are punctual to their ruin; and hypocrisy, by imposing on the world, at last deceives itself.Are all things prepared for his reception? Par. Exactly to your ladyship's order: the alderman, too, is just come, dressed and cooked up for iniquity.

Lure. Then he has got women's clothes on? Par. Yes, madam, and has passed upon the family for your nurse.

Lure. Convey him into that closet, and put out the candles, and tell him, I'll wait on him presently. [As PARLY goes to put out the candles, somebody knocks. Music plays without. Lure. This must be Sir Harry; tell him I'm not to be spoken with.

Par. Sir, my lady is not to be spoken with. Wild. I must have that from her own mouth, Mrs Parly. Play, gentlemen.

[Music plays again. Lure. This must be some clown without manners, or a gentleman above ceremony. Who's there?

ry.

Lure. 'Tis too early for serenading, Sir Har

Wild. Wheresoever love is, there music is proper: there's an harmonious consent in their natures, and when rightly joined, they make up the chorus of earthly happiness.

Lure. But, Sir Harry, what tempest drives you here at this hour?

Wild. No tempest, madam, but as fair weather as ever enticed a citizen's wife to cuckold her husband in fresh air. Love, madam.

[WILD. taking her by the hand. Lure. As pure and white as angels' soft de

sires.

Wild, Fierce as when ripe consenting beauty fires. I'st not so?

Lure. Oh, villain! What privilege have men to our destruction, that thus they hunt our ruin? Aside.] If this be a love token, [WILD, drops a

ring, she takes it up] your mistress's favours hang very loose about you, sir.

Wild. I cann't, justly, madam, pay your trouble of taking it up, by any thing but desiring you to wear it.

Lure. You gentlemen have the cunningest ways of playing the fool, and are so industrious in your profuseness. Speak seriously; am I beholden to chance or design for this ring?

Wild. To design, upon my honour. And I hope my design will succeed. [Aside. Lure. And what shall I give you for such a fine thing?

Wild. You'll give me another, you'll give me another fine thing. [Both sing. Lure. Shall I be free with you, Sir Harry? Wild. With all my heart, madam, so I may be free with you.

Lure. Then, plainly, sir, I shall beg the favour to see you some other time; for at this very minute I have two lovers in the house.

Wild. Then to be as plain, I must be gone this minute, for I must see another mistress within these two hours.

Lure. Frank and free.

Wild. As you with me-Madam, your most humble servant. [Exit. Lure. Nothing can disturb his humour. Now my merchant and Vizard.

for

[Exit, and takes the candles with her. Enter PARLY, leading in SMUGGLER, dressed in Women's Clothes.

Pur. This way, Mr Alderman.

Smug. Well, Mrs Parly,-I'm obliged to you for this trouble: Here are a couple of shillings for you. Times are hard, very hard indeed; but next time, I'll steal a pair of silk stockings from my wife, and bring them to you-What are you fumbling about my pockets for?

Par. Only setting the plaits of your gown: here, sir, get into this closet, and my lady will wait on you presently.

[Puts him into the closet, runs out, and returns with VIZARD.

Viz. Where wouldst thou lead me, my dear auspicious little pilot?

Pur. You're almost in port, sir; my lady's in the closet, and will come out to you immediately. Viz. Let me thank thee as I ought. [Kisses her. Par. Pshaw! who has hired me best? a couple of shillings, or a couple of kisses?

Viz. Propitious darkness guides the lover's steps, and night, that shadows outward sense, lights up our inward joy. Night! the great awful ruler of mankind, which, like the Persian monarch, hides its royalty to raise the veneration of the world; under thy easy reign dissemblers may speak truth; all slavish forms and ceremonies laid aside, and generous villany may

act without constraint.

Smug [Peeping out of the closet.] Bless me! what voice is this?

Fiz. Our hungry appetites, like the wild'

beasts of prey, now scour about to gorge their craving maws; the pleasure of hypocrisy, like a chained lion, once broke loose, wildly indulges its new freedom, ranging through all unbounded joys.

Smug. My nephew's voice, and certainly possessed with an evil spirit; he talks as profanely as an actor possessed with a poet.

Viz. Ha! I hear a voice. Madam-my life, my happiness, where are you, madam?

Smug. Madam! He takes me for a woman too: I'll try him. Where have you left your sanctity, Mr Vizard?

Viz. Talk no more of that ungrateful subject -I left it where it has only business, with daylight; 'tis needless to wear a mask in the dark.

Smug. Oh, the rogue, the rogue!The world takes you for a very sober, virtuous gentle

man.

Viz. Ay, madam, that adds security to all my pleasure. With me a cully-'squire may squander his estate, and ne'er be thought a spendthrift -With me a holy elder may zealously be drunk, and toast his tuneful noise in sack, to make it hold forth clearer-But what is most my praise, the formal rigid she, that rails at vice and men, with me secures her loosest pleasures, and her strictest honour-She who, with scornful mien, and virtuous pride, disdains the name of whore, with me can wanton, and laugh at the deluded world.

Smug. How have I been deceived! Then you are very great among the ladies?

Viz. Yes, madan, they know that like a mole in the earth I dig deep, but invisible; not like those fluttering noisy sinners, whose pleasure is the proclamation of their faults; those empty flashes, who no sooner kindle, but they must blaze, to alarm the world. But come, madam, you delay our pleasures.

Smug. He surely takes me for the Lady Lurewell-she has made him an appointment toobut I'll be revenged of both.Well, sir, what are those you are so intimate with?

Viz. Come, come, madam, you know very well-those who stand so high, that the vulgar envy even their crimes, whose figure adds privilege to their sin, and makes it pass unquestioned: fair, high, pampered females, whose speaking eyes, and piercing voice, would arm the statue of a stoic, and animate his cold marble with the soul of an epicure, all ravishing, lovely, soft and kind, like you.

Smug. I'm very lovely and soft indeed! You shall find me much harder than you imagine, friend. Well, sir, but I suppose your dissimulation has some other motive besides pleasure?

Viz. Yes, madam, the honestest motive in the world-interest- -You must know, madam, that I have an old uncle, Alderman Smuggler; you have seen him, I suppose.

Smug. Yes, yes, I have some small acquaintance with him.

Viz. 'Tis the most knavish, precise, covetous old rogue, that ever died of the gout.

Smug. Ah, the young son of a whore! Well, sir, and what of him?

Vis. Hell hungers not more for wretched souls, than he for ill-got pelf: and yet (what's wonderful), he that would stick at no profitable villany himself, loves holiness in another. He prays all Sundays for the sins of the week past; he spends all dinner-time in two tedious graces, and what he designs a blessing to the meat, proves a curse to his family; he's the most

Smug. Well, well, sir, I know him very well. Viz. Then, madam, he has a swingeing estate, which I design to purchase as a saint, and spend like a gentleman. He got it by cheating, and should lose it by deceit. By the pretence of my zeal and sobriety, I'll cozen the old miser, one of these days, out of a settlement and deed of conveyance

Smug. It shall be a deed to convey you to the gallows, then, ye young dog.

[Aside.

Viz. And no sooner he's dead, but I'll rattle over his grave with a coach and six, to inform his covetous ghost how genteelly I spend his money. Smug. I'll prevent you, boy; for I'll have my money buried with me.

[Aside. Viz. Bless me, madam! here's a light coming this way. I must fly immediately.—When shall I see you, madam?

Smug. Sooner than you expect, my dear. Viz. Pardon me, dear madam, I would not be seen for the world. I would sooner forfeit my life, my pleasure, than my reputation.

[Exit.

Smug. Reputation, reputation! That poor word suffers a great deal-Well, thou art the most accomplished hypocrite that ever made a grave plodding face over a dish of coffee and a pipe of tobacco. He owes me for seven years mainten ance, and shall pay me by seven years imprisonment; and when I die, I'll leave him the fee-simple of a rope and a shilling-Who are these? I begin to be afraid of some mischief-I wish that I were safe within the city liberties—I'll hide myself. [Stands close.

Enter Butler, with other Servants, and Lights.

But. I say there are two spoons wanting, and I'll search the whole house. Two spoons will be no small gap in my quarter's wages.

Serv. When did you miss them, James?
But. Miss them! why, I miss them now

-In short, they must be among you; and if you don't return them, I'll go to the cunning man to-morrow morning-My spoons I want, and my spoons I will have.

Sero. Come, come, search about.

[Search, and discover SMUGGLER. But. Hark'e, good woman, what makes you hide yourself? What are you ashamed of?

Smug. Asham'd of! Oh, Lord, sir, I'm an honest old woman, that never was ashamed of any thing.

But. What, are you a midwife, then? Speak, did not you see a couple of stray spoons in your travels ?

Smug. Stray spoons!

fore, pray consider who you are so free with, sir; a woman of condition, that can call half a dozen footmen upon occasion.

Wild. Nay, madam, if you have a mind to toss me in a blanket, half a dozen chambermaids would do better service. Come, come, madam; though the wine makes me lisp, yet it has taught me to speak plainer. By all the dust of my ancient progenitors, I must this night rest in your

arms.

Ang. Nay, then-who waits there? [Enter footmen.] Take hold of that madınan, and bind him.

Wild. Nay, then, Burgundy's the word; slaughter will ensue. Hold-Do you know, scoundrels, that I have been drinking victorious Burgundy ? [Draws.

Servants. We know you're drunk, sir. Wild. Then how have you the impudence, rascals, to assault a gentleman with a couple of flasks of courage in his head?

Servants. We must do as our young mistress commands us.

Wild. Nay, then have among ye, dogs! [Throws money among them; they scramble, and take it up: he pelting them out, shuts the door, and returns. Rascals, poltroons!--I have charmed the dragon, and now the fruit's my own.

Ang. Oh, the mercenary wretches! This was a plot to betray me.

Wild. I have put the whole army to flight; and now I'll take the general prisoner.

[Laying hold on her. Ang. I conjure you, sir, by the sacred name of honour, by your dead father's name, and the fair reputation of your mother's chastity, that you offer not the least offence. Already you have wronged me past redress.

Wild. Thou art the most unaccountable crea

ture

with sharp resentment, and with a virtuous pride, that looks dishonour dead.

Wild. This is the first whore in heroics that I have met with. [Aside.] Look ye, madam, as to that slender particular of your virtue, we sha'n't quarrel about it; you may be as virtuous as any woman in England, if you please; you may say your prayers all the time. But, pray, madam, be pleased to consider, what is this same virtue that you make such a mighty noise about---Can your virtue bespeak you a front row in the boxes? No; for the player's cann't live upon virtue. Can your virtue keep you a coach and six ? No, no; your virtuous women walk on foot.-Can your virtue hire you a pew in the church? Why, the very sexton will tell you, No. Can your virtue stake for you at picquet? No. Then what business has a woman with virtue? Come, come, madam, I offered you fifty guineas; there's a hundred--The devil!-virtuous still!-Why, it is a hundred, five score, a hundred guineas.

Ang. Oh, indignation! Were I a man, you durst not use me thus. But the mean, poor abuse you throw on me, reflects upon yourself: our sex still strikes an awe upon the brave, and only cowards dare affront a woman.

Wild. Affront! 'Sdeath, madam, a hundred guineas will set you up a bank at Basset; a hundred guineas will furnish out your lodging with china; a hundred guineas will give you an air of quality; a hundred guineas will buy you a rich escritoire for your billet-doux, or a fine Common Prayer Book for your virtue; a hundred guineas will buy a hundred fine things, and fine things are for fine ladies, and fine ladies are for fine gentlemen, and fine gentlemen are--'Egad, this Burgundy makes a man speak like an angel- -Come, come, madam, take it, and put it to what use you please. Ang. I'll use it as I would the base unworthy giver; thus

Wild. [Mimicking.] Tal tidum, tidum, tal ti didi didum. A million to one, now, but this girl is just come flush from reading the Rival Queens 'Egad, I'll at her in her own cant-Oh! my Statira; oh! my angry dear, turn thy eyes on me-behold thy beau in buskins.

Ang. Behold me, sir; view me with a sober thought, free from those fumes of wine that throw a mist before your sight, and you shall find that every glance from my reproaching eyes is arm'd

bring in a bill against their extortion. She tramples under foot that deity which all the world adoresOh, the blooming pride of beautiful eighteen !-Pshaw!-I'll talk to her no longer; I'll make my market with the old gentlewoman; she knows business better--[Goes to the door.]—Here, you, friend: pray, desire the old lady to walk inHark'e, 'egad, madam, I'll tell your mother.

Enter Lady DArling.

Darl. Well, Sir Harry, and how d'ye like my daughter, pray?

Wild. Like her, madam !——Hark'e, will you take it?- -Why, 'faith, madam--Take the money, I say, or, 'egad, all's out.

Ang. All shall out-Sir, you're a scandal to the name of gentleman.

Wild. With all my heart, madam--In short, madam, your daughter has used me somewhat

Darl. How, sir?

Wild. Why, madam, I have offered her a hundred guineas.

Darl. A hundred guineas! Upon what score? Wild. Upon what score!--Lord, Lord, how these old women love to hear bawdy!--Why, 'faith, madam, I have never a double entendre ready at present: but I'll sing you a song.

Behold the goldfinches, tall al de rall, And a man of my inches, tall al de rall, You shall take 'em, believe me, tall al de rall, If you will give me your tall al de rall. A modish minuet, madam, that's all. Darl. Sir, I don't understand you. Wild. Ay, she will have it in plain termsThen, madam, in downright English, I offered your daughter a hundred guineas to

Ang. Hold, sir, stop your abusive tongue, too loose for modest ears to hearMadam, I did before suspect that his designs were base, now they're too plain; this knight, this mighty man of wit and humour, is made a tool to a knaveVizard has sent him on a bully's errand, to affront a woman? but I scorn the abuse, and him that offered it.

Darl. How, sir; come to affront us! D'ye know who we are, sir?

Wild. Know who you are! Why, your daughter there, is Mr Vizard's-cousin, I suppose. And for you, madam-Now to call her procuress á-la-mode de France.-[Aside.]--J'estime votre occupation

Darl. Pray, sir, speak English.

Wild. Then to define her office á-lu-mode de Londres.—[Aside.]———I suppose your ladyship to be one of those civil, obliging, discreet old gentlewomen, who keep their visiting days for the entertainment of their presenting friends, whom they treat with imperial tea, a private room, and a pack of cards. Now I suppose you do understand me.

Darl. This is beyond sufferance! But say, thou abusive man, what injury have you ever re ceiv'd from me, or mine, thus to engage you in this scandalous aspersion?

Ang. Yes, sir, what cause, what motives could induce you thus to debase yourself below your rank?

Wild. Hey-day! Now, dear Roxana, and you, my fair Statira, be not so very heroic in your style: Vizard's letter may resolve you, and answer all the impertinent questions you have made

me.

Darl. and Ang. We appeal to that.

Wild. And I'll stand to't; he read it to me, and the contents were pretty plain, I thought. Ang. Here, sir; peruse it, and see how much we are injur'd, and you deceiv'd.

Wild. Opening the letter.] But hold, madam, [To DARLING;] before I read, I'll make some conditions:-Mr Vizard says here, that I won't scruple thirty or forty pieces. Now, madam, if VOL. IV.

you have clapt in another cypher to the account, and made it three or four hundred, 'egad I'll not stand to't.

Ang. Now, I cann't tell whether disdain or anger be the most just resentment for this injury. Dart. The letter, sir, shall answer you.

Wild. Well then-[Reads.]— Out of my earnest inclination to serve your ladyship, and my cousin Angelica'-Ay, ay, the very words, I can say it by heart-'I have sent Sir Harry Wildair to'-What the devil's this? -Sent Sir Harry Wildair to court my cousin'-He read to me quite a different thing- He's a gentleman of great parts and fortune'-He's a son of a whore and a rascal' And would make your daughter very happy [Whistles] in a husband.'- Looks foolish, and hums a song.]-Oh! poor Sir Harry, what have thy angry stars design'd!

Ang. Now, sir, I hope you need no instigation to redress our wrongs, since even the injury points the way.

Darl. Think, sir, that our blood for many generations has run in the purest channel of unsullied honour.

[Exit.

Wild. Very true, madam. Was ever man so catechized?

Darl. Then think that Vizard,-villain Vizard,-caused all this, yet lives: that's all: farewell.

Wild. Stay, madam, [To DARLING] one word; is there no other way to redress your wrongs, but by fighting?

Darl. Only one, sir; which if you can think of, you may do; you know the business I entertained you for.

Wild. I understand you, madam. [Exit DARLING.] Here am I brought to a very pretty dilemma. I must commit murder or commit matrimony: which is the best now? a licence from Doctors Commons, or a sentence from the Old Bailey?

-If I kill my man, the law hangs me; if I marry my woman, I shall hang myself. But, dan it- -cowards dare fight:-I'll mar ry, that's the most daring action of the twoSo, my dear cousin Angelica, have at you.

SCENE II.-Newgate. CLINCHER Senior solus.

[Erit.

Clin. sen. How severe and melancholy are Newgate reflections! Last week my father died; yesterday I turned beau; to-day I am laid by the heels, and to-morrow shall be hung by the neck. ——I was agreeing with a bookseller about

D