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Olir. Nor did I ever hear of him before, upon | lady Autumn's; but the nauseous old woman at my honour, cousin : besides, ha’n’t I told you, that the upper end of her tablevisits, and the business of visits, flattery and de Oliv. Revives the old Grecian custom, of ser. traction, are my aversion ? .D'ye think then I ving in a Death's head with their banquets. would admit such a coxcomb as he is? who, ra Nov. Ha! ba! fine, just, j'faith, nay, and now: ther than not rail, will rail at the dead, whom 'tis like cating with the ghost in the Libertine : none speak ill of; and rather than not flatter, she would frighten a man from her dinner with will flatter the poets of the age, whom none will her hollow invitation, and spoil one's stomach, flatter; who affects novelty as much as the fa Olio. To meat or women. I detest her hollow shion, and is as fantastical as changeable, and as cherry cheeks; she looks like an old coach new well known as the fashion; who likes nothing painted; affecting an unseenly smugness, whilst but what is new; nay, would chuse to have his she is ready to drop in pieces. friend or his title a new one: in fine, he is my Eliz. You hate detraction I see, cousin! aversion.

(Apart to OLIVIA. Eliz. I find you do know him, cousin, at least, Nov. But the silly old fury, whilst she affects have heard of him.

to look like a woman of this age, talks— Olir. Yes, now I remember, I have heard of Oliv. Like one of the last, and as passionatehim.

ly as an old courtier, who has out-liv'd his office. Eliz. Well; but since he is such a coxcomb, Nov. Yes, madan : but pray let me give you for heaven's sake, let him not come up; tell him, her character. Then she never counts her age Mrs Lettice, your lady is not within.

years,

butOliv. No, Lettice, tell him my cousin is here, Olir. By the masques she has liv'd to see. and that he may come up; for, notwithstanding I Nov. Nay, then, madam, I see you think a litdetest the sight of him, you may like his conver tle harmless railing too great a pleasure for any sation; and though I would use him scurvily, I but yourself, and therefore I've done. will not be rude to you in my own lodging; since Oliv. Nay, faith, you shall tell me who you he has follow'd you hither, let him come up, I say: had there at dinner.

Eliz. Very fine! Pray let him go to the devil, Nov. If you would hear me, madam. I for me: I know him not, nor desire it. Oliv. Most patiently: Speak, sir. Send him away, Mrs Lettice.

Nov. Then, we had her daughterOliv. Upon my word, she sha'n't: I must dis Oliv. Ay, her daughter, the very disgrace to obey your commands, to comply with your de- good clothes, which she always wears, but to sires, Call him up, Lettice.

heighten her deformity, not mend it ; for she is Eliz

. Nay, I'll swear she shall not stir on that still most splendidly, gallantly ugly, and looks errand.

(Holds LETTICE. like an ill piece of daubing in a rich frame. Olio. Well, then, I'll call him myself for you, Nov. So ! But have you done with her, masince you will have it so. Mr Novel. (Calls out dam, and can

you spare her to me a little now? at the door.) Sir, sir.

Oliv. Ay, ay, sir.

Noo. Then, she is like-
Enter NOVEL.

Oliv. She is, you'd say, like a city bride, the Nov. Madam, I beg your pardon : perhaps you greater fortune, but not the greater beauty for were busy: I did not think you had company her dress.

Nov. Well: yet have you done, madam? Then Eliz. Yet he comes to me, cousin ! (Aside. she Oliv. Chairs there.

[They sit.

Oliv, Then she bestows as unfortunately on Nov. Well, but, madam, d’yc know whence I her face all the graces in fashion, as the languishcome now?

ing eye, the hanging or pouting lip; but as thç Oliv. From some melancholy place I warrant, | fool is never more provoking than when he aims sir, since they have lost your good company. at wit, the ill-favour'd of our sex are never more Eliz. So.

nauseous than when they would be beauties, addNov. From a place where they have treated ing to their natural deformity the artificial uglime, at dinner, with so much civility and kindness, ness of affectation. a pox on 'ein! that I could hardly get away to Eliz. So, cousin, I find one may have a col

. you, dear madam.

lection of all one's acquaintances pictures as well Olio. You have a way with you so new and at your house as at Mr Lely's; only, the differobliging, sir.

ence is, there we find 'em much handsomer than Eliz. You hate flattery, cousin !

they are, and like; here much uglier, and like:

(Apart to OLIVIA. and you are the first of the profession of pictures Nov. Nay, faith, madam, d’ye think my way drawing I ever knew without flattery. new? Then you are obliging, madam. I must Oliv. I draw after the life; do nobody wrong, confess, I hate imitation, to do any thing like cousin. other people. All that know me do me the ho Eliz. No, you hate flattery and detraction! nour to say, I am an original, faith: but as I was Oliv. But, Mr Novel, who had you besides at saying, madam, I have been treated to-day with dinner? all the ceremony and kindness imaginable, at my Nov. Nay, the devil take me if I tell you, un

with you.

over,

less you will allow me the privilege of railing in harmless gentleman, that speaks well of all the my turn; but, now I think on't, the women ought world, and is always in good humour, and --to be your province, as the men are mine: and Oliv. Hold, cousin, hold; I hate detraction: you must know we had him whom

but I must tell you, cousin, his civility is cowarOliv. Him whom

dice, his good nature want of wit; and he has Nor. What! invading me already ? and giving neither courage nor sense to rail: And for his bethe character, before you know the man?. ing always in humour, 'tis because he i never dis.

Eliz. No, that is not fair, though it be usual. satisfy'd with himself : In fine, he is m aversion; Olid, I beg your pardon, Mr Novel; pray go on, and I never admit his visits beyond my hall.

Noo. Then, I say, we had that familiar cox Nor. No, he visit you! Damn him, cringing, comb who is at home wheresoe'er he comes. grinning rogue; if I should see him coming up Oliv. Ay, that fool

to you, I would inake bold to kick him down Nov. Nay, then, madam, your servant: I'm again. Ha!gone. Taking a fool out of one's mouth is worse

Ènter my Lord PLAUSIBLE. than taking the bread out of one's mouth.

Oliv. I've done : Your pardon, Mr Novel; pray My dear lord, your most humble servant. proceed.

(Rises and salutes PLAUSIBLE, and kisses him. Nov. I say, the rogue, that he may be the on Eliz. So I find kissing and railing succeed each ly wit in company, will let nobody else talk, and other with the angry men as well as with the an

Oliv. Ay, those fops who love to talk all them gry women ; and their quarrels are like love' selves are of all things my aversion.

quarrels, since absence is the only cause of them; Nov. Then you'll let me speak, madam, sure. for as soon as the man appears again, they are The rogue, I say, will force his jest upon you;

(Aside, and I hate a jest that's forc'd upon a man, as

L. Plau. Your most faithful, humble servant, much as a glass.

generous Mr Novel; and, madam, I am your eterEliz. Why, I hope, sir, he does not expect a nal slave, and kiss your fair hands, which I had man of your temperance in jesting should do him done sooner, according to your commands, butreason?

Oliv. No excuses, my lord. Nov. What, interruption from this side too! I Eliz. What! you sent for bim then, cousin ? must then

[dpart. [Offers to rise ; OLIVIA holds him. Nov. Ha! invited !

[Aside. Olio. No, sir.You must know, cousin, that Oliv. I know you must divide yourself; for fop he means, though he talks only to be com your good company is too general a good to be mended, will not give you leave to do't.

engross'd by any particular friend. Not. But, madam

L. Plau. O Lord, madam, my company! Your Olit. He a wit! Hang him, he's only an adop- most obliged, faithful, humble servant: but I could ter of straggling jests and fatherless lampoons, by have brought you good company indeed, for I part, the credit of which he eats at good tables, and so, ed at your door with two of the worthiest, bralike the barren beggar-woman, lives by borrow'd vest menchildren.

Olid. Who were they, my lord ? Nov. Madam

Nov. Who do you call the worthiest, bravest Oliv. And never was author of any thing but men, pray? his news ; but that is still all his own.

L. Plau. O, the wisest, bravest gentlemen! men Noo. Madam, pray

of such honour and virtue! of such good qualiOliv. An eternal babbler, and makes no more ties! ahuse of his ears than a man that sits at a play by Eliz. This is a coxcomb that speaks ill of all his mistress, or in fop-corner : he's, in fine, a base, people a different way, and libels every body with detracting fellow, and is my aversion. But who dull praise, and commonly in the wrong place, so else, prythee, Mr Novel, was there with you! makes his panegyrics abusive lampoons. [uside. Nay, you sha'n't stir.

Oliv. But pray let me know who they were. Nov. I beg your pardon, madam; I cannot stay L. Pluu. Ah! such patterns of heroic virtue!

any place where I'm not allow'd a little Chris. suchtian liberty of railing.

Nov. Well, but who the devil were they? Oliv. Nay, pr’ythee, Mr Novel, stay; and tho' L. Pluu. The honour of our nation, the glory you should rail at me, I would hear you with pa- of our age: Ah! I could dwell a twelvenionth on tience. Pr’ythee, who else was there with you? their praise, which, indeed, I might spare, by tellNov. Your servant, madam.

ing their names:-Sir John Current and Sir RichOliv. Nay, pr’ythee tell uş, Mr Novel, pr’ythecard Court-title. do.

Nov. Court-title ! Ha, ha! Nov; We had nobody else.

Oliv. And Sir John Current! Why will you Olit. Nay, faith, I know you had. Come, my keep such a wretch company, my lord? lord Piausible was there too, who is, cousin, a L. Plau. Oh, madam, seriously, you are a lit

Eliz. You need not tell me what he is, cou tle too severe, for he is a man of unquestion'd sin , for I know him to be a 'civil, good-natured, reputation in every thing.

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Olio. Yes, because he endeavours only with Oliv. As proud as a churchman's wife. the women to pass for a man of courage, and L. Pluu. She's a woman of great spirit and with the bullies for wit; with the wits for a honour, and will not make herself cheap, 'tis man of business, and with the men of business for a favourite at court; and at court for good Nov. Then Mrs Hoyden, that calls all people city security

by their sirnames, and is Nov. And for Sir Richard, he

Olio. As familiar a duck L. Plau. He loves your choice, pick'd compa Nov. As an actress in the tyring-room. There ny; persons that

I was once before-hand with you, madam. Olio. He loves a lord indeed; but

L. Plau. Mrs toyden! a poor, affable, goodNov. Pray, dear inadam, let me have but a natur'd soul. But the divine Mrs Trifle comes bold stroke or two at his picture. He loves a thither too : sure, her beauty, virtue, and conlord, as you say, though

duct, you can say nothing to? Oliv. Though he borrow'd his money, and ne'er Oliv. No! paid him again.

Nov. No !

-Pray let me speak, madam. Nov. And would bespeak a place three days Oliv. First, can any one be call'd beautiful that before, at the back-end of a lord's coach, to Hyde squints ? Park.

L. Plau. Her eyes languish a little, I own. L. Plau. Nay, i'faith, i faith, you are both too Nov. Languish! ha, ha!

Oliv. Languish! Then, for her conduct :-she Oiv, Then, to shew yet more his passion for was seen at the Country Wife after the first day. quality, he makes love to that fulsome coach-load | There's for you, mny lord. of honour, my lady Goodly; for he is always at L. Plau. But, madam, she was not seen to use her lodging

her fan all the play long, turn aside her head, or, L. Pluu. Because it is the conventicle-gallant, by a conscious blush, discover more guilt than mothe meeting-house of all the fair ladies and glo- desty rious superfine beauties of the town.

Olio. Very fine ! Then you think a woman mo Nov. Very fine ladies! There's, first

dest that sees the hideous Country Wife without Oliv. Her honour, as fat as an hostess. blushing, or publishing her detestation of it?

L. Plau. She is something plump indeed; a D’ye hear him, cousin ? goodly, comely, graceful person.

Eliz. Yes, and am, I must confess, something Nov. Then there's my lady Frances—what d'ye of his opinion, and think, that as an over-captious call her? Ugly

fool at a play, by endeavouring to shew the auOliv. As a citizen's lawfully-begotten daughter. thor's want of wit, exposes his own to more cen

L. Pluu. She has wit in abundance, and the sure, so may a lady call her own modesty in ques. handsomest heel, elbow, and tip of an ear, you tion by publicly cavilling with the poets; for all

those grimaces of honour and artificial modesty Nov. Heel and elbow! Ha, ha!--And there's disparage a woman's real virtue as much as the my lady Betty, you know

use of white and red does the natural comples. O110. As sluitish and slatternly as an Irish wo ion; and you must use very, very little, if you man bred in France.

would have it thought your own. L. Plau. Ah! all she has hangs with a loose Oliv. Then you would have a woman of hoair indeed, and becoming negligence.

nour, with passive looks, ears, and tongue, underEliz. You see all faults with lover's eyes, I find, go all the hideous obscenity she hears at nasty

plays ? L. Pluu. Ah, madam, your most obliged, faith Eliz. Truly, I think a woman betrays her want ful, humble servant to command ! But you can of modesty by shewing it publicly in a play-house, say nothing, sure, against the superfine Mrs. as much as a man does his want of courage by

Oliv. I know who you mean. She is as censo a quarrel there; for the truly modest and stout rious and detracting a jade as a superannuated say least

, and are least exceptious, especially in sinner.

public. L. Plau. She has a smart way of raillery, 'tis Oito. O, hideous! Cousin, this cannot be your confess'd.

opirion: but you are one of those who have the Nov. And then, for Mrs Grideline

confidence to pardon the filthy play. L. Plau. She, I'm sure is—

Eliz. Hy, what is there of ill in't, say you? Olio. One that never spoke ill of any body, 'tis Oliv. offie, fie, fie, would you put me to the confess'd; for she is as silent in conversation as blush anew?

call all the blood into my face again? a country-lover, and no better company than a But to satisfy you then:–First, the clandestine clock or a weather-glass; for if she sounds, 'tis obscenity in the very name of Horner. but once an hour, to put you in mind of the time Eliz. Truly, 'tis so hidden, I cannot find it out, of day, or tell you 'twill be cold or hot, rain or I confess. snow.

Oliv. O, horrid! Does it not give you the rank L. Plau. Ah, poor creature! she's extremely conception or image of a goat, or town-bull, or 8 good and modest.

satyr; nay, what is yet a filthier image than all Nov. And for Mrs Bridlechin, she

the rest, that of an eunuch ?

ever saw.

my lord.

Eliz. What then? I can think of a goat, a bull, moving passion. But now I talk of passion, I or satyr, without any hurt.

saw your old lover this morning -Captain Oliv. Ay, but, cousin, one cannot stop there.

(Whispers. Eliz. I can, cousin.

Olio. O no; for when you have those filthy Enter Captain MANLY; FREEMAN and Fidelia creatures in your head once, the next thing you

standing behind. think is what they do; as their defiling of honest Oliv. Whom?Nay, you need not whisper. men's beds and couches, rapes upon sleeping and Man. We are luckily got hither unobserv’d.waking country-virgins, under hedges and on hay- | How! in a close conversation with these supple cocks; nay, further

rascals, the out-casts of sempstresses shops? Eliz. Nay, no farther, cousin ; we have enough Free. Faith, pardon her, captain, that, since she of your comment on the play, which will make could no longer be entertain'd with your manly you more asham'd than the play itself.

bluntness and honest love, she takes up with the Oliv. O, believe me, 'tis a filthy play; and you pert chat and common-place flattery of these flutmay take my word for a filthy play as soon as tering parrots of the town, apes and echoes of another's: but the filthiest thing in that play, or men only. any other play, is

Man. Do not you, sir, play the echo too, Elir. Pray keep it to yourself, if it be so. mock me daily with my own words, and shew

Oliv. No, faith, you shall know it: I'm resolv'a yourself as impertinent as they are. to make you out of love with the play. I say, the Free. Nay, captainlewdest, filthiest thing is his china ; nay, I will Fid. Nay, lieutenant, do not excuse her: Menever forget the beastly author his china : he has thinks she looks very kindly upon ’em both, and quite taken away the reputation of poor China scems to be pleas’d with what that fool there says itself, and sully'd the most innocent and pretty

to her. furniture of a lady's chamber ; insomuch, that I Mun. You lie, sir, and hold your peace, that I was fain to break all my defild vessels. You see may not be provok'd to give you a worse reply. I have none left; nor you, I hope.

Oliv. Manly return’d, d’ye say! And is he safe? Eiz. You'll pardon me : I cannot think the

[1Vhispers to PLAUSIBLE. worse of my china for that of the play-house. Man. She yet seems concern’d for my safety,

Olit. Why, you will not keep any now, sure ! and, perhaps, they are admitted now here but for 'Tis now as unfit an ornament for a lady's cham their news of me; for intelligence indeed is the ber as the pictures that come from Italy and common passport of nauseous fools, when they other hot countries, as appears by their nudities, go their round of good tables and houses. [ Aside. which I always cover, or scratch out, wheresoe'er Oliv. I heard of his fighting only, without parI find 'em. But china ! out upon't: filthy china; ticulars, and confess I always lov'd his brutal counasty, debauch'd china!

rage, because it made me hope it might rid me of Eliz. All this will not put me out of conceit his more brutal tove. with china, nor the play, which is acted to-day, Man. What's that?

(Apart. or another of the same beastly author's, as you

Olio. But is he at last return'd, d'ye say, umcall him, which I'll go see.

hurt? Olit. You will not, sure! nay, you shall not Nov. Ay, faith, without doing his business; for Fenture your reputation by going, and mine, by the rogue has been these two years pretending to leaving me alone with two men here: nay, you'll a wooden leg, which he would take from Fortune disoblige me for ever, if (i'ulls her back. as kindly as the staff of a marshall of France, and

Ediz. I stay! Your servant. [Exit Eliza. rather read his name in a gazette

Oliv. Well -But, my lord, though you jus Olio. Than in the entail of a good estate. tify every body, you cannot in earnest uphold so Man. So!

(Aside. beastly a writer, whose ink is so smutty, as one Nov I have an ambition, I must confess, of lo

sing my heart before such a fair enemy as yourL. Plau. Faith, I dare swear the poor man did self, madam, but that silly rogues should be amnot think to disoblige the ladies, by any amorous, bitious of losing their arms, andsoft, passionate, luscious saying in his play. Onv. Looking like a pair of compasses.

Olio. Fie, my lord.—But what think you, Mr Nov. But he has no use of his arms but to set Novel, of the play? though I know you are a 'em on kiinbow; for he never pulls off his hat, friend to all that are new.

at least not to me, I'm sure; for you must know, Nov. Faith, madam, I must confess, the new madam, he bas a fantastical hatred to good com. plays would not be the worse for my advice, but pany: he cann't abide me. I could never get the silly rogues the poets to

L. Piau 0, be not so severe to him, as to say mind what I say; but I'll tell you what counselbe hates good company; for, I assure you, he has I gave the surly fool you spake of.

a great respect, esteem, and kindness for me. Oliu. What was't ?

Man. That kind, civil rogue has spoken yet ten Noo. Faith, to put this play in rhyme; for thousand times worse of me than t'other. rhyme, you know, often makes mystical nonsense Oliv. Well, if he be return'd, Mr Novel, then pass with the critics for wit, and a double-mean- shall I be pester'd again with his boisterous seaing saying with the ladies for soft, tender, and love, have my alcove spell like a cabin, my cham

may say.

ber perfumed with his tarpaulin Brandenburgh, Free. How! his courage, Mr Novel? and hear volleys of brandy sighs, enough to make Noo. Why, for example, by red breeches, tuck'da fog in one's room. Foh? I hate a lover that up hair and peruke, a greasy broad-belt, and, nowsmells like Thames street.

a-days, a short sword. Man. I can bear no longer, and need hear no Man. Thy courage will appear more by thy more. [ Aside.) But, since you have these two belt than thy sword, I dare swear.

-Then, mapulvilio boxes, these essence bottles, this pair of dam, for this gentle piece of courtesy, this man musk-cats here, I hope I may venture to come yet of tame honour, what could you find in him? Was nearer you.

it his languishing affected tone, his mannerly look, Oliv. Over-heard us then?

his second-hand flattery, the refuse of the play. Nov. I hope he heard me not. [Aside. house tyring-rooms; or his slavish obsequiousness,

L. Plau. Most noble and heroic captain, your in watching at the door of your box at the playmost oblig'd, faithful, humble servant.

house, for your hand to your chair; or his jauntee Nov. Dear tar, thy humble servant.

way of playing with your fan; or was it the gunMan. Away Madam

powder spot on his hand, or the jewel in his ear, Olir. Nay, I think I have fitted you for list’ning. that purchas'd your heart? [Thrusts Novel and PLAUSIBLE on each side. Oliv. Good jealous captain, no more of your

Man. You have fitted me, for believing you L. Pluu. No, let him go on, madam, for percould not be fickle, though you were yoling;. haps he may make you laugh; and I would concould not dissemble love, though it was your in tribute to your pleasure any way. terest; nor be vain, though you were handsome; Man. Gentle rogue ! nor break your promise, though to a parting lo Oliv. No, noble captain, you cannot, sure, think ver; nor abuse your best friend, though you had any thing could take me more than that heroic wit: but I take not your contempt of me worse title of yours, captain; for you know we women than your esteem or civility of these things here, love honour inordinately. though you know 'em.

Nov. Ha, ha! faith, she is with thee, bully, for Nov. Things!

thy raillery. L. Plau. Let the captain rally a little.

Man, Faith, so shall I be with you, no bully, Man. Yes, things. - Canst thou be angry, thou for your grinning.

(Aside to Novel thing?

(Coming up to NOVEL. Õlir. Then that noble, lion-like mien of yours, Nov. No, since my lord says you speak in rail that soldier-like, weather-beaten complexion, and lery; for though your sea-raillery be something that manly roughness of your voice, how can they rough, yet, I confess, we use one another too as otherwise than charm us women, who hate effcbad every day at Locket's, and never quarrel for minacy! the matter.

Nov. Ha, ha! Faith, I cann't hold from laaghing. L. Plau. Nay, noble captain, be not angry with Man. Nor shall I from kicking, anon. him.--A word with you, I beseech you

[Whisp. to MANLY. Oliv. And then that captain-like carelessness Oliv. Well, we women, like the rest of the in your dress, but especially your scarf; 'twas cheats of the world, when our cullies or creditors just such another, only a little higher ty’d, made have found us out, and will, or can trust no me in love with my tailor as he pass’d by my winlonger, pay debts and satisfy obligations with a dow the last training-day; for we women adore a quarrel, the kindest present a man can make to martial man, and you have nothing wanting to his mistress, when he can make no more presents ; make you more one, or more agreeable, but a for oftentimes, in love, as at cards, we were forc'd wooden leg. to play foul, only to give over the game; and use L. Plau. Nay, i' faith, there your ladyship was our lovers like the cards,—when we can get no a wag, and it was fine, just, and well rallied. more by 'em, throw 'em up in a pet, upon the Nor. Ay, ay, madam, with you ladies, too, marfirst dispute.

(Aside. tial men must needs be very killing. Man. My lord, all that you have made me Alun. Peace, you Bartholomew-fair buffoons ! know by your whispering, which I knew not be and be not you vain that these laugh on your side, fore, is, that you have a stinking breath:-there's for they will laugh at their own dull jests : but a secret for your secret.

no more of 'em; for I will only suffer now this L. Plau. Pshaw! pshaw!

lady to be witty and merry. Man. But, madam, tell me, pray, what was't Oliv. You would not have your panegyric inabout this spark could take you? Was it the mc- terrupted ? I go on, then, to your humour

. Is rit of his fashionable impudence, the briskness of there any thing more agreeable than the pretty his noise, the wit of his laugh, his judgment or sullenness of that, than the greatness of your fancy in his garniture; or was it a well-trimm'd courage? which most of all appears in your spiglove, or the scent of it, that charm’d you? rit of contradiction ; for you dare give all may

Nov. Very well, sir. "Gad, these sea-captains kind the lie: and your opinion is your only mismake nothing of dressing : but let me tell you, tress; for you renounce that too, when it becomes sir, a man by his dress, as much as by any thing, another man's. shews his wit and judgment, nay, and his courage Nov. Hah, hah! I cannot hold; I must laugh too.

at thce, tar, faith!

(Aside to NOVEL.

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