ated, the devil, instead of being kicked down into hell, had been married.

Heart. Why, what new plagues have you found now?

Sir John. Why, these two gentlewomen did but hear me say I expected you here this afternoon; upon which, they presently resolved to take up the room, o' purpose to plague me and my friends.

Con. Was that all? Why, we should have been glad of their company.

Sir John. Then I should have been weary of yours; for I cann't relish both together. They found fault with my smoking tobacco too, and said men stunk. But I have a good mind-to -say something.

Con. No, nothing against the ladies, pray. Sir John. Split the ladies! Come, will you sit down?-Give us some wine, fellow.-You won't smoke!

Con. No, nor drink neither, at this time; I must ask your pardon.

Sir John. What? this mistress of yours runs in your head; I'll warrant it's some such squeamish minx as my wife, that's grown so dainty of late, she finds fault even with a dirty shirt.

Heart. That a woman may do, and not be very dainty neither.

Sir John. Pox o' the women! let's drink. Come, you shall take one glass, though I send for a box of lozenges to sweeten your mouth after it.

Con. Nay, if one glass will satisfy you, I'll drink it, without putting you to that expence. Sir John. Why, that's honest. Fill some wine, sirrah. So, here's to you, gentlemen.-A wife's the devil.-To your both being married.

[They drink. Heart. O, your most humble servant, sir. Sir John. Well, how do you like my wine? Con. 'Tis very good, indeed. Heart. 'Tis admirable.

Sir John. Then give us t'other glass. Con. No, pray excuse us now: we'll come another time, and then we won't spare it.

Sir John. This one glass, and no more. Come, it shall be your mistress's health; and that's a great compliment from me, I assure you.

Con. And 'tis a very obliging one to me; so give us the glasses.

Sir John. So; let her live

Heart. And so pay her a yearly pension, to be a distinguish'd cuckold.

Enter a Servant.

Serv. Sir, there's my Lord Rake, Colonel Bully, and some other gentlemen, at the Blue Posts, desire your company.

Sir John. God's so, we are to consult about playing the devil to-night.

Heart. Well, we won't hinder business. Sir John. Methinks I don't know how to leave you too: but for once I must make bold. Or, look you-may be the conference mayn't last long! So, if you'll wait here half an hour, or an hour, if I don't come then-why then-I won't come at all.

Heart. [To CONSTANT.] A good modest proposition, truly. [Aside Con. But let's accept on't, however. Who knows what may happen?

Heart. Well, sir, to shew you how fond we are of your company, we'll expect your return as long as we can.

Sir John. Nay, may be mayn't stay at all: but business, you know, must he done. So, your servant. Or, hark you, if you have a mind to take a frisk with us, I have an interest with my lord; I can easily introduce you.

Con. We are much beholden to you; but, for my part, I'm engaged another way.

Sir John. What! to your mistress, I'll warrant? Pr'ythee leave your nasty punk to entertain herself with her own wicked thoughts, and make one with us to-night.

Con. Sir, 'tis business that is to employ me. Heart. And me; and business must be done, you know.

Sir John. Ay, women's business, though the world were consumed for't. [Exit.

Con. Farewell, beast; and now, my dear friend, would my mistress be but as complaisant as some men's wives, who think it a piece of good-breeding to receive the visits of their husbands' friends in his absence.

Heart. Why, for your sake, I could forgive her, though she should be so complaisant to receive something else in his absence. But what way shall we invent to see her?

Con. O ne'er hope it; invention will prove as vain as wishes.

Enter Lady BRUTE and BELINDA.
Heart. What do you think now, friend?
Con. I think I shall swoon.

Heart, I'll speak first, then, while you fetch breath.

L. Brute. We think ourselves obliged, gentlemen, to come and return you thanks for your knight-errantry. We were just upon being devour'd by the fiery dragon.

Bel. Did not his fumes almost knock you down, gentlemen?

Heart. Truly, ladies, we did undergo some hardships; and should have done more, if some

greater heroes than ourselves, hard by, had not diverted him.

Con. Though I am glad of the service you are pleased to say we have done you, yet I'm sorry we could do it in no other way, than by making ourselves privy to what you would perhaps have kept a secret.

L. Brute. For Sir John's part, I suppose he designed it no secret, since he made so much noise. And for myself, truly, I'm not so much concerned, since 'tis fallen only into this gentleman's hand and yours; who, I have many reasons to believe, will neither interpret, nor report, any thing to my disadvantage.

Con. Your good opinion, madam, was what I fear'd I never could have merited.

L. Brute. Your fears were vain then, sir: for I'm just to every body.

Heart. Pr'ythee, Constant, what is't you do to get the ladies' good opinion; for I'm a novice

Con. Nay, if you take his bottle from him, you break his heart, madam.

Bel. Why, is it possible the gentleman can love drinking?

Heart. Only by way of antidote.
Bel. Against what, pray?
Heart. Against love, madam.

L. Brute. Are you afraid of being in love, sir?

Heart. I should, if there were any danger of it. L. Brute. Pray, why so?

Heart. Because I always had an aversion to being used like a dog.

Bel. Why, truly, men in love are seldom used better.

L. Brute. But was you never in love, sir?
Heart. No, I thank Heaven, madam.
Bel. Pray, where got you your learning then?
Heart. From other people's expence

Bet. That's being a spunger, sir, which is scarce honest: if you'd buy some experience with your own money, as 'twould be fairlier got, so 'twould stick longer by you.

Enter Footman.

Foot. Madam, here's my Lady Fancyful, to wait upon your ladyship.

L. Brute. Shield me, kind Heaven! What an inundation of impertinence is here coming upon us!

Enter Lady FANCYFUL, who runs first to Lady

BRUTE, then to BELINDA, kissing them. L. Fan. My dear Lady Brute, and sweet Belinda, methinks 'tis an age since I saw you.

L. Brute. Yet 'tis but three days; sure you have pass'd your time very ill, it seems so long

to you.

L. Fun. Why really, to confess the truth to you, I am so everlastingly fatigued with the addresses of unfortunate gentlemen, that, were it not for the extravagancy of the example, I should e'en tear out these wicked eyes with my own fingers, to make both myself and mankind easy. What think you on't, Mr Heartfree, for I take you to be my faithful adviser?

Heart. Why, truly, madam-I think every project that is for the good of mankind ought to be encouraged.

L. Fan. Then I have your consent, sir? Heart. To do whatever you please, madam. L. Fan. You had a much more limited complaisance this morning, sir. Would you believe it, ladies? The gentleman has been so exceeding generous, to tell me of above fifty faults in less time than it was well possible for me to commit two of them.

Con. Why, truly, madam, my friend there is apt to be something familiar with the ladies.

L. Fan. He is indeed, sir; but he's wondrous charitable with it: he has had the goodness to design a reformation, e'en down to my fingers' ends. 'Twas thus, I think, sir, [Opening her fingers in an awkward manner.] you'd have 'em stand-My eyes too he did not like. How was't you would have directed 'em? Thus I think. [Staring at him.]-Then there was something amiss in my gait too: I don't know well how 'twas; but, as I take it, he would have me walk like him. Pray, sir, do me the favour to take a turn or two about the room, that the company may see you. He's sullen, ladies, and won't. But, to make short, and give you as true an idea as I can of the matter, I think 'twas much about this figure in general he would have moulded me to : but I was an obstinate woman, and could not resolve to make myself mistress of his heart, by growing as awkward as his fancy.

[She walks awkwardly about, staring and

looking ungainly, then changes on a sudden to the extremity of her usual affecte

tion.

Heart. Just thus women do, when they think we are in love with 'em, or when they are so with [Here CONSTANT and Lady BRUTE talk together apart.

us.

L. Fan. Twould, however, be less vanity for me to conclude the former, than you the latter, sir.

Heart. Madam, all I shall presume to conclude, is, that if I were in love, you'd find the means to make me soon weary on't.

L. Fan. Not by over-fondness, upon my word, sir. But pr'ythee let's stop here; for you are so much governed by instinct, I know you'll grow brutish at last.

Bel. [Aside.] Now am I sure she's fond of him: I'll try to make her jealous. Well, for my part, I should be glad to find somebody would be

so free with me, that I might know my faults, and mend 'em.

L. Fan. Then pray let me recommend this gentleman to you: I have known him some time, and will be surety for him, that, upon a very limited encouragement on your side, you shall find an extended impudence on his.

Heart. I thank you, madamı, for your recommendation: but, hating idleness, I am unwilling to enter into a place where I believe there would be nothing to do. I was fond of serving your ladyship, because I knew you'd find me constant employment.

L. Fan. I told you he'd be rude, Belinda. Bel. O, a little bluntness is a sign of honesty, which makes me always ready to pardon it. So, sir, if you have no other objection to my service, but the fear of being idle in it, you may venture to list yourself: I shall find you work, I warrant

you.

Heart. Upon those terms I engage, madam; and this, with your leave, I take for earnest. [Offers to kiss her hand. Bel. Hold there, sir; I'm nene of your earnest-givers. But, if I'm well served, I give good wages, and pay punctually.

[HEARTFREE and BELINDA seem to continue talking familiarly together.

L. Fan. [Aside.] I don't like this jesting between 'em-Methinks the fool begins to look as if he were in earnest, but then he must be a fool indeed-Lard, what a difference there is between me and her! [Looking at BELINDA scornfully.] How I should despise such a thing if I were a man!-What a nose she has-what a chinwhat a neck-Then her eyes-and the worst kissing lips in the universe-No, no, he can never like her, that's positive-Yet I cann't suffer 'em together any longer. Mr Heartfree, do you know that you and I must have no quarrel for all this? I cann't forbear being a little severe now and then; but women, you know, may be allowed any thing. Heart. Up to a certain age, madam.

L. Fun. Which I'm not yet past, I hope. Heart. [Aside.] Nor never will, I dare swear. L. Fan. (To L. BRUTE.] Come, madam, will your ladyship be witness to our reconciliation? L. Brute. You are agreed then at last. Heart. [Slightingly.] We forgive.

L. Fan. [Aside.] That was a cold, ill-natured reply.

L. Brute. Then there's no challenges sent between you?

Heart. Not from me, I promise. [Aside to CONSTANT.] But that's more than I'll do for her ; for I know she can as well be hanged as forbear writing to me.

Con. That I believe. But I think we had best be going, lest she should suspect something, and be malicious.

Heart. With all my heart.

Con. Ladies, we are your humble servants. I see Sir John is quite engaged; 'twould be in vain to expect him. Come, Heartfree. [Exit.

Heart. Ladies, your servant. [To BELINDA.] 1

hope, madam, you won't forget our bargain; I'm to say what I please to you? [Exit.

Bel. Liberty of speech entire, sir. L. Fan. [Aside.] Very pretty, truly-But how the blockhead went out languishing at her; and not a look towards me-Well, people may talk, but miracles are not ceased. For 'tis more than natural, such a rude fellow as he, and such a little impertinent as she, should be capable of making a woman of my sphere uneasy. But I can bear her sight no longer-methinks, she's grown ten times uglier than Cornet. I must home and study revenge. [To Lady BRUTE.] Madam, your humble servant; I must take my leave.

L. Brute. What, going already, madam? L. Fan. I must beg you'll excuse me this once; for really I have eighteen visits to return this afternoon: so you see I'm importuned by the women as well as the men.

Bel. [Aside.] And she's quits with them both. L. Fan. [Going.] Nay, you sha'n't go one step out of the room.

L. Brute. Indeed I'll wait upon you down. L. Fan. No, sweet Lady Brute, you know I swoon at ceremony.

L. Brute. Pray give me leave.
L. Fan. You know I won't.
L. Brute. Indeed I must.
L. Fan. Indeed you sha'n't.
L. Brute. Indeed I will.
L. Fan. Indeed you sha'n't.
L. Brute. Indeed I will.

L. Fan. Indeed you sha'n't; indeed, indeed, indeed, you sha'n't.

[Exit, running; they follow.

Re-enter Lady BRUTE, sola.

L. Brute. This impertinent woman has put me out of humour for a fortnight- -What an agreeable moment has her foolish visit interrupted! Lord, what a pleasure there is in doing what we should not do!

Re-enter CONSTANT.

Ha! here again!

Con. Though the renewing my visit may seem a little irregular, I hope I shall obtain your pardon for it, madam, when you know I only left the room, lest the lady who was here should have been as malicious in her remarks as she is foolish in her conduct.

L. Brute. He who has discretion enough to be tender of a woman's reputation, carries a virtue about him that may atone for a great many faults.

Con. If it has a title to atone for any, its prétensions must needs be strongest where the crime is love. I therefore hope I shall be forgiven the attempt I have made upon your heart, since my enterprise has been a secret to all the world but yourself.

L. Brute. Secrecy indeed, in sins of this kind, is an argument of weight to lessen the punishment but nothing's a plea for a pardon entire, without a sincere repentance,

Con. If sincerity in repentance consists in sorrow for offending, no cloister ever inclosed so true a penitent as I should be. But I hope it caninot be reckoned on offence to love, where it is a duty to adore.

L. Brute. 'Tis an offence, a great one, where it would rob a woman of all she ought to be adored for her virtue.

Con. Virtue !-That phantom of honour, which men in every age have so condemned; they have thrown it amongst the women to scramble for. L. Brute. If it be a thing of so very little value, why do you so earnestly recommend it to your wives and daughters?

Con. We recommend it to our wives, madam, because we would keep 'em to ourselves; and to our daughters, because we would dispose of 'em to others.

L. Brute. 'Tis then of some importance, it seems, since you cann't dispose of them without it.

Con. That importance, madam, lies in the humour of the country, not in the nature of the thing. Pray what does your ladyship think of a powdered coat for deep mourning?

L. Brute. I think, sir, your sophistry has all the effect that you can reasonably expect it should have: it puzzles, but don't convince.

Con. I'm sorry for it.

L. Brute. I'm sorry to hear you say so.
Con. Pray why?

L. Brute. Because, if you expected more from it, you have a worse opinion of my understanding than I desire you should have.

Con. [Aside.] I comprehend her: she would have me set a value upon her chastity, that I might think myself the more obliged to her when she makes me a present of it. [To her.] I beg you will believe I did but rally, madam; I know you judge too well of right and wrong, to be deceived by arguments like those. And I hope you will have so favourable an opinion of my understanding too, to believe the thing called virtue has worth enough with me, to pass for an eternal obligation where'er 'tis sacrificed.

L. Brute. It is, I think, so great a one, as nothing can repay.

Con. Yes; the making the man you love your everlasting debtor.

L. Brute. When debtors once have borrowed all we have to lend, they are very apt to grow shy of their creditor's company.

Con. That, madam, is only when they are forced to borrow of usurers, and not of a geneFous friend. Let us choose our creditors, and we are seldom so ungrateful as to shun 'em.

L. Brute. Have you no exceptions to this ge neral rule as well as t'other?

Con. Yes, I would, after all, be an exception to it myself, if you were free in power and will to make me so.

L. Brute. Compliments are well placed, where 'tis impossible to lay hold on 'em.

Con. I would to Heaven 'twere possible for you to lay hold on mine, that you might see it is no compliment at all. But, since you are already disposed of, beyond redemption, to one who does not know the value of the jewel you have put into his hands, I hope you would not think him greatly wronged, though it should sometimes be looked on by a friend who knows how to esteem it as he ought.

L. Brute. If looking on't alone would serve his turn, the wrong perhaps might not be very great.

Con. Why, what if he should wear it now and then a day, so he gave good security to bring it home again at night?

L. Brute. Small security, I fancy, might serve for that. One might venture to take his word. Con. Then where's the injury to the owner?

L. Brute. 'Tis an injury to him, if he thinks it is one. For if happiness be seated in the mind, unhappiness must be so too.

Con. Here I close with you, madam, and draw my conclusive argument from your own position : If the injury lie in the fancy, there needs nothing but secrecy to prevent the wrong.

L. Brute. [Going] A surer way to prevent it, is to hear no more arguments in its behalf. Con. [Following her.] But, madamL. Brute. But, sir, 'tis my turn to be discreet now, and not suffer too long a visit.

Con. [Catching her hand.] By Heaven, you shall not stir, till you give me hopes that I shall see you again at some more convenient time and place!

L. Brute. I give you just hopes enough[Breaking from him.] to get loose from you; and that's all I can afford you at this time.

[Exit running.

Con. Now, by all that's great and good, she's a charming woman. In what exstasy of joy she has left me! For she gave me hope. Did she not say she gave me hope?-Hope! Ay, what hope?

enough to make me let her go-Why, that's enough in conscience. Or, no matter how 'twas spoke; hope was the word; it came from her, and it was said to me.

Enter HEARTFREE.

Ha, Heartfree! thou hast done me noble service

Con. I think he's married, madam.

L. Brule. Does marriage then exclude men from your rule of constancy?

Con. It does. Constancy's a brave, free, haughty, generous agent, that cannot buckle to

the chains of wedlock.

there: come to my arms, thou venerable bawd, and let me squeeze thee [Embracing him eager y.] as a new pair of stays does a fat country girl, when she's carried to court to stand for a maid of honour!

Heart. Why, what the devil's all this rapture for?

Con. Rapture! there's ground for rapture, man! There's hopes, my Heartfree-hopes, my friend.

Heart. Hopes! of what?

Con. Why, hopes that my lady and I together, (for 'tis more than one body's work) should make Sir John a cuckold.

Heart. Pr'ythee, what did she say to thee? Con. Say! What did she not say? she said that says she-she said—Zoons, I don't know what she said; but she looked as if she said every thing I'd have her; and so, if thou'lt go to the tavern, I'll treat thee with any thing that gold can buy; I'll give all my silver among the drawers, make a bonfire before the doors; swear that the pope's turned protestant, and that all the politicians in England are of one mind. [Excunt.

SCENE II.-Opens, and discovers Lord RAKE,
Sir JOHN, &c. at a table, drinking.
All Huzza!

L. Rake. Come, boys, charge again-so-confusion to all order. Here's liberty of conscience. All. Huzza!

L. Rake. Come, sing the song I made this morning, to this purpose.

Sir John. 'Tis wicked, I hope.

L. Rake. Don't I tell you that I made it? Sir John. My lord, I beg your pardon for suspecting you of any virtue. Come, begin.

SONG.

By Colonel BULLY.

We're gaily yet, we're gaily yet,

And we're not very fow, but we're gaily yet.
Then sit ye a while, and tipple a bit,
For we's not very fow, but we're guily yet,
And we're gaily yet, &c. &c.

There was a lad, and they ca'd him Dicky,
He ga' me a kiss, and I bit his lippy,
Then under my apron he shewed me a trick;
And we's not very fow, but we're gaily yet,
And we're guily yet, &c. &c.

There were three lads, and they were clad,
There were three lasses, and them they had.
Three trees in the orchard are newly sprung,
And we's a' get geer enough, we're but young.
And we're gaily yet, &c. &c.

Then up went Ailey, Ailey, up went Ailey now; Then up with Ailey, quo' Crumma, we's get a' roaring fow.

And one was kissed in the barn, another was kiss ed on the green,

And t'other behind the pease-stack, till the mow flew up to her eyn. Then up went Ailey, Ailey, &c. &c.

Now fie, John Thomson, run,

in ever you run in your life,

L. Rake. Well, how do you like it, gentlemen! All. O, admirable!

Sir John. I would not give a fig for a song that is not full of sin and impudence.

L. Rake. Then my muse is to your taste. But drink away! the night steals upon us; we shall want time to be lewd in. Hey, page! sally out, sirrah, and see what's doing in the camp: we'll beat up their quarters presently. Page. I'll bring your lordship an exact account.

[Exit. L. Rake. Now let the spirit of Clary go round. Here's to our forlorn hope. Courage, knight! victory attends you.

Sir John. And laurels shall crown me. Drink away, and he damned.

L. Rake. Again, boys; t'other glass, and no morality.

Sir John. [Drunk.] Ay-no morality-and damn the watch; and let the constable be married. All. Huzza!

Re-enter Page.

L. Rake. How are the streets inhabited, sirrah? Page. My lord, it's Sunday night; they are full of drunken citizens.

L. Ruke. Along then, boys, we shall have a feast. Col. Along, noble knight.

Sir John. Ay-along, Bully; and he that says Sir John Brute is not as drunk, and as religious as the drunkenest citizen of them all, is a liar, and the son of a whore.

Col. Why, that was bravely spoke, and like a free-born Englishman.

Sir John. What's that to you, sir, whether I am an Englishman or a Frenchman?

Col. Zoons, you are not angry, sir?

Sir John. Zoons, I am angry, sir-for if I am a freeborn Englishınan, what have you to do, even to talk of my privileges?

L. Rake. Why, pr'ythee, knight, don't quarrel here; leave private animosities to be decided by day-light; let the night be employed against the public enemy.

Sir John. My lord, I respect you, because you are a man of quality. But I'll make that fellow know I'm within a hair's breadth as absolute by my privileges, as the king of France is by his prerogative. He, by his prerogative, takes money where it is not his due; I, by my privilege, refuse paying it where I owe it. Liberty and property, and old England! Huzza! All. Huzza!

[Exit Sir Joux reeling, all following.