The Campaigners: OR, THE Pleasant Adventures at Brussels.  
A COMEDY WITH A FAMILIAR PREFACE UPON A Late Reformer of the STAGE.  
Ending with a Satirical Fable OF The DOG and the OTTOR.  
Written by Mr. D'urfey.  
LONDON, Printed for A. Baldwin, near the Oxford Arms Inn in Warwick lane. M DC XCVIII.   

To the Right Honourable THOMAS, Lord Wharton, Baron of Wharton in the County of Westmoreland, Chief Justice, and Justice in Eyre, of all his Majesty's Forests, Parks and Chases, on the South side of Trent; controller of his Majesty's Household, and one of his Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council.  
My Lord,  
THe Particular favour your Lordship has been always pleased to bestow on my Genius and Endeavours, and not only on mine, but on Poetry in general, which has still appeared by your good-natured Condescension, and Readiness to assist the Stage against its Enemy's Injustice, has engaged me not only to give your Lordship my grateful thanks, but to beg leave to dedicate my last off spring to your service; in hopes it will be so happy to make an hour pass pleasantly in the Country, at a time when your Lordship has a little leisure to retire from your Affairs at Court.  
As I doubt not but your Lordship has been Entertained with the baiting of the Poets, by a late horrible Severe and Rigid Critic, so I also hope, that now, or very suddenly you will be diverted with the aforesaid Critics being exercised by the Poets. That Performer, by those who are taken with Glosses more than Realities, has had a mighty Cry of his side; but, as one man's Tale may not always be so good as 'tis thought when another's comes to be heard, so it may happen that his ill-mannered Remarks upon me may give occasion for as good a Scene to please your Lordship, in an Answer of my Writing, as the Original Lampoon did of his.  
My Lord, 'tis fit that I inform your Lordship that I would not have presumed to have troubled you with this Dedication, had not the following sheets been Encouraged by men of the first rate understandings in England, whose Commendation made me think 'em consequently fit for your perusal. Besides, having been for many years so happy to know that your Lordship is of a Judgement so Clear, a Temper so Generous and Just, and a Humour so Charmingly obliging, that a Poet is not only Honoured and Caressed, but his Labour from Injustice and Unreasonable Malice nobly indulged and defended.  
'Tis certainly therefore proper, that to such a Patron a soaring Muse should be entirely devoted: The Poet's Song has always the greatest Influence when the Theme improves the Harmony: And your Lordship's Character is of such Efficacy with me, that whenever I am Inspired with it, which I hope I shall often be, as well as now, I am very well assured, my Auditory, when they shall hear me sing on that subject, will never imagine the time lost or ill spent, or me out of Tune.  
But to avoid Prolixity on a subject, which I know is ungrateful to your Lordship's Admirable Temper, (I mean Praise) I will unwillingly leave off here, and only beg to be ranked amongst those many that have a true sense of your valued qualities. And if the following Piece diverts, as I hope it will, and gains that favourable reception, which your Indulgence, Affability and Good Nature promises, through all your Actions, to all those who are so happy to be concerned with you, it will be a surprising satisfaction to,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's most humbly Devoted Servant, Tho, D'urfey.   

Dramatis Personae.  

MEN.  Prince Landevile, A Volunteer Campaigner. A Noble Italian. 
Mr. Evans.  Don Leon, A Noble Spaniard. 
Mr. Sympson.  The Sieur Bondevelt, An Affected Finical Flanderkin, Precedent of the Council of Trade. 
Mr. johnson.  Colonel Dorange, A Campaigner, Colonel of Horse in the King's Army during the War. 
Mr. Mills.  Kinglove, His friend. A Volunteer Campaigner. 
Mr. Thomas.  Min Heer Tomas, A fat Burgomaster. 
Mr. Penkethman.  Marqui Bertran, A French Gentleman. A Volunteer Campaigner under Marshal Boufflers. 
Mr. Cibber.  Van Scopen, Footman to Don Leon, when Ambassador. Born in Holland. 
Mr. Fairbank.  Mascarillo, Footman to Bertran. Born in France. 
Mr. Bullock.   

WOMEN.  Angellica, Sister to Don Leon, and Niece to Min Heer Tomas and Anniky. 
Mrs. Knight.  Madam la Marquis, Wife to Bertran. 
Mrs. Verbrugge●.  Anniky, Wife to Min Heer Tomas. 
Mrs. Powel.  Gusset, Woman to Angellica. 
Mrs. Kent.  fardel, An Affected Tattling Nurse. 
Mrs. Lynsey.   
Musicians, Dancers, Waiters and Servants.  
The Scene Brussels, the Time 35 hours.   

PROLOGUE.  Spoken by Mr. Pinkethman, in a Cloak, with a Poetical Wreath on. 
I'M come with tears, and sobs, with sigh and groan,  
To tell the saddest tale that e'er was known;  
The Stage, the darling Stage is going down.  
For since your favour, we no more can trust,  
Dear Bays farewel, let Honour lie ●th dust.  Throws his Bays down. 
Let th' Wreath, that as the badge of best renown  
So long has Courted been by all the Town,  
By noblest Peers bear witness all their works,  
By Knights, Squires, Courtiers, Templars, Trading Sparks,  
Pert London Prentices, and Lawyers Clerks,  
Degraded, f●om W●ts Temples lowly ●all,  
To Crown some Coxcomb, in some ●ity Hall.  
I know, to part with ●●me thu●, is great pity,  
But we all grow too good now, to be Witty.  Weeping. 
And therefore I submit, as there's occasion,  
To wear this Sackcloth of pure Reformation.  
Thus far I●ve like a Poet howl d my share,  
Now you shall hear me bellow like a Play'r.  
Hardhearted Critics— harder than the Stone;  
Must t' other House ha●e all, and we have none:  
Ah, can you see poor Penkethman undone!  
As lightning Trees so your Neglect has rend us,  
You are more dreadful Foe● than those Present us.  
●or Mirth not long ago you made good use on's:  
Have I displeased ye, is this Face ● Nusance!  
Must we, in spite of Labour, shut up Door?  
And must— by way of Punn— I had like to ha' swore,  
And must our staunch Friend Mr Rich grow Poor?  
Then farewell Playhouse, and all Comic jest,  
And farewel Trojan true, as ever P—  
Is no way left to get this humour off?  
For if we must not joke, you must not Laugh?  
No, there is none; a zealous fit controls,  
To starve our Bodies here to save our Souls.  
Well then, since 'tis a blessing to the Nation,  
Pray let us see a thorough Reformation.  
We're not the only Guilty, I dare say,  
There's more o'th' wicked— every one in's way.  
First, for example is a glorious thing,  
Let those reform— be Loyal to the King.  
Next; let the Elder-learned in our Affairs,  
No more upon a Sunday sneak up Stairs,  
To take a humming Bottle after Prayers.  
With Phiz demure— let not grave Cassock hid  
Rebellion, Spite, Hypocrisy— nor Pride  
Let this be done, we'll choose him for our Guide.  
we'll then— talk Smut no more nor swear odsnigs,  
Nor ever after grudge him his Tithe Pigs.  
Let such as guide the Laws sincerely speak,  
Nor those they put in force against us break.  
Let all Professions set up Virtues Schools  
And we'll soon bring the Stage to sober Rules.  
Correct our Libertines, and gag our Fools.  
Let the dull Mizer's Purse relieve the poor,  
Let him ne'er cheat, nor go to Church to snore,  
And we will sing— of Rashers broiled no more.   

EPILOGUE.  By Mr Cibber, Acting the Fr. Marquis. 
DE simple Poet have done all he can,  
To make me here de ver fine Shentelman;  
Do, I perceive for well, that the Boffoon  
Be what is still most like to pleas de Town.  
But since the thing is done, vat shall me say,  
To gain your smile, and make you like de Play.  
To act the Fool, I know sometime please best,  
But can I act the Fool in does fine dress.  
Fool is a lumpish sneaking thing you know,  
Fool can no Cock wid air— dance like de Beau.  
Hoh [Capers.] did you ever see a Fool do so?  
'Tis does be tout charmant, dis be surprise,  
Dis draw your heart, and defair Lady's eyes.  
Vel but to treat you kind— money Cheers Amès,  
Pardon ne Moy dis once and Ecote,  
Me vill to please you do one odor thing,  
Not dance en Francois, but en Francois sing,  
Such time, sush graces, and such Raree-shew,  
Dat you shall tinke you are at Fontainbleau.  Mimics the French Singers here. 
O ho, you, laugh, morbleau, that is for strange,  
Zoon, me go off den lest de humour shange.   

PREFACE.  
I Must necessarily inform the Partial, as well as Impartial Reader, that I had once designed another kind of Preface to my Comedy than what will appear in the following sheets; but having in the interim been entertained with a Book lately Printed, full of Abuses on all our Ancient as well as Modern Poets, called A view of the Immorality and Profaneness of the English Stage; and finding the Author, who, no doubt, extremely values himself upon his Talon of Stage-reforming, not only (to use his own Ironical words) particular in his Genius and Civilities, but indecently, unmannered, and scurrilous in his unjust Remarks on me, 
Collier, p. 196.  and two of my Plays, viz. the first and second parts of the Comical History of Don Quixote. I thought I could not do better, first as a Diversion to the Town, and next to do a little Justice to myself, than (instead of the other) to print a short Answer to this very Severe and Critical Gentleman; and at the same time give him occasion to deseant upon the following Comic Papers, and myself the opportunity of vindicating the other; with some familiar Returns (on Raillere) upon his own Extraordinary Integrity, and Justness of the Censure.  
But first, lest I should plunge myself out of my depth, or like an unskilful Swimmer, endanger myself by a too precipitate Rashness, let me warily consider the Office and Habit of this unchristianlike Critic before I Attack him: He has, or had the honour to wear the Robe of a Clergyman of the Church of England: A Church, which for its Purity, Principles, and most Incomparable Doctrines, surpasses without objection all others in the world, which with a number of its pious, virtuous and learned Rulers and Ministers, I admire and acknowledge with all the faculties of my soul, heart and understanding; and on which I never seriously reflect, but I feel a secret shame for my remissness of duty, and my neglect, in not living hitherto up to its Admirable Principles. This reflection would indeed have been enough to awe any one in my circumstances from proceeding to answer his bold Censures, had I not Courage to consider that the rest of the worthy Gentlemen of that Robe are so good, that they will not excuse or defend our aforesaid Critics Injustice or Mistakes in some places, though they are pleased with his Truths in others; or be angry at me for endeavouring to gain their good opinion, by defending myself from most of his black Aspersions (how fair soever as yet they seem) and by unfolding him be judged by their impartial reason, start a question, whither he, though a happy member of the aforesaid Adorable Church, does not come in for his share of Immorality, and other frailties; and consequently is not as fit to be detected, by the Wit of a Satirical Poet, as the Poet by the positive Authority of an Angry Malcontent, though in the garb of an humble Churchman.  
The Fates, or Poets in ancient times were held in special veneration, even their Kings, and other chief Rulers, often submitted to the virtue of their Inspiration: Amongst which, the never enough admired Mr Cowley, in his noble version of the Davideidos, gives the Royal David this Title, Rex olin & Vates duo Maxima munera Coeli; and numbers of others might be inserted to prove Poetical Authority, and the respect it bore in past Ages; which, though I have not capacity to parallel, I hope I may be allowed to imitate on another subject; and in this have leave to acquit myself of several heinous Accusations, which this Tyrannical Critic has Imposed upon me.  
I am not at all Ignorant of his eminent parts, Learning, and other qualifications; nor am I insensible, as well as the rest of his Readers, that his Book has a very fair and engaging Title-page, and is no less IlIustrated with many weighty and just censures upon the Immorality of the Stage, and our licentious Writings for many years past; and though this has been proved by the late Ingenious Author of the Vindication of the Stage to be occasioned by the vices of the Times, and not those of the Poets; yet thus far we can endure the Scourge, and kiss his Rod with patience enough: And for my own part, I declare if I had found his Severity had been moral, and had ended in the good design of cleansing the Stage from its Impurities, and had been only a kind Instruction to my Brethren and myself, to reform our Immoral errors, I had, as the rest of us, with all humility imaginable, thanked him for his wit and good reproof; and had been so far from answering in this manner, that I should have been proud to have my name before his Book, with a Copy of Verses in ' applause of his Admirable Design. But when, instead of this, I find he strikes at the root of our Dramatic Labours, and the Town's diversion, for some sly and selfish ends; and instead of reproving us with a Pastorly Mildness, Charity and Good Nature, gives us the basest language, and with the most scurillous expressions, sometimes raging and even foaming at mouth, taxing the little liberty has always been used, with horrid horrid Blasphemy, Profaneness, and Damnable Impiety; when Reason must inform every one we intent nothing of the matter, besides the poor privilege of Poetica Licentiae: and pretending to prove this with false Quotations, unnatural Mistakes, and Hypocritical Hypotheses, I reselved to controvert him, and endeavour to prove that 'tis merely his malice that has abused me and the rest, without Reason or Provocation; and that his own Wit and Morals are not so Infallible, but they lie also open to the censure of any Poetical Critic, who has Courage and Sense enough to attack 'em.  
I once more therefore address myself to the Reverend of the Gown, from highest to the lowest, and humbly desire that they will not appear Interested against me, because I defend myself against one that has abused me, and has the honour to wear one, (to what purpose the Judgement and Clemency of our Government knows best) I assure 'em my design is only to turn, like the Worm that is trod upon, complain being hurt, vindicate myself from abusive malice, and at the same time am hearty sorry that ever I had the occasion.  
'Tis a pleasure to me however to know that I have for many years, as well as now, the honour of the Conversation of several eminent men of the Church; and I dare say, upon occasion I could easily gain their good words to prove my good behaviour. I do declare I never abused the sacred order in my life, but have always had, and still have, all the veneration for 'em that's possible; nor have any of my printed Writings contradicted this, unless when spoken in the person of Atheists, Libertines, and Ignorants, where 'tis natural in Comedy; nay, in my Book of Poems you will find a satire against Atheists, and in another Book, called Colin's walk thro' London and Westminster, a Moral through the whole, and designed in the honour of the Church of England, to show the stubbornness of Romanists, Grumblers, and other dissenting Sects; but this my partial Antagonist never read, nor heard of; nay, though by his Book we may suppose he has read a thousand, yet amongst twenty of my Comedies Acted and Printed, he never heard of the Royalist, the Boarding School, the Marriage Hater Matched, the Richmond Heiress, the Virtuous Wife, and others, all whose whole Plots and designs I dare affirm, tend to that principal instance, which he proposes, and which we allow, viz. the depression of Vice and encouragement of Virtue. Not he, he has not had leisure since his last holding forth in the late Reign, 
Collier, p.  to do me this Justice, 'tis enough for him that he has encountered Don Quixot: And truly, I must own, was a most proper Combatant for him; for if he had not been mad with the Windmill that was in his pate, or had ever perused that Giant of an Author, upon whom I am the Pigmy, as he wittily observes, he would have found the Bockheaded Chaplain had been greasing his old Gassock there long before I new rigged him: But that's all one, I, poor I, must be denounced as Criminal; I brought him upon the Stage, I washed his Face, put on a new Crape Vest, and a clean Band, which, eh, fatal accident, made him look so like somebody, that I, in his opinion, and condemned by his infallibility, have been no body ever since, vox & praeterce nihil. Well, however this is determined, let me beg of my impartial Readers, to give me leave to try what I can be, I have had good fortune I am told by others in Lyrical Verse, which I am sure is one principal part of Poetry, I'll see now if I can match my Antagonist in Rallying Prose. Several ingenious Authors have already, I think, so well confuted his Assertions against the Stage, by proofs from the Ancient Poets, the Primitive Fathers, and their Authorities, that they have far excelled what I can pretend to do there; only, I could have wished one who is best able, and whose admirable Genius and Skill in Poetry would have been remarkably serviceable, had drawn his Pen to defend the Rights of the Stage, though he had owned the loosenesses of it, and had ventured the being presented for it; but since we, the forlorn, are not so happy to have that Aid, let my Antagonist, the Reformer, who, for all the gravity in some part of his Book, and the solid Piety he would insinuate in his Arguments, I perceive to be a Joker, and as full of Puns, Conundrums, Quibbles, Longinquipetites, and Tipiti-witchets, as the rest of us mortals, be pleased to take the length of my Weapon at that sport, for now I cannot help telling my Audience, which is the Town, that he has laid his reforming Cudgel upon me so severely, and it smarts so damnably, that I can't forbear smiting again if I were to be hanged, desiring only, as the usu●d method is, a clear Stage, and from him no favour.  
To begin then, I shall illustrate my first Scene with a comical hint upon some part of his Character, and that the Jest may be worthy of making you laugh, you are to know, that the first view I ever had of this extraordinary Person, was neither better nor worse than under the Gallows. Well, but think you, I warrant, 'twas about some Charitable Duty that his sacred Function and Piety obliged him to, such as Exhorting the poor Souls to confess their Crimes, in order to be saved, or the like; no, faith, but quite contrary, for he was rather hardening them, and infusing a strong Portion of his own obstinacy, to fortify 'em for their dubious Journey; and in few minutes after, possessed with a stronger Spirit of Priesthood than e●er, for some past Ages there has been Example for, pronounced the Absolution, the extremest and most mysterious Grace the Church can possibly give to the most repentant Sinner, to wretches Justly condemned by Law to die, for the most horrible Crimes in nature, viz. the intended Murder of the King, and Subversion of the Protestant Religion and Government. Now that such a Person should set up for a Protestant Example, and a Teacher of Morality, is somewhat new, for upon my veracity, this Gentleman may insinuate as he pleases, that our Church, and its Doctrines govern his heart; but as to that matter, what may be in his heart I can't tell, but if a Pope is not crept into his belly, very near it, I am very much mistaken.  
Pliny indeed, in his Natural History, Lib. 28. Cap. 10. tells ye, He that is bitten by a Scorpion may have relief, if immediately he go and whisper his grief into the Ear of an Ass. This Historian, perhaps, had so great credit with these Malefactors, that they thought the remedy, by Auricular Confession, might serve too in their Concerns. But we are confirmed, they were enough mistaken in the rest of their Opinions, and so 'tis very likely were in this. If this Parallel be found a little gross, I hope the Reader will excuse it, when he examines the bold Critick●s Style relating to the Poets. Besides, how wise soever he may be in other things, I'm sure all those that are so, and true Sons of the Church, when they reflect on that Action of his, will own that he deserves that, or a worse Title. And so to proceed.  
But before we inspect further, or touch upon the Moralist's Immorality, for I dare engage it is not altogether impossible to prove, the Pulpiteer may be tainted a little as well as the Poetaster, let us see whether we can find him guilty of the first Charge against us, which is Immodesty; and upon this subject indeed, if our Learned Reformer did not impose upon us with a Fallacy, I should (to show my good Nature walk hand in hand with my resentment) once more admire him for his Character of Modesty in the 11th page of his Book, which is, to do him Justice, very fine; but then he only tells us of one kind of Modesty, when he knows there are two, and therein he is Fallacious, in not exposing the other, which is decency of Speech and Behaviour; and truly, merely, I believe, through a conscious reflection of his own frequent miscarriages in that case. If therefore, these Papers differ a little from that Civility which is proper, I beg the Readers pardon, and assure him 'tis only in imitation of his Style to me, as all those that read his Book may find.  
For, in the first place, he does not show his own, nor, indeed, any part of decent modesty, in exposing any Gentleman's Name in print, when the subject matter is Satyr, Reflection, Scandal, etc. and in which case I believe the Law might do Justice, if applied to; but if not, I am sure good Manners, and civil Education, aught to tie the Cassock as close as the ●ash or Sursingle; but this our Divine helper, most Bully-like, disallows; for he, pusted with his Priestly Authority, calls us boldly to the Bar of his Injustice by our own Names, the same minute that he is roaringly accusing us of Blasphemy, Smuttery, Foolery, and a thousand Monstrosities besides, as he'd make you believe; unless for variety, he picks our one amongst the rest, now and then, to abuse a little more civilly, and then, rubbing up his old College Wit, he Nicknames 'em, as you may find elegantly made out at the latter end of his Book, (for he shall see that I have read it quite through, and can hop over pages as fast as he for the life of him) where he can find no other Name or Character for two Gentlemen of Honour and Merit, viz. Mr. Congreve and Captain Vanbrooke, who have written several excellent Plays, and who are only scandalous to our Critic, by being good Poets, yet these he can give no other Names or Characters, 
Collier, p. 7●●  but what are Abusive and Ridiculous. The first, for only making jeremy, in Love for Love, call the Natural inclinations to eating and drinking, Whoreson Appetites, he tells, That the Manicheans, who made Creation the Work of the Devil, scarcely spoke any thing so course. And then very modestly proceeding onwards says, The Poet was Jeremy● s Tutor. The t'other Gentleman he dignifies by a new Coined name of his own, viz. The Relapser, and much like an humble Son of the Church, a Man of Morals and Manners tells us, 
Collie●, p. 230.  This Poet is fit to Ride a Match with Witches: And that Juliana Cox (a Non-juring Hag, ' I suppose, of his Acquaintance) never switched a Broom-stick with more expedition. Faith, such sentences as these, may be taking enough amongst his Party; but if this be his way of Reproving the Stage, and Teaching the Town Modesty, he will have fewer Pupils, I believe, than he imagines.  
But to do that Gentleman Broom-stick Rider some Justice, and because we shall want a Name hereafter to christian the t other, as he has given the Name of Relapser, so I think that of the Sin-absolver will be a very proper one to distinguish our Switcher, by which the Reader may observe, that we are civiller to him than he to us however. And first then, I desire all Persons to observe, that in other places of the same Chapter of his Book, our Sin-absolver, for all his detestation of the Stage, and of Poetry in general, yet takes a huge dea● of pains in taking to pieces, and mending the Comedy of the Rela●●●; nay, and to show how transcendent his own Skill in these things is, he has helped the Author to a better Name for his Play, 
Collie●, p. 210.  and says, The Younger Brother, or, The Fortunate Cheat, had been much properer. This shows some good will he has to the Comic Trade however; and I doubt not, but if ●is Closet were Ransacked, we might find a divertive Scene or two, effects of his idle Non-preaching hours, where Modesty, Wit, and good Behaviour, would be shown in perfection.  
And yet, as to his own humour, we find it to be, by his Book, more sickle than even the Wind, or Feminine frailty in its highest Inconstancy. One while he's for Instructing our Stage, Modelling our Plays, Correcting the Drama, the Unity, Time and Place, and acts as very a Poet as ever writ an ill Play, or slept at an ill Sermon; and then, presently after, wheiw, in the twinkling of an Ejaculution, as Parsen Saygrace has it, he's summoning together a Convocation of old Fathers, to prove the Stage in past Ages exploded, and all Plays horrible, abominable Debauchers of Youth, and not to be encouraged in a Civil Government. What can we think of this, especially when I find him in this Paragraph of his Book 
* Collier, p. 261.  raving on at this rate, and quoting to us, That St. Cyprian, or the Author de Spectaculis, argues thus against those who thought the Playhouse no unlawful diversion; 'tis too tedious to recite all, but enough of St. Cyprian for my purpose runs thus: What business has a Christian at such Places as those? A Christian who has not the liberty so much as to think of an ill thing, why does he entertain himself with lewd Representations? Has he a mind to discharge his Modesty, and be flushed for the Practice? Yes, this is the consequence, by using to see these things, he'll learn to do them; what need I mention the Levitieses and Impertinencies in Comedies, or the Ranting distractions of Tragedy, were these things unconcerned with Idolatry, Christians ought not to be at them, for were they not highly Criminal, the foolery of them is Egregious, and unbecoming the gravity of Believers And then again, before he is out of breath, A Christian has much better Sights than these to look at, he has solid Satisfactions in his power, which will please and improve him at the same time. Would a Christian be agreeably refreshed, let him read the Scriptures, here the Entertainment will suit his Character, and be big enough for his quality. Ah, Beloved, how noble, how moving, how profitable a thing is it, to be thus employed, to have our expectations always in prospect, and be intent on the glories of Heaven: Very good, and who is he so reprobated, that will not allow this to be devout, and admirable good Counsel? But now let us see how the Sin-absolver, for all Pious quotation, has followed St. Cyprian's Advice; that holy Father charges him not to entertain himself with such lewd things as Plays, and he very dutifully reads a thousand as fast as he can; nay, scans and weighs 'em, and, no doubt, not without tickling satisfaction, at the present, for all his Saturnine Remarks at last. Now if his Answer to this is, That it belongs to his Office, as a Churchman, and that he could not reprehend the Vices in 'em without reading the Books themselves, I must tell him, That St. Cyprian, nor the rest of the Fathers, did not allow that, neither do we find they did it themselves, for all their inveighing against the Stage; so that he makes his own Quotation altogether invalid, He not being to do ill that good might come of it.  
And therefore, why may not a Poet now, who, perhaps, is a greater. Votary to St. Cyprian in other Matters than the Sin-absolver is in this, rally him thus, and turn his Quotation upon himself, Phrase by Phrase? What business has a Parson with such Books as these? ●A Parson who has not the liberty so much as to think of an ill thing? Why does he entertain himself with lewd Comedies? Has he a mind to discharge his Priestcraft, and flesh himself up for a Poet? Yes, this is the consequence, by using to see these smutty things, he'll learn to write 'em: What need I mention the Sham-Oaths, and looseness of Farce, or the Fustian raving against the Gods in Tragedy, were these things really unconcerned with Idolatry, a Parson, of all Mankind, should not be known to ogle them, for were they not highly Criminal, the foolery of them is Egregious, and unbecoming the gravity of all that thump the Cushion, or intent to thump a true Belief into the Pates of an incorrigible Congregation.  
And now methinks I see the Spiritual Critic, with a certain fallow Malcontented Phiz, poring upon this Page, and sucking his Ring-finger, gives himself an unpleasurable minute to Judge whether I have paraphrased right or no; well, all's one, fall back fall edge, I'm resolved to ba●e him with St. Cyprian a little more. A Parson has, or should have, much better Books than Plays to look in; he has many Authors of Pious and Solid Authorities to please, and improve himself with, at the same time. Would a Parson be agreeably refreshed, let him read the Scriptures, let him find out Treatises of Morality, Meekness, Charity, and holy Life, there the Entertainment will suit his Character. Ah, Beloved, how noble, how moving, how profitable a pleasure would it be to us, to see a Parson thus employed, to let the Stage's diversions be too little for his grave Consideration, and be intent himself on the glories of Heaven! And here now, I do not at all question but the Sin-absolver, a little nettled at this last Parallel, will fall to biting of his fingers again, his Righteous Spirit being offended at my Insolence, in scribbling the Word Parson so oft, it being a Nickname, and only invented by some idle fellow, who resolved to use the Order with no more respect. Why truly, I confess, in this Case, Modesty is a little graveled, but then she may thank him for it, for he has dignifyed the Poets with so many Hell-defying, deepmouthed Swearing, Relapsing, Witch-riding Titles, that the worthy Ministry cannot reasonably be angry, especially when the Word is only meant to him, whom I shall prove has lessened the true Title, by his Immorality and Hypocrisy, more than ever the Poets did the Reputation of the Stage, by their Time-serving Loosenesses and Licentious Diversions.  
It is, no doubt, a considerable Maim to us, in some People's opinions, who never digested the benefits arising from the Stage in its Moral Representations, that this smarting Lath is given us by a Clergyman of the Church of England, that is, good friends, if he be so, for some Judicious Heads are not resolved in that Affirmative— but let that be discussed in another place, I'm sure, if he is, Obedience to Government, in the first place, should be his principal Tenet; and whether that is a part of the Absolver's Character, I think has sufficiently appeared. But let him be what he will, I shall now take the pleasure to inform those People, that but few years since, we had a Man of Wit and Learning, that w●●● the Gown, and as true a Son of the Church as she could possibly 〈◊〉 that was incisely devoted a Champion in our Cause, and Asserted 〈◊〉 Rights of the Stage with Success and Applause; and whoever w 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 ●● look back a little, and incline his Eyes towards the de●ectable 〈◊〉 Cam, may Encounter the famed Wit of that University, the Ingen●●●● Mr. Thomas Randolph, who in one of his great many admirable Pie●●● called the M●ses Looking-glass, makes his whole Moral to be the v●●t●●●cation of the Stage, and its usefulness, and by showing the passions in their Kind's, coutrives to confute some canting prejudiced Zealots, whose ignorance and frenzy had conspired before to run it down; I will treat the Reader here with some of it. 

Mus●s Looking-Cl●s●.  A Country Lass, for such she was, though here  
In th' City may be Sluts as well as there;  
Kept her hands clean, for those being always seen,  
Had told her else how sluttish she had been;  
Yet was her Face, as dirty as the Scall  
Of a Fish-monger, or a Usurer's Hall  
Begrimed with filth, that you might boldly say,  
She was a true piece of Promethe●s ●s Clay.  
At last, within a Pail, for Country Lasses  
Have oft you know, no other Looking-glasses,  
She viewed her dirty Face, and doubtless would  
Have blushed, if through so much dirt she could.  
At last, within that Water, that I say,  
That showed the Dirt, she washed the Dirt away.  
So, Comedies, as Poets still intent 'em,  
Serve first to show your faults, and then to m●nd'em.  Here was a pretty Compliment to our Art now, a good Moral with good Manners into the bargain; and yet 'tis certain the times than were as Licentious as now, and the Poets took as little care of their Writings; but Mr Randolph always made his good Nature agree with his Wit, and put as favourable construction upon Scenes of Diversion, as reason would allow, though he perhaps had as much occasion for 50 l. as the Sin-absolver when he writ his Book. He knew that if there was so stupid a Temper, that the Moral of a Play could not reform, the looseness that was in it could not prejudice; nor if a wild Town-fellow, or a baffled Bully, or passionate Lover, being characters in a Play, spoke some extravagances proper for 'em, would he roar it out for Balsphemy, Profaneness, etc. and make a malicious scrutiny, and unreasonable interpretation of words, which had no other intention but to make the Character natural by customary manner of Speech, as he has shown examples by two of his own, in the extremes of Vainglory and Hypocrisy: And yet this Gentleman was as Learned, as good a Critic, and as Conscientious a man, as our Sin-absolver can pretend to be; and if I say, ' had somewhat a better Title to Modesty and good Manners, I think it may be made out, he having a civil regard to the Poets, defended their Cause, and excused some failings for the sake of some other Merits, when this treats 'em all like fools, though he has only raked up a few of their errors, which he has made a huge heap of Rubbish, by peering through his own Magnifying Glass, without any allowance to their qualifications, or any modest care to do 'em justice, which ought to have been one way as well as another.  
So much then for his Modesty in one of its kinds, which is decency of behaviour and expression; as for the other, he has played such a Game at Hide and Seek with us, that we have been long in a Mist, not knowing how to discover it: But the Air clears, and 'tis time for us now to take the right end of the perspective, though he would give us the Wrong, and then try if we cannot discern, in the midst of his Garden of Divinity, a near friend of his called Immorality, though he would subtly insinuate him into the world as a stranger, leading his darling daughter dear Hypocrisy into an Arbour; where, after they had been some time alone, our Critic knowing how to be civil to his own creature, and to give 'em time enough to beget a right understanding, he is very glad at last to be a third in the company.  
I should not have put him upon this warm Office, if I had not found him too hot and bold with our Famous Ancient Truth-telling Poet juvenal, when in his Book he tells us, 
Collier, p. 70, 71.  he teaches those vices he would correct, and writes more like a Pimp than a Poet— But upon just consideration, I believe if the Sin-absolver taught the Art of Rebellion no more than juvenal the Art of Pimping, the one would be respected in after Ages, as much as we know the other has in the former: But every one is Fool or Knave that is not of this Gentleman's kidney. A little while after, at the usual rate of his own accustomed civility, he falls upon the Renowned Shakespeare, and says, 
Collier, p. 50.  he is so guilty, that he is not fit to make an Evidence. Why now if'twere possible for his Complexion to blush, there's ne'er a Robe of any Friend Cardinal the Sin-absolver has at Rome, that can be redder than his would be for such a Position: Nor does it end here, but is mixed with some more foolish and insolent Remarks in another place, upon the admirable Tragedy of Hamlet. And here he has no other way to show his malice, but by ridiculously quibbling upon the prettiest Character in it, 
Collier, p. 10.  the innocent young Virgin Ophelia, who, because the Poet makes her run mad for the death of her Father, and loss of her Lover, and consequently makes her sing and speak some idle extravagant things, as on such an occasion is natural, and at last drown herself, he very masterly tells us, the Poet, since he was resolved to drown her like a Kitten, should have set her a swimming a little sooner; to keep her alive, only to sully her Reputation, is very cruel. Yes, but I would fain ask Doctor Absolution in what she has sullied her Reputation, I am sure five hundred Audiences that have viewed her could never find it out, though he has; but the Sin-absolver can't help being positive and partial to his own humour, though he were to be hanged, as the Lady was drowned, for he is very angry in another place with the aforesaid Author, for making Sir Hugh Evens in the Merry Wives of Windsor, 
Collier, p. 125.  a silly, eating, chattering Welsh Priest, but vindicates and speaks well of Sir John, Parson of Wrotham, in the History of Sir John Oldcastle; though he swears, games, wenches, pads, tilts and drinks, and does things which our Reformers Guts are ready to come up at another time, only, forsooth, because he is stout; but 'tis indeed only because he is a Parson, and sullen, which he thinks wise, for he cannot endure that Copyhold should be touched, as you may see more plainly a little further, where he says in Loves Labour Lost, the Curate plays the fool egregiously; and so does the Poet too: there he clenches the Nail, there he gives Shakespeare a bold stroke, there obstinacy and malice appear in true colours: And yet if a parcel of the ones Plays, were set up by way of Auction against ● others Sermons and Essays; nay, though the Loyal and Politic Desertion discussed was thrown in to boot, I know not what the Grave would do, but I am sure the Wise would quickly find difference. And yet to Remark him nicely, this humour of railing is only where the Poets do not suit with his design; for in another place you'll find this same Shakespeare, that was before too guilty to make an Evidence, a very civil person new; for the Reformer is troubled with Fits, you must know, disturbances i'th' brain, which makes him forget one hour 〈◊〉 he rails at another, 
Coll. p. 154  for here now Shakespear's Falstaff is called the ad●●●d, because he is to serve his turn. And that the Poet was not so partial as to let his humour compound for his l●●●dness, but punishes him at last, the he makes him all hi● life time a damnable s●●●ty fellow. And now, I think, having said enough of his modest behaviour, twoned be amiss to have a touch or two at his Hypocrisy. And first, concerning the word Smu●●.  
Smutt, Smutt! Why does this termagant Correcter of our Lives and Manners pretend to make us believe that his Mouth or Conscience is so straight, that the t other word can't get passage, or did his Mi●●ress (honourable I mean) sit knotting under his Nose when he was writing, and so gave occasion for the changing it instead of Bawdy, that that odious word might not offend her, though the Phrase was made Nonsense by it— hum— No faith, the case seems to me now to be quite otherwise, and really the effect of downright Hypocrisy, unless d●●e ●● I said for the last reason; for those that have read his Book, may find sprinkling up and down the other words extremely plain upon occasion, Ribaldry and Bawdy, and Whores, and Whoring, and Strumpets, and Cu●koldmakers, with as fat a ●ignification as any of the last named could with for their hearts; 
Collier, p▪ 30, 31.  for example, by way of Tract, first, he says, Euripides in his Hippolytus, calls Whoring stupidness and playing the fool; and secondly, does Ribaldry, (not Smut) and Nonsense become the dignity of their station. 
p. 74.  Again, Berinthia incourages Amanda to play the Whore; and then souse upon Don Quixot, when there is not so much as one little tiny todpol of Smut, 
p. 208.  that I know of, unless he creates it— Yet I am Cramboed with, who, with low, nauseous Bawdry fills his Plays. Again speaking of jupiter and Aclmena— but her Lover— that is her Whoremaster. And at last with a Rowzer upon Mr Congreeve's Double Dealer, where he particularly Remarks, that there are but four Ladies in his Play, and three of 'em are Whores; adding, withal, that 'tis a great Compliment to Quality, to tell 'em there is but a quarter of 'em honest. Why who, in the name of Diana, and all the rest of the Maiden Goddesses, does tell 'em so, unless it be Doctor Crambo here— If any one calls 'em Whores 'tis he, he that by an assumed Authority thinks he may say any thing; the Ladies, I dare say for the Poet, were dressed in such clean Linen, and were so far from being Tawdry, that no Scrutineer but our severe Master of Art but would have thought Charitably of 'em. Well, but huge Rampant Whores they must be with him tho, and through that very mouth that simpered and primmed before, as if such a filthy word could not possibly break through: It comes out now in sound and emphasis, and the modest Pen is as prone and ready to write it. So that I once more affirm, that if it were not done in respect to his Lady, who, no doubt, peruses him extremely, it must naturally be the effect of ●●po●risie, for, to be squeamish in one place and not in another is Ridiculous, especially when one word is Innocent in its kind, and makes the sense, and the other when used makes it wretched Affectation, and almost Nonsense.  
Now if the Sin-absolver thought Affectation would appear a virtue in him, he ought to have squeamifyed the beforementioned Ladies with some title that was new, and if Smutt was chosen to be his ●ine darling word (and the course one of Whores slipped out of his Mouth, or from his Pen, by misfortune or chance) he should, in my opinion, have given 'em the title of Smutters: a primming neat word extremely proper for the occasion: And I hope I ●hall ●ive to see the Master of Art have Modesty enough to thank me for't; or else (for my fancy would fain oblige him if it could) to make it yet more German to the matter, as Shakespeare has it, to call 'em Colliers would be as significant as any thing; for there●s allusion enough to Smutt, or the Devil's in't: For, to deal sincerely, and without Hypocrisy, I cannot imagine what this learned Gentleman can mean by all that Smutt, Smutt, when the other word is as decent and more significant, unless he banters, or dissembles, or feared the Ladies peeping, or is so full of his own name, that he goes alon● quibbling upon't through his Book, with design that way to make himself more famous.  
In another part of his Treatise too I fancy I find the Hypocrite a great deal more than the Moralist, and that is, in his ●ecking at a word in one place, and gobbling it up in another. To prove this, I find him very like a Ghostly Father of the old Roman Kidney, condemning even to the Inquisition: One Carlos in M● Dryden's Love Triumphant, for blundring out this horrible Expression, 
Collier, p. 82.  as he calls it, Nature has given me my portion of Sense, with a Pox to her. Now pray observe, the absolver's Stomach is so horribly squeamish, at this he belches, turns pale, and is so very sick, that a quartern of Cherry is administered in vain, to set him to rights; he prints instead of the word only a great P— and tells the gentle Reader, (that he is intending to lead by the Nose) that the Hellish syllable may be found there at length if he pleases. Would not any one think now, that did not know that the Small Pox is a common Disease, that this word had been Blasphemy in the extremity, the renouncing the Deity, or something beyond pardon, and would not one lay a Scholars Egg against a To●t and Ale, that the Doctor would ne'er be concerned with it as long as he was able to eat or drink either of 'em. Why see now how an honest man may be cheated; do but turn to the one hundred seventy second page of his Book, and you will find this horrible, this hellish, syllable, in its Pontificallibus, at length, sitting almost a straddle upon the top of the Page, 
Collier, p. 172.  and used familiarly and friendly, without so much as once kacking at it, or one invective near it, though the sense of the Curse is as broad as t other, and has rather the worse signification.  
And pray what can this be else but Hypocrisy; if the word were really terrifying and horrible to him, it would certainly be so in one place as well as another. No, no, ●hese are only ●lights and amusements, tricks of his own stud●ed Legerdemain, to make the bubbled ignorants believe him a Saint, and admire his Divinity, when, if they could dive to the bottom ●f the secret, 'tis solemnly believed by many of the dutiful Sons of the Church, that our Sham-reformer is a much fit man to win Money by his skill at a game of Whisk and Swi●●bers, than as the case of Allegiance and Morality, stand with him, to win Souls from Reprobation by the Integrity of his Principles.  
I must treat ye with one instance more of his Hypecrisie, and then I pass on to another Head. This instance I find Mr. Vanbrook has taken particular notice of at the latter end of his Book, where, 'tis true, every one may see the absolver's Foible is very plain, but that Author has not made the Case parallel with the others Remark upon Mr. Congreve s Comedy the Old Bachelor, which shows his contradiction of himself, and his fallacy undeniable, 
Collier, p. 63.  for there he seems to roar at young Belmour for his forgetfulness of Religion, at a minute when he is desiring Laetitia to give him leave to swear by her Lips and Eyes, when he is kissing and telling her, Eternity was in that moment. In short, when he has got her fast in his Arms, and intends to go through stitch with the matter; for which he calls the Lady Strumpet, and raves at the smuttiness of the Action; and yet, a little while after, in another page, rallies, jokes upon, and banters young Worthy in the Relapse, for letting his Lady slip through his fingers, 
Collier, p. 227.  and calls him a Town-Spark, and a Platonic Fool for't. hay Jingo, here s Riddling for ye! what would this whimsical Gentleman be at? first he rails at a Lover for holding a pretty Woman fast, and then he jokes upon him for letting her go; this runs almost parallel with the Fable of the satire and the Traveller; but if the Doctor is observed to have the faculty of blowing hot and cold thus, I believe he may keep his breath either to cool his Porridge, or to warm his Fingers, and be much better employed, than by using it to make any Proselytes to his Doctrine; and so much for this Head. Now let us try if we can scratch another, and find it out under his Nightcap of  

IMMORALITY.  
It is not enough to prove a Man is a Moralist, only because he is noted for a Regular Life; that may be one good instance indeed, but it can never arrive to a proof of the whole, for his living Soberly, and by Rule, may as well be caused by the defect of his Constitution, as by the effect of his Inclination, but 'tis the Spirit and Will, by the fire of whose other Virtues, this of Morality is kindled and illustrated. Now I will not be so biased by other People's opinions that know him, to say, That our devout Critic owes his seeming Piety, and good Life, to his ill habit of Body, nor will I load him with Abuse, right or wrong, as he has done me, particularly through a whole Chapter, but leave that charitably to natural Conscience, or studied Artifice, which he pleases, and only reflect a little on the temper of his Mind, as I have found it blazing in this last, as well as others of his Books. In the first place, if Stubbornness, which causes wrong opinion of the present Regal Authority and Government, is an immoral Vice, if he is not tainted, I know not who is; for let any one, who is not blinded with Partiality, but read his Desertion Discussed, with the admirable Answer to it, and I am satisfied he cannot help joining with me in this opinion, That what he would insinuate to be the effect of Right in others, and of Conscience in himself, is nothing but the effect of Error in one, and Obstinacy and Stubborn Will in tother, a humour resolved to defend and carry on a hot Argument, tho' it has been never so plain and reasonably confuted: the Positions and Answers on this subject I shall not insert here, but leave the Reader, whose curiosity obliges him, to the Papers themselves, only I wish the Sin-absolver had made Newgate the last Scene of that part of his Immorality, and by an humble acknowledgement to his Patron that redeemed him, (I hope the word will bear in this place) have spared his Office of Absolution in another Scene, and consequently given no occasion to believe that his disobedient humour, and turbulent nature, still proceeds daily, to cultivate his Party with the same Principles as far as he can.  
Another spice of Immorality I believe I can make appear by his Pride, and tho' in other places it is to be found, yet is most fairly instanced in his Book of Essays, where, tho' we find one Chapter wholly upon that Vice, which, to show his Justice, gins with a Compliment upon the same juvenal, now he has use for him whom he called Pimp before, yet it has not bulk enough to Screen from us his haughtiness in another, which he calls the Office of a Chaplain, for there you shall find he has collected the Spirit of them all, and blended them into one Character; I mean the ill Spirits of the ill Chaplains, those that are good I honour. Here you may find his Likeness in Don Quixot, Roger in the Scornful Lady, Bull in the Relapse, Saygrace, Cuff-cushion, and others, all learning their Lessons of their stubborn Superior our Reformer, and all tending to governing, brow-beating, snubbing, commanding Families, and the like, but not one word of humility tacked to't, for fear of spoiling the Character; there you may find 24 pages, one after another, all written to prove most gloriously, that 'tis impossible for a Chaplain to be a Servant; that tho' you find a poor fellow in a tattered Excommunicated Gown with one sleeve, Shoes without heels, miserable Antichristian breeches, with some two dozen of creepers brooding in the seams; and tho' you, take him charitably to your House, feed, cloth, and give him wages, yet he belongs only to God, and not you, and you must not think him your Domestic, but your Superior. Why, what a Scheme is here laid for Vanity and Folly, and how much more shining and beautiful does gratitude and humility appear in such a Depender, than such a bloated opinion as this? Would any honest Gentleman, that has his senses, show his Indulgence and Generosity to Wit or Learning, on such terms as these? And does not this Chapter show more the Spirit of Pride in our Sin-absolver, relating to his own humour, than the veneration he has for the Clergy, or the Justice he would seem to do them in it? I dare affirm, most of them are against this Opinion, at least I●m sure all the modest part are, who cannot but own themselves subservient to their Patrons that maintain them, tho' at the same time they are Ministers of God's holy Words and Sacraments. 
Office of a Chaplain, p. 178.  Yet he busfly goes on, He is God's Minister, not Man's Servant. And a little way further, he clenches this admirable Notion through and through; therefore, says he, for a Patron to account such a Consecrated Person, as if he belonged to him as a Servant, is in effect to challenge Divine Honours, 
Ib. p. 185.  and set himself up for a God. Here●s Ambition, here●s Persecution, here's old Bonner for ye. Now by his Holidame, for I can't forbear that Oath now, what can a squeamish Critic, that would make Remarks upon the Remarker call this? But stay, he's at it again, 
Collier, p. 113.  Dolopion, says he, was Priest to S●amander, and regarded like the God he belonged to. Pray mind him, the Priest was worshipped equal with the God— oh rare Moralist— i●●e were, 'twas an Egyptian Worship, where only Calves and Apes, and Carrots and Onions, were Gods. But pray let us see a little, h●● not this Divine quotation a rang of Blasphemy in't? Oh si●, no; what, the Moralist! Reformer of Vices! speak Blasphemy▪ Impossible! he can't ●ure! Yes, yes, he may, when he thinks no body can find him out: and faith, to my sense now, this smells as rank of Pandaemonium, of fire and brimstone, to the full, if not wo●●●, 
Absalon and A●●it. Collier, p. 184.  than Mr. Dryden's Verse, Whether inspired with a Diviner Lust his Father got him, etc. which is spoken only in the figurative Person of David; yet he says 'tis downright defiance of the Living God, and the very Essence and Spirit of Blasphemy. And here now his Stomach wamb●●● more ●●●●ly ●han before; so that if his Friend were by, he mu●● 〈…〉 hold the Basin. Oh me! he reaches and reaches, and 〈◊〉 u● 〈◊〉— eg●— I question whether— egh— the torments and 〈◊〉 of the D●●n'd— egh— dare venture at such flights as th●se. And ●ow 〈◊〉 being held by the same hand, at two reaches 〈…〉 up, 〈◊〉 with ●●●ncture of old Bonner again— egh— ●span thing to writing these Impieties— egh— 〈…〉 And ●ow 〈◊〉 it's over, leaving us to imagine what rare Church Discipline ●e should have, if this G●●●leman, and his Cat 〈…〉 Tails, were in Power; I think a Couplet or two here, by way of Advice to 〈◊〉, is not improper. 
Your Tribe sh●●●d 〈◊〉 be in Opinion steady,  

Weesils', p. 11.  N●r turn or 〈…〉 Power or ●●r Place,  
●or 〈…〉 in Spiri●●●● Gra●e.  
The Gifts of Mammon you should 〈◊〉 implore,  
Nor wish for Gold, unless to give the Poor;  
It makes your A●t contemptible appear,  
Less followed too, and looked into more near;  
For if all those that preach up Paradise,  
Will have their shares of every human Vice,  
They shall Cant long enough ere I believe,  
Or pin my Soul's Salvation on their sleeve.  Here now, 〈◊〉 ●ne▪ but I shall make our Reformer fall into another sit, by pretending 〈…〉 him, or take his Office of Ordinary upon myself; 
Collier, p. 138.  for in page 138. 〈◊〉 not give us that leave, What, is the Pulpit under the Discipline of the 〈◊〉? And are those ●it to 〈◊〉 the Church, that are not fit to come into it? 〈◊〉 Doctor, rub your eyes a little, and see what the Vindicator of the Stage says, quoting Divine Herbert: 
A Verse may find him who a Sermon flies,  
And turn delight into a Sacrifice.  Besides I do assure you, spite of your Ghostly Authority, and Uncharitable Position, that we are not fit, we will come in, and not only imbibe the Mystery of Divinity from the Pulpit, but un●●ddle the Mystery of Iniquity, if we can find any there. Ben johnson found out Ananias and Rabbi Buisy; Fletcher, Hypocritical Roger, Shakespeare, Sir john of Wrotham; Congreve, Saygrace; Vanbrook, Bull; Shadwell, Smirk▪ and if Durfey can find out a proud, stubborn, immoral 
* The Chaplains 〈◊〉 in Don Quixot.  Bernard, one, that when he was a Country Curate, would not let the Children be brought to Church to be Christened for some odd jesuitical Reasons best known to himself, he shall presume to draw his Picture, though the Sin-absolver drop another Chapter of Abuse upon him for so doing.  
We find, for many Ages past, Poets have enjoyed this Privilege; our Prince of Poets, Chaucer, had so much to do in this kind, that we find him weary himself, and loath to weary others with it. 
Of Freers I have told before,  
In a making of a Crede, 
Chaucer.   
And yet I could tell worse, or more,  
But Men would werien it to read.  This I think is pithy, but here again I think his Counsel to them is much better. 
Fly fro the Press and dwell with soothfastness,  
Suffice unto thy good, though it be small,  
For horde hath, and climbing tickleness,  
Press hath Envy, and well is blended o'er all;  
Savour no more than thee behoove shall,  
Reed well thyself that other folk canst read,  
And troth thee shall deliver it is no dread.  Now if he be Moral enough to take old Chaucer's Advice I shall be glad; and so much for that subject. There is nothing now remains, before I come to vindicate Don Quixot, but a large Remark of his, upon the little or no swearing in Plays, which commonly is only a kind of an Interjection, as gad, I cod, oonz, etc. which I don't defend neither, and if any others have carelessly past the Press I'm sorry for't, for I hate them as much as he, yet because the Doctor has quoted the Statute Law against it and Players, to slander on one side, tho' to reform on t'other, I will in return quote another piece of Law relating to Oaths, extremely for his advantage, for there is only this quibbling difference between us, 'Tis a fault in us in swearing when we should not, and in him for not swearing when he should; but that now he may have occasion to say my Civilities are particular to him, I will make him do't.  
I J. C. do sincerely promise and swear, that I will be faithful, and bear true Allegiance to His Majesty King William: And I do swear that I do, from my heart, abhor, detest and abjure, as Impious and Heretical, that damnable Doctrine and Position, that Princes excommunicated, or deprived by the Pope, or any Authority of the See of Rome, may be Deposed or Murther●d by their Subjects, or any other whatsoever.  
And I do declare that no Foreign Prince, Person, Prelate, State or Potentate, hath, or aught to have, any jurisdiction, Power, Superiority, Preeminence or Authority, Ecclesiastical or Spiritual, within this Realm. So help me God.  
This now, with a sincerity proper, and coming to Church to hear our Divine Service, with the Prayer for the King in●t, would give one a little satisfaction as to the Doctor's present opinion, for what he has been, if you will but examine and scan it by his Book, though it be a Reforming ●ook, is I am sure very disputable; in one Page of it he seems very zealous for the Protestant Reformation, and says, being very much piqued at Sir john Brutus' putting on a Clergy-man's Habit in the Provoked Wife, 
Col●●er, p. 1●8.  that the Church of England, he means the Men in her, is the only communion in the world, that will endure such insolences as these; and thi●, ●ho it ●e somewhat Bonnerish again, and Switcher-like, ye● however seems to ●●er of our side; but then presently in another place he●s as zealous for the Roman Sect, and Jesuitically condemns a little wholesome satire in the Character of a pampered hypocritical covetous Spanish Friar, 
Collier, p. 98.  for incivility in making him a Pimp to Lorenzo, and is very angry at the Author for calling this virtuous person a parcel of holy Guts and Garbage, and telling him that he has room in his Belly for his Church-steeple; and here his Lash is up again for abusing them— oh— if Doctor Absolution were Inquisitor general, and a Satirist against Priests came under his hand, mercy upon us, how that poor Rascal would be flauged, for I find 'tis only the person of the Priest that he would have reverenced, let his opinion be what it will; nay, though he were a Priest of Baal, as may be proved a little further, for here his Zeal shows itself not only for Christians, 
Collier, p ●1.  but the very Turks too; and cavils again with jacinta, in the Mock ginger, for jesting with Alla, and honest Mahomet, for he was a Brother Priest too: But stay, what's worst of all, have but patience to walk to another Page, and here you will find him just sinking into a downright dose and despondency, whither he had best set up for any Religion at all, or at least for one very indifferent.  

Collier, p. 28.  Our Poets, I suppose, would call this Preaching, and think it a dull business; however, I can't forbear saying, an honest Heathen is none of the worst men, a very indifferent Religion well believed, will go a great way— Will it so, pray friends d'ye not think our hot reforming Gentleman is very Lukewarm here, or not a little crazed when he writ this, or, as the vulgar have it, was not his mighty Wit run a Woolgathering; for if he be for Protestantism, and Popery, and then whip— amongst the Bens of the Arabians for Alla and Mahomet, and at last for little or no Religion at all, I'm afraid I shall never bring myself to be reformed by him. And so at him again W●esil. 
For who with Reason, if this be your way,  

Weesils'.  Will ever value what you Preach or Pray.   
But now I think I have said enough for the Plays, whose Authors are much better able to speak for themselves; and therefore will fall off to vindicate myself a little, and my Acquaintance Don Quixot; in which I will endeavour to prove another Immoral Vice in our Stage-Reformer, which is   

Injustice and Error in Criticism.  
And first, his Injustice appears by his ungentlemanlike exposing me and others by name, upon a scandalous occasion (as he endeavours to make it) without any Injury done by me to him, or ever giving him any provocation, or the Play's any way deserving it. Oh, but he'll say his Conscience urged him to do it— No— not a jot; 'twas dear darling Interest, in good faith, as shall hereafter appear; but in the mean time I am planted upon the shoulders of a Giant, which is the Ingenious Author ●f the History of Don Quixote; and there indeed he guesses right, th● 〈◊〉 ●nows nothing of him or of his History, as I will prove by and by, 〈◊〉 confidently, and Absolver-like, he ranges his objections under three heads, which are every one malicious and false, viz.  
First, The Profaneness, with respect to Religion and the Holy Scriptures.  
Secondly, The Abuse of the Clergy.  
Thirdly, The want of Modesty, and Regard to the Audience. Well, to prove the Profaneness, he first instances a bold Song of mine, as he calls it, against Providence; four of the last lines of which he is only pleased to show ye. 
But Providence, 
D Quix. p. 1. p. 20.  that formed the fair  
In such a charming skin,  
Their outside made its only care,  
And never looked within.  Here, 
Collier p. 97.  says he, the Poet tells ye Providence makes Mankind by halves, huddles up the Soul, and takes the least care of the better Moiety; this is direct blaspheming the Creation, and a satire upon God Almighty. Why, now this, I confess, is enough to provoke some heat in a fellow of my Constitution, to hear this Religious Raving; but yet it looks so like Oliver's, Porter's in Bedlam, that I will be calm, and patiently holding up my hand, plead Not Guilty— to all of these objections. But first, pray why does he foist in the word Mankind here to express the Female Sex, when t'other word is so much more proper. I did intent indeed a small satire upon Womankind, pursuant to Marcella ●s Character, and he has varied from that word, I suppose, to amuse the Reader— I●ll give ye the whole Stanza. 
Did coy Marcelia own a Soul  
As beauteous as her Eyes,  
Her Judgement would her Sense control,  
And teach her how to prise.  
But Providence, that form●d the fair  
In such a charming Skin,  
Their outside made its only care,  
And never looked within.   
I only rally a pretty coy wench here for her sullen ill nature, without any satire on the Deity, or any thing like it; for as to the Blasphemy, as he calls it, by naming the word Providence, 'tis generally intended in Lyrical Poetry for Goddess Nature, or Fortune, as Mr Vanbrooke notes; but never applied seriously to the true Deity, but only by Dr Crambo. How often have we this phrase in Poetry, Nature has made her Body charming; see her bright E●es, the charming gifts of Nature, etc. making use still of the second cause instead of the first, which we yet know to be the original of all. And 'tis no more Blasphemy to say that Providence took more care of a perverse beautiful Woman's Body than her Soul, than 'tis to say that the Sun made a gay Tulip flourish in a Garden to delight the Eye, not caring threepences though it never smelled so sweet as a Province Rose.  
But I have a Rigid Critic and a Severe Inquisitor to deal with— He will have a satire upon the true Deity, though I intent nothing of it. And to go on, my next advance he says is to Droll upon the Resurrection; and to prove it, squirts out these two lines, which are picked out of twenty— which he thinks are fit for his purpose— 

Ibid.  Sleep and Indulge thyself with rest,  
Nor dream thou e'er shalt rise again.  Now you must know this Song was designed a solemn piece of Morality, and sung as a Requiem or Dirge at the Funeral of Ambrosio— A young Gentleman that died for Love of the aforesaid Marcelia— You shall have it all, that you may judge what Drolling is in't. 

(1.)  
Sleep, sleep, poor Youth, sleep, sleep in peace,  

D. Quix. p 20.  Relieved from Love, and mortal care,  
Whilst we that pine in Life's disease,  
Uncertain blest, less happy are.   

(2.)  
Couched in the dark and silent Grave,  
No ills of Fate thou now canst fear;  
No more shall Tyrant Power enslave,  
Or scornful Beauty be severe.   

(3.)  
Wars, that do fatal Storms disperse,  
Far from thy happy Mansion keep:  
Earthquakes, that shake the Universe,  
Can't rock thee into sounder sleep.   

(4.)  
With all the Charms of Peace possessed,  
Secured from Life's tormentor, Pain:  
Sleep and indulge thyself with rest,  
Nor dream thou e'er shall rise again.   

(5.)  
Past are the Pangs of fear and doubt,  
The Sun is from the Dial gone,  
The Sands are sunk, the Glass is out,  
The folly of the Farce is done.   Now will I be judged by any reasonable Man, if these words comparatively are not setter for an Anthem than a Droll, but the Reformers way of doing me Justice, is to take bits and morsels out of things, that for want of the connexion, they may consequently appear ridiculous, as here he does. Again, in his third objection against my third Song, where he says— I, (that is in my own person) make a jest of the Fall, rail at Adam and Eve; and than Oliver● Porter raving again, says, I burlesque the Conduct of God Almighty; 
Ibid.  now, pray judge whether it ought to be Construed so or no. This Song is supposed to be made and sung by 'Gins de Passamonte, a most notorious Atheistical Villain, who, as he is going Chained to the Galleys, is redeemed from them by Don Quixot in his frantic fit; after which, being extremely pleased at the success, he, to make his deliverer merry, entertains him with this Vindication of a Rogue, which is indeed a satire upon Humanity in general. I will add again to our Critics morsel, for he notes but the four first lines in a place, and give ye one whole Stanza. 
When the World first knew Creation,  
A Rogue was a Top profession;  
When there were no more  
In all Nature but four,  
There were two of 'em in Transgression.  
And the seeds are no less  
Since that we may guests,  
But have in all Ages been growing apace;  
And Lying and Th●●●ing,  
Craft, Pride and D●●●iving,  
Rage, Murder and 〈◊〉,  
Rape, Incest and 〈◊〉,  
Branch out from Stock, the rank Vices in vogue,  
And make all Mankind one Gigantical Rogue.  And so on: Now though I grant this might be looked on as profane in itself, without application, yet when spoken by one of his Character, whom I design to expose, it is no more than natural Character, and has so little the quality of Prohaneness, that my impartial Reader will find a very good Moral in it, by the odious representation of such Atheistical impudence; yet our good natured Critic makes me the Profaner. He, crammed full of wonderful Justice, makes me the Vice myself, that only act the true duty of a Poet, and hold up the Glass for others to see their Vices in, but his Malice will not be Authentic with every one, no more than his next Addle Criticism, upon my using the word Redeemer will bear the Test; for he that will argue that that word may not be innocently spoken in Temporal Matters, because it is sometimes used as a Divine Attribute, will prove himself rather a Coxcomb than a Casuist: And yet for only this poor word the Cat with Nine Tails are up again, and the Inquisitor in a rage cries out, these insolences are too big for the Correction of a Pen. 
Collier, p. 198.  Very fine, what horrible correction this deserves, is easily judged, and I believe 'twill be owned too, that if Doctor Absolution (when the charitable Prelates good Nature and Purse got him out of his Stone Apartment yonder, into which his bigoted obstinacy and not his tender Conscience had thrown him) did not think him his Redeemer, and thank him as his Redeemer, he does not only deserve Correction for his wicked ingratitude. (which especially in one of his Coat, is an immoral Cheat upon Heaven) but to have the same punishment that another of his Coat and Kidney lately had, for a Cheat upon the Government and People.  
But to go on: In the next place he finds fault with my making sport with Hell, and recites six Lines, which are made of Dogril Stuff, on purpose by the Duke's Servants, who, for his diversion, Acting a kind of Farce are to fright Sancho with Goblins and Furies— but to show his own Wit in the first Onset here, he has notably made the two first Lines half nonsense. 

Coll●er, p. 198.  Appear ye fat Fiends that in Limbo do groan,  
That were, when in flesh, the same Souls as his own.   
Instead of— that wore when in flesh, etc. 
You that always in Lucifer's Kitchen reside,  
Amongst Sea-coal and Kettles, and Grease newly Tried,  
That pampered each day with the Garbage of Souls,  
Broil Rashers of Fools for a Breakfast on Coals.  Words adapted only to Sancho ●s Clownship, course Breeding and Kitchen Profession, and with no more intent of Impiety in them, than if one should put on a Devil's Vizard to play with a Child, does he note again as horrible Profaneness, and says he does me no wrong in't; now if he insists that Hell is too serious a thing to ridicule, why, perhaps, I think so too, in its Intense quality; but to act a Goblin, a Ghost, a Frog, or a Fury, and to sing to a Country Clown of such Bugbear matters, only to cause a little Diversion in a Nobleman's House, has always been very customary, especially at Festivals, and far from being thought to ridicule the main matter. The Sin-absolver, to turn back a little, affirms indeed, That those that bring Devils upon the Stage, 
Collier, p. 189.  can hardly believe them any where else; but I can give an instance, that our famous Ben johnson, who I will believe had a Conscience as good as the Doctors, and who lived in as Pious an Age, 
Vid. Devil's an Ass, p. 9  in his Comedy called the Devil●s an Ass, makes his first Scene a Solemn Hell, where Lucifer sits in State with all his Privy-Council about him: and when he makes an under Pu● there beaten and fooled by a Clod-pared Squire and his wanton Wife, the Audience took the Representation morally, and never kecked at the matter. Nay, Milton, tho' upon his sacred Subject, comes very near the same thing too; but we must not laugh at silly Sancho, nor put on a Devil's face to fright him, but we must be disciplined; nay, more, Presented for it. Here, tho● I digress a little, I cannot forbear telling some, that were too busy in doing that Office, that 'tis more easy to accuse our Writings for Blasphemous, than to prove them to be so. To detect us indeed fairly, and prove it upon us, would deserve severe Chastisement; but if it be mistake, and our reputations are injured by Rashness and Injustice, or Ignorance, reflection upon it is at least reasonable, and just reproof I think not improper. But to go on; my next fault is the Ass that's brought upon the Stage in the Epilogue, with two lines alluding to Balaam's. 
And as 'tis said a Perilous Ass once spoke,  
When Crabtree Cudgel did his rage provoke, etc.  Here he says, I brought the Ass in only to laugh at the Miracle: Not I, truly, 
Collier, p. 199.  I had no such intention upon my word; I brought the Ass in, and Dogget upon him, only to make the Audience laugh at his figure at the end of the Play, as well as they had at the beginning; but I believe if I had put an Sin-absolver upon his back, giving him a Blessing, it would have been more divertive by half; but let him alone, the next horrible Crime is, I meddle with Churchmen, and there my malice makes me, he says, lay about me like a Kright Errand; but I believe I shall prove, for all the modesty he pretends to, 
Collier, p. 200.  that his malice is more in reference to Poets, than ever mine was to Churchmen. Well, my Second Part gins, he says, with the Devil's being brought upon the Stage, who cries, As he hopes to be saved; and Sancho warrants him a good Christian. Now this is a ridiculous mistake, for this Devil is only a Butler, and a Jest of his Giants, the witty Author of the History of Don Quixot, where one of the Duke's Servants acting a Devils Part to fright the Knight and Squire, blunders it out before he is ware, and Sancho hearing it, as foolishly replies. This would be humorously witty now with any one but our Critic; but he●s resolv●d to see double, as he does p●●●ently again with my deepmouthed swearing which he says is frequent, tho' he has quoted none on't, and therefore the Reader is not obliged to believe him. But then I have made the Curate Perez assist at the ridiculous Ceremony of Don Quixot; I have so— what then?— but I have made him have wit enough, however, to know Don Quixot for a Madman; but then Sancho, by way of Proverb, tells him, Ah— consider dear Sir, no Man is born wise: 
Collier, Ibid.  to which briskly replies the Doctor, What if he were born wise, he might be bred a Fool. Faith, n● Doctor; and to be free with ye (●n Raillere) as you have been with me, I must beg leave to tell ye, If you had been born wise enough to be a Reformer, your Breeding could never have made ye Fool enough to be an Sin-absolver; I mean in a Case like you know what; but let us proceed. The next is a swinger, and his Lash cuts even to the blood; for here Sancho, full of innocent simplicity, says, A Bishop is no more than another Man, without Grace and good Breeding. 
Ibid.  To which he presently darts out, I must needs say, if the Poet had any share of either of these Qualities, he would be less bold with his Superiors, and not give his Clowns the liberty to Droll thus heavily upon a solemn Character. Why, faith, now this is very hard, I have known a Country Wench name a Bishop in the Burning-too of a Hasty-Pudding, and never heard that any of the Reverend took it ill, because it was a Common Saying, and below their notice. But poor Sancho, or rather indeed Sancho's Poet, myself, must be corrected for it, tho● the Phrase be Moral, and no more than an honest truth: But come, since it must be so, let me ask the Doctor why he does not show me an example for this himself, and Practise better before he Accuses; for let the Read ere look into his Desertion Discussed (for he shall find that I have traced him through all his Writings) and page the 3d you will find him, I think, somewhat more guilty of this fault than I have been, for there you●ll see he insolently affirms, 
Desertion. Discussed, Anno 1688.  That the Succession cannot be interrupted by an Act of Parliament, especially when the Royal Assent is given by a King de Facto, and not de Jure. And again; tho' this next is hinted covertly, with the meaning disguised, yet Sir William Temple in his Memoirs, page 295. and the aforesaid Vindicater of the Stage, as well as myself, have observed, that the Sin-absolver, in the first Volume of his Essays, page 120. in his Chapter of the Aspect, 
Essays, p. 120.  tells us, Whether the honesty or dishonesty are discernible in the face, is a question which admits of dispute; King Charles the Second thought he could depend upon these Observations, but, with submission, I believe an instance might be given, in which his Rules of Physiognomy failed. Now I'm sure the first is insolently plain, and the next shows enough to let us into his meaning; which granted, I think I may say, he ought to be less bold with his Superiors too, and not give himself the liberty to treat at this rate, not only a Solemn, but a Royal Character. Well, the next is, I, (naming me) take care to tell ye, that Sancho is a dry shrewd Country f●llow in his Character, because he blunders out Proverbs upon all occasions, though never so far from the purpose— and merrily drolls upon me for making blundering and talking nothing to the purpose, an argument of shrewdness— Why truly, I must confess to the Doctor, there is no great matter in that Argument, and not much whither there be or no— But, as unperforming as I am, I fancy I sha●l find as great ●a Blunder in his ●●●formance presently— We ought to be just in our Looks, 
Essays p. 118.  as well as in o●● Actions, says he in his Essays, for the mind may be declared one way no 〈◊〉 than the other: A man might as good b●eak his Word as his Face, especia●●●●pon some Critical occasions. Now what he means by a man's breaking hi● Face there, unless he is to run his Nose against a Post, I can't imagine; and therefore will set it down for a Blunder— And so there's Ti● for Tat, and the Dice in my hand still. But poor Sancho is horribly unfortunate again, 〈◊〉 by and by he catches him answering the Cura●●, who threatens him for calling him Finish●● of Fornication, and Conjunction Copulative, with Excommunication, 
Collier, p. 201.  I care not if you do, says Sancho, I shall lose nothing by it but my ●ap in an afternoon. Why truly this might be thought a little saucy from one in Trowsers, to one in a Ca●s●●●, especially as the Refor●●r would have him reverenced. But perhaps this Pragmatical Curate Perez was s●me Non-Iuror, and poor Sancho did not think he should profit by his Doctrine; and then the honest fellow was much in the right. This puts me in mind of a passage in one of Mr Crown's Comedies, where a fu●●● joiner is rallying with a Doctor of no very good Reputation too; Sirrah, Sirrah, says the Doctor, I shall have your Ears— No, no, says ●●izzel, never when you Preach, Doctor. Our Sin-absolver may apply this now as he pleases.  
And here are a bundle of faults together— jodolet, another Priest, is call●d holy Cormorant, 
Ibid.  only because he eats a Turkey, and drinks a Bottle or two of Malaga for his Breakfast; and the Poet is jerked because a gormandizing Romish Priest is called a Pimp again; and the Duke's Steward, Manuel, is no witty pleasant fellow, because he calls the Chaplain, whom I mentioned in the beginning of my Preface, and who is, no doubt, the sole occasion of this Gentleman's Pique to me— Mr Cuff-cushion; and because having an insight into his Character, he tells him, 
Ibid  a Whore is a Pulpit he loves▪ but my hope is, that my Reader will think him no fool for this, though the Carper does, who then tells the Chaplain Sa●grace, and he supposes prays to God to bless the entertainment of the Devil, though there is not a word of a Grace spoke at all; and after, when he grows hot, positive, and impertinent, which the Duke his Patron being at Table, only bears with, to divert himself, he insolently calls Don ●uixot, Don Coxcomb, who justly enraged, returns him this Language: 
Collier, p. 202.  Oh thou vile black Fox, with a Firebrand in thy Tail, thou very Priest, thou kindler of all Mischiefs in all Nations, d'ye 〈◊〉 Homily, did not the reverence I bear these Nobles— I would so thr●● our Cassock, you Church Vermin— Here now, to show his Justice he sli●●●●●●ps and gives a dash, so makes it Nonsense, but I shall make bold to piece it out again. Did not the reverence I bear these Nobles, tie up my hands from doing myself justice, I would so thrum your Cassock you Church Vermin— Now, because my Reader shall find that I have naturally pursued the character of this Chaplain, as Don Quixot's Historian has presented him to me, 
Shelton's Transplati●n of the History of D. 〈◊〉 Chap. 3●. p. ●●●.  you shall hear what account he gives of him. Here is, says he, a good Character of a poor Pedant; one of them that govern great men's Houses, one of those, that as they are not born Noble, so they know not how to instruct those that are; ●ne of those, that would have great m●n●s Liberality measured by the straightness of their own Minds; one of those, that teaching those they govern to be frugal, would make 'em miserable. Now this considerable person as you find him here, who was indeed for his senseless humour of designing to govern— used not otherwise than as the Buffoon of the Family-takes upon him to call Don Quixot (whom the Author imb●●lishes, with all manner of learning and good sense, bating his whimsical Chimaera of Kite Errantry) Goodman Dulpate and Don Coxcomb. Well, however the Switcher here has escaped for his usuge of a Gentlemen in or near this manner, I believe my Judges will agree, that my Knight was so far from injuring the saucy Trenc●er●●y▪ by the reply he give him, that if he had not known and practised g●od breeding, better than the other, he would have broke his head into the bargain. As for his bidding him adieu in Language too profane and scandalous for our Reformer to relate, is impossible, for he has prov●d often enough the contrary of that in his Book already. But for the Song in the Fourth Act, where the Country Fellow says, Folks never mind now what those black Cattle say: 
Ibid.  He is only supposed for another Bumpkin, that amongst the rest of the Parishioners, had found out the Parson's blind side, and so behind his back took occasion to put a joke upon him, as well as the rest in that satire mentioned.  
And now his third place is to prove my want of Modesty, and regard to the Audience— And here he's chewing his savoury word Smutt again, 
Collier, p. 203.  and says Sancho and Teresa talk it broad; but since his Modesty has not quoted it, I hope my Reader will believe so well of mine, to think I have not written it; I assure him I don't know of any. And I have proved our Reformer can mistake, as he does of Marcellas' Epilogue, who Raves, he says, with Raptures of Indecency, when the poor Creature is so cold, after her hot fit, that she rather wants a dram of the Bottle— But now, Bounce, for a full charge of Small Shot; here he has gathered up a heap of Epithets together, without any words between, or connexion to make 'em sense; and this he says I divert the Ladies with— Snotty nose, filthy vermin in the Beard, Nitty jerkin, and Louse snapper, with the Letter in the Chamber-pot, and natural evacuation. Why truly this is pretty stuff indeed, as his Ingenuity has put it together— but I hope every one will own, that each of these singly, when they are tagged to their sensible phrases, may be proper enough in Farce or Low Comedy; but as he has modelled 'em, 'tis true they are very frightful— And if I had nothing to sing or say to divert Ladies better than this, I should think myself so despicable, that I would even get into the next Plot, amongst his Brother Grumblers— then despairing, do some doughty thing to deserve hanging, and depend upon no other comfort but his Absolution.  
I remember, being lately at St. James', this very part of the Doctor's Book was read or rather spelt out to me, with tickling satisfaction, by one whose Wit and good Manners are known to be just of the same weight, who, since he can be merry so easily, he shall laugh at some of the Reformers hotchpotch too, 
Collier's Epethetes  as I have mingled it for him: jewish Tetragramaton, Stygian Frogs, recking Pandaemoniums, Debauched Protagonists, Nauseous Ribaldry, Ranting Smutt, Abominable Stench, Venus and Saint 〈◊〉 jusiana, the Witch and the ra●son of Wrotham, with the admirable Popish Story of the Woman that went to the Playhouse and brought home the Devil with her— And the Devil's in't indeed, 
Collier, p. 257  if this charming Rhetoric of his, (since he calls mine so) especially joyn●d with that fine story, from T●rtu●●ian, don't divert the Ladies as well as tother; for 'tis very like a catholic miracle you must know, and the top wit of it is, that when the Parson is Conjuring, he asks the Devil how he durst attack a Christian? who, like an admirable joker as he was, answers, I have done nothing but what I can justify, for I seized her upon my own ground. Now let the Devil be as witty as he can, I am sure the story, maugre Tertullian's Authority, or the Doctor's either, is confounded silly, and downright nonsense, what credit soever it has with him for its likeness to Jesuiticism. And now I think I have proved too, that a Clergyman can speak nonsense, pass it for humour too, and gratify his ease and his malice at once, without a Poet's putting his into his Mouth. And since we have been speaking of quibbling, I shall digress a little to entertain the Reader on that subject. Our Critic rallies Mr Dryden's Sancho in Love Triumphant, for saying, don't provoke me, I●m mischievously bend, to which Carlos a man of sense replies, 
Collier, p. 17●.  ●ay you are bend enough in conscience, but I have a bend Fist for Boxing. Here says he (smartly) you have a brace of quibbles started in a line and a half— Very true, you have so— But suppose quibbling or punning— but I think this▪ is called punning— Is this Gentleman's humour— if so, being a Soldier, I don't see it calls his sense in question at all— but now pray let's see, how our Critic manages a quibble, with a blunder tacked to the Tail on't, in the page before, there, in the aforesaid Play, Celidea in a passion cries, 

Collier, p. 68  Great Nature break thy Chain that links together  
The Facrick of this Globe, and make a Chaos,  
Like that within my Soul—  Now, says the Doctor, keen as a Razor, if she had called for a Chair, instead of a Chaos, tripped off, and kept her folly to herself, the woman had been wiser. Calling for a Chair instead of a Chaos is an extreme pretty Quibble truly— but if the Critic had let the Chair-men have tripped off with her, instead of doing it herself as she sat in a Chiar, I'm sure the blunder had been saved, and I think he had expressed himself a little wiser than he has— And come, now my hands in, let's parallel Mr Dryden with our Reformer a little longer— Churchmen (says Benducar in Don Sebastian, 
Tho they Itch to govern all,  

Collier, p. 104  Are silly, woeful awkward Politicians,  
They make lame mischiefs, though they meant it well.  So much the better, says he, for 'tis a sign they are not beaten to the trade— Oh, that's a mistake, Doctor, they may be beaten to the Trade, and yet be bunglers— And proceeding: 
Their Interest is not finely drawn, and hid,  

Ibid,  But Seams are coursely bungled up, and seen.  These Lines, says he, are an Illustration taken from a Tailor. They are so, but what Justice is it in him to lessen 'em, whose own flights are ten times more ridiculous: For example, talking just before of tumbling the Elements together, he says, and since we have shown our skill of Vaulting on the High Ropes, a little Tumbling on the Stage may not do amiss for variety. 
Collier, p. 168.  And now I will refer myself to the severest Critic of his party, whether an Illustration taken from a Tailor is not better than one taken from a Vagabond Rope-dancer, or Tumbler, forty times over; but his sense and way of Writing he thinks will infallibly overcome censure; not with me I assure him, to confirm it I must remark him once more, and then my digression shall end. He tells ye Cleora, in the Tragedy of Cleomenes, is not very charming, her part is to tell you, her Child sucked to no purpose. 
It pulled and pulled but now, 
Cleomenes.  but nothing came;  
At last it drew so hard that the Blood followed,  
And that red Milk I found upon its Lips,  
Which made me swoon for fear—  There, says he, is a description of sucking for ye: And then like another Devil of a Joker runs on, truly one would think the Muse on't were scarcely weaned— Very likely; and here I warrant he thinks his Witty Cricicism, as safely housed now as a Thief in a Mill, as the old Saw has it, did not his plaguee want of Memory now and then contrive to disgrace him; for if you turn to the thirty fourth page of his Lampoon, as Mr Vanbrooke calls it, after he has been comparing a fine young Lady to a Setting-bitch-teacher.  
Lower yet— down, down, 
Collier, p. 34.  and after he has been bringing forth a Litter of Mr Congreeves Epithets, as he calls them, soothing softness, sinking Ease, wasting Air, thrilling Fears, and incessant scalding Rain, all Crude, just as he did mine before▪ without any connexion of sense to 'em: He tells ye more plain in troth than wittily, that they make the Poem look like a Bitch overstocked with Puppies, 
Ibid.  and sucks the sense almost to Skin and Bone. For a Child to suck the Mother till the Blood follows, I think is not unreasonable, but for a Litter of Epithets to suck the sense of a Poem to the Skin and Bone, is such Fustian Stuff, that nothing but a Creature, only fit for a Sucking-bottle, could be Author of— And now I think if he has given me any Crocus Metallorum, I am even with him with a Dose of ●ollop, and can whisk too from one Play to another indifferently well, though not so fast as he; for when I perused him first, I could compare him to nothing but an Humble Bee in a Meadow, Buz upon this Daizy, Hum upon that Clover, then upon that Butter-flower— sucking of Honey, as he is of Sense— or as if upon the hunt for knowledge, he could fly from hence to the College at Downy, then to St. Peter ●s at Rome, then to Mahomet at Mecha, then to the Inquisition at Goa— And then buzz home again to his own dormitory in Sho●elane: And so much for his injustice, now to his error in Criticism again, and to proceed in defence of Don Quixot.  
Marry the Buxom, he says now swears faster 'tis false, and I deny it, she is so far from swearing fast, that she does not (rude as her Character is) swear at all, unless the poor interjection I cod— by his Authority can be made an Oath; and than if you'll peruse him on, here is a whole page and half upon this hint, That the Ladies must have left their Wits and Modesty's behind them that came, and liked her Words or Actions; 
Collier, p. ●●4.  and that her Nastiness, and dirty Conversation, is a Midnight Car●, or a Dunghill, instead of an Ornamental Scene. Now you don't find out our Gentleman's malicious meaning by this, but I shall inform ye. He says, I●m sorry the Ladies brought their Wits and Modesty's with them, that came to see this Character; and yet all the whole Town can witness, that as many of the Ladies as could get into the Playhouse came thither, to wait upon Her late Majesty of Sacred Memory, who did me that honour only for my benefit; and who was of so nice a Temper, relating to Modesty, that if so much as a hint had been given her by those had seen it before, of such a thing as Immodesty, she had never came, much less had been diverted, as she was, when she did come; but this I take as striking at her through my sides; and I think, to use his own words, is above the Correction of the Pen. The next is such senseless malice, 
Collier, p. 206.  or ignorance, that it deserves a hoot; he finds Manuel in Don Quixot (playing in his Farce for the Duke's diversion) addressing to the Duchess in this manner, in a Jargon of Phrase made ridiculous on purpose: 
Vid. She●ton's Translation of Don Quix●t, p. 2●5.  Illustrious beauty, I must desire to know wh●ther the most purisidi●erous Don Quixot of the Manchissima, and the Squireiferous Pa●●●a, be in this Company or no. To whom Sancho replies, imitating, as he thinks this fine stile▪ Why look, forsooth, without any more flourishes, the Governor Pancha is here, and Don Quixotissimo too, therefore, most Afflictedis●●mous Ma●o●is●●ima, speak what you Willissimus, for we are ●il ready to be your Servi●orissimus. And this now he inserts as my own Invention and manner of S●ile, which is taken verbatim from the History of Don Quixot, and is by all those that can judge of humour, very pleasant and ●it for that purpose. Now if he has never read that History, his ignorance has abused me; and if he has, his impudence has, of which 'tis perceived he has ●rock enough, for presently he worries me for saying, in my Epistle Dedicatory to the Duchess of Ormond, 
Collier, p. 207.  That I date my good fortune from her prosperous influence, and says 'tis Astrological. I don't know whether it has that sort of Learning in●t or no, but 'tis as good sense as when he says, like a Wag as he is, that the Lady's fancy is just slip-stocking high, and she seems to wa● sense more than her Breakfast. 
Collier, p 92.  Fancy slip-stocking high? no, no, the merry Grig must mean her pretty Leg was seen so high, for the Master of Art, I beg pardon of the ●est that their Title is scandalised, could never mean such Nonsense as t'other sure.  
And now drawing near to an end, his malice grows more plainly to a head, by endeavouring to lessen my Credit with my Patron Mr. Montague, whose generous Cando● and good Nature to me, and indeed to us all, he perhaps has heard of, for here our modest and moral Critic, has either mistaken the words, or found out a slip of the Press, which because it happens to be Nonsense, he has very gladly exposed for mine; 'tis in m● Epistle to my aforesaid Patron, 
Collier, p 207.  thus: Had your Eyes shot the haughty Austerity upon me of a right Courtier, your valued minutes had never been disturbed with dilatory Trifles of this nature; but my heart, on dull Consideration of your Merit, had supinely wished you Prosperity at a distance. Mine in my Copy was written [endue Consideration] but Doctor Crambo will have you believe, I considered so little to write the tother; but now I will hold twenty Stubble Geese to the same number of Tithe Pigs, whenever he is preferred to be a Curate again, that I make my Patron smile more at my Entertainment of him at his own Cost, than ever he did at his quoting my dull Consideration, which no body but the dull Sin-absolver could imagine a Man with any Brains could write. And to prove I have yet a few, I will try to Paraphrase upon his Farewell to me, the Translation in Verse, but the Reader shall have his first. 
I like an Author that Reforms the Age, 
Collier,   
And keeps the right Decorum of the Stage;  
That always pleases by Just Reason's Rule;  
But for a tedious Droll, a quibbling Fool,  
Who with low nauseous Bawdry fills his Plays,  
Let him be gone, and on two Trestles raise  
Some Smithfield Stage, where he may act his Pranks,  
And make Jack Puddings speak to Mountebanks.   
Your humble Servant good Doctor.— Well, now for me. 
I like a Parson, that no Souls does Lurch,  
And keeps the true Decorum of the Church;  
That always preaches by Just Reason's Rule;  
But for a Hypocrite, a Canting Fool,  
Who, crammed with Malice, takes the Rebel's side,  
And would, for Conscience, palm on us his Pride,  
Let him, for Stipend, to the 
* A Savage kind of People in the West of England.  Gubbins sail,  
And there Hold-forth for Crusts and Juggs of Ale.   
And so much by way of Prose, I shall only now give the Reformer a little further Advice, in return of his, in my Lyrical way, which is in a Fable of A Dog and an Otter; and to turn his own words upon him, the Citation may possibly be of some service to him, for if not concerned in the Application, he may at least be precautioned by the Moral. I find he knows I can sing to other People's sense, I'll try now if I can make him sing to mine: And when he Diverts, or is Diverted with Vox, then, Preterea nihil.    

THE DOG and the OTTER: A FABLE.  
The Argument.  
The Otter, Tray does friendly greet,  
And would persuade him home;  
Who proves a Pybald Hypocrite  
To Luther, and to Rome.  
ON the fresh verdure of a pleasant Vale,  
A well-stocked Park, surrounded with a Pale,  
A Crystal River gently gliding by,  
To feast the Appetite and please the Eye,  
A Mansion stood; the 
* Government.  Patron of it one,  
Whose Wealth and Wisdom eminent were known;  
Honours right Principles from the Breast he drew,  
Just to Just Kings, and to his Country true:  
Concerned in a State Change, and thought it fit  
To Law, and to new Regal Power submit.  
Amongst his chief delights, the pleasing care,  
To make wild creatures tame, did most appear;  
Tigers and Wolves he from his hands would feed,  
And fiercest Pards and Panthers gently breed:  
Nay, teach 'em too by wondrous influence,  
The Grace of Reason to their Gift of Sense;  
Make learned Bards, and fit for State Affairs,  
Of purring Cats, sly Foxes, and dull Bears;  
And make a Parrot, Starling and Jackdaw,  
Prate Ethics, and put Cases in the Law.  
Amongst all that on his bounty did depend,  
The Otter was best Favourite and Friend,  
His Learning being greater than the rest,  
A wise Philosopher as well as Priest,  
Till lately tainted with a vanity,  
Which oft attends the Gown-mans' quality,  
Opinion positive, and stubborn Will,  
By which Men scarce distinguish good from ill,  
His sense perverting on Ambition's score,  
Malice remained, but Wisdom was no more.  
This made him, when the Revolution was,  
And all took Oaths anew, deny the case,  
The Abdication, and the granted Right  
Of the new Monarch; and with settled spite,  
Desert his Livelihood, his Patron slight,  
Then wildly roam abroad a Malcontent,  
Railing as mad against the Government.  
When Tray, a Setting-dog of famous Note▪  
Respecting both his Qualities and Coat,  
As one besides that had his inside known,  
When former secrets they exchanged alone,  
When Friends and fellow Servants at one Board,  
They used to taste the bounties of their Lord,  
Resolved to find out his Abode, and then  
Friendly persuade him to return again,  
Which to perform he beats the Riverside,  
Where th' Otter did in Solitude abide,  
o'ergrown with Spleen each bright revolving day,  
Till Night came on, that he might hunt for prey,  
Close in a hole, at an old Willows root,  
Which o'er the stream did straggling branches shoot,  
He found him lying with his Nose on ground,  
And thus his sentiments began t'expound.  Tray. 
Why was it given ye to understand,  
Equal with any Otter in the Land,  
To let ye thus that Understanding spoil,  
By foolish pride, and obstinacy vile?  
Reason I'm sure you cannot forfeit so,  
Nor are what really you seem in show.  
You know I am familiar with your heart,  
Know well your frailty and your just desert,  
Have noted by some humours past and gone,  
What is for Conscience, what for Interest done,  
And therefore would not have ye for a pique,  
Of such slight cause, commit this hideous freak,  
To leave our House, but friendly Counsel hear,  
Confess your fault, go home again and swear.  Otter. 
He must have much more skill than thou art taught,  
Can make one of my Kidney own a fault,  
For whilst my Sophistry can stand my friend,  
Such Arguments come seldom to an end  
I thank thee for thy kindness, honest Tray,  
But am resolved, whatever thou canst say;  
Thou knowst I know how far thy gifts extend,  
What Providence has given, and to what end;  
I know thy Wit can tell how far behind,  
To set the Covey, and which way the Wind,  
Lick Patron, do as he would have thee do,  
And if the Time's turn, change to Turk or Jew:  
And without further reach, when this is done,  
Then still to gnaw the self same Marrowbone.  
But there is difference 'twixt thy Parts and mine,  
As aught twixt Temporal, and things Divine,  
Thy stint of Merit easily is seen,  
Mine now gins to be, but has not been,  
Nor was I then (whatever thou thinkest) unwise,  
When subtly I forsook my Benefice:  
Had that been kept I could not be severe,  
Nor let the strength of my shrewd Parts appear,  
Sulleness gains respect, and often fear:  
If meek, I should be always what I was,  
But as I●m ●ullen I stand fair for Place,  
It makes the world reflect on my deserts;  
●●nsider, and ●●ke notice of my parts;  
●●●●cially when dubious I appear;  
In mysteries I would not have 〈◊〉 clear.  Tray. 
Nay, you have always been a dubious Creature,  
Your faith too as amphibious as your nature;  
For as you are both Flesh and Fish by ●ind,  
Of such ●dd sort of mixture is your mind:  
To please your Appetite can lave the Flood,  
Or for s●me dainty Morsel hunt the Wood  
And as by Nature taught, you can devour  
Fat Trout in Rivers, or young Lambs on Shore.  
So can your Soul's warm faculty digest,  
Each kind of Tene● from each kind of Priest.  
Tope down draught Orthodox like other Bub,  
Then warm the stomach with a strong— Transub▪  
Argue the Cause on either side with ease,  
As matters vex ye, or as matters please.  
But in what miserable case is he,  
That thus depends on your Divinity:  
For if, as I believe, your only rule  
Is mere Hypocrisy your Flock to fool,  
To preach up each each Religion in each kind,  
When neither has the power yourself to bind;  
As by your Writings is explained to many,  
First you're for one, than t'other, than scarce any;  
How wretched will your Proselytes appear,  
Who are to find their Heaven, but know not where,  
And though my gifts cannot of yours take place,  
I hope I still may equal ye in Grace.  
I act Obedience to the King and Laws,  
Led by the Wise, own Justice in the Cause.  
Obey the Apostle and the Higher Power,  
Not shuffle off on th● conscientious Score.  
When what I would insinuate for Zeal,  
Is only the effect of stubborn Will,  
As yours is now, else why this juggling Arts?  Ottor. 
Fool, han't I said before— to show my parts.  
I●ll make the Government distinguish me,  Tray. 
'Twill rather punish your Hypocrisy.  Ottor. 
Sot, what thou call'st Hypocrisy is Wit,  Tray. 
Not half so much, as when men draw the Net,  
To snare the heedless Partridges I set;  
Learned in the craft I was designed by fate,  
I wisely act, but you prevarricate,  
And simply led by blind opinion try,  
To vend for pious Grace rank Fallacy.  Ottor. 
Hast thou observed my life, and canst thou say,  
My Duty I've neglected any way.  
Are not my Actions regularly known,  
And my Devotions seen thro' all the Town.  Tray. 
Ay, that's the deepest mischief in your Gown.  
A●vicious Priest that holy form does take,  
Is the most powerful Villain Hell can make.  
For there●s the garb of Sanctity to hid  
All Malice, Lewdness, Avarice or Pride.  
He has too, when there are invectives made,  
Wit to confute, and Learning to evade.  
The ignorant Laity have no such power,  
They're but Jackalls, 'tis the ill Priests devour.  
But as I've shown a bad,— I●ll now describe,  
Dull as I am,— a good one of your Tribe:  
Wise, just, and humble, he that Souls would win,  
With modest reason must discourage sin;  
Gentle and mild, his pious Cause must plead,  
Inform the Brain, and yet not break the Head  
With temper his reproofs must be endued,  
Boys may be snubbed, but Men will think it rude,  
And ne'er by rough Admonishment turn good,  
Of Life exemplary, of heart sincere,  
Who next his Soul, holds King and Country dear.  
Who power and riches reckons trivial things,  
Who to the poor his own white Manchet brings;  
Who deals in no hypocrisy nor pride,  
That's a good Priest— if you are such I've●ly▪  
What Precepts have you taught this impious Age?  Ott. 
Why, I have writ a Book against the Stage,  
Been tickled with their Smutt these seven long years,  
And now have published it with sighs and tears.  
Another too, where he that makes inspection,  
May find in one place against pride objection,  
Another, where 'tis made a chief perfection.  
Both Books so fine, as will, for all your railing,  
Soon do my work, for I have friends prevailing.  Tray. 
And then you'll swear.  Ott. 
Sir, I can jests endure.  Tray. 
I know you will;  Ott. 
Well, first let me be sure,  
In the mean time 'tis fit I look demure.  
Whatever vices secretly I wear▪  
I●ll be a Saint in show, none shall appear.  Tray. 
How's that? you say you'll be a Saint in show,  
And yet am told, were yesterday a Beau.  
Wore Coat o'th' modish Cut from Doyley piece,  
And Peruke long, to grace Canonic Phiz.  
How can that parallel with Robe Divine?  Ott. 
I'll make it do't, to further my design.  
My Book already has alarmed the Town,  
I●ve pa●●●d their taste, and any thing will down.  
The public Vogue is gained— I●ve moved the stone,  
And now you'll find it of itself roll on.  
Well painted ●ri●les do their sense deceive,  
And what they like they easily believe.  Tray. 
But can your Fallacy on such impose,  
That have our Doctrine of Allegiance chose.  
Can they be blind to your bifronted look,  
Not see your Craft, because they like your Book,  
It cannot be— your— Actions and your Print,  
Too plainly show that on both sides you squint.  
Keep both in hand, till offers come so fair,  
You may say Conscience did mistake— and swear:  
This, such discerning, Eyes must see a little.  Ott. 
Some do, but some are blind still as a Beetle;  
I have had thanks for showing the Stage Vices,  
Spite of Absolving, and such bold Caprices.  
I'm a strict, tough Non-juror in opinion,  
That wish Le Roy were routed of Dominion.  
The Government subverted, Pulpit too,  
Unless my Model— could set up the true.  
And y●●●'ve wheedled, some by glossy parts,  
To think of a reward for my deserts.  
This now I dare confess, to thee, and more,  
Because I know thy Nature, Wit and Power:  
How far thy little spite can do me wrong,  
Which is, alas, no further than thy Tongue.  
Know then, your Patron rashly took the Oaths,  
Which he believed I'd do for Food and clothes.  
He used me like a Servant of small Note,  
Affronting thus my Office and my Coat,  
For which I left his House, despised his Glebe,  
And like a Spider now will spin my Web.  
Till one or t'other richly does provide,  
For that just Merit, which thou call'st my pride.  
So honest well-nosed Trey, let us shake hands,  
'Twill become thee, to busk o'er stubble Lands.  
For near that Copse, I a large Covey saw,  
Run home, then make 'em get the Net and draw,  
But touch no more Divinity nor Law.  Tray. 
No, faith, Sir, I●ll go home, strait o'er these grounds,  
And make 'em bring my Patron's O●tor-Hounds,  
To ●cówr your Worship from these shady bounds.  
For since 'tis only mischief you design,  
And hope to get preferred, by cheats Divine.  
I●ll do my bantered Countrymen this Grace,  
To see you worry d 'ere that come to pass.  
I'll send ye those shall make you cast your Fleece,  
As well as late you cast your Benefice.  
Your Ducking and your Diving shall no● do,  
Nor your close holes secure when they pursue.  
Your own Desertion than shall be discisst,  
Whilst all that are to King and Country just,  
Shall hollow the sport, and leave each home,  
To view the Male-con●e●ted Ottors doom.  Ott. 
Fool, ●●ther than he snapped, I●ll take a tree.  Tra●. 
And faith, as you've ●●serv'd; one ●it may be  
Where branches grow not from one stock but three   

The Campaigners.  

Act I.  

Scene I. An Eating-House.  Enter Van Scopen and Mascarillo, the first dressed in Blue, Laced with Gold galoon, the other Genteely in Black. Masc. 
DEar Brother in Iniquity, here's to thee. Drinks. And once more welcome from Paris— Well, and how dost like my Country, hah— I see by thy Rosy Gills and these Collops here— matters have gone very well with thy Belly— the Ambassador won't spare the King's Purse, he will have good meat and drink, I'll say that for him.  Van Sc. 
Yes faith, the meat and drink was nourishing enough in itself, 'tis true, if it were not always condemned to be spoiled by the damnable Cooks and Butlers. But your true Frenchman will sit playing with his Plate, talk out the whole time of dinner, and fast at your Table, if he has not his own favourite Kick-shaw, and the Meat is not dressed his way.  Masc. 
And when a Dish does come up our way, 'tis metamorphosed so, you can't know it I warrant, hah.  Van Sc. 
Know it; no nor taste it neither, when I have expected to have been Regaled with a good slice from a thing that looked like a Rump of Beef, I have found my mouth full of Eggs and Herbs, Suet and Onions, Hogo'd with Garlic, and burnt with Pepper— oh would the Cook were hanged, then thought I; when straight to quench my Choler, and make amends, I call for a Brimmer, and then they give me a Glass of Water, just coloured with three or four spoonfuls of Claret, a little of which is no sooner down, but up comes a curse after it, a pox take the Dog the Butler.  Masc. 
To give a right Dutchman Water with his Wine is an absurdity, that faith Brother I must needs say deserves a Curse; our Blockheads ought to consider the constitution of your Country, and remember they always live up to the mouth in water, where, like Ducks, they no sooner come out of their houses, but they may, if they please, swim to any place of business; and when the affair is ended, if they are thrifty, and would save Shoe-leather, they may Dive home again.  Van Sc. 
Why, how now Scoundrel, what, at your quirks and jeers, hah? Well, as much Water as we have, we make it turn to better account, that you do all that barren land of yours in Gascoigne, and Picardy; how goes the best Wheat a bushel, hah? but that I think few of you poor Rascals know; you forget your Brown-georges', ye Rogue, ye do.  Masc. 
No, not now in time of Peace, when we can get some of your Dutch Butter to 'em, Sirrah— but hang ye, lest my Satirical Wit should provoke a Combat of Snick or Snee, here's the Embassador's health— I begin thy Master's first, because you shall follow with my Monsieurs in its turn. Come, tope away. Drinks.  Van. Sc. 
Ay, with all my heart, though gad, methinks I'm so fine, it goes against the grain to call any one Master now. Prithee how dost like me: here's a dress, here's a shape, Struts about here's an Air of Quality; my Master ordered me to put on my old Livery when I came away, but gad I looked methought so like an Officer, that I could not obey him. Wharum Deevil ne Ick been une Ambassador too, why an't I an Ambassador too— As I was walking in the Paris Tuilleries t'other day, ah how sweetly the sound came to my ears of the poor Rogues crying, bless the noble Captain, make way there for the Colonel, for by my garb, all thought me one of these at least.  Masc. 
Especially when separated from the Ambassadors Retinue.  Van. Sc. 
And that I took care to be as often as possible, to follow the intrigue I had with a rich Merchant's Daughter there. You may see by this the value of good clothes, Brother. This Coat of mine got me into the Company of the prettiest Rogue, and so into her Father's house, from thence into her Chamber; and had not the plagay Ambassador dispatched me away instantly with Letters to his Sister here, I had got into her Bed, the night following e'gad, under the Title of Min Heer Flounder Belchman, B●●mce Dender Van Scopen, Colonel of Horse, and one of the intimates of the Ambasaddor.  Masc. 
Odso, 'twas a great disappointment to your Excellency I confess, Sir, and for my part, ●tho I don't glitter so much as you do, yet the Marquis my Master being in mourning for his Mother, gives me as genteel a garb, as I think any man of Quality need have, which I industriously strive to improve you may be sure.  Van Sc. 
How, pray, an't like your Honour?  Masc. 
By intriguing with the Washer-woman without doors to wear his Shirts, and within doors to filch his Cravats, and transform the rest of his Linen.  Van Sc. 
Very well, noble Sir, my service to ye again, Drinks. Why troth, a man may see the happy turn of times, and th' advantage the Peace brings with it, in your honours alrered air and behaviour— Why who the Devil would take us now for two Footmen. Both strutting about.  Masc. 
He must be duller than any thing belonging to the Devil, that does it, Brother, I'm sure of that. But come, we used to be open hearted, and tell one another's employments. Prithee what can be thy hasty expedition hither from the Ambassador, what he's jealous of his Sisters Marrying in his absence, I'll lay my life?  Van Sc. 
He is so, and since we were always Brother Starlings in managing and discovering secrets to one another, thou shalt know all. His Nose is bored, the young Lady has surrendered to some body. We have in Brussels here, a certain finical spruce Fop, a kind of a Flanderkin Beau, who is Precedent of the Council of Trade here. His name is Bondevelt, and who, I believe, has entered the Citadel already, for there's certainly a Kid born, and I am to wait to night, upon some new Employment of hers, the Lovis d'ors will come in fresh, ye Rogue, and ●ace is the word. Come now, what news on your side?  Masc. 
Why you must know, I have for some months last passed been entrusted by my Master, as a Spy over my Lady, he having noted some lose carriages of late in her, and to day an occasion was offered to confirm his suspicion, she sending me with a Letter to an English Colonel lately come over, and about an intrigue I'm sure. What the event will be, I shall know hereafter, and then, Brother, we'll find further leisure to consult.  Van Sc. 
In the mean time let us conclude, that whilst men are fatigued with too much Employment, and women lie idle with too little, Horns must infallibly happen on one side, and brawlings and heart-burnings on t'other: And so your Excellency's most humble. For I think I hear a voice you are acquainted with, 'tis your Friend and Companion the Marquis, and some others. Call within. hay! Mascarillo. For my part I hate a mixed Company, and therefore I'll take the Flask, noble Sir.  Masc. 
And I the Glass, an't like your Honour, and we'll retire into the next Room. Exeunt.  Enter Dorange and Kinglove. Dor. 
What, have we dropped the Maquis?  King. 
Only, whilst he dispatches Orders to his Lackey; drop him, no, he's of too nice a punctilio for that; to part from his Company without the Decorum and Ceremony proper, would be to him an rudeness unpardonable.  Doran. 
I never saw him till last night with thee, but he seems to me a fellow of good sense, and humour, I like him better than any Frenchman I have met with a great while.  King. 
Why, faith, I think he has less affectation than most of 'em, and though he talks a little more perhaps than comes to his share, yet 'tis commonly good matter, which makes some amends.  Dor. 
And so civilly addressed too, that a man is not so weary as one used to be, with some of the rest of his eternally tattling, Countrymen.  King. 
I intent to oil his Tongue if I can with a good Bottle, Powerful Champaign will discover what imperfections he has infallibly, as well as what wit.  Dor. 
Nay, I don't look upon him as a Solon neither, for I hear▪ he's married but oddly.  King. 
To old Lafroon's Daughter, a sordid rich Hunks of Blois, I have seen her, but have no acquaintance.  Dor. 
Is she pretty?  King. 
Yes, faith, and I'm told witty, airy, and musical, but coquettish as a little Devil, a great Bassett-player, and like the Jew her Father, the most insatiable Lover of Money. And you know, friend, when ever a woman too well loves that, she will soon be brought to do another thing that we love, for that.  Dor. 
Ay, that's most certain: And yet I could wish a pretty Charming Creature that I had a Letter from this morning, had that covetous quality, though I were a hundred Pistoles the worse for't to morrow. Come, Frank, thou'rt my friend, and shalt give me thy judgement of it, I'll tell thee a pretty adventure.  King. 
Come on, all yours used to be pleasant, especially that of the Merchant's Niece you enjoyed at London, and in search of whom you now come hither Colonel, but pray take care, d'ye hear, the Plot of it be'nt too knotty, for if you are for Riddling you may search an O Oedipus for me, faith.  Dor. 
Oh, this is plain ' enough for the Meridian of thy understanding I warrant it; know then Frank, that standing this morning at the Shop door of a certain Goldsmith, where I sometimes have exchange of Money for my Expenses, as I was putting up a hundred Pistoles into my Purse, which I had received there, just over against me stopped a Coach in mourning, with a Lackeys behind it, in which was a Lady of a most incomparable Beauty and Feature, she stood talking to a Shopkeeper about some of her affairs, and at the same instant, though she turned away her Face, yet so pretty a hand lay upon the Glass on the other side, that it discovered the most delicate sample of the whitest Skin that ever cased a Beauty of Fifteen.  King 
Rhyme egad, and Rapture,— very well, Colonel, go on.  Dor. 
Charmed with the sight, and in an ecstasy, I could not cease from crying out aloud, and in a Tone she miget be sure to hear me. I'd give these hundred Pistoles in my hand to enjoy her but one night.  King. 
A hundred Pistoles— enough for a hundred Princesses egad— well well, when's the Assignation, where's to be the Bower of Bliss? there was a Coronet behind the Coach, I know Colonel it must be quality at least, a hundred Pistoles— she took ye at your word I'm sure.  Dor. 
Quite contrary for that time faith, for presently away rolled the Coach, and my poor panting heart trundled after it as fast, till distance kept my Eyes from guiding it farther. Ah Frank, 'tis a pain to me even to tell thee what pangs of disquys I felt for two long hours after: but then, as if the God of Love had seen and pitied the posture I was in, of downcast Eyes and Arms across— walking alone on the Parrade, I saw on the sudden standing just before me, and offering this Letter, one of the Footmen of my adored Goddess.  King. 
So, than I hope you had justice done, however— And dear Colonel, I beg thy pardon for lessening the Merit of thy office. What a plague did I talk of Quality for, when I might know, like a sot as I was, a hundred Pistoles is a price sit for none but a Goddess. jove himself, who was the first Whoremaster we read of, that ever gave money, for all his shower of Gold so talked of, gave his Mistress Danaae not a farthing more.  Dor. 
Well, prithee hear the Letter, which is penned so cunningly, between threatening and encouragement, that gad I think I want an O Oedipus indeed to salve it. Prithee observe▪  
LETTER.  
Sir,  
Be assured, that I think myself very much affronted at the word. I heard you speak this morning. How dare you insolently set price upon a person of my Rank: Render yourself to the justice of my Resentments therefore, and come to morrow night at nine, to the House with the little Gate, next to the Checkered Posts in the High Street, to answer your accusation, or expect all that can be feared from a Woman wronged and Angry. 〈◊〉— What thinkest thou, is she in earnest or in jest?  King. 
In earnest by Heaven, Colonel, but 'tis the right way the hundred Pistoles have made a breach in her heart, wider than a Cannon Ball at a hundred yard's distance would in a plank of three inches.  Dor. 
Hugh— I think she means fairly, and won't take the Money sure; for all her jesting— However, gad I'm resolved to venture, but not without being well armed tho. I'll carry a pair of pocket Friends with me, and a good Sword, and then Love be my guide. I defy treachery.  King. 
Here comes Monsieur, don't trust his Tongue however with the secret, for all your good opinion of him. Oh— Enter Bertran. Monsieur Marqui, the warmth, the soul of good Company, ye are welcome, you have been too long from us, we frieze without ye.  Dor. 
The Campaign, though never so good, would seem palled to us, Sir, unless your pleasant conversation gives it a relish.  Bert. 
Sir, I am your most for humble serviture. Compliments Dor. And yours MonCher Monsieur. To Kinglove Mafoy you always do me too much d honour wid your Gentilesse, your grand grand Courtesy, I am obliged to your generosity Eterne●ement, for much for your good ward and civility, but much more that you have bring me into de Company and bon Grace of does noble Sentleman here. To Dorange.  Dor. 
I dare not vie with ye in Compliment of Courtly Expressions, Sir, therefore only can say, that my heart and inclinations are faithfully at your service.  King. 
Sir, both the Colonel and myself set a greater value upon the blessings the Peace brings us, having by it been obliged with the knowledge of you. Embrace.  Dor. 
hay Waiter! Fill Glasses, and give me a brimmer. Come to the great Monarch of France, Vivat.  Bert. 
Along Messires, I will do ye the reason wid all min heart, and tank you warrant your great goodness, brave, brave Colonel ● Morbleau, Sir, vat wonder have I hear of this Gentleman, how● beyond expression valiant he behaved himself at Stenikirk, after vish the next Campaign in de most fameux Battle of Landen, he had his Arse shot, beside have receive two tre wound at the grand Siege of Namur. Ah, I have no breath enough to speak.  Dor. 
Oh no more, no more, let me beg ye, Sir.  King. 
Nay, Colonel, the Marquis does ye but justice.  Bert. 
Most veritablemen dear vas no oder fame but of the brave Colonel Dorange and his prodigious Action ma foy Sire. I tell you noting but de grand trute— Ay, 'twas for well for us the Peace vas made in the good time, Morbleau, 'tis one miracle that we have held out so long.  Dor. 
Faith not to flatter ourselves, I must think Sir, 'twas a double Miracle that we did as we did.  King. 
Oh 'tis without dispute, that we had the worst of it at Steenkirk by much, though our Men fought bravely 'tis true.  Bert. 
Like the fiery Dragon, besides vat you call the worse, it vas your Complaisance, your grand civility that give us de betra.  Dor. 
A very pretty Complaisance truly, but then Sir what think ye of Landen, were not we—  Bert. 
Aw, we were beaten dear by does light— confoundedly.  King. 
Nay then Monsieur I must needs think your courtesy does your Country wrong, did not we retire over the River?  Bert. 
Yes Morbleau to rally ten time more strong de oder side.  Dor. 
We lost our Cannon.  Bert. 
For't negligent to show you could beat us wid only de Sword.  King. 
Come, come, pardon me, indeed we were worsted.  Bert. 
Pardonne moy ausi indeed you vere not  Dor. 
Fie, fie, you know we were a little.  Bert. 
No no, Sir, not one jot.  King. 
We were, we were.  Bert. 
No no, no no.  Dor. 
Oh you forget, you forget.  Bert. 
I remember very well daed we were for much maul and that—  King. 
Pray Sir hear me a word or two.  Bert. 
Not on ' does prey Sir, for 'tis we were beaten, 'tis we were beaten, and derefore I beseech you Sire.  Dor. 
But Sir give me leave a little, did not we—  Bert. 
jernie you did all the brave thing in de warle Sir, and you are no beaten, nor you for no beaten, nor you no can be beaten. Speaks so fast that he hinders them from answering Messires I beseech you receive my obligements, as the real Efforts of mine sensible opinion, it must be so, it must be so, not van ward more, it shall be so.  Dor. 
Nay, if it must and shall be so, the French Compliment shall carry it.  King. 
Ay, besides all things considered, he is not so much out of the way neither.  Dor. 
Come then, faith, Sir, we'll e'en make a drawn battle on't and own we had knocks on both sides.  Bert. 
Widgine all mine heart, but to speak of to beat the brave Officer Englise, it must never be say. Come here's one Bumper, a health Deliciae Humani generis, to the Immortal Monarch of Great Britain, along Vivat.  Dor. 
Come let's sit down— would we had some Music to it.  King. 
And that we will have presently, for here is a waiter in the House, sings well, and a new thing fit for the purpose, call him up there, sing the Song of the new Reformation. Song here.  Dor. 
Very well Sir— d'ye hear, score a Dollar into the reckoning.  Bert. 
Two, two, score two ye, merry scoundrel, in honour of de grand Roy de Angleterre. Enter Scopen strutting about.  Dor. 
How now, who have we here?  King. 
Oh I know him 'tis one of the retinue of the Spanish Ambassador in France, sent back hither I suppose on some affair.  Dor. 
Hum, I should have taken him for my Counterpart, if the Man had been like his dress.  Van Sco. 
gentlemans there's Min Heer the Burgomaster below, who made his Request to me to tell ye, he would speak with the Marqui Bertran— tholl, loll, loll. Sings.  Bert. 
Oh that is for true, he is my Neighbour shentlemen, he live next door to me, and I appoint him to meet me here, hark you Sir, (to Kinglove) one word wid you, shall he come up, he has de rare humour vill make you laugh, morbleau une Estrange Coquin extreme Comick. Hark in your Ear.  Dor. 
Well Sir I see you're very fine. Dorange and Scopen stare at each other.  Van Sco. 
Indifferent Sir,— but I suppose I am well dressed, I'm so like ye, tholl, loll, loll, loll. Sings and Struts about.  Dor. 
Ha', ha', ha', saucy puppy— apart. methinks they might have ordered these scoundrels though something else for fools to gape at, than the garb of an Officer, I find this fellow thinks himself no small fool in't, ha', ha', ha', ha', ha'.  Van Sco. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha', ha'.  King. 
Oh I'll speak to him— d'ye hear Colonel the Marqui says, the Burgo master's a rare humourist, and hates the Company of all Officers, and the Soldiery, he was lately the chief Voter for disbanding the Army, now if we could any way disguise ye he should come up and divert us a little— Waiter, has your Master ne'er a Cloak, thy Hat will serve.  Waiter. 
Yes, Sir, here's one hangs up in the next Room. I'll fetch it.  Dor. 
Quickly and I'll be an English Merchant of your Acquaintance.  Bert. 
Dat will be for Pretty— go Sire fesh him up. to Scopen.  Van Sco. 
Fesh him up, tholl, loll, loll. Dorange puts on the Cloak and Hat the waiter brings.  Bert. 
Yes, fetch him up— vat a Diable  Van Sco. 
Tholl, loll, loll, loll. Exit looking scornfully on 'em.  King. 
Monsieur le Marqui you must receive him, here he comes.  Enter Min Heer Tomas. Bert. 
Yes, yes, lete me alone I warrant you, awe Monsieur Neighbour dis is for kind, I am glad to see you Sire, and now I beseech you give me leave to present you to des two ver wordy Gentlemen both de Natiff of England, dis de Man of quality at de Cour, and dis de fort considerable Marchand upon de Exchange Royal.  Min H. 
I am so little used to speak French gibberish, and this Kickshaw sputters it out so fast, that snick me, I can scarce understand him. aside Humh a Courtier and Merchant of England d'ye say, well as long as there near a Soldier Locust, amongst 'em I think I may venture to drink a bottle, and so without Compliment I'll set me down. Sits down.  Bert. 
Aw dis be de bon Company assure you Sir, and so here be Monsieur le marchand's good health. Drinks.  Min H. 
Well Tope away, he may be a good man for aught I know, but dost hear Monsieur, he muzzles himself up so queerly in his Cloak, that he looks as if he were broke, snick me, ha', ha', ha', ha', I can't forbear joking, come Sir here is a Brimmer to you. Drinks.  King. 
With all my heart, and pray now Sir if y'are a little at leisure, what news to day, you are a great man in business, you know all.  Dor. 
Ay praylet's hair Sir, what are your Grandees about to day.  Min H. 
Why snick me, I have been at it amongst 'em till I'm hoarse a voting down the rascally Soldiery, we have had enough of an Army in conscience, now Peace is come, down with 'em therefore I say, is't fit that Rogues with long chines and full Calves, should huff and strutt with our Money, in time of Peace, no no, disband 'em, pinch 'em, keep 'em low, and we have 'em under: Cocker 'em, and they'll do the same by our Wives, what say you Sir, with the Cloak is't not so?  Dor. 
Aw Varlets, Poltroons Cuckold making Rascals, when the Wars are done in my opinion there should be an order, they should be all hanged.  Min H. 
Why well said, I have a rich Niece at home you must know, ha', ha', ha', the Sister to my Nephew the Ambassador, a swinging fat lass I can tell ye, she's worth two Tun of Gold, worst Penny, and would you believe it, ha', ha', ha', may the next Poll of Ling choke me, if one of those Poltroons, a Redcoat Ragg-Carrier of a Regiment, as lousy as fowl Linen could make 'em, had not like to have snapped her away t'other day, but we found out the Plot and he scowled, if we could have catched the Lobster we had broiled him, snick me.  Dor. 
And he deserved it richly, an impudent Rascal to pretend to dare to aspire to any fortune, but what the War allows.  Min H. 
Which he may very well Improve if he be a Thrifty Rogue: What, half a Dollar a days pay, snick me, 'tis a considerable thing.  Dor. 
Aw too much in conscience faith, Sir, only the Government is so wise, to let it fall into Arrears now and then; besides the Rogues have got a trick now of eating Beef too, an utter Enemy to valour.  Min H. 
They have so, egregiously, egregiously, and I have read in some History or other, the Army of Hannibal eat nothing but Potatoes.  Dor. 
With an Egg or two now and then Sir, as they marched by a Barn and found a Hen-roost; an Egg, come come an Egg and a good Heart's enough in conscience, if they can't live on that, even down with 'em, I'm against a standing Army that eats Beef, snick and snee me.  Min H. 
Gadzooks, this is a plaguy close fellow, why he's harder than I am against 'em, I'll warrant him a true Englishman by that, come hearts of Gold, begin another Brimmer, come prosperity to Trade; harkee Monsieur, I find this Merchant a notable fellow, prithee to what part of the World does he deal?  Bert. 
Ma foy, Sire, I have not ask him dat question, but speaka speaka your mind, he will tele you presantlee himself.  King. 
Prepare yourself Colonel, here's a question coming will try your invention.  Dor. 
Why e'er I'll be balked, I'll answer him in Greek and confound at once, his Dutch understanding.  Min H. 
You are a great dealer, I suppose, Sir. Pray, if I may be so bold, in what part of the world is your Factory, in what Commodity do you deal?  Dor. 
Oh, in several, several, Sir, I have dealt in all sorts and sizes.  Min. H. 
Indigo, Cutchin●●● Logwood, or Pepper, pray Sir?  Dor. 
Rot his Pepper, how he Devil shall I banter him. Aside. Sir, I'm a stranger here, and somewhat ashamed to declare my deal to one so eminent, till I know you better, till when— pray, Sir, give me leave in my turn to ask you what you Merchand'ze in?  Min H. 
In Herrings, Sir.  Dor. 
Herrings, Sir, and does the profit arising, allow you Salt and Bread to 'em?  Min H. 
Ha', ha', ha', That was the simplest question from a Trading Headpiece, that ever I heard in my life, snick me, sure this is not a fool of a Merchant after all. Come, Sir, pray now your way of dealing?  Dor. 
Why, Sir, I deal in Sprats.  Min H. 
Sprats, Sir?  Dor. 
Yes, Sir, Sprats, but not such as yours are here. I'd have you know, mine a●e a sort of rare Oleaginous Sprats, Sprats that will melt in your mouth like an Anchovy, I have 'em out of the South Sea, and the River of Amazons, and from Peru, Coquimbo, Gapiago, and Salta. I have also the pleasure to have the Factory only to myself, for few Merchants else have any.  Min H. 
Faith, Sir, and you have the pleasure to eat 'em all yourself too, for never were my guts stuffed with any of 'em, what say you Gentlemen?  King. 
Ah, I've regaled with 'em a thousand times, we eat 'em with Sugar and Pepper like a Melon.  Bert. 
Aw they have de flaveur delliceuz ●de grand Monarch of Peru, drink 'em alive in Plantain Wine like de Losh.  Min H. 
Sprats of Peru, I never heard of 'em before, snick me.  King. 
Aw, they turn to another sort of account than your Herrings, Sir, let me tell you that.  Dor. 
Another word of a Herring, would make him as Choleric as a Cook half roasted.  King. 
Ay, and as snappish as a Dog in a Coach-box, as our old friend Fitty used to say. Enter Servant and whispers Min H.  Min H. 
How, my Wife in a rage, sayest thou, and would speak with me?  Seru. 
Yes, Sir, there's something happened concerning your Niece, Madam Angellica, that makes her ' roar like a Tempest: for Heaven's sake make haste home, Sir, to appease her, or we all split.  Min H. 
Well, well, I come. Waiter, bring to pay.  King. 
I find that fellow has called away the Burgomaster. What are yo● going already, Sir?  Min H. 
Something very notable has happened at home, Gentlemen.  Dor. 
Since our diversion then is at an end, I must beg leave to say, I have a little business too.  Bert. 
Dear Sir, what please you always make me happy, do the loss of your Company make me miserable.  Min H. 
Well, friend, what is't?  Wait. 
Two pound, four Shillings, and four Stivers.  Min H. 
How, two pound ye Rogue, 'tis impossible. It may be you reckon ten Shillings a Flask, but we are no Fools, Sirrah, we understand business; and there●s an honest Fellow at the sign of the Holland Cheese and Pickled Herring, that sells as good for five, ye Rogue, so that the Club comes to— let me see— just to five skellings, a half, and one Stiver a man, and a kick in the guts, Sirrah, for imposing on us.  Bert. 
Oh damn the five skelling, the half, and the one Stiver, dear Sirrah, dear is your whole reckoning, and the rest for yourself. Waiter bows to Bert.  Dor. 
Oh Monsieur, what do you mean?  King. 
Faith, Sir, it must not be—  Bert. 
If you love me Gentlemen, not one word more, I vill Court you to take the same always,— Allon, alon, Mon Cher. Messires de thing is not wort dis Morbleau. Snaps his Fingers.  Min H. 
Amongst French Prodigals, but I have found One Stiver saved thus every day, in one year makes one pound. Exeunt.  
End of the First Act.    

Act II.  

Scene I. A Chamber, or House.  Enter Angelica and Gusset. Ang. 
OH Heaven! she has made me quite deaf, my Ears won't be able to perform their office for this week, I'm sure.  Gus. 
Her noise is shriller than if a whole Sty of Hogs were sticking; and you may hear her further than a dozen of Powder Mills in a still evening: but what was all this storm for, Madam, only the Precedents being here to night?  Ang. 
For nothing else, she having my Brother's private order to admit no Suitor to me; and in hopes her nasty Cubs, if ever she has any, shall inherit my Estate, which was entailed on me, for life, and after upon● the first born of either of us, by my dead Uncles Will.  Gus. 
And now she has found out it seems her Husband's furtherance of the Precedents Courtship to ye?  Ang. 
I suppose so, though neither of 'em imagine the true reason of my consent to his admittance, which is, thou knowest only to blind the world, and cover the misfortune that happened to me, if the Child I lately had should be discovered, I know my Estate will make the tame Precedent father what he never got, when ever there is occasion. Have you packed up all its things that were left here into a bundle, ready to be carried to the Nurse.  Gus. 
Yes; and for fear your Aunt should, by prying about, find 'em out, I have hid 'em in a hole under the Garret-stairs, ready when the Footman comes, who is ordered at ten to night, to be thrown to him out of the Balcony.  Ang. 
That's well, and so then we can slip out easily after him unsuspected, for I'm resolved to go to night, I have not seen the dear, dear Creature, this three long days and nights. Hark, what noise is that, there's some body coming 'dslife 'tis my Uncle, away, away.  Gus. 
And by the clapping of her Closet door, your Aunt has seen him come in and is following, here will be a foul house presently. Exeunt.  Enter Min Heer Tomas. Min H. 
This perpetual Nuisance, my Wife, I find has discovered my furtherance of the Precedents love to my Niece, whose Heirs, if a Match should succeed, would frustrate the hopes of her Estate's descending to mine begotten on her body. Now my reason not to flatter myself is, because in troth I find I'm not so capable as her inclinations would prompt, and therefore resolve to be for the easiest way of profit. Here on one side the Precedent is obliged by Bond, to give me three thousand pounds for my assistance, and this I keep her ignorant of. On t'other side she's for having an Heir, forsooth, and hooking it in that way; nay, is so ravenously greedy of it, that she plague's me almost to death. Tomas, she cries every night, remember the Estate Tomas, think on two thousand pound a year Tomas, though she be so fat, and so incapable of Childing, that an Irish man may as soon get a Bantling out of a Bog; and all the Doctors in Town have declared nothing can swell her bigger than she is, but a Tympany. Ecce signum, here she comes. Enter Anniky.  Ann. 
So, are you come, Sir Assinego? you use me very well, don't ye? you are a kind Husband.  Min H. 
As far as there's reason, Anky; I have heard too much kindness once killed a Good Wife, and therefore I think I'm civil ●hou hast no more on't, snick me.  Atn. 
To contrive at another's marrying my Niece, and so to get heirs to inherit her Estate, when 'twas designed for the fruit of my own proper body; 'tis a baseness like thee; baseness, 'tis frigidity, I'll be sworn, mere frigidity, as the Scholars have it; but, if I live a month longer, I'll have one to connive with me too, I will as I'm a Calvinist.  Min H. 
Why Look Anky, as thou know'st, we have all from the Government, Toleration of conscience for our Souls, so will I give thee toleration of conscience for thy Body: Ply, Ply abroad Anky, with all my Heart, do f●ith, thy Fat with another Man's Lean, perhaps may make a tolerable dish, but thou and I have a Relish so common to one another, that I despair of ever making a good Meal, for my part, gadsbores I fancy we lie always like two Udders in a Dish without e'er a Tongue.  Ann. 
Queasy Fellows that have no Appetites, can't Relish the finest Haunch of Venison, when a strong healthy Stomach would feed hearty and be glad of it.  Min H. 
Ay, but if he were to feed upon ten or twenty years together, as 'tis the case of us miserable Husbands, he would be glad to change it for the Haunch of a Horse, snick me.  Ann. 
Miserable Husbands, miserable Coxcombs, what wretches would ye be without us, if we should be sullen and hold out a little, what a c●inging and sighing and whining, would all the proud pert powdered Puppies make then; but gadslidikins, would 'twere in my power to dispose of our Sex. I'd plague all the flashy Town Fellows faith, I'd teach ye to find fault; this is too ●at, or that's too lean, I'd make ye know, that an Angel Woman is your chiefest blessing as she's a woman, and like a piece of Gold is of true value, whatever coin she is of, or whatever impression she bears.  Min H. 
Say ye so Anniky, what think ye of an Angel Woman that has had the Impression of a Bastard or two upon her, humh?  Ann. 
Why you'll find her for her Wit and Qualities, always too good for the fool that got those Bastards, she has the better of her Cully ten to one, she made him a right Ninny before she left him I warrant her. But why do I throw away wit upon thee,— my Conceits are always out of thy reach, poor Doodle.  Min H. 
Ay that may very well be snick me, considering that profundity of yours, but harkee now you shall hear what you 〈◊〉, you are. Anky, you are a Heteroclite.  Ann. 
A Tro●ke●●ite what's that Sot?  Min H. 
Why 'tis Anniky to be explained two ways, figuratively 〈◊〉 ●●●●●ially, first figuratively, 'tis a foul Storm in the shape of a scolding Woman, an ill wind that blows no body no good, but roars and blusters, without ever ceasing.  Ann. 
Well, when there's nothing aboard but a Ship of fools, however there will be no loss if any thing be cast away.  Min H. 
Hump— the Jade's as sharp as a Razor, but I'll at her again, snick me; why then secondly to come to the matter, 'tis a gross Barren Hen, that is so rank fed, she is incapable of breed, and yet so greedy on't, that she is eternally Cackling.  Ann. 
Because she roosts among Cravens that have got the Pip, if Cocks were good, Hens would have Chickens, Clodp●te.  Min H. 
Humh to be plainer, since you provoke me, a Heteroclite in the best sense is a Noun whose way of declension is different from all others, I mean an overgrown dowdy Wife, who is just like a Dining Room joined to a great hot Kitchen, when ye expect to have a good Meal in one, the Nauseousness of t'other turns your Stomach, there is a Heteroclite for ye.  Ann. 
And there's another Trokellite for you. Strikes him.  Min H. 
How now Bradamant, how now, is it so indeed— dare you sawcilly attack your Governor, I'll opinion ye, ye Harpy, presently.  Ann. 
Seellum Hundsfoot, help, murder, murder. he seizes her.  Min H. 
I'll lock ye up over the Stable, faith, heirs, you shall have heirs, and the great Gib Cat there shall Father 'em,— how now Goody Stove, what strike a Burgomaster, I'll make ye an example faith, you shall eat nothing but Horse Beans this week for't, snick me.  Ann. 
Help, help, there, Murder, Murder. He pulls her out.   

SCENE II.  Enter Van Scopen. Van Sco, 
The Clock has not yet struck ten, and I find I am come a little too soon for my dispatch, there is no stirring above yet, no light in the Window, nor no appearance in the Balcony, I'll therefore step to the next Tavern to my Brother Mascarillo, and take one Bumper or two, in the mean time, to warm my Stomach, 'tis a cold raw night, and such a Cordial is very necessary. Exit.  Enter Dorange. Dor. 
That I may the readier find the place at my hour of appointment to morrow, I have resolved, though it be dark, to stumble this way to night; this is I'm sure the Street, and I suppose yonder is the House with the Chequered Posts; but where this little Gate of the Enchanted Castle is, that, wanting Madam Cinthia's aid, is now invisible: Well, I'll content myself with thus much to night, and leave the rest for my dark Lantern to discover to morrow. Guffet comes into the Balcony.  Guss. 
Hist, hist, are you there?  Dor. 
Ha— what's that a woman's voice?  Guss. 
Are ye there, I ask ye?  Dor. 
Ay, ay.  Guss. 
Come underneath then and catch, and stay below till we come down. Throws down a Bundle and Exit.  Dor. 
So, I have got it, but what I have catched, or who the Devil they take me for, I can't so much as guests— hum— 'tis a bundle, and if I feel right— Silk and Laced— oh— for a rich Purchase of shining Pearl, or glittering Diamonds, now which some young pretty wanton has packed together to run away to her Lover, from some damnable cross old Aunt, or confounded Mother-in-Law, whilst I, guided by my Propitious Stars, in spite of darkness am ordained to be the lucky supplanter, gad 'tis a pretty kind of an Adventure this, and I hope the coming Lady, will answer my vigorous expectation: the door opens— now dear Goddess Fortune.  Enter Angellica and Gusset. Guss. 
Van Scopen, Van Scopen,— where are ye?  Dor. 
Scopen, Scopen,— confound it, what a Names that, here, here.  Ang. 
Have ye the bundle?  Dor. 
Yes, yes.  Ang. 
Fellow us then and make no noise,— softly, softly, Ex.  Dor. 
Gad she's a delicate Creature for aught I know, but the very hash of her voice has such allurement in't, that I'll follow her, though into the Dominions of Prester john, but I'll have a sight of my little Nightwalker. runs after them.  The Scene changes, than all Re-enter. Guss. 
So now give me the Bundle.  Dor. 
The Bundle,— humh— but harkee, am not I to, to,  Guss. 
To, to,— 'dslife give it me, what's the fellow mad.  takes it away. Ang. 
Quickly, quickly, and d'ye hear do you Seal this Letter and carry it as it's directed presently, do it carefully be sure, and there's for your pains. gives Dorange money. Enter fardel with a light. Oh dear Nurse how dost thou, well and how does all within?  Fared. 
Oh mighty well Madam, I have just now been suckling it I assure your Ladyships my Milk agrees with the Pretty Creature strangely, it thrives mainly Madam.  Ang. 
Oh the dear little Angel, I long to see it, there Nurse I have bought it some necessaries— give 'em her Gusset. Exeunt.  Dor. 
A Plague take that Jade for standing in my light, I could not see her face, but she has a rare shape,— harkee, harkee, Mistress, pray a little of your Light, that I may know how to dispatch away a Letter here, which is in great haste. to fardel.  Fared. 
Ay, with all my heart Sir, and bless your good worship, this is a great honour to see you here, intruly this must be the Gentleman aside and Courtesys to Dorange Do●●. Doll, bring up the Childs Barrow and Belly-band, Runs as to the stairs. and a clean Biggen for its head, d'ye hear: Hussy make haste: Pray Sir before you read your Letter, be pleased to honour me with a word or two, for truly I have even longed to see ye.  Dor. 
So, here's another comical mistake going forwards; but who she takes me for I may go read in th' Stars. Your Servant Mistress, I mobliged t'ye.  Fared. 
Your Worship, I may truly say in truly, are Father to the sweetest Babe—  Dor. 
Humh— humh—  Fared. 
That ever came into the world of its kind, I think in Conscience. Good lack, that your Worship can't stay, and give it your fatherly kiss, and your blessing, poor heart.  Dor. 
A fatherly kiss; very good: Instead of a bundle of Jewels, I have got a Child I find; but methinks by the Mothers dress it should be no very ill bargain.  Fared. 
Pray, if I may be so bold, when will your Worship come and have your bellyful of kisses?  Dor. 
Oh, shortly, shortly— but if this should prove some Harridan, some Lady of the Game, that wants a Providore for her Bantling, I should be finely fobbed after all. aside.  Fared. 
I'll warrant the Mother kisses it forty times in an hour— Well— in truly 'tis as like your Worship as if you had carved it with a Chisel; there your Nose, and your Eyes, and your Mouth so like; good lack, to see the wonders of Nature.  Dor. 
Now, to get a piece of me will this plaguy Cloutwasher lie like a well feed Lawyer, or a young Shopkeeper new set up. But the Lady has given me two pieces here, and these to carry on the jest shall serve for her. Aside.  Fared. 
And then its Limbs are, as if they were made of Wax, I'll be sworn. Well, Heaven bless your worship, you got it with a good will, I dare say for ye, for the pretty Creature is most notably marked, in truly.  Dor. 
That's well, and to improve its good gifts, there's something to encourage your care, Nurse.  Fared. 
Oh dear, in truly, your Worship is too liberal, and I'll indulge myself with Eringo Roots, and Clary and Potatoes, to make my Milk more nourishing. Besides, my particular care of his Body, it shan't want for stretching nor stroking, I assure your good honour— Doll, why Doll, I say— Ay, this a lazy Carrion. Exit hastily.  Dor. 
Hang her, she has half ●attled me into a belief 'tis mine indeed, but now for the Letter— That I'm to play the Lackey withal, this will, I doubt not, discover the true Parents. Let me see, first for the Subscription, To the Precedent Bondevelt, near the great Cathedral. Good! this is enough to find out the Father in the first place, and and if the Mother have subscribed her name, the discovery will be perfect. Reads. 
Sir,  
The great respect my Uncle has for you, strengthened with his Commands, and your Merit, obliges me to set Pen to Paper, to let you know, that 'tis not by my means, your access to me is hindered, but by my Aunt's Tyranny, who, for her own selfish reasons, debars me from having converse with any body. However, my Uncle and she having fallen out, you may have the better opportunity to see me with him this afternoon, if you value so much as you have often protested  
Angellica Mendezo.  Mendezo, and Angellica,— By fate it must be she, the pretty Creature I one night enjoyed by a trick at her Uncle's house in London, who since died, and left her his Estate, and after whom, since the Campaign was ended, and the Peace made, hearing she was come to meet a Brother, I came hither in search— Ay, but if this should prove her Child now, and she should be married since. I went to one of that name— What a damned unfortunate Rogue am I,— but hold, this Letter is only a permission of Courtship, that gives me some hopes however, and I'll go and find the Lover instantly, and in this my mistaken quality of Lackey. 
With subtlety his dearest secret sound,  
And like a cunning Mole work under ground.   Exit. Re enter fardel. Fared. 
Good lack, what is the Gentleman gone? I was so fearful this sleepy Quean, should burn the Child's Bed and Blankets, I gave her to air, that I was forced to run away from him abruptly, well he's much a man of honour I protest, and I'll collect a dozen or two of the finest words I have in my budget, against he comes next, that I will intruly.  Enter Angellica and Gusset with the Child. Ang. 
Come Nurse where are ye? here's your little charge expects ye.  Fared. 
Ah Doddy bess it pity face, Doddy bess it, Doddy bless it, was its naughty Nurse gone from it, and make it cry a Bawl for bubbies, did sh● so, did she so, awe 'twas a paw Nurse to leave the sweet Sylds so basely, so she was, and catchees, catchee, catchee, catchee, catchee, catchee, and catchees, catchee, catchee, catchee, catchee, catchee, tum a me, tum a me, leta me do a my Nurse takes it from Angellica and sits down to suckle it. Mamma says he, I want my Bubby Mamma, says he, ah Doddy bless dat pity face of mine Sylds, and his pity, pity hands, and his pity, pity feet, and all his pity things, and pat a cake, pat a cake Baker's man, so I will master as I can, and prick it, and prick it, and prick it, and prick it, and prick it, and throwed into the Oven.  Ang. 
Can one believe the Child would ever speak English, that hears her jabber to't at this rate.  Guss. 
Indeed Madam, I have always thought it little less than a wonder.  Nurse sings. 

I  
MY dear Cockadoodle, my jewel, my joy,  
My Darling, my Honey, my pretty sweet Boy;  
Before I do rock thee with soft lullaby,  
Give me thy dear Lips to be kiss, kiss, kiss.   Smaks the Child. 

II.  
Thy charming high Forehead, thy Eyes black as Sloes,  
Thy round dimpled Chin, and thy right Roman Nose,  
With some pretty marks that lie under thy clothes,  
Show thou'lt be a rare one, to kiss, kiss, kiss.   

III.  
To make thee grow quickly, I'll do what I can,  
I'll feed thee, I'll struck thee, I'll make thee a man;  
Ah then how the Lasses, Moll, Betty, and Nan,  
By thee will run mad to be kiss, kiss, kiss.   

iv  
And when in due season, my Billy shall Wed,  
And lead a young Lady from Church to her Bed,  
Ah, welfare the losing of her Maidenhead,  
When Billy comes near her to kiss, kiss, kiss.  
The welfare high Forehead, and Eyes black as Sloes,  
And welfare the Dimple, and welfare the Nose,  
And welfare the marks that lie under thy clothes,  
For none are more hopeful to kiss, kiss, kiss.   Fared. 
Well; damn, da, Mamma say, I must go a peep, pay Mamma, pay a Doddy besse me, and make me a dood Man, ah, egh. bows the Child to her.  Ang. 
Heaven bless my Heart and Soul. kisses it.  Fared. 
Your Ladyships humble Servant, this is the Child's hour to go to Sleep, and I always use them to an hour, there must be method used, Madam, in ●ll things; good night to your good Ladyship, leave little master to me, you shall hear him say twenty year hence, he had a good Nurse I'll warrant ye. Exit Farneze and Child,  Guss. 
Good night Nurse.  Ang. 
Good fortune attend thee pretty Angel from henceforth, though hitherto thou hast had very little.  Guss. 
You never told me out his History yet Madam, though often have begun it, and as much as I remember, was that, whilst you were living at London, in your Uncle's house, a Spanish Merchant, who was our Burgo-masters Elder Brother, to whom being an Orphan, you were sent from Spain, by your Brother in your infancy, and who afterwards dying left you his Estate; that you came acquainted there, with a young Lady your Neighbour, with whom you grew so intimate, that you were often Bedfellows, she frequently coming to you, and you to her, you began to tell me too of a young Captain, that was her Brother; but at that part o'th' Story, some business intervening you still broke off, and left me to guests the rest imperfectly, of what now I hope to hear.  Ang. 
Thou shalt, though the recital is ushered with a sigh, when e●re I tell it; know then, this Gentleman her Brother, was so like her in face, in shape, in voice, height, age, and gesture, that when they dressed in one another's clothes, their Parents and Relations oft mistake them; he as ill Stars ordained it, fancied me, and being young, wild and extravagant, and finding me averse to all lose Courtship resolved upon the greatest piece of Treachery, that ever Maid was wronged by.  Guss. 
By all that's good Madam, I begin to tremble at my own apprehensions.  Ang. 
Thy fears are certainly too true, for having stolen out his Sister's clothes one night he came to me, admitted to our house, taken for her, I was in bed, and innocently heaven knows n●●staking him as the rest, prayed him make haste, which too too soon he did, for before Morning, with struggling wooing kisses and vows of Marriage, backed with the treacherous opportunity, he broke my first resolves and gained his purpose, took from my finger too a favourite Ring, with solemn Oaths, within 2 days at farthest to bring another, and a Priest to join us; but oh, the perjured wretch, instead of this, the next News I had, I heard he was commanded to his Post in the Army, since when I have never seen nor heard of him.  Guss. 
And this little one was the product of that only meeting?  Ang. 
By all that's good it was, soon after this my Uncle dies, and left me luckily ere my fault was known, his fortune, but afterwerds finding myself grow big, and fearing scandal I resolved to go to Madrid, and discover all to my Brother; I did so, he knew him, and after having generously forgiven, and desired me to stay here at Brussels, promised to seek the wronger of my honour, and force him to do Justice, as soon as he had finished his Embassy into France, for which employment he was about that time chosen, and by his Letter now sent he tells me my false friend is come this way towards England, but that he himself will be here to morrow; then, if we can find the right Father, his Penitence restores him, but if not, a jolly Widow passes on the formal Precedent, seeming at my Uncle's suit, though my own cunning, in spite of my Aunts Machiavilian plotting; and now thou hast heard all, let's home and consult, I know their heads are at it.  Guss. 
To do you Justice honour would prevail With every man of sense that only heard your tale. Exeunt.   

SCENE III.  Enter Bondevelt, Kinglove, and Footmen with lights. Bond. 
You have now Sir brought me to the door of my house, I will therefore only discourse ye with a word or two more, and then good night. You are Sir a young Gentleman, and I perceive of singular good parts, prosper me 'tis very much, you have not applied yourself more to business.  King. 
Troth Sir, all that I can say ●o your worthyness on this matter is, that my Father bred me of his own opinion, which was, that pleasure is the only business a Gentleman should apply himself to.  Bond. 
Oh vile, you must give me leave then, hearing this, to tell ye, Sir, your Father was an Epicure, but your Country England is noted by all considerative Nations, for breeding their Progeny in that manner; oh vile notion, a Gentleman's business pleasures, why it should be quite contrary, a right Gentleman's pleasure should be business.  King. 
Why faith Sir, I must needs own our Countrymen would hardly take such a one for a right Gentleman.  Bond. 
I believe so, the reason is, because, prosper me, you let your Souls rust with idleness, now my sharp-sighted Father, I thank him, seasoned me from the beginning.  King. 
Season him, what did he Pickle and Salt him? aside.  Bond. 
I mean he wisely let me know, some of the rough and untoward part of Life in my infancy, my seasoning was the early preparing my body for travel and business; to which purpose, he sent me at seven years old, a Voyage into Greenland for Whale-bone.  King. 
Now my Father sent me at seventeen to the University.  Bond. 
To do what, study silly Theories, to lose the solid Practic, learn Bawdy, under the nickname of Philosophy, or bandy Religion about so hard, to be all the rest of your Life an Atheist,— hah, oh vile Management, there's a whole age lost, misspent and neglected; seventeen, why I had almost finished my Travels by that time.  King. 
There's the hint; now will I set his Tongue agog to tell 'em merely to save myself, the plague of Repartee, what Travels pray Sir?  Bond. 
Sir, every where, I have Travelled every where, to the East and West Indies, from thence to the South America, Panama, G●●n●avellica, Lima, and Porto Bello, I have rolled in Silver from the Mines of Potosi, and in Gold from the River de la Plata, and the rich banks of the lake of Parima.  King. 
What Merchandizes I beseech ye, Sir, what Commodities did you vend there?  Bond. 
Ah things Sir, that in their nature you'd laugh to hear of, trifles in our parts here, though there of prodigious value, to wit, Thread, Points, Horns, Catcals, Penny Looking Glasses, Wooden Trumpets, Tin Nutmeg▪ grater, Brass, Candles, Saveals, and the like; and then the rare Mechanical invention of Combs, Knives, Scizzars, Toothpicks, Thimbles, Buckles, Buttons, Bodkins, with the most ingenious Cork▪ screw and incomparable Nut cracker, bring in a Mint, a Mint of Money, there's pleasure for ye, Sir. Prosper me, what greater can there be, than the ingenious overreaching one's fellow creature in the way of Trade.  King. 
That is, he means cheating one's fellow creature in the way of Trade. Aside.  B●nd. 
To do which there are occasions innumerable, would you believe it, Sir, Riches and Treasure flow there so plentifully that I have had myself a Bushel of Silver for a pack of Cards, and a large Ingot of Gold for a little diminutive unmusical Instrument, vulgarly called a Jewstrump.  Enter Dorange with a Laeteer. King. 
Ay, and if that be'nt a lie, th●n I'm a Dromedary. Aside.  Bond. 
And so, Sir, I with yo● well home. Sirrah, wait on the Gentleman.  Dor. 
The Precedent Bondeveli's house, Gent▪ prey which is it?  King. 
That there, Sir; but here is the Precedent himself— Ha who's here— what, my dear Colonel?  Dor. 
Mum, Kinglove, not a word more, I'm no body. Softly to him. And please your Worthiness, here's a Letter for ye. To Bond.  Bond. 
For me, Sir— But hold, there's no need of Ceremony, I know the hand, and find now he's but a Footman for all his gaudiness. Reads.  Dor. 
No questions, Frank, till to morrow, only this, as a doughty Hero once said before, I am going where Love and Honour call, return if alive to morrow by twelve.  King. 
Speed the Plough, Sir, far ye well. Exit King.  Bond. 
'Tis very well, friend, and on my word thou'rt a very lucky fellow; for I had just writ a Letter, which I would have early in the morning sent to the party, in reference to this very affair— here 'tis, be careful, and there's for thy diligence.  Gives Money and E●. Dor. 
Good again— What Sot is he now, that disparrages the function of a Lackey, additionally graced with the praise worthy industry of a well-bred Pimp, and so forth— here's four Pistoles got in three quarters of an hour, and gad some two years ago in Flanders I should have thought my Colonelship very lucky in possession of but half as much. Van Scopen is seen peeping about. But money gins to flutter about again I see now— Stay, how shall I get this and myself conveyed to her, after I have read it without her knowing I have any light in her affair— hah— by good luck yonder's my Counterpart Sees Van Scopen her creature, who without doubt has stayed at the door blowing his Nails ever since my curiosity made bold to supply his office; for now I'm sure 'twas he that was intended— I'll accost him— so friend well met.  Van Sc. 
It may be so, Sir, it may be not, Sir, tho●l, loll, loll. Sings.  Dor. 
Come, come, for all thy surliness, I'll prove myself thy friend— I know thee— know all thy business too— thou stay'st for a Letter to carry to Madam Angellica. Why look here 'tis for thee— here's the Gentleman too thou art to guide thither, and here's two Pistoles by way of encouragement to diligence— hah— what thinkest thou?  Van Sc. 
Think, Sir, gad, Sir, I think ye are much in the right, and my diligence shall second your liberality, Sir, immediately. Fellow me, Sir?  Dor. 
Why well said. 
Thus spite of Locks and Bars when jove did woo,  
Almighty Gold ne'er failed to shower him through.   Exeunt.   

Act III.  

Scene I. Angellica ' s Chamber,  Enter Bertran and Madam La Marquis. Mad. 
COme prithee my dear, let me have this money, 'tis but a hundred Pistoles, and I may chance to win five hundred.  Bert. 
Ma Cheer, in van word den, I will let no mor money go upon shance, shance is de Thief, the Sheet, the Pickpocket, shance, morbleau, vill empty min purse, if I give you any mor money for Play, min Dear.  Mad. 
Because I had a little ill luck last night, which was looked upon as a Miracle too by all the Bassett-Table, the most skilful of all the Punts blessed himself to see't; for during the time of play, I had once from an Alpiew or Paroli, Sept et la va, Quinze et le va, Trent en le va: Nay, once Soissant et le va, and yet lost all at last, but 'twas a thousand to one, my Dear.  Bert. 
'Tis one thousand to one but min Purse get de dam Consumption wid your Trent and Soissant, if I give you mor money.  Mad. 
What for an Accident, Child? No, no, I shall have luck to night I'm sure, for Mr Shuffle-tallies and I'm to be Croupiere; Ill follow the winning Knaves, and get Sept and Quince et le▪ va, before another shall make an Alpeiw; but I confess this last time I had the Devil of ill fortune, such indeed that 'tis almost incredible, I lost a Sept et le va upon an Eighth King.  Bert. 
Morbleau, and vowed lose the King's Revenue, if you play play on, that is most veritable, does game is fit for none but the King and Queen to play at, derefore I speak once more for true, I have no more Money ver de Bassett.  Mad. 
But I'm engaged in honour to meet my Lady Fatly and take my revenge, for 'twas that hideous Punt that won most of my Money— I'll tell thee how 'twas, Child, she fassed me every Card I set, or when I drew a lucky one it did not go: she'd make Paroli and Sept e le va upon the same Card, and when ● lost my King four times in one deal, she upon an odious filthy Knave, every time won▪ Sonica: Did you ever hear the like. Sonica? Oh prodigious! Every time Sonica!  Bert. 
De diula taken my Lady and Sonica too, vat care I vor— hear dis: come, come, be advise and play no more?  Mad. 
What not have my revenge, shall such a huge Tun-bellyed nasty Thump-cushion, as my Lady Fatly, make her brags she has stripped me. No, I'll sell my Skin but I'll have my revenge. Besides, does this consist with your French Honour, Sir, to have me stripped and made a jest to the Lords, Gentlemen, and the rest of the Company; 'twould be a very pretty sight, would it not, for them to see me stripped?  Bert. 
Yes, Morbleau, that would be de ver pretty sight, indeed.  Mad. 
I mean, made uncapable of another night's play.  Bert. 
Gazoon, I mean so too, I should be for loath to find dat.  Mad. 
Pish. Pray, Sir, no more of your jests, if you will grant my request, and save my credit, I shall think myself obliged, but pray spare your wantton conceits, my virtuous inclinations don't admire 'em?  Bert. 
Nay, nay, Madam, I hope I may jest without affronting of your virtue; and I hope I may love you for well, widout more squeezing min Purse vor de Bassett.  Mad. 
Will you deny me then?  Bert. 
You set your heart too much upon does thing, Madam Your love of the Play, make you covetous, and love Money too well. And dat Wife dat love Money too well, assurement ver often love her Virtue too little.  Mad. 
'Tis basely said, if you reflect on me, Sir, whose virtue has been of so pure a nature, it ne'er was tainted yet with one bad thought. Virtue as white as Down of Swans or Ermine.  Bert. 
I don't know dat, but to be sure, I have taken de care to wash you a little.  Mad. 
You will deny me then?  Bert. 
No, no, no, deny, I will only keep a my Money, that is all.  Mad. 
I shall be horribly out of humour, I shall scold confoundedly.  Bert. 
I shall sing and laugh den for much.  Mad. 
Indeed you had better save my credit, Sir.  Bert. 
Indeed I had betra save my Money, Madam.  Mad. 
Phoo, you shall do it for your little Dear this once; what, hang a hundred Pistoles, I'll oblige you, my dear dear precious, a hundred times as much: Come, you shall hear a pretty new Scotch Song I made—  Bert. 
Ay, with all my heart. A Dance.  

Scotch SONG I.  

I.  
JOckey was a dowdy Lad;  
And Jemmy swarth and tawny  
They, my heart no Captive made,  
For that was prize to Sawny.  
Jockey woos, and sighs and sues,  
And Jemmy offers Money;  
we'll, I see, they both love me,  
But I love only Sawny.   

II.  
Jockey high his voice can raise,  
And Jemmy Tunes the Viol;  
But when Sawny Pipes sweet Lays  
My heart ken no denial,  
Then he sings, and t' other strings,  
Tho sweet, yet only tease me;  
Sawny's Flute can only do't,  
And Pipe a Tune to please me.    Mad. 
There's for ye, my Life, my Heart, my Vitals; and now you shall do't for me; I'll do any thing to divert my dear Honey.  Bert. 
Aw you are de dam cunning Gipsy— Here is de Honey, and de Honey, but Gazoon is only for my Money— Aw but does shall not do for all dat. Aside.  Mad. 
And this now my own heart shall command every day if he pleases, and every night I'll sing my own dear asleep.  Bert. 
Aw, pure wheadle, morbleau dis is plain, does is de mere sheate; ve good den, I vill try now vor put de sheate upon her.  Mad. 
Come Sweet, shall I be obliged to thee? prithee say Ay.  Bert. 
Well, well, put off your meeting for one two day, you know I go to morr to receive Money, and shall stay out the whole night; ven I come home I vill tell you more; but no more to dat purpose, Morbleau:— Aside. So, go go and make your Visit, and present my service to de Lady. Exit.  Mad. 
Pish, this is only a shame, this niggardly wretch won't do it I see by his sleering. Well Monsieur, since you dare deny your Wife necessaries, for Money is the chief of necessaries, she shall try what her Merit can do without ye; and whether her Beauty will pawn for a hundred Pistoles; for the truth is, I do love Money so well, and Play for the sake of Money, that I'm resolved to keep up my Credit abroad with the Gamesters of Qualtiy, though his Cuckoldom purchase the means of doing it; and I think I have a Chapman ready too, which I made sure of, for fear he should prove thus hidebound. Enter Mascarillo. How now Mascarillo, what news of the Colonel?  Mase. 
Why, Madam, I hear there's a Letter left at home for ye, and I suppose from him; but if you would know more particularly, step into the next room and you may inform yourself, for he's just gone in to visit Madam Angellica.  Mad. 
Who the Colonel— art sure 'tis he?  Mase. 
Very sure, Madam, for I saw Van Scopen my Brother Crony bring him in the back way about a quarter of an hour ago.  Mad. 
What can this mean? I am sure she has no acquaintance with him. Ha', ten to one 'tis after me he comes, having had information of my being here; go and pump the t'other fellow, dear Mascarillo, and bring me what Intelligence thou can●t.  He makes sign for Money. She walks off. Mase. 
Very good, I am to Pump for her, and I am to Pimp for her, and yet not a penny of Money; humh— Gad this shan't do? but hold, she is not fit for the Trap yet, let the Mouse play a little longer. Aside, and Exit.  Enter Gusset. Guss. 
My Lady heard you were here Madam, and having this instant some company with her, she commanded me to wait on you into her Bedchamber, where she will attend you presently.  Mad. 
I am her humble Servant: This shows ●he does not care I should see what company is with her; hum— is it so? Well, I'll watch her I'm resolved, and if they proceed to an Intrigue, prevent it, though I ruin he● I'm of a nature that can endure no Competitor. Aside, and Exeunt.  Enter Dorange and Angellica, with a Letter. Ang. 
Sir, as the Precedents friend you are welcome to me, and I thank you for the care of his Le●●er; though you have ventured into a place so inhospitable to strangers, that I dare not assure your good usage long.  Dor. 
Madam, the Courtesy I receive from you has obliged sufficiently one that has had a character of the nature of this family. Apart. 'Tis she, by Heaven, but the Small Pox has so altered me I see she does not know me, which suits well with my design; and though I am welcome as the Precedents friend now, I hope, if things are not gone too far, to prove more my own friend than his very shortly.  Ang. 
What makes him look on me and mutter to himself? Sure he knows something of the Child! Lord help me, how every look or trifle frights me, since that unlucky accident first happened. Aside.  Enter Gusset hastily. Guss. 
Oh Madam, if you don't intent to have all the things in the Room thrown at your Head, your Eyes pulled out, and your Clothestorn to pieces, look about you presently, and clear your Lodgings; here's Scopen has run himself out of breath, to bring news from the Stable, that your Aunt is broke out, and is coming like a Fury, her eyes flaming with rage, and her Tongue thundering out dissolution to her Husband, and all that withstand her.  Ang. 
Oh Heaven, what shall we do with the Gentleman?  Guss. 
I know not; she's such a Fiend now she's in her fit, she'll tear him all to pieces.  Dor. 
The Devil she will; I'll warrant ye, Madam, fear nothing, I'll tame her quickly.  Gus. 
Tame her! O Lord, Sir, 'tis impossible, she has got Fire-arms and the Devil and all with her; she'll have a brace of Slugs in your guts before you can ask what's the matter.  Dor. 
Humph▪ Gad I'm like to be finely paid for my postage, if this be true, I'll get out at the back door.  Gus. 
The plaguee Footman has taken away the Key— No, hold. (Studies.) I've thought of something at a pinch— Your Tailor, Madam, that brought home your Stays to day, left a Coat here of some bodies, to call for as he came back, and an old Periwig the Butler can lend him; then, Sir, if you can act a Tailor a little, you may pass securely.  Dor. 
A Tailor, ay, ay, I can act the Devil, any thing, come, ●I warrant thee.  Gus. 
Fellow me then quickly, for she'll be here in a moment. Exeunt.  Enter Min H. Tomas and Bondevelt. Min. H. 
Come, Niece, without mincing the matter any longer, if as your Uncle, I have any interest in ye, I desire ye to look on this worthy friend of mine, the Honourable Precedent, in a particular way, I mean as a Suitor, his place in the State ●● eminent, his parts not to be questioned, and to sum up all virtues in one, the greatest promoter of Trade in Europe.  Ang. 
Sir, I shall always honour your Merits, and in how particular a manner your admission extends, I hope I satisfied you in my Letter.  Bond. 
Madam, you did, which, prosper me has given me a universe of joy. When I was at Qui●o, after coming from the River of Amaz●●s, I saw a Wedding, and the Bridegroom's method of expressing his joy for his Bride was, by slitting his Nose, cutting off one Ear, a joint of the Ring finger from each hand, and so forth. Ah Madam, I could wish it were the custom here to assure ye, I would not spare the sacrificing any part about me, to show the grand satisfaction I possess for the honour of your Ladyship's favour.  Min H. 
His discourse is always so pleasantly larded with his Travels, Niece— oh— the President's an admirable speaker, snick me.  Ang. 
I believe no less, Sir, but pray where's my Aunt, did not she come with ye? why we have been frighted here with the alarm of her coming? We have almost been scared out of our Wits?  Min. 
Aw never fear her, I have laid her fast enough— I shall rest in my Bed now, and lay my Legs across as I please; and I think 'tis but reason, for I han't slept sound this twenty years.  Enter Van Scopen hastily. Ang. 
How now? How came you to fright us so, and tell my Woman my Aunt was coming?  Van Sc. 
Dsheart, so she is coming, and by this time at the bottom o'th' stairs.  Min H. 
How, Sirrah, what the Devil is she broke out?  Van Sc. 
Broke out, I gad, Sir, and will break your head within this two Minutes— She has armed herself like the figure of St. George in the Sign, with a Head-piece on, and a great Iron-headed Pike in her hand instead of a Lance, a huge Sword, with a Basket-hilt, after the fashion of Scanderbag; besides, a Fusee, and the Devil and all of Fire-arms.  Min H. 
Gad forgive me, Fire arms— Good Sir be pleased to abscond for a moment, I know 'tis you the seeks. Here's a Press used to hang clothes up in; in, in quickly, I beseech ye, Sir, whilst I submit myself and calm her fury.  Ang. 
How, Uncle, is this you that used to say you would show your Masculine power, and make her tremble?  Min H. 
Ah, but the Fusee, Niece, the Fire-arms, if she had come reasonably, that a man might have boxed with her fairly, I'd have given her a squelch, and kept her under me till she asked me pardon, but that confounded Fusee, Engine ●f the Devil, or wo●se than the Devil to me; a Soldier, I quake at the thought ●n't. Annik'y within. Where are ye, Skellum? where are ye? I shall ferret ye presently.  Min H. 
Ah, 'tis her dreadful voice, snick me. In, in, pray Sir, she's coming up the stairs.  Bond. 
An odd turn of affairs this, I that have been sixteen thousand leagues off in the wide world, from East to West, to be now confined to a Box not above sixteen inches Diagonical, hugh— 'tis a strange turn of affairs, prosper me. Goes into the Press.  Ang. 
I'll get out of hearing I am resolved, let them fight their Battle by themselves. Exit Angellica.  Enter Anniky, armed ridiculously, with Head piece, Back, and Breast, Sword, Half Pike, and a Fusee on her Shoulder. She stairs ●t him, and h● looks sneakingly. Ann. 
Lord, Goodman Assinego, how you ●ook now? How does your stomach stand affected, hoh; I have brought ye a relish here of the Diet you designed me; there, eat. Throw● him Horse-beans. Sir, snick and snee me, eat quickly, or Offers to shoot.  Min H. 
I will eat, I will eat any thing, dear Wife, any thing Eats.  Ann. 
Wife! 'Dslife such another word, and the Sun shines through thee immediately— Wife! familiar fool, my name shall be Tame●lana, as being the first Conqueress and Tamer of a useless insignificant Animal call●d a Husband. D'ye eat, Sir?  Min H. 
I do, I do, most invincible Tamerlana, I do. Eats.  Ann. 
The best repa●t in the world for fellows that are troubled with frigidity. Well, now to Confession; what, you are a Doodle, I suppose?  Min H. 
I am so.  Ann. 
Very well. Come, now muster up your offences with an audible voice, and explain yourself; begin with your notorious misdemeanour in Wedlock— Come, own first, that whatever you are, you ought to be— a Cuckold.  Min H. 
I do so.  Ann. 
Leave off that sneaking Dog-look you had best, and speak out, or here's what shall open your pipes.  Min H. 
Oh good Wife. Tamerlana I mean▪  Ann. 
Go on to the rest then; own, own.  Min H. 
Why, I do own, I do own, that when I married the● first 'twas for thy Money. Crying.  Ann. 
So.  Min H. 
And though I was indifferently civil the first night, much against my will; and yet I made a horrible resolution in the morning never to be so again. Crying ●ut▪  Ann. 
Like a sordid Rascal as I was.  Min H. 
Like a sordid Rascal as I was.  Ann. 
Good, proceed.  Min H. 
That I always hated that goodly plump person of thine, and being instigated by the Devil, used to call thee a fulsome Dowdy.  Ann. 
For which I deserve to be hanged.  Min H. 
For which I deserve to be hanged.  Ann. 
In thy Garters at my own door.  Min H. 
In thy Garters at my own door.  Ann. 
Right. Now to your contrivance with Bondevelt about marrying my Niece— Own quickly, come.  Min H. 
Why, I own I have contrived.  Ann. 
With that Coxcomb the Precedent— Out with the truth, and loudly— as you would keep your Guts whole.  Min H. 
With that Coxcomb the Precedent— Oh Lord, he hears me now I'm sure, Aside. In consideration of a Bond of three thousand pounds given me, to marry him to my Niece.  Ann. 
That's well; now come give me that Bond: Come, come, and set your hand here to assign it to me, and I'll condescend to be friends.  Min H. 
Ah, sweet Wife, gracious Wife, gracious Tamerlana, don't exact so hardly upon the Husband of thy bosom, don't Chick.  Ann. 
Nay, no delays or evasions; do that or take this; I have Money and Friends enough to get my Pardon for killing a thousand such drones as thou art, and do the State good service into the bargain— Or else come I'll go another way, give me Bond and Judgement to get me an heir by Christmas-day next, and I'll be satisfied.  Min H. 
Oons, that's a task ten times harder than t'other Snick me, that's a thing the Devil would not undertake— Come, give me the Paper— There— Writes. Well, are we friends now?  Ann. 
Ay Friends— what else, come kiss me. He kisses her.  Min H. 
Ah Anky, Tamarlana, ah Anky— Away with your Arms then, away with that Murder-maker now.  Ann. 
Well Husband, and d'ye truly She gives him her Arms. forget all now; you know 'twas only a piece of cunning; we are all mortal, ●o secure myself, in case thou shouldst die, and leave me, Honey. Fawning on him.  Min H. 
Wormwood, Gall.  ●nn● 
I see thou hast a frown or two left upon thy forehead still. Come, we'll have some Wine to our reconcilement: Wouldst thou drink my health in a Bumper of Sherry now, and sweeten it with—.  Min H. 
Ratsbane— Come Cockatice, ye are catched at last, ye are disbanded i'faith— Have you laid down your Arms, good Powder-Monkey— Come, deliver— 'Sbud give me the Papers back again, or—  Ann. 
How, Sir!  Min H. 
Instantly, or snick me my double fist shall so mawl thee— Oh, I lie, I lie, I lie; oh gracious Tamerlana: Goes to seize her, she pulls out a Pistol. I did but jest, I did but jest faith and troth. Knelt to her.  Ann. 
Ah ye treacherous Skellum, is this your reconcilement. ' dlife, why should not I rid myself of such a Scoundrel?  Min H. 
Oh Tamerlana, Tamerlana, I am at thy feet, I am at thy feet.  Ann. 
But hang●t, let the fool live, I know always how to keep him in awe. Go, get ye out of my sight and study a repentant Speech, you had best. If I find any more Rebellion, 'tis but thus: Phiz, bounce, your Puddings shall pay for't instantly.  Min H. 
Termagant Jade, what a life must I lead now— Oh, I must go and get drunk to cure me of my fright. Oh I am a miserable Burgomaster, snick me. Exit.  Ann. 
So, here is the Bond, three thousand pounds worth of Paper. However, here's the effect of Wit ' now, this comes of managing Matrimony, as I am a Calvinist: And now I'll to my Niece, I'm sure she is in some of these Rooms, and perhaps the Precedent with her, I care not if he is now, the Fish is caught, I'll go and see.— 
If Husbands still are pleased when Wives they fool,  
Wives must be so, that can their Husband's rule.   Exit. Enter Bondevelt from the Press. Bond. 
A strange unaccountable Creature this! And I have found since my enclosure in my Hutch here, that this Burgomaster too is a very timorous rascally Fellow: First, to let a saucy Woman affront me behind my back; and, secondly, to be baffled out of my Bond; but 'tis all one to me who has it, great Benefits are seldom got without good Bribes: And if by either of 'em I get but the Lady and the Fortune, I shall be repaid well enough, therefore I'll venture to go, and show myself amongst 'em. Exit.  Enter Angellica and Gusset with Dorange, dressed like a Dutch Tailor wi●h women's Stays in his hand. Ang. 
So this disguise was very lucky  Dor. 
And very ugly, the Devil take me, as ever I saw.  Guss. 
Come, come, Sir, 'tis well for you we had it, the Dragon's Claws in her fury, would have spoiled your Roman Nose else Sir.— hush— to your Trade— here she comes, and Madam la Marquis with her, whom she has met in the Dining Room: come Sir, look sneakingly and mind your business. to Dorange.  Enter Anniky, and Madam la Marquis. Ann. 
How now, what fellow's that?  Guss. 
My Lady's Tailor, Mr. Stichwell Madam.  Dor. 
How, how, Madam, not like your Stays?  Ang. 
No not like them, they pinch me here upon the breast, pucker here on the Shoulder, and the whalebone hurts me.  Ann. 
And are not you a foo● Niece, to employ him then; the fellow looks like a Blockhead.  Dor 
Thankee aside. sees Mad. lafoy Marquis. hah by Heaven the charming Creature, that sent me the Letter this Morning. what a garb has she found me in. aside.  Ang. 
Ay, 'tis true Aunt, but he makes some amends by his honesty though he be a dull Rogue,  Dor. 
Very pretty on t'other side.  Mad. 
'Tis the Colonel, I●m sure 'tis he, though disguised aside.  Guss. 
Here take a Needle and Silk, and gather in this skirt a little straighter— he stairs at her. What hast forgot thy Tools ah, thou're a Bungler. gives him Needle and Silk and he sits down cross legged and s●ws aukwardly  Ann 
Well, you'll never come into our fashion Niece, you will always wear Armour, and Coats with long Tails that sweep the Rooms cleane● than the w●●ch does; if you would have had my Tailor you had not been so clumsily served; ' dliflikins this awkward fellow ●ooks as if he ne re handled a Needle in's life.  Dor. 
Pox on her she might have swore it, my Fingers are a little numbed and please ye Madam, 'tis cold weather,  Ann. 
Well Niece, where have ye hid the Precedent, for I'm sure he was here,— come you may tell me, I am not now so angry at the matter, as I was, so you entertain none but he, tell me the truth where is he?  Ang. 
Then to be ●lain with ye Madam, you frighted him hence, though he would fain have spoken with you, and I believe he waits for ye now, at your own apartment.  Ann. 
Well I'll go to him, and be moderate, look Niece, you know your Brother's order and my power, let me be concerned in your affairs, and then all will go well, but otherwise not so, as I'm a Calvinist. Exit Ann.  Ang. 
So, thank fortune, she's dispatched at last. Come, now what think ye of a Game at Cards?  Gus. 
Pray let the shame Taylor get into his true shape again first, Madam.  Dor. 
Ay, gad, for I'm plaguee weary of my Trade— You Devil, you puzzled me sound, about gathering the Skirt there. Exeunt.  Mad. 
Madam, I have a business that calls me home, or else I should be very glad to make one at Ombre, but the Colonel no doubt will march ye at Picket.  Ang. 
The Colonel! What, than I perceive she is acquainted with him; who can this Colonel be? Aside. You know him then, Madam, pray what Colonel is't?  Mad. 
Why, Madam, don't you know?  Ang. 
Not I: He's an acquaintance of the Precedents, but an utter stranger to me, and this disguise was to keep him from my Aunt's knowledge.  Mad. 
I am glad to hear that. Aside. And to me too, Madam, as to his name, but he's very well worth your acquaintance; he's an English Colonel of Horse I hear, and a man of a very good Family.  Re enter Dorange new dressed, and Gusset. Dor. 
I believe I shall laugh at this Adventure very often when I han't the happiness of seeing your Ladyship.  Mad. 
The occasion will require it, Sir.  Ang. 
'Tis always so, when we are to be governed by Relations. Gusset get the Cards ready. Exit Gusset.  Dor. 
And till they come, I beg the favour of a word with you Madam. To M. lafoy Marquis.  Mad. 
Madam, I beg your leave a minute. To Angellica. Now for the hundred Pistoles; Fortune, I hope I shall neck his business. aside.  Re-enter Bondevelt. Bond. 
Madam, having been engaged lately to hear a little tumultuous discourse just now between your Aunt and the Burgomaster, and perceiving at last the main hinge on which the whole matter moved was relating to me, I resolved to conceal myself no longer, but to discourse her. Is she gone, I beseech ye?  Enter Gusset with Cards. Ang. 
Just gone Sir, a minute since; I'm sure you may overtake her easily; and 'twill be proper, Sir, because now she has a mind to see ye.  Bond. 
Madam, I understand ye perfectly. Looks off, and sees Dorange talking familiarly with M. lafoy Marquis. How oddly that Domestic behaves himself. aside. I will therefore instantly go dispatch her as soon as possible, and be with your Ladyship again with my first opportunity.  Ang. 
Sir, your most humble Servant.  Bond. 
Madam, I have longed for a Regalia of pleasant Conversation with your Ladyship too— But business, unfortunate business, Madam— To M. lafoy Marquis, putting by Dorange. How now, how dost do? Nods at Dor. To Ang. Oh Madam. I had forgot to tell ye before I go, you have really a very diligent fellow of that. Pointing to Dor. I have found him so; a very diligent fellow, and worthy recommendation— Your Servant Madam Exit, bowing to the Ladies, and nodding to Dorange.  Ang. 
Diligent fellow! what does he mean? he talks of him as if he were my Footman. aside. Give me the Cards, Gusset. She sorts 'em.  Mad. 
The Precedents great business sure makes him forget his manners; he uses ye very familiarly, Colonel.  Dor. 
Oh, I know 'tis his way, and am used to't— I understand what he means by a nod, as well as a dumb man the language of the fingers: but to the purpose of what I whispered, d'ye believe me, Madam?  Mad. 
What, that you came here purposely to see me?  Dor. 
That, or you undo me.  Mad. 
O fie; try if you can persuade me to't; however, as I find you behave yourself like a man of honour, I shall be induced to give ye credit; but no more now, the Lady expects ye at Cards.  Dor. 
By Heaven I'll not fail— Oh damned Rogue, now cannot I forbear pursuing this Intrigue, though I lose this other Angel by't, and a flourishing fortune— Oh woman, woman, tempting flesh and blood, how wicked dost thou make us. They sit down to play.  Re-enter Bondevelt. Bond. 
I forgot to ask her before I went whether I should have any farther private correspondence with her Uncle, the Aunt being, I perceive, Lady of th' Ascendant, and sole Governess of the Family's affairs; but I hope 'tis not too late to be resolved— How now! what's this I see! At Cards— and so familiar with a Footman— Prosper me, can this be real! Observes 'em.  Dor. 
For the Point Madam— fifty seven.  Ang. 
I'm your equal, Sir.  Bond. 
Are ye so? I have spent my time fairly then. aside.  Dor. 
Your Ladyship has a Qui●t, I suppos●.  Ang. 
No, indeed Sir I am not so lucky.  Dor. 
Not a Quint? what think ye then Ma●●● of Terse Major?  Ang. 
Ve●y good.  Bond. 
Oh Abominable, 'tis plain now thereupon Intrigue between 'em, a rank Intrigue by Heaven, and I accidentally coming back have surprised 'em, when they thought themselves secure,— oh the Prodigious Appetite of Women, that when the Blood ferments make no distinction, the high born Princely Peer, and the poor Peasant, are equal in their fancies. However I'm glad I saw this, that I may sort a season to inform her how I despise her Amity. going out meets Gusset.  Guss. 
I hope your worthyness is not going so soon.  Bond. 
I have stayed too long unless in better Company.  Guss. 
How Sir, what is't you say, better Company!  Bond. 
Yes 'twas I said it— besides perhaps I might disturb your Lady and the Footman at their Game.  Guss. 
The Footman, Sir,  Bond. 
The Footman, Mistress: 'tis not his fine Coat can make him otherwise, he●s too well known.  Guss. 
Bless me Sir, he passes here for a Colonel.  Bond. 
That's a likely matter, I say once more, he's a Footman; and she knows it, to whom within this few hours, I gave Gold to pay him for an Errand, and so I leave her, tell her to her Pastime, and much good do her with her running Gamester.  Exit Bondevelt. Guss. 
How is this a Footman's; who the Devil would have thought it, I wondered indeed he was so over civil, how many raw young Creatures has that Coat now put a cheat-upon.  Dor. 
Seven.—  Guss. 
And how many Guinea's will she give me for discovering this now.  Ang. 
Five,— playing the G●me.  Guss. 
'Twould be worth some I warrant from this Scoundrel too to conceal it.  Dor. 
Eight.  Guss. 
To intrigue with a Footman, Lord how many Lovers of Quality has she had.  Ang. 
Five.  Guss. 
And some Rampart Damsels this Cheat has had I warrant too.  Dor. 
Nine.  Guss. 
It will deserve ten Guinea's from her.  Ang. 
Six Seven.  Guss. 
And from him to play false.  Dor. 
Nine.  Guss. 
Ha, sure the Impostor does not answer me, but if he did I'll be honest, I know I shall have ten of her.  Ang. 
Eight.  Guss. 
Well Eight with honesty, and for his part.—  Dor. 
Nine.  Guss. 
Bragging Puppy, sure he has overheard me, but I'll cross-purpose him presently. Madam, I beg your pardon for interrupting ye, but I must needs speak with you on earnest business.  Ang. 
What, sure you can stay till the Game's up.  Guss. 
Not a minute Madam, excuse me, 'tis what concerns your honour.  Dor. 
Oh by all means Madam, I must not be guilty of detaining ye when matters of moment engage— your most humble Servant, I'll wait on ye another time,— your Servant pretty Creature. to Gusset.  Guss. 
Impudence, prithee get thee gone. frowns.  Dor. 
hay day, what has she left her manners amongst her Ladies foul Linen, what a pox ails her. Exit Dorange.  Ang. 
How now, what you did not affront the Gentleman I hope.  Guss. 
Gentleman, hang him trotting Horse. Madam, you have been the most damnably imposed on that ever woman was. In short, this gay Fellow that you have made your Companion, is another Van Scopen, nothing but a Footman.  Ang. 
A Footman! Why, Madam la Marquis told me he was a Colonel, and a man of a very good Family; I know too they generally dress in that manner.  Gus. 
Pugh, what signifies that, or what she says: Here was the Precedent just now looking over your Play, and in such a passion to see your familiarity, that I could not pacify him; he knows him, it seems, no otherwise but as a Footman, and doubtless was angry, believing some intrigue between ye. Tell her, says he, I'll leave her to her pastime, and much good do her with her running Gamester.  Ang 
Was there ever such a mischievous ●ccident? What could be the Fellow's design? he never hinted any thing▪ of Love to me? and I swear did not look unlike a Gentleman.  Gus. 
No, a pox take him, the fellow set a good face upon the matter.  Ang. 
Well, be sure the Porter locks him out for the future; in the mean time go you and find out the truth, and give the Precedent our account of him, but especially let us contrive to keep it from my Aunt's knowledge. 
With Art and Care, success we now must get,  
And since good fortune fails, supply with Wit.   Exeunt.   

ACT IU.  

SCENE I  Prince de Landvile, Knight of the Order of the Fleece, Min Heer Tomas, Bertran, Kinglove, Dorange, with a Cloak on, all as sitting at a Banquet. Omnes. 
HA', ha', ha', ha', ha'.  Prince. 
You have very good reason, ●aith Sir; when a Wife once comes to be termagant and saucy, she ought to be reprimanded. This is the most comical fellow that ever I met with. aside to Dor.  Dor. 
Oh your Highness will have more of him presently; but remember I'm a Merchant. aside. My Lord, I was beginning to tell him an infallible way to be revenged of her— What, a jolly Burgomaster, the soul of Trade, and the top of all the Herring Merchants in Brussels, to be as it were imasculated by a Woman; faith 'tis egregious; no, no, take thy Revenge, old Butter-gullet.  Min H. 
Revenge— egh— Zooks I'd give half I'm worth to be revenged of her, and t'other full Glass or two will set me purely in fort, Odsbeares: For you must know I an't such a sneaking Pea goose then, as when I'm sober: Odsbeares, I can talk to her then and swear; I am a mettled fellow when I'm drunk, snick me.  King. 
Why well said, who gives the Burgomaster a Bumper there? Monsieur Marquis, you are his next man, pray see the Glass come to him— Come, here's Confusion to all domineering Wives: Wives that set a greater Tax upon a Husband's virility than his Constitution is ever able to pay. Here, Confusion to 'em.  Min H. 
Him; come, away with't; gad I shall be pure and bowzy presently.  Bert. 
Along Monsieur, here is one Bumper to you; and hark you, de healt is, may your Wife break her neck down stair to mor morning. Drinks.  Min H. 
Amen: I'll drink a pint to that, snick me.  Prince. 
As fairly drank as the occasion is honourable. And now, Sir, as you are a Merchant, and a Lover of Trade, you are obliged to help a Brother in distress; you were beginning to tell him a pleasant way of Revenge; come, pray let's hear it.  To Dorange. Min H. 
Ay, come Brother Sprat, prithee out with't.  King. 
If it wants more heads than one we'll all help: I'll give thee some drops to mix with her morning's draught shall make her so hoarse for a twelvemonth, that she shall whiz like a Monster shower in the Fair, and not be heard the distance of two foot, let her endeavour to scold never so violently.  Min H. 
Thankee good Sir, snick me, that would do very well.  Bert. 
And harkee you Mister Burgomastree, I vill give you one rare Powder, that shall draw her Tongue out of de Mout, de Teet out of de Head, and the Nail of the Finger, and ven she can neider scold, by't, nor scrash, she vill be for good Wife, Morbleau.  Min H. 
Humph— odd that's an admirable Powder too, that's Powder would do mighty well, Sir my service tee. Drinks. but come Brother, prithee now let's hear thine.  Dor. 
Why Sir I remember you said some time since, that above all things your Wife hates a Monkey.  Min H. 
She does so; nay, and with that Mortal aversion that she'll swoon if it comes too near her, goggle with her eyes, foam at mouth, and play such tricks as if ten thousand Devils had possessed her.  Dor. 
There's your way, Sir, whenever you would gain your point, carry one under your Cloak you may fright her to any thing.  Min H. 
Zooks he has nicked it; 'tis a rare way faith, to get my Bond again; for the very Devil is not so frightful to her as a Monkey, and I'll carry one always about me, I'm sure 'twill make her do any thing. Odsears, this is a notable man, he carries a great deal of Docity, egh— under that Cloak there. Kecks  Pr. 
So, his joy for his Monkey and the last Bumper together, have almost foxed him; 'twould be pleasant to see him and his Wife when they meet now.  King. 
Pleasant, 'twould be an admirable Scene for a Comedy.  Dor. 
See, he's going to tak● t'other Bumper upon't.  Bert. 
He will be more dru●k for joy of his Monkey, den he vas when Peace vas proclaim.  Dor. 
Ay, or at the safe ●●urn of the Smirna Fleet, though he had never so great a share i●'●. So, Sir, by your smiling I see you like my project.  Min H. 
Like it! I could kiss th●e, faith and troth; but stay, where shall get I this Monkey? hum— Oh, Odsears, well remembered, my Niece has a rare one, which she keeps up always privately for her own diversion, that shall be ●t faith, and I'll go get it instantly, for I'm resolv●d to have my Bond again. Dear Brother, I thank thee once ●ore hearty for thy project, and your good Lordship for my ●r●at. And so, egh— but hold, my Lord, my Lord, one G●●●s more faith, here's— egh— my Neices Monkey's health, my lord Drinks.  Prince. 
Oh, with all my hea●t Sir, and to the rest of your Relations, if you please, Mr Bu●go master.  Min H. 
And so sit ye merry; I am egh— almost drunk faith. Odseares if I light on Ańniky now she's a miserable Jade, snick me. Exit.  Bert. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha'— now he's gone ye shall lose de ver fine humeur, sneeka me.  Dor. 
And snick me, now he's gone too, there lies my Merchandise. Throws off the Cloak.  Enter Waiter. Waiter. 
My Lord, the Music your Lordship ordered wait below to know your pleasure.  Prince. 
Let 'em come up. Come Gentlemen we'll have a Song.  

The New Reformation. A Song.  

I.  
NEw Reformation gins through the Nation  
And our grumbling Sages, in hopes of good wages, Direct us the way.  
Sons of the Muses▪ then cloak your Abuse●;  
And lest you s●●uld trample on ●ious Example, Observe, and Obey.  
Time-frenzy Cu●●rs,  
And stubborn Non-Iurors,  
F●r want of Employment, now s● urge the l●wd times:  
They've hinted, they've Printed,  
Our vein is, Profaneness,  
The worst of all Crimes;  
Dull Clod-pated Ralliers,  
Smiths, Cobblers and Colliers,  
Have damned all our Rhimes.   

II.  
Under the notion of zeal for Devotion,  
The humour has fired 'em, or rather inspired 'em  
To Tutor the Age:  
But if in season, you'd know the true reason,  
The hopes of Preferment is what makes some Vermin  
Now Rail at the Stage.  
Cuckolds and Canters,  
With Scruples and Banters,  
Th' Old Forty One peal against Poetry ring.  
But let State revolvers,  
And Treason-Absolvers,  
Excuse if I sing  
The Sconndrel that chooses  
To cry down the Muses,  
Would cry down the King.    A Dance. Prince. 
D'ye hear Music, flourish all when I drink this health, To the Great Umpire of Christendom, Genius of the War, and all our brave Confederate Princes; Saviour of our Lives, Honours, Liberties and Estates; and eternally renowned Procurer, Finisher, and Protector of our glorious Peace, his Sacred Majesty of Great Britain. Drinks, and Music flourish.  Bert. 
May he be dam dat refuse I say, Morbleau.  Dor. 
Nay Marqui this is not all yet, the next must be your Master's health, the Most Christian King, than our Mistresses, and then—  King. 
To reel into a Chair, Colonel, that's the next then I'm sure. But now ye talk of Mistresses, harkee, does the Intrigue I know of hold to night, are the hundred Goldfinches to fly?  Dor. 
Love will oblige me to fly thither, but I hope her generosity will spare the rest, for all my jesting; however, I'm resolved to offer the hundred.  Prince. 
Nay Gad if you offer the hundred, 'tis a hundred to one but she'll resolve to take 'em.  Bert. 
Pardeu she be damn Jilt dat take de hunger Pistole from the Colonel, be who she vill; do I know her?  Dor. 
Faith I can't tell; but if you do, I'm sure I done't; for I never so much as asked her name; but she's pretty as an Angel, and witty as 'tis possible; and if she has an ingredient of old Sa●an mixed with these, and is mercenary, she only runs the risque of my hate after the business is over; but for the present I have no forecast.  Bert. 
Ah, she vill be shenerous no doubt, and so I vish de bon pastime wid all min heart, ha', ha', ha', dear Colonel.  Enter Bondevelt and Waiter. Bond. 
Stay friend, I think it most proper to send my Compliment to the Prince before I enter, having been so fatigued with business, that I could not wait on him here at dinner, in compliance to his generous invitation— Ay, do so friend, prithee go to him, and present my most humble—  Wait. 
Sir, you should have told me before; y'are in the very Room now, and yonder the Prince sits amongst the rest of the company.  Bond. 
Od●o, he's in the right— Well, say nothing then. Sees Dorange. Heavens— is it possible, sure my eyes are not defective! is not that yonder that impudent Footman with 'em, that I lately found so familiar with Angellica? It is, it must be he, and laughing and prating like a Companion.  Dor. 
Prithee, my Lord, reach the Glass; I'll begin another health.  Bond. 
Impudent Dog! he'll begin another health! Why, what a shame is this, when Noblemen debase themselves to mix with Grooms and Vassals: Bless me, what will this world come to— I'll introduce myself— My good Lord.  Prince. 
Oh Mr Precedent your humble Servant. I wanted ye extremely at Dinner, but your perpetual business debars your friends still of their expectations.  Bond. 
My Lord, your Lordship's command to me is always business. Ah Sir— To Kinglove, pushing Dorange away. Prithee fellow give way, I am glad to see you in the Prince's company.  King. 
What, is he drunk? To Bertran.  Bert. 
I canno tell; I wondra de Colonel no give him one grand kick, morbleau.  Bond. 
And harkee, if occasion will permit— whispers King.  Dor. 
He takes me for a Footman. Softly to the Prince. Pray carry it so that I may pass for one, there's an admirable design in't, which you shall know hereafter.  Prince. 
Enough, it shall be done. Whispers the rest,  King. 
I have it.  Bert. 
Ha', ha', ha',— oh 'tis for well. Aside.  Bond. 
Now my good Lord, when goes your Lordship for Holland.  Prince. 
Not till Winter, Sir; I intent f●rst to wait upon King William in England, Sir— you may veil you● Bonnet now if you please, you'll be taken for my Bed-fellow a●on else.  Throws off Dorange 's Hat. Bond. 
Prosper me, my Lord, I had taken him for such indeed, but that I know him.  Prince. 
Ah, 'tis a Gentleman that gives us sometimes the favour of his Company— he pays his Club here— ha', ha', ha'.  Bert. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha'.—  Bond. 
Oh your Lordship's merry— I see now this was only allowance, a frolicsome humour to make mirth, and yet had I just now a message from Angellica, full of seeming wonder, that I should mistake his quality so, he coming there as such a one, and by my interest; I know not what she means, but am resolved I'll carry him to her, and there his quality will be proved. Apart.  Pr. 
I hear amongst the rest of the news, that fame is proud of, that your worthiness has a design to marry.  Dor. 
Ay gad, and I hear 'tis to a particular acquaintance and intimate friend of mine.  Bond. 
Scoundrel— prosper me, but now this fellow gins to be too saucy, I fear he will put me into a passion. To King▪  King. 
Faith, Sir, he's thus free with us all, he makes no distinctions, 'tis his humour.  Bond. 
'Tis an undecent humour, and were I to converse much with the Prince, I would argue him out of it. There is one of your Country Proverbs, which I remember, very pertinent to this purpose, which is, Play with a fool at home, and he'll play with you in the Market place. I think it wants no application: Not but I can wink at his folly myself now, having some present business with him— Dost hear, fellow? To Dorange.  Dor. 
Very well, fellow.  Bond. 
Audacious Rogue. To the Prince  Pr. 
Ay, he's a very strange fellow, that's the truth on't.  Bond. 
Well, I know thee, and answer as thou pleasest, so thou wilt do me one piece of service. 'Tis this, that thou wilt go with me instantly to visit the Lady I found thee at Cards with yesterday, for a private reason known only to myself, and I will give thee something to pay thy club hereafter with men of quality.  Dor. 
I'll do it, and will it spend afterwards upon thee in what liquor thou lik'st, Bully Rock. Strikes him on the back.  Bond. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha'. They all laugh.  Dor. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha'— This is as I could wish, for I have been denied entrance lately, and long to know the reason. Aside.  Bond. 
My Lord and Gentlemen, I hope you will honour me with your presence, I know ye are all admirers of fine Ladies, and I'll beg your opinions of this.  Om. 
With all our hearts, Sir.  Bond. 
I'll shame her before all the world. Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Min H. Tomas Drunk, with a Monkey. Min H. 
Come pug— egh, come along, by thy notable assistance, and my— egh, potable endeavours, I make no doubt but to make a fool of my Wife, therefore thus I embrace thee— I find now 'tis true as the old saying is, that 'tis good to have a friend in a corner, and in the Chimney-corner I found thee, the best friend I ever had in my life, snick me, for thou canst cunjure out the Devil that possesses Wedlock, and let the poor Vermin feed at ease that's enclosed— egh— in the Conjugal Mousetrap. Why how now, Pug— thou laughest to hear me call't a Mousetrap— Very well, Monkey-face, thou wouldst not be so merry if thou were't married, for I tell thee, for all thy grinning, 'tis a Mousetrap, a very Mousetrap, and not only so, but often baited with damned mouldy Cheese, that chokes a man into the bargain.  Enter Angellica. Ang. 
Lord, Uncle, the privilege you give the Precedent will bring us into a strange praemunire presently, if my Aunt knows it▪ for he's coming yonder with a whole Train of Gentlemen a●●er him. What he intends, I know not, but I'm sure my Aunt watches perpetually to see who comes in, and if she finds 'em here we shall have a horrible House.  Min H. 
Oh, I warrant thee, Niece, I warrant thee, here are some that shall be nameless— as egh— horrible as herself, that shall make their Party good with her, I warrant ye; but in the first place, prithee lend me thy Keys, to lock my reliever here into the Closet, that I may have him forthcoming upon occasion, and then I defy thy Aunt, egh— and all her Imps, snick me.  Locks in the Monkey. Enter Bondevelt, Prince, Dorange, Bertran, Kinglove, and Gusset. Bond. 
Madam, you sent me an account to day by your Chamber-diligence there of this most renowned person, Bowing to Dorange. both a specimen of his Character, and an affirmative of his Quality, to shade no doubt from my shallow understanding, the intimacy I saw between ye yesterday. My visit to your Ladyship therefore now is, to confirm before your Uncle, and the Company here, your honourable proceed, and admirable choice of a Play fellow.  Ang. 
Sir, you will do very well to confirm it, for my own part I shall not repent of my proceed, till I have a worse account of my Play fellow.  Dor. 
Sir, though you wear no Sword, I shall borrow one for ye▪ if your busy head vent any thing reflecting on my honour.  Bond. 
The old impudence— his honour— my Lord did your Highness hear him,— ha', ha', ha',— his honour.  Pr. 
Ha', ha', ha'— ay, Sir, he holds it up still.  King. 
A strange odd fellow, Sir, he'll disgrace ye before your Mistress, if you han't a care.  Bond. 
Oh, that's impossible— if my word were invalid, you can give her knowledge enough of him.  Bert. 
Yes, yes, if she would know his merit or qualities— we can do him for good justice.  Bond. 
Mr Burgomaster, you once thought me worthy of a favour from your Niece, but she has since thought better of that laced Coat there, than my civil Robe. Pray look on your Nephew that is to be, dee know him. They stare at one another.  Min H. 
Odsears, who have we here, egh— why what my Brother Sprat Merchant of Peru, what are ye come to put off your Oleaginous Ware to my Niece, dressed like a confounded Soldade, humh?  Dor. 
A plague of his memory, I thought he had been too drunk to distinguish now; no faith, Sir, I only come to know if you remembered the Monkey.  Min H. 
Ay, ay, ye cunning thief, egh— I do remember it, and do you remember too, that your project for me then has brought ye off the danger of your project upon my Niece now. We have Horse ponds and Blankets for Fortune-stealers, ye cunning Dog.  Bond. 
What, the Coat is known then, 'tis reasonable the Ambassador's Livery should be familiar here.  Min H. 
The Ambassadors Livery, ●oons 'tis the Devil's Livery, a Soldiers. Pox on thee, put it off, egh— gad I can't abide to look on't, and prithee be as thou art, a Merchant of true blue Protestant Sprats, monopolised to thyself from Coquimbo, Copiago, Porto Bello, and the Devil knows where.  Bond. 
What in the ●ame of Mystery does he mean? he must needs know his Nephew's Footman.  ●ing. 
A Merchant in that dress, what Riddles this, my Lord you can inform us I'm sure, he's your acquaintance.  Pr. 
He is so, Madam, and when he thinks it convenient, we are ready to expound his Mystery.  King. 
There are some people above the vulgar, that may own him without scandal.  Bert. 
Yes, tru●y, I have seen him sit wid his Hat on among for good Shentlemen.  Bond. 
Enigma's still more riddling— sure this is not the Czar of Musc●vy disguised, that they make such caution of discovering him— oh here comes one I'm sure will unravel all.  Enter Anniky. Ann. 
So, Niece, is this your compliance to your Brother's Authority and my Commands— hah, but I know this is not so much your do, as Sir Assinego's there— What is your Article with me out of date already, friend— Have you forgot Tamarlana's power, and your horrid Oaths to encourage no man's coming here without my knowledge— 'tis very well I'll, have a Bone for you to pick presently, you shall gnaw for this as I'm a Calvinist.  Min H. 
The Jade has a Pistol in her pocket now I know, but I'll keep the wind of her till the Company's gone, and I can get Pug out, and then I defy her, snick me. Exit.  Ann. 
Gentlemen, pray what business have you here with my Niece, for I must tell ye, till I know it, and you make an interest with me you are not welcome, this Gentleman indeed has my suffrage by virtue of his merit, and this Bond here, but you, if you come by another authority, may walk out, she shall hear nothing from ye.  Bond. 
Madam, my Lord and these Gentlemen came at my request to discover a new Suitor of your Niece's: Here Monsieur Enigma, but since I find them shy of it, I desire the favour from you; pray what is this doughty person, Madam?  Ann. 
hay day, why who's here, the High and Mighty Signior Stitchwell, Viscount Bodkin, and Baron Thimble. Why how now, Sirrah, what Roguery are you designing in this dress? hah.  Dor. 
So, she thinks she has stitched me too. Aside.  Bond. 
The Lady there affirms he's a person of quality, pray let his qualities be made public. Come, pray declare, Madam— What is he?  Ann. 
What is he, why he is a Tailor.  Pr. K. & Bert. 
Ha', ha', ha', ha', ha', ha' Loudly.  Ann. 
A whimsical, unthrifty, Maggot-pated Rascal, that has put on some Officers Clothes, that's his Customer, only that he might brag that once in his life time he looked like a Gentleman. What say you, Sir Christopher Cros●leg, are not you a Tailor?  Dor. 
No.  Ann. 
Why ye ●itty, spindle shanked, white liver'd, oyly-fisted, butcherly Cuckold, did not I see you with my Niece's Stays in her Chamber to day?  Dor. 
Yes.  Ann. 
And have you the impudence then, Sirrah, to say you are no Tailor; if not, what Trade are ye, and be hanged?  Dor. 
A Cuckold maker.  Ann. 
Oh rare Tom Thimble, here is an impudent Rascal for ye.  Bond. 
This is more intricate still, I can't understand either of 'em. Harkee, come hither, did not you bring me a Letter lately for which I gave you Money, Sir.  Dor. 
Yes, Sir.  Bond. 
Very well, Sir, and are not you one of the Ambassadors Retinue, a Footman, Sir?  Dor. 
No, Sir.  Bond. 
What a Devil art thou then?  Dor. 
Misanthropos— I hate impertinent Mankind— This Madam may satisfy you, pray gives Angellica a Ring. give it to your little one to play with. Aside. But if you must know more, Sir, for once, let these Philosophers expound me.  King. 
Why then, Sir, in a word, he's a Colonel of Horse, his Name is Dorange, a Gentleman of a very ancient Family, Sir William Dorange's Son of Norfolk.  Ang. 
What do I see, by Heaven, the very Ring I gave the Author of my once forfeited honour,— oh I faint. Gusset leads her off.  Dor. 
The rest you shall know hereafter: and then perhaps the Gentleman, Lackey, Sprat-Merchant and Tailor, may be qualified, if affronted to pull you by the Nose, Sir, to Bond. I must now follow my Love affair, I find by my Watch my intrigue with my beauteous unknown is to be within this half hour, I am a Rogue for leaving this in such a confusion, but t'other is such a darling Temptation, that I cannot avoid, though I repent all my Life after, apart, and Exit.  Prince. 
You know where I lodge Colonel, if any thing happens, Command my Sword and service,  King. 
And mine— Come Monsieur Marqui, shall we set you down?  〈◊〉. 
〈◊〉 Sire, I thank you I am oblige another way upon one grand affair. Exeunt  Bond. 
I am amazed, and I fear fooled into the bargain, but I must have the rest on't, for to know this, and no more sets me on the Rack.  Ann. 
I'll after and piece up the matter, for I find here has been plaguy tricks and contrivances, but I'll have no private do with my Niece without me, I'll not give up that authority however.  Enter Min Heer Tomas, with a Monkey. Min H. 
But you shall.  Ann. 
Oh the Devil the Devil— oh, oh,— falls into a Chair.  Min H. 
Why look, the Truth is— here is the Devil— and egh, there is his Dam, and when I've locked the door I intent to m●ke ye better acquainted.  Ann. 
Oh dear Husband, dear Husband, put it out of the Room, or I s●an't live three minutes.  Min H. 
I dont care three Stivers, if thou dost not live, egh— one.  Ann. 
Dear Husband.  Min. 
Husband, snick me, such another word as that, and I'll whisper in's Ear, to go and give thee a Buss— Husband, egh— ye saucy Gil-flirt— no, my name shall be Don Dominario, from my subjecting and making truckle under me a Devil of a Wife, and so to take state accordingly. Rise, and give your Betters place, Hussy. Goes and sits with the Monkey in the Chair, she starts out.  Ann. 
Ay withal my heart most noble Husband— Dominario I mean, is there no way to get out, oh how I tremble. aside.  Min H. 
Now look, though my Friend Pug here asks ye no questions, 'tis not egh for want of copious capacity, but to egh ease himself, and therefore leaves ye wholly to my examination, upon which he will c●a●er his judgement,— come, what have you to say for yourself,— what you are a Heteroclite I suppose now?  Ann. 
I am so.  Min H. 
Good, come then, now in your own words muster up your offences with an audible voice; egh— come explain yourself, and begin your most notorious misdemeanour in Wedlock, to which purpose own first, that several times on several occasions you have properly deserved egh— to have your bones broke.  Ann. 
I do so sobbing.  Min H. 
Good again, well now go on to the rest, and leave blubbering and screwing your face, you had best, for if Pug should see that, he'd think you were making faces at him, and fly at ye like a Devil— snick me, therefore own, own quickly▪  Ann. 
Oh— gad, what shall I do, this is intolerable, why I do own, I do own, that when we first married, I was in Love with another man, and that upon the wedding Night I would have made ye a Cuckold but I could not. Sobbing.  Min H. 
Like a notorious Jilt as I was.  Ann. 
Like a notorious Jilt as I was.  Min H. 
So proceed, Odsears I have her at a rare advantage. aside.  strokes Pug. Ann. 
That my not trying other men since, to get me an heir was not for want of my inclination but theirs, and the less grift was brought to the Mill, the more still I put you to hard Labour.  Min H. 
For which I deserve to be hanged.  Ann. 
For which I deserve to be hanged. sobbing.  Min H. 
In my Garters at my own door.  Ann. 
In my Garters at my own door. crying out.  Min H. 
Right, and that I did insolently plunder my Lord and Master Dominario aforesaid, of a Bond and Assignment of three thousand Pounds, which I now beseech him upon my knees to receive again,— and pardon me,— Come out with't, and instantly, or here's one shall fetch 'em out of your Pocket, snick me.  Ann. 
Oh, which here upon my knees, I give him again, throws the Papers. and the Devil do him good with 'em, oh, I'm at my wit's end.  Min H. 
Oh, you Servant good Anniky, and now you may go if you please, ●bout your business, and brag what a gives the Key. doodle and Assinego you made of me, ha', ha', ha', but hold well remembered faith, let me see, turn out your Pocket before you go, let me see whither your Gun-room be clear, have ye no Fire Arms about ye.  Ann. 
Only this which I was going to throw away indeed Husband. pulls out a Pistol, he starts  Min H. 
A Pistol, away with it ye Devil instantly, or I'll bring. Pug to bed to thee to Night— Ah ye Cockatrice, she throws it away. ye Crockadile were ye stealing away with that indeed,— 'tis well I had a memory she'd have had my Papers again before morning else, as soon as ever I had parted with my second here, I had been challenged for 'em at Sword and Pistol.  Ann. 
Curse on him, if he had not found out this Monster to plague me, I had kept him always under, but now he has me at his ●eck, and may do what he will, which to a Wife, that has before been always uppermost, is in-supportable weeps. 'tis a sad Story, but 'tis true, for I can no more endure the sight of that odious Devil above here, than I could of the tother below, as I am a Calvinist. Exit.  Min H. 
So, here they are once more, ha', ha', ha', this makes me merry, and now thanks to my dear releiver, come Buss Buss. kisses the Monkey.  Enter VanScopen. Van Sco. 
Sir there's great News since you were below Stairs, my Master the Ambassador is newly returned, and just gone up into his Sister's Chamber.  Min H. 
Odfears, he must not know of my Agreement with the Precedent till I have made sure of the Money— egh— well I'll go to him, come dear Friend let's along, Buss, Buss. Exit.  Enter Ma●scr●illo hastily. Van Sco. 
How now Brother in iniquity, what in haste?  Masc. 
Yes faith, like a Pot that's boiling over, is my Master here.  Van Sco. 
No, gone some time since, and I think he said out of Town, why what's the matter?  Marc. 
Matter? why the great matter of the world, ye Rascal, matter of Hornifying ye Scoundrel.  Van Sco. 
What, the Colonel resolves then to answer her Challenge; and wilt thou betray 'em, Rogue?— Wilt thou spoil sport?  Masc. 
Why, ye unconscionable Rogue, would you have me Pimp for nothing; 'Sdeath she's as niggardly as a Usuring Jew, her Soul lives in an Alley, and gad if she were a Cherubin I'd betray her if she has no sense to reward Diligence— Yonder they are faith— close as Pigeons, and I am going to bring my Master to breakfast on 'em.  Van Sco. 
There will be some blustering in our family too now the Ambassador's come home; I believe the Precedent will be routed when the Father of the Kid's known.  Masc. 
Angellica deserves to be befriended because she's generous; but my covetous Devil at home lets Money stick to her fingers like Bird lime; there's no getting it from 'em; she thinks she●s secure of him till to morrow noon, but I know where he's gone, and will ferret him away faith— he'll reward me with a Piece or two I'm sure.  Van Sc. 
What cursed unhappy hours does he behold,  
Who to be proved a Cuckold pays his Gold?  Masc. 
On t'other side how wisely Gold is paid  
To one well gifted in the Pimping Trade:  
'Tis Art sublime— for as a learned Poet said,  
Pimping the Mind inures, and does prepare  
For Politics, as Hunting does for War.    

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Don Leon and Angellica. D. Leon. 
YOu are then assured 'twas he.  Ann. 
I can't mistake, Sir, this Ring he gave me, which I know was mine, and by him taken from me that fatal Night, besides his Stature and his Tone of Voice, though the Smallpox have altered much his features, and his hair then wore uncut changed for a Peruke, confirm him for the Man.  D. Leon. 
And Sister did he make such haste out d'ye say, when he had shown this Ring?  Ang. 
Vanished immediately, ere I had time to rally my lost Spirits, sunk in a swoon at such unlooked surprise, he disappeared, leaving only these few words softly with the Ring, this Madam may satisfy you, pray give it to your little one to play with.  D. Leon. 
How should he know of that?  Ang. 
I cannot guests what way, unless the Nurse be false.  D. Leon. 
Furies and Fire, give it your little one, that looks all insolence, neglect and scorn, as if he braved ye with his lucky Treachery, or as ye since were served so by some other.  Ang. 
I could not understand him, I confess and had no time to Argue.  D. Leon. 
I'll find time, and force his best occasions to wait on it, to make him clear the blot that stains my Honour, or in his lustful heart imprint my wrongs, so deep that all our Family shall read 'em, and own I have revenged an injured Sister.  Ang. 
Oh, if you ever loved me, dearest Brother, add not to my misfortune by a greater, endangering yourself in any quarrel, there are much milder ways.  D. Leon. 
I'll warrant thee I'll use 'em,— I'll find out Bertran, by him send a Letter to Dorange, then as he answers nobly I'll proceed. apart. 
If reason justly can delay the Fight,  
'Tis well, if not my Sword shall do me right. Exeunt.    

SCENE II.  Enter Dorange unbuttoned, and Madam la Marquis in a Night-dress. A Table and dressing box by. Mad. 
I wonder where this lazy fellow is, some body has been knocking at the Gate this good while; stay here, dear Sir, a little till I go and see, Il'l be with ye instantly, I know my Husband is secure till noon, and you shan't go yet I am resolved. Indeed 'tis too early▪ Exit Madam.  Dor. 
Too early did she say, to go— rather too late that I repent my coming, now things are weighed in just consideration— What a vile Creature is ungoverned man, when merely his own natural heat can change him into a fulsome Idiot. I have left now the fair Angellica, half dead with doubts; nay, and two thousand pound a year in Posse, to give a hundred Pistoles to a Jilt for one night's Lodging, for whieu— 'tis gone— y'are paid, and shake your empty Pockets. Am not I then an Idiot? Faith Colonel Coddle, I am afraid you are. Besides, Angellica was beautiful as an Angel— but then the Child, that is indeed a Thorn which pricks with jealousy; but why should I suspect it is not mine, 'tis likely and reasonable, and consequently her Estate mine too by owning itand yet I've am left her; Idiot, Idiot still. As for this Creature, now my judgement's cool, my Tongue cannot express how much I hate her. And yet the Jilt is pretty too, but mercenary to such degree, she'd kiss for Gold a Negro, and get a Brat to make the Devil a Page of. When I first gave my Purse, foolishly thinking she would refund two thirds back, if not all, no juggler ever played his Cups and Balls with such a slight pass, presto— it was gone, at which my heart gave m● so strange a thump, as if 'twere coming to my head to break it, or rail at me for my egregious folly— humh— let me think, with what was in that Purse, and little more, a Man might buy a House, with Acres and a pretty Orchard to't, to live in Fresco, at— A hundred Pistoles, 'twould buy a Horse to charge against the Turks, break through their Ranks, and trample down a Bassa. 'Twould do a hundred things— indeed any thing— And what have you done with it, Colonel— Nothing. You have played a game at Hide and Seek with it, and now can neither find that nor yourself. A hundred Pistoles— well, here, here, they lie. This Box (takes up the Dressing Box.) contains the treasure of my folly— hah— if e'er you could dispense with plunder, Colonel, what think ye now— But see, that very word, like some great charm, has drawn her Carcase up to look of't for her Soul.  Re-enter Madam in haste. Mad. 
Oh dear Colonel, I am at my wit's end, this idle fellow is gone out, no one knows where, and my Husband, unlooked for, coming back, has been knocking at the Gate this half hour, the Maid's just gone to let him in.  Dor. Sings. 
A hundred pound in Gold, a lusty Purse indeed.  Mad. 
Oh for Heaven's sake, dear Sir, get into that Closet immediately, and I'll contrive to get him away as soon as I can— Bless me, how you stand— 'Dslife if ye don't go in quickly he'll come and catch ye.  Dor. Sings. 
A lusty Purse indeed. Did e'er so much in so short time, from one poor Cully bleed.  Mad. 
Lord, Sir, what dye mean? is this a time for tuning, why my Husband's just coming up stairs. Goes to the Stairs.  Dor. 
Gad I've a great mind to stay and see who this Cuckold is, then stand buff to him, and try to take my Money again, but it may be she'll get him off quickly, and give me new occasion to make her compound. I'll try her once more. Exit into the Closet.  Enter Bertram and Mascarillo. Bert. 
Good morr, Madam, you rise for early does morning.  Mad. 
Ah my dear, you know I can never sleep sound when you are out of the way, but I confess I did not expect ye home quite so soon.  Masc. 
That I dare swear you did not, nor desire it neither. Aside.  Mad. 
Has any extraordinary business happened my dear?  Bert. 
Yes, yes, for extraordinary business.  Mad. 
Come, I know ye have brought me the money now, I'm sure you have.  Bert. 
Yes, yes, widout doubt, you will be paid for your great kindness.  Mad. 
Prithee what business Child, I am one half of ye, ye know, and I can't rest till I know what accidents happened to t'other. Claps his Cheek.  Masc. 
Ah, very pretty wheedle, coakes him there— Now would I swear by this she had certainly made him a Cuckold, though I had known nothing of the matter. Bert. peeps about the Room.  Mad. 
What is't you look for, my dear.  Bert. 
Vor de Birds-nest, but gazoon, I perveave they be all fledge and flown away.  Masc. 
Into the Closet there, Sir, no further; search there and you may find one with his Feathers on, I warrant ye.  Mad. 
That Villain has undone me, what shall I do. Aside.  Bert. 
Come, Madam, let me see de Key, dear is one Papier that I must have presantlee, dat concern me for much.  Mad. 
The Key indeed, Sir, the Key, the Key, the Key is lost; Sir, I am just sending to have another made, you may have it at night, Sir.  Bert. 
At Night, oh for good, you are vor de Night work still Madam, but I have now occasion vor de day, the Sun fall shine upon your grand grand virtue, virtue, that is you say of such pure Nature, it ne'er was tainted yet wid one bad Taught, virtue as white as down of Swan or Ermine fall glitter in the day light, hay Sirrah, go take de Fork from de Shimmine and breaka open de door.  Mas. 
Yes Sir, gad I'll desire my Master to let me be at board wages for the time to come, I shall have my Meat sawed with Ratsbane else, I see by her looks— come let's see, gets a Fork. what concealed Vermin is here that's eating my Master's Cheese.  Thumps at the door to open it and Dorange speaks. Dor. within. 
dye hear there, who dares to touch the door once more to open it is a Dead Man that minute.  Bert. 
Ha vat is dat.  Masc. 
Oh Lord dee hear Sir,— there's one within says, he that touches the Door to open it, is a dead Man.  Bert. 
Ver good, dear is some body den, who is it in the name of virtue, I beseech you Madam?  Mad. 
Indeed Sir some Thief I'm afraid, that has had some private notice of my Jewels that are there.  Dor. within. 
I have a Pistol charged in one hand, and a good Sword in tother, therefore keep off. Mascarillo lets the Fork fall, and starts.  Bert. 
Hugh, what do he say?  Masc. 
He says he has a Pistol charged in one hand, and a good Sword in t'other.  Bert. 
Well, well, that is not matra Morbleau, so have I, go Sirrah and bid him come out, and if he can show the reason how he deserve it I will give him the Gentleman satisfaction fairly, tell him dat Sirrah.  Masc. 
Oh but I am sensible Sir, the man has a spite against me, and will aim at my Guts through the Keyhole, besides you know Sir, your Worship is much better armed. Good Sir, walk a little nearer yourself, you may hear what he says plainly, Sir.  Bert. 
Dog, Coward, look you to her den. Goes near the d●or.  Masc. 
With all my heart, Sir. Gadzooks I shall 〈…〉 what a look was there again.  Mad. 
Infamous slave! have I honoured thee with 〈…〉 given thee so many kind words for this.  Masc. 
What a pox was I the better for your smiles or 〈◊〉 you never gave me a farthing of Money; and pray what's 〈◊〉 place of a Pimp g●od for, without the perquisites, therefore in short, Madam, for what has happened thank yourself. Apart.  Mad. 
Sordid Rascal, I shall find a time—.  Dor. Within. 
So ho, without there, will you give me leave to speak to the matter fairly.  Bert. 
Ay, ay, you shall have leave, speak on.  Dor. 
Let the Husband of the Lady approach then to hear me.  Bert. 
Well, well, he does approach.  Dor. 
First then, as I am a Gentleman, which let him assure himself I am, I am utterly ignorant of his Name or Quality, nor had I ever been familiar with the Lady, but by her consent and invitation.  Mad. 
Horrid detraction, Sir, I hope you won't give credit to what an impudent Thief says, that has broke into your house.  Bert. 
Patience, Madam, Patience, your Virtue vill clear all does I make no doubt.  Mad. 
Now will this Traitor, because I took his Money a little, ungenerously tell all, this is an Englishman right.  Dor. Within. 
But accidentally seeing her, and being charmed with her Beauty, I could not help saying aloud, I'd give a hundred Pistoles for a night's Lodging; she overhearing me liked the Proposal, and sent me a Letter of Challenge by a trusty Footman of yours, who might, if he pleased, have informed you before, and hindered all.  Bert. 
Haw Rascal, is does true? To Masc.  Mas. 
O Lord, Sir, I was resolved to be sure, Sir: why I could not swear 'twas true, Sir, till I was sure.  Bert. 
Oh dam Rogue, he let me be make de Cuckold that he might be sure.  Masc. 
Gad I begin to wish I had not meddled in the matter, that little Witch there has given me a Spell, I shall hedge myself into beating on my Conscience.  Bert. 
Well, Sir, proceed.  D●r. Within. 
Why, Sir, I received the Letter, answered the contents, and came to the appointment, where I had the pleasure of her Company, and she the benefit of my Money.  B●rt. 
Oh rare virtue, oh fine virtue, virtue more white den Down of Swan or Ermine.  Mad. 
●h●y thou most impudent of Creatures, canst thou, will't tho●, dar'st thou affirm this, hast thou no remembrance of what I am— Oh Wretch, dost thou ever expect—  Dor. Within. 
Expect, no, no, Madam, I expect nothing again, saith I give it over for lost— Sir, Sir, to prove every tittle of what I say is true, you'll ●ind the hundred Pistoles locked up in her Dressing Box upon the Table there.  Mad. 
So▪ then, all's out. Oh that I had him but under the mischief of my Revenge for one hour, Well, if ever I trust an English man again.  Masc. 
A hundred Pistoles, there's high feeding, there's costly Mutton for ye, and not one to spare me, there's a niggardly Devil too. aside.  Bert. 
In de Dressing box, yet good again,— come de Key, Madam de Key, I must see de inside of does box— nay no struggle.  goes to search her, and finds none. Mad. 
Y'are like to have no Key of me, I've none on't.  Dor. within. 
'Tis under ●he Bol●●er.  Bert. 
Rare still, do you know nothing Madam, he widin know ver well your private place, I perceive, ●ete me see. goes and finds the Key.  Mad. 
Confusion, I shall lo●e the money too, and consequently my dear appointment at Ba●●et, curse on him, this is the worst vexation of all.  Bert. 
Here is de Purse morbleau, here unlocks the Box and takes out the P●rse. is de material vor d● Basset, I find Madam do I would not give you de hunger Pistole my se●f, you knew for well how to take up the Money of another, and I suppose Madam have only pawn vor dis your virtue Madam, or some such little trifle, for fine still,— Come Sire com● out, and upon my honour you fall have●vat liberty you desire. Dorange comes out, both start  Bert. 
Vat de Colonel— oh Morbleau.  Dor. 
Ha my Friend the Marqui— Hell and Damnation was s●e his Wife; what a damned chance is t●is,— I am so confounded with shame, I can't speak to him. Aside. Generous Sir, tu●●ing to him. assure yourself I am very much concerned and ashamed at what is p●st, and should hardly think my life enough to make ye satisfaction, had I not this excuse, that the offence to your honour was a sin of ignorance, and the temptation too strong to ●e refused by human frailty.  B●rt. 
Sire, I am for well satisfied in your case, and believe I should have done de s●me myself; and to show you I design noting but honour and amity, dear is your Purse again, one hunger Pistole vill serve for well for yourself, your Arse and your Equipage, to appear v●r de honour of your King— only one little piece, if you please, I vill beg here. Gives the Colonel the Purse, but takes out one Pistole.  Dor. 
Oh Dear Sir, any thing— take what you please.  Bert. 
No, no, no more, no more, dear Madam. Throws his Wife the Pistol. Dear is your Salary, Dear is your price, dear is one Pistol for you, vish is enough for any Lady of your Trade, the Colonel is my friend, and shall be use like myself, I never give my wench more, morbleau.  Madam. 
Then pray give it her now, if you please; I shall endeavour to make myself easy without troubling your generosity. But for you, niggardly Sir, that think you can give too much for a Lady's favour, and for a petty sum can blast her honour, he smiles, and takes the Purse. take this hearty Curse, May you be charmed to dote on some She-Devil, Ugly, diseased, yet may she hold ye fast, Torment your sordid Soul, and beggar ye at last. Exit.  Bert. 
Let her make noise Colonel, let her make noise, her time is but for short he●●, ●or gazoon: I ●ill send her to one Convent to morr morning— I have taken care of 〈◊〉 ●●odee to de small purpose, I vill try now vat I can do for her Soul— For your part, Colonel, as you are a man of honour, take care of mine— dat is all I ask.  Dor. 
Believe, dear Sir, I●ll study to make satisfaction. Knock within.  Bert. 
How● now, vat is dat knock? hah. Looks out. Morbleau, 〈…〉 friend the Ambassador newly returned from Paris: Run Ra●e●●, an● open de Gate.  Masc. 
A● g●d, and glad I'm got off so; but I must hid myself from my Mi●●ress; for whi●● she's in the house I've ne'er a member safe about me, that's c●●tain▪ Exit.  Dor. 
So, here's the Ambassador coming up, the Brother to Angellica, whom I safely wronged; and instead of righting her, have been spending my time here in another lewd frolic, without any honour, justice, or consideration, humh— what can be the end of this? Why we must fight; he knows me, and I am sure is brave enough to right his Sister: and for my own part, I am so angry now at my own mischiefs, I'll give him all the means I can ●o punish 'em, and so revenge myself upon myself. Enter Bertran and Don Leon.  Bert. 
Monsieur, beside my cordial tank vor dis grand honeur of your visit, I am for glad de S●entelman is here that you vowed have speak wid— Dear Sire, de●e is de wordy Colonel himself.  D. Leon. 
You extremely oblige me— Sir, I have spent some time in seeking ye, and have a business for your private ear. To Dorange.  Dor. 
I●m ready to attend ye Sir.  D. Leon. 
Shall I desire, my good friend— your Garden for us to discourse in a little, the affair shall not be long.  Bert. 
Widgine ●ll min heart Sir, I beseech you command any thing. Exeunt.   

SCENE III. A Garden.  Enter Kinglove. King. 
I hope my intre●g●ing Colonel has got no mischief by his ●old undertaking, I h●ve b●●n watching about the house all this morning, to a●s●●t if 'twere necessary, but I ●ind all still as if 'ttwere midnight: However I'll take another turn or two by Angellica's Lodging, and then if he does not b●●●, he●s gone another way, and we shall meet at our old Rendezvous. Exit. Enter Don Leon and Dorange.  D. Leon. 
Since than you own, Sir, you have wronged my Sister, w●a● way do you propose to do her Justice?  Dor. 
Sir, as I fear the case now stands with her, the question p●zzles me.  D. Leon. 
Does it so, Sir? what reason can you give?  Dor. 
Faith Sir, no great one, and yet I think sufficient to stop proceed in the affair you drive at.  D. Leon. 
Sir, that affair as much exceeds your hopes, nay, or your merit, when compared with hers, that it would leave you friendless in the world if you durst put it to Comparison.  Dor. 
You have not yet, Sir, tried how much I dare; but for your Sister, I have value for her, and therefore shall make no Comparison.  D. Leon. 
Furies! A value for her! Sir, you talk as if you had only heard her touch her Lute, or known her mistress of some trivial quality; but I must tell ye, Sir, your value for her should be Adoration, and for her sake neglect all the world.  Dor. 
Sir, for her sake I might do much indeed, but there's another since I went that shares her; the Riddle is, I know, obscure to many, but 'tis to me expounded; there has been a Child I hear.  D. Leon. 
Shame to my honour, dar'st thou urge my Blood, from my warm Heart to paint my face with blushes, by hearing thee sp●ak this, and not fear vengeance, and severe chastisement from a wronged Brother; by day and night I've heard her hourly vow, when first she hide the secret in my bosom, that of that Child thou wert the cursed Father; and as I know her full of truth and honour, therefore thy vice is still more black and odious, to soil a second time her Reputation— Draw then, I had some thought at first to bless thee with happy means of Reconcilement to her, and given thee by Marriage title to a Fortune, exceeding even the bounds of thy Ambition; but this last baseness has revoked it all, and nothing but thy blood shall calm my fury. Give me thy heart.  Dor. 
Much freer than my Sword, Sir. Fight. Dorange is wounded.  D. Leon. 
That's something; yet I see thou'rt not Case-hardened. Pause.  Dor. 
No Sir, y'ave found me penetrable. Come on.  D. Leon. 
I'll try if I can hit the place again. Fight again. D. Leon loses his Sword, and Dorange takes it up.  Dor. 
You see the advantage fortune throws upon me.  D. Leon. 
Make use of it, for I shall scorn a life that e'er was in thy power.  Dor. 
Spoke too hastily, yet by my lewd life past, I must confess I have deserved w●rse words,— there, noble Sir, there is your Sword again— And once more use it in your just revenge, you have not yet, Sir, drawn out the wild blood that wronged your Sister, try your skill again.  Gives him his Sword. D. Leon. 
No, were she dear as my Soul, as she's my Sister, I would not fight again, thou brave young man; this honour has regained her honour lost, and fixed me for thy Brother. They embrace.  Dor. 
Thus, thus for ever I ●●al to that: And now, dear Sir, assure ye, my late neglectful words of your fair Sister, were not intended basely, as I spoke 'em, but from a conscious sense of my own mischiefs, and to provoke you to a severe Justice, which you have done too slightly for a fault of such uncommon nature.  D. Leon. 
You bleed, pray take this Scarf, which my dear Sister gave me, as a kind-present, when I went to Travel; and as it binds the wound up in your Arm, may mine, yours and my Sister's heart, be ty●d in lasting union. Embrace again.  Dor. 
I long to see her, to throw at her feet a true repentant heart, and beg to be received without advantage, for her Estate shall still be settled on her, and on her pardon rest my whole contentment.  D. Leon. 
Here she comes, fear of our meeting I know has led her to find us out. Enter Angellica, Prince, Kinglove and Bertran.  Ang. 
Oh heaven! 'tis as I feared; here has been mischief.  D. Leon. 
A little, Sister, but none that long shall keep the paleness on your Cheek; to prove it, look on the Man whom I embrace, and then receive him as your long secret Love has given ye cause: I have proved him, found him brave, kind and repentant— the secret is locked closely up with us, and so your honour clear to all the world. Apart to Angel.  Dor. 
Thus low, I first thank heaven for my blessing— Knelt to Angel. then beg your pardon and leave to love for ever.  Ang. 
My heart●s too full to let me speak my Joy; let then my eyes and blushes do that office.  Prince. 
Well, my intentions were good to share with ye, tho' I chanced to be out of the business.  King. 
Faith, Colonel, we have been watching for ye all this morning; right or wrong, I came to make one of your side.  Dor. 
My good Lord, and my dear Kinglove, I ever was your Debtor.  Bert. 
Morbleau, I taught it had been some State Affair you went about, you carry de ting so gravely.  Enter Min Heer Tomas, Bondevelt and Anniky. Ang. 
The clashing Swords has raised the neighbourhood, you may be assured of that by my Uncle and Aunts coming.  Anni. 
How d'ye Nephew? I hope you han't been assaulted.  D. Leon. 
No, no, Aunt, a Trial of Skill only— nothing else.  Min. H. 
Dost hear Brother Sprat-Merchant, in the first place a Plague on thee, wilt thou never leave off this Rakehelly Soldier Coat again? And in the second place, what a pox make you cling so close to my Niece, hah?  Dor. 
Why then, Sir, first to give you a reason, and then to satisfy all that are here, know, that I am married to your Niece, and have been so this two years; and more than that, have a Child by her: And so, as I hear, by my Uncle's Will, your Claim is void, Aunt; you may ease your Husband now about an Heir, I have got one for the Estate already.  D. Leon. 
Brave and honourable, this was spoke to clear your reputation, if any malicious Tongue should slander ye. Aside to Angel.  Anni. 
Well, Niece, art thou married then? And hast thou really had a big-belly before me?  Ang. 
Not so big a belly as yours, good Aunt; but however, I can't contradict the Colonel: You watched very narrowly 'tis true, but I made shift to dazzle your eyes now and then, Aunt— I am only sorry for this Gentleman, that I hear has been out of his Money about me; but, Sir, I'll wish ye to a good Wife, tho' I can be none.  Dor. 
I think, Sir, I'm indebted to ye two Pieces; there they are, Sir. And now I hope you'll believe, 'twas on my own Errand, and not yours, I went when I carried— the Letters— ha', ha', ha'.  Bonn. 
D●e hear Mr. Burgomaster, give me my Bond of 3000 l. again, and prosper me I shall be as easy as she, 'twill turn to better account in Trade three thousand times over. I have been in the South-part of the Globe already, and now will visit the North, the Ports of Russia and Muscovy will be open; and some Commodities to warm the Stomach, and qualify the coldness of the Climate, must be very beneficial, which principally I design shall be French Brandy, Irish Usquebaugh, and English Gingerbread. They all laugh.  Min. H. 
Well, since our hopes are frustrated, there's your Bond again; if she had not married a Rakehelly Soldier, after all, I had not so much cared, for now I find he is one: But why the Devil could not I find him ●ut all this while, I believe he has bewitched me, for I used to smell 'em out; my Nose would formerly wind out any one that dealt in Powder and Bullet three quarters of a Mile, snick me.  Anni. 
What will vex me worst is, that when my Niece keeps House, that Devil the Monkey will be always frisking about there; and then I shall never be able to give her a visit. She has stood in awe of me all this while, and kept it close in a corner, but now she's married and cares for no body, I shall have the Devil upon my back as I sit at dinner. Weeps.  Ang. 
Oh, I warrant ye, Aunt, I shall take care to keep it out of your way, when you come; you may be sure, the respect I bear ye will make me do that.  Dor. 
And, Sir, since you were bred with such antipathy against our Trade, a Soldier, I will dress myself always when you come in a Cloak— ha' ha' ha'- like one of your Trade, a Merchant, whether of Sprats or Herrings, no matter ●ow ye know.  Min. H. 
No, a Pox on ye, you know ye have catched the right Fish, snick me.  Dor. 
And now, dear Brother, my heart is so merry that I wish we had Music, that since our first 〈◊〉 was so private, this second might look somewhat more like a W●dding, which shall be to morrow, with more joy than e●er I saw the ●ig●●. Softly to Ang.  King. 
Sir, Music shall be my task to procure, for but half an hour ago, I saw a whole Band of them P●acti●ing at a Tavern over the way, from this Window here I can because 'em  Enter Music, than a Song and Dance; which done, enter Gusset, Van Scopen and 〈◊〉, with the Child Guss●●. 
Knowing, Madam, this little Gentleman would add to your Mirth, I have brought it to finish the Entertainment.  Van S. 
But pray take Nurse off from me, Madam, for she has worshipped me, I believe, a hundred times, as we came along; my fine Shew-Coat h●re, has made the simple Jade take me for in betters.  Prince. 
Pri●●●e look how the Precedent is graveled. Bon. stairs at VanSc.  King. 
Ha' ha' ha'— the Comical mistake of the Lackey is plain now.  Bon. 
Well, I see now a travelled head may be erroneous— I have been too positive, and will be gone, left undecent laughter offend me. Exit.  Fared. 
Odds my life, what's here to do, what Riddles are these? Gad, I'll not have little Master affronted Stairs at Van Sco. and Dorange in his P●pp●, not I— Tankee, T●nkee, dood Nurse, says he— Ay, dats my swee● 〈◊〉 ●ylds— dats my Sugar Sops.  Dor. 
Well, Nurse, you may venture upon me for the Father now then— and there● for thy diligence honest likeness, Gives both Money. and 〈◊〉 and my blessing on thee, sweet one, Kisses the Child. and since 〈…〉 now confirms our happiness, 
●he re●t to morrow, dearest, when we'll try,  
With mu●●al Wills, to get another Boy.  Exeunt.    
FINIS.   

BOOKS printed for, and sold by james Knapton, at the Crown in St. Paul's Churchyard.  
DIscourses on the Public Revenues, and on the Trade of England▪ In Two Parts, viz. I. Of the Use of Political Arithmetic, in all Considerations about the Revenues and Trade. II. On Credit, and the Means and Methods by which it may be restored. III. On the Management of the King's Revenues. iv Whether to Farm the Revenues, may not, in this Juncture, be most for the Public Service? V On the Public Debts and Engagements. Part. I. To which is added a Discourse upon Improving the Revenue of the State of Athens. Written Originally in Greek; and now made English from the Original, with some Historical Notes.  
Discourses on the Public Revenues, and on the Trade of England; which more immediately Treat of the Foreign Traffic of this Kingdom. Viz. I. That Foreign Trade is beneficial to England. II. On the Protection and Care of Trade. III. On the Plantation Trade. iv On the East-India Trade. Part. II. To which is added the late Essay on the East-India Trade.  
An Essay upon the probable Methods of making a People Gainers, in the Balance of Trade: Treating of these Heads; viz. Of the People of England, or the Land of England, and its Product. Of our Payments to the Public, and in what manner the Balance of Trade may be thereby effected. That a Country cannot increase in Wealth and Power but by private Men doing their Duty to the Public, and but by a steady Course of Honesty and Wisdom, in such as are trusted with the Administration of Affairs.  
A Discourse upon Grants and Resumptions. Showing how our Ancestors have proceeded with such Ministers as have procured to themselves Grants of the Crown-Revenue; and that the forfeited Estates ought to be applied towards the Payment of the Public Debts.  
Essays upon, I. The Balance of Power. II. The Right of making War, Peace, and Alliances. III. Universal Monarchy. To which is added, an Appendix containing the Records referred to in the Second Essay. These five by the Author of The Essay on Ways and Means.  
A New Voyage round the World. Describing particularly, the Isthmus of America, several Coast and Islands in the West-Indies, the Isles of Cap● Verd, the Passage of Terra del Fuego, the South-Sea Coasts of Chili, Peru, and Mexico; the Isle of Guam one of the Ladrones, Mindanao, and other Philippine and East-India Islands near Cambodia, China, Formosa, Luconia, Celebes, etc. New Holland, Sumatra, Nicobar Isles; the Cape of Good Hope, and Santa Helena. Their Soil, Rivers, Harbours, Plants, Fruits. Animals, and Inhabitants. Customs, Religion, Government, Trade, etc. By Capt. William Dampier Vol. the First. Illustrated with particular Maps and Draughts. The fourth Edition, Corrected.  
Voyages and Descriptions. Vol. II. In Three Parts, viz. 1. A Supplement of the Voyage round the World, describing the Countries of Tonquin, Achin, Malacca, etc. their Product, Inhabitants, Manners, Trade, Policy, etc. 2. Two Voyages to Campeachy; with a Description of the Coasts, Product, Inhabitants, Logwood-cutting, Trade, etc. of jucatan, Campeachy, New-Spain, etc. 3. A Discourse of Trade-Winds, Breezes, Storms, Seasons of the Year, Tides and Currents of the Torrid Zone throughout the World; with an Account of Natal in afric, its Product, Negroes, etc. By Capt. William Dampier. Illustrated with particular Maps and Draughts. To which is added a General Index to both Volumes. The second Edition.  
A Collection of Original Voyages: Containing, 1. Capt. Cowley's Voyages round the Globe. 2. Capt. Sharp's Journal over the Isthmus of Darien, and Expedition into the South Seas. Written by himself. 3. Capt. Wood's Voyages through the straits of Magellan. 4. Mr. Robert's Adventures among the Corsairs of the Levant, his Account of their way of Living, Description of the Archipelago Islands, taking of Scio, etc. Illustrated with several Maps and Draughts. Published by Capt. William Hack.  
Three Practical Essays, viz. On Baptism, Confirmation, and Repentance. Containing Instructions for a Holy Life: With earnest Exhortations, especially to young Persons, drawn from the Considerations of the Severity of the Discipline of the Primitive Church.  
A Paraphrase on the Gospel of St. Matthew. 8 o.  
A Paraphrase on the Gospel of St. Mark, and St. Luke. All Three Writ by Samuel Clark. M. A. Chaplain to the Right Reverend Father in God john Lord Bishop of Norwich, and Fellow of Caius College in Cambridge.  
Jocobi Rohaulti Physica. Latinè reddidit, & Annocatis majoribus ex Clariss. Newtoni, etc. principiis illustravit S. Clark, A. M. admodum Reverendo in Christo Patri Joanni Episcopo Norvicensi à Sacris Domesticis. Editio secunda, correcta & multum aucta. Accessit Index Rerum & Phaenomenorum. Item tres novae tabulae aeri incisae.  
Several Discourses; concerning the Shortness of Humane Charity. The Perfection of the Mercy of God. The Difference of Times with respect to Religion. The Joy which the Righteous have in God. The secret Blasting of Men. The Instructive Discipline of God. The Danger of Unfaithfulness to God. The Malignity of Popery. The Conversion of a Sinner. Also, the Prayer used before Sermon. Vol. I.  
Several Discourses; concerning the true Valuation of Man. The Necessary Repentance of a Sinner. The Exercise, and Progress of a Christian. The Frailty of Humane Nature. The Justice of one towards another. The Nature of Salvation by Christ, etc. Being Twenty Sermons. Vol. II. Both by the Reverend and Learned Benjamin Witchcot, D. D. sometime Minister of St. Laurence jury, London. Examined and Corrected by his own Notes; and Published by john jeffery, D. D. Archdeacon of Norwich.  
The Godfather's Advice to his Son. Showing the Necessity of performing the Baptismal Vow, and the Danger of neglecting it. With general Instructions to young Persons to lead a Religious Life, and prepare them for their Confirmation, and worthy Receiving of the Blessed Sacrament. Very necessary for Parents, etc. to give their Children, or others committed to their Care. By john Birket, Vicar of Milford and Hordle in Hampshire. The Second Edition, with a Preface. Price 3 d. 100 for 20 s.  
The Government of the Passions, according to the Rules of Reason and Religion. Viz. Love, Hatred, Desire, Eschewing, Hope, Despair, Fear, Anger, Delight, and Sorrow. Twelve.  
Some Reflections on that part of a Book called Amyntor: Or, The Defence of Milton's Life, which relates to the Writings of the Primitive Fathers and the Canon of the New Testament. In a Letter to a Friend. 30.  
A Treatise of Morality. In Two Parts. Written in French by F. Malbranch, Author of the Search after Truth. And Translated into English by james Shipton, M. A.  
The Memoirs of Monsieur Pontis, who served in the French Armies 56 Years. Translated by Charles Cotton, Esq Folio.  
Processus integri in Morbis fere omnibus Curandis, à Dno. Tho. Sydenham conscripti. 12 o.  
Dr. Sydenham's Practice of Physic, faithfully Translated into English, with large Annotations, Animadversions, and Practical Observations on the same. By W. Salmon, M. D. 12 o.  
The Penitent or Entertainments for Lent: Written in French by R. F. N. Caussin, and translated into English by Sir B. B. Tenth Edition. To which are added several Sculptures.  
A New Method of Curing all Sorts of Fevers, without taking any thing by the Mouth. Being a New Prescription for giving the Bark in Clyster. Whereby all the Inconveniencies of administering it in any other Form are avoided; and a more speedy and certain Cure is obtained. Writ by A. Helvet, M. D. The Second Edition.  
Mr. Wingate's Arithmetic: Containing a plain and familiar Method for attaining the Knowledge and Practice of Common Arithmetic. The Tenth Edition, very much enlarged. By john Kersey; late Teacher of the Mathematics.  
The History of the Inquisition, as it is exercised at God. Written in French, by the Ingenious Monsieur Dellon, who laboured five Years under those Severities. With an Account of his Deliverance. Done into English, by the Learned Henry Wharton, M. A. Chaplain to his Grace the late Archbishop of Canterbury.  
The Artificial Clock-Maker. A Treatise of Watch and Clockwork. Wherein the Art of Calculating Numbers for most sorts of Movements is explained, to the Capacity of the Unlearned. Also, the History of Watch and Clockwork, both Ancient and Modern. With other useful Matters never before Published. The Second Edition, enlarged. To which is added a Supplement, containing, 1. The Anatomy of a Watch and Clock. 2. Monsieur Romer's Satellite-Instrument, with Observations concerning the Calculation of the Eclipses of Jupiter's Satellites, and to find the Longitude by them. 3. A nice way to correct Pendulum Watches. 4. M. Flamsteed's Equation Tables. 5. To find a Meridian-Line, for the Governing of Watches, and other Uses. 6. To make a Telescope to keep a Watch by the Fixed Stars. By W. D. M. A.  
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Arcana Imperii Detecta: or, Divers select Cases in Government; more particularly, Of the Obeying the unjust Command's of a Prince. Of the Renunciation of a Right to a Crown. Of the Proscription of a limited Prince and his Heirs. Of the Trying, Condemning and Execution of a Crowned Head. Of the Marriage of a Prince and Princess. Of the Detecting of Conspiracies against a Government. Of Subject's Revolting from a Tyrannical Prince. Of Excluding Foreigners from Public Employments. Constituting Extraordinary Magistrates up●n Extraordinary Occasions. Of Subjects Anticipating the Execution of Laws. Of Toleration of Religion. Of Peace and War, etc. With the Debates, Arguments and Resolutions of the greatest Stasemen in several Ages and Governments there upon.  
A View of the Posture of Affairs in Europe both in Church and State. I. The Ancient Pretensions of the two Families of Austria and Bourbon to the Spanish Monarchy Historically stated. II. The Balance of the Power of Europe, settled by Charles V and how it came to be broke. III. A View of the Courts of Europe, and their present Disposition and State relating to War. IU. Of the State of the Church of Rome, and the Decay of the Protestant Interest in Europe. Written by a Gentleman by way of Letter.  
Devotions: Viz. Confessions, Petitions, Intercessions, and Thanksgivings for every Day of the Week; and also Before, At, and After the Sacrament: With occasional Prayers for all Persons whatsoever. By Thomas Bennet, M. A. Rector of St. James' in Colchester, and Fellow of St. John's College in Cambridge.  
Confesso, five Declaratio, Sententiae Pastorum, qui in Foederato Belgio remonstrantes vocantur, super praecipuis Articulis Religionis Christianae. 12 o.  

Mr. Boyer's French and English Dictionary. 4 o.  
— Idem in 8 o.  
Tillotson's Sermons, in Folio.  
— Idem, in 8 o.  
Cambridge Concordance. Folio.  
Cambridge Phrases, 8 o.  
Seneca's Morals. 8 o.  
Plutarch's Lives, 5 Vol. 8 o.  
Patrick on Genesis, Exodus, etc. 4 o.  
Temple's Essays, etc. 8 o.  
— Miscellanys, 3 Vol.  
Cowley's Works. Folio.  
History of England, 8 o.  
Life of King james II. 8 o.  
Salmon's Dispensatory.  
Sherlock's Sermons.  
Sharp's Sermons.  
Scot's Christian Life, complete.  
Latin Common Prayer, 12 o.  
Baker's Chronicle, Folio.  
L'Estrange's AEsop, Folio.  
Dryden's Virgil, Folio.  
— juvenal, 8 o.  
— Miscellany Poems, Folio.  
— Fables, Folio.  
— Plays, in Fol. and 4 o.  
Blackmore on job. Folio.  
Oldham's Works, 8 o.  
Duty of Man's Works, Folio.  
Collier's Essays, 8 o.  
— View of the Stage, 8 o.  
South's Sermons, 3 Vol. 8 o.  
Stilling fleet's Sermons, 3 Vol. 8 o.  
— Origines sacrae, Folio.  
Quevedo's Visions.  
Cave's Primitive Christianity.  
justin Delft. 8 o.  
Terrence Delft. 8 o.  
Bennets Cases against the Dissenters. 8 o.  
— his Confutation of Popery. 8 o.  
Comber's Works. Folio.  
Taylor on the Sacrament.  
Stanley's Lives of the Philosophers.  
Horace Delft, 8 o.  
Limborch Theolog. Christian. Folio.  
Cambrid. Greek Test. 12 o.  
Schrevelii Lexicon, 8 o.  
Sinopsis Commun. Locorum, 8 o.  
Virgil Delft. 8 o.  
Kilbourn's Precedents, 8 o.  
The Governor of Cyprus, a Novel.   
There is in the Press, and will be speedily published, Somatopolitia, or the City of the Human Body, artificially defended from the Tyranny of Cancers and Gangrenes. In the first is shown how the Human Body may be called a City in respect of its Parts and Fabric; how it may be compared to a political City, in Relation to the various Offices of its Parts, and their natural dependence upon, and subserviency to each other; the state thereof analogically considered, whether aristocratic or oligartic; together with the proper Remedies both for reducing it to, and preserving it in a due State. In the second is explained the various Processes of the Blood, how it nourisheth the Parts, how infected, and what Diseases are contagious. As also, a complete Treatise of Cancers and Gangrenes, and an Inquiry whether they have any Relation to contagious Diseases; with the Nature, Causes and Signs of the different Species of Cancers and Gangrenes, with the Methods of Cure by the most approved Medicines. By john Brown Chirurgeon in Ordinary to his Majesty, and late Signior Chirurgeon of Saint Tho. Hospital in Southwark.  

Mr. Shadwell's Plays, bound or single, viz.  

1 Sullen Lovers.  
2 Humorist.  
3 Royal Shepherdess.  
4 Virtuoso.  
5 Psyche.  
6 Libertine.  
7 Epsom Wells.  
8 Timon of Athens.  
9 Miser.  
10 True Widow.  
11 Lancashire Witches.  
12 Woman Captain.  
13 Squire of Alsatia.  
14 Bury Fair.  
15 Amorous Biggot.  
16 Scowrers.  
17 Volunteers.    

Also these, and all other Modern Plays.  

Mr. Anthony.  
Abdelazer.  
Alphonso K. of Naples '  
Anthony and Cleopatra.  
Aurengzebe.  
Amphitrion.  
Alcibiades.  
Altemira.  
Bellamira.  
Black Prince and Tryphon.  
Country Wit.  
Country Wife.  
Chances.  
Circe.  
Cheats.  
City Politics.  
Cambyses.  
Conquest of Granada.  
Caesar Borgia.  
Sir Charles Sidley's Plays.  
Congreve's Plays  
Destruction of jerusalem.  
Duke and no Duke.  
Devil of a Wife.  
Distressed Innocence.  
Dame Dobson.  
Dryden's Plays, in 4 Vol. 4 o.  
Dutch Lover.  
D●n Quixot, 3 parts.  
Double Dealer.  
Don Carlos.  
Empress of Morocco.  
Earl of Essex.  
English Monarch.  
English Friar.  
Edward the Third.  
Emperor of the Moon.  
English Lawyer.  
Etherege's Plays.  
Fond Husband.  
Feigned Courtesans.  
False Friend.  
Fortune Hunters.  
Friendship in Fashion.  
Greenwich Park.  
Generous Conqueror.  
Gloriana.  
Henry V and Mustapha.  
Heir of Morocco.  
Hamlet.  
Sir Harry Wildair.  
Herod the Great.  
Humorous Lieutenant.  
Ibrahim.  
Indian Emperor.  
London Cuckolds.  
Mr. Lee's Plays bound or single.  
Love for Love.  
Love in a Wood  
Love's last Shift.  
Lady's Visiting-day.  
Love in a Tub.  
Lucius junius Brutus.  
Modish Husband.  
Mourning Bride.  
Sir Martin Mar-all.  
Mithridates.  
Nero.  
Otway's Plays bound or single  
Oedipus.  
Othello.  
Orphan.  
Provoked Wife.  
Rival Sisters.  
Siege of Babylon.  
She Gallants.  
State of Innocence.  
Spanish Friar.  
Soldiers Fortune.  
Sophonisba.  
Tempest.  
Tyrannic Love.  
Theodosius.  
Tamerlan.  
Venice preserved.  
Wicherley's Plays.  
Way of the World.  
Windsor Castle.  
Widow Ranter.