Sir Solomon; OR, THE Cautious Coxcomb: A COMEDY.  
As it is ACTED at His Royal Highness the Duke of York's THEATRE.  
LONDON: Printed for H. Herringman, at the Blue Anchor, in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1671.   

The Prologue.  
YOu, that frequent the Stage, must needs allow  
The Sect of Poets their fanatics too:  
How could so many else their Gifts impart  
In spite of Nature, and in scorn of Art?  
All tedious Methods we cut short, and grow  
Poets and Saints, by thinking, we are so:  
A strong Faith does the business, and the place  
Of Wit supplies in those, in these of Grace.  
Their Muse, and Spirit differ but in Name;  
With equal Rage, all, but themselves they damn:  
When either carries on the Work o'th' Day,  
'Tis a Stage-Sermon, or a Pulpet-Play:  
Both Trade in Lofty-Sounds, and can Dispense  
With the Formalities of Wit and Sense.  
The Stars at their Nativity did Reign  
With a Malignant Influence o'er the Brain,  
Leaving it dry and shrunk, as Marrowbone,  
Or Shellfish dwindle in a waning-Moon:  
And therefore our Forefathers wisely said,  
A perfect Poet was born such, not made.  
Nor is our Saint less Privileged by Birth;  
For though some Virtuosos may hold forth,  
That Eggs, when first they drop, are not laid addle,  
Yet both our Twins came Gifted from the Cradle.  
Their Brains are stummed, and in a constant Huff;  
And what works out, is Froth, and Humming- Stuffe.  
But, we allow, these Infects are not bred  
Always from Wind, and Hollowness i'th' Head;  
Sometimes an empty-stomach does infuse  
The Canting-spirit, and the scribling-Muse:  
And thus some sharply write for a Third Day,  
And some for Sundayes-Pudding Preach, and Pray.  
But, when we Preachers name, those, who contemn  
The Laws, we mean, and whom the Laws condemn:  
And, when we talk of Poets, only they  
Of his low Form are meant, who vamped this Play;  
Which wants of Gyant-wit the brawny-strength,  
And is but Punchinello drawn at length.   


The Persons.  
SIr Solomon Single.  
Mr. Single, his Son.  
Mr. Woodland.  
Mr. Peregreen, his Son.  
Mr. Wary.  
Mr. Barter, an Indy-Merchant.  
Sir Arthur Addell.  
Mrs. julia, Daughter to Wary.  
Mrs. Betty, Daughter to Barter.  
Timothy, Sir Salomon's Steward.  
Ralph, Alice, Servants of Sir Solomon, and Attendants on Mrs. Betty.  
2 Foot boys, Constable and Watch▪  
Roger, Wary's Man.  
Harry, Woodland 's Man. A Nurse.   The SCENE LONDON.  

Sir Solomon; OR, THE CAUTIOUS COXCOMB:  
A COMEDY.  

The First Act.  Enter Sir Solomon Single, and Timothy his Servant. Sir Salom. 
TImothy.  Timot. 
Sir.  Sir Salo. 
Are the Writings engrossed, and ready for Sealing?  Timot. 
Yes Sir; just now I saw the Wax clapped on.  Sir Salo. 
'Tis well. But prithee tell me, What said my Lawyer to this settlement of my Estate?  Timot. 
In troth I fear your Worship will be displeased, should I tell you his sense of it.  Sir Salo. 
No, no: I love to hear Fools spend their Grave Fopperies: 'Tis the divertisement of my life to laugh at their Folly.  Timot. 
Truly, Sir, he seems to be of opinion, that your settlement is not good in Law.  Sir Salo. 
How? not good in Law? That's pleasant; when he himself drew up the Writings.  Timot. 
The defect lies not in them (I only speak his words) but in your Worship: For (says he) it will be strongly presumed, that whenever you Seal such a Conveyance, you are not Compos Mentis (you understand me, Sir:) It being impossible, that any man in his right Senses should throw away his whole Fortune upon an unknown Woman; who, by all signs and tokens will be deemed no better than your Concubine; and at the same time disinherit an only Son, who has so fair an esteem in the World.  Sir Salo. 
Let the Fool please himself with his Scrupulous Fancies. Timothy, there was a necessity of this Fellows Suspicion, and Wonder: For, had I named her in the Deed, as my Wife, and expressed a consideration of Marriage, my whole Design might have taken vent, and so miscarried: For 'twere unreasonable to expect, that a Lawyer, whose Trade is Talking, should keep silence: And should my cast-off Son have smelled the design, his Wants and Despair would have left no stone unmoved to disappoint it. Besides, in settling my Estate on her, I run no hazard of prejudicing myself; For when I Seal the Writings, I'll Seal her too for my Wife; And then, if we have Children—  Timot. 
That is; when your Worship has Sealed, and she's delivered—  Sir Salo. 
No quibbling, good Timothy— Then, I say, who but they, should inherit my Estate: If we have none; at least my Rebel Son is out o' doors, and she, who has my Heart, has my Estate.  Timot. 
I must confess, the secret Conduct of this Design is very admirable; For, Sir, I think, she herself, who to morrow must be your Lady, is hitherto no less kept in ignorance both of your Name and Quality, than all the rest of your nearest Servants, and Relations are of her Person, and your resolution to Marry her.  Sir Salo. 
O Timothy: The Art of Secrecy is the Secret of the World. 'Tis the Rudder, that silently governs the whole Bulk of Human affairs. A Secret well kept, like Powder close rammed, does certain execution, when ever you give Fire with a just aim. Therefore have I kept and educated this tender Virgin in so private and remote a Quarter of the Town; Therefore have I disguised my Person under a borrowed name to her, and those Servants I placed about her, that it should not be in the power of any body to acquaint the World with my Design.  Timot. 
But (with your Worship's leave) I am afraid the World will judge hardly of you, for abandoning thus your only Son, and making him an utter stranger to your Blood and Estate.  Sir Salo. 
The World's an Ass, and so is doubly he  
Who incommodes himself to humour fools.  Timot. 
But, Nature, Sir—  Sir Salo. 
Nature! What's that? 'Tis the blind side of our Reason; the soft place in our Souls. Children owe all to Parents, but there lies no Obligation on the Parent's side: on, if there did, when Sons Rebellious prove, those Bonds are canceled.  Timot. 
I must not doubt your Justice; But, Sir, 'tis your misfortune, to treat him ill, of whom the World speaks well.  Sir Salom. 
Who Courts Opinion, is a Slave to Slaves;  
And gives up Liberty and Happiness  
To be controlled by every idle Breath.  
Let my young Master cramm himself, and swell  
With the World's empty Praise;  
'Twill do him just as much good, as the vain Reproaches of  
loose Tongues will do me hurt.  
Timothy, call in all my Servants; for now  
I intent to publish my Wedding, that they  [Timothy whisles. 
may accordingly know their duty.  Enter Servants. 1 Servant. 
Sir, my young Master came this morning—  Sir Salom. 
laying his Man over the pate. Slave! your young Master? Am I grown old?  
Or have you any Master but myself?  
All you that eat my Bread, this warning take,  
That he, who was my Son, is no more so:  
And, Who dares own the Person I discard?  
In place of him I will a Virgin bring,  
Virtuous, and young, under my Roof to morrow,  
To be your Mistress, and my Wife:  
For whose Reception you must all prepare,  
Each in his Office— Now you may withdraw.  [Exeunt Servants. Enter Mr. Wary, and his Man Roger. 
My Friend, and Neighbour, Mr. Wary!  Wary. 
Sir Solomon Single; most happily met!  Sir Salo. 
You are the very Person I wished for; for I have a business of Consequence, which I long to communicate with you.  Wary. 
Then, Sir, we meet upon even terms; for 'tis a matter of no small moment, which brought me hither to find you out.  Sir Salo, 
Mutual satisfaction is a double Joy— Timothy, follow your Orders, and prepare every thing, as I directed.  Timo. 
But, Sir, as to the—  [He offers to whisper. Sir Salo. 
Mr. Wary, I beg your leave to give a short dispatch in a word or two to my Steward.  Wary. 
Pray use your freedom. [Sir Salo. and Timothy whisper. Roger, you may now go about your business; for, (as I told you) I have discovered a secret traffic of Love between my Daughter and this Knight's Son: And now must I take my kew from him; and by feeling his Pulse and Temper, fashion my Countenance accordingly on the Proceeding of our young Lovers. If the Father will own his Son in the Match, I have my wishes in having so rich an Heir for my Son in Law. But, if he, who has the Means, and Power in his Hands, prove Resty, my young Gallant must be shuck off—  Sir Salo. 
Now, Mr. Wary, I am at your service.  [Exeunt Timothy and Roger. Wary. 
Faith, Sir, my Business with you is the old Business of Mankind; Love, and Matrimony. For, to tell you truly, though the matter has been closely carried, yet I have smelled out the Rat.  Sir Salo. 
I protest, Sir, you're a man of quick sense, and rare intelligence: For, I thought it impossible, that you, or any man living could have known it so soon.  Wary. 
We have all quick Eyes in things that concern us. Well, Sir; since you need not my instruction in this business, pray deal freely with me: How does it relish with you?  Sir Salo. 
A pleasant question! Sure I am not so much a fool, as to make that my choice, which I' disrelish.  Wary. 
Was it then your Choice▪ Let me embrace my dear Sir Solomon.  [He embraces him. Sir Salo. 
You amaze me (Sir) with this excess of kindness: Pray, is she any kin to you?  Wary. 
I'm foully deceived, if she be not. I see you are merry (Sir) to ask such questions.  Sir Salo. 
Sure the Man is frantic!  [Apart. Wary. 
But Sir, (Drollery a part) le's come seriously to the business. First, I assure you, she shall not want a Fortune answerable to your Estate and Family; Provided, that you make Settlements for Jointure, Maintenance, and other matters proportionably.  Sir Salo. 
What is't you say? Shall she not want a Portion equal to my Condition, and Fortune? This is an Extravagance of Kindness too mighty for my Faith! she only wanted a Fortune: For in all other Attractives she answers my expectation (which is no common one.) But, pray Sir, satisfy me a little, how long you've known her, and how near she is related to you.  Wary. 
Can any man in his right Wits seriously ask such questions? Is she not my Daughter?  Sir Salo. 
Ha? Your Daughter?— Have I all this while reared up a Bastard-Slip of his to graft upon?  [Apart. Wary. 
Sir Solomon! What's the matter? Have I said any thing to give you disturbance?  Sir Salo. 
Pray, Sir, Was she begot in lawful Wedlock?  Wary. 
Hai! What time of the Moon is this?—  Sir Salo. 
I knew her to be poor, and I thought her Fatherless; And I liked her the better: But with all this, to Marry a Bastard, is too much.  [Apart. Wary. 
The Man is certainly Distracted.— Sir, I perceive you are not well; Shall I call some of your People to you?  [Apart. Sir Salo. 
Pray, Sir, only satisfy me in these two short Questions; Where does this Daughter of yours live? And when did you see her last?  Wary. 
Where should she live but in my House? And I saw her within this half hour.  Sir Salo. 
Say you so? Then, Sir, let me advise you to go home, and the first thing you do, call a Doctor; for, take it from me, your condition is desperate. This is the last degree of Madness! For, to my certain knowledge, you have not seen this Woman, whom you call Daughter, these two years.  Wary. 
In troth, Sir Solomon, it grieves my heart, that you are not in a condition to be discoursed withal; if you were, I could bring your Son, your own Flesh and Blood to convince you, that this very morning he saw her in my House, spoke to her there, and, what is more, (I think) made Love to her.  Sir Salo. 
My Son?— In what a Labrinth of Mistakes have we wandered all this while? And was it his, and your Daughters blind Bargains, that you came to break my head withal?  [apart. Wary. 
Had it not been cracked before, 'twould ne'er have been broken now.— Pray do me the Favour to give me some private Mark, whereby I may know when I am to believe you: For did you not tell me just now, that you relished this Match as your own Choice?  Sir Salo. 
Still run Counter? Pray take up; and (if it be possible) lets both fall upon the right Sent. You talk of your Daughter, and her Gallant, don't you?  Wary. 
What else, Sir?  Sir Salo. 
And all this while my Discourse has been of my own Affections: For, to morrow I resolve to be a Married Man.  Wary. 
You a Married Man! Was this the Mystery? Well, Sir, you have removed my mistake; but, you have planted wonder in the room on't, much greater than it.  Sir Salo. 
Why should you wonder? I see you are of your Daughters, and her Lover's Party; and sorry, their Sport is disappointed.  Wary. 
Alas, Sir, you misapprehend me every way. I only came to inform you of it; and to take my own measures from your liking, or disliking of it; both which are indifferent to me.  Sir Salo. 
I thought the World had not been ignorant of my resolutions concerning that Prodigal and Rebel of my House, whom you call my Son: He shall have no more share in my Estate, than he has in my affections; and those he has utterly forfeited. But, if you think it expedient to take the outcast of my Family into yours, you may use your discretion.  Wary. 
Fear it not, Sir; I shall not purchase your ill-will so much to loss. But, (pray) are you resolved so suddenly to thrust your Reverend head into the old Noose of Wedlock?  Sir Salom. 
To morrow's the day. jacta est alea.  Wary. 
Faith, Sir, I think your undertaking as bold as his, who first said so; but, (I fear,) not so fortunate. Y'ave a dangerous Rubicon to pass over. Have you thought well upon't? For, in my judgement, To morrow is both too soon, and too late for you to accomplish such a resolution.  Sir Salo. 
You perhaps (like the rest of the World) Judging others by their own scantling) may have reason for this Caution: But (thanks to the bounty of Nature) under these Ashes there wants no Fire; Nor is the Oil half spent in the Lamp.  Wary. 
You say very well: But, I have found by experience, there are two sorts of People in the World mightily given in their several ways to boast of their Valour, and both with cause alike; Cowards, and Old Men. We two, (you know) started into the World almost together; and, our eight and Fifty years a piece are now run off: For my own part, I should think it an excess of rashness in myself, if, after so long a Race, I should still presume so much upon my strength, as to venture at the dangerous Leap of Matrimony.  Sir Salo. 
I grant ye, that some Men may be old at Thirty, and others young at Threescore; and what is my Physic, may be your Poison: and there's an end of this Dispute.  Wary. 
But have you forgot, how severe a Critic you've always been upon the Disasters of poor Husbands? Now should the person you Marry, not think you so young, as you think yourself, are you not afraid of Circular Justice, of scurvy Ballads and Lampoons?  Sir Salo. 
Had I been guilty of the Folly of other Husbands, in the Choice of their Wives, I might then have feared, and deserved their Fate;  
But I grown wise at the expense of others.  
Have chose a piece of Native Innocence,  
Unsullied by the World's corrupting Air;  
Whose Beauty, and whose Virtues void of Art:  
Her have I reared, and fitted for my use,  
And taught her all the Duties of a Wife:  
Like Virgin-wax, she wears no other Stamp,  
But what my own Instructions have impressed.  
Then judge, how happy, and secure I am.  Wary. 
Pray, Sir, what lucky Star directed you to the discovery of this Treasure?  Sir Salo. 
That (Sir) I owe to Fortune: For in a Country-Farme I first saw her, and read it in her looks, that Heaven had not designed her for that place: And being informed she was a Merchant's Daughter, who had miscarried at Sea, and before his Voyage had put her to Nurse there, I easily prevailed with the Old Woman of the House, who was my Tenant, to resign her Charge to me. I took her, as a Present sent from Heaven to make the rest of my days comfortable, and happy. For two years together I have trained her up myself, making it my business to preserve her in her primitive innocence, and simplicity: And, lest the contagion of ill company should infect the original candour of her nature with the least tincture of malice, I have placed two Servants about her, the honestest and simplest, I could find out.  Wary. 
But how will so much simplicity be a Match for the wisdom of Sir Solomon? Can such extremes meet with delight?  Sir Sal. 
I pity your ignorance; search the Records of Time, and by all Examples, old, and modern, you shall still find it true, that wit in woman is the Bawd of Vice:  
Who of the Sex had ever fame of wit,  
That was not famous to the other way?  Wary. 
Fie, Sir Solomon; you're too Satirical; and too singular in your Judgement. For my part, were I to choose a Wife (be she honest, or be she otherwise) I say, let her have Wit; for that will either protect her Honesty, or conceal her Frailty.  Sir Salo. 
Well, Sir; I have no time at present to prosecute this argument, and make you sensible of the folly, and danger of your Principles; Only, as a friend, I must advise you to have a care of your Daughter; for she (I hear) is a Wit..  Wary. 
I thank you, Sir: And (to return your kindness) let me counsel you to look well to your Wife; for, by your own confession, she wants wit to look to herself.  Sir Salo. 
'Tis my Maxim so to do; and should be yours: In order to your Conversion, pray come to morrow to my Wedding: Perhaps, Example may be more prevalent with you, than Precept. However I have done a Friend's part; And after all, if a mischance should happen in your Family, there is a Saying, that the Disaster of Fools does reward the Circumspection of the Wise.  Wary. 
I'll not fail you at your Wedding Dinner; And to requite your Proverb, take heed, lest to morrow it prove true, That Fools make Feasts, and Wise-men eat 'em. Farewell.  Sir Salo. 
Farewell.  Exeunt severally. Enter Mr. Single and Julia. Single. 
Ah, Madam! How can I hope, that you should be constant in your love to him, to whom Fortune is so constant in her hatred?  julia. 
I shall not make the Injustice of Fortune my Precedent: But what I have often told you, I now repeat; nothing but your jealous humour has the power to make me inconstant.  Single. 
'Tis of my Stars and of my Destiny,  
That I am jealous (Madam) not of you.  
When with a Father all the world conspires  
To cast me down; what Virtue is so firm,  
As to support a Man so weakly built,  
So potently assaulted?  julia. 
This very Doubt is more unjust to me,  
Than all your Father's Cruelty to you.  
Your want of Means, and Friends  
My love can pardon, and (perhaps) supply;  
But your Mistrusts I never will forgive.  
These early mists upon our morning love  
Show, that a stormy day will follow.  Single. 
Madam, these little mists before my eyes  
Are, but the smoke, which from love's fire does rise:  
Nor can your Reason that calm Lover choose,  
Who, what he loves, is not concerned to lose.  julia. 
Rather, than him with furious doubts possessed,  
Who (still alarumed) gives, and takes no rest.  Single. 
Unjealous Love is a degenerate thing,  
A feeble, lazy Drone without a sting:  
Nor is it glorious such tame Herds to sway;  
The generous Lion must your will obey.  julia. 
Brave Subjects! Prostrate at my feet they lie  
To day, to morrow in my face they fly.  Single. 
Love, and Rebellion inconsistent are,  
But, Madam, let's compose this amorous war;  
Which swells the number of your Victories,  
Making your Wit as conquering, as your Eyes.  Enter Mr. Wary. Wary. 
Mr. Single; well met.— Nay, be not startled. I am now glad to see you; and to see you in the company of my Daughter.  Single. 
Sir, you surprise me with a happiness unlooked for in this unusual kindness of your expressions—  Wary. 
Hold, Sir; I would not have you disappointed in your expectation by promising yourself too much. My desire of seeing you now was to let you know in her hearing, that I have taken notice of your late frequent resort to my house: And, though according to my inclination, my doors should never be shut to a person of your merit, yet (as matters stand) you must excuse me, if I prefer the Interest of a Child before the Concern of an Acquaintance. Sir, to be short; I know your constant Visits imply your Addresses to my Daughter: And, since your Father is resolved to make you a stranger to his Estate, I must entreat you henceforth to be a stranger to my House; for (to deal freely with you) no Deserts (though never so great) attended with poverty, can satisfy the care of a Parent in the disposal of his Daughter.  Single. 
Ah Sir! will you be my Father's Second in his unjust cruelties towards me?—  Wary. 
Sir, I will have no Argument in this case; nor put a Father's Right into dispute. Farewell. Daughter, I desire your company.  Exeunt Wary and Julia. Single. 
Fortune! thy malice is so spent on me,  
That thou hast now disarmed thy cruelty:  
But I forgive thee; thou (alas!) art blind;  
Since Nature, that has eyes, proves more unkind:  
Of foreign wrongs can I resent the smart,  
Destroyed by him, of whom I am a part?  
If he, that made, and should preserve me too,  
His work undoes, what may not strangers do?  Enter Sir Arthur Addel. Sir Art. Add. 
Dear Mr. Single! have I met you at last? I vow, it has cost me five good shillings in Coach-hire to find you out.  Single. 
Pray, leave me; I am not at leisure.  Sir Art. Add. 
Leave my dear Single? Not for a world.  Single. 
Pray, Sir, forbear: I tell you, I am busy.  Sir Art. Add. 
Busy? so much the better: Of all men living I love business, and hate idle fellows.  Single. 
Sir, if you will not release me, I shall be forced to make my escape.  Sir Art. Add. 
What? fly from thy Friend? sure, some melancholy Devil does possess thee.  Single. 
No, Sir; I am not possessed, but I find, I am haunted. Pray, let me beg it of you, as a kindness. or an Alms, that you will leave me to myself, and my occasions, which at this present cannot possibly admit of your company.  Sir A. Add. 
No, Sir, no: I see, you're in trouble; and I must not forsake my friend in Adversity.  Sing. 
apart. My Stars have condemned me to all sorts of Persecution!  Sir A. Ad. 
Besides, I must propose to you a business of weighty consequence, in which you must needs do me a kindness— I see, you don't mind me. What are you thinking on? Unbosom yourself to a Friend.  Single. 
'Faith, I am thinking, that the greatest Plague of Egypt was that of Flies, and Gnatts buzzing about their Ears.  Sir A. Ad. 
Egypt! Good Lord! How your thoughts ramble? Well; I must put you out of this Fit of the Spleen. Come, prithee, let's go dine at Chateline's; and there I'll tell you my whole business.  Single. 
O, no Sir; I'll rather compound with you, and hear it now; provided, I may be quickly released.  Sir A. Ad. 
Nay, as for brevity, and quickness of dispatch, there's no man upon the face of the Earth that loves it like me: 'Tis my Mistress. I hate your prolix Fellows: Long speeches are death to me: And that's the reason why I never hear a Sermon; nor a Presbyterian-Grace; nor a French Tragedy; nor a—  Single. 
Hold, hold: Pray make your words good; and he not so long in the commendation of Brevity.  Sir A. Ad. 
Why, then to the Point. There is a certain Lady in this Town, with whom I am desperately and damnably in Love; And I want a good opportunity to tell her so. For (look ye) I take a business of this nature to be half done, when 'tis well proposed. You (Mr. Single) are the only proper Person for me to employ in this Treaty; And, if you succeed in it, Sir Arthur Addel is yours for ever.  Single. 
Well, What's her Name?  Sir A. Ad. 
julia; the fair Daughter of old Wary.  Single 
apart. Ha! julia? What a storm he has raised in my blood?  
But the Fool is below my Jealousy, and resentment.  Sir A. Ad. 
Nay, prithee, dear Single, don't relapse into thy Melancholy Fit.  Single. 
No, Sir; I am only studying your Case: For (to deal friendly with you) there is much for you to consider in the business, which you take in hand; To my certain knowledge, there are at least a dozen Pretenders (all men of the Sword) to that Lady's favour: And, before you can have admittance to the place of a Suitor, you must dispute your entrance with every one of these; And that (you know) will be a long, and hazardous work.  Sir A. Ad. 
Are there so many of 'em (say you?) Why then they may have fighting work enough amongst themselves, and let others alone: ' Pox take 'em all, my business is not with them, but with the Woman.  Single. 
But Lovers, Sir Arthur, are (like Argus) all Eyes: And you can no more conceal yourself to 'em, then walk invisible at noon day.  Sir A. Ad. 
Now, Is not this a damnable Custom, that a Man can no sooner love a pretty Woman, but he must presently be quarrelling and fighting with all that come near him. I wonder, how the Devil they can do't; For I can't be in Love and in Wroth too, all at once, for the heart of me.  Single. 
Were all the World of your benign temper, I confess we should enjoy the Blessings of Peace. But, Sir Arthur, as the case now stands, What is it you would have done?  Sir A. Ad. 
Hai?  Single. 
Consider, consider— This Fool well managed may prove useful to me.  Sir. A. Ad. 
'Faith, e'en let her go. What shall a man be the better for a Mistress, when his Throat is cut?  Single. 
How? Let her go, by no means, Sir. It shall never be read in Chronicle, that Sir Arthur Addel (my renowned friend) bawked a Mistress for fear of Rivals. Come (Sir;) you shall trust your Love and your Reputation in my hands; And all my Rhetoric shall serve you with your Mistress, and my Sword against your Rivals.  Sir A. Ad. 
Dear Single, let me hug thee, and kiss thee. I vow now, I could be as kind to thee, as to my Mistress.  [Embracing Single. Single. 
O, pray, Sir, reserve your tenderness for her.  Sir Art. 
Run, tan, tan. You, and I, (Mr. Single) will fight the proudest of 'em all: Nay, when I have a good second o'my side, I can be as valiant as my betters.  Single. 
Why now, Sir Arthur, you speak like a Wight, that wears not his Knighthood in vain. What a blemish had you cast upon the whole Order, if you had tamely suffered your Mistress to be snatched from you by Rivals.  Sir Art. 
They snatch her from me? They shall eat her as soon. O! that I had but one of those Rivals here now! First would I make him beg his Life, and then kill him.  Single. 
Brave Sir Arthur! Now your Courage, like a Lion roused from sleep, stretches out, and begins to roar: But you must have a great care to moderate this excess of Rage in the presence of your Mistress: For before her you must be a Lamb.  Sir A. Ad. 
Why there's the Devil on't again: I tell you, I shall never make both at once, a good Lion, and a good Lamb too.  Single. 
I warrant you; 'Tis but giving your mind to't— And, to lose no time (for Lovers, I know, are in haste) you shall presently go about the Work; and, in the first place ask her Father's consent, who can never refuse a Man of your Parts, and Estate. When this is done, I'll deliver you a Letter of Commendation for the young Lady, which you must put into her hands with all privacy, and circumspection: For, secrecy in Love is as necessary as in Cabinet Counsels.  Sir A. Ad. 
I know that as well you—  Enter Peregreen Woodland. Sir A. Ad. 
Pox o''is troublesome Fellow, that comes to disturb us now. Methinks he has the Countenance of a Rival. My finger's itch to be at him.  Single. 
No, no.  Pereg. 
Dear Single!  Single. 
Peregreen Woodland! You're the most unlooked for Person, and the most welcome to me in the World. I firmly believed that you had been now in Italy.  Pereg. 
Two Months ago I was there; And, 'tis much against my inclination, that I am not there now: But, Fathers must be obeyed.  Single. 
How long have you been in England?  Pereg. 
Some ten days; All which time I have made it my business to find you out; and now I owe that to Fortune, which I could not compass by my Industry.  Single. 
Assure yourself, that nothing, but my ignorance of your being come over, could have deprived me so long of your Company.  Pereg. 
I have a Letter here for your Father from mine; it contains business of importance, at least, to me: For, it gives me credit for some Money, which my occasions at present stand in need of.  Single. 
Though I cannot introduce you to him for some reasons, which I shall tell you hereafter, yet I'll direct you to a speedy sight of him: But first I must of necessity have an hours discourse with you.  Pereg. 
With all my heart; and let it be over a Glass of Wine.  Single. 
Agreed. But before we go, I must needs make you happy in the knowledge of the incomparable Sir Arthur Addel. I can assure you, he is a Rarity, which perhaps all your Travels cannot Match.  Pereg. 
I know, so fair a Superscription must needs be extraordinary in the Contents.  Sir Arth. 
Sir, for Mr. Single's sake you may command me.  Single. 
Well, Sir Arthur; you must not neglect your business. When you've dealt with the Father, give me notice of it; and let me alone with the Daughter: You may reckon her your own.  Sir A. Ad. 
As sure, as Chick in Pouche, or Louse in Bosom.  
My Flames are raging; and who dares oppose 'em?  
They soon shall thaw her Heart, though ne'er so Icy;  
Like julius Caesar, veni, vidi, vici.  [Exeunt omnes.  

The Second Act.  Enter Sir Solomon and Timothy. Sir Salo. 
NOw Timothy, I have fully instructed you in all particulars. You may therefore go back to my own Lodgings: Be sure you forget not the Licence, and the Parson.  Timo. 
I warrant you, Sir, but may I not have the happiness now to see my young Lady that must be to morrow.  Sir Salo. 
No, Timothy; 'Tis enough for the first time, that I acquaint you with the Lodging where she lies. Time is precious, and not to be spent in seeing sights: Away, make haste.  [Exit Timothy. Sir Saloman knocks at Mrs. Bettys Lodging. Alice 
from within. Who's at Door there?  Ralph looking out from the Belcony. 
God's so, 'tis Master.  Alice. 
What? our new Master, that gave us Money?  Ralph. 
No, no, our old Master Evans, that never gave us a Farthing. Why don't you open the door?  Alice. 
An't be he, E'en open it yourself: I am busy,  Ralph. 
Are you so? why then so am I too.  Sir Salo. 
Sure they must needs hear me knock, for I can hear them gabbel: Ho; Whose within there?  Ralph speaks at the Belcony. Ralph. 
Sir, this Slut Alice won't open the door.  Alice. 
Sir, this lazy Rogue Ralph won't let you in.  Sir Salo. 
Precious Coxcombs; Open the Door quickly, or I'll make you both fast this seven-night from Beef and Pudding.  They hoth tumble down the stairs to the Door. Alice. 
Stand off; I'll open it;  Ralph. 
You open it? You shall be hanged first.  They break out at the door together. Alice. 
'Tis I (Sir) that let you in.  Ralph lifts up his hand to strike Alice, and in so doing hits off his Masters Hat. Ralph. 
You lie: were it not in respect to Master Evan's Worship—  Sir Salo. 
Unmannerly Whelp!  Ralph. 
Cry you mercy (Sir) 'twas she was the cause on't.  Alice. 
Was it so? because I opened the door first.  Sir Salo. 
Peace, both of you; Will you never arrive to Common sense? Let no body speak till I bid them— Ralph, come hither: What has your Mistress done, since I saw her last?  Ralph claps on his Hat three times, And his Master pulls it off as often. Ralph. 
Why, Sir, my Mistress— my Mistress— God be thanked—  Sir Salo. 
Rude Rascal! Who taught you to speak to me with your Hat on?  Ralph. 
Indeed your Worship has Reason; I had forgot myself.  Sir Salo. 
Go, call her down presently. [Exit Ralph. Well, Alice; and was my Betty much troubled for my absence?  Alice. 
Troubled? No.  Sir Salo. 
No?  Alice. 
O, yes Sir; Now I think on't; she was troubled.  Enter Mrs. Betty with her Work in her hand, and Ralph. Sir Salo. 
Why, this is now, as it should be; with thy work in thy hand: Pretty Rogue; What art thou making there?  Mrs. Betty. 
A Coefe, and a Pinner, Sir. I have made an end of your Shirts, and your Nightcaps.  Sir Salo. 
That's very well: For Idleness, Betty, is the Mother of all Evil; Come, give thy work to Alice; for thou and I must talk together. Ralph, fetch me out a Chair, And, Art thou grown perfect in thy Catechism?  Mrs. Betty. 
Yes (Sir) I can say it all without Book.  Ralph brings in a Chair, and he and Alice go forth. Sir Salo. 
You two go in, and leave us alone— But, Betty, 'tis not enough to say it by Rote; you must print it in your heart; and make it your daily study and exercise; thereby to govern all the actions of your Life. Sir Solomon sits down in the Chair. Betty, come nearer me— hold up thy head a little more— So— Turn your Body a little this way— That's well: And whilst I talk to thee, look up in my face— That's very well: Now, Betty, I must examine you a little, to see how you have profited in your Catechism; First tell me, What you were made for?  Mrs. Betty. 
To be your Wife, forsooth.  Sir Salo. 
And what's the Duty of a Wife?  Mrs. Betty. 
To honour, and obey her Husband; and love no man but him.  Sir Salo. 
Now, What are the particular duties; which I expect from her, who is to be my Wife?  Mrs. Betty. 
First, to watch and observe all the motions of your Eyes, and Countenance, and accordingly to stand, go, run, sit still, speak, or be silent: Secondly, To detest and abhor going to Court, Hyde-park, Mulberry-Garden, or the Playhouses. Thirdly, To Visit, and be visited by none of a remoter degree, than an Uncle, or an Aunt; Fourthly, To write and receive no Letters, to accept and give no Presents, but such as you see, and allow of: Lastly, To warm Napkins, make Cawdles, dress Issues, give Glisters, and the like; still remembering, that the office of a Nurse inseparably belongs to the duty of your Wife.  Sir Salo. 
Incomparable Girl? Thou hast answered to admiration in all things concerning the virtues of a Wife; Now tell me, What, and how many are the deadly sins, which she ought carefully to avoid?  Mrs. Betty. 
They are seven.  Sir Salo. 
Which is the First?  Mrs. Betty. 
Pride: For, a woman, that thinks too well of herself, is apt to think better of another man, than she does of her Husband.  Sir Salo. 
Very well. What's the Second?  Mrs. Betty. 
Covetousness: For she that Loves Money overmuch, will first pick her Husband's pockets, and at last be bought and sold herself.  Sir Salo. 
That's right: Now the Third.  Mrs. Betty. 
Lechery,— Pray (Sir) What's that? For you have no Annotations upon it in all your Catechism.  Sir Salo. 
Pretty Simplicity! O, Betty, That's a very Pawthing, and must not so much as be thought on, proceed to the Fourth.  Mrs. Betty. 
Anger: For Anger breeds Revenge; and a Wife's Revenge commonly lights upon the Husband's Head, and leaves dreadful marks behind.  Sir Salo. 
The Fifth?  Mrs. Betty. 
Gluttony: For the Woman, that feeds high, requires more exercise, then is to be had within doors: And modest Wives should seldom range abroad.  Sir Salo. 
Admirable well: I see, thou art so perfect in thy Lesson, that I may spare myself, and thee the Labour of a farther examination. Well, Betty, thou art my Masterpiece; And shortly I intent to set thee forth as an Exact Model, and Pattern to the World (which too much needs it) of a perfect, obedient Wife; In the mean time, we must repair to our several tasks, and prepare ourselves, Thou to be happy, I to make thee so.  [Exeunt severally. Enter Mr. Wary, and Julia, and Roger. Mr. Wary. 
Daughter, I had rather your own Reason, than my Justice in punishing you, should make you sensible, how heinous the Crime of Rebellion is in a Child to a Parent; Have you not a fresh Example before your Eyes, in your Beggarly Gallant, turned out of Doors, and ejected from all Title, and Claim, which Nature gave him to a Fair Inheritance? and now become a mere Vagabond in the wide World? you know, it lies in my power to do, what his Father has done; I can marry again, and bring a second Brood into the World to possess that Fortune, which you undeserve: And, if you persist in your obstinate passion for this Indigent-Lover, I am resolved, You shall e'en meet him upon equal terms.  julia. 
Sir, I confess, all is in your power; And, as I need not be bribed by the hopes of a plentiful fortune to do my duty; so 'tis in vain by frights and terrors to exact that from me, which liess not in my power to perform; the example in Sir Salomon's Family is so odious a Precedent of tyranny in the eyes of the whole world, that I am sure you can never make it your Pattern. And, Sir, give me leave, for your satisfaction and mine, to make you this solemn protestation, that I never will marry him, whom you like not, nor him, whom I love not.  Wary. 
Gossip, your love should follow my liking, not ramp before it.  
It casts a blemish on a Virgin's name,  
To own a voluntary, unbid flame.  
By your dead Mother you have oft been told,  
That Maiden Breasts, like snow, are white, when cold:  
But, when the sultry breath of Love does blow,  
All that is Dirt, which formerly was Snow.  julia. 
Such passion I abhor no less, than you,  
As honour does not to our Sex allow;  
But (Sir) unless by Love made soft, and light,  
The yoke of Marriage all the world would fright:  
And, if my Love in Wedlock-bands be forced,  
Alas! I am not married, but divorced.  Wary. 
Begone, my reasons are but lost on thee:  
For no dispute can cure Love's Heresy.  [Exit Julia. Roger. 
These young wenches, when the toy of love once takes them in the head, are like wild ungoverned Colts, no Curb can hold them, no Fence can stop 'em. This obstinate affection is so wedged into her mind, that there is no way to loosen it, but by driving in another.  Roger. 
That (Sir) may do it.  Wary. 
Could I but find a Fortune and a man according to my expectation, I would then make trial, what a Father's power can do.  Enter Sir Arthur Addel with a Paper. Sir Arthur. 
'tis he— By your leave, Sir: I have a Paper here in my pocket, which I must beg you to peruse.  Wary. 
With all my heart (Sir) provided there be no thing of Petition, nor of Poetry in it.  Sir Arthur. 
No Fiction, I'll assure you: all the contents are true.  Wary reads. 
A true Particular of the Estate of Sir Arthur Addel Knight— What d''ee mean by this Sir? I am not prepared for a purchase.  Sir Arthur 
apart. What a dull old fool this is?— Why (Sir) having a business of importance to negotiate with you, this is my Letter of Recommendation.  Wary 
apart. It must be so: Heaven has sent him in the nick of time to woo my Daughter— Summa totalis 1432 l. per annum, truly, Sir, your Letter has a very fair Subscription: but still the meaning of the Contents is so mystical, that I know not how to answer it: Pray Sir explain.  Sir Arth. 
Thus 'tis (Sir) in short: your Daughter (d''ee conceive me) wants a Husband; and I want a Wife (d''ee conceive me;) Now what are we born for in this world, but to supply one another's wants? D''ee conceive me?  Wary. 
I marry (Sir) now you speak plain, and to the purpose: But this is a matter, which requires deliberation.  Sir Arth. 
Pox on deliberation: I am in haste, and so perhaps is she too.  Wary. 
Not so fast. How do I know, that this is a true particular? And how do you know what Portion I shall give with my Daughter? and how do we both know, whether she'll consent to the bargain;  Sir Arth. 
Hang Portion, and Particulars: let our Lawyers wrangle about them; I am a known man of land, and so are you of money. Your business is to give me your consent, and then let me alone with your Daughter.  Wary. 
You speak very home: sure (Sir Arthur) the world has done you a great deal of wrong in representing you, as a man of Parts, much inferior to those, which I discover in you.  Sir Arth. 
And have you lived so long in the world, and do not know that 'tis the arrantest liar in nature?  Wary. 
Well Sir; to let you see, how little I believe it, I here give you my consent (provided this be a true particular) to marry my Daughter; win her, and wear her.  Sir Arth. 
Thank you heartily, good Father Wary; for I reckon myself now as good, as married: I know she can no more refuse me for a Husband, than you for a Son-in-law.  Wary. 
So (Sir;) I perceive you speak the language of our young men of these times, who exceed all their Ancestors in their good opinion of themselves: The business is done, if my Daughter can think but half so well of your person, as you do.  Sir Arth. 
I vow (Sir) I am afraid of nothing, but that she will be too fond of me: And I take it to be the worst surfeit, that is, to be cloyed with kindness.  Wary. 
If that be all your apprehension, fear nothing: I dare answer for her.  Sir Arth. 
See you be as good as your word: And (to lose no more time) you may presently let her know, how happy she is in my affection: but let her know it gently, and by degrees, lest too sudden joy suffocate her spirits.  Wary. 
The danger is not great: however she's beholding to you for your care; But (Sir Arthur) pray let me advise you, as a friend, to touch as little as you can upon this string, when you make your addresses to her: For (perhaps) she's as much infected with this self opinion, as her neighbours; and she'll be apt to tell you, that Pride is a Vice in men, but Virtue in a woman.  Sir Arth. 
You need not tell me, what I am to say, or do; but, if you will needs be tutor, go teach your Daughter, how to behave herself; for I shall return immediately in a pretenders equipage with Drums beating, and Colours flying, and then let her expect a Charge.  Exit Sir Arthur. Wary. 
Roger, To say the truth, this Sir Arthur's a very shallow Knight: But 'tis no matter; he'll prove the kinder Husband.  
And better 'tis (your Modern Authors say)  
To rule a Fool, than a Wise Man obey.  [Exit Wary and Roger. Enter Peregrine and Single. Pereg. 
'Tis not possible for me to express how deeply I resent your Father's unnatural rigour: But can it be true, that he will be married to morrow, and that no body should know to whom?  Single. 
My intelligence comes from such hands, that I am sure 'tis authentic: But, neither by my own industry, nor the help of spies, can I possibly learn out the person of the Bride.  Pereg. 
Well, Sir, I am resolved to serve you in that office myself: for I can do it with less suspicion, than any body; because your Father dreams so little of our Communication together, that he is yet ignorant of my being in England; and I'll use all my art to win so far upon his favour, and confidence, as that I may put myself in a capacity of serving you.  Single. 
Sir, my case is desperate; yet my obligation to you will be as great, as if your endeavours were attended with success. However your own business (I know) requires a quick dispatch with my Father: There's his Lodging; and fare you well; for I must go hunt out my simple Knight.  Pereg. 
But where shall we meet two hours hence?  Single. 
Where we last met, and then we'll confer notes together.  [Exit Single. Peregrine knocks at Sir Salomon's Lodging, and Timothy comes forth. Pereg. 
Is Sir Solomon Single at home?  Timot. 
Pray what's your business with him?  Pereg. 
That's no answer to my question: my business (friend) is with him, not with you: Is he within, or no?  Timot. 
Why, Sir, unless I may know your business, or your name, he is not within.  Pereg. 
apart. This fellow has the right huff, and grimace of a Coxcomb in office— But, Sir, when I have told you my name, Will he then be at home?  Timot. 
Perhaps he may.  Pereg. 
Why then (grave Sir) be pleased to tell your Master, that my name is Peregreen Woodland; and that I desire to know of him, whether he be within, or no.  Timot. 
You shall have your answer presently.  [Exit Timot. Pereg. 
Very well Sir, This stiff piece of formality deserves to be cudgelled, were it only to make him more limber: but 'tis the nature of fools in employment to think such solemn rudeness to be the badge of their Office.  Enter Sir Solomon. Sir Salom. 
Mr. Peregreen? had I known it was you, I would have left all business, and a Mistress too, to fly into your embraces: your Father is the oldest acquaintance, and best friend I have in England: Lord! how time runs away? I knew you no higher, than this. I protest, you make me an old man.  Pereg, 
Not so, Sir, I hope; since I hear, you are to be married to morrow.  Sir Salom. 
How is it possible you should hear it, unless my Steward told you. But (Mr. Peregreen) I have nothing that I shall make a secret of to you. 'Tis even so; and you are returned from your Travels most opportunely, to grace my Wedding. O! how glad should I be, that your Father were here too. Pray, when did you hear from him? how does he do? He is so wedded to his estate in the Country, that his friends in Town are quite forgot.  Pereg. 
I lately received a Letter from him with this enclosed; which will give you as good an account of his health, as I can.  Sir. Salom. 
I joy to see any thing that comes from him— Sir Solomon reads the Letter. Lord! what does he mean?— such ceremonious expressions are injurious to friendship— Timothy.  Timot. 
Sir.  Sir Salom. 
Bring me fifty pieces in gold presently.  Pereg. 
I have reason to believe, that my Father may be in town sooner. than these Letters mention: for I have one from him of a fresher date, which tells me, that an extraordinary occasion calls him hither in company of a Merchant, lately arrived in England: but what his business is, the Letter mentions not.  Sir Salom. 
Were it not possible, that we might see him here to day, or to morrow? Nothing could heighten more my Nuptial Joys, than the presence of such a Friend?  Pereg. 
For the precise time of his coming, I can answer nothing: But, Sir; Might I not be so happy, as to kiss the hands of your fair Bride before the Ceremony of Marriage?  Sir Salom. 
In that (Sir) you must excuse me: This Jewel is not to be taken out of the Case, till I wear her.  Enter Timothy. Timot. 
Here is the Sum you commanded me to bring.  Sir Salom. 
Pray (Sir) take it; and, if you have occasion for more, you may as freely Command My purse, as your Fathers.  Pereg. 
I humbly thank you: I have no present necessity of more— But, Mr. Steward, if you please to draw a Note of so much received—  Sir Salom. 
What d''ee mean, Sir? Timothy, Let it alone. I hope you do not imagine, that you deal with a Scrivener.  [Exit Timothy. Pereg. 
Sir, you are too generous.  Sir Salom. 
No Compliments, good Mr. Peregreen: Well, and, How long have you been in England?  Pereg. 
Some ten days; in all which time I could not till yesterday, find out your Habitation.  Sir Salom. 
And how does your own Country relish with you, since your experience of Foreign Parts?  Pereg. 
Better, than before.  Sir Salom. 
I rejoice to see you make such good use of your Travels; For, the best thing which a man can bring from abroad, is the love of home. And, How have you spent your time, since your coming over? methinks a young man of your Complexion should be engaged, ere this, in some Love-adventure: What? Are the Lady's kind to you?  Pereg. 
Considering the shortness of the time, I have no reason to Complain.  Sir Salom. 
Pray, make me your Confident; I am Secret, and true to Love. What Exploit? What Success have you had?  Pereg. 
Sure (Sir) you want Leisure for such frivolous Narrations.  Sir Salom. 
You mistake me; I have Youth enough left to relish affairs of Love.  Pereg. 
I shall with less reluctancy obey you, because there is something very extraordinary in my adventure, which may afford you Divertisement: And (to tell you truly) the Money, which you favoured me with, I chiefly want to prosecute this design,  Sir Salom. 
I long to hear it.  Pereg. 
I confess, here is a young Beauty here in Town, which has already gained very much upon my heart: She is one, who has received no improvement from Education; Nor does she want it: For, Nature has left her so well finished, that Art has little to do. Perhaps her Ignorance is greater than ordinary; but that's abundantly recompensed by her Innocence: An Air so taking, so free, so modest, I never yet beheld in any Face.  Sir Salom. 
Had you studied to hit my fancy, you could not have drawn a Copy more like the Original.  Pereg. 
It adds much to my satisfaction, that her Character is agreeable to your Fancy; I think I may without vanity tell you, that my pretensions and hopes stands very fair, for I am admitted, and received by her with such expressions of kindness, as aught to content any reasonable Lover in his first Essays.  Sir Salom. 
Pray, What is her name? and Where does she lodge?  Pereg. 
By those about her she's called Mrs. Betty; and I inquired no farther of her name; she's lodged in a House on the backside of Holborn, towards the Fields.  Sir Salom. 
Hell, and Devils, What is't I hear?  [Apart. Pereg. 
But, the pleasant part of this Story is, that all this while she is maintained, and educated in a private cunning way by an old Gentlemen they call Mr. Evans—  Sir Salom. 
I have trod upon a Snake, which stings me to death!  [Apart. Pereg. 
Sure, he's a person so very remarkable in his kind, that you must needs know him; Has he not the reputation of a Formal Coxcomb?  Sir Salom. 
I have heard of the name,— I burst I die.  [Apart. Pereg. 
'Tis much, you should not know him: Though I never saw the Man, yet the extravagant economy of his Family, and his exottick way of training up this Lovely Creature sufficiently discovers to me the politic worm in his Pate— But, to my thinking (Sir) you don't relish this Narrative, as I expected.  Sir Salom. 
O! yes, Sir.  Pereg. 
I am afraid, you are of too scrupulous a Conscience for such Relations.  Sir Salom. 
Not at all, Sir.  Pereg. 
For my own part, I must acknowledge, that I never embarked in a Love-Adventure more to my satisfaction in my life: For, though my Passion for her be very great, yet the pleasure of disappointing the ridiculous Policy of this old jealous Guardian, is very near as great as that which I receive in the enjoyment of her affection— But (Sir) I perceive my Story grows tedious to you; Nor can I blame your want of Patience, having Love-Concernes of your own, more pressing and urgent; I shall therefore only Conjure you to be a faithful preserver of my secret; since the rendering of it public, would ruin my happiness so well begun: Especcially should it come to the Politic Ears of that Mr. Evans. Farewell.  [Exit Peregren. Sir Salom. 
Is there a Torment?—  Pereg. 
enters again. As you are my Friend, and a Person of Honour, let nothing of this be discovered to my Father, when he comes to Town; For I know not, how far such a business, as this, may work upon him to my prejudice.  [Exit Peregreen. Sir Salom. 
So: so,— Oh? let me breathe a little: was ever Man so tortured, as I am, and yet constrained to dissemble his pain, and put a smiling Countenance upon his Torment? False Woman! thy whole Sex is a mere Quicksand, false, and treacherous ground for any Man to build his happiness upon! Thy whole Sex is a Generation of Vipers, that gnaw and eat into the hearts that give them reception: They are born with all their poison about them, which no Art, or Industry, no Education can remove— Unjust Stars? That a vain young Fellow, not knowing what he does, but conducted by the hand of blind chance, should thus baffle me in my Love, my Reputation; and in one moment disappoint the whole design of my happiness, which with long study and labour, has been managed, by the most exact Rules of Policy. That I should furnish him with Money, to cut my own throat? and he, out of Kindness and Confidence, be the Informer of his own Treason against me?— Yet in all this misfortune I were unjust, not to acknowledge some favour from my Stars, in the miraculous discovery of this Mine, before the fatal Fire was put to it: And now, having warning, and time to repair, fortify, and countermine, if I fail to blow up, and scatter the Enemy, and to maintain my ground, let me become the scorn of the Wise, and the Laughter of Fools.  [Exit Sir Solomon. Enter Sir Arthur, Peregreen, and Single. Sir Arth. 
You, Mr. Single; and you Mr. Peregreen; are the two dearest Friends I have in the World, And I bespeak you both to my Wedding.  Pereg. 
Against what time, Sir Arthur?  Sir Arth. 
Let me see— About some four days hence; For by that time the Lawyers, the Tailors, the Semstresses, and rhyming Poets, with the rest of the Wedding-Mongers, will have all things in readiness.  Pereg. 
But will the Lady be ready so soon?  Sir Arth. 
Will she tarry so long?  Pereg. 
You're a great Conqueror Sir Arthur, that can make such Forts surrender at first summons: But, Did she ever come to a Parley with you?  Sir Arth. 
Hang Parlyes; I never spoke to her in my Life; But her Father begs me to take her; and I hope, she has more need of me, than he has. Can she resist a man of Estate, and Title, with my Parts?  Single 
apart. I must take down the confidence of this Fool a Story lower; else he'll cast me off, as needless to him— Hark you, Sir Arthur, you make me stark mad, to see how foolishly you destroy your own designs, by talking at this rate, before Mr. Peregreen there: To my certain knowledge he's newly entered into the List of the Rivals; And is a dangerous one too; for he's a Landed Man, and will fight.  Sir Arth. 
God's so, What an unlucky Fellow am I; Why could not you tell me on't?  Single. 
I winked, and winked upon you, and did all that I could; But, you run on so madly in your Career, that the Devil cannot stop you, when once you're going.  Sir Arth. 
Dear Mr. Single, What must I do then?  Single. 
Nay, you must first know what he'll do: But your only way for the present will be to address yourself to the Lady with all secrecy and speed; And if you can but get her of your side, that will be some protection to you.  Sir Arth. 
Well; I'll go immediately and put myself in equipage; and then have at her; but, let not him know it; I have your Letter of Recommendation in my Pocket; And, if the old man be but at home, I warrant you I shall do well enough with the Daughter— 'Faith, Gentlemen, for some reasons, which I have since thought on, I shan't be Married so soon as I said: For, this Wedlock is such a damnable Clog, that I vow, I don't know what to think on't. God be'wy.  [Exit Sir Arthur. Pereg. 
This is a pleasant Knight.  Single. 
O! let him go: The Fool began to grow troublesome, And I sent him on an Errand. But, as Blunt as you see him, he's a most admirable Tool for the Work which I have in hand. Now, since we are rid of him, pray let me hear what passed between my Father and you.  Pereg. 
'Faith, were he not your Father, I should think him as extravagant in his way, as this good Sir Arthur is. For upon our first interview, he was all sweetness, and kindness; He paid me his money with the best grace that ever I saw. He owned his Marriage to me; but, when I asked him to wait upon his Mistress before the Marriage, there he stuck, and absolutely refused me: yet still his gracious aspects were the same; and Ilabouring to improve his Favour, and gain farther upon his Confidence, told him the Story (he putting me upon it) of Mrs. Betty), which (you know) is pleasant enough in the Relation: And all on the sudden, when his kindness and good humour were at highest, he sunk in a moment to so flat an ebb of coldness, and dryness, that he scarce minded what I said, turned his head on one side, stood making of Faces, and was so like a man distracted, that I cannot attribute this inequality, in his temper, to any thing else, but some inward disorder in his Brain, which must necessarily in time grow to a direct Frenzy.  Single. 
I have too much cause to believe, what you apprehend. But, Sir, much against my Will, I must leave your Company: For my several designs of disappointing my Father's Marriage, and securing my own Love, so hurry me too and fro, that I cannot enjoy a moment of rest.  Pereg. 
Farewell, may you prosper in both: To tell you truly, this little Betty is so much in my head, and (I'm afraid) in my heart too, that I am very near as restless as you.  [Exit Single and Peregreen. Enter Sir Arthur, and two Footboys. Sir Arth. 
My brace of Monkies, advance, and stand before me, that you may receive in Charge, how to behave yourselves in my Service; First, because I am a Martial Man, I will assign you employments accordingly: You, Sirrah, shall be my Trumpeter; and you my Scout. Your Office, Trumpeter, is, wherever you go, and especially in my Mistress quarters, to sound forth the Praises of me, your Commander in Chief— Rogue! D'ye Laugh? Know, Sirrah, 'tis the fashion of us Great Ones to keep Men in pay for no other end, but to Commend us in all places right or wrong— You, Scout, are a necessary Officer in my Service; and I shall put you upon Duty presently: You are to watch the motions of the Enemy; and when he draws near, to give me intelligence.  S. Footboy. 
Pray, Sir, Who is the Enemy?  Sir Arth. 
I see. (Boy) thou'rt a Blockhead. I go a Wooing Sirrah, and all that pretend to my Mistress are the Enemy. Go, Sirrah; scout abroad to Mr. Wary's House, and if thou seest any body in the way, that has the Countenance of a Rival, instantly retreat to your headquarters here.  S. Footboy. 
A Rival, Sir? What's that?  Sir Arth. 
Well; there is no such misery in the World, as to be served by Fools; Dost not know a Rival, when thou seest him? Why, What art thou good for?  S. Footboy. 
If your Worship will give me any Marks to know him by, I'll do my best to find him out.  Sir Arth. 
Find him out? I tell thee (Sirrah) I would not find him out; nor have him find me out: Ignorant Puppy! not know a Rival?  S. Footboy. 
Rival? Sure your Worship means a Sergeant; I know them well enough by the Dirt o'their clothes, and the slits o'their noses.  Sir Arth. 
What Rascal? Dost think that I am afraid of a Sergeant? No, I defy all the Justice of England: For, I have Fifteen Hundred a year, and owe never a Groat. Come hither, Boy; I see I must take pains to instruct thee: A Rival (Sirrah) is a thing compounded of Coller, and Love: One of his Eyes, and half his Face, that looks t'ords his Mistress, is so mild and sweet, that you would Swear, the Creature had no Gall in it: whilst t'other side of his Countenance looks on all about him, as if he could eat 'em up. When he speaks, the Clapper in his Mouth strikes double; To his Mistress Ears it sounds, Sweet Madam, let me kiss your fair hands; and, to the rest it Rings out, Dam Me, What make you here?— Now (Blockhead) I hope, you'll know a Rival, when you see him: Abroad then, quickly, as I bid you, and bring me word if the Coast be clear.  Sc. Footboy. 
I'll do my best to serve your Worship: And, if I discover any such strange thing, as you talk of, I'll bring you notice instantly.  [Exit Scout-Foot-boy. Sir Arth. 
Now (Sirrah) let me examine you a little, and see, if you have any more wit than your Companion. How long have you been of the Running-Trade?  T. Footboy. 
Ever since I could go.  Sir Arth. 
Why, that's very strange!  T. Footboy. 
Not at all, Sir: I come of a Running Generation. My Father (as they tell me) was an overgrown Linkboy; and my Mother was a Woman employed in Errands; who, when she went of me, out of Modesty, and Shamfac'dness, fairly run the Country; so that I was born to my Trade, and have it by kind, as well as by Education.  Sir Arth. 
But, Dost thou know what belongs to Service?  T. Footboy. 
Sir, there's not a Boy in all this Town of my Age, that has my experience: For, I have served above a dozen Masters, besides Mistresses, and am able to do your Worship good Offices in all kinds.  Sir Arth. 
Thou art a Boy worth having.  T. Footboy. 
I am none of those heavy Lobcocks, that are good for nothing, but to hang at the tail of a Coach; I am for all Service, as well by night as by day: If your Worship be a Gamester, I can furnish you with Cards of the newest Mark; Dice, High, or Low; I can—  Sir Arth. 
Well, Boy: These qualities may be useful hereafter: But, for the present, I have appointed thee thy Office already.  T. Footboy. 
For that (Sir) I can Swear and Lie for the Credit of my Master, as well as any Boy, or Man of them all.  Enter Scout Footboy out of breath. S. Footboy. 
O Sir, Sir,— they come, they come!  Sir Arth. 
Who, Boy? Who?— The Rivals?  S. Footboy. 
I Sir, I.  The Sc. Footboy runs off the Stage, Sir Arthur follows, the Music strike, and Timothy ushers in his Master's servants, who come to practise a Dance against Sir Salomon's Wedding. Enter Timothy and Servants in Mascarade, and after them the Music. Timothy makes a Sign to the Music to hold; and they give over. T. Footboy. 
What a Valiant Knight have I for my Master?  Timothy. 
Well, my Masters; to morrow's the Wedding day, and this is your last time of Trial; I need not tell you, how much our Credit's engaged in the exact performance of this piece of Ingenuity: As for the Speeches in the Masque, those I take upon myself; and as for this Masking Dance, pray take notice, that although the Performance be yours, the Contrivance was mine— Now Music, strike up again.  They Dance. Timothy. 
Bravely performed! This will do: And let me tell you, There is more Wit in this Dance, then in a dozen of your best Modern Plays: They with their jingle of Rhyme, and playing with Words, go just like the Chimes of St. Bart'elmy: and please the Lady's ears, but effect not the understanding at all. This does gratefully Ravish our noblest Sense, the Eye, with an exact contrivance of Figure and Motion, which are the Elements of Beauty:  
This Entertainment worthily may Greet  
Our Solomon, and Sheba, when they meet.  [Exeunt omnes.  

The Third Act.  Enter Ralph and Alice. Ralph. 
ALlice; Shall you and I talk a little wisely together?  Alice. 
ay, come; just like our Master Evans.  Ralph. 
Our Master Evans? hang him, dry-bones: No, we'll talk just as our Fine new Master talks with Mrs. Betty.  Alice. 
O, I: come, do you begin.  Ralph. 
O Rogue; now wouldst thou have me make Love to thee, and Kiss thy hands over, and over, and squeeze 'em, and cast Sheep's eyes on thee, just, as the Fine Gentleman does upon Mrs. Betty.  Alice. 
O pray be quiet; you are not half so Fine a Man, as he; an you were—  Ralph. 
Marry come up, Gillen Flurt, is that a Bit for your greasy Chops? A'n you be so dainty, you may e'en fast long enough.  Alice. 
Why so I will for all you, if I have a mind to't.  Ralph. 
Nay, but Alice; consider a little; Since the Fine Gentleman came amongst us, we have got Fortunes of our own: and Folke, that have means, should think with themselves, how to set up in the World; If I join my Twenty Shillings, with thy Twenty Shillings, and thou join thyself with myself, we should begin the World curiously together.  Alice. 
There are other-guess Men, than you, to begin withal: I'll have neither beginning, nor ending with you—  Enter Sir Solomon. Ralph. 
Peace, peace; here's Master Evans.  Alice. 
O! How he Looks.  Sir Salom. 
Slaves, dispatch quickly: make ready to die.  Both. 
O pray Sir.  Alice. 
Indeed I shan't be ready a great while.  Sir Salom. 
Peace, Traitors; examine your Conscience; think what you've done.  Ralph. 
I did nothing; 'twas she opened the door, and let him in.  Alice. 
But 'twas you, that told him first; he might come in.  Ralph. 
I told him no more, than Mrs. Betty bid me.  Sir Salom. 
Still worse, and worse! quickly Villains, confess, confess: When came he first? How often has he been here? How long did he stay? Did he come by day or by night? What did he say? What did he do? No body speak?  Alice. 
O Sir, I have got the Palsy in my Tongue, I can't speak.  Sir Salom. 
Rascal! Are you stealing away? if you stir an inch, I'll flay you alive.  Ralph. 
No, no; Sir: when I have recovered my Senses, I'll tell you all.  Sir Salom. 
Base, and ungrateful Vermin! that would have starved, and stúnck in a Ditch long e'er this, had I not taken them under my Roof, nourished them with my Bread, and raised them from the extremity of want, and impotent folly, to a comfortable subsistence, and state of living: And after all this (treacherous Wretches!) Could you betray such a Master? let a Man into my House to rifle my happiness, rob me of all my Treasure?—  Alice. 
No, indeed Sir; he was very honest; we have missed nothing out of the House never since he came.  Sir Salom. 
Hush, brute beast! Come, confess quickly, How came he in? What did he do to Mrs. Betty?  Ralph. 
Why Sir, about a week ago—  Alice. 
But 'tis not a week though; nor won't be, till to morrow night.  Sir Salom. 
'Tis no matter.  Ralph. 
There came a man to the door—.  Alice. 
No, no; he's out: there came a woman first.  Ralph. 
But she did not come in, Did she?  Alice. 
But I say, she did come first.  Ralph. 
Why then tell the Story yourself: I can never begin to speak, but she puts me out still.  Sir Salom. 
What patience can overcome all this?  Alice. 
This blockhead will always be prating, and knows not what he says.  Sir Salom. 
Peace both: Call down your Mistress: I'll see if she can speak sense— Stay: come back again; Should they give her notice of the business, and my resentment, she will have time to frame a Story, and disguise the truth: I had better moderate my anger, and by gentle means draw a plain confession out of her; wait both here till I come out again.  [Exit Sir Solomon. Alice. 
What a dickens is come to our Master?  Ralph. 
I always thought the coming of this young Man would make a foul house at last.  Alice. 
As sure as can be some mad Dog has bit him.  Ralph. 
No, no: 'tis a what-do-you-call thing, like a Fly under a Horse-tail, that makes him wince, and fling about so: I think they call it Jealousy.  Alice. 
Jealousy? What's that?  Ralph. 
Why, that's a Disease, which Folk in Love are troubled with. 'Tis Physic, that works the wrong way; in stead of going downwards, it flies up into the head.  Enter Sir Solomon and Mrs. Betty. Sir Salom. 
Come, Betty, 'tis fine Walking. Go, get you within doors— And a sweet day.  [Exit Ralph and Alice. Mrs. Betty. 
Yes indeed.  Sir Salom. 
What news d''ee hear?  Betty. 
O Sir, my little Bird died last night.  Sir Salom. 
I'm sorry for't— Betty, the World is grown very Malicious. Would you think, that some of the spiteful Neighbours hereabouts should report, that a certain young Man (a stranger) has several times been seen going in, and out of your Lodging, and that you have received, and entertained him in discourse whole hours together? But, I am none of those, that are apt to credit the Slanders of bad Tongues: For, I offered to lay all I am worth, there was no such thing.  Betty. 
Indeed but you must not; for as sure as can be you'd lose all that you lay.  Sir Salom. 
Why? Was there such a Man then?—  Betty. 
O Lord, I; he was here this very day: Had you but come two hours sooner, you might have seen him here.  Sir Salom. 
apart. At least this confession with so little concern, shows, she's not quite fallen from the state of Innocence— But Betty, as I remember, I did forewarn, and command you to speak with no man, especially with no young man.  Betty. 
I remember that too; But had you been here, when I spoke first to him, I knew you would have done as I did.  Sir Salom. 
It may be so: But pray, let me hear how 'twas.  Betty. 
With all my heart; I was sitting in the Balcony one evening at work, when this handsome proper young man came by; and just, as I looked on him, he chaned to look up to me: He presently makes me a low reverence, and I, in civility, rose up and did the like; By and by he turns back again, and salutes me, as before; and I, as in good manners I ought, did the same: thus he continued a great many times together: About two hours after, when 'twas almost dark, there came an Orange-woman to the door, who sent me up word, That she had the finest China-Oranges that ever were seen; and, that if I would not buy 'em with Money, I should have 'em for Love: I presently came down to see her Oranges (for I love 'em mightily:) And whilst I was looking upon 'em, she whispered in my Ear, God bless those sweet eyes of yours; but, if you knew how you have wounded a brave Gentleman, who is ready to die for you, your heart could not be so hard to deny him some relief.  Sir Salom. 
Cursed Engine of the Devil?  [apart. Betty. 
Good Woman (said I) you're mistaken; I never wounded any body in my Life: The Man, that you lately saw under the Belcony, I am sure (said she) is so hurt by you, that he is not like to live two days to an end, unless you take pity of him: Sure I did not let fall any thing▪ (said I) down upon his head: No, Madam (said she) 'Tis from your Eyes alone, that he has received his wound; They have a secret poison in them, which you are ignorant of, that has seized on his heart, and reduced him to this Languishing Condition: I view (said I) I would not for a World, that the poor Man should miscarry, and I be the cause on't; What would he have me do to help him? Nothing (answered she) but give him leave to look upon you again; for, your Eyes, that hurt him, can only cure him: With all my heart, if that will do him good (said I) he may come hither, and see me as much as he pleaseth. And (Would you believe it?) as soon as ever he came, and saw me, he was as well, as ever he was in his life: Now (judge you) could I'm Conscience do less, then relieve a dying Man, when it cost so little the doing?  Sir Salom. 
apart. I fear, we have paid too dearly for the Cure— No; 'twas charitably done. But, when he came in, What did he do? What past between you? Was he not very kind to you?  Betty. 
Beyond all measure. He presented me the finest Box that ever you saw (I can show it you above;) besides, he gave whole handfuls of Money to Ralph and Alice; and he said the sweetest things that did so please me—  Sir Salom. 
Well; but when you were alone together, What did he do then? Now must I search for that, which if I find I die.  [apart. Betty. 
Then he was kindest of all: He took me by the hands, and held them so fast, and kissed them a hundred times over.  Sir Salom. 
And what else?— I am in a cold Sweat!  [apart. Betty. 
What else? Why d''ee ask?  Sir Salom. 
Come, 'tis a good Girl, speak freely.  Betty. 
But you'll be angry.  Sir Salom. 
No, no.  Betty. 
Sure you will.  Sir Salom. 
I tell you no— With what a lingering death she torments me?  [apart. Betty. 
I vow I'm ashamed to tell you.  Sir Salom. 
Come, come; you may tell me any thing.  Betty. 
He took—  Sir Salom. 
What did he take?  Betty. 
He took my—  Sir Salom. 
Out with't.  Betty. 
Scarlet Ribbon, which you gave me, and said, He would wear it for my sake.  Sir Salom. 
apart. 'Tis well he took no more— If that be all, let the Ribbon go: But, Did he ask no other Remedy of you, to Cure the Wound, which he so complained of?  Betty. 
No: Was there any thing else for him to ask? For sure at that time I should have denied him nothing.  Sir Salo. 
Well, Betty; what is past, is past: and you shall hear no more of it from me: but, little think you what a danger you've scaped. Thou hast too much simplicity to understand the malice of these Frizzled heads, who with their Flattery and fine words, seek only to dishonour and ruin thee.  Betty. 
O, 'tis impossible, that he should mean me any hurt, for he loves me.  Sir Salom. 
He love thee? he deceives thee; and is kind to thee only for his own wicked ends, which having compassed, he will scorn and hate thee.  Betty. 
Sure that can't be; for he Swore to me above a dozen times that he would always love me.  Sir Salom. 
Thou'rt undone, shouldst thou trust to the Promises and Oaths of this Seducer; they are mere Cobwebs to catch silly Flies: Besides, Betty, to admit such Visits, and take Presents, and to delight in the Amorous Conversation, and dalliance of these Periwig-men, is a Sin (Betty) and a great one.  Betty. 
No sure; A Sin is a black ugly thing: but this is so pleasing, and sweet; And when one means no hurt—  Sir Salom. 
I tell you, 'tis a Sin, unless Marriage take away the offence.  Betty. 
Say you so? Then pray, Sir, Marry me out of hand.  Sir Salom. 
Yes, Betty, I intent to Marry thee; and I have put all things in readiness for it.  Betty. 
But, When will you do it?  Sir Salom. 
To morrow morning.  Betty. 
To morrow morning?  She Laughs. Sir Salom. 
Without fail: I see you are mightily pleased.  Betty. 
Yes indeed: I shall be extremely obliged to you, and hugely satisfied in him.  Sir Salom. 
Him? What him?  Betty. 
Why, him, we spoke of.  Sir Salom. 
Very fine; you are mighty forward to choose your Husband: But, for that him, trouble not your head any further; let him die of his wounds a-Gods name. I am resolved, when he comes next, you shall give him such a welcome, that the importunate Guest shall no longer haunt you.  Betty. 
Why; What must I do?  Sir Salom. 
You shall shut the door on the Face of him, and then if he knocks, you shall send that after him out of the Window, which shall cool the heat of his Passion.  Betty. 
How shall I be able to do that? He is so kind and so handsome—  Sir Salom. 
What? D''ee make a difficulty of it, when I command it? Betty, no more words; before I stir from hence I'll see you do it myself. I know we shall have him quickly here. Come along with me, I find you want Instruction yet.  [Exeunt. Enter Sir Arthur, and his two Footboys. Sir Arth. 
Nay, Sirrah; by Martial-Law I'll ha' thee hanged for giving a false alarum, and putting me in such a disorder, as I have hardly yet recovered.  S. Footboy. 
Truly (Sir) I took 'em to be the Monsters you spoke of.  Sir Arthur. 
Did you so? And where were your Eyes (Puppy? a Pox o'your fears, that made 'em see double: Of all Men living, I hate these Cowardly Rogues.  T. Footboy 
apart. Then I'll be sworn, my Masters no self-lover.  Sir Arth. 
This is the time too of Old Waryes' Assignation. And I Vow, 'tis all I can do, to rally my Forces against my Onsett on Mrs. julia.  T. Footboy. 
This, Sir, was the hour by him appointed to meet you in these walks.  Sir Arth. 
Go tell him, Boy, that I am here, and stay for him.  T. Footboy. 
Here they are, Sir.  Enter Wary and Julia. julia. 
Have you no body, Sir, to offer me, but the most notorious Fool of the Town?  Wary. 
Peace: Thou art a greater Fool than he, to refuse a man, that has a great deal of Money, and little Wit; and so lose the opportunity of being sole Mistress of a large Fortune. See, in what a submissive posture the Amorous Knight begs his admittance into your Favour? Nay, come up to him— Sir Arthur, here's my Daughter, and God send you good luck with her. Perhaps you'll find her a Coy Mistress; but, let not that dishearten you; farewell; I'll leave you to yourselves.  [Exit Wary and Servants. Sir Arth. 
Come, Madam; now we are alone, you need not be ashamed to speak your mind freely to me: Be of good Courage; I am kindhearted, and can deny you nothing that you ask.  julia. 
Sure, the Fool expects that I should Court him. [apart. Truly, Sir Arthur, I would fain ask you something; but, I am afraid, you are not good-natured, nor a Man of your Word.  Sir Arth. 
As I am a Gentleman, and a Knight— She's coming already—  [apart. julia. 
But, What if you should deny me? you know, for a Woman to be refused, is the last misery that can befall her.  Sir Arth. 
Alas, poor heart; I vow I take such pity o'thee, that there is no kindness, I would not do instantly for thee.  julia. 
Well (Sir) remember your promise: I ask you to forbear all manner of Courtship, or pretention to Marry me.  Sir Arth. 
This is very pretty I faith: I know well enough, you say this now only to try me; I can't but laugh to think, how damnably you'd be mumped, if I should take you now at your word.  julia. 
Do it, pray Sir; and take it which way you will; either grant my real desires, according to your promise, or punish my Dissimulation (if so you will have it.)  Sir Arth. 
So, so; you're very pleasant: But, pray Madam, for a while give over Fooling, and be serious; Alas, I know you're bashful (as all young women are, or should be) and loath to come out with't: Therefore I'll take pity o'you, and speak your mind for you; You'd fain have a Husband (Would you not? and you'd be married to a man of Fortune, and good Parts, and be a Lady, (I know you would:) Then say no more, trouble yourself no farther, you shall have all this, here's your Man, take him, and be thankful.  julia. 
Is there any persecution like that of a [apart. Confident Fool. Sir Arthur, I confess you're a Man of Fortune; but, I am not of Fortune's mind to dote upon you, as she has done: As for your good Parts, they are passed my understanding; and for the Ladyship you talk of, pray keep it for those, who are disposed to wear it for your sake, which I am resolved never to do.  Sir Arth. 
What a perverse Woman is this?— [apart. Well, well, Madam; for all this, I'll not despair, but that you may come to your wits yet; In order whereunto I have this Letter to deliver you: Perhaps good Counsel may do much, pray pursue it well; and afterwards let me know your Mind.  julia. 
I know the Hand: But; I cannot possibly imagine, how he should come to be the bearer of it— [apart. Julia reads the Letter apart from Sir Arthur. Madam, if your Father's severity has stirred in you the same Melancholy humour, as in me, this Fool, whom I send for your Divertisement, may prove no unseasonable Present: But, there's another use to be made of him, much more important to me, and (I hope) to you; For, he's very proper to amuse your Father's unquiet Suspicions of our Love, and to fill the Room of a Suitor, which might otherwise be taken up by some body of more danger: There can be no fitter Person, than he, to be deceived himself, and to deceive others. I therefore leave him to your discreet management; for, in your Conduct and Affection, lie all the hopes and happiness of your humble Adorer Single.  
Well, Single, since thou hast put me upon't, I'll act the part thou gav'st me, so to the Life, that thou shalt tremble at thine own disguise; and so by a wholesome severity I will at once punish thy jealous humour, and secure thy Love— Sir Arthur, come hither; What d''ee think this Letter Contains?  Sir Arth. 
A great deal of Truth, I warrant you.  julia. 
Be you the Judge of that; take it, and read it.  Sir Arth. 
Truly I am a modest man, and done't love to read my own Commendations: but, since you Command it— Hai, What's here?— This Fool— for your Divertisement— to be made use on— to amuse your Fathers— discreet Management:— O Traitor! there's not a true word in it. Judge you, (Madam;) Am I a Fool? Am I a fit Person to deceive, or be deceived?  julia. 
No, Sir Arthur: And, to let you see what part I take in the injury done you, this is the Answer, which (She tears it. I give to so malicious a Libel. 'Tis true, I am none of those, who can fall in love with a Man at first sight (which perhaps you may take unkindly at my hands)—  Sir Arth. 
No indeed, not I  julia. 
But I am so much concerned to see plain-dealing and honest simplicity abused, under the colour of Friendship, that I shall always side with the well-meaning-Party against the false undermine of Dissemblers.  Sir Arth. 
What a happy man am I?  julia. 
You are to know, that this Mr. Single has been a Pretender to me himself; and now he makes you his stalking-horse to drive the Game into his own Nets: But, go you immediately to him, and relate what you've seen me do, and heard me say; and tell him from me, that I have now taken a better man into his Room.  Sir Arth. 
Let me alone; I'll tell him his own to some tune.  [Exit Sir Arthur. julia. 
Since thou art doomed to Poverty  
By a Mad-fathers' harsh Decree,  
And since my Sentence is the same  
From mine, if I admit thy Flame;  
Single, 'twill just in me appear  
To try well, what must cost so dear:  
No Common test is fit to prove  
The truth, and firmness of thy Love;  
Since thou with nothing com'st to me,  
And I leave all to follow thee.  [Exit Julia. Enter Peregreen and Single. Pereg. 
Some way or other I am resolved to find out this woman, before your Father is Married to her: I must break, or delay the Match.  Single. 
Your Labour will be fruitless. What can you do in so short a time? his Wedding is to Morrow.  Pereg. 
I have all to day for it: And I'll do nothing, but watch him, and dog him from place to place, till I find out his haunt.  Single. 
Should you compass the seeing her, What will it avail? you may as soon Convert a jew, as make him alter his Resolution.  Pereg. 
But she may be Converted: For if she have Honour or Reason in her, 'twill be enough to tell her only the plain story of your Father's Humour, and Injustice towards you. If she be void of both, I'll get some Wench or other to swear a Promise of Marriage with your Father: Rather than fail I'll pretend a Contract myself with his Mistress; and so forbid the Banes. For, What is't I would not do to serve my Friend in such an Exigence?  Single. 
In all your designs I see much of your kindness, but very little probability of success.  Enter Sir Arthur. Sir Arthur? 
I suppose you come immediately from your Mistress. Well? Have you delivered my Letter?  Sir Arth. 
Yes, Sir; I have delivered it.  Single. 
And, I hope, it produced those good effects, which you have cause to thank me for.  Sir Arth. 
O yes, Sir; I thank you most abundantly.  Single. 
But, Have you not brought me an Answer?  Sir Arth. 
Yes, I have an answer for you, but, 'tis by word of mouth.  Single. 
How's this? Sure you mistake yourself.  Sir Arth. 
No, good Mr. Single; 'Tis you that mistake yourself, and me too: For, I am no Fool (d''ee see;) And Mrs. julia cares not this for you. What say you now, Sir?  Single. 
Either the Fool's run mad, or I shall— Sir Arthur, you are grown very mysterious: Pray, tell me plainly, What did she say?  Sir Arth. 
Then, to be plain, Sir, she said no better of you, than you Writ of me.  Single 
apart. Was ever Man so cross-bit, and confounded by an Ass.  Sir Arthur. 
Alas, poor Mr. Single! I find you are exteamly troubled: But, I scorn to be base; and, one good turn deserves another. Shall I write a Letter of Commendation for you to Mrs. julia? Ha, ha!  Single. 
You're too saucy: Give over fooling quickly, or I shall grow in earnest. Come, tell me her Answer; and, if you swerve one tittle from the Truth, I shall be worse to you, than a thousand Rivals.  Sir Arth. 
Lord! Why are you so angry now? If Mrs. julia will be kind to me, Can I help it?  Single. 
That it should be in the power of such a Worm to sting me thus!— Dispatch; What said she?  Sir Arth. 
Good Lord! in what haste you are to hear ill News? I vow now, I can't help it: she read your Letter, and then gave it me to read (I need not tell you what was in't). When I had read it, she took it and tore it (without my bidding her) And said, That was the Answer she made to it: Withal, she bid me tell you, That she was now provided with a better Man to fill your room.  Single. 
'Tis false, She did not; She could not say so.  Sir Arth. 
I thought what 'twould come too— Why, look'ee now, if you won't believe me, ask her.  Single. 
Sir Arthur, This business must not pass so: I must be farther satisfied in the Truth of your relation, or I shall take a course, which I suspect may not be agreeable to your temper. Go instantly back, and let her know from me, that, when she sends such a Message by such an Ambassador, she ought to send her Credentials too: And I shall also advise you, for your own sake, to bring me a speedy account of this business.  Sir Arth. 
Methinks you might take my word for a greater matter than this; But, you shall have your humour, and I'll go straight— Would I were well rid of him.  [Exit Sir Arthur. Single. 
Where can Faith be found, if julia be false? Must Virtue itself degenerate to Treachery, and an Angel turn Devil to complete my unhappiness?  Pereg. 
Come, come; All this may be nothing but a Trial of your Constancy; or some Stratagem of Love to amuse the froward suspicion of her old Father.  Single. 
She could not show that Fool my Letter, and tear it before his face, with any other design, but to abandon, and destroy me.  Pereg. 
Be not so hasty to conclude her unfaithful, and yourself unfortunate: For my part, I hold it impossible, that a Woman of Wit, who has always been constant to you, should on the sudden desert you for so despicable a Person, as your pretended Rival.  Single. 
Ah, Peregreen! had but a nobler Object debauched her from me, it would not have put such scorn upon my sufferings: But now I fall dishonourably by an infamous hand, and am exposed at once to Ruin, and Contempt.  Enter Sir Arthur. Sir Arth. 
Now, Sir, I hope I have pleased you; I told her all that you said: And, she bid me tell you again, that, since you are so hard of belief, both she, and her Father will meet you in this place within this hour, to give you full satisfaction in the point: And so God bye.  Single. 
Nay, but Sir Arthur; Pray, one word more with you. Come near.  Sir Arthur. 
By no means, Sir; I am in haste; And my Mistress will be angry, if I stay from her so long. Farewell.  [Exit Sir Arthur. Single. 
So; Now I think my business is completely done: Nature and Love have both declared me their Enemy; whilst I am disinherited by my Father, and forsaken by my Mistress. What have I left me, but to Court an honourable and speedy Death?  Pereg. 
At least suspend your judgement, till you speak with julia. All this may still be a blind to cover, and secure your Love. You must not expect at first sight, to see the bottom of a Woman's Policy in matters of this Nature: They manage such Affairs with a subtlety, and address beyond our reach.  Single. 
Your excess of kindness makes you flatter my Misery with vain hopes.  Pereg. 
You must not antedate your Misery by Despair; That will teach Fortune the way to ruin you: First hear what julia says; examine well her words, and her eyes; And than you may knowingly make a Judgement of your Case— I shall impatiently wait the success of this Assignation. In the mean time I must beg your leave to dispatch a Visit here close by to my little Betty; That being done, your Concerns shall be my whole Employment. Adieu.  Single. 
Dear Peregreen, Farewell.  [Exit Single. 
Peregreen knocks at Mrs. Bettys Lodging,  
Ralph looks out, and shuts the Door upon him.  Ralph. 
Stand off.  Pereg. 
Hai day! What's the meaning of this? I'll try a little farther; perhaps he mistook me for another.  [Knocks again. Ralph and Alice both look out. Ralph. 
What would you have?  Alice. 
Here's nothing for you.  They shut the Door upon him again. Pereg. 
They turn me away like a Beggar from the door! Now I am sure they saw me— Ralph, Alice— my pretty Rogues, Don't you know me? 'Tis I.  Mrs. Betty from the Belcony throws down a Brickbat, and with it a Letter. Mrs. Betty. 
To all you've said, or have to say to me, this is my Answer.  [She withdraws. Pereg. 
Does that hand persecute me too? she speaks in Thunder, and vanishes like Lightning— If this [He takes up the Brick. be your Answer, 'tis a weighty one; had it come home to me, 'twould have Silenced me for ever. 'Tis impossible that Betty should be so changed all o'the sudden, as to do this of herself; without dispute Old Evans has been alarumed, and is now himself upon the Guard: I must ' e'en draw off at present from the Enemy's Quarters— What have we here? a Letter, For Mr Peregreen Woodland? good, or bad, I'll take it; but, this is no place to read it in.  [Exit Peregreen. Ralph peeps out at the Door, and then looks back. Ralph. 
The Bird is flown.  Enter Sir Solomon, Mrs. Betty, Ralph, and Alice. Sir Salom. 
Most bravely performed of all hands; you Ralph, and you Alice did so well execute my Orders, that now I forgive you all your pastfaults: And you, my dear Betty, are now restored to the place you formerly held in my affections; For know, that I am no less a Rewarder of Virtue, than a Punisher of Vice: I believe my Confident Lover will brag no more of this Adventure; The Brick-bat has dashed in pieces all his Designs. And now, Betty, learn from hence the necessity of a wise Conductor even for Innocence itself: Thou hadst been quite lost, and undone, had I not miraculously delivered thee from the Ambuscade, which was laid to ruin thee; but, for the future I hope, all of you are sufficiently instructed, how to behave yourselves, should he renew his attempts again.  Ralph. 
We have our Lesson without book now; let him come when he will, and do his worst, I defy him.  Sir Salom. 
But have a care you be not caught with his smooth Words, and fair Promises; What would you say to him now, if he should come to you, and cry, Ralph, honest Ralph, Wilt thou forget thy Friend? take a little pity of me.  Ralph. 
No; you're a Rogue.  Sir Salom. 
Good: But thou Alice at least art so pretty and sweet, thou canst not be so hard-hearted.  Alice. 
You're a jack-straw.  Sir Salom. 
Excellent! Alas, What hurt is there in the thing which I ask? I intended nothing but Honour and Virtue.  Ralph. 
You're a Cunning Catching Rascal.  Sir Salom. 
Rarely well; Nay then, if you no compassion of me, I must die.  Ralph. 
The sooner the better.  Sir Salom. 
Most incomparable? You know, I am none of those, who use to forget the Courtesies done 'em: I never leave a Service unrewarded: And, to give you a taste of my grateful nature, Ralph, here's for thee to Drink; and Alice, here's to buy thee a laced Hancarcher; This is but a small earnest of what I intent.  [They both take the Mony. Ralph. 
Am I a Man to be bribed? stand off.  [He gives him a great thrust. Sir Salom. 
That's right.  Alice. 
Get you out.  [Thrusts him too. Sir Salom. 
To the Life.  Ralph. 
Get you out.  [They both punch him. Sir Salom. 
As it should be.  Alice. 
But presently then.  Sir Salom. 
Mighty well? but now 'tis enough.  Ralph. 
Be gone then.  [They both thrust him about more than ever. Sir Salom. 
Hold I say.  Alice. 
We won't hold, you come to affront our Master Evans.  Sir Salom. 
I tell you I am in earnest.  Ralph. 
So are we too: we'll do what our Master bid us.  Sir Salom. 
Give over, I say, or I'll break my Staff about your cares.  Alice. 
Must we give over so soon?  Sir Salom. 
How the Slaves have bruised me?  Ralph. 
What say you now, Sir? Han't we done as we should do?  Sir Salom. 
Extremely well; only you were a little too slow of understanding to'rds the Last, and too quick in taking Money at First.  Ralph. 
I Swear, I had quite forgot that part of my Lesson concerning Money: But, since we were out, Shall we do it over again?  Sir Salom. 
No: 'Tis enough.  Ralph. 
Speak but the word, and we are ready.  Sir Salom. 
Y'ave done very fairly: ye may now withdraw, whilst I talk a little in private with Betty. [Exit Ralph and Alice. Betty, methinks you are very silent; And yet that's a thing I like very well in a Woman, I know, poor heart, thy mind is troubled for the oversight thou didst commit, not out of Malice, but through too much Innocence: But, Betty, be not dismayed; thy Fault is forgiven, and forgot: and, for a testimony of it, to morrow I'll Marry thee.  Betty. 
To Morrow, Sir? that's very soon.  Sir Salom. 
How comes it to pass, that now 'tis too soon, when two hours ago you thought it hardly soon enough.  Betty. 
I am grown more knowing since that time; For, you have given me so many Admonitions concerning the Duty of a Wife, that 'tis impossible for me to have 'em perfect so soon.  Sir Salom. 
Thou shalt get them perfect by the practice of 'em: And, Betty, to let thee see, how my kindness is enlarged to'rds thee, and to Crown all my other benefits heaped upon thee, take this Writing, and preserve it charily, for in this I make thee Mistress of my whole Estate. Moreover, Betty, I'll tell thee a Secret, which thou little dreamest on; To morrow thou shalt be a Lady, and shalt have a place much above the Rank of the Modern ones. And now, Betty, consider well, what gratitude you owe the Author of so much happiness— Did the rest of the World Marry at this prudent rate, we should not hear such loud Complaints of Wedlock-Fetters.  
Let foolish Men their Marriage-Fate deplore;  
Whilst I to Cupid his lost Eyes restore:  
And all the Poison from his Darts remove,  
By teaching Wisdom in the School of Love.  [Exeunt Omnes.  

The Fourth Act.  Enter Sir Solomon, Single. Sir Salom. 
THis I must own to be the Fortunate Moment of my Life: For now the Harvest is come of my long ripening Designs, which call for the Sickle. I touch the very Centre of Human Felicity, which lies in that Point, where expectation ends, and fruition begins. I am now beholding to the late Assaults and Dangers I have sustained, which add to the fullness of my Joy the Pleasure of Victory. That I could but see the Countenance of my defeated Rival since his Salutation with the Brickbat? What a Change shall I find in the briskness of his Humour?  Enter Peregreen. Pereg. 
Sir Solomon; I have been to wait on you at your Lodging; and have sought you far and near.  Sir Salom. 
Good Mr. Peregreen, y' are heartily welcome. Well; and how thrives Love? I suppose by this y' are in a fair possibility of enjoyment.  Pereg. 
Faith, Sir, that's the very business I have to confer with you: I know not how it comes to pass, but (to tell you truly) I have had some Traverses in my Affairs, since I last imparted them to you.  Sir Salom. 
I protest, I'm extremely sorry for it. Why What's the matter?  Pereg. 
Without dispute, that watchful Dragon, old Evans, smells the Powder, and stands upon his Guard to countermine all my Designs.  Sir Salom. 
What reason have you to think so?  Pereg. 
I know it must so: For, I had absolutely gained those two Animals, the Man, and Maid of the Family; and made them as tame, and obedient to all my purposes, as watch't-Hawkes; And now (all on the sudden) they are turned Haggard again, know me not, and repulse me with such rudeness, as if they had never seen my face, nor taken my Mony.  Sir Salom. 
What ill luck's this? But how in the name of Wonder should this Evans come to the knowledge of your Design?  Pereg. 
I know not what Devil of Jealousy has inspired him; But too sure I am, that he has me in the wind; For (not many hours since) going to visit my Betty, as I use to do, when I came to the House, and had one foot in, they shut the Door with violence upon me; and both Man and Maid cried out, What make you here? here's nothing for you—  Sir Salom. 
I vow, this was very hard usage; after they had taken your Money too.  Pereg. 
However, I ventured to knock once more; and presently Betty herself came to the Belcony, and threw a huge Brick-bat at me, telling me, That was her Answer to all I had to say.  Sir Salom. 
A Brick-bat, say you? That was an odd Favour for a Mistress to bestow on her Gallant: But, Did it hit you?  Pereg. 
No; I had the good fortune to avoid the blow.  Sir Salom. 
What pity 'tis, so hopeful a Design should be knocked o'th' head with a Brick-bat?  Pereg. 
Hold, Sir; for all this, there's some life in't still: and, I believe, old Evans, who was the Engineer, that raised this Battery against me, will have no cause at last to brag of his Victory.  Sir Salom. 
If the young Wench be o'your side, you may easily outwit the old Man's Vigilance.  Pereg. 
I don't question it; And, 'tis no small part of my satisfaction, to think, how this Jealous Coxcomb fools himself into a security upon this imaginary Rout.  Sir Salom. 
Well, Sir;— How he frights me?  Pereg. 
Now you shall see, that Love is an equal Conqueror of Art, and Nature; First, in baffling all the subtlety, and stratagems of that old Fox; And next, in making a cunning Politician of Innocent Betty.  Sir Salom. 
Where will this end?  [Apart. Pereg. 
For she, being constrained by her Tyrant to give me this unwilling Repulse, at the same time under the shelter of that Brick-bat dropped a Letter at my Feet so full of sweetness, and unsophisticated-love, expressed with so much Innocence, and Modesty, that now I'm no less charmed with the beauty of her Mind, then with the Loveliness of her Person.  Sir Salom. 
I am relapsed into Torment!—  [apart. Pereg. 
Don't you admire this miraculous effect of Love, and readiness of wit in so ignorant, so unpractised a Creature? Methinks, you are not so affected with the strangeness of it, as the thing deserves.  Sir Salom. 
O, yes; I'm unspeakably surprised.  Pereg. 
When the Door was shut against me, and the bawling Servants houted at me, and the hand-granado was flung out to rout the poor Lover, Was not the Politic Conductor of this Stratagem all this while in a dainty Fooles-Paradice? Did he not act a pleasant Part in this Tragicomedy? Why don't you Laugh heartily at it?  [Sir Salo. sq— veezes out a forced Laughter. Sir Salom. 
I protest, I Laugh as heartily, as I can— How I'm worried by him!  Pereg. 
But, as you are my Friend, I must needs show you her Letter; For, I believe, you never saw a more admirable piece in the kind: Do but hear it. [Peregrine Reads. What shall I do? I must write my Thoughts to you, and yet I know not how to choose words to express them: For I have been bred in such ignorance, that all the knowledge I have, is, that I want it. This makes me fearful of saying any thing, lest I should say, what I ought not. I know not what 'tis y' 'ave done to me, but I find, it goes to my very heart to use you as I am forced to do. Mr. Evans does often Preach to me, That all young men are Deceivers; and, that 'tis their Trade by fair promises to cheat Women of their Honour, and then forsake 'em. Pray tell me whether it be so or no. I have no Malice myself; and, should you deceive me, 'twould be ill done, and I'm confident 'twould kill me— Was ever any thing so tender, and so ravishing? How her Wit and her Love flow from the clear Fountain of Nature, without the least tincture of Artifice? And, Is not this Evans a most unsufferable Beast to drown in ignorance and stupidity (as much as in him lies) so perfect a Soul, and so capable of the highest improvement?  Sir Salom. 
Oh!  Pereg. 
What ails you, Sir?  Sir Salom. 
Nothing, but a Cold. Uh, uh, uh.  Pereg. 
I must needs beg your assistance a little in this business: For, I am a stranger in Town, and you are the only person I confide in. Could you not acquaint me with some of the Neighbours thereabouts, where I might have access, to watch opportunities of speaking with my Mistress?  Sir Salom. 
No; I have not any acquaintance in that Quarter. Farewell.  Pereg. 
Pray Sir, stay a little longer: The kindness of friends should be reciprocal. You have not told me any thing concerning the progress of your own Affairs: I suppose the Wedding holds for to morrow. I am resolved (notwithstanding the urgency of my own occasions) to prepare myself for it. But, Sir, Will you not grant me the favour to kiss the fair hands of your Lady before the Marriage?  Sir Salom. 
It can't be: The time is short. God b'ye.  [Exit Sir Solomon. Pereg. 
This good Sir Solomon has a strange Ague in his Nature: His Temper never holds the same for half an hour together. How pleasant, and well humoured he was, when first we began our discourse; And after a while how sullen, and ill at ease he seemed to be? Poor Single! I pity thy hard Fortune, in having such a Father.  [Exit Peregreen. Enter Sir Solomon. Sir Salom. 
Is he gone at last?— Could any Devil, but he, be so skilful in the Art of tormenting? Could any Devil, but she, have so much untaught Malice born in her Nature? My Patience and my Wits will forsake me! I have published my Wedding, named the Day, invited my Friends, and, Am I not finely provided with a Bride? I shall become the Discourse of every Coffy-house, be Libelled, Lamponed, Acted; and every Fool will think himself a Wit, when he talks, and tells Stories of me—  Enter Timothy. Sir Solomon takes several turns upon the Stage, and takes no notice of Timothy, who follows him from side to side. Timothy. 
Sir, according to your appointment, all things are in readiness, as becomes your Quality, and the Solemnity of such a Wedding. The Tailor, Milliner, Sempstress, and Periwig-Maker, for the setting forth your Person; And the Butcher, Polterer, Vintner, Confectioner, and Fruiterer, for setting forth the Feast, have all brought in their Provisions▪ But, there is such a tearing noise of Fiddles▪ Drums, and Trumpets at your Lodging, to give your Worship Joy, that your whole Family are like Seamen in a Tempest, all bawling, and none hearing: They are His Majesty's Trumpets, and His Grace the Lord general's Drum, What will your Worship be pleased I shall give them?—  Sir Salom. 
A Halter— How all Mankind conspires to torment me! Where shall I hide my head, [Timothy starts back. and shelter my Person from the Scorn and Mockery of the World? Have I made it my business all my life to separate myself from the common heard of Fools, and to laugh at the Disasters, which grew from their Principles of Folly? And, am I at last myself betrayed by a Caprichiousness of Fate to a degree of Contempt, and ridiculousness below the most noted Fops, and celebrated Fools of the Times?—  Timothy. 
What will your Worship be pleased I shall do?  Sir Salom. 
Hang yourself— [Tim. starts back again. Well; if it must be so, at least the World shall see, that I am none of those tame Fools, that can be the Bawds of their own Infamy, and fairly hold intelligence with those, who are the Authors of their Shame and Dishonour. My revenge shall be as loud as my disgrace; It shall be Writ in red Letters upon this insolent Robber, and Ravisher of my Affections, and my Honour; and upon that ungrateful young Viper; whom friendless, and indigent, cold, and naked, I took into my warm Bosom, nay more, into my Heart—  Timothy. 
I beseech your Worship to dispatch me: Your House is so full of all sorts of Tradesmen, and such a Rabble is got together about the Door (the Drums and Trumpets having proclaimed a Wedding) that I fear your House and Goods are not safe.  Sir Salom. 
There's your dispatch, impertinent Varlet!  [He kicks him off the Stage. Timothy. 
Why, Sir! 'tis I: Who d''ee take me for?  Sir Salom. 
I am to blame. This extravagance of Passion serves only to make my disgrace more visible: And my Resentment, making a noise in the World, will but sound a Trumpet, to draw more Company in to see the Monster— All things duly weighed, Why should I lay the blame on others, when here within me lies my worst Enemy? An obstinate Love has taken possession of my heart, which makes an Ass of my Reason, and forceth me, though I know the Treason, to dote still upon the Traitor. Unjustly I condemn the amorous pursuit of a young Gallant, who is so ignorant of the wrong and affront he does me, that he calls me to Counsel in all his Plots and Contrivance against me! Why do I blame the seduced Ignorance of an Innocent Girl, whose want of knowledge (which causes my Disgrace) is the effect of that Education which I gave her? No: My designs of Revenge are vain, and unjust. I must pull down my Sails to weather out this storm. My only Course will be, to marry her out of hand: That may open her eyes, to see her Duty; and his, to know the Injury he does me. Heaven! If it may be, make her honest; if not,  
At least that strength of Patience grant to me,  
Which I in other Husbands daily see.  [Exit Sir Solomon. Enter Sir Arthur, Wary, Julia, and Roger. Wary. 
What? No Mr. Single appears yet.  Sir Arthur. 
Alas, Sir; he dares not show his Face, when I am here.  Wary. 
Roger, to tell thee truly, my understanding [Apart to Roger. is quite posed, what judgement to frame of this unexpected compliance in my Daughter. Methinks there's still a Mist before my Eyes; for I do not like these sudden Conversions; they favour of Artifice and Design. [Sir Arthur courts Julia. However, I'm resolved to drive it as far as 'twill go: And therefore I'll immediately give directions to my Lawyer for drawing up the Marriage-writing. But, you must stay here, that in case Mr. Single comes, you may observe the passages between them.  Roger. 
I warrant you, Sir; I'll give you an account to a tittle of what's said, or done.  Wary. 
Sir Arthur, my business calls me away in order to your Service: But, I leave you in good company. And, Daughter, I expect from you, that when Mr. Single comes, you should give him such a Dismission, as that neither you, nor I, may be any more importuned by him.  [Exit Wary. julia. 
Sir Arthur, I must confess, y' 'ave already given me abundant proof of your Wit; but, in regard I would fain have a thorough Veneration for him, I am to obey during life, Pray afford me some testimony of your Valour too: For that (you know) is as necessary to protect, as Wit is to govern the Subject.  Sir Arthur. 
Valour, Madam? why that's the only fault I am guilty of: I'm too rash. I vow, Madam, my courage is so fierce and outrageous, when I let it lose, that I dare not stir abroad, nor meet any body, till I have first chained it up, like a cursed Masty-dog, for fear of doing mischief.  julia. 
Good Sir, for my satisfaction unchain it now a little: Here's no body in the way, that can take any hurt, but Roger there; and, if you'll venture your Dog, I'll venture my Father's Devil.  Sir Arth. 
O sweet Lady! for your own dear sake, I would not do it for a World. Alas, Madam, it flies at all, when 'tis loose, without any distinction of Persons; and where it lays hold, it worryes.  Enter Single. julia. 
O terrible!— But look'ee; The Gentleman's come at last.— What? Am I grown so out of Credit with you, that when I send my mind by a person so worthy of belief, as Sir Arthur Addel, both my Message, and Messenger are to be slighted?  Single. 
Madam, in common Justice no man is allowed for good Evidence, when he speaks in his own Cause.  Sir Arth. 
apart to julia. Take him up short: Don't let him show his Wit: He has a smooth Tongue of his own, and will draw you in.  julia. 
I'm come to see, whether I at least may obtain the favour of your belief.  Single. 
I hope, I shall have no cause given me to think you untrue; and then I must believe you.  Sir Arthur. 
O Madam; you give him too much head—  [Apart to Julia. julia. 
Know then, that Sir Arthur was a person sent, and authorised by me; and all that he told you, is true concerning your Better, and his Admission.  Roger. 
O, well said, sweet young Lady! How my Master's heart will be overjoyed at it!  Sir Arthur. 
Is it I that am to be blamed now?—  [Apart to Single. Single. 
Madam, I submit: For there's no Appeal for him, whom you condemn.  Sir Arthur. 
I say still, Have a care of him—  [Apart to Julia. julia. 
Come, Sir; stand before me. What Woman can do less, that looks upon Sir Arthur Addel, then yield herself up to so fair an Estate, so comely a Person, such a graceful carriage, so excellent a Wit, such modesty in using it, such invincible Courage—  Sir Arthur. 
O Madam, such truths are not to be spoke before my face.  Roger. 
I'm glad she likes him so well: But did she know all.  [apart. julia. 
Now, Sir; What have you to say in your own behalf, to counterbalance the perfections of such a Competitour?  Single. 
Madam, I am nothing, but what you please to make me.  julia. 
I would make you understand yourself and me; and that I am a person worthy of belief: nor shall all the perswasisions of the World ever seduce me from a well taken resolution.  Roger. 
You say right, Madam; especially when your Father directs, and commands it.  julia. 
Especially, when my Father provides a Person every way so qualified for a Husband, as the famous Sir Arthur Addel.  Sir Arth. 
I vow, Madam, you ravish me. Shall we be Married to night?  [Apart to Julia. Single. 
How ambiguous she is? Was ever man so parted in two between Happiness, and Misery?—  [Apart. julia. 
To hold you all no longer in suspense, know, that I have now before my eyes the Objects both of my Scorn, and my Esteem: The one by a just title of desert has possession of my Heart; The other by his bold and rude Addresses, has raised a just Aversion in me, and contempt of his person. After this Declaration let me see, which is that impudent Man, who dares continue in my presence?  [Exit Single. Sir Arth. 
ay, let him go: His guilty Conscience makes him fly— But Madam, you forgot your promise of binding him to the Peace: He's a troublesome unruly Fellow.  julia. 
O, call him again.  Sir Arth. 
Mr. Single, Mr. Single; The Lady has something more to say to you— I protest, Sir, this is all her own doing; I had not the least hand in it: you must not be angry with me.  [Apart to Single. julia. 
I have also this command for him of you too, whom I love, that he shall not make the Pretensions of his Rival, any ground of a difference or quarrel.  Sir Arth. 
Madam, your Commands shall bind my hands: Though Rivalship be a hard thing to digest.  julia. 
Mr. Single, Y'ave now your liberty to retire.  Roger. 
And, pray Sir, let's see you here no more: It is my old Master's express command as well as my young Mistress' here.  [Exit Single. Sir Arth. 
If he comes again, your Order, Madam, for a Cessation of Arms must cease, become void, and of no effect.  julia. 
I hope, Sir Arthur, he will be so discreet, as not to put you upon desperate courses: But, should the worst happen, 'tis but unchaining your Masty Dog.  Sir Arthur. 
If he makes me do so, he shall e'en answer himself for all the Mischief that's done.  julia. 
And so he may, without holding up his hand at the Barr. But, Sir Arthur, the freshness of the Evening warns me to retire: I know, you'll Gallant me to my Lodging.  Sir Arth. 
O yes, Madam— Poor thing! she can't live a moment without me.  [Exeunt omnes. Enter Peregreen, and Woodlands Man in riding apparel. Pereg. 
But, Art thou sure my Father will be here to night?  Servant. 
Yes, Sir. He comes in company with one Mr.— ('Faith, Sir, I've forgot his name) a rich Merchant, newly arrived from the Indies: And, he sent me before to find you out, that he might not fail to speak with you about some very earnest business, as soon as he came to Town.  Pereg. 
What should this business be?  Servant. 
I believe, Sir, I can tell you something of it, by what I have overheard.  Pereg. 
Prithee what is't?  Servant. 
Your Worship then must promise to keep my Counsel: otherwise I shall gain a great deal of ill will with my old Master, first for overhearing, and then revealing his private Discourses.  Pereg. 
Take my word for thy Security.  Servant. 
That I will for all I'm worth: And, to tell you truly, Sir, I did e'en long to be the first, that should bring you this good News.  Pereg. 
Good News? Of what?  Servant. 
Of being Married out of hand to a young Lady, who, (they say) is vastly rich, and hugely handsome.  Pereg. 
And dost thou call this good News? I had rather thou hadst told me, That to Morrow I must have gone to Goal, nay more, to Execution; For in one, a man may hope to be released from Misery, and the other is an end of it: But, to be Married so soon, and having newly tasted Liberty, to have it snatched away from me for ever, is more than I can suffer. No: My Father must excuse me; All other things he may do of himself without me; but, Marriage is a Work, which I must do, not he.  Servant. 
I hope, Sir, you are not in earnest; For, by all that I can perceive, my Master's heart is so set upon this business—  Enter Single. Pereg. 
Well, well; You may go rest yourself after your Journey.  Servant. 
But, Where shall I find you, Sir, when your Father's come?  Pereg. 
Either here, or under the Arches in Covent-Garden. [Exit Servant. Dear Single, Fortune has at last decreed, as we are joined in Friendship, to join us in Adversity.  Single. 
What's the matter?  Pereg. 
I have told you many passages of Love between Betty and me; But, I never fully confessed to you, how deep the impression was she has made upon my heart. Ah Single! she's the very same thing in every respect to me, that the fair julia is to you.  Single. 
If this declaration of Love be in earnest, I doubt you're passed the Cure of Reason: Otherwise, I should endeavour to dissuade my dear Peregreen from a Passion (if it tend to Marriage) every way so unequal to him.  Pereg. 
Art thou a Lover thyself, and, Canst thou talk of inequality in Love.  Single. 
I've done; You shall hear no more from me: But, pray, give me leave to be sorry.  Pereg. 
You misplace your Sorrow; 'Tis not here that I want it: But, what I now shall tell you, will too justly deserve the compassion of a Friend. Whilst my Affections are thus unalterably preingaged, just now my Father comes to Town with a positive determination (as I'm informed) of matching me to one of his own providing, whose Person, and Fortune (they say) are such, as to render my disobedience to him unexcusable in the Eyes of the World. Judge then in what condition I am: Uncertain of my Love; for, she's in the hands of my Enemy, her Gaoler Evans; And only certain of my Father's just indignation.  Single. 
Methinks, your Passion for Betty in so short a time should not have taken such deep roots, but that another might be planted in the room on't, when a Fortune is offered by your Father, so much above her in quality and Estate, and perhaps not inferior in Beauty.  Pereg. 
Deal more justly with a Friend: Is it in your power not to love julia? Nor is it more in mine to relinquish Betty. No; whatever befalls me; I'm resolved this very night to get her into my possession, and then Marry her: Which being done, I shall endeavour to obtain my Father's Pardon, for what I could not gain his Consent.  Single. 
Well, Sir; since I cannot serve you with my Counsel, at least I offer you my Person, to assist you in the execution of your design.  Pereg. 
No (dear Single;) I know your own occasions of a like nature require your whole attendance: Besides, I look upon your Father, as a more proper Instrument for me in this Work. He's already acquainted with it; and has promised secrecy; and his Person (being a Man of years) appearing at Bettys Lodging, will be less subject to the suspicion of old Evans. Moreover, by employing him, I hope to get a sight of his intended Bride; For, in all my own Distractions, I cannot be unmindful of your Concerns.  Single. 
Your Generosity may teach the World new Lessons of Friendship, whilst even in your own Distress you continue such care for me: Thanks to my Stars, my heart is now at some ease concerning Julia's constancy: I confess, she frighted me at first with that very Vizard, which I bid her put on; But since, through that Disguise, she has artificially cast such beams of Comfort on me, as have revived my drooping Spirits.  Pereg. 
May Fortune continue her smiles upon you. Farewell; I must to your Father about my business.  Single. 
And I must find out Sir Arthur, to renew a strict League of Amity with him. May we both prosper!  [Exeunt Peregreen and Single. Enter Sir Solomon, and Mrs. Betty. Sir Salom. 
Betty, Have you said your Prayers to day?  Betty. 
O yes, Sir.  Sir Salom. 
And, D''ee know what 'tis to die?  Betty. 
To die? I remember I saw one of my Nurse's Daughters die in the Country.  Sir Salom. 
And, How did you like it?  Betty. 
O, very ill: She was a pretty Girl before; but, when she was dead, I was afraid to look upon her.  Sir Salom. 
Betty, you must die; and die presently.  Betty. 
No sure, Sir; For I'm as well, as ever I was in my life.  Sir Salom. 
How unconcernedly she answers?— apart.— I say again, within this quarter of an hour you must die.  Betty. 
Indeed, Sir, you fright me; and yet I can't see any danger of death.  Sir Salom. 
Wicked Girl! Look upon thy Treason against thy Lord, and Master; thy Ingratitude to thy Benefactor; thy falseness to him, that must be thy Husband: Remember the Letter thou droppest to day in the Street; and then look upon me, and tell me, Dost thou see no danger of death?— What, Are you dumb?— Why don't you answer? you can't speak to me; but you can write to your lewd Gallant?  Betty. 
You put me in such a fright, that I am not able to speak.  Sir Salom. 
Hussee, you were not afraid to break my Commands, to betray me, to be strumpeted by a wild young Fellow: In all Mischief you're bold enough; but, when you are to hear your faults, and to answer for your Crimes, than your Fears come upon you!  Betty. 
I can't speak for my life, when you look so terribly upon me: look but as you use to do, and I'll answer you any thing.  Sir Salom. 
How in spite of my teeth she breaks the force of my Anger, and disarms it with her softness!— Tell me then, Why did you write that Letter, after I had forbid you all Communication with him?  Betty. 
I writ it, because it goes against my Nature to hurt any body; And, since you would needs have me throw that great Stone at him, I could not choose but let him know, I did it against my will.  Sir Salom. 
O, how tender you are in hurting him! whilst at the same time you make nothink of breaking my heart, destroying my happiness, ruining my Reputation, who have been a Nurse, a Father, and would have been a Husband to thee.  Betty. 
Indeed I'm beholding to you for your care of me; And, when I'm able, I'll satisfy you for it.  Sir Salom. 
Satisfy me? How the Gipsy word's it! How canst thou satisfy me for all the good I have done to thee, and all the mischief thou hast done to me?  Betty. 
God forbid I should do you any mischief: I know of none I have done you.  Sir Salom. 
What Devil has taught thee to sin thus without Remorse? Thy Ignorance cannot excuse thee: For, Have I not daily instructed thee for two years together in thy Obedience, and duty of a Wife? Have I not hourly inculcated into thee, That thou ought'st not so much as to look upon a young Man; and that thou wert born and made to no other end, but to love me?  Betty. 
Truly, Sir, I love you as well as I can: And, if I love you no better, 'tis not my fault; you should make yourself more lovely.  Sir Salom. 
How innocently she stabb's me with her [apart. Answers! No, Gipsy; you can love well enough when you've a mind to't, and where you should not: You can Love an impudent Ravisher, who comes to deflower thee, and leave thee a forlorn, prostituted thing, abandoned to Beggary, and Shame; Him thou canst love: But me, who have raised thee from nothing, bred thee as my Child, made thee Mistress both of my Heart and Fortune; me thou canst not love: I (forsooth) must make myself more Lovely.  Betty. 
What would you ha' me do? I'll do any thing I can, to give you content.  Sir Salom. 
Then I command you to renounce all manner of kindness to this bold Assaulter of your Honour, and mine, and never more to see him, nor so much as think upon him.  Betty. 
That's impossible for me to do: For, now I know him, I must love him, and see him too, when I may.  Sir Salom. 
O impudence! to tell me this to my face? Had she been bred in the most famous Schools of Iniquity? Had she been Prentice all her life to the ablest She-Professors of the Trade? Could she have owned her Transgression with a more daring Confidence? Since thou art so impenitent, and hardened in thy Sin, expect no Mercy— Behold this. [He draws his Sword. Art thou not afraid of my Anger? I hope, now thouart to die, thou'lt repent thee of thy Sins; and (above all) of thy abominable Love of this wicked Man who has so bewitched thee.  Betty. 
Sure you won't kill me: But, if you should, I must not leave the World with a Lie in my Mouth, and say, I don't Love this young Man: For indeed I can't choose but love him. And, I think, it is no Sin, when I can't help it.  Sir Salom. 
How she argues the Case! Where has she learned this Cunning, and this undauntedness? Ah! she holds intelligence with my heart, and knows the power she has there, which grows stronger and stronger upon me, in spite of all her neglect to me, and Love to my Rival— Here, Betty; Do you take this Sword: Take it, and kill me. For all the care I have had of thee, for all that I have done, and meant to do for thee (since thou wilt not love me) I ask thee no other reward.  Betty. 
Indeed, Sir, I would not kill you, though 'twere to save my own life: And I'll endeavour to love you as well as ever I can.  Sir Salom. 
Nay, unless you'll love me better than that young Man, I must die.  Betty. 
No, pray don't: What are you the worse, because I love him? You shan't lose a Farthing by it. To content you, I should be glad with all my heart I had never seen him, and did not love him: But, now 'tis done, who can help it?  Sir Salom. 
How immovable she is! Neither Threats, nor Kindness work upon her. Well, Marry her I will; and take my venture— Betty, notwithstanding all your unkindness, I'll be as good as my word, and Marry you.  Betty. 
Marry me? To whom?  Sir Salom. 
Ah, cruel Girl! Why dost thou stab me with such a question? Love me, or love me not, I'll be your Husband to morrow.  Betty. 
Indeed, Sir, that's very short warning.  Sir Salom. 
No more words: I'll have it so. When thou seest the Bravery, and fine things I've prepared for thee, thou'lt be of a better mind.  Betty. 
If it must be so, I can't help it.  Sir Salom. 
Come, get you in; and pray to Heaven, that thou may'st be sensible of the happiness I intent thee.  [Exit Betty. Sir Solomon goes off the Stage the other way, and at the Door meets Peregreen coming in. Enter Peregreen. Pereg. 
Sir Solomon, I have been in despair for want of seeing you; For you are my good Angel—  Sir Salom. 
And you my Devil—  [Apart. Pereg. 
That must direct and assist me, and crown all your past favours with the most important kindness that I am capable of receiving.  Sir Salom. 
What is't, Sir?  Pereg. 
Only to deliver this Letter safely to my Betty: On her receipt of it depends no less, than the happiness of my life. I dare not approach the House myself by daylight, because the Servants know me, who are now turned of old Evans his Party: Nor can I put my concerns in such trusty hands as yours.  Sir Salom. 
Does it require haste in the delivery?  Pereg. 
O, by all means: The Lodging is close by; 'Tis a Corner House, with a Belcony, that looks into the Fields here, next to Swan-Ally: You may see the House from hence. Now, Sir, the way to deliver it, that neither old Evans, nor his Household-spies may see it, is to tie it to something, and then toss it up into the Belcony: By the manner of the conveyance Betty will presently know whence it comes, and how to behave herself: And, this is the proper time of doing it; For, at this hour she always comes out in the Belcony, to take a little fresh Air of the Evening; It being all the liberty allowed her by her Jailor.  Sir Salom. 
Well, Sir; This is all.  Pereg. 
It imports me likewise, that you should know the business. My passion for Betty is now come to that height, that I'm resolved instantly to Marry her. But (most unfortunately to my Designs) my Father comes this night to Town; and with a resolution (as I am certainly informed) to strike up a Bargain of Marriage for me of his own driving. In these straits I have no expedient left to prevent his purpose, and execute my own, but to get possession of Betty, and Marry her out of hand. Though my Father's present dissatisfaction may be great, yet, I hope, time will mollify him; And I doubt not but your good Offices will much contribute towards it.  Sir Salom. 
You may be sure of me. But, when d''ee purpose to get possession of your Mistress?  Pereg. 
This very Night, as soon as 'tis dark; for, by that time Evans always retires to his own quarters.  Sir Salom. 
But, What place of security have you to lodge her in, when you've brought her off?  Pereg. 
There lies my greatest difficulty; And, were it not too bold a Petition, I should think no place so safe and honourable for her reception, as your house, only for a day or two, till I've made her my Wife: But, Sir, I have trespassed already too far upon your generosity, and dare transgress no farther.  Sir Salom. 
O Sir, your modesty does me wrong. To mistrust the kindness of a Friend, is the greatest sin in Friendship. Bring her when you will, you shall find, that my House is her Home.  Pereg. 
You surpass all Men living in the noble Art of obliging a Friend. But upon reflection, since you're to be Married yourself to morrow, I fear her coming at such a time may prove unseasonable.  Sir Salom. 
So far from it, that I'm resolved not to be Married without her.  Pereg. 
You are generous to that excess, that you leave me not a possibility of being grateful. And now, Sir, I have nothing more to beg of you, but the Honour of kissing your Lady's hands before her Marriage; that I may obtain an early place in her favour, by letting her know what my Obligations are to you.  Sir Salom. 
Matters of Compliment and Curiosity require no haste: But, since you so much desire it, I give you my word, That, when you bring Mrs. Betty to me, you shall then see my Wife.  Pereg. 
You make me happy every way, except in this, that I owe you more than I am worth; And am forced, like other Bankrupts, to compound my Debts, begging you to accept those small Services I can pay, in lieu of the vast Sum that's due.  Sir Salom. 
O, Sir, you mistake in the Account between us: I am yet in your Arrears, which I shall endeavour to discharge out of hand, by serving you in this business concerning Mrs. Betty, as I ought.  Pereg. 
Dear Sir Solomon, Farewell; And good luck attend you.  [Exit Peregreen. Sir Salom. 
Doubt not, young Man, I'll serve you as I ought;  
As Men serve Vermine, that in Traps are caught.  [Exit Sir Solomon.  

The Fifth Act.  Enter Sir Solomon, and Timothy. Timothy. 
WHat? Kick your Steward? The Supreme Head of the Family under your Worship? 'Tis such an Affront done to my Office, as I cannot in honour put up: Therefore, as I said before, here are my Keys, and here are my Accounts; and so I take my leave.  Sir Salom. 
Nay, prithee, Timothy, be pacified: Good-natured Men (thou know'st) are subject to Passion.  Timot. 
But Stewards, Sir, are not subject to be kicked. Show me but one Precedent for it amongst all those of my Profession, and I'll be bound to be your Worship's Football as long as I live.  Sir Salom. 
Indeed the Case is extraordinary; And so was the Cause; and so shall the Satisfaction be: For, Timothy, I'll give thee in amends a Child's Life in thy Copyhold.  Timot. 
Well, Sir; since 'tis your seeking, I accept of the Reparation— Sir, I have two or three Children more yet unprovided for; if your Worship will be pleased to kick them into Livings too, I stand ready to have their Fines laid upon me.  Sir Salom. 
So, so; I'm glad we're friends again. Now call in my Family; For, I have something of consequence, which I must propound to you Tim. whistles, and the Servants enter. all. Come forwards: If any body here thinks his Work too much, or his Wages too little, or his Lodging and Fare too hard; Timothy, I order you to give him all reasonable satisfaction.  All. 
God bless your Worship.  Sir Salom. 
And I doubt not on your parts, but you're all ready to serve my Person, and vindicate my Honour, as occasion shall require.  All. 
Our Lives are at your Service.  Sir Salom. 
Know then, that this very moment I am actually assaulted by an insolent young Fellow, who, to night Plots no less Mischief, then to Ravish my Bride.  Timot. 
What manner of death would your Worship have him die?  Sir Salom. 
No; let not his Punishment be Capital, nor Sanguinary; but load him with as many Blows, and as much Infamy, as you can.  Timot. 
Show us but the Man, and your Worship shall see, that we are as able to serve you in chastising your Enemies, as entertaining your Friends.  Enter Mr. Woodland's Servant. W. Seru. 
Pray, Gentlemen, can you direct me to the Lodging of Sir Solomon Single?  Timot. 
Friend, there's Sir Solomon himself.  W. Seru. 
Squire Woodland, my Master, commanded me to let you know, that he is newly come to Town upon some business, in which your Worship is concerned; and desires, he may speak with you before you go to bed.  Sir Salom. 
Friend, tell thy Master, that, if I can possibly, I'll wait upon him: Where's his Lodging?  W. Seru. 
At a Barbers, next door to the Fleece-Tavern in Southampton-Buildings.  Sir Salom. 
Very well— apart— In what a seasonable hour this old Man's come to Town, to see the Iniquity of his Son chastised? However, my person shall not appear upon the Stage in this Tragedy; I'll only prompt behind the Curtain.  [Exeunt Sir Solomon and his Servants. W. Seru. 
Where shall I find my young Master now, the Lord knows. This was one of the places he appointed—  Enter Single, and Peregreen looking upon his Watch. Pereg. 
The time draws near; yet, didst thou know (Single) with what panting expectation I long to be possessed of my Treasure, thou wouldst pity the Torment, which each Moment brings me, by interposing itself between me and my Happiness.  W. Seru. 
O, Sir; well met! My old Master's newly come to Town, and by all means must speak with you instantly.  Pereg. 
Peace, Screech-Owl! I think that Fellow was born to bring me ill News.  W. Seru. 
In troth, Sir, I think so too: For, if to Marry a rich handsome Lady, and to see your Father after so long an absence, be ill News, I'm sure I can bring you none that's good.  Pereg. 
Ah, Single! What shall I do? I must not disappoint Betty; and I should not neglect my Father.  Single. 
None can tell you better, than I, what the danger is of disgusting a Father, though innocently: And yet I'm too much a Lover myself to advise a breach of promise with your Mistress. To satisfy both, you must defer your going to Betty for an hour, or thereabouts. Your Father must needs be weary after his Journey; and cannot hold you long: And, that she may not think herself disappointed by you, write a note to her, to let her know the occasion.  Pereg. 
But, Who shall deliver it?  Single. 
Had not I a private summons from julia to meet her just at this time, I'd be your Man: But, you may send your Father's Servant there.  Pereg. 
Send him? He scarce knows the Town by day; much less by night.  Enter Sir Arthur Addell. 
What makes this Fool come to disturb us now?  Single. 
O, pray bear with him: By a special command from julia I am now entered into a strict League of Amity with him. Faith, e'en send him with the Note; and you'll do me a particular kindness in it; for otherwise, he'll stick upon me like a Burr, and disappoint my meeting with julia.  Pereg. 
With all my heart.  Sir Arthur. 
Why, Gentleman, Where have you been? These two long hours I have done nothing but hunt after you.  Single. 
Well, Sir, For what?  Sir Arth. 
Faith, I have made a discovery of the rarest Champaine-Wine in Town: Prithee, let's go, and fill our Earthen Vessels with it;  
For we are but brittle Clay,  
Then let's he Merry whilst we may.  Single. 
O brave Arthur of Bradly! The Motion's good in itself, but not seas'nable for us at this time; for, we have business, in which you must do a Friends part.  Sir Arthur. 
Thou know'st (Man) I love Business: What is't? Quickly.  Single. 
Only to deliver a note for our Friend Peregreen here: But 'tis of high Concern, for there's a Mistress in the Case; and therefore we choose a Man of Ability for the Employment.  Sir Arthur. 
Come, give it me; I long to be in Action.  Pereg. 
You shall have it immediately.  [Peregreen writes. Sir Arthur. 
Faith. Single, never let's break good company▪ Prithee, come along with me, when I deliver this Note.  Single. 
Could I have gone, you should not have had the trouble on't; But, I am preingaged.  Sir Arth. 
Prithee, Where?  Single. 
Why— to tell you, as a Friend, I have an appointment just now to receive a little Money; and, that's a business (you know) I must not neglect.  Sir Arthur. 
Hang Money: A Friends Company is better than it, at any time.  Single. 
Why, there's the difference between us two now: You have too much Money, and want Company; and I have too much Company, and want Mony.  Pereg. 
Well, Gentlemen, I have done. Sir Arthur, Have you a Watch about you?  Sir Arth. 
No, Sir, not I  Pereg. 
Here, take mine; and precisely at half an hour past eight, deliver this Note to a young Lady at the Corner house that has a Belcony, which looks into Holborn-Fields, next to Swan-Ally.  Sir Arth. 
I know the place.  Pereg. 
But you must knock gently at the backdoor of the Garden, to'rds the Fields; and, when she appears, give her the Note, and tell her, He who sent it, will be with her about an hour hence, or sooner, if he can.  Sir Arth. 
Take no further care; your business shall be punctually done.  Pereg. 
You're an obliging person, Sir Arthur— Come, Harry; Now I am for my Father.  [Exit Pereg. and W. Servant. Sir Arth. 
But hark'ee, Mr. Single; Did not you tell me, that this Peregreen was one of my Rivals? I vow now (upon better consideration) Why should I do such a kindness for an Enemy? for aught that I know, there may be some trick in't.  Single. 
'Tis true, I did tell you, that he was then newly entered the List of your Rivals: But now (take my word for't) he's so far from it, that he's engaged elsewhere: And this kindness which you are now to do for him, relates to his new Amour.  Sir Arth. 
Nay, I'll take your word for't— Enter Mr. Wary. O, Father-in-Law?  Single. 
Sir Arthur, farewell.  Sir Arth. 
God buy, Sir.  Wary. 
I'm glad I've found you at last; for, I sent my Man all the Town over to look you.  Sir Arth. 
And now you have me, What have you to say to me?  Wary. 
You must needs come away immediately with me to my Lawyer's Chamber.  Sir Arth. 
Excuse me, Sir; I must not.  Wary. 
I have appointed a Meeting about the Marriage Writings, and both our Counsel are already there.  Sir Arth. 
There let 'em wait; I'll pay 'em by the hour.  Wary. 
I thought, Sir, you had been more in haste, and more pressing in matters that concern your affection to my Daughter.  Sir Arth. 
Nay, take it not ill, good Sir: your Daughter and I understand one another very well; we don't stand upon such punctilio's.  Wary. 
I am afraid, she understands you but too well.  [apart. Sir Arth. 
Let me see— What a Clock is't now? Some half an hour hence I can be there; till then Mr. Lawyer must have patience.  [He looks in the Watch. Wary. 
Well, Sir, if it must be so, then I'll go before: But first, pray, Sir, let me give you a little good advice.  Sir Arth. 
You need not, Sir; we shall go to Counsel within this half hour.  Wary. 
'Tis the Advise of a Friend, not of a Lawyer, that I would give you. I perceive, that you are very much in the company of this Mr. Single, who, in my judgement, is, for several respects, a person very unfit and dangerous for you to converse with: First, he has a great deal of Wit, and no Means—  Sir Arth. 
Which is to say, I have a great deal of Means, and no Wit— Go on, Sir.  Wary. 
Not so neither. In the next place, he is, or has been your Rival to'rds my Daughter: Now judge you, What Friendship you can expect from an indigent Man, whom you have dispossessed of all hopes to raise his sunk Fortune?  Sir Arth. 
Hark'ee, Sir, You are Mrs. Julia's Father, Are you not?  Wary. 
Yes, Sir. What makes you ask such a Question?  Sir Arth. 
'Tis well you are: Otherwise I should be bold to tell you, That I'm already provided of a wiser Governor than your Worship, by name, Sir Arthur Addel. S'liddikins, I have lived to a fair Age, if every old Man must take upon him to be my Tutor.  Wary. 
I'm sorry my good Will's lost upon you. However, pray fail not to come according to your promise.  [Exit Wary. Sir Arth. 
No, no— [He looks in the Watch. God's so; whilst I have been talking idly with this old Fellow, I have almost slipped the time of my business— Where shall I find this Lodging now?— I was but an Ass (to say the truth) for undertaking this Owl-light employment— How dark 'tis grown all of a sudden?— Let me see; This must be the House. Sir Arthur knocks, and Sir Salomon's Men rush forth, and lay hold of him. Enter Timothy and Servants. Oh! oh!  Tim▪ 
Suffer patiently; youhad best: If you make a Noise, you die for't.  Sir Arth. 
Quickly, quickly; pray take my Money and my clothes, and use me gently.  Tim. 
If he speaks one word more, cut his Throat— No, Sir; your Punishment must not be Pecuniary, but Corporal: your Crime is Lechery; and, the Body must suffer for the Sins of the Flesh.  Sir Arth. 
Murder! murder! murder!  [They beat him. He sprawls like a dying Man, and then streches out as dead. Tim. 
What? Is he dead?  1. Seru. 
Some unlucky blow has hit him under the Eare.  2. Seru. 
‛ Pox take him for a Chicken-hearted Fellow, to die so soon.  Tim. 
Unfortunate men that we are! What will become of us?  3. Seru. 
The Gallows take the bindmost, I cry.  The Third Man runs away, and all the rest follow. Ralph peeps out of Mrs. Bettys Lodgings twice, or thrice, Sir Solomon comes forth. Sir Salom. 
what's the Matter?— The Rogues have undone me by thus overdoing their Work! This will cover me with shame, and infamy, and bring in question my Life, and Estate! What shall I do? Whither shall I fly— I hear the noise of Justice—  [Sir Salom. flies away. Enter the Constable and Watch. 1. Watchman. 
I'm sure I heard a cry of Murder— Look Neighbour, here has been Mischief done. The Man is dead.  2. Watchman. 
Come, let's carry him off.  Constable. 
No, no; let's first call the Coroner; 'Tis dangerous meddling, till he has sat upon the dead Body; after that, he may be buried out of the way.  [Exeunt Constable and Watch. Sir Arthur looks up. Sir Arth. 
How? Carry me off, and Bury me, said they? I'll show 'em a trick worth two on't. He runs to the end of the Stage, and then turus back. 'Tis better dying of one's own accord, as I have done, then by compulsion of others, as I must have done.  [Exit Sir Arthur. Ralph peeps first, and then enters. Ralph. 
What? all run away? And the dead Man too? Then I'll ' e'en run too for Company.  [Ralph runs away. Enter Betty, with a Basket in her hand, and Alice. Betty. 
What was this Noise, and outcry, which we heard? Pray God there be no hurt done.  Alice. 
Yes, but there is hurt done; For, I heard 'em say, he was killed?  Betty. 
Killed? Tell me quickly, Who's killed?  Alice. 
As long as you are alive, What need you trouble yourself?  Betty. 
Thou naughty Wench; I could find in my heart to beat thee: I'ell me, I say, Who was killed?  Alice. 
I did not see him; but, I believe, 'tis the young Man that used to come hither, by what I could overhear.  Betty. 
Where are the Rogues that did it? I'll kill 'em with my own hands; or, if I can't, I'll kill myself. Help me, Alice, to find them out.  Alice. 
Nay, Pray Mistress, have patience.  Betty. 
I will not have patience: I'll either be revenged on them, or on her, for whose sake he was killed.  Alice. 
Why Mistress; now I think on't, if any body had been killed, we should have seen him lie here: but, here's no sign of any hurt done.  Enter Peregreen. Betty. 
who's there?  Alice. 
O, Mistress, run away: here are more of the Rogues.  Betty. 
Thou Coward! I'll at 'em, and fly in their Faces.  Pereg. 
What? Betty?  Betty. 
Is't you?  Alice. 
I Mistress; 'tis ' een he, whom you thought to be dead.  Betty. 
O Lord! I was afraid, youhad been killed.  Pereg. 
No, dear Betty; I was only hindered from coming at my hour; And I sent thee word on't— But this is no place for us to stand talking in. Come, Betty; now I have thee in my possession, I'll put thee in a safe place, far enough out of the reach of thy Jailor Evans.  Betty. 
But, Will you Marry me?  Pereg. 
Ah Betty! Why art thou so cruel, as to make a doubt on't? I'll rather die, than not Marry thee— What hast thou in thy hand there? give me thy Basket; it troubles thee to carry it.  Betty. 
Then (pray) have a great care on't, and let it not go out of your hands; for, there is a Writing in't, which I'm told, is worth me a great deal.  Pereg. 
I warrant you; I'll not part from't. Enter Sir Solomon Muffled up in his Cloak. whose's that?— Sir Solomon?— Most fortunately met, to relieve me in distress! Here, Sir, I have now my Jewel to consign into your hands; Pray have a care of her, as of my Life. I broke away with violence from my Father to look after this Treasure: But, I'm obliged to return immediately to him. Pray, lose no time; but lodge her safely in your House: For, I apprehend the pursuit of old Evans. Within this hour I hope to be with you. Dear Betty, for a little while farewell.  Betty. 
What? Will you leave me so soon?  Pereg. 
I'll be with thee again immediately: In the mean time I leave thee in a Friends hands, who will have the same care of thee that I have.  [Exit Peregreen. Sir Salom. 
Gipsy, D''ee know me? [Betty skreeks. Keep in your shrill Notes; or I shall stop your Windpipe for you. What? Did your Gallant lie stretched out upon the floor like a Fox, to run away with the Poultry? Once more I have thee in my hands: Let him snap thee again, and I'll forgive him, and thee too— Come away, quickly, youhad best.  [Exit Betty, and Sir Solomon into his own Lodging. Enter the Constable and Watch with Sir Arthur in Custody. Constable. 
Hold yourself contented; we'll not part with you so: You're a very suspicious Person; for immediately after the Fact committed, we found you running away.  Sir Arth. 
Pray, Mr. Constable, believe me; Indeed I'm an honest Man.  Constable. 
Clear yourself before the Justice, and I'm satisfied: But, thither you must.  Sir Arth. 
Am not I finely served? Now shall I be hanged for killing myself.  2. Watchman. 
Neighbour, the Rogues, since we were here, have carried away the Body.  Sir Arth. 
Friend, you are mistaken; The Body carried away itself.  2. Watchman. 
How the Man talks? Sure he's Mad.  3. Watchman. 
ay, Neighbour, they that shed Man's Blood are commonly so: 'Tis a Judgement upon Murderers.  1. Watchman. 
To what Justice shall we carry him, Mr. Constable?  Constable. 
To Justice Wary; He's nighest at hand.  2. Watchman. 
ay, he's as like to get him hanged, as any Justice upon the Bench.  Sir Arth. 
Why, Mr. Constable; What d''ee mean to do? Upon my reputation I am the Man that was killed.  1. Watchman. 
Away, away with him; he's raving mad: Derick must be his Doctor.  2. Watchman. 
This is the Justice his House.  Constable. 
Knock then.  Enter a Servant of Mr. Wary's. Seru. 
What would you have?  Constable. 
We have apprehended a Man here upon suspicion of Murder; and we have brought him to be Examined and Committed by his Worship.  Seru. 
That's well: I'll call my Master instantly; He's but a little way off, at Grey's-Inn.  Constable. 
Pray make haste.  Sir Arth. 
Friend, friend; 'tis I: Don't you know me?  Seru. 
I know no body, when he's in the hands of Justice. My Master shall be here straight.  [Exit Servant. Enter Single and Julia at the Corner of the Stage. julia. 
I did certainly hear Sir Arthur Addell's voice. Look, where my Knight is in the Constable's clutches! Slip you away, whilst I go see, what the meaning is of this Tragicomedy. [Exit Single. Well, Mr. Constable; Who is't, that you have brought hither to my Father?  Const. 
Madam, A very wicked Man, without doubt: For, here was Murder committed close by; and, presently after we caught him flying away, with as guilty a Countenance as ever I saw: and yet I have seen many in my time.  julia. 
A very shrewd presumption indeed.  Sir Arth. 
But, Madam, Don't you know me? All this while 'tis I, your Husband that must be, whom these Rogues abuse thus.  julia. 
I'm the sorrier for't, Sir Arthur; that a Man of your Quality should run himself into such Enormities: I thought, you had not been so bloody. And yet, 'tis no more than what yourself have confessed formerly to me; that, when your Courage is let loose, like a fierce Mastiff-Dog, it falls upon all that comes in its way.  Sir Arth. 
Nay, but pray, Madam, hear me: Will you mistake the Matter too, like these Clod-pated Rascals here? I am the very Man, on whose Person all this Murder was committed; for I was set upon by Rogues, that would have killed me, but that I prevented 'em—  julia. 
How? By killing 'em?  Sir Arth. 
No, no, Madam; by dying myself; or at least making them believe so: At which the Rogues took such a fright for fear of hanging, that away run they; and away went I: Then come the Clutches of the Parish here, and, according to their usual Custom, seize me, who was the Person assaulted, and suffer the Rogues to make their escape.  Constable. 
A very pretty story indeed! No, no; Mr. justice, when he comes, won't be fobbed off so.  julia. 
In troth, Sir Arthur, 'tis so intricate a Case, that I can determine nothing in't, till my Fther comes.  Sir Arth. 
Good Madam, make the Slaves release me: I would not for a World be seen in their Company by your Father.  julia. 
I vow, Sir, I dare not entrench upon my Father's Authority: You're now in the hands of the Law; and that must either, quit you, or condemn you— Neighbours, youhad best bring your Prisoner within doors till my Father comes.  Constable. 
Yes, Madam. Jog on, Sir.  Sir Arth. 
Ill-natur'd-woman! I'll pay all thy Scores, when once thou art my Wife.  [Exit Sir, Arthur, Julia, and the Watch. Enter Peregreen and Single. Pereg. 
Ah Single! What shall I do? Whilst I'm happy in the possession of my Mistress, my Father is so violently bent upon this Match of his own providing, that to oppose him openly in it, would certainly cause as wide a breach in our Family, as is already (unfortunately) in yours. His impatience is such, that he will needs have me see her to night; to which end he tells me, She will immediately be brought to his Lodging. All, I can hope in this business, is, when I see this young Lady, to let her know my former engagement; (that if she be generous) the Treaty may seem to break of her side.  Enter Alice running in. Single. 
'Tis your only expedient, as the Case stands.  Alice. 
O, Sir; my Mistress Betty is stark staring mad: If I had not hindered her, she had thrown herself out at Window; Nor could I have held her hands from doing herself a Mischief, but that I promised her to find you out, and let you know, in what condition she is.  Pereg. 
For Heaven's sake, What's the matter?  Alice. 
She says, you're the falsest Man living, to betray her thus, and quite undo her for no other fault, but loving you too much.  Pereg. 
Thy words are so many Daggers to my heart! What cause can there be for this?  Alice. 
O Sir, after she had put herself into your hands, why would you deliver her up again to Mr. Evans? who now watches her, as a Cat does a Mouse: Sometimes he threatens her, and sometimes he flatters her; and all won't do; for, she's ready to fly in his Face, and bids him kill her; and says, that she hates him for his own sake, and all Mankind for yours.  Pereg. 
I am all horror, and amazement! But, this cannot be; for, I put her into the hands of your Father, Sir Solomon Single.  Alice. 
Why so our Master Evans is now called at the New House where we are. He has changed his Name.  Pereg. 
Changed his Name? Are Sir Solomon and Mr. Evans the same Person?  Alice. 
Too sure.  Pereg. 
I'm lost, undone, ruined for ever! How fatally blind have I been? and now my Eyes are opened to see nothing, but a vast Abyss of despair!—  Alice. 
But, What shall I say to her? for I dare not stay any longer: I ventured as much as my life is worth, in coming out now.  Pereg. 
Tell her, Alice, That I'll claim her, as my Wife; and that I will not live a day to an end without being possessed of her.  Alice. 
See you be as good as your word.  [Exit Alice. Pereg. 
Now help me in this extremity! What shall I do? How shall I keep my word?  Single. 
I confess, my reason at first was dazzled with the surprise of such a mistake: But upon reflection, since your Mistress has the Courage of resist Marrying my Father, the worst, that can happen in this matter, is Delay.  Pereg. 
That's too much for a Lover. But alas! I row against Wind, and Tide, and the double opposition of both our Fathers.  Single. 
There being a Promise of Marriage between you and Betty, you've the Law o' your side against my Father; and, with your own, I hope, Nature will be your Friend. But, you told me of a certain Writing, which Mrs. Betty gave you to keep: Have you looked upon't? Perhaps you may find something in't that may be useful to you in this present conjuncture.  Pereg. 
Alas; I've had no time to look upon't. Here 'tis.  [He takes it out. Enter Sir Solomon, and Mr. Woodland discoursing. Single. 
Forbear. Both our Fathers are here.  Sir Salom. 
Whatever you do, Sir, maintain the Authority of a Father; And, since you have provided so considerable a Match for him, make sure whilst you may.  Woodl. 
How you much for your Friendly advice; which I intent to follow; And, in order thereunto, I have now desired this conference with you.  Pereg. 
See, how he still labours to destroy me!  [To Single apart. Woodl. 
O Son; Are you there? 'Tis very well. Your Mistress will be here presently.  Sir Salom. 
But Sir, have a care, that ill Company seduce him not from his Obedience: They'll put a thousand Flams in his head.  [Sir Solomon whispers to Woodland. Single. 
Faith, Peregreen, I must take pity of my Father, and remove: For, I'm too great an eyesore to him. I must needs see what's become of Sir Arthur, whom I left in a pleasant posture, attended by the Constable, and the Watch. But I'll be back immediately.  [Exit Single. Whilst Sir Solomon and Mr. Woodland confer together, Peregreen reads the Writing. Mr. Woodl. 
I protest, Sir, I'm sorry to hear you're so unfortunate in your Son, of whom, in other respects, I've heard a very good Character given.  Sir Salom. 
'Tis as I tell you; Therefore have a care of yours—  [They whisper on. Enter Wary, Barter, and Servant. Wary. 
Go tell the Constable, that, if he be in haste, he may bring his Prisoner hither; for I'm engaged, and cannot come.  [Exit Servant. Pereg. 
Ah Heaven! I did not want [Meaning the Writing. this farther Evidence to let me see from what State of happiness I'm fallen into the bottom of despair.  Wary. 
Mr. Barter, I must confess, that the health and prosperity of my Friend, after so long a despair of his being alive, is the greatest joy of my life.  Barter. 
I owe much to Heaven in my preservation, and not a little to my Friends for their concern in it: But, Sir, the favour I ask at present, is this; I have a business of great importance with one Sir Solomon Single, a person unknown to me: And, because you are my only acquaintance of Credit and Note here in Town, I desire your presence and assistance in it.  Wary. 
You may command me— Very fortunately there is the Party you wish for, Sir Solomon Single.  Sir Salom. 
Therefore, Sir, be not delayed with Excuses, but dispatch it instantly.  Woodl. 
Sir, I thank you; Your Counsel shall be followed.  Pereg. 
How he persecutes me to death!  [apart. Barter. 
Sir, though I'm a stranger to your Person, yet I suppose Mr. Woodland may now have informed you of a match concluded between his Son and my Daughter.  Sir Salom. 
Sir, he has informed me of a considerable Fortune, which his Fatherly care has provided for his Son; for which I heartily give him joy; And if your Daughter be the intended Bride, I give you the like; and shall take this, as a happy rise to begin our acquaintance. Methinks, Gentlemen, matters of so happy a Consequence can never be dispatched too soon: I see no reason why the Wedding should not be to morrow.  Pereg. 
How implacable is his Rage!  Barter. 
Agreed.  Woodl. 
Agreed.  Barter. 
Then, Sir Solomon, there wants nothing to complete what you in so friendly manner advise, and we so passionately desire, but your concurrence: For my Daughter, I understand, is in your Custody; who took her out of the Nurse's hands, with whom I left her before my Voyage into the Indies.  Sir Salom. 
Ha! What's this?  [apart. Barter. 
When you received her, she might well appear to be an object of your Charity; All my Friends at that time gave me for lost, in regard the Ship, which transported me, foundered at Sea: And the several accidents of my life since have hindered me from giving them an account of my safety. But, the bounty of Heaven having now at last restored me to my Country, my Estate, and my Child, I shall make you ample compensation for the charge of her Breeding, with infinite thanks for your Care of her.  Pereg. 
Sir! let me fall down, and ask you the greatest blessing that Man can receive! Is that Mrs. Betty, in the Custody of Sir Solomon; your Daughter? And is it she, whom Heaven, and you have designed for my Wife?  Barter. 
The very same.  Sir Salom. 
Sir, the Story you tell, is no sufficient Evidence for me, to relinquish that right of adoption, which I have in her.  Barter. 
For your fuller satisfaction here is the Nurse herself, who calls you Landlord, from whose hands you received my Daughter— Pray call her in.  [Exit Servant. Sir Salom. 
However, she's already my Wife; And, as such, I'll keep her.  Enter Timothy, and Ralph in haste. Timothy. 
The young Lady, Sir, in spite of all our Vigilance, has made an escape in company of the Maid Servant that waits on her: They leapt out at a lower window into the Street, and took their flight this way.  Sir Salom. 
'Tis in vain to struggle any longer against the Perverseness of Fate!  [Apart. Enter Betty and Alice running. Betty 
to Peregreen. False, and hard-hearted Man! Why wouldst thou betray her, who did thee no hurt, and meant thee so well? Here, satisfy thy Malice, and kill me thyself, rather than deliver me over to be tormented by Mr. Evans.  Pereg. 
Ah, dear Betty! be not so cruel, to make a Crime of that Error which I have smarted so deeply for. However, if by mistake I put thee into the hands of thy Jailor (to make thee amends) I now (knowingly) restore thee to the embraces of thy Father; That so by his gift I may confirm the Title of my love.  Betty. 
Is this my Father?  Enter Servant, and Nurse. Nurse. 
Pretty, sweet Mistress! How glad am I to see you grown so proper a young Woman? God's blessing on my Landlord's heart, Sir Solomon there, for giving you such good keeping: And, Mistress, I hope, now your Father's Worship is come home again, he'll provide a good Husband for you.  Betty. 
Art thou sure, Nurse, this my Father?  Nurse. 
I'm sure he told me so above a dozen years ago.  Betty. 
I do believe it; for methinks, at first sight I loved him better, than ever I loved any old Man in my life. Pray, Sir, give me your Blessing.  Barter. 
Take it (my only Child) and with it this Gentleman for thy Husband; who, I perceive, is no unwellcome Present to you.  Sir Salom. 
Heart, since thou needs must break, go, break alone, And rob'em of the pleasure to look on.  Exit Sir Salom. & Tim. Ralph. 
Mistress, Mistress! As sure as can be, our Master Evans is gone to die in a Corner, like a poisoned Rat behind the Hangings.  Betty. 
Follow him, Ralph; and take care of him.  Ralph. 
No, I thank you, good Mistress. If he be gone to die, I'll ' e'en stay with you: The living are better Company than the dead.  Enter Julia, Single, Sir Arthur, Constable and Watch. Constable. 
Gentlemen, by'r leave; His Majesty's business must take place, and be first served. Is Justice Wary here?  Wary. 
Well, Friend; What would you?  Constable. 
I've brought a dangerous Person before your Worship upon suspicion of Murder.  Wary. 
What? Sir Arthur? Is this the Equipage you Woo my Daughter in?  Sir Arth. 
If you don't punish these Rogues for abusing me thus, I'll have nothing to do with the Daughter of a Justice as long as my name is Arthur.  Wary. 
I must punish no body for duly executing his Office. Let me hear the Matter.  Constable. 
Upon an Outcry of Murder, we presently run to the place; where we found a Man stretched all along, to our seeming dead: Presently after we met this Sir Arthur (as he calls himself) running away at a very guilty rate. Hereupon we seized him; and now your Worship may do with him as you think best.  julia. 
Pray, Sir, let me speak a good word for him: I dare swear, Sir Arthur is not guilty of Murder.  Single. 
Meeting my Friend in distress, I could not choose but come, and offer to be his Bail.  Wary. 
Not so fast— This smells of a Trick— What say you, Sir Arthur?  Sir Arthur. 
Why, I say, I was the Man, that was set upon, that cried Murder, that lay dead, and now am apprehended for it.  Wary. 
And were you the Man that run away too after you were dead?  Sir Arthur. 
Yes, marry, was I; and so would you have done too, good Mr. Justice, had you been in my place.  Wary. 
It may be so. Constable, you may release your Prisoner, and go home.  Sir Arthur. 
And, Is this all the satisfaction I shall have for the affront done me?  Pereg. 
Pray, Sir, let me entreat you to do him all the right you can; for, by some Circumstances in this matter, I have reason to fear, these sufferings have befallen him upon my account.  Sir Arthur. 
Yes, marry, have they; a Pox o'th' Employment you put me upon. If ever I carry Love Letter more for you, or any man living, you shall write Letters in my Forehead with a hot Iron.  Pereg. 
But, Did this Misfortune happen to you at the House, where I directed you?  Sir Arthur. 
Just there, as if youhad sent me for that very purpose. I had no sooner knocked, but out fly four Men, or Devils (I can't tell which) and having told me, That my sin was Lechery, (which I vow now I did not know till then) they tormented my Carcase at such a rate, as would have quickly mortified for ever all concupiscence in me.  Pereg. 
Sir Arthur, I am bound in honour to be more than ordinary sensible of your disaster; For I was not only the occasion of it (though innocently) but all this Tempest, which fell upon you, was prepared and designed for me. And, to show you my resentment of it, I have a Sister at home, a wholesome Country Girl, whom, (with my Father's leave) I here offer you for a Wife.  Sir Arth. 
Thank'ee heartily, Sir; No, I am very well provided already: Look'ee here else.  [Pointing to Julia. Pereg. 
Pray, Sir, let me prevent your falling into farther mistakes, which may prove dangerous to you; I can assure you, this Lady is no Wife for you. She's Town-bred, and after she's married must live in London, which is a place in many respects very inconvenient for you. By the virtue of strong Beer, and Fourteen hundred a year, you may do very well in the Country, and pass for an honest substantial man amongst your Neighbours; and stand for Burgess in the next Election.  Single. 
What can his meaning be in this?  [apart. Sir Arth. 
Pish, pish: Keep your good Counsel to yourself, and your Sister too. I can't but wonder at the confidence of People; every body now a days takes upon him to be my Governor.  Wary. 
Mr. Peregreen (methinks) you're very forward, and positive in ordering matters, which concern you not. You're to know, that a Treaty of Marriage is already fixed between Sir Arthur and my Daughter; The Writings are actually drawing: And will you, that are a Stranger, and not called to Counsel, interpose in a Business of this Nature?  Pereg. 
Sir, when you know my reason for it, I hope I shall not deserve your Censure. This Mr. Single, and your Daughter (to my certain knowledge) are mutually engaged to one another; and there wants nothing but your consent to make 'em both happy.  Wary. 
Yes, Faith, there wants an Estate too.  Pereg. 
'Tis true; but, when that vows removed, your consent must follow. Now, Sir, it has pleased Heaven to put the power in my hands of serving my Friend on this important occasion. Behold an absolute Gift and Conveyance of his Father's Estate upon my Betty; Here, Sir, I give it you freely: And what in Law shall be farther required for the Confirmation of it from Betty and me, shall be done hereafter.  Single. 
I stand amazed at my own happiness! Nor can I determine, whether this strange Revolution, or your Generosity, have more of Miracle in it.  julia 
to Wary. Now, Sir, give me leave to own an Engagement to this Gentleman, which the fear of displeasing you has hitherto made me conceal.  Wary. 
I dare not resist the will of Heaven, which shows itself in the wonderful turn of Affairs, which this day has produced. Daughter, enjoy your Love; and my blessing go along with it.  Sir Arth. 
Now have I brought my Hogs to a fair Market: I take other men's beatings upon myself, and they take my Mistress to themselves.  Pereg. 
Sir Arthur, you need not be unprovided, if you please, my Sister is still at your service.  Sir Arthur. 
I vow I could find in my heart to Marry her out of spite: then will I be revenged by Proxy; and make her bones feel, what mine have suffered for you.  Pereg. 
For all this, I'll venture her Person, if you'll venture yours.  Sir Arthur. 
Say you so? Faith if I like her when I see her (upon the foresaid terms) have at her.  Pereg. 
Why so now; here's a Match begins in anger, and who knows but it may end in love; since most of those that I have been acquainted with, begin in Love, and end in Warr.  Wary. 
All our business being so happily concluded, 'tis time—  Alice. 
No indeed, Sir; My business is yet to do. Methinks, ere the Market break up, some Provision should be made for me too.  Ralph. 
In troth, now she talks of Provision, I begin to grow hungry too. Faith, Mistress, I see when your belly's full, you care not what becomes of the Waiters.  Alice. 
We stuck close to you all the time of your Wooing; and sure they that tend the Roast, deserve one warm bit off o'th' Spit.  Ralph. 
I never turned the Spit in my Life, but I was allowed my Sop in the Dripping-pan.  Pereg. 
I protest, Betty, thy old Servants here have just cause of Complaint against thee. Come Alice; give me thy hand: And, Betty, do you take Ralph; and let's join 'em together. These two were cut out (Bodies and Souls) for one an other.  Alice. 
I shall never love that slobbering Fellow there: An he were but half so handsome, as your Worship—  Ralph cringes, and looks amorously on Mrs. Betty, and Alice does the same to Peregreen. Ralph. 
Pretty sweet Mistress (to confess the truth) when I look upon you, that greasy Wench turns my Stomaek.  Single. 
This must needs be an happy Match; they meet with such equal affection.  Pereg. 
At first hunting, like Whelps newly entered, they're apt to change; but, when they're well fleshed, they'll grow staunch.  Betty. 
Honest Ralph, you must not be so squeamish: I can assure you, Alice there deserves every inch of you.  Pereg. 
Come Alice; of all thy kindness to me, I here make a Deed of Gift to Ralph.  Ralph and Alice join hands together. Ralph. 
What must be, must be. Hunger makes any thing go down.  Alice. 
For my part, I declare, 'tis a Match of my Friends making; and, if it do otherwise then well, let them answer for it.  Wary. 
This being done, we must now consider these Gentlemen, who have been Travellers to day. we'll execute to morrow, what this Night has concluded, to the satisfaction of all Parties, except Sir Solomon in Single;  
Whose disappointed Stratagems advise,  
To shun the dangerous Sin of being too Wise:  
For, as Extremes on Globes at last 〈◊〉 touch,  
So Wit in Folly centres, when too much.  
Love Changes Nature's order: in his School  
The young are Wise; The old Man is the Fool.  [Exeunt omnes.   

THE EPILOGUE.  
SInce steal's grown a pretty, thriving Trade;  
Which many Rich, but few has Guilty made,  
To needy Poets, Why should you deny  
The Privilege to steal, as well as lie?  
Their Theft (alas) swells not the Nation's Debt▪  
Nor, makes Wine dear, nor will Land-tax beget.  
Money they always wanted; Now they grow  
No less in Fancy, then in Fortune, low;  
And are compelled to rook▪ as Gamesters are,  
That can hold out no longer on the Square.  
Faith, be good natured to this hungry Crew,  
Who, what they filch abroad, bring home to you.  
But still exclude those Men from all Relief,  
Who steal themselves, yet boldly cry, Stop Thief?  
Like taking judges, these without remorse  
Condemn all petty Thefts, and practise worse;  
As if they robbed by Patent, and alone  
Had right to call each Foreign Play their own.  
What we have brought before you, was not meant  
For a new Play, but a new Precedent;  
For we with Modesty our Theft avow,  
(There is some Conscience shown in stealing too)  
And openly declare, that if our Cheer  
Does bit your Palates, you must thank Molliere:  
Molliere, the famous shakespeare of this Age,  
Both when he Writes, and when he treads the Stage,  
I hope this Stranger's Praise gives no pretence  
To charge us with a National Offence;  
Since, were it in my power, I would advance  
French Wit in England, English Arms in France.  
FINIS.