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Dug. Well, sister, I won't pretend to under

Dug. Who, Mademoiselle Bisarre? Ori. The same: we live merrily together, with-stand the engagements between you and your out scandal or reproach; we make much of the old gentleman between us, and he takes care of ns; we eat what we like, go to bed when we please, rise when we will, all the week we dance and sing, and upon Sundays go first to church, and then to the play. Now, brother, besides these motives for choosing this gentleman for my guardian, perhaps I had some private rea

sons.

Dug. Not so private as you imagine, sister: your love to young Mirabel's no secret, I can assure you, but so public, that all your friends are asham'd on't.

Ori. O' my word, then, my friends are very bashful; though I am afraid, sir, that those people are not ashamed enough at their own crimes, who have so many blushes to spare for the faults of their neighbours.

Dug. Ay, but, sister, the people sayOri. Pshaw! hang the people, they'll talk treason, and profane their Maker; must we therefore infer, that our king is a tyrant, and religion a cheat? Look'e, brother, their court of inquiry is a tavern, and their informer, claret; they think as they drink, and swallow reputations like loches; a lady's health goes briskly round with the glass, but her honour is lost in the

toast.

Dug. Ay, but, sister, there is still something

Ori. If there be something, brother, 'tis none of the people's something; marriage is my thing, and I'll stick to't.

Dug. Marriage! Young Mirabel marry! He'll build churches sooner. Take heed, sister, though your honour stood proof to his home-bred assaults, you must keep a stricter guard for the future: he has now got the foreign air and the Italian softness; his wit's improved by converse, his behaviour finished by observation, and his assurances confirmed by success. Sister, I can assure you, he has made his conquests; and 'tis a plague upon your sex, to be the soonest deceiv'd by those very men that you know have been false

to others.

Ori. Then why will you tell me of his conquests? for I must confess, there is no title to a woman's favour so engaging as the repute of a handsome dissimulation; there is something of a pride to see a fellow lie at our feet, that has triumphed over so many; and then, I don't know, we fancy he must have something extraordinary about him to please us, and that we have something engaging about us to secure him; so we cann't be quiet till we put ourselves upon the lay of being both disappointed.

Dug. But then, sister, he's as fickle

Ori. For God's sake, brother, tell me no more of his faults; for if you do, I shall run mad for him-say no more, sir; let me but get him into the bands of matrimony, I'll spoil his wandering, I warrant him; I'il do his business that way; never fear.

lover: I expect, when you have need of my counsel or assistance, you will let me know more of your affairs. Mirabel is a gentleman; and as far as my honour and interest can reach, you may command me to the furtherance of your happiness: in the mean time, sister, I have a great mind to make you a present of another humble servant, a fellow that I took up at Lyons, who has served me honestly ever since.

Ori. Then why will you part with him? Dug. He has gain'd so insufferably on my good humour, that he's grown too familiar; but the fellow's cunning, and may be serviceable to you in your affair with Mirabel. Here he comes, Enter PETIT.

Well, sir, have you been at Rousseau's?

Pet. Yes, sir: and who should I find there but Mr Mirabel and the captain, hatching as warmly over a tub of ice, as two hen pheasants over a brood-they would not let me bespeak any thing, for they had dined before I came.

Dug. Come, sir, you shall serve my sister; I shall still continue kind to you; and if your lady recommends your diligence, upon trial, I'll use my interest to advance you; you have sense enough to expect preferment. Here, sirrah, here's ten guineas for thee; get thyself a drugget suit and a puff wig, and so-I dub thee gentleman-usher. Sister, I must put myself in repair: you may expect me in the evening-Wait on your lady home, Petit. [Exit DUGARD.

Pet. A chair, a chair, a chair!
Ori. No, no, I'll walk home; 'tis but next
door.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.—A Tavern, discovering Young MI-
RABEL and DURETETE rising from the table.

Mir. Welcome to Paris once more, my dear
captain: we have eat heartily, drank roundly,
I liked
paid plentifully, and let it go for once.
every thing but our women; they looked so lean
and tawdry, poor creatures! 'Tis a sure sign the
army is not paid.- -Give me the plump Vene-
tian, brisk and sanguine, that smiles upon me
like the glowing sun, and meets my lips like
sparkling wine, her person shining as the glass,
and spirit like the foaming liquor.

Dur. Ah! Mirabel! Italy I grant you; but for our women here in France, they are such thin, brawn-fallen jades, a man may as well make a bed-fellow of a cane chair.

Mir. France! a light, unseasoned country, nothing but feathers, foppery, and fashions: we

are fine indeed, so are our coach-horses: men say we are courtiers,-men abuse us; that we are wise in politics, non credo, seigneur; that our women have wit ;-parrots, mere parrots; assurance and a good memory sets them up.-There's service t'ye-Ha, Roma la santa! Italy for my nothing on this side the Alps worth my humble money: their customs, gardens, buildings, paint

ings, music, politics, wine, and women! the paradise of the world- -not pestered with a parcel of precise, old, gouty fellows, that would debar their children every pleasure that they themselves are past the sense of: commend me to the Italian familiarity;-here, son, there's fifty crowns, go pay your whore her week's allowance.

Dur. Ay, these are your fathers for you, that understand the necessities of young men; not like our musty dads, who, because they cannot fish themselves, would muddy the water, and spoil the sport of them that can. But now you talk of the plump, what d'ye think of a Dutch woman?

Mir. A Dutch woman's too compact; nay, every thing among them is so: a Dutch man is thick, a Dutch woman is squab, a Dutch horse is round, a Dutch dog is short, a Dutch ship is broad-bottom'd, and, in short, one would swear the whole produce of the country were cast in the same mould with their cheeses.

Dur. Ay, but Mirabel, you have forgot the English ladies.

Mir. The women of England were excellent, did they not take such unsufferable pains to ruin what Nature has made so incomparably well; they would be delicate creatures indeed, could they but thoroughly arrive at the French mien, or entirely let it alone; for they only spoil a very good air of their own, by an awkward imitation of ours: their parliaments and our tailors give laws to three kingdoms. But come, Duretete, let us mind the business in hand: mistresses we must have, and must take up with the manufacture of the place; and, upon a competent diligence, we shall find those in Paris shall match the Italians from top to toe.

Dur. Ay, Mirabel, you will do well enough, but what will become of your friend? you know I am so plaguy bashful, so naturally an ass upon these occasions, that

Mir. Pshaw! you must be bolder, man: travel three years, and bring home such a baby as bashfulness!-A great lusty fellow! and a soldier! fie upon it.

Dur. Look'e, sir, I can visit, and I can ogle a little; as thus, or thus now. Then I can kiss abundantly, and make a shift to--but if they chance to give me a forbidding look, as some women, you know, have a devilish cast with their eyes or if they cry-What d'ye mean? What d'ye take me for?-Fie, sir, remember who I am, sir- -A person of quality to be used at this rate! 'Egad, I'm struck as flat as a frying-pan.

Mir. Words of course! never mind them: turn you about upon your heel, with a jantée air; hum out the end of an old song; cut a cross caper, and at her again.

Dur. [Imitates him.] No, hang it, 'twill never do-Oons! what did my father mean by sticking me up in an university, or to think that I should gain any thing by my head, in a nation whose genius lies all in their heels!--Well, if ever I come to have children of my own, they shall have

VOL. IV.

the education of the country; they shall learn to dance before they can walk, and be taught to sing before they can speak.

Mir. Come, come, throw off that childish hu mour; put on assurance, there's no avoiding it; stand all hazards: thou'rt a stout, lusty fellow, and hast a good estate: look bluff, Hector; you have a good side-box face, a pretty impudent face; so that's pretty well.-This fellow went abroad like an ox, and is returned like an ass. [Aside.

Dur. Let me see now how I look. [Pulls out a pocket glass, and looks on't.] A side-box face, say you! 'Egad I don't like it, Mirabel. Fie, sir, don't abuse your friends; I could not wear such a face for the best countess in Christendom.

Mir. Why cann't you, blockhead, as well as I? Dur. Why, thou hast impudence to set a good face upon any thing: I would change half my gold for half thy brass, with all my heart.-Who comes here?-Odso, Mirabel, your father.

Enter Old MIRABEL.

Old Mir. Where's Bob, dear Bob?
Mir. Your blessing, sir.

Old Mir. My blessing! Damn ye, ye young rogue, why did not you come to see your father first, sirrah? My dear boy, I am heartily glad to see thee, my dear child, faith-Captain Duretete, by the blood of the Mirabels, I'm yours. Well, my lads, ye look bravely, faith. Bob, hast got any money left?

Mir. Not a farthing, sir.

Old Mir. Why, then I won't give thee a

souse.

Mir. I did but jest; here's ten pistoles. Old Mir. Why, then here's ten more; I love to be charitable to those that don't want it. Well, and how d'ye like Italy, my boys?

Mir. Oh, the garden of the world, sir! Rome, Naples, Venice, Milan, and a thousand others— all fine.

Old Mir. Ay, say you so! And they say that Chiari is very fine too.

Dur. Indifferent, sir, very indifferent; a very scurvy air, the most unwholesome to a French constitution in the world.

Mir. Pshaw! nothing on't; these rascally gazetteers have misinformed you.

Old Mir. Misinformed me! Oons, sir, were not we beaten there?

Mir. Beaten, sir! the French beaten ! Old Mir. Why, how was it, pray, sweet sir? Mir. Sir, the captain will tell you. Dur. No, sir, your son will tell you. Mir. The captain was in the action, sir. Dur. Your son saw more than I, sir, for he was a looker-on.

Old Mir. Confound you both for a brace of cowards here are no Germans to over-hear you why don't you tell me how it was?

Mir. Why, then, you must know, that we marched up a body of the finest, bravest, welldressed fellows in the universe; our commanders at the head of us, all lace and feather, like so

F

many beaux at a ball-I don't believe there was a man of them but could dance a charmer, morbleu !

Old Mir. Dance! very well, pretty fellows, faith!

Mir. We capered up to their very trenches, and there saw, peeping over, a parcel of scarecrow, olive-coloured, gunpowder fellows, as ugly as the devil.

Dur. 'Egad, I shall never forget the looks of them while I have breath to fetch.

Mir. They were so civil, indeed, as to welcome us with their cannon; but for the rest, we found them such unmannerly, rude, unsociable dogs, that we grew tired of their company, and so we e'en danced back again.

Old Mir. And did you all come back?

Mir. No-two or three thousand of us staid behind.

Old Mir. Why, Bob, why?

Mir. Pshaw! because they could not come that night.- -But come, sir, we were talking of

SCENE I.-Old MIRABEI.'s House. ORIANA and Bisarre.

something else. Pray, how does your lovely charge, the fair Oriana?

Old Mir. Ripe, sir, just ripe; you'll find it better engaging with her than the Germans, let me tell you. And what would you say, my young Mars, if I had a Venus for thee too? Come, Bob, your apartment is ready, and pray let your friend be my guest too; you shall command the house between ye, and I'll be as merry as the best of you.

Mir. Bravely said, father.

Let misers bend their age with niggard cares, And starve themselves to pamper hungry heirs; Who, living, stint their sons what youth may crave,

And make them revel o'er a father's grave. The stock on which I grow does still dispense Its genial sap into the blooming branch;

The fruit, he knows, from his own root is grown,

And therefore sooths those passions once his [Exeunt.

ACT II.

Bis. And you love this young rake, d'ye?
Ori. Yes.

Bis. In spite of all his ill usage.

Ori. I cann't help it.

Bis. What's the matter with ye?
Ori. Pshaw!

Bis. Um !-before that any young, lying, swearing, flattering, rake-helly fellow should play such tricks with me, I would wear my teeth to the stumps with lime and chalk. Oh, the devil take all your Cassandras and Cleopatras for me. Pr'ythee mind your airs, modes, and fashions; your stays, gowns, and furbelows. Hark'e, my dear, have you got home your furbelowed smocks yet? Ori. Pr'ythee be quiet, Bisarre; you know I can be as mad as you, when this Mirabel is out of my head.

Bis. Pshaw! would he were out, or in, or some way, to make you easy.-I warrant, now, you'll play the fool when he comes, and say you love him, eh!

Ori. Most certainly; I cann't dissemble, Bisarre:-Besides, 'tis past that; we're contracted. Bis. Contracted! alack-a-day, poor thing. What, have you changed rings, or broken an old broad piece between you? Hark'e, child, ha'n't you broke something else between ye?

Ori. No, no, I can assure you.

Bis. Then what d'ye whine for? Whilst I kept that in my power, I would make a fool of any fellow in France. Well, I must confess, I do love a little coquetting with all my heart: my

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business should be to break gold with my lover one hour, and crack my promise the next; he should find me one day with a prayer-book in my hand, and with a play-book another; he should have my consent to buy the wedding-ring, and the next moment I would laugh in his face.

Ori. Oh, my dear, were there no greater tie upon my heart than there is upon my conscience, I would soon throw the contract out of doors; but the mischief on't is, I am so fond of being tied, that I'm forced to be just, and the strength of my passion keeps down the inclination of my sex. But here's the old gentleman.

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Mir. That's a bull, father.

Old Mir. A bull! Why, how now, ungrateful? Sir, did I make thee a man, that thou shouldst make me a beast?

Mir. Your pardon, sir; I only meant your expression.

Old Mir. Hark ye, Bob; learn better manners to your father before strangers. I won't be angry this time; but, oons! if ever you do it again, you rascal-Remember what I say

Mir. Pshaw! what does the old fellow mean by mewing me up here with a couple of green girls?Come, Duretete, will you go?

Ori. I hope, Mr Mirabel, you ha'n't forgot Mir. No, no, madam, I ha'n't forgot; I have brought you a thousand little Italian curiosities. I'll assure you, madam, as far as a hundred pistoles would reach, I ha'n't forgot the least cir

cumstance.

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Dur. Mirabel-that lady there, observe her; she's wondrous pretty, faith, and seems to have but few words: I like her mainly. Speak to her, man; pr'ythee, speak to her.

Mir. Madam, here's a gentleman, who declares

Dur. Madam, don't believe him; I declare nothing-What the devil do you mean, man? Mir. He says, madam, that you are as beautiful as an angel.

Dur. He tells a damn'd lie, madam; I say no such thing. Are you mad, Mirabel? Why, I shall drop down with shame.

you won't be so barbarous as to leave me alone. Pr'ythee, speak to her for yourself, as it were. Lord, Lord, that a Frenchman should want impudence!

Mir. You look mighty demure, madam.-She's deaf, captain.

Dur. I had much rather have her dumb.

Mir. The gravity of your air, madam, promises some extraordinary fruits from your study, which moves us with curiosity to enquire the subject of your ladyship's contemplation.—Not a word!

Dur. I hope in the Lord she's speechless; if she be, she's mine this moment. Mirabel, d'ye think a woman's silence can be natural?

Bis. But the forms that logicians introduce, and which proceed from simple enumeration, are dubitable, and proceed only upon admit

tance

Mir. Hoity toity! what a plague have we here?-Plato in petticoats!

Dur. Ay, ay, let her go on, man; she talks in my own mother-tongue.

Ris. 'Tis exposed to invalidity from a contradictory instance, looks only upon common operations, and is infinite in its termination. Mir. Rare pedantry!

Dur. Axioms, axioms! self-evident principles.

Bis. Then the ideas wherewith the mind is pre-occupate-Oh, gentlemen, I hope you'll pardon my cogitations! I was involved in a profound point of philosophy; but I shall discuss it somewhere else, being satisfied that the subject is not agreeable to your sparks that profess the vanity of the times. [Exit.

Mir. Go thy way, good wife Bias. Do you hear, Duretete? Dost hear this starch'd piece of austerity?

Dur. She's mine, man, she's mine! My own talent to a T. I'll match her in dialects, faith. I was seven years at the university, man; nursed up with Barbara, Gelarunt, Darii, Ferio, Beralipton. Did you ever know, man, that 'twas metaphysics made me an ass? It was, faith. Had she talked a word of singing, dancing, plays, fashions, or the like, I had foundered at the first step; but as she is, Mirabel, wish me joy.

Mir. You don't mean marriage, I hope. Dur. No, no, I am a man of more honour. Mir. Bravely resolved, captain. Now, for thy credit, warm this frozen snow-ball; 'twill be a conquest above the Alps.

Dur. But will you promise to be always near

me?

Mir. Upon all occasions; never fear.

Dur. Why, then, you shall see me in two moments make an induction from my love to her hand, from her hand to her mouth, from her mouth to her heart, and so conclude in bed, ca

Mir. And so, madam, not doubting but your|tegorematicè. ladyship may like him as well as he does you, I think it proper to leave you together.

[Going, DURET. holds him. Dur. Hold, hold-Why, Mirabel, friend, sure

Mir. Now the game begins, and my fool is entered. But here comes one to spoil my sport. Now shall I be teazed to death with this old-fashioned contract.-I should love her too, if I

might do it my own way; but she'll do nothing without witnesses, forsooth.-I wonder women can be so immodest.

Enter ORIANA.

Well, madam, why d'ye follow me?

Ori. Well, sir, why do you shun me? Mir. 'Tis my humour, madam; and I'm naturally swayed by inclination.

Ori. Have you forgot our contract, sir? Mir. All I remember of that contract is, that it was made some three years ago; and that's enough, in conscience, to forget the rest on't.

Ori. 'Tis sufficient, sir, to recollect the passing of it; for in that circumstance, I presume, lies the force of the obligation.

Mir. Obligations, madam, that are forced upon the will are no tie upon the conscience. I was a slave to my passion when I passed the instrument; but the recovery of my freedom makes the contract void.

Ori. Sir, you cann't make that a compulsion which was your own choice; besides, sir, a subjection to your own desires has not the virtue of❘ a forcible constraint; and you will find, sir, that to plead your passion for the killing of a man, will hardly exempt you from the justice of the punishment.

Mir. And so, madam, you make the sin of murder and the crime of a contract the very same, because that hanging and matrimony are so much alike.

Ori. Come, Mr Mirabel, these expressions I expected from the raillery of your humour, but I hope for very different sentiments from your honour and generosity.

Mir. Look ye, madam; as for my generosity, 'tis at your service, with all my heart: I'll keep you a coach and six horses, if you please; only permit me to keep my honour to myself; for I can assure you, madam, that the thing called honour is a circumstance absolutely unnecessary in a natural correspondence between male and female; and he's a madman that lays it out, considering its scarcity, upon any such trivial occasions. There's honour required of us by our friends, and honour due to our enemies, and they return it to us again; but I never heard of a man that left but an inch of his honour in a woman's keeping, that could ever get the least account on't. Consider, madam, you have no such thing among ye; and 'tis a main point of policy to keep no faith with reprobates-Thou art a pretty little reprobate; and so get thee about thy busi

ness.

Ori. Well, sir, even all this I will allow to the gaiety of your temper: your travels have improved your talent of talking, but they are not of force, I hope, to impair your morals.

Mir. Morals! Why, there it is again, now. I tell thee, child, there is not the least occasion for morals in any business between you and I. Don't you know, that, of all the commerce in the world, there is no such cozenage and deceit as in the traffic between man and woman? We study,

all our lives long, how to put tricks upon one another. What is your business, now, from the time you throw away your artificial babies, but how to get natural ones with the most advantage? No fowler lays abroad more nets for his game, nor a hunter for his prey, than you do to catch poor innocent men. Why do you sit three or four hours at your toilet in a morning? Only with a villanous design to make some poor fellow a fool before night. What are your languishing looks, your studied airs and affectations, but so many baits and devices, to delude men out of their dear liberty and freedom? What d'ye sigh for? What d'ye weep for? What d'ye pray for? Why, for a husband; that is, you implore Providence to assist you in the just and pious design of making the wisest of his creatures a fool, and the head of the creation a slave.

Ori. Sir, I am proud of my power, and am resolved to use it.

Mir. Hold, hold, madam; not so fast. As you have variety of vanities to make coxcombs of us, so we have vows, oaths, and protestations, of all sorts and sizes, to make fools of you. As you are very strange and whimsical creatures, so we are allowed as unaccountable ways of managing you. And this, in short, my dear creature, is our present condition: I have sworn and lied briskly, to gain my ends of you; your ladyship has patched and painted violently, to gain your ends of me: but since we are both disappointed, let us make a drawn battle, and part clear on both sides.

Ori. With all my heart, sir; give me up my contract, and I'll never see your face again. Mir. Indeed I won't, child.

Ori. What, sir, neither do one nor t'other? Mir. No, you shall die a maid, unless you please to be otherwise upon my terms.

Ori. What do you intend by this, sir?

Mir. Why, to starve you into compliance. Look ye, you shall never marry any man; and you'd as good let me do you a kindness as a stranger.

Ori. Sir, you're a

Mir. What am I, mistress?
Ori. A villain, sir.

Mir. I'm glad on't. I never knew an honest fellow in my life, but was a villain upon these occasions. Ha'n't you drawn yourself now into a very pretty dilemma? Ha, ha, ha! the poor lady has made a vow of virginity, when she thought of making a vow for the contrary. Was ever poor woman so cheated into chastity?

Ori. Sir, my fortune is equal to yours, my friends as powerful, and both shall be put to the test, to do me justice.

Mir. What, you'll force me to marry you, will

ye?

Ori. Sir, the law shall.

Mir. But the law cann't force me to do any thing else, can it?

Ori. Pshaw! I despise thee, monster.

Mir. Kiss, and be friends then. Don't cry, child, and you shall have your sugar-plum. Come,

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