madam, d'ye think I could be so unreasonable as to make you fast all your life long? No, I did but jest; you shall have your liberty. Here, take your contract, and give me mine. Ori. No, I won't.

Mir. Eh! What, is the girl a fool?

Ori. No, sir, you shall find me cunning enough to do myself justice; and since I must not depend upon your love, I'll be revenged, and force you to marry me out of spite.

Mir. Then I'll beat thee out of spite, and make a most confounded husband.

Ori. Oh, sir, I shall match ye: a good husband makes a good wife at any time.

Mir. I'll rattle down your china about your

grooms.

Mir. I'll lie with your woman before your face.

Ori. Have a care of your valet behind your back.

Mir. But, sweet madam, there is such a thing as a divorce.

Ori. But, sweet sir, there is such a thing as alimony; so, divorce on, and spare not. [Exit. Mir. Ay, that separate maintenance is the devil-there's their refuge. O' my conscience, one would take cuckoldom for a meritorious action, because the women are so handsomely rewarded for it. [Exil. SCENE II.-Changes to a large Parlour in the same House.

Enter DURETETE and PETIT. Dur. And she is mighty peevish, you say? Pet. Oh, sir, she has a tongue as long as my leg, and talks so crabbedly, you would think she always spoke Welch !

Dur. That's an odd language, methinks, for her philosophy.

Pet. But sometimes she will sit you half a day without speaking a word, and talk oracles all the while by the wrinkles of her forehead, and the motions of her eye-brows.

Dur. Nay, I shall match her in philosophical ogles, faith; that's my talent: I can talk best, you must know, when I say nothing.

Pet. But d'ye ever laugh, sir?

Dur. Laugh! Won't she endure laughing?

Pet. Why, she's a critic, sir; she hates a jest, for fear it should please her; and nothing keeps her in humour, but what gives her the spleen. And then for logic, and all that, you know

Dur. Ay, ay, I'm prepared; I have been prac tising hard words and no sense this hour, to entertain her.

Pet. Then place yourself behind this screen, that you may have a view of her behaviour before you begin.

Dur. I long to engage her, lest I should forget my lesson.

Pet. Here she comes, sir: I must fly. [Exit PET., and DUR. stands peeping behind the curtain.

Enter BISARRE and Maid.

Bis. [With a book.] Pshaw! hang books! they sour our temper, spoil our eyes, and ruin our complexions. [Throws away the book. Dur. Eh! the devil such a word there is in all Aristotle.

Bis. Come, wench, let's be free; call in the fiddle; there's nobody near us.

Enter Fiddler.

Dur. Would to the Lord there was not! Bis. Here, friend, a minuet-ker time, ha!--Would we had a man or two! Dur. [Stealing away.] You shall have the devil sooner, my dear dancing philosopher. Bis. Uds my life! here's one.

[Runs to DURETETE, and hauls him back. Dur. Is all my learned preparation come to this?

Bis. Come, sir, don't be ashamed; that's my good boy. You're very welcome; we wanted such a one-Come, strike up-I know you dance well, sir; you're fine shap'd for it--Come, come, sir; quick, quick; you miss the time else.

Dur. But, madam, I come to talk with you. Bis. Ay, ay, talk as you dance, talk as you dance:-Come.

Dur. But we were talking of dialectics. Bis. Hang dialectics! mind the timequicker, sirrah. [To the Fiddler.]-Come,And how d'ye find yourself now, sir?

Dur. In a fine breathing sweat, doctor.

Bis. All the better, patient, all the better. Come, sir, sing now, sing; I know you sing well; I see you have a singing face; a heavy, dull, sonata face.

Dur. Who! I sing?

Bis. Oh, you're modest, sir!-But come sit down; closer, closer. Here, a bottle of wine -Come, sir,-fa, la, ley; sing, sir,

Dur. But, madam, I came to talk with you. Bis. Oh, sir, you shall drink first! Come, fill me a bumper-Here, sir, bless the king.

Dur. Would I were out of his dominionsBy this light, she'll make me drunk too.

Bis. Oh, pardon me, sir; you shall do me right! fill it higher——Now, sir, can you drink a health under your leg?

Dur. Rare philosophy that, faith.
Bis. Come, off with it to the bottom-
Now, how d'ye like me, sir?

Dur. Oh, mighty well, madam!

Bis. You see how a woman's fancy varies; sometimes splenetic and heavy, then gay and frolicsome. And how d'ye like the humour?

Dur. Good madam, let me sit down to answer you; for I am heartily tired.

Bis. Fie upon't! a young man, and tired! Up, for shame, and walk about: action becomes us -a little faster, sir-What d'ye think now of my Lady La Pale, and Lady Coquette, the duke's fair daughter? ha! Are they not brisk lasses? Then there is black Mrs Bellair, and brown Mrs Bellface.

Dur. They are all strangers to me, madam. Bis. But let me tell you, sir, that brown is not always despicable. Oh, lard, sir, if young Mrs Bagatelle had kept herself single till this time o' day, what a beauty there had been! And then, you know the charming Mrs Monkeylove, the fair gem of St. Germain's.

Dur. Upon my soul, I don't.

Bis. And then you must have heard of the • English beau, Spleenamore; how unlike a gentleman

Dur. Hey!-not a syllable on't, as I hope to be saved, madam.

sir.

Bis. No! Why, then, play me a jig. Come,

Dur. By this light, I cannot :-faith, madam, I have sprained my leg.

Bis. Then sit you down, sir;-and now tell me what's your business with me? What's your errand? Quick, quick; dispatch-Odso, may be you are some gentleman's servant that has brought me a letter, or haunch of venison.

Dur. 'Sdeath, madam! do I look like a carrier!

Bis. Oh, ery you mercy! I saw you just now ; I mistook you, upon my word: you are one of the travelling gentlemen.-And pray, sir, how do all our impudent friends in Italy?

Dur. Madam, I came to wait upon you with a more serious intention than your entertainment has answered.

Bis. Sir, your intention of waiting on me was the greatest affront imaginable, however your expressions may turn it to a compliment. Your visit, sir, was intended as a prologue to a very scurvy play, of which Mr Mirabel and you so handsomely laid the plot.-Marry! No, no, I'm a man of more honour. Where's your honour? Where's your courage now? Ads my life, sir, I have a great mind to kick you. Go, go to your fellow-rake now; rail at my sex, and get drunk for vexation, and write a lampoon. But I must have you to know, sir, that my reputation is above the scandal of a libel; my virtue is sufficiently approved to those whose opinion is my interest; and for the rest, let them talk what they will; for, when I please, I'll be what I please, in spite of you, and all mankind; and so, my dear man of honour, if you be tired, con over this lesson, and sit there till I come to you.

[Runs off.

Dur. Tum ti dum. [Sings.] Ha, ha, ha! Ads my life, sir, I have a great mind to kick youOons and confusion! [Starts up.] Was ever man so abused?-Ay, Mirabel set me on.

Enter PETIT.

Pet. Well, sir, how d'ye find yourself?

Dur. You son of a nine-eyed whore, d'ye come to abuse me? I'll kick you with a vengeance, you dog!

[PETIT runs off, and DUR. after him.

SCENE I.-Continues. Enter Old and Young MIRABEL. Old Mir. Bob, come hither, Bob. Mir. Your pleasure, sir?

Old Mir. Come hither, my dear friend: dost see this picture? [Shews him a little picture.

Mir. Oriana's! Pshaw!

Old Mir. What, sir, won't you look upon it? -Bob, dear Bob, pr'ythee come hither now. Dost want any money, child? Mir. No, sir.

Old Mir. Why, then, here's some for thee. Come here now. How canst thou be so hardhearted an unnatural, unmannerly rascal, (don't mistake me, child; I an't angry,) as to abuse this tender, lovely, good-natur'd, dear rogue? Why, she sighs for thee, and cries for thee, pouts for thee, and sobs for thee; the poor little heart of it is like to burst. Come, my dear boy, be good-natured, like your own father, be nowand then see here, read this-the effigies of the

lovely Oriana, with ten thousand pounds to her portion; ten thousand pounds, you dog; ten thousand pounds, you rogue: how dare you refuse a lady with ten thousand pounds, you impudent rascal?

Mir. Will you hear me speak, sir?

Old Mir. Hear you speak, sir! If you had ten thousand tongues, you could not out-talk ten thousand pounds, sir.

Mir. Nay, sir, if you won't hear me, I'll be gone, sir; I'll take post for Italy this moment. Old Mir. Ah, the fellow knows I won't part with him! [Aside.] Well, sir, what have you to Say?

Mir. The universal reception, sir, that marriage has had in the world, is enough to fix it for a public good, and to draw every body into the common cause; but there are some constitutions like some instruments, so peculiarly singular, that they make tolerable music by themselves, but never do well in a concert.

Old Mir. Why, this is reason I must confess, but yet it is nonsense too; for though you should reason like an angel, if you argue yourself out of a good estate, you talk like a fool.

Mir. But, sir, if you bribe me into bondage with the riches of Croesus, you leave me but a beggar, for want of my liberty.

Old Mir. Was ever such a perverse fool heard! Sdeath, sir, why did I give you education? Was it to dispute me out of my senses?-Of what colour, now, is the head of this cane? You'll 'tis white, and, ten to one, make me believe it too. I thought that young fellows studied to get

money.

say

Mir. No, sir, I have studied to despise it: my reading was not to make me rich, but happy,

sir.

Old Mir. There he has me again now! But, sir, did not I marry to oblige you?

Mir. To oblige me, sir! in what respect, pray?

Old Mir. Why, to bring you into the world, sir; wa'n't that an obligation?

Mir. And because I would have it still an obligation, I avoid marriage.

Old Mir. How is that, sir?

Mir. Because I would not curse the hour I was born.

Old Mir. Look ye, friend, you may persuade me out of my designs, but I'll command you out of yours; and though you may convince my reason that you are in the right, yet there is an old attendant of sixty-three, called positiveness, which you nor all the wits in Italy shall never be able to shake. So, sir, you're a wit, and I'm a father; you may talk, but I'll be obeyed.

Mir. This it is to have the son a finer gentleman than the father; they first give us breeding that they don't understand, then they turn us out of doors because we are wiser than themselves. But I'm a little aforehand with the old gentleman. [Aside.] Sir, you have been pleased to settle a thousand pounds sterling a-year upon me; in return of which, I have a very great ho

Dug. Ah, sir! 'tis but what he deserves. Old Mir. 'Tis false, sir, he don't deserve it :what have you to say against my boy, sir?

Dug. I shall only repeat your own words. Old Mir. What have you to do with my words? I have swallowed my words already, I have eaten them up; and how can you come at them, sir?

Dug. Very easily, sir; 'tis but mentioning your injured ward, and you will throw them up again immediately.

Old Mir. Sir, your sister was a foolish young flirt, to trust any such young, deceitful, rake-helly rogue, like him.

Dug. Cry you mercy, old gentleman! I thought we should have the words again.

Old Mir. And what then? 'Tis the way with young fellows to slight old gentlemen's words; you never mind them when you ought. I say that Bob's an honest fellow, and who dares deny it?

Old Mir. Look ye, Mr Dugard, good words go farthest. I will do your sister justice, but it must be after my own rate; nobody must abuse my son but myself: for although Robin be a sad dog, yet he's nobody's puppy but my own.

Bis, Ay, that's my sweet-natured, kind old gentleman. [Wheedling him] We will be good then, if you'll join with us in the plot.

Old Mir. Ah, you coaxing young baggage! What plot can you have to wheedle a fellow of sixty-three?

Bis. A plot that sixty-three is only good for-to bring other people together, sir; a Spanish plot, less dangerous than that of eighty-eight; and you must act the Spaniard, because your son will least suspect you; and if he should, your authori ty protects you from a quarrel, to which Oriana is unwilling to expose her brother.

Old Mir, And what part will you act in the business, madam?

Bis. Myself, sir! My friend is grown a perfect changeling: these foolish hearts of ours spoil our heads presently: the fellows no sooner turn knaves, but we turn fools. But I am still myself, and he may expect the most severe usage from me, because I neither love him nor hate him.

[Exit

Old Mir. Well said, Mrs Paradox: but, sir, who must open the matter to him?

Dug. Petit, sir, who is our engineer-general. And here he comes.

Enter PETIT.

Pet. Oh, sir, more discoveries! Are all friends about us?

Dug. Ay, ay, speak freely.

Pet. You must know, sir-Ods my life, I'm out of breath-You must know, sir-you must know

Old Mir. What the devil must we know, sir?

Pet. That I have [Pants and blows] bribed, sir -bribed- -your son's secretary of state. Old Mir. Secretary of state! who's that, for Heaven's sake?

Pet. His valet-de-chambre, sir.- -You must know, sir, that the intrigue lay folded up with his master's clothes; and when he went to dust the embroidered suit, the secret flew out of the right pocket of his coat, in a whole swarm of your crambo songs, short-footed odes, and long-legged Pindarics.

Old Mir. Impossible !

Pet. Ah, sir, he has loved her all along! There was Oriana in every line: but he hates marriage. Now, sir, this plot will stir up his jealousy; and we shall know, by the strength of that, how to proceed farther. Come, sir, let's about it with speed.

'Tis expedition gives our king the sway;
For expedition to the French gave way;
Swift to attack, or swift-to run away.

[Exeunt. Enter MIRABEL and BISARRE, passing carelessly by one another.

Bis. [Aside.] I wonder what she can see in this fellow, to like him?

Mir. [Aside.] I wonder what my friend can see in this girl, to admire her?

Bis. [Aside.] A wild, foppish, extravagant rake

hell.

Mir. [Aside.] A light, whimsical, impertinent mad-cap.

Bis. Whom do you mean, sir?

Mir. Whom do you mean, madam ?

Bis. A fellow that has nothing left to re-establish him for a human creature, but a prudent resolution to hang himself.

Mir. There is a way, madam, to force me to that resolution.

Bis. I'll do't with all my heart.
Mir. Then you must marry me.

Bis. Look ye, sir, don't think your ill manners to me shall excuse your ill usage of my friend; nor, by fixing a quarrel here, to divert my zeal for the absent; for I'm resolved, nay, I come prepared to make you a panegyric, that shall mortify your pride like any modern dedication.

Mir. And I, madam, like a true modern pa

tron, shall hardly give you thanks for your trouble.

Bis. Come, sir, to let you see what little foundation you have for your dear sufficiency, I'll take you to pieces.

Mir. And what piece will you choose?

Bis. Your heart, to be sure; 'cause I would get presently rid on't: your courage I would give to a Hector, your wit to a lewd play-maker, your honour to an attorney, your body to the physicians, and your soul to its master.

Mir. I had the oddest dream last night of the Duchess of Burgundy; methought the furbelows of her gown were pinned up so high behind, that I could not see her head for her tail.

Bis. The creature don't mind me! Do you think, sir, that your humourous impertinence can divert me? No, sir, I'm above any pleasure that you can give, but that of seeing you miserable. And mark me, sir: my friend, my injured friend, shall yet be doubly happy; and you shall be a husband as much as the rites of marriage and the breach of them can make you.

[Here MIRABEL pulls out a Virgil, and reads to himself, while she speaks.

Mir. [Reading.] At Regina dolos (quis fallere
possit amantem?)

Dissimulare etiam sperásti, perfide tantum―
Very true.—
Posse nefas.

By your favour, friend Virgil, 'twas but a rascally trick of your hero to forsake poor pug so inhumanly.

Bis. I don't know what to say to him.-The devil-What's Virgil to do with us, sir?

propos

Mir. Very much, madam; the most à in the world-for what should I chop upon, but the very place where the perjured rogue of a lover and the forsaken lady are battling it tooth and nail. Come, madam, spend your spirits no longer; we'll take an easier method: I'll be Eneas now, and you shall be Dido, and we'll rail by book. Now for you, Madam Dido.

Nec te noster amor, nec te data dextera quondam,

Nec moritura tenet creduli funera Dido.——— Ah, poor Dido! [Looking at her. Bis. Rudeness, affronts, impatience! I could almost start out even to manhood, and want but a weapon as long as his to fight him upon the spot! What shall I say?

Mir. Now she rants.

Mir. Perfide, sed duris genuit te cautibus hor

rens

Caucasus, Hyrcanæque admorunt ubera Tigres.

Bis. Go, sir, fly to your, midnight revels.-
Mir. Excellent!

I sequere Italiam ventis, pete regna per undas,
Spero equidem mediis, si quid pia numina possunt.
[Together again.
Bis. Converse with imps of darkness of your
make; your nature starts at justice, and shivers
at the touch of virtue.-Now the devil take his
impudence; he vexes me so, I don't know whe-
ther to cry or laugh at him.
[Aside.
Mir. Bravely performed, my dear Libyan :
I'll write the tragedy of Dido, and
shall act
you
the part: but you do nothing at all, unless you
fret yourself into a fit; for here the poor lady is
stiffed with vapours, drops into the arms of her
maids; and the cruel, barbarous, deceitful wan-
derer is, in the very next line, called pious Æneas.
-There's authority for ye.

Sorry indeed Eneas stood,
To see her in a pout;

But Jove himself, who ne'er thought good
To stay a second bout,
Commands him off, with all his crew,

And leaves poor Dy, as I leave you. [Runs off. Bis. Go thy ways, for a dear, mad, deceitful, agreeable fellow. O' my conscience, I must excuse Oriana.

That lover soon his angry fair disarms, Whose slighting pleases, and whose faults are charms. [Exit.

Enter PETIT; runs about to every door, and knocks. Pet. Mr Mirabel! Sir, where are you? No where to be found?

Pet. 'Tis enough, sir-I come to tell you, sir, that Oriana is this moment to be sacrificed; married, past redemption.

Mir. I understand her; she'll take a husband out of spite to me, and then, out of love to me, she will make him a cuckold: 'tis ordinary with women to marry one person for the sake of another, and to throw themselves into the arms of one they hate, to secure their pleasure with the man they love.-But who is the happy man? Pet. A lord, sir.

Mir. I'm her ladyship's most humble servant. A train and a title, hey! Room for my lady's coach! A front row in the box for her ladyship! Lights, lights for her honour! Now must I be a constant attender at my lord's levee, to work my way to my lady's couchee:-a countess, I presume,

sir.

Pet. A Spanish count, sir, that Mr Dugard knew abroad, is come to Paris, saw your mistress yesterday, marries her to-day, and whips her into Spain to-morrow.

Mir. Ay; is it so; and must I follow my cuckold over the Pyrenees? Had she married within the precincts of a billet-doux, I would be the man to lead her to church; but, as it happens, I'll forbid the banns. Where is this mighty Don.

Pet. Have a care, sir; he's a rough, cross-grained piece, and there's no tampering with him : would you apply to Mr Dugard, or the lady herself, something might be done, for it is in despite to you, that the business is carried on so hastily. Odso, sir, here he comes. I must be gone.

[Exit.