Gib. Really! Arch. Really.

Gib. That's much.-That fellow has been at the bar, by his evasions.-But pray, sir, what is your master's name ?

Arch. Tail, all, dall.-[Sings, and combs the periwig.] This is the most obstinate curl

Gib. I ask you his name?

Arch. Name, sir!-Tall, all, dall-I never asked his name in all my life-Tall, all, dall. Bon. What think you now?

Gib. Plain, plain: he talks now as if he were before a judge. But pray, friend, which way does your master travel?

Arch. A horseback.

Gib. Very well again :-an old offenderRight-But I mean, does he go upwards or downwards?

Arch. Downwards, I fear, sir-Tall, lall. Gib. I'm afraid thy fate will be a contrary way. Ben. Ha, ha, ba!-Mr Martin, you're very arch. -This gentleman is only travelling towards Chester, and would be glad of your company, that's all.--Come, captain, you'll stay to-night, I suppose: I'll shew you a chamber--Come, captain.

Cher. Love is I know not what; it comes I know not how, goes I know not when.

Arch. Very well-an apt scholar. [Chucks her under the chin.] Where does love entor? Cher. Into the eyes.

Arch. And where go out?
Cher. I won't tell you.

Arch. What are the objects of that passion?
Cher. Youth, beauty, and clean linen.
Arch. The reason?

Cher. The two first are fashionable in nature, and the third at court.

Arch. That's my dear.-What are the signs and tokens of that passion?

Cher. A stealing look, a stammering tongue, words improbable, designs impossible, and actions impracticable.

Arch. That's my good child; kiss meWhat must a lover do to obtain his mistress?

Cher. He must adore the person that disdains him, he must bribe the chambermaid that betrays him, and court the footman that laughs at him! -He must, he must

Arch. Nay, child, I must whip you, if you don't mind your lesson.-He must treat his Cher. O! ay.

He must treat his enemies with respect, his friends with indifference, and all the world with contempt; he must suffer much, and fear more; he must desire much, and hope little: in short, he must embrace his ruin, and throw himself away.

Arch. Had ever man so hopeful a pupil as mine! Come, my dear; why is Love called a riddle?

Cher. Because, being blind, he leads those that see, and, though a child, he governs a man. Arch. Mighty well.-And why is Love pictured blind?

Cher. Because the painters, out of their weakness, or the privilege of their art, chose to hide those eyes they could not draw.

Arch. That's my dear little scholar; kiss me again--And why should Love, that's a child,

Cher. Two thousand pounds, that I have this minute in my own custody: so throw off your livery this instant, and I'll go find a parson.

Arch. What said you? a parson!
Cher. What! Do you scruple?

Arch. Scruple! No, no; but-two thousand pounds, you say ?

Cher. And better.

Arch. 'Sdeath! what shall I do?

-But hark

ye, child; what need you make me master of your

self and money, when you may have the same pleasure out of me, and still keep your fortune in your own hands?

Cher. Then you won't marry me?
Arch. I would marry you, but-

Cher. O sweet sir, I'm your humble servant: you're fairly caught. Would you persuade me that any gentleman who could bear the scandal of wearing a livery would refuse two thousand pounds, let the condition be what it would-No, no, sir-But I hope you'll pardon the freedom I have taken, since it was only to inform myself of the respect that I ought to pay you. Going.

Arch. Fairly bit, by Jupiter!-Hold, hold!and have you actually two thousand pounds?

Cher. Sir, I have my secrets as well as youwhen you please to be more open, I shall be more free; and be assured that I have discoveries that will match yours, be they what they will.——In

the mean while, be satisfied that no discovery I make shall ever hurt you; but beware of my father. [Exit.

Arch. So we're like to have as many adventures in our inn as Don Quixotte had in his.Let me see two thousand pounds! If the wench would promise to die when the money were spent, egad, one would marry her; but the fortune may go off in a year or two, and the wife may live -Lord knows how long! Then an inn-keeper's daughter! Ay, that's the devil!-there my pride brings me off.

For whatsoe'er the sages charge on pride,The angels' fall, and twenty faults beside; On earth, I'm sure, 'mong us of mortal calling, Pride saves man oft, and woman too, from falling. [Erit.

SCENE I.-Lady BOUNTIFUL'S House.

Enter Mrs SULLEN and DORINDA.

Mrs Sul. Ha, ha, ha !—My dear sister! let me embrace thee, now we are friends indeed; for I shall have a secret of yours as a pledge for mine -Now you'll be good for something; I shall have you conversable in the subjects of the sex. Dor. But do you think that I am so weak as to fall in love with a fellow at first sight?

Mrs Sul. Pshaw ! now you spoil all:-Why should not we be as free in our friendships as the men?-I warrant you, the gentleman has got to his confidant already, has avowed his passion, toasted your health, called you ten thousand angels, has run over your lips, eyes, neck, shape, air, and every thing, in a description that warms their mirth to a second enjoyment.

Dor. Your hand, sister: I a'n't well. Mrs Sul. So-she's breeding already-Come, child, up with it-hem a little-so-Now tell me, don't you like the gentleman that we saw at church just now?

Dor. The man's well enough. Mrs Sul. Well enough! Is he not a demi-god, a Narcissus, a star, the man i' the moon? Dor. O, sister! I'm extremely ill.

Mrs Sul. Shall I send to your mother, child, for a little cephalic plaster, to put to the soles of your feet? Or shall I send to the gentleman for something for you?-Come, unbosom yourself -the man is perfectly a pretty fellow : I saw him when he first came into church.

Dor. I saw him too, sister, and with an air that shone, methought, like rays about his per

son.

Mrs Sul. Well said;-up with it.

Dor. No forward coquet behaviour, no air to

set him off, no studied looks, no artful posture, -but nature did it all.

Mrs Sul. Better and better-One touch more -Come

Dor. But then his looks-did you observe his

eyes?

Mrs Sul. Yes, yes, I did――his eyes; well, what of his eyes?

Dor. Sprightly, but not wand'ring; they seemed to view, but never gaz'd on any thing but me -and then his looks so humble were, and yet so noble, that they aimed to tell me, that he could with pride die at my feet, though he scorned slavery any where else.

Mrs Sul. The physic works purely ! -How d'ye find yourself now, my dear?

Dor. Hem! Much better, my dear.-Oh, here comes our Mercury!

Enter SCRUB.

Dor. Well, Scrub, what news of the gentleman? Scrub. Madam, I have brought you a whole packet of news.

Dor. Open it quickly; come.

Scrub. In the first place, I enquired who the gentleman was? They told me he was a stranger. Secondly, I asked what the gentleman was? They answered and said, that they never saw him before. Thirdly, I enquired what countryman he was? They reply'd, 'twas more than they knew. Fourthly, I demanded whence he came? Their answer was, they could not tell. And fifthly, I asked whither he went? and they reply'd, they knew nothing of the matter. -And this is all I could learn.

Mrs Sul. But what do the people say? Cann't they guess?

Scrub. Why, some think he's a spy, some guess

he's a mountebank, some say one thing, some another; but, for my own part, I believe he's a jesuit!

Dor. A jesuit! why a jesuit?

Scrub. Because he keeps his horses always ready saddled, and his footman talks French. Mrs Sul. His footman!

Scrub. Ay, he and the count's footmen were gabbering French like two intriguing ducks in a mill-pond; and I believe they talked of me; for they laugh'd consumedly.

Dor. What sort of livery has the footman? Scrub. Livery! Lord, madam, I took him for a captain, he's so bedizzen'd with lace; and then he has tops to his shoes, up to his mid-leg, a silver-headed cane dangling at his knuckles :-he carries his hands in his pockets, and walks just so-[Walks in a French air] and has a fine long perriwig ty'd up in a bag-Lord, madam, he's clear another sort of a man than I.

Mrs Sul. That may easily be.—But what shall we do now, sister?

Dor. I have it- -This fellow has a world of simplicity, and some cunning; the first hides the latter by abundance.-Scrub !

Scrub. Madam.

Dor. We have a great mind to know who this gentleman is, only for our satisfaction.

Scrub. Yes, madam, it would be a satisfaction, no doubt.

Dor. You must go and get acquainted with his footman, and invite him hither to drink a bottle of your ale, because you're butler to-day.

Scrub. Yes, madam, I'm butler every Sunday. Mrs Sul. O, brave sister! o' my conscience you understand the mathematics already.-'Tis the best plot in the world! Your mother, you know, will be gone to church, my spouse will be got to the ale-house with his scoundrels, and the house will be our own-so we drop in by accident, and ask the fellow some questions ourselves. In the country, you know, any stranger is company, and we're glad to take up with the butler in a country dance, and happy if he will do us the favour.

Scrub. Oh, madam, you wrong me! I never refus'd your ladyship a favour in my life.

Arch. Passion! What a plague! d'ye think these romantic airs will do our business? Were my temper as extravagant as yours, my adventures have something more romantic, by half. Aim. Your adventures! Arch. Yes.

The nymph that with her twice ten hundred pounds,

With brazen engine hot, and coif clear-starch'd, Can fire the guest in warming of the bedThere's a touch of sublime Milton for you, and the subject but an inn-keeper's daughter! I can play with a girl as an angler does with his fish; he keeps it at the end of his line, runs it up the stream and down the stream, till at last he brings it to hand, tickles the trout, and so whips it into his basket.

Enter BONIface.

Bon. Mr Martin, as the saying is--yonder's an honest fellow below, my lady Bountiful's butler, who begs the honour that you would go home with him, and see his cellar.

Arch. Do my baise-mains to the gentleman, and tell him I will do myself the honour to wait on him immediately, as the saying is.

Bon. I shall do your worship's commands, as the saying is. [Exit, bowing obsequiously. Aim. What do I hear? soft Orpheus play, and fair Toftida sing!

Arch. Pshaw! Damn your raptures: I tell you here's a pump going to be put into the vessel, and the ship will get into harbour;-my life on't.You say there's another lady very handsome there. Aim. Yes, faith.

Arch. I'm in love with her already.

Aim. Cann't you give me a bill upon Cherry in the mean time?

Arch. No, no, friend; all her corn, wine, and oil is engross'd to my market!- And once more I warn you to keep your anchorage clear of mine; for if you fall foul of me, by this light, you shall go the bottom- What! make a prize of my little frigate, while I am upon the cruise for you. You're a pretty fellow indeed! [Exit.

Enter BONIFACE.

Aim. Well, well, I won't--Landlord, have you any tolerable company in the house? I don't care for dining alone.

Bon. Yes, sir, there's a captain below, as the saying is, that arriv'd about an hour ago.

Aim. Gentlemen of his coat are welcome every where will you make a compliment for me,

Aim. 'Tis more than I deserve, sir; for I don't know you.

Gib. I don't wonder at that, sir; for you never saw me before I hope. [Aside. Aim. And pray, sir, how came I by the honour of seeing you now?

Gib. Sir, I scorn to intrude upon any gentleman-but landlord

my

Aim. O, sír, I ask your pardon! you're the captain he told me of.

Gib At your service, sir.

Aim. What regiment, may I be so bold?

Gib. A marching regiment, sir; an old corps. Aim. Very old, if your coat be regimental. [Aside.] You have serv'd abroad, sir?

Gib. Yes, sir, in the plantations; 'twas my lot to be sent into the worst service: I would have quitted it indeed, but a man of honour, you know -Besides, 'twas for the good of my country that I should be abroad-Any thing for the good of one's country- -I'm a Roman for that. Aim. One of the first, I'll lay my life. [Aside.] You found the West Indies very hot, sir? Gib. Ay, sir, too hot for me.

Aim. Pray, sir, ha'n't I seen your face at Wills' Coffee-house?

Gib. Yes, sir, and at White's too.

Aim. And where's your company now, captain?

Gib. They a'n't come yet.
Aim. Why, d'ye expect them here?
Gib. They'll be here to-night, sir.
Aim. Which way do they march?

Gib. Across the country. The devil's in't if I ha'n't said enough to encourage him to declare-but I'm afraid he's not right;-I must tack " about. [Aside. Aim. Is your company to quarter at Litchfield?

Gib. Ay, sir; you must excuse me. Sir, I understand the world, especially the art of travelling. I don't care, sir, for answering questions directly upon the road; for I generally ride with a charge about me. [Aside.

Aim. Three or four, I believe.

Gib. I am credibly inform'd that there are highwaymen upon this quarter; not, sir, that I could suspect a gentleman of your figureBut, truly, sir, I have got such a way of evasion upon the road, that I don't care for speaking truth to any man.

Aim. Your caution may be necessary. Then I presume you're no captain.

Gib. Not I, sir; captain is a good travelling name, and so I take it; it stops a great many foolish enquiries that are generally made about gentlemen that travel; it gives a man an air of something, and makes the drawers obedientand thus far I am a captain, and no farther. Aim. And pray, sir, what is your true profession?

Gib. O sir, you must excuse me upon my word, sir, I don't think it safe to tell you. Aim. Ha, ha! upon my word, I commend you.

Enter BONIFACE.

Well, Mr Boniface, what's the news?

Bon. There's another gentleman below, as the saying is, that, hearing you were but two, would be glad to make the third man, if you'd give him leave.

Aim. What is he?

Bon. A clergyman, as the saying is.

Aim. A clergyman! Is he really a clergyman? or is it only his travelling name, as my friend the captain has it?

Bon. O! sir, he's a priest, and chaplain to the French officers in town.

Aim. Is he a Frenchman?
Bon. Yes, sir, born at Brussels.

Gib. A Frenchman, and a priest! I won't be seen in his company, sir: I have a value for my reputation, sir.

Aim. Nay, but, captain, since we are by ourselves-Can he speak English, landlord?

Bon. Very well, sir. You may know him, as the saying is, to be a foreigner by his accent, and that's all.

Aim. Then he has been in England before? Bon. Never, sir; but he's master of languages, as the saying is; he talks Latin; it does me good to hear him talk Latin.

Aim. Then you understand Latin, Mr Boniface? Bon. Not I, sir, as the saying is; but he talks it so very fast, that I'm sure it must be good. Aim. Pray, desire him to walk up. Bon. Here he is, as the saying is.

Enter FOIGARD.

Foig. Save you, gentlemens bote !
Aim. A Frenchman!-Sir, your most humble

servant.

5

Foig. Och, dear joy! I am your most faithful shervant, and yours alsho.

Gib. Doctor, you talk very good English, but you have a mighty twang of the foreigner.

Foig. My English is very well for the vords; but we foreigners, you know, cannot bring our tongues about the pronunciation so soon.

Aim. A foreigner!-a downright Teague, by this light. [4side.] Were you born in France, doctor?

Foig. I was educated in France, but I was borned at Brussels: I am a subject of the king of Spain, joy!

Gib. What king of Spain, sir? Speak.

Foig. Upon my shoul, joy, I cannot tell you as yet.

Aim. Nay, captain, that was too hard upon the doctor; he's a stranger.

Foig. O! let him alone, dear joy; I'm of a na. tion that is not easily put out of countenance. Aim. Come, gentlemen, I'll end the dispute -Here, landlord, is dinner ready? Bon. Upon the table, as the saying is. Aim. Gentlemen-pray-that doorFoig. No, no, fait; the captain must lead. Aim. No, doctor; the church is our guide. Gib. Ay, ay, so it is.

[Exit foremost, they follow.

SCENE III-Changes to a Gallery in Lady BOUNTIFUL's House.

Enter ARCHER and SCRUB singing, and hugging one another; SCRUB with a tankard in his hand: GIPSY listening at a distance. Scrub. Tall, all, dall- -Come, my dear boy -let's have that song once more. Arch. No, no, we shall disturb the familyBut will you be sure to keep the secret? Scrub. Pho! upon my honour, as I'm a gentleman.

Arch. 'Tis enough- -You must know then, that my master is the lord viscount Aimwell; he fought a duel t'other day in London, wounded his man so dangerously that he thinks fit to withdraw till he hears whether the gentleman's wounds be mortal or not: he never was in this part of England before, so he chose to retire to this place; that's all..

Gip. And that's enough for me.

[Exit. Scrub. And where were you when your master fought?

Arch. We never know of our master's quarrels.

Scrub. No! if our masters in the country, here, receive a challenge, the first thing they do is to tell their wives; the wife tells the servants; the servants alarm the tenants; and in half an hour you shall have the whole country up in arms. Arch. To hinder two men from doing what they have no mind for-But if you should chance to talk, now, of this business?

Scrub. Talk! Ah! sir, had I not learn'd the knack of holding my tongue, I had never liv'd so long in a great family.

Arch. Ay, ay, to be sure, there are secrets in all families.

Scrub. Secrets, O Lud!but I'll say no more-Come, sit down, we'll make an end of our tankard.-Here

Arch. With all my heart: who knows but you and I may come to be better acquainted, eh!Here's your lady's health: you have three, I think; and, to be sure, there must be secrets among 'em.

Scrub. Secrets! Ah! friend, friend!- -I wish I had a friend

Arch. Am I not your friend? Come, you and I will be sworn brothers.

Scrub. Shall we?

Arch. From this minuteAnd now, brother Scrub

-Give me a kiss !

Scrub. And now, brother Martin, I will tell you a secret that will make your hair stand an end-You must know, that I am consumedly in love.

Arch. That's a terrible secret, that's the truth on't.

Scrub. That jade Gipsey, that was with us just now in the cellar, is the arrantest whore that ever wore a petticoat, and I'm dying for love of ber.

Arch. Ha, ha, ha!—Are you in love with her person, or her virtue, brother Scrub?

Scrub. I should like virtue best, because it's more durable than beauty; for virtue holds good with some women, long and many a day after they have lost it.

Arch. In the country, I grant ye, where no woman's virtue is lost, till a bastard be found.

Scrub. Ay, could I bring her to a bastard, I should have her all to myself; but I dare not put it upon that lay, for fear of being sent for a soldier-Pray, brother, how do you gentlemen in London like that same pressing act?

Arch. Very ill, brother Scrub- -'Tis the worst that ever was made for us: formerly, I remember the good days when we could dun our masters for our wages, and if they refused to pay us, we could have a warrant to carry 'em before a justice; but now, if we talk of eating, they have a warrant for us, and carry us before three justices.

Scrub. And, to be sure, we go, if we talk of eating; for the justices won't give their own servants a bad example. Now, this is my misfortune

-I dare not speak in the house, while that jade Gipsey dings about like a fury.-Once I had the better end of the staff.