THE HUSBAND His own CUCKOLD.  
A COMEDY.  
As it is Acted at the Theatre in Little Lincoln's— Inn— Fields, By His MAJESTY'S Servants.  
Written by Mr. John Dryden, Jun.  
Et Pater Aeneas, & Auunculus excitet Hector. Virg.  
LONDON,  
Printed for J. Tonson, at the Judge's-Head in Fleetstreet, near the Inner Temple-Gate, 1696.   

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Sir ROBERT HOWARD, etc.  
SIR,  
ATrifle of this kind is so little worthy your attention, that I know not how to make a fair way for its appearance, and beg you to give it audience. The Muses are become so prostitute, that every Enthusiast begets a work on'em; Plays are grown mere Foundlings, and generated so fast, that we find one or more laid at the door of every Nobleman; and these impudent Begetters are not satisfied that you give their unlawful Issue a maintenance and reering, but have the Conscience also to expect a Reward for easing themselves on you of their ungodly burden. Sir, I must confess I am little better than a lewd Sinner of this Order, but have so much Grace and Modesty at least to require no Recompense where I ought to be begging Pardon for committing a slip of this nature. I am confident I could not choose a more indulgent Foster-Father; and tho' my very Name bears an accusation against me, yet I have the honour also to be related to the Muses by the Mother's side; for you yourself have been guilty of Poetry, and a Family Vice is therefore the more excusable in me, who am unluckily a Poet by descent. Poesy is a Noble Exercise, and like a reserved Game seems intended wholly for the recreation of Learned Gentlemen, or such at least as have had liberal Education, and these have still succeeded best in it: But we see the illiterate breaking in daily on the Quarry, and even those assuming, to themselves the name of Poets, who never had any other call to that Art beside the hope of a third day. If one half of us who set up for making Plays, understood what Horace says in these Lines, it may be we should not vainly presume to think ourselves what indeed we are not.  
Descriptas servare Vices, operumque Colores, Cur Ego, si nequeo, ignoroque Poeta salutor.  
Shakespeare among all the Writers of our Nation may stand by himself as a Phoenix, the first and last of his Order; in whom bounteous Nature wonderfully supplied all the parts of a great Poet, and Excellent Orator; and of whom alone one may venture boldly to say, that had he had more Learning, perhaps he might have been less a Poet. 'Tis certain the good nature of the Town suffers any thing for the sake of Novelty and Entertainment, however meager, and the encouraging some miserable Writers, is to be allowed more an act of Charity than Judgement; for tho' Poverty be generally the end of a Poet, I think it is but a very lamentable beginning. There is a large difference between those, who following the itch of gaining empty applause, misspend their time in writing themselves into necessity, and such who spend their time in writing themselves out of it; and where the Muse begins with the want of a Meals-meat. The former might be any thing else better than what they choose to be; the latter, because they can be nothing else, would fain be Poets. 'Tis dangerous making a Pastime of any one thing so long, that at last we are glad to embrace it as a Profession; like those, who after they have melted all their Substance in search of the Philosopher's-Stone, are forced in the end to turn Chemists. But of this enough; for I am already conscious to myself of deviating something from my Theme, and can only form this application out of what I have said, that you, Sir, have prudently known how to make the best use of your Excellent Talon in this kind, by applying it to your diversion, and the unbending your Mind. By these means, you have happily given our Country a great Poet in your Writings; and at the same time have not omitted the more necessary part of giving her a Great Statesman, and Hero; to which Eminency your Birth, Courage, and Capacity have equally raised you. And should I enlarge on these Heads, I am confident the World would not tax me of the least flattery, and I should only be guilty of not giving you your due; but you are reserved for a better Pen, and silence therefore is a good fault in me. I have only now to beg pardon for sending so mean a Trifle so long a Voyage; 'tis so full of faults I know not how to give it the name of a Play. The Italians when they know not what to make of a thing, call it Un Pasticcio Inglese, what kind Compliment they intent our Country in the Expression I know not, but I believe they mean no better than a Hotch-podge. 'Tis my first Poetical Cookery of this sort, and whatever it be, I humbly submit it to your Censure, but more to your Patronage; and with it,  
Sir, Your most obliged humble Servant and Nephew, John Dryden. Rome, August the 20th, 1695. New-Style.   

THE PREFACE OF Mr. Dryden, to his Son's Play.  
I Have thought convenient to acquaint the Reader with somewhat concerning this Comedy, though perhaps not worth his knowledge. It was sent me from Italy some years since, by my second Son, to try its fortune on the Stage: And being the Essay of a young unexperienced Author; to confess the truth, I thought it not worthy of that honour. 'Tis true, I was not willing to discourage him so far, as to tell him plainly my Opinion, but it seems he guessed somewhat of my Mind, by my long delays of his expectation: And therefore in my absence from the Town last Summer, took the boldness to Dedicate his Play to that Person of Honour, whose Name you will find before his Epistle. It was received by that Noble Gentleman with so much Candour and Generosity, as neither my Son nor I could deserve from him. Then the Play was no longer in my power, the Patron demanding it in his own right, it was delivered to him. And he was farther pleased, during my Sickness, to put it into that Method in which you find it; the loose Scenes digested into order, and knit into a Tale. As it is, I think it may pass amongst the rest of our New Plays; I know but two Authors, and they are both my Friends, who have done better since the Revolution. This I dare venture to maintain, that the Taste of the Age is wretchedly depraved, in all sorts of Poetry, nothing almost but what is abominably bad can please. The young Hounds who ought to come behind, now lead the pack, but they miserably mistake the scent. Their Poets, worthy of such an Audience, know not how to distinguish their Characters; the Manners are all alike inconsistent and interfering with each other. There is scarce a Man or Woman of God's making in all their Farces: yet they raise an unnatural sort of laughter, the common effect of Buffonery; and the Rabble which takes this for Wit, will endure no better, because 'tis above their Understanding. This account I take from the best Judges, for I thank God, I have had the grace hitherto to avoid the seeing or reading of their Gallimaufries. But 'tis the latter end of a Century, and I hope the next will begin better. This Play I dare assure the Reader is none of those; it may want Beauties, but the faults are neither gross, nor many. Perfection in any Art is not suddenly obtained; the Author of this, to his misfortune, left his Country at a time when he was to have learned the Language. The Story he has treated, was an Accident which happened at Rome, though he has transferred the Scene to England. If it shall please God to restore him to me, I may perhaps inform him better of the Rules of Writing; and if I am not partial, he has already shown, that a Genius is not wanting to him. All that I can reasonably fear, is that the perpetual good success of ill Plays may make him endeavour to please by writing worse, and by accommodating himself to the wretched capacity and liking of the present Audience, from which, Heaven defend any of my Progeny. A Poet indeed, must live by the many, but a good Poet will make it his business to please the few. I will not proceed farther on a Subject which arraigns so many of the Readers. For what remains, both my Son and I are extremely obliged to my dear Friend Mr. Congreve, whose Excellent Prologue was one of the greatest Ornaments of the Play. Neither is my Epilogue the worst which I have written; though it seems at the first sight to expose our young Clergy with too much freedom. It was on that Consideration that I had once begun it otherwise, and delivered the Copy of it to be spoken, in case the first part of it had given offence. This I will give you partly in my own justification, and partly too, because I think it not unworthy of your sight. Only remembering you that the last line connects the sense to the ensuing part of it. Farewell, Reader, if you are a Father you will forgive me, if not, you will when you are a Father.  

Time was when none could Preach without Degrees,  
And seven years' toil at Universities:  
But when the Canting Saints came once in play,  
The Spirit did their business in a day:  
A Zealous Cobbler with the gift of Tongue,  
If he could Pray six hours, might Preach as long:  
Thus, in the Primitive Times of Poetry,  
The Stage to none but Men of sense was free.  
But thanks to your judicious taste, my Masters,  
It lies in common now to Poetasters.  
You set them up, and till you dare Condemn,  
The Satire lies on you, and not on them.  
When Mountebanks their Drugs at Market cry,  
Is it their fault to sell, or yours to buy?  
'Tis true, they write with ease, and well they may,  
Fly-blows are gotten every Summer's day,  
The Poet does but buzz, and there's a Play.   
Wit's not his business, etc.   

PROLOGUE,  Written by Mr. Congreve, Spoken by Mr. Betterton. 

THIS Year has been Remarkable two ways,  
For Blooming Poets, and for Blasted Plays.  
We've been by much appearing Plenty mocked,  
At once both tantalised, and over-stocked.  
Our Authors too, by their success of late,  
Begin to think third days are out of date:  
What can the Cause be, that our Plays won't keep,  
Unless they have a Rot some Years like Sheep?  
For our parts, we confess we're quite asham'd  
To read such Weekly-Bills of Poets damned.  
Each Parish knows 'tis but a mournful Case  
When Christen fall, and Funerals increase.  
Thus 'tis, and thus 'twill be when we are dead,  
There will be Writers that will ne'er be read.  
Why will you be such Wits, and write such things?  
You're willing to be Wasps, but want the stings.  
Let not your Spleen provoke you to that height,  
'Odslife you don't know what you do, Sirs, when you write.  
You'll find that Pegasus has tricks, when tried,  
Tho' you make nothing on't but up and ride;  
Ladies and all, I faith, now get astride.  
Contriving Characters, and Scenes, and Plots,  
Is grown as common now, as knitting Knots;  
With the same ease, and negligence of thought,  
The Charming Play is writ, and Fringe is wrought.  
Tho' this is frightful, yet we're more afraid,  
When Ladies leave, that Beaux will take the Trade:  
Thus far 'tis well enough, if here 'twould stop,  
But should they write, we must e'en shut up shop.  
How shall we make this Mode of Writing sink?  
A Mode said I? 'Tis a Disease, I think,  
A stubborn Tetter that's not Cured with Ink.  
For still it spreads, till each th' infection takes,  
And seizes ten for one that it forsakes:  
Our Play to day is sprung from none of these,  
Nor should you Damn it, tho' it does not please,  
Since born without the bounds of your four Seas.  
〈◊〉 if you grant no savour as 'tis new,  
Yet as a Stranger, there is something due:  
From Rome (to try its fate) this Play was sent,  
Start not at Rome, for there's no Popery meant;  
Where e'er the Poet does his dwelling choose,  
Yet still he knows his Country claims his Muse  
Hither an Offering his First- Born he sends,  
Whose good, or ill success, on you depends.  
Yet he has hope some kindness may be shown,  
As due to greater Merit than his own,  
And begs the Sire may for the Son atone.  
There's his last Refuge, if the PLAY don't take,  
Yet spare Young Dryden for his Father's sake.    

EPILOGUE.  Spoken by Mrs' Bracegirdle, Written by Mr. Dryden. 

LIKE some raw Sophister that mounts the Pulpit,  
So trembles a young Poet at a full Pit  
Unused to Crowds, the Parson quakes for fear,  
And wonders how the Devil he durst come there;  
Wanting three Talents needful for the Place,  
Some Beard, some Learning, and some little Grace:  
Nor is the Puny Poet void of Care;  
For Authors, such as our new Authors be,  
Have not much Learning, nor much Wit to spare:  
And as for Grace, to tell the truth, there's scarce one,  
But has as little as the very Parson:  
Both say, they Preach and Write for your Instruction:  
But 'tis for a Third Day, and for Induction.  
The difference is, that tho' you like the Play,  
The Poet's gain is ne'er beyond his Day.  
But with their Pardon 'tis another Case,  
He, without Holiness, may rise to Grace;  
The Poet has one disadvantage more,  
That if his Play be dull, he 's Damned all o'er,  
Not only a damned Blockhead, but damned Poor.  
But Dullness well becomes the Sable Garment;  
I warrant that ne'er spoiled a Priest's Preferment;  
Wit's not his Business, and as Wit now goes,  
Sirs, 'tis not so much yours as you suppose,  
For you like nothing now but nauseous Beaux.  
You laugh not, Gallants, as by proof appears,  
At what his Beauship says, but what he wears;  
So 'tis your Eyes are tickled, not your Ears:  
The Tailor and the Furrier find the Stuff,  
The Wit lies in the Dress, and monstrous Muff.  
The Truth on't is, the Payment of the Pit  
Is like for like, Clipped Money for Clipped Wit.  
You cannot from our absent Author hope  
He should equip the Stage with such a Fop:  
Fools Change in England, and new Fools arise,  
For tho' th' Immortal Species never dies,  
Yet every Year new Maggots make new Flies.  
But where he lives abroad, he scarce can find  
One Fool, for Million that he left behind.    

Dramatis Personae.  

Sir John Crossit.  
Old Landy.  
Sir Timothy Shallow.  
Lurch.  
Feewell, Kinsman to Old Landy.  
Bellville, in Love with Lucy.  
Doctor Lorman.  
Scrible, a Scrivener.  
eliot, a Servant to Mr. Bellville's Uncle.  
Lady Crossit, Wife to Sir John.  
Mrs. Lucy, Old Landy's Daughter.  
Mrs. Lurch, Wife to Lurch.  
Phill, Woman to Mrs. Lucy.  
Grace AND Betty. Two Waiting-Women.    

THE HUSBAND His own CUCKOLD.  

ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Enter Sir John Crossit, and Lurch. Sir John. 
NEighbour Lurch, I am heartily glad to see you, but why that melancholy Face, that Countenance in Eclipse, how goes the World Man?  Lurch. 
How goes the World, Sir John? why how should it go with a married Man? I have been Married a whole half year, in which time I have had more business on my hands than a Secretary of State, have raised more Outworks than any Governor of a Citadel to preserve my Wife's Chastity: In short, I am so broken and brought down with this blessed half year of Wedlock, that at the end of the next half, I am of Opinion I shall be Celebrated with the Anniversary of my Funeral; the Doctors have almost given me over already.  Sir John. 
And the Midwives too, Neighbour; you have entered indiscreetly upon this business of Matrimony, without making some necessary reflections. Why, in the name of goodness, what could provoke you with these some fifty years, as I modestly suppose on your back, at such an Age of Fumbling to take a Girl of fifteen?  Lurch. 
Why, Sir John? to answer you with the same freedom what you interrogate, this was my Reason; you are not ignorant, as being my Neighbour, that I have thriven in the World; having so done, I began to bethink myself of making a retreat from business, in order to enjoy the declension of my days as comfortably as I could.  Sir John. 
In order to which, you took a Wife, a very pretty retreat from Business and the World, and an excellent Cordial for a Man in a declining Condition; then to finish the happiness of your retreat, you are most abominably jealous, and take all the care imaginable to divulge it to the World, by depriving your Wife of those Christian Liberties which all Wise Men allow theirs; as you order your affairs, Neighbour, you had as good make a public Proclamation in the Streets of London, I have a pretty young Wife, who will make me a Cuckold, you do the same thing in effect already.  Lurch. 
Sir John, I am obliged to you for the Summary you have been pleased to make of my present Condition; but methinks in the first part of your Discourse, where you take notice of the little or no Comfort there is to be had in Marriage with so small concern, you seem to forget that you yourself are a married Man.  Sir John. 
Forget, say you, that would be more than any married Man in Christendom could ever do yet; but I remember it as seldom, and with as little regret as possibly I can: I have been married now these ten years, that is to say, I have served almost two Apprenticeships to Matrimony, 'twere hard if I were not Master of my Vocation.  Lurch. 
So it should seem indeed, by your advising me to allow my Wife that Christian Liberty which you say all wise Men allow theirs; 'tis a Heathen Liberty, a Crime Capital, the broad Road to Cuckoldom.  Sir John. 
I tell you, Neighbour, you talk like a mere Novice in Matrimony, give me leave to tell you, 'tis in vain to consine them; for the more Women are constrained and deprived of Liberty, the more eager they are in the pursuit of it; if you vex them, they'll cross you, 'tis an original perverseness they inherit by Nature; why, I tell you once again they are the crooked rib of Adam, they love nothing like cross purposoes.  Lurch. 
'Tis well there are no Women here to hear you; but still I say no liberty; if I must be a Cuckold, I shall have this satisfaction at least, to be made one my own may.  Sir John. 
'Tis pity but your Wife should give it you; i am afraid, Neighbour, I am afraid you have Capricorn gloriously ascending in your Nativity, you have a very foreboding look with you.  Lurch. Sir John, 
you that are so good at deciphering other People's looks, had best look at home; since I am provoked to speak my mind, I have observed that there is a certain swingeing two-handed well set black Doctor, who comes very often to feel your Lady's Pulse, I think they call him the Lady's Doctor in the Town, but he looks more like a Horn Doctor; I am of opinion your Lady is not so often indisposed for nothing.  Sir John. 
You mean Doctor Lorman, that insignificant Fop Doctor, who has not the tenth part of the Learning of a Mountebank in Lincolns-Inn-Fields, a mere Crevat and Periwig one, who never knew beyond the composition of a Washball or a Pomatum, or how to prescribe a Clyster for my Lady's Lap-Dog. He is not the first Coxcomb that has passed with Women for a Man of Parts; but to confess freely to you, Neighbour, I never yet suspected my Wife's Virtue with the Doctor; I know her to be humorous and fantastic, and therefore as she is often troubled with little indispositions, I am willing to let her have the Doctor she fancies.  Lurch. 
You take a very prudent course Sir John, according to your Maxim of Christian Liberty.  Sir John. 
This it is to be in company with a Man that's Jealous; Neighbour, thou art just like those who are seized with the Plague, they are not satisfied to have the Disease themselves, but make it their business to infect others: all Husbands ought to avoid thee as the Contagion, thou art full of the Purples of Jealousy. But no more of this, here comes my Wife.  Enter Lady Cro●…it; leaning on her Woman. Lady Crossit. 
Oh! Grace, I am so very weak and faint all o'th' sudden, that except you hold me up, I shall scarely have strength to come to your Master. Oh, Sir John, where are you? I have got such a dizziness in my, head, I can scarcely see from one end of the Room to the other.  Sir John. 
What's the matter, my Dear, what new accident has befallen you?  L. Crossit. 
Oh, Sir John, no new accident, 'tis my old misfortune, the Vapours, a sudden faintness, a kind of a Falling-Sickness, that reigning Disease among Ladies of Quality. Oh! dear Sir John, send quickly, before I have another Fit, for that fine Doctor, who is so Famous for Curing the Ladies of their Vapours; Oh, oh, I am ready to fall, I am so faint; quickly, Sir John, quickly.  Sir John. 
Have a little patience, my Dear, till I go to the door and give orders— Who's without there? d'ye hear,  Goes to the door, Enter a Servant. 
Run immediately and fetch your Lady's Doctor hither, desire him to come with all possible speed.  L. Cros. 
O fie, Sir John, how you give a Message to a Doctor of such a Repute! I find I must word it myself, tho' I am so very faint. D'you hear, Fellow, run quickly to the Gentleman your Master has mentioned, and present Sir John's humble service to him, and besure you remember to give mine in particular— This Fellow's such a Sot he'll never remember half the Message— And, do you hear, let the worthy Doctor know I have had a most violent Fit of the Vapours.  Exit Servant. 
O ●…ie, Sir John, what Servants you keep, what a beastly leg the Fellow has made, and dirtyed all the boards of my Room.  Sir John. 
My Dear, you take no notice of my Neighbour Lurk here.  Lady Cros. 
O Mr. Lurch, I protest I never saw you all this while, I am utterly ashamed of myself for being so unmannerly, pray Mr. Lurch how does the good young Woman do?  Lurch. 
Whom does your Ladyship mean, if I may be so bold?  L. Cros. 
I mean the good young Woman your Wife.  Lurch. 
I left her at home very well, at your Ladyship's service, under Lock and Key.  Aside. L. Cros. 
I need not ask you how you like a married Life, you are but in Hony-Moon yet.  Lurch aside. 
If there be a hony-Month in Marriage, I should be glad to find it; but I'll swear I have felt nothing but the Sting, without one drop of the Honey hitherto.  Sir John. 
My Neighbour is but a mere Bridegroom yet, my Dear; by that time he has been as long Married as you and I have been, he'll be able to give a good account of it. What say you, Neighhour, to ten years of Matrimony?  Lurch. 
Why I say, Sir John, that in half that time Matrimony would give a better account of me.  L. Cros. 
I protest, Mr. Lurch, I forgot to ask you one Question, is your Wife never troubled with Vapours?  Lurch. 
O yes, of all sorts, Madam. I am sure she Hector's and Vapours me sufficiently.  Aside. L. Cros. 
'Tis a sign she is well born, for Vapours are more frequent among Persons of Quality, than those of mean Condition; I believe I▪ have the ablest Physician in all Christendom for removing of them.  Sir John. 
Pray, Neighbour, let me recommend my Wife's Doctor to you, I'll send him to visit your Spouse to morrow, or next day, or when you will.  Lurch. 
No, Sir John, I am in no haste, I thank you, my Wife is in no such want of a Doctor yet, as yours.  L. Cros. 
You need not fear our sending the Doctor to you, Neighbour, he's not so easily sent; he's not a Person who runs after Patients, on my word, the whole Town runs after him. But what's the reason, Neighbour, you did not bring your Wife along with you? I warrant you have left her at home all alone; sie, you do very ill, Neighbour, 'tis enough to make a young Woman grow melancholy, and despair; you ought to take her abroad, and air her sometimes.  Sir John. 
Come, Neighbour, I know my Spouse will be glad of some Company, to pass away her indisposition; come, I won't be denied, you must step home now immediately and bring your Wife to us, 'tis a deed of Charity— But d'you hear, Neighbour, do not forget in returning, to come along with her.  Lurch. 
You might have omitted your last Commands, for here's a a swingeing black Doctor to be here, who looks like a Bird of Prey.  Exit. Sir John aside. 
So, I have taken a very good pretence to send him for his Wife; the impertinencies of this Doctor, whom I expect every minute, will make the jealous Rogue pass like a vexed Wasp.  Lady Cros. 
O 〈◊〉, Sir John, why would you send for Company? I can't endure to receive Visits when I have got the Vapours: I am so indisposed at present, I am fit only to be seen by a Physician.  Sir John. 
I thought 'twas your desire, my Dear, I did it to procure you some Company to pass away time, and divert Melancholy, but you always pervert my good Intentions.  Lady Cros. 
I'd rather you'd procure me a Physician: Oh, oh, I'm so faint again all o'th' sudden, your Arm quickly, Grace, your Arm.  Enter Dr. Lorman. Grace. 
Courage, Madam, here comes the Doctor.  The Doctor sets his Wig in order, then advances. Dr. Lorm. 
Sir John, after having professed the more than ordinary Concern I had, when just now I was Informed by one of your Attendants, of the most unwelcome News of your very Honoured Lady's Indisposition; I ought to make a just Apology for my appearance in this negligent and too familiar Habit: But I have been so pursued and persecuted by several Persons of Honour at home, for this whole Morning, that as I am a Professor of Physic, I have not had a Minute's leisure, to compose and put▪ myself into a decent posture, in order to visit and attend those Patients, for whom I reserve so much esteem and respect, as I really do for yourself, and much honoured good Lady.  While the Doctor and Sir John Talk and Bow together. Lady Cros. aside to Grace 
What do you think Graee, is he not a Comely, Proper, Well-set, Black Man? He's absolutely the ablest Physician in all Europe.  Dr. Lorm. 
Worthy 〈◊〉, you confound me with your Goodness. But that I may not neglect the great end for which I came hither, I must beg your permission to approach your Fair Lady, and take the Moment's of her Pulse.  Sir John. 
What a flourishing Coxcomb's this: A Patient might expire in the while he's making a Compliment of Entrance, or setting his Wig in order.  Lady Cros. 
O welcome, Doctor, I have been dying for you, absolutely dying for you, I have had such a terrible 〈◊〉 of the Vapours; but the very sight of you has half Cured me already.  Dr. Lorm. 
Why, that is not altogether impossible, Madam, for I have had several Patients, who have protested to me, that they have discovered, I know not how to express myself, a Jenescay quoyness in my Physiognomy, that my very first appearance, I will not say has absolutely Cured them, but has given them a present ease from the Distemper under which they then laboured▪  Lady Cros. 
Good Doctor feel my Pulse quickly; how does it beat? am I a Woman of this World or no?  Feels her Pulse. Sir John. aside. 
'Tis a brawny Aesculapius, he's able to beget a whole College of Physicians.  Dr. Lorm. 
Madam, you have a very uneven disordered Pulse, it beats an alarm: But I shall order you a Tizan to rectify it immediately, as also 〈◊〉 remove those Obstructions from your Head and Stomach, which gene●…te and beget Vapours.  Sir John. aside. 
The Rogue has got the Trick of the French Doctors, ho prescribe a Tizan to every Disease.  Enter Lurch and Mrs. Lurch. 
Neighbour Lurch; I see you are a Man of your Word, you are doubly welcome now.  Lurch. aside. 
Here is that Doctor whom Heaven confound.  Sir John. 
Doctor Lorman, this is a worthy Neighbour of mine, and this a Fair Lady called his Wife, whom I recommend to you as a Patient, that she may lie herself under the Protection of so able a Physician.  Lurch. aside to Sir John 
Methinks you are very forward in recommending another Man's Wife, Sir John, but I shall desire hereafter, you would neither list my Wife for a Patient, nor me for a Cuckold.  Dr. Lorm. to Mrs. Lurch 
Madam, I cannot but harbour an exceeding Esteem for your person, in which, at the first view, I discover such transcendent Merits, and as I have dedicated myself and my whole Art, to the Service of the Fair Sex, I should be infinitely transported, if ever I may be able to serve you in any particular of my Profession.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Sir, I shall think myself highly honoured, in being assisted by One, whose Famous Cures have filled all Eyes with admiration, and all Tongues with sufficient Matter of Discourse.  Lurch. aside. 
So, she's in with him already; now am I all over in a sweat, I shall have him laying his brawny Fist on her Pulse immediately.  Dr. Lorm. 
As for my Cures, Madam, (but first let me beg the Honour of your Fair Hand to consult your Pulse) as for my Cures, I say, they speak themselves.  Holds her by the Arm and Discourses, while Lurch endeavours to lose his Wife from him. 
And though indeed my Public Profession is of Physic, yet I dare aver, no Man in Christendom has a freer Hand in the Practical Part of Anatomy and Chirurgery.  Lurch. 
O Lord, O Lord! but you had as good depose my Wife's Hand, Doctor, that it may not be a hindrance to your Discourse.  Mrs. Lurch. 
No, the Doctor does me a particular Favour, and if it be no burden to him, I am very well satisfied he continue it.  Dr. Lorm. 
'Tis impossible, a Fair Lady's Hand should be a burden.  Mrs. Lurch. 
I am much troubled with a Noise in my Head, Doctor.  Lurch. 
And so am I, while your Tongue's there.  L. Cros. aside. 
I can bear this no longer, that he should Court any other Woman in my presence; I knew this devilish Company would hinder me from enjoying him all myself; but I'll be even with Sir John for this.  The Doctor le's go Mrs. Lurches' arm, and her Husband slips his arm into its place, which the Dr. receives, not knowing it. Dr. Lorm. 
But now I will acquaint the Company present of some precious Rarities of my own Manufacture.  Imprimis. 
I have a most approved water-wash for the Face, called my Lac Virgins, which works wonders on the Fair Sex, in clearing and beantifying their Skins; and this Rich Cosmetick not to be sold a Farthing under five Guineas the Bottle, absolutely the greatest Secret in the European World.  Lurch aside. 
Absolutely the greatest Cheat in the whole Universe; how the Rogue squeezes me.  Dr. Lorm. 
Secondly, I have most precious Pomatums of all sorts, of my own composition.  
Thirdly, I have rare oiled Night-Gloves of right Roman Kid.  
Fourthly, Plumpers for the help of decayed Ladies who are Cheek-fallen; Lead Forehead-Pieces, all manner of Night-vizards, or Face-moulds, with several other Gallantries of great consideration and importance; but for fear of seeming vainglorious, I shall pass by in silence the rest of my Abilities, and beg your Pardon, Madam, for keeping your fair hand a Prisoner so long, which I thus Salute, to expiate my Crime with all due—  Sees Lurch. 
Sir, I am no Mountebank, I would have you to know I am no Mountebank; Sir, let me tell you, I seldom or never knew any Person who made a jest of my Profession expire in his Bed— I am no Mountebank, Sir.  Lurch. 
I know not whether I am in jest with you or no, but I'll swear you have been in earnest with me, this hand of mine which you have worried so, knows it very well.  L. Cros. 
Mr. Lurch, Let me tell you that you have neither a capacity to distinguish, or good breeding in treating with such levity a Person so esteemed for his many Virtues by all the World▪  Dr. Lorm. 
Madam, you mortify me with your exceeding goodness, let the Gentleman alone, he will meet with his reward one time or other, as I said before.  Sir John. 
Doctor, will you favour me to order the Tizan you mentioned for my Wife?  Dr. Lorm. 
You may command my Art, Sir John.  Sir John. 
Who waits without, bring Pen, Ink, and Paper quickly.  Dr. Lorm. writes. Dr. Lorm▪ 
Let your Lady take this, and I'll pawn my Art it does the business, it wants only to be superscribed; for when my Apothecary serves  Superscribes the Receipt. 
a Person of Quality, he always makes use of his best Drugs.  Sir John. 
Now you have obliged my Wife, Doctor, I have another Patient to recommend to you, which is my Wife's Lap-Dog, who is so troubled with the worms, he's a very pest in the house.  Dr. Lorm. 
Sir John, I receive particular consolation in the Proposal, and declare it to be one of the chief branches of my Profession, the knowing how to Cure those tender Creatures, who are so Ladylike in their Constitutions.  Begins to write. 
What Appeliation or Nom de Guerre does your Ladyship use for your Dog, that I may superscribe?  L. Cros. 
Cupid.  Dr. Lot. 
His Age, Madam? that I may regulate the Dose.  L. Cros. 
Two years old since Candlemas last passed.  Dr. Lorm. Reads. 
For Mr. Cupid, Lap. Dog to the Honourable the Lady Dorothea Crossit, this will suffice.  L. Cros. 
Really I shall be overjoyed when my Dog's Cured.  Sir John. 
I must put an end to this impertinence, Doctor, I have some business to dispatch this Morning, and therefore must beg your leave to—  Dr. Lorm. 
Let me see what is it a Clock, this is my Governor;  Looks on his Watch. 
How, is't possible it can be so late, I am a ruined Man! certainly my Watch runs upon wheels, I shall lose my Reputation absolutely, I should have made my whole tour of Patients by this time; when a Man is once become necessary to the World, he is a Slave ever after. Ladies, I must suffer an unwilling divorce from your fair Companies.  L. Cros. 
Adieu, Doctor.  Dr. Lorm. 
Adieu, dear Madam.  L. Cros. 
Adieu, dear, dear Doctor. Your Fee, Sir John your Fee quickly, and remember my Dog's Fee.  Aside to Sir John. Sir John presses the Dr. to receive the Fee, who at first seems to be repugnant. L. Cros. 
You must force him to take it, my Dear; he's so modest.  Dr. Lorm. 
O Lord! Sir John, what do you mean to do? O pray, Sir John, what do you mean? Sir John; your most humble Servant.  Sir John. 
You shall give me leave to wait on you down Stairs.  Arch. 
Sir John, my Wife and I have been troublesome too long to you and your Lady, and therefore will take our leaves also.  Mrs. Lurch. 
I hope, Madam, I shall find another occasion to show how much I am your Ladyship's most humble Servant.  L. Cros. 
Madam, you may command me; you will pardon me that I leave Sir John to accompany you; I am so faint with the Vapours, I dare not venture out of doors.  Sir John. 
Repose yourself, my Dear, in your Chamber, and leave me to ●…rve the Company.  Ex. Sir John, the Doctor, Lurch, and his Wife. Lady Crossit and Grace remain. Grace. 
Ay, you are much discomposed, Madam.  L. Cros. 
I am all confusion, prithee call 'em to Sing the Song I love.  

SONG.  

HElp, help, ye Powers Divine,  
For sure from you this Lightning came,  
That from his Eyes shot through mine,  
Down to my Heart a subtle flame.   

2.  
I try to get 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 always in vain,  
For as fast as I fly, I fly with my pain.  
There's nothing my Love and my Life can divide,  
For equally both to my Heartstrings are tied.    L. Cros. 
D'ye hear, shut the door close: Well, we Ladies of Quality are all Slaves to our Waiting-Women. We are forced to trust them with our Secrets, and then they become our Mistresses:  Aside. 
Have you shut the Door?  Grace. 
I have locked it on the inside, Madam.  L. Cros. 
Do you remember, how many Rich Gowns and Petticoats, how many laced Pinner's, Hoods, Scarfs, and Nightrails, I have given you, since the three Years you have served me, together with many other Vails, Perquisites, and Profits you have enjoyed in my Service?  Grace. aside. 
What Tune will this Prelude end in, I wonder!  L. Cros. 
I do not call to mind my Favours; implying, that you are ungrateful; but only to encourage you to persevere in the Love and Duty you owe me, and in that Faithfulness and Secrecy I have always found in you. Secrecy, Grace, is a most necessary Gift and Accomplishment, for one in your Station.  Grace. 
'Tis a Gift with which very few of our Sex are blessed.  L. Cros. 
Art thou sure thou canst be Secret Proof.  Grace. 
I think I am, Madam.  L. Cros. 
But 'tis such a Secret, that if ever it should be discovered, especially by my Husband, I am a ruined Wife for ever. Hast thou the gift of Secrecy? May I make thee my Confessor? But first to stop thy Mouth, I give thee that fresh Manteau and Petticoat I wore yesterday.  Grace. 
Now, Madam, I am sure I have the Gift of Secrecy, you may Confess with safety.  L. Cros. 
Swear thou wilt be true to me.  Grace. 
What Oath shall I 〈◊〉 by 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that?  L. Cros. 
Swear by any 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Grace. 
when, may I never wear good, Scarf, Manteau, or Petticoat, more of your Ladyships, when ever I am guilty of betraying my Trust.  L. Cros. 
Well, I must tell thee then, I am in Love, Grace! O that Doctor, that Doctor, that Charming Doctor, I die for him!  Grace. 
'Tis pity your Ladyship should die for want of a Physician.  L. Cros. 
O, this Doctor will be the Death of me.  Grace. 
That may be too, for 'tis one part of his Profession.  L. Cros. 
Didst thou never observe, how often I have changed Colour at the sight of Dr. Lorman, my frequent Sighs, and languishing Looks, that have spoke too plainly my Passion?  Grace. 
Yes, indeed, I always thought your Ladyship had a kind of a grudging to him.  L. Cros. 
Ah, would it were no worse; I love him even to Madness.  Grace. 
Nay, now I find your Ladyship is 〈◊〉 a desperate Condition.  L. Cros. 
Well, since I have made thee my Confident, I must inform thee what Service thou must do me in this Business. Knowing my Husband was to go to Barnet this day, and not return till to Morrow Morning, I went privately yesterday to the Change, and bought a dozen of the finest Holland Shirts, laced with the best Flanders Lace I could lay hands on: These I have put up in a Band-Box, and intent you shall convey 'em to Dr. Lorman, in form of a Present.  Grace. 
A whole dozen of Shirts! does your Ladyship intent he shall wear 'em all out in your Service?  L. Cros. 
Leave your idle Questions: I intent to place a Letter in the Band-Box, which will sufficiently unriddle the meaning of my Favours.  Grace. 
I think the Riddle of your Favours is not so very dark, that it should want an Explanation: Those Coats of Arms, as soon as seen, are blazoned; and declare your Ladyship of the Family of Love, without a Herald to pronounce it.  L. Cros. 
However, don't you fail in your Duty, and when the Doctor Reads my Letter, be sure you say a world of tender Things to him, such as I would, were I present; thou hast Wit at command.  Grace. 
I warrant you, Madam, he's ours; he must be a Doctor of Marble, to resist such a Letter as you have writ. Besides, there's a Present will bring him with a Vengeance.  

Love and a Bribe will make him soon surrender,  
Such powerful Forces make all Hearts grow tender.   Exeunt.   

ACT II.  

SCENE the Street.  Enter Feewell, and Belleville, meeting each other. Feew. 
DEar Harry, well met, may I presume to guests whither you are bound in such haste?  Bell. 
No, my Friend, I'll ease you of that trouble, and let you know I am bound with all my Sails full to the Port of Love; Mrs. Lucy, your fair Cousin, Rich old Landy's Daughter.  Feew. 
'Tis as I thought, you are a happy Man, you have the young Lady's heart, and her Father's liking, you cannot fail of making a prosperous Voyage, and carrying the Golden-Fleece off in Triumph.  Bell. 
True indeed, I steer as 〈◊〉 with fair weather, and a prosperous gale in sight of the Port; but, my Friend, there are so many Sands, Rocks, and shallows to be passed e'er I can enter, that if a Man be not an expert Pilot indeed, he may perhaps founder in sight of it. I shall never think myself out of danger, till I have cast Anchor in the Harbour.  Feew. 
Never doubt, your Person, Virtues, and Repute you have in the World, with the deserts of a Thousand Pounds a year, are sufficient to secure you, without other helps.  Bell. 
Of which I must own your Friendship to be the chief; but why does old Landy torture me thus with these delays and puts off? it throws me into continual agonies, and 〈◊〉.  Feew. 
O my Friend, these Rich old miserable Fathers are always more considerate than other Men, they never clap up a Marriage in haste, but haggle to the last farthing, and love to have a lumping Pennyworth of a Husband.  Bell. 
I wish he were less Rich, than I would convince him I value not his paltry dust, and that I Court your fair Cousin for her own sake, not for the sake of what he has to give her— But 'tis late, and I must follow where my heart is gone before me.  Feew. 
I am just now come from thence, and as soon as I have dispatched a word of business, at a house within half a stones cast, I shall be back again there as soon as you; for I have to tell you, that I have already ingag'd old Landy and his Daughter to be merry at a Dinner I have 〈◊〉 for 'em, where you, dear Harry, must oblige me to make one. Besides, you may have known that Lurch the Landlord of the 〈◊〉 where they lodge, has newly married a young brisk Wife, with whom I have a small Intrigue in Embryo. My design is to get this young 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 dinner along with us, in which I desire your 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 my return, for the beast is not a little jealous of her; he has carried her abroad somewhere this Morning, and was not returned home when I left old Landy.  Bell. 
Ah, Ned, Ned, wilt thou never leave this single sinful way of living? hadst thou not as good take up in time, and end honourably in Matrimony?  Feew. 
I have no design to make an end so honourable as yet, this little World and I have something more to say to one another e'er we part. Well, fare you well, I'll be with you in a minute.  Exeunt severally. Enter Lucy, and her Maid Phil. Lucy. 
Where's my Father, Phil?  Phil. 

I saw him about a quarter of an hour since,  
Walking about, with starts and pauses,  
And talked, or rather muttered to himself,  
Some grumbling words.   Lucy. 
Couldst thou not distinguish any?  Phil. 

Very little, yet I listened, for I fancied  
'Twas you that caused his staggering:  
But I could hear nothing, but sometimes  
Too little; a very scanty pattern; then paused, and then,  
But this Girl, than paused again, and then again  
Repeated the words Too little.   Lucy. 

What power has Money in the mind it governs?  
'Twill not allow Virtue to bear a price,  
Nor purchase any thing but its 〈◊〉 increase,  
And yet afraid to use it.   Phil. 

I hope, Madam, all will be well yet;  
Sure Mr. Bellvill's merits will prevail.   Lucy. 

Did he see with my eyes they would,  
But Misers see no difference in Men,  
But what is made by Fortune.   Enter Bellville. Bell. 

Oh! my dear Mistress, in what fears I languish,  
Your Cruel Father keeps me on a rack  
By his delay; every look I take  
From your fair sight, gives a fresh Torment;  
To think what Curses rise against me,  
To keep me from enjoying such a blessing.   Kisses her hand Lucy. 

I have owned enough for you to guests  
I share in your afflicton; press him now  
To give his final Resolution.   Bell. 

But if he should deny, let me have yours;  
And keep his slighted Wealth for his own load  
That clogs his greedy Soul.   Lucy. 

O Bellville, tho' I love you  
Enough to share the lowest Fortune with you,  
I dare not show it by a disobedience;  
Though to a Cruel Father, one shake in any Virtue  
Will loosen all the firmness of the rest.   Enter Landy. Bell. 

See where he comes, disturbance  
Hangs on his looks.   Landy. 
O Mr. Bellville, what, in your old pursuit?  Bell. 

I have no other Object in this World  
To wish or hope for, but the longed for Blessing  
Of your fair Daughter.   Landy. 

And you forsooth, are languishing, I hope,  
As well as your warm Lover; all in haste,  
Reason and Consideration are grown Enemies.   Lucy. 

I hope, Sir, Mr. Bellvill's Merits  
Are a just Reason for my value of him.   Landy. 

Yes, yes, send Virtue to the Market,  
And see what 'twill purchase: Mr. Bellville,  
I have perused the Authentic Copies  
Of your Estate and Fortune; I think  
It barely may amount to a Thousand Pounds per Annum.   Bell. 

Were it a Thousand Millions,  
All were too little  
To present your Daughter.   Landy. 

We are not talking of if it were,  
But what it is; let me see,  
A bare Thousand, as we suppose at best,  
Is in troth too little, a very slender Patrimony.   Lucy. 

You talk, Sir, as if all Content and Happiness  
Were only placed in R●…hes.   Land. 

Hold your tongue, busie-box, when your Father  
Speaks, meddle not in the Matter, Huzzy;  
'Tis I am to give the Money, you have nothing to give  
But your Consent, a thing not worth a Groat;  
'Tis a fond property, that every Woman gives  
To the first Man she likes.  
You have been reading some vile Romance,  
Where the sine outside Fellow gets the Lady:  
I thought I had burnt all your Amorous Fables.   Enter Feewell. Feew. 

What, in wrath, Mr. Landy, with your own Flesh  
And Blood? Come, come, there's a Haunch of Venison  
And a Bottle of Burgundy that stays for you,  
Will set all right again.   Landy. 

Angry, Cousin Feewell! yes, very angry,  
'T would move a Millstone to speak!  
The Gipsy interrupts me just as I am talking  
For her own good.   Feew. 

You know, Mr. Landy, she's an obedient Daughter.  
And you may kindly end these troubles;  
Tell me, when is my Friend Bellville to be made happy  
With your fair Daughter?   Land. 

'Tis that I was discoursing of, Cousin,  
But things of Importance require a mature  
And weighty Consideration; but she's in haste,  
In a most Amorous haste; let me see,  
A Thousand pounds per Annum— 〈◊〉— a thousand pounds.   Feew. 

So much my Friend has, I'm sure, besides  
A considerable Personal Estate, which he's so modest  
Never to mention; this joined to what you are  
Able to give, may be a fair provision  
To make a very happy Couple.   Land. 

'Tis true, what I am able to give, I am able  
To give; but by way of Bargain, and as I am  
A dealing Man, I am obliged to lay down no more  
In ready Moneys, than what's equivalent to  
Mr. Bellvill's Estate.   Feew. 

He has an Uncle, that has fifteen hundred  
A year, and no Child.   Land. 

And may give it I suppose to whom he pleases.  
Besides, Mr. Feewell, there's an old English Proverb,  
He that waits for Dead men's shoes may go barefoot.   Feew. 

But sure, Sir, you ought to regard a little  
The many Virtues and Deserts  
Which render my Friend capable  
To pretend to any Fortune.   Land. 

Alas, Cousin, Deserts and Virtues  
Are mere Drugs now a-days, mere Drugs,  
No Man is looked upon or esteemed,  
But he that has Money, and where there's most Money,  
There's most Worship; and commonly  
Your Men of great Virtues, are great Beggars.   Feew. 

Our Forefathers, whom some will allow  
To be as Wise as we are, were of another Opinion.   Land. 

What Forefathers d'ye mean?  
A Company of ragged 〈◊〉 Philosophers,  
Who lived in Tubs, and Cellars, and worth nothing  
But what they carried about 'em.   Feew. 

Yet that was a greater Treasure than  
Men ordinarily can now boast of.   Land. 

What Treasure d'ye mean; their numbers  
Of Vermin, and other troublesome Companions  
That infested them?   Feew. 

I mean their Knowledge and Content,  
Which Money cannot purchase.   Land. 

Nor could their great Wisdoms purchase a groat,  
Look you, Mr. Bellville, we have been  
Discoursing your Concerns; you have a zealous Friend,  
And I join with him in a just and far esteem of you,  
But that must not hinder my care and desire  
To see that Gipsy well settled; nothing of Consequence  
Ought to be done in haste, we ought to look  
Before we leap; I like your Person, and  
My Daughter likes you, but soft and fair goes far;  
Time and Straw ripen Medlars.   Bell. 

'Tis but just reason you should have  
The satisfaction due to a Parent  
In this, and all things that concern your Daughter:  
But since you say you have no great objections  
Against my Estate, my Person, or Conditions,  
I humbly▪ beg your Promise as an earnest  
Of all my future Happiness.   Land. 

Well, I promise you, as I may say; well,  
I do promise you.   Enter Mrs. Lurch. Bell. 

May all the Happiness—  
Curse of her interruption.   Mrs. Lurch. 

So, there's Feewell, as I thought;   Aside. 

I must give him a hint that my Husband  
Is to go abroad this Afternoon  
To receive some Money; sure he'll have sense enough  
To take the hint, and give a civil Visit.  
Though the Brute should leave me under  
Lock and Key, as sometimes he does:  
I have a Key as good as his, thanks  
To my Revengeful Ingenuity.  
Mr. Landy, your Servant; your Servant  
Sweet Mrs. Lucy.   Feew. 

You come, Madam, seasonably, if you please  
To grant me the favour of your most  
Agreeable Company, with the rest of your  
〈◊〉 here, to do Penance at a  
Poor Batchelor's Dinner.   Mrs. Lurch. 

Were I absolute Mistress of myself,  
And my own time, I could quickly resolve you  
How much more I esteem a Batchelor's Treat,  
As you call it, than what I am like to have  
At home with a Husband, who this Afternoon  
Goes to the other end of the Town  
About some earnest business, and leaves poor me  
All alone at home; I know not how to spend  
My time alone, not I, I swear— besides,  
He is so wickedly Jealous, that if I do  
But look on a Man, as I may now on you,  
Mr. Feewell, he immediately thinks I intent  
To make him a Cuckold.   She looks amorously upon him. Enter Lurch. Feew. 

What a Tottipottimoy Tyrant 'tis,  
She has given me a hint,  
And I must improve it.   Aside. Lurch. 

So, there's my Prisoner broke loose;  
I no sooner turn my back, but she  
Breaks Goal immediately; and talking  
With Feewell, whose frequent Visits to  
My House have given me suspicion.  
Heigh day, how she 〈◊〉 and jets her tail  
In and out— this can be no less than a Plot  
To Subvert the Government of her Anointed  
And Supreme Head— but I shall dissipate  
The Conspiracy in a moment. Hark ye,  
Hark ye, Mrs. Wagtail, I have something  
To say to you, I have some earnest business  
With you, by the leave of this Gentleman  
With whom you are so close in Council.   She starts▪ Mrs. Lurch. 

Earnest business! you have had no  
Earnest business with me the Lord knows when;  
But you always interrupt me, if I am engaged  
In Discourse with any one.   Lurch. 

Very 〈◊〉! I shall make you know  
That you ought not to be engaged with any  
But your Husband, Madam; therefore  
I Command you, in virtue of Holy Obedience,  
To come away; come away, I say, and do not  
Provoke me to make use of my Sovereign Authority.   〈◊〉. 

〈◊〉, fie, Mr. Lurch, now you are 〈◊〉 severe  
Upon your 〈◊〉, the Company have reason to take  
It ill; this Warfare of your 〈◊〉 is 〈◊〉,  
It's enough to deter a young 〈◊〉  
That are going to join hands.   Mrs. Lurch. 

I am weary 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, I 〈◊〉  
Forbear saying so; he never 〈◊〉 me to see  
Any Company, or go abroad, but keeps me  
Under Lock and Key for whole days together,  
He had as good bury me alive.   Bell. 

Come, Mr. 〈◊〉, to make amends for the scandal  
You have given, I propose that you permit  
Your Wife to dine with us, and 〈◊〉 you also  
Be overruled by the present Court, to do  
The same in order there, to make up this breach  
Of Wedlock, and give ample security for keeping  
The 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉▪ 〈◊〉 Feewell 〈◊〉 to  
Day, and will be pleased to have his Table 〈◊〉 with  
Good Company.   Feew. 

‛ 〈◊〉 my intention to have 〈◊〉 the 〈◊〉, had  
Not you prevented my Request.   Lurch. 

I have a strong 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 your 〈◊〉  
Are, but I shall put a spoke 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.   Aside. Land. 

'Tis a laudable 〈◊〉, and I  
Am resolved to see it executed, and therefore  
I press you Mr. Lurch to muster with us,  
And the other moiety, your little 〈◊〉,  
To be merry to day.   Lurch. 

Me you may 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 my 〈◊〉 no  
Doubt may be pressed, but now 〈◊〉 may  
Come in as a Volunteer.   Land. 

Come, it lies on my 〈◊〉  
To see this Domestic Fury 〈◊〉;  
Why Man, you are not 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Should you be left in this Fit alone 〈◊〉  
Your Spouse, in hot blood you▪  
Might be apt to exercise 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
Upon her.   Mrs. Lurch. 

Let him 〈◊〉 his 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 are already  
Ceased between 〈◊〉, I fear no 〈◊〉 of  
Manhood he can do.   Land. 

Come, no more of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
Prepare for 〈◊〉 now but Mirth and Peace.   Lurch. 

Well, well, I submit, I must go lay up  
Some Papers, and will be there as soon as  
You— Nay, Mistress, you shall along with me,  
You shall march with your Chief Officer,  
We'll be with you presently.   Exit with his Wife. Bell. 

How this Fellow with his Soliciting  
Jealousy prepares a Cuckoldom for himself.   Enter Scrible, a 〈◊〉. Scrible. 
Save you, Mr. Landy.  Land. 

O Mr. Scrible, what News with you▪  
I hope my Mortgages stand good?   Scrib. 

O very safe, Sir; but I have a business with you,  
That may deserve your privacy.   Bell. 
What a Devil brings this ill-looked 〈◊〉?  Land. 

Pray Gent. oblige me  
To entertain yourselves in the next  
Room, till I call you; I know 'tis no▪  
Unkindness to leave you together.   〈◊〉 all but Landy and Scrible. 

Now, Mr. Scrible, the business.   Scrib. 

Why, Sir, I hope 'tis that will be  
Acceptable to you; but first give me leave  
To ask you, for I see Mr. Bellville  
Here, and there's a Report he's to have your  
Daughter Mrs. Lucy, I hope you are not engaged▪   Land. 

Why, Mr. Scrible? he's a Gentleman  
Of a fair Character, and an indifferent  
Competent Estate.   Scrib. 
But I hope you are not engaged?  Land. 
Why, why, good Mr. Scrible?  Scrib. 

Why, Sir, I am come with a Proposition  
To you, for a Gentleman of two Thousand a year,  
His Name Sir Timothy Shallow, of a good Family  
In the North; the Shallows of Shallow-Hall have  
Been ancient there, his 〈◊〉 clear, and as  
Much as I tell you; a plain honest 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  
And a Justice of Peace, and of the Quorum▪   Land. 
How, how, two Thousand a year?  Srib. 

Yes, as good a two Thousand as is in England, and the  
Gentleman himself, upon my Account of your  
Daughter, and what you were very well able to give,  
Is so earnest in the matter, that he would needs  
Presently present himself to you. I have lodged him  
Hard by, at a Friend's House, till I made way  
For his Reception.   Land. 
Umh, this is very unlucky.  Scrib. 
You 〈◊〉 troubled, Sir.  Land. 
A little, Mr. Scrible.  〈◊〉. 
Do you not like my Proposition?  Land. 

Yes, Mr. 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 like 〈◊〉 Proposition  
Very well; yes, very well, but I am—   Scrib. 
What, Sir— you are much concerned.  Land. 
A little, Mr. Scrible— 〈◊〉— two Thousand a year.  Scrib. 

Yes, Sir, fairly and 〈◊〉, without any the  
Least encumbrance.   Land. 
I am unlucky.  Scrib. 
I hope you have not 〈◊〉 yourself?  Land. 

Why, in troth I have 〈◊〉 a way,  
Or as one may say, in a 〈◊〉  
Given my Consent.   Scrib. 
But have you 〈◊〉 any Agreement?  Land. 

Not at all, not in the 〈◊〉; nay, I was not at all willing▪  
But always put off coming 〈◊〉 the matter,  
For I 〈◊〉 Mr. 〈◊〉 Estate  
Of the smallest; but at last being  
Very much importuned, I think I did say  
I consented, or promised, or something like it.   Scrib. 
And was this all?  Land. 

Yes, the very all▪ and no more▪  
And the word slipped 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
But just as you came.   Scrib. 

Well, well, 〈◊〉 nothing in this  
Actionable, and therefore if you 〈◊〉 it▪  
I'll fetch Sir Timothy presently,  
To present himself to you, and your Daughter,  
And if you agree, we'll make short work  
Of it, to prevent tricks and devices.   Land. 

Pray do, Mr. 〈◊〉▪ and in the mean time  
I'll discourse the matter 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉  
A Man ought to do the  
Best he can for his Child, you know; I'll tell him  
So plainly, so pray 〈◊〉 the Knight.  
Two Thousand Pounds per 〈◊〉, and a Lady  
At first dash; not to be neglected.  
Without there—   Exit Scrible. Goes to the door. 

Call in Mr. Bellville, and  
My Daughter, I shall make a 〈◊〉  
Pother amongst 'em; but my Daughter's  
My Daughter, and if she be not wise enough,  
I ought to be so for her▪   Enter Mr. Bellville, leading Mrs. Lucy and Feewel▪ Mr. Bellville, 

I have often told you, that Prudence  
And Consideration ought to be used in  
Matters of Importance, and the bestowing  
A Child is a great one.   Bell. 

I hope, Sir, you proceeded so when you  
Promised me the Happiness of your Daughter.   Land. 

Soft and fair, good Mr. 〈◊〉, your  
Importunities, and my Cousin Feewells, were  
So troublesome, that I think I did in a  
Manner, and as a Man may say, somewhat 〈◊〉  
Utter something of Consent, Of to that purpose.   Lucy. 

So much, Sir, that sure I cannot justly be  
Any others, but Mr. Bellvill's.   Land. 

Again Prattle-Box, at your old way, to  
Meddle when your Father pronountes Matters  
For your good.   Feew. 
But your Reputation, Sir,  Land. 

Ay, Sir, my Reputation shall be preserved.  
By keeping myself from being thought an Ass,  
By seeming not to know a Shilling from a Sixpence.  
In short, I have received a Proposition,  
From a worthy Knight for my Daughter,  
With double Mr. Bellvill's Estate,  
I say double.   Bell. 
But, Sir.  Land. 

No butts, Sir, no butts, I am bound in  
Conscience, and must and will examine the Matter,  
Therefore no more words, they are but wind.  
The Knight will be here presently.   Enter Sir Timothy Shallow and Scrible. 
See where he comes.  Lucy. 
Bless me, what a Figure 'tis.  Scrib. 

Mr. Landy, this is the worthy Knight  
I made the Motion for, who cometh in Person  
To present himself to you and your  
Fair Daughter.   Land. 
He is very welcome, Mr. Scrible.  Sir Timo. 

Your Servant, Sir, and as Mr. Scrible  
Told you, I come to offer myself a  
Servant to your Daughter. I suppose,  
Sir, this may be she.   Land. 
Yes, Sir, such as she is.  Sir 〈◊〉. 

By your leave, Fair Lady,   He Salutes Mrs. Lucy. 

By the Mass, I ne'er blinked my eyen on  
A titer Lass, in good Faith, Mr. Landy,  
You have a most bonny Daughter.   Land. 

Why indeed, Sir Timothy, I think she is not  
Much a-miss, come, Lucy, hold up your Head,  
Leave whimpering, Huzzy,   Aside. 

She's bashful, Sir.   Sir Tim. 

I'faith, a most dainty Creature:  
Look you, Mr. Landy, I'll 〈◊〉 make many words,  
I am downright Country all over,  
I don't practise the fine Words, and  
May be most of them the fashionable Li●…s  
Of the Town; but in short, if you and  
The Lady likes me and my Estate, I am fully  
Satisfied; I'll prodi you the Particu●…  
Of an Honest Estate of 2000 l. a Year,  
All lying about 〈◊〉 Hall, where the Sallows  
Have been known for many 〈◊〉.   Land. 

A fair Estate, I confess, Sir Timothy,  
And when you please to bring the Particulars,  
We shall proceed, and I make no question,  
But fairly on all sides.   Sir Tim. 

Nay, I'll not be long in doing that,  
For I hate delays; besides, I hate staying  
In this Town, I should be waked here in,  
A little time.   Scrib. 

If Sir Timothy pleases, we will depart now,  
And speedily return, with a full Account  
Of every thing, and short Heads for an Agreement.   Land. 
With all my Heart, Mr. Scrible.  Sir Tim. 

Nay, I warrant 〈◊〉 I'll ●…sten Matters,  
For in troth, Fair Mistress, I like you exceedingly,  
And you shall live in the North, as well  
As the Proudest of 'em all,  
And have a Coach at your Command,  
And if you take to Love Hunting,  
I have as good a Pack of Dog's 〈◊〉 ever laid nose to ground.   Scrible. 
Come, Sir Timothy, time calleth upon us.  Sir Tim. 

I go, I go, Mr. Scrible; for this time farewell,  
Good Mr. Landy, I shall be with you again  
Speedily; farewell Fair Mistress, I assure you  
I like you very much, exceedingly i'faith.   Land. 

Come, Sir Timothy, I'll wait upon you out:  
Lucy follow me, I have something to say  
To you.   Exeunt Sir Tim. and Scrible, Landy and Lucy another ●…ay. Bell. 

Was there ever such a turn  
Of Fortune, I fancied that Parchment  
Rascal came for no good?   Feew. 

Was there ever such a Miser?  
A Groat more purchases him from  
The freehold of common honesty.   Bell. 
'Tis insupportable to think of losing her.  Feew. 

Come, clear up, we will not lose her,  
We'll pursue 'em close, this Northern Privateer  
Shall never Board our Rich Vessel.   Bell. 

I'll sink him and myself first;  
Before he has fair Lucy for his Wife,  
I must be first unmarried from my Life.   Exeunt. Enter Lady Crossit, and Grace with a Band-Box. L. Cros. 
Are you sure you are perfect in your Message?  Grace. 

I have it all without book to a tittle,  
And your Ladyship has no more to do now, but to give me your Letter,  
And fling an old shoe after me for good luck.   L. Cros. 

Here's the Letter ready writ, Signed and Sealed,  
Take it you, and put it under the Shirts,  
That when the Doctor goes to look on the Present,  
He may take it out with his own hands.   Grace. 
I like the Contrivance very well, however let me alone to guide him to take up the Linen, and to put his hand upon it.  L. Cros. 

Use your own discretion,  
I rely wholly on your Conduct.   Grace. 

Sir John is already gone to Barnet,  
And there's no danger of his return till 〈◊〉 morrow Morning,  
For he is to lie at one of his Tenants Houses in the Town,  
As 'tis his usual Custom.   L. Cros. 

Thou art in the right,  
Therefore carry my Letter, and the Present immediately  
To my dear Doctor, sure he will not slight the Summons  
A Person of my Quality sends him.  
Well, 〈◊〉 leave thee to bring about the rest;  
And retire to feed my fancy befir●…-hand,  
With the thoughts of my Lover, till thy return;  
Do but succeed, and bring him to my Chamber to night,  
And I'll Reward thee beyond thy expectation.   Exit. Grace alone 

Now if I can but play the Mistress of the Ceremonies,  
And Conduct this Ambassador  
To a private Audience to Night, my Fortunes are made.  
Well, I find the Vapours her Ladyship complain of,  
Were only a mist she cast before her Husband's eyes,  
And the large Rewards she has promised,  
Have caused the like effects on me;  
Who am to hear all, see all, and know nothing▪   

As they who keep a Treating-House connive  
At all the Cheats and Vice by which they thrive;  
When Mass and Miss in hugger-mugger come,  
Th' officious Chamberlain straight shows a Room:  
And tho' he more than guesses their Design,  
He has no other but upon their Coin▪  
So I, as true a Chamberlain as he,  
Am guiltless of the Fact, to get the Fee.   Is going out, when Sir John Crossit Enter at the same time in his Riding Habit, and makes her start. Sir John. 
Grace, is't you, what makes you start so?  Grace. 
To see your Worship returned so soon.  Sir John. 

I am returned, only to take a Copy of a Lease I forgot.  
Where's your Lady?   Grace 〈◊〉 to bide the Band-Box. Grace. 
Retired to her 〈◊〉.  Sir John. 

What 〈◊〉 you got there, that you 〈◊〉 so,  
And endeavour to conceal from me?   Grace. 
Some things that belong to my Lady.  Sir John. 
What things?  Grace. 

Only some new Head-dresses my Lady does not like,  
And I am going to carry 'em back to the Change.   Sir John. 

Let me see 'em,  
If they like me better than they do your Lady▪  
It may be I may persuade her to wear 'em.   Grace. 

But I am sure you won't like 'em neither—  
Besides, there are some things here, that Men must not see.   Sir John. 

If it be any thing that belongs to my Wife,  
I am sure I may see it, and will see it.  
I begin to suspect something,   Aside. 

Her starting, and endeavouring to hide the Band-Box makes me curious.  
Open the Band-Box, and show me what you have got there.   Grace. 
'Tis nothing but foul Linen indeed, indeed, Sin  Sir John. 

First Head-Dresses, and then foul Linen,  
This is mere prevaricating, it may be she has stole something,  
And I have seized her in the act of Conveyance.   Aside. 

Come, open your Band-Box quickly, or I'll force it open;  
For I am in haste, and cannot lose time.  
Open, Open, I say.   Grace. 

Why should you desire to pry into womens' Affairs?  
I must not, and cannot open to you.   Sir John. 
I'll see that immediately.  Snatches the Band-Box away from her, and opens it. Grace. 
O Mercy, Mercy, and I'll discover all.  Sir John. 

First, let me see what discoveries I can make without you,  
D'ye call these Head-Dresses?   Pulls ' out one of the Shirts. 

They are very large ones,  
And the Fashion is prodigiously increased.   Grace. aside. 
If he looks any further, he certainly discovers the Letter; and I am ruined.  Sir John pulls out another Shirt, and the Letter falls on the ground. Sir John. 
Item another— But what does this Letter do here?  Reads the Superscription. To the Dear Idol of my Soul. 
This looks like my Wife's Fenwork;  
But now for the Contents.  Opens and Reads. 
I never thought before this fatal Hour,  
Thus to confess the Naked Archer's Power.  
Till now my stubborn Breast, like 〈◊〉 shreld,  
Slighted his weaker Darts, and 〈◊〉 not yield.  
That only Arrow 〈◊〉 me through and through,  
Which the well-ayming Bow-Boy shot for you;  
Who rushing on me then in Fury came,  
And took me Prisoner in your Mighty Name.  
And so forth in Doggrel quite to the bottom: What can this LoveStuff mean? But hold, here's a Post-scribble, I think in Prose; what says this?  Reads. 
Dir Doctor, my Husbane is gone to Barnit this Ivining, and does not come back tell cummorro mornin; the Nits are long and called, and I am not accustom'd to lie alone, bein firful; I think no Parson so well quallifid to guard my Hon●…s, as you are, and therefore 〈◊〉 bold to beg your sweat Company to Nit, excuse this 〈◊〉 Lins, from her, who is always your most umbel Sarvant:  
Dorothy Crossit.  
This is some of her own Ingenious Style and Spelling; However, there's Sense enough in it to make me a Cornuto.  To Grace. 
Pray, Madam, what was your Ladyship to have for the Postage of this important Letter; what reversion of the next Satin Gown or Silk Petticoat have you been promised for this great Piece of Bawdy Service?  Grace. 
O Mercy, Mercy; Pardon me but this one time, and I'll never do so again.  Sir John. aside. 
That jealous Rogue, Lurch, who suspects all Wives as well as his own, was in the right I find.  To her. 
Well I will be Merciful for once to you, but on these Conditions, that you sincerely unravel the very bottom of this Intrigue to me; and Secondly, that you keep my Counsel, as you have kept my Wife's.  Grace. 
The bottom of the Intrigue is this; my Lady, who is deeply Enamoured of this ugly Fellow of a Doctor, went yesterday privately to the Change, and bought those dozen of Shirts you have discovered in the Band-Box; and ordered me just now to deliver them with this Letter, as a Present to him in her Name; the rest you may easily understand by the Letter you have Read.— I believe my good Angel was the cause of your unexpected return; for just at that very Moment when you surprised me, I had a qualm of Consclence, and was ready to wave my Commission. Thought I, what, shall I be accessary to the wronging so sine a Gentleman, as your Worship is, for the sake of that ugly Blackamoor Doctor. Thought I, I'll never do it:— Your Worship's a fine Gentleman: I wonder inded, how my Lady can have the Heart to fall in love with such an ugly Monster, when she has so fine a Gentleman as your Worship for her Husband.  Sir John chucks her under the Chin. Sir John. 
Well, well, I am glad to be thought so by thee, thou art a forward Girl, I have always had a particular Esteem for thee, and am resolved to continue it.  aside. 
The Baggage is full of Wit, and taking; I have had a liking to her long ago.  to her 
But d'you hear, if you intent I should Seal your Pardon, you must now do me a piece of Service.  Grace. 
Any thing, Sir, to serve you, and to show I intended you no wrong.  Sir John. 
Then thus; you must keep all secret from your Lady that has passed, or is to pass between us two: In the next place, you shall pretend to have delivered the Message and Present to the Doctor; and acquaint your Lady he will wait on her at the time appointed; and I instead of going to 〈◊〉 will take Possession of the Shirts, and play the Doctor in 〈◊〉 this very Night.  Grace. 
But how will your Worship do, not to be discovered who you are?  Sir John. 
Why thus: I intent to come late, and you shall order it so, that my Wife shall expect me in Bed; I shall have nothing upon me but a Nightgown, and when I am just ready to enter her Room, you shall immediately let the Light fall, or snuff it out, as by chance, so that I being undressed, and having nothing to do, but to step into the Bed to her, there will be no occasion of lighting the Candle again.  Grace. 
So far all goes well: But how will your Worship do not to be known by Talking, and in the Morning before your departure?  Sir John. 
That's easy still, for my Voice, when I talk in a whispering Tone, will not be distinguished. Then I intent to put on one of the laced Shirts, which will favour my design still more: As for my parting undiscovered in the Morning, thou know'st 'tis late before the day breaks this Winter Season, and I design to leave her before 'tis light, pretending fear of being seen to Morrow by the Neighbourhood, in the absence of her Husband.  Grace. 
You have answered all my Objections, and I promise to serve your Worship faithfully.  Sir John. 
Do so, and I'll not only forgive thee what's past, but also Reward thee Nobly— Be sure you take care your Lady knows nothing of this my sudden return by means of any in the Family.  Grace. 
There's no fear I believe of that, for she's retired to her Chamber, has there shut herself up, to Meditate, as she told me, and will speak to no body all this Afternoon but me; when I return as she imagines from the Doctor.  Sir John. 
Well, I'll slip aside till about Eleven at Night, at which Hour expect my Return, and get all things ready.  Exit. Grace. 
Your Worship shall be served punctually, leave it to my Management.  Exit.   

ACT III.  

SCENE in Lurch' s House.  Enter Mrs. Lurch, and her Maid. Mrs. Lurch. 

'TWas a Noble Entertainment Mr. Feewell made us, Retty▪ yet I fed my eyes more than my stomach;  
For every time I observed my Husband's head was turned from me,  
I immediately cast an amorous look on Mr. Feewell,  
Who seldom failed of catching it, and returning me another.  
What did not he ask me with his Eyes?  
What did I not grant him with-mine?  
Our Eyes spoke faster, and explained  
Such Thoughts no Tongues could utter:  
'Tis certainly a Language only of Angels, and of Lovers.  
Mr. Bellville was the best Friend I had at Table;  
He still plied my Monster of 〈◊〉 with so many  
Healths, and full Glasses, that he forced him  
By mere strength of Wine, and Argument of Bumpers,  
To change his natural ill humour for a good one,  
And become a sociable Beast in Company  
Yet he did not forget himself so much,  
But that as soon as Dinner was ended,  
He ordered a Coach to be got ready,  
And hurried me home along with him;  
And is gone to the other end of the Town to receive a sum of Money.   Betty. 
What would you say if Mr. Feewel should come to you now?  Mrs. Lurch. 

'Tis not impossible.  
For when I was going out of the Room where we were merry,  
I remember I heard the Company talk something of breaking up.  
Besides, I gave him a hint this very Morning,  
That my Husband was to go abroad.   Betty. 

This very morning I did as much,  
Fearing the Infallibility of Eye-Language  
Might fail in such Particulars;  
And told him, this hour your Husband was to go abroad.  
For which, like a well-bred Gentleman,  
He put a New Crown Piece into my hand;  
'Tis not the first I have had of him.   Mrs. Lurch. 

Then I am certain he will come,  
If the Company does not detain him.   Betty. 
I hope you'll be Civil to him, Madam, if he should come?  Mrs. Lurch. 

Oh, Betty, my heart's so full,  
And I find myself in such a Confusion,  
That I know not what I shall say to him if he should come—  
Love has put me so on the rack of Expectation,  
That I shall never be able to speak to him;  
And I'm afraid he'll mistake my silence for a rebuke,  
And be daunted in his Address.   Betty. 

Never fear, Madam, you'll sinned the benefit of your Tongue.  
We Women never lose the use of it,  
But in the Bed of Sickness, or of Love.  
But should you be as mute as a Fish,  
D'ye think Mr Feewel does not understand the hanging of the Lip,  
And the Languishing cast of an Eye half asleep?  
Besides, Men have more ways to the wood than one;  
When they see that Love and whining Passion will not work us,  
And that we expect to be put to the Question,  
They behave themselves like an undaunted General,  
Who, resolved to storm a Fort, admits of no Parley,  
And Puts all to the Sword.  
〈◊〉, hist, what footsteps do I hear?   Mrs. Lurch. 
'Tis Feewel, on my life; I tremble all o'er.  Betty. 

Let him come, we are two to one.  
We'll give him as good as he brings, never fear.   Enter Feewell. Mrs. Lurch. 
O Heavens! who's that, my Husband?  Betty. 
No, 'tis Mr. Feewel, Madam.  Mrs. Lurch. 

Sure Mr. Feewell has mistaken my Chamber,  
For that of his Cousin Landy.   Feew. 

Joy of my eyes, 'tis impossible I should mistake,  
When I have so sure a guide as Love to direct me.   Mrs. Lurch. 

You naughty Man,  
How durst you venture to come into my Chamber,  
When you knew my Husband was abroad, and I all alone?   Feew. 
That was the chiefest motive of my coming, Child.  Mrs. Lurch. 

If my Husband should find us two together,  
I am ruined for ever.   Feew. 

Therefore we must prevent his coming upon us,  
And dispatch my Love:  
'Tis no time now to discourse or think of an absent Husband,  
When a Lover's present;  
Come, prithee, I am in more haste than thou imagin'st.   Betty aside. 

He has the true knack of undoing us,  
He has such a pretty kind of way with him, no Woman can deny him.  
My Mistress is reduced to her Eye. Language already—  
Well, I'll take a turn in the Garden,  
And leave the Knight and the Enchanted Lady together.   Steals out. Mrs. Lurch. 

What, is the filthy Girl gone,  
And left me all alone with a Man?  
Why Betty, help, help, where are you? I darned call aloud now,  
For fear any body should hear me.   Aside. 

Why Betty, Betty.   Softly. Feew. 

Come, come, if Betty should hear,  
She has more wit than to answer;  
She knows you are in safe hands, come prithee, come this way a little,  
And do not put me to lug so hard, thou dear Creature.   Mrs. Lurch. 
Bless me, what do you mean to do, Mr. Feewell?  Feew. 

Why, I do mean to bless thee, and myself too;  
But in the first place, I intent to lock the door,  
And after that, to retire with thee into the next Chamber,  
And I'll tell thee the rest when I am there.   Mrs. Lurch. 

I hope you are a Man of Honour, Mr. Feewell,  
And intent me no harm,  
You see I trust you with my Reputation.   Feew. 

Ay, Child, I warrant thee,  
Thou shalt find that I am a true Man of Honour▪   As they are retiring, Lurch knocks, and cries without, open the door there. Mrs. Lurch. 
O my Husband, my Husband, what shall we do?  Feew. 

'Sdeath, I fancied the Devil would thrust in his horns,  
When you began to talk of him;  
Is there no place to hide me in?   Mrs. Lurch. 

No place but an old Armoury,  
And there he'll be sure to look in the first place.   Knocks louder, and bids open the door. Mrs. Lurch. 

All I can do, is to disguise you  
In some of the maids' clothes, that lie in the next Room.   Feew. 

Come, dispatch the Masquerade then, if there be no other way.  
But 'twill not do, unless we 〈◊〉 out fire, fire, and I sally in the smoke.   Mrs. Lurch. 

So, so, now get to that Corner—  
Rush out upon him.   Having dressed him in a 〈◊〉 and loose Scarves and Hoods, they cry out Fire, Fire, Fire. Mr. Lurch. 

Open the door, I say, open the door,  
Or I'll break it open.   She opens the door, crying Fire still. Mr. Lurch. 
Where, where? O my Papers, my Papers.  As 〈◊〉 enters, Feewell rushes out against him, and throws him down. Mrs. Lurch. 

I hope 'tis out again, 'twas but just begun;  
I was so suddenly frightened, that it made me cry out.   Enter Betty. 
O Betty! I hope the Fire's out?  Betty. 
Yes, Madam, you need not be afraid.  Lurch. 

A very sudden Fire, and as suddenly put out.  
There was a devilish strong dockt Jade gave me a broad side,  
And whirled me about like a Gigg;  
You had got a very lusty Lady, a Fortune-teller, I suppose,  
Or a Cuckold-maker in woman's clothes,  
Which amounts to the same thing.   Mrs. Lurch. 

If a Broom were dressed up in Woman's clothes,  
Your Jealousy would make a Man of it immediately.  
If you continue to mistrust my Virtue at this rate,  
I'll give you cause to do so in reality.   Lurch. 
I think that's pretty well performed already.  Mrs. Lurch. 

None but such a jealous head as yours,  
Could harbour such a suspicion. How came you, pray,  
To return so soon from t'other end of the Town?   Lurch. 

Because I remembered I was invited to a  
Burial that way, as you know 〈◊〉 morrow,  
And so I turned back, resolving to do it all under one.   Mrs. Lurch. 

No, 'twas your jealousy brought you back,  
Only to plague me with your hot-headed Fit▪  
Be as innocent as I will, I must be Condemned;  
You're a great Encourager of Virtue indeed;  
You ought in Conscience to ask my Pardon on your knees,  
And 'tis well I have the Charity to forgive you.   Lurch. 
Forgive me, very good, forgive me!  Mrs. Lurch. 

Yes, forgive you, for thus publishing  
Your own Folly, and my Dishonour.   Lurch. 
Excellent! come, we'll go in and consider the Matter; If any one wilfully destroys himself, they say he's felo de se, she shan't have cause to call me Cuckold de se, I'll not be Jilted out of my Care and Vigilance:  

Plots may be better laid, and then, if luck hold,  
I may ask Pardon for being made a Cuckold.   Exit.  

SCENE II. of the Third Act.  Enter Landy. Land. 

Sir Timothy has sent word he's coming.  
'Tis well, very well, Mr. Bellville must give way;  
A Knight, and 2000 per Ann. not to be resisted.  
Let Fools please themselves with empty Notions  
Of fine Parts, and outside Virtue.  
A dressed up fashionable Gentleman—  
All fading Fooleries, their value a Notion;  
Give me the solid lasting Properties  
Of Land, and Money— O here he comes.   Enter Sir Timothy, and Scrible. Sir Timothy, 

you are a punctual Man, I like it well,  
I love punctual Proceedings, Mr. Scrible.   Sir Tim. 

Nay, Sir, you shall always find me  
Tite and honest, plain-dealing, and steady;  
Gud faith, I'll no waverer.   Scrib. 

Sir Timothy hath hereby brought you  
A true and honest particular of his Estate.  
I have also prepared some short Particulars,  
With Blanks for either to Sign, if you so agree;  
For Sir Timothy is much taken with you Daughter, and is in haste.   Sir Tim. 

Why, look you Mr. Landy,  
(Father I hope that shall be) I am at a word, I hate delays,  
Besides, I would fain be rid of this smoky Town, so plaguy full of noise,  
That a Man had as good live in a Belfry when they ring a Peal,  
And things so strangely dressed, as if it were all a Poppet-show;  
I'll e'en thought I had met two or three Ghosts,  
They said they were the Sparks of the Town,  
And called them by a strange name, Boughs, or something like it;  
'Slid they looked as if they had been haled out of Meal-Tubs,  
Tom 〈◊〉 our Miller does not go more besinea●….   Land. 
For my part, Sir Timothy, I'like an honest plain Country Gentleman, there's no tricks covered in fine words to abuse one another; a Civil-war of Tongues in this Town rages perpetually.  Sir Tim. 
Nay, in good faith, I'll carry your Daughter to Peace and Plenty, and show you how well I like her, I'll make a Thousand a year Jointure.  Land. 
Enough, enough, good Sir Timothy, and I will give the Girl a Portion proportionably.  Scrib. 
It is then meet that you sign these short Articles accordingly.  Land. 

We'll retire to my Closet, and there finish.  
Come, Sir Timothy, good Fortune attend us.   Exeunt. Enter Bellville, and Feewell. Bell. 

They say this damned Image of a Knight  
Is come, with that Rascal Scrible.   Feew. 
Curse on 'em, what 〈◊〉 they make; 'slife they give us no time for invention, we might else try to bribe that Scribbling Cur, he would bark on any side for Money  Bell. 
I am so confounded, that my Thoughts justle and crowd one another into confusion.  
Look, Feewell;  Enter Mrs. Lucy. 
See where that Sunshine comes, overcast with a soft shower— O, my dear Lucy, while this gentle pity blesses my Soul with joy; the cruel fears of losing you, blasts all the springing Comfort, and withers into sorrow.  Lucy. 
How cruel is a Father, to make the Life he gave so miserable, as mine must be!  Enter Philadelphia hastily. Phil. 
O Mistress, we are all undone, I peeped into my Master's Closet, and there's the Bumkin Knight and he, Signing and Sealing, and that Ink-Bottle Rascal, busy in diverting the Papers.  Feew. 
This is worst of all.  Bell. 
I am lost beyond Redemption, there's no avoiding this ruin, unless fair Lucy will fly with me, and in my Fortune find shelter from this storm.  Lucy. 
Alas, I dare not! I cannot fly from that which Heaven makes my Duty.  Enter Servant. Seru. 
Mr. Bellville, there's a Gentleman without, come Post from the Country, who desires to speak with you.  Exit Servant. Bell. 
Let him come in—  

What should this be?   Enter eliot, Servant to Mr. Bellville ' s Uncle. 
How! eliot— what News with you?  eli. 
Very sad, Sir, at least to me, your Uncle my good Master is dead, and has left all his Estate to you, Real and Personal: 〈◊〉 ●… Letter from his Steward, Mr. Trusty, who keeps all things in qulet Possession for you, and desires you to hasten down with all the speed you can.  Bell. 
'Tis so— My Uncle was lately in good Health.  Bellville reads the Letter. eli. 
Yes, Sir, but died suddenly of an Appoplex, I lost a good Master.  Bell. 
And you have found another, if you please, eliot.  eli. 
I thank you, Sir, what order do you please to take for going?  Bell. 
D'ye know my Lodging, eliot?  eli. 
Yes, Sir, I was directed from thence to find you here.  Bell. 
Go thither then, and refresh yourself, I believe you have Rid hard, I have some 〈◊〉 that I must look after; but I'll come thither with all the speed I can, and then order every thing.  eli. 
I'll wait there for you, Sir.  Exit eliot. Feew. 
This is very unlucky, would this News had come a little sooner, this Argument would Convert the Old Gentleman to the Religion of our side.  Bell. 
But I fear 'tis gone too far.  〈◊〉. 
'Twill turn him again, and fet him, like a wind mill, to ●…all with the wind that changes, and turn off the Knight, as he did the Squire.  Lucy. 
But if he has Signed Covenants, he'll never venture the battle of a Suit of Law, he dreads a Writ, as he would a piece of Canon 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 him.  Feew. 
'Slife, how dull we are; yet if we could make him of our Party, there might be some contrivance to 〈◊〉 this Knight 〈◊〉 upon a wrong Adventure.  Studies. Lucy. 
'Tis possible this additional Consideration might incline his 〈◊〉 Prudence, but I fear 'tis too late.  Phill. 
Mistress, I have a Fancy come into my Head, that may do.  Bell. 
Prithee Phill, let's hear it.  Phill. 
Nay, 'tis a very pretty one, and tends to no less than to make myself a Lady.  Feew. 
On my Life, I have hit on the same fancy with Phill.  Phill. 
Mine is to pack the Cards upon him, and shuffle me to turn up instead of my Mistress.  Feew. 
Say no more, Phill, I have it all; thou art the Father, and I the Mother of this Plot; let me alone to shape it, now thou hast got it.  Bell. 
But dear Cousin Feewell, what is't.  Feew. 
Say no more, but let me alone with my Cousin Landy, you ●…ellville shall be Taught your Part in good time, and you Cousin Lucy have nothing to say, but to have and to hold, after the Parson.  Phil. 
You intent, I suppose, to draw my Old Master into the Plot. It cannot fail; he will certainly take the Bait, and then Mistress, I must take place of you.  Lucy. 
With all my Heart, Phill; thou dost deserve it for taking mine.  Feew. 
Come, no Words, nor Conjuring up Doubts, withdraw all, and leave me to Assault this Castle of Treasure, which is unfortified to hold out against such Batteries as I shall raise against him, observe well your Parts. One thing I had forgot; you Bellville, you must seem a little cold, as if your new Fortune, and being so ill used by him had chilled your passion for his Daughter; stay, give me the Letter, now be gone, while I wait for his bolting out.  Bell. 
Heaven prosper your attempt.  Exit Bellville. Feew. 
They are gone in time, see where the Squadron comes, led by Captain Scrible, having, I suppose, newly Signed the Treaty.  Enter Scrible first, Landy, and Sir Timothy. Scrible. 
Give you joy, Mr. Landy, and you, Sir Timothy; I suppose you have no business more for me at present, I must hasten and provide other Matters necessary for the Wedding.  Land. 
Do, good Mr. Scrible.  Exit Scrible. Sir Tim. 
Nay, I must about Matters too, in good faith; 〈◊〉 ●…mble the Parson, time, and place together, I long y faith to make Mrs. Lucy the Lady Shallow, and I'll return quickly.  Land. 
The sooner the welcomer, good Son, as I think I may now call you.  Sir Tim. 
And I hope I may call you Father, and get a little Son to make you a great Father.  Land. 
Lustily spoke i'faith, Sir Timothy, and I'll give it a Father's Blessing.  Sir Tim. 
And in good faith I'll hasten to get it, so farewell till then; I'll quickly come to fetch my Lady, to increase the Family of the Shallow.  Exit. Land. 
So, all goes well. Pretty i'! they would have persuaded me to take Ninepences for a Noble; very pretty i'faith. O 〈◊〉 Feewell, your Servant.  Feewell steps out. Feew. 
I waited to speak with you, Cousin.  Land. 
What, about the old Story? Pray Cousin Feeweell give off the pursuit of that Matter, 'tis a cold scent, and I am engaged, fully engaged.  Feew. 
I hope not, Sir, for 'tis a new Matter I have to acquaint you with.  Land. 
New Matter, pish, what new Matter! my Daughter's my Daughter, and my Care of her the same▪ and a Thousand a year is but a Thousand a year, and two Thousand is two Thousand; and I must desire Mr. Bellville to forbear further troubling himself, and me.  Feew. 
I wish, Sir, x may not too readily comply; he had your Promise, and I assure you, resents his injury.  Land. 
I think I did utter a hasty word, or so, but two Thousand a year is a very good Excuse:  Feew. 
But almost three Thousand is a better Argument.  
In short, Sir, I resolved, without Mr. Bellvill's leave, to acquaint you that his Uncle is dead, and has left him above Fifteen Hundred a year, besides a great Personal Estate.  Land. 
How, Cousin, sure this is a device?  〈◊〉. 
Read this Letter, and if your Opinion holds, you will repent what you now joy in.  Reads the Letter. Land. 
By my life 'tis so indeed; nay, I have heard his Uncle had such a fair Estate. O Mr. Feewell, what have I done?  Feew. 
I hope nothing but what may be undone.  Land. 
O yes, Cousin, that scribble scrable Rascal has fettered me in Articles, to get his Fee.  Feew. 
Not so fast, I hope, but that you may get loose.  Land. 
O impossible, they'll clap Writs upon me, and toss me into the Spiritual Court, where no flesh ever 'scap'd destruction.  Feew. 
I am very much troubled, is there no Remedy?  Land. 
O I would there were, Cousin, you know I ever esteemed Mr. Bellvill's Person.  Feew. 
I must confess I wondered you were so suddenly fond of this Knight, of the ill-favoured Countenance; besides, you knew your Daughter loved Bellville, some Consideration should have been had of her Content.  Land. 
Alas! 'twas for her sake; care of her, care of her; 'tis very unfortunate, had this News come but a day sooner.  Feew. 
That's not to be helped now, if I were you, I'd stand the 〈◊〉.  Land. 
No, Cousin, I'd as willingly Death should Arrest me as a Sergeant, and had as good almost fall into the hands of the Hangman, as the Lawyers; besides public shame, Cousin.  Feew. 
Would you be truly and heartily pleased, if a way might be found to set you safely free, and Bellville 〈◊〉 have your Daughter?  〈◊〉. 
Cousin, Cousin, with all my Soul, I have found this Knight to be Sir Shallow, indeed a very Coxcomb.  Feew. 
And will you steadily act in the 〈◊〉, if a handsome one be contrived?  Land. 
Most cheerfully, Cousin, trust me, most willingl with my best skill and power. But d'ye hear, Cousin, will not this great addition of Fortune, joined to the unhappy usage of Mr. Bellville, make him fly off?  Feew. 
'Troth he is something grumb upon the Matter, but 'tis possible his love for your Daughter may overcome.  Land. 
Persuade him, good Cousin, work him into easiness, and forgiveness; I always esteemed his Person, desire him to believe it from a penitent and hasty Father; good Cousin can you tell where we may find him?  Feew. 
Easily, Sir, for I left him taking his leave of his Mistress, I saw her begin to put finger in eye.  Land. 
Then I fear he'll fall off. Call 'em in, good Cousin, and assist me in that you say is your own design; call 'em in, good Cousin, and endeavour to soften him by the way; tell the Girl I charge her to look kindly 〈◊〉 him.  Feew. 
Well, Sir, I'll try my utmost—  
But be sure, Sir, to be very kind to him.  Exit Feewell. Land. 
Doubt it not in the least. Now am I to go to Sentence and Repentance, and my Penance will be (no doubt on't) an additional Portion; how this Earthquake of Land has shaken me? No matter, if the Plot be well laid, and succeeds, I shall be contented, and my poor Girl will be pleased. And I consider, when Riches give me leave, that the truth on't is, this Knight is a very Coxcomb, and my Daughter had been as well disposed of in a deep Well, as to this Shallow; what Troubles have I twisted myself into! O these Girls, these Girls, every one of them gives as much trouble as a Leash of Boys, they must be reared like Orange Trees in a cold Country, kept within doors, and carefully housed; what a happiness it would be for Parents, were there an Insurance-Office for getting Boys instead of Girls, any Wise Man would give Ten in the Hundred to have his Wife Insured. Soft, they come— I see my Cousin Feewell is working the Matter.  Enter Feewell, earnestly whispering with Bellville, Lucy and her Maid following. Bell. 
Have you any Commands for me, Sir?  Lan. 
I wish Mr. Bellville I had the power to Command you, but I am now the Petitioner for what you once desired.  Belt. 
I do not understand you, Sir.  Land. 
I think you once desired Lucy.  Bell. 
I did, Sir.  Land. 
And now, Sir, I desire you should have her.  Bell. 
Once indeed, Sir, you seemed to be of that mind, but presently I was forbid to hope that happiness.  Land. 
I was too hasty I confess, and if you still love my Daughter, she shall plead my excuse. Speak to him, huzzy.  Lucy. 
What should I say, Sir?  Land. 
What should I say! when I scrupled at your having Mr. Bellville; than you could interrupt me with your chattering, and now forsooth, you can't speak; look kindly on him, and win him into kindness and forgiveness.  Lucy. 
You hear, Mr. Bellville, what my Father says, if you love me still.  Land. 
Well said, my best Girl, i', that was a devilish look; can you resist it, Mr. Bellville?  Bell. 
I must ever love Mrs. Lucy, I dare not deny that powerful truth; but to what purpose is all this discourse? I hear you are engaged to Knighthood.  Feew. 
Then let me speak, I have promised my Cousin Landy to find a way to free him from that engagement; he joyfully consents to act his part in the Plot, and if you love Mrs. Lucy still; she shall be yours.  Land. 
With an addition of Portion, Mr. Feewell, to express my esteem of you.  Feew. 
Come, 〈◊〉, Mrs. Lucy shall be yours; but no more words, we'll in, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 our Design, which I think cannot fail; Phill is one of the Party, Sir.  Land. 
She's honest, I dare swear.  ●…il. 
At this time especially, when my own advantage Rewards me for it.  Feew. 
You must be sure, Madam Phil. that must be, under pretence of Modesty, to so order and muffle yourself with Hoods, that the Knight may not discover.  Phil. 
Trust that to my management.  Feew. 
〈◊〉 Mrs. Lucy, when the Knight comes next to make his last Claim, you must manage your Hoods so as to be a pattern for Phil. But now let's withdraw, and perfect 〈◊〉 Design.  Exit Bellville, leading Lucy.  

SCENE Changes to the Street.  Enter Lurch alone. Lurch. 
Well, I must rid myself of these Lodgers, for as long as they domineer, at this rate, I shall never be Master of my own House, or my Wife; at the end of this 〈◊〉 I shall 〈◊〉 old Landy to remove himself, his Daughter, and the rest of his Luggage; as long as they are here, this Feewell will have a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 upon my House, under pretence 〈◊〉 coming to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Landy. Besides, wherever a Rich young Heiress lives, all the young 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 and starched 〈◊〉 of the Town, come buzzing about that House all day long, like so many Bees about a Hive, and the Servants need have no other business, than to open the door to Penny-Post Men, and 〈◊〉 in the shape of Porters.  Enter feewell, and his Servant. Feew. 
Who dost thou 〈◊〉 gave this 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to thee?  Seru. 
Sir, it was given me by a Woman in haste, just at the turning of the last Street.  Lurch. aside●… 
〈◊〉 you so! This is Feewell, I know the voice. I'll venture to draw nearer, and observe him a little; 'tis late in the Evening, and 〈◊〉 not easily discover me.  Feew. 
At the Corner of the 〈◊〉 Street! 〈◊〉 thou so? I have a strong guess, before I open it, from whence it comes.  Lurch aside. 
So have I, I'll swear.  Feewell opens the Letter. Few. 
Yes, it is that Dear Creature, Lurch his Wife, as I imagined.  Lurch. aside. 
Yes, 'tis that dear Devil, as I imagined too.  Feewell reads 
Sir, To Morrow at Three of the Clock in the Afternoon, my Husband goes Abroad, to Accompany the Corpse of a deceased Friend; this is to let you know, I expect your Company in my 〈◊〉 at that 〈◊〉, begging that you would not omit so blessed an Opportunity.  Lurch. aside. 
To make me a Cuckold.  Feewell reads on 
I shall impatiently wait you at the Place appointed, 〈◊〉 without Seconds; if you are a Man of Honour do not fail me, who am yours, etc.  Lurch. 
No Seconds, said she? though, by her leave, I intent to make a third, to hinder the effusion of Christian Blood.  Feew. 
Yes, fair Inviter, I will meet thee.  
O thou dear expected Hour of Three in the Afternoon to Morrow, how long wilt thou 〈◊〉 coming? How shall I be able to pass my time away with Patience? To Night I'll go in search of Bellwille, or pick up some other intimate Acquaintance, with whom I may be free, and over a Glass of Lifegiving liquour, I'll heighten Humour, and Enjoy my Friend.  
To Morrow for my Mistress.  Exit with Servant. Lurch. 
Your Mistress, and my Wife— Hence forward I shall never wonder at these Billet-douxs, for being made up in the fashion of Horns— Blessed Opportunity, and Man of Honour— O sine Age!  
O dainty fine Age! O delicious Age!  
What a Wife of defiance have I got?  
O Husbands, Husbands, you that are fast in the Lobs-Pound of Matrimony, behold, and pity your Poor Fellow sufferer: Was it not sufficient that we entered the Prison voluntarily but we must bind ourselves over to such good Behaviour, and give such swinging Security for our staying there? We have all paid dearly for our Peeping and 〈◊〉.  

So have I seen a Mouse with Hunger spent,  
To the strong Parmesan's inviting scent  
Advance, and creep around the wiry Gin,  
That seems to fortify the Bait within▪  
At length (for nothing hazard, nothing hold,  
Hunger and Women make a Coward bold)  
The thoughtless Animal, resolved to dare,  
Ventures within the Matrimonial Snare:  
Down falls the Trap door of the teacherous House,  
And makes a Husband of that Captive Mouse.   〈◊〉. 
End of the Third Act.    

ACT IU.  

A Night Scene.  Enter Sir John 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 his Night Gown, and a dark Lantern in his Hand. Sir John. 
I Am got loose from her Ladyship at last! Never was Poor Man so put to it, to play the Lover with his own Wife! One such another Night, would have forced me to have crossed the Cudgels, and confessed the Husband in my own defence.  Enter Grace to 〈◊〉. Grace. softly. 
Sir John, Sir John, is it you?  Sir John. 
Yes, 'tis I, all that's left of me.  Grace. 
I heard your Worship come out of my Lady's Chamber; I hav'ned Slept a wink all this Night, for fear my Lady should have discovered you, and I was terribly afraid she had, because I heard her make a Noise, and cry out, as I thought— just when your Worship left her.  Sir John. 
Thou are in the right, the Outcry was made by my Wife, but not because she discovered me.  Grace. 
Why was it then?  Sir John. 
'Twas because I 〈◊〉 her a 〈◊〉 sort of a 〈◊〉 at my parting, instead of a more civil good Morrow, she might reasonably have expected from me.  Grace. 
I cannot comprehend your meaning, Sir.  Sir John. 
To be more 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, I have 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Marks of Remembrance behind me, on her Ladyship's Face, with these Ten Executioners, that the Doctor will not be able 〈◊〉 Cure them this Month, with all his Art; in short, I Counterfeited the Madman all 〈◊〉 sudden, rose from her Bed in a Clap of 〈◊〉, like 〈◊〉 from his Mistress, and have left such a storm of my Finger's ends on her Visage, that she writes no more Love-Letters in haste, I 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. But d'you hear; Go you up to your Lady immediately, and strive to 〈◊〉 her as well as you can, and above all, be sure you tell her, you have 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the Doctor is given to be Lunatic 〈◊〉 certain 〈◊〉. Go get you gone, you'll find I have locked the door upon her. In the mean time, I'll dress myself abroad in my Riding Habit, in order to return home again, as from the Country. Do as I bid you, and leave the rest to me.  Grace. 
Well, I will go to her, 〈◊〉 you have Commanded me, tho' I tremble at the approaching storm.  Exit. Sir John. 
(alone)  

This it is to have a Matrimonial Conduct.  
Happy were all the Husbands in the Nation,  
Could they, like me, put down th' old Horning Fashion,  
And follow this new Dance, as I have led it,  
Of Cuckolding themselves to save their Credit.   Exit. Enter Landy. Landy. 
The Plot's admirably laid, it can't miss, I can't but be pleased to think my poor Girl shall be pleased too. To say the truth▪ Mr. Bellvill's an honest Worthy Gentleman; she had almost as good have been coupled to one of his Hounds, as to this Knight; but he'll not be unprovided of a Wife; and o' my Conscience Phil. will make one good enough for him.  Enter Sir Timothy. Land. 
O Sir Timothy; welcome, I see you hasten Matters.  Sir Tim. 
In geud faith I'll have been used to pursue the Chase, when I like my Game.  Land. 
Nay, I must confess, I think Lucy is a fair Quarry.  Sir Tim. 
And 〈◊〉 run her down I 〈◊〉 you; I pray call my Mistress, I'll let her know I have provided all things, and the mickle Man of God waits ready for us.  Land. 
Without there, bid my Daughter Lucy come presently.  Landy calls for Lucy. Sir Tim. 
I'll quickly gang into the Country with her; I am here like one that has lost his way in the night. I hope, Father Landy, we shall see you at Shallow-Hall, 〈◊〉 faith the Bells ●…all twang it away, to bid you welcome.  Land. 
Thank you Son, all in good time.  Enter Lucy, with a Hood over 〈◊〉 face. 
Why, how now, what 〈◊〉 up? here's Sir Timothy come to carry you to Church, are you ready?  Sir Tim. 
Yes, Mistress, and i'faith I'll gang thither more 〈◊〉, than ever I did to say my Prayers.  Land. 
Why, how now Girl, look up; and speak to Sir 〈◊〉, what, whimpering 〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉? what say you, Girl, not a word?  Lucy. 
What you please, Sir.  Land. 
You must excuse her, she's so bashful she can't look up.  Sir Tim. 
'Tis the fashion when Women are going to be Married, they all seem fearful. Why, there was Jane 〈◊〉 of our Town, I was invited to the Wedding, she never held up 〈◊〉 head all the while, but whimpering, and 〈◊〉 she liked the Fellow well enough.  Land. 
Besides, Sir Timothy, you may excuse her, she's a fond Girl, and must leave a fond Father; come, hold 〈◊〉 thy head, my Child.  Sir Tim. 
No matter, Father, I'll warrant you, I'll blink upon her face hereafter, and gudfaith show it in the North, where there is ne'er such another; I'll carry them the Northern Star.  Land. 
Notably said, in troth.  Enter 〈◊〉 and Feewell. 
How now, Mr. Bellville, what brings you at this time of day?  Bell. 
You may easily guests, Sir, I come to demand my Right.  Land. 
Your Right, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 your Right?  Bell. 
Your 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 if you 〈◊〉 just 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 word.  Land. 
Mr. 〈◊〉, my Daughter's disposed of, and I am bound in Covenants to this Worthy Knight.  Sir Tim. 
'Tis e'en so, 〈◊〉, and I'll 〈◊〉 keep her.  Bell. 
You shall neither do't with ease or safety, I shall not quickly submit to such an injury.  Sir Tim. 
Nay, geud 〈◊〉, if you are angry, you may turn the 〈◊〉 of your Girdle behind you.  Bell. 
Are you, Madam, consenting to my injury and ruin?  Lucy. 
I must obey my Father, Sir.  Land. 
That's my good Girl. In troth, Mr. Bellville, I esteem you, and wish you well, heartily well 〈◊〉 and if you wish my Daughter well, I hope you will not 〈◊〉 to hinder her good Fortune; let that prevail with you to excuse me; Care of a Child, Mr. Bellville is excusable in a Father; I do not doubt, Sir, but 〈◊〉 Merits will make you happy in another.  Feew. 
Faith, Bellville, this is gone so far, that I could wish you might desist, if possible.  Land. 
I thank you, good 〈◊〉, I pray you good Mr. Bellville, you see? 'tis impossible for me to go back now.  Bell. 
But I can Sue you upon your I 〈◊〉.  Land. 
But I have Signed nothing.  Feew. 
Come, Bellville, a Lawsuit will but bring trouble to you 〈◊〉, let me beg you to desist.  Lucy. 
Since I must obey my Father, you will but 〈◊〉 a storm upon us all.  Bell. 
Nay, Mrs. since you are of the Party, I must submit.  Land. 
In 〈◊〉, Mr. Bellville, this is very kind, and I wish you had another Lady at the same time, to make you happy, 〈◊〉 I may 〈◊〉 your Wedding-Feast.  Feew. 
Why, on my 〈◊〉 that may be▪ if Bellville will; I know a Lady that has loved him long, and deserves 〈◊〉, or any one. Now to make all things clear, and that the World may see that you are dis●… from your Promise, I would propose that Bellville should be Mrs. Lucy's Father, and give her in the Church, and permit me to fetch the fair Lady that loves 〈◊〉 and I to be her Father, and give her Bellville at the same time.  Sir Tim. 
Geud faith, a rare Contrivance.  Bell. 
Since I have 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉 Mrs. Lucy, I can 〈◊〉 submit to all the rest.  〈◊〉 
I am for 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 you, Mr. Bellville.  Sir Tim. 
Y Gud Faith, Sir, I'll ever be your Servant; and if I should have the good For●… to see you at Shallow Hall, I'll make you welcome, and show you good Sport. I have good 〈◊〉, and a 〈◊〉 of good Hounds as 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 away; and when we have done our Chase, than what 〈◊〉 think we 〈◊〉 ye 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 e'en 〈◊〉 it away to my Neighbour Allens, and there 〈◊〉 off a 〈◊〉 of 〈◊〉 Ale, and all the while John Slouch, the 〈◊〉 Piper in the North of England, plays to us; and afterwards every one trips off a Jig cleverly away.  Feew. 
Who are your best Jiggers, Sir Ti●…?  Sir Tim. 
Geud Faith, I have a man without, e'en 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, that feet it as well as the best.  Feew. 
Pray, Sir Timothy, oblige us all with the fight of it.  Sir Tim. 
Marry, with all my Heart: Call in my man Jonny.  Enter Johny Thump. Come Johny: 
Geud Faith you must trip a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 my 〈◊〉▪  Johny. 
〈◊〉 can they play John 〈◊〉 his 〈◊〉?  Feew. 
Yes, I warrant you: Strike 〈◊〉 there.  They play Stoakes ' s Jig. He 〈◊〉. Land. 
I protest, Son, you are a 〈◊〉 Gentleman, you have half celebrated your own Wedding.  Feew. 
Come, let's dispatch then, for I am to 〈◊〉 a Bride too.  Land. 
Come, Child, make yourself ready; you'll acquaint them, Sir Timothy, where they must come.  Feew. 
Ay marry, and fetch the 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 meet 〈◊〉 at the Church-Door.  Land. 
Go, Lucy, and make yourself ready. So, 〈◊〉, prosperity attend you; and in 〈◊〉, you Mr. Bellvile, in your new Lady.  Exit Lucy. 
—— Excellent, it goes smoothly on all. I'll send and invite my Friends, especially Sir▪ John Crossit and his Lady, and 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 his Wife.— 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉; Lucy: will have 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. They that have most Wealth, have most Worship: I remember a most pertinent parcel of Verses on the Subject of Riches.  

All 〈◊〉 ●…sides is poverty: with Gold,  
Wit, Virtue, Courage, Honour, bought and sold.  
E'en Jove once doubting his Almighty power.  
〈◊〉 his Mistress in a Golden shower.   Exit.  

SCENE the Third, which opens, and 〈◊〉 Lady Crossit in an Undress.  Lady Crossit and her Women come forward on the Stage. Lady Crossit. 
O Grace, I am undone for ever, This Devilish inhuman Doctor has ruined my Face to that degree, 'twill never be my own again! What could move this Cruel Monster to use me thus?  Grace. 
Madam, I 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 told for 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 I 〈◊〉 gave credit to it till now; that 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 some very extravagant. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  L. Cross. 
It must be so, Grace; for no man living, in his right Senses, would have 〈◊〉 a Woman at such a 〈◊〉: A Woman that loved him too passionately— O my Face!  Grace. 
Ah! poor Lady, my very Heart bleeds for you: Did you perceive no 〈◊〉. Madam, lin 〈◊〉, Senses, no alteration of his Carriage before the Morning?  L. Cros. 
None, that I remember; no discomposure of his Carriage, but what was very agreeable. I had no cause to complain of him the first part of the Night.  Grace. 
These men who study hard, are often given to odd Fancies, and 〈◊〉 Madness; but to show it in such an unnatural way, is something more than one would have suspected.  Enter a Servant. Serv: 
Madam, Sir John is 〈◊〉 from 〈◊〉▪  L. Cros. 
O Grace, what shall I do now▪ What Excuse shall I make for my Face? say quickly, or I am ruined for ever; Sir John will ask me twenty questions why I am so bepatched.  Grace. 
Tell him any thing, Madam; that you have had a Fit of the Vapours, the Swimming in the Head, and have got a Fall, and so hurt your 〈◊〉, or any thing 〈◊〉 that comes 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Head first; if a Woman sets herself to 〈◊〉, she? 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 an 〈◊〉 worth a 〈◊〉.  L. Cros. 
I am so distracted, I can 〈◊〉 think or say any thing.  Grace. 
Lay yourself down quickly then, and receive Sir John in your Bed, as becomes your 〈◊〉.  L. Cros. 
Had I received no other, besides Sir John, I had never been so 〈◊〉. I 〈◊〉 my 〈◊〉.  Grace. 
Hark, I hear him 〈◊〉; 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 to accost him, and put the best Face on the Business I 〈◊〉.  Enter Si●… John as: from the Country. Sir John. 
What ails your Lady, Grace? the Servants tell me she is very ill.  Grace. 
O Sir! there's my poor Lady; she has had a most violent Fit of the Vapours, and spoiled all her Beauty with an unlucky fall.  Sir John. 
Ah my poor Dear; how is it? are you not 〈◊〉— with fulling?  L. Cros. 
Ah Sir John, my Face, my 〈◊〉, my Face, has received all the 〈◊〉; my 〈◊〉 is 〈◊〉 very Soul of my Body; I am hurt in the very Soul, 〈◊〉 John.  Sir John Aside 
I find Women have 〈◊〉 then.  to her 
〈◊〉 shall we 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 you, my 〈◊〉? 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 find your 〈◊〉?  L. Cros. 
Troubled with a 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, Sir John.  Sir John. 
But has not the Doctor been with you yet.  〈◊〉. 〈◊〉. 
O no, Sir John▪  Sir John. 
Why, what a neglect's that? 〈◊〉, look 〈◊〉 your Lady, that see she wants nothing, while I myself go for the 〈◊〉.  L. Cros. 
No Doctor, I beseech you, my Dear; done't put yourself to these perpetual Expenses.  Sir John. 
I take it unkindly of you, my Dear, that you should think I grudge to give a Guinea or two to do you good; my whole Estate is too little for such a Wife.  L. Cros. 
You'll ruin yourself with Doctors Fees. O Sir John, Sir John!  Sir John. 
Ay, ay, my Dear; I'll look all over the Town, but 〈◊〉 find him out, and send him to you immediately; 〈◊〉 have patience a little, and 〈◊〉 send him to you.  Exit. L. Cros. 
What Grace, must I see this Devil of a Doctor again, after all my 〈◊〉? I shall tear his Eyes out of his Head, if ever I light on him, and revenge the Wrong he has done to my Face on hi●…  Grace. 
And so I would, Madam, and repay it with Usury.  L. Cross. 
And so I will, Grace; therefore I charge you get a 〈◊〉 of my Footmen ready with stout Oaken Plants: But he'll never be so bold to approach me, sure, not even to come near the House.  Grace. 
It may be he has forgot what he has done in his mad fit, and may come; 〈◊〉 if he does, let me alone to prepare a substantial Bastinading for him.  L. Cros. 
O, I am so afraid of Visitants! Give Orders to all the House, that I'll see no body; I'll see no body this half Year: O this Face that has Captivated so many, is ruined itself.  Exeunt. Enter Mrs. Lurch and her 〈◊〉 Mrs. Lurch. 
So, Betty, now we have caused the great Chest to be brought from the other Room into this, and got the 〈◊〉 of Ropes ready, let Mr. Feewell come when he will, I am prepared to receive him without fear of being discovered by my Husband: This Plot is so well laid, it cannot but take— When Husbands grow Jealous, they only put us to the trouble of being so much the more Ingenious, and working the Web of our Designs finer. How long is it, Betty, since my Husband has been gone to the Burial?  Betty. 
About half an Hour, Madam.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Is't possible, 'tis no more: O what a sweet half Hour of Love's lost by Feewells not making more haste to take his share of it!  Betty. 
'Tis scarcely yet the Hour you appointed him.  Mrs. Lurch. 
When will that dear Hour come?  Betty. 
Immediately, Madam, have but patience.  Mrs. Lurch. 
O, 'twill never come till he comes!  Betty. 
Then 'tis already come, for here he is.  Enter Feewell. 〈◊〉. 
Am I not 〈◊〉 daring Lover, in venturing to mount that breach a second time, where I lately 'scap'd a scouring so narrowly?  Mrs. Lurch. 
And to appear a Confessed Man, whereas before you were glad to 〈◊〉 off in the opprobrious Shape of a Woman.  〈◊〉. 
Love, Child, can do all things; Almighty Love, that Transform'd the Gods into Birds and Beasts, and all other sort of Living Creatures.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Transformed your Worship into a Chambermaid.  
If I 〈◊〉 not, there is another God called Fear, altogether as Powerful, which worked this last wonder, and diminished you from the stronger Sex, to the weaker.  〈◊〉. 
Fear that thy Husband should have discovered thee, no other: But whatsoever Fear diminished in me then, Love has restored me now, I can tell thee; and 〈◊〉 thou hast any doubts left concerning my Sex, I am come on purpose to clear 'um.  Mrs. Lurch. 
You had as good let the Trial alone, I shall make a Woman of you the second time; for my Mind misgives me terribly, and I know not why, that my Husband will return upon us unexpectedly as he did before, and if he should, you'll be changing Sexes again: But for your Comfort, I have taken Compassion on you this time, and found out a securer Retreat than you made use of before; I have prepared a Ladder of Ropes, not a Rope and a Ladder for you; by which, if my Husband should surprise us, you may easily escape out of my Bedchamber Window into the Garden, and then let yourself out, through a back door, into the Street: As for that Chest you see there, 'tis a Trap for my Husband, if he should 〈◊〉 untimely to disturb us.  Feew. 
Prithee tell me no more, I know too much already, and would not think myself secure in my Enjoyment; It's difficulty and danger, make an 〈◊〉 pleasant.  Lurch knocks at the door softly. Betty. 
Madam, some body knocks at the door.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Bless me! Who can it be? My Husband would have knocked louder, and with more Authority; go to the door softly, and listen a little: How I tremble all over?  Betty goes to the door. Lurch from without in a Woman's Voice. Lurch. 
Will my Lady buy any Ribbons or Gloves to day?  Betty. 
Madam, we are undone; on my Life it is my Master, who feigns a Woman's Voice; it must be so, for I am sure I have turned away the Ribbon Woman once to day already: I am certain 'tis a feigned Voice.  〈◊〉. 
Then I suppose, I must in good Manners betake myself to the Ladder of Ropes, and scamper.  Mrs. 〈◊〉. 
You must so, and that without delay, there's no help for't; but if the Plot I have laid succeeds, I'll not be long from you.  Feew. 
That's all my Comfort; what Noses these Husbands have got! this is the second time this old Bowman has smelled me out.  Mrs. Lurch. 
〈◊〉.  Feew. 
What so coldly must we part! By Heavens, I must have the pleasure of ravishing a Kiss or two, now thy 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 venged on him!— O, I could dwell here for ever!  Mrs. Lurch. 
Go, get you gone, till you can Kiss 〈◊〉. Betty, 〈◊〉 him quickly to escape, and leave me to manage this Ribbon Woman.  Feewell and Betty go into the 〈◊〉 Chamber. Lurch knocks again. Mrs. Lurch. 
Who's there?  Lurch. 〈◊〉 a Woman's Voice 
'Tis your 〈◊〉 Glove-woman▪ I have the finest scented Gloves, and new fashioned Ribbons, no Man in Europe has finer.  Mrs. Lurch. 
So, 〈◊〉 has discovered himself, 'tis he, now I must play him 〈◊〉 trick.  She speaks, that her Husband may overhear her. 
Betty, why don't you make more haste? the 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉; lock the Chest upon him quickly, quickly.  To her 〈◊〉 
I have no need of 〈◊〉 Gloves or Ribbons, at present, 〈◊〉, I am 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 here another day.  At the door▪ Re-Enter Betty. Betty. 
Madam, all's safe, you may open the door to your Husband 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 please; the Bird's flown.  Mrs. Lurch. 
That's well; but we must endeavour to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Lurch 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 
Who's 〈◊〉 knocks so loud and impertinently?  Lurch. in his own Voice 
'Tis I my Dear; I want something in your Chamber, let me in quickly.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Betty, open the door to your Master.  〈◊〉 opens the door, and Lurch rushes 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 it, she 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Lurch. 
What does you Conscience misgive you 〈◊〉 that you dare not look a Blunderbus in the Face?  
John, 〈◊〉, Thiefs, Thiefs.  Calls out. Enter John and Thomas. John. 
Where, Sir, where?  Lurch. 
Hid in the House; 〈◊〉 every Corner, and under the Bed, carefully I charge you.  Exeunt. 
I heard her say, lock him in the Chest quickly; he must be in that Chest there.  
The Chest shall be my Throne.  Gets on the Chest 
Where I sit and reign over this Slave and Cuckoldmaker; the King on Horseback in the Stock-market, that tramples on Heretics and Pagans, is but a Type of me, that triumph over the living 〈◊〉— Now, Mistress, if you have not a mind to have some Pills discharged into your Stomach, to 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Amorous 〈◊〉, tell me immediately and directly, 〈◊〉 you have hid that Robber of my Honour.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Whom d'ye 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Lurch. 
You know, Minx, well enough 〈◊〉 I mean; I mean Feewell, that Polluter of my 〈◊〉 and 〈◊〉 of my 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Mrs. Lurch. 
How should I know?  〈◊〉: 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. Lurch. 
I believe 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, and 〈◊〉 too; but what does this Chest do here? it uses to stand in another Room.  Mrs. Lurch. 
O my Dear, I have put some Table Linen in it, and other things, and had it brought into this Room, to be readier at hand.  Lurch. 
Where is the 〈◊〉 of it? give me the Key.  Mrs. Lurch. 
You have put 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉 a 〈◊〉, I know not where I laid it; 'tis well I am not with 〈◊〉, 〈◊〉 a fright would 〈◊〉 have made me 〈◊〉.  Lurch. 
〈◊〉, what of a 〈◊〉? if 〈◊〉 you 〈◊〉 with Child, I'm resolved to plead 〈◊〉 Guilty, in the face of the World, declare it a Bastard from, the beginning, and proceed to 〈◊〉 it 〈◊〉 'tis Born. Come, come, without delay, deliver me the Key of 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Nay, prithee, my Dear, 'twill be so 〈◊〉; I have things there, I 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Lurch. 
I 〈◊〉 indeed, there 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 that you will want very often.  〈◊〉 two 〈◊〉. 〈◊〉. 
We have 〈◊〉 every 〈◊〉, and can 〈◊〉 nothing like a Thief.  Lurch. 
〈◊〉, be 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 keep the 〈◊〉 〈◊〉; then he  Exit. 
must be here waiting 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 the resurrection of the Flesh; come, the Key I say, or do you see this?  Holds the Blunderbuss at her. Mrs. 〈◊〉. 
Yes, 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, if you please; you have murdered my Honour already, by your base Jealousy; all the World thinks 〈◊〉 made you a Cuckold.  Lurch. 
Then all the 〈◊〉 in the 〈◊〉.  Mrs. Lurch. 
'Tis 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 makes you one▪ you had best kill me, and be hanged for it.  Betty. 
Good Sir, don't hold the Gun so against my Mistress; Lord! if it should go off.  Lurch. 
〈◊〉 her give me the Key then.  Enter Sir John Crossit. Sir John. 
Why how now, Mr. Lurch, Armed, and in a furious Warlike posture?  Lurch. 
Yes, Sir John, I am upon my guard, being near the Enemy.  Sir John. 
What Enemy, Mr. Lurch, I see none but your Wife?  Lurch. 
Why that's one, the other is enclosed here in this Fortification; but I shall storm it.  Sir John. 
Fie, Mr. Lurch, your 〈◊〉 makes you fancy it.  Lurch. 
Sir John, I never saw a Marriage in all my life, but a Cuckold-Maker belonged to it; every Husband is as sure of his evil Genius, as having a shadow when the Sun shines on him. A Cuckold-Maker is as inseparate from our Calling, as an Apothecary from a Doctor of Physic he Prescribes, but the Apothecary Administors'.  Sir John. 
Fie, Mr. Lurch, you grow Extravagant.  Lurch. 
Let her give me the Key then.  Mrs. Lurch. 
There are womens' things in it, not fit to be seen.  Lurch. 
I believe so, truly; now Sir John, do you perceive, Sir John▪ look you Mrs. no more delays, if you'll not open the door, I'll fire upon the Castle.  Offers his Blunderbuss at the Chést. Mrs. Lurch. 
Hold, hold, Sir; here Betty, give him the Key.  Betty. 
There 'tis, Sir, now for your Discovery.  Mrs. Lurch. 
So, have you found this mighty Enemy▪  Lurch opens the Chest hastily. Sir John. 
Nay, Mr. Lurch, this is so unreasonable, are you not ashamed?  Mr. Lurch. 
I had ears sure— this is odd, very odd.  Sir John. 
Fie, Mr. Lurch, come ask your Wife forgiveness, and use her more like a reasonable Man.  Lurch. 
Why, I confess I did believe she had made me a Beast; come, Sweet heart, we'll forget, and forgive.  Mrs. Lurch. 
And how long will you continue reasonable?  Lurch. 
As long as you please to let me; come, my Dear, no more skirmishing, Peace is concluded, and I'll present thee with a handsome New Gown, and the Appurtenances, as a Testimony of my Reconciliation.  Sir John. 
Well said, Mr. Lurch, and now prepare for Mirth and Jollity; we shall be presently Invited to Mrs. Lucy's Wedding, and Mr. Landy has prepared a mighty Feast.  Mrs. Lurch. 
Send him a happy Voyage through the uncertain ways of Matrimony.  

Constant severeness that warm Sex inflames,  
The wildest Haggards gentle Manning tames:  
Too much ill usage, and to want all trust  
Raises Revenge, to make their Crimes seem just.     

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  
Lady Crossit' s Antichamber.  Enter Grace alone. Grace. 
THere lies my Lady in the next Room, Railing at, and Cursing the Doctor, and Swearing she'll tear him to pieces if he durst come near her, and it cannot be long before he must come.  Enter Doctor Lorman. 
O Doctor! you are Born under a Lucky Planet, you are the happiest Man; my Lady thinks it an Age till she sees you! But we must speak softly, she's run half Mad for you; well, 'tis most certain, you are a most taking Man with the Ladies; and you know mine in particular, has always had an Esteem for your Person, she does nothing but sigh all day for you, I believe poor Lady she'll run Mad; but you must be secret, or you ruin all, you know there's a Husband in the case.  Dr. Lorm. 
Poor Lady, she needs not fear, I took an Oath to be secret, when I was Sworn Doctor: Alas! she is not the first Lady who has fallen in love with my Person, one half of my Women Patients are in her Condition.  Grace. 
I must inform you, that my Lady has had the Misfortune to hurt herself a little with a fall, as you'll see by her Face, and has taken that occasion to feign herself 〈◊〉 for your sake, has sent her own Husband to fetch you, and lies on her Bed in the next Chamber, expecting your happy Arrival; I blush to say more, but you may guests the rest.  Dr. Lorm. 
What her Ladyship has a violent sit of the Vapours, I warrant, is it not? Well, let me alone with her Ladyship.  Grace. 
But hold, do you Entertain yourself in this Room; while I acquaint her that you are come, as I am ordered: If the violence of her Passion should cause her to be extravagant in her Actions, you are not to be surprised, now I have told you how excessively she loves you.  Dr. Lorm. 
Never fear, I can be as Extravagant as she is; I like an open barefaced Love that confesses itself; the more manifest the Disease is, the more easily the Remedy is applied.  Grace. 
Expect here a Moment then, and you shall be admitted immediately, I must use you now like a Lover, and not like a Doctor.  Exit. Dr. Lorm. 
Doctor or Lover, Lover or Doctor, Student in Physic, or Student in Love, are Synonimous. We Doctors of Physic, have a large Cure of Bodies, an unlimited Prerogative over Flesh and Blood.  Enter Lady Crossit. 
But here's my Patient! Hem! Hem! Now to show my skill in managing an extravagant sit of Love: Now to show myself a Physician of Parts. Hem! Hem!  L. Crossit. 
Where is this Devil? Where is this cruel, inhuman, barbarous Monster?  Dr. Lorm. (in a soft voice) 
Here am I, no Devil, but a Man; a kind, yielding, melting Lover.  (aside) 
she's in a desperate taking: Hem! Hem! How she stares on me, and devours me with her Eyes.  The Doctor scts his Wig in order, and smiles on her. L. Crossit. (aside) 
What does the Villain jeer and laugh at me after all; O Devil! Devil! Let me come near to thee, that I may revenge myself for all I have suffered.  Dr. Lorm. (getting loose from her) 
Hold, hold, a Truce.  (aside) 
she's in a furious fit of Love I see; the Old Philosopher was in the right— Prima Coitio est acerrima, The first Engagement is the sharpest. Truce, Truce, a little, and I'm for you again.  Lady Crossit follows him round the Stage, with her Arms stretched out as before, and the Doctor makes the more haste to unbutton himself. L. Crossit. 
O Impudent Devil! Monstrous Hellhound▪ a Rape! Help! Help!  Servants come in with Cudgels, and bastonade him round the Room. Dr. Lorm. 
Treason! Treason! Murder! Mercy! Murder! O my Crevat and Periwig! What shall I do? My Profession's spoiled for ever!  L. Cros. 
Monster! Devil! Pound him, break his Bones, beat him to a Jelly!  Enter Sir John Crossit. Sir John. 
What all the House in an uproar! Hold there, and let me know what's the Matter amongst you; who's that Fellow undressed there?  L. Crossit. 
O my Dear, a Monster, that would have offered Violence to my Virtue; would have ravished me, but for the Servants who came in to my assistance.  Sir John. 
Speak, Monster of Monsters; what art thou?  Shaking him by the Collar. Dr. Lorm. 
O, Sir John, your most humble Servant,  
I am a Doctor of Physic, my Name's Lorman,  
Sir John, your most humble Servant.  Enter Grace. Grace. 
Dr. Lorman, what, a Doctor of Physic Practising undressed; is it you, good Doctor, who would have thought it! I could have sworn Butter would not have melted in his Mouth, by his fine Talking!— Well, I shall always suspect the worst of a fine Talking man, that can do nothing but Talk finely, for his sake.  Dr. Lorm. (aside) 
Now I begin to see day a little, the Lady is Literally run Mad for Love, and in this mad fit, she thinks I am some Monster or other, and has treated me accordingly: But I must frame some plausible Excuse, to save my Credit and Doctoral Authority, if the aching of my Bones, will permit me to Harangue.  To Sir John. 
Honoured, Sir, I imagine you are not a little surprised, as also, your much Honoured and Virtuous good Lady; who by this time, I dare aver, is returned to her good Senses again, to behold a Person of my Coat at this present in disorder: But when you shall have understood the Reasons I had to put in practice this Mysterious Operation; I promise myself, you will not only hold me guiltless of any ill designs, but also applaud my Conduct and Physical way of Proceeding in a Matter of so weighty Consequence.  L. Crossit. (aside) 
What, is the Villain going to discover all? What can this mean?  Dr. Lorm. 
Perceiving at my first Entrance. But first let me beg the favour of perusing my Habiliments again.  Sir John. 
By all means, pray let the Dr. peruse his Habiliments.  
Doctor  (dresses himself, and speaks.) 
Perceiving at my first Entrance, as I was saying, that your very honoured and virtuous good Lady's indisposition— Sir John, may I beg the favour you would be pleased to order one of your Attendants to restore my Periwig to its former decorum.  Sir John. 
By all means, Doctor; who's there? give the Doctor's Wig to my Valet to revive it a little.  Dr. Lorm. 
Perceiving at my first entrance, as I was saying, that—  Sir John. 
I pray dispatch, for my Wife's indisposed, and wants repose.  Dr. Lorm. 
Now I am a Doctor of Physic again, and can harangue.  L. Cros. 
How the Villain holds me in suspense.  Aside to Grace. 
O, Grace, I am ruined for ever, if he produces the Letter I sent him.  Grace. (softly to L▪ Crossit.) 
Never fear, Madam, let him go on, I warrant we have Cudgeled him into discretion.  Dr. Lorm. 
Hem, hem, perceiving at my first entrance—  Sir John. 
He's perceiving at his sirst entrance again; what did you perceive at your first Entrance?  Dr. Lorm. 
That your honoured and good Lady's indisposition had troubled and diverted the right course of her senses, which I soon discovered by a disorderly stare, or rolling of her eyes; it immediately came into my head, to restore your Lady's health, by playing a piece of ingenious Extravagance; upon which, incontinently I fell to undressing and dismantling myself—  Grace. 
Yes, incontinently indeed, Doctor!  Dr. Lor. 
And threatened to assault your Virtuous Lady by way of a Rape; but as I hope to receive a Fee to day, without any sinister intention, Sir John, your good Lady's natural inclination to Virtue, restored her to her right senses again; caused chiefly by the fright with which I struck her good Ladyship, for I had put on a look as fierce as that of a Centaur.  Sir John. 
That is to say, of a Horse Doctor, by way of Parenthesis only.  Dr. Lorm. 
Sir John, I am your most humble Servant; but I am a Member of the Reverend College.  Enter a Servant. Seru. 
There's a Footman without, who inquires for Dr. Lorman, says he comes from my Lady Lackit, who lies dangerously ill, and desires the Doctor would come to her immediately.  Dr. Lorm. (aside.) 
She's a very impertinent Lady, I am not in a Condition of serving her at present, but I'll make use of this pretence to go home, and apply Salves and Ointments to my back and sides.  (to Sir John.) 
Sir John, I am heartily sorry I am interrupted by the Request of this Lady, for my Personal Appearance to relieve her, and that I have not leisure to dilate on this wonderful Cure I have wrought to day morning on your very Virtuous, and much honoured Lady.  L. Crossit. 
I can assure you, Doctor, I woned rather have chosen to have remained indisposed, than to be Cured 〈◊〉 such an undecent and 〈◊〉 way, it has put me in such a fright.  Grace. To her softly 
Admirably well Counterfeited, Madam.  D. Lorman. 
There is a virtuous Wife for you; Sir John, you are very happy in a virtuous Lady.  L. Cros. Aside. 
〈◊〉 seem to be sorry for his being beaten to satisfy my Husband (to D. Lorman) I am infinitely concerned, Doctor, that you have received so 〈◊〉 a Recompense for the great service you have done me to day. My Servants beat you like a very Stockfish.  D. Lorm. 
Dear Madam, never trouble yourself for that, the Credit I shall gain in the World for this Operation, will make me sufficient amends. I aim at Fame— Madam, Hercules gained Heaven by his Club; and I mount up to the top of Fame and Heaven of Reputation, by means of the Cudgel, like a second Hercules— But I must take my leave of you now, Sir John, to wait on this Patient, who expects me; she is a Lady of Quality, and must be served punctually.  Sir John. 
You have more need to look after yourself, Doctor; you must of necessity have received some damage in your outward Man.  D. Lorm. 
Nothing at all, Sir John, a trifle, a Rib or two of lesser note broken, or so, nothing else, on my word, a mere Trifle, Sir John, and Madam, your most humble Servant.  Sir John offers him a Fee. D. Lorm. 
Sir John, I wonder you'll put yourself to this trouble, suspend your Favours till I have done your Lady some further service.  Sir John. 
But for the beating, Doctor, you must accept it indeed.  D. Lorm. 
You are so obliging, Sir John! well, I'll protest I'll have nothing from you, for my next Visit. Sir John, and sweet Madam, your most humble Servant.  Exit Doctor. Sir John. Aside. 
So he said the very last time he was here; so far by the help of my own Wit, and Grace's assistance, I have carried it victoriously, not only satisfied myself on the Body of him that might have made me a Cuckold, but also revenged myself bodily on my Wife, that would have made me a Cuckold.  
Come Sweet heart, how does your Face?  La. Cros. 
O Sir John, so torn and scratched.  Sir John. 
Scratching is an Appendix to Caterwauling.  L. Cros. 
How, Sir?  Sir John. 
Your Doctor, Madam, was justly beaten for his wonderful Cure, but he was to have cured you another way.  L. Cros. 
I know not what you mean.  Sir John. 
You may understand without my telling you.  L. Cros. 
What should I understand?  Sir John. 
Your own Folly.  L. Cros. 
Ah me.—  Sir John. 
No more, you must understand me now. The Letter and Shirts 〈◊〉: I have 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, your 〈◊〉 would 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 you than Excuses, or seeming 〈◊〉.  L. Cros. 
Oh Sir John, Can you forgive me?  〈◊〉. Sir John. 
I'll try.  L. Cros. 
By all my hopes of good, I'll never more injure you in a Thought.  Sir John. 
'Tis well, rise and compose yourself, for we are invited by Landy, to his Daughter's Wedding, they are ready to 〈◊〉 from Church.  L. Cros. 
I hope, Sir, you will not carry me in this Condition.  Sir John. 
Yes, but I will, or else worse Interpretation may be made of it; no more words, I must be obeyed in this; I have hid your shame and mine: Henceforth, be your own Doctor, and prescribe yourself a Constant use of Virtue.  

For that Receipt ne'er failed of doing good,  
And Cures the looser Fevers of the blood.   Exeunt. Enter Landy. Land. 
By this time Lucy has her Wishes, and I have mine; if the Plot should be discovered, I hope Bellville has too much mettle to lose his Mistress; the Knight will look as blank as a Cutpurse, that finds no Money in the place he searched for— No matter, 'tis not the first Game he has lost, and Phill will stand him another very good Chase.  Enter Mr. Lurch and his Wife. O Mr. 
Lurch, you are welcome, heartily welcome, and your fair Partner too; they are coming, Mr. Lurch, with your Letters about 'em.  Lurch. 
I wish they may prove Easy to all, especially to fair Mrs. Lucy.  Mrs. Lurch. 
She deserves all Happiness.  Land. 
I thank you both.  Enter Sir John Crossit and his Lady. Sir John, 
Welcome good Sir John, and your good Lady too, what is not your Lady well?  Sir John. 
She has got an unhappy fall, Mr. Landy, and very much hurt her Face, but her respect to you and Mrs. Lucy, forced her to come, notwithstanding her unfit Condition.  Land. 
In Troth, Madam, I am very much obliged to you, the new Married People, I believe, are near upon returning.  Sir John. 
Mr. Bellville will be a happy man.  Land. 
None, Sir, my Daughter is to be a Lady.  Sir John. 
How, a Lady?  Mr. Lurch. 
This is very strange.  Land. 
'Tis very true, Sir, a Northern Knight, one Sir Timothy Shallow, has outbid Mr. Bellville by a Thousand a Year.  Sir John. 
I wish Mr. Landy that you are not bribed to make your Daughter unhappy.  Land. 
I have known many, Sir John, very unhappy by being too Poor, but never any by being too Rich.  
Harke—  
I hear 'em coming.  Soft Music. Enter ●…well like Hymen, going before; Sir Timothy and his Lady, and Bellville with his. Feew. 
What's here, a Mask?  

I now represent Hymen, Signior Landy,  
My Deputy has done as well as can be;  
Has made their Tongues tie knots to such a wonder,  
That their own Teeth, tho' Bones, can't knaw asunder:  
And now we are for jollity preparing,  
Which all (till deep Night calls) shall have a share in.  
Then we must leave the Lovers to their own share,  
To end their Kind Disputes in Civil-Warfare;  
Where the least Mercy the most Love expresses,  
And he most gentle proves, that most oppresses.  
While the Fair Sufferer Languishing cries sie on't,  
The God of Love's the only pleasing Tyrant;  
Advance, Sir Tim, and with a dutiful guessing,  
Find out your Daddy quickly, and ask Blessing.   Sir Tim. 
Your Blessing.  Land. 
What, Madam, not down upon your Marrowbones; come, off with your trumpery— how— what have we here?  Pulls off 〈◊〉 Hood. Sir Tim. 
What's the meaning of this? woe's me, what have I got?  Phill. 
An Obedient Wife, Sir.  Sir Tim. 
Nay, in geud faith, hold a blow, I'll not be choosed so.  Land. 
Where's my Daughter, I am abused, where's my Daughter?  Bell. 
Here, Sir, with her Husband, and beg your Blessing.  Land. 
hay day, what means all this?  Sir Tim. 
Nay, by the Mass, Mrs. Lucy is my Wife, and no other, and I'll seize my own Chattel where I find her.  Bell. 
You must seize this first.  Offers to draw. Sir Tim. 
What a God's name, must one sight for his Wife? Father Landy, I pray let us send for Mr. Scrible, and clap Actions on 'em for Cheats and Robbers.  Land. 
land, Sir Timothy, Law-Suits are dangerous Bogs to get into, we may sink faster than we can get out; besides, I fear Matters are gone too far.  Feew. 
Be appeased, Sir Timothy, what's done, can't be undone; be contented, many have done worse, you have Married a handsome Woman, virtuous and good.  Lucy. 
Believe me, Sir, none exceeds her in goodness, and good humour; I have esteemed and loved her, as I would a Sister.  Land. 
Why, in troth, Sir Timothy, since we are both deceived, the best way is to bear it patiently; and, in troth, she has always behaved herself so well, she shall not come a Beggar to you.  Lucy. 
I hope, Mr. Bellville, for my sake, will add to my Father's 〈◊〉.  Bell. 
That I will, most willingly, and as largely as my dearest Lucy pleases.  Feew. 
Look you there, Sir Knight, come, give her your hand; nay, never hang back, there is no other Remedy; come, come, she'll bring you a brave young Shallow.  Sir Tim. 
If it must be so, y faith I'll gang into the North as fast as four Legs will carry me.  Phill. 
This minute, if you please; Sir, you shall ever find me an Obedient Wife, and with true Love and Care will ever strive to please you.  Sir Tim. 
Since I am Pounded, and no 〈◊〉 out, I'll e'en make the best of a bad Market.  Land. 
I dare swear you will be pleased with her, when you know her better. Come, no more words, nothing now but Music, and every Man take his Lady.  Feew. 
I having none of my own, must presume to borrow another Man's.  Lurch. 
Like enough, in troth.  Enter Servant to Landy. Seru. 
Sir, here are Gipsies, that desire admittance.  Land. 
Let 'em come in, all's free this day.  Enter Gips. 1. Gipsy. 
Bless you Masters, we'll tell your Fortunes.  To Bellville. 

O Master! you may be happy if you will,  
For 'tis a good Jack, that makes a good Gill.   2. Gipsy. 
Master, Master.  
You have a great Cross through the Line of Life, Perhaps you're Jealous, youhad as good trust your Wife.  To Lurch. 3 Gipsy. 
You shall enjoy good health, and good cheer, And have a young Huntsman within the year.  To Sir Tim. 4 Gipsy. 
O brave Palms, you have Mistresses plenty, And you can be Constant at once to twenty.  To Feewell. Old Landy. 
Come, Mr. Lurch, you could Sing well in your young days, if Marriage has not cracked your Voice, let's hear the Dialogue between you, and your Wife; it may be a means to make a thorough Reconciliation.   

DIALOGUE.  Herald 

WHy so Coy, and so Strange?  
Does your Kindness decline?  
Your Love find a Change,  
Or do you doubt mine?   She. 

When inconstant Men grow,  
We can quickly discern,  
And our Sex you all know,  
Are apt Scholars to Learn.  
I watched how your Eyes on Phillis wero glancing,  
Crowned with a Garland of Roses for Dancing:  
When the Pedlar came, you gave her a Lace,  
And a fine gaudy string for her Needle-Case.   Herald 

You remember, it may be,  
When you were May-Lady,  
The nimble Thyrsis so Caper d and Chanted,  
You gave him a Ribbon so long that it flaunted  
And waved in the air; when the brisk youth then tried  
For a Kiss, you simpered, and faintly denied:  
And blushing; you only cried fie, forbear,  
You're such another; nay, pish, I swear  
There was ne'er in the World such rudeness as this;  
Yet gently contrived he should ravish a Kiss.   Herald 
Now prithec let's leave this impertinent struggle,  She. 
For Men will be false,  Herald 
And Women will juggle.  Both. 

Then let us be easy by freedom hereafter,  
For Jealousy never yet mended the Matter.   Herald 
What's past, we'll forget,  She. 
What's to come, ne'er inquire,  Both. 
But take surest Advice of present Desire.  Land. 
Now to such poor Cheer as I have provided for you;  
Joys Crown you all, every one here's my Guest, 〈◊〉 all are welcome to a Miser's Feast.  Exeunt Omnes. 
FINIS.