THE Reformed Wife. A COMEDY: As it is Acted, At the THEATRE-ROYAL, in Drury-Lane.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Bennet, at the Half-Moon, in St. Paul's Churchyard, 1700.   

TO THE Right Honourable JOHN LORD LORN.  
I Impute it to my good Fortune, My Lord, that the first appearance of this Play was on a Wednesday in Lent; for then (it seems) the Town look for a bad Entertainment, and if they met with any thing they did not expect; it was a disappointment that, I presume; they'll forgive.  
I confess it has succeeded beyond my Expectation, since I understand that Your Lordship also has been pleased to speak in its Favour. But You did not apprehend what You drew upon Yourself when you was doing so, and little thought, from commending the Brat, to have it laid at Your Door.  
But tho' your approbation in Public makes me proud, yet the delicacy of your Judgement in private keeps me humble; your Understanding discovers all faults, but your good breeding will not let you take Notice of any, and you can discourage no body, but when they attempt to imitate you.  
If I had oftener had the honour to have been near your Lordship; the Conversation of the Comedy would have discovered it; and tho' it be my misfortune to be almost a stranger to your Person. Yet I may safely affirm, that I am throughly acquainted with your Character, and to speak but truth of you, would look too like a Dedication.  
I might enlarge upon the Antiquity of your Race, were I so vain, as to hope to add any thing to the honour of what's recorded in our Annals; I might dwell upon those Qualifications, that render you so amiable to all that know you, the Unaffected sincerity of your Nature, your Zeal for the welfare of your Country; your exemplary Bravery, and just Sense of true Honour; but to do this, my Lord, would be to entertain you with the daily Discourse of your Friends; as for Enemies, you have none but those you found in Flanders, where you were giving Commands to a Regiment, at an Age that others are receiving Precepts from a Tutor.  
I dare say no more, tho' at the same time I disoblige one, I gratify a thousand; for you are the only Person that can't bear to hear the Lord Lorn well spoke of: But since I would not purchase their approbation at the rate of your displeasure, I must relieve your Lordship from the pain of hearing what's your due, and only tell you that I am,  
Your Lordship's Most Devoted Humble Servant.   

THE PREFACE.  
I don't know whether I have more reason to be pleased or grieved at the Fate of this Play; for the World is very jealous of applause, and he is sure to make a great many Enemies, that is so unfortunate to succeed.  
Some have already done me the Honour to say, that it was not all Mine; tho' I am surprised at the imputation, that what I once believed too great a Dowdy to belong to even myself; should deserve to be thought fewer! But the uneasy Critics, upon a nearer view of its Features, have mortified me, and more judiciously concluded, that no Body would own it but myself.  
All that I shall say to these last is, that I did not design a just Play, and that I am as well pleased as they are, that I had no regard to the Unities of Action, etc. but if I diverted my Friends, without offending the Ladies, I have my wish.  
These angry Gentlemen, I presume, will thank me for one thing, in the Third Act, and that is, I have put a Pun in the Mouth of the fine Lady; a Gentleman very remarkable for his good Nature and good Sense; told me of it before it was Acted, but he agreed with me, to allow the Folly, for the sake of the Diversion; it succeeded as we guest, and was always Clapped.  
I confess I have had some grave Thoughts on the Occasion of such Labours, and methinks 'tis very strange, that the chief thing, that flatters the vanity of most Writers, is, what they can't know, for Fame is a good that never arrives to us till we are passed enjoying it, and we are only immortal when we are no more; as for myself, I presume, it will appear by what I have done, that I as little value, as deserve, that Honour, notwithstanding I don't doubt, but I shall be yet believed to have my share of the vanity; and that 'twill always be one reason of writing, to be thought a little wiser than we are 
— Vivimus ambitiosa,  
Paupertate omnes—    

PROLOGUE.  
SInce Novelties your Palates still pursue,  
You have to Night, both Play and Poet new:  
From whence alone his hopes of pleasing grew.  
For so much this prevailing Passion thrives,  
Each for his future Appetite contrives,  
New Friends, new Favourites, and of late— new Wives.  
You Critics only keep your Old disease,  
When Authors please you least, you're most at ease.  
Our Poet's therefore glad of a pretence,  
To be insipid, in his own defence,  
And if you hiss, 'tis still at your Expense.  
Often for change the meanest things are good,  
Thus tho' the Town all delicates afford,  
A Kit-cat is a Supper for a Lord.  
But if your Nicer taste resolves to Day,  
To have no relish for our Author's Play.  
Place some diverting Scene before your Mind,  
And think of that, to which you will be kind.  
So thus when heavily the moment's pass,  
Toaster's to Circulate the lazy Glass  
By nameing some bright Nymph their draughts refine,  
And taste at once the joys of Love and Wine.   

Personae Dramatis.  

MEN.  SIR Solomon Empty. 
Mr. johnson.  Freeman. 
Mr. Wilks.  Careless. 
Mr. Toms.  Clerimont. 
Mr. Mills.  Ned, Servant to Clerimont. 
 Doctor. 
Mr. Haines.  ginger. 
Mr. Fairbanck.  Apothecary, a Hawker, and Three-Footmen. 
  

WOMEN.  Astrea. 
Mrs. Knight.  Clarinda. 
Mrs. Rogers.  Sylvia. 
Mrs. Temple.  Lady Dainty. 
Mrs. Verbruggen.  Mrs. Friendlove. 
Mrs. powel.  Fidelia, Maid to Astrea. 
Mrs. Moor.  Cloe, Lady Dainties Woman. 
Mrs. Stephens.  Pert, Exchange-Woman. 
Mrs. Baker.    

PAge 5 line 29 for the two grand Lotteries, read the grand Lotteries.   
THE Reformed Wife, etc.  

ACT I.  
SCENE I.  Astrea and Clarinda. Cla. 
YOU manage this Husband of yours very dextrously.  Ast. 
While you live observe this; that the only way to rule a conceited Fool, is to seem to be ruled by him.  Cla. 
I am convinced, but still admire by what strange Art you keep him at this distance, for I have heard that your Old Men, like those that have stinking Breathes, will always be drawing closer than other Folks!  Ast. 
Why, by a pretended distaste of all Men, I have secured myself against one that I hate in earnest, so that now—  Cla. 
He avoids you to gain your Esteem!  Ast. 
And 'tis his only way to gain it, for trust me Clarinda, there is nothing so distasteful as a Husband's fondness, and you had better be hated of the Man you Love, than Loved of the Man you hate.  Cla. 
Then we must hate if we Marry!  Ast. 
You'll find it difficult to Love, for Marriage sets the Object too near us, and Love is a fine Flower, that loses its Scent if we keep it always at our Nose.  Cla. 
Where is the fault then?  Ast. 
Perhaps 'tis in ourselves— our Pleasures languish when they become familiar to us, and 'tis in Love as in Ambition, our thirst is still for something that we have not.  Cla. 
I fancy the Dominion they pretend over us, may be one reason, and methinks the slaveries misplaced, for the Government of Love should be in the Women; They always make the Lover happy in his Chains; but—  Ast. 
Husbands, alas! Are like other Tyrants, the greatest good we expect from 'em, is to do no harm.  Cla. 
You indeed have reason to think so, for to a Woman of any Spleen, Sir Soloman must needs be of a very unlucky temper, and seems to have something peculiar in him to Create aversion, for he is always talking, and always giving his impertinent Advice.  Ast. 
And you can't oblige him more than to ask it.  Cla. 
He has all the ridiculous extremes of the Gay and the Grave, but I like nothing in him so much as his pretending to understand the World— he is so wise an Owl!  Ast. 
Nay since he has been, as he calls it, of the party, he has taken new Airs upon him; all my Family, forsooth, are ordered by rules of State, and he is grown so important to himself, that he's afraid the Cook or the Butler should Poison him— but here he comes.  Sir Sol. 
No, no, no, Friend, I understand the World, I understand the World—.  Enter Sir Solomon Empty, followed by a Hawker with Pamphlets. Cla. 
What's the matter? Sir Solomon.  Sir Sol. 
Nothing Cousin, nothing, only this Fellow (suborned as I guess by the Ministry) had a mind to corrupt my Judgement, with an Argument for a standing Army.  Haw. 
Sir Solomon, if you done't like that, I have Books of the other Party.  Sir Sol. 
Hast thou so Friend let's see 'em— [Aside.] I believe this Fellow's some broken Counsellor for he's of both sides—  Haw. 
Here Sir!  Sir Sol. [Reads.] 
A Proposal to take the Lace off the Soldiers clothes, and put it on our Wife's Petticoats— Ha! hah! This is a foolish Project for they'll give it 'em again.  Cla. 
There may be some danger Sir Solomon.  Sir Sol. 
No, No— I done't like that, any thing belonging to Soldiers should come so near 'em— what's this [Reads.] A useful Discourse concerning the management of Husbands— here, here, put this up Friend, Women know too much already— well, leave the first— and if I like it— [Aside.] I'll read it, and give it you again— Exit Hawker. But now for my own Family— come, My Dear, the Coach is ready.  Cla. 
I have been persuading her, ever since you went, but she is so unwilling!— pray, Madam, gratify Sir Solomon, and go to the Play.  Sir Sol. 
Ay do, My Dear, gratify me as my Cousin says, and go to the Play, you must not deny yourself all the Pleasures of the World, for your Love of me, come it will divert you.  Ast. 
Divert me! Is it possible, Sir Solomon, you should have so little Religion, as to fancy the Entertainment of that place could give a Civil Woman any Pleasure? Not that I think, all are otherwise that go there, but the dishonest Liberties of the Stage are such, that we seldom hear any thing, that diverts without something that offends.  Sir Sol. [Aside.] 
Poor Fool! But 'tis a wicked place!  Cla. 
But the Moral, Madam, often leaves us a quite different impression.  Ast. 
Nay there you are lost Clarinda, for tell me a Play in which there is not for a Moral, if you Marry you're a Cuckold, and Woman's Virtue is a Chimara.  Sir Sol. [Aside.] 
Well I am certainly the only Husband in this Town, that is not one— How happy am I in a Wife—  Cla. 
The Licence is indeed too great, yet the fault is equal in the Town, and the Poet who only shows us the World a little too near, for, turn but your Eyes off the Stage, and you shall see that your agreeable Woman is a Coquet, and your agreeable Man an Atheist, and the first step to be very witty, is (it seems) to be very wicked.  Sir Sol. 
Bless us all! But the World Cousin is very bad, very bad [Aside.] ('tis good to encourage Women in their Innocence)— but you need not apprehend now Astrea, for this is a New Play, and the Author advised with me in the thing— I protest he's a Pretty smart Man.  Ast. 
I don't understand those things, but am sorry you Converse with such People, for the next Scandal to the being a Poet, is to keep 'em Company.  Sir Sol. 
Alas, My Dear, you don't take it— we that would understand the World; must make it our business to read Men— I mingle with such People indeed, and can hear 'em Crack a jest or so, and now and then put in a joke myself, but Sir Solomon Empty, is not to be fathomed by every Body, I defy 'em to get any thing out of me!  Cla. [Aside.] 
I'll Answer for it.  Ast. 
I did not apprehend it, but the World, that seldom makes a true Judgement, content themselves with the appearances of things, and your Character is drawn from the Airs that you make in make in Public.  Sir Sol. 
Looky ' Wife, I would be mistaken in some things, a good State's Man, like a good Wrestler, conceals his strength for an opportunity, and my Capacity is a Secret— but you are Women and don't understand things.  Enter Footman. Foot. 
Sir, The Coach is at the Door.  Sir Sol. 
Very well— I done't like that Fellow's Face, he looks as if he was a Spy upon my Actions— so now you are kind!  Ast. 
I shall always prefer Obedience to inclination.  Sir Sol. 
I'll lead you to your Coach.  Ast. 
Why won't you go with us?  Sir Sol. 
No, no, my dear, they stay for me at the Fountain, and I would not miss a Night to be made a Privy-councillor.  Ast. 
You always find reasons to leave me.  Exit Sr. Solomon and Astrea. Clarinda Sola. 
Well thou art a Machiavil, Astrea, I am astonished, she longs to go, and by a Counterfeit unwillingness makes him against his own inclination press her to go, and how happy he thinks himself in having persuaded her to do what he would not have her do.  Exit. The SCENE changes to the Street. Re-enter Sir Solomon. 
There is no blessing like a Virtuous Wife! No Comfort beyond it! To see her fears and her Caution, to tell me I should please her more if I would lead her to the Church— Poor fool! She thinks of nothing but me and her Prayer-Book, than she is so tender of her Fame, that she is never guilty of an indecency so great as to Kiss me in Company; and this Conduct has prevailed with her so much, that she has a sort of unwillingness, and fear to do it, even when we are alone, and so chaste!— Well I am the happiest Man! Ha! who have we here my Noble Captain.  Enter Freeman. Freem. 
Sir Solomon Empty!  Sir Sol. 
Welcome from Flanders Tom, welcome from Flanders— What ne'er a Wooden Leg yet! Why thou art the unluckiest Fellow in the World! Not an Ear, or an Eye, or a piece of thy Nose off, but returnest to thy Friends like an ordinary Man!  Free. (Sighs.) Sir Sol. 
Come don't be Melancholy but tell us, what weeping Orphans, and smiling Widows thou hast made, what Towns demolished this Campain!  Free. 
Faith, Sir Solomon, I have demolished nothing but my Commission, and made no Orphans but myself, I am broke that's all.  Sir Sol. 
Ay, and enough too— but how so Tom! Do you know—  Free. 
Prithee lay this aside, all I know is, that I am come from starving, in a Crowd to starve in a Corner.  Sir Sol. 
Starve! A young Fellow, and talk of starving!  Free. 
I know thou understand'st Men, make me a little acquainted with myself, and tell me what I am fit for— I have been thinking a great while, and can find no Virtue to lay to my charge.  Sir Sol. 
O! You are modest Tom, you are modest— but let me see— fit for! Thou hast a good Voice, I have heard, upon a Muster, and wert of the Temple before the War— what dost thou think of the Law.  Free. 
Very well, but I know nothing of it, but what I have got from being Arrested.  Sir Sol. 
Enough, enough Tom, I knew several Eminent Pleaders that got Estates with as little— 'tis but talking on and loud.  Free. 
But we Soldiers, Sir Solomon, are so used to dispatch a business at a blow, that I should starve before I could arrive at their secret of perplexing a matter, and spining out a cause, beside, I want all the requisites, the double Dealing, the Impudence! The Lungs! The Conscience!—  Sir Sol. 
Conscience! Nay, Tom, if thou hast that in thy Head!— thou wert born to be a Beggar— but is there no way— hark ye, Tom, thou art a very Clean Shap'd-Fellow, what if you went into the Playhouse, and turned Actor! Ha! ha! I thought I should make thy Fortune at last! Why thou may'st come to be a King in time, and keep Company with Princes! I'll warrant, they shall make thee an Alderman the first dash.  Free. 
I'd rather be his Horse.  Sir Sol. 
They'll try your Talon, Tom, not but thou may'st get as much honour from acting a Cobbler, as acting a Lord, as an old Moralist said of the World, and I had rather see a Scaramouch than an Emperor! for there's that Dog! that sly Rogue, that arch Son of a Whore, that Pinkethman, there's always more in that Fellows Face than his words, and to see that Rascal Act does me more good than railing against the Court party— well, Tom, how do ye like a Player.  Free. 
As ill as I do a Lawyer, and I am quite as unfit for it, I could no more listen to the dull Chat of every Fop behind the Scenes, than I could bear his slinking Breath— then I should scarce be employed enough to live by it, for I could not act in a dull Play, because I hate to speak any Body's nonsense but my own, and to be Hist off the Stage, or punished for an others Crime—  Sir Sol. 
Is the Devil— but that would never happen, if these silly Fellows, the Poets, would be ruled; they are still aiming at Wit— If I was to write a Play—  Fre. 
You would not split upon that Rock.  Sir Sol. 
No, no, Tom, I'd have something to divert every Body. I'd have your Atheism to please the Wits— some affectation to entertain the Beaux, a Rape or two to engage the Ladies; and I'd bring in the Bears, before every Act, to secure an interest in the Upper Gallery.  Fre. 
You have forgot one Range, what would you do for the Cits in the Middle?  Sir Sol. 
Why I'd raise 'em a Ghost to tell their Children of when they come home— but now you speak of Cits, Tom, I have an employment that will fit thee. The Ladies, Tom, the Ladies, there's the Treasure at last—  Fre. 
Ay, such a Treasure as I shall spend my own before I shall find.  Sir Sol. 
Why what charges can there be when you Factor for yourself?  Fre. 
O the greater— He that won't employ a Procuress out of good Husbandry, is like him that shoots his Wildfowl to save money, when he reckons the Powder, the Shot, and other Expenses; he'll find that he might a had 'em cheaper of a Poulterer.  Sir Sol. 
I see, Tom, thou runnest into the common error of ingenious Men, who think the World is governed by reason— you may perhaps come to live happy in it with your reason; but the way to be a great Man, is to be enterprizing.  Fre. 
Indeed I am apt to think he'll never do Miracles that does nothing but what he should do.  Sir Sol. 
In that thought I leave you, (going) But one hint more— The two grand Lotteries, Tom, in this Town, for broken Officers and Lovers, are the Prayers and the Play,— go try your Fortune my Hercules!— I warrant you're happy— the Prayers and the Play.  [Aside.] Exit Sir Sol. Fre. 
If I was sure of meeting any of thy Relations there, it might tempt me to go— Now this old Rascal thinks a Soldier fit for any thing that's mean, and values himself upon his Riches that we have secured to him with our Blood— What Gallant Spirit would move a Finger for such Slaves!— To bear all hardships, and stand intrepid midst a thousand horrors, where Glory pushes us beyond ourselves to be despised when we return, and among the very People he has saved, with all his wounds, the tattered Hero starves— but Ingratitude's a humane Virtue, no Beast ever pretended to it, and it is so perfectly in our Nature, that we may observe no People hate so heartily as those that have been highly obliged— as for us, it seems there is no Rogue like a Soldier; we are a sort of Vagabonds, that are fit indeed, upon occasion, to stand between sober folks and danger, and are used just like a Militia Officer's Sword, when training day's over 'tis thrown aside— O such Worthies!  Exit. Re-enter Sir Solomon. 
Ha, ha, ha, Woe be to some poor Dog of a Husband— who knows now whose fate may depend upon this advice of mine— some Lord or Alderman, or perhaps some industrious Merchant, that may be sweating at the Indies, while his Wife— ha, ha, ha,— well, I am a mischievous Dog, but let 'em take what follows.  Enter Clerimont. 
[Haraldus, my Friend Clerimont, the Spirit of Mirth and Wickedness!  Cle. (Singing) 
Drink and drive care away.  Sir Sol. 
Now this Fellow's Merry will I sift him— 'twas Machiavil's way (aside)— I read Joy in thy Face, has thy pony Mistress been kind, hast thou Cured her of all Distempers, and made her say, Yes.  Cle. 
Ah don't speak of her, Sir Solomon, don't Name her, 'tis touching upon one's madness in an interval of Sense, and enough to make me rave in Flames, and darts and Charms, and so forth— I have been drinking all day to forget her, and now you must lay her in my way.  Sir Sol. 
And is this all the use you make of a Lady, that lies in your way? If I was in thy place!  Cle. 
Ay, thou wouldst lay about thee— Thou art a Dangerous Fellow— I find I must take care when I am Married.  Sir Sol. 
O I never wrong my Friend, never wrong my Friend!  Cle. 
'Tis good to be sure, Sir Solomon, I'll take her out of thy Neighbourhood— such a vigorous Rogue! Why they say, thou art worse than St. George's Dragon, a Virgin a day won't satisfy thee, besides Wives and Traders.  Sir Sol. 
Ha! Ha! People will say any thing— though faith one can do nothing in this Town, but it's presently Whispered about.  Cle. [Aside.] 
here's a Rogue! I find to be unable's ashame at 60.  Sir Sol. 
But these things must not be talked of, Love and Cheating should be always private— But prithee tell me something of thy Courtship, does thy Sickly Lady listen to thee yet?  Cle. 
No, nor ever will, without I could appear to her in the shape of a Consumption, or Apoplexy— she's in Love with nothing but Ghosts— Flesh and Blood are not gentile enough for her.  Sir Sol. 
You would never be advised— you should Court her, in her own way, when she is Gripped, you should have the Colic, when she begins to faint, you should fall in a Swoon— Cough, Sigh and Complain, just as you see her, what dost ever think to gain a Woman by opposing her?  Cle. 
Ay, ay, the best way to gain her at her own Weapon, Contradiction.  Sir Sol. 
Look ye Friend, be ruled by me— (there is a Policy in Life, and every Man is a State to himself) now would I have you be acquainted with her Doctor— Fee him as often as she does.  Cle. 
I'd as soon take Physic of him as often as she does, why he's with her Morning, Noon and Night, and has more Guinea's in a Day than Meals— No, no, Sir Solomon, I have taken a Cheaper way, a Poets sooner Feed than a Physician, I'll besiege her so with Songs and Sonnets, that she shall surrender for her own quiet.  Sir Sol. 
And have you laid in a Magazine of these Stores?  Cle. 
I am providing myself with a Song to day, I sent my Man at Noon to hire a Poet, and he stay's as long as if he had employed the City Laureate— but see the Rascal's come— well what heavy Rhymer did you meet with that kept you thus long?  Enter Ned out of Breath. Ned. 
Sir, 'twas a long time before I could find one.  Cle. 
A long time! Why you might a beat all the Garrets, from Will's Coffeehouse to Aldgate in half the time.  Ned. 
Then I was with Three, Sir, before I met One— that would be at leisure.  Clerimont Reading to himself. Sir Sol. 
What were they doing Ned?  Ned. 
One, Sir Solomon, was writing a Lampoon for a Lady of Quality, in which he was to commend her and abuse all her Acquaintance.  Sir Sol. 
Nay, she ought to be praised if she paid for it, ' but what were the rest upon?  Ned. 
One, Sir, was writing a Poem upon the Tiger that was baited, in which he pretends to prove, that he was of the Court-Party.  Sir Sol. 
Ha!— that's some Cabal Poet, that's let into the secret of the Government.  Ned. 
The last, Sir Solomon, was making a Prayer for a Religious old Gentlewoman, but that business not being in much haste, I prevailed with him to do mine.  Cle. 
I can hardly read this Fellows hand—  Reads. 

A SONG upon a Sickly Lady.  

(1.)  
COrinna with a graceful Air  
Her Symptoms does reveal  
Such Charms adorn the Sickly fair.  
We scarce can wish her well.   

(2.)  
How does the pale Complexion please!  
Faint looks and Languid Eye!  
New Beauties rise with her disease,  
And when she's Sick we die.    Sir Sol. 
Very pretty, Faith— When she's Sick we die.  Cle. 
'Tis very little for the Money!  Ned. 
For five Shillings more, Sir, he would a put in the Similitude of a Bee, that kills while he's a dying.  Cle. 
Pox take him, and his Bee— an unreasonable Son of a Whore, a Crown for a Bee! ' sbud I can buy a Hive for half the Money— this is some saucy Rogue that eat's every Day— well now, Sir Solomon, against these Arms what Woman can defend herself?  Sir Sol. 
They are unaccountable Creatures indeed, and very likely may be sooner Fiddled than reasoned out of their favours.  Cle. 
There is no best way to get a Woman. Some whine, some dance, some dress, and some prate; but wiser Women, at last, considers a Man's Make rather than his words or actions; nay, or his Face.  Sir Sol. 
'Tis your interest they should.  Cle. 
Looky ', Sir Solomon, the Woman that falls in Love with a Man for his Face, may find herself as much disappointed as the Man that believes a Woman for her Tears— they are false Signs.  Sir Sol. 
But they are persuading ones.  Cle. 
Pshaw! Pshaw! they move only Children: but come along, and see your mistake.  Exeunt. Enter Astrea and Freeman. Ast. 
I vow my heart's at my mouth!  Fre. 
There, let me seize my own. Kisses her.  Ast. 
You are sure he did not see us?  Fre. 
Certain of it.  Ast. 
Then I am happy. 'Twere very unlucky to be surprised the first time we meet.  Fre. 
Fortune, Madam, has a greater care of Lovers.  Ast. 
Now pray let me know how to call you; for in a little time we must begin to lay aside the Titles of Sir and Madam.  Fre. 
And substitute those of my Dear and my Life!—  Ast. 
Ay! ay! for our Seasons of Love, but what if we should forget ourselves, and fall to the dull indifference of Man and Wife?  Fre. 
Why then I must be called Freeman, and you—  Ast. (Aside.) 
I must not tell him right— Caelia.  Fre. 
I fancy you're a Coward, my Dear! I observe the first thing you provide for is a retreat.  Ast. 
I'm afraid, my Hero! you'll have the first occasion to use it.  Fre. 
I don't know what a long War may produce, but—  Ast. 
Have a care Servant, don't soil your Merit with handling it— I dare not stay now, but to Morrow  Fre. 
At Six—  Ast. 
I'll meet you in the Field.  Fre. 
Nay, your Honour's at stake, and if you disappoint—  Ast. 
I can't spare a Glove, but be that my security—  Throws a purse of Money. Fre. 
Ha!— but— remember the Hour.  Ast. 
And you the occasion. Adieu, Servant.  Exit. Freeman alone opening the Purse. 
I came! I saw! I conquered! Gold bright as herself! This is the luckiest adventure! Others Solicit, Bribe, Rise early, haunt Courts and great mens' Levees, and follow Fortune in the servile Crowd, but I meet the Goddess less engaged, and court her in her loveliest shape, a Woman; a Woman too that has more Wit and Beauty, than Riches ever gave, or Poverty took away— but what now can this Woman be! She has too much Wit to come from the City, and too much Money to come from the Court— but to Morrow must unriddle all— I feel my Soul rise with my Pocket— (looks on the Gold) Thou lovely God that hast no Atheist! Thou art the Courtiers Promise, the Lawyer's Honesty, the Soldiers Courage, and the Widow's Tears— but here is now a Fellow [Enter Clerimont.] whose Life is a studied Idleness— Well, Clerimont, the report is true! I see Marriage writ in thy Face; and after railing at 〈…〉 thou art resolved to fall into the Noose at last.  Cler. 
'Tis the properest time to fall into one.  Fre. 
Then you begin to have nothing in your head now, but 〈…〉 Children, and the Main Chance.  Cle. 
Nothing less, but instead of that, I have Pills, Elixirs, Bolus', Ptizans, and Gallipots.  Fre. 
Why, is the Lady you court an Apothecary's Widow?  Cle. 
No, but she is an Apothecary's Shop, she holds all his Drugs, she has her Physic for every hour of the Day and Night— her Bed is lined with Poppies, the black Boys at the Feet, that the vulgar employ to bear Flowers in their Arms, she loads with Diascordium, and other sleepy Potions, that the little Devils seem to nod o'er their Charge— her sweet Bags are not perfumed with such common stuff, and offensive to the Brain, as Musk and Amber; but they breathe the Delightful and Salubrious Scents of Hartshorn, Rue, and Assefetida.  Fre. 
Why, she's fit to be the Consort of Hypocrates! but what other Charms has this extraordinary Lady?  Cle. 
She has one, Tom, that a Man may relish without being so deep a Physician.  Fre. 
What's that?  Cle. 
Why 2000 l. a Year.  Fre. 
No vulgar Beauty indeed! but canst thou for any consideration join thyself to this Hospital, this Box of Physic, and be forced to lie all Night like Leaf-gold upon a Pill?  Cle. 
Alas, Tom, this is not half the Evil, her humour is as strange as her Diet— all about her must have fine Airs, and if she could, her Postilion should be a Gentleman— she settled a Pension upon one of her Footmen for losing a Foretooth, and said he was maimed in her service.  Fre. 
I'm afraid you'll come to your Pension too for a more considerable maim— but what can you do with her, and her Physic; in a little time she'll grow like an Antimonial Cup, and a kiss will be able to work with you!  Cle. 
The best way to avoid that danger, would be to marry her; for most Wives may be Antimonial Cups long enough, without being found out of their Husbands; but to prevent that, Tom, I design to break all the Glasses, and kick the Doctor down Stairs, on the Wedding day; and so I have told her.  Fre. 
That's very familiar; are you so near Man and Wife?  Cle. 
O! nearer, we begin to hate one another already.  Fre. 
I find then you'd Cure her of her Physic by a Counterpoison— but prithee Clerimont let me prevail with you to leave this humour of abusing Marriage; 'tis a mean Entertainment, and there's not a Porter in Town but can be too witty for you in it.  Cle. 
You see then I am o' th' right side, for their sense can't rise above speaking Truth.  Fre. 
Then to scorn Marriage while you desire it, is to treat your Mistress like a common Dame that will be kicked into humour; and you'll be thought to know no other way that only strive to huff her to it.  Cle. 
Perhaps it might be the best.  
For Women born to be controlled,  
Stoop to the forward and the bold.  Exeunt.  

ACT II.  
SCENE I.  Enter Lady Dainty and Cloe, followed by two Footmen. Lady. 
PEace good Impertinence, I tell thee no Woman of Quality is, or should be in perfect health; hah! hah!— Tom.  1 Foot. 
Madam.  Lady. 
Go to my Lady Formals, ask how she rested, and tell her the violence of my cold is abated— Exit Footman.  
To be always in health is as insipid as to be always in humour; one is the effect of too little Breeding, as the other of too little Wit, and sit only for the Clumsy State of a Citizen— I am ready to faint under the very Idea of such a vulgar Life. Ha! hah! hah!— Will.  2 Foot. 
My Lady!  Lady. 
Run to my Lady Lovevisit, and tell her Ladyship, that I am so imbarrast with the Spleen this Morning, I can't tell whether I shall be able to stir abroad; and know how she rested after the fatiegue of yesterday— hah! hah! hah! hah!  Exit Footman. Cloe. [Aside.] 
These Ladies make themselves Sick, to make themselves business, and are well or ill, only in Ceremony to each other.  Lady. 
What dost mutter?  Cloe. 
The new Footman is not returned.  Lady. 
'Tis indeed a strange Lump, I wonder the good, Lady Prayseall, should recommend him to me, he is not fit to carry a Disease to any Body; I sent him t'other Day with the Colic to some Ladies, and he put it into his own Language it seems, and called it the Belly-Ach! I was under the greatest Confusion! for the same Afternoon, two or three of 'em, in the Public China-House, Saluted me upon it,— I was forced to explain the Booby's meaning, else I had suffered the imputation of so vulgar a Disease! Ha! hah! hah!  Cloe. 
I wish your Ladyship had not Occasion to send any: for my part—  Lady. 
Thy part! Why thou were't made, I think of the Masculine kind— 'tis betraying our Sex, not to be Sickly and Tender! Whence came it, think'st thou, that we first were served and attended, by Men of our own Rank, but that it was the good breeding of our Mothers to be Feeble.  Cloe. 
I finding my Mother was a Clown. Aside.  Lady. 
Observe but the Families I visit, they have all something derived to 'em, from the Elegant, Nice State of Sickness, you may see even in the Males, a Genteel, as it were stagger or twine of their Bodies— As they were not yet confirmed enough, for the Rough, Laborious Exercise of Walking; a Saunter in their Motion, that is, so like Quality! And their Voice, is so soft and low, you'd think they were asleep, that are so very Delicate.  Cloe. 
Methinks, Madam, it would be better if the Men were not altogether so tender.  Lady. 
Indeed, I have sometimes wished that they were not, but, it is to distinguish 'em from the gross Education of the Commons, and it is fit, since they differ so much by Nature, in their Spirit and their Form; Nay, most of their very Diseases, are not Profaned by the Crowd, the Apoplexy and Gout, are peculiar to the Nobility, and I could wish that Colds also were only ours, for there is something in 'em, so genteel and becoming!— Ha! hah! hah!  Cloe. [Aside.] 
That I hope I shall never be fit for 'em— Your Ladyship forgot the Spleen.  Lady. 
O my Dear Spleen, I grudge even some of us; that ingenious Disease visits only the most Delicate.  Cloe. 
I knew a Tradesman's Wife, that was mightily troubled with it.  Lady. 
A Tradesman's Wife! Ha! ha! Nay, those little Creatures, like the Monkey among Beasts, do follow us in every thing— They Dress! They Game! They have their Cold-Tea! Give Airs! Intriegue! And go as far as simple Nature can. Ha! hah! Never think it Cloe, a Mere Commoner could not be so honoured, as a Lion they say will Fawn upon nothing but a King; so this Elegant distemper submits its self to none, but the well descended— I profess— I Feel it, while I commend it—  Cloe. 
Will your Ladyship take some Steel drops, or some Bolus! or Electuary! or—  Lady. 
This Wench will kill me with Questions, hah! hah! bring any of 'em. Exit Cloe.  
These healthy Sluts are too Boisterous for the Tender Frame of a Well-Bred Woman— I am resolved if there be a decayed Person of Quality to be got in Town, I'll have her— ever since this Noisy Creature has been in my House, it has been taken for an Inn— Well the Commons of England are the strangest Creatures! Ha! hah!  Re-enter Cloe. Cloe. 
Madam, the Doctor, the Apothecary, the Exchange-Woman, and the Cunning-Man; that your Ladyship calls, Stro-strologer are below.  Lady. 
Bid 'em come up, they may divert my Spleen, better than the Medicine— Ha! hah! Well, the regularity of Life is certainly the happiest thing that belongs to it.  Enter Cloe, Doctor, etc. 
I am glad you 're come Doctor, for to live without you, is Sailing without a Compass; Mrs Pert, let me see how you have ordered those Ruffles.  Pert. 
Madam, your Ladyship, I am sure will be in Love with 'em, I have made 'em to the Newest Fashion; some French Ladies were at my Shop Yesterday, and I cut 'em exactly with theirs. Opening a Box.  Dr. 
How did your Ladyship rest?  Lady. 
Never worse Dr. but I know the reason, it was my Visiting-Night, and my Old Lady Linger stayed after all were gone, and unmercifully kept me up, at least half an hour beyond my time.  Dr. 
'Twas unsufferable, Madam, but I'll order something to compose your Ladyship, and repair that misfortune.  Lady. 
I like the Air of this Ruffle mightily— The French are certainly the most agreeable People upon Earth— Do they wear 'em so low?  Pert. 
Exactly, an' please your Ladyship— the Bottom of the Lace must agree with the Tip of your Ladyship's little Finger— To wear it higher, would show too much of your Ladyship's Arm.  Lady. 
Which I would not do by any means— it looks like a Washerwoman, to bare above the Ring— Dr. I long to enter on my New course of Physic, but Pray let me have nothing in it, that may any way interrupt the order of my Visits, for I would not purchase health so dear, as with the loss of one Days agreements.  Dr. 
I shall be careful.  Lady. 
Mrs. Pert— Be sure you get me the Lace, for I'll wear none but what is Prohibited.  Pert. 
I'll search all the Merchant's Pockets, as diligently as their Wives do, but I'll have it for your Ladyship.  Lady. 
Mr. Rhubarb, I must Quarrel with you— you don't enough disguise the Medicin's you send me— I can taste they are Physic— in a little time, you'll bring me to take plain Jalap? hah! hah!  Rub. 
To alter it more, might offend the Operation.  Lady. 
I don't care what is offended, so my taste is not.  Dr. 
Hark y' Mr. Rhubarb, withdraw the Medicine Lady Dainty turning to the ginger. rather than not make it pleasant, I'll find a reason for the Operation.  Lady. 
And is it possible, Sir, that the Stars should have such Power over us, methinks they live at too great a distance.  Ast. 
All things here are ruled by unseen ways, and what Physicians vainly ascribe to Drugs, is done by the Stars.  Lady. 
Well this is a divine Art, but, Sir, have the Stars any respect for a Face, or a Complexion?  Ast. 
Oh! Madam! More immediately as lying nearest their Orbs.  Lady. 
Well certainly this is the genteelest way of Curing that ever was invented, and seems designed for the ease for the Nobility— To take our Medicines at the Mouth, is indeed so like a Horse! Ha! hah!  Dr. [Aside, to Rhubarb.] 
I have drained the Catalogue of Diseases already, and can't think what to put in her Head.  Rub. 
Nay, Sir, if we don't look about us, sh'll grow well upon our Hands.  Dr. 
Never fear that.  Enter Clerimont. Cle. 
So! here's the Levee! Doctor and Apothecary in close Consultation! They are worse than a Jury upon Life and Death— But yonder's my Engine at Work; the Stargaze has got her by the Ear— I must retreat and give him the sign.  Goes behind the Scenes, and Sings— Corinna with a graceful Air, etc. Lady. 
Ha!— 'Tis a good Voice.  Ast. 
(Between the Stanza's) I foresee that some rude influence will suddenly assault you— I can't tell in what manner, but the same thing will prove afterwards very happy to you.  The Song ended, Enter Clerimont. Lady. 
Ay, Sir: How true you speak!  Cle. 
You see, Madam, what pains I take to contrive your diversion.  Lady. 
You take a very Preposterous way.  Cle. 
I can't tell how I succeed, but I am sure I endeavour right, for I study every Morning new impertinence, to entertain you.  Lady. 
You need not study for it, Nature, Sir, will never fail you.  Cle. 
But if she should one day, the misfortune may be irreparable! You might forget to faint to be Shagreen, to have the Spleen, and all those agreeable things that distinguish a Woman of Quality.  Lady. 
I am perfectly confounded! Certainly there are some People too impudent for our resentment, but I shall leave him.  Exeunt all but Clerimont. Cle. 
All this shan't make me out of Love with my Virtue— Impudence, was ever a successful Quality, and 'twould be very unlucky, if I should be the first that did not thrive by it.  Exit. Enter Clarinda and Astrea. Cla. 
I find then, you are a true Politician, Astrea, and by an extraordinary Conduct have secured yourself against the Curiosity of the World, the insolence of Servants, and what methinks a Woman most should fear, the Malice of revolting Favourites.  Astre. 
That indeed is the most certain danger, for it's grown the manner of the Fashionable Men, to recommend themselves to new Mistresses, by a Sacrifice of the Old, and make other surrender with the Barbarities they use to the Conquered.  Cla. 
Well! That one Rock now would keep me from venturing to Sea.  Astre. 
You will not be without dangers ashore, for there are some disagreeable Puppies, that report a Woman ill because she would not be so, but the real happy, like the real rich, seldom make a noise of it.  Cla. 
At this rate, the only way to preserve our Virtue, is to give it up like throwing away our Money, for fear we should be robbed of it— I find in a Poor Woman's Affairs, the Public are very humorous, if she ventures she's lost, if she don't she is not safe, well I'm very honest yet, and—  Astre. 
This is not generous, Clarinda— You see the Confidences I make you— Tell me, was you never in Love?  Cla. 
I don't know what Love is, but I like a Fellow mightily, that I saw at the Play last night.  Astre. 
Ha! What sort of Man?  Cla. 
Nay, I can't tell, but he chased you, for as soon as you went, I missed him.  Astre. (Aside.) 
'Tis too sure— His Heart failed him if he did, for he never came up with me— But where did he sit?  Cla. 
Just before our Box, in Red.  Astre. (Aside.) 
'Tis he, what must I do!  Cla. 
You are Alarmed!  Astre. 
No, I am thinking if I know him.  Cla. 
He seemed to be an agreeable idle Fellow, and his Conversation I overheard, was full of unusual Generosity.  Astre. (Aside.) 
I have it, it may help my own design— What would you give to see him?  Cla. 
Why, is it in your Power?  Astre. 
Very much— But come into my Room, and there— I'll contrive your happiness— (Aside.) Or secure my own to deceieve my Rival's, an allowable Cheat.  
That Nature, Friendship, Honour we remove,  
And no regards are prevalent in Love.  Enter Sir Solomon and Freeman. Sir Sol. 
Ha, ha, ha, to reach Peru in an hour, my happy Mariner!  Fre. 
My North Star!  Sir Sol. 
Did not I tell you, Tom, I understood the World— Ha, ha, ha, but thou think'st she's a Wife?  Fre. 
Ay, and so Charming, that each Dart she shoots is big with double Death, and Kills at once with Love and Jealousy— She's a Blessing too great for any one Mortal.  Sir Sol. 
Ha, ha, that's pretty plain, Tom.  Fre. 
A pretty Blush still rises in her Cheeks, her looks are Modest, and her Speech is Comely, a touch of her would move you more than all the soft embraces Venus used to warm the God of War!  Sir Sol. 
You make my Blood boil with the Description, and throw me ten Years back to Youth— but how didst attack her, I warrant she was mighty careful of her Honour?  Fre. 
No, she had too much Sense, for in these matters, those extraordinary Fears ●look more like a Gilt than Piety, and there's none so free of their Honour, as those that are very tender of it.  Sir Sol. 
Nay, I am apt to think, that the Women that talk of their Honour, like the Men that talk of their Courage, are the People that least value it— But prithee, Tom, how was it then.  Fre. 
Why, I fixed myself near the Box.  Sir Sol. 
Ha!—  Fre. 
Where I met an honest Fellow of our Regiment.  Sir Sol. 
Ha!—  Fre. 
I observed she listened to our talk, and formed my discourse accordingly.  Sir Sol. 
Sly Dog!  Fre. 
She took occasion to go out before the Play was done.  Sir Sol. 
Ha! you Rogue!  Fre. 
And sent a Chairman to me.  Sir Sol. 
Hark ' ye, Tom, did not I tell you I understand the World—  Fre. 
You did, Sir Solomon.  Sir Sol. 
You'll be ruled by me another time?  Fre. 
Always, always.  Sir Sol. 
Looky, Tom, I am acquainted with these things, and if I please, could tell you those that have been kept by Countesses— but let that pass— I always loved intrieguing— now what would I give to know who the poor Dearee at home is. Ha! ha! ha! did she tell you that?  Fre. 
No, but I shall know all to day.  Sir Sol. 
I would fain find him out to share with you the pleasure of laughing at him; ha! ha! who can it be, perhaps some Old—  Fre. 
Paralytic—  Sir Sol. 
Drivelling—  Fre. 
Miser— that would keep his Wife as he does his Money, as much from other People's use as his own.  Sir Sol. 
But you ask his Pardon there— I told you how 'twould be! Now, Tom, don't you, like some Generals, half flushed with Victory, lose the Day by being too sure of it: There is Conduct to be used in Love as well as War, and you should pursue as well as Conquer— It was Pompey's Character, to be able to get a Battle, but not to keep it; but be you a Caesar in Love, and trust not your Enemy out of your sight; the next thing you do, is to get acquainted with her Husband.  Fre. 
That's the Old way; but methinks it is drawing the Danger too near his Eyes.  Sir Sol. 
Ay, so near, that he'll near be able to see it.  Fre. 
Yet it is better done by a Friend— for first, if I keep him Company abroad, I but make Opportunities that I can't use.  Sir Sol. 
Then you should drink him down at home.  Fre. 
And so while I am qualifying him for a Cuckold, put it out of my Power to make him one.  Sir Sol. 
Talk what you will, Tom, ones bosom Friend is the properest Person to make one a Cuckold: then I'd fain have you acquainted with him, if it be only to see if there is any truth in that Old saying, that they are always fond— My dear Rogue! of them that make 'em— He'll have an extreme Affection for thee.  Fre. 
I suppose, according to the degree of mine, for his Wife; for Nature, is very grateful, before it is corrupted with Knowledge.  Sir Sol. 
Ha! ha! Well, certainly the Life of a Cuckold is a very happy one, as long as he does not know it— for all that do him the favour, are still ready to wait on him, and to humour him; and he, without knowing why, is mightily in love with them— Well, Tom, you do nothing without you bring this about— besides, I would not be so unfashionably wicked, as not to make a Friend where I made a Cuckold.  Enter Careless. Car. (Pulling Freeman) 
Sir, Sir Captain.  Fre. 
Ha, my Volunteer.  Sir Sol. 
Careless here, why thou art as generous as his Dog, and follow'st him in all Fortunes— But one would a thought, tho' he was broke, you might of been a Cadee, and rose in a standing Regiment.  Car. 
What now there's a Peace, Sir Solomom?  Sir Sol. 
Ay, ay, a common thing, but I see you have business— your Servant.  Exit. Fre. 
Sir Solomon, I Kiss your hands— What's the matter?  Car. 
Don't stay a Minute, Sir; your Fortunes made.  Fre. 
Prithee, unriddle first.  Car. 
Nay, you'll slip the Opportunity.  Fre. 
No matter, I'll hear it.  Car. 
Why then, Sir, I have been Walking in the Mall— (as I usually do, till Dinner time is over) where I over-heared a Young Lady commend you at an unreasonable— Fre. Frowns.  
Extraordinary rate I mean, Captain, I took her at first to be one of those Military Ladies, that used to fight their way through Gowns and Petticoats, under your Commission; but meeting your Friend, Capt. Blunt, he told me 'twas a Lady of 500 l. a Year.  Free. 
500 l. a Year, Come! Come le's go—  Car. 
Nay, won't you hear it?  Fre. 
'Sdeath, you unseasonable Dog, come along.  Exeunt. Enter Clarinda and Sylvia. Cla. 
Puh! go fetch the Book, then good Cousin! Exit Sylvia.  
Love, what a strange betwitching ill art thou! That those who feel thy Torments, wish no cure— I am Sick, and all I Hear, or See, or Dream of, is my Soldier— Yet I'm to be near him soon— But if I am, he perhaps mayn't Love, or at lest mayn't know that I do— Or while in tedious civilities, he Racks my heart— it will be Death to me— Happy ignorant Man! Have you found it?  Re-enter Sylvia. Sylvia. 
Yes.  Cla. 
Prithee Sing it, while we walk, for 'tis the only Song I can listen to.  Sylvia Sings. 

(1.)  
Fond Woman with mistaken Art,  
Does on herself impose,  
She feels with grief the secret smart,  
Nor will the wound disclose.   

(2.)  
We Sigh, we Burn, we Rage's, we Die,  
Yet must the Curse endure,  
To see the Loved Physician nigh,  
And dare not ask the Cure.   Cla. Sings. 

And dare not ask the Cure.   Exeunt. Enter Freeman and Careless. Car. 
Here, they went this way.  Fre. 
Hold, we'll wait for 'em in this Double— 500 l. a Year you say.  Car. 
Ay, besides a great deal of ready Money.  Fre. 
I did not see her Face, but 'tis the Tallest? Pray don't let me fail in Love with the wrong▪ Woman.  Car. 
Never apprehend it— A Man of your Necessities, methinks might know a Fortune by instinct— But hark ye, the Maid I hope is to be my Prize!  Fre. 
No, no, Sir, I won't have my Family Corrupted.  Car. 
Nay, Sir, I have kept a Plaguy Long-Lent, and it won't be much in danger yet a while.  Fre. 
Well, jack, I have a Carnival for thee in my Pocket, and if I succeed in this Adventure, you shall never know another Lent. Strikes his Pocket.  Car. 
That indeed is Music, and I'm recovered with the Sound— 'Zbud! We won't value the Fortune with that about us— But here they come.  Fre. 
Ha! I have seen that Face.  Enter Clarinda and Sylvia. Cla. 
Here again! Well if he has but Courage to advance, I have at present so little Hypocrisy about me, I should surrender upon any Terms— Ha! he comes, my Resolution totters, and I find the Woman return upon me very Powerfully— I'm afraid I shall deny him.  Syl. (Aside.) 
If I were sure the other was not a Servant! I could like him mightily—  Fre. (to Cla.) 
Madam, in these Familiar Walks, this Liberty's so common, that had I no business—  Car. (Aside.) 
Ay! Business!—  Cla. 
Sir.  Fre. 
You have taken away the Life of an Innocent Gentleman, who can find no quiet in his Grave, but sends me, Madam, who am all that can appear of him, his restless Ghost!—  Cla. 
A Ghost! Ha! ha! ha! Pray how long have you been dead?  Fre. 
Ever since last Night at the Play— I did but see you, and was lost.  Car. 
Ah, Poor Man! Ghost I mean, but I am idle. Goes to Sylvia.  Cla. 
Nay, there you over did it, die in earnest— What part did you Act?  Fre. 
A Lovers, Madam.  Cla. 
No wonder you're a weary of your Coffin— But I warrant you would make me some discovery— Well, where is your hidden Treasure?  Fre. 
Madam, you must follow me to find it— Offering at her Hand.  Cla. 
O! No I dare not trust myself with a Ghost.  Car. to Sylvia. 
Nay, Madam, tho' the Captain is, as a Man may say, a Ghost; yet your Humble Servant, I assure you is Flesh and Blood, and the Worms have not had a Meal of me yet.  Syl. 
I am sorry for it.  Car. 
And could you be so Barbarous to wish, This Face▪ This Shape! These Limbs! To be thrown under ground.  Syl. 
Ay! For they're fit for nothing above—  Cla. 
Well, that I mayn't be troubled more with People of the other World— Say, I wished to lay you, what should I do?  Fre. (seizing on her Hand.) 
Oh! Madam, you do it while you wish it, behold the Magic force of one kind Word, I'm all restored! The Life you give runs thrilling to my Heart, and I'm no more a shade.  Cla. 
What have I done! Nay, be a Ghost again or we part.  Fre. (Kneeling.) 
Ah! Madam, don't repent your Bounty, that from a shadow raised a glowing Lover—  Car. (to Sylvia.) 
You're afraid I warrant to be talked of, for Loving at first sight— Come it will be but a Nine-days Wonder— I shall see—  Syl. 
All Puppies do in that time.  Car. 
I find we shall have rare witty Children!  Syl. 
'Twill Cross the Proverb else, if you are the Father.  Car. (Aside.) 
'Tis likely to be a Match by her Natural aversion to me— Look ye, Madam, you may disguise your Inclinations if you please; indeed, if you had fallen in Love with an Aesop, or a Creon, you might have had scruples to own it, But—  Syl. 
Well, certainly thou art the vilest Ragamuffin, that ever trotted after a Soldier; Thou not only wearest thy Master's old Clothes, but the worst of Scraps; his ends of Sentences, and cast wit too.  Car. 
And thou art certainly the most ignorant, Abigal, that ever sneared behind a Lady, parts and Learning are lost upon thee, and thou understand'st nothing but a Bribe.  Syl. 
I see then I'm in no danger of being talked to in my own Language.  Fre. to Cla. 
I find we may as soon meet an Ugly Woman without Affectation, as a Pretty one without Cruelty, let some Passion prevail, be Merciful and hate me.  Cla. 
Nay, I'll rather glory in my indifference, and as a farther Proof of it, I walk here every Evening, and you shall see that you are not considerable enough to make me forbear one Day. Adieu!  Exit. Free. 
May you be as Happy as you are Cruel!—  Car. 
Or as she is Kind. Aside.  Syl. 
Farewell Frightful!  Car. 
Farewell Mopsa!  Free. 
What's the matter.  Car. 
All the matter is, that no Woman will be pleased with plain dealing, you have got a Mistress by being a Ghost, and I have lost one, by being Flesh and Blood, well, I see he that would get a Woman must—  
With her own Arts the Hippocrite betray,  
For Woman ne'er was catched but her own way.  Exeunt.  

ACT III.  
SCENE I.  Enter Astrea. Ast. 
HE stays very long— if Clarinda comes first, I shan't have time for my purpose— but what am I going to do?— to bring my Gallant to one that admires him— a pretty undertaking— but I have engaged, and can't withdraw. Yet stay, by this I shall lay the Fame of the Intriegue upon her, and like a wise Monarch, make others fight for what I only enjoy— 'tis rare— but if he should like her I am lost.  Enter Fidelia. Fid. 
Madam, there's a Gentleman below, Mrs. Friendlove calls Captain.  Ast. 
Oh 'tis well— Hark ye, Fidelia, you must respect this Gentleman.  Exit. Fid. 
Certainly my Lady is the happiest Woman in the World, and the greatest Politician: she does every thing with such an Air, that even I that am privy to her Intrigues, dare not seem to know 'em; and the Fame of her Virtue protects her against all discoveries— She's grown a Proverb, the Citizens preach her to their Wives, and the Courtiers to their Daughters, and now 'tis granted, that there is a pitch of Virtue secure against reproach— but I must go to divert the Woman of the House; for Lovers are best Company with one another; and she'll tell 'em a story of her Family, till they wish her at the Devil. Well! there is one happiness in being a Lady's Woman, it instructs us in the Fashionable Mysteries of Lying, Hypocrisy, and Intriegue: so that half a Years Service, I'll maintain, shall teach a Woman to Cuckold her Husband, with more dexterity, than ten Years practice.  Exit. Enter Freeman and Astrea. Fre. 
I'm in a Wood  Ast. 
To bring you out I must tell you— that 'tis with a great deal of difficulty I stir abroad, and that I have contrived your acquaintance with her, who is my Relation, and Neighbour, in order to gain more opportunities for myself, and under that colour make our affair as lasting as secure.  Fre. 
I begin to understand you— I must publicly declare myself, Madam Clarinda's Lover, while— an excellent Plot— which if you thought of it?  Ast. 
You are Mad— I tell you she's in earnest; she saw you, liked you, and would not rest till I had told her a possibility of seeing you again, which I promised for the reasons I have given— now d'ye think I han't made a great venture?  Fre. 
Is she very handsome?  Ast. 
If she were, I find I should be in danger.  Fre. 
No, but I should then convince you, nothing could shake your interest in my heart.  Ast. 
Well, some People do think her handsome, I wish you mayn't: but have a care how you move, I shall be very Jealous!  Fre. 
I'm afraid I shall do it so awkardly— she'll find me out.  Ast. 
Trust nature: but I have one scruple just comes into my head that will spoil all.  Fre. 
Nay then we are lost, what is it?  Ast. 
I'm afraid we shall lose the pleasure of the adventure, to think that it will not be in our own power to discover it.  Fre. 
That indeed is a scruple I should not have thought of, but we must bear our misfortune as well as we can; and let us not be the first instance of Lovers that could not brook adversity.  Enter Fidelia. Fid. 
Madam, Mrs Clarinda is at the Door.  Ast. 
Very well. Exit. Fidelia▪  
Stay here while I prepare her, and in the mean time I'll send Mrs. Friendlove the Woman of the House, to entertain you with her Pedigree and Impertinence.  Exit. Freeman Solus. 
This is an Excellent Wench, and I Love her Heartily, but 500 l. a Year I don't know what to do, let me consider, if I Marry there's a Pretty Woman, and 500 l. a Year, which are not often together— Hum! If I don't, here's the most agreeable Creature in the World, and— Hum— A Poor Lover is the Devil— No Bankrupt ever found a fair one Kind. Now for this Wellwisher to the Mathematics:  Enter Friendlove. Friend. 
A lack-a-Day! Here's the Poor Gentleman alone.  Fre. 
This is kindly done, Madam:  Friend. 
You and I Captain must be acquainted it seems.  Fre. 
You make me proud:  Friend. 
I knew one of your Name in Nottingham, I believe we are a little related— For you must know Captian, as I told you within, I am some way a Kin to most of the great Families in England, and I never was two Minutes with any Body of Pedigree, but I found out that I was their Cousin.  Fre. 
Very likely, Madam— (This is an Original) Aside.  Friend. 
For which reason, Captain, out of pure respect to my Relations, I make all my Servants call me at every Word, My Lady, and your Ladyship.  Fre. 
Your Ladyship is extremely in the right.  Friend. 
Ha! ha! ha! I'll tell you a very pretty Accident, where I was visiting t'other Day, came in three Welsh Ladies, who pretend (forsooth) to be above other Folks for Family, and to be related to none but themselves— But in a quarter of an hour's time, Captain, nothing was so great, as I and my Cousins, for upon a Comparison of our Pedigree, it appeared, that we all came from a Marriage of the Ap Shinkins, and the Ap Shones, but you don't mind Me, you are thinking of Miss.  Fre. 
Miss!  Friend. 
Ay, my Cousin Caelia, I call her Miss, because, I knew her from a Child, It was the neatest best humoured thing— But pray, Captain how long have you been in Flanders.  Fre. 
Three Years, Madam—  Friend. 
She always delighted in her Chamber, and placed every thing in such order! I warrant you have a Mistress in every Town!  Fre. 
Yes, Madam.  Friend. 
Poor Gentleman! You can't think how Miss would work, she made me the Prettiest Purse, and I lost it, going with some Ladies to a Fortune-Tellers.  Fre. 
This is designed Murder. Holding his Ears aside.  Friend. 
But now you talk of Fortune-Tellers, Captain, I know some People laugh at 'em, but as sure as you are there, he told me every thing so exactly, that I was forced to give him t'other, Shilling to hold his Tongue.  Fre. 
You did very prudently, Madam.  Friend. 
Are the Women in Flanders very handsome.  Fre. 
No, but to make amends they are very Kind.  Friend. 
Huh! Are they so— Well I Love sincerity.  Free. 
No Body dies there of any thing but Bullets.  Enter Clarinda and Astrea. Cla. 
Here's a Man!  Fre. 
Ha! Here will be fine Work! Aside.  Friend. 
Come Ladies don't be frightened, here's enough of us to deal with one Man— 'Tis Capt. Freeman, a Cousin of Mine, who has been giving me an account of his Travels, which is so diverting.  Ast. 
He looks alarmed, I'll watch Him. Aside.  Friend. 
He says the Women in Flanders, Miss, are not half so handsome, as they are here.  Free. 
These Ladies will Justify it.  Ast. 
I find there are Courtiers in Flanders, if there are no Beauties.  Cla. 
You're the first Traveller, Sir, that did not heighten the Rarities of of the Place— I'll warrant there are handsome Women.  Fre. 
There may, Madam, but they don't do so much mischief as in England— They know the danger of letting 'em be seen, and kindly keeping 'em up in Nunneries, and Convents.  Friend. 
I Love 'em for that truly— I am glad I was not born there, a Woman must spend her Youth and Beauty, over a String of Beads, or a piece of Needlework, a pretty diversion, we know better things in England.  Cla. 
It may be a cunning, Sir, to increase that danger you speak of, for what is always before us, does not affect us so much; and where Beauty is so common, I fancy it does little harm.  Fre. 
Against that, Madam, you are an instance.  Cla. 
Mrs. Friendlove, your Relation has Travelled farther than Flanders.  Friend. 
Pardon me, Madam, my Cousin knows a pretty Lady, and if he had turned his Eyes off you, might have seen more instances.  Fre. [turning to her.] 
(O dear Madam) [Aside.] A good occasion to Court my Mistress.  Friend. 
Oh good, Sir—  Fre. 
I must have confessed— that thou art a Monster. Aside.  Friend. 
Sweet, Sir.  Fre. [looking upon Clarinda, all the while.] 
So much Youth and Beauty.  Friend. 
Oh dear, Sir—  Free. 
The most agreeable Air—  Friend. 
The civilest, best bred Gentleman—  Fre. 
And Wit, that would have Killed, without the Assistance of your Eyes.  Friend. 
Well I Love, Truth and Honour!  Cla. Ast. 
Ha! ha! ha! He manages it rarely.  Fre. 
The genteelest Woman in the World—  Friend. 
And do you really think so?— Well, Cousin Clarinda, you'll be reconciled to the Captain, one would not think he had Travelled at all by his sincerity— Sweet Captain.  Ast. aside to Cla. 
O the Beast!  Fre. 
And were you half so cruel as you are fair, I were lost.  Friend. 
'Twould be pity so worthy a Gentleman.  Free. [Aside.] 
She'll consent before I have half done— From the first minute I saw you, you have been present to my Thoughts.  Friend. 
Poor Gentleman, one does not know one's Power. aside.  Fre. 
And I should think of you, though I were speaking to a Monster.  Friend. 
Well, he is a charming Man!— aside.  Fre. 
I behold that beauteous Face and blooming Youth, though a nauseous Hag, and withered Age were before me—  Friend. (Pulls out a glass aside.) 
I do look killing to day—  Fre. 
Is it possible, my lovely Unbeliever, you should see me, and suspect your interest in my heart.  Ast. (Aside.) 
I can't bear it tho' in jest—  Cla. 
'Twould be cruel in her to do so, let me persuade.  Friend. 
One must not believe all that Men say, Cousin, they are very deceitful— tho' I must needs own, the Captain is a worthy Gentleman, and very Judicious.  Fre. 
Oh! Madam, let me Kneel to thank you— continue, most distinguishing Lady, to pity me, and move that stubborn Fair One in my Favour. You never pleaded in so just a Cause, nor is any so fit to argue it as you— O that I could but manifest my Breast, you would see the Pains I feel, that I Sigh, that I Burn, that I could Die, to Merit the Heart of the Lovely Clarinda.  Friend. 
Clarinda!  Cla. Ast. 
A Pleasant mistake.  Friend. 
A strange mistake!  Ast. 
'Tis so usual with Lovers, Madam, that I have known some make Love in Jest, till they forget the Occasion.  Fre. (Aside.) 
A touch for me, I must take care— And where it was in the Heart before, Madam, 'tis an easier mistake.  Ast. 
I own it— (Aside to him.) But you do it very Passionately.  Fre. 
I think of you.  Ast. 
You was afraid you should be so awkward.  Fre. 
You can't be jealous—  Ast. 
I don't know what I am, but I'm in pain—  Car. 
The violence of his Love to you made him forget himself—  Friend. 
Very likely, nay, it must be so.  Fre. 
You are generous, Madam, to excuse an unhappy Lover.  Enter Fidelia. Fid. 
Madam, the Chocolate is ready.  Friend. 
Come, come, Cousins all! We'll talk more within— Well, I shan't find in my Heart to let him live in Pain— Poor Man! (Looking on the Glass.) Very well! Mighty pretty! I'm overjoyed!  Exeunt. Enter Clerimont and Doctor, and Drawer with Wine, Table and Chairs. Cle. 
Bring the Wine into this Room, it is more private: soh! leave us— Exit Drawer.  
Now Doctor, you fully know my grief— There's nought without the Compass of your Art— That subtle Art, that pierces deeper than the Skin, and views a Lady's Mind as well as Body; sees all the secret Motions of her Heart, and every Passion there: Can direct their violence, or, if it pleases, make new Impressions— But first your Health— (drinks.) Come, Doctor, this is Physic you may take. Fills.  Dr. 
Sir, I'll do you reason— Sir. (Drinks.)  Cle. 
If one Deity can inspire another, speak my Oracle, shall I live, or die?—  Dr. 
I have told you, Sir, I cannot help you— There's not a Lady at Court would trust me after, Betray the Counsels of my Patients!— Sir, 'Tis from their Opinion of our secrecy we live—  Cle. 
And 'tis from a no less confidence of that virtue in you, Doctor, that I open myself thus, Do ye think a secret of this nature— but, Sir, my service to you— (Drinks.) I assure you, Doctor, if I had not an Opinion of your honour—  Dr. 
You would doubt it very much if I did this, Drinks. 'tis impossible, Sir, I dare not venture. Sees his Hand in his Pocket.  Cle. 
Come, Doctor, you are too Scrupulous— Gives him Money.  Dr. 
Alas, Sir, I would do any thing to serve you— But you can't blame my fears, when my Honour, Fame, and future Fortune depend on the success.  Cle. 
Nay, I must needs commend your caution, and blame myself for not considering that you would use it— But your secret will be safe— It is my interest, and in that Doctor, all Men are sincere.  Dr. 
Worthy, Sir, I am entirely yours, but now, Sir, the first difficulty will be the greatest— How to break it.  Cle. 
Oh! there are a thousand ways— You must think of some Distemper, and prescribe me to her as Physic: She'll take me as a Potion at least, tho' she won't as a Lover— Come, Doctor, here's to her new disease—  Dr. 
You are pleasant, Sir,  Cle. 
If you could but make her Sick in half the time that you have made me well—  Dr. 
I'll pawn my Art for the success.  Cle. 
Why now, my Doctor speaks like the Offspring of Aesculaepius— This indeed is Physic— There's balm in every Word, that new creates my Soul— But, Dear Doctor, let me not delay your Art with praising it— go and be immortal.  Dr. 
I fly; and if I don't effect her way, all my Patients die when I come near 'em—  Cle. 
Or which is as bad— may they all grow well with the first Dose— Few People know the true use of a Physician, were they well applied— But how stubborn this Rascal was, before he felt the Gold— well there's no Cordial like this grand Elixir! This is the true Panacaea! The Food of your Physician, which the unknowing Patint parts with for Drugs and Death— But I must follow him—  Exit. Enter Astrea and Clarinda. Ast. 
Ha! ha! ha! Was there ever such a Monster!  Cla. 
Not to perceive so plain a Cheat—  Ast. 
It was pleasant enough to see how fast she melted, and how much he laboured to prevent it—  Cla. 
But the Beast, in half an hour to consent to Marry him.  Ast. 
Old Women are always tender-hearted, and their Experience makes 'em know how to value Opportunities.  Cla. 
Well, sure I shall never be such a Creature.  Ast. 
You can't tell, Clarinda; for the Opinion of our Beauty is the last thing that leaves us.  Cla. 
I believe indeed a Woman sees her Decays sooner in the men's Faces than her own.  Ast. 
But no Body minds a true Mirror.  Cla. 
Yet sure it must be very unhappy to keep up the Opinion of our Beauty, after every body else has laid it down: And the Humour of the Town is very quick in these Cases, for when a Woman is Thirty—  Ast. 
She grows a very discreet sort of a Body!— Well, it must needs grate a fine Creature, that is just declining, and still perhaps with all her Loeurs glowing in her Thoughts, to see the Tide pass by her, and hear the Mortifying Sound— She was!  Enter Fidelia. Fid. 
Madam, my Lady Dainty is inquiring for your Ladyship.  Ast. 
I hope she will do me the Honour to come up.  Cla. 
My Lady Dainty?  Ast. 
I believe you done't know her Person, but you must her Character.  Cla. 
I warrant this is she that thinks it the truest Mark of Quality to be Nice and Sickly; and is as much afraid of looking well, as other Folks are fond of it.  Ast. 
Many People are Fops in their Mien and Habit, but her Ladyship is so in her Understanding, and takes as much Pains to punish her Inside, as to adorn her Out.  Enter the Lady Dainty. Lad. 
Well, I am the happiest Woman in finding your Ladyship at home!  Ast. 
You do me an Honour— Madam, a Relation of mine.  Lad. 
I shall strive to be of her Acquaintance—  Cla. 
Your Ladyship makes me proud.  Lad. 
I have made at least twenty Visits to day, and not above Ten were at home, which I take to be a great good Fortune, in having my Day's Journey so happily shortened to your Ladyship, for in you I terminate my Evening: And 'tis so blessed a thing to arrive where one loves, after the tedious Endearments of so many one hates in a Day's visiting. Huh! Huh!—  Ast, 
Your Ladyship is certainly the most obliging thing!  Lad. 
Meeting with a Reasonable Creature at last, is like unlacing after being squeezed up in a straight Pair of Boddice. Huh! Huh!  Cla. 
You must needs be very much fatigued.  Lad. 
O quite spent! Not but my Coach is very easy, yet repeating so many How d'ye's in a Day is enough to kill a Horse.  Ast. 
Pray where was your Ladyship last?  Lad. 
Why, Madam, at my Lady Thrivewell's in the City, who knows no other Happiness, and thinks there is no other Welcome but Eating and Drinking! At the Sight of her Table I was ready to swoon, coming out of the Air! Huh!  Ast. 
How was it spread, Madam?  Lad. 
At the upper End sat her Ladyship, and at each Elbow a Daughter with Arms like Ploughmen, and Cheeks like Milkmaids— They were enough to beat one down with their Breath—  Ast. 
Ha, ha! a goodly Appearance!  Lad. 
The Table, (or rather Larder) was filled with Westphalia Hams, Pullet's, and Turkey-Pies; with a great Cheshire Cheese, that rivaled every one in bulk but her Ladyship; and a large Tankard of Ale, enough to destroy a Dozen Porters. Huh! Huh!—  Cla. Ast. 
Ha! ha! ha!  Lad. 
She forced me to sit down, and put enough upon my Plate to serve me my whole Life—  Ast. 
She designed you a Compliment—  Lad. 
To see the Titles of Quality joined with such Mob Dispositions! Well, there's nothing distinguishes the Commons so much as their Eating; and I never knew a true Plebeian but was a hungry— Huh! huh!  Ast. 
Your Ladyship knows the Elegance of Life.  Lad. 
I aim at it a little— But there is one Mark by which you may know such Creatures, tho' you don't see 'em; for it is the most Essential Property of the Vulgar to speak loud; their common Discourse is some Degrees above the Noise of a Drum. For which Reason, when any raises their Voice above a Whisper, I straight conclude, That they are either no Quality, or at most but half Blood; and 'tis likely the Fault might be of the Side of the Mother.  Ast. 
Ha, ha! Your Ladyship is certainly the most entertaining Creature!  Lad. 
But now Ladies, exactly opposite to this, is the Life of the Refined and Well-bred part of the Creation. The Vulgar, like other Beasts, are up and Feeding before it is Day; but about a Delicate Creature every thing is slow and solemn.  Cla. 
The Noises of the Streets, Madam, must be great Enemies to that Quiet.  Lad. 
So great, that I have often wondered why the Government don't provide against so manifest a Barbarism. They should defend our Ears against offensive Sounds, and banish all that had the little Breeding to rise before Eleven a Clock.  Ast. 
I should vote for that Law; for I'm a mighty Friend to my Pillow— But pray, Madam, go on with your Description.  Lad. 
Here then, Ladies, I must needs lament that we are in some respects not unlike the Crowd; And that it is still a Custom among us to go upon our own Legs. I have often admired the Chinese Nobility; who, to prevent the Infamy of so Vulgar an Exercise, contract the Feet of their Infant-Quality, and keep 'em so little, that when they are of Age they may not use 'em; and never cut their Nails that they might not be suspected to work with a Needle— Is it not a Scandal to the Nobles of England, to let a Barbarian transcend 'em in so high a point of Elegance?  Cla. 
That, indeed, is one step to take away the Trouble of moving at all, and make 'em live the Life of a Plant.  Lad. 
Which would be truly, blessed! For methinks People of Quality should be known more by their Passions than their Figure; and that is always a certain Way: For our Joy never rises above a Smile, nor our Sorrow above the Decency and Colour of our Clothes.  Cla. 
So that when a dear Friend dies—  Lad. 
To shed Tears is the Grief of a Peasant.  Cla. 
It discovers our Love at least.  Lad. 
As ill as it does our Breeding; For our Love for the Dead is best shown in our Respect to the Living, and there the Fashion is against it; besides Tears are the worst Wash one can possibly use for the Complexion— Huh, Huh! -- But to make an end of this Subject; There is one thing that more remarkably distinguishes Persons of Rank from the Commons, and that is our Natural Contempt of Business. Now the Vulgar, like a Hackney-Horse, never stir abroad without something to do; and they visit, like a Merchant upon Change, for their Profit more than their Pleasure. But it is a Reproach to the Honour of a Well-bred Woman, to have any thing in her Head but the Fashions, or to know any Fatigue but 〈◊〉 Idleness.  Cla. 
Does your Ladyship never go to the Play?  Lad. 
Often, Madam, but not to mind the Actors, for it is common to love Sights— My great Diversion is to turn my Eyes upon the Middle Gallery;— or when a Citizen crowds herself in among us, 'tis an unspeakable Pleasure to contemplate her Airs and her Dres— And they never escape me; for I am as apprehensive of such Creatures coming near me, as some People are when a Cat is in the Room— Huh! huh! But the Play is begun, and, if you please, we'll leave the Discourse, and go to the Things.  Ast. 
We are glad of the Occasion.  Lad. 
For the Audience is much the more Entertaining Sight, and tho' they call the Stage the Image of the World, yet the Box and the Galleries are certainly the truer Picture; For you may observe, in all Nations, the Mobb, when they please, are uppermost so there.  
Those Greasy Rulers sit above, below  
The Fine-nice-tender-powdered Thing, a Beau.  Exeunt.  

ACT IU.  
SCENE I.  Enter Sir Solomon Empty and Freeman. Sir Sol. 
WHy Tom, as great Capacities are required in a Lover as a Privy Counsellor, and nothing looks so dull in a young Man as not to aim at Intrigue in all he does— my Rule was always to steal in at a Window and out at a Trap-door.  Fre. 
When there is no other way—  Sir Sol. 
Other way! If there was I would not use it— 'tis the Difficulty and the Danger that make it pleasing and like design— I'd come if I could through the Tiles and fall like jove into her Lap.  Fre. 
Such thundering Gamesters as you and jupiter, Sir Solomon maybe pleased with Difficulties, but a Puny Loyer as I am would lose his Stomach if there was any thing to be done but directly falling to—  Sir Sol. 
Well I see Tom, thou hast not a Spirit, a Genius for Intrigue— there is often more Pleasure in the Design than the thing— now should I never rest till I had made the Husband accessary, it sweetens the Stealth, and makes it more secure, or if no Husband a Brother that is Jealous of the Honour of his Family— why Tom, I have employed Fathers and Mothers in this Business!  Fre. 
Nay Sir Solomon, there is none so fit to take care of 'em as they that get 'em.  Sir Sol. 
Ha! ha! My witty Rogue— sure she's mightily pleased with you!  Fre. 
She tells me so.  Sir Sol. 
Ye happy Dog!— but prithee Tom tell me a little more for I love to find my Plots Succeed, what sort of Wench is it— ha!  Fre. 
A Beauty able to renew the long lost Fire in your Heart, and turn you to a Rival.  Sir Sal. 
Egad sirrah, I'd Cuckold ye if I knew her, for this Libel— hah! Hem! I'm as Strong as you are— but no more of that, kneel down and thank me for my Advice— I understand the World Tom! But go on, is she Black or Fair, Tall or Short? Ha!  Fre. 
She's neither, but agreeably divided between 'em all— her Mien is easy without Affectation, and in her Face a pretty Haughtiness appears that melts itself into a Smile, and every Heart that sees it into Love.  Sir Sol. 
But Dear Tom, how was she set off, what Rigging had she? Ha!  Fre. 
I was not so Idle as to make a Critic on her Dress, but I think she had a Yellow Gown—  Sir Sol. 
Yellow Gown!— Pray Heaven it's not my Wife all this time. aside.  Fre. 
Ay Yellow! Why don't you like that Colour?  Sir Sol. 
O very well, very well Tom— Yellow you say? And what else?— it must be she. aside.  Fre. 
And Black upper Petticoat—  Sir Sol. 
Upper Petticoat?— then he has too— aside.  Fre. 
What's the matter Sir Solomon, you're Concerned?  Sir Sol. 
No, no, no, not at all Tom— Black upper Petticoat! aside. you meet her at six you say, Ha! Tom!  Fre. 
Ay, Sir Solomon, there's the Challenge she sent me next my Heart.  gives him a Letter. Sir Sol. Aside 
'Sdeath! this is confirmation! The Gypsies own Hand!  Reads Trembling. The Garden Door— open— and— exactly at six— your—— Expecting Caelia. 
Caelia! Ay that's her Contrivance— Cockatrice! aside.  Fre. Aside. 
There must be something in this Disorder, Clerimont told me he was Married— I have gone too far—  Sir Sol. Aside. 
This is her Devotion! Well I'll know more, and if she has— Ha! Ha! Ha! Tom, this is very kind, you must not disappoint her for the World.  Fre. 
No, Sir Solomon, I'm a Man of Honour— but the unluckyest Dog that ever was. aside.  Enter Clerimont. Cle. 
My Friend and Counsellor, Sir Solomon Empty! Ha! Ha! Ha!  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Ay I have Counselled—  Cler. 
I followed your Instructions and am Happy— I melted the Doctor, and He my Mistress; all her Aversions to me are over, her Puke, her Spleen, her Swound, her Colic! And now I am as welcome and agreeable to her as a Dose of Physic— all this my Counsellor and deep Politician in Love I owe to thy sage Advice— Thou dost indeed understand the World, and in all Love Intrigues I'll be ruled by no other— but what's the matter, are you both Dumb?  Sir Sol. Fre. 
Me?  Sir Sol. 
No, no, I was only thinking of a Business of Freeman's—  Fre. 
Which I must mind Gentlemen, and so your Servant.  Exit. Sir Sol. 
And I too— going.  Cler. 
Hold Sir Solomon you must stay and hear my success.  Sir Sol. 
I can't, I have Business.  Cle. 
A Pox, O' Business— Ha! Ha! Ha! You can't think what a change of Affairs it wrought.  Sir Sol. 
Puh!—  Cle. 
I find the Plain Honest Way never does it, and a Man may throw away as much Money upon a Mistress as a Place at Court, and never be the nearer.  Sir Sol. Aside 
Upper Petticoat!—  Cle. 
A little bribe well Placed— but Sir Solomon methinks you are not pleased enough with the success of your Counsels.  Sir Sol. 
If I an't, I'm in the wrong, for they have took mightily, mightily!  Cle. 
O beyond expectation!  Sir Sol. Aside 
Ay with a Pox!—  Cle. 
She received me with all the Ease and Satisfaction that desiring Lovers use, all her talk was with regard to me and all her Appeals were to me—  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Your Expecting Caelia!—  Cle. 
Could you of Dreamt that it would come to this?  Sir Sol. 
No Faith I could not— not in the least Mr. Clerimont, not in the least!  Cle. 
Why thou deservest a Statue to thy Memory.  Sir Sol. 
I do indeed deserve one—  Cle. 
Thou dost— why some have been worshipped for half thy Sagacity— you don't know yourself.  Sir Sol. 
Yes, yes, I do, I am wiser than ever, Mr. Clerimont, and know myself intimately!— rubbing his forehead.  Cle. 
All the distressed Lovers in Town will fly to you for Succour.  Sir Sol. 
Very likely— The Garden door at Six? Aside.— I won't, I can't, I must not, dare not stay any longer.  Exit. Cle. 
What a Devil's the Matter now? But thou art an Extraordinary old Fellow—  Exit. Enter Careless in Disguise. Car. 
So! My Disguise sits well he'll never know me— now let me consider— what strange Story must I tell him to get him out of the way— but I shan't want invention; I'll tickle his Ears as I used to do the Commisaries when we made up a false Muster.  Exit. Enter Sir Solomon Empty. Sir Sol. 
Jezebel! Harlot! This is her Aversion to Men! Her Praying! Her Piety!— but this is my Advice too. I must be giving Counsel!— hum— Enter Careless.  
But what Fellow's that? I don't like him— he may be a Cuckold-maker too for aught I know.  Car. Aside. 
Here he is, now for my Plot— Sir, Is your Name Sir Solomon Empty?  Sir. Sol. 
Yes 'tis— what then?— Thou art a Rogue I believe. aside.  Car. 
Do you know one Sir Humphrey Afterwit?  Sir Sol. 
Sir Humphrey Afterwit!— No not I— not I Fellow— I know none of your Sir Humpherys— (aside) some poor Dog or other in Prison— there's such new ways of begging since the War—  Car. 
I don't know how 'tis Sir, but he said he was near related to the Family of the Empties, and died at my House Yesterday.  Sir Sol. 
Why then you must bury him Friend— don't trouble me with your dead Men— Upper Pettycoat. aside.  Car. 
But a little before he died, he bid me go to Sir Solomon Empty, and pay him a considerable Sum of Money that he owed him.  Sir Sol. 
Adds me!— Harkee Friend— Sir Humphrey Afterwit!— what an unlucky Brain have I! Ha! ha! ha! My dear Friend— Afterwit! that ever I should be puzzled to remember Thee!— and I protest to you he was as perfectly out of my Head, as if he had never been there.  Car. 
Very likely Sir.  Sir Sol. 
Why we are first Cousens— but he is not dead sure, he can't be dead!  Car. 
Indeed Sir he is— he just came to Town, fell sick and died in two Hours.  Sir Sol. 
Tell me no more! The News goes to my Heart— poor Have— Wit!  Car. 
Sir, he said his Name was Afterwit.  Sir Sol. 
Right, right, Afterwit! But Grief, 'tis Grief makes me forget what I say— I have lost the best Friend!  Car. 
I suppose you know how much it is?  Sir Sol. 
No Friend, I can think of nothing now— poor Numps Dead!— go in and pay it any of my Servants.  Car. 
Sir, he charged me to pay it none but you, and I was afraid to venture so much about me, but if you'll do me the Honour to go to my House.  Sir Sol. 
Well, come le's go then, I shall be out of Pain the sooner— Ho! my dear Friend gone— poor Lackwit.  Exeunt. Enter Freeman and Astrea. Fre. 
Your too great Care has ruined us!— had you not concealed your Name—  Ast. 
Who could ha' thought that Sir Solomon had been your intimate Acquaintance— I never heard him speak of such a Man— but I'm undone, past Redemption lost.  Fre. 
Sure there's a way.  Ast. 
O! none, never think on't— had you not shown the Letter—  Fre. 
That unfortunate Letter!  Ast. 
Cursed Letter!— if you had delayed your Discovery two Hours, I had prevented it by telling you all— I had begun with your Man, and sent him to draw Sir Solomon out of the way, which now I suppose he can't compass— and if you had seen him first.  Fre. 
How unlucky it was!  Ast. 
But we must do something— let me consider— He'll certainly be there— hum— O I have it.  Fre. 
How, how dear Creature!  Ast. 
O! Sir you'll tell.  Fre. 
You are unkind, but I deserve it— yet pray tell me.  Ast. 
I have thought of a Device that must bring us off, let me see the Letter.  Fre. 
Here! here!  Ast. (Reads to herself.) F: (Aside) 
I never knew a Woman plunged at an Excuse; now were I to be hanged, I could not think of an Expedient, I see so many Dangers— but Woman!—  Ast. 
'Tis well— leave me— (gives him back the Letter.)  Fre. 
Must I not know your Plot?  Ast. 
Ask me nothing, but come at the Hour, and behave yourself as you would ha' done, had this not happened; leave the rest to me.  Fre. 
I go.—  Exit Fre. Enter Fidelia. Ast. 
I'm glad you're here; run immediately and call my x—  Exit. Fid. 
I have a thousand Fears— I wish it were over— let me see— she loves him too! it distracts me— was ever Woman so reduced!— but there's no other way. I must lose my Lover or my— Honour! Quiet! every thing! the fame of so much Virtue and be exposed— I can't think on't.  Exit. Enter Careless and Freeman. Car. 
Sir, I plied him every Minute with fresh Stories, and told more lies than are pardoned at a Jubilee.  Fre. 
I am glad they did not, but how came they not to succeed?  Car. 
I can't tell what was in his Head, but I had not got half way when he turned short, and bid me be at home to morrow, for he had extraordinary Business.  Fre. 
Damn his Business.  Car. 
And him too. Sir for a Dog— a French Husband would a been better bred than to look into the Affairs of his Wife— but we have nothing in that Perfection as abroad, and our Cuckolds as well as our Grapes are but half ripened.  Fre. (Looks at him) Car. 
Nay Sir, the things that are most cultivated, our very Fops in England are not to be named with theirs— a true bred English Beau has indeed the Powder, the Essence, the Toothpick, the Snuff-box, and is as Idle, but the fault is in the Flesh, he has not the motion, and looks stiff under all this— Now a French Fop, like a Poet, is born so, and would be known without clothes, it is in his Eyes, his Nose, his Fingers, his Elbows, his Heels; they Dance when they Walk, and sing when they speak—  Fre. 
You're extremely Diverting.  Car. 
I would fain drive this ugly Business out of your Head, for it puts you as much out of humour as a Dun in a Morning.  Fre. 
And as much at a loss, as when I have no Money for him.  Car. 
Never fear Sir, if she has undertaken to bring you off.  Fre. 
Why are you acquainted with her Skill in these Matters?  Car. 
No Sir, but I never knew a Design fail where a Woman was the Engineer— the Plots that don't succeed are made by Men.  Fre. 
Ay, but there is more in that it Thou art aware of— how if it shake my Interest with the Fortune?  Car. 
'Tis impossible, for when once a Woman loves, nothing Cures her but Glutting.  Fre. 
Yet a modest Woman will be startled at such gallantries.  Car. 
In appearance she may, but a wild Man has always their secret approbation, and every Woman has the Vanity to think she can keep him to herself.  Fre. 
doye think so?  Car. 
And hope you'll find so— I never doubt a thing that depends on a Woman's Opinion of herself, for Nature has so ordered it that every one is prepared to believe whatever we can say of 'em.  Fre. 
Did you find her Maid of that Humour?  Car. 
She would not listen to me because she did not like me (I pity her Judgement) but I never knew a Woman refuse a Man that she liked— when they don't Fancy, they are very Saucy and very Virtuous.  Fre. 
Prithee Careless, leave this Libel and Mind the present Business— 'tis pretty near the Time, go to the Mall and wait for orders— you'll find me in this Walk.  Car. 
Yonder's one that will divert you in the mean time, the Charming Mrs. Friendlove.  Fre. 
Her Impertinence was never so unseasonable.  Car. 
Faith Sir, according to the present Posture of Affairs, I fancy she might be very seasonable.  Fre. 
How do ye mean?  Car. 
Why thus;— You are not sure they will succeed in their Plot upon Sir Solomon, now it will at least perplex the Matter if you can draw her thither about that time, to consummate the Wedding that you have put in her Head.  Fre. 
But if they should succeed it might raise new Jealousies in him.  Car. 
To prevent that I may be ready to lead her another way.  Fre. 
I like it, let's meet her.  Exeunt. Enter Lady Dainty, Clarinda and Clerimont. Lad. 
Well, I must confess Mr. Clerimont you are the most Diverting Man in the World, and the best Company when one has taken the Waters, and I have drank Epsome this Morning.  Cla. 
His Discourse Madam; seems more peculiar to a Steel Mineral; for Reproach and Scandal, at which he is very happy, eases us of Spleen and Dissatisfaction with ourselves, and might be very proper to assist the operations of Tunbridge.  Lad. 
You are extremely in the Right, and that must be the reason that makes Tunbridge so Fruitful of Lampoons, for that Mineral not being strong enough to make the crudities of Ill-nature pass, they are forced to bring 'em up in Verse.  Cle. 
Upon which Account Madam, all the Nice Women in the Town go thither to divert their Spleen, and be abused, for Detraction is always so entertaining to the Ladies, that rather than want it they will have it at their own Expense.  Lad. 
Well, you are certainly a Living Lampoon.  Cle. 
Since than Madam, you acknowledge me so Medicinal to you, throw away your Juleps, Cordials, Slops, and take me all at once.  Lad. 
No Mr. Clerimont, that's too Bitter a Potion to be taken so suddenly.  Cle. 
Oh! The rather Madam, the rather; for if you stand making Faces at what goes against you, it does but increase your Aversion and delay the Cure— Come, you must be Advised. presses her.  Lad. 
What mean you Sir?  Cle. 
To banish all your Ails and be myself your universal Medicine.  Lad. 
Impudent robust Man!— I protest did not I know his Relations, I-shoued think his Parents had not lived in Chairs and Coaches, but had used their Limbs all their Lives— Huh! Huh! But I begin to be persuaded Health is a great Blessing— aside.  Cle. 
My Limbs Madam, were conveyed to me from before the use of Chairs and Coaches, and it might lessen the Dignity of my Ancestors not to use 'em as they did.  Lad. 
Was ever such a rude Understanding? To value himself upon the Barbarism of his Forefathers? Indeed I have heard of Kings that were bred to the Plough and fancy you might Descend from such a Race, for you Court as if you were behind one— Huh! Huh! Huh!— to treat a Woman of Quality like an Exchange Wench, and express your Passion with your Arms, unpolished Man!  Cle. 
I was willing Madam, to take from the Vulgar the only desirable thing amongst 'em, and show you how they live so Healthy— for they have no other Remedy.  Lad. 
A very rough Medicine! Huh! Huh!  Cle. 
To those that never took it, it may seem so— pressing her.  Lad. 
Abandoned Ravisher! Leave the room, and see my Face no more—  Cle. (Bows and is going.)— Lad. 
And harkee Sir 〈◊〉 Bribes, no Mediations to my Woman.  Cle. (Bows and sighs.) Lad. 
Thou Profligate! To Hug, To Clasp, To Embrace, And throw your robust Arms about me like a Vulgar and Indelicate! Oh! I faint with Apprehensions of so gross Address.  Cle. 
Oh! My offended Fair!  Lad. 
Inhuman! Ravisher! Oh! He takes her in his Arms and carries her off, she struggling and embracing him.  Clarinda alone. 
Well this is one of the most extraordinary Scenes of Loves I ever saw, I could never think a Woman's Fantask would ever run so high as to oppose her Inclination, and believe her Ladyship would be glad to compound for a little of the Vulgar.  Exit. Enter Friendlove and Maid. The Scene a Dressing Room. Friend. 
Confounded Jade, to stay all this while— I shall be too late— I warrant the Parson has been there this hour, and 'twas never know that they stayed for the Bride— Pin up this Favourite better— Well these Soldiers are dear Creatures and I love 'em all!  Maid. 
They'll think your Ladyship was taken by Storm, to dispatch it so suddenly—  Friend. 
They'll rather commend my Conduct, for yielding before I had distressed the Garrison— (set this Ribbon right)— let foolish Maids squander their time that don't know the use of it, I'll snatch the precious Minutes as they pass, and ne'er stand shilly shally.  Maid. 
Methinks my Lady Empty takes it very patiently.  Friend. 
She dares not do otherwise, for fear I should make Discoveries to Sir Solomon— and truly I think it Just Reprisal, as I used to promote her pleasure, to make her accessary to mine.  Maid. 
'Twas foolishly done in my Opinion, to trust a Gallant so near your Ladyship.  Friend. 
She grew very presuming forsooth, because one or two of her Fellows had the little Sense to prefer her to me— but the Captain knows how to distinguish Women.  Maid. 
He's a fine proper Gentleman.  Friend. 
So he is indeed— nay, we shall be a mighty pretty Couple; but he admires my Wit, it seems, more than my Beauty— Who'd ha' thought a Soldier had such Judgement— (this clumsy Carrian runs the Pins into me.)  Maid. 
Madam, it bent under my Finger.  Friend. 
Bent under your Finger?— make haste— now some People live all their Lives without making any Conquests, yet they Dress and are Pretty Women too, but I can't tell how 'tis, they don't please— there's Mrs. Prim, Mrs. Giggit and Mrs. Saint Looks.  Maid. 
They want the Freedom of your Ladyships Air.  Friend. 
Nay every Body does me the Justice, to say that I have very much of Quality in my Manner— (this new Tower does not please me)  Maid. 
He's violently in Love with you.  Friend. 
I am no less with him.  Maid. 
Before Marriage  Friend. 
Oh! 'Tis not the Fashion after, except among your ordinary People, as my x my Lady Dainty says— no People of Quality go beyond just being Civil to each other, as My Lady, Your Ladyship, Or so— Well, now am I Dressed and going to Execution, but I have resigned myself wholly up to him to do as he pleases, or since it is a sort of War, as he Dares— (going). Add's my Life I forgot my Bridal Garters— O, No they're on, what striving there'll be about 'em and pinching ones Legs? Well this will be a happy Night, a Young Hero and me; that's Courage and Conduct together— well I always observe that those Women are seldom happy that Wed very Young.  
But in the World they never can Miscarry,  
Who at the Years of full Discretion Marry.   

ACT V.  
SCENE I.  Enter Sir Solomon Empty with his Sword drawn. 
Dishonoured, Ruined, Cuckold, and by my own Contrivance? I'll ne'er outlive it— (putting the Sword to his Breast) my Mind misgives me plaguily I shall never have the Heart to do it— oh, commit Murder! I shall never enjoy myself after— I can't do it— well, though I am abused, yet a living Cuckold is better than a Dead one— I see if I had been a rash Man, one of the King's Subjects might have been lost without any regard to his Person— but stay, supposing I should ask myself a few Questions; how am I sure I am a Cuckold?— [changing his Voice.] Oh! Sir, I saw it under her Hand— but Sir Solomon in an Age so full of Plots, how do you know but this may be one to create Diversion?— Pardon me Sir, I see no Colour to take it that way— but 'tis the part of a wise Man to know the bottom before he Determines, and how if Sir Solomon Empty should fix himself somewhere to over hear their Meetings and receive Conviction before he concludes her False—. There you have reason Sir, and Sir Solomon Empty shall do so, but I have no hope, vot the least Glymps of Comfort, Oh Woman, Woman, Devil, Devil!  Exit. Enter Astrea and Clarinda. Ast. 
I confess Clarinda, my proceeding does not look very generous, but if you consult your Heart, you'll find when Love has entered it, 'tis very little in the Power of Reason.  Cla. 
You need no more Apologies methinks, I should ha' done so myself.  Ast. 
You fired me with commending him and Love's a catching Disease,  Sla. 
Well it has gone no farther than this Letter?  Ast. 
You are Jealous?  Cla. 
No I would only find the Temper of the Man.  Ast. 
You need not fear it; there's but one way; Generosity will oblige a Man of Sense, and nothing move a Fool; besides Marriage is a double security, for it not only is apt to make a Man forget his gallantries abroad but renders him less acceptable there.— Few Women choose a Married Man for a Gallant.  Cla. 
Why not, as well as the Men like a Married Woman?  Ast. 
The Cases are very different— for a designing Woman, tho' she has Affairs with twenty Men, desires to keep 'em all to herself but a Man that knows ever so many Women does not care if he never see any of 'em again.  Cla. 
You talk madly; but from that it appears that the Men are the more reasonable, for if those Women had their Desires, in a little time three Parts of the Sex would be forced to die Maids.  Ast. 
To prevent that Calamity Nature, you see, has made the Men very Fickle.  Enter Fidelia. Fid. 
Madam, Sir Solomon is gone into the Garden Room, I saw him look behind the Tapestry, and believe he designs to fix himself there.  Ast. 
Go, watch when he's hid, and tell me.  Exit Fid. Cla. 
Pray let me have my Lesson right— you say I must take this all upon myself.  Ast. 
Very well.  Cla. 
But harkee! How shall I come off with Freeman? He'll make me stand to my Word?  Ast. 
You'll be pleased with that Force.  Cla. 
I must confess I'm very well inclined to him, but I would not go so fast— well I have but one Scruple.  Ast. 
What's that?  Cla. 
I'm afraid I shall be jealous.  Ast. 
I'll soon cure you, and if I get safe over this, will never make another venture.  Cla. 
A very Pious Determination!  Ast. 
You laugh—  Cla. 
For no other reason but because it is my turn.  Ast. 
Not Clarinda that I would have you think that I am just now frighted into this resolution, or that I have taken it up on the sudden but from a long digested Thought of such a Life— for however pleasing it may appear there is something so Disturbed, so Hazardous, so full of Fears and Disappointments; That the faint Pleasures that arise done't half atone for the Anxieties that attend 'em, so that from the sole Motive of good Sense—  Cla. 
We must be Sober— now let me indeed Embrace you: Astrea, I am glad to find a Woman of Wit own it, that reason brings her to the Interests of Virtue.  Enter Fidelia. Fid. 
Madam, the Gentleman is at the Garden-door.  Ast. 
Bid him stay, till he has notice to come in— Exit Fid. now for this one piece of Hypocrisy Clarinda, and then adieu to't.  Exeunt. Sir Solomon stealing in. 
Thus far 'tis well— No Body has seen me come in, and here let me fix myself— (goes near the Scenes) now shall I see with my own Eyes the dishonour of my Family, the Bane of my Quiet! and— but it turns my Head, and I'm resolved to be revenged— ' zbud, I'll have him cut to pieces for a Dog and her Skin pulled over her Ears and hung up in Guild-Hall, as a warning Piece to the rest of the Baggages— But hark, I hear 'em coming— my Heart Sinks, and if it be true I shall run Mad— Ay, now: Enter Astrea and Fidelia.  
I'll watch every Motion—  Ast. 
Are you sure you left the Letter?  Fid. 
Yes Madam.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Very well, this is plain— 'Sdeath I've a Mind to go just now and cut her Throat—  Ast. 
But 'tis hardly six a Clock.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
you're very punctual you Whore—  Ast. 
I'm upon Thorns to see her, for I long to know how far this Business is gone.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Ha! What Business? Well I shall find out the whole knot—  Ast. 
You say he was with her here, last Night?  Fid. 
Yes Madam, and seemed mighty loving.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
I don't know what to make of this— but I must have Patience—  Ast. 
I am extremely concerned at her doing so, for it might ha' drawn a reflection upon me— what would Sir Solomon ha' thought of my conduct if he had found a Man in the House?  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Ha:—  Fid. 
O Madam, she knew Sir Solomon was too well acquainted with your strict Virtue and unblemished Life, to believe any thing to the Prejudice of your Honour.  Ast. 
Indeed I am pretty well assured of my Husband's Love, and 'tis my care next Heaven to deserve it; but the World Fidelia is so full of strange Hypocrisies that such an Accident as this might make him very uneasy.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
I'm in Heaven: My Wife's Honest and I am no Monster,— there must be some mistake in this Letter—  Ast. 
If my x takes these Liberties I must desire her to forbear her visits; for it should be very modest Woman's care to preserve the reputation as well as the Conscience of Innocence, and I would not for all the World have my Fidelity to my Dear Sir Solomon brought in Question.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Poor Fool: If she had heard of my unmerciful resolution to kill myself, 'twou'd ha' broke her heart.  Ast. 
I am ready to sink with Apprehensions of it—  Fid. 
Dear Madam, don't afflict yourself so much, you lay it so near your Heart, 'twill kill you—  Ast. 
Hold me—  Sir Sol. Aside. 
What shall I do? But I must not stir yet—  Fid. 
Oh: My good Lady take Comfort— smell to this Bottle— Oh, Unfortunate Accident, Bear forward dear Madam,— How unhappy would it be now if the most Virtuous Lady in the World, The Glory of all good Women, And Pattern of Chastity, should die here between my Arms: Evil befall Madam, Clarenda for this— to disturb my Lady that is so tender of her Fame and so averse to all such Wicked Practices—  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Ay: So my Dearee is—  Fid. 
Oh, Look up Madam:— Will your Ladyship give me leave to Pinch your Nose to bring you to Life?  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Now could I kick that civil Jade, she can't bring her to Life without asking her leave.  Ast. 
Ho! Ho!  Fid. 
Be Comforted good Madam.  Ast. 
What could we say if Sir Solomon should hear of it? What Excuse could we make?  Fid. 
I can't imagine Madam, for as for myself I could not tell a Lie; No not in very jest.  Ast. 
And as for me Fidelia, I could not forge or report an Untruth, tho' my Life lay on it, and if we can't tell how to hide it, we had better tell him the naked Truth than be catched in a Story.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Poor Fool!—  Fid. 
Be satisfied Madam, Sir Solomon may never know it, or if he should, Heaven I hope will favour the Innocent and direct his Heart to suspect them only that are Guilty.  Ast. 
That may be prayed for, but not hoped, for Sir Solomon is a Man of that nice Discerning and pierces presently into the most difficult Matters, and what interpretation can he make from this; a Man in the House and at so unseasonable a time? It distracts me.  Fid. 
O dear Madam; this is the Gentleman.  Enter Freeman. Ast. Shrieks. Fre. 
Have I surprised you before the time, my Life! My Heaven!  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Villain! Dog! Oh that I durst now run him through the Back—  Fid. Trembling 
Speak him fair Madam, for we are but weak Women and and done't know what he may do to us— he looks like a Cutthroat.  Fre. 
An Age has slipped between me and your Lips.  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Ay, Rogue— but how will it end?—  Ast. 
I am ready to die—  Fre. 
How could you be so surprised my Dear, when you were to expect me at this hour?  Fid. 
Pray Sir keep off, my Lady never saw you or heard of you in her Life.  Fre. 
Good Mrs. Abigail don't you be so quick, your Lady won't tell me so.  Ast. 
Good Sir, go out of my house, you are mistaken and I don't know you, hoe!—  Fre. 
How not know me Madam, when I was here with you but last Night?  Sir Sol. Aside. 
Ha! 〈…〉 done very ill, yet I shall own myself obliged to you, if you pursue your Mistake no farther and leave us.  Fre. 
Nay then I must.— (Puts his Hand in his Pocket.)  Fid. 
O good Madam take care of yourself, he's going to pull out a Pistol— (kneeling) good Sir don't kill us take all we have and spare our Lives.  Sir Sol. (Aside.) 
Ay Lord, what shall I do? I stand just against him.  Fre. 
Yes, yes, Mrs. Airsmock, I'll spare your Lives— but not your Shame, Madam— there's my Invitation, farewell Jilt—  (throws the Letter.) Exit. Ast. 
What's this I see, my Note to my x? how, Fidelia, have you betrayed me?  Fid. (Trembling.) 
I know nothing of it, indeed Madam; I left it at her House, as I hope to be Married.  Sir Sol. (Appearing.) 
Ay, Mrs. Matchiavel, is this your Contrivance? but thus I'll reward you for it. Draws.  Ast. 
O! Sir Solomon, don't kill her, let us first know the bottom— but how came you here?  Sir Sol. 
I saw something towards, and stepped behind the Hangings, and now Astrea I am satisfied of your Honour, and nothing shall make me question it— but this Quean I'll have hanged; corrupt the Wife of my Bosom, and make her false to my Bed!  Enter Clarinda. Cla. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, What's the Matter good People?  Fid. 
O pray Madam, satisfy Sir. Solomon who will kill me else, did not you receive a Note of my Ladies that I left at your House?  Cla. 
Ha, ha, is that all?  Sir Sol. 
That all? ay Madam, and if you are concerned in it, pray let me know the meaning of it.  Cla. 
Indeed Sir Solomon, I am sorry I was not a witness of the Mirth.  Ast. 
Mirth, x? you would ha' been disappointed— but pray bring us out of this Confusion, here has been a Man here that would ha' been very free with me.  Cla. 
Ha, ha, why that's it.  Sir Sol. 
That's it, Madam!  Ast. 
And to justify his coming threw me the Note I had sent to you— I thought I should ha' died, and your Mirth as you call it, might ha' cost me my Life; my Maid murdered, and Sir Solomon remained assured of my Dishonour.  Cla. 
I'm sorry it had so different Effects— I find I am to ask pardon for what I thought you would thank me— but to set all right again, this Gentleman is one that I shall Marry to Morrow, and I thought the occasion of a Wedding, and the season of a Christmas, might justify an innocent Frolic; and observing the Note you sent me this Morning without out a Superscription to be so worded, that it might come from me as well as you, and that there was not so much difference between our Persons and Dress, but might deceive him a Minute or two, and not fail, I thought of making a very ridiculous mistake.  Sir Sol. 
Ha, ha, ha! a very good Plot I' faith, and I'm sorry it did not take; only my Dearee is such a fearful Fool, or it would ha' made good sport— you must know x, I accidentally coming in, had slipped behind the Tapestry and heard all.  Cla. 
Then you had all the pleasure of it to yourself— I designed to be there too, but was interrupted by an impertinent Visitor, my Lady Chatt— but how came your Sword drawn Sir Solomon, you han't killed my Lover?  Sir Sol. 
No, no, no, he went away before— but you must know, as the thing appeared then, I was so foolish as to believe that it was a contrivance of Fidelia's and in the present Passion x, did'nt know what I did—  F.d. (In a low Voice.) 
I'm glad the Truth's come to Light—  Sir Sol. 
But all's well now x, all's well, and I applaud you for your Plot, I always took you for a sly Baggage— but come come, we'll send for the Fiddles, and you for your Lover, for for aught I know, you have lost him— he was plaguily snubbed poor Fellow; come along, we'll have the Business done now— you shan't lose a Night Coz, besides to keep you in Countenance, my Lady Dainty is doing the same thing, and we'll be merry together—  Ast. (Aside to Cla.) 
Rarely come off, the success of this would almost tempt me to break my Vow.  Exeunt. Enter the Lady Dainty and Clerimont. (Hand in Hand) Followed by the Dr. and Attendants with Music, Dancers, etc. Lad. 
Well, there is nothing shows so visibly the remaining Footsteps of our primitive Barbarism as the noise at Weddings; huh! huh!—  Cler. 
It serves to recommend the Pleasures that succeed, and make us taste the Joys of silence with a higher relish— They sit.  
Dr. You'll grieve to see your Art outdone; I bring an approved Remedy.  (A Bridal Song, and after it a Mimic Dance.) Enter Sir Solomon, Astrea, Freeman, Clarinda Sylvia and Servants. Sir Sol. 
My Lady Dainty, I wish you Joy, and you too, dear Clerimont, an Hour hence you may wish it these— we heard of your Ladyship's design for a Wedding-Jigg to Night, and my x and this honest Captain were resolved to compliment your Ladyship, and join in the same Dance— I warrant they shake their Heels rarely.—  Lad. ((Aside to Cler.) 
Methinks the Style of Sir Solomon is very extraordinary.—  Ast. Clar. 
We wish your Ladyship Joy.  Lad. (Aside.) 
I wonder People of any Rank should use such vulgar Salutations.—  Cle. 
You see Sir Solomon the success of your Counsels.  Sir Sol. 
Why every thing I do is lucky— I am the most overjoyed Man o' this side the Globe— but you can't imagine what a sly Rogue the Captain has been in this Matter shall I tell him Tom?  Fre. 
No, Prithee let it alone till after Supper.  Sir Sol. 
Ay you Dog, your Thoughts run upon nothing but after Supper.— But Clerimont, you'll Die with Laughing, such Plots, and Counterplots.— Harkee! Tom, not a word to the Women of our first Contrivance.  Fre. 
No, no.  Sir Sol. 
For if my Dearee should but hear of so irreligious a purpose, it would break her Heart. It seems she is one or other, the most reserved, most pious, of such nice Honour, and the fearfullest Fool,— well, I am the happiest Man in the World.—  Fre. 
In a Wife.  Sir Sol. 
And next to my own Happiness, I must Congratulate my Friends.— Dear Clerimont, I'm overjoyed at thy good Fortune— why thy Wife looks better already— is it not possible to make her speak like one of us?  Cle. 
All things by Degrees, Sir Solomon, I must not over-dose her.  Sir Sol. 
Nothing pleases me so much as to think that all this happened through my Contrivance— Tom, Clerimont.  Fre. 
Thou art a great Man that's certain.  Cle. 
For Intriguing—  Lad. 
Truly Madam I wonder how this Ill-bred Custom prevails among People of Figure? This Singing, this Dancing and this Tumult, is so like the Mob Solemnities of a Mayday, Huh! Huh! Huh!  Clar. 
And the Bride is used just like their Pole, for all the Town to Dance round.  Lad. 
Directly so; well, certainly if it were not for the Pleasure of ruling after, no Woman of Quality would suffer herself to be treated so like a Commoner.  Ast. 
The grosser part of the Ceremony is to come Madam, and that is throwing the Stocking.  Clar. 
That indeed is a thing that insults us so near, that I wonder the Men have not thought it their Interest to lay it down.  Lad. 
I suppose it is to take away the rem in's of Modesty in a Married Woman all at once, for they think that Quality is properly the Virtue of a Maid—  Enter Footman that Whispers Sir Solomon. Sir Sol. 
Tom, take hold of your Mistress, the Parson's in the next Room— let's dispatch that and then for the Supper and then— for the Posset you Rogue!  Enter Careless and Friendlove. Ast. Cla. 
Ha! Ha! Ha!  
This is his contrivance.  Friend. 
x Sir Solomon, I'm your humble Servant, and Miss my x, Clarinda this is very kindly done.  Cle. Aside to Sir Sol. 
what does this old strumpet Mean?  Sir Sol. 
Faith I can't tell I suppose some joke of Freeman's.  Friend. 
My x, my Lady Dainty! This was extemely obliging, to summon all your Friends to the Celebration of our Nuptials— I don't know how I shall be able to return this Favour, but the Captain, Madam, must answer for me—  Lad. 
What Captain, and what Nuptials do you speak of, Mrs. Friendlove?  Friend. 
Your Ladyship has a mind to give me some confusions, but your Ladyship need not be told that in half an Hour at most, my Name it is to be Freeman.  Cle. Sir Sol. 
Freeman!  
— Here's another Plot, another Plot!  Ast. 
Ha! Ha! Ha!  Cla. 
How Madam, are your pretensions to my Husband?  Friend. 
Your Husband?— why— am I deceived then? Miss, Captain, pray speak, am I Cheated? Dear Captain x are you a Rogue? Ha! Are you false to me?  Fre. 
Why what can be said? you stayed so long that I was quite out of Patience, and seeing the Parson, the Music and all things ready, and this Lady in Humour and rather than disappoint my Lady Dainty, I engaged myself here— that's all.  Friend. 
That's all?  Cle. Sir Sol. 
Ha! Ha! Ha!  Friend. 
You false ungrateful Fellow, to serve a Woman of my Relations so. (Aside) But this damned Jade to make me wait so long: She was an hour looking for my false Teeth, if I had lain in 'em as I used to do at my Lady Topers, all had been well— I'll turn her away immediately— but first I wish you all jealous, when you have no reason, and secure when you have, and may every Body think your Wives Handsome, but yourselves; and may your Children be as dull as if they were lawfully begot.  Exit. Cle. 
A heavy Curse.  Sir Sol. 
Farewell Hermaphrodite,— well this is a night of Intrigues, nothing but Stratagems; Tom, I begin to be in Love with myself, when I think I was the first Engineer.  Fre. 
Nay 'twas all your own Contrivance.  Sir Sol. 
All things break out so, luckily: But stay there's Careless left how shall we provide for him, he's a very honest Fellow.  Car. 
Don't Name that Sir Solomon, if you intent to prefer me— but now I have no hopes of being a General, I think I must go into the Country, and be my Elder Brother's Butler.  Sir Sol. 
Ay, thou hadst always a kindness for the Cellar, but if you would make your Fortune under him, get to be his Steward, jack, rather than his Butler, for than you may come to be richer than your Master in a little time if you have any Discretion.  Car. 
Which I never had— but there's another way I like better, if you would promise me your Interest.  Sir Sol. 
If it be not to serve the Court-Party, I promise you.  Car. 
Not in the least 'tis only to persuade that Lady (who I have found is your Relation) to think better of me than I do of myself, and take me for Life.  Sir Sol. 
That's a long Lease, but she has 200 l. a Year to keep it in repair— (Turning to Sylvia) well x, what think you of this Handsome Scoundrel? H'as been a Volunteer a great while, let him now fight under a Commission.  Car. 
You see Madam, how Ominous it was to begin with a Quarrel, I knew 'twould be a Match, by our Scolding before hand.  Syl. 
If we don't after, 'twill be well enough.  Car. 
We must not be singular— now and then 'twill be necessary to be like the rest of the World.  Ast. 
Well Clarinda, I wish you perfect Joy and must own to you, that your life is the Happiest— there all is Quiet, all is Peace, there is nothing to steal the Colour from your Cheeks, or betray you to Surprises, and now I am convinced of the Folly, the Confusion and the Adversity of Mine.  
The Guilty still with anxious Cares are pressed,  
The truly Good alone are truly Blessed.  Exeunt.  

EPILOGUE, By a FRIEND.  Spoken by the Sickly LADY. 
LET none hereafter Plays ungodly call,  
For this was writ to mortify you all.  
No Parson's here exposed, no Brothel stormed,  
But a kind handsome keeping Wife Reformed.  
A sign the Youth the World ne'er understood,  
Or else he would not dare to be so good.  
He must the Fame he aims at quite disown,  
Who draws good Characters to spoil his own.  
This to excuse I thought a Friend he'd need,  
And came— sick as I am, his Cause to plead:  
'Tis the first Visit I protest I've made.  
You're sometimes kind to what I do before you;  
Pity the Youth, for my sake I implore you,  
Hissing to Death my tender Organ Wounds!  
And a sick Ear abhors ungrateful Sounds:  
Yet can Applause though ne'er so loud give Ease,  
For they who flatter Women always please.  
Then vain Assistance will I now explore  
In Physic and Astrology no more.  
You, dear Physicians, must my Health insure,  
And t'other Visit will confirm my Cure;  
Else what's already done— is all in vain,  
And I relapse— till you come here again.  
By you I shall be always to be seen,  
For whate'er ails the sickly Fair within,  
The Doctor at all Seasons is let in.  
FINIS.