given a farthing for it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Twitching it eagerly out of her hand.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ah, my dear little rogue! [<em>Kissing her.</em>] You
frighten'd me out of my wits.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Let me read it, let me read it, let me read it,
let me read it, I say. Um, um, um, <em>Cupid</em>'s um, um,
um, <em>Darts</em>, um, um, um, <em>Beauty</em>, um, <em>Charms</em>, um,
um, um, <em>Angel</em>, um, <em>Goddess</em>, um&mdash;[<em>Kissing the letter.</em>]&mdash;um,
um, um, um, <em>truest Lover</em>, hum, um, <em>Eternal Constancy</em>,
um, um, um, <em>Cruel</em>, um, um, um, <em>Racks</em>, um, um,
<em>Tortures</em>, um, um, <em>fifty Daggers</em>, um, um, <em>bleeding Heart</em>,
um, um, <em>dead Man</em>.</p>

<p>Very well, a mighty civil letter, I promise you; not
one smutty word in it: I'll go lock it up in my
comb-box.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well&mdash;but what does he say to you?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Not a word of news, <em>Flippanta</em>, 'tis all about
business.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Does he not tell you he's in love with you?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ay, but he told me that before.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> How so? He never spoke to you.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> He sent me word by his eyes.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Did he so? mighty well. I thought you had
been to learn that language.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> O, but you thought wrong, <em>Flippanta</em>. What,
because I don't go a visiting, and see the world, you
think I know nothing. But you should consider, <em>Flippanta</em>,
that the more one's alone, the more one thinks;
and 'tis thinking that improves a girl. I'll have you
to know, when I was younger than I am now, by more
than I'll boast of, I thought of things would have made
you stare again.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, since you are so well versed in your business,
I suppose I need not inform you, that if you don't
write your gallant an answer&mdash;he'll die.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Nay, now, <em>Flippanta</em>, I confess you tell me
something I did not know before. Do you speak in
serious sadness? Are men given to die, if their mistresses
are sour to 'em?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Um&mdash;&mdash;I can't say they all die&mdash;&mdash;No, I can't
say they all do; but truly, I believe it wou'd go very
hard with the Colonel.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Lard, I would not have my hands in blood for
thousands; and therefore, <em>Flippanta</em>,&mdash;&mdash;if you'll encourage
me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> O, by all means an answer.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Well, since you say it then, I'll e'en in and do
it, tho' I protest to you (lest you should think me too
forward now) he's the only man that wears a beard, I'd
ink my fingers for. May be, if I marry him, in a year
or two's time I mayn't be so nice.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Flippanta <span class="antiqua">sola</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Now heaven give him joy: he's like to have a rare
wife o'thee. But where there's money, a man has a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
plaister to his sore. They have a blessed time on't, who
marry for love. See!&mdash;here comes an example&mdash;&mdash;<em>Araminta</em>'s
dread lord.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>! How do you do, good <em>Flippanta</em>!
How do you do?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Thank you, Sir, well, at your service.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And how does the good family, your master,
and your fair mistress? Are they at home?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Neither of them; my master has been gone out
these two hours, and my lady is just gone with your
wife.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, I won't say I have lost my labour however,
as long as I have met with you, <em>Flippanta</em>. For
I have wish'd a great while for an opportunity to talk
with you a little. You won't take it amiss, if I should
ask you a few questions?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Provided you leave me to my liberty in my
answers. What's this Cot-quean going to pry into
now?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Pr'ythee, good <em>Flippanta</em>, how do your master
and mistress live together?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Live! Why&mdash;like man and wife, generally out
of humour, quarrel often, seldom agree, complain of
one another; and perhaps have both reason. In short,
'tis much as 'tis at your house.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Good-lack! but whose side are you generally
of?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> O' the right side always, my lady's. And if
you'll have me give you my opinion of these matters,
Sir, I do not think a husband can ever be in the right.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Little, peeking, creeping, sneaking, stingy,
covetous, cowardly, dirty, cuckoldy things.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Fit for nothing but taylors and dry-nurses.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A dog in a manger, snarling and biting, to
starve gentlemen with good stomachs.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A centry upon pleasure, set to be a plague on
lovers, and damn poor women before their time.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> A husband is indeed&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Sir, I say he is nothing&mdash;&mdash;A beetle without
wings, a windmill without sails, a ship in a calm.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A bag without money&mdash;&mdash;an empty bottle&mdash;&mdash;dead
small beer.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A quack without drugs.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A lawyer without knavery.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A courtier without flattery.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A king without an army&mdash;&mdash;or a people with
one. Have I drawn him, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why truly, <em>Flippanta</em>, I can't deny but there
are some general lines of resemblance. But you know
there may be exceptions.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hark you, Sir, shall I deal plainly with you?
Had I got a husband, I wou'd put him in mind, that he
was marry'd as well as I.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i22">Sings.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>For were I the thing call'd a wife,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And my fool grew too fond of his pow'r,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He shou'd look like an ass all his life,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>For a prank that I'd play him in an hour.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>Tol lol la ra tol lol, <em>&amp;c.</em>&mdash;Do you observe that, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I do: and think you wou'd be in the right on't.
But, pr'ythee, why dost not give this advice to thy
mistress?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> For fear it should go round to your wife, Sir,
for you know they are play-fellows.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> O, there's no danger of my wife; she knows
I'm none of those husbands.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Are you sure she knows that, Sir?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I'm sure she ought to know it, <em>Flippanta</em>, for
really I have but four faults in the world.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And, pray what may they be?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why I'm a little slovenly, I shift but once a
week.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Fough!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I am sometimes out of humour.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Provoking!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I don't give her so much money as she'd have.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Insolent!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And a&mdash;&mdash;perhaps I mayn't be quite so young
as I was.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> The devil!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> O, but then consider how 'tis on her side,
<em>Flippanta</em>. She ruins me with washing, is always out
of humour, ever wanting money, and will never be
older.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That last article, I must confess, is a little hard
upon you.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>, didst thou but know the daily
provocations I have, thoud'st be the first to excuse my
faults. But now I think on't&mdash;&mdash;Thou art none of my
friend, thou dost not love me at all; no, not at all.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And whither is this little reproach going to lead
us now?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> You have power over your fair mistress, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Sir!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> But what then? You hate me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I understand you not.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> There's not a moment's trouble her naughty
husband gives her, but I feel it too.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I don't know what you mean.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> If she did but know what part I take in her
sufferings&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Mighty obscure.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, I'll say no more; but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> All Hebrew.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> If thou wou'dst but tell her on't.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Still darker and darker.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I should not be ungrateful.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ah, now I begin to understand you.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> <em>Flippanta</em>&mdash;there's my purse.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Say no more; now you explain, indeed&mdash;&mdash;You
are in love?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Bitterly&mdash;and I do swear by all the Gods&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hold&mdash;&mdash;Spare 'em for another time, you stand
in no need of 'em now. A usurer that parts with his
purse, gives sufficient proof of his sincerity.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I hate my wife, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That we'll take upon your bare word.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> She's the devil, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You like your neighbour's better.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Oh!&mdash;--an angel.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What pity it is the law don't allow trucking!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> If it did, <em>Flippanta</em>!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> But since it don't, Sir&mdash;&mdash;keep the reins upon
your passion: Don't let your flame rage too high, lest
my lady shou'd be cruel, and it should dry you up to a
mummy.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> 'Tis impossible she can be so barbarous, to let
me die. Alas, <em>Flippanta</em>, a very small matter wou'd
save my life.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Then y'are dead&mdash;for we women never grant
any thing to a man who will be satisfied with a little.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Dear <em>Flippanta</em>, that was only my modesty; but
since you'll have it out&mdash;&mdash;I am a very dragon; and so
your lady'll find&mdash;&mdash;if ever she thinks fit to be&mdash;&mdash;Now
I hope you'll stand my friend.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, Sir, as far as my credit goes, it shall be
employ'd in your service.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> My best <em>Flippanta</em>&mdash;tell her&mdash;I'm all hers&mdash;tell
her&mdash;my body's hers&mdash;tell her&mdash;my soul's hers&mdash;and
tell her&mdash;my estate's hers. Lord have mercy upon
me, how I'm in love!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Poor man! what a sweat he's in! But hark&mdash;I
hear my master; for heaven's sake compose yourself a
little; you are in such a fit, o' my conscience he'll smell
you out.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ah dear, I'm in such an emotion, I dare not
be seen; put me in this closet for a moment.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Closet, man! it's too little, your love wou'd
stifle you. Go air yourself in the garden a little, you
have need on't, i'faith.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She puts him out.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>A rare adventure, by my troth. This will be curious
news to the wives. Fortune has now put their husbands
into their hands, and I think they are too sharp to
neglect its favours.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Gripe</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O, here's the right hand; the rest of the body
can't be far off. Where's my wife, huswife?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> An admirable question!&mdash;--Why, she's gone
abroad, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Abroad, abroad, abroad already? Why, she
uses to be stewing in her bed three hours after this time,
as late as 'tis: What makes her gadding so soon?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Business, I suppose.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Business! she has a pretty head for business
truly: O ho, let her change her way of living, or I'll
make her change a light heart for a heavy one.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And why would you have her change her way of
living, Sir? You see it agrees with her. She never
look'd better in her life.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Don't tell me of her looks, I have done with
her looks long since. But I'll make her change her
life, or&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Indeed. Sir, you won't.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, what shall hinder me, insolence?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That which hinders most husbands; contradiction.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Suppose I resolve I won't be contradicted?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Suppose she resolves you shall?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> A wife's resolution is not good by law.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nor a husband's by custom.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I tell thee I will not bear it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I tell you, Sir, you will bear it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Oons, I have borne it three years already.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> By that you see 'tis but giving your mind to it.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> My mind to it! Death and the devil! My
mind to it!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Look ye, Sir, you may swear and damn, and
call the furies to assist you! but 'till you apply the remedy
to the right place, you'll never cure the disease. You
fancy you have got an extravagant wife, is't not so?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Pr'ythee change me that word fancy, and it
is so.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why there's it. Men are strangely troubled
with the vapours of late. You'll wonder now if I tell
you, you have the most reasonable wife in town: And
that all the disorders you think you see in her, are only
here, here, here, in your own head.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Thumping his forehead.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> She is then, in thy opinion, a reasonable
woman?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> By my faith, I think so.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I shall run mad&mdash;Name me an extravagance
in the world she is not guilty of.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Name me an extravagance in the world she is
guilty of.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Come then: Does not she put the whole house
in disorder?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Not that I know of, for she never comes into it
but to sleep.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> 'Tis very well: Does she employ any one
moment of her life in the government of her family?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> She is so submissive a wife, she leaves it entirely
to you.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Admirable! Does she not spend more money
in coach-hire, and chair-hire, than would maintain six
children?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> She's too nice of your credit to be seen daggling
in the streets.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Good! Do I set eye on her sometimes in a
week together?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> That, Sir, is because you are never stirring at
the same time; you keep odd hours; you are always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
going to bed when she's rising, and rising just when she's
coming to bed.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Yes, truly, night into day, and day into night,
bawdy-house play, that's her trade; but these are
trifles: Has she not lost her diamond necklace? Answer
me to that, Trapes.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes; and has sent as many tears after it, as if
it had been her husband.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;the pox take her; but enough. 'Tis
resolv'd, and I will put a stop to the course of her life,
or I will put a stop to the course of her blood, and so
she shall know, the first time I meet with her; [<em>Aside.</em>]
which tho' we are man and wife, and lie under one
roof, 'tis very possible may not be this fortnight.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Gripe</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>Nay, thou hast a blessed time on't, that must be confess'd.
What a miserable devil is a husband! Insupportable
to himself, and a plague to every thing about
them. Their wives do by them, as children do by dogs,
teaze and provoke 'em, 'till they make them so curs'd,
they snarl and bite at every thing that comes in their
reach. This wretch here is grown perverse to that
degree, he's for his wife's keeping home, and making
hell of his house, so he may be the devil in it to torment
her. How niggardly soever he is of all things he
possesses, he is willing to purchase her misery at the expence
of his own peace. But he'd as good be still, for
he'll miss of his aim. If I know her (which I think I
do) she'll set his blood in such a ferment, it shall bubble
out at every pore of him; whilst hers is so quiet in her
veins, her pulse shall go like a pendulum.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_III" id="ACT_III"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Mrs.</em> Amlet's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Where</span>'s this old woman?&mdash;&mdash;A hey. What
the devil, nobody at home? Ha! her strong
box!&mdash;--And the key in't! 'tis so. Now fortune be
my friend. What the duce&mdash;&mdash;Not a penny of money
in cash!&mdash;--Nor a chequer note!&mdash;--Nor a Bank bill&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Searching
the strong box.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Nor a crooked stick! Nor
a&mdash;&mdash;Mum&mdash;&mdash;here's something&mdash;&mdash;A diamond necklace,
by all the Gods! Oons the old woman&mdash;&mdash;Zest.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Claps the necklace in his pocket, then runs and asks her
blessing.</em>]</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>----Pray mother, pray to, <em>&amp;c.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Is it possible!&mdash;--<em>Dick</em> upon his humble knee!
Ah my dear child!&mdash;--May heaven be good unto thee.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I'm come, my dear mother, to pay my duty to
you, and to ask your consent to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What a shape is there!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> To ask your consent, I say, to marry a great
fortune; for what is riches in this world without a
blessing? And how can there be a blessing without respect
and duty to parents?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What a nose he has!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> And therefore it being the duty of every good
child not to dispose of himself in marriage, without
the&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Now the Lord love thee [<em>Kissing him.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;for
thou art a goodly young man: Well, Dick&mdash;&mdash;And how
goes it with the lady? Are her eyes open to thy
charms? Does she see what's for her own good? Is she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
sensible of the blessings thou hast in store for her? Ha!
is all sure? Hast thou broke a piece of money with her?
Speak, bird, do: Don't be modest, and hide thy love
from thy mother, for I'm an indulgent parent.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Nothing under heaven can prevent my good
fortune, but its being discover'd I'm your son&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Then thou art still asham'd of thy natural mother.&mdash;Graceless!
Why, I'm no whore, sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I know you are not&mdash;&mdash;A whore! Bless us
all&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> No; My reputation's as good as the best of 'em;
and tho' I'm old, I'm chaste, you rascal you.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Lord, that is not the thing we talk of, mother;
but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> I think, as the world goes, they may be proud
of marrying their daughter into a vartuous family.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Oons, vartue is not the case&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Where she may have a good example before her
eyes.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> O Lord! O Lord! O Lord!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> I'm a woman that don't so much as encourage
an incontinent look towards me.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I tell you, 'sdeath, I tell you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> If a man shou'd make an uncivil motion to me,
I'd spit in his lascivious face: And all this you may tell
them, sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Death and furies! the woman's out of her&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Don't you swear, you rascal you, don't you
swear; we shall have thee damn'd at last, and then I shall
be disgrac'd.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Why then in cold blood hear me speak to you:
I tell you it's a city-fortune I'm about, she cares not a
fig for your virtue; she'll hear of nothing but quality:
She has quarrell'd with one of her friends for having a
better complexion, and is resolved she'll marry, to take
place of her.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What a cherry lip is there!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Therefore, good dear mother, now have a care
and don't discover me; for if you do, all's lost.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Dear, dear, how thy fair bride will be delighted:
Go, get thee gone, go: Go fetch her home, go fetch
her home; I'll give her a sack-posset, and a pillow
of down she shall lay her head upon. Go fetch her home,
I say.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Take care then of the main chance, my dear
mother; remember, if you discover me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Go, fetch her home, I say.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> You promise me then&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> March.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> But swear to me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Be gone, sirrah.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, I'll rely upon you&mdash;But one kiss before
I go.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kisses her heartily, and runs off.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Now the Lord love thee! for thou art a comfortable
young man.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, Gripe's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span> and <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> But hark you, <em>Flippanta</em>, if you don't think he
loves me dearly, don't give him my letter, after all.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Let me alone.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> When he has read it, let him give it you again.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Don't trouble yourself.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> And not a word of the pudding to my mother-in-law.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Enough.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> When we come to love one another to the purpose,
she shall know all.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ay, then 'twill be time.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> But remember 'tis you make me do all this now,
so if any mischief comes on't, 'tis you must answer for't.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I'll be your security.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I'm young, and know nothing of the matter;
but you have experience, so it's your business to conduct
me safe.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Poor innocence!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> But tell me in serious sadness, <em>Flippanta</em>, does he
love me with the very soul of him?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I have told you so an hundred times, and yet
you are not satisfied.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> But, methinks, I'd fain have him tell me so
himself.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Have patience, and it shall be done.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Why, patience is a virtue; that we must all confess&mdash;&mdash;But
I fancy, the sooner it's done the better,
<em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jessamin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jess.</em> Madam, yonder's your Geography-Master waiting
for you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ah! how I am tir'd with these old fumbling
fellows, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, don't let 'em break your heart, you shall
be rid of them all ere long.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Nay, 'tis not the study I'm so weary of, <em>Flippanta</em>,
'tis the odious thing that teaches me. Were the
Colonel my master, I fancy I could take pleasure in
learning every thing he could shew me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And he can shew you a great deal, I can tell you
that. But get you gone in, here's somebody coming, we
must not be seen together.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I will, I will, I will&mdash;&mdash;O the dear Colonel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Running off.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> O ho, it's Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>&mdash;&mdash;What brings you so
soon to us again, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Ah! my dear Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>, I'm in a furious
fright.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, what's come to you?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Ah! Mercy on us all&mdash;&mdash;Madam's diamond
necklace&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What of that?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Are you sure you left it at my house?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Sure I left it! a very pretty question truly!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Nay, don't be angry; say nothing to madam<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
of it, I beseech you: It will be found again, if it be
heaven's good will. At least 'tis I must bear the loss
on't. 'Tis my rogue of a son has laid his birdlime
fingers on't.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Your son, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>! Do you breed your
children up to such tricks as these then?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> What shall I say to you, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>? Can
I help it? He has been a rogue from his cradle, <em>Dick</em>
has. But he has his deserts too. And now it comes
in my head, mayhap he may have no ill design in this
neither.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No ill design, woman! He's a pretty fellow if
he can steal a diamond necklace with a good one.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> You don't know him, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>, so well
as I that bore him. <em>Dick</em>'s a rogue, 'tis true, but&mdash;&mdash;Mum&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What does the woman mean?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Hark you, Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>, is not here a young
gentlewoman in your house that wants a husband?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why do you ask?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> By way of conversation only, it does not concern
me; but when she marries I may chance to dance at
the wedding. Remember I tell you so: I who am but
Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You dance at her wedding! you!</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Yes, I, I; but don't trouble madam about her
necklace, perhaps it mayn't go out of the family. Adieu,
Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What&mdash;what&mdash;what does the woman mean?
Mad! What a capilotade of a story's here? The
necklace lost; and her son Dick; and a fortune to marry;
and she shall dance at the wedding; and&mdash;&mdash;She does
not intend, I hope, to propose a match between her son
<em>Dick</em> and <em>Corinna</em>! By my conscience I believe she does.
An old beldam!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Well, hussy, how stand our affairs? Has miss
writ us an answer yet? My master's very impatient
yonder.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And why the duce does he not come himself?
What does he send such idle fellows as thee of his errands?
Here I had her alone just now: He won't have
such an opportunity again this month, I can tell him
that.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> So much the worse for him; 'tis his business&mdash;&mdash;But
now, my dear, let thee and I talk a little
of our own: I grow most damnably in love with thee;
dost hear that?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Phu! thou art always timeing things wrong;
my head is full, at present, of more important things
than love.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Then it's full of important things indeed: Dost
want a privy-counsellor?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I want an assistant.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> To do what?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Mischief.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'm thy man&mdash;&mdash;touch.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> But before I venture to let thee into my project,
pr'ythee tell me, whether thou find'st a natural disposition
to ruin a husband to oblige his wife?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Is she handsome?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why then my disposition's at her service.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> She's beholden to thee.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Not she alone neither, therefore don't let her
grow vain upon't; for I have three or four affairs of
that kind going at this time.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, go carry this epistle from miss to thy
master; and when thou com'st back, I'll tell thee thy
business.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'll know it before I go, if you please.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Thy master waits for an answer.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'd rather he should wait than I.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why then, in short, <em>Araminta</em>'s husband is in
love with my lady.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Very well, child, we have a <em>Rowland</em> for her
<em>Oliver</em>: Thy lady's husband is in love with <em>Araminta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Who told you that, sirrah?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> 'Tis a negociation I am charged with, Pert.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
Did not I tell thee I did business for half the town? I
have managed Master <em>Gripe</em>'s little affairs for him these
ten years, you slut you.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hark thee, <em>Brass</em>, the game's in our hands, if
we can but play the cards.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Pique and repique, you jade you, if the wives
will fall into a good intelligence.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Let them alone; I'll answer for them they don't
slip the occasion.&mdash;&mdash;See here they come. They little
think what a piece of good news we have for 'em.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span> and <span class="antiqua">Araminta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <em>Jessamin</em>! here, boy, carry up these things into
my dressing-room, and break as many of them by the
way as you can, be sure.&mdash;&mdash;O! art thou there, <em>Brass</em>!
What news?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Madam, I only call'd in as I was going by&mdash;&mdash;But
some little propositions Mrs. <em>Flippanta</em> has been
starting have kept me here to offer your ladyship my
humble service.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What propositions?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> She'll acquaint you, madam.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Is there any thing new, <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, and pretty too.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That follows of course, but let's have it quick.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, Madam, you have made a conquest.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Hussy&mdash;&mdash;But of who? quick.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Of Mr. <em>Money-trap</em>, that's all.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> My husband?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, your husband, Madam: You thought fit
to corrupt ours, so now we are even with you.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Sure thou art in jest, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Serious as my devotions.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> And the cross intrigue, ladies, is what our
brains have been at work about.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> My dear!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My life!</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> My angel!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My soul!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Hugging one another.</em></p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> The stars have done this.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The pretty little twinklers.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And what will you do for them now?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What grateful creatures ought; shew 'em we
don't despise their favours.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> But is not this a wager between these two
blockheads?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I would not give a shilling to go the winner's
halves.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Then 'tis the most fortunate thing that ever
cou'd have happen'd.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> All your last night's ideas, <em>Araminta</em>, were
trifles to it.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> <em>Brass</em>, my dear, will be useful to us.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> At your service, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <em>Flippanta</em> will be necessary, my life!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> She waits your commands, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> For my part then, I recommend my husband
to thee, <em>Flippanta</em>, and make it my earnest request thou
won't leave him one half-crown.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I'll do all I can to obey you, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em>] If your ladyship wou'd give me
the same kind orders for yours.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O&mdash;&mdash;if thou spar'st him, <em>Brass</em>, I'm thy
enemy till I die.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> 'Tis enough, Madam, I'll be sure to give you
a reasonable account of him. But how do you intend
we shall proceed, ladies? Must we storm the purse at
once, or break ground in form, and carry it by little
and little?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Storm, dear <em>Brass</em>, storm: ever whilst you live,
storm.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> O by all means; must it not be so, <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> In four and twenty hours, two hundred pounds
a-piece, that's my sentence.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Very well. But, ladies, you'll give me leave
to put you in mind of some little expence in favours,
'twill be necessary you are at, to these honest gentlemen.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Favours, <em>Brass</em>!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Um&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;some small matters, Madam, I
doubt must be.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Now that's a vile article, <em>Araminta</em>; for that
thing your husband is so like mine&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Phu, there's a scruple, indeed. Pray, Madam,
don't be so squeamish; tho' the meat be a little flat,
we'll find you savoury sauce to it.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> This wench is so mad.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, what in the name of <em>Lucifer</em>, is it you
have to do, that's so terrible?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A civil look only.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> There's no great harm in that.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> An obliging word.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That one may afford 'em.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A little smile, <em>a propos</em>.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> That's but giving one's self an air.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Receive a little letter, perhaps.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Women of quality do that from fifty odious
fellows.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Suffer, may be, a squeeze by the hand.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> One's so us'd to that, one does not feel it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Or if a kiss wou'd do't?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I'd die first.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Indeed, ladies, I doubt 'twill be necessary to&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Get their wretched money without paying so
dear for it.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Well, just as you please for that, my ladies:
But I suppose you'll play upon the square with your
favours, and not pique yourselves upon being one more
grateful than another.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> And state a fair account of receipts and disbursements.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> That I think should be, indeed.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> With all my heart, and <em>Brass</em> shall be our
book-keeper. So get thee to work, man, as fast as thou
canst: but not a word of all this to my master.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'll observe my orders, Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I'll have the pleasure of telling him myself;
he'll be violently delighted with it: 'tis the best
man in the world, <em>Araminta</em>; he'll bring us rare company
to-morrow, all sorts of gamesters; and thou shalt see my
husband will be such a beast to be out of humour at it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> The monster&mdash;&mdash;But hush, here's my dear
approaching; pr'ythee let's leave him to <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ah, pray do, I'll bring you a good account of
him, I'll warrant you.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Dispatch then, for the basset-table's in haste.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Clar.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Aram.</span></em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>So, now have at him; here he comes: We'll try if we
can pillage the usurer, as he does other folks.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, my pretty <em>Flippanta</em>, is thy mistress come
home?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And where is she, pr'ythee?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Gone abroad, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> How dost mean?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I mean right, Sir; my lady'll come home and
go abroad ten times in an hour, when she's either in very
good humour, or very bad.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Good lack! But I'll warrant, in general, 'tis
her naughty husband that makes her house uneasy to her.
But hast thou said a little something to her, chicken, for
an expiring lover? ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Said&mdash;&mdash;yes, I have said, much good may it do
me.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well! and how?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And how!&mdash;--And how do you think you
would have me do't? And you have such a way with you,
one can refuse you nothing. But I have brought myself
into a fine business by it.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Good lack:&mdash;&mdash;But, I hope, <em>Flippanta</em>&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, your hopes will do much, when I am turn'd
out of doors.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Was she then terrible angry?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Oh! had you seen how she flew, when she saw
where I was pointing; for you must know I went round
the bush and round the bush, before I came to the
matter.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Nay, 'tis a ticklish point, that must be own'd.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> On my word is it&mdash;&mdash;I mean where a lady's
truly virtuous; for that's our case you must know.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> A very dangerous case indeed.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> But I can tell you one thing&mdash;&mdash;she has an inclination
to you.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Is it possible!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, and I told her so at last.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, and what did she answer thee?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Slap&mdash;&mdash;and bid me bring it you for a token.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Giving him a slap on the face.</em></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And you have lost none on't by the way, with
a pox t'ye.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Now this, I think, looks the best in the world.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Yea, but really it feels a little oddly.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, you must know, ladies have different
ways of expressing their kindness, according to the humour
they are in: if she had been in a good one, it had
been a kiss; but as long as she sent you something, your
affairs go well.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why, truly, I am a little ignorant in the mysterious
parts of love, so I must be guided by thee. But
pr'ythee take her in a good humour next token she
sends me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;good humour?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> What's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Poor lady!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> If I durst tell you all&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> What then?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You would not expect to see her in one a good
while.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why, I pray?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I must own I did take an unseasonable time to talk
of love-matters to her.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why, what's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nothing.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Nay, pr'ythee tell me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I dare not.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> You must indeed.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, when women are in difficulties, how can
they think of pleasure?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why, what difficulties can she be in?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, I do but guess after all; for she has that
grandeur of soul, she'd die before she'd tell.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> But what dost thou suspect?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, what should one suspect, where a husband
loves nothing but getting of money, and a wife nothing
but spending on't?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> So she wants that same, then?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I say no such thing, I know nothing of the matter;
pray make no wrong interpretation of what I say,
my Lady wants nothing that I know of. 'Tis true&mdash;&mdash;she
has had ill luck at cards of late, I believe she has not
won once this month: but what of that?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> 'Tis true, I know her spirit's that she'd see her
husband hanged before she'd ask him for a farthing.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And then I know him again, he'd see her drown'd
before he'd give her a farthing; but that's a help to
your affair, you know.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> 'Tis so, indeed.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;well, I'll say nothing; but if she had
none of these things to fret her&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why really, <em>Flippanta</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I know what you are going to say now; you
are going to offer your service, but 'twon't do; you
have a mind to play the gallant now, but it must not
be; you want to be shewing your liberality, but 'twon't
be allowed; you'll be pressing me to offer it, and she'll
be in a rage. We shall have the Devil to do.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> You mistake me, <em>Flippanta</em>, I was only going to
say&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ay, I know what you were going to say well
enough; but I tell you it will never do so. If one cou'd
find out some way now&mdash;&mdash;ay&mdash;&mdash;let me see&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Indeed I hope&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Pray be quiet&mdash;&mdash;no&mdash;&mdash;but I'm thinking&mdash;&mdash;hum&mdash;&mdash;she'll
smoke that tho'&mdash;&mdash;let us consider&mdash;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>If
one you'd find a way to&mdash;&mdash;'Tis the nicest point in
the world to bring about, she'll never touch it, if she
knows from whence it comes.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Shall I try if I can reason her husband out of
twenty pounds, to make her easy the rest of her life?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Twenty pounds, man?&mdash;&mdash;why you shall see her
set that upon a card. O&mdash;&mdash;she has a great soul.&mdash;&mdash;Besides,
if her husband should oblige her, it might, in
time, take off her aversion to him, and by consequence,
her inclination to you. No, no, it must never come that
way.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> What shall we do then?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hold still&mdash;&mdash;I have it. I'll tell you what you
shall do.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ay.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You shall make her a restitution of two hundred
pounds.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha! Restitution!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, yes, 'tis the luckiest thought in the world;
Madam often plays, you know, and folks who do so,
meet now and then with sharpers. Now you shall be a
sharper.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> A sharper!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ay, ay, a sharper; and having cheated her of
two hundred pounds, shall be troubled in mind, and
send it her back again. You comprehend me?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Yes, I comprehend, but a&mdash;&mdash;won't she suspect
if it be so much?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No, no, the more the better.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Two hundred pounds!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, two hundred pounds&mdash;&mdash;Or let me see&mdash;&mdash;so
even a sum may look a little suspicious&mdash;&mdash;ay&mdash;&mdash;let
it be two hundred and thirty; that odd thirty
will make it look so natural, the devil won't find it out.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Pounds, too, look I don't know how; guineas
I fancy were better&mdash;&mdash;ay, guineas, it shall be guineas.
You are of that mind, are you not?</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Um&mdash;&mdash;a guinea, you know, <em>Flippanta</em>, is&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A thousand times genteeler, you are certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
in the right on't; it shall be as you say, two hundred
and thirty guineas.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ho&mdash;&mdash;well, if it must be guineas, let's see,
two hundred guineas.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And thirty; two hundred and thirty: If you
mistake the sum, you spoil all. So go put them in a
purse, while it's fresh in your head, and send 'em to me
with a penitential letter, desiring I'll do you the favour
to restore them to her.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Two hundred and thirty pounds in a bag!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Guineas, I say, guineas.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Ay, guineas, that's true. But <em>Flippanta</em>, if she
don't know they come from me, then I give my money
for nothing, you know.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Phu, leave that to me, I'll manage the flock for
you; I'll make it produce something I'll warrant you.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, <em>Flippanta</em>, 'tis a great sum indeed; but
I'll go try what I can do for her. You say, two hundred
guineas in a purse?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And thirty; if the man's in his senses.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And thirty, 'tis true, I always forget that thirty.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So, get thee gone, thou art a rare fellow,
i'faith. Brass!&mdash;--it's thee, is't not?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> It is, Huswife. How go matters? I staid till
thy gentleman was gone. Hast done any thing towards
our common purse?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I think I have; he's going to make us a restitution
of two or three hundred pounds.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A restitution!&mdash;--good.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A new way, sirrah, to make a lady take a present
without putting her to the blush.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> 'Tis very well, mighty well indeed. Pr'ythee
where's thy master? let me try if I can perswade him to
be troubled in mind too.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Not so hasty; he's gone into his closet to prepare
himself for a quarrel, I have advis'd him to&mdash;&mdash;with
his wife.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> What to do?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why to make her stay at home, now she has resolved
to do it beforehand. You must know, sirrah, we
intend to make a merit of our basset table, and get a
good pretence for the merry companions we intend to fill
his house with.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Very nicely spun, truly, thy husband will be a
happy man.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hold your tongue, you fool you. See here comes
your master.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> He's welcome.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> My dear <em>Flippanta</em>! how many thanks have I to
pay thee?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Do you like her style?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> The kindest little rogue! there's nothing but
she gives me leave to hope. I am the happiest man the
world has in its care.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Not so happy as you think for neither, perhaps;
you have a rival, Sir, I can tell you that.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> A rival!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, and a dangerous one too.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Who in the name of terror?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> A devilish fellow, one Mr. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> <em>Amlet</em>! I know no such man.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You know the man's mother tho'; you met her
here, and are in her favour, I can tell you. If he worst
you, in your mistress, you shall e'en marry her and disinherit
him.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> If I have no other rival but Mr. <em>Amlet</em>, I believe
I shan't be disturb'd in my amour. But can't I
see <em>Corinna</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I don't know, she has always some of her masters
with her: but I'll go and see if she can spare you a moment,
and bring you word.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I wish my old hobbling mother han't been
blabbing something here she should not do.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Fear nothing, all's safe on that side yet. But,
how speaks young mistress's epistle? soft and tender?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> As pen can write.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> So you think all goes well there?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> As my heart can wish.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You are sure on't?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Sure on't!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why then, ceremony aside, [<em>Putting on his hat.</em>]
You and I must have a little talk, Mr. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Ah, <em>Brass</em>, what art thou going to do? Wou't
ruin me?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Look you, <em>Dick</em>, few words; you are in a
smooth way of making your fortune. I hope all will
roll on. But how do you intend matters shall pass 'twixt
you and me in this business?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Death and Furies! What a time dost take to
talk on't?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Good words, or I betray you; they have already
heard of one Mr. <em>Amlet</em> in the house.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Here's a son of a whore!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> In short, look smooth, and be a good prince:
I am your valet, 'tis true: your footman sometimes,
which I'm enrag'd at; but you have always had the
ascendant, I confess: when we were school-fellows, you
made me carry your books, make your exercise, own
your rogueries, and sometimes take a whipping for
you. When we were fellow-prentices, tho' I was your
senior, you made me open the shop, clean my master's
shoes, cut last at dinner, and eat all the crust. In
our sins too, I must own you still kept me under; you
soar'd up to adultery with our mistress, while I was at
humble fornication with the maid. Nay, in our punishments
you still made good your post: for when
once upon a time I was sentenced but to be whipp'd,
I cannot deny but you were condemn'd to be hang'd.
So that in all times, I must confess, your inclinations
have been greater and nobler than mine; however,
I cannot consent that you shou'd at once fix fortune
for life, and I dwell in my humilities for the rest of
my days.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Hark thee, <em>Brass</em>, if I do not most nobly by
thee, I'm a dog.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> And when?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> As soon as ever I am married.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ah, the pox take thee.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Then you mistrust me?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I do by my faith. Look you, Sir, some
folks we mistrust, because we don't know them; others
we mistrust, because we do know them: and for one
of these reasons I desire there may be a bargain beforehand:
If not [<em>Raising his voice.</em>] look ye <em>Dick
Amlet</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Soft, my dear friend and companion. The
dog will ruin me. [<em>Aside.</em>] Say, what is't will content
thee?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> O ho!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> But how canst thou be such a barbarian?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I learnt it at <em>Algiers</em>.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Come, make thy <em>Turkish</em> demand then.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You know you gave me a bank-bill this morning
to receive for you.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I did so, of fifty pounds, 'tis thine. So, now
thou are satisfy'd, all's fix'd.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> It is not indeed. There's a diamond necklace
you robb'd your mother of ev'n now.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Ah, you <em>Jew</em>.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> No words.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> My dear <em>Brass</em>!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I insist.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> My old friend.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> <em>Dick Amlet</em> [<em>Raising his voice.</em>] I insist.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Ah the Cormorant&mdash;&mdash;Well, 'tis thine: but
thou'lt never thrive with it.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> When I find it begins to do me mischief, I'll
give it you again. But I must have a wedding-suit.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Some good lace.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Thou shalt.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A stock of linen.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Enough.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Not yet&mdash;&mdash;a silver sword.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, thou shalt have that too. Now thou hast
every thing.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> God forgive me, I forgot a ring of remembrance;
I wou'd not forget all these favours for the
world: a sparkling diamond I will be always playing in
my eye, and put me in mind of them.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> This unconscionable rogue! [<em>Aside.</em>] Well,
I'll bespeak one for thee.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Brilliant.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> It shall. But if the thing don't succeed after
all?&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'm a man of honour, and restore: and so
the treaty being finish'd, I strike my flag of defiance,
and fall into my respects again.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Taking off his hat.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I have made you wait a little, but I cou'd not
help it, her master is but just gone. He has been shewing
her Prince <em>Eugene</em>'s march into <em>Italy</em>.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Pr'ythee let me come to her, I'll shew her a
part of the world he has never shewn her yet.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So I told her, you must know; and she said,
she cou'd like to travel in good company: so if you'll
slip up those back-stairs, you shall try if you can agree
upon the journey.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> My dear <em>Flippanta</em>!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> None of your dear acknowledgments, I beseech
you, but up stairs as hard as you can drive.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I'm gone.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And do you follow him <em>Jack-a-dandy</em>, and see he
is not surpriz'd.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I thought that was your post, Mrs. <em>Useful</em>:
But if you'll come and keep me in humour, I don't care
if I share the duty with you.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> No words, sirrah, but follow him, I have somewhat
else to do.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> The jade's so absolute there's no contesting
with her. One kiss tho' to keep the centinel warm.
[<em>Gives her a long kiss.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;So.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>----A nasty rogue [<em>Wiping her mouth.</em>] But, let
me see what have I to do now? This <em>restitution</em> will be
here quickly, I suppose; in the mean time I'll go know
if my lady's ready for the quarrel yet. Master yonder is
so full on't, he's ready to burst; but we'll give him
vent by and by with a witness.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Flip</span>.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_IV" id="ACT_IV"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, Gripe's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>, <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">D</span>on</span>'t fear, I'll give you timely notice.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Goes to the door.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Come, you must consent, you shall consent.
How can you leave me thus upon the rack? a man who
loves you to that excess that I do.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Nay, that you love me, Sir, that I'm satisfy'd
in, for you have sworn you do: And I'm so pleas'd with
it, I'd fain have you do so as long as you live, so we
must never marry.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Not marry, my dear! why what's our love
good for if we don't marry!</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;I'm afraid 'twill be good for little if
we do.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Why do you think so?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Because I hear my father and mother, and my
uncle and aunt, and <em>Araminta</em> and her husband, and
twenty other married folks, say so from morning to
night.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Oh, that's because they are bad husbands and
bad wives; but in our case there will be a good husband
and a good wife, and so we shall love for ever.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Why there may be something in that truly; and
I'm always willing to hear reason, as a reasonable
young woman ought to do. But are you sure, Sir, tho'
we are very good now, we shall be so when we come to
be better acquainted?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I can answer for myself, at least.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I wish you cou'd answer for me too. You see I
am a plain-dealer, Sir, I hope you don't like me the
worse for it.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> O, by no means, 'tis a sign of admirable morals;
and I hope, since you practise it yourself, you'll
approve of it in your lover. In one word, therefore,
(for 'tis in vain to mince the matter) my resolution's
fix'd, and the world can't stagger me, I marry&mdash;&mdash;or
I die.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Indeed, Sir, I have much ado to believe you;
the disease of love is seldom so violent.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Madam, I have two diseases to end my miseries;
If the first don't do't, the latter shall; [<em>Drawing
his sword.</em>] one's in my heart, t'other's in my
scabbard.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Not for a diadem, [<em>Catching hold of him.</em>] Ah,
put it up, put it up.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> How absolute is your command! [<em>Dropping his
sword.</em>] A word, you see, disarms me.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> What a power I have over him! [<em>Aside.</em>] The
wondrous deeds of love!&mdash;--Pray, Sir, let me have no
more of these rash doings tho'; perhaps I mayn't be
always in the saving humour&mdash;&mdash;I'm sure if I had let him
stick himself, I should have been envy'd by all the great
ladies in the town.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, madam, have I then your promise? you'll
make me the happiest of mankind.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> I don't know what to say to you; but I believe I
had as good promise, for I find I shall certainly do't.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Then let us seal the contract thus.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kisses her.</em></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Um&mdash;&mdash;he has almost taken away my breath:
He kisses purely.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Hark&mdash;&mdash;somebody comes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Brass</span> peeping in.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Gar there, the enemy&mdash;&mdash;no, hold y'are safe,
'tis <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Come, have you agreed the matter? If not, you
must end it another time, for your father's in motion,
so pray kiss and part.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> That's sweet and sour. [<em>They kiss.</em>] Adieu t'ye,
Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Dick</span> and <span class="antiqua">Cor</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Have you told him I'm at home, <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> And that I'll see him?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, that too: But here's news for you; I have
just now receiv'd the restitution.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That's killing pleasure: and how much has
he restor'd me?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Two hundred and thirty.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Wretched rogue! but retreat, your Master's
coming to quarrel.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I'll be within call, if things run high.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Flip</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Gripe</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O ho!&mdash;--are you there, i'faith? Madam,
your humble servant, I'm very glad to see you at home.
I thought I should never have had that honour again.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Good-morrow, my dear, how d'ye do? <em>Flippanta</em>
says you are out of humour, and that you have
a mind to quarrel with me: Is it true? ha!&mdash;--I have
a terrible pain in my head, I give you notice on't beforehand.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> And how the pox shou'd it be otherwise? It's
a wonder you are not dead [<em><span class="antiqua">as a' wou'd you were</span>, Aside.</em>]
with the life you lead. Are you not ashamed? And
do you not blush to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My dear child, you crack my brain; soften the
harshness of your voice: say what thou wou't, but
let it be in an agreeable tone&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Tone, Madam, don't tell me of a tone&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O&mdash;&mdash;if you will quarrel, do it with temperance;
let it be all in cool blood, even and smooth, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
if you were not moved with what you said; and then I'll
hear you as if I were not mov'd with it neither.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Had ever man such need of patience? Madam,
Madam, I must tell you, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Another key, or I'll walk off.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Don't provoke me.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Shall you be long, my dear, in your remonstrances?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Yes, Madam, and very long.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> If you would quarrel <em>en abrêgé</em>, I shou'd have a
world of obligation to you.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> What I have to say, forsooth, is not to be expressed
<em>en abrêgé</em>, my complaints are too numerous.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Complaints! of what my dear? have I ever
given you subject of complaint, my life?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O Pox! my dear and my life! I desire none of
your <em>tendres</em>.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> How! find fault with my kindness, and my
expressions of affection and respect! the world will guess
by this what the rest of your complaints may be. I must
tell you, I am scandaliz'd at your procedure.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I must tell you I am running mad with yours.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ah! how insupportable are the humours of some
husbands, so full of fancies, and so ungovernable:
What have you in the world to disturb you?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> What have I to disturb me! I have you, Death
and the Devil.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ah, merciful heaven! how he swears! You
should never accustom yourself to such words as these;
indeed, my dear, you shou'd not; your mouth's always
full of them.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Blood and thunder! Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ah, he'll fetch the house down: Do you know
you make me tremble for you? <em>Flippanta</em>! who's there?
<em>Flippanta</em>!</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Here's a provoking devil for you!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What in the name of <em>Jove</em>'s the matter? you
raise the neighbourhood.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why here's your master in a most violent fuss,
and no mortal soul can tell for what.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Not tell for what!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No, my life. I have begged him to tell me his
griefs, <em>Flippanta</em>; and then he swears, good Lord! how
he does swear.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ah, you wicked jade! Ah, you wicked jade!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Do you hear him <em>Flippanta</em>! do you hear him!</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Pray, Sir, let's know a little what puts you in all
this fury?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Pr'ythee stand near me, <em>Flippanta</em>, there's an odd
froth about his mouth, looks as if his poor head were
going wrong, I'm afraid he'll bite.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> The wicked woman, <em>Flippanta</em>, the wicked
woman.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Can any body wonder I shun my own house,
when he treats me at this rate in it?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> At this rate! why in the devil's name&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Do you hear him again?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Come, a little moderation, Sir, and try what that
will produce.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Hang her, 'tis all a pretence to justify her going
abroad.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> A pretence! a pretence! Do you hear how black
a charge he loads me with? Charges me with a pretence?
Is this the return for all my downright open actions? You
know, my dear, I scorn pretences: Whenever I go
abroad, it is without pretence.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Give me patience.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You have a great deal, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> And yet he's never content, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> What shall I do?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What a reasonable man wou'd do; own your
self in the wrong, and be quiet. Here's <em>Flippanta</em> has
understanding, and I have moderation; I'm willing to
make her judge of our differences.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> You do me a great deal of honour, Madam:
but I tell you beforehand, I shall be a little on Master's
side.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Right, <em>Flippanta</em> has sense. Come, let her decide.
Have I not reason to be in a passion? tell me that.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You must tell her for what, my life.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, for the trade you drive, my soul.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Look you, Sir, pray take things right. I know
Madam does fret you a little now and then, that's true;
but in the fund, she is the softest, sweetest, gentlest
lady breathing: let her but live entirely to her own
fancy, and she'll never say a word to you from morning
to night.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Oons, let her but stay at home, and she shall
do what she will: in reason, that is.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> D'ye hear that, Madam? nay, now I must be on
master's side; you see how he loves you, he desires only
your company, pray give him that satisfaction, or I must
pronounce against you.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Well, I agree. Thou know'st I don't love to
grieve him: let him be always in good humour, and I'll
be always at home.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Look you there, Sir, what would you have
more?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well, let her keep her word, and I'll have done
quarrelling.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I must not, however, so far lose the merit of
my consent, as to let you think I'm weary of going
abroad, my dear: what I do is purely to oblige you;
which, that I may be able to perform, without a relapse,
I'll invent what ways I can to make my prison
supportable to me.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Her prison! pretty bird! her prison! do'nt that
word melt you, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I must confess I did not expect to find her so
reasonable.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> O, Sir, soon or late wives come into good humour:
husbands must only have a little patience to wait
for it.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The innocent little diversions, dear, that I
shall content myself with, will be chiefly play and company.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O, I'll find you employment, your time shan't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
lie upon your hands, tho' if you have a mind now for
such a companion as a&mdash;&mdash;let me see&mdash;&mdash;<em>Araminta</em> for
example, why I shan't be against her being with you
from morning till nigh.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You can't oblige me more, 'tis the best woman
in the world.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Is not she?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Ah, the old satyr!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Then we'll have, besides her, may be sometimes&mdash;&mdash;her
husband; and we shall see my niece that
writes verses, and my sister <em>Fidget</em>: with her husband's
brother that's always merry; and his little cousin that's
to marry the fat curate; and my uncle the apothecary,
with his wife and all his children. O we shall divert
ourselves rarely.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Good.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O, for that, my dear child, I must be plain with
you, I'll see none of them but <em>Araminta</em>, who has the
manners of the court; for I'll converse with none but
women of quality.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ay, ay, they shall all have one quality or other.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Then, my dear, to make our home pleasant,
we'll have consorts of music sometimes.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Music in my house!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Yes, my child, we must have music or the house
will be so dull I shall get the spleen, and be going abroad
again.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, she has so much complaisance for you, Sir,
you can't dispute such things with her.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ay, but if I have music&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ay, but Sir, I must have music&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Not every day, Madam don't mean.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No, bless me, no; but three consorts a week:
three days more we'll play after dinner at <em>Ombre</em>, <em>Picquet</em>,
<em>Basset</em>, and so forth, and close the evening with a
handsome supper and a ball.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> A ball!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Then, my love, you know there is but one day
more upon our hands, and that shall be the day of conversation,
we'll read verses, talk of books, invent modes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
tell lyes, scandalize our friends, be pert upon religion;
and in short, employ every moment of it in some pretty
witty exercise or other.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What order you see 'tis she proposes to live in!
A most wonderful regularity!</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Regularity with a pox&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> And as this kind of life, so soft, so smooth, so
agreeable, must needs invite a vast deal of company to
partake of it, 'twill be necessary to have the decency of a
porter at our door, you know.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> A porter&mdash;&mdash;A scrivener have a porter,
Madam!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Positively a porter.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why no scrivener since <em>Adam</em> ever had a porter,
woman!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You will therefore be renown'd in story, for
having the first, my life.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hang it, Sir, never dispute a trifle; if you vex
her, perhaps she'll insist upon a Swiss.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Gripe</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> But, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But, Sir, a porter, positively a porter; without
that the treaty's null, and I go abroad this moment.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Come, Sir, never lose so advantageous a peace
for a pitiful porter.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, I shall be hooted at, the boys will throw
stones at my porter. Besides, where shall I have money
for all this expence?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My dear, who asks you for any? Don't be in a
fright, chicken.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Don't be in a fright, Madam! But where I
say&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Madam plays, Sir, think on that; women that
play have inexhaustible mines, and wives who receive
least money from their husbands, are many times those
who spend the most.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> So, my dear, let what <em>Flippanta</em> says content
you. Go, my life, trouble yourself with nothing, but
let me do just as I please, and all will be well. I'm
going into my closet, to consider of some more things<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
to enable me to give you the pleasure of my company at
home, without making it too great a misery to a yielding
wife.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Mirror of goodness! Pattern to all wives! well
sure, Sir, you are the happiest of all husbands.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Yes&mdash;&mdash;and a miserable dog for all that too,
perhaps.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, what can you ask more, than this matchless
complaisance?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I don't know what I can ask, and yet I'm not
satisfy'd with what I have neither, the devil mixes in it all,
I think; complaisant or perverse, it feels just as it did.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why then your uneasiness is only a disease, Sir,
perhaps a little bleeding and purging wou'd relieve
you.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span> calls within.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Madam calls. I come, Madam. Come, be merry,
be merry, Sir, you have cause, take my word for't.
Poor devil.</p>

<p>[<em>Aside.</em>]</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I don't know that, I don't know that: But this
I do know, that an honest man, who has marry'd a jade,
whether she's pleas'd to spend her time at home or
abroad, had better have liv'd a batchelor.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> O, Sir, I'm mighty glad I have found you.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, what's the matter, pr'ythee?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Can no body hear us?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> No, no, speak quickly.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You han't seen <em>Araminta</em>, since the last letter
I carry'd her from you?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Not I, I go prudently; I don't press things
like your young firebrand lovers.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> But seriously, Sir, are you very much in love
with her?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> As mortal man has been.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'm sorry for't.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why so, dear <em>Brass</em>?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> If you were never to see her more now?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
Suppose such a thing, d'ye think 'twou'd break your
heart?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Oh!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Nay, now I see you love her; wou'd you
did not.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> My dear friend.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'm in your interest deep: you see it.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I do: but speak, what miserable story hast thou
for me?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I had rather the devil had, phu&mdash;&mdash;flown away
with you quick, than to see you so much in love, as I perceive
you are, since&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Since what?&mdash;&mdash;ho.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> <em>Araminta</em>, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Dead?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> How then?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Worse.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Out with't.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Broke.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Broke!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> She is, poor lady, in a most unfortunate situation
of affairs. But I have said too much.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> No, no, 'tis very sad, but let's hear it.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Sir, she charg'd me on my life never to mention
it to you, of all men living.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, who should'st thou tell it to, but to the
best of her friends?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ay, why there's it now, it's going just as I
fancy'd. Now will I be hang'd if you are not enough in
love to be engaging in this matter. But I must tell you, Sir,
that as much concern as I have for that most excellent,
beautiful, agreeable, distress'd, unfortunate lady, I'm
too much your friend and servant, ever to let it be said,
'twas the means of your being ruin'd for a woman&mdash;&mdash;by
letting you know she esteem'd you more than any
other man upon earth.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ruin'd! what dost thou mean?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Mean! Why! I mean that women always ruin
those that love 'em, that's the rule.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> The rule!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yes, the rule; why wou'd you have them ruin
those that don't? How shall they bring that about?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> But is there a necessity then, they shou'd ruin
somebody?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yes, marry is there; how wou'd you have 'em
support their expence else? Why, Sir, you can't conceive
now&mdash;&mdash;you can't conceive what <em>Araminta</em>'s privy-purse
requires. Only her privy purse, Sir! Why, what
do you imagine now she gave me for the last letter I
carry'd her from you? 'Tis true, 'twas from a man she
lik'd, else, perhaps, I had had my bones broke. But
what do you think she gave me?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, mayhap&mdash;&mdash;a shilling.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A guinea, Sir, a guinea. You see by that
how fond she was on't, by the bye. But then, Sir, her
coach-hire; her chair-hire, her pin-money, her play-money,
her china, and her charity&mdash;&mdash;wou'd consume
peers: A great soul, a very great soul! but what's the end
of all this?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, I'll tell you what the end is&mdash;&mdash;a
nunnery.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> A nunnery!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A nunnery.&mdash;&mdash;In short she is at last reduc'd
to that extremity, and attack'd with such a battalion
of duns, that rather than tell her husband (who you
know is such a dog, he'd let her go if she did) she has
e'en determin'd to turn papist, and bid the world adieu
for life.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O terrible! a papist!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yes, when a handsome woman has brought herself
into difficulties, the devil can't help her out of&mdash;&mdash;To
a nunnery, that's another rule, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> But, but, but, pr'ythee <em>Brass</em>, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> But all the buts in the world, Sir, won't stop
her: she's a woman of a noble resolution. So, Sir,
your humble servant; I pity her, I pity you. Turtle
and mate; but the Fates will have it so, all's packt up,
and I'm now going to call her a coach, for she resolves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
to slip off without saying a word: and the next visit she
receives from her friends, will be through a melancholy
grate, with a veil instead of a top-knot.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> It must not be, by the Powers it must not;
she was made for the world, and the world was made
for her.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> And yet you see, Sir, how small a share she
has on't.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Poor woman! Is there no way to save her?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Save her! No, how can she be saved? why she
owes above five hundred pounds.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Oh!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Five hundred pounds, Sir; she's like to be
sav'd indeed.&mdash;&mdash;Not but that I know them in this
town wou'd give me one of the five, if I wou'd persuade
her to accept of th' other four: but she has forbid
me mentioning it to any soul living; and I have
disobey'd her only to you; and so&mdash;I'll go and call
a coach.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Hold!&mdash;--dost think, my poor <em>Brass</em>, one might
not order it so, as to compound those debts for&mdash;&mdash;for&mdash;&mdash;twelve
pence in the pound?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Sir, d'ye hear? I have already try'd 'em with
ten shillings, and not a rogue will prick up his ear at it.
Tho' after all, for three hundred pounds all in glittering
gold, I could set their chaps a watering. But
where's that to be had with honour? there's the thing,
Sir,&mdash;&mdash;I'll go and call a coach.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Hold, once more: I have a note in my closet
of two hundred, ay&mdash;&mdash;and fifty, I'll go and give it her
myself.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You will; very genteel, truly. Go slap-dash,
and offer a woman of her scruples, money! bolt in her
face: Why, you might as well offer her a scorpion, and
she'd as soon touch it.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Shall I carry it to her creditors then, and treat
with them?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ay, that's a rare thought.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Is not it, <em>Brass</em>?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Only one little inconvenience by the way.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> As how?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> That they are your wife's creditors as well as
hers; and perhaps it might not be altogether so well to
see you clearing the debts of your neighbour's wife,
and leaving those of your own unpaid.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why that's true now.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I'm wise you see, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Thou art; and I'm but a young lover: But
what shall we do then?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why I'm thinking, that if you give me the
note, do you see; and that I promise to give you an
account of it&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ay, but look you, <em>Brass</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> But look you!&mdash;--Why what, d'ye think I'm
a pickpocket? D'ye think I intend to run away with
your note? your paltry note.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I don't say so&mdash;&mdash;I say only that in case&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Case, Sir, there is no case but the case I have
put you; and since you heap cases upon cases, where
there is but three hundred rascally pounds in the case&mdash;&mdash;I'll
go and call a coach.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Pr'ythee don't be so testy; come, no more
words, follow me to my closet, and I'll give thee the
money.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A terrible effort you make indeed; you are so
much in love, your wits are all upon the wing, just
a going; and for three hundred pounds you put a stop to
their flight: Sir, your wits are worth that, or your wits
are worth nothing. Come away.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well, say no more, thou shalt be satisfy'd.
[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> S't&mdash;&mdash;<em>Brass</em>! S't&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Re-enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Well, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> 'Tis not well, Sir, 'tis very ill, Sir; we shall be
all blown up.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> What, with pride and plenty?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> No, Sir, with an officious slut that will spoil
all. In short, <em>Flippanta</em> has been telling her mistress and
<em>Araminta</em> of my passion for the young gentlewoman;
and truly to oblige me (supposed no ill match by the
bye) they are resolv'd to propose it immediately to her
father.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> That's the devil! we shall come to papers and
parchments, jointures and settlements, relations meet
on both sides; that's the devil.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I intended this very day to propose to <em>Flippanta</em>,
the carrying her off: and I'm sure the young
houswife wou'd have tuck'd up her coats, and have
march'd.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ay, with the body and the soul of her.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Why then, what damn'd luck is this?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> 'Tis your damn'd luck, not mine: I have always
seen it in your ugly phiz, in spite of your powder'd
perriwig&mdash;&mdash;pox take ye&mdash;&mdash;he'll be hang'd at last. Why
don't you try to get her off yet?</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> I have no money, you dog; you know you have
stript me of every penny.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Come, damn it. I'll venture one cargo more
upon your rotten bottom: But if ever I see one glance
of your hempen fortune again, I'm off of your partnership
for ever&mdash;&mdash;I shall never thrive with him.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> An impudent rogue, but he's in possession of my
estate, so I must bear with him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Well, come, I'll raise a hundred pounds for
your use, upon my wife's jewels here; [<em>Pulling out the
necklace.</em>] her necklace shall pawn for't.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Remember tho', that if things fail, I'm to
have the necklace again; you know you agreed to
that.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yes, and if I make it good, you'll be the better
for't; if not, I shall: so you see where the cause
will pinch.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Why, you barbarous dog, you won't offer
to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> No words now; about your business, march.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
Go stay for me at the next tavern: I'll go to <em>Flippanta</em>,
and try what I can do for you.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Well, I'll go, but don't think to&mdash;&mdash;O pox,
Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Brass</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Will you be gone? A pretty title you'd have
to sue me upon truly, if I shou'd have a mind to stand
upon the defensive, as perhaps I may; I have done the
rascal service enough to lull my conscience upon't I'm
sure: But 'tis time enough for that. Let me see&mdash;&mdash;First
I'll go to <em>Flippanta</em>, and put a stop to this family
way of match-making, then sell our necklace for what
ready money 'twill produce; and by this time to-morrow
I hope we shall be in possession of&mdash;&mdash;t'other
jewel here; a precious jewel, as she's set in gold: I
believe for the stone itself we may part with it again to
a friend&mdash;&mdash;for a tester.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_V" id="ACT_V"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V.</a></h3>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, Gripe's <em>House</em>.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span> and <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, you agree I'm in the right, don't
you?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I don't know; if your master has the estate he
talks of, why not do't all above-board? Well, tho' I
am not much of his mind, I'm much in his interest,
and will therefore endeavour to serve him in his own
way.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> That's kindly said, my child, and I believe I
shall reward thee one of these days, with as pretty a
fellow to thy husband for't, as&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Hold your prating, Jack-a-dandy, and leave me
to my business.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> I obey&mdash;adieu. [<em>Kisses her.</em>]</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Rascal!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>, I'm ready to sink down, my legs
tremble under me, my dear <em>Flippy</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And what's the affair?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> My father's there within, with my mother and
<em>Araminta</em>; I never saw him in so good a humour in my
life.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And is that it that frightens you so?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>, they are just going to speak to him,
about my marrying the Colonel.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Are they so? so much the worse; they're too
hasty.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> O no, not a bit: I slipt out on purpose, you
must know, to give them an opportunity; wou'd 'twere
done already.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I tell you no; get you in again immediately,
and prevent it.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> My dear, dear, I am not able; I never was in
such a way before.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Never in a way to be marry'd before, ha? is not
that it?</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ah, Lord, if I'm thus before I come to't, <em>Flippanta</em>,
what shall I be upon the very spot? Do but feel
with what a thumpaty thump it goes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Putting her hand to her heart.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay it does make a filthy bustle, that's the truth
on't, child. But I believe I shall make it leap another
way, when I tell you, I'm cruelly afraid your father
won't consent, after all.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Why, he won't be the death of o'me, will he?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> I don't know, old folk are cruel; but we'll
have a trick for him. <em>Brass</em> and I have been consulting
upon the matter, and agreed upon a surer way of doing it
in spite of his teeth.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Ay, marry, Sir, that were something.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> But then he must not know a word of any thing
towards it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> No, no.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So, get you in immediately.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> One, two, three and away.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Running off.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And prevent your mother's speaking on't.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> But is t'other way sure, <em>Flippanta</em>?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Fear nothing, 'twill only depend upon you.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Nay then&mdash;&mdash;O ho, ho, ho, how pure that
is!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>Poor child! we may do what we will with her, as far as
marrying her goes; when that's over, 'tis possible she
mayn't prove altogether so tractable. But who's here?
my sharper, I think: yes.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, my best friend, how go matters? Has
the restitution been received, ha? Was she pleas'd with
it?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Yes, truly; that is, she was pleas'd to see there
was so honest a man in this immoral age.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Well, but a&mdash;&mdash;does she know that 'twas I
that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Why, you must know I begun to give her a little
sort of a hint, and&mdash;&mdash;and so&mdash;&mdash;why, and so she
begun to put on a sort of a severe, haughty, reserv'd, angry,
forgiving air. But soft; here she comes: you'll see
how you stand with her presently: but don't be afraid.
Courage.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> He, hem.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>'Tis no small piece of good fortune, Madam, to find you
at home: I have often endeavour'd it in vain.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> 'Twas then unknown to me, for if I cou'd often
receive the visits of so good a friend at home, I shou'd be
more reasonably blam'd for being so much abroad.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Madam, you make me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You are the man of the world whose com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>pany
I think is most to be desir'd. I don't compliment
you when I tell you so, I assure you.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Alas, Madam, your poor humble servant&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My poor humble servant however (with all
the esteem I have for him) stands suspected with me for
a vile trick, I doubt he has play'd me, which if I could
prove upon him, I'm afraid I should punish him very severely.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I hope, Madam, you'll believe I am not capable
of&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Look you, look you, you are capable of whatever
you please, you have a great deal of wit, and know
how to give a nice and gallant turn to every thing; but
if you will have me continue your friend, you must leave
me in some uncertainty in this matter.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Madam, I do then protest to you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Come protest nothing about it, I am but too penetrating,
as you may perceive; but we sometimes shut
our eyes, rather than break with our friends; for a thorough
knowledge of the truth of this business, wou'd
make me very seriously angry.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> 'Tis very certain, Madam, that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Come, say no more on't, I beseech you, for
I'm in a good deal of heat while I but think on't; if
you'll walk in, I'll follow you presently.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Your goodness, Madam, is&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> War, horse.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>No fine speeches, you'll spoil all.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Thou art a most incomparable person.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Nay, it goes rarely; but get you in, and I'll say
a little something to my Lady for you, while she's
warm.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> But S't, <em>Flippanta</em>, how long do'st think she may
hold out?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Phu, not a Twelvemonth.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Boo.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Away, I say.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Pushing him out.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Is he gone? What a wretch it is! he never was
quite such a beast before.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Poor mortal, his money's finely laid out truly.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I suppose there may have been much such another
scene within between <em>Araminta</em> and my dear: but I
left him so insupportably brisk, 'tis impossible he can have
parted with any money: I'm afraid <em>Brass</em> has not succeeded
as thou hast done, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> By my faith but he has, and better too; he presents
his humble duty to <em>Araminta</em>, and has sent her&mdash;&mdash;this.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Shewing the note.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> A bill for my love for two hundred and fifty
pounds. The monster! he wou'd not part with ten to
save his lawful wife from everlasting torment.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Never complain of his avarice, Madam, as long
as you have his money.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But is not he a beast, <em>Flippanta</em>? methinks the
restitution look'd better by half.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Madam, the man's beast enough, that's certain;
but which way will you go to receive his beastly money,
for I must not appear with his note?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That's true; why send for Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>; that's
a mighty useful woman, that Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Marry is she; we shou'd have been basely puzzled
how to dispose of the necklace without her, 'twould
have been dangerous offering it to sale.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> It wou'd so, for I know your master has been
laying out for't amongst the goldsmiths. But I stay here
too long. I must in and coquet it a little more to my
lover, <em>Araminta</em> will get ground on me else.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And I'll go send for Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Flip</span>.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>opens.</em></h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Araminta</span>, <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>, <span class="antiqua">Gripe</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span> at a tea-table,
very gay and laughing. <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span> comes in to 'em.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Omnes.</em> Ha! ha! ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Mighty well, O mighty well indeed!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Save you, save you good folks, you are all in
rare humour methinks.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why, what shou'd we be otherwise for, Madam?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Nay, I don't know, not I, my dear; but I
han't had the happiness of seeing you since our honey-moon
was over, I think.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Why to tell you the truth, my dear, 'tis the
joy of seeing you at home; [<em>Kisses her.</em>] You see what
charms you have, when you are pleased to make use of
'em.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Very gallant truly.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Nay, and what's more, you must know, he's
never to be otherwise henceforwards; we have come to
an agreement about it.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why, here's my love and I have been upon
just such another treaty too.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Well, sure there's some very peaceful star rules
at present. Pray heaven continue its reign.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Pray do you continue its reign, you ladies; for
'tis all in your power.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Leering at <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> My neighbour <em>Money-trap</em> says true at least I'll
confess frankly [<em>Ogling <span class="antiqua">Araminta</span>.</em>] 'tis in one lady's
power to make me the best-humour'd man on earth.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And I'll answer for another, that has the same
over me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ogling <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> 'Tis mighty fine, gentlemen, mighty civil husbands
indeed.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Nay, what I say's true, and so true, that all
quarrels being now at an end, I am willing, if you
please, to dispense with all that fine company we talk'd
of to-day, be content with the friendly conversation of
our two good neighbours here, and spend all my toying
hours alone with my sweet wife.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Why, truly, I think now, if these good women
pleas'd, we might make up the prettiest little neighbourly
company between our two families, and set a defiance to
all the impertinent people in the world.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The rascals!</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Indeed I doubt you'd soon grow weary, if we
grew fond.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Never, never, for our wives have wit, neighbour,
and that never palls.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> And our husbands have generosity, <em>Araminta</em>,
and that seldom palls.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> So that's a wipe for me now, because I did not
give her a new-year's gift last time; but be good, and
I'll think of some tea-cups for you, next year.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> And perhaps I mayn't forget a fan, or as good
a thing&mdash;&mdash;hum, hussy.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Well, upon these encouragements, <em>Araminta</em>,
we'll try how good we can be.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well, this goes most rarely: poor <em>Money-trap</em>,
he little thinks what makes his wife so easy in his company.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I can but pity poor neighbour <em>Gripe</em>. Lard,
Lard, what a fool does his wife and I make of him?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Are not these two wretched rogues, <em>Araminta</em>?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Araminta</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> They are indeed.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jessamin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jess.</em> Sir, here's Mr. <em>Clip</em>, the goldsmith, desires to
speak with you.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Cods so, perhaps some news of your necklace,
my dear.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That would be news indeed.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Let him come in.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Clip</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Mr. <em>Clip</em>, your servant, I'm glad to see you:
how do you do?</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> At your service, Sir, very well. Your servant,
Madam <em>Gripe</em>.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Horrid fellow!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well, Mr. <em>Clip</em>, no news yet of my wife's necklace?</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> If you please to let me speak with you in the
next room, I have something to say to you.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ay, with all my heart. Shut the door after us.
[<em>They come forward, and the Scene shuts behind them.</em>]
Well, any news?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> Look you, Sir, here's a necklace brought me to
sell, at least very like that you describ'd to me.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Let's see't&mdash;&mdash;<em>Victoria</em>! the very same. Ah
my dear <em>Mr. Clip</em>&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Kisses him.</em>] But who brought it
you? you should have seiz'd him.</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> 'Twas a young fellow that I know: I can't tell
whether he may be guilty, tho' its like enough. But he
has only left it me now, to shew a brother of our trade,
and will call upon me again presently.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Wheedle him hither, dear Mr. <em>Clip</em>. Here's
my neighbour <em>Money-trap</em> in the house; he's a justice,
and will commit him presently.</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> 'Tis enough.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O, my friend <em>Brass</em>!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Hold, Sir, I think that's a gentleman I'm looking
for. Mr. <em>Clip</em>, O your servant; what, are you acquainted
here? I have just been at your shop.</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> I only stept here to shew Mr. <em>Gripe</em> the necklace
you left.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, Sir, you understand jewels? [<em>To Gripe.</em>]
I thought you had dealt only in gold. But I smoak the
matter; hark you&mdash;&mdash;a word in your ear&mdash;&mdash;you are
going to play the gallant again, and make a purchase
on't for <em>Araminta</em>; ha, ha?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Where had you the necklace?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Look you, don't trouble yourself about that;
it's in commission with me, and I can help you to a
pennyworth on't.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> A pennyworth on't, villain?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Strikes at him.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Villain! a hey, a hey. Is't you or me, Mr.
<em>Clip</em>, he's pleas'd to compliment?</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> What do you think on't, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Think on't, now the devil fetch me if I know
what to think on't.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> You'll sell a pennyworth, rogue! of a thing
you have stol'n from me.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Stol'n! pray, Sir&mdash;&mdash;what wine have you
drank to-day? It has a very merry effect upon you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> You villain; either give me an account how
you stole it, or&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> O ho, Sir, if you please, don't carry your jest
too far, I don't understand hard words, I give you warning
on't: if you han't a mind to buy the necklace, you
may let it alone, I know how to dispose on't. What a
pox!&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O, you shan't have that trouble, Sir. Dear
Mr. <em>Clip</em>, you may leave the necklace here. I'll call at
your shop, and thank you for your care.</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> Sir, your humble servant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> O ho, Mr. <em>Clip</em>, if you please, Sir, this won't
do, [<em>Stopping him.</em>] I don't understand rallery in such
matters.</p>

<p><em>Clip.</em> I leave it with <em>Mr Gripe</em>, do you and he dispute
it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Clip</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ay, but 'tis from you, by your leave, Sir, that
I expect it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going after him.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> You expect, you rogue, to make your escape, do
you? But I have other accounts besides this, to make up
with you. To be sure the dog has cheated me of two
hundred and fifty pounds. Come, villain, give me an
account of&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Account of!&mdash;--Sir, give me an account of my
necklace, or I'll make such a noise in your house, I'll raise
the devil in't.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well said, courage.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Blood and thunder, give it me, or&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Come, hush, be wise, and I'll make no noise
of this affair.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You'll make no noise! But I'll make a noise;
and a damn'd noise too. O, don't think to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I tell thee I will not hang thee.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> But I tell you I will hang you, if you don't give
me my necklace, I will, rot me.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Speak softly, be wise; how came it thine?
who gave it thee?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> A gentleman, a friend of mine.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> What's his name?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> His name!&mdash;--I'm in such a passion I have forgot
it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Ah, brazen rogue&mdash;&mdash;thou hast stole it from
my wife: 'tis the same she lost six weeks ago.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> This has not been in <em>England</em> a month.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> You are a son of a whore.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Give me my necklace.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Give me my two hundred and fifty pound note.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Yet I offer peace: one word without passion.
The case stands thus, either I'm out of my wits, or you
are out of yours: now 'tis plain I am not out of my wits,
<em>Ergo</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> My bill, hang-dog, or I'll strangle thee.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They struggle.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Murder, murder!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>, <span class="antiqua">Araminta</span>, <span class="antiqua">Corinna</span>, <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>, and
<span class="antiqua">Money-trap</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> What's the matter? What's the matter here?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I'll matter him.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Who makes thee cry out thus, poor <em>Brass</em>?</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why, your husband, Madam, he's in his altitudes
here.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Robber.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Here, he has cheated me of a diamond necklace.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Who, Papa? Ah dear me!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Pr'ythee what's the meaning of this great emotion,
my dear?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> The meaning is that&mdash;&mdash;I'm quite out of
breath&mdash;&mdash;this son of a whore has got our necklace,
that's all.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> My necklace!</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> That birdlime there&mdash;stole it.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Impossible!</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Madam, you see master's a little&mdash;&mdash;touch'd,
that's all. Twenty ounces of blood let loose, wou'd set
all right again.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Here, call a constable presently. Neighbour
<em>Money-trap</em>, you'll commit him.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> D'ye hear? d'ye hear? See how wild he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
looks: how his eyes roll in his head: tye him down, or
he'll do some mischief or other.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Let me come at him.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Hold&mdash;&mdash;pr'ythee, my dear, reduce things to a
little temperance, and let us coolly into the secret of this
disagreeable rupture.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well then, without passion; why, you must
know, (but I'll have him hang'd) you must know that he
came to Mr. <em>Clip</em>, to Mr. <em>Clip</em> the dog did&mdash;&mdash;with a
necklace to sell; so Mr. <em>Clip</em> having notice before that
(can you deny this, Sirrah?) that you had lost yours,
brings it to me: Look at it here, do you know it again?
Ah, you traitor.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Brass</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> He makes me mad. Here's an appearance of
something now to the company, and yet nothing in't in
the bottom.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Constable.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> <em>Flippanta</em>!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Flippanta</span>, shewing the necklace.</em></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> 'Tis it, faith; here's some mystery in this, we
must look about us.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The safest way is point blank to disown the
necklace.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Right, stick to that.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Well, Madam, do you know your old acquaintance,
ha?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why, truly, my dear, tho' (as you may all
imagine) I shou'd be very glad to recover so valuable a
thing as my necklace, yet I must be just to all the world,
this necklace is not mine.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Huzza&mdash;&mdash;here constable do your duty; Mr.
Justice, I demand my necklace, and satisfaction of him.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I'll die before I part with it, I'll keep it, and
have him hang'd.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But be a little calm, my dear, do my bird, and
then thou'lt be able to judge rightly of things.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> O good lack, O good lack.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No, but don't give way to fury and interest
both, either of 'em are passions strong enough to lead a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
wise man out of the way. The necklace not being
really mine, give it the man again, and come drink a
dish of tea.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Ay, Madam says right.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Oons, if you with your addle head don't know
your own jewels, I with my solid one do. And if I part
with it, may famine be my portion.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But don't swear and curse thyself at this fearful
rate; don't, my dove: Be temperate in your words, and
just in all your actions, 'twill bring a blessing upon you
and all your family.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Bring thunder and lightning upon me and my
family, if I part with my necklace.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why, you'll have the lightning burn your
house about your ears, my dear, it you go on in these
practices.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> A most excellent woman this!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I'll keep my necklace.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Will you so? then here comes one has a title
to it, if I han't; let <em>Dick</em> bring himself off with her
as he can. Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, you are come in very good time,
you lost a necklace t'other day, and who do you think
has got it?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Marry, that I know not, I wish I did.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Why then here's Mr. <em>Gripe</em> has it, and swears
'tis his wife's.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> And so I do, sirrah&mdash;&mdash;look here, Mistress, do
you pretend this is yours?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Not for the round world I wou'd not say it;
I only kept it to do Madam a small courtesy? that's all.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ah, <em>Flippanta</em>, all will out now.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Flip</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Courtesy! what courtesy?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> A little money only that madam had present
need of, please to pay me that, and I demand no more.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> So here's fresh game, I have started a new hare,
I find.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> How forsooth, is this true?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Clarissa</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You are in a humour at present, love, to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>lieve
any thing, so I won't take the pains to contradict
it.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> This damn'd necklace will spoil all our affairs,
this is <em>Dick</em>'s luck again.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Are you not asham'd of these ways? Do you
see how you are expos'd before your best friends here?
don't you blush at it?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I do blush, my dear, but 'tis for you, that here
it shou'd appear to the world, you keep me so bare of
money, I'm forc'd to pawn my jewels.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> Impudent houswife!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Raising his hand to strike her.</em></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Softly, chicken: you might have prevented all
this by giving me the two hundred and fifty pounds you
sent to <em>Araminta</em> e'en now.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> You see, Sir, I deliver'd your note: how I have
been abus'd to-day!</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I'm betray'd&mdash;&mdash;jades on both sides, I see that.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> But, Madam, Madam, is this true I hear?
Have you taken a present of two hundred and fifty
pounds? Pray what were you to return for these pounds,
Madam, ha?</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Nothing, my dear, I only took 'em to reimburse
you of about the same sum you sent to <em>Clarissa</em>.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Hum, hum, hum.</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> How, gentlewoman, did you receive money
from him?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O, my dear, 'twas only in jest, I knew you'd
give it again to his wife.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> But amongst all this tintamar, I don't hear a word
of my hundred pounds. Is it Madam will pay me, or
Master?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I pay, the Devil shall pay.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Look you, my dear, malice apart, pay Mrs.
<em>Amlet</em> her money, and I'll forgive you the wrong you
intended my bed with <em>Araminta</em>: Am not I a good wife
now?</p>

<p><em>Gripe.</em> I burst with rage, and will get rid of this noose,
tho' I tuck myself up in another.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> Nay, pray, e'en tuck me up with you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Mon.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Gripe.</span></em></p>

<p><em>Clar. &amp; Aram.</em> B'ye, dearies.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dick</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Look, look, <em>Flippanta</em>, here's the colonel come
at last.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Ladies, I ask your pardon, I have stay'd so long,
but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Ah rogue's face, have I got thee, old Good-for-nought?
sirrah, sirrah, do you think to amuse me with
your marriages, and your great fortunes? Thou hast
play'd me a rare prank by my conscience. Why you
ungracious rascal, what do you think will be the end of
all this? Now Heaven forgive me, but I have a great
mind to hang thee for't.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> She talks to him very familiarly, <em>Flippanta</em>.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> So methinks, by my faith.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Now the rogue's star is making an end of
him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> What shall I do with her?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Do but look at him, my dames, he has the
countenance of a cherubim, but he's a rogue in his
heart.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What is the meaning of all this, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> The meaning, good lack! Why this all-to-be
powder'd rascal here, is my son, an't please you; ha,
graceless? Now I'll make you own your mother, vermine.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What, the colonel your son?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> 'Tis <em>Dick</em>, Madam, that rogue <em>Dick</em>, I have so
often told you of, with tears trickling down my old
cheeks.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> The woman's mad, it can never be.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Speak, rogue, am I not thy mother, ha? Did
I not bring thee forth? say then.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> What will you have me say? you had a mind
to ruin me, and you have done't; wou'd you do any
more?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Then, sir, you are son to good Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> And have had the assurance to put upon us all
this while?</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> And the confidence to think of marrying <em>Corinna</em>.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> And the impudence to hire me for your servant,
who am as well born as yourself.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Indeed I think he shou'd be corrected.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> Indeed I think he deserves to be cudgell'd.</p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Indeed I think he might be pumpt.</p>

<p><em>Brass.</em> Indeed I think he will be hang'd.</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Good lack-a-day, good lack-a-day! there's no
need to be so smart upon him neither: if he is not a
gentleman, he's a gentleman's fellow. Come hither,
<em>Dick</em>, they shan't run thee down neither: cock up thy
hat, <em>Dick</em>, and tell them tho' Mrs. <em>Amlet</em> is thy mother,
she can make thee amends, with ten thousand good
pounds to buy thee some lands, and build thee a house
in the midst on't.</p>

<p><em>Omnes.</em> How!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Ten thousand pounds, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>?</p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Yes, forsooth; tho' I shou'd lose the hundred,
you pawn'd your necklace for. Tell 'em that, <em>Dick</em>.</p>

<p><em>Cor.</em> Look you, <em>Flippanta</em>, I can hold no longer, and
I hate to see the young man abus'd. And so, Sir, if
you please, I'm your friend and servant, and what's
mine is yours; and when our estates are put together, I
don't doubt but we shall do as well as the best of 'em.</p>

<p><em>Dick.</em> Say'st thou so, my little queen? Why then if
dear mother will give us her blessing, the parson shall
give us a tack. We'll get her a score of grand-children,
and a merry house we'll make her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They kneel to Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Amlet</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Aml.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;ha, ha, ha, the pretty pair, the pretty
pair! rise my chickens, rise, rise and face the proudest
of them. And if Madam does not deign to give her
consent, a fig for her <em>Dick</em>&mdash;&mdash;Why how now?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Pray, Mrs. <em>Amlet</em>, don't be in a passion, the
girl is my husband's girl, and if you can have his consent,
upon my word you shall have mine, for any thing that
belongs to him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Flip.</em> Then all is peace again, but we have been more
lucky than wise.</p>

<p><em>Aram.</em> And I suppose, for us, <em>Clarissa</em>, we are to go on
with our dears, as we us'd to do.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Just in the same track, for this late treaty of
agreement with 'em, was so unnatural, you see it cou'd
not hold. But 'tis just as well with us, as if it had.
Well, 'tis a strange fate, good folks. But while you
live, every thing gets well out of a broil, but a husband.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="EPILOGUE" id="EPILOGUE">EPILOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Mrs. <span class="smcap">Barry</span>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">I</span>'ve</span> heard wise men in politicks lay down</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What feats by little England might be done,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Were all agreed, and all would act as one.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Ye wives a useful hint from this might take,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The heavy, old, despotick kingdom shake,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And make your matrimonial</em> Monsieurs <em>quake.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Our heads are feeble, and we're cramp'd by laws;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Our hands are weak, and not too strong our cause:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet would those heads and hands, such as they are,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In firm confed'racy resolve on war,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You'd find your tyrants&mdash;&mdash;what I've found my dear.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>What only two united can produce</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You've seen to-night, a sample for your use:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Single, we found we nothing could obtain;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We join our force&mdash;and we subdu'd our men.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Believe me (my dear sex) they are not brave;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Try each your man, you'll quickly find your slave.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I know they'll make campaigns, risk blood and life;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But this is a more terrifying strife;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They'll stand a shot, who'll tremble at a wife.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Beat then your drums, and your shrill trumpets sound,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Let all your visits of your feats resound:</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And deeds of war in cups of tea go round:</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The stars are with you, fate is in your hand,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In twelve months time you've vanquish'd half the land;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Be wise, and keep 'em under good command.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>This year will to your glory long be known,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And deathless ballads hand your triumphs down;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your late atchievements ever will remain,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For tho' you cannot boast of many slain,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Your pris'ners shew, you've made a brave campaign.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-089.jpg" width="700" height="38" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="THE" id="THE">THE</a><br />

MISTAKE.<br />

A<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-089.jpg" width="700" height="38" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a><br /><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="PROLOGUE2" id="PROLOGUE2">PROLOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Written by Mr.</em> <em class="gesperrt">STEELE</em>.</p>

<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Mr. <em>Booth</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">O</span>ur</span> author's wit and rallery to-night</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Perhaps might please, but that your stage delight</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No more is in your minds, but ears and sight.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With audiences compos'd of belles and beaux,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The first dramatick rule is, have good clothes,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To charm the gay spectator's gentle breast,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In lace and feather Tragedy's express'd,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And heroes die unpity'd, if ill-dress'd.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>The other stile you full as well advance;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If 'tis a comedy, you ask&mdash;&mdash;who dance?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For oh! what dire convulsions have of late</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Torn and distracted each dramatick state,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>On this great question, which house first should sell</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The new <span class="antiqua">French</span> steps imported by <span class="antiqua">Ruel</span>!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em><span class="antiqua">Desbarques</span> can't rise so high, we must agree,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They've half a foot in height more wit than we.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But tho' the genius of our learned age</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Thinks fit to dance and sing, quite off the stage,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>True action, comic mirth, and tragic rage;</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet as your taste now stands, our author draws</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some hopes of your indulgence and applause.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For that great end this edifice he made,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where humble swain at lady's feet is laid;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Where the pleas'd nymph her conquer'd lover spies,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Then to glass pillars turns her conscious eyes,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And points anew each charm, for which he dies.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>The muse, before nor terrible nor great,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Enjoys by him this awful gilded seat:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By him theatric angels mount more high,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And mimick thunders shake a broader sky.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Thus all must own, our author has done more</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>For your delight, than any bard before.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>His thoughts are still to raise your pleasures fill'd;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To write, translate, to blazon, or to build.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Then take him in a lump, nor nicely pry</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Into small faults that 'scape a busy eye;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But kindly, Sirs, consider, he to-day</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Finds you the house, the actors, and the play:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>So, tho' we stage-mechanick rules omit,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You must allow it in a whole-sale wit.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae2" id="Dramatis_Personae2">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>Alvarez</em>, father to <em>Leonora</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Betterton.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>Felix</em>, father to <em>Lorenzo</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bright.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>Carlos</em>, in love with <em>Leonora</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Booth.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Don <em>Lorenzo</em>, in love with <em>Leonora</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Husbands.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Metaphrastus</em>, tutor to <em>Camillo</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Freeman.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Sancho</em>, Servant to <em>Carlos</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Dogget.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Lopez</em>, servant to <em>Lorenzo</em>.</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Pack.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>A Bravo.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Leonora</em>, daughter to <em>Alvarez</em>.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Bowman.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Camillo</em>, suppos'd son to <em>Alvarez</em>.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Harcourt.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Isabella</em>, her friend.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Porter.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Jacinta</em>, servant to <em>Leonora</em>.</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Baker.</em></td>
  </tr>
</table></div>
<p class="ph2">THE<br />
MISTAKE.</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I2" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I2"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>the Street</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Carlos</span> and <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">I</span></span> Tell thee, I am satisfy'd, I'm in love enough
to be suspicious of every body.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> And yet methinks, Sir, you shou'd leave me out.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> It may be so; I can't tell: but I'm not at ease.
If they don't make a knave, at least they will make a
fool of thee.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> I don't believe a word on't: but good faith,
Master, your love makes somewhat of you; I don't
know what 'tis; but methinks when you suspect me, you
don't seem a man of half those parts I us'd to take you
for. Look in my face, 'tis round and comely, not one
hollow line of a villain in it: men of my fabrick
don't use to be suspected for knaves; and when you take
us for fools, we never take you for wise men. For
my part, in this present case, I take myself to be mighty
deep. A stander-by, Sir, sees more than a gamester.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
You are pleased to be jealous of your poor Mistress without
a cause, she uses you but too well, in my humble
opinion; she sees you, and talks with you, till I'm quite
tir'd on't sometimes; and your rival that you are so
scar'd about, forces a visit upon her about once in a
fortnight.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Alas, thou art ignorant of these affairs, he that's
the civilest received is often the least car'd for: women
appear warm to one, to hide a flame for another. <em>Lorenzo</em>
in short appears too compos'd of late to be a rejected
lover, and the indifference he shews upon the favours
I seem to receive from her, poisons the pleasure I else
shou'd taste in them, and keeps me upon a perpetual
rack. No&mdash;&mdash;I would fain see some of his jealous
transports, have him fire at the sight of me, contradict
me whenever I speak, affront me wherever he meets me,
challenge me, fight me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>San.</em> &mdash;&mdash;Run you through the guts.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> But he's too calm, his heart's too much at ease,
to leave me mine at rest.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> But, Sir, you forget that there are two ways for
our hearts to get at ease; when our mistresses come to
be very fond of us, or we&mdash;not to care a fig for them.
Now suppose upon the rebukes you know he has had, it
shou'd chance to be the latter.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Again thy ignorance appears; alas, a lover who
has broke his chain, will shun the tyrant that enslaved
him. Indifference never is his lot; he loves or hates for
ever; and if his mistress proves another's prize, he cannot
calmly see her in his arms.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> For my part, Master, I am not so great a philosopher
as you be, nor (thank my stars) so bitter a lover,
but what I see&mdash;&mdash;that I generally believe; and when
<em>Jacinta</em> tells me she loves me dearly, I have good
thoughts enough of my person never to doubt the truth
on't. See here the baggage comes.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span> with a letter.</em>
</p>

<p>Hist! <em>Jacinta</em>! my dear.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Who's that? Blunderbuss! Where's your Master?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p>

<p><em>San.</em> Hard by.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Shewing him.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> O, Sir, I'm glad I have found you at last; I
believe I have travel'd five miles after you, and could
neither find you at home, nor in the walks, nor at
church, nor at the opera nor&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Nor any where else, where he was not to be
found: if you had look'd for him where he was, 'twas
ten to one but you had met with him.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I had, Jack-a-dandy!</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> But pr'ythee what's the matter? Who sent you
after me?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> One who's never well but when she sees you,
I think; 'twas my Lady.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Dear <em>Jacinta</em>, I fain would flatter myself, but
am not able; the blessing's too great to be my lot: yet
'tis not well to trifle with me; how short soe'er I
am in other merit, the tenderness I have for <em>Leonora</em>
claims something from her generosity. I should not be
deluded.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> And why do you think you are? methinks
she's pretty well above board with you: what must be
done more to satisfy you?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Why <em>Lorenzo</em> must hang himself, and then we
are content.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> How! <em>Lorenzo</em>?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> If less will do, he'll tell you.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Why, you are not mad, Sir, are you? Jealous
of him! Pray which way may this have got into
your head? I took you for a man of sense before&mdash;&mdash;Is
this your doings, dog?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> No, forsooth <em>Pert</em>, I'm not much given to suspicion,
as you can tell, Mrs. <em>Forward</em>&mdash;&mdash;if I were, I
might find more cause I guess, than your Mistress has
given our Master here. But I have so many pretty
thoughts of my own person, hussy, more than I have of
yours, that I stand in dread of no man.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> That's the way to prosper; however, so far
I'll confess the truth to thee; at least if that don't do,
nothing else will. Men are mighty simple in love-matters,
Sir: when you suspect woman's a falling off,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
you fall a plaguing her to bring her on again, attack her
with reason and a sour face: udslife, Sir, attack her
with a fiddle, double your good humour&mdash;&mdash;give her a
ball&mdash;&mdash;powder your perriwig at her&mdash;&mdash;let her cheat
you at cards a little, and I'll warrant all's right again.
But to come upon a poor woman with the gloomy face of
jealousy, before she gives the least occasion for't, is to
set a complaisant rival in too favourable a light. Sir,
Sir, I must tell you, I have seen those have ow'd their
success to nothing else.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Say no more; I have been to blame, but there
shall be no more on't.</p>

<p><em>Jac.</em> I should punish you but justly however for what's
past, if I carried back what I have brought you; but I'm
good-natur'd, so here 'tis; open it, and see how wrong
you tim'd your jealousy.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> [Reads.] <em>If you love me with that tenderness you
have made me long believe you do, this letter will be welcome;
'tis to tell you, you have leave to plead a daughter's
weakness to a father's indulgence: and if you prevail with
him to lay his commands upon me, you shall be as happy as my
obedience to them can make you.</em> Leonora.</p>

<p>Then I shall be what man was never yet [<em>Kissing the
Letter.</em>] Ten thousand blessings on thee for thy news,
I could adore thee as a Deity.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Embracing <span class="antiqua">Jacin</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> True flesh and blood, every inch of her, for all
that.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> [Reads again.] <em>And if you prevail with him to lay
his commands upon me, you shall be as happy as my obedience
to them can make you.</em></p>

<p>O happy, happy <em>Carlos</em>! But what shall I say to thee
for this welcome message? [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>] Alas! I want
words&mdash;&mdash;But let this speak for me, and this, and this,
and&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Giving her his ring, watch, and purse.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> Hold, Sir; pray leave a little something for our
board-wages. You can't carry 'em all, I believe: [<em>To
<span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>] shall I ease thee of this?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Offering to take the purse.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> No; but you may carry&mdash;&mdash;That, sirrah.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Giving him a box o' th' ear.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> The jade's grown purse-proud already.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Well, dear <em>Jacinta</em>, say something to your
charming mistress, that I am not able to say myself: But,
above all, excuse my late unpardonable folly, and offer
her my life to expiate my crime.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> The best plea for pardon will be never to repeat
the fault.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> If that will do 'tis seal'd for ever.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Enough; but I must be gone; success attend
you with the old gentleman. Good-by t'ye, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Jacin</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Eternal blessings follow thee.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> I think she has taken them all with her; the jade
has got her apron full.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Is not that <em>Lorenzo</em> coming this way?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Yes, 'tis he; for my part now I pity the poor
gentleman.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I'll let him see at last I can be chearful too.
Your servant, Don <em>Lorenzo</em>; how do you do this morning?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I thank you, Don <em>Carlos</em>, perfectly well both in
body and mind.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> What! cur'd of your love, then?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> No, nor I hope I never shall. May I ask you
how 'tis with yours?</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Increasing every hour; we are very constant
both.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I find so much delight in being so, I hope I never
shall be otherwise.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Those joys I am well acquainted with. But
should lose them soon, were I to meet a cool reception.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> That's every generous lover's case, no doubt;
an angel could not fire my heart but with an equal
flame.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> And yet you said you still lov'd <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> And yet I said I lov'd her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Does she then return you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Everything my passion can require.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Its wants are small, I find.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Extended as the Heavens.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I pity you.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> He must be a Deity that does so.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Yet I'm a mortal, and once more can pity you.
Alas, <em>Lorenzo</em>, 'tis a poor cordial to an aching heart, to
have the tongue alone announce it happy; besides 'tis
mean, you should be more a man.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I find I have made you an unhappy one, so can
forgive the boilings of your spleen.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> This seeming calmness might have the effect
your vanity proposes by it; had I not a testimony of her
love would (should I shew it) sink you to the center.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Yet still I'm calm as ever.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Nay then have at your peace. Read that, and
end the farce.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives him <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>'s letter.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> [<em>Reads.</em>] I have read it.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> And know the hand?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> 'Tis <em>Leonora</em>'s; I have often seen it.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I hope you then at last are satisfied.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I am, [<em>Smiling.</em>] Good-morrow, <em>Carlos</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lor</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> Sure he's mad, Master.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Mad! say'st thou?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> And yet by'r lady, that was a sort of a dry sober
smile at going off.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> A very sober one! Had he shewn me such a
letter, I had put on another countenance.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Ay, o' my conscience had you.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Here's mystery in this&mdash;&mdash;I like it not.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> I see his man and confidant there, <em>Lopez</em>. Shall
I draw on a <em>Scotch</em> pair of boots, Master, and make
him tell all?</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Some questions I must ask him; call him hither.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Hem, <em>Lopez</em>, hem!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Who calls?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> I, and my master.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I can't stay.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> You can indeed, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Laying hold on him.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Whither in such haste, honest <em>Lopez</em>! What!
upon some love errand?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir, your servant; I ask your pardon, but I was
going&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I guess where; but you need not be shy of me
any more, thy master and I are no longer rivals; I have
yielded up the cause; the lady will have it so, so I
submit.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Is it possible, Sir, shall I then live to see my
master and you friends again?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Yes; and what's better, thou and I shall be
friends too. There will be no more fear of Christian
bloodshed. I give thee up <em>Jacinta</em>; she's a slippery
hussy, so master and I are going to match ourselves
elsewhere.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> But is it possible, Sir, your honour should be in
earnest? I'm afraid you are pleased to be merry with
your poor humble servant.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I'm not at present much dispos'd to mirth, my
indifference in this matter is not so thoroughly form'd;
but my reason has so far master'd my passion, to shew me
'tis in vain to pursue a woman whose heart already is
another's. 'Tis what I have so plainly seen of late, I
have rous'd my resolution to my aid, and broke my
chains for ever.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Well, Sir, to be plain with you, this is the joyfullest
news I have heard this long time; for I always
knew you to be a mighty honest gentleman, and good
faith it often went to the heart o' me to see you so
abused. Dear, dear have I often said to myself (when
they have had a private meeting just after you have been
gone)&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Hold, Master, don't kill him yet.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Car.</span> aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I say I have said to myself, what wicked things
are women, and what pity it is they should be suffer'd
in a Christian country; what a shame they should be
allow'd to play Will-in-the-wisp with men of honour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
and lead them thro' thorns and briars, and rocks, and
rugged ways, 'till their hearts are all torn to pieces,
like an old coat in a fox-chace; I say, I have said to
myself&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Thou hast said enough to thyself, but say a little
more to me: Where were these secret meetings thou
talk'st of?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> In sundry places, and by divers ways; sometimes
in the cellar, sometimes in the garret, sometimes in the
court, sometimes in the gutter; but the place where the
kiss of kisses was given was&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> In Hell.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir!</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Speak, fury, what dost thou mean by the kiss
of kisses?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> The kiss of peace, Sir, the kiss of union; the
kiss of consummation.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Thou ly'st, villain.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I don't know but I may, Sir,&mdash;&mdash;What the
Devil's the matter now?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> There's not a word of truth in all thy cursed
tongue has utter'd.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> No, Sir, I&mdash;&mdash;I&mdash;&mdash;believe there is not.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Why then didst thou say it, wretch?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> O&mdash;&mdash;only in jest. Sir.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I am not in a jesting condition.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Nor I at present, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Speak then the truth, as thou wouldst do it at
the hour of death.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yes, at the gallows, and be turn'd off as soon as
I've done.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> What's that you murmur?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Nothing but a short prayer.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I am distracted, and fright the wretch from
telling me what I am upon the rack to know. [<em>Aside.</em>]
Forgive me, <em>Lopez</em>, I am to blame to speak thus harshly
to thee: let this obtain thy pardon. [<em>Gives him money.</em>]
Thou see'st I am disturb'd.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yes, Sir, I see I have been led into a snare;
I have said too much.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> And yet you must say more; nothing can lessen
my torment, but a farther knowledge of what causes my
misery. Speak then! Have I any thing to hope?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Nothing; but that you may be a happier bachelor,
than my master may probably be a married man.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Married, say'st thou?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I did, Sir, and believe he'll say so too in a
twelvemonth.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> O torment!&mdash;--But give me more on't:
When, how, to whom, where?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yesterday, to <em>Leonora</em>, by the parson, in the
pantry.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Look to't, if this be false, thy life shall pay the
torment thou hast given me: be gone.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> With the body and the soul o'me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> Base news, Master.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Now my insulting rival's smile speaks out: O
cursed, cursed woman!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I'm come in haste to tell you, Sir, that as soon
as the moon's up, my lady will give you a meeting
in the close-walk by the back-door of the garden; she
thinks she has something to propose to you will certainly
get her father's consent to marry you.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Past sufferance! this aggravation is not to be
borne: go, thank her&mdash;with my curses: fly&mdash;&mdash;and
let them blast her, while their venom is strong.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Car</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em>&mdash;&mdash;Won't thou explain? What's this
storm for?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> And dar'st thou ask me questions, smooth-faced
iniquity, crocodile of <em>Nile</em>, syren of the rocks? Go
carry back the too gentle answer thou hast received:
only let me add with the poet:</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>We are no fools, trollop, my Master nor me;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And thy Mistress may go&mdash;&mdash;to the Devil with thee.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span> sola.</em>
</p>

<p>Am I awake!&mdash;--I fancy not; a very idle dream
this. Well: I'll go talk in my sleep to my lady about
it; and when I awake, we'll try what interpretation we
can make on't.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_II_SCENE_I" id="ACT_II_SCENE_I"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span> and <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>.</em>
</p>

<p class="directcenter"><span class="smcap">Isabella.</span>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">How</span> can you doubt my secrecy? Have you not
proofs of it?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Nay I am determin'd to trust you; but are we
safe here? can no body over-hear us?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Much safer than in a room. No body can come
within hearing, before we see them.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> And yet how hard 'tis for me to break silence!</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Your secret sure must be of great importance.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> You may be sure it is, when I confess 'tis with
regret I own it e'en to you; and were it possible, you
should not know it.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> 'Tis frankly own'd, indeed; but 'tis not kind,
perhaps not prudent; after what you know I already am
acquainted with. Have not I been bred up with you?
And am I ignorant of a secret, which were it known&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Would be my ruin; I confess it would. I own
you know why both my birth and sex are thus disguised;
you know how I was taken from my cradle to secure
the estate, which had else been lost by young <em>Camillo</em>'s
death; but which is now safe in my supposed father's
hands, by my passing for his son; and 'tis because you
know all this, I have resolved to open farther wonders
to you. But before I say any more, you must resolve
one doubt, which often gives me great disturbance;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
whether Don <em>Alvarez</em> ever was himself privy to the Mystery
which has disguised my sex, and made me pass for
his son?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> What you ask me, is a thing has often perplex'd
my thoughts, as well as yours, nor could my
mother ever resolve the doubt. You know when that
young child <em>Camillo</em> dy'd, in whom was wrapt up so
much expectation, from the great estate his uncle's will
(even before he came into the world) had left him; his
mother made a secret of his death to her husband <em>Alvarez</em>,
and readily fell in with a proposal made her to take
you (who then was just <em>Camillo</em>'s Age) and bring you
up in his room. You have heard how you were then at
nurse with my mother, and how your own was privy and
consenting to the plot; but Don <em>Alvarez</em> was never led
into it by 'em.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Don't you then think it probable his wife might
after tell him?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> 'Twas ever thought nothing but a death-bed
repentance cou'd draw it from her to any one; and that
was prevented by the suddenness of her exit to t'other
world, which did not give her even time to call Heaven's
mercy on her. And yet now I have said all this,
I own the correspondence and friendship I observe he
holds with your real mother, gives me some suspicion,
and the presents he often makes her (which people seldom
do for nothing) confirm it. But since this is all I can say
to you on that point, pray let us come to the secret,
which you have made me impatient to hear.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Know then, that tho' <em>Cupid</em> is blind, he is not
to be deceived: I can hide my sex from the world but
not from him; his dart has found the way thro' the
manly garb I wear to pierce a virgin's tender heart&mdash;&mdash;I
love&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> How!</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Nay be'nt surpriz'd at that, I have other wonders
for you.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Quick, let me hear 'em.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I love <em>Lorenzo</em>.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> <em>Lorenzo</em>! Most nicely hit. The very man from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
whom your imposture keeps this vast estate; and who on
the first knowledge of your being a woman wou'd enter
into possession of it. This is indeed a wonder.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Then wonder still, I am his wife.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Ha! his wife!</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> His wife, <em>Isabella</em>; and yet thou hast not all my
wonders, I am his wife without his knowledge: he does
not even know I am a woman.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Madam, your humble servant; if you please to
go on, I won't interrupt you, indeed I won't.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Then hear how these strange things have past;
<em>Lorenzo</em>, bound unregarded in my sister's chains, seem'd
in my eyes a conquest worth her care. Nor cou'd I
see him treated with contempt, without growing warm
in his interest: I blam'd <em>Leonora</em> for not being touch'd
with his merit; I blam'd her so long, 'till I grew touch'd
with it myself: and the reasons I urg'd to vanquish her
heart, insensibly made a conquest of my own: 'Twas
thus, my friend, I fell. What was next to be done
my passion pointed out; my heart I felt was warm'd
to a noble enterprize, I gave it way, and boldly on
it led me. <em>Leonora</em>'s name and voice, in the dark shades
of night, I borrow'd, to engage the object of my
wishes. I met him, <em>Isabella</em>, and so deceived him; he
cannot blame me sure, for much I blest him. But to
finish this strange story: in short I own, I long had
lov'd, but finding my father most averse to my desires,
I at last had forc'd myself to this secret correspondence;
I urg'd the mischiefs would attend the knowledge on't,
I urg'd them so, he thought them full of weight, so
yielded to observe what rules I gave him: they were,
to pass the day in cold indifference, to avoid even signs
or looks of intimacy, but gather for the still, the secret
night, a flood of love to recompence the losses of the
day. I will not trouble you with lovers cares, nor what
contrivances we form'd to bring this toying to a solid
bliss. Know only, when three nights we thus had
pass'd, the fourth it was agreed should make us one
for ever; each kept their promise, and last night has
join'd us.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Indeed your talents pass my poor extent; you
serious ladies are well form'd for business: What
wretched work a poor coquet had made on't! But still
there's that remains will try your skill; you have your
man, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Lovers think no farther, the object of that
passion possesses all desire; however I have open'd to
you my wond'rous situation. If you can advise me in
my difficulties to come, you will. But see&mdash;&mdash;My
husband!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> You look as if you were busy, pray tell me if I
interrupt you, I'll retire.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> No, no, you have a right to interrupt us, since
you were the subject of our discourse.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Was I?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> You were; nay, I'll tell you how you entertain'd
us too.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Perhaps I had as good avoid hearing that.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> You need not fear, it was not to your disadvantage;
I was commending you and saying, if I had been
a woman I had been in danger; nay I think I said I
shou'd infallibly have been in love with you.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> While such an If is in the way, you run no great
risque in declaring; but you'd be finely catch'd now,
shou'd some wonderful transformation give me a claim
to your heart.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Not sorry for't at all, for I ne'er expect to find
a mistress please me half so well as you would do if I
were yours.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Since you are so well inclin'd to me in your
wishes, Sir, I suppose (as the fates have ordain'd it) you
wou'd have some pleasure in helping me to a mistress,
since you can't be mine yourself.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Indeed I shou'd not.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Then my obligation is but small to you.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Why, wou'd you have a woman, that is in
love with you herself, employ her interest to help you to
another?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> No, but you being no woman might.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Sir, 'tis as a woman I say what I do, and I suppose
myself a woman when I design all these favours to
you: therefore out of that supposition, I have no other
good intentions to you than you may expect from one
that says he's&mdash;&mdash;Sir, your humble servant.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> So unless Heaven is pleas'd to work a miracle,
and from a sturdy young fellow, make you a kind-hearted
young lady, I'm to get little by your good opinion
of me.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Yes; there is one means yet left (on this side
a miracle) that wou'd perhaps engage me, if with an
honest oath you could declare, were I woman, I might
dispute your heart even with the first of my pretending
sex.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Then solemnly and honestly I swear, that had you
been a woman, and I the master of the world, I think I
should have laid it at your feet.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Then honestly and solemnly I swear, henceforwards
all your interest shall be mine.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I have a secret to impart to you will quickly try
your friendship.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I've a secret to unfold to you will put you even
to a fiery trial.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> What do you mean, <em>Camillo</em>?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I mean that I love, where I never durst yet
own it, yet where 'tis in your power to make me the happiest
of&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Explain, <em>Camillo</em>; and be assur'd if your happiness
is in my power, 'tis in your own.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Alas! you promise me you know not what.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I promise nothing but what I will perform; name
the person.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> 'Tis one who is very near to you.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> If 'tis my sister, why all this pain in bringing
forth the secret?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Alas! it is your&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Speak!</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I cannot yet; farewel.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Hold! Pray speak it now.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I must not: but when you tell me your secret,
you shall know mine.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Mine is not in my power, without the consent of
another.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Get that consent, and then we'll try who best
will keep their oaths.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I am content.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> And I. Adieu.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Farewel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span> and <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> 'Tis enough: I will revenge myself this way;
if it does but torment him, I shall be content to find no
other pleasure in it. Brother, you'll wonder at my
change; after all my ill usage of <em>Lorenzo</em>, I am determined
to be his wife.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> How, sister! so sudden a turn? This inequality
of temper indeed is not commendable.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Your change, brother, is much more justly surprizing;
you hitherto have pleaded for him strongly,
accus'd me of blindness, cruelty, and pride; and now I
yield to your reasons, and resolve in his favour, you
blame my compliance, and appear against his interest.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I quit his service for what's dearer to me, yours.
I have learn'd from sure intelligence, the attack he made
on you was but a feint, and that his heart is in another's
chain; I would not therefore see you expos'd, to offer
up yourself to one who must refuse you.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> If that be all, leave me my honour to take care
of; I am no stranger to his wishes, he won't refuse me,
brother, nor I hope will you, to tell him of my resolution:
if you do, this moment with my own tongue
(thro' all the virgin's blushes) I'll own to him I am determin'd
in his favour&mdash;&mdash;You pause as if you'd let the
task lie on me.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Neither on you, nor me; I have a reason you are
yet a stranger to: know then there is a virgin young
and tender, whose peace and happiness so much are
mine, I cannot see her miserable; she loves him with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
that torrent of desire, that were the world resign'd her
in his stead, she'd still be wretched: I will not pique
you to a female strife, by saying you have not charms
to tear him from her; but I would move you to a female
softness, by telling you her death wou'd wait your
conquest. What I have more to plead is as a brother, I
hope that gives me some small interest in you; whate'er
it is, you see how I'd employ it.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You ne'er cou'd put it to a harder service. I beg
a little time to think: pray leave me to myself a
while.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I shall; I only ask that you wou'd think, and
then you won't refuse me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Cam</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Indeed, Madam, I'm of your brother's mind,
tho' for another cause; but sure 'tis worth thinking
twice on for your own sake: you are too violent.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> A slighted woman knows no bounds. Vengeance
is all the cordial she can have, so snatches at the
nearest. Ungrateful wretch! to use me with such insolence.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> You see me as much enrag'd at it, as you are
yourself, yet my brain is roving after the cause, for
something there must be: never letter was receiv'd by
man with more passion and transport; I was almost as
charming a goddess as yourself, only for bringing it.
Yet when in a moment after I come with a message worth
a dozen on't, never was witch so handled; something
must have pass'd between one and t'other, that's sure.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Nothing cou'd pass worth my enquiring after,
since nothing cou'd happen that can excuse his usage of
me; he had a letter under my hand which own'd him
master of my heart; and till I contradicted it with my
mouth, he ought not to doubt the truth on't.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Nay I confess, madam, I han't a word to say
for him, I'm afraid he's a rogue at bottom, as well as
my shameless that attends him; we are bit, by my
troth, and haply well enough serv'd, for list'ning to the
glib tongues of the rascals: but be comforted, Madam;
they'll fall into the hands of some foul sluts or other,
before they die, that will set our account even with e'm.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Well: let him laugh; let him glory in what
he has done: he shall see I have a spirit can use him as
I ought.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> And let one thing be your comfort by the
way, Madam, that in spite of all your dear affections
to him, you have had the grace to keep him at arms
length. You han't thank'd me for't; but good faith
'twas well I did not stir out of the chamber that fond
night. For there are times the stoutest of us are in danger,
the rascals wheedle so.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> In short, my very soul is fir'd with his treatment:
and if ever that perfidious monster should relent, though
he should crawl like a poor worm beneath my feet, nay
plunge a dagger in his heart, to bleed for pardon; I
charge thee strictly, charge thee on thy life, thou do not
urge a look to melt me toward him, but strongly buoy
me up in brave resentment; and if thou see'st (which
heav'ns avert) a glance of weakness in me, rouse to my
memory the vile wrongs I've borne, and blazon them
with skill in all their glaring colours.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Madam, never doubt me; I'm charged to the
mouth with fury, and if ever I meet that fat traitor of
mine, such a volley will I pour about his ears&mdash;&mdash;Now
heav'n prevent all hasty vows; but in the humour I am,
methinks I'd carry my maiden-head to my cold grave
with me, before I'd let it simper at the rascal. But
soft; here comes your father.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Alvarez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> <em>Leonora</em>, I'd have you retire a little, and send
your brother's tutor to me, <em>Metaphrastus</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Leo.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Jacin</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Solus.</em>
</p>

<p>I'll try if I can discover, by his tutor, what it is that
seems so much to work his brain of late; for something
more than common there plainly does appear, yet nothing
sure that can disturb his soul, like what I have to
torture mine upon his account. Sure nothing in this
world is worth a troubled mind: what racks has avarice
stretch'd me on! I wanted nothing, kind heav'n<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
had given me a plenteous lot, and seated me in great
abundance; why then approve I of this imposture?
What have I gain'd by it? Wealth and misery. I have
barter'd peaceful days for restless nights; a wretched
bargain! and he that merchandises thus, must be undone
at last.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Metaphrastus</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> <em>Mandatum tuum curo diligenter.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Master, I had a mind to ask you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> The title, master, comes from <em>Magis</em> and
<em>Ter</em>, which is as much, to say, <em>thrice worthy</em>.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I never heard so much before, but it may be true
for ought I know: but, master&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> Go on.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Why so I will if you'll let me, but don't interrupt
me then.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> Enough, proceed.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Why then, master, for a third time, my son
<em>Camillo</em> gives me much uneasiness of late; you know I
love him, and have many careful thoughts about him.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> 'Tis true. <em>Filio non potest præferri nisi filius.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Master, when one has business to talk on, these
scholastic expressions are not of use; I believe you a great
Latinist; possibly you may understand <em>Greek</em>: those who
recommended you to me, said so, and I am willing it
should be true: but the thing I want to discourse you
about at present, does not properly give you an occasion
to display your learning. Besides, to tell you truth, 'twill
at all times be lost upon me; my father was a wise man,
but he taught me nothing beyond common sense; I
know but one tongue in the world, which luckily being
understood by you as well as me, I fancy whatever
thoughts we have to communicate to one another, may
reasonably be convey'd in that, without having recourse
to the language of <em>Julius Cæsar</em>.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> You are wrong, but may proceed.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I thank you: what is the matter, I do not know;
but tho' it is of the utmost consequence to me to marry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
my son, what match soever I propose to him, he still
finds some pretence or other to decline it.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> He is, perhaps, of the humour of a brother of
<em>Marcus Tullius</em>, who&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Dear master, leave the <em>Greeks</em>, and the <em>Latins</em>,
and the <em>Scotch</em>, and the <em>Welsh</em>, and let me go on in my
business; what have those people to do with my son's
marriage?</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> Again you are wrong; but go on.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I say then, that I have strong apprehensions from
his refusing all my proposals, that he may have some secret
inclination of his own; and to confirm me in this
fear, I yesterday observed him (without his knowing
it) in a corner of the grove, where nobody comes&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> A place out of the way, you would say; a
place of retreat.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Why, the corner of the grove, where nobody
comes, is a place of retreat, is it not?</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> In <em>Latin</em>, <em>secessus</em>.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Ha!</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> As <em>Virgil</em> has it. <em>Est in secessu locus.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> How could <em>Virgil</em> have it, when I tell you no
soul was there but he and I?</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> <em>Virgil</em> is a famous author, I quote his saying
as a phrase more proper to the occasion than that you use,
and not as one who was in the wood with you.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> And I tell you, I hope to be as famous as any
<em>Virgil</em> of 'em all, when I have been dead as long, and
have no need of a better phrase than my own to tell you
my meaning.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> You ought however to make choice of the
words most us'd by the best authors. <em>Tu vivendo bonos</em>,
as they say, <em>scribendo sequare peritos</em>.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Again!</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> 'Tis <em>Quintilian</em>'s own precept.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Oons&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> And he hath something very learned upon it,
that may be of service to you to hear.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> You son of a whore, will you hear me speak?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> What may be the occasion of this unmanly
passion? What is it you would have with me?</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> What you might have known an hour ago, if
you had pleas'd.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> You would then have me hold my peace.&mdash;&mdash;I
shall.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> You will do very well.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> You see I do; well, go on.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Why then, to begin once again, I say my son
<em>Camillo</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> Proceed; I shan't interrupt you.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I say, my son <em>Camillo</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> What is it you say of your son <em>Camillo</em>?</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> That he has got a dog of a tutor, whose brains
I'll beat out, if he won't hear me speak.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> That dog is a philosopher, contemns passion,
and yet will hear you.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I don't believe a word on't, but I'll try once
again; I have a mind to know from you, whether you
have observ'd any thing in my son&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> Nothing that is like his father. Go on.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Have a care.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> I do not interrupt you; but you are long in
coming to a conclusion.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Why, thou hast not let me begin yet.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> And yet 'tis high time to have made an end.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Dost thou know thy danger? I have not&mdash;&mdash;thus
much patience left.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Shewing the end of his finger</em>.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> Mine is already consum'd. I do not use to
be thus treated; my profession is to teach, and not to
hear, yet I have hearken'd like a school-boy, and am
not heard, altho' a master.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Get out of the room.</p>

<p><em>Metaph.</em> I will not. If the mouth of a wise man be
shut, he is, as it were, a fool; for who shall know his
understanding? Therefore a certain philosopher said well,
Speak, that thou may'st be known; great talkers, without
knowledge, are as the winds that whistle; but they
who have learning, should speak aloud. If this be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
not permitted, we may expect to see the whole order of
nature o'erthrown; hens devour foxes, and lambs destroy
wolves, nurses suck children, and children give
suck; generals mend stockings, and chambermaids take
towns; we may expect, I say&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> That, and that, and that, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Strikes him, and kicks him; and then follows him
off with a bell at his ear.</em></p>

<p><em>Metaph. O tempora! O mores!</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_III_SCENE_I" id="ACT_III_SCENE_I"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>the Street</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">S</span>ometimes</span> fortune seconds a bold design, and
when folly has brought us into a trap, impudence
brings us out on't. I have been caught by this
hot-headed lover here, and have told like a puppy what
I shall be beaten for like a dog. Come! courage, my
dear <em>Lopez</em>; fire will fetch out fire: thou hast told one
body thy master's secret, e'en tell it to half a dozen more,
and try how that will thrive; go tell it to the two old
Dons, the lovers fathers. The thing's done, and can't
be retriev'd; perhaps they'll lay their two ancient
heads together, club a pennyworth of wisdom a-piece,
and with great penetration at last find out, that 'tis best
to submit, where 'tis not in their power to do otherwise.
This being resolv'd, there's no time to be lost.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Knocks at <span class="antiqua">Alvarez</span>'s door.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Who knocks?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Within.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> What dost want?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking out.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> To bid you good-morrow, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Well, good-morrow to thee again.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Retires.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What a&mdash;&mdash;I think he does not care for my
company.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Knocks again.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Who knocks?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> What would'st have?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Looking out.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> My old master, Sir, gives his service to you, and
desires to know how you do.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> How I do? Why well: how shou'd I do? Service
to him again.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Retires.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> [<em>Returning.</em>] What the deuce wouldst thou have
with me, with thy good-morrows, and thy services?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> This man does not understand good breeding, I
find. [<em>Aside.</em>] Why, Sir, my master has some very earnest
business with you.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Business! About what? What business can he
have with me?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I don't know, truly; but 'tis some very important
matter: he has just now (as I hear) discover'd some
great secret, which he must needs talk with you about.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Ha! a secret, say'st thou?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yes; and bid me bring him word, if you were at
home, he'd be with you presently. Sir, your humble
servant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Alvarez</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>A secret: and must speak with me about it! Heav'ns,
how I tremble! What can this message mean? I have
very little acquaintance with him, what business can he
have with me? An important secret 'twas, he said, and
that he had just discover'd it. Alas, I have in the
world but one, if it be that&mdash;&mdash;I'm lost; an eternal
blot must fix upon me. How unfortunate am I, that I
have not follow'd the honest counsels of my heart, which
have often urg'd me to set my conscience at ease, by
rendering to him the estate that is his due, and which by
a foul imposture I keep from him. But 'tis now too late;
my villainy is out, and I shall not only be forc'd with
shame to restore him what is his, but shall be perhaps
condemned to make him reparation with my own.
O terrible view!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> My son to go and marry her, without her father's
knowledge? This can never end well. I don't
know what to do, he'll conclude I was privy to it, and
his power and interest are so great at court, he may with
ease contrive my ruin: I tremble at his sending to speak
with me&mdash;&mdash;Mercy on me, there he is.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Ah! Shield me, kind heaven! There's Don
Felix come: how I am struck with the sight of him! O
the torment of a guilty mind!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> What shall I say to soften him?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> How shall I look him in the face?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis impossible he can forgive it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> To be sure he'll expose me to the whole world.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> I see his countenance change.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> With what contempt he looks upon me!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> I see, Don <em>Alvarez</em>, by the disorder of your
face, you are but too well inform'd of what brings me
here.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> 'Tis true.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> The news may well surprize you, 'tis what
I have been far from apprehending.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Wrong, very wrong, indeed.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> This action is certainly to the last point to
be condemn'd, and I think nobody should pretend to
excuse the guilty.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> They are not to be excus'd, tho' heaven may
have mercy.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> That's what I hope you will consider.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> We should act as Christians.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Most certainly.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Let mercy then prevail.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> It is indeed of heavenly birth.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Generous Don <em>Felix</em>!</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Too indulgent <em>Alvarez</em>!</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I thank you on my knee.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis I ought to have been there first.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They kneel.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Is it then possible we are friends?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Embrace me to confirm it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They embrace.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Thou best of men!</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Unlook'd-for bounty!</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Did you know the torment [<em>Rising.</em>] this unhappy
action has given me&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Don. <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis impossible it could do otherwise; nor
has my trouble been less.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> But let my misfortune be kept secret.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Most willingly; my advantage is sufficient
by it, without the vanity of making it publick to the
world.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Incomparable goodness! That I should thus
have wronged a man so worthy! [<em>Aside.</em>] My honour
then, is safe?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> For ever, even for ever let it be a secret, I
am content.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Noble gentleman! [<em>Aside.</em>] As to what advantages
ought to accrue to you by it, it shall be all to your
entire satisfaction.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Wonderful bounty! [<em>Aside.</em>] As to that,
Don <em>Alvarez</em>, I leave it entirely to you, and shall be
content with whatever you think reasonable.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I thank you, from my soul I must, you know I
must.&mdash;&mdash;This must be an angel, not a man.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> The thanks lie on my side, <em>Alvarez</em>, for
this unexpected generosity, but may all faults be forgot,
and heav'n ever prosper you.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> The same prayer I, with a double fervour, offer
up for you.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Let us then once more embrace, and be forgiveness
seal'd for ever.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Agreed; thou best of men, agreed.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They embrace.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> This thing then being thus happily terminated,
let me own to you, Don <em>Alvarez</em>, I was in extreme
apprehensions of your utmost resentment on this
occasion; for I could not doubt but you had form'd
more happy views in the disposal of so fair a daughter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
as <em>Leonora</em>, than my poor son's inferior fortune e'er can
answer; but since they are join'd, and that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Ha!</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Nay, 'tis very likely to discourse of it may
not be very pleasing to you, tho' your christianity and
natural goodness have prevail'd on you so generously to
forgive it. But to do justice to <em>Leonora</em>, and skreen her
from your too harsh opinion in this unlucky action, 'twas
that cunning wicked creature that attends her, who by
unusual arts wrought her to this breach of duty, for her
own inclinations were dispos'd to all the modesty and resignation
a father could ask from a daughter; my son
I can't excuse, but since your bounty does so, I hope
you'll quite forget the fault of the less guilty <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> What a mistake have I lain under here! And
from a groundless apprehension of one misfortune, find
myself in the certainty of another.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> He looks disturb'd; what can this mean?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> My daughter marry'd to his son!&mdash;--Confusion.
But I find myself in such unruly agitation, something
wrong may happen if I continue with him; I'll therefore
leave him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> You seem thoughtful, Sir, I hope there's
no&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> A sudden disorder I am seiz'd with; you'll pardon
me, I must retire.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Alvarez</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>I don't like this: He went oddly off&mdash;I doubt he
finds this bounty difficult to go through with. His natural
resentment is making an attack upon his acquir'd
generosity: pray heaven it ben't too strong for't. The
misfortune is a great one, and can't but touch him nearly.
It was not natural to be so calm; I wish it don't
yet drive him to my ruin. But here comes this young
hot-brain'd coxcomb, who with his midnight amours
has been the cause of all this mischief to me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>So, Sir, you are come to receive my thanks for your
noble exploit? You think you have done bravely now,
ungracious offspring, to bring perpetual troubles on me.
Must there never pass a day, but I must drink some bitter
potion or other of your preparation for me?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I am amaz'd, Sir; pray what have I done to
deserve your anger?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Nothing; no manner of thing in the
world; nor never do. I am an old testy fellow, and am
always scolding, and finding fault for nothing; complaining
that I have got a coxcomb of a son, that makes
me weary of my life, fancying he perverts the order of
nature, turning day into night, and night into day;
getting whims in my brain, that he consumes his life in
idleness, unless he rouses now and then to do some noble
stroke of mischief; and having an impertinent dream at
this time, that he has been making the fortune of the family,
by an underhand marriage with the daughter of a
man who will crush us all to powder for it. Ah&mdash;&mdash;ungracious
wretch; to bring an old man into all this
trouble! The pain thou gav'st thy mother to bring thee
into the world, and the plague thou hast given me to
keep thee here, make the getting thee (tho' 'twas in
our honey-moon) a bitter remembrance to us both.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>So&mdash;&mdash;all's out&mdash;&mdash;Here's a noble storm arising, and
I'm at sea in a cock-boat. But which way could this
business reach him? By this traitor <em>Lopez</em>&mdash;&mdash;it must be
so; it could be no other way; for only he, and the
priest that marry'd us, knew of it. The villain will never
confess tho'. I must try a little address with him,
and conceal my anger. O, here he comes.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> <em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Do you call, Sir?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I find all's discover'd to my father, the secret's
out; he knows my marriage.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> He knows your marriage. How the pest should
that happen? Sir, 'tis impossible; that's all.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I tell thee 'tis true; he knows every particular of
it.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> He does!&mdash;--Why then, Sir, all I can say is,
that Satan and he are better acquainted than the devil
and a good Christian ought to be.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Which way he has discover'd it I can't tell, nor
am I much concern'd to know, since beyond all my expectations,
I find him perfectly easy at it, and ready to
excuse my fault with better reasons than I can find to do
it myself.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Say you so?&mdash;&mdash;I am very glad to hear that,
then all's safe.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> 'Tis unexpected good fortune; but it could never
proceed purely from his own temper, there must
have been pains taken with him to bring him to this
calm; I'm sure I owe much to the bounty of some friend
or other; I wish I knew where my obligation lay, that I
might acknowledge it as I ought.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Are you thereabout's, I'faith? Then sharp's the
word; I'gad I'll own the thing, and receive his bounty
for't. [<em>Aside.</em>] Why, Sir&mdash;&mdash;not that I pretend to make
a merit o'the matter, for alas, I am but your poor hireling,
and therefore bound in duty to render you all the
service I can&mdash;&mdash;But&mdash;&mdash;'tis I have don't.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> What hast thou done?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What no man else could have done; the job, Sir,
told him the secret, and then talk'd him into a liking on't.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> 'Tis impossible; thou dost not tell me true.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir, I scorn to reap any thing from another man's
labours, but if this poor piece of service carries any merit
with it, you now know where to reward it.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Thou art not serious!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I am; or may hunger be my mess-mate.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> And may famine be mine, if I don't reward
thee for't, as thou deserv'st&mdash;&mdash;Dead.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Making a pass at him.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Have a care there [<em>Leaping on one side.</em>] What do
you mean, Sir? I bar all surprise.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Traitor, is this the fruit of the trust I plac'd in
thee, villain?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Making another thrust at him.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Take heed, Sir; you'll do one a mischief before
you're aware.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What recompence can'st thou make me, wretch,
for this piece of treachery? Thy sordid blood can't expiate
the thousandth&mdash;&mdash;But I'll have it however.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Thrusts again.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Look you there again: pray, Sir, be quiet; is
the devil in you? 'Tis bad jesting with edg'd tools.
I'gad that last push was within an inch o' me. I don't
know what you make all this bustle about, but I'm sure
I've done all for the best, and I believe it will prove for
the best too at last, if you'll have but a little patience.
But if gentlemen will be in their airs in a moment&mdash;Why,
what the deuce&mdash;&mdash;I'm sure I have been as eloquent
as <em>Cicero</em>, in your behalf; and I don't doubt to good
purpose too, if you'll give things time to work. But nothing
but foul language, and naked swords about the
house, sa, sa; run you through you dog; why, nobody
can do business at this rate.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> And suppose your project fails, and I'm ruin'd
by it, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, 'twill be time enough to kill me then, Sir?
won't it? What should you do it for now? Besides, I
an't ready, I'm not prepar'd, I might be undone by't.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> But what will <em>Leonora</em> say to her marriage being
known, wretch?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why may be she'll draw&mdash;&mdash;her sword too.
[<em>Shewing his tongue.</em>] But all shall be well with you both,
if you will but let me alone.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Peace; here's her father.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> That's well: we shall see how things go presently.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Alvarez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> The more I recover from the disorder this discourse
has put me in, the more strange the whole ad<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>venture
appears to me. <em>Leonora</em> maintains there is not a
word of truth in what I have heard; that she knows nothing
of marriage: and indeed she tells me this,
with such a naked air of sincerity, that for my part I believe
her. What then must be their project? Some villainous
intention, to be sure; tho' which way, I yet am
ignorant. But here's the bridegroom; I'll accost him&mdash;&mdash;I
am told, Sir, you take upon you to scandalize
my daughter, and tell idle tales of what can never
happen.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Now methinks, Sir, if you treated your son-in-law
with a little more civility, things might go just as
well in the main.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> What means this insolent fellow by my son-in-law!
I suppose 'tis you, villain, are the author of this
impudent story.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> You seem angry, Sir&mdash;&mdash;perhaps without cause.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Cause, traitor! Is a cause wanting where a
daughter's defam'd, and a noble family scandaliz'd?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> There he is, let him answer you.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I shou'd be glad, he'd answer me, why, if he
had any desires to my daughter, he did not make his
approaches like a man of honour.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Yes; and so have had the doors bolted against
him like a house-breaker.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Sir to justify my proceeding, I have little to say;
but to excuse it, I have much; if any allowance may
be made to a passion, which in your youth you have
yourself been sway'd by: I love your daughter to that
excess&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> You would undo her for a night's lodging.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Undo her, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Yes, that's the word; you knew it was against
her interest to marry you, therefore you endeavour'd to
win her to't in private; you knew her friends would
make a better bargain for her, therefore you kept your
designs from their knowledge, and yet you love her to
that excess&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I'd readily lay down my life to serve her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Could you readily lay down fifty thousand pistoles
to serve her, your excessive love would come with
better credentials; an offer of life is very proper for the
attack of a counterscarp, but a thousand ducats will
sooner carry a lady's heart; you are a young man, but
will learn this when you are older.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> But since things have succeeded better this once,
Sir, and that my master will prove a most incomparable
good husband (for that he'll do, I'll answer for him) and
that 'tis too late to recall what's already done, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> What's done, villain?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir, I mean, that since my master and my lady
are marry'd, and&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Thou ly'st; they are not marry'd.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir!&mdash;--I say, that since they are marry'd,
and that they love each other so passing dearly, indeed I
fancy that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Why, this impudence is beyond all bearing;
Sir, do you put your rascal upon this?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Sir, I am in a wood; I don't know what it is
you mean.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> And I am in a plain, Sir, and think I may be
understood; do you pretend you are marry'd to my
daughter?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Sir, 'tis my happiness on one side, as it is my
misfortune on another.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> And do you think this idle project can succeed?
do you believe your affirming you are marry'd to her,
will induce both her and me to consent it shall be so?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir, I see you make my master almost out of his
wits to hear you talk so: but I, who am but a stande-by
now, as I was at the wedding, have mine about me,
and desire to know, whether you think this project can
succeed? Do you believe your affirming they are not
marry'd, will induce both him and I to give up the
lady? One short question to bring this matter to an issue,
Why do you think they are not marry'd?</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Because she utterly renounces it.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> And so she will her religion, if you attack it
with that dreadful face. D'ye hear, Sir? the poor lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
is in love heartily, and I wish all poor ladies that are so,
would dispose of themselves so well as she has done; but
you scare her out of her senses: bring her here into the
room, speak gently to her, tell her you know the thing
is done, that you have it from a man of honour, Me.
That may be you wish it had been otherwise, but are a
Christian, and profess mercy, and therefore have resolved
to pardon her: say this, and I shall appear a man of reputation,
and have satisfaction made me.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Or an impudent rogue, and have all your bones
broke.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Content.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Agreed, <em>Leonora</em>! who's there? call <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> All will go rarely, Sir; we shall have shot the
gulf in a moment.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Come hither, <em>Leonora</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> So, now we shall see.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> I call'd you to answer for yourself; here's a
strong claim upon you; if there be any thing in the
pretended title, conceal it no farther, it must be known
at last, it may as well be so now. Nothing is so uneasy
as uncertainty, I would therefore be gladly freed from
it: if you have done what I am told you have, 'tis a
great fault indeed; but as I fear 'twill carry much of its
punishment along with it, I shall rather reduce my resentment
into mourning your misfortune, than suffer it to
add to your affliction; therefore speak the truth.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Well, this is fair play; now I speak, Sir: you
see, fair lady, the goodness of a tender father, nothing
need therefore hinder you from owning a most loving
husband. We had like to have been altogether by the
ears about this business, and pails of blood were ready
to run about the house: but, thank heaven, the sun
shines out again, and one word from your sweet mouth
makes fair weather for ever. My master has been forc'd
to own your marriage, he begs you'll do so too.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> What does this impudent rascal mean?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Ha!&mdash;--Madam!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Sir, I should be very glad to know [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em>]
what can have been the occasion of this wild report;
sure you cannot be yourself a party in it.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> He, he&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Forgive me, dear <em>Leonora</em>, I know you had strong
reasons for the secret being longer kept; but 'tis not my
fault our marriage is disclos'd.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Our marriage, Sir!&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> 'Tis known, my dear, tho' much against my will;
but since it is so, 'twou'd be in vain for us to deny it
longer.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Then, Sir, I am your wife? I fell in love with
you, and married you without my father's knowledge?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I dare not be so vain to think 'twas love; I
humbly am content to owe the blessing to your generosity;
you saw the pains I suffer'd for your sake, and in
compassion eas'd 'em.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I did, Sir! Sure this exceeds all human impudence.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Truly, I think it does. She'd make an incomparable
actress.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I begin to be surpris'd, Madam, at you carrying
this thing so far; you see there's no occasion for it; and
for the discovery, I have already told you, 'twas not my
fault.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> My master's! no, 'twas I did it: why, what a
bustle's here! I knew things would go well, and so they
do, if folks would let 'em. But if ladies will be in
their merriments, when gentlemen are upon serious business,
why what a deuce can one say to 'em?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I see this fellow is to be an evidence in your plot;
where you hope to drive, it is hard to guess; for if any
thing can exceed its impudence, it is its folly. A noble
stratagem indeed to win a lady by! I could be diverted
with it, but that I see a face of villainy requires a
rougher treatment; I could almost, methinks, forget my
sex, and be my own avenger.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Madam, I am surpris'd beyond all&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Pray, Sir, let me come to her; you are so surpris'd,
you'll make nothing on't: she wants a little snub<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>bing.
Look you, madam, I have seen many a pleasant
humour amongst ladies, but you out-cut them all. Here's
contradiction, with a vengeance: you han't been married
eight-and-forty hours, and you are slap&mdash;&mdash;at your
husband's beard already: why, do you consider who he
is?&mdash;&mdash;Who this gentleman is? And what he can do&mdash;&mdash;by
law? Why, he can lock you up&mdash;&mdash;knock you
down&mdash;&mdash;tie you neck and heels&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Forbear, you insolent villain, you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Offering to strike him.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> That&mdash;&mdash;for what's past, however.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Giving him a box o' th' ear.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I think&mdash;&mdash;she gave me a box o' the ear; ha!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>.</em></p>

<p>Sir, will you suffer your old servants to be us'd thus by
new comers? It's a shame, a mere shame: Sir, will you
take a poor dog's advice for once? She denies she's married
to you: take her at her word; you have seen some
of her humours,&mdash;&mdash;let her go.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Well, gentlemen, thus far you see I have heard
all with patience; have you content? Or how much
farther do you design to go with this business?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why truly, Sir, I think we are near at a stand.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> 'Tis time, you villain you.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, and I am a villain now, if every word I've
spoke be not as true as&mdash;&mdash;as the <em>Gazette</em>: and your
daughter's no better than a&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;a whimsical
young woman, for making disputes among gentlemen.
And if every body had their deserts, she'd have a good&mdash;&mdash;I
won't speak out to inflame reckonings; but let
her go, master.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Sir, I don't think it well to spend any more
words with your impudent and villainous servant here.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Thank you, Sir: but I'd let her go.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Nor have I more to say to you than this, that
you must not think so daring an affront to my family can
go long unresented. Farewel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Alv</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Well, Sir, what have you to say for yourself now?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, Sir, I have only to say, that I am a very
unfortunate&mdash;&mdash;middle-ag'd man; and that I believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
all the stars upon heaven and earth have been concern'd
in my destiny. Children now unborn will hereafter sing
my downfal in mournful lines, and notes of doleful tune:
I am at present troubled in mind, despair around me,
signify'd in appearing gibbets, with a great bundle of
dog-whips by way of preparation.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I therefore will go seek some mountain high,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If high enough some mountain may be found,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">With distant valley dreadfully profound,  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from the horrid cliff&mdash;look calmly all around.  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>Farewel.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> No, sirrah, I'll see your wretched end myself.
Die here, villain.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drawing his sword.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I can't, Sir, if any body looks upon me.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Away, you trifling wretch; but think not to
escape, for thou shalt have thy recompence.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Lopez</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p>Why, what a mischievous jade is this, to make such
an uproar in a family the first day of her marriage! Why
my master won't so much as get a honey-moon out of
her; I'gad let her go. If she be thus in her soft and
tender youth, she'll be rare company at threescore:
well, he may do as he pleases, but were she my dear,
I'd let her go&mdash;&mdash;Such a foot at her tail, I'd make
the truth bounce out at her mouth, like a pellet out of a
pot-gun.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_IV_SCENE_I" id="ACT_IV_SCENE_I"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span> and <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">'T</span>is</span> an unlucky accident indeed.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Ah <em>Isabella</em>! Fate has now determin'd
my undoing. This thing can ne'er end here,
<em>Leonora</em> and <em>Lorenzo</em> must soon come to some explanation;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
the dispute is too monstrous to pass over, without further
enquiry, which must discover all, and what will be
the consequence, I tremble at: for whether Don <em>Alvarez</em>
knows of the imposture, or whether he is deceiv'd,
with the rest of the world, when once it breaks out, and
the consequence is the loss of that great wealth he now
enjoys by it, what must become of me? All paternal
affections then must cease, and regarding me as an unhappy
instrument in the trouble which will then o'erload
him, he will return me to my humble birth, and
then I'm lost for ever. For what, alas! will the deceiv'd
<em>Lorenzo</em> say? A wife with neither fortune, birth,
nor beauty, instead of one most plenteously endow'd
with all. O heavens! what a sea of misery I have before
me!</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Indeed you reason right, but these reflections are
ill-tim'd; why did you not employ them sooner?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Because I lov'd.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> And don't you do so now?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I do, and therefore 'tis I make these cruel just
reflections.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> So that love, I find, can do any thing.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Indeed it can: its powers are wondrous great,
its pains no tongue can tell, its bliss no heart conceive,
crowns cannot recompense its torments, heaven scarce
supplies its joys. My stake is of this value: oh counsel
me how I shall save it.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Alas! that counsel's much beyond my wisdom's
force, I see no way to help you.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> And yet 'tis sure there's one.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> What?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Death.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> There possibly may be another; I have thought
this moment&mdash;&mdash;perhaps there's nothing in it; yet a
small passage comes to my remembrance, that I regarded
little when it happen'd&mdash;&mdash;I'll go and search for one
may be of service. But hold; I see Don <em>Carlos</em>: he'll
but disturb us now, let us avoid him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span> and <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Carlos</span> and <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Repuls'd again! this is not to be borne. What
tho' this villain's story be a falshood, was I to blame
to hearken to it? This usage cannot be supported: how
was it she treated thee?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Never was ambassador worse receiv'd. Madam,
my master asks ten thousand pardons, and humbly begs
one moment's interview:&mdash;&mdash;Begone, you rascal you.
Madam, what answer shall I give my Master?&mdash;&mdash;Tell
him he's a villain. Indeed, fair lady, I think this is
hasty treatment&mdash;Here, my footmen, toss me this fellow
out at the window; and away she went to her devotions.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Did you see <em>Jacinta</em>?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Yes; she saluted me with half a score rogues and
rascals too. I think our destinies are much alike, Sir;
and o'my conscience, a couple of scurvy jades we are
hamper'd with.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Ungrateful woman, to receive with such contempt
so quick a return of a heart so justly alarm'd.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Ha, ha, ha.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> What, no allowance to be made to the first transports
of a lover's fury, when rous'd by so dreadful an
appearance? as just as my suspicions were, have I long
suffer'd them to arraign her?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Have I waited for oaths or imprecations to clear
her?</p>

<p><em>San.</em> No.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Nay, even now is not the whole world still in
suspense about her? whilst I alone conclude her innocent.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> 'Tis very true.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> She might, methinks, thro' this profound respect,
observe a flame another would have cherish'd:
she might support me against groundless fears, and save
me from a rival's tyranny; she might release me from
these cruel racks, and would, no doubt, if she cou'd love
as I do.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Ha, ha, ha.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> But since she don't, what do I whining here?
Curse on the base humilities of love.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>

<p><em>San.</em> Right.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Let children kiss the rod that fleas them, let dogs
lie down and lick the shoe that spurns them.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Ay.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I am a man by nature meant for power; the
scepter's given us to wield, and we betray our trust
whenever we meanly lay it at a woman's feet.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> True, we are men, boo&mdash;&mdash;Come, Master, let
us both be in a passion; here's my scepter, [<em>Shewing a
cudgel.</em>] Subject <em>Jacinta</em>, look about you. Sir, was you
ever in <em>Muscovy</em>? the women there love the men dearly;
why? because&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Shaking his stick.</em>] there's your love-powder
for you. Ah, Sir, were we but wise and stout,
what work should we make with them! But this humble
love-making, spoils them all. A rare way indeed to
bring matters about with them; we are persuading them
all day they are angels and Goddesses, in order to use
them at night like human creatures; we are like to
succeed truly.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> For my part I never yet could bear a slight from
any thing, nor will I now. There's but one way however
to resent it from a woman: and that's to drive her
bravely from your heart, and place a worthier in her
vacant throne.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Now, with submission to my betters, I have another
way, Sir, I'll drive my tyrant from my heart,
and place myself in her throne. Yes; I will be lord
of my own tenement, and keep my household in order.
Wou'd you wou'd do so too, Master; for look
you, I have been servitor in a college at <em>Salamanca</em>, and
read philosophy with the doctors; where I found that
a woman, in all times, has been observed to be an animal
hard to understand, and much inclined to mischief.
Now as an animal is always an animal, and a captain
always a captain, so a woman is always a woman:
whence it is, that a certain <em>Greek</em> says, her head is like
a bank of sand; or, as another, a solid rock; or, according
to a third, a dark lanthorn. Pray, Sir, observe,
for this is close reasoning; and so as the head is the
head of the body; and that the body without a head,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
is like a head without a tail; and that where there is
neither head nor tail, 'tis a very strange body: so I
say a woman is by comparison, do you see, (for nothing
explains things like comparisons) I say by comparison,
as <em>Aristotle</em> has often said before me, one may compare
her to the raging sea; for as the sea, when the wind
rises, knits its brows like an angry bull, and that waves
mount upon rocks, and rocks mount upon waves:
that porpusses leap like trouts, and whales skip about
like gudgeons; that ships roll like beer-barrels, and
mariners pray like saints; just so, I say a woman&mdash;&mdash;A
woman, I say, just so, when her reason is ship-wreck'd
upon her passion, and the hulk of her understanding
lies thumping against the rock of her fury; then it is,
I say, that by certain immotions, which&mdash;&mdash;um cause,
as one may suppose, a sort of convulsive&mdash;&mdash;yes&mdash;&mdash;hurricanious&mdash;&mdash;um&mdash;&mdash;like&mdash;&mdash;in
short, a woman is like the Devil.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Admirably reason'd indeed, <em>Sancho</em>.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Pretty well, I thank Heaven; but here come the
crocodiles to weep us into mercy.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span> and <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Master, let us shew ourselves men, and leave their briny
tears to wash their dirty faces.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> It is not in the power of charms to move me.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Nor me, I hope; and yet I fear those eyes will
look out sharp to snatch up such a prize.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Pointing to <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> He's coming to us, Madam, to beg pardon; but
sure you'll never grant it him?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> If I do may heaven never grant me mine.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> That's brave.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> You look, Madam, upon me, as if you thought
I came to trouble you with my usual importunities; I'll
ease you of that pain, by telling you my business now
is calmly to assure you, but I assure it you with Heaven
and hell for seconds; for may the joys of one fly from
me, whilst the pains of t'other overtake me, if all your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
charms display'd e'er shake my resolution; I'll never
see you more.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Bon.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You are a man of that nice honour, Sir, I know
you'll keep your word: I expected this assurance from
you, and came this way only to thank you for't.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> You did, imperious dame, you did: how base is
woman's pride! How wretched are the ingredients it is
form'd of! If you saw cause for just disdain, why did
you not at first repulse me? Why lead a slave in chains,
that could not grace your triumphs? If I am thus to be
contemn'd, think on the favours you have done the
wretch, and hide your face for ever.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Well argued.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I own you have hit the only fault the world can
charge me with: the favours I have done to you, I am
indeed asham'd of; but since women have their frailties,
you'll allow me mine.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> 'Tis well, extremely well, Madam. I'm happy
however, you at last speak frankly. I thank you for it:
from my soul I thank you: but don't expect me groveling
at your feet again; don't, for if I do&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You will be treated as you deserve; trod upon.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Give me patience;&mdash;&mdash;but I don't want it; I
am calm: Madam, farewel;&mdash;&mdash;be happy if you can;
by heavens I wish you so, but never spread your net for
me again; for if you do&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You'll be running into it.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Rather run headlong into fire and flames; rather
be torn with pincers bit from bit; rather be broil'd
like martyrs upon gridirons&mdash;&mdash;But I am wrong; this
sounds like passion, and heaven can tell I am not angry:
Madam, I think we have no farther business together;
your most humble servant.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Farewel t'ye, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Come along.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Goes to the scene and returns.</em></p>

<p>Yet once more before I go (lest you should doubt my
resolution) may I starve, perish, rot, be blasted, dead,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
damn'd, or any other thing that men or gods can think
of, if on any occasion whatever, civil or military, pleasure
or business, love or hate, or any other accident of
life, I, from this moment, change one word or look
with you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going off, <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span> claps him on the back.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Content: come away, <em>Jacinta</em>.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Carlos</span> returns.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Yet one word, Madam, if you please; I have a
little thing here belongs to you, a foolish bawble I once
was fond of. [<em>Twitching her picture from his breast.</em>]
Will you accept a trifle from your servant?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Willingly, Sir; I have a bawble too I think you
have some claim to; you'll wear it for my sake.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Breaks a bracelet from her arm, and gives it him.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Most thankfully; this too I shou'd restore you,
it once was yours&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Giving her a table-book.</em>] By
your favour madam&mdash;&mdash;there is a line or two in it, I
think you did me once the honour to write with your
own fair hand. Here it is.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Reads.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>You love me, <span class="antiqua">Carlos</span>, and would know</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>The secret movements of my heart:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Whether I give you mine or no,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With yours, methinks, I'd never, never part.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>Thus you have encouraged me, and thus you have deceived
me.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Very true.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> I have some faithful lines too; I think I can
produce 'em,</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Pulls out a table-book; reads, and then gives it him.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>How long soe'er, to sigh in vain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>My destiny may prove,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>My fate (in spite of your disdain)</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Will let me glory in your chain,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>And give me leave eternally to love.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p>There, Sir, take your poetry again.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Throwing it at his feet.</em></p>

<p>'Tis not much the worse for my wearing: 'twill serve
again upon a fresh occasion.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Well done.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I believe I can return the present, Madam, with&mdash;&mdash;a
pocket full of your prose&mdash;&mdash;There&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Throwing a handful of letters at her feet.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> <em>Jacinta</em>, give me his letters. There, Sir, not
to be behind-hand with you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Takes a handful of his letters out of a box,
and throws them in his face.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> And there, and there, and there, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span> throws the rest at him.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> 'Cods my life, we want ammunition: but for a
shift&mdash;&mdash;There, and there, you saucy slut you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Sancho</span> pulls a pack of dirty cards out of his
pocket, and throws 'em at her; then they
close; he pulls off her headclothes, and she his
wig, and then part, she running to her mistress,
he to his master.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I think, Madam, we have clearly the better
on't.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> For a proof, I resolve to keep the field.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Have a care he don't rally and beat you yet
though: pray walk off.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Fear nothing.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> How the armies stand and gaze at one another
after the battle! What think you, Sir, of shewing yourself
a great general, by making an honourable retreat?</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I scorn it: Oh <em>Leonora</em>! <em>Leonora</em>! A heart like
mine should not be treated thus.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> <em>Carlos</em>! <em>Carlos</em>! I have not deserv'd this usage.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Barbarous <em>Leonora</em>! but 'tis useless to reproach
you; she that is capable of what you have done, is
form'd too cruel ever to repent of it. Go on then, tyrant;
make your bliss compleat; torment me still, for
still, alas! I love enough to be tormented.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Ah <em>Carlos</em>! little do you know the tender movements
of that thing you name: the heart where love
presides, admits no thoughts against the honour of its
ruler.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> 'Tis not to call that honour into doubt, if conscious
of our own unworthiness, we interpret every frown
to our destruction.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> When jealousy proceeds from such humble apprehensions,
it shews itself with more respect than yours
has done.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> And where a heart is guiltless, it easily forgives
a greater crime.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Forgiveness is not now in our debate; if both
have been in fault, 'tis fit that both should suffer for it;
our separation will do justice on us.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> But since we are ourselves the judges of our
crimes, what if we should inflict a gentler punishment?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> 'Twould but encourage us to sin again.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> And if it shou'd?</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> 'Twould give a fresh occasion for the pleasing
exercise of mercy.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Right: and so we act the part of earth and heaven
together, of men and gods, and taste of both their
pleasures.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> The banquet's too inviting to refuse it.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> Then thus let's fall on, and feed upon't for ever.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Carries her off, embracing her, and kissing her hand.</em></p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Ah woman! foolish, foolish woman!</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Very foolish indeed.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> But don't expect I'll follow her example.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> You wou'd, Mopsy, if I'd let you.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> I'd sooner tear my eyes out! ah&mdash;&mdash;that she
had a little of my spirit in her.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> I believe I shall find thou hast a great deal of her
flesh, my charmer; but 'twon't do; I am all rock, hard
rock, very marble.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> A very pumice stone, you rascal you, if one
would try thee; but to prevent thy humilities, and shew
thee all submission would be vain; to convince thee thou
hast nothing but misery and despair before thee; here&mdash;&mdash;take
back thy paltry thimble, and be in my debt for the
shirts I have made thee with it.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Nay, if y'are at that sport, Mistress, I believe I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
shall lose nothing by the balance of thy presents. There,
take thy tobacco-stopper, and stop thy&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Here, take thy sattin pincushion, with thy curious
half hundred of pins in't, thou mad'st such a
vapouring about yesterday: tell them carefully, there's
not one wanting.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> There's thy ivory-hafted knife again, whet it
well; 'tis so blunt 'twill cut nothing but love.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> And there's thy pretty pocket scissars thou hast
honour'd me with, they'll cut off a leg or an arm; heaven
bless them.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Here's the inchanted handkerchief you were
pleased to indear with your precious blood, when the
violence of your love at dinner, t'other day, made you
cut your fingers&mdash;&mdash;There.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Blows his nose in it, and gives it her.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> The rascal so provokes me, I won't even keep
his paltry garters from him. D'ye see these? You pitiful
beggarly scoundrel you:&mdash;&mdash;There, take 'em, there.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>She takes her garters off, and flaps them about his face.</em></p>

<p><em>San.</em> I have but one thing more of thine. [<em>Shewing
his cudgel.</em>] I own 'tis the top of all thy presents, and
might be useful to me; but that thou may'st have nothing
to upbraid me with, even take it again with the
rest of them.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Lifting it up to strike her, she leaps about his neck.</em></p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Ah cruel <em>Sancho</em>!&mdash;Now beat me, <em>Sancho</em>, do.</p>

<p><em>San.</em> Rather, like <em>Indian</em> beggars, beat my precious
self.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Throws away his stick, and embraces her.</em></p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Rather let infants blood about the streets,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rather let all the wine about the cellar,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rather let&mdash;&mdash;Oh <em>Jacinta</em>&mdash;&mdash;thou hast o'ercome.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How foolish are the great resolves of man!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Resolves, which we neither wou'd keep, nor can.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When those bright eyes in kindness please to shine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their goodness I must needs return with mine:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bless my <em>Jacinta</em> in her <em>Sancho</em>'s arms&mdash;&mdash;<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> And I my <em>Sancho</em> with <em>Jacinta</em>'s charms.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_V_SCENE_I" id="ACT_V_SCENE_I"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>the Street</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">As</span> soon as it is night, says my master to me, tho'
it cost me my life, I'll enter <em>Leonora</em>'s lodgings;
therefore make haste, <em>Lopez</em>, prepare every thing necessary,
three pair of pocket pistols, two wide-mouth'd
blunderbusses, some six ells of sword-blade and a couple
of dark lanthorns. When my Master said this to
me; Sir, said I to my master, (that is, I would have
said it, if I had not been in such a fright, I could say
nothing, however I'll say it to him now, and shall probably
have a quiet hearing;) look you, Sir, by dint
of reason I intend to confound you: you are resolv'd,
you say, to get into <em>Leonora</em>'s lodgings, tho' the Devil
stand in the door-way?&mdash;&mdash;Yes, <em>Lopez</em>, that's my
resolution&mdash;&mdash;Very well, and what do you intend
to do when you are there?&mdash;&mdash;Why, what an injur'd
man shou'd do; make her sensible of&mdash;&mdash;Make her
sensible of a pudding, don't you see she's a jade? She'll
raise the house about your ears, arm the whole family,
set the great dog at you.&mdash;&mdash;Were there legions of
Devils to repulse me, in such a cause I could disperse
them all&mdash;&mdash;Why then you have no occasion for
help, Sir, you may leave me at home to lay the cloth.&mdash;&mdash;No;
thou art my ancient friend, my fellow-traveller,
and to reward thy faithful services, this night
thou shalt partake my danger and my glory.&mdash;&mdash;Sir, I
have got glory enough under you already, to content
any reasonable servant for his life&mdash;&mdash;Thy modesty
makes me willing to double my bounty; this night may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
bring eternal honour to thee and thy family.&mdash;&mdash;Eternal
honour, Sir, is too much in conscience for a
serving-man; besides ambition has been many a great
soul's undoing&mdash;&mdash;I doubt thou art afraid, my <em>Lopez</em>,
thou shalt be arm'd with back, with breast and headpiece&mdash;&mdash;They
will encumber me in my retreat.&mdash;&mdash;Retreat!
my hero! Thou never shalt retreat.&mdash;&mdash;Then
by my troth I'll never go, Sir.&mdash;&mdash;But here
he comes.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Will it never be night? sure 'tis the longest day
the sun e'er travell'd.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Would 'twere as long as those in <em>Greenland</em>, Sir,
that you might spin out your life t'other half year. I
don't like these nightly projects; a man can't see what
he does: we shall have some scurvy mistake or other
happen; a brace of bullets blunder thro' your head in
the dark perhaps, and spoil all your intrigue.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Away, you trembling wretch, away.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Nay, Sir, what I say is purely for your safety:
for as to myself&mdash;&mdash;Uds-death, I no more value the
losing a quart of blood, than I do drinking a quart of
wine. Besides, my veins are too full, my physician
advis'd me yesterday to let go twenty ounces for my
health. So you see, Sir, there's nothing of that in the
case.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Then let me hear no other objections: for 'till I
see <em>Leonora</em> I must lie upon the rack. I cannot bear her
resentment, and will pacify her this night, or not live
to see to-morrow.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Well, Sir, since you are so determin'd, I shan't
be impertinent with any farther advice; but I think you
have laid your design to&mdash;&mdash;[<em>He coughs.</em>] (I have got
such a cold to-day) to get in privately, have you not?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Yes; and have taken care to be introduced as far
as her chamber-door with all secrecy.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> [<em>He coughs.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;This unlucky cough, I had
rather have had a fever at another time. Sir, I should
be sorry to do you more harm than good upon this oc<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>casion:
if this cough shou'd come upon me in the midst
of the action, [<em>Coughs.</em>] and give the alarm to the family,
I shou'd not forgive myself as long as I liv'd.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I have greater ventures than that to take my
chance for, and can't dispense with your attendance, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> This 'tis to be a good servant, and make one's
self necessary.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Toledo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> Sir,&mdash;&mdash;I am glad I have found you. I am a
man of honour, you know, and do always profess
losing my life upon a handsome occasion: sir, I come to
offer you my service. I am inform'd from unquestionable
hands, that Don <em>Carlos</em> is enrag'd against you to a dangerous
degree; and that old <em>Alvarez</em> has given positive
directions to break the legs and arms of your servant
<em>Lopez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Look you there, now, I thought what 'twou'd
come to; what do they meddle with me for? What have
I to do in my Master's amours? The old Don's got out of
his senses, I think, have I married his daughter?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Fear nothing, we'll take care o'thee&mdash;&mdash;Sir, I
thank you for the favour of your intelligence, 'tis nothing
however but what I have expected and am provided for.</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> Sir, I wou'd advise you to provide yourself with
good friends, I desire the honour to keep your back hand
myself.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> 'Tis very kind indeed. Pray, Sir, have you never
a servant with you cou'd hold a racket for me too?</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> I have two friends fit to head two armies; and
yet&mdash;&mdash;a word in your ear, they shan't cost you above a
ducat a-piece.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Take 'em by all means, Sir, you were never
offer'd a better pennyworth in your life.</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> Ah, Sir,&mdash;&mdash;little <em>Diego</em>&mdash;&mdash;you have heard
of him; he'd have been worth a legion upon this occasion:
you know, I suppose, how they have serv'd
him&mdash;&mdash;They have hang'd him, but he made a noble
execution; they clapp'd the rack and the priest
to him at once, but cou'd neither get a word of con<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>fession,
nor a groan of repentance; he died mighty well
truly.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Such a man is indeed much to be regretted: As
for the rest of your escorte, captain, I thank you for 'em,
but shall not use 'em.</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> I'm sorry for't, Sir, because I think you go in
very great danger; I'm much afraid your rival won't
give you fair play.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> If he does, I'll be hang'd; he's a damn'd passionate
fellow, and cares not what mischief he does.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I shall give him a very good opportunity: for
I'll have no other guards about me but you, Sir. So
come along.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, Sir, this is the sin of presumption; setting
heaven at defiance, making a Jack-pudding of a
blunderbuss.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> No more, but follow. Hold! turn this way;
I see <em>Camillo</em> there. I wou'd avoid him, 'till I see what
part he takes in this odd affair of his sister's. For I
wou'd not have the quarrel fix'd with him, if it be possible
to avoid it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;Captain <em>Toledo</em>, one word if you
please, Sir; I'm mighty sorry to see my Master won't
accept of your friendly offer; look ye, I'm not very
rich; but as far as the expences of a dollar went, if you'd
be so kind to take a little care of me, it shou'd be at
your service.</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> Let me see:&mdash;&mdash;A dollar you say? but suppose
I'm wounded?</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why you shall be put to no extraordinary charge
upon that: I have been 'prentice to a barber; and will
be your surgeon myself.</p>

<p><em>Tol.</em> 'Tis too cheap in conscience; but my land estate
is ill paid this war-time&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> That a little industry may be commendable; so
say no more, that matter's fix'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Lop.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Tol</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> How miserable a perplexity have I brought myself
into! Yet why do I complain? since with all the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
dreadful torture I endure, I can't repent of one wild
step I've made. O Love! what tempests canst thou raise,
what storms canst thou assuage! To all thy cruelties I am
resign'd: Long years thro' seas of torment I'm content
to roll, so thou wilt guide me to the happy port of my
<em>Lorenzo</em>'s arms, and bless me there with one calm day at
last.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> What news, dear <em>Isabella</em>? methinks there's
something chearful in your looks may give a trembling
lover hopes. If you have comfort for me, speak, for I
indeed have need of it.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Were your wants yet still greater than they are,
I bring a plentiful supply.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> O Heav'ns! is it possible?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> New mysteries are out, and if you can find
charms to wean <em>Lorenzo</em> from your sister, no other obstacle
is in the way to all your wish.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Kind messenger from Heaven, speak on.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Know then, that you are daughter to <em>Alvarez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> How! daughter to <em>Alvarez</em>?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> You are: The truth this moment's come to
light; and till this moment he, altho' your father, was
a stranger to it; nay, did not even know you were a
woman. In short, the great estate, which has occasion'd
these uncommon accidents, was left but on condition
of a son; great hopes of one there was, when
you destroy'd 'em, and to your parents came a most unwelcome
guest: To repair the disappointment, you
were exchang'd for that young <em>Camillo</em>, who few months
after dy'd. Your father then was absent, but your mother
quick in contrivance, bold in execution, during
that infant's sickness, had resolv'd his death shou'd not
deprive her family of those advantages his life had given
it; so order'd things with such dexterity, that once
again there past a change between you: of this (for
reasons yet unknown to me) she made a secret to her
husband, and took such wise precautions, that 'till this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
hour 'twas so to all the world, except the person from
whom I now have heard it.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> This news indeed affords a view of no unhappy
termination; yet there are difficulties still may be of
fatal hindrance.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> None, except that one I just now nam'd to you;
for to remove the last, know I have already unfolded
all, both to Alvarez and Don Felix.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> And how have they receiv'd it?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> To your wishes both. As for <em>Lorenzo</em>, he is yet
a stranger to all has past, and the two old fathers desire
he may some moments longer continue so. They have
agreed to be a little merry with the heat he is in, and engage
you in a family-quarrel with him.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I doubt, <em>Isabella</em>, I shall act that part but
faintly.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> No matter, you'll make amends for it in the
scene of reconciliation.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Pray heaven it be my lot to act it with him.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> Here comes Don <em>Felix</em> to wish you joy.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Don <span class="antiqua">Felix</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Come near, my daughter, and with extended
arms of great affection let me receive thee. [<em>Kisses
her.</em>] Thou art a dainty wench, good faith thou art,
and 'tis a mettled action thou hast done; if <em>Lorenzo</em> don't
like thee the better for't, Cods my life, he's a pitiful
fellow, and I shan't believe the bonny old man had the
getting of him.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> I'm so encourag'd by your forgiveness, Sir, methinks
I have some flattering hopes of his.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Of his! I'gad, and he had best, I believe he'll
meet with his match if he don't. What dost think of
trying his courage a little, by way of a joke or so?</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> I was just telling her your design, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Why I'm in a mighty witty way upon this
whimsical occasion; but I see him coming. You must
not appear yet; go your way in to the rest of the people
there, and I'll inform him what a squabble he has
work'd himself into here.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span> and <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lorenzo</span> and <span class="antiqua">Lopez</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Pray, Sir, don't be so obstinate now, don't affront
Heaven at this rate. I had a vision last night about
this business on purpose to forwarn you; I dreamt
of goose-eggs, a blunt knife, and the snuff of a candle;
I'm sure there's mischief towards.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> You cowardly rascal, hold your tongue.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> <em>Lorenzo</em>, come hither, my boy, I was just
going to send for thee. The honour of our ancient family
lies in thy hands; there is a combat preparing,
thou must fight, my son.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Look you there, now, did not I tell you? O
dreams are wond'rous things, I never knew that snuff of
a candle fail yet.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Sir, I do not doubt but <em>Carlos</em> seeks my life, I
hope he'll do it fairly.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Fairly, do you hear, fairly! Give me leave to
tell you, Sir, folks are not fit to be trusted with lives,
that don't know how to look better after them. Sir, you
gave it him, I hope you'll make him take a little more
care on't.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> My care shall be to make him do as a man
of honour ought to do.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> What, will you let him fight, then? let your own
flesh and blood fight?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> In a good cause, as this is.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> <em>O monstrum horrendum!</em> Now I have that humanity
about me, that if a man but talks to me of fighting,
I shiver at the name on't.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> What you do, on this occasion Sir, is worthy of
you: And had I been wanting to you, in my due regards
before, this noble action wou'd have stamp'd that impression,
which a grateful son ought to have for so generous
a father.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Very generous, truly! gives him leave to be run
thro' the guts, for his posterity to brag on a hundred
years hence.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I think, Sir, as things now stand, it won't be
right for me to wait for <em>Carlos</em>'s call; I'll, if you please,
prevent him.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Ay, pray, Sir, do prevent him by all means, 'tis
better made up, as you say, a thousand times.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Hold your tongue, you impertinent Jackanapes,
I will have him fight, and fight like a fury too;
If he don't, he'll be worsted, I can tell him that. For
know, son, your antagonist is not the person you name,
it is an enemy of twice his force.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> O dear, O dear, O dear! and will nobody keep
'em asunder?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Nobody shall keep us asunder, if once I know the
man I have to deal with.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Thy man then is&mdash;&mdash;<em>Camillo</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> <em>Camillo!</em></p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> 'Tis he, he'll suffer no body to decide this
quarrel but himself.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Then there are no seconds, Sir.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> None.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> He's a brave man.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> No, he says nobody's blood shall be spilt
upon this occasion, but theirs who have a title to it.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I believe he'll scarce have a law-suit upon the
claim.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> In short, he accuses thee of a shameful falshood,
in pretending his sister <em>Leonora</em> was thy wife; and
has upon it prevailed with his father, as thou has done
with thine, to let the debate be ended by the sword
'twixt him and thee.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> And pray, Sir, with submission, one short question
if you please; what may the gentle <em>Leonora</em> say of
this business?</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> She approves of the combat, and marries
<em>Carlos</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, God a-mercy.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Is it possible? Sure she's a devil, not a woman.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> I&mdash;&mdash;cod, Sir, the Devil and a woman both,
I think.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Well, thou sha't have satisfaction of some of
'em. Here they all come.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Alvarez</span>, <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>, <span class="antiqua">Carlos</span>, <span class="antiqua">Sancho</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Jacinta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> Well, Don <em>Felix</em>, have you prepared your son?
for mine, he's ready to engage.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> And so is his. My wrongs prepare me for a
thousand combats. My hand has hitherto been held by
the regard I've had to every thing of kin to <em>Leonora</em>; but
since the monstrous part she acts has driven her from my
heart, I call for reparation from her family.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> You'll have it, Sir; <em>Camillo</em> will attend you instantly.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> O lack! O lack! will no body do a little something
to prevent bloodshed? Why, Madam, have you no pity,
no bowels? [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Leonora</span>.</em>] stand and see one of your husbands
stoter'd before your face? 'Tis an arrant shame.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> If widowhood be my fate, I must bear it as I
can.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Why, did you ever hear the like?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Talk to her no more. Her monstrous impudence
is no otherwise to be replied to, than by a dagger
in her brother's heart.</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Yonder he's coming to receive it. But have a
care, brave Sir, he does not place it in another's.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> It is not in his power. He has a rotten cause
upon his sword, I'm sorry he's engag'd in't; but since
he is, he must take his fate. For you, my bravo, expect
me in your turn.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Carlos</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Car.</em> You'll find Camillo, Sir, will set your hand out.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> A beardless boy. You might have match'd me
better, Sir: but prudence is a virtue.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> Nay, son, I wou'd not have thee despise thy
adversary neither; thou'lt find Camillo will put thee
hardly to't.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I wish we were come to the trial. Why does he
not appear?</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Now do I hate to hear people brag thus. Sir,
with my lady's leave, I'll hold a ducat he disarms you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They laugh.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Why, what!&mdash;I think I'm sported with. Take
heed, I warn you all; I am not to be trifled with.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span> and <span class="antiqua">Isabella</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> You shan't, Sir, here's one will be in earnest with
you.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> He's welcome: tho' I had rather have drawn
my sword against another. I'm sorry, <em>Camillo</em>, we
should meet on such bad terms as these; yet more sorry
your sister should be the wicked cause on't: but since
nothing will serve her but the blood either of a husband
or brother, she shall be glutted with't. Draw.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Ah Lard, ah Lard, ah Lard!</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> And yet before I take this instrument of death
into my fatal hand, hear me, <em>Camillo</em>; hear <em>Alvarez</em>;
all! I imprecate the utmost powers of heaven to shower
upon my head the deadliest of its wrath; I ask that all
hell's torments may unite to round my soul with one
eternal anguish, if wicked <em>Leonora</em> ben't my wife.</p>

<p><em>Omnes.</em> O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Why then may all those curses pass him by, and
wrap me in their everlasting pains, if ever once I had a
fleeting thought of making him my husband.</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> O Lord, O Lord, O Lord!</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> Nay more; to strike him dumb at once, and shew
what men with honest looks can practise, know he's
married to another.</p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> and <em>Fel.</em> How!</p>

<p><em>Leo.</em> The truth of this is known to some here.</p>

<p><em>Jacin.</em> Nay, 'tis certainly so.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> 'Tis to a friend of mine.</p>

<p><em>Car.</em> I know the person.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> 'Tis false, and thou art a villain for thy testimony.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Then let me speak; what they aver is true, and
I myself was in disguise, a witness of its doing.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Death and confusion! he a villain too! have at
thy heart.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He draws.</em></p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Ah!&mdash;--I can't bear the sight on't.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Put up that furious thing, there's no business
for't.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> There's business for a dagger, strippling; 'tis that
should be thy recompence.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Why then to shew thee naked to the world,
and close thy mouth for ever&mdash;&mdash;I am myself thy
wife.&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> What does the dog mean?</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> To fall upon the earth and sue for mercy.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kneels and lets her perriwig fall off.</em></p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> A woman!</p>

<p><em>Lop.</em> Ay&mdash;&mdash;cod, and a pretty one too; you wags you.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> I'm all amazement. Rise, <em>Camillo</em>, (if I am still to
call you by that name) and let me hear the wonders you
have for me.</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> That part her modesty will ask from me: I'm to
inform you then, that this disguise hides other mysteries
besides a woman; a large and fair estate was cover'd
by it, which with the lady now will be resigned
to you. 'Tis true, in justice it was yours before; but 'tis
the God of Love has done you right. To him you owe
this strange discovery, thro' him you are to know the true
<em>Camillo</em>'s dead, and that this fair adventurer is daughter
to <em>Alvarez</em>.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Incredible! but go on; let me hear more.</p>

<p>Don <em>Fel.</em> She'll tell thee the rest herself, the next dark
night she meets thee in the garden.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Ha!&mdash;Was it <em>Camillo</em> then, that I&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Isab.</em> It was <em>Camillo</em> who there made you happy: And
who has virtue, beauty, wit and love&mdash;&mdash;enough to
make you so, while life shall last you.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> The proof she gives me of her love, deserves a
large acknowledgment indeed. Forgive me therefore,
<em>Leonora</em>, if what I owe this goodness and these charms, I
with my utmost care, my life, my soul, endeavour to repay.</p>

<p><em>Cam.</em> Is it then possible you can forgive me?</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> Indeed I can; few crimes have such a claim to
mercy; but join with me then, dear <em>Camillo</em>, (for still I
know you by no other name) join with me to obtain
your father's pardon: yours, <em>Leonora</em>, too, I must implore;
and yours, my friend, for now we may be such.
[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Carlos</span>.</em>] Of all I ask forgiveness. And since there
is so fair a cause of all my wild mistakes, I hope I by her
interest shall obtain it.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Alv.</em> You have a claim to mine, <em>Lorenzo</em>, I wish I had
so strong a one to yours; but if by future services, (tho'
I lay down my life amongst 'em) I may blot out of your
remembrance a fault (I cannot name) I then shall leave
the world in peace.</p>

<p><em>Lor.</em> In peace then, Sir, enjoy it; for from this very
hour, whate'er is past with me, is gone for ever. Your
daughter is too fair a mediatrix to be refus'd his pardon,
to whom she owes the charms she pleads with for it.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>From this good day, then, let all discord cease;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Let those to come be harmony and peace;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Henceforth let all our diff'rent interests join,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Let fathers, lovers, friends, let all combine,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To make each other's days as blest, as she will mine.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="EPILOGUE2" id="EPILOGUE2">EPILOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Written by Mr. <span class="smcap">Motteux</span>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">I</span>'m</span> thinking, now good husbands are so few,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To get one for my friend what I must do.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em><span class="antiqua">Camillo</span> ventur'd hard; yet at the worst,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>She stole love's honey-moon, and try'd her lover first.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Many poor damsels, if they dar'd to tell,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Have done as much, but have not 'scap'd so well.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>'Tis well the scene's in <span class="antiqua">Spain</span>; thus, in the dark,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I should be loth to trust a <span class="antiqua">London</span> spark.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Some accident might for a private reason,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Silence a female, all this acting-season.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Hard fate of women: any one wou'd vex,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To think what odds, you men have, of our sex.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Restraint and custom share our inclination,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You men can try, and run o'er half the nation.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We dare not, even to avoid reproach,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When you're at <span class="antiqua">White</span>'s, peep out of hackney-coach;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nor with a friend at night, our fame regarding,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With glass drawn up, drive 'bout <span class="antiqua">Covent-Garden</span>.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If poor town-ladies steal in here, you rail,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' like chaste nuns their modest looks they veil;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>With this decorum, they can hardly gain</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To be thought virtuous, e'en in <span class="antiqua">Drury-Lane</span>.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Tho' this you'll not allow, yet sure you may</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A plot to snap you, in an honest way.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In love affairs, one scarce would spare a brother:</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>All cheat; and married folks may keep a pother,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But look as if they cheated one another.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You may pretend, our sex dissembles most;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But of your truth none have much cause to boast:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You promise bravely; but for all your storming,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We find you're not so valiant at performing.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>Then sure <span class="antiqua">Camillo</span>'s conduct you'll approve:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wou'd you not do as much for one you love?</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wedlock's but a blind bargain at the best,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>You venture more sometimes, to be not half so blest.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>All, soon or late, that dangerous venture make,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And some of you may make a worse mistake.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-149.jpg" width="700" height="40" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="THE3" id="THE3">THE</a><br />

COUNTRY HOUSE.<br />

A<br />

FARCE.</h2>


<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-149.jpg" width="700" height="40" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae3" id="Dramatis_Personae3">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<h4>MEN.</h4>


<div class="center">
<ul><li><em>Mr.</em> Barnard.</li>

<li><em>Mr.</em> Griffard, <em>Brother to Mr.</em> Barnard.</li>

<li>Erastus, <em>in love with</em> Mariamne.</li>

<li>Dorant, <em>Son to Mr.</em> Barnard.</li>

<li><em>Monsieur le Marquis</em>.</li>

<li><em>Baron</em> de Messy.</li>

<li>Janno, <em>Cousin to Mr.</em> Barnard.</li>

<li>Colin, <em>Servant to Mr.</em> Barnard.</li>

<li>Charly, <em>a little Boy</em>.</li>

<li><em>Servant to</em> Erastus.</li>

<li><em>Three gentlemen, friends to</em> Dorant.</li>

<li><em>A cook, other servants, &amp;c.</em></li>
</ul>
</div>


<h4>WOMEN.</h4>


<div class="center">
<ul><li><em>Mrs.</em> Barnard.</li>

<li>Mariamne, <em>her daughter</em>.</li>

<li>Mawkin, <em>sister to</em> Janno.</li>

<li>Lisetta, <em>servant to</em> Mariamne.</li>
</ul>
</div>

<p class="directcenter">The <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> is laid in <em>Normandy</em> in
<em>France</em>.
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />
COUNTRY HOUSE.
</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I3" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Erastus</span> and his man, with <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>, <span class="antiqua">Mariamne</span>'s maid.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">O</span>nce</span> more I tell ye, Sir, if you have any
consideration in the world for her, you must
be gone this minute.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> My dear <em>Lisetta</em>, let me but speak to her, let me
but see her only.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> You may do what you will; but not here, whilst
you are in our house. I do believe she's as impatient to
see you, as you can be to see her; but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> But why won't you give us that satisfaction then?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Because I know the consequence; for when you
once get together, the Devil himself is not able to part
you; you will stay so long 'till you are surpriz'd, and
what will become of us then?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Why, then we shall be thrown out at the window,
I suppose.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> No, but I shall be turn'd out of doors.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Er.</em> How unfortunate am I! these doors are open to
all the world, and only shut to me.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Because you come for a wife, and at our house
we do not care for people that come for wives.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> What would you have us come for, child?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Any thing but wives; because they cannot be
put off without portions.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Portions! No, no, never talk of portions; my
Master nor I neither don't want portions; and if he'd
follow my advice, a regiment of fathers shou'd not guard
her.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> What say you?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Why, if you'll contrive that my Master may run
away with your Mistress, I don't much care, faith, if I
run away with you.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Don't you so, rogue's face? but I hope to be
better provided for.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Hold your tongues. But where is <em>Mariamne</em>'s
brother? He is my bosom friend, and would be willing
to serve me.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> I told you before, that he has been abroad a
hunting, and we han't seen him these three days; he
seldom lies at home, to avoid his father's ill humour; so
that it is not your Mistress only that our old covetous
cuff teizes&mdash;&mdash;there's nobody in the family but feels the
effects of his ill humour&mdash;&mdash;by his good will he would
not suffer a creature to come within his doors, or eat at
his table&mdash;&mdash;and if there be but a rabbit extraordinary
for dinner, he thinks himself ruin'd for ever.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Then I find you pass your time comfortably in
this family.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Not so bad as you imagine neither, perhaps; for,
thank Heaven, we have a Mistress that's as bountiful as
he is stingy, one that will let him say what he will, and
yet does what she will. But hark, here's somebody
coming; it is certainly he.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Can't you hide us somewhere?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Here, here, get you in here as fast as you can.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Thrust me in too.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Puts 'em into the closet.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> II.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Mariamne</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> O, is it you?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> So, <em>Lisetta</em>, where have you been? I've been
looking for you all over the house: who are those people
in the garden with my mother-in-law? I believe my
father won't be very well pleas'd to see 'em there.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> And here's somebody else not afar off, that I believe
your father won't be very well pleas'd with neither.
Come, Sir, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Calls.</em></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Erastus and his servant come out.</em></p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> O Heavens!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Cries out.</em></p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Come, lovers, I can allow you but a short bout
on't this time; you must do your work with a jirk&mdash;&mdash;one
whisper, two sighs and, a kiss; make haste, I say,
and I'll stand centry for you in the mean time.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Do you know what you expose me to, <em>Erastus</em>?
What do you mean?</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> To die, Madam, since you receive me with so
little pleasure.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Consider what wou'd become of me, if my father
shou'd see you here.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> What wou'd you have me do?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Expect with patience some happy turn of affairs;
my mother-in-law is kind and indulgent to a
miracle, and her favour, if well managed, may turn to
our advantage; and cou'd I prevail upon myself to declare
my passion to her, I don't doubt but she'd join in
our interest.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Well, since we've nothing to fear from her, and
your brother, you know is my intimate friend; you
may therefore conceal me somewhere about the house
for a few days. I'll creep into any hole.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Ay, but who must have the care of bringing us
victuals?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Thrust us into the cellar, or up into the garret:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
I don't care where it is, so that it be but under the same
roof with you.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> But I don't say so, for that jade <em>Lisetta</em> will have
the feeding of us, and I know what kind of diet she keeps&mdash;&mdash;I
believe we shan't be like the fox in the fable, our
bellies won't be so full but we shall be able to creep out
at the same hole we got in at.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Must I then be gone? must I return to Paris?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Yes, that you must, and immediately too, for
here's my master coming in upon ye.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> What shall I do?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Begone this minute.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Stay in the village 'till you hear from me, none
of our family know that you are in it.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Shall I see you sometimes?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> I han't time to answer you now.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Make haste, I say; are you bewitch'd?</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Will you write to me?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> I will if can.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Begone, I say, is the Devil in you?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Thrusting <span class="antiqua">Erastus</span> and his servant out.</em></p>

<p>Come this way, your father's just stepping in upon us.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> III.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Barnard</span> beating <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Rogue! rascal! did not I command you?
Did not I give you my orders, sirrah?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why, you gave me orders to let no body in;
and Madam, her gives me orders to let every body in&mdash;&mdash;why
the Devil himself can't please you boath, I
think.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> But, sirrah, you must obey my orders,
not hers.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why the gentlefolks asked for her, they did not
ask for you&mdash;what do you make such a noise about?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> For that reason, sirrah, you shou'd not
have let 'em in.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Hold, Sir, I'd rather see you angry than her,
that's true; for when you're angry you have only the
devil in ye, but when Madam's in a passion she has the
devil and his dam both in her belly.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> You must mind what I say to you, sirrah,
and obey my orders.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Ay, ay, Measter&mdash;&mdash;but let's not quarrel with one
another&mdash;you're always in such a plaguy humour.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What are these people that are just come?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Nay, that know not I&mdash;&mdash;but as fine volk they
are as ever eye beheld, heaven bless 'em.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Did you hear their names?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Noa, noa, but in a coach they keam all besmeared
with gould, with six breave horses, the like on 'em
ne'er did I set eyes on&mdash;&mdash;'twou'd do a man's heart
good to look on sike fine beast, Measter.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How many persons are there?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Vour&mdash;&mdash;two as fine men as ever women bore,
and two as dainty deames as a man wou'd desire to lay
his lips to.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> And all this crew sets up at my house.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Noa, noa, Measter, the coachman is gone into
the village to set up his coach at some inn, for I told
him our coach-house was vull of vaggots, but he'll bring
back the six horses, for I told him we had a rear good
stable.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Did you so, rascal? Did you so?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Beats him.</em></p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Doant, doant, Sir, it wou'd do you good to see
sike cattle, i'faith they look as if they had ne'er kept
Lent.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Then they shall learn religion at my house&mdash;&mdash;Sirrah,
do you take care they sup without oats to-night&mdash;&mdash;What
will become of me? Since I bought this
damn'd country house, I spend more in a summer than
wou'd maintain me seven years.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why, if you do spend money, han't you good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
things for it? Come they not to see you the whole
country raund? Mind how you're belov'd, Measter.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Pox take such love&mdash;&mdash;How now, what
do you want?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Sir, there's some company in the garden with
my mistress, who desire to see you.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> The devil take 'em, what business have
they here? But who are they?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Why, Sir, there's the fat Abbot that always sits
so long at dinner, and drinks his two bottles by way of
whet.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I wish his church was in his belly, that his
guts might be half full before he came&mdash;&mdash;and who else?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Then there's the young Marquis that won all
my Lady's money at cards.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Pox take him too.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Then there's the merry Lady that's always in a
good humour.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Then there's she that threw down all my Lady's
china t'other day, and laugh'd at it for a jest.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Which I paid above fifty pounds for in
earnest&mdash;very well, and pray how did Madam receive
all this fine company?&mdash;&mdash;With a hearty welcome, and
a courtsy with her bum down to the ground, ha.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> No indeed, Sir, she was very angry with 'em.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How, angry with 'em, say you?</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Yes indeed, Sir, for she expected they wou'd
have staid here a fortnight, but it seems things happen
so unluckily that they can't stay here above ten days.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Ten days! How! what! four persons
with a coach and six, and a kennel of hungry hounds in
liveries, to live upon me ten days.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a soldier.</em>
</p>

<p>So, what do you want?</p>

<p><em>Sol.</em> Sir, I come from your nephew, Captain <em>Hungry</em>.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Well, what does he want?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Sol.</em> He gives his service to you, Sir, and sends you
word that he'll come and dine with you to-morrow.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Dine with me! no, no, friend, tell him I
don't dine at all to-morrow, it is my fast-day, my wife
died on't.</p>

<p><em>Sol.</em> And he has sent you here a pheasant and a couple
of partridges.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How's that, a pheasant and partridges, say
you?&mdash;&mdash;let's see&mdash;&mdash;very fine birds, truly&mdash;&mdash;let me
consider&mdash;To-morrow is not my fast-day, I mistook,
tell my nephew he shall be welcome&mdash;&mdash;And d'ye hear?
[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em>] do you take these fowls and hang them up
in a cool place&mdash;&mdash;and take this soldier in, and make
him drink&mdash;make him drink, d'ye see&mdash;&mdash;a cup,&mdash;&mdash;ay,
a cup of small beer&mdash;&mdash;d'ye hear?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Yes, Sir&mdash;&mdash;Come along; our small beer is reare
good.</p>

<p><em>Sol.</em> But, Sir, he bade me tell you that he'll bring two
or three of his brother officers along with him.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How's that! Officers with him&mdash;&mdash;here,
come back&mdash;&mdash;take the fowls again; I don't dine to-morrow,
and so tell him [<em>Gives him the basket.</em>] Go,
go.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Thrusts him out.</em></p>

<p><em>Sol.</em> Sir, Sir, that won't hinder them from coming,
for they retir'd a little distance off the camp, and because
your house is near 'em, Sir, they resolve to come.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Go, begone, Sirrah,</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Thrusts him out.</em></p>

<p>There's a rogue now, that sends me three lean carrion
birds, and brings half a dozen varlets to eat them.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Griffard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> Brother, what is the meaning of these doings?
If you don't order your affairs better, you'll have your
fowls taken out of your very yard, and carried away
before your face.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Can I help it, brother? But what's the
matter now?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> There's a parcel of fellows have been hunting
about your grounds all this morning, broke down your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
hedges, and are now coming into your house&mdash;&mdash;don't
you hear them?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> No, no, I don't hear them: who are they?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> Three or four rake-helly officers, with your nephew
at the head of 'em.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> O the rogue! he might well send me fowls&mdash;&mdash;but
is it not a vexatious thing, that I must stand
still and see myself plunder'd at this rate, and have a
carrion of a wife who thinks I ought to thank all these
rogues that come to devour me! but can't you advise me
what's to be done in this case?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> I wish I cou'd; for it goes to my heart to see
you thus treated by a crew of vermin, who think they do
you a great deal of honour in ruining of you.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Can there be no way found to redress this?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> If I were you, I'd leave this house quite, and go
to town.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What, and leave my wife behind me? ay
that wou'd be mending the matter indeed!</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> Why don't you sell it then?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Because nobody will buy it; it has got as
bad a name as if the plague were in't; it has been sold
over and over, and every family that has liv'd in it has
been ruin'd.</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> Then send away all your beds and furniture; except
what is absolutely necessary for your own family,
you'll save something by that, for then your guests can't
stay with you all night, however.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I've try'd that already, and it signified nothing&mdash;&mdash;For
they all got drunk and lay in the barn,
and next morning laugh'd it off for a frolick.</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> Then there is but one remedy left that I can
think of.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What's that?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> You must e'en do what's done when a town's on
fire, blow up your house that the mischief may run no farther&mdash;&mdash;But
who is this gentleman?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I never saw him in my life before, but for
all that, I'll hold fifty pound he comes to dine with me.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter the Marquis.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> My dear Mr. <em>Barnard</em>, I'm your most humble
servant.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I don't doubt it, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> What is the meaning of this, Mr. <em>Barnard</em>?
You look as coldly upon me as if I were a stranger.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Why truly, Sir, I'm very apt to do so by
persons I never saw in my life before.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> You must know, Mr. <em>Barnard</em>, I'm come on
purpose to drink a bottle with you.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> That may be, Sir; but it happens that at
this time I am not at all dry.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> I left the ladies at cards waiting for supper;
for my part, I never play; so I came to see my dear Mr.
<em>Barnard</em>; and I'll assure you I undertook this journey
only to have the honour of your acquaintance.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> You might have spared yourself that trouble,
Sir.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Don't you know, Mr. <em>Barnard</em>, that this house
of yours is a little paradise?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Then rot me if it be, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> For my part, I think a pretty retreat in the
country is one of the greatest comforts of life; I suppose
you never want good company, Mr. <em>Barnard</em>?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> No, Sir, I never want company; for you
must know I love very much to be alone.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Good wine you must keep above all things,
without good wine and good cheer I would not give a fig
for the country.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Really, Sir, my wine is the worst you ever
drank in your life, and you'll find my cheer but very
indifferent.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> No matter, no matter, Mr. <em>Barnard</em>; I've
heard much of your hospitality, there's a plentiful table
in your looks&mdash;&mdash;and your wife is certainly one of the
best women in the world.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Rot me if she be, Sir.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Sir, Sir, yonder's the Baron <em>de Messy</em> has lost his
hawk in our garden; he says it is pearch'd upon one of
the trees; may we let him have'n again, Sir?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Go tell him that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Nay, you may tell him yourself, for here he
comes.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> IV.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter the Baron <span class="antiqua">de Messy</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir, I'm your most humble Servant, and ask you a
thousand pardons that I should live so long in your neighbourhood,
and come upon such an occasion as this to pay
you my first respects.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> It is very well, Sir; but I think people
may be very good neighbours without visiting one
another.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Pray how do you like our <em>country</em>?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Not at all, I'm quite tired on't.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Is it not the Baron? [<em>Aside.</em>] it is certainly he.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> How; my dear Marquis! let me embrace you.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> My dear Baron, let me kiss you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They run and embrace.</em></p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> We have not seen one another since we were
school-fellows, before.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> The happiest <em>Rencontré</em>!</p>

<p><em>Bro.</em> These gentlemen seem to be very well acquainted.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Yes, but I know neither one nor t'other of
them.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Baron, let me present to you one of the best-natur'd
men in the world, Mr. <em>Barnard</em> here, the flower
of hospitality&mdash;&mdash;I congratulate you upon having so
good a neighbour.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Sir!</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> It is an advantage I am proud of.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Sir!</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Come, gentlemen, you must be very inti<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>mate;
let me have the honour of bringing you better acquainted.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Sir!</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Dear Marquis, I shall take it as a favour, if
you'll do me that honour.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Sir!</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> With all my heart&mdash;&mdash;Come, Baron, now you
are here we can make up the most agreeable company in
the world&mdash;&mdash;Faith you shall stay and pass a few days
with us.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Methinks now, this son of a whore does
the honour of my house to a miracle.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> I don't know what to say, but I shou'd be very
glad you'd excuse me.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Faith, I can't.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Dear Marquis.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Egad I won't.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Well, since it must be so&mdash;&mdash;But here comes
the Lady of the family.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Barnard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Madam, let me present you to the flower of
<em>France</em>.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Madam, I shall think myself the happiest person
in the world in your Ladyship's acquaintance; and
the little estate I have in <em>this country</em> I esteem more than
all the rest, because it lies so near your Ladyship.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> Sir, your most humble servant.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Madam, the Baron <em>de Messy</em> is the best humour'd
man in the world. I've prevail'd with him to give us
his company a few days.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> I'm sure you could not oblige Mr. <em>Barnard</em>
or me more.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> That's a damn'd lye, I'm sure.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> I'm sorry, Madam, I can't accept of the honour&mdash;&mdash;for
it falls out so unluckily, that I've some
ladies at my house that I can't possibly leave.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> No matter, no matter, Baron; you have ladies
at your house, we have ladies at our house&mdash;let's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
join companies&mdash;&mdash;come, let's send for them immediately;
the more the merrier.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> An admirable expedient, truly!</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Well, since it must be so, I'll go for them myself.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Make haste, dear Baron, for we shall be impatient
for your return.</p>

<p><em>Baron.</em> Madam, your most humble servant&mdash;&mdash;But I
won't take my leave of you&mdash;&mdash;I shall be back again
immediately&mdash;&mdash;Monsieur <em>Barnard</em>, I'm your most humble
servant; since you will have it so, I'll return as soon
as possible.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I have it so! 'sbud, Sir, you may stay as
long as you please; I'm in no haste for ye.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Baron and Marquis.</em></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Madam, you are the cause that I am not
master of my own house.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> Will you never learn to be reasonable,
husband?</p>

<p><em>The Marquis returns.</em></p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> The Baron is the best humour'd man in the
world, only a little too ceremonious, that's all&mdash;&mdash;I love
to be free and generous; since I came to <em>Paris</em> I've reform'd
half the court.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> You are of the most agreeable humour in
the world, <em>Marquis</em>.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Always merry&mdash;&mdash;But what have you done
with the ladies?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> I left them at cards.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Well, I'll wait upon 'em&mdash;&mdash;but, Madam, let
me desire you not to put yourself to any extraordinary
expence upon our accounts&mdash;&mdash;You must consider we
have more than one day to live together.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> You are pleased to be merry, Marquis.</p>

<p><em>Marq.</em> Treat us without ceremony; good wine and
poultry you have of your own; wild-fowl and fish are
brought to your door&mdash;&mdash;You need not send abroad for
any thing but a piece of butcher's meat, or so&mdash;&mdash;Let
us have no extraordinaries.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> If I had the feeding of you, a thunder
bolt should be your supper.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> Husband, will you never change your humour?
If you go on at this rate, it will be impossible to
live with ye.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Very true; for in a little time I shall have
nothing to live upon.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> Do you know what a ridiculous figure you
make?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> You'll make a great deal worse, when you
han't money enough to pay for the washing of your
shifts.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> It seems you married me only to dishonour
me; how horrible this is!</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I tell ye, you'll ruin me. Do you know
how much money you spend in a year?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> Not I truly, I don't understand arithmetic.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Arithmetic, O lud! O lud! Is it so hard
to comprehend, that he who receives but sixpence and
spends a shilling, must be ruin'd in the end?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> I never troubled my head with accompts,
nor never will; but if you did but know what ridiculous
things the world says of ye&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Rot the world&mdash;&mdash;'Twill say worse of me
when I'm in a jail.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> A very Christian-like saying, truly.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Don't tell me of Christian&mdash;&mdash;Adsbud, I'll
turn Jew, and nobody shall eat at my table that is not
circumcised.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Madam, there's the Dutchess of <em>Twangdillo</em> just
fell down near our door, her coach was overturn'd.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> I hope her Grace has received no hurt.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> No, Madam, but her coach is broke.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Then there's a smith in town may mend it.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> They say, 'twill require two or three days to fit
it up again.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> I'm glad on't with all my heart, for then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
I shall enjoy the pleasure of her Grace's good company.&mdash;&mdash;I'll
wait upon her.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Very fine doings this!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt severally.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_II_SCENE_I3" id="ACT_II_SCENE_I3"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Mr.</span> Barnard.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Heaven</span> be now my comfort, for my house is hell:
[<em>Starts.</em>] Who's there, what do you want? who
are you?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter servant with a portmanteau.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, here's your cousin <em>Janno</em> and cousin <em>Mawkin</em>
come from <em>Paris</em>.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What a plague do they want?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Janno</span> leading in <span class="antiqua">Mawkin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> Come, sister, come along&mdash;&mdash;O here's cousin
<em>Barnard</em>&mdash;&mdash;Cousin <em>Barnard</em>, your servant&mdash;&mdash;Here's
my sister <em>Mawkin</em> and I are come to see you.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> Ay, cousin, here's brother <em>Janno</em> and I are
come from <em>Paris</em> to see you: pray how does cousin <em>Mariamne</em>
do?</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> My sister and I waunt well at <em>Paris</em>; so my father
sent us here for two or three weeks to take a little
country air.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> You cou'd not come to a worse place; for
this is the worst air in the whole county.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> Nay, I'm sure, my father says it is the best.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Your father's a fool; I tell ye, 'tis the
worst.</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> Nay, cousin, I fancy you're mistaken now; for
I begin to find my stomach come to me already; in a
fortnight's time you shall see how I'll lay about me.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I don't at all doubt it.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> Father wou'd have sent sister <em>Flip.</em> and little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
brother <em>Humphrey</em>, but the calash would not hold us all,
and so they don't come till to-morrow with mother.</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> Come, sister, let's put up our things in our chamber;
and after you have washed my face, and put me on
a clean neckcloth, we'll go in and see how our cousins do.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> Ay, come along, we'll go and see cousin <em>Mariamne</em>.</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> Cousin, we shan't give you much trouble, one
bed will serve us; for sister <em>Mawkin</em> and I always lie together.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> But, cousin; mother prays you that you'd
order a little cock-broth for brother <em>Janno</em> and I, to be
got ready as soon as may be.</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> Ay, <em>a propos</em>, cousin <em>Barnard</em>, that's true; my
mother desires, that we may have some cock-broth to
drink two or three times a-day between meals, for my
sister and I are sick folks.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> And some young chickens, too, the doctor
said would bring us to our stomachs very soon.</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> You fib now, sister, it waunt young chickens,
so it waunt, it was plump partridges sure, the doctor
said so.</p>

<p><em>Mawk.</em> Ay, so it was brother,&mdash;come, let's go in,
and see our cousins.</p>

<p><em>Jan.</em> Ay, come along, sister&mdash;cousin <em>Barnard</em>, don't
forget the cock-broth.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Janno</span> and <span class="antiqua">Mawkin</span>.</em></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What the Devil does all this mean&mdash;&mdash;mother,
and sister <em>Flip.</em>, and little brother <em>Humphrey</em>, and
chickens, and partridges, and cock-broth, and fire from
hell to dress 'em all.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> II.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> O measter, O measter&mdash;&mdash;you'll not chide to-day,
as you are usen to do, no marry will you not; see
now what it is to be wiser than one's measter.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What wou'd this fool have?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why thanks and money to boot, an folk were
grateful.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What's the matter?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why the matter is, if you have good store of company
in your house, you have good store of meat to put
in their bellies.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How so? how so?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why a large and stately stag, with a pair of
horns on his head, heavens bless you, your worship
might be seen to wear 'em, comes towards our Geat a
puffing and blawing like a cow in hard labour&mdash;&mdash;Now
says I to myself, says I, if my measter refuse to let
this fine youth come in, why then he's a fool, d'ye see&mdash;So
I opens him the geat, pulls off my hat with both my
honds, and said you're welcome, kind Sir, to our
house.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Well, well!</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Well, well, ay, and so it is well, as you shall
straightway find&mdash;&mdash;So in he trots, and makes directly
towards our barn, and goes bounce, bounce, against the
door, as boldly as if he had been measter on't&mdash;&mdash;he
turns'en about and thwacks'n down in the stra, as who
would say, here will I lay me till to-morrow morning&mdash;But
he had no fool to deal with&mdash;&mdash;for to the kitchen
goes I, and takes me down a musquet, and with a breace
of balls, I hits'n such a slap in the feace, that he ne'er
spoke a word more to me&mdash;&mdash;Have I done well or no
measter?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Yes, you have done very well for once.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> But this was not all, for a parcel of dogs came
yelping after their companion, as I suppose; so I goes
to the back yard-door, and as many as came by, shu,
says I, and drove them into the gearden, so there they
are as safe as in a pawnd&mdash;&mdash;ha, ha,&mdash;&mdash;but I can but
think what a power of pasties we shall have at our house,
ha, ha.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I see Providence takes some care of me:
this cou'd never have happened in a better time.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> III.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Cook</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> Sir, sir, in the name of wonder, what do you
mean? is it by your orders that all those dogs were let
into the garden?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How!</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> I believe there's forty or fifty dogs tearing up
the lettice and cabbage by the root. I believe before
they have done, they'll rout up the whole garden.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> This is that rogue's doings.</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> This was not all, Sir, for three or four of 'em
came into the kitchen, and tore half the meat off the
spit that was for your worship's supper.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> The very dogs plague me.</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> And then there's a crew of hungry footmen
who devour'd what the dogs left, so that there's not a
bit left for your worship's supper, not a scrap, not one
morsel, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Cook</span>.</em></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Sure I shall hit on some way to get rid of
this crew.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> IV.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Sir, Sir, here's the devil to do without yonder;
a parcel of fellows swear they'll have our venison, and
s'blead I swear they shall have none on't, so stand to
your arms, measter.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Ay, you've done finely, rogue, rascal, have
you not?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Beating him.</em></p>

<p><em>Col.</em> 'Sblead, I say they shan't have our venison. I'll
die before I'll part with it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Griffard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> Brother, there's some gentlemen within ask for
you.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What gentlemen? who are they?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> The gentlemen that have been hunting all this
morning, they're now gone up to your wife's chamber.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> The Devil go with 'em.</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> There is but one way to get rid of this plague,
and that is, as I told you before, to set your house on
fire.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> That's doing myself an injury, not them.</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> There's dogs, horses, masters and servants, all
intend to stay here 'till to-morrow morning, that they
may be near the woods to hunt the earlier&mdash;besides (I
overheard them) they're in a kind of plot against you.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What did they say?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> You'll be angry if I tell ye.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Can I be more angry than I am?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> They said then that it was the greatest pleasure
in the world to ruin an old lawyer in the country, who
had got an estate by ruining honest people in town.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> There's rogues for ye!</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> I'm mistaken if they don't play you some trick
or other.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Hold, let me consider.</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> What are you doing?</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> I'm <em>conceiving</em>, I shall <em>bring forth</em> presently&mdash;&mdash;oh,
I have it, it comes from hence, wit was its father,
and invention its mother; if I had thought on't sooner,
I shou'd have been happy.</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> What is it?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Come, come along, I say; you must help
me to put it in execution.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> V.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Sir, my mistress desires you to walk up, she is not
able, by herself, to pay the civilities due to so much good
company.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> O the carrion! what does she play her
jests upon me too?&mdash;&mdash;but mum, he laughs best that
laughs last.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> What shall I tell her, Sir, will you come?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Yes, yes, tell her I'll come with a pox to her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Mr.</span> Barnard <span class="antiqua">and</span> Griffard.</em></p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Nay, I don't wonder he shou'd be angry&mdash;they
do try his patience, that's the truth on't.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> VI.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Mariamne</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>What, Madam, have you left your mother and the company?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> So much tittle tattle makes my head ake; I
don't wonder my father shou'd not love the <em>country</em>, for
besides the expence he's at, he never enjoys a minute's
quiet.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> But let's talk of our own affairs&mdash;have you writ
to your lover?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> No, for I have not had time since I saw him.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Now you have time then, about it immediately,
for he's a sort of desperate spark, and a body does not
know what he may do, if he shou'd not hear from you;
besides you promised him, and you must behave yourself
like a woman of honour, and keep your word.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> I'll about it this minute.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Charly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> Cousin, cousin, cousin, where are you going?
Come back, I have something to say to you.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> What does this troublesome boy want?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> What's that to you what I want? perhaps I have
something to say to her that will make her laugh&mdash;&mdash;why
sure! what need you care?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Don't snub my cousin <em>Charly</em>&mdash;&mdash;well, what is't?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> Who do you think I met, as I was coming here,
but that handsome gentleman I've seen at church ogle
you like any devil?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Hush, softly, cousin.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Not a word of that for your life.</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> O I know I shou'd not speak on't before folks;
you know I made signs to you above, that I wanted to
speak to you in private, didn't I, cousin?</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Yes, yes, I saw you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Char.</em> You see I can keep a secret.&mdash;&mdash;I am no girl,
mun&mdash;&mdash;I believe I cou'd tell you fifty and fifty to
that, of my sister <em>Cicely</em>&mdash;&mdash;O she's the devil of a
girl&mdash;&mdash;but she gives me money and sugar-plumbs&mdash;&mdash;and
those that are kind to me fare the better for it, you
see cousin.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> I always said my cousin <em>Charly</em> was a good-natur'd
boy.</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> Well, and did he know you?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> Yes, I think he did know me&mdash;for he took me
in his arms, and did so hug and kiss me&mdash;&mdash;between
you and I, cousin, I believe he is one of the best friends
I have in the world.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Well, but what did he say to you?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> Why, he ask'd me where I was going; I told
him I was coming to see you; you're a lying young rogue,
says he, I'm sure you dare not go see your cousin&mdash;for
you must know my sister was with me, and it seems he took
her for a crack, and I being a forward boy, he fancied I
was going to make love to her under a hedge, ha, ha.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> So.</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> So he offer'd to lay me a <em>Lewis d'Or</em> that I was
not coming to you; so done, says I&mdash;&mdash;Done, says
he,&mdash;&mdash;and so 'twas a bett, you know.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Certainly.</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> So my sister's honour being concern'd, and
having a mind to win his <em>Lewis d'Or</em>, d'ye see&mdash;&mdash;I bid
him follow me, that he might see whether I came in or
no&mdash;but he said he'd wait for me at the little garden gate
that opens into the fields, and if I would come thro' the
house and meet him there, he should know by that whether
I had been in or no.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> So I went there, open'd the gate and let him in&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> What then?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> Why then he paid me the <em>Lewis d'Or</em>, that's all.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> Why, that was honestly done.</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> And then he talk'd to me of you, and said you
had the charmingest bubbies, and every time he nam'd
'em, ha! says he, as if he had been sipping hot tea.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> But was this all?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> No, for he had a mind, you must know, to win
his <em>Lewis d'Or</em> back again; so he laid me another, that
I dare not come back, and tell you that he was there;
so cousin, I hope you won't let me lose, for if you don't
go to him and tell him that I've won, he won't pay me.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> What, wou'd you have me go and speak to a
man?</p>

<p><em>Char.</em> Not for any harm, but to win your poor cousin
a <em>Lewis d'Or</em>. I'm sure you will&mdash;for you're a modest
young woman, and may go without danger&mdash;&mdash;Well,
cousin, I'll swear you look very handsome to-day, and
have the prettiest bubbies there; do let me feel 'em, I'll
swear you must.</p>

<p><em>Mar.</em> What does the young rogue mean? I swear I'll
have you whipt.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Charly</span> and <span class="antiqua">Mariamne</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Colin</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Ha, ha, ha! our old gentleman's a wag efaith,
he'll be even with 'em for all this, ha, ha, ha&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> What's the matter? what does the fool laugh at?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> We an't in our house now, <em>Lisetta</em>, we're in an
inn: ha, ha!</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> How in an inn?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Yes, in an inn, my measter has gotten an old
rusty sword, and hung it up at our geat, and writ underneath
with a piece of charcoal with his own fair hand,
<em>At the</em> Sword Royal; <em>entertainment for man and horse</em>: ha,
ha&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> What whim is this?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Thou, and I, live at the <em>Sword Royal</em>, ha, ha&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> I'll go tell my mistress of her father's extravagance.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em></p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> VII.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Barnard</span> and <span class="antiqua">Griffard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Ha, ha! yes I think this will do. Sirrah,
<em>Colin</em>, you may now let in all the world; the more the
better.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Colin.</em> Yes, Sir&mdash;&mdash;Ods-flesh! we shall break all the
inns in the country&mdash;&mdash;For we have a brave handsome
landlady, and a curious young lass to her daughter&mdash;&mdash;O,
here comes my young measter&mdash;&mdash;We'll make him
chamberlain&mdash;&mdash;ha, ha&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Dorant</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> What's the matter, son? How comes it
that you are all alone? You used to do me the favour to
bring some of your friends along with ye.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Sir, there are some of 'em coming; I only rid
before, to beg you to give them a favourable reception.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Ay why not? it is both for your honour
and mine; you shall be master.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Sir, we have now an opportunity of making all
the gentlemen in the country our friends.</p>

<p>Mr <em>Barn.</em> I'm glad on't with all my heart; pray how
so?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> There's an old quarrel to be made up between
two families, and all the company are to meet at our
house.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Ay, with all my heart; but pray, what is
the quarrel?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> O, Sir, a very ancient quarrel; It happened
between their great grandfathers about a duck.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> A quarrel of consequence truly.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> And 'twill be a great honour to us, if this shou'd
be accommodated at our house.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Without doubt.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Dear Sir, you astonish me with this goodness;
how shall I express this obligation? I was afraid, Sir,
you would not like it.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Why so?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> I thought, Sir, you did not care for the expence.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> O Lord, I am the most alter'd man in the
world from what I was, I'm quite another thing, mun;
but how many are there of 'em?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Not above nine or ten of a side, Sir.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> O, we shall dispose of them easily enough.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Some of 'em will be here present'y, the rest I
don't expect 'till to-morrow morning.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I hope they're good companions, jolly fellows,
that love to eat and drink well.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> The merriest, best-natur'd creatures in the world,
Sir.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I'm very glad on't, for 'tis such men I
want. Come, brother, you and I will go and prepare for
their reception.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Mr. <span class="antiqua">Barnard</span> and his brother.</em></p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Bless me, what an alteration is here! How my
father's temper is chang'd within these two or three
days! Do you know the meaning of it?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why the meaning on't is, ha, ha&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Can you tell me the cause of this sudden change,
I say?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why the cause on't is, ha, ha.&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> What do you laugh at, sirrah? do you know?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Ha&mdash;&mdash;because the old gentleman's a drole,
that's all.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Sirrah, if I take the cudgel&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Nay, Sir, don't be angry for a little harmless
mirth&mdash;&mdash;But here are your friends.</p>


<h4><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> VIII.</h4>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter three gentlemen.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Gentlemen you are welcome to <em>Pasty-Hall</em>; see
that these gentlemens horses are taken care of.</p>

<p><em>1 Gen.</em> A very fine dwelling this.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Yes, the house is tolerable.</p>

<p><em>2 Gen.</em> And a very fine lordship belongs to it.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> The land is good.</p>

<p><em>3 Gen.</em> This house ought to have been mine, for my
grandfather sold it to his father, from whom your father
purchased it.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Yes, the house has gone thro' a great many hands.</p>

<p><em>1 Gen.</em> A sign there has always been good house-keeping
in it.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> And I hope there ever will.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Barnard</span>, and <span class="antiqua">Griffard</span>, drest like drawers.</em>
</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Gentlemen, do you call? will you please to
see a room, gentlemen? somebody take off the gentlemens
boots there?</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Father! uncle! what is the meaning of this?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Here, shew a room&mdash;&mdash;or will you please
to walk into the kitchen first, gentlemen, and see what
you like for dinner.</p>

<p><em>1 Gen.</em> Make no preparations, Sir, your own dinner
is sufficient.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Very well, I understand ye; let's see, how
many are there of ye? [<em>Tells 'em.</em>] One, two, three,
four: well, gentlemen, 'tis but half a crown a-piece
for yourselves, and sixpence a-head for your servants;
your dinner shall be ready in half an hour; here, shew
the gentlemen into the <em>Apollo</em>.</p>

<p><em>2 Gen.</em> What, Sir, does your father keep an inn?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> The <em>Sword Royal</em>; at your service, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> But father let me speak to you; would you disgrace
me?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> My wine is very good, gentlemen, but to
be very plain with ye, it is dear.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> O, I shall run distracted.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> You seem not to like my house, gentlemen;
you may try all the inns in the county, and not
be better entertained; but I own my bills run high.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Gentlemen, let me beg the favour of ye.</p>

<p><em>1 Gen.</em> Ay, my young <em>'Squire <span class="antiqua">of the</span> Sword Royal'</em>, you
shall receive some favours from us.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Dear Monsieur <em>le Guarantiere</em>.</p>

<p><em>1 Gen.</em> Here, my horse there.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Monsieur <em>la Rose</em>.</p>

<p><em>2 Gen.</em> Damn ye, ye prig.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Monsieur <em>Trofignac</em>.</p>

<p><em>3 Gen.</em> Go to the devil.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Gentlemen.</em></p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> O, I'm disgrac'd for ever.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Now, son, this will teach you how to live.</p>

<p><em>Dor.</em> Your son? I deny the kindred; I'm the son of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
a whore, and I'll burn your house about your ears, you
old rogue you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Ha, ha&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Griff.</em> The young gentleman's in a passion.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> They're all gone for all that, and the
<em>Sword Royal</em>'s the best general in Christendom.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Erastus</span>'s servant, talking with <span class="antiqua">Lisetta</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Lis.</em> What, that tall gentleman I saw in the garden
with ye?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> The same, he's my master's uncle, and ranger
of the king's forests&mdash;&mdash;He intends to leave my master all
he has.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Don't I know this scoundrel? What, is
his master here? What do you do here, rascal?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> I was asking which must be my master's
chamber.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Where is your master?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Above stairs with your wife and daughter; and
I want to know where he's to lie that I may put up his
things.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Do you so, rascal?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> A very handsome inn this&mdash;Here, drawer, fetch
me a pint of wine.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Take that, rascal, do you banter us?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kicks him out.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Barnard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> What is the meaning of this, husband?
Are not you asham'd to turn your house into an inn&mdash;&mdash;and
is this a dress for my spouse, and a man of
your character?</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> I'd rather wear this dress than be ruin'd.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Barn.</em> You're nearer being so than you imagine:
for there are some persons within, who have it in their
power to punish you for your ridiculous folly.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Erastus</span>, leading in <span class="antiqua">Mariamne</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> How, Sir, what means this? who sent
you here?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Er.</em> It was the luckiest star in your firmament that
sent me here.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Then I doubt, at my birth, the planets
were but in a scurvy disposition.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Killing one of the king's stags, that run hither
for refuge, is enough to overturn a fortune much better
established than yours&mdash;&mdash;However, Sir, if you will
consent to give me your daughter, for her sake I will
bear you harmless.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> No, Sir, no man shall have my daughter,
that won't take my house too.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Sir, I will take your house; pay you the full
value of it, and you shall remain as much master of it as
ever.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> No, Sir, that won't do neither; you must
be master yourself, and from this minute begin to do the
honours of it in your own person.</p>

<p><em>Er.</em> Sir, I readily consent.</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Barn.</em> Upon that condition, and in order to get
rid of my house, here, take my daughter&mdash;&mdash;And now,
Sir, if you think you've a hard bargain, I don't care if I
toss you in my wife to make you amends.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em>Well then, since all things thus are fairly sped,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>My <span class="antiqua">Son</span> in anger, and my <span class="antiqua">Daughter</span> wed;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>My <span class="antiqua">House</span> dispos'd of, the sole cause of strife,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>I now may hope to lead a happy life,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If I can part with my <span class="antiqua">Engaging Wife</span>.</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-177.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="A" id="A">A</a><br />

<span class="smcap">Journey</span> to <span class="smcap">London</span>.<br />

Being Part of a<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<p class="directcenter">Written by</p>

<p class="directcenter">Sir <span class="smcap">John Vanbrugh</span>.
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-177.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae4" id="Dramatis_Personae4">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<h4>MEN.</h4>


<div class="center">
<ul><li>Sir <em>Francis Headpiece</em>, a country gentleman.</li>

<li>Lord <em>Loverule</em>.</li>

<li>Sir <em>Charles</em>.</li>

<li>Uncle <em>Richard</em>, uncle to Sir <em>Francis</em>.</li>

<li>Squire <em>Humphry</em>, son to Sir <em>Francis</em>.</li>

<li>Colonel <em>Courtly</em>.</li>

<li><em>John Moody</em>, servant to Sir <em>Francis</em>.</li>

<li><em>James</em>, servant to uncle <em>Richard</em>.</li>
</ul>
</div>


<h4>WOMEN.</h4>


<div class="center">
<ul><li>Lady <em>Headpiece</em>.</li>

<li>Miss <em>Betty</em>, her daughter.</li>

<li>Lady <em>Arabella</em>, wife to Lord <em>Loverule</em>.</li>

<li><em>Clarinda</em>, a young unmarried lady.</li>

<li>Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, one that lets lodgings.</li>

<li><em>Martilla</em>, her niece.</li>
</ul>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>

<p class="ph2">A<br />
<span class="smcap">Journey</span> <em>to</em> <span class="smcap">London</span>.
</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I4" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> <em>Uncle</em> Richard's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Uncle <span class="antiqua">Richard</span> solus.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">What</span> prudent cares does this deep foreseeing
nation take, for the support of its worshipful
families! In order to which, and that they may not fail
to be always significant and useful in their country, it
is a settled foundation-point that every child that is
born shall be a beggar&mdash;&mdash;except one; and that
he&mdash;&mdash;shall be a fool&mdash;&mdash;My grandfather was bred
a fool, as the country report: my father was a fool,&mdash;&mdash;as
my mother used to say; my brother was a
fool, to my own knowledge, though a great justice
of the peace; and he has left a son, that will make
his son a fool, or I am mistaken. The lad is now
fourteen years old, and but just out of his Psalter.
As to his honour'd father, my much esteem'd nephew,
here I have him. [<em>Shewing a letter.</em>] In this pro<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>profound
epistle (which I have just now received)
there is the top and bottom of him. Forty years and
two is the age of him; in which it is computed by
his butler, his own person has drank two and thirty
ton of ale. The rest of his time has been employed
in persecuting all the poor four-legg'd creatures round,
that wou'd but run away fast enough from him, to
give him the high-mettled pleasure of running after
them. In this noble employ he has broke his right arm,
his left leg, and both his collar-bones&mdash;&mdash;Once he
broke his neck, but that did him no harm: A nimble
hedge leaper, a brother of the stirrup that was by,
whipt off his horse and mended it. His estate being
left him with two jointures, and three weighty mortgages
upon it, he to make all easy, and pay his brother's
and sister's portions, married a profuse young
housewife for love, with never a penny of money.
Having done all this, like his brave ancestors, for
the support of the family, he now finds children and
interest money make such a bawling about his ears,
that he has taken the friendly advice of his neighbour,
the good Lord <em>Courtlove</em>, to run his estate two thousand
pounds more in debt, that he may retrieve his affairs
by being a parliament-man, and bringing his wife to
<em>London</em>, to play off an hundred pounds at dice with ladies
of quality, before breakfast.</p>

<p>But let me read this wiseacre's letter once over again.</p>

<p>
Most Honoured Uncle,<br />
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p>

<p class="drop-capw"><em><span class="smcap">I</span> do not doubt but you have much rejoiced at my success,
in my election; it has cost me some money, I own: but
what of all that! I am a parliament-man, and that will
set all to rights. I have lived in the country all my days,
'tis true; but what then! I have made speeches at the
sessions, and in the vestry too, and can elsewhere perhaps,
as well as some others that do; and I have a noble friend
hard by, who has let me into some small knowledge of what's
what at <span class="antiqua">Westminster</span>. And so that I may always be at
hand to serve my country, I have consulted with my wife,
about taking a house at <span class="antiqua">London</span>, and bringing her and my
family up to town; which, her opinion is, will be the rightest
thing in the world.</em></p>

<p>My wife's opinion about bringing her to <em>London</em>! I'll
read no more of thee&mdash;&mdash;Beast.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Strikes the letter down with his stick.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">James</span> hastily.</em>
</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Sir, Sir, do you hear the news? they are all
a-coming.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Ay, sirrah, I hear it with a pox to it.</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Sir, here's <em>John Moody</em> arriv'd already; he's
stumping about the streets in his dirty boots, and asking
every man he meets, if they can tell where he may
have a good lodging for a parliament-man, 'till he can
hire such a house as becomes him; he tells them his lady
and all the family are coming too, and that they are
so nobly attended, they care not a fig for any body.
Sir, they have added two cart-horses to the four old
geldings, because my lady will have it said, she came to
town in her coach and six, and (ha, ha,) heavy <em>George</em>
the plowman rides postillion.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Very well; the journey begins as it shou'd
do&mdash;&mdash;<em>James</em>.</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Sir.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Dost know whether they bring all the
children with them?</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Only 'Squire <em>Humphry</em>, and Miss <em>Betty</em>, Sir;
the other six are put to board at half a crown a week a
head, with <em>Joan Growse</em>, at <em>Smoke-Dunghill</em> farm.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> The Lord have mercy upon all good
folks! what work will these people make! dost know
when they'll be here?</p>

<p><em>James.</em> <em>John</em> says, Sir, they'd have been here last
night, but that the old wheezy-belly horse tir'd, and
the two fore-wheels came crash down at once in <em>Waggonrut</em>-lane.
Sir, they were cruelly loaden, as I understand;
my lady herself, he says, laid on four mail
trunks, besides the great deal-box, which fat <em>Tom</em> sat
upon behind.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Soh!</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Then within the coach there was Sir <em>Francis</em>,
my Lady, and the great fat lap-dog, 'Squire <em>Humphry</em>,
Miss <em>Betty</em>, my Lady's maid Mrs. Handy, and <em>Doll Tripe</em>
the cook; but she puked with sitting backward, so they
mounted her into the coach-box.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Very well.</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Then, Sir, for fear of a famine, before they
should get to the baiting-place, there was such baskets
of plumb-cake, Dutch-gingerbread, Cheshire-cheese,
Naples-biscuits, Macaroons, Neats-tongues, and cold
boil'd beef&mdash;&mdash;and in case of sickness, such bottles of
usquebaugh, black cherry-brandy, cinamon-water, sack,
tent, and strong beer, as made the old coach crack
again.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Well said!</p>

<p><em>James.</em> And for defence of this good cheer, and my
Lady's little pearl necklace, there was the family basket-hilt
sword, the great Turkish cimiter, the old blunderbuss,
a good bag of bullets, and a great horn of
gunpowder.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Admirable!</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Then for band-boxes, they were so bepiled
up to Sir <em>Francis</em>'s nose, that he could only peep out at
a chance hole with one eye, as if he were viewing the
country thro' a perspective glass. But, Sir, if you
please, I'll go look after <em>John Moody</em> a little for fear of
accidents: For he never was in <em>London</em> before, you
know, but one week, and then he was kidnapp'd into
a house of ill repute, where he exchang'd all his money
and clothes for a&mdash;&mdash;um. So I'll go look after him,
Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Nay, I don't doubt but this wise expedition
will be attended with more adventures than one.&mdash;&mdash;This
noble head, and supporter of his family,
will, as an honest country gentleman, get credit
enough amongst the tradesmen, to run so far in debt in
one session, as will make him just fit for a gaol, when
he's drop'd at the next election. He will make his
speeches in the house to shew the government of what im<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>portance
he can be to them, by which they will see, he
can be of no importance at all; and he will find in time,
that he stands valued at (if he votes right) being sometimes&mdash;&mdash;invited
to dinner. Then his wife (who
has ten times more of a jade about her than he yet
knows of) will so improve in this rich soil, she will, in
one month, learn every vice the finest lady in the town
can teach her. She will be extremely courteous to the
fops who make love to her in jest, and she will be extremely
grateful to those who do it in earnest. She will
visit all ladies that will let her into their houses, and
she will run in debt to all the shopkeepers that will let
her into their books. In short, before her husband has
got five pound by a speech at <em>Westminster</em>, she will have
lost five hundred at cards and dice in the parish of <em>St.
James</em>'s. Wife and family to <em>London</em> with a pox!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going off.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">James</span> and <span class="antiqua">John Moody</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Dear <em>John Moody</em>, I'm so glad to see you in
London once more.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> And I you, my dear <em>James</em>: Give me a
kiss&mdash;&mdash;Why that's friendly.</p>

<p><em>James.</em> I wish they had been so, <em>John</em>, that you met
with when you were here before.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Ah&mdash;&mdash;Murrain upon all rogues
and whores, I say: But I am grown so cunning now,
the de'el himself can't handle me. I have made a notable
bargain for these lodgings here, we are to pay
but five pounds a week, and have all the house to ourselves.</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Where are the people that belong to it to be
then?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> O! there's only the gentlewoman, her
two maids, and a cousin, a very pretty civil young woman
truly, and the maids are the merriest griggs&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Have a care, <em>John</em>.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> O, fear nothing, we did so play together
last night.</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Hush, here comes my master.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Uncle <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> What! <em>John</em> has taken these lodgings,
has he?</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Yes, Sir, he has taken 'em.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Oh John! how dost do, honest John? I
am glad to see thee with all my heart.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> I humbly thank your worship. I'm staut
still, and a faithful awd servant to th' family. Heaven
prosper aw that belong to't.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> What, they are all upon the road?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> As mony as the awd coach wou'd hauld,
Sir: the Lord send 'em well to tawn.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And well out on't again, John, ha!</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Ah, Sir! you are a wise man, so am I:
home's home, I say. I wish we get any good here.
I's sure we got little upo' the road. Some mischief
or other aw the day long. Slap goes one thing, crack
goes another; my Lady cries out for driving fast: The
awd cattle are for going slow; <em>Roger</em> whips, they stand
still and kick; nothing but a sort of a contradiction aw
the journey long. My Lady wou'd gladly have been
here last night, Sir, tho' there was no lodging got; but
her Ladyship said, she did naw care for that, she'd
lie in the inn where the horses stood, as long as it was
in London.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> These ladies, these ladies, <em>John</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Ah, Sir, I have seen a little of 'em, tho'
not so much as my betters. Your worship is naw married
yet?</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> No, <em>John</em> no; I am an old batchelor still.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Heav'ns bless you and preserve you, Sir.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> I think you have lost your good woman,
John!</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> No, sir, that I have not; <em>Bridget</em> sticks
to me still, Sir, she was for coming to <em>London</em> too, but,
no, says I, there may be mischief enough done without
you.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Why that was bravely spoken, <em>John</em>, and
like a man.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Sir, were my measter but haf the mon
that I am, Gadswookers&mdash;&mdash;tho' he'll speak stautly too
sometimes, but then he canno hawd it; no, he canno
hawd it.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Maid.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Maid.</em> Mr. <em>Moody</em>, Mr. <em>Moody</em>, here's the coach come.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Already? no, sure.</p>

<p><em>Maid.</em> Yes, yes, it's at the door, they are getting out;
my mistress is run to receive them.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> And so will I as in duty bound.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">John</span> and maid.</em></p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And I will stay here, not being in duty
bound to do the honours of this house.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>, Lady, 'Squire <span class="antiqua">Humphry</span>, Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Betty</span>,
Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Handy</span>, <span class="antiqua">Doll Tripe</span>, <span class="antiqua">John Moody</span>, and
Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Do you hear, <em>Moody</em>, let all the things
be first laid down here, and then carried where they'll be
used.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> They shall, an't please your ladyship.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> What, my uncle <em>Richard</em> here to receive
us! this is kind indeed: Sir, I am extremely glad to see
you.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Niece, your servant. [<em>Salutes her.</em>] I am
extremely sorry to see you, in the worst place I know in
the world for a good woman to grow better in. Nephew,
I am your servant too; but I don't know how to bid you
welcome.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I am sorry for that, Sir.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Nay, 'tis for your own sake: I'm not
concern'd.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I hope, uncle, I shall give you such weighty
reasons for what I've done, as shall convince you I'm a
prudent man.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> That wilt thou never convince me of,
whilst thou shalt live.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Here, <em>Humphry</em>, come up to your uncle&mdash;&mdash;Sir,
this is your godson.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Honour'd uncle and godfather; I creave
leave to ask your blessing.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kneels.</em></p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Thou art a numbscull I see already.</p>

<p class="directright">[Aside.</p>

<p>There thou hast it. [<em>Puts his hand on his head.</em>] And if it
will do thee any good, may it be, to make thee, at least,
as wise a man as thy father.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Miss Betty, don't you see your uncle?</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And for thee, my dear, may'st thou be,
at least, as good a woman as thy mother.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> I wish I may ever be so handsome, Sir.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Ha! Miss Pert! now that's a thought
that seems to have been hatch'd in the girl on this side
<em>Highgate</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Her tongue is a little nimble, Sir.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> That's only from her country education,
Sir Francis, she has been kept there too long; I therefore
brought her to <em>London</em>, Sir, to learn more reserve and
modesty.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> O! the best place in the world for it. Every
woman she meets, will teach her something of it. There's
the good gentlewoman of the house, looks like a knowing
person, ev'n she perhaps will be so good to read her a
lesson, now and then, upon that subject. An arrant bawd,
or I have no skill in physiognomy.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Alas, Sir, Miss won't stand long in need
of my poor instructions; if she does, they'll be always at
her service.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Very obliging, indeed, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Very kind and civil truly; I believe we are
got into a mighty good house here.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> For good business, very probable.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Well, niece, your servant for to-night; you have a great
deal of affairs upon your hands here, so I won't hinder
you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> I believe, Sir, I shan't have much less
every day, while I stay in this town, of one sort or other.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Why, 'tis a town of much action indeed.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> And my mother did not come to it to be
idle, Sir.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Nor you neither, I dare say, young mistress.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> I hope not, Sir.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Um! Miss Mettle.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going, Sir Francis following him.</em></p>

<p>Where are you going, nephew?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Only to attend you to the door, Sir.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Phu! no ceremony with me; you'll find
I shall use none with you, or your family.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I must do as you command me, Sir.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Petty.</em> This uncle <em>Richard</em>, papa, seems but a
crusty sort of an old fellow.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> He is a little odd, child, but you must be
very civil to him, for he has a great deal of money, and
nobody knows who he may give it to.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Phu, a fig for his money; you have so
many projects of late about money, since you are a parliament
man, we must make ourselves slaves to his testy
humours, seven years, perhaps, in hopes to be his heirs;
and then, he'll be just old enough to marry his maid.
But pray let us take care of our things here: Are they
all brought in yet?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Han.</em> Almost, my lady, there are only some of
the band-boxes behind, and a few odd things.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Let 'em be fetcht in presently.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Han.</em> They are here; come bring the things in:
Is there all yet?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> All but the great basket of apples and the goose-pye.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Cookmaid</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> Ah my Lady! we're aw undone, the goose-pye's
gwon.</p>

<p><em>All.</em> Gone?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> The goose-pye gone? how?</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> Why, Sir, I had got it fast under my arm to
bring it in, but being almost dark, up comes two of
these thin starv'd <em>London</em> rogues, one gives me a great
kick o' the&mdash;&mdash;here; [<em>Laying her hand upon her backside.</em>]
while t'other hungry varlet twitch'd the dear pye out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
my hands, and away they run dawn street like two grayhounds.
I cry'd out fire! but heavy <em>George</em> and fat
<em>Tom</em> are after 'em with a vengeance; they'll sauce their
jackets for 'em, I'll warrant 'em.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">George</span> with a bloody face, and <span class="antiqua">Tom</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>So, have you catch'd 'em?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> Catch'd 'em! the gallows catch 'em for me. I
had naw run half the length of our beam, before somewhat
fetch me such a wherry across the shins, that dawn
came I flop o' my face all along in the channel, and
thought I shou'd ne'er ha gotten up again; but <em>Tom</em>
has skawar'd after them, and cried murder as he'd been
stuck.</p>

<p><em>Tom.</em> Yes, and straight upo' that, swap comes somewhat
across my forehead, with such a force, that dawn
came I like an ox.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> So, the poor pye's quite gone then.</p>

<p><em>Tom.</em> Gone, young measter, yeaten, I believe by this
time. These, I suppose, are what they call sharpers in
this country.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> It was a rare good pye.</p>

<p><em>Cook.</em> As e'er these hands put pepper to.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Pray, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, do they make a
practice of these things often here?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Madam, they'll twitch a rump of beef
out of a boiling copper: and for a silver tankard, they
make no more conscience of than if it were a <em>Tunbridge</em>
sugar box.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I wish the coach and horses, <em>George</em>, were
safe got to the inn. Do you and <em>Roger</em> take special care
that nobody runs away with them, as you go thither.</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> I believe, Sir, our cattle won't yeasily be run
away with to-night; but wee'st take best care we con of
them, poor sauls!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Do so, pray now.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Feather, I had rather they had run
away with heavy <em>George</em> than the goose-pye; a slice of
it before supper to-night would have been pure.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> This boy is always thinking of his belly.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> But, my dear, you may allow him to be a
little hungry after a journey.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Pray, good Sir <em>Francis</em>, he has been constantly
eating in the coach, and out of the coach, above
seven hours this day. I wish my poor girl could eat a
quarter as much.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Mama, I could eat a good deal more than
I do, but then I should grow fat mayhap, like him, and
spoil my shape.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Mrs. <em>Motherly</em> will you be so kind to tell
them where they shall carry the things.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Madam I'll do the best I can: I doubt
our closets will scarce hold 'em all, but we have garrets
and cellars, which, with the help of hiring a store-room,
I hope may do. Sir, will you be so good to help my
maids a little in carrying away the things.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Tom</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Tom.</em> With all my heart, forsooth, if I con but see my
way; but these whoresons have awmost knockt my eyen
awt.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>They carry off the things.</em></p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Will your ladyship please to refresh yourself
with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have
pretty good.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> If you please, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Would not a good tankard of strong
beer, nutmeg and sugar, do better, feather, with a toast
and some cheese?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I think it would, son: Here, <em>John Moody</em>,
get us a tankard of good heavy stuff presently.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Sir, here's <em>Norfolk Nog</em> to be had next
door.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> That's best of all, feather; but make
haste with it, <em>John</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Moody</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Well, I wonder, Sir <em>Francis</em>, you will encourage
that lad to swill his guts thus with such beastly
lubberly liquor; if it were <em>Burgundy</em> or <em>Champain</em>, something
might be said for't; they'd perhaps give him
some wit and spirit; but such heavy, muddy stuff as
this, will make him quite stupid.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why you know, my dear, I have drank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
good ale, and strong beer these thirty years, and by your
permission I don't know, that I want wit.</p>

<p><em>Miss Betty.</em> But I think you might have more papa, if
you'd have been govern'd by my mother.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">John Moody</span> with a tankard.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Daughter, he that is govern'd by his wife,
has no wit at all.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Then I hope I shall marry a fool, father,
for I shall love to govern dearly.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Here, <em>Humphry</em>, here's to thee.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drinks.</em></p>

<p>You are too pert, child it don't do well in a young
woman.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Pray, Sir <em>Francis</em>, don't snub her; she
has a fine growing spirit, and if you check her so, you'll
make her as dull as her brother there.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Indeed Mother, I think my sister is
too forward.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>After drinking a long draught.</em></p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> You? you think I'm too forward? what
have you to do to think, brother Heavy? you are too fat
to think of any thing but your belly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Well said, Miss; he's none of your
master, tho' he's your elder brother.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">George</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> Sir, I have no good opinion of this tawn, it's
made up of mischief, I think.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, what's the matter now?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> I'se tell your worship; before we were gotten to
the street-end, a great lugger-headed cart, with wheels
as thick as a good brick wall, layd hawld of the coach,
and has pood it aw to bits: an this be <em>London</em>, wo'd we
were all weel i' th' country again.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> What have you to do, Sir, to wish us all
in the country again, lubber? I hope we shan't go into
the country again these seven years, Mama, let twenty
coaches be pull'd to pieces.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Hold your tongue, <em>Betty</em>. Was <em>Roger</em> in no
fault of this?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> No, Sir, nor I neither. Are you not asham'd,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
says <em>Roger</em> to the carter, to do such an unkind thing to
strangers? No, says he, you bumkin. Sir, he did the
thing on very purpose, and so the folks said that stood
by; but they said your worship need na be concerned,
for you might have a law-suit with him when you pleas'd,
that wou'd not cost you above a hundred pounds, and
mayhap you might get the better of him.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I'll try what I can do with him, I'gad, I'll
make such&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Feather, have him before the parliament.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> And so I will: I'll make him know who I
am. Where does he live?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> I believe in <em>London</em>, Sir.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> What's the villain's name?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> I think I heard somebody call him <em>Dick</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Where did he go?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> Sir, he went home.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Where's that?</p>

<p><em>Geo.</em> By my troth I do naw knaw. I heard him say
he had nothing more to do with us to-night, and so he'd
go home and smoke a pipe.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Come, Sir <em>Francis</em>, don't put yourself in
a heat; accidents will happen to people in travelling
abroad to see the world. Eat your supper heartily, go
to bed, sleep quietly, and to-morrow see if you can buy
a handsome second-hand coach for the present use, bespeak
a new one, and then all's easy.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Colonel <span class="antiqua">Courtly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Who's that, <em>Deborah</em>?</p>

<p><em>Deb.</em> At your service, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> What, do you keep open house here? I found the
street door as wide as it could gape.</p>

<p><em>Deb.</em> Sir, we are all in a bustle, we have lodgers come
to-night, the house full.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Where's your mistress?</p>

<p><em>Deb.</em> Prodigious busy with her company, but I'll tell
Mrs. <em>Martilla</em> you are here, I believe she'll come to you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Col.</em> That will do as well. Poor <em>Martilla</em>! she's a
very good girl, and I have lov'd her a great while. I
think six months it is, since like a merciless highwayman,
I made her deliver all she had about her; she
begg'd hard, poor thing, I'd leave her one small bauble.
Had I let her keep it, I believe she had still kept me.
Cou'd women but refuse their ravenous lovers that one
dear destructive moment, how long might they reign
over them! But for a bane to both their joys and ours,
when they have indulg'd us with such favours as make
us adore them, they are not able to refuse us that one,
which puts an end to our devotion.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Martilla</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> <em>Martilla</em>, how dost thou do, my child?</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> As well as a losing gamester can.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why, what have you lost?</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> I have lost you.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> How came you to lose me?</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> By losing myself.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> We can be friends still.</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> Dull ones.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Useful ones, perhaps. Shall I help thee to a good
husband?</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> Not if I were rich enough to live without one.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> I'm sorry I'm not rich enough to make thee so;
but we won't talk of melancholy things. Who are these
folks your aunt has got in her house?</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> One Sir <em>Francis Headpiece</em> and his Lady, with
a son and daughter.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> <em>Headpiece</em>! Cotso, I know 'em a little. I met
with 'em at a race in the country two years since; a sort
of blockhead, is not he?</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> So they say.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> His wife seem'd a mettlesome gentlewoman, if
she had but a fair field to range in.</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> That she won't want now, for they stay in
town the whole winter.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Oh that will do to shew all her parts in.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>How do you do, my old acquaintance?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> At your service, you know, always colonel.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> I hear you have got good company in the house.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> I hope it will prove so; he's a parliament
man only, colonel, you know there's some danger in
that.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> O, never fear, he'll pay his landlady, tho' he
don't pay his butcher.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> His wife's a clever woman.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> So she is.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> How do you know?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> I have seen her in the country, and begin to think
I'll visit her in town.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> You begin to look like a rogue.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> What, your wicked fancies are stirring already?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Yours are, or I'm mistaken. But I'll
have none of your pranks play'd upon her.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why, she's no girl, she can defend herself.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> But what if she won't?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Why then she can blame neither you nor me.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> You'll never be quiet till you get my
windows broke; but I must go and attend my lodgers, so
good night.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Do so, and give my service to my lady, and tell
her, if she'll give me leave, I'll do myself the honour
to-morrow to come and tender my services to her, as long
as she stays in town. If it ben't too long.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> I'll tell her what a devil you are, and advise
her to take care of you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Do, that will make her every time she sees me
think what I'd be at. Dear <em>Martilla</em>, good night; I
know you won't be my hindrance; I'll do you as good a
turn some time or other. Well, I'm so glad, you don't
love me too much.</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> When that's our fate, as too, too oft we prove,
How bitterly we pay the past delights of love.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_II_SCENE_I4" id="ACT_II_SCENE_I4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Lord</em> Loverule's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Loverule</span>, and Lady <span class="antiqua">Arabella</span>. He
following her.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, look you, my Lord, I can bear
it no longer; nothing still but about
my faults, my faults! an agreeable subject truly!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> But, Madam, if you won't hear of your
faults, how is it likely you shou'd ever mend 'em?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why I don't intend to mend 'em. I can't
mend 'em, I have told you so an hundred times; you
know I have try'd to do it, over and over, and it hurts
me so, I can't bear it. Why, don't you know, my Lord,
that whenever (just to please you only) I have gone about
to wean myself from a fault (one of my faults I mean that
I love dearly) han't it put me so out of humour, you
cou'd scarce endure the house with me?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Look you, my dear, it is very true, that
in weaning one's self from&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Weaning! why ay, don't you see, that even
in weaning poor children from the nurse, it's almost the
death of 'em? and don't you see your true religious people
when they go about to wean themselves, and have solemn
days of fasting and praying, on purpose to help
them, does it not so disorder them, there's no coming
near 'em? are they not as cross as the devil? and then
they don't do the business neither; for next day their
faults are just where they were the day before.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> But, Madam, can you think it a reasonable
thing to be abroad till two o'clock in the morning, when
you know I go to bed at eleven?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> And can you think it a wise thing (to talk
your own way now) to go to bed at eleven, when you
know I am likely to disturb you by coming there at
three?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Well, the manner of womens living of
late is insupportable, and some way or other&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> It's to be mended, I suppose&mdash;Pray, my
Lord, one word of fair argument: You complain of my
late hours; I of your early ones; so far we are even,
you'll allow; but which gives us the best figure in the
eye of the polite world? my two o'clock speaks life,
activity, spirit, and vigour; your eleven has a dull,
drowsy, stupid, good-for-nothing sound with it. It favours
much of a mechanic, who must get to bed betimes,
that he may rise early to open his shop. Faugh!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> I thought to go to bed early and rise so,
was ever esteem'd a right practice for all people.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Beasts do it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Fy, fy, Madam, fy; but 'tis not your ill
hours alone disturb me; but the ill company who occasion
those ill hours.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> And pray what ill company may those be?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Why, women that lose their money, and
men that win it: especially when 'tis to be paid out of
their husband's estate; or if that fail, and the creditor
be a little pressing, the lady will, perhaps, be oblig'd to
try if the gentleman instead of gold will accept of a
trinket.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> My Lord, you grow scurrilous, and you'll
make me hate you. I'll have you to know, I keep company
with the politest people in the town, and the assemblies
I frequent are full of such.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> So are the churches now and then.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> My friends frequent them often, as well as
the assemblies.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> They wou'd do it oftener if a groom of the
chamber there were allow'd to furnish cards and dice to
the company.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> You'd make a woman mad.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> You'd make a man a fool.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> If Heav'n has made you otherwise, that
won't be in my power.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> I'll try if I can prevent your making me a
beggar at least.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> A beggar! Crœsus! I'm out of patience&mdash;I
won't come home 'till four to-morrow morning.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> I'll order the doors to be lock'd at twelve.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Then I won't come home till to-morrow
night.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Then you shall never come home again,
Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> There he has knock'd me down: my father
upon our marriage said, wives were come to that
pass, he did not think it fit they shou'd be trusted with
pin money, and so would not let this man settle one
penny upon his poor wife, to serve her at a dead lift for
separate maintenance.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Clarinda</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Good-morrow, Madam; how do you do to-day?
you seem to be in a little fluster.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> My Lord has been in one, and as I am the
most complaisant poor creature in the world, I put myself
into one too, purely to be suitable company to him.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You are prodigious good; but surely it must be
mighty agreeable when a man and his wife can give
themselves the same turn of conversation.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> O, the prettiest thing in the world.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But yet, tho' I believe there's no life so happy
as a marry'd one, in the main; yet I fancy, where two
people are so very much together, they must often be in
want of something to talk upon.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> <em>Clarinda</em>, you are the most mistaken in the
world; married people have things to talk of, child, that
never enter into the imagination of others. Why now,
here's my Lord and I, we han't been married above two
short years you know, and we have already eight or ten
things constantly in bank, that whenever we want company
we can talk of any of them for two hours together,
and the subject never the flatter. It will be as fresh next
day, if we have occasion for it, as it was the first day it
entertained us.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why that must be wonderful pretty.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> O there's no life like it. This very day
now for example, my Lord and I, after a pretty cheerful
<em>tête à tête</em> dinner, sat down by the fire-side, in an idle,
indolent, pick-tooth way for a while, as if we had not
thought of one another's being in the room. At last,
stretching himself, and yawning twice, my dear, says he,
you came home very late last night. 'Twas but two
in the morning, says I. I was in bed (<em>yawning</em>) by eleven,
says he. So you are every night, says I. Well, says he,
I'm amazed how you can sit up so late. How can you
be amazed, says I, at a thing that happens so often?
Upon which we enter'd into conversation. And tho'
this is a point has entertain'd us above fifty times already,
we always find so many pretty new things to say upon't,
that I believe in my soul it will last as long as we live.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> But in such sort of family dialogues, tho' extremely
well for passing of time, don't there now and
then enter some little sort of bitterness?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> O yes; which don't do amiss at all; a little
something that's sharp, moderates the extreme sweetness
of matrimonial society, which would else perhaps be
cloying. Tho' to tell you the truth, <em>Clarinda</em>, I think
we squeezed a little too much lemon into it this bout;
for it grew so sour at last, that I think I almost told him
he was a fool; and he talkt something oddly of turning
me out of doors.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O, but have a care of that.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why, to be serious, <em>Clarinda</em>, what wou'd
you have a woman do in my case? There is no one
thing he can do in the world to please me&mdash;&mdash;Except
giving me money; and that he is grown weary of; and
I at the same time, partly by nature, and partly perhaps
by keeping the best company, do with my soul love
almost every thing that he hates; I dote upon assemblies,
adore masquerades, my heart bounds at a ball; I
love a play to distraction, cards inchant me, and dice&mdash;put
me out of my little wits&mdash;Dear, dear hazard,
what music there is in the rattle of the dice, com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>pared
to a sleepy opera! Do you ever play at hazard,
<em>Clarinda</em>?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Never; I don't think it fits well upon women;
it's very masculine, and has too much of a rake; you see
how it makes the men swear and curse. Sure it must
incline the women to do the same too if they durst give
way to it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> So it does; but hitherto for a little decency,
we keep it in; and when in spite of our teeth, an
oath gets into our mouths, we swallow it.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That's enough to burst you; but in time perhaps
you'll let 'em fly as they do.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why, 'tis probable we may, for the pleasure
of all polite womens lives now, you know, is
founded upon entire liberty to do what they will. But
shall I tell you what happened t'other night? having
lost all my money but ten melancholy guineas, and
throwing out for them, what do you think slipt from me?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> An oath?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Gud soons!</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> O Lord! O Lord! did not it frighten you out
of your wits?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> <em>Clarinda</em>, I thought a gun had gone off.&mdash;But
I forget you are a prude, and design to live soberly.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why 'tis true; both my nature and education,
do in a good degree incline me that way.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Well, surely to be sober is to be terribly
dull. You will marry; won't you?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I can't tell but I may.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> And you'll live in town?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Half the year, I should like it very well.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> And you wou'd live in <em>London</em> half a year,
to be sober in it?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Yes.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why can't you as well go and be sober in
the country?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> So I wou'd the other half year.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> And pray what pretty scheme of life wou'd
you form now, for your summer and winter sober entertainments?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> A scheme that I think might very well content
us.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Let's hear it.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I cou'd in summer pass my time very agreeably,
in riding soberly, in walking soberly, in sitting under a
tree soberly, in gardening soberly, in reading soberly,
in hearing a little music soberly, in conversing with some
agreeable friends soberly, in working soberly, in managing
my family and children (if I had any) soberly, and
possibly by these means I might induce my husband to be
as sober as myself.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Well, <em>Clarinda</em>, thou art a most contemptible
creature. But let's have the sober town scheme
too, for I am charm'd with the country one.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> You shall, and I'll try to stick to my sobriety
there too.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> If you do, you'll make me sick of you. But
let's hear it however.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> I wou'd entertain myself in observing the new
fashion soberly, I wou'd please myself in new clothes
soberly, I wou'd divert myself with agreeable friends at
home and abroad soberly. I wou'd play at quadrille
soberly, I wou'd go to court soberly, I wou'd go to some
plays soberly, I wou'd go to operas soberly, and I think
I cou'd go once, or, if I lik'd my company, twice to a
masquerade, soberly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> If it had not been for that last piece of sobriety,
I was going to call for some surfeit-water.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Why, don't you think, that with the further aid
of breakfasting, dining, supping and sleeping (not to
say a word of devotion) the four and twenty hours might
roll over in a tolerable manner?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> How I detest that word, Tolerable! And
so will a country relation of ours that's newly come to
town, or I'm mistaken.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Who is that?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Even my dear Lady <em>Headpiece</em>.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Is she come?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Yes, her sort of a tolerable husband has
gotten to be chosen parliament-man at some simple town<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
or other, upon which she has persuaded him to bring
her and her folks up to <em>London</em>.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> That's good; I think she was never here before.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Not since she was nine years old; but she
has had an outrageous mind to it ever since she was
marry'd.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Then she'll make the most of it, I suppose, now
she is come.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Depend upon that.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> We must go and visit her.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> By all means; and may be you'll have a
mind to offer her your tolerable scheme for her <em>London</em>
diversion this winter; if you do, mistress, I'll shew her
mine too, and you'll see she'll so despise you and adore
me, that if I do but chirrup to her, she'll hop after me
like a tame sparrow, the town round. But there's your
admirer I see coming in, I'll oblige him and leave you
to receive part of his visit, while I step up to write a
letter. Besides, to tell you the truth, I don't like him
half so well as I used to do; he falls off of late from
being the company he was, in our way. In short, I think
he's growing to be a little like my lord.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Charles</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Madam, your servant; they told me Lady
<em>Arabella</em> was here.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> She's only stept up to write a letter, she'll come
down presently.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Why, does she write letters? I thought
she had never time for't: pray how may she have dispos'd
of the rest of the day?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> A good deal as usual; she has visits to make
'till six; she's then engag'd to the play, from that 'till
court-time, she's to be at cards at Mrs. <em>Idle</em>'s; after the
drawing-room, she takes a short supper with Lady
<em>Hazard</em>, and from thence they go together to the assembly.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. And are you to do all this with her?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> The visits and the play, no more.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. And how can you forbear all the rest?</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> 'Tis easy to forbear, what we are not very fond
of.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. I han't found it so. I have past much of
my life in this hurry of the ladies, yet was never so
pleas'd as when I was at quiet without 'em.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> What then induc'd you to be with 'em?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Idleness and the fashion.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> No mistresses in the case?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. To speak honestly, yes. When one is in
a toyshop, there was no forbearing the baubles; so I
was perpetually engaging with some coquet or other,
whom I cou'd love perhaps just enough to put it into her
power to plague me.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> Which power I suppose she sometimes made use
of.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. The amours of a coquet, Madam, general'y
mean nothing farther; I look upon them and
prudes to be nuisances much alike, tho' they seem very
different; the first are always disturbing the men, and
the latter always abusing the women.</p>

<p><em>Clar.</em> And all I think is to establish the character of
being virtuous.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. That is, being chaste they mean, for they
know no other virtue; therefore indulge themselves in
every thing else that's vicious; they (against nature)
keep their chastity, only because they find more pleasure
in doing mischief with it, than they shou'd have in parting
with it. But, Madam, if both these characters are
so odious, how highly to be valued is that woman, who
can attain all they aim at, without the aid of the folly
or vice of either!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Arabella</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Your servant, Sir. I won't ask your pardon
for leaving you alone a little with a lady that I know
shares so much of your good opinion.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. I wish, Madam, she cou'd think my good
opinion of value enough, to afford me a small part in
hers.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> I believe, Sir, every woman who knows
she has a place in a fine gentleman's good opinion, will
be glad to give him one in hers, if she can. But however<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>
you two may stand in one another's, you must take
another time, if you desire to talk farther about it, or we
shan't have enough to make our visits in; and so your
servant, Sir. Come, <em>Clarinda</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. I'll stay and make my Lord a visit, if you
will give me leave.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> You have my leave, Sir, tho' you were a
Lady.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit with <span class="antiqua">Clar</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Loverule</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Sir <em>Charles</em>, your servant; what, have the
ladies left you?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Yes, and the ladies in general I hope
will leave me too.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Why so?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. That I mayn't be put to the ill manners
of leaving them first.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Do you then already find your gallantry
inclining to an ebb?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. 'Tis not that I am yet old enough to justify
myself in an idle retreat, but I have got I think a
sort of surfeit on me, that lessens much the force of female
charms.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Have you then been so glutted with their
favours?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Not with their favours, but with their
service; it is unmerciful. I once thought myself a tolerable
time-killer; I drank, I play'd, I intrigu'd, and
yet I had hours enough for reasonable uses; but he that
will list himself a lady's man of mettle now, she'll work
him so at cards and dice, she won't afford him time
enough to play with her at any thing else, though she herself
should have a tolerable good mind to it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> And so the disorderly lives they lead,
incline you to a reform of your own.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. 'Tis true; for bad examples (if they are
but bad enough) give us as useful reflections as good
ones do.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> 'Tis pity any thing that's bad, shou'd
come from women.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. 'Tis so, indeed, and there was a happy
time, when both you and I thought there never could.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Our early first conceptions of them, I
well remember, were that they never could be vicious, nor
never could be old.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. We thought so then; the beauteous form
we saw them cast in, seem'd design'd a habitation for
no vice, nor no decay; all I had conceiv'd of angels, I
conceiv'd of them; true, tender, gentle, modest, generous,
constant, I thought was writ in every feature; and
in my devotions, Heaven, how did I adore thee, that
blessings like them should be the portion of such poor inferior
creatures as I took myself and all men else (compared
with them) to be!&mdash;but where's that adoration now?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> 'Tis with such fond young fools as you
and I were then.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. And with such it will ever be.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Ever. The pleasure is so great, in believing
women to be what we wish them, that nothing
but a long and sharp experience can ever make us think
them otherwise. That experience, friend, both you and
I have had, but yours has been at other mens expence;
mine&mdash;&mdash;at my own.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Perhaps you'd wonder, shou'd you find me
dispos'd to run the risque of that experience too.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> I shou'd, indeed.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. And yet 'tis possible I may; I know at
least, I still have so much of my early folly left, to think,
there's yet one woman fit to make a wife of: How far
such a one can answer the charms of a mistress, marry'd
men are silent in, so pass&mdash;&mdash;for that I'd take my chance;
but cou'd she make a home easy to her partner, by letting
him find there a chearful companion, an agreeable intimate,
a useful assistant, a faithful friend, and (in its
time perhaps) a tender mother, such change of life,
from what I lead, seems not unwise to think of.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Nor unwise to purchase, if to be had for
millions, but&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. But what?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> If the reverse of this shou'd chance to be
the bitter disappointment, what wou'd the life be then?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. A damn'd one.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> And what relief?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. A short one; leave it, and return to that
you left, if you can't find a better.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> He says right&mdash;that's the remedy, and a
just one&mdash;&mdash;for if I sell my liberty for gold, and I am
foully paid in brass, shall I be held to keep the bargain?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. What are you thinking of?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Of what you have said.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. And was it well said?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> I begin to think it might.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Charles</em>. Think on, 'twill give you ease&mdash;&mdash;the
man who has courage enough to part with a wife need
not much dread the having one; and he that has not,
ought to tremble at being a husband&mdash;&mdash;But perhaps I
have said too much; you'll pardon however the freedom
of an old friend, because you know I am so; so your
servant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> <em>Charles</em>, farewell, I can take nothing as ill-meant
that comes from you. Nor ought my wife to
think I mean amiss to her; if I convince her I'll endure
no longer that she would thus expose herself and me.
No doubt 'twill grieve her sorely. Physick's a loathsome
thing, 'till we find it gives us health, and then we are
thankful to those who made us take it. Perhaps she may
do so by me, if she does, 'tis well; if not, and she resolves
to make the house ring with reprisals: I believe
(tho' the misfortune's great) he'll make a better figure
in the world, who keeps an ill wife out of doors, than he
that keeps her within.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_III_SCENE_I4" id="ACT_III_SCENE_I4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Headpiece</span> and Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">S</span>o</span>, you are acquainted with Lady <em>Arabella</em>,
I find.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Oh, Madam, I have had the honour to
know her Ladyship almost from a child, and a charming
woman she has made.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> I like her prodigiously; I had some acquaintance
with her in the country two years ago; but
she's quite another woman here.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Ah, Madam, two years keeping company
with the polite people of the town will do wonders
in the improvement of a lady, so she has it but about
her.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Now 'tis my misfortune, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>,
to come late to school.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Oh! don't be discourag'd at that, Madam,
the quickness of your ladyship's parts will easily
recover your loss of a little time.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> O! You flatter me! But I'll endeavour
by industry and application to make it up; such parts as
I have shall not lie idle. My Lady <em>Arabella</em> has been
so good to offer me already her introduction, to those assemblies,
where a woman may soonest learn to make
herself valuable to every body.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> But her husband. [<em>Aside.</em>] Her Ladyship,
Madam, can indeed, better than any body, introduce
you, where every thing that accomplishes a fine lady,
is practised to the last perfection; Madam, she herself is
at the very tip-top of it&mdash;&mdash;'tis pity, poor lady, she
shou'd meet with any discouragements.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Discouragements! from whence pray?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> From home sometimes&mdash;&mdash;my Lord a&mdash;</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> What does he do?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> But one should not talk of people of qualities
family-concerns.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> O, no matter, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, as long as
it goes no farther. My Lord, you were saying&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Why, my Lord, Madam, is a little humoursome,
they say.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Humoursome?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Yes, they say he's humoursome.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> As how, pray?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Why, if my poor lady perhaps does but
stay out at night, may be four or five hours after he's
in bed, he'll be cross.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> What, for such a thing as that?</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Yes, he'll be cross; and then if she happens,
it may be, to be unfortunate at play, and lose a
great deal of money, more than she has to pay, then
Madam&mdash;&mdash;he'll snub.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Out upon him! snub such a woman as
she is? I can tell you, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, I that am but a
country lady, should Sir <em>Francis</em> take upon him to snub
me, in <em>London</em>, he'd raise a spirit would make his hair
stand on end.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Really, Madam, that's the only way to
deal with 'em.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Miss <span class="antiqua">Betty</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>And here comes pretty Miss <em>Betty</em>, that I believe
will never be made a fool of, when she's married.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> No by my troth won't I. What are you
talking of my being married, mother?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> No, Miss; Mrs. <em>Motherly</em> was only saying
what a good wife you wou'd make, when you were
so.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> The sooner it is try'd, mother, the
sooner it will be known. Lord, here's the colonel,
Madam!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Colonel</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Colonel, your servant.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Your servant, colonel.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Ladies, your most obedient&mdash;&mdash;I hope, Madam,
the town air agrees with you?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Mighty well, Sir.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Oh prodigious well, Sir. We have bought a
new coach and an ocean of new clothes, and we
are to go to the play to-night, and to-morrow we go to
the opera, and next night we go to the assembly, and
then the next night after, we&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Softly, Miss&mdash;&mdash;Do you go to the play
to-night, colonel?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> I did not design it, Madam; but now I find there
is to be such good company, I'll do myself the honour
(if you'll give me leave, ladies) to come and lead you to
your coach.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> It's extremely obliging.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty</em>. It is indeed mighty well-bred. Lord!
colonel, what a difference there is between your way
and our country companions; one of them would have
said, what, you are aw gooing to the playhouse then?
Yes, says we, won't you come and lead us out? No, by
good feggins, says he, ye ma' e'en ta' care o' yoursells,
y'are awd enough; and so he'd ha' gone to get drunk at
the tavern against we came home to supper.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Ha, ha, ha! well, sure Madam, your
Ladyship is the happiest mother in the world to have
such a charming companion to your daughter.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> The prettiest creature upon earth!</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> D'ye hear that, mother? Well, he's a
fine gentleman really, and I think a man of admirable
sense.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Softly, Miss, he'll hear you.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> If he does, Madam, he'll think I say true,
and he'll like me never the worse for that, I hope.
Where's your niece <em>Martilla</em>, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>? Mama,
won't you carry <em>Martilla</em> to the play with us?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> With all my heart, child.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Col.</em> She's a very pretty civil sort of woman, Madam,
and miss will be very happy in having such a companion
in the house with her.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> So I shall indeed, Sir, and I love her
dearly already, we are growing very great together.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> But what's become of your brother, child?
I han't seen him these two hours, where is he?</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Indeed, mother, I don't know where he
is; I saw him asleep about half an hour ago by the
kitchen fire.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Must not he go to the play too?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head</em>. Yes, I think he shou'd go, tho' he'll be
weary on't, before it's half done.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Weary? yes; and then he'll sit, and
yawn, and stretch like a grayhound by the fire-side,
'till he does some nasty thing or other, that they'll turn
him out of the house, so it's better to leave him at
home.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> O, that were pity, Miss. Plays will enliven
him&mdash;&mdash;see, here he comes, and my niece with him.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Squire <span class="antiqua">Humphry</span> and <span class="antiqua">Martilla</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Your servant, Sir; you come in good time, the
ladies are all going to the play, and wanted you to help
to gallant them.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> And so 'twill be nine o'clock, before
one shall get any supper.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Supper! why your dinner is not out of
your mouth yet, at least 'tis all about the brims of it.
See how greasy his chops is, mother.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Nay, if he han't a mind to go, he need
not. You may stay here 'till your father comes home
from the parliament-house, and then you may eat a
broil'd bone together.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Yes, and drink a tankard of strong beer
together; and then he may tell you all he has been doing
in the parliament-house, and you may tell him all
you have been thinking of when you were asleep, in
the kitchen: and then if you'll put it all down in writ<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>ing,
when we come from the play, I'll read it to the
company.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Sister, I don't like your joaking, and
you are not a well-behav'd young woman; and altho'
my mother encourages you, my thoughts are, you are
not too big to be whipt.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> How, sirrah?</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> There's a civil young gentlewoman
stands there, is worth a hundred of you. And I believe
she'll be married before you.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Cots my life, I have a good mind to pull
your eyes out.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Hold, Miss, hold, don't be in such a passion,
neither.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Mama, it is not that I am angry at any
thing he says to commend <em>Martilla</em>, for I wish she were
to be marry'd to-morrow, that I might have a dance at
her wedding; but what need he abuse me for? I wish
the lout had mettle enough to be in love with her, she'd
make pure sport with him. [<em>Aside.</em>] Does your Heaviness
find any inclinations moving towards the lady you admire&mdash;&mdash;Speak!
are you in love with her?</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> I am in love with nobody; and if any
body be in love with me, mayhap they had as good be
quiet.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Hold your tongue, I'm quite sick of you.
Come, <em>Martilla</em>, you are to go to the play with us.</p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> Am I, Miss? I am ready to wait upon you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> I believe it's time we should be going;
Colonel, is not it?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Yes, Madam, I believe it is.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Come, then; who is there?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p>Is the coach at the door?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> It has been there this hafe haur, so please your
Ladyship.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> And are all the people in the street gazing
at it, <em>Tom</em>?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> That are they, Madam; and <em>Roger</em> has drank<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
so much of his own beveridge, that he's even as it were
gotten a little drunk.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Not so drunk, I hope, but that he can
drive us?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Yes, yes, Madam, he drives best when he's a
little upish. When <em>Roger</em>'s head turns, raund go the
wheels, i'faith.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Never fear, Mama, as long as it's to the
playhouse, there's no danger.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Well, daughter, since you are so courageous,
it shan't be said I make any difficulty; and if the
Colonel is so gallant, to have a mind to share our danger,
we have room for him, if he pleases.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Madam, you do me a great deal of honour, and
I'm sure you give me a great deal of pleasure.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Come, dear Mama, away we go.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt all but <span class="antiqua">Squire</span>, <span class="antiqua">Martilla</span>, and Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> I did not think you would have gone.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>To <span class="antiqua">Martilla</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Mart.</em> O, I love a play dearly.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> I wonder, Squire, that you wou'd not go
to the play with 'em.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> What needed <em>Martilla</em> have gone?
they were enough without her.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> O, she was glad to go to divert herself;
and besides, my Lady desired her to go with them.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> And so I am left alone.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> Why, wou'd you have car'd for her company?</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Rather than none.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> On my conscience he's ready to cry; this
is matter to think of: but here comes Sir <em>Francis</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>How do you do, Sir? I'm afraid these late parliament
hours won't agree with you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Indeed, I like them not, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>;
if they wou'd dine at twelve o'clock, as we do in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
country, a man might be able to drink a reasonable
bottle between that and supper-time.</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> That wou'd be much better indeed, Sir
<em>Francis</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> But then when we consider that what we
undergo, is in being busy for the good of our country,&mdash;&mdash;O,
the good of our country is above all things;
what a noble and glorious thing it is, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>,
that <em>England</em> can boast of five hundred zealous gentlemen,
all in one room, all of one mind, upon a fair occasion,
to go altogether by the ears for the good of their country!&mdash;--<em>Humphry</em>,
perhaps you'll be a senator in time,
as your father is now; and when you are, remember your
country; spare nothing for the good of your country!
and when you come home, at the end of the sessions, you
will find yourself so adored, that your country will come
and dine with you every day in the week. O, here's my
uncle <em>Richard</em>.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Uncle <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mrs. <em>Moth.</em> I think, Sir, I had better get you a mouthful
of something to stay your stomach 'till supper.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> With all my heart, for I'm almost famish'd.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> And so shall I before my mother
comes from the playhouse, so I'll go and get a butter'd
toast.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Uncle, I hope you are well.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Nephew, if I had been sick I wou'd not
have come abroad; I suppose you are well, for I sent
this morning, and was inform'd you went out early;
was it to make your court to some of the great men?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Yes, uncle, I was advised to lose no time,
so I went to one great man, whom I had never seen
before.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And who had you got to introduce you?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Nobody; I remember'd I had heard a
wise man say, My son, be bold; so I introduced myself.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> As how, I pray?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why thus, uncle; please your Lordship,
says I, I am Sir <em>Francis Headpiece</em> of <em>Headpiece-Hall</em>, and
member of parliament for the ancient borough of <em>Gobble-Guiney</em>.
Sir, your humble servant, says my Lord,
tho' I have not the honour to know your person, I have
heard you are a very honest gentleman, and I am very
glad your borough has made choice of so worthy a representative;
have you any service to command me?
Those last words, uncle, gave me great encouragement:
And tho' I know you have not any very great opinion of
my parts, I believe you won't say I mist it now.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> I hope I shall have no cause.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> My Lord, says I, I did not design to say any
thing to your Lordship to-day about business; but since
your Lordship is so kind and free, as to bid me speak if
I have any service to command you, I will.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> So.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I have, says I, my Lord, a good estate, but
it's a little out at elbows: and as I desire to serve my
king as well as my country, I shall be very willing to
accept of a place at court.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> This was bold indeed.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I'cod, I shot him flying, uncle; another
man would have been a month before he durst have
open'd his mouth about a place. But you shall hear.
Sir <em>Francis</em>, says my Lord, what sort of a place may
you have turn'd your thoughts upon? My Lord, says I,
beggars must not be choosers; but some place about a
thousand a year, I believe, might do pretty weel to
begin with. Sir <em>Francis</em>, says he, I shall be glad to
serve you in any thing I can; and in saying these
words he gave me a squeeze by the hand, as much as to
say, I'll do your business. And so he turn'd to a
Lord that was there, who look'd as if he came for a
place too.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And so your fortune's made.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Don't you think so, uncle?</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Yes, for just so mine was made&mdash;&mdash;twenty
years ago.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, I never knew you had a place,
uncle.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Nor I neither upon my faith, nephew:
but you have been down at the house since you made
your court, have not you?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> O yes; I would not neglect the house for
ever so much.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And what might they have done there to-day,
I pray?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why truly, uncle, I cannot well tell what
they did. But I'll tell you what I did: I happen'd to
make a little sort of a mistake.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> How was that?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why you must know, uncle, they were all
got into a sort of a hodge-podge argument for the good
of the nation, which I did not well understand; however
I was convinced, and so resolved to vote aright
according to my conscience; but they made such a
puzzling business on't, when they put the question, as
they call it, that, I believe, I cry'd Ay, when I should
have cry'd No; for a sort of a <em>Jacobite</em> that sat next me,
took me by the hand, and said, Sir, you are a man of
honour, and a true <em>Englishman</em>, and I shou'd be glad to
be better acquainted with you, and so he pull'd me
along with the croud into the lobby with him, when I
believe I should have staid where I was.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> And so, if you had not quite made your
fortune before, you have clench'd it now. Ah, thou
head of the <em>Headpieces</em>! [<em>Aside.</em>] How now, what's the
matter here?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Headpiece</span>, &amp;c. in disorder, some dirty, some
lame, some bloody.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Mercy on us! they are all kill'd.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty</em>. Not for a thousand pounds; but we have
been all down in the dirt together.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> We have had a sad piece of work on't,
Sir <em>Francis</em>, overturn'd in the channel, as we were going
to the playhouse.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Over and over, papa; had it been com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>ing
from the playhouse, I shou'd not have car'd a farthing.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> But, child, you are hurt, your face is all
bloody.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> O, Sir, my new gown is all dirty.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> The new coach is all spoil'd.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> The glasses are all to bits.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> <em>Roger</em> has put out his arm.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Would he had put out his neck, for making
us lose the play.</p>

<p>Squire <em>Humph.</em> Poor <em>Martilla</em> has scratch'd her little
finger.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> And here's the poor Colonel; nobody
asks what he has done. I hope, Sir, you have got no
harm?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Only a little wounded with some pins I met with
about your Ladyship.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> I am sorry any thing about me should do
you harm.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> If it does, Madam, you have that about you, if
you please, will be my cure. I hope your Ladyship feels
nothing amiss?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Nothing at all, tho' we did roll about together
strangely.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> We did, indeed. I'm sure we roll'd so, that
my poor hands were got once&mdash;&mdash;I don't know
where they were got. But her Ladyship I see will pass
by slips.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> It wou'd have been pity the colonel shou'd
have receiv'd any damage in his services to the Ladies;
he is the most complaisant man to e'm, uncle; always
ready when they have occasion for him.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Then I believe, nephew, they'll never let
him want business.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> O, but they shou'd not ride the free horse
to death neither. Come, colonel, you'll stay and drink
a bottle, and eat a little supper with us, after your misfortune?</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Sir, since I have been prevented from attending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>
the ladies to the play, I shall be very proud to obey
their commands here at home.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> A prodigious civil gentleman, uncle; and
yet as bold as <em>Alexander</em> upon occasion.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Upon a lady's occasion.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ha, ha, you're a wag, uncle; but I believe
he'd storm any thing.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Then I believe your citadel may be in
danger.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Uncle, won't you break your rule for once,
and sup from home?</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> The company will excuse me, nephew,
they'll be freer without me; so good night to them and
you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Good night to you, Sir, since you won't
stay: Come, colonel.</p>

<p>Unc. <em>Rich.</em> Methinks this facetious colonel is got
upon a pretty, familiar, easy foot already with the family
of the <em>Headpieces</em>&mdash;hum.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em> <em>Exit.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Come, my Lady, let's all in, and pass the
evening chearfully. And, d'ye hear, wife&mdash;&mdash;a word in
your ear&mdash;&mdash;I have got a promise of a place in court,
of a thousand a year, he, hem.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_IV_SCENE_I4" id="ACT_IV_SCENE_I4"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Arabella</span>, as just up, walking pensively to her
Toilet, follow'd by Trusty.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ell</span>, sure never woman had such
luck&mdash;these devilish dice!&mdash;--Sit
up all night; lose all one's money, and then&mdash;&mdash;how
like a hag I look. [<em>Sits at her toilet, turning her purse
inside out.</em>] Not a guinea&mdash;&mdash;worth less by a hundred
pounds than I was by one o'clock this morning&mdash;&mdash;and
then&mdash;&mdash;I was worth nothing&mdash;&mdash;what is to be done,
<em>Trusty</em>!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> I wish I were wise enough to tell you, Madam;
but if there comes in any good company to breakfast
with your Ladyship, perhaps you may have a run of
better fortune.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> But I han't a guinea to try my fortune&mdash;&mdash;let
me see&mdash;&mdash;who was that impertinent man, that
was so saucy last week about money, that I was forc'd to
promise once more, he shou'd have what I ow'd him,
this morning?</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> O, I remember, Madam; it was your old mercer
<em>Short-yard</em>, that you turn'd off a year ago, because he
would trust you no longer.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> That's true; and I think I bid the steward
keep the thirty guineas out of some money he was
paying me to stop his odious mouth.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Your Ladyship did so.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Pr'ythee, <em>Trusty</em>, run and see whether the
wretch has got the money yet; if not, tell the steward,
I have occasion for it myself; run quickly.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> runs to the door</em>.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Ah, Madam, he's just paying it away now, in
the hall.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Stop him! quick, quick, dear <em>Trusty</em>.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Hem, hem, Mr. <em>Money-bag</em>, a word with you
quickly.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] I'll come presently.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Presently won't do, you must come this moment.</p>

<p><em>Mon.</em> I'm but just paying a little money.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Cods my life, paying money, is the man distracted?
Come here, I tell you, to my Lady this moment,
quick.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Money-bag</span> comes to the door with a purse in's hand.</em></p>

<p>My Lady says you must not pay the money to-day,
there's a mistake in the account, which she must examine;
and she's afraid too there was a false guinea or
two left in the purse, which might disgrace her. [<em>Twitches
the purse from him.</em>] But she's too busy to look for 'em
just now, so you must bid Mr. What-d'ye-call-'em come
another time. There they are, Madam. [<em>Gives her the
money.</em>] The poor things were so near gone, they made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
me tremble; I fancy your Ladyship will give me one of
those false guineas for good luck. [<em>Takes a guinea.</em>] Thank
you, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why, I did not bid you take it.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> No, but your Ladyship look'd as if you were
just going to bid me; so I took it to save your Ladyship
the trouble of speaking.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Well, for once&mdash;&mdash;but hark&mdash;&mdash;I think I
hear the man making a noise yonder.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Nay, I don't expect he'll go out of the house
quietly. I'll listen.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Goes to the door.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Do.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> He's in a bitter passion with poor <em>Money-bag</em>; I
believe he'll beat him&mdash;&mdash;Lord, how he swears!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> And a sober citizen too! that's a shame.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> He says he will speak with you, Madam, tho'
the devil held your door&mdash;&mdash;Lord! he's coming hither
full drive, but I'll lock him out.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> No matter, let him come; I'll reason with
him.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> But he's a saucy fellow for all that.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Short-yard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>What wou'd you have, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> I wou'd have my due, Mistress.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> That wou'd be&mdash;&mdash;to be well cudgel'd, Master,
for coming so familiarly, where you shou'd not come.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Do you think you do well, Sir, to intrude
into my dressing-room?</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Madam, I sold my goods to you in your dressing
room, I don't know why I mayn't ask for my money
there.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> You are very short, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Your Ladyship won't complain of my patience
being so?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> I complain of nothing that ought not to be
complained of; but I hate ill manners.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> So do I, Madam,&mdash;but this is the seventeenth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
time I have been ordered to come with good-manners for
my money, to no purpose.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Your money, man! Is that the matter?
Why it has lain in the steward's hands this week for
you.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Madam, you yourself appointed me to come this
very morning for it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> But why did you come so late then?</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> So late! I came soon enough, I thought.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> That thinking wrong, makes us liable to
a world of disappointments: If you had thought of coming
one minute sooner, you had had your money.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Gad bless me, Madam, I had the money as
I thought, I'm sure it was telling out, and I was writing
a receipt for't.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Why there you thought wrong again, Master.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Yes, for you shou'd never think of writing
a receipt till the money is in your pocket.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Why, I did think 'twas in my pocket.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Look you, thinking again. Indeed, Mr. <em>Short-yard</em>,
you make so many blunders, 'tis impossible but
you must suffer by it, in your way of trade. I'm sorry
for you, and you'll be undone.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> And well I may, when I sell my goods to people
that won't pay me for 'em, till the interest of my
money eats out all my profit: I sold them so cheap,
because I thought I shou'd be paid the next day.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Why, there again! there's another of your
thoughts; paid the next day, and you han't been paid
this twelvemonth you see.</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Oons, I han't been paid at all, Mistress.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Well, tradesmen are strange unreasonable
creatures, refuse to sell people any more things, and then
quarrel with 'em because they don't pay for those they
have had already. Now what can you say to that, Mr.
<em>Short-yard</em>?</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Say! Why&mdash;'Sdeath, Madam, I don't know
what you talk of, I don't understand your argument.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why, what do you understand, man?</p>

<p><em>Short.</em> Why, I understand that I have had above a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
hundred pounds due to me a year ago; that I came, by
appointment, just now to receive it: that it proved at
last to be but thirty instead of a hundred and ten; and
that while the steward was telling even that out, and I
was writing the receipt, comes Mrs. <em>Pop</em> here, and the
money was gone. But I'll be banter'd no longer if there's
law in <em>England</em>. Say no more, <em>Short-yard</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> What a passion the poor devil's in!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Why truly one can't deny but he has some
present cause to be a little in ill-humour, but when one has
things of greater consequence on foot, one can't trouble
one's self about making such creatures easy; so call for
breakfast, <em>Trusty</em>, and set the hazard-table ready; if
there comes no company I'll play a little by myself.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Loverule</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Pray what offence, Madam, have you
given to a man I met with just as I came in?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> People who are apt to take offence, do it
for small matters, you know.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> I shall be glad to find this so; but he says
you have owed him above a hundred pounds this twelvemonth;
that he has been here forty times by appointment
for it, to no purpose; and that coming here this
morning upon positive assurance from yourself, he was
trick'd out of the money, while he was writing a receipt
for it, and sent away without a farthing.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Lord, how these shopkeepers will lye!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> What then is the business? for some
ground the man must have to be in such a passion.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> I believe you'll rather wonder to see me
so calm, when I tell you he had the insolence to intrude
into my very dressing-room here, with a story without a
head or tail; you know, <em>Trusty</em>, we cou'd not understand
one word he said, but when he swore&mdash;&mdash;Good Lord!
how the wretch did swear!</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> I never heard the like for my part.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> And all this for nothing?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> So it proved, my Lord, for he got nothing
by it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> His swearing I suppose was for his money,
Madam. Who can blame him?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> If he swore for money he should be put in
the pillory.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Madam, I won't be banter'd, nor sued by
this man for your extravagancies: do you owe him the
money or not?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> He says I do, but such fellows will say
any thing.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Provoking! [<em>Aside.</em>] Did not I desire an
account from you of all your debts, but six months
since, and give you money to clear them?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> My Lord, you can't imagine how accounts
make my head ake.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> That won't do. The steward gave you
two hundred pounds besides, but last week; where's
that?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Gone!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Gone! where?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Half the town over, I believe, by this time.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> Madam, Madam, this can be endured no
longer, and before a month passes expect to find me&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Hist, my Lord, here's company.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Captain <span class="antiqua">Toupee</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Captain <em>Toupee</em>, your servant: What, nobody with you?
do you come quite alone?</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> 'Slife, I thought to find company enough here.
My Lord, your servant. What a deuce, you look as if
you had been up all night. I'm sure I was in bed but
three hours; I wou'd you'd give me some coffee.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Some coffee there; tea too, and chocolate.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> [<em>Singing a minuet and dancing.</em>] Well, what a
strange fellow am I to be thus brisk, after losing all my
money last night&mdash;&mdash;but upon my soul you look sadly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> No matter for that, if you'll let me win a
little of your money this morning.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> What with that face? Go, go wash it, go wash
it, and put on some handsome things; you look'd a good
likely woman last night; I would not much have cared
if you had run five hundred pounds in my debt; but if
I play with you this morning, I'gad I'd advise you to
win; for I won't take your personal security at present
for a guinea.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Love.</em> To what a nauseous freedom do women of
quality of late admit these trifling fops! and there's a
morning exercise will give 'em claim to greater freedoms
still. [<em>Points to the hazard-table.</em>] Some course must be
taken.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> What, is my Lord gone? he look'd methought
as if he did not delight much in my company. Well,
peace and plenty attend him for your Ladyship's sake,
and those&mdash;&mdash;who have now and then the honour to win
a hundred pounds of you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Goes to the table singing, and throws.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> [<em>Twitching the box from him.</em>] What, do you
intend to win all the money upon the table&mdash;&mdash;Seven's
the main&mdash;Set me a million, <em>Toupee</em>.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> I set you two, my queen&mdash;Six to seven.</p>

<p><em>Lady Ara.</em> Six&mdash;&mdash;the world's my own.</p>

<p><em>Both.</em> Ha, ha, ha!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> O that my Lord had spirit enough about
him to let me play for a thousand pound a-night&mdash;&mdash;But
here comes country company&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Headpiece</span>, Miss <span class="antiqua">Betty</span>, Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>, and
Colonel <span class="antiqua">Courtly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Your servant, Madam, good-morrow to you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> And to you, Madam. We are come to
breakfast with you. Lord, are you got to those pretty
things already?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Points to the dice.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> You see we are not such idle folks in town
as you country ladies take us to be; we are no sooner out
of our beds, but we are at our work.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Will dear Lady Arabella give us leave,
mother, to do a stitch or two with her?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Takes the box and throws.</em></p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> The pretty lively thing!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> With all her heart; what says her mama?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> She says she don't love to sit with her
hands before her, when other people's are employed.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> And this is the prettiest little sociable work,
men and women can all do together at it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Colonel, you are one with us, are you not?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> O, I'll answer for him, he'll be out at
nothing.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> In a facetious way; he is the politest person; he
will lose his money to the ladies so civilly, and will win
theirs with so much good breeding; and he will be so
modest to 'em before company, and so impudent to 'em in
a dark corner. Ha! colonel!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> So I found him, I'm sure, last night&mdash;&mdash;Mercy
on me, an ounce of virtue less than I had, and
Sir <em>Francis</em> had been undone.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> Colonel, I smoke you.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> And a fine character you give the ladies of me,
to help me.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> I give 'em just the character of you they like,
modest and brave. Come, ladies, to business; look to
your money, every woman her hand upon her purse.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Here's mine, captain.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> O the little soft velvet one&mdash;and it's as full&mdash;Come,
Lady Blowse, rattle your dice and away with 'em.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Six&mdash;&mdash;at all&mdash;&mdash;five to six&mdash;&mdash;Five&mdash;&mdash;Eight&mdash;&mdash;at
all again&mdash;&mdash;Nine to eight&mdash;&mdash;Nine&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>, and stands gazing at 'em.</em>
</p>

<p>Seven's the main&mdash;&mdash;at all for ever.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Throws out.</em></p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Now, mama, let's see what you can do.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Lady <span class="antiqua">Headpiece</span> takes the box.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Well, I'll warrant you, daughter&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> If you do, I'll follow a good example.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> Eight's the main&mdash;&mdash;don't spare me, gentlemen,
I fear you not&mdash;&mdash;have at you all&mdash;&mdash;seven to
eight&mdash;&mdash;seven.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> Eight, Lady, eight&mdash;&mdash;Five pounds if you
please.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Ara.</em> Three, kinswoman.</p>

<p><em>Col.</em> Two, Madam.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> And one for Miss, Mama&mdash;&mdash;and now
let's see what I can do. [<em>Aside.</em>] If I should win enough
this morning to buy me another new gown&mdash;O bless me!
there they go&mdash;&mdash;seven&mdash;&mdash;come, captain, set me boldly,
I want to be at a handful.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> There's two for you, miss.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> I'll at 'em, tho' I die for't.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah, my poor child, take care.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Runs to stop the throw.</em></p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> There.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> Out&mdash;twenty pound], young lady.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> False dice, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> False dice, Sir? I scorn your words&mdash;&mdash;twenty
pounds, Madam.</p>

<p>Miss <em>Betty.</em> Undone, undone!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> She shan't pay you a farthing, Sir; I won't
have miss cheated.</p>

<p><em>Capt.</em> Cheated, Sir?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> What do you mean, Sir <em>Francis</em>, to disturb
the company, and abuse the gentleman thus?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I mean to be in a passion.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Head.</em> And why will you be in a passion, Sir
<em>Francis</em>?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Because I came here to breakfast with my
Lady there, before I went down to the house, expecting
to find my family set round a civil table with her,
upon some plumb-cake, hot rolls, and a cup of strong
beer; instead of which, I find these good women staying
their stomachs with a box and dice, and that man
there, with a strange perriwig, making a good hearty
meal upon my wife and daughter.&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="center"><em>Cætera desunt.</em></p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a><br /><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-225.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>
<div class="chapter"></div>




<h2><a name="THE5" id="THE5">THE</a><br />

<span class="smcap">Provok'd Husband</span>;<br />

OR, A<br />

<span class="smcap">Journey</span> to <span class="smcap">London</span>.<br />

A<br />

COMEDY.</h2>


<p class="directcenter">Written by</p>

<p class="directcenter">Sir <span class="smcap">John Vanbrugh</span>, and Mr. <span class="smcap">Cibber</span>.</p>

<p class="directcenter">----<em>Vivit Tanquam Vicina Mariti</em>. Juv. Sat. VI.
</p>

<div class="figcenter" style="width: 700px;">
<img src="images/illus-225.jpg" width="700" height="37" alt="" />
</div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a><br /><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="TO_THE" id="TO_THE">TO THE</a><br />

QUEEN.</h3>


<p>
<em>May it please your Majesty</em>,<br />
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">The</span> <em>English</em> <span class="smcap">Theatre</span> throws itself
with this Play, at Your MAJESTY's
Feet, for Favour and Support.</p>

<p>As their Public Diversions are a strong
Indication of the Genius of a People; the
following Scenes are an Attempt to Establish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
such as are fit to entertain the Minds of a sensible
Nation; and to wipe off that Aspersion
of Barbarity, which the <em>Virtuosi</em> among our
Neighbours have sometimes thrown upon our
Taste.</p>

<p>The <em>Provok'd Husband</em>, is, at least, an Instance,
that any <em>English</em> Comedy may, to an
unusual number of Days, bring many Thousands
of His Majesty's good Subjects together,
to their Emolument and Delight, with
Innocence. And however little Share of that
Merit my unequal Pen may pretend to, yet
I hope the just Admirers of Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em>
will allow I have, at worst, been a careful
Guardian of his Orphan Muse, by leading it
into Your Majesty's Royal Protection.</p>

<p>The Design of this Play being chiefly to
expose, and reform the licentious Irregularities
that, too often, break in upon the
Peace and Happiness of the Married State;
Where could so hazardous and unpopular an
undertaking be secure, but in the Protection
of a <span class="smcap">Princess</span>, whose exemplary Conjugal
Virtues have given such illustrious Proof of
what sublime Felicity that holy State is
capable?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p>

<p>And though a Crown is no certain Title
to Content; yet to the Honour of that Institution
be it said, the Royal Harmony of
Hearts that now inchants us from the Throne,
is a Reproach to the frequent Disquiet of
those many insensible Subjects about it, who
(from his Majesty's paternal Care of his
People) have more Leisure to be happy: And
'tis our <span class="smcap">Queen's</span> peculiar Glory, that we
often see Her as eminently rais'd above
her Circle, in private Happiness, as in
Dignity.</p>

<p>Yet Heaven, <span class="smcap">Madam</span>, that has placed
you on such Height, to be the more conspicuous
Pattern of your Sex, had still left
your Happiness imperfect, had it not given
those inestimable Treasures of your Mind,
and Person, to the only Prince on Earth
that could have deserved them: A Crown
received from Any, but the Happy Monarch's
Hand, who invested you with This,
which You now adorn, had only seemed the
Work of <em>Fortune</em>: But <em>Thus</em> bestow'd, the
World acknowledges it the due Reward of
<span class="smcap">Providence</span>, for One You once so gloriously
Refused.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span></p>

<p>But as the Fame of such elevated Virtue
has lifted the Plain Addresses of a whole
Nation into Eloquence, the best repeated
Eulogiums on that Theme are but Intrusions
on your Majesty's greater Pleasure of
secretly deserving them. I therefore beg leave,
to subscribe myself,</p>

<p class="directcenter">May it please Your <span class="smcap">Majesty</span>,</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Your Majesty's most Devoted</em>,
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright"><em>Most Obedient, and<br />

Most Humble Servant</em>,</p>

<p class="directright"><span class="smcap">Colley Cibber</span>.</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="TO_THE5" id="TO_THE5">TO THE</a><br />

READER.</h3>


<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Having</span> taken upon me in the prologue to this
play, to give the auditors some short account of
that part of it which Sir <em>John Vanbrugh</em> left unfinished,
and not thinking it adviseable in that place, to limit
their judgment by so high a commendation as I thought
it deserved; I have therefore, for the satisfaction of the
curious, printed the whole of what he wrote, separately,
under the single title he gave it of <em>A Journey to London</em>,
without presuming to alter a line.</p>

<p>Yet when I own, that in my last conversation with
him, (which chiefly turned upon what he had done towards
a comedy) he excused his not shewing it me, 'till
he had reviewd it, confessing the scenes were yet undigested,
too long, and irregular, particularly in the
lower characters, I have but one excuse for publishing
what he never designed should come into the world, as
it then was, viz. I had no other way of taking those
many faults to myself, which may be justly found in my
presuming to finish it.</p>

<p>However, a judicious reader will find in his original
papers, that the characters are strongly drawn,
new, spirited, and natural, taken from sensible observations
on high and lower life, and from a just indignation
at the follies in fashion. All I could gather
from him of what he intended in the <em>catastrophe</em>, was,
that the conduct of his imaginary fine lady had so provoked
him, that he designed actually to have made her
husband turn her out of his doors. But when his per<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>formance
came, after his decease, to my hands, I
thought such violent measures, however just they might be
in real life, were too severe for comedy, and would want
the proper surprise, which is due to the end of a play.
Therefore with much ado (and 'twas as much as I could
do with probability) I preserved the lady's chastity,
that the sense of her errors might make a reconciliation
not impracticable; and I hope the mitigation
of her sentence has been since justified by its
success.</p>

<p>My inclination to preserve as much as possible of Sir
<em>John</em>, I soon saw had drawn the whole into an unusual
length; the reader will therefore find here a scene or
two of the lower humour that were left out, after the first
day's presentation.</p>

<p>The favour the town has shewn to the higher characters
in this play, is a proof, that their taste is not
wholly vitiated, by the barbarous entertainments that
have been so expensively set off to corrupt it: but, while
the repetition of the best old plays is apt to give satiety,
and good new ones are so scarce a commodity, we must
not wonder, that the poor actors are sometimes forced to
trade in trash for a livelihood.</p>

<p>I cannot yet take leave of the reader, without endeavouring
to do justice to those principal actors, who
have so evidently contributed to the support of this
comedy: And I wish I could separate the praises due to
them from the secret vanity of an author: For all I
can say will still insinuate, that they could not have so
highly excelled, unless the skill of the writer had given
them proper occasion. However, as I had rather
appear vain, than unthankful, I will venture to say of
Mr. <em>Wilks</em>, that in the last act, I never saw any passion
take so natural a possession of an actor, or any actor
take so tender a possession of his auditors&mdash;&mdash;Mr.
<em>Mills</em> too, is confess'd by every body, to have surprised
them, by so far excelling himself&mdash;&mdash;But there is no
doing right to Mrs. <em>Oldfield</em>, without putting people<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
in mind of what others, of great merit, have wanted
to come near her&mdash;&mdash;'Tis not enough to say, she
<em>Here Out-did</em> her usual <em>Excellence</em>. I might therefore
justly leave her to the constant admiration of those spectators,
who have the pleasure of living while she is an
actress. But as this is not the only time she has been
the life of what I have given the public, so perhaps
my saying a little more of so memorable an actress,
may give this play a chance to be read, when the people
of this age shall be ancestors&mdash;&mdash;May it therefore
give emulation to our successors of the stage, to
know, That to the ending of the year 1727, a cotemporary
comedian relates, that Mrs. <em>Oldfield</em> was, then,
in her highest excellence of action, happy in all the
rearly-found requisites, that meet in one person to complete
them for the stage&mdash;&mdash;She was in stature just
rising to that height, where the <em>graceful</em> can only
begin to shew itself; of a lively aspect and a command
in her mein, that like the principal figure in the finest
paintings, first seizes, and longest delights the eye of
the spectators. Her voice was sweet, strong, piercing,
and melodious: her pronunciation voluble, distinct, and
musical; and her emphasis always placed where the
spirit of the sense, in her periods, only demanded it.
If she delighted more in the Higher Comic, than in
the Tragic strain, 'twas because the last is too often
written in a lofty disregard of nature. But in characters
of modern practised life, she found occasions
to add the particular air and manner which distinguished
the different humours she presented. Whereas
in tragedy, the manner of speaking varies, as little as the
blank verse it is written in&mdash;&mdash;She had one peculiar
happiness from nature, she looked and maintained the
<em>agreeable</em>, at a time when other fine women only raise
admirers by their understanding&mdash;&mdash;The spectator was
always as much informed by her eyes as her elocution;
for the look is the only proof that an actor rightly conceives
what he utters, there being scare an instance,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>
where the eyes do their part, that the elocution is
known to be faulty. The qualities she had <em>acquired</em> were
the <em>genteel</em> and <em>elegant</em>. The one in her air, and the
other in her dress, never had her equal on the stage; and
the ornaments she herself provided, (particularly in this
play) seemed in all respects the <em>paraphernalia</em> of a woman
of quality. And of that sort were the characters she
chiefly excelled in; but her natural good sense and lively
turn of conversation made her way so easy to ladies of
the highest rank, that it is a less wonder, if on the stage
she sometimes <em>was</em>, what might have become the finest
woman in real life to have supported.</p>

<p>
<em>Theatre-Royal</em>.<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><em>Jan. 27</em>,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">172⅞</span><br />
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">C. CIBBER.</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="PROLOGUE5" id="PROLOGUE5">PROLOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Mr. <em>Wilks</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">T</span>his</span> play took birth from principles of truth,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>To make amends for errors past, of youth.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>A bard, that's now no more, in riper days,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Conscious review'd the licence of his plays:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And tho' applause his wanton muse had fir'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Himself condemn'd what sensual minds admir'd.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>At length, he own'd, that plays should let you see</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Not only, What you are, but ought to be;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Though vice was natural, 'twas never meant</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The stage should shew it, but for punishment!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Warm with that thought, his Muse once more took flame,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Resolv'd to bring licentious life to shame.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Such was the piece his latest pen design'd,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But left no traces of his plan behind.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Luxuriant scenes unprun'd or half contriv'd;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet thro' the mass his native fire surviv'd:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Rough, as rich ore, in mines the treasure lay,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Yet still 'twas rich, and forms at length a play.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>In which the bold compiler boasts no merit,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But that his pains have sav'd your scenes of spirit.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Not scenes that would a noisy joy impart,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But such as hush the mind and warm the heart.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>From praise of hands no sure account he draws,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But fixt attention is sincere applause:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>If then (for hard you'll own the task) his art</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Can to those embryon-scenes new life impart,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The living proudly would exclude his lays,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And to the buried bard resign the praise.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Dramatis_Personae5" id="Dramatis_Personae5">Dramatis Personæ.</a></h3>


<div class="center">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Dramatis Personæ">
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">MEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lord <em>Townly</em>, of a regular life,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Wilks</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Mr. <em>Manly</em>, an admirer of Lady <em>Grace</em>,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Mills</em> sen.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Francis Wronghead</em>, a country gentleman,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Cibber</em>, sen.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Squire <em>Richard</em>, his son, a mere whelp,</td>
    <td>Young <em>Wetherelt</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Count <em>Basset</em>, a gamester,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Bridgewater</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>John Moody</em>, servant to Sir <em>Francis</em>, an honest clown,</td>
    <td>Mr. <em>Miller</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <th colspan="2">WOMEN.</th>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Townly</em>, immoderate in her pursuit of pleasures,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Oldfield</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Grace</em>, sister to Lady <em>Townly</em>, of exemplary virtue,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Porter</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Wronghead</em>, wife to Sir <em>Francis</em>, inclin'd to be a fine lady,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Thurmond</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Miss <em>Jenny</em>, her daughter, pert and forward,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Cibber</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Mrs <em>Motherly</em>, one that lets lodgings,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Moore</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Myrtilla</em>, her niece, seduced by the count,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Grace</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Trusty</em>, Lady <em>Townly</em>'s woman,</td>
    <td>Mrs. <em>Mills</em>.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td colspan="2" class="tdc">Masqueraders, Constable, Servants, &amp;c.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>


<p class="directcenter"><em>The <span class="antiqua"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em></span> Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>'s House, and
sometimes Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>'s Lodgings.</em>
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>

<p class="ph2">THE<br />

<span class="smcap">Provok'd Husband</span>;<br />

OR,<br />

<em>A</em> <span class="smcap">Journey</span> <em>to</em> <span class="smcap">London</span>.
</p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_I_SCENE_I5" id="ACT_I_SCENE_I5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> I. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>'s Apartment.</em>
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>, solus.</em>
</p>

<p class="drop-capw"><span class="smcap">Why</span> did I marry!&mdash;Was it not evident, my
plain, rational scheme of life was impracticable,
with a woman of so different a way of thinking?&mdash;Is
there one article of it, that she has not broke in upon?&mdash;Yes,&mdash;let
me do her justice&mdash;her reputation&mdash;That&mdash;I
have no reason to believe is in question&mdash;but
then how long her profligate course of pleasures
may make her able to keep it&mdash;is a shocking question!
and her presumption while she keeps it&mdash;insupportable!
for on the pride of that single virtue she
seems to lay it down, as a fundamental point, that the
free indulgence of every other vice, this fertile town affords,
is the birth-right prerogative of a woman of
quality&mdash;Amazing! that a creature so warm in the
pursuit of her pleasures, should never cast one thought
towards her happiness&mdash;Thus, while she admits no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
lover, she thinks it a greater merit still, in her chastity,
not to care for her husband; and while she herself
is solacing in one continual round of cards and good
company, he, poor wretch! is left, at large, to take
care of his own contentment&mdash;&mdash;'Tis time, indeed, some
care were taken, and speedily there shall be&mdash;&mdash;Yet let
me not be rash&mdash;&mdash;Perhaps this disappointment of my
heart may make me too impatient; and some tempers
when reproached grow more untractable.&mdash;Here she
comes&mdash;Let me be calm a while.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Going out so soon after dinner, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Lard, my Lord! what can I possibly do
at home?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> What does my sister, Lady <em>Grace</em>, do at
home?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why, that is to me amazing! Have you
ever any pleasure at home!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> It might be in your power, Madam, I
confess, to make it a little more comfortable to me.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Comfortable! and so, my good Lord,
you would really have a woman of my rank and spirit
stay at home to comfort her husband! Lord! what notions
of life some men have!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Don't you think, Madam, some ladies'
notions full as extravagant?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Yes, my Lord, when the tame doves
live cooped within the penn of your precepts, I do think
'em prodigious indeed!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And when they fly wild about this town,
Madam, pray what must the world think of 'em then?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Oh! this world is not so ill-bred as to
quarrel with any woman for liking it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Nor am I, Madam, a husband so well-bred,
as to bear my wife's being so fond of it; in short,
the life you lead, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Is, to me, the pleasantest life in the
world.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I should not dispute your taste, Madam,
if a woman had a right to please nobody but herself.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why, whom would you have her please?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Sometimes her husband.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> And don't you think a husband under
the same obligation?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Certainly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why then we are agreed, my Lord&mdash;For
if I never go abroad 'till I am weary of being at home&mdash;&mdash;which
you know is the case&mdash;&mdash;is it not equally
reasonable, not to come home till one's weary of being
abroad!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> If this be your rule of life, Madam, 'tis
time to ask you one serious question?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Don't let it be long a coming then&mdash;&mdash;for
I am in haste.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Madam, when I am serious, I expect a
serious answer.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Before I know the question?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Psha&mdash;&mdash;have I power, Madam, to make
you serious by intreaty?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> You have.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And you promise to answer me sincerely?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Sincerely.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Now then recollect your thoughts, and
tell me seriously, Why you married me?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> You insist upon truth, you say?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I think I have a right to it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why then, my Lord, to give you, at
once, a proof of my obedience and sincerity&mdash;&mdash;I
think&mdash;&mdash;I married&mdash;to take off that restraint, that lay
upon my pleasures, while I was a single woman.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> How, Madam! is any woman under less
restraint after marriage, than before it?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O my Lord! my Lord! they are quite
different creatures! Wives have infinite liberties in life,
that would be terrible in an unmarried woman to take.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Name one.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Fifty, if you please!&mdash;--to begin then,
in the morning&mdash;&mdash;A married woman may have men
at her toilet, invite them to dinner, appoint them a
party, in a stage box at the play; ingross the conver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>sation
there, call 'em by their christian names; talk
louder than the players;&mdash;&mdash;From thence jaunt into
the city&mdash;&mdash;take a frolicksome supper at an <em>India</em> house&mdash;&mdash;perhaps
in her <em>gaieté de cœur</em> toast a pretty fellow&mdash;Then
clatter again to this end of the town, break with
the morning, into an assembly, croud to the hazard-table,
throw a familiar <em>levant</em> upon some sharp lurching
man of quality, and if he demands his money, turn it
off with a loud laugh, and cry&mdash;&mdash;you'll owe it him
to vex him! ha! ha!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Prodigious!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> These now, my Lord, are some few of
the many modish amusements, that distinguish the privilege
of a wife, from that of a single woman.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Death! Madam, what law has made these
liberties less scandalous in a wife, than in an unmarried
woman?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why, the strongest law in the world,
custom&mdash;&mdash;custom time out of mind, my Lord.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Custom, Madam, is the law of fools:
but it shall never govern me.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Nay, then, my Lord, 'tis time for me to
observe the laws of prudence.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I wish I could see an instance of it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> You shall have one this moment, my
Lord; for I think, when a man begins to lose his
temper at home; if a woman has any prudence,
why&mdash;&mdash;she'll go abroad 'till he comes to himself
again.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Hold, Madam&mdash;I am amazed, you are not
more uneasy at the life we lead! You don't want sense;
and yet seem void of all humanity: for, with a blush I
say it, I think, I have not wanted love.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Oh! don't say that, my Lord, if you suppose
I have my senses.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> What is it I have done to you? what can
you complain of?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em>. Oh! nothing in the least: 'Tis true, you
have heard me say; I have owed my Lord <em>Lurcher</em> an
hundred pounds these three weeks&mdash;&mdash;but what then?&mdash;&mdash;a
husband is not liable to his wife's debts of honour,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>
you know,&mdash;&mdash;and if a silly woman will be uneasy
about money she can't be sued for, what's that to him?
as long as he loves her, to be sure she can have nothing
to complain of.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> By heaven, if my whole fortune thrown
into your lap, could make you delight in the chearful
duties of a wife, I should think myself a gainer by the
purchase.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> That is, my Lord, I might receive your
whole estate, provided you were sure I would not spend a
shilling of it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No, Madam; were I master of your
heart, your pleasures would be mine; but different as
they are, I'll feed even your follies to deserve it&mdash;&mdash;Perhaps
you may have some other trifling debts of honour
abroad that keep you out of humour at home&mdash;&mdash;at
least it shall not be my fault, if I have not more of your
company&mdash;&mdash;There, there's a bill of five hundred&mdash;&mdash;and
now, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> And now, my Lord, down to the ground
I thank you&mdash;&mdash;Now am I convinc'd, were I weak
enough to love this man, I should never get a single
guinea from him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> If it be no offence, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Say what you please, my Lord; I am in
that harmony of spirits, it is impossible to put me out of
humour.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> How long then in reason do you think
that sum ought to last you?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Oh, my dear, dear Lord! now you have
spoiled all again! How is it possible I should answer for
an event, that so utterly depends upon fortune? But
to shew you that I am more inclined to get money,
than to throw it away&mdash;&mdash;I have a strong prepossession,
that with this five hundred, I shall win five thousand.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Madam, if you were to win ten thousand,
it would be no satisfaction to me.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! the churl! ten thousand! what! not
so much as wish I might win ten thousand!&mdash;--Ten<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
thousand! O! the charming sum! what infinite pretty
things might a woman of spirit do, with ten thousand
guineas! O' my conscience, if she were a woman of true
spirit&mdash;she&mdash;she might lose 'em all again.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And I had rather it should be so, Madam;
provided I could be sure, that were the last you
would lose.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well, my Lord, to let you see I design
to play all the good housewife I can; I am now going
to a party of <em>Quadrille</em>, only to piddle with a little
of it at poor two guineas a fish, with the Dutchess of
<em>Quiteright</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Insensible creature! neither reproaches,
or indulgence, kindness or severity, can wake her to
the least reflection! Continual licence has lull'd her
into such a lethargy of care, that she speaks of her
excesses with the same easy confidence, as if they were
so many virtues. What a turn has her head taken?&mdash;&mdash;But
how to cure it&mdash;&mdash;I am afraid the physic
must be strong that reaches her&mdash;&mdash;Lenitives, I see,
are to no purpose&mdash;&mdash;take my friend's opinion&mdash;&mdash;<em>Manly</em>
will speak freely&mdash;&mdash;my sister with tenderness to
both sides. They know my case&mdash;&mdash;I'll talk with
'em.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Mr. <em>Manly</em>, my Lord has sent to know, if your
Lordship was at home.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> They did not deny me?</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> No, my Lord.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Very well; step up to my sister, and say,
I desire to speak with her.</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Lady <em>Grace</em> is here, my Lord.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Serv.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> So, Lady fair; what pretty weapon have
you been killing your time with!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> A huge folio that has almost killed me&mdash;I
think I have half read my eyes out.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O! you should not pore so much just
after dinner, child.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> That's true, but any body's thoughts are
better than always one's own, you know.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Who's there?</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Servant.</em>
</p>

<p>Leave word at the door I am at home to nobody but
Mr. <em>Manly</em>.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And why is he excepted, pray, my Lord?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I hope, Madam, you have no objection
to his company?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Your particular orders upon my being
here, look, indeed, as if you thought I had not.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And your Ladyship's enquiry into the
reason of those orders, shews, at least, it was not a
matter indifferent to you!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Lord! you make the oddest constructions,
brother!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Look you my grave Lady <em>Grace</em>&mdash;&mdash;in
one serious word&mdash;I wish you had him.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I can't help that.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Ha! you can't help it! ha! ha! The
flat simplicity of that reply was admirable!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pooh! you teize one, brother!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Come, I beg pardon, child&mdash;&mdash;this
is not a point, I grant you, to trifle upon; therefore, I
hope you'll give me leave to be serious.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> If you desire it, brother! though upon
my word, as to Mr. <em>Manly</em>'s having any serious thoughts
of me&mdash;I know nothing of it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Well&mdash;&mdash;there's nothing wrong, in
your making a doubt of it&mdash;&mdash;But, in short, I find, by
his conversation of late, that he has been looking round
the world for a wife; and if you were to look round the
world for a husband, he's the first man I would give to
you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Then, whenever he makes me an offer,
brother, I will certainly tell you of it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O! that's the last thing he'll do; he'll
never make you an offer, 'till he's pretty sure it won't be
refus'd.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Now you make me curious. Pray! did
he ever make an offer of that kind to you?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Not directly; but that imports nothing;
he is a man too well acquainted with the female world,
to be brought into a high opinion of any one woman,
without some well examined proof of her merit: Yet
I have reason to believe, that your good sense, your
turn of mind, and your way of life, have brought him
to so favourable a one of you, that a few days will
reduce him to talk plainly to me: Which as yet, (notwithstanding
our friendship) I have neither declin'd nor
encouraged him to.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I am mighty glad we are so near in our
way of thinking: For, to tell you the truth, he is much
upon the same terms with me: You know he has a
satirical turn; but never lashes any folly, without giving
due encomiums to its opposite virtue: and upon such
occasions, he is sometimes particular, in turning his
compliments upon me, which I don't receive, with
any reserve, lest he should imagine I take them to myself.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> You are right, child, when a man of
merit makes his addresses: good sense may give him an
answer, without scorn, or coquetry.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Hush! he's here&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> My Lord! your most obedient.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Dear <em>Manly</em>! yours&mdash;&mdash;I was thinking
to send to you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Then, I am glad I am here, my Lord&mdash;&mdash;Lady
<em>Grace</em>, I kiss your hands!&mdash;--What, only you
two! How many visits may a man make, before he
falls into such unfashionable company? A brother and
sister soberly sitting at home, when the whole town is a
gadding! I question if there is so particular a <em>tête à
tête</em>, again, in the whole parish of St. <em>James</em>'s.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Fy! fy! Mr. <em>Manly</em>; how censorious
you are!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I had not made the reflexion, Madam, but that
I saw you an exception to it&mdash;Where's my lady?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> That I believe is impossible to guess.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Then I won't try, my Lord&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> But 'tis probable I may hear of her by
that time I am four or five hours in bed.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Now, if that were my case, I believe I should&mdash;&mdash;But
I beg pardon, my Lord.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Indeed, Sir, you shall not: You will
oblige me, if you speak out; for it was upon this head, I
wanted to see you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why, then, my Lord, since you oblige me to
proceed&mdash;&mdash;if that were my case&mdash;&mdash;I believe I
should certainly sleep in another house.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How do you mean?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Only a compliment, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> A compliment!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, Madam, in rather turning myself out of
doors than her.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Don't you think that would be going too
far?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I don't know but it might, Madam; for in
strict justice, I think she ought rather to go than I.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> This is new doctrine, Mr. <em>Manly</em>.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> As old, Madam, as <em>Love</em>, <em>Honour</em>, and <em>Obey</em>!
When a woman will stop at nothing that's wrong, why
should a man balance any thing that's right.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Bless me, but this is fomenting things&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Fomentations, Madam, are sometimes necessary
to dispel rumours; tho' I don't directly advise my Lord
to do this&mdash;&mdash;This is only what, upon the same provocation,
I would do myself.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Ay! ay! You would do! Batchelors
wives, indeed, are finely governed.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If the married mens were as well&mdash;&mdash;I am apt
to think we should not see so many mutual plagues taking
the air, in separate coaches!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well! but suppose it was your own case;
would you part with a wife because she now and then
stays out, in the best company?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Well said, Lady <em>Grace</em>! come, stand up
for the privilege of your sex! This is like to be a warm
debate! I shall edify.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Madam, I think a wife, after midnight, has no
occasion to be in better company than her husband; and
that frequent unreasonable hours make the best company&mdash;&mdash;the
worst company she can fall into.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But if people of condition are to keep
company with one another; how is it possible to be done
unless one conforms to their hours?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I can't find that any woman's good breeding
obliges her to conform to other people's vices.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I doubt, child, we are got a little on the
wrong side of the question.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why so, my Lord? I can't think the
case so bad, as Mr. <em>Manly</em> states it&mdash;&mdash;People of quality
are not ty'd down to the rules of those, who have their
fortunes to make.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No people, Madam, are above being ty'd down
to some rules, that have fortunes to lose.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pooh! I'm sure, if you were to take my
side of the argument, you would be able to say something
more for it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Well, what say you to that, <em>Manly</em>?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why, 'troth, my Lord, I have something to
say.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Ay! that I would be glad to hear, now!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Out with it!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Then in one word, this, my Lord, I have often
thought that the mis-conduct of my Lady has, in a
great measure, been owing to your Lordship's treatment
of her.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Bless me!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> My treatment!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ay, my Lord, you so idoliz'd her before marriage,
that you even indulg'd her like a mistress, after it;
In short, you continued the lover, when you should have
taken up the husband.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O frightful! this is worse than t'other!
can a husband love a wife too well!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> As easy, Madam, as a wife may love her husband
too little.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> So! you two are never like to agree, I find.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Don't be positive, brother;&mdash;&mdash;I am
afraid we are both of a mind already. [<em>Aside.</em>] And do
you, at this rate, ever intend to be married, Mr. <em>Manly</em>?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Never, Madam; 'till I can meet a woman that
likes my doctrine.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> 'Tis pity but your mistress should hear it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Pity me, Madam, when I marry the woman
that won't hear it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I think, at least, he can't say that's me.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And so, my Lord, by giving her more power
than was needful, she has none where she wants it; having
such entire possession of you, she is not mistress of herself!
And, mercy on us! how many fine womens heads
have been turn'd upon the same occasion!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O <em>Manly</em>! 'tis too true! there's the source
of my disquiet! she knows and has abused her power:
Nay, I am still so weak (with shame I speak it) 'tis not
an hour ago, that in the midst of my impatience&mdash;I
gave her another bill for five hundred to throw away.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well&mdash;&mdash;my Lord! to let you see I am sometimes
upon the side of good nature, I won't absolutely
blame you; for the greater your indulgence, the more
you have to reproach her with.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Ay, Mr. <em>Manly</em>! here now, I begin to
come in with you: Who knows, my Lord, you may
have a good account of your kindness!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> That, I am afraid, we had not best depend upon:
But since you have had so much patience, my Lord, even
go on with it a day or two more; and upon her Ladyship's
next sally, be a little rounder in your expostulation; if
that don't work&mdash;drop her some cool hints of a determin'd
reformation, and leave her&mdash;&mdash;to breakfast upon 'em.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> You are perfectly right! how valuable is
a friend, in our anxiety!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Therefore to divert that, my Lord, I beg for the
present, we may call another cause.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Ay, for goodness sake let's have done
with this.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> With all my heart.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Have you no news abroad, Mr. <em>Manly</em>?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> <em>A propos</em>&mdash;&mdash;I have some, Madam; and I believe,
my Lord, as extraordinary in its kind&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Pray let's have it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Do you know that your country neighbour, and
my wise kinsman, Sir <em>Francis Wronghead</em>, is coming to
town with his whole family?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> The fool! what can be his business here?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Oh! of the last importance, I'll assure you&mdash;No
less than the business of the nation.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Explain!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> He has carried his election&mdash;&mdash;against Sir
<em>John Worthland</em>.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> The Deuce! what! for&mdash;&mdash;for&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The famous borough of <em>Guzzledown</em>!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> A proper representative, indeed.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pray, Mr. <em>Manly</em>, don't I know him?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You have din'd with him, Madam, when I was
last down with my Lord, at <em>Bellmont</em>.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Was not that he that got a little merry
before dinner, and overset the tea-table, in making his
compliments to my Lady?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The same.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pray what are his circumstances? I know
but very little of him.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Then he is worth your knowing, I can tell
you, Madam. His estate, if clear, I believe, might be
a good two thousand pounds a year: Though as it was
left him, saddled with two jointures, and two weighty
mortgages upon it, there is no saying what it is&mdash;&mdash;But
that he might be sure never to mend it, he married
a profuse young hussy, for love, without a penny of
money! Thus having, like his brave ancestors, provided
heirs for the family (for his dove breeds like a
tame pigeon) he now finds children and interest-money
make such a bawling about his ears, that at last he has
taken the friendly advice of his kinsman, the good Lord
<em>Danglecourt</em>, to run his estate two thousand pounds more
in debt, to put the whole management of what's left into
<em>Paul Pillage</em>'s hands, that he may be at leisure himself
to retrieve his affairs by being a parliament-man.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> A most admirable scheme, indeed!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And with this politic prospect, he's now upon
his journey to <em>London</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> What can it end in?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Pooh! a journey into the country again.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And do you think he'll stir, 'till his
money's gone? or at least 'till the session is over?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If my intelligence is right, my Lord, he won't
sit long enough to give his vote for a turnpike.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> How so?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O! a bitter business! he had scarce a vote, in
the whole town, beside the returning officer: Sir <em>John</em>
will certainly have it heard at the bar of the house, and
send him about his business again.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Then he has made a fine business of it
indeed.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Which, as far as my little interest will go, shall
be done in as few days as possible.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But why would you ruin the poor gentleman's
fortune, Mr. <em>Manly</em>?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No, Madam, I would only spoil his project, to
save his fortune.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How are you concern'd enough, to do
either?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why, I have some obligations to the family,
Madam: I enjoy at this time a pretty estate, which Sir
<em>Francis</em> was heir at law to: But&mdash;&mdash;by his being
a booby, the last will of an obstinate old uncle gave it
to me.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Man</span>.</em>] Sir, here's one of your servants from
your house, desires to speak with you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Will you give him leave to come in, my
Lord?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;the ceremony's of your own
making.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>'s Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, <em>James</em>! what's the matter now?</p>

<p><em>James.</em> Sir, here's <em>John Moody</em>'s just come to town; he
says Sir <em>Francis</em>, and all the family, will be here to-night,
and is in a great hurry to speak with you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Where is he?</p>

<p><em>James.</em> At our house, Sir: He has been gaping and
stumping about the streets, in his dirty boots, and asking
every one he meets if they can tell him where he
may have a good lodging for a parliament man, 'till he
can hire a handsome whole house for himself and family,
for the winter.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I am afraid, my Lord, I must wait upon Mr.
<em>Moody</em>.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Pr'ythee! let's have him here: he will
divert us.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O my Lord! he's such a cub! Not but he's so
near common sense, that he passes for a wit in the family.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I beg of all things we may have him:
I am in love with Nature, let her dress be never so
homely.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Then desire him to come hither, <em>James</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">James</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pray what may be Mr. <em>Moody</em>'s post?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Oh! his <em>Maître d' Hôtel</em>, his butler, his bailiff,
his hind, his huntsman; and sometimes&mdash;&mdash;his companion.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> It runs in my head, that the moment
this Knight has set him down in the house, he will get
up, to give them the earliest proof of what importance
he is to the public, in his own country.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, and when they have heard him, he will
find, that his utmost importance stands valued at&mdash;&mdash;sometimes
being invited to dinner.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And her Ladyship will make as considerable
a figure, in her sphere too.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> That you may depend upon; for (if I don't
mistake) she has ten times more of the jade in her, than
she yet knows of; and she will so improve in this rich<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
soil, in a month, that she will visit all the ladies that will let
her into their houses; and run in debt to all the shopkeepers
that will let her into their books: In short, before
her important spouse has made five pounds by his eloquence
at <em>Westminster</em>, she will have lost five hundred at
dice and <em>Quadrille</em>, in the parish of St. <em>James</em>'s.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> So that, by that time he is declared unduly
elected, a swarm of duns will be ready for their
money; and his worship&mdash;&mdash;will be ready for a jail.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, yes, that I reckon will close the account
of this hopeful journey to <em>London</em>&mdash;&mdash;But see, here comes
the fore-horse of the team!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter John <span class="antiqua">Moody</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Oh! Honest <em>John</em>!</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Ad's waunds and heart, Measter <em>Manly</em>!
I'm glad I ha' fun ye. Lawd! lawd! give me a buss!
Why that's friendly naw! Flesh! I thought we should
never ha' got hither! Well! and how d'ye do, Measter?&mdash;&mdash;Good
lack! I beg pardon for my bauldness&mdash;&mdash;I did
not see 'at his Honour was here.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Mr. <em>Moody</em>, your servant; I am glad to
see you in <em>London</em>. I hope all the family is well.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Thanks be praised your honour, they are
in pretty good heart; thof' we have had a power of
crosses upo' the road.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I hope my Lady has had no hurt, Mr.
<em>Moody</em>.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Noa, an't please your Ladyship, she was
never in better humour: There's money enough stirring
now.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What has been the matter, <em>John</em>?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why, we came up in such a hurry, you
mun think, that our tackle was not so tight as it should
be.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Come, tell us all&mdash;&mdash;Pray how do they
travel?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why, i'the awld coach, Measter, and
'cause my lady loves to do things handsom, to be sure,
she would have a couple of cart-horses clapt to th' four<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
old geldings, that neighbours might see she went up to
<em>London</em> in her coach and six! And so <em>Giles Joulter</em>, the
ploughman, rides postillion!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Very well! the journey sets out as it should do.
[<em>Aside.</em>] What, do they bring all the children with them
too?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Noa, noa, only the younk squoire, and
Miss <em>Jenny</em>. The other foive are all out at board, at
half a crown a head, a week, with <em>Joan Growse</em> at
<em>Smoke-Dunghill</em> farm.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Good again! a right <em>English</em> academy for
younger children!</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Anon, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Not understanding him.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Poor souls! What will become of 'em?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Nay, nay, for that matter, Madam,
they are in very good hands: <em>Joan</em> loves 'em as thof'
they were all her own: For she was wet-nurse to every
mother's babe of 'um&mdash;&mdash;Ay, ay, they'll ne'er want for
a full belly there!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> What simplicity!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The Lud 'a mercy on all good folks! what
work will these people make!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Holding up his hands.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And when do you expect him here, <em>John</em>?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why we were in hopes to ha' come yesterday,
an' it had no' been, that th' owld wheaze-belly
horse tir'd: And then we were so cruelly loaden,
that the two fore wheels came crash! down at once, in
<em>Waggon-Rut Lane</em>, and there we lost four hours 'fore we
could set things to rights again.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> So they bring all their baggage with the coach
then?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Ay, ay, and good store on't there is&mdash;&mdash;Why
my lady's geer alone were as much as fill'd four
portmantel trunks, besides the great deal-box, that heavy
<em>Ralph</em> and the monkey sit upon behind.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town</em>, Lady <em>Grace</em>, and <em>Man.</em> Ha! ha, ha!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well, Mr. <em>Moody</em>, and pray how many
are they within the coach?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why there's my Lady and his Worship;
and the younk squoire, and Miss <em>Jenny</em>, and the fat lap<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>-dog,
and my lady's maid, Mrs. <em>Handy</em>, and <em>Doll Tripe</em>
the cook, that's all&mdash;&mdash;Only <em>Doll</em> puked a little with
riding backward, so they hoisted her into the coach-box&mdash;and
then her stomach was easy.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Oh! I see 'em! I see 'em go by me. Ah!
ha!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Laughing.</em></p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Then you mun think, measter, there was
some stowage for the belly, as well as th' back too;
such cargoes of plumb-cake, and baskets of tongues, and
biscuits and cheese, and cold boil'd beef&mdash;&mdash;And then
in case of sickness, bottles of cherry-brandy, plague-water,
sack, tent and strong-beer so plenty as made
th' owld coach crack again! Mercy upon them! and send
'em all well to town, I say.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ay! And well out on't again, <em>John</em>.</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ods bud! measter, you're a wise mon;
and for that matter, so am I&mdash;Whoam's whoam, I say:
I'm sure we got but little good, e'er sin' we turn'd our
backs on't. Nothing but mischief! Some Devil's
trick or other plagued us, aw th' dey lung! Crack goes
one thing: Bawnce! goes another. Woa, says <em>Roger</em>&mdash;&mdash;Then
souse! we are all set fast in a slough,
Whaw! cries Miss! Scream go the maids! and bawl!
just as thof' they were stuck! and so, mercy on us! this
was the trade from morning to night. But my Lady
was in such a murrain haste to be here, that set out she
would, thof' I told her it was <em>Childermas</em> day.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> These ladies, these ladies, <em>John</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ah, measter, I ha' seen a little of 'em;
and I find that the best&mdash;&mdash;when she's mended, won't
ha' much goodness to spare.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Well said, <em>John</em>. Ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I hope at least that you and your good woman
agree still.</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ay! ay! much of a muchness. <em>Bridget</em>
sticks to me: Tho' as for her goodness&mdash;why, she was
willing to come to <em>London</em> too&mdash;&mdash;But hawld a bit!
Noa, noa, says I, there may be mischief enough done
without you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why that was bravely spoken, <em>John</em>, and like
a man.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ah, weast heart, were Measter but hawf
the Mon that I am&mdash;&mdash;Ods wookers! thof' he'll
speak stawtly too sometimes&mdash;&mdash;But then he conno'
hawld it&mdash;&mdash;no! he conno' hawld it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Lady <em>Grace</em>.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ha! ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ods flesh! But I mun hye me whoam!
th' Coach will be coming every hour naw&mdash;&mdash;but
Measter charg'd me to find your Worship out; for he
has hugey business with you; and will certainly wait
upon you, by that time he can put on a clean neckcloth.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O <em>John</em>! I'll wait upon him.</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Why you wonno' be so kind, wull ye?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If you'll tell me where you lodge.</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Just i'th' street next to where your Worship
dwells, the sign of the <em>Golden Ball</em>&mdash;&mdash;It's Gold all
over; where they sell ribbands and flappits, and other
sort of geer for Gentlewomen.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> A Milliner's?</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ay, ay, one Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>: Waunds! she
has a couple of clever girls there stitching i'th' foreroom.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, yes, she's a woman of good business, no
doubt on't&mdash;&mdash;Who recommended that house to you,
<em>John</em>?</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> The greatest good fortune in the world,
sure! For as I was gaping about streets, who should
look out of the window there, but the fine Gentleman,
that was always riding by our Coach side, at <em>York</em> Races&mdash;&mdash;Count&mdash;&mdash;<em>Basset</em>;
ay, that's he.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> <em>Basset</em>? Oh, I remember; I know him by
sight.</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Well! to be sure, as civil a Gentleman,
to see to&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> As any sharper in town.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> At York, he us'd to breakfast with my Lady
every morning.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, yes, and I suppose her Ladyship will return
his compliment here in town.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Well, Measter&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> My Service to Sir <em>Francis</em> and my Lady,
<em>John</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And mine, pray Mr. <em>Moody</em>.</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Ay, your honors, they'll be proud on't,
I dare say.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I'll bring my compliments myself: So, honest
<em>John</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>John Mood.</em> Dear Measter <em>Manly</em>! the goodness of
goodness bless and preserve you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">John Moody</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> What a natural creature 'tis!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well! I can't but think <em>John</em>, in a wet
afternoon in the country, must be very good company.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O! the <em>Tramontane</em>! If this were known
at half the <em>quadrille</em>-tables in town, they would lay down
their cards to laugh at you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And the minute they took them up again
they would do the same at the losers&mdash;&mdash;But to let
you see, that I think good company may sometimes
want cards to keep them together: what think you if we
three sat soberly down, to kill an hour at <em>Ombre</em>?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I shall be too hard for you, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> No matter! I shall have as much advantage
of my Lord, as you have of me.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Say you so, Madam? Have at you then!
Here! get the <em>ombre</em>-table, and cards.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Come, Mr. <em>Manly</em>&mdash;&mdash;I know you
don't forgive me now!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I don't know whether I ought to forgive your
thinking so, Madam. Where do you imagine I could
pass my time so agreeably?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I'm sorry my Lord is not here to take
share of the compliment&mdash;&mdash;But he'll wonder what's
become of us!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I'll follow in a moment, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lady Grace</span>.</em></p>

<p>It must be so&mdash;&mdash;she sees I love her&mdash;&mdash;yet with
what unoffending decency she avoids an explanation!
How amiable is every hour of her conduct? What a
vile opinion have I had of the whole sex, for these ten
years past, which this sensible creature has recovered
in less than one? Such a companion, sure, might com<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>pensate
all the irksome disappointments, that pride,
folly and falshood ever gave me!</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Could women regulate, like her, their lives,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What <em>Halcyon</em> days were in the gift of wives!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Vain rovers, then, might envy what they hate;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And only fools would mock the married state.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_II_SCENE_I5" id="ACT_II_SCENE_I5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> II. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Mrs.</em> Motherly's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Count <span class="antiqua">Basset</span> and Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">I</span> tell</span> you there is not such a family in
<em>England</em>, for you! do you think I would
have gone out of your lodgings for any body, that was
not sure to make you easy for the winter?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Nay, I see nothing against it, Sir, but the
gentleman's being a parliament man: and when people
may, as it were, think one impertinent, or be out of
humour, you know, when a body comes to ask for one's
own&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Psha! Pr'ythee never trouble thy head&mdash;His
pay is as good as the bank!&mdash;--Why, he has above
two thousand a year!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Alas-a-day! that's nothing: Your people of
ten thousand a year, have ten thousand things to do
with it.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Nay, if you are afraid of being out of
your money; what do you think of going a little with
me, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> As how?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Why I have a game in my head, in which,
if you'll croup me, that is, help me to play it, you shall
go five hundred to nothing.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Say you so?&mdash;&mdash;Why then, I go, Sir&mdash;&mdash;and
now pray let's see your game.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Look you, in one word my cards lie thus&mdash;When
I was down this summer at <em>York</em>, I happened
to lodge in the same house with this Knight's lady, that's
now coming to lodge with you.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Did you so, Sir?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> And sometimes had the honour to breakfast,
and pass an idle hour with her&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Very good; and here I suppose you would have
the impudence to sup, and be busy with her.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Psha! pr'ythee hear me!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Is this your game? I would not give sixpence
for it! What, you have a passion for her pin-money&mdash;&mdash;no,
no, country ladies are not so flush of it.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Nay, if you won't have patience&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> One had need of a great deal, I am sure, to
hear you talk at this rate! Is this your way of making
my poor <em>Myrtilla</em> easy?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Death! I shall do it still, if the woman
will but let me speak&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Had not you a letter from her this morning?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> I have it here in my pocket&mdash;this is it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Shews it, and puts it up again.</em></p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Ay, but I don't find you have made any answer
to it.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> How the devil can I, if you won't hear me!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> What! hear you talk of another woman?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> O lud! O lud! I tell you, I'll make her
fortune&mdash;&mdash;'Ounds! I'll marry her.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> A likely matter! if you would not do it when
she was a maid, your stomach is not so sharp set now, I
presume.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Hey day! why your blood begins to turn,
my dear! the devil! you did not think I proposed to
marry her myself!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> If you don't, who the devil do you think will
marry her?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Why, a fool&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Humph! there may be sense in that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Very good&mdash;&mdash;One for t'other then; if I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
can help her to a husband, why should not you come
into my scheme of helping me to a wife?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Your pardon, Sir! ay! ay! in an honourable
affair, you know you may command me&mdash;&mdash;but pray
where is this blessed wife and husband to be had?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Now have a little patience&mdash;&mdash;You must
know then, this country Knight, and his lady, bring up,
in the coach with them, their eldest son and a daughter,
to teach them to&mdash;&mdash;wash their faces, and turn their
toes out.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Good!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> The son is an unlick'd whelp, about sixteen,
just taken from school; and begins to hanker after
every wench in the family: The daughter much of the
same age, a pert, forward hussy, who having eight
thousand pound left her by an old doating grandmother,
seems to have a devilish mind to be doing in her way
too.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> And your design is to put her into business for
life?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Look you, in short, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, we
gentlemen whose occasional chariots roll, only, upon the
four aces, are liable sometimes you know, to have a wheel
out of order: Which, I confess, is so much my case at
present, that my dapple greys are reduced to a pair of
ambling chairmen: Now, if with your assistance, I can
whip up this young jade into a hackney-coach, I may
chance, in a day or two after, to carry her in my own
chariot <em>en famille</em>, to an opera. Now what do you say
to me?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Why, I shall not sleep&mdash;for thinking of it. But
how will you prevent the family's smoaking your design?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> By renewing my addresses to the mother.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> And how will the daughter like that, think you?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Very well&mdash;&mdash;whilst it covers her own
affair.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> That's true&mdash;&mdash;it must do&mdash;&mdash;but, as you say,
one for t'other, Sir, I stick to that&mdash;if you don't do my
niece's business with the son, I'll blow you with the
daughter, depend upon't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> It's a bett&mdash;pay as we go, I tell you, and
the five hundred shall be staked in a third hand.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> That's honest&mdash;&mdash;But here comes my niece!
shall we let her into the secret?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Time enough! may be I may touch upon it.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> So, niece, are all the rooms done out, and the
beds sheeted?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Yes, Madam, but Mr. <em>Moody</em> tells us the lady
always burns wax, in her own chamber, and we have
none in the house.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Odso! then I must beg your pardon, Count;
this is a busy time, you know.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> <em>Myrtilla</em>! how dost do, child?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> As well as a losing gamester can.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Why, what have you lost?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> What I shall never recover; and what's worse,
you that have won it, don't seem to be much the better
for't.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Why child, dost thou ever see any body overjoyed
for winning a deep stake, six months after 'tis over?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Would I had never play'd for it!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Psha! Hang these melancholy thoughts;
we may be friends still.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Dull ones.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Useful ones perhaps&mdash;&mdash;suppose I should
help thee to a good husband?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> I suppose you think any one good enough that
will take me off your hands.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> What do you think of the young country
'Squire, the heir of the family, that's coming to lodge
here?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> How should I know what to think of him?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Nay, I only give you the hint, child; it
may be worth your while, at least, to look about you&mdash;Hark!
what bustle's that without.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span> in haste.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Sir! Sir! the gentleman's coach is at the
door! they are all come!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> What, already?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> They are just getting out!&mdash;--won't you step
and lead in my Lady? Do you be in the way, Niece! I
must run and receive them.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> And think of what I told you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Count</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Ay! ay! you have left me enough to think of, as
long as I live&mdash;&mdash;a faithless fellow! I'm sure I have been
true to him; and for that very reason, he wants to be
rid of me: But while women are weak, men will be
rogues! And for a bane to both their joys and ours;
when our vanity indulges them, in such innocent favours
as make them adore us; we can never be well, 'till we
grant them the very one, that puts an end to their devotion&mdash;But
here comes my aunt, and the company.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span> returns shewing in Lady <span class="antiqua">Wronghead</span>,
led by Count <span class="antiqua">Basset</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> If your Ladyship pleases to walk into this parlour,
Madam, only for the present, 'till your servants
have got all your things in.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Well! dear Sir, this is so infinitely obliging!&mdash;I
protest it gives me pain tho' to turn you out of
your lodging thus!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> No trouble in the least, Madam; we single
fellows are soon mov'd; besides, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>'s my old
acquaintance, and I could not be her hindrance.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> The Count is so well bred, Madam, I dare say
he would do a great deal more, to accommodate your
Ladyship.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> O dear Madam!&mdash;--A good well bred
sort of woman.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Apart to the <span class="antiqua">Count</span>.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> O Madam, she is very much among people
of quality, she is seldom without them, in her house.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Are there a good many people of quality
in this street, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Now your Ladyship is here, Madam, I don't
believe there is a house without them.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> I am mighty glad of that: for really I
think people of quality should always live among one
another.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> 'Tis what one would choose indeed,
Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Bless me! but where are the children all
this while?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>, Madam, I believe is taking care of
them.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] <em>John Moody</em>! stay you by the coach,
and see all our things out&mdash;Come, children.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Here they are, Madam.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>, Squire <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>, and Miss <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Well, Count! I mun say it, this was koynd,
indeed!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>! give me leave to bid you
welcome to <em>London</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Psha! how dost do, mon&mdash;&mdash;waunds, I'm
glad to see thee! A good sort of a house this!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Is not that master <em>Richard</em>?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ey! ey! that's young hopeful&mdash;&mdash;why
dost not baw, <em>Dick</em>?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> So I do, feyther.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Sir I'm glad to see you&mdash;&mdash;I protest
Mrs. <em>Jane</em> is grown so, I should not have known her.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Come forward, <em>Jenny</em>.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Sure, papa, do you think I don't know how to
behave myself?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> If I have permission to approach her, Sir
<em>Francis</em>.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Lord, Sir, I'm in such a frightful pickle&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Salute.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Every dress that's proper must become
you, Madam,&mdash;&mdash;you have been a long journey.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> I hope you will see me in a better, to-morrow,
Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Lady <span class="antiqua">Wrong.</span> whispers Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Moth.</span> pointing to <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Only a niece of mine, Madam, that lives with
me: she will be proud to give your Ladyship any assistance
in her power.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> A pretty sort of a woman.&mdash;&mdash;<em>Jenny</em>,
you two must be acquainted.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> O, Mama! I am never strange, in a strange
place!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Salutes <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> You do me a great deal of honour, Madam&mdash;&mdash;Madam,
your Ladyship's welcome to <em>London</em>.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Mama! I like her prodigiously! she call'd me
my Ladyship.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Pray mother, mayn't I be acquainted with
her too!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> You, you clown! stay 'till you learn a
little more breeding first.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Od's heart! my Lady <em>Wronghead</em>! why do
you balk the lad? how should he ever learn breeding, if
he does not put himself forward?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Why ay, feather, does moather think 'at
I'd be uncivil to her?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Master has so much good-humour, Madam, he
would soon gain upon any body.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He kisses <span class="antiqua">Myr</span>.</em></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Lo' you there, Moather: and you would
but be quiet, she and I should do well enough.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Why, how now, sirrah! Boys must not
be so familiar.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Why, an' I know nobody, haw the murrain
mun I pass my time here, in a strange place? Naw
you and I and sister, forsooth, sometimes in an afternoon
moy play at one and thirty bone-ace, purely.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Speak for yourself, Sir! D'ye think I play at
such clownish games?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Why and you woant yo' ma' let it aloane;
then she, and I, mayhap, will have a bawt at All-fours,
without you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Noa! Noa! <em>Dick</em>, that won't do neither;
you mun learn to make one at Ombre, here, Child.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> If Master pleases, I'll shew it him.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> What! the <em>Humber</em>! Hoy day! why does
our River run to this Tawn, Feather?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Pooh! you silly Tony! Ombre is a geam at
cards, that the better sort of people play three together at.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Nay the moare the merrier, I say; but
Sister is always so cross grain'd&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Lord! this Boy is enough to deaf people&mdash;&mdash;and
one has really been stuft up in a Coach so long,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>
that&mdash;&mdash;Pray Madam&mdash;&mdash;could not I get a little
powder for my hair?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> If you please to come along with me, Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt <span class="antiqua">Myr.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>.</em></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> What, has Sister ta'en her away naw! mess,
I'll go and have a little game with 'em.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. after them.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Well, Count, I hope you won't so far
change your lodgings, but you will come, and be at
home here sometimes?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay, ay! pr'ythee come and take a bit of
mutton with us, naw and tan, when thouh'st nowght
to do.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Well, Sir <em>Francis</em>, you shall find I'll make
but very little ceremony.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay naw, that's hearty!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Will your Ladyship please to refresh yourself,
with a dish of tea, after your fatigue? I think I have
pretty good.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> If you please, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>; but I believe
we had best have it above stairs.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Very well, Madam: it shall be ready immediately.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Won't you walk up, Sir?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> <em>Moody!</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Shan't we stay for Sir <em>Francis</em>, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Lard! don't mind him! he will come if
he likes it.</p>

<p><em>Sir Fran.</em> Ay, ay! ne'er heed me&mdash;&mdash;I ha' things
to look after.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Lady <span class="antiqua">Wrong.</span> and <span class="antiqua">Count Bas</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">John Moody</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Did you Worship want muh?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay, is the coach clear'd? and all our
things in?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Aw but a few band-boxes, and the nook
that's left o'th' goose poy&mdash;&mdash;But a plague on him,
th' Monkey has gin us the slip, I think&mdash;&mdash;I suppose
he's goon to see his relations; for here looks to be a
power of 'um in this town&mdash;&mdash;but heavy <em>Ralph</em> is
skawer'd after him.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, let him go to the Devil! no matter,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
and the hawnds had had him a month agoe&mdash;&mdash;but
I wish the coach and horses were got safe to th'
Inn! This is a sharp tawn, we mun look about us
here, <em>John</em>, therefore I would have you go alung with
<em>Roger</em>, and see that nobody runs away with them before
they get to their stable.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Alas-a-day, Sir: I believe our awld cattle
woant yeasily be run away with to-night&mdash;but howsomdever,
we'st ta' the best care we can of um, poor sawls.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Francis.</em> Well, well! make hast then&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Moody</span> goes out, and returns.</em></p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Ods Flesh! here's Master <em>Monly</em> come to
wait upo' your Worship!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Wheere is he?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Just coming in at threshould.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Then goa about your Business.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Ex. <span class="antiqua">Moody</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Cousin <em>Monly.</em> Sir, I am your very humble servant.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I heard you were come, Sir <em>Francis</em>&mdash;and&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ods-heart! this was so kindly done of you naw.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I wish you may think it so, Cousin! for I confess,
I should have been better-pleas'd to have seen you
in any other place.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> How soa, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Nay, 'tis for your own sake: I'm not concern'd.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Look you, Cousin! thof' I know you wish
me well; yet I don't question I shall give you such
weighty reasons for what I have done, that you will
say, Sir, this is the wisest Journey that ever I made in
my life.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I think it ought to be, Cousin; for I believe,
you will find it the most expensive one&mdash;your Election
did not cost you a trifle, I suppose.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay! it's true! That&mdash;that did lick a
little; but if a man's wise, (and I han't fawn'd yet that
I'm a fool) there are ways, Cousin, to lick one's self
whole again.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Nay if you have that secret&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Don't you be fearful, Cousin&mdash;&mdash;you'll
find that I know something.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If it be any thing for your good, I should be
glad to know it too.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> In short then, I have a friend in a corner,
that has let me a little into what's what, at <em>Westminster</em>&mdash;&mdash;that's
one thing.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Very well! but what good is that to do you?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why not me, as much as it does other
folks?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Other people, I doubt, have the advantage of
different qualifications.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay! there's it naw! you'll say that I
have lived all my days i'the country&mdash;&mdash;what then&mdash;&mdash;I'm
o'the <em>Quorum</em>&mdash;&mdash;I have been at Sessions, and I
have made Speeches there! ay, and at Vestry too&mdash;&mdash;and
may hap they may find here,&mdash;&mdash;that I have
brought my tongue up to town with me! D'ye take
me, naw?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If I take your case right, Cousin; I am afraid
the first occasion you will have for your eloquence here,
will be, to shew that you have any right to make use
of it at all.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> How d'ye mean?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> That Sir <em>John Worthland</em> has lodg'd a Petition
against you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Petition! why ay! there let it lie&mdash;&mdash;we'll
find a way to deal with that, I warrant you!&mdash;--why,
you forget, Cousin, Sir <em>John</em>'s o'the wrong side, Mon.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I doubt Sir <em>Francis</em>, that will do you but little
service; for in cases very notorious (which I take yours
to be) there is such a thing as a short day, and dispatching
them immediately.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> With all my heart! the sooner I send him
home again the better.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And this is the scheme you have laid down, to
repair your fortune?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> In one word, Cousin, I think it my duty!
the <em>Wrongheads</em> have been a considerable Family, ever
since <em>England</em> was <em>England</em>; and since the World knows
I have talents where withal, they shan't say it's my
fault, if I don't make as good a figure as any that ever
were at the head on't.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Nay! this project, as you have laid it, will
come up to any thing your Ancestors have done these
five hundred years.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> And let me alone to work it! mayhap I
hav'n't told you all, neither&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You astonish me! what! and is it full as practicable
as what you have told me!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay! thof' I say it&mdash;&mdash;every whit, Cousin?
you'll find that I have more irons i'the fire than one! I
doan't come of a fool's errand!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Very well.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> In a word, my wife has got a friend at
Court, as well as myself, and her daughter <em>Jenny</em> is naw
pretty well grown up&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;And what in the Devil's name
would he do with the Dowdy?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Naw, if I doan't lay in for a husband for
her, mayhap i'this Tawn, she may be looking out for
herself&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Not unlikely.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Therefore I have some thoughts of getting
her to be Maid of Honour.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;Oh! he has taken my breath away!
but I must hear him out&mdash;&mdash;Pray, Sir <em>Francis</em>, do you
think her education has yet qualified her for a Court?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, the Girl is a little too mettlesome,
it's true! but she has tongue enough: She woan't be
dasht! Then she shall learn to daunce forthwith, and
that will soon teach her how to stond still, you know.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Very well; but when she is thus accomplish'd,
you must still wait for a vacancy.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why I hope one has a good chance for that
every day, Cousin! For if I take it right, that's a post,
that folks are not more willing to get into, than they
are to get out of&mdash;It's like an Orange-tree, upon that
accawnt&mdash;&mdash;it will bear blossoms, and fruit that's ready
to drop, at the same time.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, Sir, you best know how to make
good your pretensions! But pray where is my Lady,
and my young Cousins? I should be glad to see them
too.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> She is but just taking a dish of tea with the
Count, and my Landlady&mdash;I'll call her dawn.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No, no, if she's engag'd, I shall call again.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ods-heart! but you mun see her naw,
Cousin; what! the best Friend I have in the World!&mdash;--Here!
Sweet-heart! [<em>To a Servant without.</em>]
pr'ythee desire my Lady, and the Gentleman to come
down a bit; tell her here's Cousin <em>Manly</em> come to wait
upon her.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Pray, Sir, who may the Gentleman be?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> You mun know him to be sure; why it's
Count <em>Basset</em>.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Oh! is it he?&mdash;Your Family will be infinitely
happy in his acquaintance.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Troth! I think so too: He's the civilest
Man that ever I knew in my life&mdash;&mdash;why! here he
would go out of his own lodging, at an hour's warning,
purely to oblige my family. Wasn't that kind,
naw?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Extremely civil&mdash;the Family is in admirable
hands already.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Then my Lady likes him hugely&mdash;all the
time of <em>York</em> Races, she would never be without him.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> That was happy, indeed! and a prudent Man,
you know, should always take care that his Wife may
have innocent company.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay! that's it! and I think there could
not be such another.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why truly, for her purpose, I think not.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Only naw and tan, he&mdash;he stonds a leetle
too much upon ceremony; that's his fault.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O never fear! he'll mend that every day&mdash;&mdash;Mercy
on us! what a head he has!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> So! here they come!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Wronghead</span>, Count <span class="antiqua">Basset</span>, and Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Cousin <em>Manly</em>! this is infinitely obliging!
I am extremely glad to see you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Your most obedient Servant, Madam; I am
glad to see your Ladyship look so well, after your
Journey.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Why really! coming to <em>London</em> is apt to
put a little more life in one's looks.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yet the way of living here, is very apt to
deaden the complexion&mdash;&mdash;and give me leave to tell
you, as a friend, Madam, you are come to the worst
place in the world, for a good woman to grow better
in.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Lord, Cousin! how should people ever
make any figure in life, that are always moap'd up in
the country?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Your Ladyship certainly takes the thing
in a quite right light, Madam: Mr. <em>Manly</em>, your
humble Servant&mdash;&mdash;a hem.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Familiar Puppy. [<em>Aside.</em>] Sir, your most obedient&mdash;&mdash;I
must be civil to the Rascal, to cover my suspicion
of him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Was you at <em>White</em>'s this morning, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, Sir, I just call'd in.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Pray&mdash;what&mdash;was there any thing done
there?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Much as usual, Sir; the same daily carcases,
and the same crows about them.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> The <em>Demoivre</em>-Baronet had a bloody
tumble yesterday.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I hope, Sir, you had your share of him.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> No, faith! I came in when it was all
over&mdash;&mdash;I think I just made a couple of Bets with
him, took up a cool hundred, and so went to the <em>King's
Arms</em>.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> What a genteel, easy manner he has!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> A very hopeful acquaintance I have made
here.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Squire <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>, with a wet brown Paper on his
face.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> How naw, <em>Dick</em>! what's the matter with
thy forehead, Lad?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> I ha' gotten a knuck upon't.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> And how did you come by it, you heedless
creature?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Why, I was but running after sister, and
t'other young woman, into a little room just naw: and
so with that, they flapt the door full in my feace, and
gave me such a whurr here&mdash;I thought they had beaten
my brains out! so I gut a dab of wet brown paper here,
to swage it a while.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> They serv'd you right enough! will you
never have done with your horse-play?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Pooh! never heed it, Lad! it will be well
by to-morrow&mdash;the Boy has a strong head!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, truly, his skull seems to be of a comfortable
thickness.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Come, <em>Dick</em>, here's Cousin <em>Manly</em>&mdash;&mdash;Sir,
this is your God-son.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Oh! here's my daughter too.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Miss <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Honour'd Gudfeyther! I crave leave to
ask your blessing.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Thou hast it, Child&mdash;&mdash;and if it will do thee
any good, may it be to make thee, at least, as wise a
man as thy father.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Miss <em>Jenny</em>! don't you see your cousin,
Child?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And for thee, my pretty Dear&mdash;[<em>Salutes
her.</em>] may'st thou be, at least, as good a woman as thy
mother.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> I wish I may ever be so handsome, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Hah! Miss Pert! Now that's a thought, that
seems to have been hatcht in the girl on this side
<em>Highgate</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Her tongue is a little nimble, Sir.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> That's only from her country education,
Sir <em>Francis</em>. You know she has been kept too long there&mdash;&mdash;so
I brought her to <em>London</em>, Sir, to learn a little
more reserve and modesty.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O, the best place in the world for it&mdash;every
woman she meets will teach her something of it&mdash;&mdash;There's
the good gentlewoman of the house, looks
like a knowing person; even she perhaps will be so
good as to shew her a little <em>London</em> behaviour.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Alas, Sir, Miss won't stand long in need of my
instructions.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> That I dare say: What thou can'st teach her,
she will soon be Mistress of.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> If she does, Sir, they shall always be at her
service.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Very obliging indeed, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Very kind and civil, truly&mdash;&mdash;I think we
are got into a mighty good hawse here.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O yes, and very friendly company.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Humh! I'gad I don't like his looks&mdash;&mdash;he
seems a little smoky&mdash;&mdash;I believe I had as good brush
off&mdash;&mdash;If I stay, I don't know but he may ask me some
odd questions.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, Sir, I believe you and I do but hinder
the family&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> It's very true, Sir&mdash;I was just thinking of
going&mdash;&mdash;He don't care to leave me, I see: But it's no
matter, we have time enough. [<em>Aside.</em>] And so Ladies,
without ceremony, your humble Servant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Count <span class="antiqua">Basset</span>, and drops a Letter.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Ha! what Paper's this? Some Billet-doux
I'll lay my life, but this is no place to examine it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Puts it in her Pocket.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why in such haste, Cousin?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O! my Lady must have a great many affairs
upon her hands, after such a journey.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> I believe, Sir, I shall not have much
less every day, while I stay in this town, of one sort
or other.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why truly, Ladies seldom want employment
here, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> And Mamma did not come to it to be idle, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Nor you neither, I dare say, my young Mistress.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> I hope not, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ha! Miss Mettle!&mdash;--Where are you going
Sir?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Only to see you to the door, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Oh! Sir Francis, I love to come and go, without
ceremony.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Nay, Sir, I must do as you will have me&mdash;your
humble Servant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> This Cousin <em>Manly</em>, Papa, seems to be but of
an odd sort of a crusty humour&mdash;&mdash;I don't like him half
so well as the Count.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Pooh! that's another thing, Child&mdash;&mdash;Cousin
is a little proud indeed! but however you must
always be civil to him, for he has a deal of money; and
no body knows who he may give it to.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Pshah; a fig for his money, you have
so many projects of late about money, since you are
a Parliament Man: What! we must make ourselves
slaves to his impertinent humours, eight, or ten years
perhaps, in hopes to be his heirs, and then he will be
just old enough to marry his maid.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Nay, for that matter, Madam, the town says
he is going to be married already.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Who? Cousin <em>Manly</em>?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> To whom, pray?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Why, is it possible your Ladyship should know
nothing of it!&mdash;--to my Lord <em>Townly</em>'s sister, Lady
<em>Grace</em>.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Lady <em>Grace</em>?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Dear Madam, it has been in the New-Papers!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> I don't like that neither.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Naw, I do; for then it's likely it mayn't
be true.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] If it is not too far gone; at
least it may be worth one's while to throw a rub in his
way.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Pray, Feyther, haw lung will it be to
supper?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Odso! that's true! step to the Cook, Lad,
and ask what she can get us?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> If you please, Sir, I'll order one of my maids
to shew her where she may have any thing you have a
mind to.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Thank you kindly, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ods-flesh! what, is not it i'the hawse yet&mdash;&mdash;I
shall be famisht&mdash;&mdash;but howld! I'll go and ask
<em>Doll</em>, an there's none o'the goose poy left.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Do so, and do'st hear, <em>Dick</em>&mdash;&mdash;see if
there's e'er a bottle o'th' strong beer that came i'th'
coach with us&mdash;&mdash;if there be, clap a toast in it, and
bring it up.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> With a little nutmeg and sugar, shawn't I,
Feyther?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay! ay! as thee and I always drink it for
breakfast&mdash;Go thy ways!&mdash;--and I'll fill a pipe i'th'
mean while. [<em>Takes one from a Pocket-Case, and fills it.</em>]</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Squ. <span class="antiqua">Rich</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> This Boy is always thinking of his belly!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why my Dear, you may allow him to be a
little hungry after his journey.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Nay, ev'n breed him your own way&mdash;He
has been cramming in or out of the coach all this
day I am sure&mdash;I wish my poor Girl could eat a quarter
as much.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> O for that I could eat a great deal more,
Mamma; but then mayhap, I should grow coarse, like
him, and spoil my shape.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Ay, so thou would'st, my Dear.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Squire <span class="antiqua">Richard</span> with a full Tankard.</em>
</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Here, Feyther, I ha' browght it&mdash;&mdash;it's
well I went as I did; for our <em>Doll</em> had just bak'd a toast,
and was going to drink it herself.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why then, here's to thee, <em>Dick</em>!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drinks.</em></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Thonk yow, Feyther.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Lord! Sir <em>Francis</em>! I wonder you can
encourage the Boy to swill so much of that lubberly liquor&mdash;&mdash;it's
enough to make him quite stupid.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Why it never hurts me, Mother; and I
sleep like a hawnd after it.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drinks.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I am sure I ha' drunk it these thirty years,
and by your leave, Madam, I don't know that I want
wit: Ha! ha!</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> But you might have had a great deal more,
Papa, if you would have been govern'd by my Mother.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Daughter! he that is governed by his Wife,
has no wit at all.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Then I hope I shall marry a fool, Sir; for I
love to govern dearly.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> You are too pert, child; it don't do well
in a young woman.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Pray, Sir <em>Francis</em>, don't snub her; she has
a fine growing spirit, and if you check her so, you will
make her as dull as her brother there.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> [<em>After a long draught.</em>] Indeed, Mother,
I think my sister is too forward!</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> You! you think I'm too forward! sure!
Brother Mud! your head's too heavy to think of any
thing but your Belly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Well said, Miss; he's none of your Master,
tho' he is your elder Brother.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> No, nor she shawn't be my Mistress, while
she's younger sister!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Well said <em>Dick</em>! Shew 'em that stawt liquor
makes a stawt heart, Lad!</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> So I wull! and I'll drink ageen, for all
her!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Drinks.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">John Moody</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> So <em>John</em>! how are the horses!</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Troth, Sir, I ha' noa good opinion o'
this tawn, it's made up o' mischief, I think!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> What's the matter naw?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why I'll tell your Worship&mdash;&mdash;before
we were gotten to th' street end, with the coach, here,
a great lugger-headed cart, with wheels as thick as a
brick wall, laid hawld on't, and has poo'd it aw to
bits; crack! went the perch! Down goes the coach!
and whang! says the glasses, all to shivers! Marcy
upon us! and this be <em>London</em>! would we were aw weell
in the country ageen!</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> What have you to do, to wish us all in the
country again, Mr. Lubber? I hope we shall not go
into the country again these seven years, Mamma; let
twenty coaches be pull'd to pieces.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Hold your tongue, <em>Jenny</em>!&mdash;--Was <em>Roger</em>
in no fault, in all this?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Noa, Sir, nor I, noather&mdash;&mdash;are not yow
asheam'd, says <em>Roger</em> to the carter, to do such an unkind
thing by strangers? Noa, says he, you Bumkin. Sir,
he did the thing on very purpose! and so the folks said
that stood by&mdash;Very well, says <em>Roger</em>, yow shall see what
our Meyster will say to ye! Your Meyster? says he;
your Meyster may kiss my&mdash;and so he clapt his hand
just there, and like your Worship. Flesh! I thought
they had better breeding in this tawn.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I'll teach this rascal some, I'll warrant him!
Odsbud! if I take him in hand, I'll play the Devil with
him.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ay do, Feyther; have him before the Parliament.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Odsbud! and so I will&mdash;&mdash;I will make
him know who I am! Where does he live?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> I believe, in <em>London</em>, Sir.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> What's the Rascal's name!</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> I think I heard somebody call him <em>Dick</em>.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> What, my name!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Where did he go?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Sir, he went home.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Where's that?</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> By my troth, Sir, I doan't know! I
heard him say he would cross the same street again to-morrow;
and if we had a mind to stand in his way, he
wou'd pool us over and over again.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Will he so! Odszooks! get me a Constable.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Pooh! get you a good supper. Come,
Sir <em>Francis</em>, don't put yourself in a heat for what can't
be helpt. Accidents will happen to people that travel
abroad to see the world&mdash;&mdash;For my part, I think
it's a mercy it was not overturn'd before we were all
out on't.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay, that's true again, my Dear.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Therefore see to-morrow if we can buy
one at second-hand, for present use; so bespeak a new
one, and then all's easy.</p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why troth, Sir, I doan't think this
could have held you above a day longer.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> D'ye think so, <em>John</em>?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>

<p><em>John Moody.</em> Why you ha' had it, ever since your
Worship were High Sheriff.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why then go and see what <em>Doll</em> has got us
for supper&mdash;and come and get off my boots.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">Fran</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> In the mean time, Miss, do you step to
<em>Handy</em>, and bid her get me some fresh night-clothes.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Wrong</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Yes, Mamma, and some for myself too.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>.</em></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ods-flesh! and what mun I do all alone?</p>

<p>I'll e'en seek out where t'other pretty Miss is,
And she and I'll go play at cards for kisses.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_III_SCENE_I5" id="ACT_III_SCENE_I5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> III. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>the Lord</em> Townly's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>, a Servant attending.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>ho</span>'s there!</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> My Lord.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Bid them get dinner&mdash;&mdash;Lady <em>Grace</em>,
your Servant.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> What, is the house up already? My Lady
is not drest yet!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No matter&mdash;it's three o'clock&mdash;she may
break my rest, but she shall not alter my hours.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Nay, you need not fear that now, for
she dines abroad.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> That, I suppose, is only an excuse for her
not being ready yet.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> No, upon my word, she is engaged to
company.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Where, pray?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> At my Lady <em>Revel</em>'s; and you know they
never dine 'till supper-time.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No truly&mdash;&mdash;she is one of those orderly
Ladies, who never let the sun shine upon any of their
vices!&mdash;--But pr'ythee, Sister, what humour is she
in to-day?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O! in tip-top spirits, I can assure you&mdash;&mdash;she
won a good deal, last night.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I know no difference between her winning
or losing, while she continues her course of life.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> However she is better in good Humour,
than bad.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Much alike: When she is in good humour,
other people only are the better for it: When in
a very ill humour, then, indeed, I seldom fail to have
my share of her.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well, we won't talk of that now&mdash;&mdash;Does
any body dine here?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> <em>Manly</em> promis'd me&mdash;by the way, Madam,
what do you think of his last conversation?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em>&mdash;&mdash;I am a little at a stand about it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> How so?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why&mdash;&mdash;I don't know how he can ever
have any thoughts of me, that could lay down such severe
rules upon wives, in my hearing.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Did you think his rules unreasonable?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I can't say I did: But he might have had
a little more complaisance before me, at least.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Complaisance is only a proof of good
breeding: But his plainness was a certain proof of his honesty;
nay, of his good opinion of you: For he would
never have open'd himself so freely, but in confidence
that your good sense could not be disobliged at it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> My good opinion of him, Brother, has
hitherto been guided by yours: But I have receiv'd a
letter this morning that shews him a very different Man
from what I thought him.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> A letter from whom?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> That I don't know, but there it is.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives a Letter.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Pray let's see.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Reads.</em></p>

<div class="hangindent">

<p><em>The Inclos'd, Madam, fell accidentally into my hands;
if it no way concerns you, you will only have the trouble
of reading this, from your sincere Friend and humble Servant,
Unknown</em>, &amp;c.</p></div>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And this was the inclos'd.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Giving another.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> [<em>Reads.</em>] <em>To <span class="antiqua">Charles Manly</span>, Esq.</em></p>

<div class="hangindent">

<p><em>Your manner of living with me of late, convinces me, that
I now grow as painful to you, as to myself: but however,
though you can love me no longer, I hope you will
not let me live worse than I did, before I left an honest
Income, for the vain Hopes of being ever Yours.</em></p>

<p class="directright">Myrtilla Dupe.</p>

<p>P. S. <em>'Tis above four Months since I receiv'd a Shilling
from you.</em></p></div>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> What think you now?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I am considering&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> You see it's directed to him&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> That's true! but the Postscript seems
to be a reproach, that I think he is not capable of deserving.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But who could have concern enough, to
send it to me?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I have observed that these sort of letters
from unknown friends, generally come from secret
enemies.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> What would you have me do in it?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> What I think you ought to do&mdash;&mdash;fairly
shew it him, and say I advis'd you to it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Will not that have a very odd look,
from me?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Not at all, if you use my name in it: if
he is innocent, his impatience to appear so, will discover
his regard to you: If he is guilty, it will be
your best way of preventing his addresses.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But what pretence have I to put him out
of countenance?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I can't think there's any fear of that.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pray what is't you do think then?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Why certainly, that it's much more probable,
this letter may be all an artifice, than that he is
in the least concern'd in it&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Mr. <em>Manly</em>, my Lord.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Do you receive him; while I step a minute
in to my Lady.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Lord Townly</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Madam, your most obedient; they told me,
my Lord was here.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> He will be here presently: He is but just
gone in to my sister.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> So! then my Lady dines with us.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> No; she is engag'd.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I hope you are not of her party, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Not till after dinner.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And pray how may she have dispos'd of the rest
of the day?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Much as usual! she has visits 'till about
eight; after that 'till court time, she is to be at Quadrille,
at Mrs. <em>Idle</em>'s: After the Drawing-room, she
takes a short supper with my Lady <em>Moonlight</em>. And
from thence, they go together to my Lord <em>Noble</em>'s Assembly.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And are you to do all this with her, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Only a few of the visits; I would indeed
have drawn her to the Play; but I doubt we have
so much upon our hands, that it will not be practicable.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> But how can you forbear all the rest of it?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> There's no great merit in forbearing,
what one is not charm'd with.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And yet I have found that very difficult in my
time.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How do you mean?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why, I have pass'd a great deal of my life, in
the hurry of the Ladies, though I was generally better
pleas'd when I was at quiet without 'em.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> What induc'd you, then, to be with
them?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Idleness, and the Fashion.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> No Mistresses in the case?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> To speak honestly&mdash;Yes&mdash;being often in
the toyshop, there was no forbearing the bawbles.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And of course, I suppose sometimes you
were tempted to pay for them, twice as much as they
were worth.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why really, where fancy only makes the
choice, Madam, no wonder if we are generally bubbled,
in those sort of bargains, which I confess has
been often my case: For I had constantly some Coquette,
or other, upon my hands, whom I could love
perhaps just enough to put it in her power to plague
me.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And that's a pow'r, I doubt, commonly
made use of.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The amours of a Coquette, Madam, seldom
have any other view. I look upon Them, and Prudes,
to be nusances, just alike; tho' they seem very different:
The first are always plaguing the Men; and the
other are always abusing the Women.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And yet both of them do it for the same
vain ends; to establish a false character of being virtuous.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Of being chaste, they mean; for they know no
other virtue: and, upon the credit of that, they traffick
in every thing else that's vicious: They (even
against Nature) keep their chastity, only because they
find they have more power to do mischief with it, than
they could possibly put in practice without it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Hold! Mr. <em>Manly</em>: I am afraid this severe
opinion of the sex, is owing to the ill choice you
have made of your Mistresses.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> In a great measure, it may be so: But, Madam,
if both these characters are so odious; how vastly valuable
is that woman, who has attain'd all they aim at
without the aid of the Folly, or Vice of either?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I believe those sort of women to be as
scarce, Sir, as the men, that believe there are any such;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
or that allowing such have virtue enough to deserve
them.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> That <em>could</em> deserve them then&mdash;&mdash;had been
a more favourable reflexion!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Nay, I speak only from my little experience:
For (I'll be free with you, Mr. <em>Manly</em>) I don't
know a man in the world, that, in appearance, might
better pretend to a woman of the first merit, than
yourself: And yet I have a reason in my hand, here,
to think you have your failings.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I have infinite, Madam; but I am sure, the
want of an implicit respect for you, is not among the
number&mdash;&mdash;pray what is in your hand, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Nay, Sir, I have no title to it; for the
direction is to you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives him a Letter.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> To me! I don't remember the hand&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Reads to himself.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I can't perceive any change of guilt in
him! and his surprise seems natural! [<em>Aside.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;Give
me leave to tell you one thing by the way, Mr.
<em>Manly</em>; That I should never have shewn you this, but
that my Brother enjoin'd me to it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I take that to proceed from my Lord's good
opinion of me, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I hope, at least, it will stand as an excuse
for my taking this liberty.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I never yet saw you do any thing, Madam,
that wanted an excuse; and, I hope, you will not give
me an instance to the contrary, by refusing the favour
I am going to ask you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I don't believe I shall refuse any, that
you think proper to ask.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Only this, Madam, to indulge me so far, as to
let me know how this letter came into your hands.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Inclos'd to me, in this without a name.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If there be no secret in the contents, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why&mdash;&mdash;there is an impertinent insinuation
in it: But as I know your good sense will think
it so too, I will venture to trust you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You oblige me, Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>He takes the other Letter and reads.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Now am I in the oddest situation!
methinks our conversation grows terribly critical!
This must produce something:&mdash;&mdash;O lud! would it
were over!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Now, Madam, I begin to have some light into
the poor project, that is at the bottom of all this.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I have no notion of what could be proposed
by it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> A little patience, Madam&mdash;&mdash;First, as to
the insinuation you mention&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O! what is he going to say now!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Tho' my intimacy with my Lord may have
allow'd my visits to have been very frequent here of
late; yet, in such a talking town as this, you must not
wonder, if a great many of those visits are plac'd to
your account: And this taken for granted, I suppose has
been told to my Lady <em>Wronghead</em>, as a piece of news,
since her arrival, not improbably without many more
imaginary circumstances.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> My Lady <em>Wronghead</em>!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ay, Madam, for I am positive this is her
hand!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> What view could she have in writing it?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> To interrupt any treaty of marriage, she may
have heard I am engaged in: Because if I die without
heirs, her Family expects that some part of my estate
may return to them again. But, I hope, she is so far
mistaken, that if this letter has given you the least uneasiness,&mdash;&mdash;I
shall think that the happiest moment of
my life.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> That does not carry your usual complaisance,
Mr. <em>Manly</em>.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, Madam, because I am sure I can convince
you of my innocence.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I am sure I have no right to inquire
into it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Suppose you may not, Madam; yet you may
very innocently have so much curiosity.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> With what an artful gentleness he steals
into my opinion? [<em>Aside.</em>] Well, Sir, I won't pretend
to have so little of the Woman, in me, as to want curiosity&mdash;&mdash;But
pray, do you suppose then, this <em>Myrtilla</em>
is a real, or a fictitious name?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Now I recollect, Madam, there is a young
woman, in the house, where my Lady <em>Wronghead</em>
lodges, that I heard somebody call <em>Myrtilla</em>: This letter
may be written by her&mdash;&mdash;but how it came directed
to me, I confess is a mystery; that before I ever presume
to see your Ladyship again, I think myself oblig'd,
in Honour to find out.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Mr. <em>Manly</em>&mdash;&mdash;you are not going?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> 'Tis but to the next street, Madam; I shall be
back in ten minutes.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Nay! but dinner's just coming up.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Madam, I can neither eat, nor rest, till I see
an end of this affair!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But this is so odd! why should any silly
curiosity of mine drive you away?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Since you won't suffer it to be yours, Madam;
then it shall be only to satisfy my own curiosity&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well&mdash;&mdash;and now, what am I to think
of all this? Or suppose an indifferent person had heard
every word we have said to one another, what would
they have thought on't? Would it have been very
absurd to conclude, he is seriously inclined to pass the
rest of his life with me?&mdash;&mdash;I hope not&mdash;&mdash;for
I am sure, the case is terribly clear on my side! and
why may not I, without vanity, suppose my&mdash;&mdash;unaccountable
somewhat&mdash;&mdash;has done as much execution
upon him?&mdash;&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;because he never told me
so&mdash;&mdash;nay, he has not so much as mentioned the word
Love, or ever said one civil thing to my person&mdash;&mdash;well&mdash;&mdash;but
he has said a thousand to my good opinion,
and has certainly got it&mdash;&mdash;had he spoke first to
my person, he had paid a very ill compliment to my
understanding&mdash;&mdash;I should have thought him impertinent,
and never have troubled my head about him;
but as he has manag'd the matter, at least I am sure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
of one thing; that let his thoughts be what they will,
I shall never trouble my head about any other man, as
long as I live.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Well, Mrs. <em>Trusty</em>, is my sister dress'd yet?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Yes, Madam, but my Lord has been courting
her so, I think, 'till they are both out of humour.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How so?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Why, it begun, Madam, with his Lordship's
desiring her Ladyship to dine at home to-day&mdash;&mdash;upon
which my Lady said she could not be ready; upon
that, my Lord order'd them to stay the dinner, and
then my Lady order'd the coach; then my Lord took
her short, and said, he had order'd the coachman to
set up: Then my Lady made him a great curt'sy, and
said, she would wait 'till his Lordship's horses had
din'd, and was mighty pleasant: But for fear of the
worst, Madam, she whisper'd me&mdash;&mdash;to get her chair
ready.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O! here they come; and, by their looks,
seem a little unfit for company.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>, Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span> following.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well! look you, my Lord; I can bear
it no longer! nothing still but about my faults, my
faults! an agreeable subject truly!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Why, Madam, if you won't hear of
them; how can I ever hope to see you mend them?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why, I don't intend to mend them&mdash;&mdash;I
can't mend them&mdash;&mdash;you know I have try'd to do it an
hundred times, and&mdash;it hurts me so&mdash;I can't bear it!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> And I, Madam, can't bear this daily
licentious abuse of your time and character.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Abuse! Astonishing! when the Universe
knows, I am never better company, than when I am
doing what I have a mind to! But to see this world!
that Men can never get over that silly spirit of contradiction&mdash;&mdash;why
but last <em>Thursday</em> now&mdash;&mdash;there
you wisely amended one of my faults as you call them&mdash;&mdash;you
insisted upon my not going to the Masquerade<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>&mdash;&mdash;and
pray, what was the consequence! was not I as
cross as the Devil, all the night after? was not I forc'd
to get company at home! and was not it almost three
o'clock in the morning, before I was able to come to
myself again? and then the fault is not mended neither,&mdash;&mdash;for
next time, I shall only have twice the inclination
to go: so that all this mending, and mending,
you see, is but dearning an old ruffle, to make it worse
than it was before.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Well, the manner of womens living, of
late, is insupportable; and one way or other&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> It's to be mended, I suppose! why so it
may; but then, my dear Lord, you must give one
time&mdash;&mdash;and when things are at worst, you know,
they may mend themselves! ha! ha!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Madam, I am not in a humour, now,
to trifle.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why then, my Lord, one word of fair
argument&mdash;to talk with you, your own way now&mdash;&mdash;You
complain of my late hours, and I of your early
ones&mdash;&mdash;so far are we even, you'll allow&mdash;&mdash;but pray
which gives us the best figure in the eye of the polite
world? my active, spirited three in the Morning, or
your dull, drowsy eleven at Night? Now, I think, one
has the air of a Woman of Quality, and t'other of a
plodding Mechanic, that goes to bed betimes, that he
may rise early, to open his shop!&mdash;--Faugh!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Fy, fy, Madam! is this your way of
reasoning? 'tis time to wake you then&mdash;&mdash;'tis not
your ill hours alone, that disturb me, but as often the
ill company that occasion those ill Hours.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Sure I don't understand you now, my
Lord; what ill company do I keep?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Why, at best, women that lose their money,
and men that win it! Or, perhaps, men that are
voluntary bubbles at one game, in hopes a Lady will
give them fair play at another. Then that unavoidable
mixture with known rakes, conceal'd thieves, and
Sharpers in embroidery&mdash;&mdash;or what, to me, is still
more shocking, that herd of familiar chattering crop-ear'd
Coxcombs, who are so often like Monkeys, there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>
would be no knowing them asunder, but that their tails
hang from their head, and the monkey's grows where
it should do.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> And a Husband must give eminent proof
of his sense, that thinks their powder-puffs dangerous.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Their being fools, Madam, is not always
the Husband's security: Or if it were, fortune, sometimes,
gives them advantages might make a thinking
woman tremble.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> What do you mean!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> That Women, sometimes, lose more than
they are able to pay; and if a creditor be a little pressing,
the Lady may be reduc'd to try if, instead of gold,
the Gentleman will accept of a trinket.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My Lord you grow scurrilous; you'll
make me hate you. I'll have you to know, I keep
company with the politest people in town, and the
Assemblies I frequent are full of such.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> So are the Churches&mdash;&mdash;now and then.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My friends frequent them too, at well as
the Assemblies.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Yes, and would do it oftner, if a groom
of the chambers there were allowed to furnish cards to
the company.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I see what you drive at all this while;
you would lay an imputation on my fame, to cover
your own avarice! I might take any pleasures I find,
that were not expensive.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Have a care, Madam; don't let me
think you only value your chastity, to make me reproachable
for not indulging you in every thing else,
that's vicious&mdash;&mdash;I, Madam, have a reputation too, to
guard, that's dear to me, as yours&mdash;&mdash;The follies of
an ungovern'd wife may make the wisest man uneasy; but
'tis his own fault, if ever they make him contemptible.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My Lord&mdash;&mdash;you would make a woman
mad!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> You'd make a man a fool.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> If Heav'n has made you otherwise, that
won't be in my power.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Whatever may be in your inclination,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>
Madam; I'll prevent you making me a Beggar at least.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> A Beggar! <em>Crœsus</em>! I'm out of Patience!
I won't come home 'till four to-morrow morning.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> That may be, Madam; but I'll order
the doors to be lock'd at twelve.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Then I won't come home 'till to-morrow
night.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Then, Madam;&mdash;&mdash;You shall never come
home again.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lord <span class="antiqua">Town</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> What does he mean! I never heard such
a word from him in my life before! the Man always
us'd to have manners in his worst humours! there's
something, that I don't see, at the bottom of all this&mdash;&mdash;but
his head's always upon some impracticable
scheme or other, so I won't trouble mine any longer
about him. Mr. <em>Manly</em>, your Servant.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I ask pardon for my intrusion, Madam; but I
hope my business with my Lord will excuse it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I believe you'll find him in the next
room, Sir.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Will you give me leave, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;you have my leave, tho' you
were a lady.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] What a well bred age do we live in?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! my dear Lady <em>Grace</em>! how could
you leave me so unmercifully alone all this while?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I thought my Lord had been with you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why yes&mdash;&mdash;and therefore I wanted your
relief; for he has been in such a fluster here&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Bless me! for what?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Only our usual breakfast; we have each
of us had our dish of Matrimonial Comfort, this morning!
we have been charming company!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I am mighty glad of it! sure it must be
a vast happiness, when a Man and a Wife can give
themselves the same turn of conversation!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! the prettiest thing in the world!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Now I should be afraid, that where two
people are every day together so, they must often be in
want of something to talk upon.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O my Dear, you are the most mistaken
in the world! married people have things to talk of,
child, that never enter into the imagination of others.&mdash;&mdash;Why,
here's my Lord and I now, we have not
been married above two short years, you know, and we
have already eight or ten things constantly in bank, that
whenever we want company, we can take up any one
of them for two hours together, and the subject never
the flatter; nay, if we have occasion for it, it will be
as fresh next day too, as it was the first hour it entertain'd
us.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Certainly that must be vastly pretty.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! there's no life like it! why t'other
day for example, when you din'd abroad; my Lord
and I, after a pretty chearful <em>tête à tête</em> meal, sat us
down by the fire-side, in an easy indolent, pick-tooth
way, for about a quarter of an hour, as if we had
not thought of any other's being in the room&mdash;&mdash;at
last, stretching himself, and yawning&mdash;&mdash;My Dear,
says he,&mdash;&mdash;aw&mdash;&mdash;you came home very late, last
night&mdash;&mdash;'Twas but just turn'd of Two, says I&mdash;&mdash;I
was in bed&mdash;aw&mdash;&mdash;by eleven, says he; so you are
every night, says I&mdash;&mdash;Well, says he, I am amazed
you can sit up so late&mdash;&mdash;How can you be amaz'd, says
I, at a thing that happens so often?&mdash;&mdash;upon which
we enter'd into a conversation&mdash;&mdash;and tho' this is a
point has entertain'd us above fifty times already, we always
find so many pretty new things to say upon it,
that I believe in my soul, it will last as long as we live.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But pray! in such sort of family dialogues
(tho' extremely well for passing the time) don't
there, now and then, enter some little witty sort of bitterness?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O yes! which does not do amiss at all!
A smart repartee, with a zest of recrimination at the
head of it, makes the prettiest sherbet; Ay, ay! if
we did not mix a little of the acid with it, a matri<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>monial
Society would be so luscious, that nothing but
an old liquorish prude would be able to bear it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well,&mdash;&mdash;certainly you have the most
elegant taste&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Tho' to tell you the truth, my Dear, I
rather think we squeez'd a little too much lemon into
it, this bout; for it grew so sour at last, that&mdash;I think&mdash;&mdash;I
almost told him, he was a fool&mdash;&mdash;and he
again&mdash;&mdash;talk'd something oddly of&mdash;&mdash;turning me
out of doors.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O! have a care of that!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Nay, if he should, I may thank my own
wise father for that&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How so?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why&mdash;&mdash;when my good Lord first
open'd his honourable trenches before me, my unaccountable
Papa, in whose hands I then was, gave me
up at discretion.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How do you mean?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> He said, the wives of this age were come
to that pass, that he would not desire even his own
Daughter should be trusted with pin-money; so that my
whole train of separate inclinations are left entirely at
the mercy of an husband's odd humours.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why, that, indeed, is enough to make
a woman of spirit look about her!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Nay, but to be serious; my Dear; what
would you really have a woman do in my case?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why&mdash;&mdash;If I had a sober husband as
you have, I would make myself the happiest wife in
the world by being as sober as he.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! you wicked thing! how can you teize
one at this rate? when you know he is so very sober,
that (except giving me money) there is not one thing
in the world he can do to please me! And I at the same
time, partly by nature, and partly, perhaps, by keeping
the best company, do with my soul love almost every
thing he hates! I dote upon assemblies! my heart
bounds at a ball; and at an Opera&mdash;&mdash;I expire! then
I love play to distraction! Cards inchant me! and Dice&mdash;put
me out of my little wits! Dear! dear Hazard!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
oh! what a flow of spirits it gives one! do you never
play at hazard, child?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Oh! never! I don't think it fits well upon
women; there is something so masculine, so much
the air of a rake in it! you see how it makes the men
swear and curse! and when a woman is thrown into the
same passion&mdash;&mdash;why&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> That's very true! one is a little put to it,
sometimes, not to make use of the same words to express
it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well&mdash;&mdash;and, upon ill luck, pray what
words are you really forc'd to make use of?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why upon a very hard case, indeed,
when a sad wrong word is rising, just to one's tongue's
end, I give a great gulp&mdash;&mdash;and swallow it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well&mdash;&mdash;and is not that enough to
make you forswear play, as long as you live?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O yes! I have forsworn it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Seriously?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Solemnly! a thousand times; but then
one is constantly forsworn.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> And how can you answer that?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My dear, what we say, when we are
losers, we look upon to be no more binding than a lover's
oath, or a great man's promise. But I beg pardon,
child; I should not lead you so far into the world; you
are a prude, and design to live soberly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why, I confess my nature, and my education
do, in a good degree, incline me that way.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well! how a woman of spirit, (for you
don't want that, child) can dream of living soberly, is
to me inconceivable! for you will marry I suppose.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I can't tell but I may.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> And won't you live in town?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Half the year, I should like it very well.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My stars! and you would really live in
London half the year to be sober in it!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why not?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why can't you as well go, and be sober
in the country?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> So I would&mdash;&mdash;t'other half year.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> And pray what comfortable scheme of
life would you form now, for your summer and winter
sober entertainments?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> A scheme, that I think might very well
content us.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! of all things let's hear it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why, in summer, I cou'd pass my leisure
hours in riding, in reading, walking by a canal,
or sitting at the end of it under a great tree; in dressing,
dining, chatting with an agreeable friend, perhaps
hearing a little music, taking a dish of tea, or a
game of cards soberly! managing my family, looking
into its accounts, playing with my children (if I
had any) or in a thousand other innocent amusements&mdash;&mdash;soberly!
and possibly, by these means,
I might induce my husband to be as sober as myself&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well, my dear, thou art an astonishing
creature! for sure such primitive antediluvian notions
of life, have not been in any head these thousand years&mdash;&mdash;Under
a great tree! O my soul!&mdash;--But I beg
we may have the sober town scheme too&mdash;&mdash;for I am
charmed with the country one!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> You shall, and I'll try to stick to my
sobriety there too.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well, tho' I'm sure it will give me the
vapours, I must hear it however.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why then, for fear of your fainting,
madam, I will first so far come into the fashion, that
I would never be dressed out of it&mdash;&mdash;but still it
should be soberly. For I can't think it any disgrace
to a woman of my private fortune, not to wear her
lace as fine as a wedding-suit of a first Dutchess.
Tho' there is one extravagance I would venture to come
up to.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Ay, now for it&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I would every day be as clean as a
bride.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why the men say, that's a great step to
be made one&mdash;&mdash;Well now you are drest&mdash;&mdash;pray let's
see to what purpose.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I would visit&mdash;that is, my real friends;
but as little for form as possible.&mdash;&mdash;I would go to
court; sometimes to an assembly, nay, play at <em>quadrille</em>&mdash;&mdash;soberly;
I would see all the good plays; and,
(because 'tis the fashion) now and then an opera&mdash;&mdash;but
I would not expire there, for fear I should never go
again: and lastly, I can't say, but for curiosity, if I
lik'd my company, I might be drawn in once to a masquerade!
And this, I think, is as far at any woman
can go&mdash;&mdash;soberly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well! if it had not been for that last
piece of sobriety, I was just going to call for some surfeit
water.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Why, don't you think, with the farther
aid of breakfasting, dining, taking the air, supping,
sleeping, not to say a word of devotion, the four and
twenty hours might roll over in a tolerable manner?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Tolerable? deplorable! Why, child,
all you propose, is but to endure life, now I want to
enjoy it&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Madam, your Ladyship's chair is ready.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Have the Footmen their white flambeaux
yet? for last night I was poison'd.</p>

<p><em>Trus.</em> Yes, madam: there were some come in this
morning.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My dear, you will excuse me; but you
know my time is so precious&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> That I beg I may not hinder your least
enjoyment of it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> You will call on me at Lady <em>Revel</em>'s?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Certainly.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> But I am so afraid it will break into your
scheme, my dear!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> When it does, I will&mdash;&mdash;soberly break
from you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why then 'till we meet again, dear sister,
I wish you all tolerable happiness.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Town</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> There she goes&mdash;dash! into her stream
of pleasures! poor woman! she is really a fine creature!
and sometimes infinitely agreeable! nay, take her
out of the madness of this town, rational in her notions,
and easy to live with: but she is so borne down
by this torrent of vanity in vogue, she thinks every
hour of her life is lost that she does not lead at the
head of it. What it will end in, I tremble to imagine&mdash;&mdash;Ha!
my brother, and <em>Manly</em> with him!
I guess what they have been talking of&mdash;&mdash;I shall hear
it in my turn, I suppose, but it won't become me to be
inquisitive.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span> and <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I did not think my Lady <em>Wronghead</em> had
such a notable brain: tho' I can't say she was so very
wise, in trusting this silly girl you call <em>Myrtilla</em>, with the
secret.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No, my Lord, you mistake me, had the girl
been in the secret, perhaps I had never come at it myself.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Why I thought you said the girl writ
this letter, to you, and that my Lady <em>Wronghead</em> sent it
inclos'd to my sister?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If you please to give me leave, my Lord&mdash;&mdash;the
fact is thus.&mdash;This inclos'd letter to Lady <em>Grace</em>
was a real original one, written by this girl, to the
Count we have been talking of: the Count drops it,
and my Lady <em>Wronghead</em> finds it: then only changing
the cover, she seals it up as a letter of business, just
written by herself, to me: and pretending to be in a
hurry, gets this innocent girl to write the direction,
for her.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Oh! then the girl did not know she was
superscribing a billet-doux of her own to you?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No, my Lord; for when I first question'd her
about the direction, she own'd it immediately: but
when I shew'd her that the letter to the Count was
within it, and told her how it came into my hands,
the poor creature was amazed and thought herself betray'd
both by the Count and my Lady&mdash;&mdash;in short,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
upon this discovery the girl and I grew so gracious,
that she has let me into some transactions, in my Lady
<em>Wronghead</em>'s family, which, with my having a careful
eye over them, may prevent the ruin of it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> You are very generous to be so solicitous
for a Lady that has given you so much uneasiness.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> But I will be most unmercifully reveng'd of her:
for I will do her the greatest friendship in the world&mdash;&mdash;against
her will.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> What an uncommon philosophy art thou
master of? to make even thy malice a virtue?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yet, my Lord, I assure you, there is no one
action of my life gives me more pleasure than your
approbation of it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Dear <em>Charles</em>! my heart's impatient,
'till thou art nearer to me: and as a proof that I have
long wished thee so: while your daily conduct has chosen
rather to deserve than ask my sister's favour; I have
been as secretly industrious to make her sensible of
your merit: and since on this occasion you have open'd
your whole heart to me, 'tis now with equal pleasure,
I assure you, we have both succeeded&mdash;&mdash;she is as
firmly yours&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Impossible! you flatter me!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I am glad you think it flattery: but she
herself shall prove it none: she dines with us alone:
when the servants are withdrawn, I'll open a conversation,
that shall excuse my leaving you together&mdash;<em>O!
Charles!</em> had I, like thee, been cautious in my choice,
what melancholy hours had this heart avoided!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No more of that, I beg, my Lord&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> But 'twill, at least, be some relief to my
anxiety (however barren of content the state has been
to me) to see so near a friend and sister happy in it:
your harmony of life will be an instance how much the
choice of temper is preferable to beauty.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">While your soft hours in mutual kindness move,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You'll reach by virtue what I lost by love.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_IV_SCENE_I5" id="ACT_IV_SCENE_I5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> IV. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Mrs.</em> Motherly's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>, meeting <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">S</span>o</span>, niece! where is it possible you can have been
these six hours?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> O! Madam! I have such a terrible story to tell
you!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> A story! ods my life! what have you done
with the Count's note of five hundred pounds I sent you
about? is it safe? is it good? is it security?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Yes, yes, it is safe: but for its goodness&mdash;&mdash;mercy
on us! I have been in a fair way to be hang'd
about it.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> The dickens! has the rogue of a Count play'd
us another trick then?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> You shall hear, Madam; when I came to Mr.
<em>Cash</em>, the Banker's, and shewed him his note for five
hundred pounds, payable to the Count, or order, in two
months&mdash;he looked earnestly upon it, and desired me
to step into the inner room, while he examined his
books&mdash;&mdash;after I had staid about ten minutes, he came
in to me&mdash;&mdash;claps to the door, and charges me with
a constable for forgery.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Ah poor soul! and how didst thou get off?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> While I was ready to sink in this condition, I
begg'd him to have a little patience, 'till I could send
for Mr. <em>Manly</em>, whom he knew to be a gentleman of
worth and honour, and who, I was sure, would convince
him, whatever fraud might be in the note, that I
was myself an innocent abus'd woman&mdash;&mdash;and
as good luck would have it, in less than half an
hour Mr. <em>Manly</em> came&mdash;&mdash;so, without mincing the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
matter, I fairly told him upon what design the Count
had lodg'd that note in your hands, and in short, laid
open the whole scheme he had drawn us into, to make
our fortune.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> The devil you did!</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Why how do you think it was possible I could
any otherwise make Mr. <em>Manly</em> my friend, to help me
out of the scrape I was in? To conclude, he soon made
Mr. <em>Cash</em> easy, and sent away the Constable; nay farther
promis'd me, if I would trust the note in his
hands, he would take care it should be be fully paid before
it was due, and at the same time would give
me an ample revenge upon the Count; so that all
you have to consider now, Madam, is, whether you
think yourself safer in the Count's hands, or Mr.
<em>Manly</em>'s.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Nay, nay, child; there is no choice in the
matter! Mr. <em>Manly</em> may be a friend indeed, if any
thing in our power can make him so.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Well, madam, and now pray how stand matters
at home here? What has the Count done with the
ladies?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Why every thing he has a mind to do, by this
time, I suppose. He is in as high favour with Miss, as
he is with my Lady.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Pray, where are the ladies?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Rattling abroad in their own coach, and the
well-bred Count along with them: they have been
scouring all the shops in town over, buying fine things
and new clothes from morning to night: they have
made one voyage already, and have brought home such
a cargo of bawbles and trumpery&mdash;&mdash;mercy on the
poor man that's to pay for them!</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Did not the young Squire go with them!</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> No, no; Miss said, truly he would but disgrace
their party: so they even left him asleep by the kitchen
fire.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Has he not asked after me all this while? for I
had a sort of an assignation with him.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> O yes! he has been in a bitter taking about
it. At last his disappointment grew so uneasy, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>
he fairly fell a crying; so to quiet him, I sent one of
the maids and <em>John Moody</em> abroad with him to shew
him&mdash;&mdash;the lions and the Monument. Ods me!
there he is, just come home again&mdash;&mdash;you may have
business with him&mdash;&mdash;so I'll even turn you together.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Squire <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Soah! soah! Mrs. <em>Myrtilla</em>, where han
yow been aw this day, forsooth?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Nay, if you go to that, Squire, where have
you been, pray?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Rich. Why, when I fun' at yow were no loikly
to come whoam, I were ready to hong my sel&mdash;&mdash;so
<em>John Moody</em>, and I, and one o' your lasses have been&mdash;&mdash;Lord
knows where&mdash;&mdash;a seeing o' the soights.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Well and pray what have you seen, Sir?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Flesh! I cawnt tell, not I&mdash;&mdash;seen every
thing I think. First there we went o' top o' the what
d'ye call it? there, the great huge stone post, up the
rawnd and rawnd stairs, that twine and twine about,
just an as thof it were a cork screw.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> O, the Monument! well, and was it not a fine
sight from the top of it?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Sight, Miss! I know no'&mdash;I saw nowght
but smoak and brick housen, and steeple tops&mdash;&mdash;then
there was such a mortal ting-tang of bells, and
rumbling of carts and coaches, and then the folks
under one look'd so small, and made such a hum, and
a buz, it put me in mind of my mother's great glass
bee-hive in our garden in the country.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> I think, Master, you give a very good account
of it.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ay! but I did no like it: for my head&mdash;my
head&mdash;began to turn&mdash;&mdash;so I trundled me dawn
stairs ugain like a round trencher.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Well! but this was not all you saw, I suppose?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Noa! noa! we went after that and saw the
lions, and I lik'd them better by hawlf; they are
pure grim devils; hoh, hoh! I touke a stick, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>
gave one of them such a poke o' the noase&mdash;&mdash;I believe
he would ha' snapt my head off, an he could ha'
got me. Hoh! hoh! hoh!</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Well, Master, when you and I go abroad, I'll
shew you prettier sights than these&mdash;&mdash;there's a masquerade
to-morrow.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> O laud! ay! they say that's a pure thing
for <em>Merry Andrews</em>, and those sort of comical mummers&mdash;&mdash;and
the Count tells me, that there lads and
lasses may jig their tails, and eat, and drink, without
grudging, all night-lung.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> What would you say now, if I should get you a
ticket and go along with you?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ah dear!</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> But have a care, Squire, the fine ladies there
are terribly tempting; look well to your heart, or ads
me! they'll whip it up in the trip of a minute.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ay, but they can't thoa&mdash;&mdash;soa let 'um
look to themselves, an' ony of 'um falls in love with me&mdash;mayhap
they had as good be quiet.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Why sure you would not refuse a fine lady,
would you?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ay, but I would tho' unless it were&mdash;one
at I know of.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Oh! oh! then you have left your heart in the
country, I find?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Noa, noa, my heart&mdash;&mdash;eh&mdash;&mdash;my
heart e'nt awt o' this room.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> I am glad you have it about you, however.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Nay, mahap not soa neather, somebody
else may have it, 'at you little think of.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> I can't imagine what you mean!</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Noa! why doan't you know how many
folks there is in this room, naw?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Very fine, Master, I see you have learnt the
town gallantry already.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Why doan't you believe 'at I have a kindness
for you then?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Fy! fy! Master, how you talk! beside you are
too young to think of a wife.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>
Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ay but I caunt help thinking o' yow,
for all that.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> How! why sure, Sir, you don't pretend to think
of me in a dishonourable way?</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Nay, that's as you see good&mdash;&mdash;I did no'
think 'at you would ha' thowght of me for a husband,
mayhap; unless I had means in my own hands; and
feyther allows me but half a crown a week, as yet a
while.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Oh! when I like any body, 'tis not want of
money will make me refuse them.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Well, that's just my mind now; for 'an
I like a girl, Miss, I would take her in her smuck.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Ay, Master, now you speak like a man of honour:
this shews something of a true heart in you.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Ay, and a true heart you'll find me; try
me when you will.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Hush! hush! here's your papa come home, and
my aunt with him.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> A devil rive 'em, what do they come naw
for?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> When you and I get to the masquerade, you shall
see what I'll say to you.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Well, hands upon't then&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> There&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> One buss and a bargain.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Kisses her.</em></p>

<p>Ads wauntlikins! as soft and plump as a marrow-pudding.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt severally.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis Wronghead</span> and Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> What! my wife and daughter abroad say
you?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> O dear Sir, they have been mighty busy all
the day long; they just came home to snap up a short
dinner, and so went out again.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Well, well, I shan't stay supper for 'em, I
can tell 'em that: For ods-heart! I have had nothing in
me, but a toast and a tankard, since morning.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> I am afraid, Sir, these late Parliament hours
won't agree with you.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, truly, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, they don't do
right with us country gentlemen; to lose one meal out of
three, is a hard tax upon a good stomach.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> It is so indeed, Sir.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> But, hawsomever, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>, when we
consider, that what we suffer is for the good of our
country&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Why truly, Sir, that is something.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Oh! there's a great deal to be said for't&mdash;the
good of one's country is above all things&mdash;&mdash;A
true hearted <em>Englishman</em> thinks nothing too much for it&mdash;&mdash;I
have heard of some honest gentlemen so very
zealous, that for the good of their country&mdash;&mdash;they
would sometimes go to dinner at midnight.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> O! the goodness of 'em! sure their country
must have vast esteem for them?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> So they have Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>; they are so
respected when they come home to their Boroughs,
after a session, and so belov'd&mdash;&mdash;that their country
will come and dine with them every day in the
week.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Dear me! what a fine thing it is to be so populous?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> It is a great comfort, indeed! and I can
assure you you are a good sensible woman, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> O dear Sir, your Honour's pleas'd to compliment.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> No, no, I see you know how to value people
of consequence.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Good lack! here's company, Sir; will you
give me leave to get you a little something 'till the ladies
come home, Sir?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why troth, I don't think it would be
amiss.</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> It shall be done in a moment, Sir.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mr. <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>, your servant.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Cousin <em>Manly</em>!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I am come to see how the family goes on here.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Troth! all as busy as bees; I have been
upon the wing ever since eight o'clock this morning.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> By your early hour, then, I suppose you
have been making your court to some of the great
men.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, faith! you have hit it, Sir&mdash;&mdash;I
was advised to lose no time: so I e'en went straight
forward, to one great man I had never seen in my life
before.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Right! that was doing business: but who had
you got to introduce you?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, no body&mdash;&mdash;I remember'd I had
heard a wise man say&mdash;My son be bold&mdash;so troth! I
introduced myself.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> As how, pray?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, thus&mdash;&mdash;look ye&mdash;&mdash;please your
Lordship, says I, I am Sir <em>Francis Wronghead</em> of <em>Bumper-hall</em>,
and member of Parliament for the borough of
<em>Guzzledown</em>&mdash;&mdash;Sir, your humble servant, says my
Lord; thof I have not the honour to know your person,
I have heard you are a very honest gentleman, and
am glad your Borough has made choice of so worthy
a representative; and so, says he, Sir <em>Francis</em>, have you
any service to command me? Naw, cousin! those
last words, you may be sure gave me no small encouragement.
And thof I know, Sir, you have no extraordinary
opinion of my parts, yet I believe, you won't
say I mist it naw!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, I hope I shall have no cause.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> So when I found him so courteous&mdash;&mdash;My
Lord, says I, I did not think to ha' troubled your
Lordship with business upon my first visit: but since your
Lordship is pleas'd not to stand upon ceremony&mdash;&mdash;why
truly, says I, I think naw is as good as another
time.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Right! there you push'd him home.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay, ay, I had a mind to let him see that I
was none of your mealy-mouth'd ones.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Very good!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> So in short, my Lord, says I, I have a good
estate&mdash;&mdash;but&mdash;&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;it's a little awt at elbows: and
as I desire to serve my King, as well as my country, I
shall be very willing to accept of a place at Court.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> So, this was making short work on't.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I'cod! I shot him flying, cousin: some of
your hawf-witted ones naw, would ha' humm'd and
haw'd, and dangled a month or two after him, before
they durst open their mouths about a place, and mayhap,
not ha' got it at last neither.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Oh! I'm glad you're so sure on't&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> You shall hear, cousin&mdash;&mdash;Sir <em>Francis</em>,
says my Lord, pray what sort of a place may you ha'
turn'd your thoughts upon? My Lord, says I, beggars
must not be chusers; but ony a place, says I, about a
thousand a year, will be well enough to be doing with
'till something better falls in&mdash;for I thowght it would
not look well to stond haggling with him at first.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No, no, your business was to get footing any
way.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Right! there's it! ay, cousin, I see you
know the world!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, yes, one sees more of it every day&mdash;&mdash;well!
but what said my Lord to all this?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>, says he, I shall be glad to serve
you any way that lies in my power; so gave me a
squeeze by the hond, as much as to say, give yourself
no trouble&mdash;&mdash;I'll do your business; with that he
turn'd him abawt to somebody with a coloured ribbon across
here, that look'd in my thowghts, as if he came
for a place too.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Ha! so, upon these hopes, you are to make
your fortune!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, do you think there's ony doubt of
it, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Oh no, I have not the least doubt about it&mdash;&mdash;for
just as you have done, I made my fortune ten years
ago.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, I never knew you had a place,
cousin.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Nor I neither, upon my faith, cousin. But
you perhaps may have better fortune: for I suppose my
Lord has heard of what importance you were in the debate
to-day&mdash;&mdash;You have been since down at the
house, I presume?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> O yes! I would not neglect the house, for
ever so much.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, and pray what have they done there?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, troth! I can't well tell you, what
they have done, but I can tell you what I did: and I
think pretty well in the main; only I happened to make
a little mistake at last indeed.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> How was that?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, they were all got there, into a sort
of a puzzling debate, about the good of the nation&mdash;&mdash;and
I were always for that, you know&mdash;&mdash;but in
short, the arguments were so long winded o' both sides,
that, waunds! I did no well understand 'em, hawsomever,
I was convinc'd, and so resolved to vote right,
according to my conscience&mdash;&mdash;so when they came to
put the question, as they call it,&mdash;&mdash;I don't know haw
'twas&mdash;&mdash;but I doubt I cry'd ay! when I should ha'
cry'd no!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> How came that about?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, by a mistake, as I tell you&mdash;&mdash;for
there was a good-humour'd sort of a gentleman, one
Mr. <em>Totherside</em> I think they call him, that sat next me,
as soon as I had cry'd ay! gives me a hearty shake by
the hand! Sir says he, you are a man of honour, and a
true <em>Englishman</em>! and I should be proud to be better acquainted
with you&mdash;&mdash;and so with that, he takes me
by the sleeve, along with the crowd into the lobby,
so, I knew nowght&mdash;&mdash;but ods-flesh! I was got o'
the wrung side the post&mdash;for I were told, afterwards,
I should have staid where I was.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And so, if you had not quite made your fortune
before, you have clench'd it now!&mdash;--Ah! thou
head of the <em>Wrongheads</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Odso! here's my lady come home at last&mdash;&mdash;I
hope, cousin, you will be so kind, as to take
a family supper with us?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Another time, Sir <em>Francis</em>; but to-night I am
engaged!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Wronghead</span>, Miss <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>, and Count <span class="antiqua">Basset</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Cousin! your servant; I hope you will
pardon my rudeness: but we have really been in such a
continual hurry here, that we have not had a leisure
moment to return your last visit.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O Madam! I am a man of no ceremony; you
see that has not hindered my coming again.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> You are infinitely obliging; but I'll redeem
my credit with you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> At your own time, Madam.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> I must say that for Mr. <em>Manly</em>, madam; if
making people easy is the rule of good-breeding, he is
certainly the best bred man in the world.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Soh! I am not to drop my acquaintance, I
find&mdash;[<em>Aside.</em>] I am afraid, Sir, I shall grow vain upon
your good opinion.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> I don't know that, Sir; but I am sure,
what you are pleas'd to say, makes me so.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The most impudent modesty that ever I met
with.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Lard! how ready his wit is?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Don't you think, Sir, the Count's a very fine gentleman?</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Man.</em> O! among the ladies, certainly.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Fran.</em> And yet he's as stout as a lion: waund, he'll storm any thing.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Man.</em> Will he so? Why then, Sir, take care of your citadel.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah! you are wag, cousin.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p><em>Man.</em> I hope, Ladies, the town air continues to agree
with you?</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> O! perfectly well, Sir! We have been abroad
in our new coach all day long&mdash;&mdash;and we have
bought an ocean of fine things. And to-morrow we
go to the masquerade! and on Friday to the play!
and on Saturday to the opera! and on Sunday we are
to be at what d'ye call it&mdash;assembly, and see the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
ladies play at quadrille, and piquet and ombre, and
hazard, and basset, and on <em>Monday</em>, we are to see the
King! and so on <em>Tuesday</em>&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Hold, hold, Miss! you must not let
your tongue run so fast, child&mdash;&mdash;you forgot! you
know I brought you hither to learn modesty.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, yes! and she is improved with a vengeance&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Lawrd! Mama, I am sure I did not say any
harm! and if one must not speak in ones turn, one
may be kept under as long as one lives, for ought I
see.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> O! my conscience, this girl grows so
headstrong&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay, ay, there's your fine growing spirit for
you! Now tack it dawn, an' you can.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> All I said, Papa, was only to entertain my
cousin <em>Manly</em>.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> My pretty dear, I am mightily obliged to you.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Look you there now, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Hold your tongue, I say.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> [<em>Turning away and glowting.</em>] I declare it, I
won't bear it: she is always snubbing me before you,
Sir!&mdash;--I know why she does it well enough&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside to the Count.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Hush! hush, my dear! don't be uneasy
at that! she'll suspect us.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Let her suspect, what do I care&mdash;&mdash;I don't
know, but I have as much reason to suspect, as she&mdash;tho'
perhaps I'm not so afraid of her.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] I'gad, if I don't keep a tight
hand on my tit here, she'll run away with my project
before I can bring it to bear.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Perpetually hanging upon him!
The young harlot is certainly in love with him; but I
must not let them see I think so&mdash;&mdash;and yet I can't bear
it: Upon my life, Count, you'll spoil that forward
girl&mdash;&mdash;you should not encourage her so.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Pardon me, Madam, I was only advising
her to observe what your Ladyship said to her.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Yes, truly, her observations have been something
particular.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td>Count <em>Bas.</em> In one word, Madam, she has a
        jealousy of your Ladyship, and I am forc'd to
        encourage her, to blind it; 'twill be better to
        take no notice of her behaviour to me.</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> You are right, I will be more cautious.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Count <em>Bas.</em> To-morrow at the masquerade, we may lose her.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> We shall be observ'd. I'll send
        you a note, and settle that affair&mdash;&mdash;go on
        with the girl, and don't mind me.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> I have been taking your part, my little
angel.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> <em>Jenny</em>! come hither, child&mdash;&mdash;you
must not be so hasty my dear&mdash;&mdash;I only advise you for
your good.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Yes, Mama; but when I am told of a thing
before company it always makes me worse, you
know.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If I have any skill in the fair sex; Miss, and
her Mama, have only quarrel'd, because they are both
of a mind. This facetious Count seems to have made a
very genteel step into the family.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span>.</em> [<em><span class="antiqua">Manly</span> talks apart with her.</em>]
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Well, Sir <em>Francis</em>, and what news have
you brought us from <em>Westminster</em>, to-day?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> News, Madam? I'cod! I have some&mdash;&mdash;and
such as does not come every day, I can tell you&mdash;&mdash;a
word in your ear&mdash;&mdash;I have got a promise of a
place at Court of a thousand pawnd a year already.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Have you so, Sir? And pray who may
you thank for't? Now! who is in the right? Is not this
better than throwing so much away, after a stinking
pack of fox-hounds, in the country? Now your family
may be the better for it!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Nay! that's what persuaded me to come up,
my Dove.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Mighty well&mdash;come&mdash;&mdash;let me have
another hundred pound then.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Another! child? Waunds! you have had
one hundred this morning, pray what's become of that,
my dear?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> What's become of it? why I'll shew
you, my Love! Jenny! have you the bills about you?</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Yes, Mama.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> What's become of it? Why laid out, my
dear, with fifty more to it, that I was forced to borrow
of the Count here.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Yes, indeed, Papa, and that would hardly do
neither&mdash;There's th' account.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> [<em>Turning over the bills.</em>] Let's see! let's see!
what the devil have we got here?</p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td><em>Man.</em> Then you have sounded your aunt you
        say, and she readily comes into all I propos'd
        to you?</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Myr.</em> Sir, I'll answer, with my life, she is
        most thankfully yours in every article: she
        mightily desires to see you, Sir.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Man.</em> I am going home directly; bring
        her to my house in half an hour; and if she
        makes good what you tell me, you shall both
        find your account in it.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Myr.</em> She shall not fail you.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ods-life, Madam, here's nothing but toys
and trinkets, and fans, and clock stockings, by whole-sale.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> There's nothing but what's proper, and
for your credit, Sir <em>Francis</em>&mdash;&mdash;Nay you see I am so
good a housewife, that in necessaries for myself I have
scarce laid out a shilling.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> No, by my troth, so it seems; for the
devil o' one thing's here, that I can see you have any
occasion for!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> My dear! do you think I came hither
to live out of the fashion? why, the greatest distinction
of a fine lady in this town is in the variety of pretty
things she has no occasion for.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Sure, Papa, could you imagine, that women
of quality wanted nothing but stays and petticoats?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Now, that is so like him!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> So! the family comes on finely.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Lard, if men were always to govern,
what dowdies would they reduce their wives to!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> An hundred pound in the morning, and
want another before night! waunds and fire! the Lord
Mayor of London could not hold it at this rate!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O! do you feel it, Sir?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> My dear, you seem uneasy; let me have
the hundred pound, and compose yourself.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Compose the devil, Madam! why do you
consider what a hundred pound a day comes to in a
year?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> My life, if I account with you from
one day to another, that's really all my head is able
to bear at a time&mdash;&mdash;But I'll tell you what I consider&mdash;&mdash;I
consider that my advice has got you a thousand
pound a year this morning&mdash;&mdash;That now methinks
you might consider, Sir.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> A thousand a year? wounds, madam, but
I have not touch'd a penny of it yet!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Nor ever will, I'll answer for him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Squire <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Feyther an you doan't come quickly,
the meat will be coal'd: and I'd fain pick a bit with
you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Bless me, Sir <em>Francis!</em> you are not going
to sup by yourself!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> No, but I am going to dine by myself, and
that's pretty near the matter, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Had not you as good stay a little, my
dear? we shall all eat in half an hour; and I was thinking
to ask my cousin <em>Manly</em> to take a family morsel with
us.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Nay, for my cousin's good company, I
don't care if I ride a day's journey without baiting.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> By no means, Sir <em>Francis</em>. I am going upon
a little business.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Well, Sir, I know you don't love compliments.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You'll excuse me, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Since you have business, Sir&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>O, Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>! you were saying this morning, you
had some very fine lace to shew me&mdash;&mdash;can't I see it
now?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span> stares.</em></p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Why, really Madam, I had made a sort of a
promise to let the Countess of <em>Nicely</em> have the first sight
of it for the birth-day: but your Ladyship&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> O! I die if I don't see it before her.</p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Woan't you goa; Feyther?</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Waunds! lad, I shall ha' noa stomach at this rate!</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Well, Madam, though I say it, 'tis the sweetest
pattern that ever came over&mdash;&mdash;and for fineness&mdash;&mdash;no
cobweb comes up to it!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ods guts and gizard, Madam! lace as
fine as a cobweb! why, what the devil's that to cost
now?</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Nay, Sir <em>Francis</em> does not like of it, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> He like it! dear Mrs. Motherly, he is
not to wear it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Flesh, Madam, but I suppose I am to pay
for it.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> No doubt on't! think of your thousand
a year, and who got it you, go! eat your dinner, and
be thankful, go. [<em>Driving him to the door.</em>] Come,
Mrs. <em>Motherly</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Lady <span class="antiqua">Wronghead</span> with Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Very fine! so here I mun fast, 'till I am
almost famished for the good of my country; while
Madam is laying me out an hundred pounds a day in
lace as fine as a cobweb, for the honour of my family!
ods-flesh; things had need go well at this rate!</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Nay, nay&mdash;&mdash;come, feyther.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Moth.</em> Madam, my Lady desires you and the Count
will please to come and assist her fancy in some of the
laces.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> We'll wait upon her&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Motherly</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> So! I told you how it was! you see she can't
bear to leave us together.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> No matter, my dear: you know she has
ask'd me to stay supper: so when your papa and she are
a-bed, Mrs. <em>Myrtilla</em> will let me into the house again;
then you may steal into her chamber, and we'll have a
pretty sneaker of punch together.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Ay, ay, Madam, you may command me any
thing.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Well! that will be pure!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> But you had best go to her alone, my life:
it will look better if I come after you.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Ay, so it will: and to-morrow you know at
the masquerade. And then!&mdash;--hey! <em>Oh, I'll have a
husband! ay, marry</em>, &amp;c.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit singing.</em></p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> So, Sir! am not I very <em>commode</em> to you?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Well, child, and don't you find your account
in it? did not I tell you we might still be of use
to one another?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Well, but how stands your affair with Miss, in
the main?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> O she's mad for the masquerade! it drives
like a nail, we want nothing now but a parson, to
clinch it. Did not your aunt say she could get one at
a short warning?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Yes, yes, my Lord <em>Townly</em>'s chaplain is her
cousin, you know; he'll do your business and mine, at
the same time.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> O! it's true! but where shall we appoint
him?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Why, you know my Lady <em>Townly</em>'s house is always
open to the masques upon a ball-night, before
they go to the <em>Hay-market</em>.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Good.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Now the Doctor purposes, we should all come
thither in our habits, and when the rooms are full, we
may steal up into his chamber, he says, and there&mdash;&mdash;crack&mdash;&mdash;he'll
give us all canonical commission to go
to bed together.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Admirable! Well, the devil fetch me, if
I shall not be heartily glad to see thee well settled,
child.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> And may the black gentleman tuck me under
his arm at the same time, if I shall not think myself
oblig'd to you, as long as I live.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> One kiss for old acquaintance sake&mdash;&mdash;I'gad
I shall want to be busy again!</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> O you'll have one shortly will find you employment:
but I must run to my squire.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> And I to the ladies&mdash;&mdash;so your humble
servant, sweet Mrs. <em>Wronghead</em>.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Yours, as in duty bound, most noble Count
<em>Basset</em>.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Myr</span>.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Why ay! Count! That title has been
of some use to me indeed! not that I have any more
pretence to it, than I have to a blue ribband. Yet, I have
made a pretty considerable figure in life with it: I have
loll'd in my own chariot, dealt at assemblies, din'd
with Ambassadors, and made one at quadrille, with the
first women of quality&mdash;&mdash;But&mdash;&mdash;<em>Tempora mutantur</em>&mdash;&mdash;since
that damn'd squadron at <em>White</em>'s have left
me out of their last secret, I am reduced to trade upon
my own stock of industry, and make my last push upon
a wife: if my card comes up right (which I think can't
fail) I shall once more cut a figure, and cock my hat
in the face of the best of them! for since our modern
men of fortune are grown wise enough to be sharpers:
I think sharpers are fools that don't take up the airs of
men of quality.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="ACT_V_SCENE_I5" id="ACT_V_SCENE_I5"><em class="gesperrt">ACT</em> V. <em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em> I.</a></h3>

<p class="directcenter"><em class="gesperrt">SCENE</em>, <em>Lord</em> Townly's <em>House</em>.
</p>


<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span> and Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> <span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">T</span>here</span>'s something, Madam, hangs upon
your mind, to-day: is it unfit to trust me
with it?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Since you will know&mdash;&mdash;my sister
then&mdash;&mdash;unhappy woman!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What of her?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I fear is on the brink of ruin!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I am sorry for it&mdash;&mdash;what has happened?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Nothing so very new! but the continual
repetition of it, has at last rais'd my brother to an intemperance
that I tremble at.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Have they had any words upon it?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> He has not seen her since yesterday.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What, not at home all night!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> About five this morning in she came!
but with such looks, and such an equipage of misfortunes
at her heels&mdash;&mdash;what can become of her?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Has not my lord seen her, say you?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> No! he chang'd his bed last night&mdash;&mdash;I
sat with him alone till twelve, in expectation of
her: but when the clock had struck, he started from his
chair, and grew incens'd to that degree, that had I not,
almost on my knees, dissuaded him, he had ordered
the doors that instant to have been locked against
her.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> How terrible is his situation? when the most
justifiable severities he can use against her, are liable
to be the mirth of all the dissolute card-tables in
town!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> 'Tis that, I know, has made him bear so
long: but you that feel for him, Mr. <em>Manly</em>, will assist
him to support his honour, and, if possible, preserve
his quiet! therefore I beg you don't leave the house,
'till one or both of them can be wrought to better
temper.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> How amiable is this concern, in you!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> For heaven's sake don't mind me, but
think of something to preserve us all.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I shall not take the merit of obeying your commands,
Madam, to serve my Lord&mdash;&mdash;but pray, Madam,
let me into all that has past, since yesternight.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> When my intreaties had prevail'd upon
my Lord, not to make a story for the town, by so
public a violence, as shutting her at once out of his
doors; he order'd the next apartment to my lady's
to be made ready for him&mdash;&mdash;while that was doing&mdash;&mdash;I
try'd by all the little arts I was mistress of,
to amuse him into temper; in short, a silent grief was
all I could reduce him to&mdash;&mdash;on this, we took our
leaves, and parted to our repose: what his was, I
imagine by my own: for I ne'er clos'd my eyes. About
five, as I told you, I heard my lady at the door; so I
slipt on a gown, and sat almost an hour with her in her
own chamber.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What said she, when she did not find my Lord
there?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O! so far from being shock'd or alarm'd
at it; that she blest the occasion! and said that in her
condition, the chat of a female friend was far preferable
to the best husband's company in the world.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Where has she spirits to support so much insensibility?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Nay! it's incredible! for though she
had lost every shilling she had in the world, and
stretch'd her credit ev'n to breaking; she rallied her
own follies with such vivacity, and painted the penance,
she knows she must undergo for them, in such ridiculous
lights, that had not my concern for a brother been
too strong for her wit, she had a'most disarm'd my
anger.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Her mind may have another cast by this time:
the most flagrant dispositions have their hours of anguish;
which their pride conceals from company;
but pray, Madam, how could she avoid coming down
to dine?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O! she took care of that before she went
to bed; by ordering her woman, whenever she was
ask'd for, to say, she was not well.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You have seen her since she was up, I presume?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Up! I question whether she be awake yet.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Terrible! What a figure does she make now!
That nature should throw away so much beauty upon a
creature, to make such a slatternly use of it!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O fy! there is not a more elegant beauty
in town, when she's drest.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> In my eye, Madam, she that's early drest, has
ten times her elegance.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But she won't be long now, I believe:
for I think I see her chocolate going up&mdash;&mdash;Mrs. <em>Trusty</em>,&mdash;a
hem!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> comes to the door.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Five o'clock in the afternoon, for a lady
of quality's breakfast, is an elegant hour indeed! which
to shew her more polite way of living too, I presume,
she eats in her bed.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> [<em>To Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em>] And when she is up,
I would be glad she would let me come to her toilet&mdash;That's
all, Mrs. <em>Trusty</em>.</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> I will be sure to let her ladyship know, Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir <em>Francis Wronghead</em>, Sir, desires to speak
with you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> He comes unseasonably&mdash;&mdash;what shall I do
with him!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O see him by all means, we shall have
time enough; in the mean while I'll step in, and have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>
an eye upon my brother. Nay, nay, don't mind me&mdash;have
business.&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You must be obey'd&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Retreating while Lady Grace goes out.</em></p>

<p>Desire <em>Sir Francis</em> to walk in&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit servant.</em></p>

<p>I suppose by this time his wise worship begins to find,
that the balance of his journey to London is on the wrong
side.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Francis</em>, your servant; how came I by the favour of
this extraordinary visit?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah! cousin!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why that sorrowful face, man?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I have no friend alive but you&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I am sorry for that&mdash;&mdash;but what's the
matter?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I have play'd the fool by this journey, I
see now&mdash;&mdash;for my bitter wife&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What of her?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Is playing the devil!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why truly, that's a part that most of your fine
ladies begin with, as soon as they get to <em>London</em>.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> If I am a living man, cousin, she has made
away with above two hundred and fifty pounds since
yesterday morning!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Hah! I see a good housewife will do a great
deal of work in a little time.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Work do they call it! fine work indeed!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, but how do you mean made away with it?
What, she has laid it out, may be&mdash;&mdash;but I suppose you
have an account of it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Yes, yes, I have had the account indeed;
but I mun needs say, it's a very sorry one.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Pray, let's hear.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, first I let her have an hundred and
fifty, to get things handsom about her, to let the world
see that I was somebody! and I thought that sum
very genteel.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Indeed I think so; and in the country, might
have serv'd her a twelvemonth.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why so it might&mdash;&mdash;but here in this
fine tawn, forsooth! it could not get through four and
twenty hours&mdash;&mdash;for in half that time, it was all
squandered away in baubles, and new fashion'd
trumpery.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> O! for ladies in <em>London</em>, Sir <em>Francis</em>, all this
might be necessary.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Noa, theere's the plague on't! the devil
o' one useful thing do I see for it, but two pair of lac'd
shoes, and those stond me in three pound three shillings
a pair too.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Dear Sir! this is nothing! Why we have city
wives here, that while their good man is selling three
penny worth of sugar, will give you twenty pound for
a short apron.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Mercy on us! what a mortal poor devil is
a husband!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, but I hope you have nothing else to complain
of?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah would I could say so too&mdash;but there's
another hundred behind yet, that goes more to my heart,
than all that went before it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> And how might that be disposed of?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Troth I am almost ashamed to tell you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Out with it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why she has been at an assembly.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What, since I saw you! I thought you had all
supt at home last night?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, so we did&mdash;&mdash;and all as merry as
grigs&mdash;&mdash;I'cod! my heart was so open, that I toss'd
another hundred into her apron, to go out early this
morning with&mdash;&mdash;but the cloth was no sooner taken
away, than in comes my Lady <em>Townly</em> here, (&mdash;&mdash;who
between you and I&mdash;&mdash;mum! has had the devil to pay
yonder&mdash;&mdash;) with another rantipole dame of quality,
and out they must have her, they said, to introduce her
at my Lady <em>Noble</em>'s assembly forsooth&mdash;&mdash;a few words,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>
you may be sure, made the bargain&mdash;&mdash;so, bawnce!
and away they drive as if the devil had got into the
coach box&mdash;so about four or five in the morning&mdash;&mdash;home
comes Madam, with her eyes a foot deep in her
head&mdash;&mdash;and my poor hundred pound left behind her
at the hazard-table.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> All lost at dice!</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Every shilling&mdash;&mdash;among a parcel of
pig-tail puppies, and pale fac'd women of quality.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> But pray, Sir <em>Francis</em>, how came you, after you
found her so ill an housewife of one sum, so soon to
trust her with another?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why truly I mun say that was partly my
own fault: for if I had not been a blab of my
tongue, I believe that last hundred might have been
sav'd.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> How so?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why, like an owl as I was, out of goodwill,
forsooth, partly to keep her in humour, I must
needs tell her of the thousand pound a year, I had just
got the promise of&mdash;I'cod! she lays her claws upon
it that moment&mdash;&mdash;said it was all owing to her
advice, and truly she would have her share on't.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What, before you had it yourself?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay! that's what I told her&mdash;&mdash;My
dear, said I, mayhap I mayn't receive the first quarter
on't this half year.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>, I have heard you with a great
deal of patience, and I really feel compassion for
you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Truly and well you may cousin, for I
don't see that my wife's goodness is a bit the better, for
bringing to <em>London</em>.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> If you remember I gave you a hint of it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Why ay, it's true you did so: but the
devil himself could not have believ'd she would have rid
post to him.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Sir, if you stay but a fortnight in this town<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>
you will every day see hundreds as fast upon the gallop,
as she is.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah! this <em>London</em> is a base place indeed&mdash;&mdash;waunds,
if things should happen to go wrong with me
at <em>Westminster</em>, at this rate, how the devil shall I keep
out of jail!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why truly, there seems to me but one way to
avoid it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah! wou'd you could tell me that, cousin.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The way lies plain before you, Sir; the same
road that brought you hither will carry you safe home
again.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ods-flesh! cousin, what! and leave a thousand
pound a year behind me?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Pooh! pooh! leave any thing behind you, but
your family, and you are a saver by it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ay, but consider, cousin, what a scurvy
figure I shall make in the country, if I come dawn
withawt it!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You will make a much more lamentable figure
in jail without it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Mayhap 'at yow have no great opinion of it
then, cousin?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>, to do you the service of a real
friend, I must speak very plainly to you: you don't yet
see half the ruin that's before you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Good-lack! how may yow mean, cousin?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> In one word, your whole affairs stand thus&mdash;&mdash;In
a week you'll lose your seat at <em>Westminster</em>:
In a fortnight my lady will run you into jail,
by keeping the best company&mdash;&mdash;In four and
twenty hours, your daughter will run away with a
sharper, because she han't been us'd to better company:
and your son will steal into marriage with a
cast-mistress, because he has not been us'd to any company
at all.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> I'th' name of goodness why should you
think all this?</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Because I have proof of it; in short, I know
so much of their secrets, that if all this is not prevented
to-night, it will be out of your power to do it to-morrow
morning.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Mercy upon us! you frighten me&mdash;&mdash;Well,
Sir, I will be govern'd by yow: but what am I
to do in this case?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I have not time here to give you proper instructions;
but about eight this evening, I'll call at your
lodgings; and there you shall have full conviction, how
much I have it at heart to serve you.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> Sir, my Lord desires to speak with you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I'll wait upon him.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Well then, I'll go straight home, naw.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> At eight depend upon me.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah! dear cousin! I shall be bound to you
as long as I live. Mercy deliver us! what a terrible
journey have I made on't!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt severally.</em></p>


<h4><em>The <span class="gesperrt">SCENE</span> opens to a dressing room. Lady
<span class="antiqua">Townly</span>, as just up, walks to her toilet, leaning
on Mrs. <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em></h4>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Dear Madam, what should make your Ladyship
so out of order!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> How is it possible to be well, where one
is kill'd for want of sleep?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Dear me! it was so long before you rung,
Madam, I was in hopes your Ladyship had been finely
compos'd.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Compos'd! why I have laid in an inn
here! this house is worse than an inn with ten stage-coaches!
What between my lord's impertinent people
of business in a morning, and the intolerable thick
shoes of footmen at noon, one has not a wink all
night.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Indeed, Madam, it's a great pity my Lord
can't be persuaded into the hours of people of quality&mdash;&mdash;Though
I must say that, Madam, your Ladyship
is certainly the best matrimonial manager in
town.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Oh! you are quite mistaken, <em>Trusty</em>! I
manage very ill! for notwithstanding all the power I
have, by never being over-fond of my lord&mdash;&mdash;yet
I want money infinitely oftener than he is willing to
give it me.</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Ah, if his lordship could but be brought to
play himself, Madam, then he might feel what it is
to want money.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Oh! don't talk of it! do you know that
I am undone, <em>Trusty</em>?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Mercy forbid, Madam!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Broke! ruin'd! plunder'd!&mdash;--stripp'd,
even to a confiscation of my last guinea.</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> You don't tell me so, Madam!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Townly.</em> And where to raise ten pound in the
world&mdash;&mdash;What is to be done <em>Trusty</em>?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Truly, I wish I was wise enough to tell you,
Madam: but may be your ladyship may have a run of
better fortune, upon some of the good company that
comes here to-night.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> But I have not a single guinea to try my
fortune!</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Ha! that's a bad business indeed, Madam&mdash;Adad!
I have a thought in my head, Madam, if it is
not too late&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Out with it quickly then, I beseech thee?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Has not the steward something of fifty pound,
Madam, that you left in his hands to pay somebody
about this time?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O! ay! I had forgot&mdash;'twas to&mdash;a&mdash;what's
his filthy name?</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Now I remember, Madam, 'twas to Mr. <em>Lutestring</em>,
your old mercer, that your ladyship turn'd off,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>
about a year ago, because he would trust you no
longer.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> The very wretch! if he has not paid it,
run quickly, dear <em>Trusty</em>, and bid him bring it hither
immediately&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em>] Well! sure mortal
woman never had such fortune! five! five, and
nine, against poor seven for ever!&mdash;--No! after
that horrid bar of my chance, that Lady <em>Wronghead</em>'s
fatal red fist upon the table, I saw it was impossible,
ever to win another stake&mdash;&mdash;Sit up all night!
lose all one's money! dream of winning thousands!
wake without a shilling! and then how like a hag
I look! In short&mdash;&mdash;the pleasures of life are not
worth this disorder! If it were not for shame now, I
could almost think, Lady <em>Grace</em>'s sober scheme not
quite so ridiculous&mdash;&mdash;If my wise lord could but
hold his tongue for a week, 'tis odds, but I should hate
the town in a fortnight&mdash;&mdash;But I will not be driven
out of it, that's positive!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> returns.</em></p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> O Madam! there is no bearing it! Mr.
<em>Lutestring</em> was just let in at the door, as I came to the
stair-foot! and the steward is now actually paying him
the money in the hall.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Run to the stair case head, again&mdash;&mdash;and
scream to him, that I must speak with him this instant.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> runs out, and speaks.</em></p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Without">
  <tr>
    <td><em>Trusty.</em> Mr. <em>Poundage</em>&mdash;&mdash;a hem! Mr. <em>Poundage</em>, a word with you quickly.</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Without.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Pound.</em> [<em>Within.</em>] I'll come to you presently.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Trusty.</em> Presently won't do, man, you must come this minute.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Pound.</em> I am but just paying a little money, here.</td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Trusty.</em> Cods my life! paying money? is the man distracted? come here I tell you, to my lady, this moment, quick!</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> returns.</em><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Will the monster come or no?&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Yes, I hear him now, Madam, he is hobbling
up, as fast as he can.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Don't let him come in&mdash;for he will keep
such a babbling about his accounts,&mdash;&mdash;my brain is not
able to bear him.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Poundage</span> comes to the door with a money-bag in his hand.</em></p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> O! it's well you are come, Sir! where's the
fifty-pound?</p>

<p><em>Pound.</em> Why here it is; if you had not been in such
haste, I should have paid it by this time&mdash;&mdash;the man's
now writing a receipt, below, for it.</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> No matter! my lady says, you must not pay
him with that money, there is not enough, it seems;
there's a pistole and a guinea that's not good, in it&mdash;&mdash;besides
there is a mistake in the account too&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Twitching
the bag from him.</em>] But she is not at leisure
to examine it now; so you must bid Mr. What-d'ye-call-um
call another time.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> What is all that noise there?</p>

<p><em>Pound.</em> Why and it please your Ladyship&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Pr'ythee! don't plague me now, but do
as you were order'd.</p>

<p><em>Pound.</em> Nay, what your Ladyship pleases, Madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Poundage</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> There they are, Madam&mdash;&mdash;[<em>Pours the money
out of the bag.</em>] The pretty things&mdash;&mdash;were so near
falling into a nasty tradesman's hands, I protest it made
me tremble for them&mdash;&mdash;I fancy your ladyship had as
good give me that bad guinea, for luck's sake&mdash;thank
you, Madam.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Takes a guinea.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Why, I did not bid you take it.</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> No, but your ladyship look'd as if you were
just going to bid me, and so I was willing to save you
the trouble of speaking, Madam.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Well! thou hast deserv'd it, and so for
once&mdash;&mdash;but hark! don't I hear the man making a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span>
noise yonder? though I think now we may compound
for a little of his ill humour&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> I'll listen.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Pr'ythee do.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> goes to the door.</em></p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Ay! they are at it, Madam&mdash;he's in a bitter
passion, with poor <em>Poundage</em>&mdash;&mdash;bless me! I believe
he'll beat him&mdash;&mdash;mercy on us; how the wretch
swears!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> And a sober citizen too! that's a shame!</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> Ha! I think all's silent, of a sudden&mdash;&mdash;may
be the porter has knock'd him down&mdash;I'll step and
see&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Those trades-people are the troublesomest
creatures! no words will satisfy them!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em><span class="antiqua">Trusty</span> returns.</em></p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> O Madam! undone! undone! my lord has
just bolted out upon the man, and is hearing all his
pitiful story over&mdash;&mdash;if your ladyship pleases to come
hither, you may hear him yourself!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> No matter: it will come round presently:
I shall have it all from my Lord, without losing a
word by the way, I'll warrant you.</p>

<p><em>Trusty.</em> O lud! Madam! here's my lord just coming
in.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Do you get out of the way then. [<em>Exit
<span class="antiqua">Trusty</span>.</em>] I am afraid I want spirits! but he will soon
give 'em me.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> How comes it, Madam, that a tradesman
dares be clamorous in my house, for money due to him,
from you?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> You don't expect, my lord, that I should
answer for other peoples impertinence!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I expect, Madam, you should answer for
your own extravagances, that are the occasion of it&mdash;&mdash;I
thought I had given you money three months ago, to
satisfy all these sort of people!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Yes, but you see they are never to be satisfied.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Nor am I, Madam, longer to be abus'd
thus! what's become of the last five hundred I gave
you?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Gone.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Gone! what way, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Half the town over, I believe, by this
time.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> 'Tis well! I see ruin will make no impression,
'till it falls upon you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> In short, my Lord, if money is always
the subject of our conversation, I shall make you no
answer.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Madam, Madam! I will be heard, and
make you answer.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Make me! then I must tell you, my
Lord, this is a language I have not been us'd to, and I
won't bear it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Come! come, Madam, you shall bear a
great deal more before I part with you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My Lord, if you insult me, you will
have as much to bear, on your side, I can assure you.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Pooh! your spirit grows ridiculous&mdash;&mdash;you
have neither honour, worth, or innocence, to support
it!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> You'll find, at least, I have resentment!
and do you look well to the provocation!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> After those you have given me, Madam,
'tis almost infamous to talk with you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I scorn your imputation and your menaces!
The narrowness of your heart's your monitor!
'tis there! there, my lord, you are wounded; you
have less to complain of than many husbands of an
equal rank to you.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Death, Madam! do you presume upon
your corporal merit! that your person's less tainted,
than your mind! is it there! there alone an honest
husband can be injur'd? Have you not every other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>
vice that can debase your birth, or stain the heart of
woman? Is not your health, your beauty, husband,
fortune, family disclaim'd, for nights consumed in
riot and extravagance? The wanton does no more;
if she conceals her shame, does less: And sure the dissolute
avow'd, as sorely wrongs my honour, and my
quiet.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I see, my Lord, what sort of wife might
please you.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Ungrateful woman! could you have seen
yourself, you in yourself had seen her&mdash;&mdash;I am amaz'd
our legislature has left no precedent of a divorce for
this more visible injury, this adultery of the mind, as
well as that of the person! when a woman's whole
heart is alienated to pleasures I have no share in, what
is't to me whether a black ace, or a powder'd coxcomb
has possession of it?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> If you have not found it yet, my lord,
this is not the way to get possession of mine, depend
upon it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> That, Madam, I have long despair'd of;
and since our happiness cannot be mutual, 'tis fit, that
with our hearts, our persons too should separate.&mdash;&mdash;This
house you sleep no more in! tho' your content
might grosly feed upon the dishonour of a husband,
yet my desires would starve upon the features of a
wife.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Your stile, my lord, is much of the same
delicacy with your sentiments of honour.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Madam, Madam! this is no time for
compliments&mdash;&mdash;I have done with you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> If we had never met, my Lord, I had
not broke my heart for it! but have a care I may
not, perhaps, be so easily recall'd as you imagine.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Recall'd&mdash;Who's there!</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p>Desire my sister and Mr. <em>Manly</em> to walk up.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My Lord, you may proceed as you please,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span>
but pray what indiscretions have I committed, that are
not daily practis'd by a hundred other women of
quality?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> 'Tis not the number of ill wives, Madam,
that makes the patience of a husband less contemptible:
and though a bad one may be the best man's lot, yet
he'll make a better figure in the world, that keeps his
misfortunes out of doors, than he that tamely keeps
her within.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I don't know what figure you may
make, my Lord, but I shall have no reason to be asham'd
of mine in whatever company I may meet you.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Be sparing of your spirit, Madam, you'll
need it to support you.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span> and <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Mr. <em>Manly</em>, I have an act of friendship to beg of you,
which wants more apologies, than words can make
for it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Then pray make none, my Lord, that I may
have the greater merit in obliging you.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Sister, I have the same excuse to intreat
of you too.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> To your request, I beg, my Lord.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Thus then&mdash;&mdash;as you both were present
at my ill considered marriage, I now desire you each will
be a witness of my determin'd separation&mdash;&mdash;I know,
Sir, your good nature, and my sister's must be shock'd
at the office I impose on you! but as I don't ask your
justification of my cause; so I hope you are conscious&mdash;&mdash;that
an ill woman can't reproach you, if you are
silent, upon her side.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> My lord, I never thought, 'till now, it could
be difficult to oblige you.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Heaven's! how I tremble!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> For you, my Lady <em>Townly</em>, I need not
here repeat the provocations of my parting with you&mdash;the
world, I fear, is too well informed of them&mdash;&mdash;For
the good lord, your dead father's sake, I will still sup<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span>port
you, as his daughter&mdash;&mdash;As the lord <em>Townly</em>'s
wife, you have had every thing a fond husband could
bestow, and (to our mutual shame I speak it) more
than happy wives desire&mdash;&mdash;But those indulgences must
end! State, equipage and splendor, but ill become the
vices that misuse 'em&mdash;&mdash;The decent necessaries of
life shall be supply'd&mdash;&mdash;but not one article to luxury!
Not even the coach that waits to carry you from
hence, shall you ever use again! Your tender aunt, my
Lady <em>Lovemore</em>, with tears, this morning has consented
to receive you; where if time, and your condition
brings you to a due reflection, your allowance shall
be increased&mdash;&mdash;But if you still are lavish of your little,
or pine for past licentious pleasures, that little shall be
less! nor will I call that soul my friend, that names you
in my hearing!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> My heart bleeds for her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O <em>Manly</em>! look there! turn back thy
thoughts with me, and witness to my growing love;
there was a time when I believ'd that form incapable of
vice or of decay! There I proposed the partner of an
easy home! There I for ever hoped to find, a chearful
companion, an agreeable intimate, a faithful friend,
a useful help-mate, and a tender mother&mdash;&mdash;But oh!
how bitter now the disappointment!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> The world is different in its sense of happiness:
offended as you are, I know you still will be just.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Fear me not.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> This last reproach, I see, has struck her.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No, let me not (though I this moment cast
her from my heart for ever) let me not urge her punishment
beyond her crimes&mdash;&mdash;I know the world is
fond of any tale that feeds its appetite of scandal: and
as I am conscious, severities of this kind seldom fail of
imputations too gross to mention, I here, before you
both acquit her of the least suspicion rais'd against the
honour of my bed. Therefore when abroad her conduct
may be question'd, do her fame that justice.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> O sister!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Turns to Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span> weeping.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> When I am spoken of, where without
favour this action may be canvass'd, relate but half my
provocations, and give me up to censure.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Going.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Support me! save me! hide me from the
world!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Falls on Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>'s neck.</em></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> [<em>Returning.</em>]&mdash;&mdash;I had forgot me&mdash;You
have no share in my resentment; therefore, as you have
liv'd in friendship with her, your parting may admit
of gentler terms than suit the honour of an injur'd husband.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Offers to go out.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> [<em>Interposing.</em>] My Lord, you must not, shall not
leave her thus! one moment's stay can do your cause
no wrong! If looks can speak the anguish of the heart,
I'll answer with my life, there's something labouring in
her mind, that would you bear the hearing, might deserve
it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Consider! since we no more can meet;
press not my staying to insult her.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Yet stay my Lord&mdash;&mdash;the little I would
say, will not deserve an insult; and undeserv'd, I know
your nature gives it not. But as you've call'd in friends,
to witness your resentment, let them be equal hearers
of my last reply.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> I shan't refuse you that, Madam&mdash;&mdash;be
it so.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> My Lord, you ever have complain'd I
wanted love; but as you kindly have allowed I never
gave it to another; so when you hear the story of my
heart, though you may still complain, you will not wonder
at my coldness.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> This promises a reverse of temper.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Apart.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> This, my Lord, you are concern'd to hear!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Proceed, I am attentive.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Before I was your bride, my Lord, the
flattering world had talk'd me into beauty; which, at
my glass, my youthful vanity confirm'd: wild with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>
that fame, I thought mankind my slaves, I triumph'd
over hearts while all my pleasure was their pain: yet
was my own so equally insensible to all, that when a
father's firm commands enjoin'd me to make choice of
one, I even there declin'd the liberty he gave, and to
his own election yielded up my youth&mdash;&mdash;his tender
care, my Lord, directed him to you&mdash;&mdash;Our hands
were join'd! But still my heart was wedded to its folly!
My only joy was power, command, society, profuseness,
and to lead in pleasures! The husband's right to
rule, I thought a vulgar law, which only the deform'd
or meanly spirited obey'd! I knew no directors, but
my passions; no matter but my will! even you, my lord,
some time o'ercome by love, was pleas'd with my
delights; nor, then foresaw this mad misuse of your
indulgence&mdash;&mdash;And, though I call myself ungrateful,
while I own it, yet as a truth, it cannot be deny'd&mdash;&mdash;That
kind indulgence has undone me! it
added strength to my habitual failings, and in a heart
thus warm, in wild unthinking life, no wonder if the
gentler sense of love was lost.</p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td>Lord <em>Town.</em> O <em>Manly</em>! where has this creature's heart been buried?</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td><em>Man.</em> If yet recoverable&mdash;&mdash;How vast a treasure?</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> What I have said, my lord, is not my
excuse; but my confession! my errors (give 'em if you
please, a harder name) cannot be defended! No! What's
in its nature wrong, no words can palliate, no plea can
alter! What then remains in my condition but resignation
to your pleasure? Time only can convince you of
my future conduct: Therefore till I have liv'd an object
of forgiveness, I dare not hope for pardon&mdash;&mdash;The
penance of a lonely contrite life were little to the
innocent; but to have deserv'd this separation, will
strew perpetual thorns upon my pillow.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> O happy, heavenly hearing!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Sister, farewel! [<em>Kissing her.</em>] Your
virtue needs no warning from the shame that falls on
me: but when you think I have aton'd my follies
past&mdash;&mdash;persuade your injur'd brother to forgive
them.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No, Madam! Your errors thus renounc'd,
this instant are forgotten! So deep, so due a sense of
them, has made you, what my utmost wishes form'd, and
all my heart has sigh'd for.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> [<em>Turning to Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em>] How odious
does this goodness make me!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> How amiable your thinking so?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Long-parted friends, that pass through
easy voyages of life, receive but common gladness in
their meeting: but from a shipwreck sav'd, we mingle
tears with our embraces!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Embracing Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> What words! what love! what duty
can repay such obligations!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Preserve but this desire to please, your
power is endless.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Oh!&mdash;--'till this moment, never did I
know, my Lord, I had a heart to give you!</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> By heav'n this yielding hand, when first
it gave you to my wishes, presented not a treasure more
desirable! O <em>Manly</em>! sister! as you have often shar'd
in my disquiet, partake of my felicity! my new-born
joy! see here the bride of my desires! this may be
called my wedding-day!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Sister! (for now methinks that name is
dearer to my heart than ever) let me congratulate the
happiness that opens to you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Long, long and mutual may it flow&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> To make our happiness compleat, my
dear, join here with me to give a hand, that amply will
repay the obligation.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Sister! a day like this&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Admits of no excuse against the general
joy.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives her hand to <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> A joy like mine&mdash;&mdash;despairs of words to
speak it.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O <em>Manly</em>! how the name of friend endears
the brother!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Embracing him.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Your words, my Lord, will warn me to deserve
them.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter a Servant.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Serv.</em> My Lord, the apartments are full of masqueraders&mdash;&mdash;And
some people of quality there desire to
see your Lordship and my Lady.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I thought, my Lord, your orders had
forbid this revelling?</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No, my dear, <em>Manly</em> has desir'd their admittance
to-night, it seems, upon a particular occasion&mdash;&mdash;Say
we will wait upon them instantly.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit Servant.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I shall be but ill company to them.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> No matter: not to see them, would on a
sudden to be too particular. Lady <em>Grace</em> will assist you to
entertain them.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> With her, my Lord, I shall be always easy&mdash;&mdash;Sister,
to your unerring virtue, I commit the guidance
of my future days.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Never the paths of pleasure more to tread,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But where your guarded innocence shall lead.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For in the marriage-state the world must own,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Divided happiness was never known.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To make it mutual, nature points the way:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Let husbands govern: gentle wives obey.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit.</em></p>


<h4><em>The <span class="gesperrt">SCENE</span> opening to another apartment discovers
a great number of people in masquerade talking
all together, and playing one upon another: Lady
<span class="antiqua">Wronghead</span> as a shepherdess; <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>, as a nun;
the Squire as a running footman; and the Count in a
<span class="antiqua">Domino</span>. After some time, Lord and Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>,
with Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>, enter to them unmask'd.</em></h4>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> So! here's a great deal of company.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> A great many people, my Lord, but no
company&mdash;&mdash;as you'll find&mdash;&mdash;for here's one now,
that seems to have a mind to entertain us.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>A mask, after some affected gesture, makes up to
Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Well, dear Lady <em>Townly</em>, shan't we see you,
by-and-by?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> I don't know you, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Don't you, seriously?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>In a squeaking tone.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Not I, indeed.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Well, that's charming; but can't you guess?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Yes, I could guess wrong, I believe.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> That's what I'd have you to do.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> But, Madam, if I don't know you at all,
is not that as well?</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Ay, but you do know me.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Dear sister, take her off o' my hands;
there's no bearing this.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Apart.</em></p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> I fancy I know you, Madam.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> I fancy you don't: what makes you think
you do?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Because I have heard you talk.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Ay, but you don't know my voice, I'm sure.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> There is something in your wit and
humour, Madam, so very much your own, it is impossible
you can be any body but my Lady <em>Trifle</em>.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> [Unmasking.] Dear Lady Grace! thou art a
charming creature.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Is there no body else we know here?</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> O dear, yes! I have found out fifty already.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pray who are they?</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> O, charming company! there's Lady <em>Ramble</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lady
<em>Riot</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lady <em>Kill-Care</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lady
<em>Squander</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lady <em>Strip</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lady <em>Pawn</em>&mdash;&mdash;and
the Dutchess of <em>Single-Guinea</em>.</p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td>Lord <em>Town.</em> Is it not hard, my dear! that people of sense and probity are sometimes forc'd to seem fond of such company? </td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Town.</em> My Lord, it will always give me pain to remember their acquaintance, but none to drop it immediately.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But you have given us no account of the
men, Madam. Are they good for any thing?</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> O yes! you must know, I always find out them
by their endeavours to find out me.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Pray who are they?</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Why, for your men of tip-top wit and pleasure,
about town, there's my Lord&mdash;&mdash;<em>Bite</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lord
<em>Arch-wag</em>&mdash;&mdash;Young <em>Brazen-wit</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lord
<em>Timberdown</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lord <em>Joint-Life</em>&mdash;&mdash;and&mdash;&mdash;Lord
<em>Mortgage</em>. Then for your pretty fellows only&mdash;&mdash;there's
Sir <em>Powder-Peacock</em>&mdash;&mdash;Lord <em>Lapwing</em>&mdash;&mdash;<em>Billy
Magpye</em>&mdash;&mdash;Beau <em>Frightful</em>&mdash;&mdash;Sir <em>Paul Plaster-crown</em>,
and the Marquis of <em>Monkey-man</em>.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Right; and these are fine gentlemen that
never want elbow-room at an assembly.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> The rest I suppose, by their tawdry hired habits
are tradesmens wives, inns-of-court beaus, <em>Jews</em>, and
kept mistresses.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> An admirable collection!</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Well, of all our public diversions, I
am amaz'd how this, that is so very expensive, and has
so little to shew for it, can draw so much company together.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O! if it were not expensive, the better
sort would not come into it: and because money can
purchase a ticket, the common people scorn to be kept
out of it.</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Right, my Lord, poor Lady Grace! I suppose
you are under the same astonishment, that an opera
should draw so much good company.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> Not at all, Madam; it is an easier matter
sure to gratify the ear, than the understanding. But
have you no notion, Madam, of receiving pleasure and
profit at the same time?</p>

<p><em>Mask.</em> Oh! quite none! unless it be sometimes winning
a great stake; laying down a Vole, sans prendre
may come up, to the profitable pleasure you were speaking
of.</p>

<div class="left">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="Apart">
  <tr>
    <td>Lord <em>Town.</em> You seem attentive, my dear?</td>
    <td rowspan="0" class="bl tdr"><em>Apart.</em></td>
  </tr>
  <tr>
    <td>Lady <em>Town.</em> I am, my Lord; and amaz'd at my own follies so strongly painted in another woman.</td>
  </tr>
</table></div>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> But see, my Lord, we had best adjourn
our debate, I believe, for here are some masks that
seem to have a mind to divert other people as well as
themselves.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> The least we can do is to give them a
clear stage then.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>A dance of masks here in various characters.</em></p>

<p>This was a favour extraordinary.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>O <em>Manly</em>! I thought we had lost you.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I ask pardon, my Lord; but I have been oblig'd
to look a little after my country family.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Well, pray, what have you done with
them?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> They are all in the house here, among the
masks, my Lord; if your Lordship has curiosity enough,
to step into a lower apartment, in three minutes I'll give
you an ample account of them.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span></p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> O! by all means: we'll wait upon you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>The scene shuts upon the masks to smaller apartments.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em><span class="antiqua">Manly</span> re-enters with Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis Wronghead</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Well, cousin, you have made my very hair
stand on an end! Waunds! if what you tell me be
true, I'll stuff my whole family into a stage-coach,
and trundle them into the country on <em>Monday</em>
morning.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Stick to that, Sir, and we may yet find a way
to redeem all: in the mean time, place yourself behind
this screen, and for the truth of what I have told you
take the evidence of your own senses: but be sure you
keep close till I give you the signal.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Sir! I'll warrant you&mdash;&mdash;Ah! my Lady,
my Lady <em>Wronghead!</em> What a bitter business have you
drawn me into!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Hush! to your post; here comes one couple
already.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span> retires behind the screen.</em>
</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span> with Squire <span class="antiqua">Richard</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> What! is this the doctor's chamber?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Yes, yes, speak softly.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Well, but where is he?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> He'll be ready for us presently, but he says he
can't do us the good turn, without witnesses: so, when
the Count and your sister come, you know he and you
may be fathers for one another.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Well, well, tit for tat! ay, ay, that
will be friendly.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> And see! here they come.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Count <span class="antiqua">Basset</span>, and Miss <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> So, so, here's your brother, and his bride,
before us, my dear.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Well, I vow my heart's at my mouth still!
I thought I should never have got rid of Mama! but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span>
while she stood gaping on the dance, I gave her the
slip! Lawd! do but feel how it beats here.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> O the pretty flutterer! I protest, my
dear, you have put mine into the same palpitation!</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Ah! you say so&mdash;&mdash;but let's see now&mdash;&mdash;O
lud! I vow it thumps purely&mdash;well, well, I see it will
do, and so where's the parson?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Mrs. <em>Myrtilla</em>, will you be so good as to
see if the doctor's ready for us?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> He only staid for you, Sir: I'll fetch him immediately.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exit <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Pray, Sir, am not I to take place of Mama,
when I am a countess?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> No doubt on't, my dear.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> O lud how her back will be up then, when
she meets me at an assembly! or you and I in our coach
and six, at <em>Hyde-Park</em> together!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Ay, or when she hears the box-keepers,
at an Opera, call out&mdash;<em>The Countess of</em> Basset's <em>servants</em>!</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Well, I say it, that will be delicious! And
then, mayhap, to have a fine gentleman with a star
and what-d'ye-call-um ribbon, lead me to my chair,
with his hat under his arm all the way! Hold up,
says the chairman, and so, says I, my Lord, your
humble servant. I suppose, Madam, says he, we shall
see you at my Lady <em>Quadrille</em>'s! Ay, ay, to be sure, my
Lord, says I&mdash;&mdash;So in swops me, with my hoop
stuff'd up to my forehead! and away they trot, swing!
swang! with my tassels dangling, and my flambeaux
blazing, and&mdash;&mdash;Oh! it's a charming thing to be a
woman of quality!</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Well, I see that plainly, my dear, there's
ne'er a Dutchess of 'em all will become an equipage like
you.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> Well, well, do you find equipage, and I'll
find airs, I warrant you.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sings.</em></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Troth! I think this masquerading's the
merriest game that ever I saw in my life! Thof, in my
mind, and there were but a little wrestling, or cudgel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>
playing naw, it would help it hugely. But what a-rope
makes the parson stay so?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Oh! here he comes, I believe.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Myrtilla</span> with a constable.</em>
</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Well, Madam, pray which is the party that
wants a spice of my office here?</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> That's the gentleman.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Pointing to the Count.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Hey-day! what in masquerade, doctor?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Doctor! Sir, I believe you have mistaken your
man: but if you are called Count <em>Basset</em>, I have a
<em>billet-doux</em> in my hand for you, that will set you right
presently.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> What the devil's the meaning of all this?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Only my Lord Chief Justice's warrant against
you for forgery, Sir.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Blood and thunder!</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> And so, Sir, if you please to pull off your
fool's frock there, I'll wait upon you to the next Justice
of peace immediately.</p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> O dear me! what's the matter?</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Trembling.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> O! nothing, only a masquerading frolic,
my dear.</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> Oh oh! is that all?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> No, Sirrah! that is not all.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Sir <span class="antiqua">Francis</span> coming softly behind the Squire, knocks him
down with his cane.</em></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> O lawd! O lawd! he has beaten my
brains out!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Hold, hold, Sir <em>Francis</em>, have a little mercy
upon my poor godson, pray, Sir.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Waunds, cousin, I han't patience.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> <em>Manly</em>! nay, then I'm blown to the devil.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p>Squ. <em>Rich.</em> O my head! my head!</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lady <span class="antiqua">Wronghead</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> What's the matter here, gentlemen?
for heav'ns sake! what, are you murd'ring my children?</p>

<p><em>Con.</em> No, no, Madam! no murder! only a little
suspicion of felony, that's all.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> [<em>To <span class="antiqua">Jenny</span>.</em>] And for you, Mrs. <em>Hot-upon't</em>,
I could find in my heart to make you wear that habit,
as long as you live, you jade you. Do you know,
hussy, that you were within two minutes of marrying a
pickpocket?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> So, so, all's out, I find.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Aside.</em></p>

<p><em>Jenny.</em> O the mercy! why, pray, Papa, is not the
Count a man of quality then?</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> O yes! one of the unhang'd ones, it seems.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> [<em>Aside.</em>] Married! O the confident thing!
There was his urgent business then&mdash;&mdash;slighted for her!
I han't patience!&mdash;and for ought I know, I have been
all this while making a friendship with a highwayman!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Mr. <em>Constable</em>, secure that door there.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah, my Lady! my Lady! this comes of
your journey to <em>London</em>! but now I have a frolick of my
own, Madam; therefore pack up your trumpery this
very night, for the moment my horses are able to crawl,
you and your brats shall make a journey into the country
again.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Indeed you are mistaken, Sir <em>Francis</em>&mdash;&mdash;I
shall not stir out of town yet, I promise you.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Not stir! Waunds! madam&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Hold, Sir!&mdash;if you'll give me leave a little&mdash;I
fancy I shall prevail upon my Lady to think better on't.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah? cousin, you are a friend indeed!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> [<em>Apart to my Lady.</em>] Look you, Madam, as to
the favour you design'd me, in sending this spurious
letter inclosed to my Lady <em>Grace</em>, all the revenge I have
taken, is to have sav'd your son and daughter from ruin&mdash;&mdash;Now
if you will take them fairly and quietly
into the country again, I will save your Ladyship from
ruin.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> What do you mean, Sir?</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Why Sir <em>Francis</em>&mdash;&mdash;shall never know what is
in this letter; look upon it. How it came into my hands
you shall know at leisure.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Ha! my <em>billet-doux</em> to the Count! and
an appointment in it! I shall sink with confusion!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> What shall I say to Sir <em>Francis</em>, Madam?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Wrong.</em> Dear Sir, I am in such a trembling!
preserve my honour and I am all obedience!</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Apart to <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Sir <em>Francis</em>&mdash;&mdash;my Lady is ready to receive
your commands for her journey whenever you please to
appoint it.</p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> Ah cousin! I doubt I am obliged to you for
it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Come, come, Sir <em>Francis</em>! take it as you find
it. Obedience in a wife is a good thing, though it were
never so wonderful&mdash;&mdash;And now, Sir, we have nothing
to do but dispose of this gentleman.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Mr. <em>Manly</em>! Sir, I hope you won't ruin me.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Did not you forge this note for five hundred
pounds, Sir?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Sir&mdash;&mdash;I see you know the world, and
therefore I shall not pretend to prevaricate&mdash;&mdash;But
it has hurt nobody yet, Sir! I beg you will not stigmatize
me! since you have spoil'd my fortune in one
family, I hope you won't be so cruel to a young fellow,
as to put it out of my power, Sir, to make it in
another, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Look you, Sir, I have not much time to waste
with you: but if you expect mercy yourself, you must
show it to one you have been cruel to.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Cruel, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Have not you ruin'd this young woman?</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> I, Sir!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> I know you have&mdash;&mdash;therefore you can't
blame her, if, in the fact you are charg'd with, she is a
principal witness against you. However, you have
one and one only chance to get off with. Marry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>
her this instant&mdash;&mdash;and you take off her evidence.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Dear Sir!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No words, Sir; a wife or a <em>mittimus</em>.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Lord, Sir! this is the most unmerciful
mercy!</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> A private penance, or a public one&mdash;&mdash;constable.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Hold, Sir, since you are pleas'd to give
me my choice; I will not make so ill a compliment to
the Lady, as not to give her the preference.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> It must be done this minute, Sir: the chaplain
you expected is still within call.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Well, Sir,&mdash;&mdash;since it must be so&mdash;&mdash;come,
spouse&mdash;&mdash;I am not the first of the fraternity
that has run his head into one noose, to keep it out of
another.</p>

<p><em>Myr.</em> Come, Sir, don't repine: marriage is, at worst,
but playing upon the square.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Ay, but the worst of the match too, is
the devil.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Well, Sir, to let you see it is not so bad as you
think it; as a reward for her honesty, in detecting your
practices, instead of the forged bill you would have put
upon her, there's a real one of five hundred pounds, to
begin a new honey-moon with.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Gives it to Myrtilla.</em></p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Sir, this is so generous an act&mdash;&mdash;</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> No compliments, dear Sir,&mdash;&mdash;I am not at
leisure now to receive them: Mr. <em>Constable</em>, will you
be so good as to wait upon this gentleman into the next
room, and give this lady in marriage to him?</p>

<p><em>Const.</em> Sir, I'll do it faithfully.</p>

<p>Count <em>Bas.</em> Well! five hundred will serve to make
a handsome push with, however.</p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Count, <span class="antiqua">Myr.</span> and Constable.</em></p>

<p>Sir <em>Fran.</em> And that I may be sure my family's rid of
him for ever&mdash;&mdash;come, my Lady, let's even take our
children along with us, and be all witness of the ceremony.</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p>

<p class="directright">[<em>Exeunt Sir <span class="antiqua">Fran</span>, Lady <span class="antiqua">Wrong</span>, Miss and Squire.</em></p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Now, my Lord, you may enter.</p>

<p class="directcenter"><em>Enter Lord and Lady <span class="antiqua">Townly</span>, and Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span>.</em>
</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> So, Sir, I give you joy of your negotiation.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> You overheard it all, I presume?</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> From first to last, Sir.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Never were knaves and fools better dispos'd
of.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> A sort of poetical justice, my Lord, not much
above the judgment of a modern comedy.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> To heighten that resemblance, I think,
sister, there only wants your rewarding the hero of the
fable, by naming the day of his happiness.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Grace.</em> This day, to-morrow, every hour, I
hope, of life to come, will shew I want not inclination
to complete it.</p>

<p><em>Man.</em> Whatever I may want, Madam, you will always
find endeavours to deserve you.</p>

<p>Lord <em>Town.</em> Then all are happy.</p>

<p>Lady <em>Town.</em> Sister! I give you joy! consummate as
the happiest pair can boast.</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In you methinks, as in a glass, I see<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The happiness that once advanc'd to me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So visible the bliss, so plain the way,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How was it possible my sense could stray?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But now, a convert, to this truth, I come,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That married happiness is never found from home.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="EPILOGUE5" id="EPILOGUE5">EPILOGUE,</a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">Spoken by Mrs. <em class="gesperrt">OLDFIELD</em>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><em><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">M</span>ethinks</span> I hear some powder'd Critics say,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>"Damn it! this Wife Reform'd has spoil'd the play!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>The coxcomb should have drawn her more in fashion,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Have gratify'd her softer inclination,</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Have tipt her a gallant, and clinch'd the provocation."</em>  <span class="linenum">}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But there our Bard stopt short: for 'twere uncivil</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>T' have made a modern <span class="antiqua">Belle</span> all o'er a Devil!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>He hop'd, in honour of the sex, the age</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Would bear one mended woman&mdash;&mdash;on the stage.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>From whence, you see by common sense's rules,</em><br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Wives might be govern'd, were not husbands fools.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Whate'er by Nature dames are prone to do,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They seldom stray but when they govern you.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When the wild wife perceives her deary tame,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>No wonder then she plays him all the game.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But men of sense meet rarely that disaster;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Women take pride, where merit is their master:</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nay, she that with a weak man wisely lives,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Will seem t' obey the due commands he gives!</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Happy obedience is no more a wonder,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>When men are men, and keep them kindly under.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>But modern consorts are such high-bred creatures,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>They think a husband's power degrades their features;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That nothing more proclaims a reigning beauty,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Than that she never was reproach'd with duty;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>And that the greatest blessing Heav'n e'er sent,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Is in a spouse, incurious and content.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i2"><em>To give such dames a diff'rent cast of thought,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>By calling home the mind, these scenes were wrought.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>If with a hand too rude, the task is done,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>We hope the scheme by Lady <span class="antiqua">Grace</span> laid down,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Will all such freedom with the sex atone.</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>That virtue there unsoil'd, by modish art,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Throw out attractions for a <span class="antiqua">Manly</span>'s heart.</em><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2"><em>You, you, then Ladies, whose unquestion'd lives</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Give you the foremost fame of happy wives,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Protect, for its attempt, this helpless play;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Nor leave it to the vulgar taste a prey;</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Appear the frequent champions of its cause,</em><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Direct the crowd and give yourselves applause.</em><br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Sung_by_Mrs_Cibber_in_the_Fourth_Act" id="Sung_by_Mrs_Cibber_in_the_Fourth_Act"><em>Sung by Mrs. <span class="antiqua"><span class="smcap">Cibber</span></span>, in the Fourth Act.</em></a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">The Words by <span class="smcap">Mr. Carey</span>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">O</span>h</span>, I'll have a husband! ay, marry;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For why should I longer tarry,<br /></span>
<span class="i1">For why should I longer tarry<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Than other brisk girls have done?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For if I stay, 'till I grow gray,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They'll call me old maid, and fusty old jade;<br /></span>
<span class="i4">So I'll no longer tarry;<br /></span>
<span class="i1">But I'll have a husband, ay, marry,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">If money can buy me one.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i2">My mother she says I'm too coming;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And still in my ears she is drumming,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And still in my ears she is drumming,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">That I such vain thoughts shou'd shun.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My sisters they cry, oh fy! and oh fy!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But yet I can see they're as coming as me;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">So let me have husbands in plenty:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I'd rather have twenty times twenty,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Than die an old maid undone.<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span></p>
<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h3><a name="Sung_by_Mrs_Cibber_in_the_Fifth_Act" id="Sung_by_Mrs_Cibber_in_the_Fifth_Act"><em>Sung by Mrs. <span class="antiqua"><span class="smcap">Cibber</span></span>, in the Fifth Act.</em></a></h3>


<p class="directcenter">The Words by <span class="smcap">Mr. Carey</span>.
</p>

<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i22">I.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap"><span class="fauxcap">W</span>hat</span> tho' they call me country lass,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I read it plainly in my glass,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That for a Dutchess I might pass:<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Oh, could I see the day!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Would fortune but attend my call,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At park, at play, at ring and ball,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'd brave the proudest of them all,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With a <em>stand by&mdash;&mdash;clear the way</em>.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i22">II.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Surrounded by a crowd of beaux,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With smart toupees, and powder'd clothes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At rivals I'll turn up my nose;<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Oh, could I see the day!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I'll dart such glances from these eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall make some Lord or Duke my prize;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then, oh! how I'll tyrannise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With <em>stand by&mdash;&mdash;clear the way</em>.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i22">III.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh! then for ev'ry new delight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For equipage and diamonds bright,<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><em>Quadrille</em>, and plays, and balls all night;<br /></span>
<span class="i5">Oh! could I see the day!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of love and joy I'd take my fill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The tedious hours of life to kill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In ev'ry thing I'd have my will,<br /></span>
<span class="i5">With a <em>stand by&mdash;&mdash;clear the way</em>.<br /></span>
</div></div>

<p class="directcenter">FINIS.
</p>

<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>

<p class="center p6"><em class="gesperrt">PLAYS</em>, <em>printed for</em> <span class="smcap">T. Lowndes</span>,
at 6d. each.
</p>

<ul><li class="ifrst">A Bramule, by Dr. Trapp</li>
<li>Adventures of half an hour</li>
<li>Albion and Albanius, by Dryden</li>
<li>Alchymist, by Ben Jonson</li>
<li>Alcibiades, by Otway</li>
<li>All for Love, by Dryden</li>
<li>Ambitious Step-mother, by Rowe</li>
<li>Amboyna, by Dryden</li>
<li>Amphitryon, by Dryden</li>
<li>Anatomist, by Ravenscroft</li>
<li>Anna Bullen, by Bankes</li>
<li>As you like It, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Artful Husband, by Taverner</li>
<li>Athaliah, by Mr. Duncomb</li>
<li>Aurengzebe, by Dryden</li>

<li class="indx">Bartholomew fair, by Ben Jonson</li>
<li>Basset Table, by Centlivre</li>
<li>Beaux Stratagem, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Beggars Opera, by Gay</li>
<li>Biter, by Rowe</li>
<li>Bold Stroke for a Wife</li>
<li>British Enchanters, by Lansdown</li>
<li>Busiris, by Dr. Young</li>
<li>Busy Body, by Centlivre</li>

<li class="indx">Caius Marius, by Otway</li>
<li>Careless Husband, by Cibber</li>
<li>Cataline, by Ben Jonson</li>
<li>Cato, by Addison</li>
<li>Chances, by D. Buckingham</li>
<li>Chaplet, by Mr. Mendez</li>
<li>Cleomenes, by Dryden</li>
<li>Cobler of Preston</li>
<li>Comedy of Errors, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Conscious Lovers, by Cibber</li>
<li>Committee, by Sir R. Howard</li>
<li>Confederacy, by Vanbrugh</li>
<li>Conscious Lovers, by Steele</li>
<li>Constant Couple, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Contrivances, by Cary</li>
<li>Country Lasses, by C. Johnson</li>
<li>Country Wife, by Wycherly</li>
<li>Cymbelyne, altered by Mr. Garrick</li>

<li class="indx">Damon and Phillida, by Mr. Dibden</li>
<li>Devil of a Wife</li>
<li>Devil to Pay, by Coffey</li>
<li>Distressed Mother, by Amb. Phillips</li>
<li>Don Carlos, by Otway</li>
<li>Double Dealer, by Congreve</li>
<li>Double Gallant, by Cibber</li>
<li>Dragon of Wantley</li>
<li>Drummer, by Addison</li>
<li>Duke and no Duke, by Sir A. Cockain</li>
<li>Duke of Guise, by Dryden</li>

<li class="indx">Earl of Essex, by Bankes</li>
<li>Every Man in his Humour
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></li>
<li>Fair Penitent, by Rowe</li>
<li>Fair Quaker of Deal, by C. Shadwell</li>
<li>False Friend</li>
<li>Fatal Secret, by Theobald</li>
<li>Flora, or Hob in the well</li>
<li>Fox, by Ben Jonson</li>
<li>Friendship in Fashion, by Otway</li>
<li>Funeral, by Sir R. Steele</li>

<li class="indx">Gamester, by Mrs. Centlivre</li>
<li>Gentle Shepherd</li>
<li>George Barnwell, by Lillo</li>
<li>Gloriania</li>
<li>Greenwich Park</li>

<li class="indx">Hamlet, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Henry IV. 2 parts, by ditto</li>
<li>Henry V. by ditto</li>
<li>Henry VI. 3 parts, by ditto</li>
<li>Henry VIII. by ditto</li>
<li>Henry V. by Aaron Hill</li>
<li>Honest Yorkshireman</li>

<li class="indx">Jane Gray, by Rowe</li>
<li>Jane Shore, by Rowe</li>
<li>Inconstant, by Farquhar</li>

<li class="indx">King John, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>King Lear, by ditto</li>
<li>King Lear, by Tate</li>

<li class="indx">Limberham, by Dryden</li>
<li>Love for Love, by Congreve</li>
<li>Love in a Mist</li>
<li>Love in a Tub, by Etherege</li>
<li>Love makes a Man, by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Loves last Shift, by ditto</li>
<li>Lying Lover, by Steele</li>

<li class="indx">Macbeth, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Man of Mode, by Etherege</li>
<li>Mariamne, by Fenton</li>
<li>Measure for Measure, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Merchant of Venice, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Mistake, by Vanbrugh</li>
<li>Mourning Bride, by Congreve</li>
<li>Much ado about Nothing</li>
<li>Mustapha by Lord Orrery</li>

<li class="indx">Nonjuror, by C. Cibber</li>

<li class="indx">Oedipus, by Dryden</li>
<li>Old Batchelor, by Congreve</li>
<li>Oroonoko, by Southern</li>
<li>Orphan, by Otway</li>
<li>Othello, by Shakespeare</li>

<li class="indx">Perjured Husband</li>
<li>Perolla and Isidora, by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Phædra and Hippolitus, by Smith</li>
<li>Pilgrim, by Beaumont and Fletcher</li>
<li>Polly, by Mr. Gay</li>
<li>Prophetess, by Beaumont</li>
<li>Provok'd Husband, by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Provok'd Wife, by Vanbrugh</li>

<li class="indx">Recruiting Officer, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Refusal, by Cibber</li>
<li>Rehearsal, by D. of Bucks</li>
<li>Relapse, by Vanbrugh</li>
<li>Revenge, by Dr. Younge</li>
<li>Richard III. by C. Cibber</li>
<li>Rival Fools, by Cibber</li>
<li>Rival Ladies, by Dryden</li>
<li>Rival Queens, by Lee</li>
<li>Romeo and Juliet, altered by Mr. Garrick
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></li>
<li>Royal Merchant, by Beaumont</li>
<li>Rule a Wife and have a Wife</li>

<li class="indx">School Boy, by Cibber</li>
<li>Scornful Lady, by Beaumont and Fletcher</li>
<li>She would and she would not, by Cibber</li>
<li>She would if she could, by Etherege</li>
<li>Siege of Damascus, by Hughes</li>
<li>Silent Woman, by B. Jonson</li>
<li>Sir Courtly Nice, by Crown</li>
<li>Sir Harry Wildair, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Sir Martin Mar-all, by Dryden</li>
<li>Sir Walter Raleigh, by Dr. Sewell</li>
<li>'Squire of Alsatia, by T. Shadwell</li>
<li>Stage Coach, by Farquhar</li>
<li>State of Innocence, by Dryden</li>
<li>Strollers</li>
<li>Suspicious Husband, by Dr. Hoadley</li>

<li class="indx">Tamerlane, by Rowe</li>
<li>Tempest, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Tender Husband, by Steele</li>
<li>Theodosius or the Force of Love</li>
<li>Timon of Athens, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Titus and Berenice, with the Cheats of Scapin, by Otway</li>
<li>Twelfth Night, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Twin Rivals, by Farquhar</li>
<li>Two Gentlemen of Verona</li>

<li class="indx">Venice Preserved, by Otway</li>
<li>Ulysses, by Rowe</li>

<li class="indx">Way of the World, by Congreve</li>
<li>What d'ye call it? by Gay</li>
<li>Wife to let</li>
<li>Wife's Relief, or Husband's Cure</li>
<li>Wild Gallant, by Dryden</li>
<li>Wit without Money</li>
<li>Woman's a Riddle</li>
<li>Wonder, a Woman keeps a Secret, by Centlivre</li>

<li class="indx">Zara, with the interlude, by A. Hill, Esq.</li>

<li class="ifrst">Arden of Feversham, 1s.</li>

<li class="indx">Douglas, 1s.</li>

<li class="indx">Eastward Hoe, 1s.</li>

<li class="indx">Gentleman Dancing Master, 1s.</li>

<li class="indx">Love in a Wood, 1s.</li>

<li class="indx">Perkin Warbeck, 1s.</li>
<li>Plague of Riches, French and English, 1s.</li>
<li>Plain Dealer, 1s.</li>

<li class="indx">Siege of Aquileia, 1s.</li>
</ul>

<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Tragedies</span> and <span class="smcap">Comedies</span>, in Octavo, at
1s. 6d. each.
</p>


<ul><li class="ifrst">Achilles, an opera, by Gay</li>
<li>Alzuma, by A. Murphy</li>
<li>Azlira, by A. Hill, Esq.
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></li>
<li>Art and Nature, by the Rev. Mr. Miller</li>
<li>Arminus</li>
<li>Athelstan, by Dr. Brown</li>
<li>Athelwould, by A. Hill, Esq.</li>

<li class="indx">Barbarossa, by Dr. Brown</li>
<li>Beggars Opera, with Music, by Gay</li>
<li>Beggars Opera songs, for Harpsichord, Violin, or German flute, 4to</li>
<li>Bond Man</li>
<li>Brothers, by Cumberland</li>

<li class="indx">Cælia, or perjured Lover, by C. Johnson</li>
<li>Cornish 'Squire, by Sir J. Vanbrugh</li>
<li>Coriolanus, altered</li>
<li>Cymbeline, by Hawkins</li>

<li class="indx">Dissembled Wanton, by Mr. Welsted</li>
<li>Distressed Wife, by Gay</li>
<li>Double Dealer, printed by Baskerville</li>
<li>Double Falsehood; or Distressed Lovers, by Shakespeare</li>
<li>Double Mistake, by Mrs. Griffyths</li>
<li>Douglas, by Mr. Home</li>

<li class="indx">Elfrid, or the fair Inconstant, by A. Hill, Esq.</li>
<li>Eurydice, by Mallet</li>

<li class="indx">False Delicacy, by Mr. Kelly</li>
<li>Fashionable Lover</li>
<li>Fatal Vision, by A. Hill</li>
<li>Foundling, by Mr. Moore</li>

<li class="indx">Gamester, by Mr. Moore</li>
<li>Gil Blas, by Mr. Moore</li>
<li>Good natur'd Man</li>
<li>Guardian outwitted, by Dr. Arne</li>

<li class="indx">Henry VIII. by Mr. Grove, with cuts</li>
<li>Humours of Oxford, by Mr. Miller</li>

<li class="indx">Jealous Wife, by G. Colman, Esq.</li>
<li>Independent Patriot, by F. Lynch, Esq.</li>
<li>Insolvent, by A. Hill</li>
<li>Jovial Crew, with the music</li>

<li class="indx">King Charles I. by Havard</li>

<li class="indx">Love for Love, printed by Baskerville</li>
<li>Love in a Riddle, with music</li>
<li>Love in a Village, by Mr. Bickerstaff</li>
<li>Lover, by Mr. The. Cibber</li>

<li class="indx">Mahomet, altered by D. Garrick, Esq.</li>
<li>Maid of the Mill, by Mr. Bickerstaff</li>
<li>Man of Taste, by Mr. Miller</li>
<li>Methodist</li>
<li>Midas, by K. O'Hara, Esq.</li>
<li>Minor, by Mr. Foote</li>
<li>Miser, by Fielding</li>
<li>Modern Husband</li>
<li>Modish Couple, by C. Bodens, Esq.</li>
<li>Momus turned Fabulist</li>
<li>Mother-in-Law, by Mr. Miller</li>
<li>Mourning Bride, printed by Baskerville</li>
<li>Mustapha, by Mr. Mallet</li>

<li class="indx">No one's Enemy but his Own, by Mr. Murphy</li>
</ul>

<div id="transnote">

<div class="chapter"></div>
<hr class="chap" />




<h2><a name="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES" id="TRANSCRIBERS_NOTES">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</a></h2>

<p>Note The Confederacy does not begin with a title page for the play.</p>

<p>Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors.</p>

<p>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.</p></div>

<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51114 ***</div>
</body>
</html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-04-02 00:34:19 +0000