COURTSHIP alamode.  
A COMEDY.  
As it is Acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, BY His MAJESTY's Servants.  
Written by Mr. David Craufurd.  〈…〉 Fortunu labori. Virg. Aenei lib. 2. 
LONDON, Printed for J. Barnes at the Crown in the Pall-mall, and E. Rumbal at the Posthouse in Russel-street, in Covent-Garden. 1700.   

To the much honoured JOHN LENEVE, Esquire.  
SIR,  
THIS Play was written by a Gentleman, (my particular Friend) whose Affairs called him into his own Country just as 'twas Acted; and having left the Publishing of it to my Care, I knew not a Nobler way to discharge my Trust, than that of laying the forsaken Infant at your Door, under whose Patronage it may safely venture into the World. The Honour of your House will guard it from the Assaults of Critics, and your Generosity (I hope) will allow it a portion of your Esteem. Your Love to Music is singularly great, and your Skill confessed by the best Masters of the Age. 'Tis reasonably to be supposed then, that you bear no small Affection to its elder Brother Poetry.  
I'm not a Poet, Sir, and therefore won't offer to mention the Beauties, or excuse the Infirmities of this. But since the Town has received it as good, it gave me Courage to lay it at the feet of so great a Judge as yourself.  
In this Dedication, Sir, I find an Happiness of which every Man is conscious; I mean, Sir, I'm freed from the necessity of flattering my Benefactor, and exposing my own weakness. Your Virtues are already sufficiently known, and your great Character exalts you above so mean a want as my Praises. Besides, Sir, I'm no stranger to your Modesty. My business then is only to beg your Pardon for this Presumption, and to make a public Acknowledgement of those many Favours I have received from you. I know this is not the way to balance 'em, the Sum already exceeds my Stock, and I must of necessity add to the Score, by begging the honour of subscribing myself,  
SIR, Your much Obliged, and Very humble Servant, Will. Pinkethman.   

THE PREFACE.  
THIS Play was so long expected ere it came into the World, that I'm obliged in Justice to myself, to excuse its appearance at a time when there were scarce Witnesses in Town of its Birth.  
It was entered in the other House, where Mr. Betterton did me all the Justice I could indeed reasonably hope for. But that Example he gave, was not it seems to be followed by the whole Company, since 'tis known that Mr. Bowman (I mention his Name to keep the reflection from other sharers) kept the first Character of my Play six weeks, and then could hardly read six lines on't. How far that way of management makes of late for the Interest and Honour of that House, is easy to be judged. Some who valued their reputations more, were indeed rarely or never absent. To these I gave my thanks; but finding that six or seven people could not perform what was designed for fifteen, I was obliged to remove it after so many shame Rehearsals, and in two days it got footing upon the other Stage. Where 'twas immediately cast to the best Advantage, and Played in less than twenty days. How far it answered their labours, I leave to be judged by themselves. Their Care and Readiness is confessed by every Man, tho', at the same time 'tis not to be supposed, that they act any Plays without a prospect of pleasing the Town, of whose favour they justly stand possessed. What justice I had done me in the public Performance, is very well demonstratted by my Success.  
That Decoy so often receives money, is by some I find reputed a fault. Women of her profession do nothing without the ready pay. And let it be supposed that she gets too much, 'tis but to raise the Character, and expose those Cheats to better purpose. For you see, that notwithstanding of the gentlemen's Liberality, she's false to their Interests, and owns that she's honest, only because she could hope no benefit by being otherwise; and indeed had she balked them at last, 'tis not to be thought they would have trusted again to her fair promises.  
That the Ladies give her Money, derogates nothing from that respect I owe to the Fair Sex. Because 'tis certain, there would be no Decoys, if some young Women did not entertain 'em; and tho' indeed it ne'er had been practised, (and I'm half persuaded that it may be so) yet it was necessary upon the Stage. For what's Scandalous there, must needs be so in the Closet too; and by representing it as real in Public, 'twill induce some to discourage those insinuating old Seducers, lest the World should think they actually bribed them to hunt for Husbands, when they are only passive in the matter.  
That Freelove is so easily Cozened is very pardonable. He durst not stay to examine her Fortune, lest he had exposed the weakness of his own; and she lying under the same hazard, a speedy Marriage Naturally followed.  
I've made Willie a downright ignorant Clown, therefore— But stay, lest I should be thought to mimic one of my own Characters, and fight without an Adversary, I lay aside the trouble of apologizing any farther. The Town received my Play, and my Letters of Amours containing the Unfortunate Duchess, etc. with more favour than perhaps either of them merited, and I've Reason to be very well satisfied with my fortune in my first Essays, and the more, because I writ this Comedy in ten successive Mornings. Besides being a Stranger, and absent, the Critics can't in honour attack me, for as I have done it in my Book, so here too I claim the privilege of a dead Author.   

PROLOGUE, Written by Mr. Farquhar, and spoken by Mr. powel.  
THE business of a Prologue, who can say?  
I think it has no business in a Play:  
For if the Play be good it need not crave it;  
If bad, no Prologue on the Earth can save it.  
But you plead Custom for this needless Evil,  
Custom! why ay, this Custom is the Devil.  
For Custom chiefly all our Ills insures;  
'Tis Custom makes Men Knaves, and Women— s.  
You know the Rhyme, if not, let each Man ask  
His pretty little Neighbour in a Mask.  
Custom makes Actors, Poets keep a pother,  
And Custom starves the one, and damns the other.  
Custom makes Modern Critics snarl and bite,  
And 'tis a very evil Custom makes 'em write.  
'Tis Custom brings the Spark to Sylvia's Lap,  
Custom undresses him, and Custom gives a Clap.  
Why Poets write ill Plays, why Maids miscarry,  
Ask why Beaux paint, they'll say 'tis Customary.  
Custom makes modern Wives break Marriage Vows,  
And Custom damns most Plays at t'other House.  
'Tis Custom makes our Infant Author fear,  
And we plead Custom for your Kindness here.   

dramatis Personae.  
Sir John Winmore by Mr. Powel. Capt. Bellair Mr. Wilks. Sir Authony Addle Mr. Norris. Dick Addle Mr. Pinkethman. Freelove Mr. Mills. Alderman Choleric Mr. Johnson. Ned Choleric Mr. Toms. Willie Mr. Bullock. Scowrer Mr. Fairbank. 
WOMEN.  Flora by Mrs. Rogers. Melintha Mrs. Moor. Decoy Mrs. powel. Timandra Mrs. Temple. Lucy Mrs. Kent. Betty Mrs Baker.  
Drawer, Servants, etc.  
Scene LONDON.   

Courtship Alamode.  
A COMEDY.  


ACT I. SCENE I.  The Curtain drawn discovers Sir John Winmore in his Nightgown. [Solus. Sir Jo. 
GREAT Joys and Small Allays consumed the Night, And peeping day proved hateful to the sight.— Oh Heavens! The inexpressible Pleasure of being with those we Love— yet 'tis dangerous to think upon't, a Man may lose himself in thought, and commit a Rape by the mere force of Imagination— Hoa! who waits there?— My clothes, Sirrah,— Has Madam Decoy been here this morning?  Enter Scowrer. [Aside. Sco. 
No, Sir— would the Devil had her.  Sir Joh. 
Sure I heard a whispering in the other Room an hour ago; you had not a Wench there?  Sco. 
Yes faith, Sir; Betty came to wait upon you,— there's a Letter from her Mistress.  Sir Jo. 
— Reads.— Pox on't, 'tis so ill writ a Conjurer could hardly read it.  Sco. 
Sir, if you please,— I'm perfectly versed in a Woman's way of writing.  Sir Jo. 
No more on't; I hate such nauseous Stuff:— Does she wait for an Answer?  Sco. 
Yes, Sir; and expects you'll return it in Person.  Sir Jo. 
Then bring her in.—  [Exit. Scowrer. 
Well, I bless my kind Stars, I'm now in a hopeful way towards a Reformation, and, if Timandra prove kind, I shall have no such unwelcome Guests at my Levee: A Letter from a Stale Mistress is downright Physic to 〈◊〉 Mind; it puts us out of all order, and makes us Sick at the heart; 〈◊〉 grad●● removes the Disease, and powerfully works us into a Love 〈◊〉 of better health.— Fortune's a Bitch that brought her so soon, or 〈◊〉 me so long at home; for a Dun of any kind never fails to spoil a 〈◊〉 Stomach for his Dinner— well, Child, thy business,— I'm 〈◊〉 haste?  Re-enter Scowrer with Betty. Betty. 
You have read the Letter, I hope, Sir John?  Sir Jo. 
Yes, yes; have you any thing else to say?  Bet. 
My Mistress, Sir, is almost dead with grief; your unkindness (she says) will certainly kill her.  Sir Jo. 
Grief's a Disease of which few Women die.  Bet. 
Sure, Sir John, she's—  Sir Jo. 
Very troublesome.  Sco. 
Gad take me, Sir, had you seen how she looked t'other day— Why, Venus was a Dowdy to her.  Bet. 
She thought Sir John Winmore had been,—  Sir Joh. 
Still a Fool. But she's mistaken; go home and tell her, I'm grown wise.  Bet. 
Lord, Sir, what do ye mean? is this the Reward of constant Love? her heart was ever yours; and you know when my Lord Wanton offered her two hundred Guineas for her Maidenhead five years after she had lost it, she refused the offer. Well, Sir John, I'll say no more;— But if you knew her heart—  Sir Jo. 
Come, come, pray thee be gone; I have no Money to lay out upon the repair of hearts, and without that I know I must inevitably lose Possession; if the young Lord would have bought a Second hand Maidenhead for a new one, she was a Stubborn Fool that refused so kind a Customer— Sirrah, guard my doors better next morning, or—  Bet. 
Well Sir, a good morning t'ye; you may live a hundred years ere you find such another kind Fool.  [Exit. Sir Jo. 
I'm glad she's gone; this usage, I hope, will teach her Mistress not to plague me with her damned impertinent scrawls for the future. A Whore is the most miserable Creature on Earth; if she's modest, she starves; if impudent, she's hated.  Sco. 
Lord, Sir, I hope you are not virtuously in Love with some Phlegmatic Wench or other, whose cold Constitution of Body makes her honest in spite of herself.  Sir Jo. 
If I am, what then?  Sco. 
Why then you are lost, Sir, that's all; irrecoverably lost! Lucy's ruined, Olivia will want a Friend, Mrs. Francklove a Customer, and Madam Caterer the support of her Family,— Hang me, Sir, if I could not weep for the sufferings of so many sweet young Sinners.  Sir Jo. 
Ay, but if thou knewest Timandra.— Oh! she's charming to a miracle!  Sco. 
Ay, Sir, and so is Lucy.  Sir Jo. 
She's witty.  Sco. 
Well, and so is she.  Sir Jo. 
But above all, she's virtuous.  Sco. 
For want of opportunity (it may be) to be otherwise.  Sir Jo. 
Howe'er, I love her for that; the word Virtue has a Noble sound in't that charms my very Soul.  Sco. 
By your leave, Sir, could you love her now if she were ugly?  Sir Jo. 
I think so,— yet am not sure if my Passion has reached that height. But Heaven and Nature seldom Jar in the distribution of their Gifts, and the outside often tells us what to expect within.  Sco. 
Why faith, Sir, and I have known many a Gentleman mistake his Marks, and undergo the Penance of a Sweating-Tub for his Sin of Ignorance. Have you considered the state of Matrimony, the Plague of that dull insipid Partner of your bed, distinguished by the name of Wife; from that charming easy loving kind thing, called a Mistress?  Sir Jo. 
I'll have no more of your Instructions; honest Love is a blessing that only attends generous Spirits; such as thou art, cannot know't.— Ha, my dear Bellair! by my hopes of good fortune, I'm glad to see thee,— What news from the North?  Enter Capt. Bellair. Capt. 
Why faith I've got none; I rid post to York, dispatched what business called me thither, remembered I had left the best of Friends behind me, and returned for London as soon as possible, to enjoy his Conversation.  Sir Jo. 
Use me then like a Friend, and say, had you no other motive, was't Sir John Winmore only who brought you so suddenly from the Country?  Capt. 
I must confess the Fair Sex shares the Compliment; I left one here, whose power exceeds that of the World's mighty Conqueror, her Charms are of force to drag anew Diogenes from his Tub, teach the rugged old Cynic to abandon dull Philosophy, contemn his Books, and soothing Contemplations, to read his better Fortune in her Eyes; no wonder than she has so strong an influence on such a one as I am— plain flesh and blood, no Philosopher, and a mere Stranger to Mortification.  Sco. 
Hang Mortification; the old Doatards, whose Veins are frozen, make use on't to whip themselves into a good humour.  Capt. 
It was always a mortal Enemy to men of thy Vocation.  Sir Jo. 
Pray thee tell me the Name of this Fair One; I know thee a Rover, and sure she's very beautiful, to whom thou art become so much a Prisoner.  Capt. 
Beautiful! believe me, I think her something more than Humane.  Sco. 
That may be, for some Women have much of the Old Serpent in 'em.  [Exit. Sir Jo. 
Her Name, Captain!  Capt. 
She's known by the Name of Flora, younger Daughter to Sir Anthony Addle.  Sir Jo. 
Is she kind?  Capt. 
Hitherto I've found no Arguments for despair; but the Old Man guards this Jewel with more Eyes than Argus e'er possessed; and 'tis no less difficult to see her, than 'twas for Jason to purchase the Golden Fleece.  Sir Jo. 
I'm glad thou hast towered in the open air so long, to perch at last upon so sweet a prey; I'll help thee to a Medea whose cunning Arts shall blind the old Dragon.  Re-enter Scowrer. Sco. 
Sir, Madam Decoy waits in the other Room.  Sir Jo. 
Then tell her I wait for her in this— This, Captain, is the Enchantress I mentioned, and she's opportunely come.  Capt. 
What is she of Quality? or an honest plain Mother? that helps a distressed Brother to a charitable Sister in time of Necessity.  Sir Jo. 
No, she's a Woman of a Modern Employment, by some allowed for honest, but by the wise esteemed indeed an honourable Bawd; 'tis hard to define her business; she's one who buys and sells Women, is adored by Girls of sixteen, and is the Coy-Duck that wheedles Youth into the Trap of Matrimony.  Sco. 
Ay, the Devil take her, Pimps starved ever since Bawds, under a new Name, engrossed the whole Trade of the Nation— But hang her, I must call her in.  [Exit. Sir Jo. 
She's of an universal acquaintance, can Judge of a Fortune to a Sixpence, offers her Service frankly, intrudes herself into any Family, scorns the Title of her Profession, yet takes the Profit, and in spite of her Modesty, owns herself a— Matchmaker.  Capt. 
I've heard of these Matrimony Merchants, or Marriage-Brokers— but stay, she comes.  Re-enter Scowrer, with Decoy. Sir Jo. 
Madam, your humble Servant.  De. 
Yours, Sir John— have you any Commands for me? You know I'm always ready to yield a blind obedience.  Sir Jo. 
Madam, I have no cause to suspect your Friendship; but is't not possible for me to see the Lady this day?  De. 
Truly, Sir, I'll do my endeavour. The Alderman is not at home, and I am going this Instant to Sir Anthony's.  Sir Jo. 
This Gentleman is my Friend, you'll oblige me in serving him, Sir Anthony's Youngest Daughter is the Object of his Wishes; you know what follows, and pray, Madam, accept of this; 'tis good to refresh a bad Memory.  [Gives Money. Capt. 
I presume to trouble you, Madam, with the delivery of this Billet-deux; I had it ready writ, but knew not well how to convey it handsomely to her; The Postage will show how much I value the favour.  [Gives a Letter and Money. De. 
O Dear Sir, your humble Servant; your business shall be done. Well, Sir John, where shall I send a Note to you in the Afternoon?  Sir Jo. 
At the young Devil.  De. 
Well then, dear Gentlemen, adieu: Your affairs shall be managed, as if they were my own.  [Exit. Sco. 
Damn the old Jade, how easily she gets her Money; would I were beneath a Petticoat for the sake of her Employment.  [Exit. Sir Jo. 
This Woman is Alderman Chollerick's Housekeeper, particularly acquainted with thy Mistress, and her service is no less than absolutely necessary; I know 'tis beneath a Gentleman, to use the Interest of a ragged old Bawd to promote his Suit; but on the other hand I Remember, that the deluded Rabble ne'er relied more on the Cant and pretended Prophecies of their Fanatic Tub Preachers, than some young Women do upon these undermining Cheats— How now, any body below?  Re-enter Scowrer. Sco. 
Yes, Alderman Choleric, Sir; he designs to buy this House, and therefore must survey your Chamber, your Closet, your Dining-Room, and know their Longitudes and Latitudes.  Sir Jo. 
He's my Mistress's Uncle, tho' none of my acquaintance.  Capt. 
Shall I leave you then, Sir John?  Sir Jo. 
No, Stay and see this old Curmudgeon, he Courts Sir Anthony's Eldest Daughter, and plagues the poor Girl with Love and fire, which, in his Mouth, sounds as unnaturally, as Divinity in the Mouth of an Atheist, Conscience in that of a Lawyer, or Plain-dealing in a Courtier. Admit him, Sirrah.  [Exit. Scowrer. Capt. 
Nay now I remember him, and take this for a Mark of my knowledge; he's covetous to Excess, passionate even to madness, and has been often cudgeled in the streets by Beggars, who from his clothes judged him a Brother Mumper. Nature made him in a freak, when irresolute what to do, she designed a Monkey, than a Man, at last, (while she laughed too heartily at the wild medley) he slipped through her tardy fingers, made of both, and started into a Monster, to promote her mirth— But see, he comes.  Enter Alderman Choleric and Scowrer. Choll. 
G'morrow, Gentlemen, g'morrow,— a good House; a large House, well painted, yet not so very convenient as that one I have in the Country.  Sir Jo. 
We'll invite him to a Glass, that we may divert ourselves with the old Churl.  Capt. 
I suppose his clothes were made in the first year of the last Century.  Choll. 
Let me see, let me see— I'll give but five Years purchase for't. 'Tis a dear ground-rent; but no matter— g'morrow Gentlemen; g'morrow.  Sir Jo. 
Will you be pleased, Sir, to stay and take—  Choll. 
What, Sir?  Sir Jo. 
A Morning's draught.  Choll. 
Where is it? I'm in haste, look ye, d'ye see.  Sir Jo. 
Scowrer, quick— a Bottle— Come, a health to your Mistress, Sir,— I presume you're a Bachelor.  Choll. 
It may be I am, and it may be not; what then, Sir, ha?  Capt. 
I hope you're in a good humour, Sir.  Choll. 
Am I, Sir?  Capt. 
I hope So, Sir; I've the good Fortune to be acquainted with a Relation of yours.  Choll. 
Have you, Sir, pray who's that? Ha, what is he? look ye—  Capt. 
Your Nephew, Sir Thomas Chollerick's Son.  Choll. 
Very good; then look ye, d'ye see, Sir, he's one Rogue, and you're another; and so farewell and be hanged together—  [Exit muttering. Capt. 
Ha, ha, ha, 'tis a tasty old Fool.  Sir Jo. 
He's a Fool of the last Age; for no man is wise in this, unless he can save his own Money, and rook his Neighbours into the Bargain, live miserably, and deny himself the common necessaries for support of life— Ha, welcome Ned, thy Uncle is just now gone out.  Enter Ned Choleric. Capt. 
Is Melintha kind, Ned?  Ned. 
I have as yet found no ground for just complaint.  Sir Jo. 
I suppose thy Uncle is become thy Rival, his Humour speaks him Jealous.  Capt. 
I hope he won't ride thee out of thy Stirrups?  Ned. 
Faith I am not sure, unless I were once in the Saddle.  Capt. 
And if thou art cast then, 'twill speak thee a weak Horseman.  Sir Jo. 
Yes, and his Head will suffer for the failings of his Body.  Ned. 
Not so fast, Gentlemen; I presume, Captain, you design to have a Branch off the same Stock with mine; you run the same hazard too.  Capt. 
I do so; and all of us run a hazard; yet for such a Prize as Flora, who would not venture? I'd do like the Philosopher, who threw himself into the Sea, because he could not discover the Cause of its Ebb and Reflux.  Ned. 
You're resolved upon a practical discovery of the Terra Incognita then?  Sir Jo. 
And I have known men ruined by such a Voyage; some of 'em return, 'tis true; but then they're old ere the day of Jubilee arrive; besides, they look like Skeletons, or that which once was man.  Ned. 
Ay, and so disfigured, you'll hardly find a Nose upon their Faces, unless they be of the Goldsmith's making.  Capt. 
That is only when there is a non exeal regnum against him.  Ned. 
And that is when he goes abroad, or travels in a strange Country, without a passport from the Church.  Capt. 
And then 'tis reasonable he should be apprehended and committed.  Sir Jo. 
And then some ignorant Quack is Judge, Jailor, and Executioner; and ten to one has the Cruelty to keep him eight or nine Weeks on the rack.  Ned. 
And when at liberty again, the poor Malefactor is scarce able to hang together, he totters on the Streets, as if his bones were linked with wires.  Sir Jo. 
Well, after all, 'tis good be wise; we have shared in the follies of the Age too long, and 'tis fitting we throw off the burden; thy Sister, Ned, has made me virtuous, for now I love her, I can be no more a wanderer— How, Freelove here too?  Enter Freelove. Free. 
I'm your humble Servant, Sir John; and yours, Captain; you're welcome to Town— I drunk a Bottle t'other day with our Friend Ned here; but he seems so much inclined to honesty of late, he's scarce fit for this World.  Sir Jo. 
A good Character, and I'm sorry he can't give the same of you.  Free. 
Nay, Gentlemen, if you are all become honest, I'm too long amongst ye.  Capt. 
How, Jack, going already!  Sir Jo. 
Some unthinking Citizen will be a Sufferer ere night.  Free. 
I'm afraid I must bid you farewell.  Sir Joh. 
What the Devil is the matter? is this a day of business?  Free. 
No faith, I've no Plot to carry on, the Women—  Ned. 
Plot for thee and themselves too; they're always good at intriguing.  Free. 
Gad, 'tis good they are so; for I'm as dull a Dog sometimes, as any in Europe.  Capt. 
And what's become of the Apothecary's Wife?  Free. 
She's lost; the cunning Jilt betrayed me to her Husband; for one night as in Bed they lay, she wept, begged Heaven's pardon, and his, and, unasked, confessed her lewd Practices; sighed again, and then swore eternal Loyalty; when at the same time all this was but a fetch to gain more Credit, and make way for a new Favourite that supplied my place.  Omn. 
Ha, ha, ha!  Sir Jo. 
Is the Goldsmith's Wife lost too, Jack?  Free. 
Yes faith, after a Month's Trial, she weighed me in the Scales with (that massy lump of ill-shaped Clay) her Husband, and finding I was some grains too light, she threw me aside.  Ned. 
Would she not take thee for Bullion?  Free. 
No, your married women are always for ready Coin; and my stock being exhausted, she would not bargain; for the old Fox, her Husband, could lend but little to my assistance.  Capt. 
Now thou look'st red and plump, like a young Chaplain after a good Christmas, or his Lord's Marriage. I hope thou hast got a Mint of thy own.  Free. 
A large Treasury may soon be spent, when 'tis in the Hands of an Extravagant Master.  Sir Jo. 
Then the only way is to diet thyself; for while you run from one Ordinary to another, you are often obliged to spend double; at home you fall not into Temptation, and your Cash is only laid out upon things wholly necessary.  Ned. 
Besides, you'll have something to spare for a Friend by the by.  Free. 
Yes, faith, if I confine myself to one dish at home, I shall be able to provide half a Score of my Neighbours with my latter Meat. And ●is but reasonable, you know, that when my Appetite is cloyed, I could let it be dealt out amongst those in want.  Capt. 
Your past Poverty, I find, has taught you too much Charity.  Sir Jo. 
Nay rather his past Thefts make him suspect others.  Free. 
I confess a Shop-lifter, when posted in a House of his own, has most reason to be afraid of losing his Goods.  Ned. 
The Case altars very much, Jack.  Free. 
I own it does; for Husbands are ill Book-keepers, rob them handsomely to night, and they won't find out the loss next morning.  Capt. 
That's only when they have more lying upon their hands, than they can conveniently make use of.  Free. 
Ay, there 'tis, many ruin themselves by too much business, and which is worse, are obliged to take a great Shop at a venture— And it may be they have little or nothing to put into't.  Sir Jo. 
In such cases a discreet Landlord will give an ease.  Free. 
Nay, the only Relief to be found is, when some young Merchant Sets up in the half of your Shop, and bears an equal share in the payment of the Rent.  Ned. 
Sir John, I'm afraid we shan't have the Honour of a Proselyte.  Free. 
No faith, Gentlemen, I'm not to be so easily fettered; and then lie grinning like a Monkey in a Chain, and gnawing the very Clog to which I'm tied— Can you instruct me how or where to find the Uncle of your Mistress? I've a Bill of forty Pounds upon the Caitiff.  Sir Jo. 
You'll find his Housekeeper at Sir Anthony Addle's, she no doubt can inform you,— Let's see thee after dinner, at our usual place of Randezvous; you know the Hour?  Free. 
I will.— Your Servant, Gentlemen.  [Exit. Sir Jo. 
Come, my Friends, I love to tread the Mall once a day, let's to the Park then, and find a Friend or two more to dine with us.  Capt. 
We wait upon you, Sir John.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  
Sir Anthony's House.  Enter Flora and Melintha. Flo. 
Pray thee, Sister, let me laugh, ha, ha, ha? Sure this old Lover's Charms are of force to create thy mirth! 'Twas a lovely sight, when the greasy old Fox, caught thee in his Arms, me thought you looked like a Lamb in the paws of a Wolf, and his bristly Beard very much resembled the back of a Hedgehog— D'ye love him, Sister?  Mel. 
What if I do?  Flo. 
Nothing at all!— A handsome Bed-fellow only, and clean a as Lamp-Scowrer; bedawed with Oil, the Badge of his Office,— But you rely upon the Nephew.  Mel. 
He's equally indifferent to me, as the Alderman.  Flo. 
Poor Girl, how cold she is! the young, and the old, the ugly, the handsome, the rich, and the poor, are all one to her, she makes no difference; tho' Heaven and Nature have done it before hand! well, Melintha, believe me, I'm of another opinion, I love the airy, the brisk, the complaisant; in a word, I love Youth and Wit; and where those are wanting, a Spark may sit whining at home, writing dull Songs, and playing the Romantic Lover— I would laugh at his melancholy madness.  Mel. 
Would you contribute nothing to the increase of his Distemper?  Flo. 
How?  Mel. 
Smile upon him when he entered, frown when he stays, yet give him a languishing look at parting; tell all his faults to the next cringing Fool that supplied his place, his to the third, and so go on, till you had acquainted every Fop with the Qualities of his Brother, while each of them laughs at the other's weakness, without remembering his own.  Flo. 
No, my Father allows me no such Liberties; and tho' I were this moment Mistress of myself and Fortune, I'd bestow both on some desering Youth, whose Merits exceed his Estate. I hate a reservedness equal to a Penance; good Breeding seldom appears, and good Nature for want of use grows rusty.  Mel. 
What think you of Captain Bellair? Sir Harry Bellair's only Son.  Flo. 
I suppose he bears a Commission, not out of mere love to the Profits of his Post, but to serve his Prince and Country; and has too much of Honour to be Mercenary.  Mel. 
He's the gay, the airy, the brisk, the Complaisant, the youthful, witty, Captain Bellair, this is the Man on whom you would bestow yourself— is't not so?  Flo. 
Why faith, Sister, I own he's a witty Gentleman; but my Esteem is not yet arrived to Love; and I praised the Man because—  Mel. 
You love him.  Flo. 
No: because I—  Mel. 
Admire his Shape, his good Air, or the like;— It must be so.  Flo. 
Why, on my Conscience, without further Ceremony, I believe you've hit the Mark; for I think I do not— hate him.  Mel. 
And are not you ashamed, Sister, (when you remember your years) to own a tenderness for a Man?— Lord bless me, what will this Age come to?  Flo. 
And truly, Sister, you speak as if you had forgot yourself; three years are now gone since I knew you in Love with Ned Choleric, and how much are you older than I am?— About a year and and a half.  [Sings. 
Occasion's swift, and bald behind,  
Let's catch her as she runs along;  
She seldom, seldom turns again,  
And leaves us always in the wrong.  
Then let's be merry whilst we may,  
And drive all careful thoughts away,  
For Age will ne'er the loss repay.  
Enter Sir Anthony.  
Ha! My Father here!  Sir Anth. 
I profess the Girl has no Taxes to pay, no Family to provide for, and therefore may be easy in her Mind.— Well, Daughter, you have seen my Neighbour the Alderman, he'll prove no doubt a very good Husband.  Flo. 
A very peaceable one I suppose, for if my Sister is good Natured all day, he'll repay the Compliment at night, and ne'er disturb her rest, unless it be with unseasonable coughing.  1Sir Anth. 
Well, well, Hussie; he's a saving Man, and may in time be Lord Mayor— I warrant him worth forty thousand Pounds—  Flo. 
Why, Sir, forty thousand Pounds?— 'Tis not above three years since he Swore himself not worth five, to avoid the Expenses and Trouble of being Sherriff.  Sir Anth. 
Ay that might be, because he was not married— I did so myself.  Flo. 
Well, Sir, and done't you think it a great Crime?— Bless me, Sir,— Perjury.  Sir Anth. 
No matter, no matter for that, I say; 'twas to save Expenses, and shun a troublesome Office; five hundred Pounds is a great Mulct; the Man is nothing the worse for that; let me see— He's passionate and addicted to anger, that's true; but then again he's a Man of Principles, he can pray an hour, nay upon occasion (tho' he was not bred a Scholar) he could hold forth two hours— He's old, then by consequence wise, for Experience is the Mother of knowledge,— He's Covetous, why that's a Virtue, Money is the great Machine by which men mount to Honour; and he that holds most on't gets soonest up— But if the Man were Married, he'd mount every day; Women are the forerunners of Preferment, and an handsome young Wife has exalted many a Citizen, since I can remember.  Flo. 
I believe that, Sir; and if he were my Husband, 'tis ten to one I should prefer him.  Sir Anth. 
How, Hussie! would you be so impudent? Body o'me, the Girl's become wanton; make an Alderman a Cuckold! Sincerely speaking, this Language is not to be suffered,— Let me come at her.  Mel. 
For shame, Sister— forbear— my Father's out of humour.  Sir Anth. 
A Saucy young— But 'tis no matter, the Man is for you, and I say, think well of him.  Mel. 
Sir, 'twas always my Study to show myself obedient.  Flo. 
Do so, Sister, Marry this old Trunk of a Man, an Alderman in Effigy; Aesop compared to him appears graceful; the Monster in the Tempest— why he's a Beau to him.  Sir Anth 
Well, Melintha is riper in years, and Mistress of more discretion; she knows no doubt better how to weigh his Merit— In the mean time, your Brother Dick is arrived from the University, and in a few days he shall be Married to the Alderman's Niece.  Flo. 
I hope you know of a Husband for me too, Sir.  Sir Anth. 
For you, young Gentlewoman! No, you'll prefer him, forsooth— you shall live with me, to save the Charges of a Housekeeper, and when I die, that is if you behave yourself like my Daughter, that is virtuously, I'll leave you a Fortune shall prefer you to Quality.  Flo. 
Delays are dangerous, and I'm resolved to be before hand with ye, if my Captain do not fail me.  [Aside. Mel. 
Have you allowed my Brother a new Suit of fashionable clothes? Timandra, I suppose, is not of her Uncle's humour.  Sir Anth. 
You say right; and tho' the young Man looks handsome in any clothes, I've sent my own Tailor, Mr. Filcher, to Long-Lane, with Orders to expend five Pounds, and in an hour's time to fit them exactly for his Body; clothes ready made are cheapest.  Flo. 
Ha, ha, ha, five pounds is little enough to provide him in clean Gloves.  Sir Anth. 
Clean Gloves! why what of Gloves! I've worn these a Year and a half.  Mel. 
Sir there are Young Merchants upon the Exchange who have new ones every day.  Sir Anth. 
That may be, and old Merchants pay for them; a young Fellow appears to day, gay as the rising Sun, trusted by Fools, and admired by those who know him not; next day he's gone, and hunted (like a Fox) by deep Scented Bailiffs and incensed Creditors.  Flo. 
Well, Sir, and if old Merchants pay for them, young Lords and raw Country Esquires make up the loss.  Sir Anth. 
Ay, 'tis so; we owe that to our Wisdom and Experience; a Merchant would know no more how to live, if young men had the Art of Management, than a Country Pedlar to officiat as Lord Mayor of this City. But to the point, won't five pounds equip the young Man?  Mel. 
Fifty may do much, Sir, to out-rig this Man of War for a Love Engagement; he must have a long Wigg.  Flo. 
He must change the fashion of his Sword's Hilt once a Month; in a word, Sir, he must be a Beau.  Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, my Son shall be no Monster; ha, Mistress Decoy!  Enter Decoy. De. 
Sir, The Alderman desires you'd be at home— Madam—  [Too Flora. Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, I'm at home just now.  De. 
He designs to wait upon your Daughter, when he has dispatched some affairs that call him abroad.— The Capt. dies for you, and—  Sir Anth. 
Had he no other Gommands?  De. 
Yes, Sir, he bid me ask if your Son was come to Town,— The young Lover must see you.  [To Melintha] [delivers two Letters to the Ladies. Sir Anth. 
Then tell him my Son is come— Daughter go instantly and prepare for his reception: 'Tis fitting you appear gay before the man I have designed for your yoke-fellow.  De. 
Lincolnss-in-field.  [whispers the Ladies. Sir Anth. 
I must go and look after my business, 'tis dangerous to be negligent; and I remember half a dozen Lines, made by a City Poet of my acquaintance, which are very much to the purpose: 
Care in Affairs brings Wealth, than Friends increase.  
From Friendship Power, then from our Labour ease.  
Thus to be Rich, is to be Honest too,  
(For Men in Power are Just what e'er they do:)  
Poor Cheats, in wanting Riches lose success;  
For Art and Money make all Crimes seem less.   [Exeunt omnes preter Decoy. Enter Freelove, opening his Pocket-book. De. 
Ha! This may be a prize; let me see, I must think, and quickly too; what? or whom shall I personate?— I have it, I'll be religious and ignorant, that never fails to take with those who know not the Cheats of this Age— Sir your humble Servant.  [Speaks with a Cant. Free. 
I've a Bill here, Madam, upon Alderman Choleric.  De. 
Why, truly, Sir, he is not at home at present; he's gone, I suppose, to the Meetinghouse, to hear Mr. Juggler, a man that has coupled many a Pair, and is a most dexterous joiner.  Free. 
What a Devil does the Hag mean?— Well, Madam, but when shall I find the Alderman at home?  De. 
Indeed, Sir, I cannot be positive; but as I was saying, Mr. Juggler is a sweet Man, he has married forty of my Friends within these late Years— Are you a Bachelor, Sir?  Free. 
I am, Madam, if you please.  De. 
Good Lord, if I please! truly, why not, Sir— But yet, Sir, you must know I'm sorry to see so fine a young Gentleman without the Comforts of Matrimony; and out of pure Love to that handsome Face, which speaks so much of good Nature, I would help you to a Young Lady of my acquaintance, worth twelve thousand pounds; chaste as a religious Nun, and innocent as a Dove or Lamb, I'm sure she would be happy with you.  Free. 
Madam, I can't flatter myself so far as to believe I merit that Fortune you offer; Beauty is not easily won, and where 'tis supported by Wealth, the conquest is much more difficult; yet I own my thanks are due.  De. 
O dear Sir, no Compliments; I am but a plain ignorant Woman, and a Stranger to the Tricks of the Town, yet you may safely leave the difficulty of the Enterprise to my care; for tho' I appear mean in this dress, I keep good Company, and have an Interest in a great many fine Ladies. Are you acquainted with Sir John Winmore?  Free. 
Yes, Madam,  De. 
And is not he a very fine Gentleman? He makes use of my Friendship too. But, Sir, I am obliged by my hard Fortune to let Gentlemen pay all the Expenses which happen in carrying on Affairs of this kind.  Free. 
That was a needless caution, Madam; no man can be so much an Enemy to his own Interest, as to scruple the payment of a trifle on which his Fortune might depend.  De. 
A credulous easy Fool, I find— indeed, Sir, you say very well, your Face speaks a great deal of Wit and Judgement— I hope you know, Sir, where to find me; I'm the Alderman's Housekeeper.  Free. 
Madam, I'm now in haste, but in the mean time accept of this small Compliment, and let me hope you won't forget the business you mentioned concerning the Young Lady.  [Gives Mony. De. 
O dear Sir, d'ye think I could forget such a one as you are? Well, adieu— So, this is a very lucky morning. Sir John, gave me five Guineas, his Friend three, and this Gentleman two— I've no less than four Couple of Lovers, and I must find a Plot that will bring them all together, without the consent of their respective Guardians. In the mean time, this last Customer shall prove the Cully, he's a Coxcomb fitted for my purpose, as appears by his liberality to a Stranger, and I'm resolved how to bestow him.  
To deal with Fools, I finds my surest way,  
They all believe, and never fail to pay;  
But with the wise my Trade would soon decay.  [Exit.   


ACT II. SCENE I.  
The Alderman's House.  Enter Alderman Choleric and Ned. Choll. 
WELL said! well said! very fine! Twelve a Clock was a seasonable hour! was it, Sirrah? was it? The Constable was a. Rogue, a Villain, and a Rascal, had he been diligent in his Employment, you had not lodged in my House last night; the Counter was more fitting for such a Prodigal— A Fire kindled so late! besides, Sirrah, a Man may be undone in farthing Candles; but your Uncle's an Ass! am I, Sirrah? speak.  Ned. 
Pray, Sir—  Choll. 
I am then a mere Ass in your Books; look ye, Sirrah—  Ned. 
Pray, Sir, hear me with patience.  Choll. 
Patience, Sir?  Ned. 
Yes, Patience, Sir.  Choll. 
Ay, Patience you say, Sir?— Why, Patience is the virtue of an Ass, Sirrah,— but, d'ye hear? Come me sooner home at Night, go to Bed in the dark, eat halfpenny Rolls and Cheshire Cheese, and drink small Beer; or expect— I'll say no more— you Rogue, expect my displeasure, and consequently to be turned out of Doors.  Ned. 
I presume I've spent nothing hitherto but my own; my Father left me—  Choll. 
Your Father, Sirrah?— Why, what of your Father? Would you abuse the dead, Sirrah? What have you spent, you Rogue you,— nothing but your own, very good! wondrous fine! and when did my Money become yours?— I'd have you know, Sirrah, I have maintained you these three Years; I've paid a double price for your Estate; your own, Sir!— Why look ye now, ye young Dog you, I've lent you some thousands upon your Estate, even when your Title was by my Lawyer disputed, for it's— You're a Rogue, Sirrah, and there's an end on't  Ned. 
I hope the Law will yet allow my Title good to all I once possessed; you know too, I ne'er spent half the Interest on't.  Choll. 
Why, what an unlucky Rogue this is! Law, Sirrah?— Why the Law, you Fool, will allow nothing. Where's your Money? Ay, where's your Money? But you can have Law without Money— You mistake the World, young Man, you must pay for every thing.  Ned. 
I've heard of a Court of Conscience, Sir.  Choll. 
Conscience!— Why look ye, Sirrah, what have I to do with Conscience, ha?  Ned. 
Very little it seems, Sir.  Choll. 
Look ye, d'ye see now, there's a Villain; is your Uncle a Rogue, Sirrah?— Has he no Conscience?— What would this young Rake have proved, if I had not clipped his Wings betimes?  Ned. 
I confess, Sir, my Folly is now evident to myself, the easiness of my Nature has betrayed my Interest, and I've armed you with my own Weapons, the better to secure your Victory.  Choll. 
Why what Weapons, Sirrah?— I profess he would provoke me, and I could swear bloody Oaths, did not Religion and good Manners restrain me,— Look ye, Friend, look ye now, how long will my good Nature last?— Not very long— not very long, Sirrah.  Ned. 
Why, Sir, I hope you don't think of losing what you ne'er possessed?  Choll. 
I've no good Nature then, you say? Very well! I can suffer your frequent Extravagancies, see you often drive to the Court-end of the Town, pick up a black-faced Whore, but of a blacket— Conscience, ramble to a Tavern, get drunk, and then come home at midnight, swear like a Bully, commend an affected Fop, protest he delivers himself handsomely, and with a good grace, because he makes mouths when he speaks; swear this a pretty Gentleman, ' cause he sung a smutty Catch or two; the other a brave Fellow, ' cause he roared over his Glass; the fourth witty, because he ridiculed things sacred, or towered so high, that he became unintelligible to himself and others; for Madness, Sirrah, goes often current for the height of Wit..  Ned. 
It does so, Sir.  Choll. 
Does it, Sirrah? The fifth a man of Judgement, because he was a solemn grave Fool, spoke little, and understood less. The sixth well bred, because he knew how to flatter, how to dissemble, how to bow and cringe, and at first meeting to borrow Money, with the same assurance as if you had been his Cashkeeper, or at least his intimate Acquaintance for twenty years past. Now, you Rogue, I have no good Nature! yet can suffer all this— No! no! not a grain of good Nature! that's very fine! very fine, indeed!  Ned. 
My Judgement informs me in my choice of Friends.  Choll. 
Well, no matter, Sirrah, Judgement or no Judgement, I'll be revenged; I'll have a Wife, Sirrah,— Heirs of my own Body, Sirrah; you shan't o'errule me or my House, Sirrah,— No, you shan't, Sirrah.— Timandra!— Niece!— Timandra!  Enter Timandra. Tim. 
Now for my share in this Morning Lecture— Sir.  Choll. 
Ay, Sir, come here Sir,— Look ye here, I've been telling Ned part of my Mind, but he's too wise to rely upon the Judgement of his Uncle, he has Wisdom enough of his own, and so I've done with him; but I should be sorry if thou wert lost too, I always had a kindness for thee, and consulted thy Interest as my own.  Tim. 
So it seems, Sir, and judged my Fortune yours.  Choll. 
How! How! This Rogue's Madness has infected her, I profess ingeniously, he has debauched her Nature, and o'erturned her Obedience,— But d'ye see, young Baggage, no words! no words!— I'm your Uncle, nay more,— I'm Master of your Fortune.  Tim. 
Sir, I'm sensible of your Power, of which that last Article is the greatest prop.  Choll. 
No matter! Look ye, I've resolved on a Match between you and my Friend Sir Anthony's Son, 'tis a virtuous Youth, the Higher of a Rich rather, bend your stiffened Inclinations, and comply with my Commands— d'ye see, expect no mercy from me else; study how to receive him according to his Merit, for he will be here this Afternoon— In the mean time, Sirrah, I'll be your Enemy— I will, Sirrah,— I know how to be revenged— Sir Anthony's Daughter— d'ye hear that, Sirrah?— I'll have a Wife, I warrant you— A Rogue— a—  [Exit. Enter Decoy. De. 
Sir, I've been an Earwitness of your Uncle's Unkindness, and am sorry the old Gentleman should be so much a Slave to his Passions; but I hope Fortune will be more your Friend than hitherto she has been.  Tim. 
Heaven grant it may be so!  De. 
He's gone now to Sir Anthony's, to court Melintha; I've plummed the depths of that young Lady's Heart, and tho' she appears entirely devoted to Heaven, yet she has that esteem for a handsome Young Man, which those of her Years can hardly avoid: Her Father's Humour keeps her uneasy at home; your Uncle's Addresses are still more troublesome; and to shun these two Plagues, she'll run into the Arms of some kind Deliverer: You may be the happy Man, and if you'll rely upon my Conduct and Skill, the business is already half perfected.  Ned. 
If you assist me in this, you confirm me yours; believe me, 'tis a Service I never can forget; propose therefore a Reward, and 'tis given as soon as asked.  [Gives Money. De. 
'Tis not reasonable I should play the Soldier, and take Money ere I actually serve; but truly I always thought it ill Manners to refuse what any Gentleman offers; 'tis the duty of poor People to be obedient to their Commands, especially in such Cases as these; but your business shall be the end of all my Labours.  Ned. 
Thank ye, Madam, remember my good or bad Fortune depends upon your management.  [Exit. Tim. 
Where was it you saw Sir John?  De. 
At his Lodgings: I stole thither when your Uncle was abroad.  Tim. 
And did he remember Timandra?  De. 
Remember you! Why truly he remembers nothing else, he drank your health, sighed when he pronounced your Name, swore imperfect Oaths, grew silent on a sudden, and as suddenly started into the other Extreme; I've a Plot, which (if it succeed) will produce Effects answerable to all your Wishes,— Really and fairly speaking, he's a notable Gentleman, he must see you this Afternoon, for 'tis impossible he should live a whole day without you.  Tim. 
I'm obliged to him for his good opinion; but inform me concerning my new Lover, Sir Anthony's Son.  De. 
The Squire, Madam, very much resembles Sancho Pancha in his Shapes, and Don Quixot in his Intellects; Heaven I hope has designed you, Madam, a better Husband; for Sir John Winmore (if any man can) well deserves your Love. That assurance your Uncle has of my Fidelity, gives me an Opportunity of being instrumental in promoting your mutual Happiness; 'tis in this, as in all other Affairs, the Weakness of one creates the Power of another.  Tim. 
Your kindness so far exceeds my merit, 'tis in vain to offer payment in words, and my Circumstances are such, as deny me the liberty of expressing my Gratitude handsomely: but accept of these few Sentences, and let their Eloquence atone for the defects of mine.  [Gives Money. De. 
Truly, Madam, you are charmingly eloquent, and if you always speak so, half the Beaus in Town would die for you; pardon my abrupt departure, but I am obliged by my Promise to manage an Affair for a Gentleman that requires expedition,— Adeiu, Madam.— Matchmaking is a rare Employment, a Counsellor takes a Fee from one of the Parties, and I from both; I owe it all to that mighty Passion Love, that turns the grave Philosopher to Fool, and makes the saving Wise a spendthrift Ass.  [Exit. Tim. 
How unfortunate are those whose Stars condemn them to a dependence on those they hate! this is doubly mine, my nearest Relation is my greatest Enemy, and I am forced to purchase Liberty from those I scorn, dissemble all my wrongs, and feign content; I am ignorant of my Lover's real Thoughts, perhaps his Passion is no more than seigned, and all his Courtship an effect of Interest; yet to ease myself from present torment, I think him all Love and Justice, and am resolved to run the risk of a new Danger yet unknown, to shun immediate ruin.  
Happy are those who live and love in Fields,  
And seek no more than what a Garden yields;  
There Friends ne'er plot to rob them of their own,  
No quirking Tricks, or fubtle Arts are known,  
And in their Love's blessed Innocence is shown.  
Here no such Joys are found, for every Maid  
Is lewd or ugly, if to Wants betrayed;  
Interest has banished Love, Wealth Beauty gives,  
And she's still virtuous, who with Grandeur lives.  [Exit.  

SCENE II.  
Lucy's Lodgings.  Enter Lucy and Betty. Luc. 
Well, and you found Sir John at home?  Bet. 
Yes, Madam; and how d'ye think he received your Letter?  Luc. 
Coldly, it may be.  Bet. 
Yes faith, as coldly as a rich Lawyer does his poor Client, and shrugged up his Shoulders, like a lazy Parson raised from his warm Bed in a snowy night, to pray with a dying Beggar.  Luc. 
And is he so very indifferent grown? Sure thou art not in earnest?  Bet. 
He ne'er asked me (as he used to do) if his Lucy was in sickness or in health, asleep or awake; and your Name seemed as hateful to him, as a Quondam Companion to an upstart Favourite, whose Poverty puts him in mind of his own, and tells him he grew up from the Dunghill; I forgot nothing a dutiful Servant ought to have said in such a case; 'twas all in vain, all in vain, Madam; 'twas preaching Philosophy to the Winds, and attempting by Rhetoric to persuade the roaring Billows to a calm; we are both ruined, 'tis as easy to reconcile the jarring Elements, as to recall his fugitive Heart.  [weeps. Luc. 
Then may I from this moment be ugly as a Monster, Despised by all, and shunned by every Friend, Contemned by those on whom I placed my Love, And be at last a Burden to myself, Let me still remember all my pleasures past, That when compared to this unhappy state, I may augment the number of my Tears.  [Weeps. Bet. 
So, so, this is a sweet comfort, and repays Service past.  Luc. 
Let others from my ruin learn to live, And when they see me naked on the Shoar, Exposed to all the Billows of Contempt, And gazed upon by Strangers from afar, Let them remember I was once like them, Free from gross faults, and sailed o'er swelling Tides, But that my folly dashed me into wreck.  Bet. 
For shame, Madam, so many Tears for one Man? half of that grief was enough for the whole Sex.  Luc. 
Ah! let me thus consume my years in pain, Let joy be ever banished from my Breast, No thoughts of Love shall ever enter here.  [Weeps. Bet. 
Pray read this Letter, Madam, 'tis from you Friend Decoy.  Luc. 
Cease, cruel Maid, and let me feel the weight Of this misfortune, which my faults have brought; Excess of Grief a certain Pleasure gives, And stuns the weary Soul into a Lethargy.  Bet. 
Pray, Madam, read it; faith I'll cry else, for company's sake.  Luc. 
Speak to Mount Aetna, bid the Sulphur freeze, And turn its fiery Matter into Ice, Suspend its Motion, and forget its Heat;  [Weeps. 
The Sparkling Flames much sooner shall obey, Than I can know a respite from my Grief— But to please thee, I'll read it.  
Madam,  [Betty reads with her, and both of them smile as they read.] 
This is to inform you— ready to serve you— opportunity— Mr. Freelove— Estate 15 hund. yearly— prepare for his reception— no Father to over-awe him— Love more than Interest— Speedily Married— repay the loss of your old Lover.  
Well, Betty, has Mistress Fashion the Manto-maker brought home my new Gown? Change the Toilet, make up my last lac'd-head suit; Do I look charmingly to day? are my Eyes in Arms? and may I expect a Conquest? I'm resolved to be merry, and forget my loss.  Bet. 
Ha, ha, ha; hang me if I don't begin in earnest to believe the Story of the Ephesian Matron; Good Lord! what weak Creatures we Women are? Why, Madam, we both wept two minutes ago, and now we are both pleased again.  Luc. 
'Tis sitting it should be so; for Souls subject to passion, cannot be strangers to tenderness; a Woman should be easie-natured, and not bigoted to any Principle.  Bet. 
Why faith, Madam, you're in the right; let's in and prepare for the arrival of this new and potent Lover; 'Gad I hope he has a handsome Servant, I have a strange inclination this Morning to the State of Matrimony, for Executions always put me in mind of Mortality.  Luc. 
And the losss of Sir John tells me, I ought to be no more what I have been; I resolve to play honest Game for the future, and that's both the safest and the surest course to happiness; but 
'Tis strange that Precepts seldom reach the Heart,  
Tho' oft repeated, and expressed with Art;  
Nature to Virtue rearely leads the Mind,  
Nor was our Judgement for our Guide designed:  
Else why so many Laws to rule the Will,  
And teach us how to shun bewitching Ill?  
Nothing draws back the Soul that wildly roams,  
Like adverse Fortune that unlooked for comes.   [Execunt.  

SCENE III.  
Sir Anthony's House.  Enter Sir Anthony, Dick, and Flora. Sir Anth. 
I profess these Tailors are great Rogues, 'tis hard to know what to make of 'em; they can't endure labour, because their Employment is at best but idleness; they ne'er make good Soldiers, for generally speaking they are all Cowards; why truly they are good at nothing but Cheating, they invent so many Fashions, and have so many tricks to wheedle men out of their Money, Silk, Buttons, Binding, Buckram, Canvas, and so forth, that 'tis but reasonable sometimes to clip half a yard from their Bills; sincerely, I could rail at the Knaves these eight days— why, body o'me, Mr. Filsher has spoiled the Lad's Coat, he looks like a Cock stripped of all his Feathers.  Dick. 
ud's so! or one of the University with his Gown pulled over his Ears, but Satis est quod Sufficit, that is to say, Sir Father, the Coat is long enough, since the Fashion has turned them into Doublets.  Flo. 
Sure Timandra must admire that Shape, that Air, and that innocent honest Face.  Sir Anth. 
Why truly the young Man has something of the old World in his Conuntenance, he looks like the last Age, a downright Man, and speaks as he thinks, which nowadays is reputed madness. But, come Dick, let me see how you will make your Court to the Lady, how Salute her. I mean, in a word, let me see how you can make your Honours, as the modern men of Fashion word it. Flora shall be Timandra.  Dick. 
Why thus, Sir Father, I pull off my Hat, thus I make a Leg, and by Jupiter thus I kiss.  [Salutes aukwardly. Flo. 
Fogh, Brother, what a way there is,— for shame.  Sir Anth. 
Well that's no matter; stand up Dick, look modest; So! So! hold up your Head, set out your Breast, hold in your Breath; now observe how I salute you, I saw my Lord Mayor salute his Lady so, and he has been thrice at the Royal Levee; thus I pull off my Hat; thus I bow; now by your leave, fair Lady— Now what thinks thou on't?  [Salutes Dick anticly.] Flo. 
Ha, ha, ha! Why faith, Sir, you have mended the matter very little, that's the old Elizabeth way; I'm sorry I am not a Man, I should make a Courtly Young fellow fit for the Ladies.  Sir Anth. 
Dick do as I have done, no matter for Apish tricks, they were invented by airy Fools, and practised by none of the wisest to this very day.  Dick. 
Why look ye, Sir Father, 'tis a saying in the University, Contraria juxta se posita majis illucescunt, if there were no Fools, Wit would ne'er be esteemed, if no spend thrifts, a savingman would not be called virtuous; the Deformities of one man set off the Beauties of another! and that's the plain English on't.  Flo. 
I'm afraid, Sir, you've spoiled a good Philosopher, 'twas a pity he had not stayed at the University; for aught I know, he remembers his Logicks better than his Creed.  Dick. 
Creed! d'ye see, Sir Father,— a great deal better; for we often forget that, when we study Logicks: I can tell you how many Predicaments there are, how many sorts of Syllogisms, what's Ens rationis, and Vniversale a parte rei, as readily as a Carman Counts his Faggots, ay, and make Sophisms as fast as a Boy would throw Pease into his Mouth.  Sir Anth. 
Look ye now, Daughter, there's a Youngman for ye, I profess sincerely, the Lad has wounderful parts, and I believe 'twould be hard to find me such another between Temple-barr and Aldgate; nay verily, I suppose, I might have included the other end of the Town, for Courtiers are often great Dunces, but hide their Ignorance with a Natural stock of Impudence.  Dick. 
By Ovid, so they do.  Sir Anth. 
Yet after all, when I was a Youngman, these things were as familiar to me as my Name, and I could have told you at first sight, if Entionis was a Grecian or a Roman Captain, and how many Battles he won, and Sophims and Solims' were always in my mouth, sleeping or waking; but time, and much business, has oppressed my Memory— Age is the Worm of Judgement, that gnaws so hard, it grinds the wood to nothing.  Flo. 
I thought you had ne'er been at the University, Sir!  Sir Anth. 
Ay, that's true, that's true.— But I have read tho, hussy.  Dick. 
Why, by Mercury, Sir Father, you understand very little; tho' a Grecian or a Roman Captain, quotha!— look ye now— but stay— who's this.  Enter old Choleric hastily. Choll. 
A rogue,— ay a Rogue— I'll have a Wife, a Dog, a Villain, a Puppy, an Ass; you should have your bones broke, Sirrah— But no matter, I'll be revenged, I'll have Heirs of my own to enjoy my Estate, not one of my Relations shall ever possess a Shilling on't, d'ye hear that, Sirrah? d'ye hear that?  Dick. 
What's the matter, Sir Father, with the old mad Fellow? He grumbles and grunts, as if he had the Colic, or the great Devil in's Guts, and frisks and jumps.—  Sir Anth. 
That's your Uncle, and Brother that is to be; the Man no doubt meditates on some of Mr. Juggler's Sermons.  Flo. 
My Sister is the Text, I suppose, and he designs to enlarge upon her very shortly.  Choll. 
Your Estate, Friend!— very well!— very well!— why look ye now, that's nothing; I'm in possession— Ay, Sir, but it is mine nevertheless— Is it, Sirrah? is it?— Yes Sir— you lie, Sir,— Ay, but the Law shall prove the truth on't— shall it?— very fine! I'll Law you, you Dog you, I will, with a Pax t'ye, D'ye feel that, Sirrah? Law, quotha! d'ye feel that, you Rogue, you Rake, you Son of— Gad forgive me, what was I going to say?  [Beats the Walls. Sir Anth. 
Truly the Man is strangely agitated, and deep in thought, he has not observed us all this while.  Flo. 
Hush, Sir, he's at his Soliloquies, I'm informed 'tis his common practice.  Choll. 
You incorrigible Rogue, you Dunce; you Milksop, you Sheep's-face— ' 'tis more than I am able to bear; is it, Sirrah? say you so? Yes Sir, it shakes my Nature, and has banished Duty from my Breast, I'll do myself justice— Will you, will you, Sirrah? Will you lift your Arm against your Uncle? No sure, you Dog you, you won't; but I shall be before hand with ye; d'ye feel the weight of that again, d'ye, Sirrah? I'll handle you with the same hands I use towards myself, but a little more roughly— I will, you Rogue you,— Ha! good morrow, Sir, good morrow.  Sir Anth. 
Good morrow, Neighbour, good morrow; Flora, call your Sister to me.— Dick look Spruce, he's your Mistress's Uncle.  Dick. 
Ay, Sir Father, ay.  [Dick stands a tiptoe, and surveys himself. Sir Anth. 
This is my son, Neighbour Cbollerick, newly arrived from the University.  Choll. 
Very good, Sir.  [Dick prunes and mumps. Sir Anth. 
Dick, Salute the Uncle of your Mistress.  Dick. 
Why, Sir Father, d'ye think I'll kiss this mouldy piece of Antiquity, that Mummy transported from Egypt, or some Eastern Country, and wafted about from House to House by the wind within him;— not I, by Aristotle, Sir Father.  Sir Anth. 
Take him by the hand, Neighbour, the Youngman is bashful, but your Niece will nevertheless find him a Youth of good Parts.  Choll. 
Lend me your Fist, young Gentleman—  [Dick Salutes aukwardly. 
but where's your Daughter? I came to see her, not to fool away time, which is so precious; for we have undermining Rogues about us.  Sir Anth. 
I've sent for her,— ay, and here she is.  Re-enter Flora, with Melintha. 
Daughter, my Neighbour honours you with his best Affections; and 'tis my Command, you give him a suitable reception.  Mel. 
Sir, I forget not to weigh his Merit; I think him Young and handsome too, if you say he's such.  Flo. 
Heavens! how handsomely she dissembles! but so it is, your modest, reserved, thinking Creatures, always Plot best, they wear a double Face, seem one thing, and design another?  Choll. 
Now look ye, d'ye see, Madam, your Honourable Father and I have been upon some terms about a Match between you and myself; he dislikes not the Propositions I've made him, and is resolved to double the Knot of this Alliance, by marrying your Brother to my Niece; now, if you relish the motion, 'tis a bargain.  Mel. 
Sir, my Father no doubt has consulted my interest, and I have that respect for you, which your Virtues exact even from your Enemies.  Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, 'tis an obedient Girl.  Dick. 
Why, Sir Father, what means all this? I hope you don't design my Sister should marry this old Spawn of a—  Sir Anth. 
Mum, Dick, mum; he's Rich.  Dick. 
But, by Socrates, he is not handsome.  Sir Anth. 
No matter, he has a wealthy Niece, Boy, and thou may'st come to ride in thy Coach.  Dick. 
ud's so, that's fine, ride in my Coach! then she shall have him, by Hercules— Sir, my Sister has e'er now I suppose opened the Gates of her heart, that have been so long barricadoed to the God of Love, and given admittance to the Forces of your Charms, who have entered with bag and baggage.  Sir Anth. 
Ingeniously, the Lad speaks like an Oracle; Joy of my heart, if thou pleadest so well for thyself with Timandra, the Cause is won.  Choll. 
The Youngman has sense, and knows how to make use on't; would the Rogue my Nephew were like him.  Mel. 
I should be heartily sorry for't.  [Aside. Flo. 
The Monkey and the Bear, or the old Calf doting on the young; would I had their Pictures drawn, the Alderman would make a handsome piece.  [Aside. Dick. 
Come, Sir, make up to her; uds so you shall marry her, her Modesty and Silence are Signa Naturalia of her Consent and good-liking.  Mel. 
Would this Young Fool were in the Indies, he unmans the old People, and fills their Heads with chimaeras and Windmills, to a degree of madness.  Choll. 
Why, look ye now, Madam, as to what your learned Brother says, about the Signaralia of your good-liking, I know not; but this I know, I have a kindness and a love for You, and am willing to join hands with you, if your Honourable Father and you are both pleased; for I intent to purchase a House in Lincolns-Inn-Fields, for they say that's a very good Air; and I am not so old, but I may have Heirs.  Flo. 
The old Stag cast Horns three years ago; (for so long 'tis since his Wife died) yet once again longs to have the burden renewed, scorns, to be half a Citizen, and thinks his Head unlike his Neighbours!  [Aside. Sir Anth. 
Why truly I'm pleased, so your Niece can love my Son.  Choll. 
Love him?— Why look ye now, she shall— she will— she must— love him— I'll make the Baggage dote upon him.— I protest I had almost forgot myself, my Passion often has the ascendant of my Judgement, but we are all men and subject to Infirmities— may I kiss you, Fair Lady— look ye, Madam, may I take another,— oh, what a sweet Breath there was, a sost Lip, and every thing so very— oh— my lovely young Rosamond, my Cassandra, my— my—  Mel. 
Pray, Sir, don't squeeze my hand thus; just so a rugged Farmer grasps his Blow.  Dick. 
By Aristotle, he designs to Blow upon your Ground, Sister.  Mel. 
Pray, Flora, relieve me from this insupportable Plague.  [Aside. Flo. 
You see, Sir, how he handles the Text, I knew what his Meditations would come to, he scarce has the patience to stay till he's licenced by Ecclesiastic Authority, but would be in the Pulpit ex tempore.  Sir Anth. 
Mum, Hussie, the Man knows how to behave himself.  Dick. 
ud's so, this is a fine Hilt, finer than my Sir Father's old Oliverian Tilter; let me see, let me see, by Mars a fine Blade too, why I could fight like Aeneas, and kill twenty such Pimps as Turnus; the Art of making Arms is very fine, would I had those Vulcan made for the sturdy Son of that impudent Whore Venus, when the Poet Sings, Illi inter sese multa vi brachia tollunt. So, so, a very good Blade.  [Makes passes at the Wall. Chol. 
I am not very old, fair Lady, I can walk like my Neighbours, I go to the Exchange every day on foot; and last week, when my Friend Mr. Roundhead's Daughter was Married, I frisked and jumped,— Why I can shake a Leg, Madam, very nimbly upon occasion, so,— and so— For I learned to dance at thirty years of Age, to please my Wife whom I then Courted— Ha!— Oh!— What's the matter with the young Man— Oh— Farewell Sir Anthony, Good buoy, Madam, I'm dangerously ill on a sudden, but I'll wait upon you when my fit is over,— A Pox on the young Rogue, the glances of his naked Sword have cast me into an Ague.  [Exit. Sir Anth. 
Dick, Dick, sincerely speaking, Dick, I'm sorry for what I see, Body o'me, you've frighted the Alderman; I know he mortally hates to look upon shining Steel, ever since a drunken Bully run him throw the Lungs for a false Arrest at his instance; put up, Dick, put up; ingeniously I'm heartily vexed, 'twas an unluky accident, but come along with me, in the Afternoon you shall beg his pardon, when you wait upon your Mistress.  [Exeunt. Flo. 
Well, Sister, and how did the old Fellow kiss— Ha, ha,— was it not a lucky Adventure, that the young Fool chanced to draw his Sword! you know now, if you lose the Nephew, how to frighten the Uncle into good Nature.  Mel. 
Is this a fit time to make reflections, Flora! 'tis dangerous sporting with our ruin.  Flo. 
Lord, Sister, what d'ye mean? would ye have me melancholy?  Mel. 
No, but let's into my Chamber, and there examine our Circumstances; accidents unseen may happen (witness the relief I just now obtained) and 'tis necessary we should lay down a form of management, that every trifle may not put us to a nonplus— you know we must see our Lovers this Evening.  Flo. 
Come, Melintha, let no Fears distract your easy Soul, Love shall inspire Cunning, besides 
Necessity has often wit begot,  
And racked Man's lazy Soul to form a Plot;  
Roused up its sleepy Powers, and taught it how  
T' encounter danger, and to conquer too.  
But when 'tis to a subtle Woman known,  
Much more of Art, and Success too is shown.   [Exeunt.]   


ACT III. SCENE I.  
The Tavern.  Sir John Winmore, Captain Bellair, and young Choleric drinking. Sir Jo. 
CAptain, a Health to your Mistress, Cares are from Love inseparable, Wine for a while may bury half our Pains, let's therefore have a short reprieve from trouble.  Capt. 
I own the force of the generous Grape, and thought it once omnipotent, it turns a man inside out, and of a close-minded intriguing Fellow makes a babbling Fool; it can banish all thoughts of business, but Love still keeps the Field; 'tis a powerful Passion, and those to whom Years and Experience in the World have justly acquired the name of prudent, are baffled from their surly Precepts of rigid gravity, and forced to sigh and love, nay dote as we do.  Ned. 
I would not be again at liberty for an Empire; 'tis but a vain boast and dream of Pageantry! we enjoy the freedom of Savages, ramble wildly from place to place, and seek for Shelter beneath the Shade of some deluding Jilt, who when a Storm approaches flies away, and leaves us naked to the angry Heavens. There's a Happiness in honest Love, which fickle Wanderers scorn, because they know it not.  Enter Mr. Freelove. Free. 
I'm your humble Servant, Gentlemen— I suppose I've kept my hour.  Sir Jo. 
Thou hast done so, but pray thee tell me, Feeelove, (for Love was again the subject of our last Discourse) hast thou in earnest kept thy Freedom too? Art thou not become a virtuous Lover? And weary of thy past Freedom (where every Port was thy home) now resolved to run with speed to Land, and take the protection of the Church, that for the future thou mayst be a lawful Trader in the state of Love?  Free. 
I confess I am yet a Pirate, I scour the Seas, fight, and am sometimes wounded; I encounter Fireships and fair Enemies with equal Ardour, but seldom retire a Conqueror.  Ned. 
On my Conscience I believe thee.  Free. 
However, Gentlemen, I'm now in a fair way towards a Peace, to morrow Morning I present myself before my Judge, if she accept my Service I'll enter into Pay, and list myself a Member of the Matrimonial Commonwealth.  Capt. 
In earnest, Jack? Art thou firmly resolved to abandon thy wonted Freedom, thy darling Sins, the Follies of thy Youth, and take the penance of a Wife to expiate thy Guilt?  Ned. 
What canting Fool has wheedled thee from thy first Principles, and turned the Perspective, showed thee a distant Happiness at hand, and diminished the present Bliss? Sure thou won't be so easily fettered!  Capt. 
Believe me, I'm sorry thou keep'st not better Company, or that thy easy Nature should be debauched with vicious Morals; why Marriage is a mere drudgery, the allay of all those Pleasure Life bestows, the reverse of Liberty, and a Wife the badge of Slavery.  Sir Jo. 
'Tis a promised Heaven ne'er found, a Fire that glides before the credulous Traveller, leads him from his Road with a show of Light, and leaves him at last to mourn his Folly in the dark.  Capt. 
'Tis the Lure that serves to cheat an easy Fool,  
And stop his happier flights through yielding Air.  
A while he soars aloft, and spreads his Wings,  
Disdains the Earth below him, and his Keeper;  
Proud of his Liberty he flies at all,  
And feeds with pleasure on the panting Prey:  
But viewing unawares the artful Cheat,  
He quits the Air, and fastens on his Ruin.  
The gaudy Feathers promised solid Joys,  
But were designed at first by subtle Knaves,  
To cheat him of his Freedom and his Pleasure.  Free. 
Gentlemen, you surprise me! I thought to have found you all Penitents, confessing to one another the madness of past Years, and designing a new course of Life; but I've judged amiss, and had too much of Charity for my Neighbours; yet to show myself a good Christian still, I'll own my Inclinations to Virtue, and surrounded with Enemies, affirm 'tis Wisdom to marry, and convenient both for the Body and the Estate.  Ned. 
Hast thou spoke the Sentiments of thy Heart?  Free. 
Yes, by my hopes of better Fortune than hitherto I've known.  Sir Jo. 
Let me then embrace thee. What we said was only designed to try thy Virtue, no Maxims of ours; and by my hopes of success thou art dear to me as a Brother.  Capt. 
You are of our Society, Freelove.  Ned. 
One of Virtue's Proselytes, Jack.  [They embrace him. Free. 
Gentlemen, I'm glad you are not what at first your Words seemed to persuade, and that my Judgement, since I saw you, informed me how to choose a way of living, commended by men of so much Prudence and Merit.  Sir Jo. 
Where has thy wandering Heart fixed itself? is she beautiful? can my Friendship be of use? for believe me I'll be proud to serve thee.  Free. 
I have not yet seen her, but am told by others she's handsome to a Miracle, witty beyond belief, and of a Fortune sufficient to banish want for ever from my Doors.  Capt. 
Her Name.  Free. 
Luscinda. My Modesty and Interest are at wars, the last commands me to her, and the first tells me my Equipage agrees not with my Pretensions; I've Money too, yet cannot find a Servant.  Capt. Jo. 
I have one at your Service, he's a troublesome unmannerly Rogue, and sometimes possessed with the Spirit of Contradiction, but of undoubted honesty.  Free. 
Necessity shall excuse his faults; I'm obliged t'ye, Captain, for this favour, and shall make it my study to deserve and re-pay it.  Capt. 
I'm fortunate to my Wish in having the opportunity of showing that esteem I bear thee; thou hast pursued extravagant Courses hitherto, and I rejoice at thy better Inclinations— hoa— who waits there?  Enter Drawer. Dra. 
D'ye call, Gentlemen?  Capt. 
My Footman.  Dra. 
Yes, Sir.  [Exit. Enter Willie. Capt. 
Come here, Willie.  Will. 
Whaut waud ye say? tell, me, Sir.  Capt. 
Wait upon this Gentleman; serve him honestly, and execute his Commands with that submission you ever showed to mine.  Will. 
Aun whau will pay me for my pains, Sir?  Capt. 
Sirrah— you shall be paid.  Will. 
Be me Saul I will seir him thaun aus well as ever he was seired in his days, aun gi'en he hea mein till a bonny Lass— ye ken whaut I mien, Sir— I caun get her brauly for him; I'll staurt her aus soon aus our Meast Johoan waud staurt his Text whun he has preached a heal year upon't.  [Re-enter Drawer, and delivers a Letter to Sir John, and another to Ned.] Dra. 
I had these two Letters for you, Gentlemen.  Will. 
Hear ye me; Me frein, hea ye gotten any thing for me deel be fain; O me gin, I haud an Letter saun I caume out o me ain Kintrey; what think ye o thaut now?  Sir Jo. [reads] 
They will— Lincolns-Inn-Walks— half an hour— your friend with you— yours to command— Bellair, this Letter concerns thee too.  Free. 
Gentlemen, you are busy, and I have already told you how I am to be employed— Come along, Sirrah.  Will. 
Sirrau me nea Sirraus, Sir; the Minister bauptized me Wullie Beetlehead, a Scotlaund-Man.  Free. 
You Rogue, did the Parson give you all these Names? Willie, honest Willie, come along Willie.  Will. 
Ay Sir, whaun I hea tasted the Wine, aun drunken tea yer good health.  [Drinks. Free. 
This is insufferable Ignorance.  [Kicks him. [Capt. 
Down stairs ye mangee Rake— use him thus, and then expect the effects of good breeding from him.  [Exit Freelove. Will. 
Wung whaut waud the maun be aut, my arse is na made of Wainscoat, baut gin I haud ye— I ken whaur, Sir— I soud mauke your head as sauft aus an—  [Exit. muttering. Ned. [reads.] 
In the Walks— your Sister along— Sir Jo. Winmore— Sir Anthony's Son with her— weary of his Company— Come, Gentlemen, let's fly where Love commands, and so much Beauty waits.  Sir Jo. 
I feel unusual Motions at my heart, 'tis hard to say— between two different Passions which of them reigns with greatest Power. Love and Fear divide my Soul, and whirl my Blood through this disordered frame.  Ned. 
I'i take care to comfort you with Timandra's Presence; I hope, Capt. you have no such Love-qualms at your heart.  Capt. 
No faith, I go to find my Mistress with that cheerfulness with which I've encountered my Enemies when Martial heat and honour spurred me on.  
Courage in Love has often brought success;  
leveled the Way for wished-for Happiness.  
The Canting, Whining Fool, young Maids despise,  
Whose only Courtship in his Silence lies;  
Love, like our Wine, should sparkle in our Eyes.  [Exiunt.  

SCENE II.  Enter Alderman Choleric and Dick. Choll. 
WEll, Young man, you are very welcome; my Niece shall receive you like the Son of Sir Anthony Addle.  Dick. 
ud's so, I like that Speech very well— but by Ovid I know not what to say to her; for tho', upon occasion, I can let my Sir-father see my Parts, and that his Money is well bestowed upon me in the University, yet to speak to a young Lady, and a Stranger too— Why, I can no more do it, than go to bed without my Supper, or say my Prayers at night without falling asleep.  Choll. 
Come, come, no matter for that, the Woman knows your Errand: bear up to her briskly, the baggage loves a confident thundering Lover, that deal his Oaths by dozens.  [Exit. Dick. 
A thundering Lover, that deals his Oaths by dozens— By Priam I'll fit her for that: Hem— hem— let me see— ay, I have it— Mum Dick [Enter Timand: she comes— now boy prepare, 'tis a lovely Wench by Jupiter— Madam— by Ovid I've almost forget my Compliment— but stay, I must salute her first— Madam, let the Cannon of my Sighs batter down the Walls of your Resolutions, that my Love may ride in Triumph through the Streets of your heart, and display the Colours of my sincere affections over the— ud's so, my Memory will betray me— over the— why Madam— why Madam, over your Beauty— I'm a Beau.  [Stands a Tiptoe. Tim. 
An Eloquent declaration of Love I must confess, and spoke like a Man just arrived from the Siege of Namure.  Dick. 
ud's so, Madam, why I came but to Town last night, or this morning early from the University, where we only fight for bloody Noses, or so, and scale the Walls of a stately Pie— 'tis a handsome Coat.  Tim. 
And were your clothes made at the University? Sir, you look like a handsome Gentleman.  Dick. 
No, Madam, my honourable Sir-father brought them ready-made in Long-Lane; he's a very Wise man, Madam, tho' I say't that should not say't; and yet I know no reason why a man may not commend the Wisdom of his own Father.  Tim. 
I presume he may be wise, for he has dealt little of his Wilt to his Son.  Dick. 
O Lord, O Lord, your Ladyship is merry with your humble Servant— But uds so, I forget my thundering Compliments: Madam, my heart (like Tinder) took fire from— what?— took fire from the first sparkle your fair Eyes darted upon me; by this Light I love ye; by this Right-hand I dote upon ye; by Plato and Aristotle— I die for ye, and— the Waistcoat too is of an exact length.  Tim. 
die for me, Sir! Sure ye would not rob the World of its best Jewel!  Dick. 
ud's so, that's true, I'm handsome, and the World is pleased to esteem me, and so forth: but as I was saying, Madam, die for ye— why, I'd fight for ye, and that's more, if ye consider I'm a Beau.  Tim. 
How, Sir! would Beaus rather die than sight?  Dick. 
Yes, Madam, he would rather be kicked to death twenty times, than run to death with a small Sword once; but by Juno I'll box over a Hat with Samson for ye; and 'tis a bloody dog, Madam, I warrant him; why, he can handle a Drey-horse like a Paper-kite; I can dance too, Madam, Tal-la-ra, ta-fa-la—  [Sings and dances acquardly. Enter Ned Choleric. Ned. 
Sister—  [Whispers Timandra, and Dick listens. Dick. 
Lincolns-Inn-Fields! by Vulcan I heard that.  Ned. 
And d'ye feel that? Imprimis, So much for ill manners. Ditto, to cure your madness.  [Kicks him. Dick. 
ud's so, your humble Servant, Sir; but by Ovid I don't love your Bills, tho' of few Articles; beat a Knight's Son! ud's so, the King shall hear on't, that he shall.  Tim. 
Are Sir Anthony's Daughters there?  Ned. 
Yes, I just now came from them, after my promise to return in six minutes.  Tim. 
Lead the way then, I'll follow— your humble Servant Sir, I hope you'll easily pardon that Affront the Gentleman put upon you; 'twas but a Jest, and Beaus, such as you are, commonly have such pretty Jests put upon them.  Dick. 
Have they? ud's so, I'll never be a Beau again then; by Pan I courted very handsomely till that Rascal came in; I never shall forget his Impudence; I've a good mind now to send him a Challenge that I may cut his Throat civilly, like a modern Christian: but hang that Thought, Tyburn stares me in the face already; my Sir-father shall see him fined some hundreds of pounds, imprisoned till payment, and obliged to find bail for his good behaviour for the future; there would be no living if there were not Law for such Rogues to bind them to the Peace.  Enter Old Choleric. Choll. 
How now? where's my Niece?  Dick. 
Niece!  Choll. 
Ay, my Niece, Sir.  Dick. 
By Ovid, as the Latin Saying is—  Choll. 
I'll have none of your gambling strange stuff; I'll have nothing to do with Latin, no, not I; I say, where's Timandra? where's my Niece?  Dick. 
Why there was a damned sort of a fellow, I think he's her Brother, at least he called her Sister; but every Woman may be so to him for aught I know.  Choll. 
Well, and what of him? 'tis Ned; 'tis that young Villain, 'tis; and I'll be revenged, a knave: well, go on.  Dick. 
And so, Sir, in he comes—  Choll. 
It must be he, that's certain; the graceless young dog is still at a mischief.  Dick. 
ud's so, it must be he then, for he was at a mischief upon sight.  Choll. 
What, he?— whom d'ye mean?— but go on; what was he that came in?  Dick. 
The Devil, Sir.  Coll. 
Then 'twas Ned; 'twas my sweet Nephew; would the Rogue were fairly hanged; I must be rid of him, that's certain.— Well, and what say you to this, Youngman? what say you to't— Too what?— Why, Sirrah; would you pretend Ignorance? would you— Yes Sir.— Yes, Sir! why look ye now friend, thus I'll teach you your duty, thus, Sirrah:— Mercy, Sir; I beg your Pardon: No mercy, no pardon you dog; I'll have every bone in your skin broke, sirrah; ay, I will— I will— you Rogue.  Dick. 
ud's so; 'tis my safest course to remove my body from this place; 'tis a mad dangerous Family, and this Old Curmudgeon may be upon me with a new Bill of Imprimis's and Dittos worse than the former: good buy, Sir, good buy— ud's so, let me see; I won't lose my Mistress, I'll follow to the Walks.  [Exit hastily. Choll. 
Well, and what did the Rogue when he came in? what was't he said?— Why, this young fellow is gone too— Ned has prevailed upon him to affront me; I'll go and seek the Rascal immediately, and if I catch him— a— Villian— a—  [Exit. muttering. Enter Freelove and Willie. Free. 
And so she bid me stay in this Room till she came— Was it not so?  Will. 
Whaut a deel Sir aur ye deef, shoe bawd ye tarry here aun no gang awau till she caum benn.  Free. 
Ben— but 'tis no matter; Willie, you must forget Scotland, and conform yourself to the Customs of England; learn our Accent.  Will. 
Nau Sir, sheam fau me thaun, Customs o Englaun quo? Nau, nau, I'll do aus our Meast Johoan does pray for yer reformaution in good-bred Scots. Aus for yer accent Sir, I speak as Father Audaum spauke before me.  Free. 
Then Adam spoke Scotch?  Will. 
Goad aun thaut he did, Sir.  Free. 
But to the purpose; to render you a complete Servant, observe these three things; keep a due distance; speak little, and hear much.  Will. 
Waud ye learn au Gentleman good manners?  Free. 
Why, dost thou pretend to quality?  Will. 
Be my Saul do I Sir, we Scotlaun laud's aur au Gentlemen whun we come ten Englaun, thee Waulsh aun Irish aur neathing tea us for quality.  Free. 
That's good; but remember when the Old Gentlewoman enters, you must be silent as a Mute; 'tis she that helps me to the Rich Lady I told thee of.  Will. 
Is't sua? thaun hear ye me Sir; I bid ye hea au care err thaun, he haud need o au laung Spoon thaut sups we the Deel, I waurren her au aul cheat now before I see her.  Free. 
Ha, ha, ha, why so Willie?  Will. 
I kent au Maun o my Kintrey thaut mairied au aul wuthered Wife thaut scantly could tell whilk was the Stool and whilk her Arse whun she saut upon't, aun sometimes scaurted her Head instead o her Rump; the mairiagemauker swear't she was worth saux thousaun pund staurling, aun whun the Gentleman caum tea,— how muckle d'ye think waus o''t, Sir?  Free. 
Two thousand pounds it may be.  Will. 
Twa thousaun pund! uva be my saul shoe had na twa hunger Scots Marks, yer Englis Womaun will trust her person whaur she wonna trust her purse; she may be a rich Hereiss tea day, and deel a twa pennies hea the morn gi'en ye soud chance tea talk her in between yer sheets.  Free. 
Away fool, some blockhead has inso med the— Madam, I'm your humble Servant.  Enter Decoy. De. 
Truly Sir I'm yours.  Will. 
Be me Counscience I waurran her au honourable pickpocket, for I dinna like thaut mumping face o hers.  De. 
Well Sir, I profess your business has cost me a great deal of trouble; I've been thrice at her Lodgings, and gave a Guinea to her Maid: In a word, Sir, I've smoothed the way, and to morrow you may begin an easy Journey to the Island of Love.  Will. 
Be my Saul he haus na, a pair o Boots to ride in.  De. 
I'm persuaded your Addresses won't be unwelcome, for I have given you a Character nothing inferior to your merit, and done every thing with that fervour, as if my good or bad fortune had been inseparably linked to yours.  Will. 
The deel be fain o yer old wheedling Snout.  Free. 
Madam, I'm sensible of your kindness; and thus I express myself. Time, and future events, shall instruct me how much I'm your Debtor, and how to pay.  [Gives Money. Will. 
Haurk ye Sir, a word we ye in yer lug— keep yer siler, I kent the Captain cheated out o au hunger Guineas by sick anither aul wutch aus this.  Free. 
Whisper softly sirrah, otherwise ye ruin all.  Will. 
Ay, ay, Sir— in our Kintry we never buy au mere till eans we ride upon her; pay Sir, I say, whun ye get the Lady aun be hanged till her.  Free. 
Sirrah— well, Madam, and when shall I have the happiness of waiting upon the fair Lady?  De. 
Sir, she expects you to morrow, I'll be there myself in the forenoon, and 'tis convenient you should come then— But, Sir, as I hinted to you at our first meeting, Fortune has been very unjust to me, and I'm weary of this trade of life; 'tis but reasonable then in serving others, I should serve myself, and better my present circumstances in minding yours; the Lady has Ten thousand pounds, and I demand your Bond only for One; Truly I was never Covetous, and such a Service merits a greater reward, but the confidence I have in your generosity has taught me to use you kindly.  Free. 
Madam, if I marry the Lady.  De. 
O Lord, Sir, it shall be payable upon no other terms.  Free. 
To morrow you shall have it, in the mean time, Madam, believe me your humble Servant.  [Exit. De. 
Sir, I'm yours.  Will. 
Aun the muckle deel thaunk ye, for yer well paid for yer pains; hark ye aul woman, I hope me Master's siller sall burn the arse out o yer purse before night, an be me saul aun ye pit au trick upon him this bred Sword sall let the Sun and Moon shine through ye like a glass-window.  [Exit. De. 
Devil take the Rogue, he has almost frighted me out of my five Senses— but hitherto all is well, pray heaven that impudent Sot were out of the way, if he has any influence upon his Master, my plot on that side is ruined.  
Mischief from small beginnings often flows,  
But to a Mountain in a minute grows.  [Exit.  

SCENE III.  
Lincolns-Inn-Walks.  Enter Sir John Winmore and Timandra. [Capt. Bellair and Flora crossing the Stage. Sir Jo. 
I Won't, Madam, offer to measure the Extent of your power, or say I merit; but I'd have you remember, that the World cannot think it strange, that an unnatural parent weakens the bond of obedience, or that a violent passion should be regarded.  Tim. 
Love it seems is a strange passion, that of a Layman makes an Ecclesiastic, and gives you a power to absolve me from that allegiance I owe to my Uncle and my Guardian— you'd have me come to Confession too, and say I loved.  Sir Jo. 
If you did, I'd prove a kind Ghostly father, Madam, and enjoin more of the same Sin for a penance.  Tim. 
Thank ye, Sir; but I'm not resolved to try the experiment; 'tis not the way to ease the burdened mind; for I'm informed Love begetteth Fear; that Lovers are always uneasy, and 'tis hard to set the heart again at liberty; is't so?  Sir Jo. 
'Tis, Madam.  Tim. 
And you'd have me a Companion in misery.  Sir Jo. 
No, Madam; for as in Love there are some pains, so there are pleasures to balance them; one kind look from the mistress of our Vows, gives a Joy not to be equalled; and to be beloved is a heaven beyond what dull Philosophers ever dreamt of.  Tim. 
And if she prove inconstant?  Sir Jo. 
'Tis Hell.  Tim. 
Then why should I run the hazard of a Love-damnation? Men, what e'er they brag, are fickle as the Winds; just now they love, and in a moment hate; yet know not whence nor how this Change arrives, but lay the stress on Fate or Nature's weakness: Now if my easy heart should dote on such a man, I've fooled myself out of a present happiness, and missed the better heaven I aimed at.  Sir Jo. 
Your Charms. Madam, secure you from that misfortune; your Eyes would melt the heart of a Savage, and turn his fury into love; no man could ever love you less; for he who once knew you, would with Joy continue your Slave; your words would call back his wandering thoughts, and fix his nodding virtue to its centre.  Dick. 
— peeping— ud's so, here's fine work, my Mistress, by Ovid!  Tim. 
Sir, if you please, we'll take a turn in the other Walk; Sir Anthony's Son, I find, has dogged me hither.  Sir Jo. 
Every Walk is pleasant when Timandra's there.  [Exeunt. Dick. 
By Aristotle I'll place myself behind this Tree, and observe all— Mum, honest Dick, here comes another.  Enter Flora and Capt. Bellair. Flo. 
Hang me If I'm not sick with these canting words; Flame, Love, Passion, Eyes, and the like, I always thought a Soldier should be master of more Courage than to languish for a Woman.  Capt. 
Who would not sigh when so much beauty's nigh? Tantalus ne'er knew pains like mine; for I view a bliss infinitely beyond his, and find no cause, no hope for quick relief.  Flo. 
Would you have me believe all you've said, and credit every story for a truth, without remembering your Compliments are the effects of your good breeding? You love to show your parts, and that in time of peace; you can remove the thoughts of War's loud alarms, and play with that soft young thing called Love: Men are subject to more changes than Proteus ere knew shapes.  Dick. 
By Ovid that's very fine. Sir-father, when he knows all will have a trusty housekeeper of ye.  Capt. 
Who could feign a pleasure on the Rack, or think of Joys when roaring Seas gaped wide, and threatened present ruin; much less could I counterfeit a passion, or look and not love; to be insensible of so many Charms, would argue stupidity; and to yield without terms to so sweet a Conqueror, speaks not want of Courage, but a generous Confidence.  Dick. 
ud's so, the man is damnably in love.  Flo. 
Nay, now Captain you begin to be serious upon the matter, on my Conscience I could afford my Pity.  Dick. 
By Hercules, the Baggage begins to yield.  Capt. 
Pity, Madam, has often proved the Mother of Love; if you afford me that, you advance me one step to happiness.  Dick. 
Poor man! by Apollo I pity him.  Flo. 
Not so fast, Captain; you'd march before Orders are given; 'tis pity merely for your weakness: but come, hang this dull serious Love, I hate it; let's change the subject; I see Timandra in the other Walk, who doubtless desires my Company, if attacked as I am.  [Exeunt. Dick. 
ud's so? So, she hates dull love; 'tis a smart plaguy Wench, all Mercury by Jupiter— but mum, Dick.  Enter Ned Choleric and Melintha. Ned. 
You know not, Madam, how far this Love-Caprice may hurry the Old man; your Father's humour is unaccountable, and every thing tends to my speedy ruin, if Melintha prove unkind.  Dick. 
By Pan this is my Sister too; and this is the Rogue that kicked me before my Mistress; I begin to shake for fear; if he should catch me, he'd serve me so again: I'll home and tell Sir-father all; by Juno I will.  [Exit. Ned. 
Remember, Madam, Fortune does not afford me the happiness every day of expressing all my fears, and your danger.  Mel. 
To a Soul prepared no accident is of consequence; ill fortune comes with downy wings, flies gently by, and leaves no marks of sorrow in her flight.  Ned. 
I have not yet, Madam, attained to that height in Philosophy; and Love tells me, That without you I am for ever miserable.  Enter Sir John Bellair, Timandra, and Flora. Flo. 
Well, Sir, shall I wish you Joy of your good success? but I'm afraid my Sister is for the Uncle; she can digest (it may be) his infirmities for the sake of those conveniencies his money brings.  Capt. 
I'm afraid, Madam, you've got such another Lover that has possessed the passes of your heart, and bars admittance to the Enemy.  Flo. 
A Warlike smile, Captain: But I begin to remember we came to hear prayers, and 'tis now past time: besides, I saw my Brother just now going out of the Garden, who will undoubtedly acquaint my Father with our devotion.  Capt. 
Would you begin our Banishment so soon? 'tis but a minute since we began to be happy.  Flo. 
Necessity commands a Cessation of Arms; and, Captain, you must be broke.  Sir Jo. 
Yet stay, fair Ladies, let these cool Shades persuade, if Lovers fail.  Mel. 
No, Sir, 'tis fitting we change the Scene.  Sir Jo. 
Well, Ladies, let us hope you inflict a present punishment to give a future ease; you're afraid too much of Joy should sicken the Soul, and a long Scene of happiness pale the Appetite: Pain gives a certain relish unto Ease, and makes it always welcome to the mind.  
Ned. Short Pleasures most of solid Joy impart;  
And stole with hazard, most affect the heart.  
Nature, to what's forbid, is still inclined;  
And hopes of Sweets not known, misled the mind.  
Thus we run on, and eagerly pursue  
What brings destruction, so it shows but New.  
In Love there's no such Curse, give all to day;  
We still Love on, our Joys know no decay,  
And every hour to Pleasure shows the way.  [Exeunt. 
Finis Actus Tertii.    


ACT IV. SCENE I.  
Lucy's Lodgings.  Enter Decoy, Lucy, and Betty. De. 
YOur Fears, Madam, are groundless; he's already possessed with an opinion of your Fortune; naturally credulous, and every way fitted for the Cheat; dissemble handsomely; seem not overpliant, yet give him store of hopes, because 'tis necessary you should be speedily married.  Luc. 
I still doubt the success; Fifteen hundred a year is a noble prize; nor are such bubbles often to be found.  Bet. 
You are sure he has so much, Madam.  De. 
Yes, yes, Child, very sure, I know most of his Friends and Relations. One thing I had almost forgot; if his Servant should be rude, take no notice on't; the fellow will rather speak nonsense than be silent; and I suppose his Master only keeps him for his diversion.  Bet. 
Egad, that Character has almost made me in love with him; I admire a talkative gambling fellow; 'tis a sign of wit, and only speaks his Judgement not yet ripe enough to bound it.  De. 
Well, Madam, I hope you've considered the nature of this Service: Heaven forgive me, I'm forced to make many a sweet Lie for you.  Luc. 
My gratitude prompts my memory; accept, Madam, of this small Compliment, and believe me a friend not so able as willing to serve you.  De. 
Truly, Madam, I always had a good opinion of you, and am glad to find I have not deceived myself— you remember the Bond of a thousand pounds.  Luc. 
Yes, Madam, and own myself obliged to pay a greater Sum.  De. 
O, dear Madam, I'm overwhelmed with your Bounty; would to heaven it were in my power to prefer you to a greater Fortune; your Soul speaks you made for great things— I've screwed her finely up if he has any Estate: these two thousand pounds are good; if not, I'm in nothing poorer than I was— Well, Madam, shall I admit the Gentleman? he waits in the next Room.  [Exit. Luc. 
If you please, Madam.  Bet. 
I swear, Madam, you look charmingly to day.  Luc. 
I ought to pipe with art; for if the fool can be whistled into the Net, I get a weighty draught— but stay, he comes.  Re-enter Decoy, with Freelove and Willie. De. 
Swear you have often seen her; and, above all, urge her to a speedy marriage; delays are dangerous; and she's courted at this very time by a Rich Knight and two young Citizens of great Credit— Madam, this Worthy Gentleman, a friend of mine, has long adored you in secret, and my happy Stars having made me of your acquaintance; I'm bold to introduce him into the Temple, where he may worship his Goddess openly, and receive a reward suitable to his Zeal.  Luc. 
The Gentleman, no doubt, knows better where to bestow his Services; and his Merit may prefer him to the possession of a greater Beauty, and a larger Fortune.  Will. 
Be me Saul the Woman speaks very bonnily.  Free. 
My ambition ne'er taught me to aspire to a happiness beyond Lucinda's favour: I've long loved, but had not the liberty of Complaint allowed me; and now I've got it, methinks I could spend an age at her seet, and here for ever fix myself; gaze on that fatal beauty that has so long banished peace from my Soul, and almost forc'd me to despair.  Luc. 
Pray Sir rise.  Do. 
That's well; the young Gentleman plays his part to my wish; there's a pleasure in dissimulation, not to be changed for that dull peace of mind which honesty and plain-dealing bestow upon their bewitched Votaries.  Luc. 
This is not the first time I presume you've kneeled: Love e'er now has been your Religion, and practice more than innate Zeal has taught you how to pray with so much ease.  Will. 
A goad I believe the Lass is a Saint.  Free. 
No, Madam, false fires can't be of use; and if I should attempt to act the hypocrite, your Eyes would teach me how to bow.  Will. 
Deel be fain o me gi'en thea Englis Women would not mauk au mauns mouth water at them, aun Good sin me new Master is come au Sweethearting tea the Lady; I think Willie soud woo her Gentlewoman.  [Looks wistly upon Betty. Luc. 
And could you become a Convert? Renounce those principles which allowed you so much liberty, and confine yourself to the precise rules of marriage.  De. 
Sir, I beg your pardon— [Whispers Lucy. Remember, Madam, he may by accident come to a true knowledge of your circumstances; when he begins to bite, draw with courage to secure him on the hook, for I know he'll leap at the gilded bait, when first it offers itself— Adieu sweet Sir— Pray, Madam, be kind to the Gentleman.  [Exit. Will. 
The deel ride up throw her aun down throw her, aun a haw-thornbuss at his tail, aun thaun she needs nea Physic.— Goad I can niver endure thea aulwives they look sua like wutches, aun she waur i my Kintrey she waud be burnt in a taurbaurrel presently.  Free. 
Would I renounce such principles, Madam? by heaven all the pleasures of my life, whate'er I doted upon; and if a darling Sin were riveted in my heart, with Joy I'd tear the loathsome thing from thence; dash it from me, and abandon all for the blessing of your Love, that would give a happiness, and in itself contain more bliss than all the beggared earth could give besides.  Will. 
Hear ye me, Jo: how waud ye like me for yer good man? I hea a brau Estate in Scotland.  Bet. 
Like you?  Will. 
Ay, that is, lie we me au yer days; warm me bed in au cawl Winterneight, aun let me get bairns upon ye.  Bet. 
Is that your way of Courtship in Scotland?  [Kisses her rudely. Will. 
Ay, aun this way ten be me Saul— we gang red wood upon bonny Lasses. 〈…〉  Will. 
Wuns' thauts the way of your Englis Women, she is ready to cry out, whun any body is near, haun her baut gi'en she waur at the bauck of au dike whaur deel au ean sees her, she waud be aus caum as au laum, and let a laud kiss his weam fou.  Bet. 
But pray thee speak English, else 'tis impossible to comprehend thy meaning.  Will. 
Goad aun I had ye au mile frea au house ye waud understaun me meaning for au thaut.  Luc. 
Could you sit, and with a calm brow observe the dear Companions of your past liberty roving after new Loves? would you not flutter in your Cage and wish for freedom; envy those who ranged through open air, and curse the hour that fooled you into prison?  Free. 
No, Madam, I'd view securely men in Tempests tossed, pity the weary and misguided Travellers; and when I saw them tracing Danger's road, in search of Joys that vanish as soon as got, I'd shrink up in silent gladness, and bless my kinder stars that gave me wealth and happiness at home; I'd bid them be wise, and learn to love from me; run quick for safety to some constant Fair, whose charms give ease from all their labours past.  Will. 
Now deel talk me gi'en me Master does na woo aus bonnily aus I waud do me sell, only he forgets tea kiss her— Hear ye, Sir, talk her in yer arms this way, aun be me saul shoe will grow sua tame, ye may lead her tea the Kirk in au string, she will gaung wood toe be mairied upon ye.  [Kisses Betty. Free. 
Sirrah— Madam, I hope you'll pardon this rudeness.  Luc. 
I love to see the fellow in that antic garb; it puts me in mind of the old World, when clothes were used for Necessity, not Ornament.  Will. 
Whaun I was in me ain Kintrey, Maudam, the Minister's Wife said I waus the bonniest Laud in au her good man's parish.  [Struts and walks a tiptoe. Luc. 
Did she?— I love the humours of strangers.  Will. 
Maudam, aun yea hea au mein tea marry me instead o me master, be me saul I will talk ye presently, I waud na let a bonny Lass rin wood for waunt o me.  Free. 
This, Madam, is intolerable Impudence— to your distance, Sirrah.  Will. 
Ay Sir, whaut's the matter we ye now? ye look like a Minister whun he has newly lost his Baunifice.  Luc. 
Have you got a Mistress, Willie, since you came to England?  Will. 
Nau, Madam; baut I hea gotten ean here aun she aun I caun agree, we may come ten confirm the bargain between a pair o blankets.  Bet. 
And what would you think of making the bargain there, and confirming on't afterwards? I've a Maidenhead to dispose of, I assure ye.  Will. 
Wau thaun we sall save the expenses o'Kirk-fees, aun make the bar gaun like our forbearers; I sall gang in to ye aun be acquainted we ye and su● forth, we cau thaut only playing a tune without a prelude.  Bet. 
Ay, but Willie, 'tis necessary the Church should give us liberty to play, else we may come to pay too dear for our Music.  Free. 
You see, Madam, they have come already to Articles; I can propose none, but I've a heart at your service, I give it, ne'er to be recalled; for tho' your powerful Charms forced me to make the gift, yet my consent soon followed; my Judgement confirmed it, and it will stand good in law.  Luc. 
I'm afraid, tho' it were sealed and delivered in the Church, you would find some corner to sculk in, and pretend to other terms; swear the delivery was conditional, and you gave it with a prospect of possessing another to supply the want of your own— but however, my modesty bounds my words, yet I'm willing my Eyes should express my thoughts, and let you know your addresses are— not— unacceptable.  Free. 
I've no way left to express my Joy; Silence speaks my Soul o'ercharged with sudden happiness; and he who loves like me, must court in dumb show; may all your hours be a continued scene of gladness, like that which reigns at my heart; and may each minute of your life produce new Joys, that when you have run through all the pleasures this world can beflow, death may steal upon you like a gentle friend, that comes to wa●t you to a better shore— but rather than be troublesome to her I love, I choose to inflict a short banishment upon myself, tho' I go with all the pains of an absent Lover— Madam, your humble Servant.  [Exit. Will. 
Aun whaut say ye tea me before I gaung away?  Bet. 
Why nothing, follow your Master.  Will. 
Aun my Master be in au great haist, he may stay au we btt. Aun he aun his Lass hea made a bargain sua his nau Wulle too.  Bet. 
Come, pray thee be gone, thou art troublesome.  Will. 
Be goad aun ye sall see my bauckside presently, troublesome quo; thaued aun Englis Woman's breeding aun he haunget till her— [to Lucy. Madam, fair ye well, aun ye hea any thing ten say ten me, ye will see me whun I come back again.  [Exit. muttering. Bet. 
Well, Madam, our affairs have put on a handsome face to day; Fortune begins to smooth her brow, and grace us with her smiles— 'tis a lusty handsome Gentleman.  Luc. 
The present prospect shows a long train of coming Joys; Heaven begins to smile upon me, since I abandoned my old sin of doting; and if I succeed in this innocent cheat, I shall ne'er tempt its goodness more.  
None ere grew virtuous but by just degrees,  
Nor traced the road to happiness but with ease.  
Custom a second nature oft has proved;  
And 'tis with labour and regret we're moved,  
To quit those darling pleasures once we loved.  [Exeunt.  

SCENE II.  
Sir Anthony's House.  Enter Sir Anthony Choleric and Dick. Sir Anth. 
HAve a minute's patience; I say, Neighbour, all is not lost that is in hazard, as the saying is.  Dick. 
Ay, ay, Sir-father says very well; I had a Latin Proverb to the same purpose, but by Seneca I've forgot it.  Choll. 
Well, well; I've done, I've done; but that impudent young Jilt— but I've done. I'll say no more.  Sir Anth. 
Your Housekeeper will set all to-rights again; she shall guard them to night, and prepare things necessary for this great occasion, that Melintha may be married like the Daughter of Sir Anthony Addle; your Niece shall lie in my house too, and the morrow's Sun shall see an alliance confirmed between our Families, which nothing less than death shall dissolve.  Dick. 
But uds so, I forgot to tell you how the Rogue kicked me before my Mistress, and would have done the same again in the Walks, had I not been obliged to my heels that brought me off unseen.  Choll. 
How— O Lord! that Rogue, I profess, will make me mad.  Dick. 
Make him mad, Sir father? by Venus he's mad already.  Sir Anth. 
That was a—  Choll. 
Ay, was it not?— a Villain— I knew he would be graceless; why some months ago I found him in his Closet a writing of a Play; well, he's a Rogue, a Dog, a Scoundrel, a Rake, and will die a Beggar— but no more on't; only I'm sure my Brother Sir Thomas Choleric ne'er begot this limb of Satan.  Sir Anth. 
But as I was saying, that was a—  Choll. 
Ay, that's certain, he'll ne'er escape the Gallows; I've known that young— I'll say no more— I profess I've known the Rake come home at night with as many Filders, Hautboys, Starving Poets, and red-faced Bullies— Why the Rascal has come home with as many empty bellies at his back, as his Majesty's Huntsmen with all his Dogs after him; and then a Surloin of Beef, or a Cold pie— why 'twas no more amongst them than a pennyworth of Cheese to a lusty Porter; but I'll make him a—  Sir Anth. 
Sincerely speaking, I begin to show my weakness, my blood will rise, and I say your Nephew—  Choll. 
My Nephew's a Rogue, let him be damned for an unlucky— he tempts me to forget myself; and I profess I'm afraid I said too much; did I swear, or not? ha!  Dick. 
No, no; but by Bacchus—  Choll. 
No matter, no matter, the Rogue would provoke a Saint to wrath; but I'll be revenged, I will; he shan't o'errule me, a—  Sir Anth. 
I say your Nephew shall be punished by Law; such affronts as these derogate from the honour of my house; and 'tis fitting a—  Choll. 
And had the Impudence to serve him so beneath my roof: but no more on't, the Knave shall pay dear for all.  Sir Anth. 
Sincerely speaking, Neighbour Choleric. I think you are a Madman, and I ought to have the liberty of Speech allowed me in my own house.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father, and in your own Cause too.  Choll. 
Cause, as the Young man says? why look ye now, the Rogue has given me cause to turn him lose into the World, and I'll do't I warrant ye.  Sir Anth. 
Ingenuously I'm incensed, I can hold no longer; I say, Neighbour, hear me, or turn out of my house; I'm resolved to be master of my own family.  Choll. 
You say right, I've done, I've done.  Sir Anth. 
Well then, I say, a Justice of the Peace shall take Cognizance of this affair— but here comes your Houses-keeper.  Enter Decoy. 
Madam, having taken—  Choll. 
Why look ye, d'ye see, we have sent for you to—  Sir Anth. 
Body o'me, the man will never let me speak— having, Madam, taken—  Dick. 
ud's so, say on Sir-father.  Sir Anth. 
Why sincerely I shall never begin at this rate; having, Madam, taken into our Consideration the extravagant inclinations of our Children, and those who respectively depend on us, and maturely considered the sad Consequences that may attend such courses; and that some who have never shown themselves affectionate to our Government, signalised themselves yesterday in seducing the hearts of our Daughters: It is the will and pleasure therefore of your Master, that by virtue of the authority now given and reposed in you.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father speaks like a Judge.  Sir Anth. 
For the future prevent all such unlawful courses and methods, that no Correspondence may be held between them hereafter; for we are firmly resolved by stratagems and new politics to keep these cunning Gentlemen from the possession of these Lands to which they aspire.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father, that was a thundering Speech; sure the Rogues will never have the Impudence to make any more addresses— my Sisters will never accept of them.  Choll. 
Look ye d'ye see, without further ceremony stay here all night, and look to the young women; my Niece is already here, and to morrow shall be married; in the mean time 'tis fitting we should provide Counsel; but let that be your task; and mine, to procure Licence.  Dick. 
By Ovid here's fine work, we shall all go over head and ears in Matrimony.  De. 
Sir, I'll obey your Orders punctually; and to save you the expenses of Coach-hire, I know of a Lawyer, who will wait upon you when called, and do the business for a Glass of Wine, without the help of a Fee to sweeten it: I'm acquainted too with a Nonconformist Parson, who has a wonderful dexterity in joining hands and hearts.  Choll. 
That's good, that's good; be sure you speak to them.  Sir Anth. 
Well, Neighbour, let's go, every thing shall be in readiness; I'll have a new Suit too, that I may grace the Nuptials with my gaiety; they shall go no more to the Walks.  Dick. 
In statu quo prius you mean Sir-father; for if I live, they shan't all carry their Maidenheads with them; if they do—  Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, the boy grows wanton— but 'tis no matter, a month or so will tame him; I was young myself, and can remember these things still— Dick come along Dick.  Choll. 
Good b'ye, I'll see you again in an hours time.  [Exeunt. Manet Decoy. De. 
So this has happened to my wish now the Ladies are committed to my charge; and since 'tis mine to provide Counsel, 'tis in my power to advance all their Joys: let me die 'tis a sweet adventure, and I'm resolved to build my fortune so strongly (for that will make them liberal) upon the necessities of the young people, that the frowns of the old can never shake me; 'tis a good foundation, ay, and here come materials fit for the Structure.  Enter Melintha, Flora, and Timandra. 
Oh, Ladies! here have been strange doings; Sir Anthony and Mr. Choleric are acquainted with all that passed yesternight in Lincolns-Inn; the young Philosopher has played the Conjurer, and infored your enemies of all your designs.  Mel 
No, he turned spy it seems, but the old man will soon forget it.  De. 
Ay, but Madam, you're condemned, and you too Madam; to morrow's marked out for Execution-day, and I'm your Jailor by special orders from the higher powers— there's no way left to escape.  Flo. 
And I'm in prison, but not condemned I hope.  Tim. 
And pray thee, Decoy, wilt thou not admit of Bail.  De. 
O dear Madam, by no means, in cases of High-treason there's no such thing after Judgement given.  Flo. 
Sure thou hast not so much of cruelty in thy Nature; to wink at small faults, speaks thee tender-hearted; a quality inherent to woman.  De. 
Self-preservation bars the thoughts of mercy; and if the Prisoners escape, the Keeper may shift for himself, or stay for certain punishment.  Flo. 
I'm sorry my Judgement and Experience did not sooner inform me of my Error— What d'ye think of this, Madam? I hope 'twill buy off my Chains, if it do not purchase Freedom.  [Gives Money. De. 
Truly, Madam, your generosity staggers my strongest resolutions.  Flo. 
Her zeal for my Father's arbitrary Government begins to cool, Sister; ply her with such another argument as mine, and she'll throw off all Obedience, and become a rebel like ourselves, and fly (tho' not directly) in the face of all Authority.  Mell. 
If this can tempt her, She's of our party.  [Gives Money. Tim. 
And this shall help to confirm the Convert in her new tenets, that obedience is an effect of Interest, and 'tis madness to continue allegiance when that tie is broke, or better secured with the Enemy.  [Gives Money. De. 
As I live, fair Ladies, you've o'ercome me, you've Justice on your side; 'tis impossible to raise any objections against such powerful arguments— Who's this?  Enter Willie. Will. 
Be my Saul this is the aul Jaude thaut mumped me new Master out o his siler— Maudaum, I hea brought ye an Letter frea Sir John— me bonny Lasses how d'ye do, yet Sweethearts aur stauning sighing in the causy, aun look like sua money clipped sheep; a goad I believe they will gang dauft for want o ye.  [Decoy takes the Letter and reads. De. 
Run Ladies into the other room, I'm but Deputy-Governess, and 'tis not safe to meet with your Lovers, unless I were assured of my Superiors continued absence.  Flo. 
Well, Madam, remember the weight of our past arguments, and let no new accident divert your resolution.  [Exeunt. De. [Reads the letter again]— 
Tell the Gentlemen their humble Servant Decoy waits to receive them with all humility.  Will. 
Ay, ay, baut ye soud nea hea sent awau the women thaun, for be me saul they wunnau gaung out o the house till the be as sure o them aus me faither was o me mither that night Wulle was begotten upon her.  [Exit. De. 
Now for another Cast of my Art; for that Matchmaker knows not her own trade, who fails at any time to make them pay for their hopes; if we are not courted with as many Guineas as their Mistresses with Oaths, we manage amiss, and lose our own fortunes, because we have too much of modesty— Gentlemen, I'm your humble Servant.  Enter Sir John, Captain, Ned, and Willie. Sir John. 
I hope, Madam, you know our business.  Will. 
Goad aun thaut she does, for I tellit her o''t.  De. 
Alas, Sir, I know too much; for my want of power to serve you in this affair brings my grief.  Sir John. 
You jest, Madam; sure 'tis impossible you should be insensible of our Common Calamity.  De. 
O Lord, Sir! I'm a sharer in all your Fortunes, and would relieve you from pain with all my heart; but—  Ned. 
You'd run no hazard to serve your friends— Damn her, she must be bribed, she's like a new Coach-wheel, often greased before she can run smooth.  Sir. Jo. 
Can't this persuade?  [All give. Capt. 
Madam, accept of this small Compliment.  Nod. 
And I humbly offer these few Yellow-boys to procure your assistance.  Will. 
Wa Sirs, uva Sirs: are ye reed wood ten gea awau yer siller— uva goad the Lasses aur na saunted, ye may get them for the half of this trouble.  De. 
I protest sincerely, Gentlemen, I know not what to say t'ye— but in spite of danger, you shall once more be happy by my means— I'll lead the way.  Capt. 
By our Money he would have said.  [They go off. Will. 
Wuns cau ye this wooing Alamode! this is an Englis trick indeed, a maun must give siller for an sight o his Sweetheart, aus we do in Scotlaun ten see au dancing Mere, or au Eape playing on the Bagpipes.  [Goes off. [The flat Scene opens, and discovers Sir John, Captain, Ned, Willie, Timandra, Melintha, Flora, and Decoy: The Captain and Flora advance, and Wily after them.] Capt. 
All danger ought to be despised when Love has any share in the action; the prize before us should give Courage, and spur us on to Victory.  Flo. 
Why you're at your old similes again, Captain, action, prize, and victory; sure you imagine to yourself a formal siege when you attack a Lady; I hope you don't muster your Company in the Tavern, and ●et the Bottles in battle-array instead of men.  Will. 
Be me Soul he threw ●an o thea men at my head half au yeir seen.  Capt. 
I confess, Madam, a Lady is a strange Enemy; for a Soldier finds it often more difficult to get access to her Soul, than to throw in provisions to a Town besieged.  [Hear the Ladies and Gentlemen advance. Will. 
A goad my Master aunt like your Ladyship will storm a Fort we any laud in au Lonon aun ye will give him a Commission.  Capt. 
Sirrah— ha, who's this, Madam?  [Choleric holding the Door. Choll. 
Thiefs! Thiefs! Thiefs!  Flo. 
Farewell, Captain; remember, a Town once lost has been regained.  [Flora goes off, and the other Ladies in haste. Capt. 
How, Sir!— draws—  Choll. 
Murder! Murder! Murder!  Will. 
O Lord, I'm murdered auready; whaut a deel brought me in ten this unlucky house aun 〈◊〉 sua now?  Enter Sir Anthony and Servants with long Staffs, and Dick with his Sword drawn behind them, and walking backwards. Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, I say, secure the Gentlemen.  Dick. 
ud's so, knock 'em down; by Jupiter we shall all be murdered.  Will. 
Be me saul I'm a dead man; I will hide me sell beneath this Table.  Sir Jo. 
Come, let's force a passage to ourselves.  Capt. 
With all my heart.  [They fight, and the Servants give way on each side. Ned. 
And mine.  [Exeunt. Choll. Ned, Ned, 
Good boy, thou won't murder thy Uncle— O Lord!  Sir Anth. 
I'm dead.  Dick. 
By Vulcan so am I— knock 'em down, I say knock 'em down; Sir-father shall keep ye all from harm.  Choll. 
Knock 'em down— why look ye now d'ye see, they are all gone. Ah that Rogue my Nephew shall be hanged— a dog, a—  Dick. 
ud's so Sir-father, I scoured 'em off, Rogues, Pimps, Panders, and Scoundrels; by Aristotle I've frighted them; this Sword did execution; but I'll put it up, because my Uncle that is to be, is here.  Will. 
Be me Saul I waud I waur i' me ain Kintrey again, Englaun soud niver hea the honour o'me presence aun they waud mauke a King o'me.  Sir Anth. 
Oh, oh, I faint, help me forwards; I'll lean upon this Table, and recover breath.  [As he goes to rest upon it, Dick o'returns it. Choll. 
Look ye now, d'ye see; who have we got here? another Rogue! the house is full of them, would I were fairly out on't.  Will. 
Gaung awau thaun, whau au deel hauds, au grip o'ye— agoad I believe me Master has left me here to be hangett.  [Takes hold of Willie. Dick. 
Stay, stay, let me alone with him; this is Sinon that was to open the wooden-horse, and let out all the Grecians.  Will. 
Be me Saul the Englismen will hea na mercy on me, I fin thaut; baut aun I could get safe to the door, they soud na ou lay saut ay me arse the night again.  [Offers to run, and Dick stops him. Dick 
ud's so, not so fast, you shall leave your head behind ye.  Sir Anth. 
Body o'me, the boy Dick is bloodily disposed.  Will. 
Be goad sein na better may be, I will fight for my head furst— I'll gaur ye au loap like Dinmonts— I will let ye ken whaut it is ten anger a Scotlaun maun.  Dick. 
O Lord! O Lord! I'm murdered.  Sir Anth. 
And so are all of us.  Choll. 
Oh, oh, oh.  Will. 
The muckle deel mauke oar ye waud na be at rest till I doused yer doublets for ye; baut now I hea learned ye mainers we this bred Sword, I'll gang and seek my new Master.  [Exit. Singing Old Sir Simon, etc. Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father, this was a damned bloody Dog.  Choll. 
Look ye now, I see no heads he has left behind him but our three Calves-heads.  Sir Anth. 
No matter, 'tis a mercy he has left those: but where's Madam Decoy, Body o'me? Alderman Choleric, I say your Housekeeper is naught, and has betrayed her Trust.  Enter Decoy in a seeming amazement. Choll. 
Ay, ay, here she is; look ye now, look ye now, you was brought here to a fine purpose; you was, a very fine purpose; but 'tis no matter— I'll be revenged one day or other.  De. 
Heaven knows Sir I knew nothing of the matter till just now I met the lewd fellows in the streets: I was at Mr. Delay the Lawyer, and Mr. Sigher's the Nonconformist— God knows I did it purely for the best, and stole out on foot to save expenses.  [Weeps. Sir Anth. 
Sincerely speaking, I believe the Woman is innocent.  Dick. 
By Mercury I believe so too.  Choll. 
I've done then, Madam: look ye, look ye to your charge: Farewell, for I've not yet dispatched the business of this day.  [Exit. Sir Anth. 
Come along, Dick; come along.  
The fighting Fool gets Scars; but he that's wise  
Preserves his Skin, and from known Danger flies:  
Honour's an empty Sound, admired by those  
Who have no Brains, or no Estate to lose.  
While those by Fortune blessed, look-wisely on,  
And see this airy Mistress lost or won;  
But without Danger to be got by none.  
Finis Actus Quarti.    


ACT V. SCENE I.  
Lucy's Lodgings.  Enter Decoy, Sola. De. 
WIth difficulty I've got out of doors, but the old Lover and the young have relieved me from my post; my three principal Lovers are uneasy on both sides, and from the Gentlemen I've received fifty Guineas this morning to complete their cure; nor have I forgot to squeeze the young Ladies, even to their very Jewels; I can expect no more than I've already got by both parties; for should I now balk them in this Intrigue, they'd never trust me again: I've worn them almost threadbare, and 'tis time to lay them aside; I'll give therefore the finishing stroke to this plot, hitherto so well managed, and show myself honest, because I can find no profit by a longer delay. As for Mr. Freelove's marriage with Lucy, 'tis easy, their mutual fears will force them to a speedy obedience, and I'll enjoin an immediate conjunction between them. Mum, here he comes; I'm glad I have his Bond and hers; 'tis a large Fee for a She-Counsel— Sir, your humble Servant.  Enter Freelove and Willie. Free. 
I've punctually obeyed those Orders you sent me this morning; every thing is in readiness, and I wish the young Lady may—  De. 
O Lord Sir, doubt it not, I've dived into her inmost thoughts; but the business must be speedily dispatched, for her friends begin to pry into't.  Will. 
Begoad Sir I will feght we au her freins, and gar 'em gee conseut, uva I clawed off three Englismen yesterday.  [Whispers Lucy. Enter Lucy and Betty. De. 
Sir, I beg your pardon, the Lady enters— Madam, for your own sake embrace this opportunity which now offers itself; his friends are advertised of his design, and study to break off the Match— Now I've brought ye once more together, I know ye both love, and it were a sin to part ye, 'tis hard to please every body, and I'd have you join for ever, lest you meet no more.  Will. 
Ay do sua my bairns, agoad I will dance at yer breidall.  Free. 
Madam, yesterday you taught me to hope; to day brings new alarms, and an hours delay may bring me years of pain.  Will. 
Wuns I say talk him, talk him, Madam, he will set yer Water-mill au gaunging.  De. 
Pray, Madam, consider the Gentleman's violent Love, that he hunts not for a Fortune; and that he prefers your Esteem to his Interest.  Will. 
Haud yer chaunts together in au mischanter t'ye, aun let the Lauss answer for her sell; agoad I waurran, she knes whaut's good for her.  Bet. 
Do, Madam; pity the Gentleman; I'll swear 'tis a shame to be so hard hearted.  Will. 
Be me Saul thea womans hea na mair power cur their tongues than they hea our their tails, aun thauts no muckle.  Luc. 
I own I'm powerfully assaulted, and modesty only detains me from saying I— Love.  Will. 
Now be me Saul she says very weill.  Free. 
Then thus I render thanks for the mighty blessing; my heart scorns its narrow bounds, and seeks for greater Joys than e'er it knew— let me kiss this fair hand, and in that (not words) express my transports.  Will. 
Hout, hout, Sir, kiss her bonny mouth, whaut a deel will she be the better o' yer kindness aun ye do na mair nor thaut till her.  De. 
'Tis rarely acted, they are at no small pains to cheat one another; and both of them dissemble with as much pleasure, as a lusty Friar would eat a fat Capon after a tedious Lent— Well, Madam, a thousand blessings attend you; believe me, I could weep for gladness to see you thus far on the way to a happi●●r state of life— Complete the Gentleman's Joys, for 'tis a Sin that two such loving hearts should be so long divided.  Free. 
Speak, Madam, speak; he that like me is blessed only by halves in that uncertain state, finds certain pains; the present pleasure's lost in hopes of more, and fears of future events rack the Soul.  De. 
Sure Madam your heart yields.  Berty. 
Come, Madam, lay aside that confounded modesty invented by old decayed Beauties to torment the young and bar 'em of those pleasures of which their envious age permitted them not to be sharers— the Gentleman's addresses are very honourable.  Will. 
Ay, ay, Sir, talk her silence for a grant, come awau ten the Kirk we her, she will gaung we good will I'se waurran her.  Luc. 
I can be no longer obstinate, I'll yield a blind obedience, and ●ye myself for ever Freeloves.  Will. 
Goad aun fair fau her for her kindness aun en sua.  Free. 
Nay, now my Joys are no more to be expressed.  Will. 
Nau deel be fain o' me gi'en our lairds Sister whirr I waus born in Scotlaun waud said sua mickle ten au young maun aun she soud never be maired in her days. Baut a goad for au that she can play in the dark we young meast Chaplain, au caunting young loun as is in au the kirk again.  De. 
Truly, Madam, I can hold no longer, excess of Joy brings forth my tears: pray heavens bless you, you are a lovely couple as ever I put together in my life.  Will. 
Whaut au deel ails the old wife now, ken any body that?  Dec. 
Well, well, get ye in together, Betty knows where the Parson lives; my business calls me hence, for this day is Love's Jubilee, and the little Boy is merry: but come let me first see you into the other Room.  Luc. 
I'll obey, Madam— I am made for ever.  [Exeunt with Decoy. Will. 
Run laus will ye rin aun get the Minister ten mairy me Master, aun get anither to mairy me.  Bet. 
Well, well; Willie, I'll think upon't.  [Exit. Will. 
Do sua me Jo— now I'll gaung in, aun wait upon me master, whau ken baut I may get the leg of a Capon ten me wauden dinner, shame fa me gi'en I hea-na mickle need o''t, for I fin a civil war i me guts, aun my puddings are gaunging tea eat an aunother.   

SCENE II.  
Sir Anthony's House.  Enter Sir Anthony, Dick and Choleric. Sir Anth. 
So boy, look brisk, body o' me, 'tis a handsome Lad.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father, I'll make ye a Grandfather in nine Months.  Choll. 
Look ye, friend, that part is mine, I was born before you, was I not?  Dick. 
By Jupiter I hope ye would not lie with my Wife.  Choll. 
That's right, that's right, I invited some of my Friends to be merry with us to night.  Sir Anth. 
And I have invited Mr. Caperer the Dancing master, and Chorus the Musick-master, the poor Rogues owe me some money, and I'm resolved they shall dance and sing it out this night; charges upon such occasions are inevitable— have you invited your Nephew?  Choll. 
A Rogue, a Villain, I'll see him hang first; invite him! why look ye now, d'ye see;—  Sir Anth. 
I say, Neighbour, abandon your wrath, let not your passion banish Reason, I am not desirous of the young man's Company.  Choll. 
That's true, that's true, I forget myself.  Dick. 
ud's so, I think you have always a damnable memory.  Enter Madam Decoy. Sir Anth. 
Call my Daughters and Mr. Chollerick's Niece, are the Lawyers come? is the Parson ready, and every thing in order?  De. 
Sir I've forgot nothing.  Choll. 
Call them in.  De. 
Yes, Sir.  [Exit. Dick. 
ud's so, you might have put on a new suit, Uncle; that is, to be for a new wise.  Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, that's true, 'tis an undecent garb for a Bridegroom.  Choll. 
That's nothing: look ye, I love my money, and therefore would not disburse it for trifles; I'll give my Wife a Compliment of five hundred broad-pieces in an embroidered purse; your vain Coxcombs, who spend all on Plays, Paints, Perfumes, and long wigs, have no such gifts to bestow; they bring a pair of laced breeches to the beds-side, but not one farthing in 'em.  Enter Timandra, Flora, Melintha and Decoy. De. 
Ladies, be of good courage, I've a plot will save you all, though on the brink of ruin.  EXIT. Sir Anth. 
Come, Daughter, let me see no signs of Sorrow in your face, I have provided for you a wealthy husband— Dick, bear up to the young Lady.  Choll. 
Look, d'ye see, young woman? look kindly upon him, he's a handsome youth; do't, or expect my immediate displeasure; turn out o' doors, run mad for want, and go to Bedlam at last for shelter, you shall, you— but I'd almost forgot myself again, temptation is a dangerous thing, and all men are wise till they have occasion to show their parts.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father I'll speak to her— Madam, you and I are like to be good friends ere to morrow morning; by Jupiter if I had you— I know where I would be.  Tim. 
At the University again it may be, Sir.  Dick. 
The University! No, by Aristotle I'm for no such Journeys, I'll teach you Natural Philosophy here in London.— ud's so, but Marriage is a damned thing, that allows me but one Scholar; my Sir-father (when he was a young man) had forty, I warrant him.  Enter Sir 
John Winmore, Capt. Bellair, as Lawyers; Ned Choleric like a Noncon-Parson, and Decoy.  Sir John. 
We are now fairly in, Madam, and upon you we rely for a fairer Exit.  Capt. 
I hope the old Gentlemen know us not in our new Shapes.  De. 
Leave all to my management, and the event shall answer your wishes.  Flo. 
'Tis he, Mars, appears in Masquerade, and shines throughout musty black.  Sir Anth. 
Gentlemen, you're welcome.  De. 
Sir, I've brought two Councillors.  Choll. 
Very well, very well, I can read Noverint universi in their foreheads at this distance— are the Papers ready?  Capt. 
Yes, Sir— are you ready, Madam?  [to Flora aside. Flo. 
Before you make a good Council.  Sir Jo. 
Am I happy, Madam? or doomed to misery? I am a bad Lawyer when my Eyes must plead my Cause, and I'm obliged without Arguments to refer all to my Judge?  Tim. 
The adverse-party have authority on their fide, which may be much to their advantage.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father, 'tis a Jolly young Parson: shall—  Sir Anth. 
Presently boy thou shalt be a married man.  Dick. 
By Ovid, Sir-father, I begin to grow proud on't, my head stands just now as stiff as if the marks of honour already pressed my brow. Marriage is a notable trick, that in a minute, of a raw boy makes a grave solid lump of a man.  Ned. 
Is the young Divine, or the old Merchant, the happy Lover? you see love has transformed me into a new man; I run the risk of Church-censure too in pretending to marriages without Orders; but I hope that in this Cloak (the cover of many infirmities) 'twill be easy to escape the inquisition.  Mel. 
Yes, if I am Sinner enough to digest a hypocrite, and take up with a mere show of Sanctity and Religion.  Enter Servant. Ser. 
Sir, a Gentleman below-stairs waits for ye.  [Exit. Dick. 
By Vulcan that's some University-acquaintance or other, I'll bring him up, and show him how happy I am to be in a few minutes.  [Exit. Sir Anth. 
Now, Gentlemen, let's see the papers— Mr. Sigher, pray sit down a little, for the Law must be still before the Gospel— what's this? read the Contents.  Choll. 
Ay, ay, read the Continents.  Sir Jo. 
This is, Sir, a Settlement of four hundred per annum upon your eldest lawful begotten Son Richard Addle, out of that Estate lying in the Country of Nullibi, in—  Sir Anth. 
Pray read it, Sir, word by word.  Sir Jo. 
Faith, Sir, I'm in haste, business calls me speedily hence, and I humbly beg your excuse, I shall warrant it right— pox on the Law, I'm wearied on't already.  Choll. 
Very good; no matter; and what's this large Scroll?  Sir Jo. 
The honourable Sir Anthony Addle bestows upon his Daughter eight thousand Pounds to be paid the first of January next ensuing.  Choll. 
A long term, the first of January next ensuing! Why look ye d'ye see, the Interest of the money at Six per Cent. comes to— ay, let me see, comes to— but no matter, January next, why 'tis a whole year to'r.  Sir Anth. 
Body o'me, the Man is in a passion before all these Witnesses: I say Neighbour Choleric you love not my Daughter.  Flo. 
No faith, Sir; but your money sets his heart on fire.  Choll. 
Well, well, I've done— and what have we got here?  Capt. 
This, Sir, contains—  Choll. 
What Sir? let me see what does it contain.  [takes the parchment. Capt. 
Now, Madam, quick relief, or we're all undone.  De. 
Yes, Sir, 'tis a coming.  [Stamps with her foot. Enter Servant hastily. Ser. 
Oh, oh, I'm frighted out of my Senses, your Son, Sir—  Sir Anth. 
Ay, Body o'me, that's true; where is the young Man?  Ser. 
O Lord, Sir, Arrested, the Bailiffs have got him, 'tis an Action of Ten thousand pounds: O, Sir, he's almost dead with fear, and e'er now he's either in the Spunging-house, or the Counter.  Choll. 
Look ye now, look ye now, d'ye see, he has played some Rogue's trick, and now he's catched.  Sir Jo. 
This works rarely.  Capt. 
Thank ye, Madam.  Sir Anth. 
I say, Neighbour, you are— but no matter— a Rogue's trick!  Choll. 
Well, well, I've done; no more on't; let's run and Bail him.  Sir Anth. 
By all means, 'twas well moved; sincerely 'twas an unlucky accident.  De. 
Stop 'em, stop 'em; now's your time to have the Papers subscribed.  Capt. 
Stay, Gentlemen, stay; first put your Hands and Seals to these Papers; you know we have much business, and can't wait your return.  Choll. 
That's right, one thing should be done before another: which is mine?  Capt. 
This, Sir.  Sir Jo. 
Both these are yours.  Sir Anth. 
Now all's done, let's run, Neighbour, for my Son's relief: the delivery of the Papers is forgot; but no matter, we'll do't when we come back.  [Exeunt hastily Sir Anthony and Choleric. De. 
Now, Gentlemen, play your game well; the Stakes lie ready before ye, and here are no old Bullies to sweep the Table.  Sir Jo. 
Well, Ladies, you see the Common danger (for such I hope you'll own it) our good Fortune has allowed this Critical minute for us all: which, if well employed, brings a continued happiness— we've been good Counsellors too.  Ned. 
Now, Revenge, Love, and Liberty call aloud: sure such powerful music must affect the heart, and set the soul afloat.  Mel. 
Come, Gentlemen, Ceremonies are now dangerous, because tedious; I'm fairly resolved to go with ye.  Tim. 
And I.  [They run off, Mel. Tim. Sir John and Ned, Decoy following. Capt. 
You'll stay behind I suppose, Madam?  Flo. 
Why faith, Captain, I doubt whether I shall or not.  Capt. 
If you do, Madam, than I must sleep a Bachelor to night.  Flo. 
No, hang it, that's a dull comfortless life; I'll rather try the Fool's Paradise, and for once be married.  Capt. 
That's well thought of; the Gentleman in Black, I suppose, has conjured Sir John already half way into the Circle; let us succeed, and get the second or third cast of his Office.  [Exeunt hastily. Enter Sir Anth. Choll. and Dick. Sir Anth. 
Body o'me, the Rogues shall be severely punished; why, they had not a Writ against the Youngman.  Dick. 
By Ovid I'm sick, the Rogues have frighted me so, I shan't be able to show myself a man to night again.  Choll. 
Villains, Vagabonds, Rakes, Rascals, Sons of— God forgive me, they had almost spoiled our mirth; Rogues—  Sir Anth. 
Sincerely 'tis no matter, all's well again: now to our business— ha! where are the Lawyers?— gone— hoa? who waits there?  Enter Servant. 
Where are the Lawyers? the Parson? and my Daughters?  Choll. 
And my Niece; my Niece I ask?  Ser. 
All gone abroad, Sir.  Sir Anth. 
Body o'me! we're betrayed, cheated, ruined, and undone.  Dick. 
Pox on your Housekeepers Lawyers, I say.  Choll. 
'Tis rare work, and Ned has a hand in't; that young Dog must have a finger in the pie; I'll have him hanged; I'll have him hanged, Tyburn is too good for the Rogue— O that Villain!  Dick. 
By Jupiter I'm finely served, I've lost my Supper, just when my Appetite had taught me to long for it.  Sir Anth. 
Run, Sirrah, run; cry, stop the Thiefs, the Murderer's, the Robbers, the any-things, body o'me, all's lost.  Enter Sir John, Captain Ned, Mel. Flo. and Tim. Ned. 
No Sir, 'tis not lost, that is on a friend bestowed.  Choll. 
So, Sirrah; I knew the Rogue was one at this mischief; I knew't you dog you, I'll make you— let me come at him— this Case and his Shoulders must renew their acquaintance.  [Sir Anth. holds him. Sir Anth. 
Body o'me, we have entertained Wolves in Sheeps-clothing.  Dick. 
By Jupiter, two of them were in Fox's Clothing: but uds so, I hope they are not married, Sir-father.  Mel. 
Thus low I kneel to beg your Blessing: this Gentleman is your Son, and my Husband.  Dick. 
A damned confounded Rogue, is he?  Sir Anth. 
Body o'me, the young Woman has outwitted me: but since she's married to a Knight's Son, I forgive her; I ever esteemed your Father Sir Thomas— Rise, Daughter; prove an obedient Wife, and my Blessing shall never be wanting.  Ned. 
This sudden Change speaks the goodness of your Nature; nor shall my duty (if possible) ever show itself less than your kindness— this Gentleman too deserves your pardon and esteem.  Sir Anth. 
How! body o'me! Flo. married!  Flo. 
Yes faith, Sir, I longed to taste the sweet Sin of Rebellion: and now the fact is committed, I want a Remission.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir father; the Jades are all mad.  Choll. 
Ned, Sirrah, Rascal, are you really married to this Woman? Durst you use your Uncle thus?— 'Twas a needless question, the graceless Villain would stick at nothing; but I'll be revenged, I will, Sirrah; let them all starve.  Sir Anth. 
What's passed can't be recalled; the Girl was ne'er (it seems) ordained for a Nun, and the method she has pursued persuades me she has Wit: I wish you, Sir, all that happiness you desire; may you be envied by none, and esteemed by all.  Capt. 
This indeed alone could add to my happiness: your friendship and this young Lady's love exalt me above the reach of Fortune's malice: should she now ●rown, I'd laugh at her weakness; she can give no more, for this mighty gift has exhausted all her treasure.  Sir Jo. 
I've presumed without your Consent to marry your Niece, my—  Choll. 
Well, well, Sir, and starve with her when you've done; my Consent was worth nothing: the blessing of a thousand pounds was a mere trifle; the Parson's was enough for you: but no matter, let that buy your Dinner; I'll see you all starve like so many Rats in a ruinous house.  Sir Jo. 
No, Sir, this secures me from that plague you threaten.  Choll. 
What's that, Sirrah?— I profess I long to swinge this Rogue.  Sir Jo. 
Ten thousand pounds Alderman Choleric gave me with his Niece; I suppose 'twas all her own.  Choll. 
Oh Dog! oh Villain! oh Wretch! I'm choosed! ruined! and— but 'tis no matter! I'll be revenged; I'll have Law; I'll spend all I have in the recovery of my right, I will— let me come at him—  Sir Anth. 
Have patience, Neighbour, body o' me, I begin to think that I'm no better used than I should be.  Capt. 
Why faith, Sir, I've made bold with eight thousand pounds instead of that designed for your Son.  Sir Anth. 
And body o' me, I suppose you've been such another Counsellor.  Ned. 
Yes, faith, Sir, I presume ye know these Letters to be of your own making.  Sir Anth. 
Sinceely speaking, 'tis so; I hope however I've got discrcet Creditors who won't sue a Commission of Bankrupt against me.  Choll. 
Look ye Ned; you're a Rogue, a confounded unlucky Villain.  Dick. 
ud's so, so he is, and used me once very Scurvily; but by jupiter I dare not complain, lest he renew his kindness.  Ned. 
I'm now master of Ten thousand pounds; I remember your old Maxim, Law for Money; and if it hold, you'll add another Ten to't.  Choll. 
Look ye now, the Rogue has me already on the sore hip— Ned, Ned, why Ned, I am thy Uncle, and thy best friend; I've a great kindness for thee, and would not willingly put thee to charges: banish, my dear boy Ned, all thoughts of Law, and live happy with thy present fortune.  Sir Anth. 
No disputes on a bridal night, the business shall be amicably composed at another time.  Enter Freelove, and Lucy, Decoy following. Choll. 
Now, now look ye; whom have we here? if he's one of Ned's Companions, he's a Rogue, and she a Jilt.  Free. 
Gentlemen, I wish you much Joy, and you, fair Ladies; I was informed of your good fortunes, and could be no longer absent; I'm happy too, and blessed as you are.  Capt. 
This, Sir, is a Gentleman, and my friend.  Sir Anth. 
You're very welcome, Sir; Body o' me, my Son in-Law's friend is no less than a Member of my family, and may confidently claim my Service.  Free. 
Sir, I'm your very humble Servant.  Dick. 
ud's so, he has got a delicate Wench, would I had married her.  Sir Jo. 
How long, Freelove, hast thou been acquainted with this young Lady?  Free. 
Not above two days; 'twas by Madam Dercey's means I had the good fortune to be beloved, and Marriage soon followed.  Sir Jo. 
Then, Jack, thou art abused, I know her Circumstances, and can assure thee she is not Mistress of a hundred pounds.  Free. 
Kind heaven bless me with the gift of patience, I m ruined, Fortune has done her worst; and in betraying others, I've undone myself.  Sir Jo. 
Thou too art cheated; but to salve this sore, I'll give thee a thousand pounds, and one hundred yearly during thy 〈◊〉: forget Sir John 〈◊〉 and the follies of thy younger years; be Just to thy husband, and in so doing thou art kind to thyself and me— in the mean time, Madam Decoy has used you unkindly.  Luc. 
She has my Bond too for a thousand pounds.  Free. 
By heaven, and mine too.  Sir Jo. 
These Bonds, Madam, won't be allowed of by a Judge; and to evite further trouble, 'tis fitting you should restore them.  De. 
O dear Sir, two thousand pounds! I deserve them very well.  Free. 
The Pillory you mean, Madam.  De. 
Truly, Sir, I scorn your words; I'm an honest Woman, and won't be so abused, I do every thing above board, and— and—  Sir Jo. 
You did assist me in my Love, and therefore I'm your friend; give up the Bonds, and I'll give you a Bill of fifty pounds upon my Goldsmith in Cheapside.  De. 
Well, Sir, my duty binds me to obedience; and rather than lose your friendship, I'll do't.  [Gives the Bonds, and they tore off their Names. Enter Willie and Betty. Will. 
Come away me Jo, be me Saul we sall be aus merry aus fifty beggars aut au fair; this letter will gau● me new Master loup out o' his skin for faunness, baut speak o' the meekle deel, aun yer be sure to staurt him— hea Sir, read th●ut, aun see whaut it says tea ye yet aul Aunt is aus deed aus au herring, aun has left ye au her gear.  But. 
Well, Sir John, I hope you'll remember me now I'm married.  Sir Jo. 
Are you her husband? Sirrah?  Will. 
A goad am I Sirrah, thea English men hea na breeding, shame fau me gi'en they soued na gang to Holland to learn it.— But whaut a vengeance is the matter we me Master, has the aul wutch geen him the wraung sow be the lug, I woner?  Free. 
It is so, good and bad news come together.  Sir Jo. 
Then Fortune is Just; thou art not, Jack, beholding to thy wife for all, for now thou hast brought thy share— now Joy shall shine in every face, and Music shall elevate the Soul to mirth; let the thoughts of business for a while be suspended, and Love the only end of all our actions.  Sir Anth. 
Then body o' me Mr. Chorus shall give us a Song: Dick call him in presently.  Dick. 
ud's so, Sir-father, I'll sing a Song first, I learned it of my Landlady's daughter at the Swan, who had the Child by young Hobbs the Carrier.  Sir Anth. 
With all my heart boy; Sincerely I'm glad to see thee so merry.  Choll. 
Rogues, Villains, they will be all hanged  [Speaking to himself aside. Dick. 
Hem, hem, by Jupiter I have a very good pipe upon occasion.  [Here Dick sings a Comical Song. 
Now, Sir-father, how d'ye like it? by Apollo I sung it very well.  Will. 
I will gee au Scotlaun Dance worth forty o''t, baut I waunt a piper.  Capt. 
The Violin, Sirrah, is better.  Will. 
Play up thaun Fiddlers, aun be haunged tea ye, aut let me hea au ●erray bonny Spring.  [Hear a Dance by Wille.] 
Now me bonny lauds whaut think o''t— be me Saul I waunt me Supper; ●ea ye neathing amaung ye ten eet? uva in Scotlaun we eet aun drink three days au on e●, tea mauke us able to please the Bride aun au her Maidens.  Sir Jo. 
Now let's have another Song.  Sir Anth. 
And as that ends, let the Dance begin.  [Hear a Song, than a Figure-dance. 
Now, Gentlemen, let's take another Road to Pleasure, change the Scene of mirth, and in the next Room (larger than this, and fitted for the purpose) toss a Eumper.  Dick. 
ud's so.  
Wine pleasure brings, and Care destroys,  
It new creates the Soul for Joys; Ta-la-ra, ta tall fa-la.  
I've lost my Mistress; but by Jupiter I'm not one to be merry.  Sir Anth. 
Body o' me, thou'rt in the right Boy— Come, Neighbour Choleric, forget and forgive, as the saying is: Sincerely, who knows but I may live to get another Daughter for ye?  Choll. 
No matter, let Ned, and that Jilt be hanged; let the rest of the Rogues be— But stay; I will drink with them before I go.  [Is running off in a passion, and returns suddenly. Sir Anth. 
Then, Gentlemen, let's go in.  Sir Jo. 
This day has repaired all our Sufferings past, and we may safely now, without vanity, believe ourselves beloved, if Youth (ere Judgements strong) knew all the Joys, the true content, and peace of mind, which honest Love rewarded can bestow, they'd envy our happiness, and contemn that uncertain state of life, which instead of pleasure, gives continued pains.  
Love and Ambition, something are akin;  
But mighty Love is still the nobler Sin;  
It wakes the sleeping Soul, and makes it still  
Seek greater Goods than purblind Reason will.  
We covet nothing, when we all possess;  
Our Joys wax greater, and our Fears grow less;  
And lasting Pleasures with our Years increase.  [Exeunt omnes. Finis Coronat Opus.    

EPILOGUE:  
Spoke by WILL. PINKETHMAN.  
YOur Favour's the Reward, I and the Author—  
O, stay, no—  
The Author and I do jointly seek it;  
He finds the Wit, and I— the face to speak it:  
And that we may succeed in our Design,  
I come to Court you— armed with Wit and Wine.  
The Fair alone from this Device will shrink;  
For as they never Hiss, they never Drink  
— in Public:  
Yet these are th' terms (the Author's such a Fop)  
If you don't Hiss— I must not Taste a drop.  
Then, Friendly Sirs, be to your Servant just,  
And Damn the Epilogue to Quench my Thirst.  
〈…〉 fullness so would mutter,  
I should not take a Bottle after Supper—  If they don't Hiss 
What not yet, are all against me bent?  
Egad, I'll take your Silence for Consent.  
— I dare not venture:  if they Hiss] 
O, so— very well—  [Drinks. 
very well:  If they don't Hiss] 
Nay! Now once more—  
Will. Pinkethman begs you to be Civil;  
To have Wine by one, and not drink's, the Devil.  
You're all Good-natured if you're Cross to night,  
And you'll oblige your humble Servant by't;  
For tho' the Wit is Counterfeit, the Wine is right.  [Drinks. 
But now for the Epilogue— Egad this is not the  
Paper! What shall I do! Let me see if I can  
remember it— Ha! hum! No; well  
I'll speak one of my Own.—  
But now I think on't, his is very Pretty;  
And I'm afraid I shan't be half so Witty:  
So if you'll stay till I go find the right,  
I'll read it now— Else call to morrow night.  
But hold!  
I've something now of Consequence to say,  
Good simple Bays on me bestows his Play;  
Therefore, dear Friends, come all on the Third Day.  
If not to him, to me your Favour show,  
And think on poor Will Pinkethman; for you must know,  
Your Long Vacations make him very Low.  
And now the Fatal time is Drawing on,  
When you will all Forsake this Charming Town,  
And to the Country for Diversion run.  
The Gamesters, They to Epsom take their way;  
And while they are with the City-Dames at play,  
The Husband's Bowl their Coin and Cares away.  
The Masks (Alas, poor Souls!) they must stay here,  
And to the Folly will in Sholes repair,  
To feed on Cold stuffed Beef, and drink stale Beer.  
The Players; ay, they're left too in the Lurch;  
Why, they must e'en go twice a Day to Church:  
For since they're like to live upon the Air,  
'Tis fit their Fasting should be joined with Prayer.  
FINIS.