THE MARRIAGE-HATER Matched: A COMEDY ACTED at the Theatre Royal By THEIR MAJESTY'S SERVANTS.  
Written by THO. D'URFEY, Gent.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Bentley, at the Posthouse in Russel-Street in Covent-Garden. 1692.   

TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS and Truly NOBLE Prince, JAMES, Duke, Marquess, and Earl of Ormond in England and Ireland; Earl of Ossory, and Viscount Thurles; Baron of Arclo; Lord of the Regallities and Liberties of the County of Tiperary; Baron of Lanthony; Earl of Brecknock; Chancellor of the University of Oxford; one of the Lords of the Bedchamber to His Sacred Majesty, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter.  
May it Please Your Grace,  
WHEN first my Propitious or Malignant Stars influenced the little Genius I now pretend to in Poetry, the Encouragement I had from your Noble Grandfather (whose Extraordinary judgement in the Beauties of that Art, as well as Generous Candour in Excusing the Errors of it, rendered him best capable of being a Patron engaged me to Launch my ill ballassed Bark into an Ocean where most of our Tribe too late find themselves becalmed with uncertain Applause, or else wracked in the storm of ill-natured Criticism. Yet had that Illustrious Hero's Commands such an August Prerogative over me, that knowing my Fame sufficiently Established in his Applause, successful enough I ventured on, till his never to be forgotten loss to all in General, made me too sadly deplore my own in particular.  
How Charming a thing is Dignity, when adorned with the glittering Crown of Sense, and the humble Robe of Humility: The Great Ormond was blessed with both, in perfection; and not only a true judge and Generous Patron of Arts and Sciences, but modestly familiar with Virtue, tho' in Rags; never slighting the poor Scholar for his Threadbare Coat, nor pleased with the vain outside of an Embroidered Fop, whose inside he knew to be unfurnished.  
I infer this, as lamenting the ill fortune of Poets, that are not blessed with a Friendly Party, or a judicious Patron, whose allowed Understanding, as well as generous good Nature can defend their Works from Malicious Censurers; the Time's Vices will bear no Reflection, and let the Play be never so just to the Rules, if a Rot me Spark finds himself hit, or Madam La Pupsey takes the hint that her dear Lap-Dog is exposed, the Labour itself is like to be the Poet's only Reward: Modest Reproof is taken for absurd Abuse, and honest satire for Dogmatic Slander.  
And though Horace, reflecting upon such as are blind to their own Vices in his time, had Courage enough to dare to tell'em, Stultus, & Improbus, hic Amor est dignusque notari. Yet had he lived in this Age, and in some Satirical Piece had dared to Expose a Maenius, etc. without a Maecenas to Protect it, his Merit tho' never so Extraordinary, or Fancy or Stile were it never so pure, would all be too weak to defend it against the Critical Party, that found themselves Concerned.  
This, I must humbly inform your Grace, I mean as to the General state of Satyrical Poets, without any reflection upon my own; the ensuing Scenes being designed for diversion, and more proper to oblige an Audience to smile than frown; and tho' some perhaps, being affected with ill Humours, might pick out something to dislike, they generously agreed to encourage my Profit; and those that found themselves pleased, I thank my Stars, still far exceeded the others in number.  
Having at last so well acquitted itself on the Stage (tho' the thronging, imperfect Action, and worse than all, the faulty length, which I will never be guilty of again, rendered it little Diversion the first day) I confess, I could not stifle my Ambition of defiring this honour of your Grace's Patronage, and as I have already always found a true Maecenas in your Illustrious Family: You, by a free and easy grant of so great a favour, an endearing sweetness in Behaviour, and graceful Condescension, have so added to my heap of Obligations, that I am disabled by ●xcess to instruct my Pen my heart's grateful Sentiments.  
All Praise is too low, when it approaches to your Grace's Character; to say you are adorned with the Graceful Humility, Eternal Honour, and Wisdom of your admired Grandfather; the Merit, Loyalty, and unequalled Bravery of your Martial Father, whose Loss our Bleeding Country has never yet recovered, i Praise indeed, but scarce aspiring to your Desert; your Glorious Campaign with his Sacred Majesty, and all your other Actions, during this Reign, sufficiently sounding your Applause, and engaging every true Englishman, not only to Love, but Admire; amongst the Crowd of which, I think it my greatest Honour to be Ranked, esteeming no good Fortune greater than to be allowed,  
My Lord, Your Lordship's Most Humble, Devoted, and Obedient Servant, T. D'URFEY.   

A LETTER TO Mr. D'URFEY, Occasioned by his PLAY Called the Marriage-Hater Matched.  
Dear Friend,  
I AM sensible the World will esteem a Friend too Partial a Judge of the performance of a Friend, yet since I am satisfied that I can divest myself of all prejudice against the Writings of even an Enemy, and allow him that praise which Justice requires; I think I may with the greater assurance say, that I will give no more favourable Censure on this Play of yours, than the severest Critic ought, if he but regulate himself according to the merits of the Cause, and will let Reason, and the Rules of Art weigh more with him, than the inconsiderate Rail of some of your Enemies, or the ungenerous malice of others; who, because they have attempted the Province of Comedy with less success, think to regain their Credit by Damning every one that has the Art of Pleasing beyond them; and since they cannot arrive to the Excellence of the Old way of Writing, would advance a new one of their own production, adapted to their undesigning Genius.  
But that which is the most strange is, that some of our Critics, like Jugglers, stare us in the face, and Palm upon us their own Fancy for the Opinion and Practices of the Ancients, and persuade us that a Bundle of Dialogues was all that was ever required to the framing a good Play; and that Terence had no other Excellence but the neatness of Phrase. Either they never read that Poet themselves, or suppose no body else did; otherwise I cannot imagine how they can maintain so gross a falsity, which may so easily be contradicted, by a short view of the Plots of his Comedies: I will begin with his first, called ●●dria.  
Pamphilus the Son of Simo, debauches Glyceriam the supposed Sister of Chrysis (a Native of the Island of Andros) she proves with Child, and he infinitely enamoured of her, promises her Marriage, with a full Resolution to be as good as his word; but Chremes won with the good Character and Parts of Pamphilus, proposes his Daughter Phileumena, for his Wife to Simo; the Old Men agree, and settle the Preliminaries▪ the Wedding day approaches, but the death of Chrysis the supposed Sister of Glycerium intervenes; Pamphilus, Simo, and others being at the Funeral, Glycerium distracted with grief, had flung herself in the Burning-Pile, had not her Lover Pamphilus run to her rescue; but he with such ardour embraced and comforted her, that the Old Gentleman his Father, and the rest of the Spectators had shrewd suspicions tha●●his care of her proceeded from ill disguised Love; Chremes with a great deal of indignation breaks off the Match; but Simo, willing to find out the truth of the matter, conceals it from his Son, assuring him he must prepare to be immediately Married. Pamphilus is at a great loss what to do, till his Servant Davus persuades him to dissemble a seeming readiness to comply with his Father's will; but this Policy of Davus had like to have spoiled all, for on his Son's Compliance, Simo soon pacifies Chremes, and so set the Wedding on foot again, which Pamphilus finding no way to obstruct, Davus takes care to have the Child of Glycerium by Pamphilus exposed to the view and knowledge of Chremes; who, upon that, once more in a great fury breaks off the match; but after a great deal of disturbance, all settles in quiet, to the content of all Parties. For Crito the next skin to Chrysis, arrives at Athens, to take Possession of her Goods as her lawful Heir, and discovers Glycerium to be Pasibula, the Daughter of Chremes, who overjoyed at the discovery, gives her to Pamphilus for Wife, and Philumena to Charinus, who had long been in love with her, and who makes another Person in the Play.  
To have given a larger Argument of this Comedy, would have been too tedious, since here is enough to satisfy any one that Terence had something else in his eye, besides the purity of his Language; otherwise Horace had with small reason given him, in his first Epistle of his second Book to Augustus, the distinctive Character, that his excellence lay in his Art.  
Plautus ad exemplar siculi properare Epicharmi,  
Vincere Caecilius gravitate Terentius Arte.  
I may spare the pains of taking notice of his Eunuch, or Adelphi, since the Town has seen them both, under the names of Bellamira, and the Squire of Alsatia. In his Heautontimorumenos, the several Designs of Chremes on Menedemus, and Syrus on both; the Discovery of Antiphila to be the Daughter of Chremes, and Sostrata, the Plot and Contrivance of Syrus to get the Money for Bacchis, and the disappointment of all these Designs, just when almost brought to perfection, will show, that none that ever read him could in justice say he had no Plot or Intrigue in his Plays: Nay, his Hecyra, which is said to have met with but little applause, and is doubted by some as spurious, is not without a good Plot, and several turns. But it would be superfluous to run through all particulars of this, and the other of Phormio, since by what is already said, there is nothing so evident, as that Terence took care of Plot as well as words, and was not less skilled in the Protasis, Epistatis, Catastasis, and Catastrophe, than in the Dialogue, or Discourse.  
But were it true, that Terence wanted this perfection, as they would have it yet I can see no reason but that this Excellence should be valued; for the end of Comedy, being for Pleasure, as well as Instruction; that certainly which contributes most to the first, without prejudice to the latter, must be acknowledged an accomplishment not to be slighted. For the several neat turns of a Play keep the minds of the Auditory employed with expectation, hope, and desire, which all end in satisfaction, at the conclusion or unravelling of the Plot. But let the Moral or Instructive part be never so well writ, the Language never so fine, yet if the Action goes on without any Plot to divert us, we see through all at first sight, and grow weary before the Play is half done, for it gratifies none of our Passions, without which there can be no pleasure.  
By what has been said, will appear that you, Sir, keep up to the noble Standard of the Ancients, and tho' it be one of the greatest and most difficult parts of the hard task of a Comic Poet, yet you have always been very fortunate in it, especially in this last Comedy of yours, called the Marriage-Hater Matched. I must needs say I think is your best, and far beyond that of the Boarding School; the turns are so surprising, and natural, that I may say without flattery, 'tis not in the power of any Person to outdo them. The wit of Sir Philip and the Widow, like sprightly Blood in youthful Veins, runs through the whole Play, giving it a Noble and vigorous Life; you have farther observed that decorum of Poetic Justice, in making Sir Philip be caught in his own Plot, to deceive another, and marry her, who had so well merited him, as Ph●be, alias Lovewell, who made a very pretty Figure on the Stage. Such a variety of Humours and Characters I have seldom seen in one Play; and those so truly drawn, that they all look like principal Parts; and that which is more, they are all New, and so worthy observation: that indeed I admire the humour of Madam La Pupsey has been so long neglected, since grown to so general a custom, that the Lap Dog takes up all the thoughts of the fair Sex, whilst the faithful Lover sighs in vain, and at a distance unregarded. This was an usurpation on our Prerogative, and had been born too long. The humour of Van Grin is new, and not so unpleasant, but that it deserves to be more taken notice of, being very material to set off the rest.  
Then the Skittishness of Mrs. Margery, and the ●reakishness of Berenice, are faults too general not to be exposed; besides, who is there so wedded to Melancholy, like the Son of the Emperor Philip the First, but must give way to Laughter, to see the pleasant Humour of Bias, and the extraordinary diversion of Solon.  
I am sensible that Callow was so like the Life, that the Rot me Sparks openly declared their dissatisfaction at the satire: but 'tis a sign it hit them, when they complain of the wound. 'Tis a base and ill-natured, as well as ignorant Age of Chriticism, when the Virtues of a Play shall be Arraigned as Defects; for if these Gentlemen understood either the Original, or end of Comedy, they would never quarrel with the satire of it, since from its beginning 'twas designed to correct Vice, and Folly, by exposing them.  
Little had the Poetic harmony of Orpheus contributed to the benefit of Mankind, by calling the Humane Savages from their rude way of living, to Society, if Comedy had not come in to reform those abuses which grew from Conversation; Necessity indeed was its Mother, for the Follies and Vices of the City as well as the Country, grew beyond all other Redress, which made the Country People (to whom we owe too the Beucolic Poetry) when they Celebrated their Festivals to Apollo Nomius, for the preservation of the Fruits and Products of the Earth, in songs and Madrigals recriminate on those that had abused them: From this beginning, they made another step, and in the night time they frequently entered the City, and exposed such of the more Opulent and Remarkable Citizens, as by their Vanities or Oppressions had rendered themselves justly odious; here they proceeded to a particular ennumeration of the wrongs they had received, and the ills which they had suffered under. The Magistrates and Government observing that this Course was more Powerful than the Laws for the restraining of Vice, and that the fear of the loss of their Reputation, kept those from ill, that could perhaps evade the Penalties of the Laws by Money, or Favour; granted a formal Licence for the performing this in the day time in Verse, from thence Comedy immediately derives itself, which at first, like our Lampoons, feared not to mention the very names of those it would expose. Cratinus was the first that divided into distinct Parts, or Acts; and Aristop●anes brought it to a more Regular and Complete Form; the liberty and bold assurance of this first state of Comedy, Horace in his Fourth satire of his First Book, shows us in these Five Verses.  
Eupolis, atque Cratinus, Aristophanesque Poetae  
Atque alli quorum Comaedia Pri●●● virorum est,  
Si quis erat dignus describi, quod Malus aut fur  
Quod Maechus foret, aut Sicarius, aut alioqui  
Famosus, multâ cum libertate notabatur.  
But the Thirty Tyrants of Athens being themselves so guilty of all manner of Vices, thought they could not better secure themselves in the practice of them, than to gain a Liberty for others to come in for their share, that by the multitude of Offenders, they might be the less observed; but they knew no way to effect their desire, but by taking away this Liberty of Comedy, which kept the Citizens in awe, and within the bounds of Justice; wherefore they established a Law, that any one that should find himself exposed on the Stage, might sue for Satisfaction. This pleased the Wealthy ones so well, that after Expulsion of these Usurpers, Athens preferred this Sanction which so much indulged their Inclinations; so that from this time the Chorus was left off in Comedies, for in them chiefly was names of particular Persons, with their Crimes recited. Horace seems to approve of this Alteration, in these words,  
Successit vetus his Comaedia non sine multâ  
Laude, said in vitium libertas excidit, & vim  
Dignam lege regi; lex est accepta Chorusque  
Turpiter oblicuit, sublato fure nocendi.  
But still the Business of Comedy was to expose the general Vices and Follies of the Age, under feigned Names: So that to eccept against your Play, for the satire of it only, shows your Enemies are wretchedly put to't to find a real fault in't, when they condemn that which is an Excellence, without which, the Poet gains but half his point, losing the Utile, which is an essential part of his Design and Duty.  
But if you could meet with generous Enemies, they would forgive those Errors their quicker sight might discover, for the Beauties and delightful Entertainment of the Lyric part, the Songs I mean, in which I think there is none will (I am sure none ought to) dispute your Title to the Pre-eminence.  
If there be any fault in this Play, 'tis that which few are guilty of; that is, there are too many good Characters, too full of Humour, a very pardonable failing, which only proceeds from Variety, the life of Pleasure and Wit, tho' that gave it the disadvantage of seeming too long the first days Acting, tho' the Stage's being thronged with Spectators, did not a little contribute to the imperfect Acting of it, which accidental Misfortunes concurring with the Endeavours of an opposite Faction, must needs have damned it, had it not by the Force and Vigour of its own Worth, raised itself the second day with the general Applause of all that saw it. Horace thinks it a sufficient proof of a good Poem, if it will bear a second view; 
Haec placuit semel, haec bis repetita placebit.  But the Marriage-hater went further, and in spite of all the disadvantages is laboured under of Action and Audience, pleased on, after several times Repetition, and will as long as Wit, Humour, and Plot shall be esteemed as necessary Materials to compose a good Play. Which have given me so great a Satisfaction both in the Reading and Seeing, that I must beg you, to give me leave, to attest it to the World,  
Who am, Your Friend, and Humblest Servant, CHARLES' GILDON.   



THE NAMES and CHARACTERS.  
L. Brainless. A Pert, Noisy, Impertinent Boy, always thrusting himself into the Lady's Company, and received for his Treats, and the Diversion his Folly gives; a great Admirer of La Pupsey, and Jealous of her Lap-dog: Acted by Mr. Bowman.  
Sir Pilip Freewit. A wild witty Gent. of the Town, who being Jilted by Lady Subtle, whom he once Loved, professes himself a Marriage Hater: Acted by Mr. Monfort.  
Sir Lawr. Limber. A peevish, old-fashioned Courtier, ridiculously Indulgent and Fond of the two Fools his Sons: Acted by Mr. Sandford.  
Capt. Darewell. An honest blunt Sea Captain, true to his Country's Interest, and the Government: Acted by Mr. Hodson.  
Myn. Here Van Grin. A Clownish fat Flanderkin, always laughing at what he says himself, and believing it a Jest, tho' never such Nonsense: Acted by Mr. Leigh.  
Bias. Eldest Son to Sir Laurence, a blunt rude Booby, saucy with Women; and tho' despised by 'em, very opinionated of his own Merit: Acted by Mr. Bright.  
Solon. Youngest Son to Sir Laurence, a dull softly Fool, till vexed, but then robustly stout and fearless of Danger: Acted by Mr. Doggett.  
Callow. A Rascally Lieutenant, disaffected to the Government, tho' he has taken a Commission to serve it; a fellow of no Principles, and always ending every Paragraph of his Discourse with an Oath or a Curse: Acted by Mr. Bow●n.  
Mac Buffle.— An ignorant Irishman, Servant to Sir Philip: Acted by Mr. Trefuse.  
Thummum.— A Toping Parson, Brother to Mac Buffle; by Mr. Smeaton.  
Splutter. A Cunning Tricking Lawyer, a Creature of Lady Subtles.— Acted by Mr. Colly.    



womans  
Lady Subtle. A Proud, high Spirited Widow, who thinking herself affronted by Sir Philip, by his Intrigue with Phoebe, tho' she had engaged to Marry him, breaks off all, and takes another: Acted by Mrs. Barry.  
Lady Bumfiddle. A Prating, Matchmaking, Eating, Impertinent Creature, visiting every one for the sake of a good Dinner, and always teizing 'em with fulsome Stories of the Intrigues about the Town: Acted by Mrs. Cory.  
Phoebe, all. Lovewell. A pretty Innocent, well-natured Creature, who being in Love with Sir Philip, and debauched by him upon his promise of Marriage, puts herself into Bornwell 〈…〉 thes, and manages his business against the Window, underhand: acted by Mrs. Bracegirdle.  
Berenice. A witty Sister to Lady Subtle, a Brisk, Humorous, Freakish Creature, who tho' She is in Love with Captain Darewell, is always teizing and playing tricks with him to know his Temper: Acted by Mrs. Lassells.  
La Pupsey. An Impertinent Creature, always stuffing her Discourse with hard words, and perpetually kissiing and talking to her Lapdog: Acted by Mrs. Butler.  
Margery. Daughter to Sir Laurence, a Lisping, Raw, Ignorant, Skittish Creature, Modest before Company, but otherwise awkerdly Confident: Acted by Mrs. Lawson.  
Comode.— Woman to Berenice.  
Primwell.— Woman to Lady Subtle.  
Singers, Masquers, Drawers, Footmen, and Attendants.    
SCENE, The Park near Kensington. The Space, Thirty Hours.    


ACT I.  

SCENE I.  Enter Sir Philip and Lovewell. Sir Phil. 
GOod Morrow to my sweet Contriver, thou dear Life-blood of my Design, how goes our Business forward?  Love. 
Why just like that of a needy Client, who has a knotty Cause and no Fee to give, the Stars we used to brag of, Sir Philip, have failed us in this Juncture, damnably.  Sir Phil. 
Black Clouds, and Fogs of rank envenomed Fens, eclipse 'em for't, I say, but prithee, my little Engineer, how have they failed? hah, what has this Devil of a Widow overreached us again, are the Writings come from Hambourgh?  Love. 
Most certainly, and by another Hand than we expected.  Sir Phil. 
Another Hand, who, prithee?  Love. 
Why, by what I could discover by the glimpse I had of him, and by listening in the next Room, I find him to be a Man of more Bulk than Brain; in short, a Swagbellyed Flanderkin, a Nephew to our old Knight, Sir Lawrance, in Quality of Fortune recompensed with Fifteen hundred a Year, but in the Quality of Brain and Sense, nothing; a very Devil of a Lover, as indeed all that Nation are; and yet I find, for all that, the Blockhead comes hither a wooing.  Sir. Phil. 
And so this Blockhead, with a Pox to him, has frustrated all our Wit, hah.  Love. 
It seems so, for the Widow has been so alarmed with the loss of the Three thousand pounds worth of Jewels, which you by my Industry have lately got from her; that she has cunningly prevented our Design upon the Writings, and so underhand, ordered this Nephew, who you must know, has a design upon her Person, to secure 'em from you, and bring 'em over, he happening to lodge in the very House where her Husband, Sir Solomon died.  Sir Phil. 
'Tis always so; put a Trick upon any Widow, that does not return it e'er a Twelvemonth ends, and you may conclude the Devil's grown weary with Obliging her Tribe, quite tired with the crowed of their Intolerable Mischiefs. Prithee what's to be done?— 'Sdeath, must I lose an Estate of Seventy thousand Ducats so ridiculously?  Love. 
Was your deceased Friend real to ye? are you sure there's no flaw in the Will? Pray tell me the story once more; I ought to have that repeated once a day, to refresh my Brain for the more subtle contriving.  Sir Phil. 
With all my Heart, to begin then, as I told thee before, Sir Solomon Subtle being my Bosom intimate and entire Friend, going, about two Years since, with me, to visit this beautiful Devil, my then Mistress, fell so desperately in Love with her, that his strange disquiets were every day more and more visible to me; I knew his Generosity and Love to me, made him disguise it as well as he could, but falling sick, at last was forced to own it; you may guests how I was puzzled in the business, much to my love was due, and much to my Friend, till at last, resolved to help him as much as in reason I could, I urged to him this friendly Proposal, that he should have a Month's time fairly to solicit her, at the end of which, he that she chose should marry her, whilst the unfortunate, refused, disposed himself to Travel; he as he had great reason, giving me a world of Thanks, consents, and fits himself against the time of trial.  Love. 
This was a strange proof of Friendship, I confess.  Sir Phil. 
'Twas so, and done merely to save his Life, that when refused, Travel might ease his Sorrows, for I confess I thought myself secure, but see the Mischief of a Woman's Nature; my Friend, that but a Month's short space had wooed her, succeeds when I least thought, by her free choice, and I who best deserved, disgraced and slighted.  Love. 
This was Levity indeed, and you may rail with Reason.—  Sir Phil. 
My Friend, Sir Solomon, upon this, according to Agreement, Marries her, and has in Portion Seventy thousand Ducats, and afterwards in return of the generous Friendship I had shown him, publicly declared, That, dying without Issue if I survived, he would by Will bequeath his Wife and all her Fortune to me.  Love. 
A pretty kind of Legacy.  Sir Phil. 
He being of a weakly Constitution, in short time after dies at Hambourgh, as he was taking possession of another Estate just left him by an Uncle there, for she, a young, fresh, buxom, active, Bona Roba, had so outdone him in the business Conjugal, that th' Soul unable to supply the Body, forced itself out, to seek for rest elsewhere.  Love. 
Oh, pray let that Business alone, and come to your own.  Sir Phil. 
In short then, the Will was made as he had promised, and I named joint Executor with her, as I was credibly informed by a true Friend, that since unluckily was killed at Sea, who reported too, that I was left Heir to the other Estate given by his Uncle, so that I being Ignorant of any Witness, and without possession of the Deeds, could never right myself.  Love. 
But, pray what cause have you e'er given the Widow to make her so Inveterate?  Sir Phil. 
Why, I guess the main and chiefest Cause is thyself, thou knowest dear Phoebe.  Love. 
Lovewell, if you please in this Habit, Sir.  Sir Phil. 
Dear Lovewell, then, that ever since the Widows Jilting me, I've had a strange Antipathy to Marriage, which (not my want of Love) has been the cause of my not doing thee the common Justice, in recompensing that dear Virgin Treasure, thou gav'st up to my Arms.  Love. 
If I should talk t'ye of my little Boy, now, 'twould set me a crying, and you'd but laugh at me.  Sir Phil. 
Well, let him alone then to his Rattle and Bells, and observe me; this Venial Ship of mine, the Widow, has been told of, and her proud Spirit finding my aversion to wear my Friend's old Boots, I mean, herself, resolves to balk me of my Executorship, and keep the Writings close, tho' the late ●●wels were by thy Wit unknown to her surprised.  Love. 
I think that was subtly enough managed, to snap the Messenger with the Casket, just within sight of the Lodging, and wheedle him to yours.  Sir Phil. 
'Twas a Masterpiece— and if thou canst but get the Writings too.—  Love. 
You see I have played my part well too, to get myself in this habit, into the Family, and Sir Lawrance's favour, with pretending to be a Relation of her you had debauched, who was his Kinswoman, this looks with a lucky face: What say ye, will you be good and marry me, if I get what you desire?  Sir Phil. 
Canst thou doubt it? why than we shall have enough to make us, easy, Child.  Love. 
Why then smile Fate, whilst I my wit pursue,  
For such a Fortune, such a Husband too,  
What won't a Maid in my Condition do? Exit.  Sir Phil. 
Right, but we must have two words to the bargain for all that, Child: 'Tis a good natured loving Tit, and o' my Conscience, the wittiest Baggage that ever told a lie t'excuse her Lover; her Father was an honest Country Parson, the Offspring of which Sect, by the way I've observed, seldom or never fails to be good ones; and he had so cloyed her with musty Morals and lukewarm scraps from the old Patriarchs, a Diet so disagreeable to a young Wenches Constitution, that she, like a Gudgeon, snapped at my first Bait; nor was there need of a Hook, the Creature was so greedy: Well, if she does trick this Widow, and get the Writings, she will deserve extremely well of me; but Marriage is such an unreasonable reward for an Estate, that 'tis like giving a Man means to purchase variety of Delicates, and at the same time, obliging him to chaw upon one Rump of Beef all his life time.  Enter Darewell. Darew. 
What, Sir Philip, my eyes dazzle sure, 'tis impossible!  Sir Phil. 
Hoh! my noble Man of War! welcome on Shore. But why impossible, Friend? what wonders dost thou find?  Darew. 
Thee in this place, the Park, so near the Air of Kensington, and yonder place of Terror the Widow's Lodgings.  Sir Phil. 
Oh, Sir, your Widow, like a Ship just returned from a Sea sight, can do little or no hurt upon a second Attack, she has spent all her Artillery upon the first Engagement.  Darew. 
She rails at thee most dreadfully, and blushes through her Mourning when thou art but named, as the Sun does through a Cloud when a Summer Shewer is falling.  Sir Phil. 
Her Mourning? why has the Snake then battened in the skin of her Hypocrisy so long? and does the demure Peak oppress the Forehead still? the Devil's in her; why this is quite contrary to a Widow's Policy. she should have new washed and furbished up the Premises long before this for a new Comer; when the Bill stands too long upon the door, 'tis sign the Tenement's not worth Letting.  Darw. 
Ha, ha, ha, I have heard of your Whoring too, Sir, she has told us all within yonder.  Sir Phil. 
Ay, and would have told thee of her Husband's Cuckoldom too, as well, if she had not a design to draw another into the noose.  Darw. 
No, a Pox on't, this is malice, all the World allow her to be virtuous.  Sir Phil. 
They allow her to be proud indeed, and consequently ill natured, and reserved, Virtue is a rank Chea● in most of the Sex, when once a Woman's Pride promotes her Chastity, her Virtue is the greatest Vice she has.  Enter Callow with a Letter. Darew. 
How now, Lieutenant, has it got an answer?  Callow. 
Yes, Sir, and a pleasant Story to tell you that belongs to't.  Darew. 
Speak softly; another time for that, yonder's your Uncle.  Callow. 
Sir Philip, your most humble Servant. Darewell reads.  Sir Phil. 
So Cousin, I see you're equipped well, your Commission like your Scarf too sits close t'ye, your Sword too of good dimension, but I am told your heart is loose in th' hilts, and tho' you wear the King's name in your Pocket, you herd with those that hate his Government.  Callow. 
Who I, Uncle? he's the Son of a Whore that told ye so, let me but know him, and rot me, I'll make him eat the Sword you speak of; nay, not only the Sword, but the Hilt, the Knot, the Scabbard, the Chape, the Belt, and the Buckles, Broil me.  Sir Phil. 
And why that Rakehelly Cant of Rot me, Burn me, Broil me? Art thou afraid thou shalt not die and be damned soon enough!  Callow. 
Custom, faith Uncle, Custom, besides I think Rot me, Sink me, Burn me, Broil me, etc. are as pretty Tags to a Soldier's discourse, that would be thought a brave Fellow, as odsniggs and sincerely are for a Citizen that intends to cheat under the notion of the Pious; this is my opinion, Rot— O Lord, 'twas coming again.  Sir Phil. 
No, 'tis the Scoundrel Company you keep, such as the young ●op Lord Brainless, than they say you're always stewing at my fat Lady Bumfiddle's, and so great an Admirer of that eternal Mill-clapper, Mrs. Lafoy Pupsey, that you pay Homage to her very Lap-dog.  Callow. 
Never rallied her but once in my life, sink me— 'twas a coming again; 'tis true, I've an honour for my Lady Bumfiddle, because—  Sir Phil. 
Because she's the best Procurer in Town; hush, not a word, lest the Captain hear us, but look to't, for tho' as my Kinsman, I would not willingly see thee hanged.  Callow. 
I humbly thank ye, Uncle.  Sir Phil. 
Yet, Sir, I'd cut your Throat, to save your Credit.  Callow. 
Would ye so, Sir, I should not thank ye very much for that tho, Rot me,— O Lord, there 'twas out.  Sir Phil. 
Well, my dear Captain, I can find by the fold of that Paper, the Shoar is like to engage thee some time here, and therefore thou hast the more leisure to tell me, what News abroad, how stands our Public Affairs, bravely, hah?  Darew. 
As heart can wish, friend, the Turk will get no more ground in Hungary, the French King no more in Flanders, the Sweed will get nothing by his Neutrality, the Irish and Scotch make no more Rebellion; the English Fleet will no more stand out in Action, nor the French Victual themselves again with our Mutton.  Sir Phil. 
Spoke like a true English heart of Oak, gad I see success in thy very look, I'm sure we shall beat 'em, but who are these coming down the walk yonder?  Darew. 
One of 'em is Sir Lawrance Limber, I'm sure I know the Old Scoundrel by his Choleric motion.  Callow. 
And another's his Nephew, newly come from Hambourgh, his Name they tell me is Mine here van Grinn, and rot me, 'tis very well applied, for he does nothing but grin and make faces all the while he's talking, they say he's Son to a Great Senator there, but he's a Blockhead for all that, sink me.  Sir Phil. 
I must play the Bucket with him, and vanish when he appears, there's reason for't— Adieu, Friend, thou shalt know more another time. Exit Sir Phil.  Enter Sir Lawrance, and Van Grinn. Van Grinn. 
And so Uncle, as I was telling ye, ha, ha, ha, ha— 'tis a very good jest faith, the Widow, the Widow, ha, ha, ha, pray mind me Uncle, after I had showed her the Writings, which she had such a plaguy mind you must know to keep from this Sir Philip, what does she do, ha, ha, ha, ha, 'tis a very good jest faith, what does she do Uncle, but brings me down into the Parlour.  Sir Lawr. 
Well, what then— where's the jest of that? Peevishly.  Van Grinn. 
Why I'll tell ye, ha, ha, ha, if you'll have but patience, 'tis a very good jest faith, taking me there into a Corner, after I had brushed her o'er the Lips with a Flemish buss or so, ha, ha, ha— Sir, says she, with a low Courtesy, you're welcome to England, d'ye mind me Uncle, ha, ha, ha, 'tis a very good jest faith.  Sir Lawr. 
‛ Oons let's hear it, 'tis very long a coming, prithee let's hear this jest.  Van Grinn. 
Why presently, Lord what haste you're in, 'dsfish d'ye think a jest like an Old Man's Marriage, is done without Consideration; ha, ha, ha, there I was with the Old Scoundrel sharp, faith and troth?  Sir Lawr. 
Oh Pox, nay if you expect I'll stay foxed till the Sun sets, good buy t'ye, your Servant Captain Darewell.  Darew. 
Sir Lawrance I am yours.  Van Grinn. 
Why here 'tis then, come the Captain shall hear too, ha, ha, ha, ha, 'tis a very good one faith, I must desire ye, Sir, says she, to convey the Writings, d'ye mind me Uncle, to Mr. Splutters my Husband's Councillor, to supervise them, ha, ha, ha, for says she (mind me) Uncle you that were employed by my Husband, are most fit to be entrusted by me your humble Servant.  Sir Lawr. 
A Plague, and what of all this, the jest, the jest Man!  Van Grinn. 
The jest, why I've a design to marry her, ye Old Skellum, (Old Gent. I mean) and to save me the trouble of Courting, she meets me half way, and, tho' a Widow, trusts me with her Writings, ha, ha, ha, ha, is not that a plaguy sign, faith and troth?  Sir Lawr. 
Not of a jest, by the Parliament, tho' I have been waiting an hour for't.  Van Grinn. 
Of her Love, man, there's the jest, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Lawr. 
Ah! the Low-country Fogs choak thee for a dull Rogue, love thee, hark'e— she neither loves thee one jot, nor is there any jest in't at all, by the Parliament.  Van Grinn. 
No jest, that's a good one faith, ha, ha, ha, what say you Captain, no jest?  Darew. 
I am expecting, Sir, I have set my face this half hour.  Van Grinn. 
Expecting, the jest is flown to Per●assus top by this time, ha, ha, ha, pray Sir, what's your Opinion? To Callow.  Callow. 
I have not seen the glimpse of a Jest to day, Rot me.  Sir Lawr. 
Unless grinning, gaping, and making of Sarrazen-faces be a jest, Captain will you believe me, I swear by the Parliament, you know my Oath when I'm serious, but that I knew his Father who was my Brother, I should believe that his Mother was intimate with some Baboon, and he were the effect of her unnatural Conception.  Darew. 
A merry Man, Sir Lawrance, I see he's always in humour.  Sir Law. 
Merry, a pox on him, he is not merry neither; 'tis true, one would think that when a Man laughs he should be merry, but 'tis otherwise with him, for this Fool shall grin at any thing, and as much when he is Cudgeled, as when he is Complemented— the least trifle will do it, as for Example now. Pulls off his Peruke, puts on Spectacles, and shakes his head.  Van Grinn. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha— very good jest I faith, Captain, look upon my Uncle's bald pate there, and the Spectacles, ah poor Nuncle, halloo, halloo, halloo, there went the Hair away, ha, ha, ha.  Darew. 
Ah the Devil take thee, what a damned pun the Rogue has found out!  Callow. 
●●oy ●●me, the Old fellow looks very Comically, but I won't laugh, because he has a Rich young fool to his Daughter, that I've a Design upon.  Van Grin, 
Ha, ha, ha, ha. Gives him a Patt.  Sir Law. 
D'ye see Captain, a senseless Rogue, d'ye mind him, an ignorant Puppy, to stand grinning all this while at the Honourable Emblem of Age and Experience— and to dare to be saucy with me too, I've no more patience, I'll Cudgel him. Darewell interposes.  
Captain stand by a little, and you shall see me break three of his Ribs, I'll do't, by the Parliament, I'm serious.  Darew. 
Oh, you must not strike here, Sir Lawrance, 'tis too near the Court, and will look like ill manners.  Sir Law. 
'Odso, you're in the right, troth Captain, I have been a Courtier this Fifty years, and never waged my Finger out of order yet, but I'll manage you another way, friend— You get a Widow with that Flanderkin Owl's Phiz? No fool, my two Sons come to Town to day from Shrewsbury, Bias and Solon, Bias can tickle up a Widow as she ought, he shall have her I'm resolved on't, by the Parliament he shall, I'm serious.  Darew. 
Now by this Oath of his can't I perceive whether this Old Sarab be for Monarchy, or the Commonwealth.  Callow. 
Oh ●●o●l him, for Monarchy without doubt, you heard him say he has been an Old Courtier.  Darew. 
That I had forgot, indeed.  Van Grinn. 
Ha, ha, ha— So Uncle, you say your Son Bias shall carry the Widow, a very good jest saith, but that's as she and I shall agree Uncle; the Widow has already some feeling knowledge of my part, she has Uncle, ha, ha, ha, good again, she knows what's what Uncle— the difference between ● strong portly able Fellow sit for Service, ha, ha, ha, and a weakly Consumptive Puny Shrimp, ●●e for nothing but to make Sauce of, ha, ha, ha, ha; so that if Bias is not for her turn Uncle, I hope another may that's better liked, tho' Bias were as wise as his Namesake, the Philosopher of— ha, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Law. 
●●ye s●● Captain, 〈…〉, on my Conscience the Rogue will grin if he was at the Resurrection.  Enter Sword. Darew 
O● no, the fatigue of Doomsday will make him serious, I warrant ye.  Sir Law. 
How now Lovewell, who would you speak with?  Love. 
Sir I come to tell ye that the two young Gentlemen your Sons are arrived, and being informed by me that you were walked into the Park, are coming yonder to meet ye.  Sir Law. 
Are they come, that's well, now Captain pray observe my Son Solon, my Son Bias is the Elder, 'tis true, a pretty brisk Blade, but my Son Solon has a head ●it or a Statesman, solid, solid, Solon's a prodigious Fellow.  Darew. 
There's some wonderful virtue in this Solon sure.  Callow. 
I'll hold any Man a Dutch Ducat he's a Coxcomb, sink me.  Sir Law. 
Now Buffle look to yourself, here's one coming will quickly put your Nose out of joint with the Widow I warrant ye. To Van Grinn.  Van Grinn. 
What, while she trusts me with her Writings, that's a very good jest faith, ha, ha, ha.  Love. 
Trust him with the Writings, that's well, this was a lucky discovery, and I'll manage it accordingly, you shall have more Waiters than you expect, my jolly Flanderkin. Aside.  
But no more of this at present, here comes the other brace of Boobies.  [Enter Solon, and Bias with a Patch on's face, they ask Blessing.] Sir Law. 
Bless ye, bless ye, y' are welcome to Town, but what's the matter Son Bias? What ails your Face?  Darew. 
Has the Gentleman been in some Quarrel?  Bias. 
That's no matter, let it be as it will, some body shall find he has more than no body to deal with, my Brother Solon, can tell you more, a Jest is but a Jest, and every Body is free in the King's Highway, and if I did kiss her, 'twas no more than she deserved, and every Gentleman might do, my Brother Solon can tell you more.  Van Grin. 
A very good Jest faith; see how Solon looks, ha, ha, ha. Damn him, I knew he must be a Coxcomb.  Sir Law. 
What have you been in a Scuffle, since you came to Town, how came your Brother's head broke Solon?  Solon. 
Why, truly Father, my Brother Bias was, as one may say, somewhat saucy with a Sentry that belonged to that great House yonder.  Sir Law. 
'Slife the Court, my heart trembles within me, well, go on, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Solon. 
There came by a young Woman, you must know, with a Basket of Strawberries, a fringed laced cocking, topping, rowzy, frowzy young Woman, as a Man may say, and as I told you before, with a Basket of Strawberries.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha,— I'll put in and interrupt him, so Cousin Solon, and what then— a very good Jest faith, as a Man may say, Solon, why, if ye are my Cousin, that may be, but I did not indeed tell my Tale to you, I'm talking to my Father, as a Man may say.  Bias. 
You need not be so curious In the matter, let things go as they will, 'tis but a head broke, and I've had as much at Cudgels a hundred times before now, why, what ado's here, my Brother Solon can tell you more.  Darew. 
'Sdeath, these brace of Fools, are more nauseous than tother, I'm sick of 'em already.  Sir Law. 
Heart and Lungs, why dost not go on Solon, I'm afraid Captain, the rash Boy, has affronted some Quality or other about the Court, which, by the Parliament, I would not he should for a thousand Pound, I'm serious.  Solon. 
In short, than my Brother Bias would have gone into that great House with his Boots on, at which the Sentry stops him, at which the young Woman laughs, d'ye laugh, says Bias, I'll buss ye for that brackins.  Sir Law. 
Mettle to the back, Captain, just so was I myself, in my young days, just so in troth.  Solon. 
So Bias bussed her whether she would or no, and I vow and swear, I had a huge mind to be at her myself, for 'twas a curious ●ine Woman, and had the softest, whitest Neck, as a Man may say.  Van ●rin. 
Why, well said Solon, gramercy Solon, Solon's a plaguy Dog at a Wench, I warrant him, ha, ha.  Bias. 
Nay, she need not have squauld and squeaked at that rate, as if she had been Ravished, 'twas no such strange matter to her, for I heard 'twas but a Chambermaid, after all.  Sir Law. 
Gad I'm glad of that however, as I hope to be saved, Captain, I was afraid it might have been one of the Maids of Honour, and th●n my Son had been ruined for ever, he had, by the Parliament, now I'm serious.  Callow. 
This Sottish old Fellow, is as great a Dunce as his Sons, Rot me.  Sir Law. 
And so in short, Bias ru●●led the Woman, and the Century broke his head for't.  Solon. 
You have hit it in troth, Father, as a man may say.  Van Grin. 
The Sentry hit it, you mean, Solon, a very good jest again, faith there are your wits, Nuncle, ha, ha, ha, ha. Aside to him.  Sir Law. 
Now is that grinning Dog in his Kingdom.  Re-enter Lovewell. Love. 
Sir, if you are not too busy, I should deliver a Message to you.  Van Grin. 
From whom, Sweetheart?  Love. 
The Widow, Sir. Exit Lovewell.  Van Grin. 
the Widow, hush, I'll follow thee immediately; she has some new fondness to show me, I'll be hanged else, ha, ha, ha, ha, a very good jest faith— Good buoy Nuncle, my Nose will be damnably bored, I see, my Cousin Bias must carry the Widow, and Solon has a Head ●it for a Statesman,— ha, ha, ha, ha, Solid, solid.  Sir Law. 
Ah, would thou were't hanged that thou— Exit Van Grin.  
Might'st grin to some purpose, by the Parliament.  Solon 
'Od, if I had thought he mocked me, I would have had a pluck with him, I tell him, that there should have been more marks in his Fate than his Nose, I tell him but so.  Bias. 
My Brother Solon and I would have shown him some of Shrewsbury play, i'faith, for all my Head's broke.  Sir Law. 
Well, not too much of that, good Bias, not to no more of your Court Saluta●ions, d'ye hear,— is no sign of good Breeding, this is only hear of Blood, Captain, the working of the Animal Spirits; Youth, Youth, the Boys have known no Sorrow.  Darew. 
No Faith, nor Joy neither, their Dolts are too Insensible; 'dsdeath, what a blind old Sot is this!  Sir Law. 
'Troth, Captain, I've a great Care upon me, to know how to dispose of these Boys; this Bias is a Lewd, Mischievous, Young Dog, I design him for an Office.  Callow. 
Sot, Rascal, Damn him, what does the Fellow mean?  Sir Lawr. 
Tother there shall be a Lawyer, because of his instructing Face▪ h●'ll be a Prodigious Fellow, for look ye, Captain, if you mind it, his face will become a Sergeants Quoif extremely, he'll certainly be a prodigious Fellow.  Darew. 
A prodigious Fellow, indeed— Oh the insufferable blindness of a dull Father.  Sir Lawr. 
And as for Wives, I have 'em ready for 'em, my Son Bias shall have the Widow, and my Son Solon her Sister, both swinging Fortunes, by the Parliament.  Darew. 
'Ds'death, what says he, her Sister— my Mistress, by this light.  Sir Lawr. 
They're now at home with my Sister Bumfiddle: I'll go watch her coming out, ●or I'm resolved to propose it to night; and so my noble Captain, Farewell.  Darew. 
Hold, hold, Sir Lawrence, a word with ye first.  Sir Lawr. 
Not for a thousand Pound, Sir, it comes into my head that this is the lucky minute. Come Bias, farewell Captain, come along Solon, come.  Exeunt Sir Laurence, and Son●. Callow. 
Well, if ever I had so much patience since I was born, boil me; why there are not four such Fools again within the four Seas; sink me, and I hope the Daughter is as bad.  Darew. 
I'm glad the old Coxcomb has told me his design upon the Widow's Sister, I'll prevent his Son's folly there, I'll warrant him; this Letter from her I hope is more favourable than the rest, how cam'st thou to get it, she was in a very good humour sure?  Callow. 
Why, my Intimacy in the Family made her Employ me, I believe; besides knowing that I was coming to ye; but as to her humour, she's no Changeling, 'twas just at the old rate.  Darew. 
What ●reakish, ●reakish! come, before I read her Billet-doux, prithee tell me, what did she say of me?  Callow. 
Why she said you were an Ass,— Devil take me.  Darew. 
I thank her: well, go on.  Callow. 
She says she believes ye to be one of those freshwater Captains, that was so purposely blind that you would not see the French Fleet, when they were out, for fear of fighting, but still laid excuse upon a great Fog.  Darew. 
Admirable! ha, ha, ha—  Callow. 
She says she'll never believe ye Valiant, till you get a wooden Leg, nor can ever love ye, till you do one thing for her.  Darew. 
What's that, prithee?  Callow. 
Hang yourself: Ro● me, I thought she was mad: the rest of her pretty humour you'll find in the Letter.  Darew. 
And without doubt, as good a Comedy as this is a Prologue: Well, I'll go and read it at my better leisure, and afterwards visit and tease her as I see occasion.  

Mild easy Love should never be abused,  
But your mad Mistress must be madly used. Exeunt.     

ACT. II  

SCENE I.  [Enter Lady Subtle dressed in Mourning, Berenice and Comode.] L. Subtle. 
IS my Lady gone, Sister?  Beren. 
Gone, what before she has her Morning's draught, before ●ert hirst is quenched with one quart Glass, and the quick motion of her tongue ●as dried her up for another; gone, said ye! no, no, she must have two Bumpers more, and a Dinner before she goes, I'll secure ye.  Comode. 
She's below in the Parlour, Madam, teaching Sir Lawrances Daughter to keep out her Toes, and some new Rules of Behaviour.  L. Subtle. 
Fogh, that's a nauseous Creature too, and indeed ●it to learn of no body but her, for she has too little tongue, and the tother too much; she lisps and slobbers out her words like a perfect Changeling, and the tother, with a voice like a Trump-Marine, is ever bawling in your ears, and running over all the Intrigues of Town and Country, without ever breathing between.  Beren. 
She's Tutor the two Sons I believe too, I hear they are come.  Comode. 
Yes, to your Sorrows— you'll be thronged with Suitors now.  L. Subtle. 
If either of 'em speaks of Love to me, I'll break his head, I hate both them, and all Mankind.  Beren. 
Sir Philip too, Sister, come don't lie.  L. Subtle. 
Would thou wert hanged for naming him, that Villain above all the rest has the ascendant, and with my late poor sneaking fool that's dead, still Plotted to affront me, but I'll throw off this nauseous Black to morrow; shake off the Widow, and appear myself gay, ●rolicksome, I'm sure I've Youth enough, and Beauty, or my Glass deceives me; what a shame 'tis that Custom should make us such Hypocrites to wear this filthy Dress, as a respect to a dull lazy d●one of a Husband we wish would break his neck the next day after our Marriage.  Berenice. 
Why well said, Widow, but is this Consquent to that wring of hands, that storm of sighs, and ●lood of tears that came from you when first you heard the News of the good Man's departure to his long home; are these two humours suitable?  L. Subtle. 
Those tears were suitable to that time, Fool; tears are as natural then, as a smile is to a Lover when we receive a Present, or Flattery to a great Statesman, from one that designs to beg a Place of him.  Beren. 
And they were shed I'll say that for 'em in abundance, sorrow came ●lowing down in purling streams, and Crystal Rivulets, as the Poets have it, and the Handkerchief was so wet—▪  L. Subtle. 
Reason good, Changeling, I had an Union tied up in the Corner on'●.  Comode. 
Does your Ladyship never intent to think more of Sir Philip then, I've heard you say you did love him once?  L. Subtle. 
Ay, and hate him the more for't now, intolerable wretch, in the midst of his Intrigue with me I discovered the Villain had another ●hat was with Child by him, upon which in a mad ●it I married this dull Sir Solomon, who was just dying for me; yet good nature returning afterwards to this ungrateful Freewit, I was contented my Fortune should be settled upon him after the Fool my Husband's death, provided he behaved himself well to me; but o'th' contrary, he insolently disdains it, professes himself a Marriage-Hater, and poorly imagines his Wit shall get the Writings and Estate in spite of me, but I think I have balked him now, for I've just now sent 'em by Sir Lawrence's Nephew to my Husband's Council here in Town, who is my Creature, to ●ind a flaw in 'em.  Beren. 
What, right or wrong, that's a rare Councillor indeed—  L. Su●tle. 
Oh prithee mind tying thy stockings up straight, and leave me to the management of my own affair; a Widow knows as well what to do with her Writings, after her Husband's death, as thou dost with a troublesome Maidenhead before thou art Married; and prithee, now I think on't, what is become of thy Sea-Lover, the Captain, hah, hast thou sunk him yet?  Beren. 
No, he lies at Anchor still, and expects daily when he shall grapple me, but I can't leave my old freakish humour for the heart of me, I use him like a dog sometimes, I can't help it, faith 'tis in my Nature.  Comode. 
She makes a mere Fool of him, soft, kind, and easy— as if she would invite him to Bed to her this minute, and the next cocks up her nose, frowns, calls him names, and will no more know him, than a new made Judge will a Country Attorney, that has formerly treated him at the Ninepences Ordinary.  Beren. 
A Man looks so like a Fool when he makes Love— that I can't for my Soul keep in one humour, and yet I like the honest blunt Dog well enough▪ if I would let one of the two-legged Bears rub their brisles upon my face, it should rather be him, than a Milksop ●lashy Beau at any time.  L. Suttle. 
Oh here's my Lady and the young Dowdy, now if there be any Intrigues or Matches stirring about the Town, we shall have 'em, I'm sure— Sits down at the Toilet.  Enter Lady Bumfiddle, and Margery. L. Bum. 
Widow, I heartily beg thy pardon for being so long from thee, I have been tormenting myself this hour below in the Parlour, with this awkward fool my Niece here, hark thee in thy ●ar. Sits down. I labour in vain, as I'm a Protestant, I shall never bring her to any thing, I have been swinging her this half hour in an Iron swing below, to make the Changeling hold up her head.  L. Subtle. 
She's very slippant with my Sister yonder, you see.  L. Bum. 
Flippant, Lord help her, as I'm a Protestant, Child she can't speak one word of sense in a forenoon; Flippant, shame on her, she makes me distracted; she can make shift 'tis true to ask for her Porridge or Watergruel in a morning, but if a Man do but speak to her, or touch her, then she's presently at her— Let me alone, will ye? pish, what aileth the Man? fough, can't ye be quiet? Aunt, Aunt, the Man squeeseth me, and the like; and then makes more ugly faces than a Monkey that has burnt his mouth with hot Chestnuts; and yet the senseless Jade is turned of Eighteen too, Mimics Margery in Lisping, and Actions.  
An Age when, to my knowledge,  
If she have not her Womanly apprehensions about her she, will never have 'em, as I'm a Protestant.  L. Subtle. 
She has a very good Tutor of your Ladyship, I wonder she does not Learn.  L. Bum. 
Learn, why the thing has no Soul in't, Child, you may sooner teach an Irish Man the Art of Poetry, as I'm a Protestant. To Berenice. So my little Quintessence of Conversation,— what, you are diverting your spleen upon my Niece there?  Beren. 
Quite contrary, Madam, for we have been railing at your Ladyship; she says, last night at play, you would make her let a Gentleman tie on her Garter, tho' she always wears'em above her Knee.  L. Bum. 
'Dslife, we were all at Questions and Commands, and he must tie on the Garter if the King Commands, tho' 'twere above her Waste, 'tis the Authority of the Play, and the Changeling knows it well enough.  L. Subt. 
I find my Lady has been very obedient in her young days.  Marg. 
Well, well, I won't let him tho', I won't, and I care not a farthing whether ever I play again or no, for if ever he comes to touth my Legs, I'll give him a good dowth o'th' Chops, let the King ●●y what he will, he shan't touth my Legs.  L. Bum. 
Thant touth your Legs,— ah Malkin, thy Husband that is to be, is like to have a fine time with thee, but indeed 'twould be no great satisfaction to him, for they are both Crooked.—  Beren. 
Hark'e, tell her, her own are the wrong end upward, she has had neither Ankle nor Calf this seven Years.  Marg. 
O Lord, I've a good mind I vow and thwear, but that I'm afraid she'll plague me with some thmutty Jest or other, for she hath 'em at her Finger's ends, and, I vow, makes me blush sometimes twenty times a day.  L. Bum. 
What, she is grumbling at me, I warrant, senseless Brute, because I endeavour to inform her Stupidity, and make her fit.  Beren. 
For the Conversation of the Beaux Esprits, Madam.—  L. Bum. 
For the Business of this World, Child, she should not be afraid of a Man if I had the ordering her; 'dslife, when I was of her years, no Man durst put a thing to me, but snap I had him in a moment; I came upon him souse, with twenty Jests one after another, and afterwards made him look so like a Fool.  L. Subt. 
Your Ladyship's Wit was equal to your bulk, Madam, and 'tis no wonder the Men were worsted, for a great Fellow durst no more stand the severity of your Jest than, a little Fellow your Fist, for the one was sure to be outrallied, and the tother to be knocked down.  L. Bum. 
Nature indeed took care not to stint me in my Dimensions; nor was I backwards in letting the Men know her benefits, as this Fool is here.  Marg. 
Well, well, I care not, the Men thant touth me, I'm retholved, I can't abide 'em; I'll let ne'er a Man in England touth me, but Mr. Thummim our Parthon.  L. Bum 
The Parson, d'ye hear her, Madam, for all her Skittishness, this Coy Quenn shall sit upon the Parson's Lap two hours together, and you know some of those are plaguy Fellows, for all their demure looks, if she were my Daughter, I had as lief trust her with a Dragoon as a Parson, as I'm a Protestant.  Marg. 
Pugh, they what you will, I love him for all that, for he teaches me Quethions and Responthes, and when I was a little Girl he taught me Morning and Night my Catechise, like a good Man as he is.  Beren. 
Ay Child, and now thou art a great Girl, he will teach thee the Matrimony, if thou wilt, I warrant him, the good Man won't give over his Devotion, if he finds thou art worth any thing.  L. Bum. 
Come, prithee let's leave her to her Chalk and Oatmeal, Exit Margery. for that all these skittish things come to, with Lips as green as a Leek, and a Face as if it were cut out of a Turnip; and let's talk of things more solid: Prithee, Widow, what hast got for Dinner? hah.  L. Subt. 
Pigeons, I think, my Lady, and something else.  Beren. 
Oh, now she's got into her Kingdom, to hear her talk all this while, and nothing of Eating, Drinking, nor Intrigue, has me wonder. Aside.  L. Bum. 
Pigeons, Pox, that's piddling, melancholy stuff; hast any Venison, Child?  L. Subt. 
Venison, Madam, yes, I believe there is.  L. Bum. 
Prithee, what piece, dost know, a Haunch? ha.—  L. Subt. 
I swear, Madam, I can't tell that, I'll send to my Cook and know, if you please; Comode, go to the Cook, and ask him.  L. Bum. 
Do, dear Mrs. Comode, ●only for a fancy; for you must know, I dreamed of a Haunch last Night, and Mrs. Comode, with your Lady's leave, ●ill my Glass that I used to drink her ladyship's health in, and bring it with ye.  Beren. 
So, now will she get half drunk, and then if we scape being deaf, we are happy.  L. Bum. 
Widow, I've got a Husband for thee, Child, I have been Contriving▪—  L. Subt. 
Oh, Madam, I beg your Ladyship's pardon, I'll not marry.  L. Bum. 
Nay, 'tis neither to Sir Lawrence's Nephew nor his Son, tho' I know he has a design upon thee for the last, but a Young, Brisk, Rich, Active, Handsome,— 'odslife, and what's better than all, a Fool too, a rare Boy for a Widow.  Beren. 
I warrant your Ladyship knows all the Matches have been made this twenty Years.  L. Bum. 
Within three, I think, Child— why, I make most of 'em myself, I get five hundred pound a Year by it; nay, whether they marry or no, if I can but get 'em together, 'tis the same thing.  Beren. 
Truly then a Bawd and your Ladyship are not much unlike the same thing, in my Opinion. Aside.  L. Bum. 
I have observed, Widow, that no Intrigue that I have not had a hand in, has prospered lately; My poor Lord Spindle, I hear, made an Effort last week upon Miss Gambol, an Heiress at Greenwich, but I not being in the Plot, my Lord lost her: Then Sir john Limber, a great Sportsman of the North, would fain have shot the Widow Wagbum flying, but he gave false Fire without me; my Brother here, too, for I'm no respecter of Persons, intends to fix his Son Bias upon thee, Widow, and his darling Solon upon Mrs. Berenice there, but not consulting me, it shan't do, as I'm a Protestant.  L. Subt. 
Why then I find your Ladyship has a right and title to dispose of me, whether I will or no.  L. Bum. 
Most certainly, Child.  Berem. 
Pray, Madam, will your Ladyship give me leave to blow my Nose, for I find I have nothing at my own command?  L. Bum. 
Oh, that you may, witty Mrs. Berenice, freely: Thank'e, good Mrs. Comade,— Enter Comode with a great Glass full. well, I'll take a time to do some good turn for thee too, e'er long, I will, as I'm a Protestant; I've an old Gentleman-Usher in my Eye for thee.—  Comode. 
Thank your Ladyship; 'tis a Haunch, Madam, and Colliflowers.  L. Bum. 
It is, that's well; here, Widow, here's a health to thy merry Thought. Drinks.  L. Subt. 
What does she mean?  Beren. 
To be drunk, if she swallows all that, or the Devil's in her.  L. Bum. 
Deliver me, what's this?— Egad, [makes Fac●s and spits] Mrs. Comode, prithee what hast thou given me here?— Egad.—  Comode. 
Lambeth-Ale, Madam.  L. Bum. 
Lambeth-Ale, what a plague came into thy Head to give me Lambeth-Ale?  Comode. 
'Tis fresh and good, Madam.  L. Bum. 
To give one the Gripes,— Egad, fresh and good, said she; Puddle for Frogs, as I'm a Protestant,— go prithee, fill it me with Sherry, Sugar and Nutmeg, according to the ancient, laudable Custom, Fool.  L. Subt. 
Ha, ha, ha, this Lambeth-Ale has mortified her strangely; go get my Lady some Sherry, you know what she drinks well enough.  Beren. 
If you are given to mistakes thus, Mrs. Comode, you may whistle for your Gentleman-Usher, I'll tell ye that.  L. Bum. 
Prithee stand out of the way, and with my Lady's leave, I'll go and order it myself.  L. Subt. 
This Baggage has hindered us of all our News. Ex. L. Bumfiddle.  Beren. 
Oh, no, when she has drunk her Bumper we shall have it with Interest, and Sister, I see you are like to have more Guests, for there's two Chairs just now come in.  Comode. 
One of 'em carries my young Lord Brainless, I'm sure, for I saw his Page.  Beren. 
Egad, I shall eat no Dinner then: Prithee Sister, why dost let that lewd, nauseous, silly Boy visit thee, 'tis as bad as a Lampoon to be in's Company?  L. Subt. 
'Dslife, there's no avoiding him, he will visit every body, nor is every House sufficient, but like a Fly he'll be buzzing in every Corner on't.  Beren. 
Just as he uses the Playhouse, from the Box, whip he's in the Pit, from the Pit, hop he's in the Gallery, from thence, hay pass between the Scenes, in a moment, where I have seen him spoil many a Comedy, by baulking the Actor's entrance, for when I have eagerly expected some Buffoon to divert, the first nauseous appearance has been my Lord.  Comode. 
Oh, now I see who's i'th' tother Chair, 'tis Mrs. Lafoy Pupsey, Madam.  L. Subt. 
And her Lapdog then, I'm sure, why we shall have rare Diversion, we need see no Play to day, the best Comedy will be acted here, however I'll avoid her as long as I can; but methinks, Sister, 'tis ●it you should go and entertain my Lord.  Beren. 
Not I, I'll have none of your Lords, especially such as he is; your Lord is a Leaden Shilling to me, as the Plain-Dealer says.— Exeunt.  Enter Lord Brainless, and La Pupsey, with her Lapdog, Page waiting. L. Brain. 
hay, where are all my Lady's People, here? the Family, methinks, are strangely careless,— this would be a mortal Crime in France now, we ne'er visit there, but you ●ind a Footman at the bottom of every pair of Stairs, and a Page in every Room.  L. Pupsey. 
Your Lordship is the Original of all good breeding, your bell ay● is incomparable, and your Address has something in it so sovereignly graceful, that it surprises extremely; the Cadance of your speech too is soft and symphonical, but above all, your Lordship's dress is always so à Droite Novelle & à propos, that as you are the delight of the Beau Monde, you are certainly the envy of the Beaux Esprits: I have found his French vein, and will accordingly humour it. Aside.  L. Brain. 
A pr●ty Creature this, but so horribly fortified with the shell of her Compliments, that like a Tortise there's no attacking her before nor behind, the Devil take me— Apart.  L. Pupsey. 
I vow I'm pleased extravagantly with your Lordship's particularity in your Stockings to day.  L. Brain. 
Gad, Madam, I must needs own I would not give threepences for Humane Life, but for the honour of being esteemed by the Fair Sex, for— something or other pretty Mrs. Berenice, yesterday, upon my asking her what Stockings she thought became my Leg best, told me buff-colour, or yellow— implying Jealousy; adding withal this pleasant Conceit, that my Legs would seem as jealous of their Performance, being to make their Congee to the Merit and Beauty of my Mistress, which, faith, was well enough said; I think.  L. Pup. 
nay we of the Cabal do allow that Berenice has some wit.  L. Brain. 
Afterwards I asked your Opinion, you know, Madam; and you told me a Pink, upon which, faith, in pursuance of the French Gallantry, I resolve to honour your judgements, and wear both.  La. Pupsey. 
Your Lordship's most humble Servant. Courtesies.  
He's very obsequious of late, I hope he will marry me. Aside.  L. Brain. 
All I fear is the young Fellows of the Town will get into the fashion too soon; for I'm sure it will take prodigiously, 'tis very particular and new.  La. Pupsey. 
'Tis agreeable with the rest, my Lord, I wish my Lady were here to join with me in applause, I'll go find her out.  L. Brain. 
By no means, Madam. Sirrah, you Monkey— what a plague are you asleep; go and inform my Lady, or rather, Madam, since 'tis to serve you— I'll go myself— Exit Brain. and Page.  L. Pupsey. 
His Sense is not the most genuine I have met with, therefore there's the more hopes I may get him; come my Jewel, come Sits down, speaks to, and kisses her Lap-Dog. and sit down with thy Mistress, and love her, and kiss her, and tell her some pretty Stories; so, so, so, that's my sweet Creature, that's my Soul, my Joy, my Life, kiss Dony, kiss thy ●own Mistress again Dony, and so I will, says he, and kiss her, and kiss her again, says he; what d'ye think I'm like my Lord, to spend my time in ●hat and Compliment, when I may kiss, and kiss, and kiss again a young Lady, says he: Nay, nay, ●ye Dony, ●ye, now you don't kiss ●air, now you lick me Dony, you do, you dear Jewel you. What then, says he, what if I did, 'tis no more than I used to do, and no more than you like neither, says he? ye lie Sirrah, ye lie, ye dear Creature you, and get ye gone from me.  Enter L. Brainless. L. Brain. 
Ah! Jesus, Madam, there's all the world within with my Lady; there's the Old Knight Sir Laurence, the Dowdy his Daughter; then there's my fat Lady Bumfiddle, and the two nauseous unlicked Cubs the Sons, that gave me the Vapours at the very sight of 'em, they are all coming, how shall we divert ourselves?  L. Pupsey. 
I hope they had sense enough to distinguish your Quality, my Lord?  L. Brain. 
I think they had manners enough to call me, my Lord, indeed, but my dress was no more regarded, than if I had wore a Cloak; they took no more notice of my Stockings, than if a fool had wore 'em, the Devil take me.  La Pupsey. 
The Spirit of dullness had possessed 'em sure; hah, what think'st thou, Jewel? thou wouldst have treated my Lord better, I'm sure: Yes, says he, that I would, I know a Man of Quality when I see him, says he, yes that he does, that's my Dony, that's my life, umph Mistress loves thee at her none heart root. Kisses the Dog.  L. Brain. 
A delicate Dog indeed, Madam; come hither, pretty Creature: Pray what's his name?  La Pupsey. 
Adonis, my Lord,— Oh fie, fie, Dony, where are your manners, what be rude to my Lord; go, go, kiss him, and love him, and tell him a pretty Story, and ask his Lordship how he does, and when he kissed his Mistress last, d'ye hear Dony, that's my Jewel.  L. Brain. 
This is as extravagant a language as her other, I'll try to imitate her— And if you can ask Questions, you can answer, Dony, who is your Bedfellow, Dony? where did you lie last night, you happy Creature you? with my pretty Mistress, says he, between her white soft melting— Arms, says he, where many an honest Gentleman would be glad to have been, says he: Well, Dony, but what Moles has your Mistress, Dony, hah? you dear Creature?  La Pupsey. 
Pish, I won't tell ye, says he: O fie, my Lord, you shall have him no longer, you teach the Dog paw things, and you can't imagine what an apprehension the dear Creature has— I vow, I believe 'tis not impossible to teach him French, for I was saying to him t'other day, En ●assant, Monsieur le Chien, je suis uôsre tres humble Servant, and I vow, to my thinking, turning about with a French Grimace, Madamoiselle dit il, je suis vot Servitur●, plainer than any Gascoign can speak it by far.  L. Brain. 
Miraculous! And in the right French tone too, Madam?  La Pupsey. 
Tone! nay, my Lord, ne'er a Dog in Christendom hits a note like him, he sings a Minuet after me perfectly, I'll try if he be in humour. Sing, Dony, come sing my Soul, my Life,— come— Thol, Lol, Lol, Pinches the Dog, and he howls.  
That's my none comfort, come then, sing then, Dearest.  
Indeed, my Love, says he, I do the best I can, umph, umph, umph, sweet Creature,— your Lordship might observe the note was in alt, tho' a little out of Tune, and hoarse— the poor Rogue has got a desperate cold.  L. Brain. 
As all good Singers generally have, Madam.  La Pupsey. 
Right, my Lord, you should have heard it else in perfection, he does not aim to a Chorister yet, but he sings much better than the Clerk of any Parish.  L. Brain. 
To six myself more in your good grace, Madam, and knowing how tender your esteem was for him, I have caused some words of mine to be set on that purpose, where I envy his happiness, and wish myself in his condition, for to be so carressed by you, must be the extremity of happiness, that's most certain: but sirst, if you please, I'll treat you with an Italian Air.  La Pupsey. 
I vow your Lordship honours us both extremely, but him in a more particular manner, but I beseech your Lordship add another to us, and let us hear it. An Italian Song.  L. Brain. 
With all my Soul, Madam, umph, thol, lol, lol; ah pox of ill luck, here's the deluge breaking in upon us, '●is impossible whilst they are here to do justice to any Music.  Enter Sir Laurence, L. Subtle, Berenice, Darewell, Bias, and Solon. Sir Law. 
Speak to her Bias, and Solon, don't be afraid, I'll stand by ye; what my Estate may encourage ye sure to speak to as good as they; push on I say, brisk, brisk, you must always push briskly to a Widow, she won't care a fig for ye else; to her Boy, to her Bias— and Solon, a plague what art thou a doing, thou look'st as if thou wert rather going to hang thyself, than make Love— why to her Sirrah— to her I say, let's hear a little wit.  L. Subtle. 
Well, Sir, what News?  Bias. 
News, Gad sooks, I never read any News, Madam, I founder like a Spavined Mare when I read a Gazet; but I can tell ye this, that I love ye damnably; and if you would do as much for me, as the Song says, you should be my Delight, both by Day, and by Night.  Beren. 
Well, Sir, and what say you?  Solon. 
I can't say much, but I've a great mind to be married, as a Man may say, and methinks, and you have the purest Neck and Bubbies that ever I saw, as I hope to be saved, hay, ho, I wonder what a Clock 'tis?  Sir Lawr. 
What a Clock 'tis, 'oons what a question's there, I believe the Boy's bewitched, methinks he has no wit at all now, Captain.  Darewell. 
No, nor luck neither, Sir, he shall cross the Old Proverb for once, shall I beg a word or two, Madam.  Berenice. 
About what, the Deck, Forecastle, and Gun-Room; oh, I'm not at leisure now, good Captain.  Darew. 
The Devil's in her, what new freak is this now—  Beren. 
Come, Sister, here's a New Song my Master taught me this Morning; my Lord you have Skill, pray tell me how you like these Notes— umph, umph—  L. Pupsey. 
Peace my Jewel, peace Dearest. The Dog howls.  
Dony humbly begs your pardon, Madam; but when any one begins to Tune, 'tis his way, and he has so great a passion for Music, he can't forbear.  L. Brain. 
Here's no notice of my Stockings yet, a pox take 'em.  
SONG.  

HOw vile are the Sordid Intrigues o'th' Town,  
Cheating and Lying perpetually sway;  
From Bully and Punk, to the Politic Gown,  
With Plotting and Sotting, they waste the day:  
All our Discourse is of Foreign Affairs,  
The French and the Wars  
Is always the Cry,  
Marriage alas is declining,  
Nay though a Poor Virgin lie Pining,  
Ah curse of this jarring, what luck have I?   

II.  
I thought a young Trader by Ogling Charms,  
Into my Conjugal Fetters to bring,  
I planted my Snare too for one that loved Arms,  
But found his Design was another thing:  
From the Court Province, down to the dull Citts,  
Both Cullies, and Wits of Marriage are shy,  
Great are the Sins of the Nation,  
Ah shame on the wretched Occasion,  
Ah Curse of the Monsieur, what Luck have I?   L. Subtle. 
A pretty air, I like the Song too better than those I usually hear, because there's no whining Love in't; a Latin Sermon, and a Lovesong influence me equally; the one touches my heart no more, than the other my apprehension.  L. Pupsey. 
A Latin Sermon, pray, Madam, don't speak irreverently of that, I never miss the Chapel when Bishop what d'ye call him Preaches; for the very sake of hearing 'em— that man has really the most Elegant way of Sermocination, and his words so plain, without needing a Periphrasis, that Madam, I could tell you such a Story—  Sir Law. 
Oh prithee Mrs. what d'ye call, no Stories now, but let's have a little more Music, I say.  L. Pupsey. 
Ridiculous absurdity; come, my Lord, my Lady Bumfiddle's within, we'll have the Story there.  L. Brain. 
Age forgets becoming Complaisance, Madam, you must excuse him— hay Page, where is my blockhead now? Exeunt L. Br. and La. Pups.  Beren. 
Upon your shoulders, if I may give my Opinion. Aside.  L. Su●●●●. 
This was barbarous in the Old Knight.  Beren. 
Ay, to hinder her in the very Convulsion fit of her harangue, she'll choke with it, but see, the nuisance is not throughly cleared, here's the Lovers remaining yet.  L. Subtle. 
I have seen variety of Fools, but never two so very ridiculous before, and yet is that Old Fellow as fond of 'em, as if they were as wife as their Namesakes of old— Strange stupidity of Humane Nature; the Beasts o'th' Field, and Birds o'th' Air, that chance to produce monstrous Births will soon loath and desert 'em; but a dull Father shall indulge and dote upon a couple of Changelings, tho' the shame of Creation, and that were given him as a punishment for some horrible Sin.  Darew. 
He's labouring for something, Madam, I see the pangs are very strong upon him.  L. Subtle. 
I know he would fain bluster something to me now, but makes more. Grimaces about it, than one that has a real stuttering imperfection if he were compelled to read a Welsh Bible, I'll have pity, and relieve him sor once: A pretty Suit that you have on, Sir.  Bias. 
Yes, Madam, I beg your pardon, I think I've a pretty good Tailor, I han't paid him his Bill tho', but the Cloth cost twenty Shillings a yard; my Gloves cost a Guinea, and my Hat three Pounds; I beg your Pardon, Madam. Darewell follows Berenice, who still avoids him.  L. Subtle. 
I think I've the most harmless Lover that ever was, he's asking me pardon at every word he says; he broke both his shins over a great form in the Hall just now, and asked me pardon for't, as if he had broke mine.  Darew. 
Are you then resolved to affront me— To Berenice.  Beren. 
Pish, Lord, you're so troublesome; now does his tongue itch to speak to me about the Letter; but I must play another freak with him if I were to be hanged.  Sir Law. 
Oh, Bias is at her, I see; the young dog will succeed, on my Conscience— your right Widows love an impudent young Fellow, and the Rogue's as lewd as her heart can wish; but methinks Solon lags behind all this while: To her, Solon, at her again, Sirrah— Why see if he stirs now— 'tis so— the boy's bewitched— by the Parliament he is, I'm serious—  Beren. 
You like the Song then, you say, Sir Laurence.  Sir Law. 
Very well in troth, Madam, ' gadso, well remembered, faith, I'll make Solon sing a Song to her, that she may see he has variety of parts— Madam, my Son Solon too admires your voice so much, that he resolves to return his thanks in the same kind; come, begin Solon— now's your time Sirrah, now Solon.  Solon. 
I can sing none, but one about hunting; I learned it of Nick Stitch the Cobbler in Shrewsbury; a very merry Fellow I'll say't, and had the purest roaring voice, 'twas louder than any Pack of Dogs i'th' Country; but for my part, I could never come up to him, as a Man may say.  Sir Law. 
'Sbud no more prating, but Sing, as a Man may say; thou art as hard to be got to't, as a good Singer indeed, come start fair, three hems, and away.  Solon hems, and then sings a Song. 
Solon's SONG.  

I.  
TAntivee, tivee, tivee, tivee, high and low,  
Hark, hark, how the merry merry Horn does blow  
As through the Lanes and the Meadows we go;  
As Puss has run over the Down:  
When Ringwood, and Rockwood, and Jowler, and Spring,  
And Thunder and Wonder made all the Woods ring,  
And Horsemen, and Footmen, hay ding, a ding, ding,  
Who envies the Splendour and State of a Crown.   

II.  
Then follow, follow, follow, follow, jolly Boys,  
Keep in with the Beagles now whilst the Scent lies,  
The fiery-faced God is just ready to rise;  
Whose Beams all our Pleasure Cotrouls,  
Whilst over the Mountains and Valleys we roll,  
And Watt's fatal knell in each hollow we Toll,  
And in the next Cottage top off a brown Bowl,  
What Pleasure like Hunting can cherish the Soul.   Sir Lawr. 
By the Parliament, very well Sung, I'm serious, what say you, Madam?  L. Subtle. 
Old Doting Fool.  Beren. 
Oh! Solon has performed to a Miracle, Sir.  Enter Callow, and Margery. Darew. 
Oh here's Callow, and come I hope to call 'em hence, and then I'm resolved to attack her for all her dodging Aside.  Margery. 
What ail'th ' the man? Let me alone, will ye— pish, be quiet, do I meddle with you now,— O Lord.  Callow. 
She's skittish here, but she stood tame enough when we were alone within, burn me.  Margery. 
Madam, the meat hath thood upon the Thable above thith quarter of hour; my Aunt Bumfiddle fresh, becauth the Porrith i●h cold; the hath eat two whole Rowlth of Bread already, and vowth if you don't come presently, the will fall too without ye— Oh Lord, the man's mad I think.  L. Subtle. 
Oh we'll assuage my Lady's anger with another Bumper, come Captain.  Sir Law. 
Lead 'em in Boys, quick, quick— pox o''is Captain, what makes he so ready at her? Solon goes to take Berenice, and Darewell gets her hand first.  Solon. 
Well, well, tho' he has snapped ye before me, you have my good will, as a man may say. Exeunt all but Darewell and Berenice.  Berenice. 
Well, Captain, you are in your Road still, you will board, I see, any thing you take to be a Prize.  Darewell. 
There is no other dealing with you but violence, you use my heart worse than a Pirate would an utter Enemy, and put more chains than a Christian Slave has in the Turkish Bilboes— what did you mean by this Letter? why d'ye use me thus barbarously?  Beren. 
I have sworn not to argue the case with you, but go to that Window and call my Woman, she shall tell ye all in three words, whilst I sit down here with a heavy heart and rest myself.  Darew. 
Your Woman tell me?  Beren. 
Ay, ay, my heart's too full— call Pimpwell there.  Darew. 
Mrs. Pimpwell, Mrs. Pimpwell.  Beren. 
Louder, louder. He turns his back to call, she rises and runs out.  Darew. 
Why Mrs. Pimpwell, where the Devil are ye? a Plague on her, she's got into the Pantry, I warrant, with the Butler, or somewhere or other— how now— what gone, this is another of her damned freaks by Heaven! oh, the insupportable plagues a Man must run through that is debauched by that hellish vice called Love; and of a Woman too, who of all the Creation lest deserves it, love your Horse, the Creature shall serve ye faithfully, and sometimes when you are drunk (and consequently not well in your senses) shall carry ye home to your house in safety; love your Dog, he shall guard your House from Thiefs, and gratefully return it a hundred ways; but love a Woman, she shall like the first, hourly sting you with her Serpent subtlety, and for one minute's joy, give ye a thousand vexations; Well, she's a Fortune, that's some amends, and if I can but marry her, which by way of Revenge I hope I shall, I'll make her mind her business between Decks, she shall lower her Topsail, I warrant her. Exit.   

SCENE II.  Enter Sir Philip dressed like a Lawyer, and Lovewell. Sir Phil. 
This, my dear Lovewell, is a rare contrivance, and I think the dress exact, but art thou sure the Fool will come and bring the Writings.  Love. 
Most certainly, I heard the Widow give him private Orders this Morning, thinking it more sense to trust him, being a Lover and a Stranger to you, than any relation or Friend whatsoever; I heard her tell him too, where the Councellours' Chamber was, and what hour she would have him go, nay I have watched and stuck as close to 'em as their skins, i'faith.  Sir Phil. 
Ha, ha, ha, 'tis excellent; but how if this damned Lawyer should be found?  Love. 
Oh, I have prevented that, for I immediately contrived a Letter as from a certain great Lady at Kensington, who being very sick, and having heard of his Honesty and Reputation, desired him to come and make her Will, the Lawyer surprised, immediately hurrys away, upon which I presently hired a Fellow to stand at the stair foot, and describing the Fool with the Writings, ordered him to be sent to this Tavern to you, ha, ha, ha, is not this well managed?  Sir Phil. 
A Miracle, faith, my Dear, dear witty she Machiavil, how shall I make thee amends?  Love. 
You know how, Sir, and when I have given ye a Fortune, I shall then presume to make my claim— how now?  Enter a Drawer. Drawer. 
There's a Gentleman below in a Coach asks for Councillor Splutter.  Love. 
Oh, that's well, prithee send him up, 'tis he, I knew Exit Drawer. he would be punctual— here, here, take these Papers and be doing, you a Lawyer and without Papers in your hand, sit down, and put a face of business as if you stayed for some body; quick, quick, I must vanish— but when you have got 'em, remember. Exit.  Enter Van Grinn. Van Grinn. 
Are you Counsellor Splutter, pray Sir?  Sir Phil. 
My name is Splutter, Sir, which said 40 Acres lying and being—  Reads. Van Grinn. 
And I warrant canst splutter like a Devil too, if thou art well greased ha, ha, ha, ha, very good jest faith, he has a rare plodding dull face— I warrant him, a good Lawyer, ha, ha, ha, well, I've a little business with ye, Sir, if you're at leisure.  Sir Phil. 
Please to sit down, Sir? my Service t'ye— Drinks.  Van Grinn. 
With all my heart, Sir, ha, ha, ha, gad I like him better and better, he's a good honest toping drunken Toad too— this is a fellow fit for business—  Sir Phi●. 
Now, Sir, your pleasure. Folds up the Writings.  Van Grinn. 
Why then, Sir, my pleasure is— to drink first, ha, ha, ha, a very good jest, faith.  Sir Phil. 
Oh, Sir, good reason—  Van Grinn. 
You'll excuse me, Mr. A— ha, ha, ha,— I've a light heart, but come to the business, you knew Sir Solomon Subtle I suppose?  Sir Phil. 
Very well, Sir, alas poor Gentleman, he died lately at Haniburgh, his Lady is my Client and intimate Friend, I expect every day the Writings of his Estate to be sent me.  Van Grinn. 
Let me kiss thee then, my dear limb of the Law, whilst I inform thee that here they are in this Box, ha, ha, ha, ha,— and so here's to thee again.  Sir Phil. 
'Dslife, come so soon, this will be rare news to Sir Philip Freewit, for as I hear, he is the chief Executor, he expects to have most of the Money, but yet if my Lady pleases—  Van Grinn. 
She does please, my dear dagled Gown, ha, ha, ha, a very good jest again, faith, if thou canst but find a flaw in the Will, five hundred Pounds are thine, my dear Wax squeezer.  Sir Phil. 
Oh, there shall be a flaw, let her never doubt, Sir, we Lawyers like Tinkers, if we find no crack, can make one.  Van Grinn. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, why that's very well said too, faith and troth— gad I'll kiss thee again for that, and beg thy pardon heartily for doubting thy abilities; a plump cheeked Rogue— gad he puts me strangely in mind of a little plump dutch Strumpet of my acquaintance, ha, ha, ha, well but hark thee, my dear Law-driver, dost thou know me, hah?  Sir Phil. 
No faith, Sir, but I suppose you're a man of Quality?  Van Grinn. 
I've 1500 a year, that's Quality enough, faith and troth, my father was but a Slop-seller, but if he had lived, he had been a Senator for all that, so that I've resolved to strike up to this Widow with a whew i'faith, ha, ha, ha,— And hark thee, hark thee, dear Cook upon Littleton, shall we choose this silly Knight, hah?  Sir Phil. 
I'll rout him utterly, Sir, I'll not give him a Groat for his Executorship; if I do not show him a Law trick that shall make him stare again, I'll give you leave to vouch this Miracle of us, that a Lawyer refused to get Five hundred pounds through a squeamish fit of his Conscience.  Van Grin. 
Troth that would be a Miracle indeed, ha, ha, ha, here's a Bumper to thee, prithee why dost thou not laugh; gad, I could laugh methinks till I was as fat as my Lord, my Lord, as my Lord, I say, prithee be merry; what do you Lawyers never laugh?  Sir Phil. 
Never, Sir, when we intent to cheat any Body, that's our Rule.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha,— a very good Jest, again, faith;— egad, thou'rt an admirable Person, and there are the Writings for thee— and another kiss into the bargain, Faith;— gad there's another leer so like my Dutch Strumpet again, the Rogue begins to inflame me.  Sir Phil. 
Well, Sir, I'll take care of 'em.  Van Grin. 
Wilt thou,— gad I hope to see thee a Judge, thou hast a notable rising Face, and the credit of this business will bring thee into plaguy Practice? Come, prithee let's drink and laugh, ha, ha, ha,— prithee laugh now.  Sir Phil. 
With all my Heart, faith I've a merry fit comes upon me just on th' sudden;— I'll kiss you now, Sir, Kisses him.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, a very good Jest, faith, ah my dear little plump Dutch Whore, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Phil. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, my dear Fat Flanderkin,— Fool.— Aside.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha, Well, next the Widow, Hug and kiss each other. I love thee better than any one in England, faith, I'll be hanged if thou hast thy fellow in all the Inns of Court, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Phil. 
Nor you in all Flanders, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Van Grin. 
My dear, dear, Bill and Answer, here's a Bumper to thee; Breaks the Glass. Pox o'th' Glass; come let's take another Room, for I'm resolved to tope t'other Bottle with thee, ha, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Phil. 
March on Pompey, I'll follow, ha, ha, ha.  Here they both stand and laugh at one another, then Exit Van Grin. 
So, here they are, and here the great feat is done,  
Easily now the Widow may be won,  
For what's a Widow when her Fortune's gone?    

ACT III.  

SCENE I.  Enter L. Subtle, Berenice, and Van Grin. L. Subt. 
OH, undone, lost, ruined, beyond all possibility of a Recovery, I find now by his senseless Description, that this Devil Freewit, has put a Trick upon him, and got the Writings in spite of me.  Beren. 
'Tis even so, the Knight it seems owned it just now in a Bravado to the Lieutenant, with a design to have it told you again.— Min here Flanderkin there, has been overreached by a mere Lawyer's Gown, the very shadow of Knowledge has done his business.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, now can I hardly forbear laughing, for all I have done such a Mischief;— Why, who the Devil could imagine, that an honest Toping, Laughing Fellow as he seemed to be, should prove a false Brother, 'gad I took him to be as errand a Lawyer as ever took Fee on both sides, or eat a Mutton Commons in the Temple:— Mutton Commons, ha, ha, ha, a very good Jest, I'faith, I can't forbear for the Soul of me.  L. Subt. 
Sot, Monster, Fool; oh, where were my Brains too, that I could imagine one of that Nation guilty of the least Discretion: Thou stupid Dolt, with less Sense in thee than a crawling Insect in your Muddy Fens, a Flesh-fly in the depth of Winter, or a Mite in a Holland Cheese.  Van Grin. 
'Gad I can't forbear laughing for all that, ha, ha, ha.  L. Subt. 
Bring me a Glass of Water, my Heart's so full of Rage, it has burnt me up to a Cinder.  Beren. 
This Fellow is certainly the species of a Baboon, and I warrant has a Tail under his Clothes; I'd give a Guinny to have him searched.  L. Subt. 
A Baboon, 'dslight, thou hast named the Prince of Brutes to him; this thing is one of Nature's foul-false Births, the Eye of Providence slept when he was born, and his dull Mother at his vile Conception, had nothing in her Mind but drivelling Idiots, dull Asses with long Ears, unthinking Swine, with all the other Soul-less, Lumpish Animals, the very Scum and Dross of the Creation.  Van Grin. 
The Widow Rails, like a Devil to day, ha, ha, ha, ha.  L. Sub●. 
But to what purpose do I wast my Lungs, and call him Fool that ●m a worse myself, the veriest, veriest Idiot of the two,— a Widow, 'dsdeath, and let a Man outwit me; ridiculous to Nature, nay, get my Writings too, the very Soul and Life-blood of a Widow;— Oh, I could tear my Flesh, burn, stab, or poison, do any Mischief, and to any Creature, but to a Man much more with fiercer Vigour, and could I get the Heart of this damned Freewit, methinks I could with greater pleasure tear it, and with more Joy could feed or my Revenge, than Teeming Women on the longed for Fruit, their Souls des●t t'indulge their unborn Infants.  Enter Bias. Bias. 
So I see she's here, and pox on't, now I'm put up briskly.  Beren. 
This Fool comes in a rare time, he's like to be well used.  Bias. 
Madam, I suppose you are not ignorant what I saunter about here for; My Father, I suppose, has told you what I would be at; and now I'm come myself in person, and I protest left the best Game at All Fours just now when I was within one of up, that ever I had in my life,— because my Father told me, you were at leisure, and this was the what d'ye call it, the Cricketty Minute, a Minute when they say a Woman can deny a Man nothing; besides, I love Cricket hugely, Madam, and if you please to throw your Heart towards me.  L. Subt. 
No, but I will throw a thing more proper, I will throw this at your Head, Buffoon; hark'e, Puppy, get thee out of my sight, and quickly, or by all that's good, I'll beat thee. Throws a Cushion at his Head.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.—  Bias. 
I beg your Pardon, Madam,— what a Plague did my Father make a Fool of me for, this is none of the Cricketty Minute.  Enter Comode with Water. L. Subt. 
Confusion seize all Fools; oh I'm all in Flame.— Drinks.  Beren. 
Here comes t'other Booby, this will make her Mad.  Enter Solon. Solon. 
Madam, because I'm young Man, and a little awkered in matters of Love, as a Man may say; and my Mistress there, too, being a little Cruel, and Hard-hearted, my Father sent me to desire your Ladyship to speak a good word for me, because I can't do't for myself, as a Man may say; but for all that, as I hope to be saved, I'm up to the Ears in—  L. Subt. 
Water, ye Blockhead, ye Owl. Throws the Water in's Face.  Solon. 
O Lord, Murder, Murder, I'm drowned.  Beren. 
Alas, poor Solon, has she cooled thy Passion?  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha, he shall be called Solon the Wise no more, but Solomon the Wise, now the Widow has new Christened him,— ha, ha, ha, a very good Jest, Faith.  L. Subt. 
There's something for you too.— Throws the Glass at him. Oh, you need not have stooped, Sir, it could never have hurt your Scull;— A Bullet can't do it, to my knowledge.  
What a mischievous thing 'tis, when 'tis angry, ha, ha, ha.—  Solon. 
The Devil take making of Love if this be the fruits on't, to spoil one's cravat and ones Clothes, this is downright Malice, as a Man may say.  L. Subt. 
Sirrah, speak one syllable more of Love here, and I'll make my Footmen souse thee over Head and Ears in the Horse-pond.  Bias. 
This is none of Solon's Cricketty Minut●s neither, I ●i●d.  Enter Sir Laurence Limber. Sir Law. 
I hope my Sons, Madam, have made their Merits so well known now, and their Interest with ye, is so great, that when my Grey Hairs shall fall to the ground.—  L. Subt. 
As they shall presently, ye old Dotard. Pulls off his Peruke.  Beren. 
The Devil's in her now, there's no hindering her.  L. Subt. 
'Dslife, get thee gone and take thy Cubs from my sight, or I will use ye all so like Fools.  Van Grin. 
Look, look, she has discovered my poor Uncle's Bald pate again, too, the Devil's in the Widow to day, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Law. 
How's this, my Son Bias confounded, my Son Solon in disorder, and myself unseemly treated? What d'ye mean by this, Madam? I never was so affronted in my life, never since I was born, by the Parliament, now I'm serious.  Solon, 
Mean, I care not what she means, not I, I'm sure she used me scurvily, and I'll bear it no longer; zookers, my Blood rises at her damnably,— I'll lay her Toppings in the Dust, come on't what will; she may be as bald as you, for aught I know, Father when her Toppings are off; Let me come to her, 'zooks, now my Blood's up, I've as devilish a Spirit as she, as a Man may say.  Bias. 
No, prithee Brother Solon let her alone for this time; hark'e in thy Ear, when I've Married her, I'll revenge thee, and beat her myself.  Exit Lady Subtle. Beren. 
You had better all take good Advice, and be gone; you have heard, I suppose, the reason of her Anger, Sir Philip has cho●s'd her of her Writings to day, and in the Humour she's in, 'tis ten to one but she does ye some mischief or other.  Sir Law. 
The Writings gone, and seventy thousand Ducats,— Come away, Bias, thou shalt not have her now if she would have thee.  Enter Lady Subtle with a Pistol. L. Subt. 
Where are these Triumvirate of Fools now? You Bully Sneak, with your Brother Coddle-scul, and old Father stupid here, get you off my Ground, or I will use you so like Crows, Magpies and Jackdaws, I will do more than ever Providence did for ye,— I will put something into your Heads, something of weight, Puppies, not a word more, march [bushes them all out, then turns to Van Grin.] And now Mine Heer Van Grin,— laugh, come laugh now;— Where's your Jest, now, hah! thou base, thou sordid cause of my Misfortunes, come give me a Jest for't, laugh, I say.  Van Grin. 
Sacrament, who can jest with a Pistol-Bullet, I could not laugh, Madam, if you'd give me a Thousand pounds, Faith and Troth.  L. Subt. 
Out of my sight, thou Insect, bushes him out, and throws the Pistol on the Table.  
Oh, I shall grow Mad.  Beren. 
Nay then, such Instruments as these, are not very convenient.  Berenice takes up the Pistol. L. Subt. 
Mad, Mad, raving Mad.  Enter Sir Philip. Sir Phil. 
And I so near ye, Madam, to claim your Griefs, and reconcile your Cares.  L. Subt. 
Is there an Impudence on this side Hell like this? I'll give y'a Welcome, Sir. Goes to take the Pistol.  Beren. 
Nay, not this way, Sister, I must hinder such rough Proceedings, and leave ye to make your party good with him what other way you please, draw his Sword I'm sure he won't; and a Man carries no other weapons about him that can hurt a Widow, that I know of. Exit Berenice.  Sir Phil. 
What in a fury, Widow, nay then thou art not fit for the good that I intent thee; I confess I had not the Confidence to visit thee, without the Encouragement of Claret, but three Bottles of excellent Bourdeux,— in this Pagan time where there is such an Inundation of Slow, Cider and Cherry, has made my Tongue so Elegant, and brought my Heart into so Amorous a Condition, that methinks I could even make Love to thee, for to say truth, thou look'st damnably provoking to day.  L. Subt. 
‛Tis in vain to abuse him, therefore 'twill be Policy in me to dissemble; down swelling Heart, and Frowns convert to Smiles, and thou great Power that gav'st a Woman Cunning, let him not know the Rancour of my Heart, but surfeit with the flattery of my Tongue. Aside.  Sir Phil. 
Sollid and thoughtful; nay, now I view your Eyes better, that downcast glance seems to discover Care; you have had no late loss, I hope, Madam, your Husband I count none, nor you neither, to my knowledge.  L. Subt. 
How poor a Vice 'tis in a Man of Sense t'insult o'er womens' Weakness!  Sir Phil. 
How damned a one, 'tis in a haughty Widow to think her Sense excels all Humane kind!  L. Subt. 
Well, well, you have outwitted me.  Sir Phil. 
Miracle in Nature, outwitted thee, why is it possible? and canst thou own it too? nay then, I'll have it Chronicled, that she that in defiance of mankind, armed with sharp Wit, and shielded with true Pride, that never spared a Man in her Abuses, nor failed to ●ilt him if she knew he loved her, should in the bloom of her flourishing Glory, yield up her Laurels to Triumphant me.  L. Subt. 
Why do ye call me proud? were not my Actions natural? was't fit for me to offer you my Fortune, that thought my Person not worth treating for? What Woman of my Youth, nay, without Ostentation, not common Beauty too, nor least in Wealth, could bear a slight so poor; for tho' my Husband gave ye up my Fortune, there was Consignment too, of another Blessing to accompany the Money: But you turn Marriage-hater, and your neglect calls me old, withered, ugly; blame me not then for striving, tho' Successless, to dash your Pride, as you to humble mine.  Sir Phil. 
Ah, Widow, Widow, tho' I find your subtle Devil has pared his Claws,— I am not now in humour to be tickled: Why did you jilt me, and receive another? answer that.  L. Subt. 
Why did you wrong me, and get another with Child before my Face? answer me that.  Sir Phil. 
Wrong you, why the Devil's in these Widows, they'll Engross all a Man has, before he has 'em, as well as after; wrong you! what because I had a mind to use a Sample of the Grain before the heap was to be delivered in the Market; must you call this a wrong?  L. Subt. 
A Mortal one; and if you are Generous, you'll right me now.  Sir Phil. 
With all my Heart, and as I'm now free, and at liberty, I best can do thee Justice; which, should I marry thee, were most impossible; I need not tell ye why,— you know the reason.— Come, let's retire.  L. Subt. 
Go, you're a Devil.  Sir Phil. 
You are but a Widow yet; all in good time, that Title may be altered too▪  L. Subt. 
Why dost thou rail at Marriage so, thou Monster?  Sir Phil. 
Because I hate it, Child, that's all the Reason.  L. Subt. 
Abhorred Impiety, to hate a Sacred Ordination, allowed by the most Knowing of all Ages.  Sir Phil. 
A gross mistake, 'twas first devi●'d for Interest by Sapless Dotards, formed a Law, that their dull First-born Blockheads might inherit; the generative Faculty should be free, the Spirit's palled when 'tis confined to Duty, Restive and stupid, and the Product's answerable; of Old the Worthless never came by Marriage, the Bravest and the Wisest were all Bastards; besides, from marrying a Wder w, Heaven defend me.  L. Subtle. 
A Widow, Sir, why what's a Widow?  Sir Phil. 
Why, a mere Fripperer, or Broker's Shop, that's fain to sell her Wares at second hand; yet toils to pass 'em off to Fools for new; one that's so very knowing, that she'd balk a Youngster, and in Love's business give such violent Instructions, 'twould break the heart of a young Fool to follow; no, if I do forego my happy freedom, which, till I dote, I think never shall; the Grape shall first be pressed by my own hand, I'll never take the squeezings of another, I'll have a Maid, that's certain.  L. Subtle. 
A Maid, thou Coxcomb, I'm ashamed of thee, dost thou pretend to be a man of sense, Learned in the Mathematics of Intrigue, and choose an ignorant raw awkward Maid before a Skilful Widow, oh stupidity! Go to the Garden, take green Gennitings, and set thy teeth an edge thou coddled Coxcomb; or shall I fetch thee some green Goosberries, and send a Maid to keep thee Company; a whitely thing just weaned from Jointed Baby, that opens mouth to eat, but can say nothing; such trash as this is the best fruit for Fools; a Widow, like the blushing velvet Peach, by Summer ripened, to indulge the taste, is a Regalia for a Man; Maids, green crude stuff, and only fit for Boys.  Sir Phil. 
'Tis very fine, a Lady of your Beauty and your Fortune, oh how this witty Raillery becomes, well then, Boy as I am, I'll show one manly sign, I'll manage the Writings wisely, that I'm resolved on. Enter Berenice.  Beren. 
Sir Philip I'm sure can do nothing, but like a man of Honour.  Sir Phil. 
Oh, cry ye mercy, Madam, and Sense too, I hope, therefore thus humbly take my leave.  Beren. 
Nay, but pray stay a little, Sir.  Sir Phil. 
Not for the World, Madam, the Widow has so mauled me already with her great Cannon, that should I stay to engage with your small shot, I should have more holes in me, than a Dutch Man of War had in the last Engagement; and therefore, to bring my Simile a little nearer home, like a Cock that's overmatched, I intent to shrink from the Pit before my eyes are pecked out.  Beren. 
Your eyes, why what d'ye take us for, Sir?  Sir Phil. 
Two of the greatest Rarities of your kind; two that shall rally a Man to death in an hours time, without putting yourself out of breath for't. Runs out.  Beren. 
This is one of the oddest humours! what, I warrant you have been severe with him?  L. Subtle. 
No, hang him, I broke out only a little at last, when he was preferring a Maid before me; I smothered my rage till then, tho' I confess with as much pain as if I had had a sit of the stone, for he gave me not a word of satisfaction about the Writings— he designs to starve me, I'm confident, if the Law don't relieve me.  Beren. 
Nay, nay, no starving Sister, you have yet a hundred pound a year to live on.  L. Subtle. 
What's that? I must put down my Coach, Child, is not that starving a Widow?  Beren. 
Next door too't, I confess, as the humour of the Times are.  L. Subtle. 
Ah! I had rather be without meat and drink a thousand times. Well, sure this Devil won't possess him always, one happy minute must be mine at last, which to be sure of, what would I not attempt, what to obtain her Ends, would not a Woman do?  

Would Fortune once my working Brain inspire,  
I'd plunge through deepest Sea, or fiercest Fire,  
Hazard my Life, nay Soul, to compass my desire. Exit.   Beren. 
Nay, on my Conscience, if there is a way left, thou wilt conjure, but thou wilt have it, that I'll say for thee. Well, what News now? Enter Comode.  Comode. 
My Lady Bumfiddle sends ye word that my Lord Brainless gives the Music at her Lodgings this Afternoon, before they go to the Park, and desires your Company.  Beren. 
Well, I'll go, because I know I shall meet my Tarpawlin there, whom I have made so angry, that I believe he could beat me with as good a will, as a Sailor that disobeyed his Orders; 'tis all one, I am resolved to try him throughly, before I come under his hatches, there will be hours enough to beg his pardon, if ever I give him an advantage over me.  

The time of Wooing is a Woman's own,  
But when she's Married once, her time is gone. Exit.    

SCENE II. Bumfiddle's Lodgings.  Enter Callow and Margery, at several Doors. Callow. 
Ah! dear Creature, how much am I obliged to Fortune for this lucky minute, that gives me the blessing of meeting her alone, whom I love beyond all the Universe, sink me!  Margery. 
You love me, yeth I warrant ye, for what pray?  Callow. 
For thyself, my Dear, thy Innocence and Beauty has so charmed my heart: her Money I mean; that I never am at rest, my Soul, but when I am with thee. Aside.  Marg. 
Oh Lord, well then, donth queeth my hand tho.  Callow. 
Oh! every part of thee is so Charming to me, that burn me, 'tis impossible for me to subsist without thee. The Philly can stand still, I see, when she is without Company. Aside.  Marg. 
Why, what d'ye mean to do? you won't Ravish me, will ye?  Callow. 
I believe she puts me in mind on't on purpose, Rot me, Aside. Ravish thee, no, no, only a kiss from thy pretty Lips, or so, my Dear sweet Honeysuckle; nay, nay, no frowning now, nor drawing back, for I must do it, therefore— Kisses her.  Marger. 
What d'ye make all this bustle for, why don't ye then?  Enter Darewell. Darew. 
Oh, Lieutenant, you are a happy Man, I see.  Marger. 
Oh Lord, the Captain, what shall I do now? Spits, and speaks as in a rage to Callow. Pugh, pugh, well, as I hope to be thaved I'll tell my Father, and my Aunt, though I will, that I can never live in quiet for ye; that you are every day teithing, and by your good will would be kithing me every minute; when you know I hate ye o'th' I hate the Devil, and with you were hanged upon our Mulberry-Tree in the Garden, with all my heart; like a thilly ugly, nathly, pimping, cowardly, tholdierly, rathcally, puppily Fellow o'th' ye are, to dare to affront me so. Exit. Margery.  Darew. 
'Dslife, what's the meaning of all this rage? she stood ●ame enough to my thinking, when I came in.  Callow. 
Ay, and would again, if we were alone; '●is the nature of this sort ●f Cattle to be skittish, and Rail before Company, but they'll stand as still in a Corner, as a Town Whore (got with Child by some poor Bully) will to a Rich Country Squire, that she intends shall father it: I must after her, for I like her Six Thousand Pounds better than my Commission, faith, Captain. Exit. Callow.  Darew. 
Faith I believe thee, as do a great many more of thy Effeminate sort— But stay, where is my jolly Lady all this while, and the Company? sure I han't mistook her time; oh! are you there, Madam? Enter Berenice.  Darew. 
Nay, you shall hear me now, and I must rail at ye, or my heart will break; call ye ungrateful, proud, false, and unnatural, not only to abuse an honest Fellow that loves ye, but glory and persist in't— Heaven, what could you mean by this Letter, this abhorred Invective? In a soft tone.  Beren. 
This Letter has stuck in his throat worse than a Ship-bisket.  Darew. 
Well, what amends for this? What satisfaction? she seems good natured now, and sorry for what's past, this may be the Critical minute. Aside.  Beren. 
I am more sorry, Sir, than you can desire, and if you'd please, to name your satisfaction.  Darew. 
This is as I could wish, I see 'thas touched her nearly. Aside.  Beren. 
I beg your pardon, Sir, with all my heart, and what else you you'll honourably Command.  Darew. 
only your Love, dear Madam, that's the Prize I value beyond Empire.  Beren. 
'Tis yours from this hour, Sir.  Darew. 
My Soul, Life, Heart, Blood— Ah Pox o' these Intruders, just in the nick too, when I should have clenched the Nail I have been so long a driving— ah! 'tis impossible to proceed, now they come like a deluge.  Enter L. Bumfiddle, L. Hockley, Mrs. Bandy, and Mrs. La Pupsey, with her Lap-Dog. L. Bum. 
Boy, bid 'em make ready the Tea, and set the Dishes in order: My Dear, your humble Servant, how d'ye good Captain, what so close together, nay, then there's something more in the wind; I must know, you'll never thrive in't else, Captain; hark'e, a word in your ●ar.  Darew. 
So, now shall I be tossed by the tempest of her tongue, worse than ever I was by a storm in the Bay of Biscay. L. Bum. whispers Darewell.  L. Hock. 
I vow Mrs. La Pupsey, I never look upon your fine Dog, but it sets me almost a crying; I had the finest Bolognia Shock was drowned t'other day, that, o' my Soul, ever lay in Lap; I carried him to the Park every night with me, the Creature had so sweet a breath, that I vow I miss it strangely.  Bandy. 
'Tis a delicate prit●y Rogue indeed, now my Mother is so cross, she'll let me have nothing to play with; I did but desire t'other day to buy a little Monkey for my Chamber, and flying out into a passion, she swore a great huge Oath, I had as lief thou shouldst have a Man there.  La. Pup. 
Go Dony, go to my Lady, and kiss her, and love her, that's my sweet Creature.  L. Hock. 
Come, dear jewel, come.— Take the Dog.  La Pup. 
Did you ever see a thing so modest, and so shy in your life, Madam, here's no Courting him to a Wise; I have been this ●hree Months making a Match for him, and could never get him in humour.  L. Hock 
Fy●, that's a mighty fault, indeed.  La. Pup. 
Th●n, Madam, of all Creatures Heterogeneal, he is the most— Cleanly,— no Ma●ge, for ever Impetiginous in the least;— then he's a Miracle for his distinction in Philanthropy, he has an entire love for our Party; he knows my Humour to a Hair; he'll not come near the Tarpawlin Captain, yonder, because he's a Williamite, 'tis a wonder to tell ye, but the Creature has a strange aversion for this Government.  L. Hock 
Alas, all the Ingenious part of the Nation have so, Madam.  Bandy. 
Well, l'vads I will have a Dog then, let my Mother say what she will;— I believe it teaches her to talk so, for I never heard such fine words in my life. Aside.  Darew. 
Faith, Madam, all that I can find by your long whispering, is, that you have a mind to dine with me to morrow.  L. Bu●. 
Why, what a blunt Ass art thou?— to tell me of Dining with thee; Dine with thy Mistress, Fool, and let me be by to put in a word for thee, if thou'●t wise;— depend upon me, I know her Humour to a Scruple, and if thou takest my Council, thou shall have her:— Do I talk of Dinners now?— 'tis true, a good fat Haunch of Venison, boiled with cauliflowers, would do well to piddle over:— Eating together begets Love: 'Twas my Husband's Venison more than himself, that first won my Heart, as I'm a Protestant.  Darew. 
Well then, Madam, since you will be concerned in my Affair, be sure you're Industrious.  L. Bum. 
Keep up thy Interest with me, thou shalt have her, Boy.  Enter L. Brainless, Singers, Music, and Dancers. L Brain. 
Oh, Madam, your Ladyship's most humble Servant, yours, yours, dear Ladies, and your most obedient Slave, dear, sweet, pretty Dony; gad I beg your Pardons, all, for being thus tardy; oh, how does my dear Captain too? why this is a piece of a Miracle to find thee ashore, and especially amongst the Ladies, where Music is going forward, for I know thou hatest all these Effeminate Instruments, hark'e, shall I send to the Tower, and borrow two or three pieces of Canon to entertain the●, ha, ha, ha.  Darew. 
Coxcomb.— Aside.  Beren. 
Would they would haste and begin; that grim furly look of the Captains, will put us all out of Humour, else; what a Face is there, with a grimace as sour as if the Surgeon were just putting him on a Wooden-Leg.  Darew. 
The Devil it is,— well, I hope you like it; however, Madam.—  Beren. 
I like it, I like the Face upon that Fiddle there, better by half; I like it,— ha, ha, ha, ha.  Darew 
words, Madam, Madam.  Beren. 
Oh, none of your Culverin Shot here, good Captain, you had better use it against the French at Sea.  Darew. 
Damn her, she's got into one of her old freaks again.  L. Bum. 
Words of course, words of course, Fool, apply thyself to me; I tell thee, I'll do thy business; hark in thy ear, get the Venison ready.  La. Pup. 
Why, sure the Gentleman can't be so desipient, to take any thing ill that a Lady says; Raillery from a Woman, though never so severe, should be supported by every man of Sense with generous Equanimity.  Darew. 
Oh, good Madam, be pleased to Cramp your Dog there, with your hard Phrases, and let him lick you an answer, how you please; or go and puzzle my Lord there, any one but me I bes●●eh ye.  L. Pup. 
Lick me an Answer, come Sir, I must tell ye, your Discourse has no Concatination in't, 'tis all blunt and disjointed, and, as my Lord says, your Soul is very unmusical, that I believe you never knew a Diaphony from a Diapason.  Darew. 
Nay, nay, I'll not be tongue-worried now, I've a remedy fort.— Exit.  Bandy. 
Well, I swear I could live and die with this La Pupsey, if it were only to hear her talk.  L. Hock 
She excels me, I think in the Cassicks, but I was always accounted much the best Natural Philosopher.  L. Brain. 
Come, Madam, now I will present you with my own Composition, which I lately told ye of, wherein I envy the joys of that happy Creature, your Dog, and passionately bemoan my own Infidelity; I was extremely Melancholy when I writ it.  La Pup. 
Where's your bow down to the ground, Dony? Your Lordship's most humble Servant, says he. Enter Boy with Tea.  L. Bum. 
My Lady Hockly, wilt have any Tea? Mrs Berenice, prithee come and sit by me.  Beren. 
'Tis for my Instruction, I know, Madam,— now has she some smutty Joke or other to whisper me: They sit down all.  
Ay.— 'tis as I said. L. Bum. whispers.  La. Pup. 
Come, my Lord, now your own, I beseech ye, I know it must be extraordinary.  L. Brain. 
With all my Heart; you must know Ladies, I call it Celadon's Complaint against Monsieur Le Chien; 'tis writ like a Man of Quality, when the next new Play comes out: I intent to give it the Poet, to show 'em the right way of making a Song: Hem, hem,—  
The SONG of Monsieur Le Chien.  

GReat Jove once made Love like ● Bull;  
With Li●da a Swan was in vogue,  
And to persevere in that Rule,  
He now does descend like a Dog;  
For when I to Silvia would speak,  
Or on her Breast sigh what I mean;  
My Heart strings are ready to break,  
For there I find Monsieur Le Chien.   

2. For Knowledge in Modish Intrigues,  
Or managing well an Amour,  
I defy any one with two Legs,  
But here I am rivaled by sour:  
Distracted all night with my wrongs,  
I cry, Cruel Gods,— what d'ye mean,  
That what to my Merit belongs  
You bestow upon Monsieur Le Chien.   

3 For Feature or Niceness in Dress,  
Compare with him surely I can;  
Nor vainly myself should express,  
To say I am much more a Man;  
To the Government firm too, as he,  
(The former I cunningly mean)  
And if he Religious can be,  
I'm as much sure as Monsieur Le Chien.   

4 But what need I publish my parts,  
Or idly my Passion relate;  
Since Fancy that Captivates Hearts  
Resolves not to alter my Fate:  
I may Sing, Caper, Ogle, and Speak,  
And make a long Court ausi bien,  
And yet with one passionate ●ick  
I'm outrivalled by Monsieur Le Chien.   L. Bum. 
Very pretty truly, my Lord.  L●. Pup. 
Pretty, 'tis incomparable, I swear, your bow to my Lord down to the ground again, Dony. She bows, the Dog of Lord bows too.  L. Brain. 
No, Faith, there's no great matter in 'em, tho' the Conceit, truly I think is new; but now, Madam, in pursuance of French Gallantry, I hope to have the honour to see the particular entertainment you promised. Goes and talks to La Pupsey.  Beren. 
Strike up Music. A Scotch Song and Dance here.  L. Bum. 
Ah, sweet Mrs. Lafoy Pupsey, what would I give to do as much; here, prithee take some Tea, 'tis good now you're hot.  La Pup. 
Tea, Madam, 'tis burnt Brandy.  L. Bum 
Why, that's all the Tea in Fashion, now, Fool.  L. Brain. 
●om●, let's go to Brightsbridge Garden to Cool; Ladies, I'll retire and dress, and wait on ye there instantly; there will be all the World this fine Evening.  〈◊〉. 
'Tis very true, as I'm a Protestant: come then, my dears, let's go?  〈◊〉▪ 
Come, Dony, abroad, abroad, Dony kiss me, ye dear Jewel,— kiss, kiss. Exeunt.   

SCENE III. Enter Sir Philip and Lovewel.  Sings. 
Did you not promise me, etc.  Love. 
〈◊〉 ye revoke your Promise then, can ye be so ungrateful?  Sir Phil 
Prithee, my dear, no more, that I will always love thee, thou mayst assure thyself.  〈◊〉 
●ove me, and keep me like a Slave dishonoured thus, 'tis most impossible, no, if you'd h●●e me believe you have the least Compassion for me: perform your Promise, and take me for your Wife.  Sir Phil. 
My Wife, than I should never love thee more.  Love. 
Have I not purchased ye with Toil and Study, paid with my Labour and Industrious Wit, a Ransom for repeal of my Dishonour, nay, brought ye a Fortune too beyond your hopes, the best Inducement to a Marriage state, and d'ye forget me? fie, Sir, indeed▪ you must not, you know you're mine by bargain.  Sir Phil. 
And will perform it to thee the best way, by a free, vigorous and active love, nay, if I fail thee, Child, than I were ungrateful indeed.  Love. 
You never can perform, unless you marry me.  Sir Phil. 
Oh, I warrant ●hee, Child, I warrant thee.  Love. 
You know I love ye much beyond my life; you know what's due to a Vow of Honour's and tho' my tender years, and too fond Heart, charmed by your Merit, and your graceful Person, was won too soon at first: I could not doubt your Vows, and was as innocent of doing wrong, as fearless of receiving it from you.  Sir Phil. 
'D●heart, with naming Marriage, gad thou hast also made me keck already: oh, I should make a damned confounded Husband; I am like those that cannot sleep with Doors and Windows shut, if I want Air I suffocate: besides, is it not better to come to thee, wanton and brisk, and airy as a Bird, to hop into the Bosom, Sing and Bill, then fly away, soon after come again, pruning myself in welcome Liberty, than be confined to moulter in a Cage, and batten in the Excrement of Marriage?  Love. 
Does this Consideration Countervail my being a Whore, and my dear Boy a Bastard.—  Sir Phil. 
A Bastard, why he's the more like to be a Hero, I hope; I was a Bastard myself.  Love. 
No, you design, I see, to break my Heart: ah barbarous Man, how can you be so Cruel? have I not always been most faithful to ye? can there be any Virtue in a Wife, which I'd not hourly practice to oblige ye? nay, do me but this Justice, you shall find, I'll be the dearest h●mblest of your Creatures: Say, think, do what you please, I'll be obedient, never repine or grumble at your Actions, nor say you wrong me, tho' you give cause; never expect the Pleasures that Wives covet, to gad abroad, and Riot in rich Clothes, but sit at home all day like a House-Dove, and if I have you there be glad and merry, if not, with throbbing Heart be still and Patient— my Eyes shall watch, which if some drops should fill I'll dry 'em up just as I hear you coming, and meet my Love still with a face of Joy.  Sir Phil. 
Pretty Rogue, prithee no more of this sad stuff,— thou madest me sick just now with talking, and now thou makest me melancholy.  Love. 
Upon my Knees I beg.  Sir Phil. 
Oh fie, this carrying the humour on so far, will make me Angry, you know my Humour, and 'tis unalterable,— I'll provide for ye well, and you in reason should desire no more; and now our business is done,— you shall come away from Sir Laurence to morrow,— but not a word more of this stuff, as you tender my Displeasure.— Marry, in the Devil's name, 'd●death I'm all over in a cold Sweat at the thought on't. Exit Sir Phil.  Love. 
Base and perfidious, hast thou then decived me, is there no truth nor honour in the Sex, no Balmy Cure for betrayed Innocence too fondly trusting in deceitful Man?— Ah, no, I find there is not, let Cunning then, the Woman's never sailing Art assist me; once more I'll set my fruitful Brains to work,— fawn, wheedle, lie, and seem to be pleased, as is if he really had kept his Promise: hah, 'tis hatching here already, and I hope 'twill prosper, to redress such a wrong every just Power will Aid me:  

The very Indian Heathens hate this Ill,  
They never promise more than they fulfil:  
If any Virgin does her Humour trust  
Her Tawny Lover, tho' he's rude is Love.:  
But our worse Heathens here conspire our Ruin,  
And make a jest of a poor Maid's undoing. Exit.     

ACT IU.  

SCENE I.  Enter Sir Laurence, Solon and Bias. Sir Lawr. 
FOR an old Courtier that has lived in four Kings Reigns, seen three Crowned, and had a strong hand in the late Revolution, who, tho' he has got nothing, has spent an Estate amongst 'em, and that's good sign one of a Courtier, to find in his latter days such a dearth of good Manners, as to see himself affronted, and his Progeny baffled, by a clest Cannibal, a Woman; it has not only given me the Spleen, but methinks I have upon me, the Gout, the Stone, the Sciatica, and all the Distempers incident to Human frailty, through mere vexation by the Parliament.  Bias. 
Well, let it be as it will, I'll be a Man or a Mouse I'm resolved on't, I will have a Wife somewhere or other, now my mind is set on't, let the Widow be as Musty as she pleases— what, any Man that will Marry need not want a Wife in London sure.  Sir Lawr. 
No Boy, I've another in my Eye for thee, I look upon this senseless haughty Minx that abused us, as upon a thing of nothing, and now she's baffled of her Writings, a thing that has nothing, nor shall deserve our further trouble; for a Widow without Money, is like a Purse without it, when once she is empty she in not worth wearing.  Solon. 
True, Father, or like a Nut that's Maggot-eaten, when this Kernel's gone once, the Shell is not worth cracking, as a Man may say.  Sir Lawr. 
By the Parliament, and that's well said, Solon, I see this Boy has his Wit by sits and girds, as Women have their good Humours— gad, one of the old Patriarchs could not have spoke a wiser thing than that now.  Bias. 
There's another Widow that I know of, that I believe has a Month's mind to me, and I'll go and strike her up ere long; ' i'faith I'll make but few words with her, not I; if they wont when they may, they may let it alone for Bias,— 'tis the Widow Hockley I mean, I believe you know her, old Gentleman.  Enter Pimpwell, Bias. 
How now,— What would this Woman have, 'tis all one, I'll have a smack at her, saith, I'll give her a touch to remember me by. Goes and kisses her rudely.  Pimp. 
Rude ill-bred Fellow.  Sir Law. 
Ha, ha— Did you ever see such a Mettled Rogue, this is so like me in my young days, I have done as much to my Mothers' Dairy-Maid many a time in the Cornfield at home.  Bias. 
Nay, never frown nor call names for the matter, here are Lads of mettle, I can tell ye but that.  Pimp. 
Prithee Fool be quiet, I have nothing to say to thee, my business is to this Gentleman. Goes t● Solon, ●e shrin●s back.  Solon. 
Me forsooth, why I don't know ye not I, as a Man may say.  Bias. 
Give her a smack, Solon, don't let her prate, give her a smack, I did Boy.  Pimp. 
Sir, tho' I'm a stranger t'ye, I suppose you know my Mistress, Madam Berenice.  Sir Law. 
Humph, Berenice.  Pimp 
Who knowing ye to be in the Garden, sends word by me, that she desires to be happy in your good company.  Bias. 
Smack her, I say, Solon. Come, I'll show thee the way. Goes towards her.  Sir Lawr. 
'Dsheart, let her alone, Sirrah. Madam, your most humble Servant— my Son shall wait upon her Ladyship instantly, and I beg your pardon heartily for 't others rudeness, for to say the truth, he's drunk, Madam,— I had no way but that to bring the Dog off. aside.  Pimp. 
I'm satisfied, Sir,— come, Sir, Will ye go?  Solon. 
Ay with all my heart. Really Madam, I'm overjoyed, as a Man may say.  Bias. 
Gadzooks, why this Solon's a lucky Dog now.  Sir Lawr. 
Lucky, ay:— you had like to have made fine work, sie upon't: introth Bias, you must not be so rampant, you might have spoiled your Brother's Fortune by't, by the Parliament you might, now I'm serious,— but go, d'ye hear, Comb your Peruke, and spruce yourself up, the new Widow will be here presently, she's to come with my Sister Bumfiddle— go go you'll find me hereabouts. Exit Bias.  Sir Lawrene solus. 
Ah, many a night's rest do these two Boys hinder me of, they're two ingenious Youths truly, at least, if I may be Judge, especially Solon, wherein I di●●et from other Fathers, who generally are ●ondest of the eldest Blockhead; now I am of the youngest: I have a Daughter too, but I think she's secure enough from the Town-Fellows, for I have neither let her Write nor Read, because she shan't understand Love-Letters: humph, by the Parliament, here she comes, and that same Rake▪ helly Lieutenant with her, Enter Callow and Margery. if this skittish lisping Jade should turn Whore now, before she can read her Horn book— the Devil must be very strong in her. I'll stand aside and observe.  Callow 
To affront and abuse your humble Servant so, my dear pretty Creature, without any reason, I swear it went to my Heart.  Marg. 
Why, What would you have me do when the Folks thee us, I'm tho ashamed before company, I can't tell what to do, besides, if my Father should but know.  Sir Lawr. 
Which, the Devils in him if he should, being so far out of the way—  aside. Marg. 
He would never let me go abroad again, for he hates I thould talk to a Ma● for fear I thould Marry, and oblige him to pay me a Porthion.  Sir Lawr. 
Does he so, Oatmeal Face, I shall talk with you presently. aside.  Callow. 
Thy Father, ah prithee don't name him, Child, as long as I have thee of my side, the old Fellow's but aCipher, besides, I outwit him always, I lead him by the Nose whenever I see him, Rot me.  Sir Lawr. 
Very good, there's an impudent Rogue too, he has an ignorant raw skittish Head, with a Flairing Comode on, and he's an Addle Blockheaded B●lly, with a ●luttering Scarf on, they're a mighty ●ine Couple indeed.  Marg. 
Nay, pish— now you squeeth me too hard again, lord you make such a Bu●●le always, and do though Ru●●le and tumble one's Head with kithing one.  Callow. 
A thousand Pardons my dear Rogue, thats well put in my Head faith.  Kisses her. Sir Lawr. 
Oh rare, rare doings! She can't speak at home, nor won't let a Man touch her when she's before me; but the Quean can bill like a Pigeon, I see, now. aside.  Marger. 
O my Conscience, for aught I thee you intent to marry me.  Callow. 
Marry thee; Ay, what else my dear Rogue.  Marg. 
O Lord, I shall never endure it, I shall cry myself to death.  Sir Lawr. 
O hang ye— aside.  Callow. 
What a plague does she mean? I believe she has a mind to have a touch beforehand, Sink me.  Marg. 
Besides, my Father will kill me.  Callow. 
He, an Old Grizzle,— 'Dslife I'd banter him to death in half an hours time; and if he should but touch thee, I would give him a sillup with my two Fingers, that should knock him as ●lat as a Battle-Ax. Burn me.  Sir Lawr. 
Why then Sirrah, there's a sillup to provoke ye— Come Draw, Bully, Draw— I will cut your Throat else, by the Parliament I will, I can Swear as well as you, Dogbolt.  Callow. 
'Dsheart, Sir Laurence here; what shall I do now?  Marg. 
My Father! Now the Devil take all ill Luck— I mutht take his part— Do, do, Father— Beat him, thwinge him, break his Bones, cut his Throat, for I can never be quiet for him, like a deboathed, drunken, doltish, dunderheaded, detheitful, damned, devilish Dog, as he is, to taith me ●ho.  Callow. 
So, so; She's in the old stile again— I shall be worried between 'em if my Legs don't befriend me— Runs out.  Sir Lawr. 
A Cowardly Rascal; what is he gone?— Here's a fine Scarse-Officer for ye,— if they should chance to be all such, we should beat the French finely; we should have a special Army by the Parliament.  Marg. 
I believe, Sir, I have forewarned the Fellow above a Thouthand times though I have.  Sir Lawr. 
Oh, very likely; that made you cry, O Lord you make thutch a Buthle, and do though Ru●●le ones head with kithing one,— Ha, you lithping Quean you:— But I'll manage you I'll warrant you.— Come Hussy, ●ome along with me. Exeunt.  Enter Sir Philip, Darewell, and Van Grin. Van Grin. 
You never saw such a Fellow as I am in your life, Captain, for the more the Widow Railed, the more I Laughed, ha, ha, ha, till she fetched out the Pistols, and then she made me as mute as a Fish saith; for you know there was no Jest in that; but till then, ha, ha, ha, ha, you would have died with Laughing, Jest after Jest, Hit after Hit, Joke after Joke, sauce upon her, as fast as Hops, you never saw such a fellow in your life, Faith and Troth.  Darew. 
No the Devil take me not I, nor any one else, I believe.  Sir Phil. 
I'll discover myself to the Fool, 'twill add to the Jest.  Darew. 
No, prithee, not yet; let him go on a little further.  Van Grin. 
But the Devilish Jest of all was, that I should give the Writings, instead of the confounded Counsellor, to this plaguy Sir Philip, ha, ha, ha, ha,— whom I never saw in my Life; but I hear he's the Devil of a Fellow.  Sir Phillip 
The Devil he is, and are you sure you don't know him when you see him, Min Heer Van Blunderpate.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha— Grin stairs at him and Laughs  Sir Phi●. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha—  Van Grin. 
'Tis so, 'tis he; Give me thy hand ye Devil you, hark ye you served me a plaguy trick, ye young Dog, but I can't be angry with thee for the heart of me, ha, ha, ha, ha— Well I'm in haste now, but I must Crack a Bottle with thee some time or other, for I can't be angry faith, ha, ha, ha.  Exit Grin. Sir Phil. 
No, so I ●ind; ha, ha, ha.—  Darew. 
For fear of being beaten, ha, ha, ha,— 'tis such a grinning Puppy; and here comes another almost as bad; Oh my Lord, what you are hunting the Duck here, I suppose; Mrs. Lafoy Pupsey is in the next. Walk, she's dived just before ye.  Enter L. Brainless new Dressed. L. Brain. 
A Pox take my Valet du Chamber, I should have been here half an hour ago, if the Rascal had Dressed me sooner:— Prithee, Sir Philip how dost like me, thou'rt a Man of Judgement; the Devil take me if I am not very much out of humour about it.  Sir Phil. 
Why, what would you have my Lord? here's the Brandenburgh's Cut to a Hair, I see. The Walks begin to sill, here's Leviathan coming, and the rest of the fry, I shall be swallowed if I stay, farewell: I'll go and sit an hour with my little dear at home, and keep my word with her like a Man of Honour. Exit.  Darew. 
I had a Command from my Lady of the Lake too, to attend, she's somewhere in the Garden and I must follow her, tho' the dear damned Devil abuses me perpetually: 'Slise here she is— hah—  Looks angrily on Solon. Enter Berenice, Solon, and La Pupsey. 
Sirrah, let go her hand, or I'll cut your Ears off before her Face.  Solon. 
I won't, no, tho' you could Roar as loud as a Cannon, as a man may say.  Darew. 
Why then I'll try if this can make ye, Rascal. offers to Draw.  Beren. 
Do, Draw if thou darest, thou Rash, thou Choleric Fool; draw but an Inch; nay, do but look as if thou wouldst, by all the Saints above, I'll discard thee for ever.  Darew. 
Death, Hell, and Furies! you make me a mere Changeling.  Beren. 
Why, then I make you what you are; and suppose you are Commanded to Act an Ass a little, will you refuse it to oblige your Mistress.  Darew. 
To Rank me with such a thing as that, a Dolt, a Fool.  Solon. 
Fool in your Face, Sir. Gadzookers, Madam, stand by and see fair play; you shall see me give the Captain a Salteel: 'Slid I'll not be baffled by ne'er a Water Rat of 'em all, for now my blood's up I'll cut and slash, or go to Loggerheads with him if he dares.  La Pups. 
Ha, ha, ha, This Fool will make rare sport; I'll improve it.  Beren. 
D'ye hear, on my Conscience he'll beat thee.  Darew. 
Oh Women, Women! what were Men born to suffer.  Beren. 
To call a Gentleman Fool, a Man of his rare Qualifications; you shall see a spice of his parts, come Dance, Sir,— She Sings, he Dances awkwardly. Dance any thing Extempore.— There's a Lover for ye: So, now break a ●est, quick, quick, break a Jest.  Solon. 
A Jest; why I say the Captain will never take a French Prize at Sea; because he's so ill at taking an English one ashore. there's a Jest for ye.  Darew. 
Sordid Puppy.  Beren. 
There's a Jest Extempore; that's more than the greatest Wit in Town can do, by this Light, Captain.  Darew. 
Oons, d'ye call that a Jest.  La Pups. 
A Jest, Ay; and a good one too: Come now, Sir, as your last Trial, Sing the Dialogue with me, that I showed you in the Arbour just now— Observe Captain.— Here they both Sing. 
A DIALOGUE between Solon and Berenice.  Beren. 
DAmon, if I should receive your Addresses;  
What would you do to deserve my Embraces?  Solon. 
If my dear Silvia would favour my Passion;  
I would in faithful Love, Excel the Nation.  Beren. 
I am Rich, Fair, and Young, Charming my Face is;  
What merit can you boast to gain such Graces?  Solon. 
I can Sing, Dance, Run, Leap, Wrestle, and Tumble;  
And all the Day and Night be your most humble.  Beren. 
Can you be patient, and jealousy smother,  
If you should Chance to see me Kiss another.  Solon. 
I'm in good Nature all others exceeding;  
And well acquainted too with your Town breeding.  Beren. 
Or if before my Time you find me swelling;  
Would you not grumble, nor think of Rebelling?  Solon. 
I front my betters have learned those Expedients;  
And can by City Rule practise Obedience.  Beren. 
Or if in Riot, Rich clothes, or at Play still,  
I lavish Thousands, yet would you Obey still?  Solon. 
In living great you would add to my Fame too:  
There's scarce a London Wife but does the same too.  Beren. 
Take, Take my hand then, and straight let's effect it;  
Thou art the very Fool I've long Expected.  Solon. 
Let Fortune frown I can never miscarry,  
For just such Fools as I are all that Marry.   Beren. 
Very good; What think you now, Sir? Is this accomplished person a Fool? When will you do as much Captain?  Darew. 
Well I'm fated to be the Fool myself; what would you have me say.  Beren. 
Then live and learn, I mean more manners, Sir, than to question my behaviour; do that when you have power over me: Come, Sir.  Darew. 
'Dsdeath, you won't walk alone with him.  Beren. 
Not alone with him; who told you so? Come worthy Sir.  Solon. 
Gadzooks this is the Cricketty Minute, as my Brother Bias calls it: Lord how the Captain looks! as a Man may say. Exeunt.  Darew. 
Go and be damned; I'll plague myself no more; but only this, I'll beat that Fellow, present her with his Nose, and never see her after.  Exit Darewell.  

SCENE II.  Enter L. Subtle. Lovewel. L. Subtle. 
Then dear Sir, or dear Madam, for I yet scarce know what to call ye, I am so transported with what you have told me, Will you promise to be true to me?  Lovew. 
As your own Heart, Madam, you see before ye, a poor unfortunate Woman, abused beyond sufferance, by that worst of Monster's Sir Philip, the just Sense of which has raised my Spleen so high, that I will crack my Brain but be revenged, therefore once more assure yourself, that as for his sake my Wit has used you ill, so for yours and my own, it shall make ample satisfaction.  L. Subtle. 
Get but the Writings back— I'll wear ●hee here, here next my Heart, where thou shalt grow for ever.  Lovew. 
I'll do't or die— Have you seen Counsellor Splutter since we conferred last night together, he should have been here this Minute.  L. Subtle. 
No, but have Feed him largely, not for his own, but to take thy Advice.  Lovew. 
And he has done it faithfully, he has contrived the rarest new Deed about the Estate of Sir Solomon's Uncle, that died at Hamburgh, that our witty Knight will be so puzzled about it, for I know his covetous Humour, and have accordingly fitted him; oh, here he comes, so Sir, you have dispatched I see.  Enter Splutter with a Deed. Splut. 
Ah Sir, you could not doubt that, when I was to serve so good a Client as my Lady, here's that will puzzle the Spark, or the Devil's in'●, but if this trick should fail, we have still another Game to play with him, for then I'll advise my Lady to go on with her Writ of Cozenage, 'gad there we'll trounce him.  Lovew. 
No, prithee since Wit has begun, let Wit end it, and do thou but play thy part in bantring, as well as I have ●one in flattering and fawning on him, 'tis impossible but we should succeed.  L. Subtle. 
Does he swallow that Pill finely?  Lovew. 
As I could wish, and now I don't touch upon Marriage, the lewd wretch is as kind to me, as he should really have been, had he done me Justice, whilst I degenerated by my wrongs, lie in his Arms and Plot like a true Jilt, and whilst he kisses me, vow dire revenge,— Hark, the Garden Bell rings, 'tis he, all away to your Post, and Lawyer— mind but your Cue, ne'er doubt the happy Issue, when I have finished the work this shall be the sign. whistles. Exeunt.  L. Subtle. 
And if there be a happy Star for Widows, shine clear now I beseech thee. Exit.  Enter Sir Philip. Sir Phil. 
How does my Blessing, what alone and melancholy, well, a pox take all Business I say, I had been with thee an hour sooner, but that the House of Commons sat so late, that  Lovew. 
That you could not mind your Mistress, for minding the weighty Affairs of State, hah— If I had not helped him out, that Lie would have made him black in the Face aside.  Sir Phil. 
Right Child, well but prithee, How go Affairs with the Widow, hah, and the old Musty Knight, hast thou taken thy leave?  Lovew. 
Speak softly, Sir, I have a Secret to tell ye.  Sir Phil. 
A Secret, prithee what is't, out with't;  Lovew, 
Come a little further from that Door there.  Sir Phil. 
That Door, Why what's the matter?  Lovew. 
Hush, softly I tell ye, hark in your Ear, Counsellor Splutter's in the next Room.  Sir Phil. 
Counsellor Splutter, how so, nay your Footman can tell ye that he showed him up, for my part I absconded, 'twas not sit for me to be seen.  Sir Phil. 
But prithee canst tell nothing of the business?  Lovew. 
Why, by what I overheard, the Widow and he have had a difference about the Deed of the other Estate of Sir Solomon's Uncle at Hamburgh, which is in his possession, in which it seems you have likewise a considerable share, and the stingy Widow not giving a good Fee, I suppose he's come over to your side,— so that you are like to wallow in good Fortune now—  Sir Phil. 
Dear dear lucky Rogue— 'tis thou art the cause of all, and I will so reward thee— well, I'll go to him—  Lovew. 
Patience a little, Sir, there may be a trick in't, and he may chance to be a false Brother, and design to overreach ye, now I have it in my Head, Sir.  Sir Phil. 
What, what, dear Rogue?  Lovew. 
As for your good, Sir, I am still contriving. Fawning on him.  Sir Phil. 
Sweet, charming, precious, prithee go on.  Lovew. 
That if this Lawyer should prove a knave, which you know is no miracle.  Sir Phil. 
No no, a Miracle, no no.  Lovew. 
And you two should differ about Proposals, being possessed of the Deed, having power to wrong ye; to prevent all, I have contrived that you should lock me into the Closet here, then bring him in to discourse the business over, so that I hearing every word between ye, may be a good Evidence in case of Knavery:  Sir Phil. 
I gad, thou'rt in the right Child, why, thy Wit increases every Minute, it keeps no bounds, why this is the prettiest project to out-trick a Lawyer, here, get in quickly my dear, pretty Angel, faith thou tak'st too much care.  Lovew. 
All for you sake, Sir. Clapping his Cheek●  Si● Phil. 
I know it, and will be grateful to thee my Delight, my Jewel— there's no Service under Heaven that I would not do to oblige my Dear, Dear, Witty, Sweet, Kind, Lucky.  Lovew. 
Will you Marry me, Sir?  Sir Phil. 
Aw,— go go, prithee get into the Closet Child, I'm afraid the Man of Law will bolt in upon us, and then our Plot's spoiled.  Lovew. 
D'ye keck still; I'll make ye glad to do't ere I have done with ye.  Sir Phil. 
So now, I'm recovered from my Fit again; He locks her into the Closet. that plaguy word comes always upon me, like an Eastern Wind, it blasts all my Joys in a moment,— now to my Lawyer, I hope there's another Estate coming, I shan't want a Witness, and I'm resolved I'll make him bawl loud enough.  Exit. Re-enter Lovewell, with the Box of Writings, and Casket of jewels. Lovewell. 
I have 'em once more, and to Sacred Fate, thus low I bow, with thanks for the Success: The Jewels too Man's glittering Opens the Casket damnation.  

Now Marriage-Hater, tho' I still must be,  
Unhappy in my wronged Virginity;  
I'll keep thee poor, thus I'm revenged of thee, Whistles and Exit.  
I'll never pay thee for my Infamy.   Enter Sir Philip, and Splutter with a Parchment. Sir Phil. 
Come Sir, here's a better light, pray speak out; I'd not give three half pence a Motion from this Lawyer, he'd not be heard two foot off in Westminster hall. aside.  Splutter. 
She's gone, I heard the Sign,— aside.  
Why truly, Sir, my Lungs are none o'th' best— Ugh, Ugh— Coughs. but I'll read as well as I can, Sir,— and if you are the Heir at Law to this Estate—  Sir Phil. 
Come, prithee begin; thou'rt a plaguy while about it;— Come, this Indenture.  Splutter. 
This Indenture made the Fifteen Day of August, Anno. Dom. 1690.  Sir Philip. 
So, now he Mouths it like a right Lawyer; the Devil's in't if she does not hear him now— aside.  Splutter. 
In the Third Year of the Reign— but hark ye; before I go any further let's see the Will, to know whether your Name is Right here, I'll not read a Word more till I see that, you may be the wrong Person for aught I know.  Sir Phil. 
Pox of his dilatory Impertinence; now must I go fetch the Writings out of my Closet.— How now, the Door open,— sure this Lawyer could not blow a Door open with his Bawling;— No, no, it maybe I slipped the Lock; I hope all's well within. Exit.  Splutter. 
ay, much good may't do ye with the Nest, the Birds are flown to my knowledge, and I'll after 'em; there's a Lawyer's trick for ye. Exit.  Re-enter L. Subtle and Lovewell: L. Subtle. 
Hast got 'em?  Love. 
Fast, fast, Madam; I've secured 'em for ye, where they shall never reach his Clutches more.  L. Subtle. 
Oh thou dear life of all my Joys to come; what shall I do to show my Gratitude.— Embracing her.  Enter Sir Philip. Sir Phil. 
Robbed, Cheated, Tricked, Undone, by Heaven, not only the Writings gone, but Jewels too,— A plague of this Lawyer, and the Female Devil that set him at Work, where are they now— hah—  Sees L. Subtle and Lovewell Embracing. L. Subtle. 
My Dear, Witty, Obliging— Kisses her.  Sir Phil. 
The Widow here, nay then 'tis past Redemption; my Damnation is preparing and here are my Tormentors ready: Ah Fool, Fool, dull thoughtless Idiot.  L. Subtle. 
Now for my Game with him; I'll try what Wit he has, now Fortune turns the Scale— Most Noble Sir, Charmed with your Person, routed by your Wit; My Heart new Modelled, and my Pride laid low, I'm contrary to Custom come to Woo ye; and tho' a Widow, a mere Brokers-shop, that as you say put off Stale Wares for New, must beg ye to take up with an Old Suit, and Marry me whilst I am worth the wearing.  Sir Phil. 
Oh!— Groans.  Lovew. 
Or if you think a broken Virgin Better, that is as good a Maid as you have left her, and can make shift to Dine on a poor Joint, that▪ you have made your Breakfast on before, Here I stand by you ready Cooked and Dressed, to be Cut up, Sir, by the Knife of Matrimony.  Sir Phil. 
So, there's two Broad Arrows gone through my short Ribs already— such another Attack and I'm gone.  L. Subtle. 
Tho' you're possessed of Seventy thousand Ducats, a mighty Sum in Jewels too, yet, Sir, in Charity you know—  Lovew. 
Tho' loaded with your new Estate, in Hamburgh too, Sir, you should not slight poor me.  Sir Phil. 
Ah Plague upon ye.  L. Subtle. 
A young brisk Widow, is no Purgatory, Sir.  Lovew. 
No, Sir, nor is the Property much altered in Virgins of my sort.  Sir Phil. 
Ah, the Devil take your sorts— there's no remedy, I shall be worried.  L. Subtle. 
Fie, fie, Sir, 'tis a shame to let us Court ye so, come, faith, say the word, shall we draw Cuts.  Lovew. 
A short and a Long, Come, Sir, here's a slip of Parchment that tied the Box of Writings, this will do rarely. Takes up a slip of Parchment from the ground.  Sir Phil. 
Ah stinging Devil.  L. Subtle. 
Ha, ha, ha,— he'll fall to my Lot, on my Conscience.  Lovew 
Nay, that's Injustice, he should rather fall to mine to make amends for old scores,— What say ye, Sir?  Sir Phil. 
Why, I say, that if ye don't both get ye instantly out of the Room, I shall beat ye.  L. Subtle. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Lovew. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha.  Sir Phil. 
A Plague on your Merriment, would the Devil had these Lodgings for being so near the Street, I'd try else if you would make another sort of noise.  Lovew. 
That Lewdness has undone thee, impious Wretch, the scroll of thy Offences are full numbered, and punishment pursues thy Guilt apace, canst thou look on me and not blush to death to see the Innocence, thy Vice has ruined; for tho' by Perjuries and Oaths betrayed, I swear I was so innocent of Ill, I thought all Love like mine, was Honourable.  Sir Phil. 
Wilt thou make me forget myself, Wilt thou not be gone, thou Witch thou Devil?— Confound 'em, What shall I do with 'em.  L. Subtle. 
Now Sir, pursue your Marriage-hating Humour, Men of great Fortunes may do what they please,— Fool, thou shalt be my Days and Night's diversion, I'll never eat but the Theme of all the Jests, shall be Sir Philip's Wit, Sir Philip's Humour, and when I go to Bed, my very Woman— viewing the Jewels, shall even burst with Laughing, and cry out, Oh silly, silly, silly Marriage-hater.  Lovew. 
And when I come to th' sport—  Sir Phil. 
Why then a Legion comes, a thousand thousand, 'dsdeath, I shall draw upon 'em, if I stay, I've no patience lest. Runs and locks himself into the Closset.  Lovew. 
Nay, I han't done with ye yet, Sir. Goes and Drums at his Door.  L. Subtle. 
There's a Widow's Call to Marriage too, Sir, I know you love it dearly.  Drums. 

Oh wretched Tribe, that dare that Law dispute;  
Which does their Race distinguish from the Brute:  
Lust was a Chaos, till the Great Creator,  
Confined to bounds, the wild's of Human Nature;  
But this foul Beast as if of Bounds ashamed.  
Defying Marriage, chooses to be Damned. Exeunt.     

ACT V.  

SCENE I.  Enter Lovewel. 
SUre there never was so ●ond a fool as I, now the heat of my passion is over, I can't for the heart of me forbear coming back to make him another Proposal, he has used me barbarously, but then he has used me kindly too by sits, but then again, the wrong he did me in getting me with Child, is insufferable,— ay, but then again, 'twas with my own consent, but than 'twas monstrous in him to refuse to make me amends, ay, but how do I know but this last kindness may Convert him,— 'tis no imprudence to try him once more, Heaven may have changed his Mind. Sir, Sir,— a word we.— Knocks softly.  Enter Sir Philip. Sir Phil. 
How now, How dar'st thou come back t'abuse me, thou Sorceress, thou Thief, thou damned confounded plaguy Creature?  Lovew. 
Alas dear Sir, why do ye wrong me so?  Sir Phil. 
Dear Sir,— ah pox upon thee, dar'st thou mock me?  Lovew. 
Not I upon my Soul, Sir.  Sir Phil. 
Or dost thou come back for my clothes and Money, thou hast not robbed me enough, hast thou, thou Sybil.— Where are the Writings and the Jewels, Gipsy hah?  Lovew. 
Pray be not angry, Sir, I have 'em safe.  Sir Phil. 
Ha, Hast thou 'em,— have a care of Lying.  Lovew. 
By all that's good I have, Sir, the Widow has not touched 'em yet.  Sir Phil. 
How's this,— What a plague, this little Witch did not take 'em. by the way of frolic only, sure, 'dsdeath unriddle this quickly, I'm impatient.  Lovew. 
You shall have 'em again, Sir.  Sir Phil. 
Ha, What sayst thou?  Lovew. 
You shall have 'em again.—  Sir Phil. 
Shall I,— Where, When, How? 'dsdeath don't tri●le with me.  Lovew. 
From▪ me, Sir, from this Hand, this liberal Hand that gave away my Heart, shall give what you desire.  Sir Phil. 
Then I'll believe thou lov'st me.  Lovew. 
But you must Marry, Sir.  Sir Phil. 
Ugh, ugh, ●gh.— Coughs and Spits.  Lovew. 
And that before hand too, else I am off the Bargain.  Sir Phil. 
Art thou resolv'dd to Murder me?  Lovew. 
Murder ye, sie, 'twill be a Health perpetual, all your life past has been perpetual hurry, lavish and wild, 'tis time, Sir, now to settle.  Sir Phil. 
Settle, and Marry, So; there is, I remember, a third convenience belongs to't too.  Lovew. 
You'll find your best Convenience is to do't Sir, take me, and take all; yet,— if not, Adieu t'ye, I shall make shift to save a Fortune out on't.  Sir Phil. 
Let me consider, and ere I give my resolution fully, sum up the Catalogue of Marriage Evils.  Lovew. 
Do, Sir, whilst I opposing answer with its Blessings.  Sir Phil. 
Imprimis, to Marry one's Stale Mistress, ridiculous!—  Lovew. 
Not when your Fortune's sunk, and she brings ye Thirty thousand pounds to build it up again.  Sir Phil. 
Secondly, to feed still upon the same Dish, Morn after Morn, Night after Night.— Egud,— Kecks.  Lovew. 
Wholesome, wholesome, 'tis the variety of Kickshaws that breed so many Diseases.  Sir Phil. 
Thirdly, to be Forty times called Whoremaster, is not half so Igneminous as one Cuckold,— oh—  Lovew. 
Nor is the plague of Cuckoldom half so Nauseous as that one Disease that attends the unfortunate Whoremaster.  Sir Phil. 
Fourthly, to live like a Dog with a Bottle tied fast to his Tail, or an Ape with a great Clog on; Oh Intolerable!  Lovew. 
Which you would never have done, if like an Ape you were not Mischievous, or did not like an unlucky Cur run after other men's Sheep.  Sir Phil. 
Then to have a useless Wife Puking— Ugh— an Impertinent Nurse a Snoring pugh— And a little squab Brat a Bawling,— Ugh, ugh, ugh,— Oh the Devil, I shall fetch my Lungs up, I shall never endure it. Coughs.  Lovew. 
Why then, Adieu, I'll never ask ye more, I am resolved on't.  Sir Phil. 
Stay— A lucky thought comes to me on the sudden, which if it take Effect, secures me yet— aside. Come hither again, where did you leave the Widow.  Lovew. 
At the Streets end, with promise to come and deliver all up to her this Evening; and since you persevere thus in Injustice, I am resolved I'll do't,— She's so overjoyed that she Intends to have the Music and a Masquerade at her Lodging to Night; she will be grateful to me tho' you wont.  Sir Phil. 
Come hither, thou hast won me, I will do't.  Lovew. 
What? Marry me.  Sir Phil. 
Pox, prithee name it by some other word, a Thunderbolt is not so dreadful the plaguy Black Coat, shall do the plaguy business, if that's sufficient.  Lovew. 
'Tis all I wish; oh, how my Heart beats for Joy, this is the happiest Moment I e'er saw,—  Sir Phil. 
I'll get a Parson and in an hour be with ye; till when, adieu: Ah little did I e'er think to be Fooled thus.  Lovew. 
Nor I to be so happy.— Exit Lovewell.  Sir Phil. 
Of what an odd kind of Composition is the Nature of Man:— If Consideration now could take place in me, I have no reason to deny doing Justice, to this pretty Creature, that is so kind, and can do me so much good, but on my Conscience, my only cause of hating a Wife, is, because it is convenient for me; and Marriage in those of my humour, is just like Devotion, Loved and Practised the less, because it is Enjoined us; besides, being outwitted by this little Devil has so nettled me, that I cannot forbear putting one Trick more upon her, tho' 'tis unreasonable: Let me see, she will be Married before she refunds,— Very good; why she shall,— and I think I have a Valet de Chambre can perform the Office as well as any Priest in Christendom; 'tis true, he's an Irishman, but a little sense will serve to do such a business.— hay— Mack-Buffle.  Enter Buffle. Buffle. 
Thy will, an't please thee.  Sir Phil. 
Buffle, since this four or five days that thou hast been with me, I have received so good an Opinion of thy Wit, that I have now a project to Employ thee in.  Buffle. 
I shall take Care of it to the besht of me Ability, if thou wilt be plain with me in the matter.  Sir Phil. 
Why Mack, I must be Married, and I would have thee do the Office for me: Canst thou read the Service, and Act a Parson rarely, hah?  Buffle. 
Ee warrant thee, for ee have a Brother that is in Order, and ee have seen him do it so often, that ee cannot mistake.  Sir Phil. 
That's well said, I'll fit thee with a Habit presently, and then do it but Cunningly and be the glory of thy Country.  Buffle. 
I warrant thee, I warrant thee, my Father Teg was a cunning Scab before me.— Exeunt.   

SCENE II.  Enter Lovewell. Lovew. 
Tho' to oblige myself I must put this new Trick upon the Widow, yet I cannot in Conscience but contrive something to do her a kindness, and therefore resolve to manage the Old Knight's Nephew, the Flanderkin, till he is fit for my purpose, one Minute will do it, and then away brisk to my own Sir Philip; Hark, I think I hear him already. Noise within.  Van Grin. 
within. Ha, ha, ha, ha,—  Lovew. 
Ay 'tis he, and I believe laughing at his shadow for want of a better Subject,—  Enter Van Grin. Limping. 
Oh Sir, you're come very opportunely— Pray what is't provokes your Mirth so.  Van Grin. 
Why the oddest Jest that ever I knew in my Life, Faith and Troth, Ha, ha, ha, ha,— for upon the report of the Widows late good success you must know, I was making fresh Love to her, and running after her down a pair of Stairs, where the plaguy Jade her Maid, Ha, ha, ha,— had thrown a handful of Pease just before; what does me I, but tumble down from Top to bottom Faith and Troth— Ha, ha, ha, Gad I believe I've broke two of my Ribs— besides, spraining my Leg, Ha, ha, ha, ha,— did you ever know such a ●est. Sits down.  Lovew. 
No, by my Soul, never such a kind of Jest in my life.  Van Grin. 
My Head too,— I've a knob in that as big as a Turkey Egg, Ha, ha, ha,— She told me before a Cannon shot would not break it, and now I find her words true Faith and Troth.  Lovew. 
Oh Sir, 'tis a great sign of Love, when she begins to play Frolicks with ye.  Van Grin. 
Why faith, I think so, though she has been plaguy cross to me of late too; but, if I thought this was her way of making Love, Gad I'd go a●● present her the use of my Legs and Arms, and let her sprain and break 'em as she pleased, let her but give me leave to Joke, and all the rest of my Members are at her Service, faith and troth, ha, ha, ha, ha, a very good Jest faith.  Lovew. 
And truly, Sir, Yours is the most sensible sort of Love of any I ever heard of; for as a famous Author has it,  

He that Hangs, or beats out's Brains,  
The Devil's in him if he feigns.   Van Grin. 
Why 'tis very true; and that's very pretty,— and so art thou too, ye little brisk smug-faced Rogue, ha, ha, ha,— Oh my Ribs, my Side, my Legs,— ha, ha, ha,— a plaguy Jade, that was such a Jest to throw Pease upon the Stairs.  Lovew. 
Ah Sir, thereby hangs a story that would make your Ribs soon well again, if you knew all.—  Van Grin. 
sayst thou so; prithee what is't? my dear Mercury.  Lovew. 
Nay, I think in Justice I ought to inform ye; therefore know Sir, the Widow loves ye, and this Masquerade is I believe made chiefly for your sake.  Van Grin. 
Ha, ha, ha,— No, no, ye Jest, ye Jest.  Lovew. 
Hush, lay your Finger upon your Mouth,— here comes Company; and if your Legs will give ye leave follow me, I'll tell ye more. Exit.  Van Grin. 
'Dsheart, if my Legs were off I'd follow thee upon this account.  Exit Limping after her. Enter Bumsiddle and Darewell Darew. 
'Dsdeath she has abused me beyond humane patience.  L. Bum. 
Oh you must never mind that, Captain; 'tis the way of some Women; You a Man of War, and leave-off the Fight for a Chance shot or two, I'm ashamed on't,— When shall we sup together again, the last Venison was very good as I'm a Protestant.  Darew. 
'Twas a sign so by your Eating indeed.— aside.  
Oh, when you please, Madam,— but hark ye, when is my Marriage to be.  L. Bum. 
Why thou shalt have her to Night,— are the Hundred Guineas ready?  Darew. 
All ready to Chink into your hand, Madam, if that were but done once.  L. Bum. 
Thou shalt have her to Night then, I tell thee, she sent to thee to get a Parson ready, did not she.  Darew. 
Why yes, and I have one yonder; but the Devil take me if I am not afraid she'll have some damned freak or other in her head, and plague me again; see yonder she comes, and that Fool Solon with her, whom I have not yet beaten; but if he 'scape when next I meet him, I'll give him leave to Rival me indeed.  Enter Berenice, Solon, and Pimpwell. Beren. 
Yonder he is, and I must tease him once more, tho' I lose him by't,— give me your hand, Sir, why d'ye loiter so,— You know I hate to have ye out of my sight; and yet you are still so backward.  Darew. 
Fond, by this light, and blames him for his Loitering.  L. Bum. 
She is not bewitched sure, is she.  Solon. 
O Lord! I vow and swear, Madam, I could outrun the swift win●'d Racers of the Sky, as the Book says, to keep you Company, well, I vow that's a curious thought, as a Man may say.  Darew. 
I shall have no patience,— Come Madam, what d'ye mean? the Man of God stays yonder according to your Order.  Beren. 
Oh, thank ye good Captain; I had forgot I vow.  L. Bum. 
Oh, she's coming to herself again, I see.  Beren. 
Sir you are extremely obliged to the Captain here, for his good will, fearing that I should keep your passion off too long, he has provided here a Chaplain for ye— Come, Sir, I'm ready. To Solon.  Darew. 
Death and Furies! a Chaplain for him.  Solon. 
I Vow and Swear he's the Civilest person that ever I met in my Life, as a Man may say.  Darew. 
Nay then, Rage shall take place; Scoundrel avaunt, and d'ye hear, Madam, do me Justice instantly, and come and let the Parson do his Duty, or may I live branded with the name of Villain, if here I throw not off all rules of Decency, Manners, Respect, and Duty for your person, and carve out instantly my worst Revenge in the Heart's blood of that ridiculous Monster.  Beren. 
Why come then; Lord! what need you be in such a passion? If I must be yours, I must be yours,— and there's an end on't:— God buy Solon, you see there's no help sored,— Betty stay here, and banter him as I instructed thee,— aside to Pimpwell. Exeunt.  L. Bum. 
I was plaguily afraid the freakish Jipsey would have made me lose my hundred Guineas.  Solon. 
A plague on't, what doings are here? Now forward then backward; then this way, and then t'other way; now Chuck under the Chin, and next minute spit in ones Face; why this is the very Devil, as a Man may say.  Pimp. 
Oh, Sir, don't trouble yourself; this is only a trick upon the Captain; go presently and dress yourself for the Masquerade, and then rely upon me; I'll give ye an account of her Habit, and you shall steal her off and Marry her in spite of him.  Solon. 
Why then, I vow and swear, that will be mighty neatly contrived; and I shall have something in the bottom of my Pocket for thee too, Sweetheart,— and if I can but steal her away as thou sayst, I care not if I go to Loggerheads with the blustering Captain every hour of the Day, as a Man may say.   

SCENE. III.  Enter Sir Laurence and Bias in Masquerade; Sir Laurence dressed like an Old Woman. Sir Law. 
If I am not ashamed of myself; there is no Wisdom in Age and Experience; for an Old Man as I am, whose dress should be grave and decent, and whose Actions should be consequent to his Gravity, to come a Masquerading, Equipt thus egregiously: ah 'tis Foppish and Vile:— But then again, 'tis true, I'm a Courtier, and the Fop is the less seen in me.  Bias. 
For my part I ne'er trouble my head about that, I'm no more a Fop now than I used to be.  Sir Law. 
Ah Boy, 'tis for thy sake that I Expose myself thus; the Widow has received her Fortune again, I hear, and therefore we must turn the humour. Well Boy! but what Answer did she make thee this Morning.  Bias. 
Gad she was in the rarest humour that ever I saw her in my Life, faith; she has appointed the hour, told me her Disguise, and I'm to steal her away to night n Masquerade.  Sir Lawr. 
Why, Blessing on her Heart,— and my Opinion of her is mightily changed since yesterday— go go away Boy and watch her Motions— my Son.— Exit Bias. Solon will be provided for to night too, why, here will be such an hour of Coupling, gad, I believe the Stars themselves will be all in Conjunction, and I'm glad on't at my heart faith,— how now, who comes here— oh, I see the Humour holds general, there are more Fools abroad than myself.  Enter Callow and Margery in Masquerade. Callow. 
So, My Dear, vow thou'rt mine by Law, the Parson has done his part— and I think I've done mine a little,— and faith to get up the Chimney to come out to me, was a very odd contrivance, that's the Truth.  Marger. 
What d'ye think a Maid of my Age can't contrive to come out to her Man, when she hath a mind to be Married, I'd have broke thown the Wall but I'd have come to thee; if thwere only to spite my Father, I'll teach him to lock me up.  Sir Lawr. 
That lisping Fool puts me in mind of my Peggy, that I have locked up at home.—  Callow. 
Ay ay, now I have thee fast, let the old Heteroclite fret himself into a Consumption, if he will,— but see, here's some of the Masquers come already.  Marg. 
Oh Lord, that's an old Woman, I'll go speak to her,— How ●ow Grannum— What make you here, hah?  Sir Lawr. 
I come a fooling as you do. What have you stole out from your Father's house, through the Chimney, say ye?  Marg. 
Yeth that I have, and have Married without heath leave, becauth I sound myself capable.  Sir Lawr. 
Indeed,— What! and you are the happy Bridegroom, are ye Friend?  Callow. 
Instead of a better, Grannum, you will get little or nothing by us this time, we can bring ourselves together without ye, we shall have no occasion for a Bawd, Rot me.  Sir Lawr. 
This must be the Rakehelly Lieutenant, I know him bp his Rot me.  Callow. 
But if you have a mind to try, how you can move your old Bones, and will Dance at our Wedding, you must come away quickly, for we are just going to begin.  Marg. 
Ay ay, old Drybouth— we are Jutht going to begin, ha ha ha Exeunt.  Sir Lawr. 
She has got my young Jades Tone exactly, by the Parliament I don't know what to think on't— if these young Queans can climb up Chimneys to get to their Fellows, what a plague signifies Locks to our doors,— I'll go afer 'em and be resolv●d, for my Heart misgives me damnably.— Exit.  Enter L. Subtle, Sir Philip, and Lovewell in Masquerade. L. Subtle. 
Base faithless wretch, hast thou deceived me then.  L. Lovew. 
'Tis in vain to rail, Madam, Sir Philip has done me right, and you must excuse me for frustrating your hopes upon so good an occasion; if we have wronged ye, you know the Law is open.  Sir Phil. 
Ha ha ha— Here they are faith,— here's the glittering Damnation— come into my Clutches again Widow. Shows the jewels.  L. Subtle. 
And I hope she'll make thee pay for 'em,— and since merely to abuse me thou hast Married— for still I know thou hatest it; May Discord, Jealousy, hated Barrenness, with all the Curses of the Marriage-State, be thy perpetual Plague.  Sir Phil. 
Ay so it shall when I come into't,— aside.  
this Crotchet will do well upon my Hat, Widow,—  L. Subtle. 
Out of my sight, or I shall Stab ye both.  Sir Phil. 
Oh, nay, if you are so desperate, farewell t'ye,— come Lovewell, let's go and peruse our Writings. Exit.  Lovew. 
Fie, fie, this Rage is ridiculous— what is done, is done, and tho' I cannot wrong myself, nor part with my dear Philip, nor his Fortune, yet if you'll follow my Advice, Madam, and Marry, I'll help ye to a Fool and Fifteen hundred a year, if that will make amends, nay, never boggle at it.— Keep up good Humour, let the Dance begin, and ere an hour is ended, he's your own.  L. Subtle. 
Thou art a very Devil, and thou canst do any thing, there's no remedy, I see I must take what thou wilt give me, lead on. Exeunt.  Enter Darewell. Darew. 
So, with much ado, she's mine at last, tho' I was damnably afraid at first, all the time the Service was saying, that she would have played some freak or other with the Parson,— but, as it happens, she was more tame than I expected— well, Heaven send me good luck— I'm sure I've took pains enough about her.  Enter L. Brainless. L. Brain. 
Who's that, Darewell?  Darew. 
The same, my Lord, What is not the Dance begun yet?  L. Brain. 
Begun, what, without me, Fool,— they may as well begin without the Fiddles; I have kept 'em a little too long, 'tis true, but what dost think I've been employed about?  Darew. 
Nay, some mighty Affair, without doubt.  L. Brain. 
The greatest in the World, the Devil take me,— thou art my Friend, I dare trust thee, hark in thy Ear,— I'm just now Married.  Darew. 
Married, my Lord, why hark in your Ear then, So am I, this shall be called the Marriage Masquerade, for I know of two Couple more, but to whom good my Lord.  L. Brain. 
Why▪ to dear Pupsey— I have been horribly in love with her a great while, thou knowest she's an extreme witty person, and they say, a great Fortune.  Darew. 
She has been a High Flyer indeed my Lord, and to my knowledge, kept company with Crowned Heads, but not worth a Groat, by Heaven. aside.  L. Brain. 
She's yonder amongst the Masquers, come Tarr, I believe thou'rt but a wooden Dancer,— Observe me and it may do thee a kindness.  Music strikes. Enter Sir Philip, Sir Laurence, Callow, L. Bum. Lovewell, Berenice, Solon, Bias, Margery, Comode, Pimpwell, Bandy, La Pupsey, L. Hockley in Masquerade; Pupsey carries her Lap-dog in Masquerade too. 
SONG in Two Parts.  
AS soon as the Chaos was turned into Form,  
And the first Race of Men knew a good from a harm,  
They quickly did join,  
In a Knowledge Divine,  
That the chiefest of Blessings were Women and Wine;  
Since when by example Improving Delights,  
Wine Governs our Days, Love and Beauty our Nights.  
Then Love on and Drink,  
'Tis a Folly to think  
Of a Mystery out of our reaches;  
Be Moral in Thought  
To be Merry's no Fault,  
Tho' an Elder the contrary Preaches.  
For never, my Friends, was an Age of more Vice,  
Than when Knaves would seem Pious, and Fools would seem Wise.  La Pup. 
Well, I swear your Lordship Dances like a little God.  L. Brain. 
And thou like a Goddess, my dear charming Heavenly— ah Pox, there's no body else here can move a Leg,— yet saith the Masquerade is extravagant enough,— here's no body but Darewell, that I can guests at in the whole company— ha ha ha, I wonder who that bulky thing is.  La Pupsey. 
That must be my Lady Bumfiddle by her Obessity.  L. Brain. 
Her Obessity, What a Plague's that?— her Belly,— I see I must pick up my old scraps of Learning again, my Spouse will overrun me else most damnably, but my Dear, prithee where's Monsieur Le Chien.  La Pupsey. 
Oh my dear Dony, I had almost forgot him, I beg your Patience my Lord— I'll fetch him, and wait on ye again immediately— Exit.  Lovew. 
to Sir Phil.] So, by this time, Hymen has been Sacrificed to sufficiently, no less than six Couple have lovingly paid their Devotion to his Altar, I'm sure.  Sir Phil. 
Six Couple, why their offspring well begot, in Twenty years' time, may be enough to Man a Fleet— poor fool, there wants one Couple of the Six though— to my knowledge— aside.  L. Bum. 
The Devil take these Prolix doings, I begin to be very hungry.  Beren. 
That's my Lady Bumfiddle, I wonder what she does for her Bumper all this while.  Darew. 
She has been putting me in mind of Supper three times within this half Hour.  Beren. 
If you were to ch●se— what you liked, which would you have of all these?  L. Bum. 
There's nothing worth having here, but there's a Westphali● Ham and Pigeons in the next room, I'd choose that if I might.  L. Hock. 
This is somewhat rude La Pupsey, to your Betters, I must tell you that. Lady Pupsey justless Lady Hockley.  L. Pupsey, 
my Betters, poor Creature, prithee my Lord tell her who I am, whilst I walk by and smile.  L. Brain. 
Madam, your Fault springs from your Ignorance, but henceforth remember this Lady is my Wife, Dammy.  L. Hock. 
Why then, with my Lady's pardon,— I hope she'll thank me, at least, for all the old Gowns I've given her— for though she be your Wife now my Lord, she was lately Retainer to our Cabal, and formerly a Player.—  L. Pupsey. 
The Devil was in me to provoke her, all will out now I see, there's no remedy.— aside.  L. Brain. 
A Player, ha ha ha, why now you Rave, Madam,— Darewell, thou canst witness the contrary of that, thou toldst me her Breeding was such, that she has been familiar with Kings and Queens.  Darew. 
Ay my Lord in the Playhouse, I told ye she was a High Flyer too, that is, I have seen her upon a Machine in the Tempest.  L. Brain. 
In the Tempest, why then I suppose I may seek her fortune in the enchanted Island, what a plague you have tricked me then Fubbs, have ye?  L. Pupsey. 
Tricked ye my Lord, that's a phrase I confess I understand not yet, but if you design to be Acid, I can have patience though you are never so Acrilogical, 'tis all one to me, 'tis the same thing in the Greek. Enter Van Grinn.  L. Brain. 
Greek, the Devil▪ take all Learning, I say, 'dsdeath are these the joys of Marriage?  Van Grin. 
The Joys of Marriage, ha ha ha ha, a very good Jest, faith; I have most share in that, I'm sure. Where is this Sir Philip, now let him produce himself, that I may laugh at him immoderately, ha ha ha ha, for I have Married the Widow and wiped his Nose, Faith and Troth, ha ha ha.  Sir Phil. 
Thou hast got indeed the Shell of the Widow, but her Kernel, the Writings and Jewels are under Lock and Key in my custody, ha ha ha ha.  Van Grin. 
He's downright Mad, Faith and Troth,— thou the Jewels, speak Spouse, and consute the silly Knight—  L. Subtle. 
Why, the Truth is, Sir, he has got the Writings and Jewels again; but now I have got you with an Estate, Sir, we'll swinge him off at Law.  Van Grin. 
Law!— nay, if you talk of Law already, I've catched a Tartar faith and Troth.  Sir Lawr. 
Sure my Eyes don't dazzle. What can be the meaning of this?  Bias. 
What a Plague, is the Widow split in two then? for I have one half of her here.  Comode. 
Not half a Widow, but a whole Maid at your Service, Sir.—  Lovew. 
Oh! Mrs. Comode, I wish ye much Joy.—  Sir Lawr. 
Why, this is Witchcraft, by the Parliament, now I'm serious.  Bias. 
What a pox have I got, the Widows Bed-warmer, and instead of 70000 Ducats, the lawful Inheritrix to 7 pair of worn-out Laced Shoes, and a Dozen of old Combs; go Troop Troop, my Brother Solon will laugh me to death,— he has got a ●ine Lady and a Fortune. bushes Comode away.  Darew, 
Not the Lady you mean I can assure ye Sir, as this can witness, I have laid her aboard myself.— Discovers Berenice.  Solon. 
Why then, as I hope to be saved, I can't tell what to make of all this, I was to take her away in this disguise, and now he has got her, and if I han't Married her, I'll take my Oath on't I've Married the Devil in her shape, as a Man may say.  Pimpw. 
You have Married one, Sir, that has had a tender care for your Person a long time, I assure ye— Discovers herself.  Sir Phil. 
Ha ha ha— Here's Matrimony like Grapes in Clusters, Faith— I'm glad I've 'scap'd squeezing. aside.  Beren. 
Oh Betty, I wish thee good luck, take care and make a good Wife, d'ye hear?  Solon. 
You have neither good Bubbies nor a good Face,— therefore Troop Troop, as my Brother Bias says. bushes Pimpwel away.  Comode. 
Well Sir, the Law will give us Ally Money, and that's all we care for—  Sir Lawr. 
My two Sons Married to two Chambermaids— and by a Trick,— nay then, there seldom comes two Mischiefs but there's a Third,— by your leave Mistress— I believe you and I have some intimacy— Unmasks Margery.  Marg. 
Well well, what care I, heerth my Huthband— And you're an old fribling, fulsome, foolish, feeble, fumbling fornicating Fellow, for all you're my Father, to lock up me, though ye are.  Sir Lawr. 
Ay, i knew 'twas she— here's your coy, skittish Quean for ye,— they're all so, they Sneak and Prim in public, as if Butter would not melt in their Mouths, but they are very Devils in a corner.  Callow. 
Well well, Sir, pay her her Six thousand pounds— and then Rail as much as you think good, Rot me.  Sir Lawr. 
D'ye hear Friend, you know you're a Coward, and I know you're Cashiered, and therefore if you get one farthing of her Fortune, why then— Rot me.  Sir Phil. 
He's in the right Callow; your business is done at Court, I told ye what would come of your herding with the Factious Party.  Darew. 
Why now, one may walk Horses, and t'other may Spin, a very hopeful Match indeed.  L. Bum. 
There never comes better luck when the Blockheads don't Consult me, I have always observed it as I'm a Protestant.  Callow. 
'Tis very hard they should pick out only me, there are more Officers in the Regiment, and some, ●hat to my Knowledge, how faïr soever they carry it, are as Factious as myself, Burn me.  Lovew. 
And by degrees will be all gleaned out I hope,— A R●t in an Army is a dangerous thing— but Sir Laurence, Have your new Affairs entirely taken up your Memory, that you forget your Servant Lovewell.—  Sir Law. 
Lovewell, I'm amazed, why thou look'st like a very Woman.  Lovew. 
And as very a Woman I am, old Knight, as ever you knew in your life, that has, to right former Injuries, and help the Marriage-hater here to a good Wife, that may be the occasion of his Salvation hereafter, lived thus long in disguise in your Family, and instead of Brother to your Friend's Daughter Phoebe, that was debauched, you here behold the very Phoebe herself, Sir.  Sir Law. 
H● day! why this is an hour of Wonders.  L. Bum. 
The Marriage-Hater Catched at last, ha, ha, ha.  L. Hock. 
The Marriage-Hater Catched at last, ha, ha, ha.  Sir. Phil. 
Hold, hold, good Ladies,— pray let me Explain myself a little, lest your Extravagant Mirth should not hold out well to the end; 'tis true my Dear, as thou sayst, I am Married.  Love. 
Ay, Child, I know it; and thou hast made me the happiest Creature breathing.  Sir Phil. 
With all my Heart; would I could marry fifty a day at the same rate, for such a Fortune,— Buffle, come Sirrah, off with your Disguise; Look ye, Child,— resolving not to let any Female Wit ever have the better of me; I have overreached thee with another trick, faith, and a● Married by my Valet de Chambre; so that, instead of dull, drowsy Wedlock, I am just in the Predicament as I was before, ha, ha, ha, ha,— Turns back on the sudden, and finds Thum. instead of Buffle.  
How now! What a Devil art thou.—  Thum. 
A Minister of the Word▪ and shall please thee.  Sir Phil. 
A Minister; what a plague have I to do with a Minister?— where's Buffle?  Thum. 
He is at the Door there; he did desire me to do for thee this good office.  Sir Phil. 
Peace Hellhound, Screech-Owl, Black-Coat, Slave,— by the Furies I'm caught in my own Snare.— aside. Enter Buffle.  
How now, Rogue; what mistake is this?  Buffle. 
I desire thou wilt not be angry, I have done all for thy good indeed.  Sir Phil. 
Ah sordid Villain, I'll Murder thee— Pulls Buffle by the Ears and Cuffs him.  Darew. 
Oh, prithee, Sir Philip,— no Passion now; let's hear what the Fellow says.  Buffle. 
Why, what is there occasion for all this broken Face now; have ee not done all things for the besht, indeed;— thou didst deseer me to learn the way of the Marriage, for thee; and by Chr●esht ee did learn and learn, and ee did forget again indeed;— and then for fear that I should mistake ee did desee● my Brother, who is in Orders, and whose Trade it is— instead of my shelf, to do it well for thee; and vare is the harm of this.  Sir Phil. 
Hell and the Devil! Oh Ignorant Dog; that I could but get at that Nose of thine.  Love. 
Go, go, get ye both gone; and here's twenty Guineas to Cure your Face, Friend; away I say,— Exeunt Buffle and Thummim.  
'Slife how near had I been lost again; this is the luckiest turn that ever happened.  L. Brain. 
Faith, Freewit, thou'rt snapped too,— thou'rt in our Row now, in spite on thee, I'm glad he has married his Wench, that he mayn't laugh at me for my bargain there,— for the Devil take me, if I don't begin to be ashamed of her already. aside.  Sir Law. 
Well, for my part, since Chance must rul● the Roast in spite of all Endeavours, I'll be a fond doting Fool no longer,— Let my Son Bias be Poxed if he pleases; my hopeful Son Solon hang himself in his hopeful Wife's Garters, and let my Daughter turn Doll Common to the Army:— I'll please myself as long as I can by the Parliament; keep a good Table to get me Reputation; drink the King's Health to show my Loyalty▪ keep a good Horse in my Stable, and a handsome Wench for my Housekeeper, and there's the resolution of an old Courtier; now I'm serious in good Earnest.  Bias. 
Say ye so old Dew-beater; why then I'll do like all those Sons whose Fathers are● as you have been,— Spend all I can in your Life time; Drink Bumpers to your good passage, when I hear you are dying; and forget ye before ye are buried.  Solon. 
I'm sure 'tis you have been the occasion of my miscarriage; for you would have me Marry, tho' I was no more fit for a Wife, ●han a Cow is for a Saddle, as a Man may say.  Beren. 
Come Sister, what grown dull with your new Fortune? You may be glad it happens so well; Come, come, be merry for shame, and Cheer up your Husband there, I swear he's down in the Mouth.  L. Subtle. 
And will be worse down, I believe, before I've done with him.— Why, it seems he had the Impudence to expect a Fortune with me; 'tis a Proverb indeed; ●hat often by Chance, Fools may have Fortune;— but that a Widow ever gave a Fortune to a Fool, is a Precedent yet to make, at least till she was come to her time of dotage:— Come, come, Laugh, Sir, Laugh.  Van Grin. 
This is the only thing in the World that I can't Laugh at, Faith and Troth; First, to Marry one that cares not if I were hanged; and then to be frustrated of her Fortune, which is the only thing a Widow is good for; one too that has the Impudence to ●●ll me Fool the first minute of our Marriage, and without doubt will make me a Cuckold the next; 'thas quite balked me; I could not Laugh if I might get a thousand pounds by't,— I could rather weep, faith and troth,— makes Grimaces as ready to weep.  Darew. 
Ha, ha, ha, ha,— a pox on't you must strive against Melancholy, Man,— 'tis the worst disease for a fellow of thy Kidney in the World; besides to begin with it, upon thy Wedding-day, 'tis ominous; for my part I have been venturing too here, but am resolved to be merry, come what will on't.  Beren. 
You shall have no cause to be otherwise, Sir, all my freaks are now ended, they were only to try your humour, Sir, and have all made their Exit with my change of Condition; I am now as tractable a plain dull silly House-dove, as if I had been in twenty Sea-sights with ye, or had come under your Lee, for as many Years.  L. Brain. 
Well! what fortune I shall get by my Marriage, I find is a Riddle, but I am sure to have Rhetoric in abundance,— if slorid words could be summed into pounds, I were certain of Ten thousand of 'em in an hours time:— I hope Madam, I may take place of Monsieur L'Chien too; 'tis time for our Rivalship to end now.  La Pupsey. 
Yes, my Lord, says he, I shall be proud to yield to your Lordship in any thing says he, yet I have had many a sweet Night with my dear says he, Ay my dear Life's-blood so thou hast.— Well! my Lord may be as angry as he pleases— but if I've a hundred Children by him, I shall ne'er love one of 'em half so well.— apart.  L. Bum. 
Why, what a glut of Weddings are here,— and but one Supper to 'em all, this is pitiful Management, as I'm a Protestant.  L. Hock. 
I vow, I could wish, methinks, the Frolic had gone thorough; my Niece and I here, are the only uncoupled in the whole Company.  Bandy. 
Which was neither of our faults, Aunt, I'm sure.  Darew. 
Come, ●●r Philip; Fate is Inevitable, and 'tis in vain to resist its decree, for my part I'll wear my Yoke, if it chance to be a Yoke, with all the Patience imaginable;— and when the Marriage Courtship is a little over, to Sea again, and Court the Foe in Thunder,— Our Fleet is Royal, Hearts I hope are found too;  

And let our Loyal Union, be well framed;  
If ever then we are baffled, I'll be damned.   Lovew. 
And now, Sir, passion being a little over, I hope you'll own what I have done was just; and since to help the failures of my Wit, a special Act of Providence befriended me, be pleased to look on me with Eyes of Pity,  

For you might have, Sir, to Indulge your life,  
A new●r Bride, but not a better Wife.   Sir Phil. 
Give me thy hand,— I am Convinced this moment, that Marriages the Bliss or Plagues of Life, are as thou sayst, all th' Effects of Providence; and to begin the Reverend Estate Soberly,— first I will Execute Justice; Therefore, as to you, Madam,— To L. Subtle. what of Sir Solomon's Estate appears your due, shall justly be surrendered.— My Spouse, and I shall have enough to Eat with, and coolly enjoy ourselves like old Acquaintance, that long have fed on the Baked meat of Matrimony: And since the Stars, with their propitious Influences, in spite of my Opinionated Wit, have used me like a Vermin in a Trap,  

Patient, I'll Relish pleasure dearly bought,  
And Chaw on the same Cheese, with which I'm caught.   Exeunt Omnes.   

EPILOGUE.  Spoken by La Pupsey, with her Lap-dog in Masquerade. 
TWo Heads they say are best, I and the Dog  
join therefore, to perform the Epilogue:  
And first, before we excuse what th' Poet Writ,  
Your humble Congee, Dony, to the Pit. Bows the Dog.  
Gallants, says he, I must presume to Crave  
The Privilege that all Young Actors have;  
Who though they often blunder to a Crime,  
Are certain of your pardon the first time.  
And tho' I want the Management of Tongue,  
And have said little, yet you know I've Sung.  
Ay, so thou hast my dear Felicity: Kisses him.  
So much for Dony, now the rest for me.  
I Swear, I quake to think, tho' not intended,  
How many here may chance to be offended;  
Who often when their Lovers can't succeed,  
Smuggle a Creature of my Dony's breed.  
For as a Babe of Seven,  
To imitate the Married Couples Brood,  
Will play with their resemblance made in Wood,  
So Infants of Eighteen that want success,  
To Catch the greater Donies play with less.  
This amongst others, Gallants, to your view,  
We now present ye all as humours new;  
Without the least reflection or Abuse:  
And if you now Impartial Candour use,  
Then to your Service we shall still apply  
Your most Obsequious Humble Dog and I.   
FINIS.   

PROLOGUE. Mr. Monford Enters, meets Mrs. Bracegirdle dressed in Boy's clothes, who seeing her, Endeavours to go back, but he taking hold of her, Speaks:  Monf. 
NAY, Madam, there's no turning back alone;  
Now you are Entered, faith you must go on;  
And speak the Prologue, you for those are Famed,  
And th' Play's beginning.  Brace. 
Would the Play were Damned:  
I shall ne'er wish the Poet good Success;  
For putting me into this nauseous Dress;  
A Dress, which of all other things I hate;  Monf. 
That's very strange, faith, since thy Legs are straight;  
For if thou hadst a thousand Lovers here,  
That very Garb, as thou dost now appear  
Takes more than any Manto we can buy,  
Or Wired Comode, tho' Cocked Three Stories high,  Brace. 
I hate this Coat, this Masculine Hat too here,  
These Breeches, and the other things I wear.  Monf. 
Not all things, Madam, now you're too severe  
When the Disguise, no lewdness does expose:  
Breeches, as Modestly themselves disclose,  
As Petticoat that reaches to your Toes.  Brace. 
Let all loose Dresses to loose Minds belong,  
Men, nor their Garbs did e'er my Credit wrong.  Monf. 
That's much faith having known the Stage so long.  
Well, we'll allow your Modesty is Famed,  
Come now,— the Prologue.  Brace. 
Lord, I'm so ashamed.  Monf. 
A Player, and ashamed, that may be true.  Brace. 
You think sure I'm as impudent as you.  Monf. 
No Child; you would not do then as you do;  
You would not lose a Fortune for a Toy,  
Nor frown nor blush whene'èr you Act a Boy;  
Or speak a Prologue, which you must do now,  
And to assist you see, I'll make your Bow. Bows to the Audience.  Brace. 
Well Gentlemen, since then do what I can,  
Spite of myself, I must appear a Man;  
Pray let me beg ye▪ not too like me less  
Than when you see me in my Maiden Dress;  
And free from Amorous Censure this one day  
For my sake spare the Poet and the Play.  
For to speak Truth in its encouragement,  
There is a Plot, and some good Humour in't:  
The Ladies too must needs approve the Matter,  
Because be punishes the Marriage-hater.  
And if you bring good Humour, you shall laugh,  Monf. 
Why, that's well said my Dear, and so let's off. Exeunt.   

A Scotch Song in the Third Act.  

I.  
BOnny Lad, prithee lay thy Pipe down;  
Tho' blithe are thy Notes they have now no power:  
Whilst my joy my dear Peggy is gone,  
And Wedded quite fro me will Love no more.  
My good Friends that do ken my grief,  
With Songs and Stories, a Cure would find:  
But alas, they can bring no relief,  
For Peggy still runs in my mind.   

II.  
When I Visit the Park or the Play,  
They âw without Peggy a Desert seem;  
She's before my Eyes awe the Day,  
And awe the long Night too, she haunts my Dream.  
Sometime fancying a Heaven of Charms,  
I wake, and robbed of my dear delight,  
Find she Ligs in another's Arms:  
Ah then 'tis she kills me outright.   

III.  
Take my Counsel awe you that love well;  
Bestow Love and Wit on a Girl of Sense:  
No such Blessing to Peggy befell,  
'Twas Ignorance caused her absurd offence.  
She could pray with an humble face;  
And look as she never false could be:  
But had she owned either Wit or Grace,  
She never had Wedded fro me.