THE INTRIGUES AT VERSAILLES: OR, A Jilt in all Humours  
A COMEDY ACTED BY His Majesty's Servants. AT THE Theatre in Lincolns-Inn-Fields.  
Written by Mr. D' Urfey.  
Wit will be wit tho' slighted by the Clown,  
As Roses sweet tho' Asses tread 'em down.  
LONDON, Printed for F. Saunders in the New-Exchange, P. Buck in Fleetstreet, R. Parker at the Royal-Exchange▪ and H. Newman in the Poultry. 1697.   

TO THE HONOURABLE Sir Charles Sedley the Elder, Baronet. And to the WORTHY, and my Much Honoured Friend, Sir Charles Sedley his Son.  
Most Honoured,  
THis New Comedy which I beg leave to Dedicate to ye, when it was first shown to some Persons of Principal Quality and Judgement, and afterwards Read to Mr. Congreve and Mr. Betterton, had, from all, the good Fortune, to be esteemed as one of the Best I have Written: And 'tis from this undisputed Authority that I hope it will, in the Perusal, have the same Value from you; and appear worthy the Honour of your Patronage.  
As the World is full of Various Humours, so the Diversions that Poets are obliged to Invent to satisfy 'em, must be also as various. And tho' 'tis one of the hardest things in the World to do— yet is the failure— (for that time especially) the Entire Loss of an Author's Credit as well as Profit; for an Audience of this Age is destined to use neither Medium, Consideration nor Modesty; wholly resolved to like what Indulges the Present Humour, tho' Reason, if they thought it worth looking after, would always Inform 'em, that there is often as much Art, Labour and Wit used, in what through the Vitiation of the palate they have no Relish for— As what they willingly swallow with a Voracious Gusto.  
It has been my Fortune, through the short Course of my Poetry, to run o'er the Rugged Ways of Public Censure, with as much Indifference as any one; and as I have always Studied Variety to procure Diversion, so have I met with as Various Success— yet have been easy by Teaching myself the Philosophy of Patience, and the Use of that Common Saying, Many Men have many Minds, and those Many Minds possessed with more Difficult Expectations than generally the best Undertaker could satisfy. But to give Instance, that my Industrious Pains have not been wanting to please the Town, if they look into my former Pieces, they may find, without much trouble, a Variety, which has not been every Body's Talent; they may find, in the Fond Husband, Regular Comedy with a Good Plot; in the Boarding-School, Satirical Humour and Characters with another; in the Marriage Hater, A Mixture of all digested with Comical Turns to the last Scene; Also in the Don Quirro's farsical Scenes of Mirth, mixed with Variety of Divertive Vocal Music and Dancing, with many others, some from Stories, but most wholly my own Inventions, and all of Different Kind's, which have had their several Lots; some have pleased more, some less, according as the Town Humour ebbed and flowed; but generally as 'tis the Fate of things of this kind, have met with Mistaken Judgement; the Meritorious having Indifferent Applause, the Indifferent Extraordinary.  
And 'tis in this manner that this last, the Intrigues at Versailles, has been used by the Critics; Many less Laboured, and Worthy, have had more Applause; the Model of it being Courtly, and wanting the Farsical Scenes, with which the Inconsiderate part of the Audience were formerly Entertained— and also the Turns requiring observation, and the Whole Contrived Machine exacting more thought— then i● Natural for heads that are Buzzing with other matters in the Playhouse, and sit on their Shoulders uneasy in a hot Summer season.  
'Tis therefore from the Considerate and Cooler part of the Company from whom I did, in the Acting, and shall in the Reading, expect Justice; Amongst whom I beg leave to Name you Sir, to whom this Piece is First Addressed— as Principle— Nothing can Judge of Wit so well as Wit; And it has many years been my Advantage, as well as other Poets, to be Influenced by your Genius, and Instructed by your Admirable Writings and Improving Conversation, I heard the Fame of Sir Charles Sedley, as soon as I was capable of hearing, or (I'm sure) understanding such a thing as Fame itself. And your being Bred in your youth, and received all along in a Community and Friendship with Persons of the most Exalted Spirits, and Uncommon Understandings adorning the then Flourishing Nation, viz. The never-enough admired Soul, and Genius of Wit and Poetry the Present Earl of Dorset, the late Earl of Rochester, and others of their Refined Rank, sufficiently gives the World knowledge of your equal Merit, and spares me the share of Writing further on your Praise, which has so often (much better than I am able to do) been done already.  
However, Sir, I must beg ye to give me leave to make use of the Poets common gratitude— Thanks, which I think myself never enough Capacitated to pay, when I reflect on your Generous commendation and approvement of my Lyrical quality, and writings of that kind, not only to your friends abroad, but even before the Right Honourable the Earl of Leicester, the greatest Incourager and Patron of all the Muses, and their forlorn and desolate Sons, to whom I wish all the happiness that Heaven and Earth can give, and that 'twere possible his Life could last like his Fame— This, Sir, from you has given me a Credit which I esteem as a Fortune, and which is not in the power of Malice to destroy.  
That word Malice has given me a little occasion for Digression, only to tell you that there is in this Comedy amongst the Characters— One of an old Beau, under the Name of the Count Brissac— which I hear by some offended, has been particularly piqued at, I could not recommend its defence, Sir, to a person who can better Judge its Innocent nature than yourself, having very lately been diverted by a very good Copy of Verses which I am told are yours, and which I beg leave to insert,  

The Young Lady's Advice to the Old Beaux, A SONNET.  

SCrape, scrape no more your Bearded Chins,  
Old Beau's in hopes to please  
You should Repent your former Sins,  
Not study their Increase.  
Young Fops do daily shock our Sight,  
But Old offend both day and Night.   

(2.)  
In vain the Coachman turns about,  
And Whips the Dapple Gray's,  
When the Old Oagler looks out,  
We Turn away the Face.  
Youth and Gay-Love will ever Charm,  
But both affected cannot warm.   

(3.)  
The Summer Fruits we highly prize,  
They kindly cool the Blood;  
But Winter Berrys we despise,  
And leave 'em in the Wood;  
On the Bush they may look well,  
But Gathered, fail in Taste and Small.    
Which Verses are really of so Instructive a Nature, that I could wish my Critic could digest 'em, as he ought, with all my heart.  
And now, Sir, to you, the happy Son of the Author of these and other highly Valued things of this kind; I humbly desire a Minute's Address, and that you will be pleased to divide with your Father this Poetical Offering: Your Judgement I can never doubt, tho' you think it not fit to Write; for, being so nearly related to him in Blood, you must naturally have more than a small Portion of his Genius; you show all the taking Qualifications for which his Bloom of Youth was Admired and Loved, except his Poetry which 'tis reason to believe you negligently desert, only because you observe how barren the returns of Acknowledgement and Praise are in an Age, where men's Minds are either harassed with War, or Numbed with Ignorance, to a Muse even of his Excellence, which Theme, if ever you do take Pen in hand, I am almost assured will be the first— there being more between you than the ordinary Duty and Love Incumbent between Father and Son, an entire, free, and easy Friendship— Submission with Satisfaction on your side— and Contentment with Pleasure on his, which I have observed in the few hours of my Conversation with you, by your frequent Expression of your uncommon Felicity in so good a Father's Indulgence. And, that this happiness between you may last to the utmost Extent of Time and Humane Nature— is the Real Wish  
Of Your Obliged, and Most Humble Servant, T. D' Urfey.   

PROLOGUE.  
AS in Intrigues of Love we find it true,  
Stale Faces pall, whilst you are Charmed with New;  
The Poet knowing th' same in Wit prevails,  
Fearing to tire ye with more English Tales,  
Has laid his Scene in the French Court, Versailles.  
Thus Changed your Diet for Variety,  
From our Course Cheese of homely housewifry,  
To fragrant Angelote, and Cher Fromage du Brie.  
He doubts not, many that sit here to day,  
That have observed the Title to his Play,  
Believe 'tis for some Politic Essay;  
'Gainst this he says, a Proverb gives him Rules,  
'Tis never safe to meddle with Edged Tools.  
To cause diversion Comic Mirth is best,  
War's but a dull Occasion for a jest;  
And as in Cudgel Play, we find— no joke,  
From either party, when both heads are broke.  
But then perhaps it may expected be,  
That he should fall upon French Fopery,  
'Tis— true, they have Fools— I gad and so have we;  
In Apish Modes they Naturally shine,  
But we by Aping them think ourselves fine;  
The late blue Feather was Charmant divine,  
Then the sauce gathering Sleve and the huge Button;  
And now our Coat Flaps broad as Shoulder Mutton,  
With various colours faced, Red, Green and Sky;  
Next year I hope they'll give us Wings to fly,  
With Sleeves so large, to cover Nails and all,  
And every Button like a Tennis Ball.  
No folly's theirs, but we have here as bad,  
Their Brains have too much Air and ours have too much Led;  
They swear and Rant in sprightly Ela— Sounds,  
And ours in Gamut grumble Blood and 'Ounds.  
To cool them they from Salads seek relief;  
To warm us, we debauch ourselves in Beef;  
And when half frantic we to Battle Run,  
Priests on both sides ne'er fail to ●oot us on.  
Without Reflection therefore either Way,  
The Cautious Poet has designed to day,  
Nothing but Love intreaguing through his Play;  
For solid Reasons neither party Lashed,  
His fury's not so Fierce but may be dashed;  
Wit has no Armour proof 'gainst being Thrashed,  
Therefore in Terror of the Warriors Trade,  
Suspends all satire till the Peace be made.   

dramatis Personae, and Characters.  
MEN.   Duke de Sanserre. Proud, and Hot-Spirited; very Amorous, Jealous and Revengeful Mr. Betterton. Guillamour. A young English Lord, a great Intreaguer. Mr. Verbruggen. Count de Brissac. An Old Beau, Ridiculously Apish, and fond of young Company. Mr. Boen. Count de Fiesque. Witty, Generous, and good Natured, but Amorous to a Fault. Mr. Hodson. Count de Tonnere. Young and Extravaant, Intreagued with Lady Brissac, and Disguised in womens' Clothes, upon the account of a Duel. Mr. Bowman. Sir Blunder Bosses. A dull sordid Brute, and Mongril whose Humour is, to call every Body by Clownish Names. Mr. underhill. Rambure. An Old Affected Fellow. Valett to Fiesque. WOMEN.   Dutch. de Sanserre Poetical, High-Spirited, and Wanton. Mrs. Bracegirdle. Countess de Brissac. Young, Wild, and Extravagant. Mrs. Bowman. Madam de Vandosme. A Right Jilt in all Humours. Mrs. Barry. Daubray. A Retainer, and Spy to the Duke de Sanserre. Mrs. Willis. La Busque. Confident to the Duchess. Mrs. Lawson. Grossiere; Page to Sanserre. A Finical Jilt, Confident to Vandosme. Mrs. Leigh.  
Singers, Dancers, and Attendants.  
The SCENE, VERSAILLES.   

Lately PUBLISHED,  
A Plot and no Plot, a Comedy, by Mr. Dennis.  
The Novelty, every Act a Play, by Mr. Moteux.  
The City Lady▪ or Folly Reclaimed; a Comedy; By Mr. Dilke.   

THE Intrigues at Versailes.  

ACT I. SCENE I.  Enter Count de Fiesque, as newly Dressed, Valet following. De Fies. 
HEy, Rambure.  Ram. 
Monsieur— Vat is your pleasure?  De ●ies. 
Go to the Count de Tonnere's Chamber, and see if he be Stirring.  Ram. 
Begarr, he be no only stir himself, but me tink he have stir all the Whole Varle beside dis Morning; warrant dere have been in de Street de greata Fiddes, and de leetel Fiddel, de greata Pipe, and de leetel Pipe, Drum, Drum, Drum; Squeeka, Squeeka, Squeak: Oh Diable! me have no Sleep all this Night Begarr.  De Fies. 
Ha, ha, ha, What has he been Serrenaded?  Ram. 
Begarr, Monsieur, me have de ver great reason to believe the Count is vat you call de Frantic Person, dat is, he have but little here, 
* Points to his Forehead.  dat is, he have no sound Brain Begarr,  De Fies. 
Oh you are a great Judge of Brains, Sir, I believe: And what makes you think so, Blockhead?  Ram. 
Morbleau, De reason me think is very plain, he come here in the Woman's Clothes for Disguise, in vish he look ver much like the great Whore Begarr; the likeness of the Whore draw the Fool and the Fiddler, the Fiddler he draw the whole Varle to Stare, Stare— And vere den is his Brain to tinke he can be disguise? Ha, ha, ha—  De Fies. 
Was there ever such a Coxcomb?— Why thou talk'st of him, as if he Concealed himself for a Burglary— But, Sir, pray let your Discretion be now Informed, that his is only a Disguise of Honour, till he can get his Pardon of the King, who is, at present, a little Angry with him about a Duel he lately Fought; So that if the Woman's Clothes he wears done't Conceal him from Cowardly Poltroons, he is certain, however, of every Man of Honour's Protection.  Ram. 
Ver good; vil the Man of Honour Protect him for de Duel, against the King's Positive Command, dat is ver fine— Begarr, Monsieur, dat Man of Honour, like yourself, that will defenda him for de kill; the Man of Honour, like myself, commit the worst Burglary in the Whole Varle, and deserve to be hang Begarr.  De Fies. 
Well, Sir, Pray get you about your Message— and Release me from your Casuistical Opinions— I took you into my Service, Sir, for your skill in Pimping, not your Judgement of Prowess: Will you go, Sir?  Ram. 
Pimping, vat dam word be dat for de Man of Honour; Begarr, it turna my Stomach, and spoila mine Breakfast— he bien, Monsieur, I go— de Pimpa— Morbleau— I go, Sir, I go— Oh here come de Count himself.  Enter Tonnerre dressed in womens' clothes. Tonn. 
Dear Fiesque, Good Morrow to thee; Gad I have so longed to see thee— that I had hardly patience to give 'em time to Dress me in my Female Trinketts here; thy Pleasant Conversation, and some few Ravishing Thoughts on the Dear Angel I Adore, are the only Consolation I have in my Confinement; hark, I tell thee News, Wilt thou believe it? I have been Serenaded to Night, Ha, ha, ha.  De Fies. 
Serenaded, Is that all— Gad, for my part, I wonder thou remainest on Earth, here, in a Condition of Mortality; such Celestial Beauty, methinks, some Amorous God should be ready to seize every moment; some Jove should come dazzling in Golden Showers; or, as a Bull mount thee, like Fair Europa, then swiftly bear thee, through the Hellespont, to some Sweet Bower of Love: What Gut-scraping Coxcomb has now been Insipidly Sacrificing? What Guittar-Thrasher, Thrum, thrum, thrum? What Madrigal Chanter with a Love-trilling A— h me, that makes me Sweat to hear him?— Or what Pitiful Pipero, with a Toodle, Toodle, Toodle,— has been profaning the Ears of so Admirable a Beauty.  Tonn. 
Why this Admirable Beauty, Sir, since you are pleased to divert yourself so with it, has, to its Eternal Fame, gained an entire Victory upon the old Count Brissac, whose Charming Wife thou know'st I have been so long in Love with.  De Fies. 
Ay Count, and not without Satisfactory Returns on her Side too— Your Secret has been blown upon, I can tell ye; The Court has heard Public Information, particularly, of your Late Journey to see her in the Country, disguised like a Pilgrim— What a Strong Fit of Devotion she had every day to be Closeted up at Prayers with the Holy Pilgrim; How often she would Puke, and be Sick, that the Pilgrim might be sent for; And what strange Benefits she made her Credulous Husband believe she found in her Boddily Health, through the Force of the Pilgrim's Sanctified Beads and Sprinklings, Ha, ha, ha.  Tonn. 
The truth is, never was Intrigue better managed for some time— for Nature certainly did never produce a better Stock to Graft Cuckoldom upon, them Old Brissac, for he has so great a Fondness for himself, and is always so blindly partial to his own Abilities— that his heart is still at Ease about his Wife, nor would he ever have suspected us, had not Cavoys, that prying Coxcomb her Brother, discovering, done us the Mischief, upon which followed the Duel, in which he was Wounded, and I made shift to get hither in this Disguise.  De Fies. 
But how came Brissac to follow, that part of the Story, is still a Mystery?  Tonn. 
Why, as the Devil would have it, he happening to be be acquainted with the Lady that helped to Disguise me, came hither, and found me Just Dressed as you see: But, to hear how many Oaths he Swore he was smitten with me, to see the Old Beau Cock at me, and Smicker with his Grizzled Chops, and frisk up and down like an Old Ape, would have put one into a Fit of a Convulsion with Extremity of Laughter.  De Fies. 
And in persuance of this Intrigue, he has followed ye hither to Versailes.  Tonn. 
Yes, Faith, and is as Hot and Eager upon the Scent, as the youngest Hound in a Pack. And since I am sure he knows me not, it may chance to give occasion for some Scenes of Pleasant Diversion, for to Crown my Joy, the Duchess Sanserre her Sister, told me last Night, that taking this Advantage of her Husband's absence, she resolved upon a Frolic also hither in Disguise.  De Fies. 
Very good— why faith now taking all things into nice Consideration, here is laid, between the Sisters, as pretty a well-modelled compact Design for Cuckold-making, as heart can wish; for I have long had myself an old Love-Grudge to the Duchess— tho' my Pretty New Mistress Vandosme has lately— allayed it; besides, I know the young English Guillamour is now Lord of the Ascendant there, which makes the Hot-Spirited Jealous Duke ferment perpetually—  Tonn. 
Prithee what is that Guillamour?  De Fies. 
Why, faith, a Man of Worth enough; brave, witty▪ and handsome; he came hither just before the War broke out, in his return from Travel: he's one that has all along professed an unbiased Candour for his Country, and their present King, for which he was some time Imprisoned in the Bastille, till by the Power and Interest of the Duke de Crequi, his intimate Friend, he was set at Liberty; and now only stays till some private Affairs are dispatched, and then returns to England.  Enter Rambure. Ram. 
Monsieur— you may remember just now, you call me the Pimp; me come now to tell you, dat dear is below de Old Madamoselle, dat use to bring the young Prett— Woman's, de Masquerele— de She-Pimpa begar would speak with you.  De Fies. 
Irreverend Rogue, D'ye know who you speak of? she's an Emisary from the God of Love, ye Dog, therefore I charge ye go and Introduce her with Ceremony.  Ram. 
Me vowed kick her vid Ceremony begar vid all mine heart. Exit▪  Enter Grossiere. Whispers Fiesque. De Fies. 
I'll dispatch away the Company you see here immediately; And prithee tell her I long for her Company— take this thyself too in part of my Acknowledgements, gives her Money.  Gross. 
What no Present then for her?— indeed,— Is it so Indifferent with ye? you shall have but an indifferent Entertainment then, I can assure ye that my frugal Gentleman— Aside and Exit.  Tonn. 
I need not ask thee whither it be a Love Message, but prithee is it from that dear pretty Cherubin that I used to see with thee, that thou told'st me of just now, was a Bastard of the Family of Vandosme.  De Fies. 
Why then, Sir, to satisfy your Curiosity, 'tis from the very same, she's coming to visit me.  Tonn. 
Gad thou'rt a happy fellow,— for, of all Creatures I ever saw, except my dear Countess, she is the most Charming; And is she thy own too, dear Rogue, hah? And art thou sure of her?  De Fies. 
Sure of her, no Gad, no more than I should be of my shadow, if I thought to catch it; for even in the Crittical moment when I am in Bed with her, and one would think then a Man were sure of a Woman; if one word or accident 'cross her, Presto, she's gone like a Juggler's Ball in a moment, and then if you think to stop her, like a hunted Cat, she takes but one Spring, and is immediately from the Top of the Stairs to the Bottom.  Tonn. 
This is Miraculous, Sure, thou art not a good Bedfellow, and dost not use a Woman well,— What can be the reason of this?  De Fies. 
Damned humour, nothing but damned humour, by Heaven, and because thou shalt not be too Envious of my happiness, I will now mix it with some allay, know therefore that this Angel Creature we are speaking of, has by Intervals and Fits, more and worse humours than all the She Devils put 'em together in Belzebub's Seraglio; there never was such appearance of Saint and Spirit of Satan mixed in one Woman, since the Creation, talk to her this minute, her brow shall be unclouded, Sweet and serene, her Air Innocent and Engaging, and her whole Composure all Harmony, Softness and quiet, and yet the next, Cross her but with a Trifle, she shall roar louder than a Storm, Swear, Curse, tear your Peruke, Linen, throw Bottles, Glazes, Knives, Forks, nay Chairs and Stools at your Head, in less time than I have been making the Description.  Tonn. 
Why this is a very Devil Indeed,— But canst thou that art a Man of Sense and Spirit bear it and proceed.  De Fies. 
Oh friend, though this Devil in her,— I confess my Philosophy should teach me, to conjure and avoid; yet when her Charming Person and the Joys she sometimes gives me comes into my memory, her Cherubs Face, soft touch, and fragrant Breath,— I doubt my Sense, and think her all o'er Angel— Oh I Love her friend and she too too well knows it,— She comes, prithee leave me for half an hour,— And take a turn in the Garden, 'tis possible e'er long I may wean may Self— in the mean time reprove me not but Pity me.  Tonn. 
Pity— Faith instead of that I'll do more for thee then I have done for myself this seven years— I'll go pray for thee— for take it from me thy Case is desperate. Exit Tonnere.  Enter Vandosme. De Fies. 
So Venus Moved, when drawn by Cyprian Doves,  
She met Adonis in the Myrtle Groves;  
With Rosy face, and lose Expanded Hair,  
Exposing all that's Charming, all that's fair.  Vand. 
hay day, What silly fancy's this? What in the name of Poverty has set ye a Rhyming this morning?— Phoo, Jesus— how hot— 'tis grown o'th' sudden? I was bewitched, I think, to come out to day.  De Fies. 
Why how now Sweet? What desponding the first minute you see me? prithee remember, Child, 'tis me thou com'st to see, I am I, my dear, the Man that Loves thee, Loves thee beyond the World; and Gad, if desert may take place, deserve thy Love again, better than any Man in't.  Vand. 
Lord you are always so full of your own Desert, if others could but see so much in ye, 'twere well.  De Fies. 
Why can you see none at all in me.  Vand. 
Pish, Lord, What a does here every day with your desert, pray don't Expect any flattery from me, I am not in a humour?— I met a plaguy Black Coat at my first coming out this Morning— I am sure there is some ill coming towards me— would the Devil had them. I had rather a Raven should Cross my Way, than a Priest, a thousand times.  De Fies. 
Fie Child, Wouldst thou let such a Trifle as that put thee out of humour when thou wert coming to see me?  Vand. 
Well, well, If you done't like my humour, pray let me be gone, here's no body will Confine thee too't that I know of. Ofiers to go.  De Fies. 
Nay— nay, begun; why that is more ridiculous now than t'other; prithee dear Child do but Consider what a strange humour this is.  Vand. 
Well, well, If it be a strange humour, let it be so, I know no body will mend it.  De Fies. 
Oh woman, woman, woman, for one dear Charming minute of Pleasure amongst one hundred thousand of discontent, What are we poor Mortals Men born to Suffer.  Vand. 
Why this is the Devil now— always complaining, complaining, always uneasy, pish, pray let me go, I have other business to do then to stand fooling here.  De Fies. 
Oh ungrateful! How can you call the chief, nay the most Advantageous business of your Life fooling? come, this is a dissimulation so gross you ought to blush at it— but you know my Love can hide a thousand such Erorrs as this— Oh— by Heaven I love thee so entirely that—  Vand. 
Love me— yes Sir— you take care to show it mightily, your Love was expressed extremely in your Actions yesterdeay, Day remember the Flea.  De Fies. 
The Flea—  Vand. 
Yes, Sir, the Flea— which though an Inconsiderable thing in it self yet you know I passionately Loved it, and for you when I took it out of its Box, to let it dine upon my breast, to come with your rubbing brush Chin, and horseplay, to fright it, and make it leap into the Fire— was an Injury I'll never forgive: D'slife— would the fire had been big enough, and you had been bound to leap into it yourself.  D● Fi●s. 
Ah, sweet Nature, how I Love thee, prithee have some mercy, Child, and consider your wish is a double Curse upon me, for I, poor Flea, as I am, already burn with Love of thee, and to wish me to hop into another Fire before I am purged in this, is a Martyrdom unexampled— 'Tis beyond St. Lawrences' Gridiron, or any of the old Persecutions.  Vand. 
Oh, witty Sir, you may talk on, and fancy you are minded if you please.  De Fies. 
And so then the burning of this Flea, to Exalt my misfortunes, has been the notable occasion of this your quarrel to me.  Vand. 
This or any other occasion, so I do but quarrel with thee 
* Aside. — I'll not give yea any account what's the occasion— or if I do, you and your Actions perhaps are my aversion, that's the occasion.  De Fies. 
Is my Love become a Trouble?  Vand. 
Oh pray call it by its right Name Impertinence, and then I can answer— that is always a trouble.  De Fies. 
Insuportable vexation— now am I ready to choke with fretting. Spits.  Vand. 
Ugh— now hawking and Spitting— on purpose to spoil one's Stomach to ones Dinner, egh. Kecks.  De Fies. 
What a Devil— must not I spit for ye, when I have occasion? sure I may spit, Madam. Aloud.  Vand. 
Oh, your Lungs up with all my heart, Death and Hell let me be gone. Aloud to him.  De Fies. 
No, no, you have a Fit upon ye, and I won't expose ye in Public till it be off, harkee— Madam, What did you come hither for?  Vand. 
The Devil knows what I came hither for, would I had been ham-stringed, or my Feet crippled with Corns, as big as walnuts, to have hindered me; you shall be less visited henceforward: What a plague d''ee stop the door for?  De Fies. 
Nay then my Patience is quiet spent, and let me now tell ye, Madam, you shall stay a little for my humour.  Vand. 
Your humour; I won't, Fool, D'slife keep off your hands, or else may Thunder Blast me, if my Nails don't dig as many Holes in your Face as ever the Smallpox did; thou shalt not have three Hairs left in thy Periwig, and this your Beauships' Cobweb Steinkirk here shall be as quickly Tinder, as—  De Fies. 
Hush, Devil, there's some body at the Gate, knocks within. and methinks I am still loath to make thee Scandalous, tho' thou deserv'st it Richly— Fiesque is going▪  Enter Tonnere hastily. Tonn. 
Dear Fiesque forgive me this Intrusion, which I was compelled to make, to secure myself; the Marquis de la Fert, one of my greatest Enemies, is below to speak with thee, and thy Ignorant unthinking Valet was just bringing him into the Garden where I was— this Pretty Lady, I think, has seen me thus Equipt before; And, I hope, will Excuse me, that I thus rudely shelter myself in this Sanctuary— where Angels are, there always must be safety 
* Bowing to Vandosme, and she modestly returns.   De Fies. 
He has heard nothing I perceive, Aside well, Count, since your good Fortune has brought you hither, I'll trust you with my Paradise for once, and go and dispatch the Marquis, and be with ye presently. 
* Exit, shaking his head at Vendosme.   Tonn. 
A Paradise indeed, too happy Friend, that hast in thy possession all thats Charming— Pray, Madam, please to give me an Answer to one thing— 
* They sit down.   Vand. 
If my small capacity can do it, Sir— Pray what is it? Modestly.  Tonn. 
Do you think the Gentleman that went out just now can ever be saved?—  Vand. 
What a Devil does he mean by that Question?— Aside.  
Bless me! Why not, Sir?— We all have Faults, 'tis true, but you know Grace, Sir, Repentance— Calmly.  Tonn. 
Oh, Madam, yes— I know Grace and Repentance goes a great way— Was there ever any thing so Seraphic?— Aside. But, Madam, for another Reason, I should think he cannot; for he has so perfect a Heaven here in Enjoying you, that to have it hereafter too, would be Injustice to us his Fellow-Creatures, the Blessing would be too much for his share.  Vand. 
Oh, Sir, I find you have the Court-Lesson perfectly— Whatever is to come hereafter, you, I'm sure, have more than a Double Blessing here, A Charming Wit, a Graceful Person, and then a Tongue— that if I durst give Ear too't— Oh Heaven!  Tonn. 
What, dear Charmer, what, 
* Aside.  She's a Miracle, Igad, a very Saint.  Vand. 
Believe, even what you pleased— yet, Sir, though my nature is Easy, Mildred, Soft, and too Credulous, yet I am taught by your Friend's Example here— not always to think what Men say is Gospel— he used to talk so too.  Tonn. 
And does he falter now? Oh barbarous Wretch— I find it now Fiesques Character of her was a mere Banter on me; D'slife, she's a mere Angel. Aside.  Vand. 
Alas his Humour is too rough for me— that's well put in, in case he should have heard any Noise— just now Aside.  Tonn. 
Oh rude, Intolerable rude, Madam— Gad, I'll be even with Aside him; And can you then resolve, Sweet Angel, to be Charmed Eternally to such uneasiness— Will you propose no relief to yourself?  Vand. 
Only by Patience, Sir; I'm skilless in revenging Injuries.  Tonn. 
No other Remedy, pray think again, Sweet.  Vand. 
My Sighs and Tears— Pretends to Weep. and those, when they fall, are Millstones— Aside.  Tonn. 
Tender as Infant Innocence— a very Magdalen. Aside. Yes Madam, there's a third effectual Remedy— which thus I offer ye— my Faithful Service— Dear, dear Countess, I beg thy Pardon— I must be a Rogue for a few Minutes; 'tis impossible for me to avoid it— I'm ready, Sweet, to relieve ye from Fiesque; he has forfeited the Bonds of Friendship, by traducing you to me: Oh Execrable Villainy!— Why he said you had the humour of a Devil.  Vand. 
Too kind to him, the ungrateful Creature knows, but since he dares behind my back detract me.  Tonn. 
Revenge it Madam, if you have any Spirit, and since our time's too short here to propose right methods, know Madam, we are to have the Fiddles to night at the Duke de Sanserres— please but to meet me there, and fear not, the result shall answer Expectation.  Vand. 
A Devil's humour did he say?— Oh! I could cry my Eyes out. Weeps.  Tonn. 
Soft, gentle sweetness— Why what a lying Rogue is this Fiesque— come dear Creature— your promise.  Vand. 
Well, since he could be so base— there's my hand, I'll come.  Tonn. 
That's right— here he comes— clear up sweet and feign a smile or two, and let us talk of News.  Vand. 
I'll warrant ye.  Re-Enter de Fiesque. Tonn. 
Yes, yes, '●is Certain, Madam, the Grand Seignour has passed the Danube, and with an Army of Fifty Thousand jannissaries, is come by Nissa in his March towards Belgrad.  Vand. 
Why then Sir, if the Bassa of Allepo, and the other thundering Bassa what d''ee call him, come and Join him, 'tis as certain that— hum— I say, 'tis as certain that they'll— that they will bring a great deal of Powder and Shot with 'em, there will be thundering doings amongst 'em.  De Fies. 
Hugh, hapily Concluded that truly— What has my coming frighted ye into Politics? I wish there has been no thundering doings here sense I left ye, the false Lady there methinks looks somewhat Guiltilly, and you, Madam, if I mistake not, are a great deal better in humour, than when I left ye.  Vand. 
Who I? no: I Vow, I think I'm much at one— but one can't help being a little diverted to observe the Count's behaviour in his disguise, I vow he's the best manager of a Woman's Petticoats that ever I saw.  De Fies. 
Humph, Does he manage womens' Petticoats so well Indeed, Madam?  Tonn. 
Thou art the veryst Tyrant Fiesque, the most insulting Triumpher, by Heaven 'twere but a piece of Justice in Fortune, to whirl thee from my present height of Happiness, and crush thee with the Chariot thou now drivest— now does he feign a Jealousy, Madam, out of mere Ostentation and Vain-glory.  Vand. 
He may feign, Sir— but alas, he never could Love well enough to be really Jealous— What would I give to have power to make him so?— or that I had so much Gall— to Rail enough— to make him Angry.  De Fies. 
Oh impossible, Madam!— Impossible— for you, with that Turtle disposition, to Rail;— why, 'twould be a Prodigy— this is a subtle Banter, grounded on some Mischievous Design by both of Aside. 'em, and yet I dare not own I understand it.  Tonn. 
Well, Adieu ye happy Lovers— I can look on ye no longer without Envy, and therefore must withdraw in my own Defence— Besides, I expect my dear Countess in Town to Night— She is my stately Banquet of Love; this shall be my little pretty repas the plasire by the by— Aside.  De Fies. 
So Calm when I return, yet when I went so Exit Tonnere. Stormy— What can I think of this.  Vand. 
O you must not think at all of it; in such a humour I know not what I say— Forgive me, dear Sir: Believe me, 'twas only Passion— Come, you must, you shall forgive me.  D● Fies. 
Oh thou bewitching Creature— I am Charmed, and 'tis in vain to struggle— But must Tonnere share with me too— for some Intrigue there is betwixt ye I'm sure.  Vand. 
Pish— A Boy— A Novice— A Marchpane Toy for Green-eyed Girls to play with— I'll never speak a word to him again as long as I live.  De Fies. 
And have ye no Intrigue?  Vand. 
Believe me, none. Looking Kindly.  De Fies. 
I do; For who can look on thee, and not believe thee? Come, go in with me, and in my Cabinet I have a Brillant Diamond shall bind thee to be Constant. Exit.  Vand. 
The Diamond shall be welcome, what e'er you are—  
'Tis Glittering Profit is my Taking Theme,  
Constancy's Folly, Conscience a mere Dream:  
My Vows my Promise, or the Oaths I Swear,  
I can Shift from me, like the Clothes I wear.  
Thus the Wife Woman moulds her Loving Tool;  
His best Enjoyment is his Flame to Cool;  
But hers is always to make him a Fool. Exit.   

ACT II.  

SCENE. I.  Sanserre Solus. Sans. 
WHy have the Doting Sages, of all Times, allowed this Charm, called Marriage, yet less hurtful Witchcraft, punished as Horrible and Diabolick? The honest Conjurer must be Burnt for's Circle, only because 'tis thought he Raises Devils; yet the Vile Pulpit Drummer must be Pampered, whose Conjuring Rings prepares more Souls for Devils, than all the Seven Deadly Sins together. Here's one Marries in haste a Scold, her Noise makes him think Life a Torment: then a second, one that is Rich, but Ugly— her Deformity eats him with Spleen; he fancy's Hell at home, and that he bears Damnation still about him: A Third torments with Pride; a Fourth with Wantonness; whose Face, Shape, Air, Address, and Jigging Motion, giving the Lover hope: The Husband's Jealousy, 'twixt hot Desire and fierce Revenge, Dams both. Now one o'th' worst of this Cursed Tribe am I, doomed to th' worst too of Husband's Torments, Jealousy; which, like a Ravenous Canker, knaws my heart, and grants me no Cesation to my Doubt— here comes my Credulous Brother-in-Law, old Brissac, the mere Antipodes to me in Humour; he, tho' he Married a young Wife, fears nothing; simply secure of her, and partial to himself, in spite of Time, believes he's young; Talks, Drinks, Sings, Dances, Dresses like a Beau, and is never better pleased then when you say, Years leave no mark upon him— Pox on him, I must be Civil to him— So, Brother, I hope am so happy to have this Visit meant to me.  Enter Brissac. Brissac. 
ay, I my Lord to you; To whom else should I mean it? Gad, my Lord, we wished heartily for ye where I have been; two or three young brisk Fellows of us would have diverted your Spleen, Faith, ha, ha, ha— we have been up all Night Serenading my New Mistress— My Lord, what d''ee mean, no Ceremony I beseech ye? I have but just been at home to New Rig, Wash, Powder, Patch, and put on a clean Cherry-coloured Cravat-string.  Sans. 
And dare you publicly own a New Mistress, Count, without fear of a Revenge from your Lady at home, if she should hear on't?— Is not there such a thing in Nature as a New Gallant?— Won't Horns grow in that Country think ye?  Brissac. 
No, my Lord— the only proper Soil that I know for 'em to grow fast in, is your Lordship's Head.  Sans. 
‛ Pox on him; Pray Heaven he does not Prophecy. Aside. Come, don't be too secure, Old Count  Brissac. 
Old Count— What a plague and just come from Serenading— my Patch on— Peruke Powdered, and Cherry-Colour'd-Cravat-string— Old Count— Harkee, my Lord, the first sign of Age is to be Jealous of one's Wife, take that from me, Old Duke.  Sans. 
Nay, that's no General Rule, Brother.  Brissac. 
Most veritable— for 'tis ten to one he that suspects his Wife, does, in some kind, find a Defect in, and Suspect himself. And he that Suspects himself— 'tis vehemently to be supposed has some Feeble, Lepid— Frigid— Causes, that thank my Stars, I am a Stranger to—  Leaps at every word. Sans. 
Very well, Sir, I'm glad to see you so Active.  Brissac. 
Humph— Indifferent well for an Old Count: 
* Limps to him.  Harkee, my Lord, Shall you and I run a Heat to Morrow morning, for Fifty Pistols, three times round the Park.  Sans. 
O not so fast, good Count— you Run— why I see ye halt now— you are foundered already.  Brissac. 
A Corn— a plaguee Corn I have, a Pox on't; I trod upon a Nail with't— Halt— Oon's, I can run Forty Mile an end without breathing.  Sans. 
Come, come, take a Friend's Advice, and be more sparing of your Vigour; or if you will take a Journey of Forty Mile, let it be homeward, upon your Pad-Nag, that your Lady may take care of your Gout, in stead of your Corn— for you may Hop— Frisk, or fancy what you please, Brother, but you are Old.  Brissac. 
Old again, and can you, in Conscience, think ●o my Lord?  Sans. 
Most unalterably.  Brissac. 
What— for all my Peruke's Powdered, and my Patch on?  Sans. 
Ah that won't do.  Briss. 
Zounds, what and for all my Cherry-Colour'd-Cravat-string.  Sans. 
Ay, for all your Cherry-Couler'd-Cravat-string, reserve your Remains for your Lady at home, good brother, and if you are wise look well to her, she may be gadding this miunte for aught you know, for take it once more from me, you are old, the Crowfoot appears Brother.  Brissac. 
Spite by the Gods, mere spite, and burning Envy— my Wife gadding, Oon's, that I know is this minute sitting at home in her Closet, that looks upon the Pond, embroidering little Babies upon Dimety to make me a set of Chairs and Stools.  Sans. 
Ah brother! she is more likely to be making little Babes in your Bedchamber for you to Embroider— but since good Council is lost upon ye, I'll be silent, only Informing ye this, that in Merchandise, Traders can mark their Wares, but a Wife is such a kind of a Commodity, that a man may be confoundedly cheated in her without missing one Pennyworth of the Property.  Enter Page. Page. 
Sir, there's one below to speak with ye, that says his Name is Sir. Blunder Bosse.  Brissac. 
Oh! Pox on him, Is he come then? 'Tis a new Acquaintance of mine, my Lord, he Lodges in the same house with me, gad I must beg your Lordship's pardon for presuming upon my Interest here, I have Invited him to dinner—  Sans. 
The Devil ye have— this old fellow will make me Mad. Aside.  Brissac. 
Oons, he's the rarest humorist, the most odd out of the way fellow, my Lord, that ever you knew— he's a right Mongrel by Birth— his Father was an English North Country Wooller, for his Wealth made a Knight, who trading afterwards into Holland begot him upon a Dutch Woman in Rotterdam— And to see his way of Breeding, and hear— his method of Speech— is a Rarity you han't met with; harkee, boy, boy, Prithee what did he say too thee?  Page. 
Why he asked me first whose little Pimp I was.  Brissac. 
Ha a hah— well, And what else?—  Page. 
And when I told him I was Page to the Duke de Sanserre, he asked me if the Mangy Cur, Old Brissac, were not with him.  Brissac. 
Ay— ay— 'tis his way my Lord, 'tis his way—  Page. 
And what other Dogs and Bitch's were in the Company?  Brissac. 
Ha, ha, ha, 'tis a strange sort of a fellow; go go, prithee bring him up, he calls every Body without distinction, by such names— 'tis his way my Lord, Did you Lordship ever hear of such a Humour?  Sans. 
No: the Devil take me, nor I never since I was Born, confusion— What Company am I to have at Dinner? Aside.  Enter Sir Blunder. Brissac. 
Oh, Sir Blunder! your Servant— and with my Lord's leave here you are welcome.  Sir Blun. 
Ay,— with all my heart, take whose leave thou wilt— well, you see ye old Thief I have found ye out at last, though like a Cur Dog as you were, you gave but Scurvy Directions— Dost hear, is that the Duke thou toldst me of.  Brissac. 
Ay, ay, Sir Blunder, this is the Duke, my Brother in Law.  Sir Blun. 
Hugh— I knew one Gulchen, that used to carry Sacks to the Pinnace in our Dock at Rotterdam— just like him, 'tis a good lusty fore-handed well-set Son of a Bitch.  Sans. 
Sir—  Brissac. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— his way Brother his way— I told ye—  Sir Blun. 
Give me thy hand, Bully, Stiff-rump— What art loath to show it? Hast got the Itch?— why ye whoreson dog you, you and I must be better acquainted before we part, my name's Bosse, Egh. pilches.  Brissac. 
Ha, ha, ha, Brother, What dost think? Didst ever see such a sort of a Fellow? Gad, I don't think there's the like of him within the four Seas.  Sans. 
No, nor within the four quarters of the World, I dare answer for him.  Sir Blun. 
Harkee dogshead— prithee tell him that I am a Sociable Fellow and Love to be familiar.  Sans. 
Oh! Sir, I need no telling, I see it plainly, you are so far from Complementing, and Care so little for Corupting a Language with fine Epithets, that you give it us as 'tis primitively spoke— for Rogue, Dog, and such words are commonly the first we learn.  Sir Blun. 
Right, Dear Son of a Whore, thou'rt in the right, faith; and I have been bred up in that way ever since: plain words have plain meaning. 'Tis true, sometimes when we have a Mind to Abuse any Body, we use the glozing English way of Prating— as thus now, I have Forty thousand pounds in my Purse, if I call any Acquaintance of mine Dog, Scowndrel, Rascal, or so, why I mean him well, and if he wants, will supply him with Five hundred pounds— but when I Niggle him with Dear Friend, and Sweet Sir, and upon my Honour you shall Command me, or so forth— tho' he were certainly starving, Gad's bud, I would not give him a Penny.  Sans. 
Why you ought to be valued extremely for this Plain-dealing Sir Blunder.  Sir Blun. 
ay, I dear Pimp— I am honest at bottom, and that's more then any of your Complementers can pretend to; but dost hear, prithee let me see thee at my Lodging— Gad I'll give thee a swinging Bowl oh Punch— there's an English Son of a Cur, a Lord he is, tho'— one Guillamour— newly come to lie there too: the Dog is a rare Jokes faith, I'll bring him into thy Company.  Sans. 
Guillamour— Ds'death, how the Name startles me! for I have often heard my Brother Brissac say, that the House where he Lodges join to my Garden: Well, Sir, go on, And what of this Guillamour?  Blun. 
What of him? why he's an Arch-Thief, a Plaguee Fellow at Wench— and the Rogue has found one out at the House joining to us she comes to him every Night into the Garden, and he Whispers to he out of his Chamber-Window.  Sans. 
Hell and the Devil, it must be my Wife— for I've observed ● late she has taken an Evening's Walk there— oftener than usual— ay ay. 'tis so, I'm certainly abused, and all my Blood's on fire at the though on't: Now, Count, here's a Discovery made by Chance— of you damned Sister's Intrigue with Guillamour; What say ye now, am I s●i● blindly Jealous?  Brissac. 
Phoo, pox, one of the Chambermaids comes to him I warrant or some such Trifle.  Sir Blund. 
I've seen a Ramping thing in a Painted Nightgown twinkle there in an Evening— I saw her Face once, 'twas a good handsome Bitch, Faith.  Sans. 
Still, still my damned Wife, for she has such a Nightgown— Oh Confusion! Is there no Faith in the Cursed Sex?— No honour?— but Patience till I discover more; I'll have a Trick this Evening to surprise 'em both, and I'll about it instantly— Brother, you and your Friend must excuse me, that I can't entertain you myself at Dinner, a sudden Affair, which I had forgot, hurries me hence; but pray Command my House till your Sister comes, who went out this Morning about some private Affair of her own, but no doubt will soon be here— your Servant. Exit.  Briss. 
Oh your Servant, my Lord, your Servant, here's an odd Whim for ye.  Brissac. 
Your Discovery, Sir Blunder, was the cause of this sudden going; I tipped the Wink upon ye two or three times, but, like a Millstone, down a Hill, there was no stopping ye when ye were rolling.  Sir Blun. 
What's the Clodpate Jealous?— nay then I warrant he's a Cuckold—  Brissac. 
Gad, Cuckold or not Cuckold— I'm resolved my Sister, nor my Lord neither, shan't be surprised this time; for I, myself, will give 'em timely Caution: What a Pox, my Blood runs warm, and I love these Young Tricks heartily; I'll therefore, like a kind Brother of Intrigue, prevent their being Catched in the Evening— Then return with the Fiddles, Entertain my Mistress, who is to be here with my Sister, by Appointment, and so all of us Laugh at my Lord— Come, Sir Blunder, we'll take none of his Dinner, since he is to Morose not to stay with us.  Sir Blun. 
Well, well; Prithee good Rascal go where thou wilt, I'll follow thee; but, as to my Lord's Moroseness, for my part I mind it not; 'tis a common thing with us, at Rotterdam— you shall have a Burger there Invite ye to a Shoulder of Mutton, and just as 'tis set on the Table, if any sudden business happens, he shall snatch it out o'th' Dish, and Lock it up, run out of Doors, and leave you behind to suck your Fingers. Exeunt.   

SCENE II. A Garden.  Enter Duchess Sanserre, and Lady Brissac, Dressed in men's Clothes, and Tonnere. L. Briss. 
Nothing in Nature can make a Wife more Easy, than her Husband's good opinion of her: and I have moulded my Old Count so well to my hand— that if I should tell him myself, that I am really here in Specie, and run awayout of the Country hither, upon a Frolic, I dare Swear he would not believe his own Eyes.  Tonn. 
Nay, dear Madam, do you but blind him on one Eye, and let me alone, for t'other— for he is so Mortified with his Passion for me, that he dares make use of none of his Senses but as I shall Direct.  D. San. 
I believe I must call some body, that shall be nameless, to Council too, about the management of my Conjugal Gentleman, for he begins to be Obstreperously Jealous— And when once they are so, they cease to be Husbands, and turn Jailers— for my part, I had as live be in the Bastile, and ordered to feed upon Bread and Water, as be Confined to the sneaking allowance that a Parsimonious Husband shall bestow on me.  Tonn. 
Oh pox, a Husband's allowance, like a Prison Basket, will Starve those that have nothing else to subsist on.  L. Bris. 
ay, 'tis well that we Women have sometimes Courage enough to usurp the Privilege of Freeborn Subjects, and Enjoy by Wit what our Husbands won't grant us by good Nature, for then the Pleasure of deserving 'em is a Substantial happiness. Now does my codeled Matrimony securely believe, that I am at home looking after the Rose-cakes— or licking my Clammy Fingers after potting up the Marmalade of Quinces— when God knows I am here under his Nose, dressed en Cavalier— ready for the Plays, the Music, the Walks— and I may be for variety by to morrow, to please myself, will be in a Fruit Garden twenty Mile off, with a very good Friend.  Tonn. 
Ay gad, and I hope at night, dear Madam, be better pleased in a better Place with a very good friend.  D. Sans. 
All Entertainments are prized as the Appetite is inclined, Count now if the Peaches, Apricocks, and Frontiniack Grapes, the Viand delicate— of the day shall regale my Sister better than your night treat; Lord, How Sneakingly you'd look in the Morning?  L. Bris. 
I Swear he relishes— So much of our Sex, by wearing Petticoats so long— that if we chance to be straightened for Lodging, And I should be forc'd— to Roost with him— I Vow I should fancy I was going to bed to my Nurse, you'd be a very Nurse Count  Tonn. 
Such a Confounded Nurse, I should make too Child, gad, I fear, thou wouldst never be able to endure me. For I should be plaguy Cross if you tumbled or squawled in the Night time, if you'd take the Nipple quietly you might— but if I gave ye any thing with a Spoon the Devil take me.  D. Sans. 
I don't know what sort of Nurse the Count would make, Sister, but by his way of talking, he would make an Excellent Midwife— or else some Gossip Hostess— Oh! he would make a delicate Gossip at a City Christening for he talks just as they do to one another in a Lying-in-Room.  Tonn. 
Ay, or as you do to one another in your dressing Rooms.  L. Bris. 
Come, come, prithee leave this unprofitable Chat, and show me the Garden and Rarities— I warrant there's twenty new Monsters come since I was ere— besides, I have been so long tormented in the Country with the lowing of Cows, bleating of Sheep, and Cawing of Rooks, that the least of the Town diversion's a Calf with▪ four Legs, or a Russia Ram, with a long Tail, will be a Rarity to me— or else let's go to the Opera— No, no, Stay— the Water-works, the Water-works— Oh God but then they say there's the rarest Italian Rope-dancer come over— And a wonderful Creature, that has three or four Sexes— D'slife I've no patience till I see them all.  D. Sans. 
What altogether Sister? Prithee let 'em be seen one after another, if you Love me.  Tonn. 
The greatest Rarity you can see, Madam, in this Disguise will be your Husband making Love to me, he's to bring the Fiddles here by and by; prithee dear Angel see that first for my Satisfaction.  L. Bris. 
With all my heart, and I'll Man it so, I warrant he never knows me, I'll venture what his Instinct can do for once; I believe— I may be a true or a false Princess as I please, I need not fear any discovery he can make by his Lion like virtue. Exeunt Tonn. and Brissac.  L. Sans. 
'Tis a wild giddy-headed Creature— and I must take care to govern her Indiscretion for my own sake— let me see— Looks on Watch. 'Tis almost the hour— that by appointment I am to meet my dear Guillamour at the window on the other side the Garden, an assignation I would not break to be Mistress of Versailes— bless me! Is not this he? or do my Eyes Dazzle?  Enter Guillamour, and L. Busk. Guill. 
That's Impossible; but mine do always dazzle when they meet thy Luster, thou brightest and most Lovely of thy kind.  L. Sans. 
Heavens! my Lord, you amaze me— How durst you venture hither, my Husband being here, and knowing his Humour?  Guill. 
Led by resistless Love and a kind Genius that helps a Lover still on bold adventures to unriddle the Mystery, know, my better Angel, that the Marquis has casually had Information of our Window-Intreague, but my good Old friend Sessac, happening to be there at the time of the Discovery, and finding the Jealous Marquis was resolved to surprise us, was coming in all haste to give me caution, whom I luckilly met Just as we saw your Coach return home. Mrs. L. Busk here being at the Window, I beckoned her down— the rest which will make you Laugh, and the reason of my venturing hither, you shall have from her.  L. Busk. 
Ha, ha, ha, yes if I have— breathe enough to tell it for laughing— ha, ha, ha, be pleased to know then Madam— that Mrs. Danbray the new Spy that my Lord has lately Entertain'd, has been dressing him up in your blue Nightgown and head-clothes, in which he makes so awkward a Figure, 'twould make one die to see him, he's just gone to the Window that opens upon the wall— the other side of the Garden— I got so near, that I found his business was to watch for my Lord here, and that he would stay at his Post some hours— which made me assure him, that he might venture to you without danger.  Guill. 
Ay Gad, and for that Assurance, there's a Token of my Love for thee, Ha, ha, ha; Was there ever so provoking an Adventure? Faith, Madam, it is but reasonable we should Pay this diligent Watchman for his Waiting.  L. Sans. 
I am for having him deserve a little more first; we can, at last, but Pay him altogether—  Guill. 
Gad, for the Honour of my dear Country, England, I'm of a Temper, that desires to render every one his due; methinks I long to be out of his Debt.  L. Sans. 
For Punctual Payment of such kind of Debts, I have heard indeed, that your Englishmen are very Conscientious, if Cuckoldom would pay a Cittizen's Bill— the good Apron-man need never stir over his own Threshold to Dun ye— But come, my Lord, not to discourage your Generous Intentions quite, I'll make ye a Present of my Picture here, 
* Gives her Picture.  the Shadow that you have so long desired; but I charge ye to think of no Substances— at least for a certain time that I shall prefix— What,— 'tis but reason you should Invoke your Saint, before you enter your Paradise.  Guill. 
Invok 
* Gives her Picture.  Ds'heart I shall turn Idolater, and forty to one be damned about it 
* Gives her Picture.  Oh! thou dear, sweet, pretty portrait of my Parradise Indeed— Kisses Eagerly the Picture.  L. Sans. 
To enjoy which Imaginary Paradise then— My Lord, for the present, I'll leave ye, to go and Play an Aftergame with my Jealous Matrimony yonder— the result of it, and where we next shall meet, I'll send you word in a Billet: in the mean time, Adieu, Seducer of this heart of mine.  Guill. 
Joy Great, as thou to me, be always thine— Exeunt.   

SCENE III.  Enter Sanserre Dressed in his Ladies Night-Gown and Petticaote, and Nightcloths— A Pistol in his Hand. Sans. 
No Bolting yet— And th' usual hour past; sure she's grown pall'd to her New Amoretto; methinks, he else would be more Punctual. Here is a hot Remembrancer shall meet his Glowing Passion with a quicker Flame: Stay— let me think a little what I'm doing; Eternal Devil! Are these the Joys of Marriage? 
* Gives her Picture.  Here am I tricked up like a Summer Bawd, Dressed in the Tawdry Trappings of her Function, to take Revenge on a young Hotbrained Fellow, for only managing the Common Fortune Entailed on most of the Dull Fools that Marry, Cuckold— Damnation Cuckold— horrid sound, in that dear Bed, where, for my Term of Life, I fixed my Pleasure, and my Soul's repose, to meet a Toad, for such to me's another, though dressed in all the Pride of Lavish Nature, is the worst of Torments, and extremest Hell: the Window's open, What's that, A Country Wench appears, and a Fellow at the Window. 'tis he sure; the shade o'th' Trees eclipse my light— I'll go nearer, that he may Lure me to him, for 'tis certainly he: Now do I expect to be Harrangued with some Lovers Amorous Couplet, beginning with Mimics a Lovers whining Voice. 
So Walked Clarinda midst the Myrtle Grove,  
Like the Queen-Mother of the Stars above.  
And I'll Answer, like Vulcan, with Bullet and Fire.   Wench. 
Well, 'tis a pure Song, I'll say't; Good Honey, Roger, Teach it me it once more.  Roger. 
Come— with all my heart; Strike up then— hem, hem.  Sans. 
Ha! What's that?  Roger 
Sings. There was Andrew and Susan, Rebecca and Will;  Wench. 
Roger and Sisly, and William and Mary,  Rog. 
There was Kate of the Kitchen, and Kit of the Mill.  Wench. 
john the Ploughman, and jone of the Dairy.  Roger. 
To Solace their Hearts, and to Sweeten their Labour,  Wench. 
All met on a time with a Pipe and a Tabor.  Sans. 
How— Nothing but two dirty Devils Singing a Damned Ballad; sure I have not mistook the Window; 
* Offer again, Sing again.  Ds'death, what a Squaling Noise the Quean makes. Ha, again; A Plague on ye, stop your Braying, or I'll Shoot. They Squeak, and Exit.  Daub. 
Oh, my Lord, we are ruined! your Design, by some means or other, has taken Air, and they are turning it yonder all into Raillery: there's a Window and a Garden it seems at t'other side o'th' House, which that Dunce, Sir Blunder, mistook for this, and another Lady there too.  Sans. 
Ds'death! What with another Painted Nightgown and Petticoat—  Daub. 
So it seems, my Lord; besides, I saw my Lord Guillamour, and your Brother Brissac this moment at the Door, shaking hands, and Laughing, till they shook again; and, by what I can guests by him, he's bringing him in.  Sans. 
The Devil he is— D'sdeath, I shall be the Laughingstock of the whole Town— the very Footmen will Point at me— and ten to one, in three days time, have another Horrid Ballad made of the Noble Duke, and Sung to as Confounded a Tune, at my own Window— Run Daubray, and shut the Dining-Room Door, that I may sneak up the Back-stairs into my Chamber before they come.  Daub. 
Ah 'tis impossible, my Lord, they are got as far as the Garden already, and see, here comes my Lady▪  Enter Duchess Sanserre. Sans. 
What a Devil shall I say unto her now?  D. Sans. 
So, Mrs. Daubry, this is very fine Confidence indeed, the first Week my Lord has Entertained ye— What Creature, Have you been so saucy to Dress in my Clothes?— Ha, let me see Turns him about. ah,— in the Name of Virtue, is this possible?— By that Baked Pear-coloured Complexion, and that Stubbled Chin— this must be a Man— O thou odious Creature— How dare you bring your filthy odious Fellows here, to Debauch my things with?  Sans. 
I must brush through with it some way or other Aside. Well, Madam, I must Clear Mrs. Daubray— And pray reform your Mistake— 'tis I.  D. Sans. 
How, my Lord?— bless me— my Lord— In the Name of Virtue what Riddle's this?— What means this Metamorphosis?  Sans. 
Humph— I think I've got a Lie will fit her Aside Why my Brother Brissac— intends to bring the Fiddles here this Evening— and I intended to Surprise the Company in Masquerade— being mighty frolicsome to day.  D. Sans. 
Frolliksome, my Lord— What with your Pistol there? Your Frolic, I find, would have had more of Revenge in't then Mirth, base Man— Must I always be the Miserable Subject of your horrid Jealousy?— Jealousy, that has always made you as Ridiculous to the World— as it will now be found to be in this— Charming Disguise— Heaven! that you could but see yourself how you look.  Sans. 
Like a Witch in an Ecstasy, I believe; A Plague upon this head-geer here, would the Devil had the Inventor.  D. Sans. 
But 'tis Satisfaction enough to me, to know, that the shame that constantly attends this Frenzy, is always sufficient Punishment— which your Grace will apprehend better, when your Visitors within shall enter, in the mean time let me Teach ye this Poetical Maxim. 
Let him whose Jealous Brain his Wife suspects,  
ere he Expose her Fame, prove her defects;  
He that vows Proof, and on his Doubt relies,  
Will sink his own, but her Esteem shall rise.  There's a short Touch for ye, and so I leave you to your Baiting— Sir— Exit.  Daub. 
I'll go and seek the Butler, and get a Gill of Comfort, for I'm ready to faint with Fretting as I'm a true Woman. Exit.  Sans. 
'Tis so— here they come— A Plague upon 'em; and now am I to be half suffocated with the Fulsome Jokes of that Eternal Old Coxcomb Brissac— D'sdeath, Is there no Avenue, nor Shelter here? What would I give to be a Rat now for two minutes?— A Rabbit, with a Burrow near me; or any other Vermin, so I had but a Hole to creep into.  Enter Brissac, Tonnere, Lady Brissac, Guillamour, Sir Blunder, and Vandosme. Sess. 
Come, before the Fiddles play their Parts, Let's all resolve, by consent, to have a Merry touch or two at my Lord; Prithee mind me, sweet Empress, thou Sovereign Queen of all my Faculties, as the Poet says 
* They Whisper.  do but observe me a little To Tonnere And you, my bold Britton Stick; by me, d''ee hear— I'll Joke him into a Fit of an Ague To Guillamour. but hold-first a word with you, Sir Blunder.  L. Brissac. 
The Loadstone, I find, has lost: its Virtue; the Old Spark does not know me; Ton. I see it, but— the Defect is in the Steel, and not the Loadstone— A Pox on him, he has no more Natural Sympathy, then if his Skin were Stuffed with Straw—  L. Briss. 
I'll try whether he has or no; for I'm resolved to Banter him before we part.  Guill. 
That Pretty Creature yonder has been Oagling me this half hour, hah— I know her now, it must be She, Fiesques Charming Mistress, that the Town Celebrates so for a Miracle of Beauty— Gad, her Smiles give me strange Encouragement, I'll go and talk to her— 'Twill be a pretty Amusement for Sanserre there, who must then naturally believe my Intreng●e is with her, and not his Wife. Apart, then goes to Vand.  Vand. 
What a Bewitching Face and Aire has that Englishman? whose very Look so Charms me, that, by Heaven, I've hardly Patience to forbear some Love-Extravagance before the Company— hah— he Oagles me too— Now Beauty, do me right— Dear Face perform thy Office. Smiles on him.  Eriss. 
That's all, Boy; Let him but think 'twas thy Mistake, and for the rest of the Banter let me alone.  Sir Blun. 
Well, well, prithee Old Bullethead don't doubt me; if a Lie will do the Business, my Conscience is Wide enough— Pox, I hate a Jealous Rascal— more than a Dutch Cook does a French Kick-shaw.  Briss. 
Come now then, let's all souse in upon him, like Spaniels upon a Duck in a Pond— I'll set in first— hay, where are these Fiddlers— Come, let's have a Country Dance; Strike up there you Rogues; Come, Cuckolds▪ all-a-Row—. Here's a Buxom Lass shall be my Partner— What sayst thou to't, my Jolly Sixteen Ribs?— Give me thy hand to Sans. Why where are these Cuckoldly Fiddlers to Play this— Cuckoldly Dance?— Strike up, I say, to us, The Nimble Cuckold-makers of Versailles— Here's one will Foot it Briskly I'faith.  Sans. 
Harkee— Brother— No more Jesting, d''ee hear, I shall grow Angry.  Briss. 
Harkee, my Lord— So shall I▪— You have wronged my Sister, d''ee hear— and I have enough in me to call you to Account for't— But hush, no more words on't, for her Quietssake, and the Love of some Body else here, at present I pass it by; but if I hinder any body from laughing at your Toppings here the Devil take me— ha, ha, ha, why Gentlemen and Ladies here's a surprise will make ye die with laughing, we are all deceived here— this is no Lady, Gentlemen but a noble Lord, Gentlemen my Brother the Duke de Sanserre Gentleman who being horribly suspicious of being hornified Genttlemen by his Lady at Court here.  Sans. 
As his Brother the old Count Brissac Gentlemen is foolishly secure of not being hornified by his Lady i'th' Country.  Bris. 
Has most cunningly dressed himself ha', ha, ha, in his Lady's Clothes, Gent. with design to catch her napping, with a certain lusty young English Lord, alias Whoremaster, called Guillamour Gent▪— at him my young Hercules— speak for thyself now, at him, at him.  Guill. 
Who he designed to catch is not my business to examine, but I hope his Grace has nothing to say to my Conversation with his Lady.  Sans. 
Oh, my Lord you are much in the right.  Tonn. 
His conversation with that Lady— when her coming hither was only an Assignation with me, ds'death, What means he? aside.  Sir Blun. 
Why the short and the long is, I was mistaken in the Whore, and my Lord there like a Coxcomb as he was, was mistaken in the Window-what a pox there's more windows than one to a house sare, and more Bitch's then one in Painted Night-gowns and Petticoats.  L. Briss. 
If my Lord had not been discovered to be a Man— by jove, I should have taken him— for a very good fat jolly Lady of mine Acquaintance.  Sans. 
Which very good fat jolly Lady— is a Bawd I'm sure, for that lewd smock faced ●mp can have no other acquaintance.  Tonn. 
I hope, Madam, my Lord has not so wholly Ingrossed your Conversation, but you may have leisure to put in your Jest too; pray give me your opinion, methinks the headclothes sitting so awry look like tawdry Mrs. Quakine— sitting at Cards in her Chamber, the Evening of the day she has taken Physic. to Vandosme.  Briss. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha— dear Empress— a witty Observation faith.  Sans. 
Oh! I'm sorry they don't please ye Madam, I hope your Comode there sits cocking straight enough.  Guill. 
And the Nightgown there so loose and Negligent, looks just like the tawdry Countess of jersy in a morning without her Stays.  Sans. 
What's that you say, Sir? Angrily.  Vand. 
Oh fie! How ill a frown becomes that Dress, which I confess I must own is most extremely particular.  Sans. 
Is it indeed so particular— Madam?  Sir Blun. 
Oon's— the Dog looks like a Hermaphrodite— at a Leaguer, drinking of Brandy with a Corporal of the Guard. They all laugh.  Sans. 
Nay, if that Porpuss be spouting too, 'tis time to shun drowning indeed, a plague of your Merriment— D'sheart I shall grow Mad if I stay and unman myself— Exit Sanserre.  Briss. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— Now is he gone to vent the rest of his confounded humour upon his Valet de Chambre, and Pages— a pox on't, this con ●s of foolish Jealousy; who the Devil would be Jealous, it makes a Man old, ill-natured, ill Company, ill-beloved; And brings a thousand Inconveniences, a pox I hate the very thought on't.  Tonn. 
Ay, but yet it shows Love, Count, it shows Love.  Briss. 
Ay, that's before Marriage, dear Empress— that's before— you know what, and then I grant there may be some reason to be Jealous to lose one's Mistress, but of ones Wife— gad 'tis a mere breaking out, a Corruption of Soul and Body— 'tis a Disease worse than the Pox— Why now have I a Wife in the Country— a very house-dove— A pretty poor harmless contented thing— that I warrant is this very minute reading the Ladies Calling to her Maids, or a Treatise of the Duty of a Wife to her Husband— and faith I Love her well enough too, for a Wife— She wants for nothing—  L. Briss. 
How— A young Wife left by her Husband want nothing? reflect a little on what you say, old Sir.  Briss. 
Why how now Monsieur, no Beard?— Do the farthing Candles of your Eyes want snuffing this Morning, old Sir? ye young Milksop, What do you see old about me?  L. Bris. 
Why you stoop in the Shoulders, and bend in the Hams— Old Aeson.  Briss. 
What a lying Jackanapes is this— prithee look on me, dear Empress— by gad I'm as straight as an Arrow.  Tonn. 
Ay, 'tis true, he is a little malicious— but he's a very pretty fellow faith Count, and I can't forbear oagling him a little.  Briss. 
Prithee look on me— Oo'ns' do but look on me, ye young Coxcomb— Am not I nulls Do I bend in the Hams, ye envious Puppy?— let all the World Judge if I am not as straight as an Arrow— a very Arrow.  L. Briss. 
Not if your Wife at home were to give her Judgement Sir— who, for all your Conjugal security, you shall give me leave to believe does want something.  Briss. 
Ha— which want, you think yourself proper to supply I warrant.  L. Briss. 
No faith, I should do what you ought to do, acknowledging my own single ability de●●●tive, call in another able Person to assist, and all wants indeed might be suplyed fairly.  Tonn. 
Well said again young Sir I swear.  Briss. 
Who the Devil is this young Dog? I wonder whither he dares fight or no— gad I shall be provoked to try if this hold, for to my thinking she begins to be fond of him— this is the plaguy vice of the S●● in general, all Womankind hanker after, and how to Debauch these Boys.  L. Briss. 
I heard you talk of Boys Sir— damn me, d''ee mean me Sir?  Briss. 
You Sir, yes Sir, damn me too— Are not you a Boy Sir?  L. Bris. 
No Sir, and I'll bring an abler witness than you are to justify the contrary.  Tonn. 
That he can I assure ye Sir, there I must take his part.  Briss. 
How Madam, will you take his part against me?— pox prithee dear Empress let's leave him to his Raket and Balls— you shall do me the honour now to let me treat ye with a little Entertainment of Music and Dancing, after which I intent to lead ye up a Corrant myself, which is a gr●ye thing, and a graceful dance for a fine Lady—  L. Briss. 
And you and I will do a minuett Madam, which is a brisk thing and a more graceful dance for a fine Lady.  Briss. 
Prithee— male-varlet, What dost do here?— pox thou shouldst post into Italy— here's no Boys play here— here's no use of unbearded things— Oo'ns' get thee to Rome amongst the Cardinals.  L. Briss. 
No faith, they are fitter for your Company, they are old fumbling fellows like yourself.  Briss. 
This young Dog will never leave prating, gad I'll run my Sword in's Guts.  Guill. 
Oh fie, old friend! no fighting amongst Ladies— besides 'tis all Gallantry, and you can't in reason be angry.  Briss. 
where's the Music? a pox on 'em let's begin then and put it out of my head, and in the mean time— the hear, let the banquet be made ready in the next Room.  L. Briss. 
Well, and to let him see I understand Gallantry, I'll add to his Musical Entertainment, and Sing myself, if any here can bear part in the late new Dialogue.  Tonn. 
That can I, Sir, and in honour of the Count I'll show ye my skill Immediately.  Song and Dance here, and Exeunt all but Gulliamour and Vandsome. 

Dialogue between Tonnere and Lady Brissac.  Lady B. 
THe World is full of hurry;  
Our H●roe'● hunt for Glory,  
to swell our future STORY  
With Deeds of high Renown.  Tonnere. 
Religion and Ambition  
Make us in poor Condition,  
Till for our sad Division  
A General Peace Atone.  

(2.)  L. Briss. 
Then Brawling War forsaking,  
In Love vow Tryalis making;  
Instead of Cittys Taking  
I'll Storm your Heart alone.  Tonnere. 
When to Enjoyment hasting,  
Let Youth be slowly wasting,  
And Beauty long be Tasting;  
I'll wish no Monarch's Crown.   

(3.)  Lady Br. 
When first the World and Matter  
Were form'd by the Creator,  Tonner. 
Three only Things in Nature  
Were worth a Mortal's Care.  Lady Br. 
First Wit in Bounteous Measure,  
Then Women for our Pleasure.  Tonner. 
And Moderate store of Treasure:  
To Entertain the Fair.    Vand. 
Nothing can make ye have a good thought of me, Sir, for this strange confession of my Love, but your extraordinary▪ Merit and good Nature— but pray believe this is not common with me.  Guill. 
Such beauty, Madam— must command all thoughts and services— by Heaven, 'tis a sweet Creature— oh dear, dear Inconstancy, Who can defend himself against thy Charms?— hah, lafoy Busk here— nay then I'm catched in th' nick. Enter lafoy Busque.  
The Planets shoot more strongly their Influence on t'other side, and 'tis Impossible to resist the Lady of the Ascendant. whispers him and Exit.  Vand. 
Ha, gone— ten thousand Furies take that Messenger, for 'tis certain she has fetched him away upon some other Intrigue, but to go without taking leave, or an Excuse, or so much as an Assignation for some other time, Ds'death, I'm all on flame with vexation at the thought on't— I'll run and overtake him in the Street, for I can't live till night without that Satisfaction. Is running out, and Tonnerre enters and stops her.  Tonn. 
Hold hold, Madam, Whither so fast? I hope you did not doubt my coming as soon as I could get loose from the Company.  Vand. 
He here, cursed luck; but 'tis all one I am resolved I will go— pish— I neither wished nor doubted your coming Sir— pray let me go, for I've an extraordinary affair has happened that exacts it.  Tonn. 
An affair, What greater than your Promise to me? come, you only jest I'm sure.  Vand. 
Oh, Sir, you shall find me no Jester, therefore once more let me go, 'tis my humour, and 〈◊〉 all the reason you are like to have.  Tonn. 
To follow my Lord Guillamour I suppose.  Vand. 
Suppose what you will— I'll follow my inclinations, though you and all such impertinent Teizers were damned in the preventing it.  Tonn. 
Is't possible? Can you so soon forget your Promise?  Vand. 
Pox O' promises— that ever any fellow that proudly thinks he carries half an ounce of Brains, should heed A Woman of my Characters promise— Hell and Furies▪ How am I plagued with this Coxcomb? D'sdeath stand out 'th way.  Tonn. 
She Swears and Curses like a Bawd in a Brandy-Celler— I find now Fiesque was in the right, and thou art indeed a very Devil.  Vand. 
I am so: why thou empty, hot-headed, flashy, Impertinent, ridiculous Animal; Who would ever give her consent to make a lewd assignation with such a Rampant Monster as thyself, but a Devil?— when you deboach us first, you fix damnation, than shoals of dressing powdered Sons of Belzibub, mingle with us the daughters of Belphegor, and so the thriving Trade of Hell goes forward.  Tonn. 
Stand solid Impudence, case harden'd, and well grounded in the Trade— and yet sometimes too you can act as an Angel.  Vand. 
I can act any thing to make a Fool—  Tonn. 
And lately when you praized my Face Shape, Tongue— you thought me a Monster or an Idiot.  Vand. 
Right— I never heard a fellow say he Loved me, but I had hopes to beg him for a changeling.  Tonn. 
Thou art the exactest Jilt— I ever met with.  Vand. 
Thou art the veriest coxcomb I e'er bubled— But why the Devil do I stand prating with thee— give me way to go whither my resolute humour drives me, or all the Mischif in a Woman's Nature, all that Hell's Legion can inspire me with, I'll vent upon thee.  Tonn. 
Thou shalt not stir, I'll keep thee here to plague thee.  Vand. 
Then take what follows— sure I shall find something to further my revenge— the trappings you usurp there of our Sex I shall demolish presently. pulls off his Comode.  Tonn. 
Witch— Fury— Succubus— though as thou look'st like Woman I dare not strike thee— yet as a real Devil Incarnate, I may pinch.  She gets off, and takes up a large Pruning-knife. Vand. 
Oh, here's something will do better Execution— look upon this thou hot brained fool, and tremble.  Tonn. 
Thou wilt not Stab me— Harpy.  Vand. 
Not Stab thee, yes by the Rage that burns me, through Soul and Body, if I could— let this Confirm it. offers to Stab, he shrinks aside, she throws the Knife at him, and Exit.  Tonn. 
Was there ever such a Devil?— 'gad she frighted me— for this pretty Instrument had certainly been sheathed in my Guts if I had opos'd her longer— well I'll straight to Fieske, discover our adventures, and beg his pardon— and hereafter agree with him. 
That amongst all Mischifs that with Vice engage;  
Nothing so Barbarous as a Strumpets Rage. Exit.     

ACT III.  

SCENE I. Vendosme's Lodgings.  Enter De Fiesque and Tonnerre. Tonn. 
YOu have been to look for her in her Chamber then—  De Fies. 
Yes, and there's no body there but Grossiere; I asked her for her Lady, and with a composed modest look, as if she had been at Confession, she answered, upon her veracity, she had not seen her since morning.  Tonn. 
Pox on her veracity; She's as good as her Mistress, I'll warrant her, whenever any Chamber maid affects fine words, I take it for granted, she's a Whore infallibly. Did you look into the Closet?  De Fies. 
No, the door was locked. Besides, it can't enter into my head she could be there and deny herself to me, after our last reconcilement, and the kindness passed between us this morning.  Tonn. 
Nay, if her Treachery can't enter into your head, after the story I told you of our late adventure, take it from me, your Head and the Brains belonging to it, are in an incurable condition. Oh, confound her, she's the most treacherous, the most base, the most ungrateful, the most pernicious, the most—  De Fies. 
Charming Creature.  Tonn. 
Charming, damn her; she charms indeed, but 'tis by Witchcraft only, the Devil has sent her an Enchanting Outside, t' impose on a young Amorous Fellow's Reason, till he's relieved by wise Consideration; but then the Hag appears in her true colours, and nothing's seen but hellish ugliness.  De Fies. 
I've cause to think this true, but yet must love her. Nay, by Heaven, it seems to me unnatural, to believe her treacherous; a thousand times— with Sighs, and trickling Tears, that down her Rosy Cheeks have sweetly fell— Has she sworn Constancy;  Tonn. 
And a thousand times with fulsome scoffs and laughter, has she behind thy back abused thy kindness, and turned thy passionate Love to ridicule. Besides, prithee be not so blind to think her true for weeping, for Sighs and Tears are the Whore's Ammunition, the Tools and Implements of their damned profession: Thus, like the Prince o'th' Air, they use both Elements, and Blow and Rain, as often as they please.  De Fies. 
So you think to all Mankind alike for Profit, she doles her private favours.  Tonn. 
Most certainly, unless she's catched as the Jilt sometimes is, and falls in love: then the strongest back still carries her; he that has biggest Bones, and drudges best. A pox on Merit, Wit, and Learning, Truckle the lustiest Bargeman is her best Philosopher.  De Fies. 
Damned hellish Creature.  Tonn. 
I believe I can luckily give thee an instance of this presently, for just now as I was coming to find thee out, I chanced to meet that Nauseous fool Sir Blunder: I know not how, but it came into my Head to revenge myself, and wean thee from thy passion, to try him with Vandosme; to pursue which, I told him, she had kind thoughts of him; he ignorant of thy Intrigue with her, like a senseless Gudgeon, swallows the Bait greedily, and told me he would go presently and contrive a Billet-doux for her, and come and show it me.— I told him I should be here, and expect him in two Minutes.  De Fies. 
Nay, if she cope with that Brute.  Tonn. 
Why, that Brute has Money, and your true Jilt shall cope with that or any other Brute for Profit, with two Legs or with four; take that for Gospel. Oh, here he comes, as merry as a Blunder laughs successful Lover, and laughing at the conceit of his rar●s●rowl, and the Richness of his fancy in't, I warrant.  Enter Sir Blunder with a Letter. Sir Blun. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha— dear Devil ha, ha, ha, ha, ha— dear Son of a Bitch, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, Rogue, ha, ha, ha, Rascal, ha, ha. I have done such a ha, ha, ha, such a ha, ha, ha,— such a thing— such a piece of Wit, odds Sacrament, nothing in all France can mend it, I'm sure— ha, ha, ha, here prithee read— how now, who's that— hold, hold a little.  Tonn. 
Oh, only a friend of mine— he's one that understands these sort of things very well— and has a great value for you and your Country, Sir Blunder.  Sir Blun. 
Has he, hal●, 'tis a good tolerable sort of a scoundrel to look to. Dost thou understand Wit, Dogshead—  De Fies. 
Enough to commend yours, Sir Blunder— is it to a Lady?  Sir Blun. 
Ay, ye Whelpsface, ha, ha, ha,— 'tis ha', ha,— 'tis ha', ha, ha,— 'tis to a Lady— if thou'lt have the word lac d, for my part now I love plain-work, I call 'em all Whores, faith.— Come, prithee good Scoundrel read it, let's hear, Gad I have tickled her off, I was in a confounded witty humour, when I writ it.  Tonnerre 
reads You plaguy confounded, little tempting Devil you.  Sir Blun. 
Ha, ha, ha, smart— ha, ha, ha, smart— conceit at first dash— I love to begin merrily with the Jades— hah— to Fiesque.  Fies. 
You begin very merrily with her indeed, Sir.  Tonn. 
reads. You can't believe I was such a Loggerhead, but that like a Cunning, Sly-leering, Tittilizing Quean, as you are, I minded your Ogling yesterday.  Blun. 
Ha, ha, ha,— smart again— go on dear Mongrel.  Tonn. 
reads. And if yours and my Father, Mother, Brothers, and Sisters, Uncles, and Aunts, and all the Dogs & Bitch's in both our Families should have hanged themselves to hinder it— I could not forbear sending you my mind in this Letter.  Blund. 
Good again, ha, ha, was not I a witty Dog there— humph!  De Fies. 
Oh a prodigious witty Dog.  Tonn. 
reads. I know you are a well gascoined good handsome jade, and you shall know that I am an honest, blunt, thundering strong-backed Rascal, who in the humour I'm in, resolve to beat up thy quarters.  Blund. 
Strong and sinewy still— on, on, to the conclusion, dear Rogue.  Tonn. 
reads. And since I have 500 l. to throw away upon a young Doxy, as well as other Fools, let your back door be open, do ye hear, about nine, and if I han't a smack at yourChops before ten, say I amthe Son of a Mastiff, who now Subscribe myself— The obsequious puppy, and languishing Lapdog, Blunder-Bosse.  Sir Blun. 
Right, Rogue, in great Letters at bottom, ha, ha, ha, Gad it makes me laugh to think how fast the Wit flowed from me; why the Devil dost not laugh, how canst forbear? why ye grave Hermaphrodite thou dost not laugh at me.  Tonn. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— Gad, but I do, Sir, and more than that, I'll secure ye all that know ye shall laugh at ye.  Sir. Blund. 
Gad, I'll send it to London by the next Post; and have it Printed in the next Collection of Letters, that come out by the topping Wits there. I know a Bookseller that will give any rate for't, to set off the rest.  De Fies. 
Why, faith, your stile will be very particular, Sir Blunder.  Sir Blun. 
Pox on't ay, if there were a thousand, though I'm told there is but one comes to her— A Count they say, but a pitiful sneaking Puppy.  De Fies. 
What says the Dog?  Tonn. 
Nay, Fiesque, is this your temper? (aside to him.)  Sir Blun. 
Well, with ●e good 〈◊〉 scoundrel I'll go and dispatch this away immediately, and afterwards, if e'er I meet any Count there, I'll kick the Son of a Whore to Atoms Exit Sir Blund.  De Fies. 
Oh, Slave, 'dsheart must I bear this and not cut his Throat.  Tonn. 
Ye must; he is not worth your anger; besides, remember, friend, this fool is to be the touchstone to try the nature of that Jilt Vandosme, and so procure thy happiness and freedom: Come, let's go and take a turn or two in the Garden, and then come again, perhaps she may have dispatched her new Intrigue by that time and return.  De Fies. 
Hard fate, my Curse is want of Liberty,  
And yet 'twill be a greater to be free. Exeunt.  Enter Sanferre and Grossiere. Sans. 
Not within sayst thou, Sweet heart?  Gross. 
No indeed, my Lord— Oh dear, upon my veracity she'll be extremely concerned to be from home, when your Grace does her this honour of a Visit, but she's so teized about recovering an Estate from some kindred of hers, and the troublesome Lawyers do so plague her every, day that I speak sincerely, my Lord, she's hardly ever at quiet for 'em.  Sans. 
She's so incomparable a Beauty, that I should rather have thought her Lovers, than her Lawyers had plagued her.  Gross. 
Lovers— alas— upon my veracity, my Lord, her head's upon something else, but she seldom stays long out, and if your Grace pleases to take a turn or two in the Garden, I'll run and inform you the very minute she comes.  Sans. 
Ay, with all my heart.  Gross. 
Your Grace's most humble Servant, I'll go watch her coming.  Exit Gross. Sans. 
This is a subtle Quean, for all her simpering, and trained to lie; she's one o'th' Devils Scrutores, crammed full of secret sins, and never opened but by the potent Master-Key call'd Gold: However, I am armed, and if I can by cunning, or some expense, discover from her Mistress, who I perceive is great with Guillamour, what I suspect between him and my Wife, I have my ends; the Viper shall then leave gnawing me to prey on them: If she comes, to nights the time; if not, a Letter filled with Golden promises, and the present of some Jewel, shall charm her in the morning. 
Beauty, man's chiefest blessing, all must own,  
Which we dull Husband's hope is ours alone:  
But oh what torments does that wretch endure,  
That doubts his power that blessing to secure? Exit.   Re-enter Grossiere with Vandosme, peeping. Van. 
Are you sure the Coast is clear?  Gross. 
Yes, yes, very sure; they are all gone into the Garden, and if the truth were known, with heavy hearts.  Vand. 
Ay, 'tis all one; I had rather their hearts were out, than I had lost this dear minute.  Gross. 
Well, Madam, I see I shall never leave your service till I'm quite damned about it: This is the three and twentieth lie I have told to day for ye; Lord have mercy upon me, what will become of my Soul!  Vand. 
O prithee go and employ thy Soul in adding to the Musical performance within, that's all the use thou hast for't that I know of; for my part, I have not thought of my own this seven year. Come, my dear lord Exit Grossiere.  Enter Guillamour. They sit down. 

Love's Rapture. A Song.  

I.  
Ye pretty Birds, that Chirp and Sing,  
Ye Trees and Plants, that Bud and Grow;  
Ye fragrant Flowers, that bless the Spring,  
Tell me whence comes it you do so.  
Hark, hark, they answer, 'tis Celestial Fire  
The Gods call Love, that does us all inspire.   

II.  
That sacred Flame that sweetly Charms  
My Soul when lovely Cynthia sings,  
That all Creation; Labour warms,  
And Matter to Perfection brings:  
The busy useless Sun may cease to shine,  
'Tis Love that sheds the Influenoe Divine.   

Second Movement.  
Then Lovers love on, and get Heaven betimes,  
He that Loves well, atones for the worst of his Crimes.  
Jove's Gate is locked fast on the Sordid and Base;  
But the generous Lover is sure of a Place:  
And the Nymph her Elysium need question no more,  
When her Saint has a Key to open the door.    Guil. 
Dear, sweetest Creature, I am charmed to follow thee. Oh, I shall tire thee, my Dear. Besides, Fiesque may come.  Vand. 
— And go, when he does come, he has proved that already. Oh my dear Lord, there is vast difference between the man loves me, and him I love. Fiesque is witty, honest, brave, and generous. I know he loves me too, even to despairing; but what's all this when inclination shuns him, I have no relish of his entertainment, he always treats me with a palled repast, which though it feeds me, yet still it leaves me hungry.  Guil. 
And shall not I be palled too and insipid, when your nice fancy's pleased to change the Diet?  Vand. 
Oh no, you are a Regalia where there's all variety, your Tongue; your Face, your Shape, your Charming Air, your Motion, Mein, your every looks a Banquet: You're like that sweet Tree in the Sunny Continent, where all the best Spices grow together; and if you can but bloom with Flowers of Constancy.  Guill. 
Oh enough of 'em to make a tolerable Nosegay, never fear, Child. Dear Duchess I beg thy pardon, for I'm a very lying Rogue. aside.  Vand. 
Could you but love me only, for your sake I'd sacrifice the rest of human kind, but you are an Englishman, and of a Nation, famous for Levity, full of wavering fancies; you are ne'er contented with the present good, though Ruin follows still the vice of changing.  Guill. 
Gad she has nicked us to a hair, right as she had the Spirit of Prophecy. The very Women now have found us out.— This is our blessed Character all the World over.  Enter Grossiere hastily, and whispers Vandosme. Vand. 
Gurse on him— the impertinent is come back— Come, my Lord, let's go in again to my Chamber, I'm resolved I won't see him.  Guill. 
Oh no, not now, for his curiosity must needs disturb us; besides, you must see him a little sometimes, 'twill give the less occasion to suspect us. I'll slip down the back stairs. Exit Guillamour leaving a Letter-case on the Chair.  Vand. 
Hell take him, would he were blind. Oh how nauseous an old teizing Lover is, when our eager thoughts are bent upon a new one, I will not see him.— Grossiere, do you come back and invent another lie?  Gross. 
Nay, Faith, you must do it yourself now, for I have ne'er a one ready. Exeunt Vand. and Gross.  Re-enter Fiesque. Fies. 
How different are the various accidents that still attend on Love, what vast distinctions between the happy and unfortunate: Now is Tonnerre gone flushed with expectation, to meet his charming Countess; lucky fellow! The Planets all conspire to bless his Minutes, whilst I, born in an unpropitious hour, wait for those favours, which the Fair ingrate, perhaps, just now is giving to another.— How now, what's here a Letter-case— 'tis so; by your leave, secret Carrier, you may make some discovery— hah, by Heaven, a Picture too, and of the charming Duchess the Sannserre, joined with a Letter of her Handwriting, and Subscribed to the Lord Guillamont— Hell and Furies, 'tis plain now he has been lately here with false Vandosme, and negligently dropped these in his ecstasy, and to confirm it more, see here her Glove, wrought with Gold Flowers, the very Glove I gave her; here has been clasp, twine, close embraces, the hand that wore this circling round his Neck— Oh Jilt, vile Woman, base, ungrateful Traitress; oh here comes her Emissary, down passion for a moment, now where's your Lady?—  Enter Grossiere Gross. 
Not returned yet, Sir, and affirmatively I fear, since her coming is so delayed, that the Gentlewoman she went to see, has prevailed with her to stay and dine  Fies. 
Very good, there's one lie gone already, and no doubt three or four more ready at her Tongue's end; she keeps 'em lumped up for her use in the corner of her Jaw, as a Monkey does the remainder of his dinner. Come, pray draw near a little, and answer, if you please, affirmatively, do you know this?  Gross. 
Ha, my Lady's Glove! Oh unlucky negligence, aside. O me, what, has your Lordship found one of my Gloves? pray give it me, my Lord, I left it here about half an hour ago, there's the fellow on't within.  Fies. 
Good again, there's another lie gone out of the lump; the stock will waste plaguily at this rate— Your Glove, Sock-mender, did I get this work done to Embroider your dirty Golls, hah? Besides, a pox on ye, your Gloves are both of 'em on.  Gross. 
Oh dear! so they are affirmatively.  Fies. 
Are they so? good Pomatum-pot, by which then I think your veracity is made out very plain, besides a Letter carelessly left here, subscribed to the Lord Guillamour; and a Picture too of the Lady that sent it, sufficiently tells me what Gentlewoman has been visited. Go, hunt her out, and tell her from me, that I'm glad her price is so fallen, that she's subservient to one, that I find only uses her as a foil to another. I have some other advices for her, tell her, which she shall have; at present I have changed my mind of seeing her: Away, and pray deliver this with your best veracity.  Gross. 
Oh dear, but really your Lordship is under a great mistake, about my Lord Guillamour's being here on her account, though your Lordship has found a Picture, and some things relating to him, yet I can assure your Lordship, upon my veracity, that my Lord Guillamour; I mean that my Lady, I-I-I say, that my Lord has been do-do-do doing, humph, that my Lady has been do-do-do doing, pish, that my Lord, humph, that my Lady.—  Fies. 
Humph, that my Lord and my Lady have been do-do-do doing a great deal of business, I don't doubt. Go, go, therefore without stuttering more about the matter and do yours.  Gross. 
O dear, I can't get out one bit of a lie more, affirmatively. Ex.  Fies. 
This last lie was tied to the lump a little faster than the rest, and could not get passage. Stay, who comes here; hah, the Duke de Sanserres; can his haughtiness condescend to an intrigue with her too? Damn her, she deals will all sorts, qualities, and constitutions; now I have Gall enough to make his Veins Crackle with fiery rage, by showing him his Lady's Picture and Letter here: But than I have a thought of putting the last to a better use, and since Guillamour and his Grace have privately their designs upon my Mistress, I'll try what my Brain can work out of this to effect upon his Wife.  Enter Sanserre. Sans. 
She's not come yet I find. I must therefore have patience till to morrow. How now, who's this? My Lord Fiesque! Why this is half a Miracle, for you and I to meet in a young ladies' Lodgings: For my part, I am a grave Married Man which keeps my visit from suspicion, but if my Amorous Lord Guillamour, who dotes on her so, should find you, I fear there would be Heart burnings.  Fies. 
So, he knows of their Intrigue too, they are come to doting upon one another, it seems, already. My Lord, this may indeed pass upon me for a common visit of yours, but if the Duchess knew of it, I question whether she would not have other sentiments; I believe she could hardly defend herself from jealousy, my good Lord.  Sans. 
Ha, that was meant as a hit to me. (aside) Well, Count, your double entendre is not quite lost upon me, the shaft came a little oblique 'tis true, but we know your design was to aim right; and though you care not to marry, and venture on your own Wife to be the Target, yet at another man's White, no doubt but you'd prove a very good Marksman.  Fies. 
When ever I marry, my Lord, it shall be to such a one, that shall be uncapable to shoot others, and consequently, I need not fear her being shot at herself.  Sans. 
Oh this is cunningly crying down the Market, like one that's buying a rich Bargain of Land, and is afraid of being overbid, and having it bought out of his hand by another— Come, come, Count, I know you love Beauty.  Fies. 
Ay, too well, to marry a Beauty that every body will love as well as myself, my Lord. Besides, I should hate to be jealous and stint the poor things of a little liberty; I should never think that giving 'em an inch they would take an ell: not I, I should always love to have 'em satisfied.  Sans. 
Faith, Count, if so little as you say will satisfy 'em, they must be very poor things indeed.  Fies. 
Ah, if that be the best reason for a Husband's jealousy, I should hold my old opinion. You see here my Lord, this picture in my hand.  Enter Guillamour and observes 'em. Sans. 
Well, my Lord, and what of that.  Guill. 
Ha, the Duke de Sanserre and Fiesque here. By heaven, and my Picture that I lost, and have fretted so about, open in his hand.  Fies. 
'Tis of a Lady and infinitely beautiful.  Sans. 
Do I know her, prithee let me see it. Guill. rushes between.  Guill. 
'Dshea● and death, not for a hundred thousand Worlds, my Lord. I must beg your pardon to concern myself in this matter, 'tis the Picture of a Relation of mine which I lost out of my Pocket: She's a Nun in Brussels, and excluding herself from the World, obliged me upon Oath, to keep her Picture from all Eyes. The privilege this accident has given you already▪ my Lord, is past my power of hindering, but, Fiesque, as you are a man of Honour.  Fies. 
And is not your Honour a little tainted, my Lord, in being false to her that gave this Picture, and does not the discovery of your flight here, at my Quarry, oblige me to a Revenge. aside  Guill. 
— Upon me what you please, but considering the Lady's quality and merit— to all men of honour her reputation ought to be sacred.  Sans. 
But there may be a very great reason for my seeing it, perhaps, my Lord, I have lost a Picture too.  Guill. 
You can't lose my Picture, my Lord, therefore I must beg your excuse; besides, my Relation here has a very long Nose, which is not customary, my Lord, in your French family.  Sans. 
My French Family have as good Noses and Faces belonging to 'em, as e'er an English Family in Christendom— and now I think more on't, I believe I am concerned in the Picture—  Guill. 
Not in this, I once more am positive.  Fies. 
Nay, that 'tis his Picture, I must join with him there, but as to the Lady she may be related to both, for aught I know. However, to deal like a Man of Honour, the property being his, I must restore it to him. gives it to him. And now my Lord, pray a word in private.  Sans. 
The property may be only his indeed, and it is not impossible that it may be mine too; but then methinks 'tis unnatural to believe that this Wild English Colt can have his Leaps with both of 'em, though I once had an account of a hot fellow of that Nation, that debauch 〈◊〉 whole Family together, the Mother, two Aunts, three Daughters, and four Nieces, all at a time; but damn him this is not authentic enough to prove his double intrigue here: My Letter to morrow therefore to Vandosm must dissolve my doubt, I'll go and write it instantly. Exit. Sans.  Fies. 
The Duke is gone dissatisfied; and now, my Lord, I think you have reason to say I am a man of honour.  Guill. 
That I shall always say, I hope too I have satisfied you as to my proceedings with your Mistress Vandosm; I fear you and I are but two of her Lovers, my Lord; what discovery happens more, upon my honour, you shall know, and so your humble Servant. Exit Guillamour.  Fies. 
As far as Generosity, by your own example obliges me, I am yours too, but you shall give me leave to be even with you if I can▪ Mistress for Mistress 'tis fit I should be rewarded, either by merit or stratagem; here is the Letter still, which I find he has forgot; this, with my cunning management, may give me a sweet revenge, and serve him in his kind too: Let me see— Ha, in a Poetical strain, by Heaven; I have heard indeed she had a pretty talon that way. 
(Reads) If in the Marriage-state be Harmony,  
'Tis then like Music when the parts agree;  
And Wives, like Lutes, when fumbled on, will soon,  
jarring in Artless hands, grow out of Tune:  
You, dear Musician, have the only way  
To touch my heartstrings right, and sweetly play.   
Oh charming Creature and above mortally happy Guillamour, was there ever any thing so tender; but now for the Postscript. Reads. I shall be in the Arbour at the end of the Garden, every night about ten, which is the only time I have to undress, and my Husband spares me to play at Chess with his old Steward; the Maid will be at the back door, to be your Guide in the dark, if your heart inclines you to waste one short hour in my Conversation: Come therefore and be sure to make no noise— So, these are as plain instructions as heart can wish, and I am resolved to supplant this happy Lover, come what will on't, if I can but get in first, 'twill be easy to lock him out, and I'll be as punctual as the moment. 
A cheat in Love does no dishonour bear,  
For so you win, do't any way, 'tis fair. Exit.    

SCENE II.  Enter Tonnerre, and Lady Brissac, as from Cards. L Briss. 
Hang the Cards, I never have any luck when I play with you.  Tonn. 
Quite contrary, for you never have better luck than when you play with me.  L Briss. 
I won't play out the Game, I'm resolved you shan't conquer me now.  Tonn. 
What now? You're got into your Petticoats again, you think to bully me, Gad if you had been in Breeches, I'd have had satisfaction: Besides, I wonder you should talk of Conquering, I'm sure at the end of the play, you have always the better of me.  L Briss. 
Pish, you are always wresting ones words to your own silly meaning, if I should talk of a Charnel-house, on my Conscience, your lewd fancy would turn it to a House of good entertainment.  Tonn. 
No, Child, not unless we had some Flesh there too, to make up our entertainment; to have a Regalia of all Bones only, is fitter for a Hound, than a Whore master.  L Briss. 
Come, come, let's go into my Sister's Closet, and unbridle her Pegasus, she's making Verses there.  Tonn. 
With all my heart: Oh, I love a Billet in Rhyme from a sweet Lady, with all my Soul. Exeunt.  Enter Daubray. Daub. 
So, now I think my intelligence to my Lord, will be worth discovery; for the first that went into my Lady's Closet, was a man I am sure, I have observed him up and down here for two or three days together, and just now I found his Coat and Breeches in an Alcove above Stairs, and who, now to keep his Intrigue the more secret, is gone to her in a female dress. This is a discovery worth Gold, Faith, and I'll give my Lord an account of it immediately. Exit.  Re-enter Lady Sanserre, Lady Brissac, and Tonnerre, reading a Paper. Tonn. 
Tho reason his strong power imparts,  
If passions keep their Torrent still;  
If, spite of all our Praying Arts,  
Love gains a Conquest o'er our hearts;  
Where is the use of our Free Wills.  
What, Poetical Sophistry too, gad, Madam, you ought to be Arraigned before Apollo, by all his Sons, for usurping their Masculine prerogative. Methinks your Province should be Loves soft Government, or Wits Fairy ●and, and not grave sophistical Arguments. Why does not your Ladyship write a Play?  L Sans. 
Because, like a new unpractised Pilot, though I can make shift to steer my Vessel in a calm, yet in a storm, and where so many Rocks are too, I never durst have the rash assurance yet, to venture splitting.  L. Briss. 
Pho? 'Tis not a small Rock, Sister, that can hurt a Woman, when her fancy is so vigorous as yours is. Besides, you have Examples enough: you see here are Poetical Sapho's venturing among the critical Rocks every day; and I dare swear for 'em, with as little fear of splitting, as if, like little Pinnaces, they were entering a Dock where a Vessel was Riding of two hundred Tun.  Tonn▪ 
〈◊〉 ha, ha— Faith, I even long, Madam, to see some of your productions in that kind, I'm sure they must be good, and full of fancy Come, I'll help ye to a Theme, and give ye a Name— Let me see, you shall call it the— humph—  L Sans. 
Pish— you are as long in inventing a Name, as a good Poet would be writing an Act. If I were to undertake such a thing, I'd call it without more ado— The Intrigues at Versailles.  L Briss. 
Good— that would raise expectation, Sister, because there's a double entendre in't: The Intrigues at Versailles— or, we must have an or— ye know.  Tonn. 
Or, the Court Cuckolds— you must have something of Cuckold-making in't, or else the Comedy won't be worth a farthing—  L Briss. 
Phoo, and that jest is as stale too, as Matrimony is after the first twelvemonth.— No, we'll have, or— let me see, or— ha, ha, ha, or the Count in Petticoats.  L Sans. 
No, no, Sister, methinks the Countess in Breeches would do as well— ha, ha, ha,— and make a Character of a wild giddy headed young thing, that run out of the Country where her old Husband left her.  Tonn. 
Ha, ha, ha, ay, and for the love that she bore to the aforesaid Breeches.  L Briss. 
No, prithee the Count's love to the aforesaid Petticoats, will come better in first: And then to embellish it with the Character of a fine Poetical Lady, that has a horrible jealous Husband, and that uses him so properly, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Tonn. 
That also keeps Company with an old Beau, who fancying his Wife is conserving in the Country, giveth her opportunity to come to Court here, and use him so properly— ha, death, damnation, here he comes.  Enter Brissac. L Briss▪ 
'Tis he by Heaven— cursed accident— I have ne'er a Mask neither— Oh, if he sees me I'm undone. Runs behind Tonnerre.  Briss. 
Why how now? What a Lady hide herself from me, that must never be said, (goes to see her. Tonn. hinders.) Pox, prithee, dear Empress, tell her I love Ladies; and if she be a friend to her that charms me, I'll wear her in my heart, tell her, as I do thee, my precious— Goes to embrace her: She clasps about his Neck, and kissing, covers his Face, whilst L. Brissac goes out.  Tonn. 
Oh my dear Count—  Briss. 
Oons, I'm in Heaven— oh, my lovely, dear, enchanting Creature! Why this is beyond imagination— I never was so happy before.  L Sann. 
That embrace was wittily contrived o'th' sudden, he had certainly discovered her else. Come, come off now. Count, you'll smother the Lady.  Tonn. 
Ay, come, let's have a little Air— So, now I'm a little cooler.  Briss. 
And so am I now too, well, I am the happiest fellow— phoo— phoo— Fans himself. Gad, these Love toys have a greater fatigue in 'em than I imagined.  Tonn. 
I must after her, and know where she hides, or else this old fool has disappointed me still. Exit Tonn.  Briss. 
What is she gone? gad I must Rally again, I must not leave her so. Come, Madam, how shall we divert this Afternoon, are you for the Opera or Gardens. Ha, come, for my part I'm for any thing.  L Sans. 
And at these years, troth, that ● little less than a wonder. Well, Count, we'll resolve of that within; in the mean time let me give ye a little good advice. 
When Age and Youth Love's ticklish Game begin:  
Youth having still the odds, is sure to win.  
Then since our Sex such subtle Gamesters are,  
Be sure you set no more than you can spare.  
Save your remainder for a future end,  
And manage wisely, your last Stake, old friend Strikes him on the back and Exeunt.   Briss. 
'Gad thou'lt in the right— so I intent    

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Enter Vandosme and Grossiere. Gross. 
ANd have you really ventured, Madam, to send for the Count, after your resolution of not seeing him, and the last whimsical trick you put upon him?  Vand. 
Yes that I have, and expect him here every minute— Resolution ye fool, why what signifies a woman's resolution, when any turn of interest appoints the contrary? hast thou gleaned all this while from the harvest of my fertile brain, and have I taught thee so long in my own Instructive Catechism, to boggle at a silly word that signifies nothing? Resolution- why ye Mooncalf, I have resolv'd, and unresolv'd, and resolved again, forty times in an hour, if the occasion has been proper.  Gross. 
And will the Onion that's wrapped up in the Handkerchief, and the repentant●story, and the Tears that shall issue thereupon pass upon him, think you, you know he's no fool.  Vand. 
Yes mine always— and so are all Mankind when I think fit— thou shalt see me mould his heart in the palm of my Hand like foft Wax, till I make it bear what impression I please. Always▪ remember this from me▪ a man is no longer wise than when a Woman is indifferent to him, if ever he falls in Love once, farewell Brains, his Wit deserts him presently— he's just like a Witch, detected when ever she's in hold once, her favourite Devil leaves her; But come now to our business. You say the Fool, Sir Blunder, that sent me this comical Love Declaration, is come already.  Gross. 
Yes, and I have locked him up in the Inner-chamber according to your order.  Vand. 
There let him stay then a little, and tell the Lovisd Orseolo over, that he has brought me for Entrance money, for as sordid a Clown as he is, he knows nothing but the Gold Key can unlock the Cabinet of my Conversation.— So there let him cool a little, whilst in complaisance to the Duke de ' Sanserres Letter, as also to deserve his noble Present here, shows a Necklace but particularly to revenge myself on Guillamour, whom I now know to be false, I'll discover the Intrigue between him ct the Duchess, you saw the Letter in the Count's hand you say; that was found with the Picture.  Gross. 
Yes, and am sure it must come from the Duchess by his following words. Tell her, says he with a scornful Air▪ I am glad her price is so fallen, and that she's subservient to one that only uses her as foil to another.  Vand. 
A foil to another. Death— how that word inflames me. Besides▪ I find now too the reason of the Traitor's coldness, when I desired him to go in a second time; he had a greater sum to pay, it seems, and and so sneakingly only popped me off with his odd Money; but I'll revenge myself on both, and by prevailing insinuation, and my never failing Tears, wheadle that Letter out of fond Fiesque, then show it to the Duke to undo 'em; you have told the other fool within, that I'm at present only a little busy with a Relation that came to visit me.  Gross. 
I have told what you bid me, but affirmatively, Madam, it shocks me strangely to think that you should abuse the generous good natured Count; for such a horrid Monster as this Blunder, I swear I am extremely dissatisfied.  Vand. 
You are dissatisfied?  Gross. 
Well Madam as inconsiderable as you think me now, my Wit at a pinch sometimes, has done you considerable service. And I must be so bold to say once more, affirmatively, I admire you should Jilt the Count for this Monster; for, if you would but give yourself time to think a little, you'd find there's ne'er a man in France, fuller of Love, fuller of Generosity, fuller of Wit good Humour, and all gentle Qualities upon my veracity, than the injured Coun●t is— but for the tother.  Vand. 
But for the tother— upon my veracity, he has one solid Virtue in a full Purse of Louisd'Ors which he has brought yonder, that excels all the Count's good Qualities together. He has come empty handed of late, and whenever he does so, I fancy his Qualifications weaken extremely.  Gross. 
Oh horrid forgetfulness, 'tis but a very few hours since, to my knowledge, he presented ye with a very good Diamond Ring, and before that, hardly ever saw ye, without some acknowledgement or other. Besides, a true Love always relished with a strong Inclination; what qualification has the tother▪ I wonder?  Vand. 
Money▪ ye fool, Money.  Gross. 
The Count has a pretty Address, an excellent vein in Music and Poety, and then the charms of such a Tongue, what can compare with it?  Vand. 
Money, Money, ye Ass, Money— (eagerly.)  Gross. 
Besides, a Love so endearing and he himself so indefatigable, in proving it that even I myself that have been seasoned in your principles, and bred as very a Jilt as yourself— I beg your pardon, Madam, I cannot help owning his Perfection— can you deny this— has he any equal?  Vand. 
Money, Money, Money, Money, Money, Money. (sings).  Gross. 
Damnation on Money, have I not seen you sometimes in your freak, throw it like dirt about the room; nay, what has vexed me to the Soul, and seems almost incredible— to a fellow you have fancied I have seen you refund; a thing unnatural to the two great damning functions of the World, Whores and Lawyers.  Vand. 
Pish, thy Soul is so sordidly mercenary, it can set no value upon pleasure, which as well as I love Money, I always fix the highest rate upon. Besides, Bullion may be scarce, and then to Traffic with Goods for other Goods will be practicable. And don't you believe, Idiot, but that if ever I refund my Money, I have a prospect of other returns.— Hark, that's the Count's knock,— away, and remember your cue, leave me to manage him. knocks within, Exit Vandosme.  Gross. 
Examples in all things like this are found,  
Some chowse, others are chowsed, and so the World goes round  Exit Grossiere. Re enter Vendosme with Fiesque. Fies. 
You cannot blame me, Madam, if after some late passages I am surprised, to find myself summoned hither by so obliging a Letter. 'Tis so extravagant a turn, that I fear I dream, or am in Fairy-land, where joys are only visionary. Pray resolve me, are you thus kind indeed, is it substantial happiness?  Vand. 
Pray sit down— (softly) They sit, she locks kindly on him.  Fies. 
How irresistible are Beauty's charms, when such a gentle softness makes addition— hah— Tears too (she weeps.) Oh, you know I am not proof against 'em— whoever those dear pearly Treasures fall for, I am most prone to grieve.  Vand. 
They only fall for you.  Fies. 
Nay, do not kill me quite— A phrase like that, if true, would murder me with Rapture— for Charity's sake, abuse me not so grossly, nor use my oft-tryed fondness to my ruin.  Vand. 
I do confess you ought not to believe, if my past faults sway your consideration. But, Sir, the vilest Creature may repent: Though Ihave sinned, Iam not reprobate; by all the sacred powers they are for you, and could Repentance this way merit pardon, thus they should drop eternally.  Fies. 
For me, for poor neglected me? What can I think of this!  Vand. 
Think me no real Devil, and every other wickedness I do confess, I've been in my ingratitude, for I have used the best of men most vilely, but oh my Conscience now flies in my face— now now— I smart for't— sibs and weeps.  Fies. 
Is it possible!  Vand. 
It is, dear Sir, it is— believe these Sighs, these true repentant Words and real Tears— crying out.  Fies. 
The brightest Gems that Beauty can put on, to make herself more Lovely— oh, who can resist 'em, looks amourously on her.  Vand. 
I wronged your Love, by an intrigue with Guillamour; your true, your generous, your perfect Love, that valued me in spite of Injuries. I own it, Sir, and thus low beg your pardon: Kneels, and tears her Gloves and Ribbons. Oh, I could stab or tear myself in pieces, when I reflect upon my baseness to ye.  Fies. 
Nay, nay, sweet— no violence, I do forgive thee all.  Vand. 
Can you be so good.  Fies. 
So good! why hadst thou murdered all my Family, ruined my Fortune, consum'd my Health, done Injuries above all human malice; yet, pleading in this posture, with those Tears, that lovely look, so us'd to charm my Heart, I should forgive thee: Oh thou sweet influencer—  Embraces her eagerly. Vand. 
Charming, kind Fiesque— if I prove false again—  Fi●s. 
Oh, I cannot doubt thee, this must be now the last of all our differences, forget but Guillamour, and then, my Love—  Vand. 
Forget him, yes, and for substantial reasons, my dear friend, for as you gave me a hint lately, I find he made me only a Minute's property, whilst his more lasting intrigue was with another, Witness the Picture and Letter which you found of his— I know he will visit me again, to renew with me upon better leisure: And if I had but either of them to fling in his face now, I should fit him rarely: What have you done with 'em, my dearest?  Fies. 
Why, Faith upon a high point of generosity, I gave him the Picture again, but for the Letter—  Vand. 
Oh, if you have but that 'twill be enough— look in your Pocket, dear Sir, and give it me to show him, and he shall know nothing but that I found it. I know the sight of it, I must give occasion for such a quarrel, as will be past all reconcilement, which is my design, for than I am yours entirely— embracing him.  Fies. 
She has me again— nor can I, for mySoul, help believing every word she says. Well, though we are reconciled, and do I give her this Letter, to complete my Revenge upon Guillamour, she shall excuse my present design upon the Duchess, or else I am not even with her: Her having it hinders me nothing, I know the contents well enough. There 'tis, Child, and let it, as you say, be thought as if you found it.  Vand. 
It shall, and doubt not but you shall be pleased with the effects of it,  Enter Grossiere, and whispers. Gross. 
She has her ends, and now 'tis my time to enter.  Vand. 
Oh hang him, she tell me, my dear, that nauseous fool: Sir Blunder Bosse is come to visit me, I'm sure you canst be jealous of that Monster; but I would not have him see you with me, because you know 'tis such a prating fool—  Fies. 
Ay, he is so, therefore dear Child, for the present adieu: kisses her, and Exit. I'm glad it happened thus, for this being the hour, I should else have been puzzled for an excuse to get away to the Duchess; Humph! A double intrigue upon my hands, and with two such Angels, the Devil's in't if I am not a happy Man now.  Vand. 
So, here's the Letter, and in it the utter ruin of Guillamour's intrigue with his fine Poetical Lady; I'll teach her to call me her foy!— ha, ha, ha, and then I can't forbear Laughing, to think how artificially I have play'd this last Tear-shedding Scene— Here prithee take away the nasly Onion and Handkerchief, and give me another dipped in some Orange-flower Water to wipe my fingers. She gives her water.  Gross. 
Nay, you are a rare Actress, I'll ●ay that for you— What, and you are resolved then that Beast Blunder shall come.  Vand. 
Come, fool, yes, and this minute too; I'll supple my Face with a little Pomatum and Powder, to get it ●n order, and then let him enter.  Gross. 
Pox on him, I can hardly endure the thoughts of him. Well, be sure you seize his Money on the first Attack, or else, the Devil take me, if I shall not rail outright. Exit Vand.  Exit Grossiere, and presently Reenters with Sir Blunder. Sir Bl. 
Harkee, you Fleabitten, thou seemest to be a very good necessary Quean, prithee get a Faggot or two into the next room against we come in— I have stayed so long there without Fire, that, gadzooks, I'm damnably cold.  Gross. 
And where's the Money? without Money you may get 'em yourself, if you please; for my part I don't owe ye so much service.  Sir B. 
Why, how now, ye piece of old Hat, what are ye musty? the Jade's as musty as a stale pot of Marmalade of her own making.  Enter Vandosme. 
What sayst thou my pretty Baggage of ten thousand, shan't we have a Fire and a Bottle? ha.  Vand. 
Ay, by all means, Sir Grossiere, hold your Tongue, go and get a Fire.  Sir B. 
Ay, do do, old Tag-snapper, and then look to the Door, do ye hear, that no body come and disturb us why, what ye lowering Jade, you know your function sure. Ex. Gross. frowning.  Vand▪ 
She's gone, Sir; and in the mean time pray come and sit down.  They sit down at a Table▪ Sir B. 
Where's Money a saucy Sow; Gad my Credit's very bad sure, if'twoned go for the price of a Faggot— And I think here's a Witness strong enough to show, that the Family of the Bosseers hate to be stingy. There's a hundred Lovisd ' Orseolo for ye, ye little twinkling Devil; and now give me a buss.  Vand. 
Your humble Servant, Sir,— a hundred Louisd'Ors, why, then the Devil take me, if the man be half so disagreeable, as I thought him. (aside.)  Sir B. 
Gad the Gipsy has a pure tickling touch with her; her Lips are as soft as Butter, they almost melt in my Mouth. Gadzooks I like her better than my former Punk the Potato-woman, a thousand times.  Vand. 
I warrant he'd cuff lustily, before A Woman should be taken from him— I like such a well-set Fellow, do ye hear; bring a Flask of Champaign hither.  Sir B. 
Why▪ well said? Gad I must have t'other Buss, I must Faith. harkee, dost hear, I can't Compliment and play the Fool, as the Coxcomby, Flashy, Town Sonss-of-whore do, but I love thee soundly; and, gadzooks, will give thee as hearty proof on't, as e'er a fellow in Christendom.  Vand. 
Indeed, Sir, I'm extremely inclined to believe ye, your Air and Shape, shows ye to be a very good friend to a Woman.—  Sir B. 
Nay, thou seest I'm lusty enough, if that will do't: My back is three quarters broad, measur'd by a Dutch Burgo-master's Yard, and the Calf of my Leg, eighteen Inches Diameter.  Vand. 
Well, I know not what ails me, but, methinks the blunt humour of this fellow wins me strangely; methinks there's something so very new in him. (aside.)  Sir B. 
Pox on your cringing flashy Coxcombs— Come Chuck, sit down, and to make us merry, I have two English Chairmen without, shall sing a humour made upon on of those Puppies— hay, Chairmen, come in their, bring the Chair, and Act it as you used to do.  Re-enter Grossiere, and Butler▪ with a Flask. Enter 2 Chairmen with a Chair. 

A new Dialogue, sung between two Chairmen, supposed to be waiting all Night at a Tavern-door, for a Town-Rake.  1 Ch. 
HEy hoe, hay hoe, hay hoe— yawning  
The Clock has just struck four,  
The Chimes to tell the hour;  
And morning Cocks that Crow, hay hoe, hoe.  2 Ch. 
My Lord, 
* yawns betwixt each word.  my Lord, my Lord—  
My mad Lord Rantipoll  
Sure now his Guts are full,  
Will think 'tis time to go— hay hoe, hay hoe,  1 Ch. 
No, 'tis too soon, he's not yet Crammed to th' Top,  
Faith, Tom, let's home,  
Pox on him he ne'er budges, till the Sun be up.  2 Ch. 
Odsbud, as poor as I am grown,  
I'd rather lose his nasty Crown  1 Ch. 
And so had I  
Confound me if I lie,  
Than wait on such a Fop.  2 Ch. 
What pranks has he been playing all this day,  1 Ch. 
Before, and since, we brought him to the Play▪  2 Ch. 
He pulled a Parson by the Ears,  
As he was going to say Prayers,  
And Rabbit like from Cussack stripped.  1 Changed 
Next morning met a Senator  
And him through Midrife whipped.  2 Ch. 
You Rogue says he, I'll maul you for  
The want of Money in the Nation,  
Land Tales, and the Damning Capitation▪  1 Ch. 
Windows breaking,  2 Ch. 
Children scaring,  1 Ch. 
womans Ruffling,  2 Ch. 
Cuckolds daring.  1 Ch. 
Bullies frighting, slow of fighting,  2 Ch. 
Nor old nor young, degree nor Sexes sparing.  Both. 
Nor old nor etc.  1 Ch. 
He twice razed the Mob  2 Ch. 
And we twice relieved him:  1 Ch. 
From Counter and Newgate,  2 Ch. 
Gallows reprieved him.  1 Ch. 
By handling our Poles, and stout words of def●al,  2 Ch. 
We brought him off safe to the Theatre-Royal:  1 Ch. 
But no sooner got there, and secure from the Rout,  2 Ch. 
When this troublesome Bear puts the Actors all out.  
By squobling in the Pit  
With a Rake-hell he met.  1 Ch. 
About two confounded Whores,  
Who conveyed him out ofdoors.  
And for Supper at last, saved the Fool and his Feather,  2 Ch. 
And here in the Tavern- they're drunk altogether.  Both. 
And here, etc.  Chorus. 
Then, Tom, to th' Army let's away,  
Nor longer wait at Tavern door,  
But take King William's Royal Pay,  
Sit up all Night, and Pimp no more.  
Whilst they, like two Bitch's, and he a third Brute,  
Feel the Constable's Clutches, or trudge home a foot.   Gross. 
Oh, she has the Purse, I see▪ Well, there's a Fire now?  Sir Bl. 
Oh, that's well, though, Gad I'm warmer by a great deal than I was: Give me a Woman I can excuse a Faggot at any time.  Vand. 
Nay, I believe a very little brush would kindle your Faggot, Sir. Come, here's your Health in a Bumper. Fills a Beer Glass and drinks.  Sir B. 
Why, Gad-a-mercy— ah, well drawn faith,— gad I must dispatch quickly, I see the Jade will make me Drunk else. Come here's thy Health now, and zooks, to the happy Minute. He drinks. Gad I have mauled her already, the silly fools in love with me, ha, ha, ha.  Gross. 
What a Devil does she mean by their Advances She Ogles & smiles.  Sir B. 
Come, ne'er stand tampering for the matter; dost love me, my Lusious Landabrides.  Vand. 
By all the Arts of Womankind I do, aside, she drinks again he has bewitched me sure— what if I should, Sir, (to him)  Gross. 
Marry, the Devil fetch him first— what d'ee mean, Madam▪  Sir B. 
harkee, Goodee Crape, get you to your Post, or I have such a Salteel in my Pocket for ye, (he drinks again.)  Vand. 
Huswife, get you gone— she drinks.  Gross. 
Get me gone, Madam?  Sir B. 
Ay, get you gone, Huswife, Jade, Cockatrice, oons, I'll maul ye else. he drinks.  Gross. 
'Sdlife, here's likely to be fine work indeed, by her eager Ogling him, on my Conscience; she loves the Brute, and then she's ruin'd andI too.  Sir B. 
Gad, thou canst not deny't, I see it plainly now, I see it in thy Phiz, thou dost love me.— Why how now, ye simple Quean you, why, what are ye asham'd to own it.  Vand. 
If you can be grateful, I must own it: Come, I've a cold Treat within, we'll go and eat it.  Sir Bl. 
Ay, with all my heart, zooks, what a lucky dog am I. Nay, Faith, let me be Purse-bearer too then, let my gratitude appear altogether,  takes the Purse from her Gross. 
Zounds, you won't part from the Money, Madam.  Sir B. 
Not with the Money, Sawcy-face, why who shall hinder? harkee, hold your Tongue, or— shakes the Rope.  Gross. 
Hinder it! 'Sdlife I'll hinder it— why, what are ye Mad— d'ee know what you are doing. snatches the Purse from him.  Vand. 
Why how now, impudence, dare you dispute my Actions, Huswife, give it me, or I'll tear your Eyes out. Pulls off her Head ●oaths, and takes away the Purse.  Sir B. 
You are an impudent Slut indeed, to dare to dispute our Actions. Come little Bona-roba, let's go in and eat, humph, make your Curtsy and show respect to your Master and Lady, ye Jade to G. then Ex. leading Van.  Gross. 
Ten thousand Furies take her, is there in nature such another Succubus, not only to oblige her self to a Monster like him, but in the Devil's name, in her Cups, to refund his Money too: Oh, I shall run distracted at the thought on't, and she has vexed me so, that I have a good mind to set Fire to the Lodgings, and burn 'em about her Ears, senseless Devil, 'dsdeath, to pervert the main Topick of our function.  
Subtlety, against method we 〈◊〉 our Gain●   

SCENE II. A Garden.  Enter Datchess, Sanserre, Lady Brissac and Tonnerre. L Sans. 
Then sister, you are resolved, you say, to go to this Masquerade, at the Duke de Creque's— since your last scape from your Husband, I swear you grow as bold as a lion.  L Briss. 
I have some thoughts of going, and yet the Music that I hear is to be at the Marquis de la F●rt's, makes me lean a little on t'other side— or else there's Basset at my Lady Cavoy's, what if I should go and venture twenty Pistoles there.  Tonn. 
Ay, where the old Count your Husband comes every night to play, who, squatting down by you on the sudden, desires the civility to go your halves. Well, if you will run these Risks, Madam, e'en get out of 'em as you can; for my part, I have ne'er another judas kiss for him— a plague of Bristles, he half ●lead my face with the last.  L Briss. 
Nay, you ought indeed, to brag of that exploit, for I never knew a kiss that did a Woman any kindness before.  Tonn. 
Oh, you must allow it a pretty Praeludium to love's Music.  L. Briss. 
I remember I read once, a strange, old, dry-headed Poet, that was damnably puzzled to find out the Etymology of it; amongst all fancies, says he— ay,— 'tis so. 
Among all fancies, tell me this,  
Whence came the whim, we call a kiss.   L Sans. 
Well, and there's another old Rhimer, as great a Crambonian as himself, that answers pay thus— 
From Infant Pleasure got and bred,  
Upon the Lips still blushing red,  
By warm desire always fed,  
And makes more sweet the Bridal Bed.   Tonn. 
Why, God-a-mercy Dogrill, gad there's a conceit or two in this, tolerably well.  L Sans. 
Ay, ay, and will do very well, to employ your thoughts upon in another quarter of the Garden. Go, go, get you gone thither. This is Fairy-land, a place where I always exercise my Poetical Talents.  L Briss. 
What thus, in the Dark, Sister, why you cant see to write.  L Sans. 
But I can see well enough to think; and if you don't go quickly, my first thought will be, that you are impertinent if you ask any more questions. Besides, darkness is naturally a confiner of fancy; and my Muse has taught me just as people do Starlings: I sing always best when I've least light: Go, go, get ye gone, I say.  L Briss. 
I believe sweet Sister Sterling, yours is a tenth Muse and of Male-kind, who teaches you so well with his Flage●et, that Company and all other Music is tedious to ye. W●●l▪ adieu, we won't hinder your proficiency: I hope I shall pitch upon some pleasurable diversion, to make me amends for your absence. I'll to the Music, stay, or to the Comedy, hold, or to the Basset, or to the Masquerade, or, or,— or some where, cod I can't tell where yet; come Count  Tonn. 
Come Count, ay but where, where the Devil must I come?  L Briss. 
Why, come away, I tell ye I can't tell where yet: nay, if you grow resty, farewell t'ye. Runs off.  Tonn. 
Whew! She'll be at the Indies within this half hour: Resty! gad I think I have some reason, I'm sure I'm run hard. Exit.  L. Sans. 
I'm glad her giddy head has hurried her away so opportunely, for the happy minute just now comes on when I used to enjoy my dear Guillamour's Conversation— and hark, methinks I hear some walking; ay, 'tis certainly he, and La Busque, for she has been waiting at the Garden-door above this half hour. Enter Fiesque and La Busque.  La B. 
There Sir, that's the way into the Arbour; I'll now go in and see whither the Duke be in his Closet still. Exit.  Fies. 
So, she mistakes me happily; and thus far propitious fortune is favourable; let me but manage my Voice well, the rest will all be easy. Exit.  Guillamour comes over the Wall. Guill. 
The happy Ladder that I found hard by here, in a corner of a House that's new building, has done me signal service; but yet, I can't but wonder, why la Busque should be from the door, but, perhaps my Watch went wrong, and I have mistook the hour— her diligence else doubtless had not been wanting; for which— besides— this Purse that I have brought her here, I know her Lady's favours are not trivial (shows a Purse) Stay, this must be the Arbour,— hah, and sure I hear some bustling,— 'tis certainly she,— the kind Soul was impatient, and is got hither before me.  Re-enter Fiesque, and Lady Sanserre. L Sans. 
Why don't you speak to me,— am I grown stale, that you aford me now but half the joy I used to have.  Guill. 
Ha!  Fies. 
I'm only speechless, with excess of Rapture.  Guill. 
The Devil ye are, Furies and Hell I'm jilted; and to confirm it with the strongest proof, have catched her in the Fact. Come, Sir, guard yourself who ere you are, I'll give ye some fair play. she shrieks  Fiesque turns and fights. Fies. 
Ha— 'tis sure the Duke— now darkness favour me. Exit.  Guill. 
Ah curse of Cowardice, and the clouded Stars, are ye got from me, but I shall grope ye out. in fighting he drops his Purse.  L Sans. 
Oh, softly, dear my Lord, and do but hear me—  Guill. 
Witch, Traitorous Devil,— I had rather hear a Mandrake Groan, or a Toad croaking Vespers.  L Sans. 
By all that's good, I'm innocent in Will.  Guill. 
By all ill, that's thyself, I'll be revenged.  Sans. 
(within) Lights, lights there— hay, within, bring lights there.  Guill. 
So, that's well, first let the Cuckold play his horn part, I'll try to find out the Intriguer to inform him further, (lafoy Busque doubtless can do it) and I'll bribe high to charm her. (aside) And so vile Creature, farewell for ever. Exit.  L Sans. 
I am so confounded— I have lost my Scences; Thief's; Thief's.  Re-enter La Busque and Sanserre Armed, Servants with Lights. 
Lights, lights— O my Lord I'm heartily glad you're come, I've been so horribly frighted with Thiefs.  Sans. 
Thiefs— what a Devil make you here?  L. Sans. 
'Tis my custom, my Lord, (how I tremble!) I do so every night after Supper, (I can hardly breathe!) to exercise my Poetical fancy.  Sans. 
O plague on your fancy— this cursed Poetry has made more Cuckolds than all the rest of the Liberal Sciences together: Go, search round the Garden Letts, see what sort of Thiefs these are. Ex. Servants.  La Bus. 
He you take for a Thief is far enough from thee by this time I hope, for I left the Key in the door. aside.  Sans. 
If I mistake not, I heard a clashing of Swords; what were they fighting about their Booty before they had it? or were you that part of my Goods and Chattels they were tilting for, hah? they chose but an ill place for't here among the Flower-knots: How now, what's here? A Purse under my feet— 'Tis so, 'dsdearh, and cramm'd with Gold! ah, 'tis plain now, these Rogues were too rich to come hither for Money, that could so carelessly drop a Treasure here.  L. Sans. 
A Purse! oh Heavens what shall I say now! (aside.) Oh, I have it— Oh, bless me, the fright I was in has made me drop my Purse too— Pray give it me, my Lord, 'tis my Card money, I have been lucky of late at Bassett, and improved my allowance by good fortune.  Sans. 
Your Purse?  L. Sans. 
Mine! mine, who's should it be else? Nay, pray my Lord don't open it, there's some small Gold amongst the rest, and you may drop a piece or two.  Sans. 
You are as eager to hinder me, as if some little dandiprat Gallant of yours were lurking here, but I am resolved to know its inside however,— that I may say once in my life, Madam, I have dived to the bottom of our Intellects— oh, here's a Paper too, a Billet doux I'll lay my life.  L Sans. 
Ten to one he's in the right, and then I'm ruined past redemption.— Oh horrid, is it possible you should still plague me with your jealousy. Curse on't, if I had but taken a little faster hold—  Sans. 
Oh, is your Ladyship nettled, does the curious secret press ye so strongly, that you strive to tear the snatching tears the Paper Paper— 'tis excellent,— but if I mistake not, here's enough left still to give me knowledge of your virtuous inclinations— humph— let me see, t— dear, dear, Mr. lafoy Busque.  L B. 
O Lord me,— odds heart the Letter to me, and ten to one but the Purse too— oh good.  Sans. 
reads. Tho you receive this little tender of my kindness, I would have you believe that I still remain in your debt; for it is not possible your late diligence to serve me, can be two well rewarded.— her late diligence— very good Let but our Intrigue be still carried on cunningly, and then let the Horn-mad jealous D— and here the rest is tore— D— what the Devil follows now— Hell and Furies— the letter D— begins Duke— Curse on't, it must bo so— for what else can it stand for.  L Sans. 
Stand for— D— D— why, why, D D— stands for Doctor— ha, ha— L Busque, 'tis thy Letter the Son sent thee— which I found and put in my purse to keep for thee. Come▪ I hope you'll give me my Money now.  Sans. 
Humph— the Devil has got her off again— here's no certainty, though there be plaguy circumstances? gives her the Purse.  La B. 
Yes, yes, Madam, I remember the Letter very well, and the Purse too, Madam.  La Sans. 
Ay, ay, I know thou dost; you remember I told you when I won it.  La B. 
Not I, Madam, I remember nothing of that, but you must needs know, Madam—  L Sans. 
I do so, as well as if it were done but yesterday; and prithee come in with me, and I'll tell thee more of him and thee, and them, the Money, and myself, and every thing, for I dare not speak a word more here, for fear my Lord should be jealous. Exit in haste.  L B. 
'Dslife, what's all this banter, this shall not pass upon me: Gad I'll discover all rather than lose the Purse; I can tell her, that— Ex. after.  Re-enter Servants with Lights. Seru. 
There's no one in the Garden, my Lord, but we have found the back door open, and suppose the Thiefs are gone out that way.  Sans. 
These might be Thiefs, 'tis true, and they might be Cuckold-makers. Damn that thought, how it stings me; oh how insupportable a Torment is doubt, in a condition of Life from which men ought to expect all quiet and security: They may talk of Local-hells I know not where, but that poor Husband's Bosoms feels the hottest that doubts, and yet must Love.— How now? Enter Daubray. Daubray,  Daub. 
Ay, my Lord, I have been labouring to do you service, ever since. the last time I saw ye, and now I think I may truly say, my intelligence is to the purpose,— for I have unrevelled such a secret.—  Sans. 
Hast thou, come then give it me at once, I hate a lingering pain.  Daub. 
'Tis this, my Lord; I observed yesterday when your Grace was gone out, a young, dapper, sparkish Fellow with my Lady.  Sans. 
So!  Daub. 
And to day, my Lord, he was here again, but had disguised himself I suppose cunningly to prevent my discovery, in Women's clothes.  Sans. 
Women's clothes? good.  Daub. 
But for all his subtlety, I suspected at first it was the face again, and to be sure of it, I watched matters so closely, that going into La Busque's Closet after she had come out, and thinking he was hid there, amongst my Lady's foul Linen, what did I find there, my Lord, but this vile Garment, the very same that I saw him wear the day before, shows a pair of Breeches.  Sans. 
The Devil—  Daub. 
Ay, the Devil indeed, as you say, my Lord, for it puts me so in mind of an ill Husband I had once, who was always a very infirm consumptive person; and it brings such things into my head, that I vow to Gad I hate the Garment of all others, I have a perfect aversion for the Garment.  Sans. 
A plague on the Garment, it brings some things into my head too that are not very divertive: But come to the purpose, dear diligence— can I, think'st thou, surprise this young dog with her.  Daub. 
Without sail, my Lord; come in with me and I'll put your Lordship in a way immediately.  Sans. 
Dispatch then, I'll follow thee.— Oh, thou absurd Philosop ●e that against human ills did preach up patience, how art thou baffled here; A Cuckold's case, I find poor lazy Drone, was ne'er thy study. Plague, Death and Hell? What strange new unknown punishment shall I contrive for 〈◊〉? hah, let me see? keep her from Meat a month, and starve Concupiscence no, that won't do, or shall I cut her piece meal▪ that's impossible— her; impudence has so case-hardned her▪ that she'll exceed the valiant Greek of old, and prove herself all o'er impenetrable. Well then, to smother her with her own Pillow, the accessary Pillow— good, then to the Forum like renowned Brutus, and tell the weighty reason with large Caveat. 
To all the Human Race that hapless vary  
Their blessed State, run mad with fool and marry. Exit.   
The end of the fourth Act.    

ACT V. SCENE I.  Enter Guillamour, and La Busque. Guill. 
IF thou art tame and passive after such injustice done thee, thou art not what I took thee for, a Girl of Wit and Spirit; let thy Lady therefore know thou canst resent an injury: what, to deny giving the Purse I ordered thee, 'twas base, 'twas sordid.  La B. 
She puts me off hourly, with telling me she has another Business for me to do first, but if ever I have a finger in her business till I finger the Purse, my Lord, I wish it may rot: I know her love of Play too well, and how like Bird-lime Money sticks to her. I never hardly had any Wages of her, but she'd borrow it again in two days time; she's the very Devil at that trick.  Guill. 
'Dsheart, and that very trick would ruin thee in a little time. Come, come, Sweetheart, she's all over ingratitude; join therefore with me, and let us revenge ourselves; she has basely used thee for all thy diligent Services: Take now the opportunity and right thyself, she has also been ingenerously false to me and my Love, and for my part I am resolved I'll ne'er forgive her.  La B. 
Gad, if I have not the Purse between this and seven a Clock at night, I will have my revenge, I will discover something that— Well, I say no more.  Guill. 
So, the secret is bubbling upwards, 'twill come out presently, t'other ten Pistoles, and she disgorges. (aside) How, say no more, gad but thou shalt say more, and discover all too,— and let the Purse be damned, with her ingratitude, here's (gives her Gold) something in lieu of it, which, influencing Conscience, and improving thy good Nature, shall Bribe thee to be mine: Come, come, the discovery. Nay, nay, no demurring Child, but out with it, fear her not, from henceforth I'll take care of thee.  La B. 
Why truly, I must needs say, your Lordship has taken the only, and most moving method in the world to engage me. Looking on the Gold.  Guill. 
Ay, no doubt on't, the Conjurer Gold can never fail in charming. aside.  La B. 
Which is your Lordship's tender applying it to my Conscience, for Conscience I assure your Lordship goes a great still looking on his Gold way with me, and really that was always the main thing I blamed in my Lady. If the Woman had had but a Conscience, I could never have betray'd her secret; but to be so horridly unconscientious to keep my Purse from me in the first place.  Guill. 
Ha, ha, the Purse still, that Purse lies damnably heavy upon her Stomach, all will out I find. (aside)  La B. 
Then in the next place, to use your own words to be ungenerously false, to so fine a person as your Lordship.  Guill. 
Oh, your humble Servant.  La B. 
So well made, so beautiful a person as your Lordship.  Guill. 
Nay, nay, sweet Mrs. L Busque, what d'ye mean.  La B. 
Nay, more, so beautiful, so super-fine a person as your Lordship.  Guill. 
Oh fie, this is too much by half  La B. 
It really shows that the Woman had no Conscience at all, nor will I any longer bear her the fidelity usual. Therefore know, my Lord, that for all her Oaths, Tears, and Prostitutions, she really has Jilted ye.  Guill. 
Damn her, I believe as much now, do but tell me with whom.  L● B. 
Ay, dear my Lord, you shall know all, and more than all if I could express it, for I find my Conscience prompts me exceedingly. Does not your Lordship remember a young, smocked faced, dapper Spark, that came into the Garden with old Count Brissac's company, that Evening the Duke was laughed at, for being found in his Wife's clothes.  Guill. 
I do,— death and the devil,— is't he.  La B. 
Most certainly, my Lord, and who has cunningly, ever since, to keep the Intrigue the closer, daily kept her Company, disguis'd in a Woman's Habit— and is this instant with her, in her apartment yonder.  Guill. 
Ha, in Woman's Habit sayst thou? why this is a secret worth Gold indeed; cursed, hellish, treacherous Creature, this is her Truth and Constancy in the Devil's name, henceforth let that dull Animal, that will proclaim himself and Ass with Ears,  
Believe damned Woman, when the vows and swears.  La B. 
For further proof, retire into this Closet, my Lord, I'll warrant you see some bolting presently.  Guill. 
I'll follow thee, and stifle Rage a moment, that I may let it lose with greater gust upon her. Exeunt.  Enter Daubray, with Sanserre and Brissac. Daub. 
They are certainly together, my Lord; but to make the proof more plain, be pleased yourself to peep through the Keyhole of the Bedchamber, whilst the Count and I go another way, and watched the door of the Drawing Room.  Sans. 
Do do, and if I find 'em here, I'll come and call ye: Damnation! these are the joys of Marriage. Now Count, I hope I shall convinec ye what a Viper I've so long cherished in my Bosom.  Briss. 
Well, well, let's see the proof; the proof, I know your Lordship's Eyes▪ sometimes see double, therefore, gad I'll not believe a word till I see the proof. I love an Intrigue too well to have it slandered with doubts and surmizes, the proof, the proof, my Lord.  Sans. 
Away then to the Drawing-room-door, I'll this way.  Daub. 
Softly, softly, my lord Exeunt at several doors.  Re-enter Sanserre hastily. Saus'. 
'Tis so, by the spirit of Cuckoldom, there that are, close together, and Cooing like two Pigeons just going to Bill, I could not see my Wife for the Bed-curtaines, but the young rampant Fornicator, I saw plainly in his female Trappings, wagging his Commode, I suppose eagerly expressing some new lewdness to her. Death and Hell, where shall I get a Gridiron big enough to broil him on, but hush, another Minute for that, I'll first go and call B●iss●e to be Witness of her Infamy: now sure I shall convince the incredulous old Coxcomb, if this peeping proof be not plain enough, the Devil take all Ogling. Ex.  Enter Tonnerre. Tonn. 
What happiness ordained to bless Mortality, can vi● with that of the successful Lover. to him Guillamour from the Closet. Oh my full heart, by Heaven, my Joys so swell my surcharg'd Bosom, I have hardly breathe left to express my Rapture.  Guill. 
Then, lest the unruly passion should boil over, give me leave, Sir, to bring ye some allay.  Tonn. 
Ha, my Lord Guillamour. Tonn. turns about and starts.  Guil. 
The same, Sir, and whither you had knowledge of my Pretensions to the Lady you come from or not, I have not leisure now to examine; 'tis enough for me to tell ye, that I have found myself abused by her, and your unexpressible happiness as you term it, is the sequel of her unexemplary baseness to me, which I am now come hither to revenge and expose.  Fon. 
Death and Hell, has he been intrigued with my Countess, this is a discovery amazes me; harkee, my Lord, pray let me ask you a question now.  They talk apart. Enter Sanserre and Brissac. Sans. 
Daubray will watch the Drawing-room door close enough, so that they can't slip from us that way, and for this passage Count— hah— what do I see, by all my pangs 'tis he,— and Guillamour a brace of the Court's rankest Cuckold-makers. Furies and Hell, she deals with 'em in couples,— but if they scape me now, draw Count—  Bris. 
Draw— what a plague does he mean, is not that, my dear sweet, luscious, charming Empress that stands there: Dsheart 'tis she I'm sure now: Draw,— oons the man's mad. apart, stairing at Tonn. the● runs to her.  Sans. 
Come, Sir, draw; for though such Villainy deserve no fair play, I schorn to take advantage; nay, nay, no evasion— draw quickly.  Guill▪ 
My Lord, I've something to discover, that perhaps may satisfy ye without it.  Sans. 
Your life, Sir, can only satisfy, draw or I'll nail ye to the Wall.  Guill. 
Nay, than I will have play for't. fight here.  To●. 
'Tis lucky, however, to have the old fool Sessac here, I know he will defend me. (aside)  Bris. 
hay day, why my Lord— 'dsdeath, are ye both bewitched— nay then, than Gad I'll put ye out of your tricks, I'll spoil your fencing— hah, now my Lord, parts them, beats Sanserres s Sword out of his hand, and takes it up, you shall stockado no more till I think fit; if your Lordships please to go to Cuffs, you may.  Sans. 
Damn'd chance, goes to fall upon Tonn. and Brissac guards her with both Swords) yet I have Fingers left to tear your Devilship, your Strumpets covering shant' disguise ye longer, nor shelter the lewd Monster underneath.  Bris. 
What raving, stark mad,— 'dsheart do ye know what ye are going to do, oons, keep back you had best, he that offers to touch my dear Empress, shall have both these Pokers in his guts the next moment. What a Devil are ye bewitch'd, my Lord,— what offer to strike a Woman.  Sans 
A Woman, a Wizard,— poor old deluded Wittol, clear your Eyesight and understanding,— look again, is that a Woman.  Guill. 
Be a little curious in your observation, old Count, and let her prove herself a Woman if she can.  Bris. 
Prove herself a Woman? They're both possest, Begad,— why this is Impudence unparrelleled: A plague on ye for a couple of lewd Fitchews, how would you have her prove.  Sans. 
Show— that stubbled Chin, a little nearer to your blind Eyes, look closer ye old dotard, have Women beards?  Bris. 
Beards oons what care I, what is that to my dear Empress here— oons you dont think to make me believe that she is not femina propria, do ye? Dost hear, Goddess, prithee show 'em a Bubby.— Convince 'em presently with the sight of a pretty Nipple, or so; do Faith— why, pox on 'em, they have the confidence to hint here, that thou, the treachery of all my Joys art no Woman,  Ton. 
if I were otherwise, their Insolences should hear from me in another manner, tell 'em that from me, Count.  Bris. 
Ah, dear, dear charmer, do ye hear that, ye brainless Peers, do ye hear that?  Sans. 
If you were otherwise, death, hell and furies, do not I know?  Bris. 
Oons know what ye will, my Lord, keep back or— guards her.  Sans. 
Confound his folly, why, I tell thee, old stupidity once more, that this is a Man, a young rampant Rakehell, lewd as the Devil, who, wearing that Woman's disguise there, to keep himself unknown, intrigues with your damn'd Sister, my damn'd Wife, and abuses me; I saw him scarce two Minutes since in her Apartment with her, and will instantly go and fetch her, to prove the truth of all, and make that incredulous Pate of yours, once in your life, believe the things you see. Exit Sanserre.  Bris. 
Hamp? Gad now I look better upon her: That Chin, those broad Shoulders, and those pair of Mutton Fists, do show somewhat more mannish than I imagin'd. harkee, what shall I call ye, if, instead of Female Trinkets, I do hereafter find you of the Male-gender  Ton. 
I shall have one of those two Pokers ungender me, I suppose I am in a very fine condition truly. (aside)  Guill. 
What think ye now, Sir, of the vast happiness of a successful Lover? Will your crowded joys now give ye breath enough, to express your Rapture.  aside to Ton. Ton. 
So, very good, on t'other side, I am a very pretty fellow, faith.  Bris. 
Gad, I do not like that Leer,— I see more of the Whore-master's Air now, than I thought for. Well, if thou shouldst prove a Son of a Whore after all.  Guill. 
Nay, you are snapped, Sir, and now much good may do ye with Your success in the Duchess, that your prevailing merit won from me. skreek within Oh, here he's coming with her, and when you are both expos'd, I shall think myself sufficiently reveng'd.  Bris. 
Ay, ay, Gad 'tis plain now, the very face looks with such a Masculine impudence, as if it could not deny it: Here will appear the Male gender.  Ton. 
Better and better still, I am wedged in too, there's no flinching.  R-enter Sanserre, pulling in Lady Brissac masked. Sans. 
Come, Madam, you must this way with me now— your disguise to scape at t'other door is contrived a little too late— go forward there to that incredulous Gentleman, who has at this time a very pressing affair with ye, whilst I, to proclaim your Virtue, and the infinite pleasures of my life so long drawing, wish your Ladyship in the Conjugal-yoke.— Expose 'em barefac'd to the world, snatches off her Mask ' Dsdeath and Hell, who do I see— my Sister Brissac,— wonder of wonders, how the Devil comes this?  Bris. 
Oons my Wife,— I'm dumb,— I'm blind,— I'm dead;— 'tis Witchcraft,— 'tis impossible,— 'dsheart, I'll not believe it.  Guill. 
Ha, another Lady instead of the Duchess, 'dslife, ten to one then, La Busque has been deceived by a mistake, and I have wrong'd an Angel. apart  Bris. 
Speak, speak thou Fairy, speak thou Phantom, art thou my Wife, art thou in the Country or no, art thou making Role-cakes there huswifely, or wert thou yonder just now making me a Cuckold whorishly,— speak thou Cornucopia.  La B. 
Indeed, my Lord, to tell you the truth, I am I,  Bris. 
Are ye so,— then I am I know what, ye damn'd Dalilah.  La B. 
Just come to Town a little, upon a frolic, my Lord, to watch you, because you stayed so long here; but as for that Gentleman there, how he came hither, I know not. I suppose he's going to a Masquerade somewhere; for my part, I took him for a real Woman, till I found him otherwise.  Bris. 
Good again, than you have found him otherwise, it seems,— and if he has no Armour under his Bawdy-Jacket, this I think shall find out some of his Small-guts, goes to stick him and they hinder the Moon shall shine through his Midrife presently.  Guill. 
No, no, Count, we must not have no such violence neither— here's only suspicion of Cuckoldom yet; besides, you see he is unarmed, and you must not take such advantage.  Briss. 
Unarmed, a plague on him, he's well enough armed to Jilt my Wife, and let the same Weapons serve him against me, with a pox to him.  Tonn. 
Well, I see I am discovered, but however must assure you, upon my honour, in right of your Lady, that she is wholly innocent of engaging me further, though, for a frolic, I contrived to get into her Company at her first coming to Town, nor was my disguise taken upon the score of any Intrigue, but to secure me till I could get the King's pardon about a Duel; so that your Lady, my Lord Duke, and yours there, Count, were very strangers to me till just now, that to make a little Mirth, and humour my Habit here, I got into their Company.  Sans. 
Did you never leave a pair of Breeches, Sir, in my Wife's Closet.  Tonn. 
Not I, upon my honour, my Lord.  L Bris. 
Come, since the Gentleman has dealt by me like a Man of Honour, I'll unravel that mystery: Therefore know, my Lord, that those Breeches were mine, and part of the frolicksome disguise I came up to Town in, the day that a certain young Bully bantered in the Garden, Court.  Briss. 
Admirable, and so you was then that impudent young Dog, that huffed and hectored me so, was ye.  La B. 
In propria persona, faith Count— nay, never frown for the matter, for if you do— remember you did all you could to break your Conjugal-vow, by making love to that Lady there, which, though it prove ineffectual— your will was not wanting ye lewd Rakehell, therefore either let's shake hands, and let all go as frolic, for frolic— or look Count, I can frown too, d'ee see.  Bris. 
'Tis a mettled Devil, as like my Wife, as one Pea to another— but I cannot believe 'tis her yet; but for your part, Signior Aenigma, thou must not put upon me, I do not like your Story.  Tonn. 
Why then, Sir, you must take your satisfaction as you please, I'll venture to change my Dress and put on a Sword, whenever your scrupulous Honour, Sir, shall require other satisfaction.  Bris. 
Ha, very fine gad; we Husbands have a fine time on't, if we are no Cuckolds, we must be fools for making a bustle about it, and if we are Cuckolds, we must fight for making a bustle about it,— but you shan't bully me with that friend, I'll have a better reason for your being here, or expect what you deserve. Oons, was ever Lover so disappointed,— I thought I had got the rarest Doxy, the most luscious armful, and instead of a Whore, to find a Son of a Whore, (apart) A pox on him I must murder him, there's no other way.  Guill. 
Oh fie,— fie,— remember, Count, he's unarmed.— 'Tis certain now by my dear Duchess not being here, that his Intrigue was with the tother? and I have basely wronged her by a cursed mistake. (aside)  Sans. 
This is an hour of Wonders,— and all so intricate too, that they surpass my understanding, first to see my Sister here, whom I and her Husband thought a hundred miles off in the Country, then to mistake her for my Wife whom I was trained to meet here, and expected to find in that ●●om; what can this be but witchery.  Bris. 
'Tis so, oons, 'tis plain; for if that be personally my Wife that stands there, we are certainly all bewitched— no other way could set her before me this minute I am sure but Witchcraft.  Sans. 
And see, to improve the wonder, here comes my Wife from a quite contrary quarter, sure we shall unriddle all now.  Ton. 
The Duchess here, nay, than I begin to take heart.  Enter La●● Sanserre. Guill. 
'Tis so, La Busque has made ● confounded mistake, and if she can but clear the Garden business last night, all throw myself at her feet, and beg a thousand pardons.  Sans. 
So long from your Apartment, Madam, and such visitants waiting for you there; this is a piece of neglect uncustomary: What in the name of Ceremony and good Manners, may be your Lodiship's reason.—  La S. 
Ha, my Lord Guillamour and Tonnerre both here, nay, than I apprehend what he means by this coldness to me; but I am prepared for him as well as I could wish. (apart)  Sans. 
Madam, you doubt see my Lord sure, methinks your Ladyship does not receive your friends with the usual Air.  La S. 
Not as my friends, but as your Lordships, and upon the Lady's Account, that waits for ye all within, bid 'em welcome.  Sans. 
The Lady within, ha, ha, ha, what trick, what fetch now, what Lady is it you mean.  La S. 
Oh an intimate friend of your Graces, I'm very sure, one born and fated for my ruin, adorn'd with Beauty incomparable, and so many other Charms— Oh heaven, 'tis your new Mistress, the heart breaker Vandosme, my Lord— oh— d'ee start, does your Lordship know such a person.  Sans. 
Know such a person? What then, what of her thou Siren.  Guill. 
Ha, ha, ha, some new trick I lay my life, methinks I catch the wit of it already (aside)  La S. 
What of her, nay, nothing, my Lord, but that she's a Woman of Honour I suppose, and punctual to her Assignation; for she came this morning to visit ye at the very Minute— and truly, I like a very Wife, a little ●●alous, and more curious in the Matter than you desire, I believe, finding her business was with you, pretending to receive her, have locked her up in the Dining-room.  Sans 
Subtle Devil, Vandosme, no doubt came to me about the discovery I desired to make, and ten to one she has pumped my secret out of her, and ruined my design. (aside)  Ton. 
What she means, is to me a Mystery, but Heaven send her a good deliverance. (aside)  Sans. 
Oh, I find you would turn the course of the Story, but pray be civil to my Lord here, Madam, he wants his dispatch; I beseech ye what may his business be— hah— may not I know.  La S. 
Ha, ha, ha— wittily carried indeed; but my Lord, this cunning won't pass upon me, I know ye are all joint Companions in the Intrigue, only I find your Lordship is preferred first, for she came after you, but they came after her. Your Necklace of Pearl, my Lord has incensed her so extremely.  Sans. 
How the Devil now came she to know of that, damn her she puzzles the Cause, I scarce know how to answer her. They come after her, that's likely.  La S. 
Come, I know they are men of too much honour to disown Love to a fine Woman, through fear, what say ye my Lords, was not your design here to charming Vandosme. Speak the Truth boldly.  Guill. 
Ha, I understand that tip of the Wink. (aside) Why then, since the Truth must out— it was—  Ton. 
Ah, witty charming Creature, I, 〈◊〉 it was, it was, what a pox I hate to tell a Lye.  La S. 
So you dogged her into the House, but not knowing the Room where I had locked her, one of ye it seems got into my Apartment,— and see— oh power of Truth what influence it works— now could I see you blush, my Lord, if I were a hundred Yards from you.  Sans. 
I blush? why thou provoking Mischief, art thou so hardened to tell me that?  La S. 
What need I tell ye that, or any thing, is it not plain ungrateful man that you sent for your Whore into my very House, to Intrigue with her under my very Nose. loud and angrily You did, you did, you vile ungrateful, Wretch— oh Heaven, see how he blushes again.  Sans. 
The Devil's in her, she will turn it upon me, right or wrong— why thou— fury, canst thou say I blush.  L Sans. 
Pray, my Lords, be Judges— did ye ever see such a colour.  Guill. 
The truth is, my Lord, you do blush extremely.  To●n. 
Your Face is all over in a flame; but I confess there is some reason, for I see my Lady has found out your Intrigue my Lord.  Sans. 
A plague Intrigue ye, this is plain juggling between 'em all, and I am still the property.  La S. 
But to show ye what a piece of Integrity you have chose to sacrifice me to, here comes another couple that I knew concerned in the same Vessel and Cargo: I therefore sent for 'em to put in for their Shares.  Enter Fiesque and Sir Blunder. 
And now all Proprietors are ready, I think it is fit to produce the Merchandise— therefore have patience and I'll deliver up the effects immediately.  Exit Lady Sanserre. Fies. 
Oh intolerable Jilt, Traitress, Devil, I find now all her late Oaths and Tears were nothing but intended Villainy, and that she has been so very a Monster, to intrigue with this fellow too, this Monster of Monsters. (apart) Well, then, you say, Sir Blunder, you are sure you have great power over her.  Sir B. 
I think I have, if I should not have power over my Punk it would be hard,— besides, I need not toil about it, for ha, ha— a pox take her, the senseless Queen is in love with me, ha, ha, ha.  Fies. 
Oh Witch, oh Succubus. (apart)  Sir B. 
Gives me the charge of all her Money and Jewels; looked here are the Keys of her Scrutore, you may see by this I have tickled her fancy; here is a Diamond Ring too I got from her this morning, she will part with any thing for a night's Lodging; the Jade knew I ●● a swinging Bed-fellow.  Fi●s. 
Ha, by heaven, the very Ring I gave— oh confusion.  Sir B. 
●e●e she comes, I'll stand by and listen, and if I find she has been playing the Jilt, I'll come in, take her away home, and drub her tightly.  Fies. 
Oh damn her, damn her, the worst of Hell is too good. Sir Blunder stands aside.  Re-enter Lady Sanserre with Vandosme, melancholy with a Book. La S. 
Come, Madam, a little nearer, and pray throw off that demure melancholly look that so disguises ye: I bring ye to none but your acquaintance here, accost them then with the pure Air of your profession, and let your Eyes use their Artillery as formally— shoot, shoot them dead, you have done it a thousand times before now,— hah— what is here a Book— oh prodigious— A treatise of Repentance— nay then, then, the Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose, indeed—  Van. 
Oh heaven, can you believe than I am so Reprobate, that I am past repentance.  Fies. 
There is the soft tone again, and then that damning look would baffle human reason.  La S. 
Oh, this Religious change is of so fresh a date, Madam, that you'll hardly be believed.  Vand. 
Yes, Madam, I am sure I shall, if it is proved unfeigned, and you are a Lady of that unsullied Virtue, Candor, and Charity, that your good Nature will be first my friend.  La S. 
My Virtue— sure this Devil does not banter me.  Sans. 
There's no putting in a word now, she has got the ascendant over me clearly.  La B. 
At her again,— Sister, things go well.  Bris. 
Humph! Methinks matters look a little better than they did, for if that young Petticoat Towzer there, came after this Harridan, I may chance to be no Cuckold after all.  Tonn. 
She's got in rarely, if she does but hold out now.  Guill. 
Say any thing, Madam, I'll second ye.  La S. 
Nay, since you think, most infamous of Creatures, to impose upon me with Hypocrisy, I'll lay your mischief open to the World, and be as loud as Thunder in proclaiming it, thou chief promoter of the cause of Hell.  Vand. 
Oh I beseech ye have patience, Madam, I'm converted.  La S. 
Thou gulphy Quicks and swallowing all Adventurers; thou very Magdalen, thou converted?  Vand. 
Alas, you know, Madam, Magdalen Repented.  La S. 
Intrigu'd with half the Court before this last, the Count here, and you my Lord, I know can say enough of her.  Fies. 
ay, a pox take me for't, she and I have been a little too well acquainted.  Guill. 
Humph, I have not altogether been a stranger to the Gentlewoman, neither.  Briss. 
Gad, I wonder she missed me, I never was in with her as I remember.  Sir B. 
A plague, at this rate half the Town have had her, this has been a damned Jade. (peeping out)  La S. 
'Tis by the odiods Witchcraft of such hellish Creatures as you, that the marriage State is so dishonoured, embellished Virtue pines at home neglected, whilst Riotous Vice is graced with Presents— Jewels, but I'll turn back the stream to its right Channel, and Honour and Virtue henceforth shall be Reverenced, my Wit shall ruin thee, past all redemption. (apart to Vand.) I'll make thee change that canting Note, thou Hypocrite.  Sans. 
So, the Alarm is set a going; now shall I hear nothing but the noise of her damned Honour and Virtue, for a month together, (aside.)  Vand. 
Well then, you shall change my Note, my Virtuous Lady too soon to your cost, you shall now hear me then, and (loudly) know my wit shall ruin thee past redemption; I'll make thee change that haughty Note, thou Hypocrite.  La S. 
Infamy, I defy thee, what can the Devil mean. (to Guill.)  Guill. 
The Devil knows.  Guill. 
Read that, my Lord, and then let Virtue and Honour there, gives Sanferre a Letter defend herself with her integrity, there's no Hypocrisy in that, my Lord, 'tis a plain Billet doux to my Lord Guill.  Sans. 
'Tis so, by Hell— and of her own Handwriting.  Fies. 
The very Letter that she got from me, when last imposed on by her Sighs and Tears. Was there ever such a Serpent. (aside)  Sans. 
To show you this, my Lord, was the morning business, which to secure, she locked me up most wittily. Now let all human Creatures that can read, behold in that the duchess's rare Virtue, then judge 'twixt th' Strumpet free, and Strumpet wedded, which is the worst? Come, who speaks loudest, let your sharp Tongue, Madam, out wit me now, what not a word— from Honour nor from Virtue, nay, then 'tis plain, the Strumpet Wife's most blameful.  Sans. 
She has struck me dumb, I cannot speak a word, nor dare I lift my Eyes to look upon 'em. Exit.  Sans. 
I'll vanish all thoughts of mercy from this moment, I will be as cruel as Revenge can make me— My Lord, your ear.  Guill. 
Well, my Lord, 'tis enough. they Whisper.  Sans. 
Here's so much Fire it burns my very Vitals, dear, dear Revenge, I'm wedded to thee now. Exit. Guill is going.  Fies. 
No, no, my Lord, I bar that, you sha'not leave us.  Guill. 
My Lord, I'm only going to my Lodging?  Briss. 
Ay, my Lord, that's all one, no going, no going now, my Lord.  Tonn. 
No, no, let the business cool a little.  Vand. 
This is in return of your ungrateful usage, Traitor, and now thank yourself.  Guill. 
Ten thousand plagues upon thee. Death, is there no way left to be revenged upon this Witch, this Sorceress.  Enter Sir Blunder. Sir B. 
Yes, here's some body left here behind the Curtain that shall take her to task immediately. Come Jade, every Bodies Cleopatra, come your ways home.  Vand. 
Ha, he here then, I am disgraced for ever, this is the only Devil can torment me.  Sir B. 
Your entertainment jesabel to night, shall be half a dozen of kicks, or so, or it may be a light Drubbing, but to morrow expect to be turned a grazing, to try for a new fortune, I'll take care of these materials, and of the effects belonging to 'em. (shakes her Keys) Come.  Vand. 
Stand off, Monster, Furies and Fire, touch me, and I'll flay thee: Ha, dar'st thou attempt it; nay then, assist me Rage and Vigour, that I may rip this Brute and carve revenge, snatches his sword out, flies at him and beats him off.  Fies. 
Farewell the Quintessence of all Coquets in general. Well, this gives my heart some repose however, to find this brutish fellow revenges me in a right method, 〈◊〉 no more than what generally happens to to 'em. 
For, never was true Jilt, but was so blind,  
To love at last what paid her in her kind.   La S. 
'Twas ten to one but the revengeful Creature had invented some lie or other upon me for my Sister's sake, but now the Riddle is expounded, who these two Sparks were hunting here for. I hope Count I may sleep free from censure.  Tonn. 
I must help her out in this. (aside) Madam, there can remain no scruple of a doubt in your Ladyship's Case, and I am very sorry my intrigue with her should cause any reflection to your prejudice.  Briss. 
Nay, I believe as things stands, I had as good be satisfied, as go to prove any thing further; but Gad here has been swinging frolicks of all sides: you smock-faced Dog, you Sirrah, you have disappointed me confoundedly. I took you for a Loop and not a Button▪ you Rogue, but come, a pox on't, it makes the Intrigue the better however, and gad I love that so well, that I can be angry no longer. Come, my Lord, cheer up, you have treated my Sister I suppose the old English way, but gad if she likes the cheer entire, with all my heart, we'll have no fighting about the matter.  Guill. 
My Lord, I have been always obliged to your good nature.  Briss. 
What a pox, there's no such harm done as I see, he●e'●●o body. a Cuckold but my Brother the Duke, and gad now he's out of the way, he was so jealous, that I always wished him one: Why, if I had been a jealous Puppy, on my Conscience I had been so too.  Fies. 
Oh fie, my Lord you, what an intriguer, a Beau? No, no, Count, you are safe enough.  Tonn. 
So, his Eyes are sealed however. (aside)  Briss. 
Come, gad we have been so long out of humour, about these matters, that methinks I want a little mi●●●: Let's have a ●or●e and a little Music. Spouse, if you would have me in humour, and believe what you say. Sing me a Song against Cuckold-making. hay, within, bid my Servants that I ordered for the Aulical Entertainment to night, come and give it presently; and d'ee ●ear, bring a Bottle.  Enter Servants with Wine, and then a Song and a Dance are performed. Fies. 
Come, here's the Count Brisse's Health, and let him live for ever.  Guill. 
Ay, come▪ with all my Heart, and to all the Cuckolds in and about Versailles. (aside)  Tonn. 
In the Fountain garden about 7 this evening, dear Angel, if you would have me live till morning. whispers Lady Brissac.)  La B. 
No, no, Count, no more intrigues, I have made some sudden Reflection upon●t● and have resolved severe amendment, you may think this raillery, but you shall find it real, therefore I charge you forbear my Company, and all future unlawful Solicitations, for I am conscious to myself, I have deserved the same fate my Sister has, though I have the luck to miss it. Not a word more, content yourself with what's past, and as you are a man of Honour, tempt me to that course of life no longer.  goes from him. Tonn. 
Pish, thy sudden turn can be nothing but a qualm of Hypocrisy Gad I won't leave her off so.  Briss. 
Come, give me another Bumper, and this last health is to all brave fellows that stand upright as I do, at eight and fifty, and those happy, Husbands that can see their Wives sing, dance, joke, kiss, and be merry amongst Company, without jealousy or having the Gripping of the Guts about it, for let 'em fatigue themselves how they please, rage, watch, pine, and grow lean about it, let 'em take this as a Maxim from jolly Brissac. 
If the good woman gets it in her Brain,  
All Labour's lost, th' Italian Eugine vain,  
Whilst female inclination tends to man,  
There will be Horns, let Heads do what they can.     

EPILOGUE  Spoken by Mis. Barry, as in a fret. 
JVdge's of Wit, and Poets tell me pray,  
Have you e'er seen 'mongst all I have known me play,  
So strange a part as this, I've done to day.  
'Thas vexed me so, would I may ne'er be famed,,  
If I care threepences if the Play were damned:  
Or, if some Bully, some loved jilt revenging,  
Helped the Satiric Scribbler to a swinging.  
How long, and oft, have I, in well wrought Scenes,  
Dazzled like Glittering Empresses and Queens,  
Acted all passions, love, grief, joy, and shame,  
The Great Court Lady, and the City Dame.  
And if sometimes, a wanton subject came  
Ye Poets Characters, decent were, and civil,  
But ours— Curse on't here, makes me act the Devil.  
I ne'er was so affronted in my Life,  
Would he had such a one to be his Wife.  
The hot brained Sonnetteer would soon turn Mome,  
Were his poor Pen employed with a Vandosme,  
Besides the part is contrary to Nature;  
There cannot in our Sex be such a Creature.  
We love no fools, ●●●●ure, ne'er let 'em cheat us▪  
Nor can we do a fault for him to heat us:  
Tho we should graft more ●●●rnes on every year,  
Then stock St. James' Park, or else St. James' Square,  
But hold, now Anger somewhat cooler grows,  
The part, bad as it is, may please you Beaus:  
The Play by Judges, has commended been,  
And if it bring but the new Money in:  
Money's a certain Medicine for my Spleen.  
Ah, how that hope, ill humour reconciles:  
Money, turns every body's frown to smiles.  
Controlling Mammon, can dispose like a fate;  
Money can make a dried warped Cripple straight.  
The Wife play false, and the tame Cuckold blind,  
Proud Widows pliant, and Coy Virgin's kind:  
Money corrupts the Body, damns the Soul,  
And in Life's game still turning like a bowl,  
Can by its By as all distinctions draw,  
The Court, the Country, Clergy, and the Law.  
How can it fail then, to have power o'er me,  
Mine's but a sort of Playhouse constancy,  
My part, I own, I hate to a degree.  
But if it Money gets, will patience borrow,  
Set a good face, and play't again to morrow.  
FINIS.